More than a decade ago, Fabian and his colleagues discovered a way of
seeing into this shimmering cloud, almost to the edge of its black
heart; and it was this strange, subtle feature of the X-ray spectrum
that the Wilms group went looking for. Some of the X rays from the
corona, the Cambridge researchers realized, would shine back onto the
accretion disk and excite iron atoms there. And some of those iron
atoms would thereupon fluoresce, emitting X rays of their own—not over
the whole band this time but at a single precise line in the energy
spectrum: 6.4 kilo-electron volts, which is the energy an electron
loses when it falls from one shell in an iron atom to a lower one.
An "emission line" like that in the hands of an astronomer is like
a radar gun in the hands of a cop: It reveals how fast the
X-ray-emitting iron atoms are traveling. Because the iron atoms in
MCG-6-30-15 are moving, astronomers don't see the line right at 6.4
kilo-electron volts. Instead the X rays are Doppler-shifted, like a
radar beam bouncing off a speeding car (the radar waves hit the gun
more often if the car is moving toward the gun and less often if the
car is moving away from the gun). The X rays are thus shifted toward
the blue side of the spectrum, or "blue-shifted" to higher energies,
and also intensified on the side of the accretion disk that is moving
toward Earth; they are "red-shifted" to lower energies on the side that
is moving away. When astronomers record a single spectrum for the whole
galaxy, the iron line is smeared in both directions by this Doppler
effect. At the same time it is also gravitationally red-shifted,
because some of the iron atoms are very close to the black hole, where
time itself and thus all light waves are stretched.
The net
result is that the sharp emission line is smeared into a broad,
asymmetrical hump—and the broader the hump, the faster the iron must be
moving and the closer it must be to the black hole. Astronomer Andrew
Fabian predicted all this in 1989. In 1994, working with Japanese
researchers and the Japanese X-ray satellite ASCA, he found evidence
for a broad iron line in MCG-6-30-15. Wilms and his colleagues hoped
for more conclusive results with the more sensitive XMM-Newton.
"And what we saw right from the beginning was that the iron line was
wrong," says Wilms. "It was much broader than what we thought it should
be." The initial excitement was followed by fretting about whether they
understood their own telescope. "Almost monthly, we'd have these panic
attacks where someone would raise a calibration problem," recalls Chris
Reynolds of the University of Maryland in College Park, who worked with
Fabian on the earlier study and with Wilms on this one. "We'd have to
do the whole analysis again."
The analysis consisted in
building, brick by theoretical brick, a model of MCG-6-30-15 that would
explain the data they got from the real galaxy. The researchers started
with a model that included only continuum X rays from the corona; they
found that it produced too many X rays at low energies and not enough
at high ones. They added a cloud of warm haze a few light-years from
the black hole to absorb some of those low-energy X rays. (That haze
really seems to exist; it's what makes MCG-6-30-15 look dull in visible
light.) They supplemented the X rays coming directly from the corona
with ones that had reflected first off the disk—and found they were
still coming up short. Finally, they added a fluorescent iron line,
amazingly bright and red-shifted so strongly that it had to be coming
from iron atoms streaking just over the event horizon at near light
speed. Bingo.
"It was almost like a blazing ring right around the black hole," says Reynolds.
For the iron atoms to get that bright so close to the black hole in
MCG-6-30-15, the hole has to be rotating rapidly. By dragging
space-time around with it, a rotating hole allows gas to orbit closer
to the event horizon without falling in. And if the iron atoms are
fluorescing that brightly, it means something is wrong with the
standard model of black-hole accretion disks. In that view the disk is
lit up by only gravitational energy, which is converted into heat and
light by means of friction. But it's hard to generate blazing rings
that way. "The gravitational energy is released gradually, so the
glowing region of the accretion disk is fairly extended," says
Reynolds.
"There's no way you can produce more energy, say,
by throwing the stuff down the black hole faster," says Wilms. "You
really need some other mechanism."
"If what we're seeing is
what we think we're seeing," says Mitch Begelman, "then it's very
significant."
The new mechanism for getting energy out of a
black hole is not really new. Roger Blandford and Roman Znajek of
Cambridge University proposed it in 1977. And the reason you can get
energy out of a black hole, that swallower of all things, is that the
energy you detect never really got into the black hole to begin
with—it's associated with the space-time whirlpool created outside the
event horizon by the black hole's rotation.
Spinning Out Electricity
Like a Black Hole
Magnetic fields, Blandford and Znajek realized, could convert that rotational energy to electricity. The accretion disk is made of charged particles, and when the particles move, they generate a magnetic field. From then on, the field lines and the gas tend to stick together and move together. When the gas plunges into the black hole, it follows the magnetic field lines. In Blandford and Znajek's theory, these lines protrude from the event horizon like quills from a porcupine. Passing first through the space-time whirlpool, they continue far beyond it into quieter realms. The whirlpool whips these magnetic field lines around.




