Pancakes from Space

In October of 2017, astronomers at the University of Hawaii spotted an object traveling through our solar system that was unlike anything anyone had seen before. They named it Oumuamua, which, in Hawaiian, means scout or messenger.

Studies of the object's speed (slow), trajectory (out of whack), and the gases surrounding it (the wrong kind) led them to the conclusion that it was neither a comet nor an asteroid. Variations in the light reflecting off of it as it spun through space led astronomers to conclude that it was at least ten times longer than it was wide. Speculative illustrations of this strange object have tended to represent it as a long thin cigar, but Avi Loeb, the chair of Harvard’s astronomy department, has argued that it's more likely to be pancake-shaped and extremely thin.

He derives this theory from the fact that as it left our solar system it accelerated. Very strange. Loeb has speculated that the extra push Oumuamua was getting came from having sunlight at its back, as it were. In  order to generate sufficient umpff by that means, however, the object would need to be more than 20 meters in diameter and less than a millimeter thick. That is to say, it would have to be "man-made" rather than something hurled out into space by natural means.

Of course, if the object was "man-made," that would mean there are intelligent beings out there in other parts of the galaxy—a possibility so likely, according to Loeb, as to be a virtual certainty. There is no evidence, however, to support the supposition that the creatures who made the craft singled out our solar system for special attention. For an advanced civilization, the manufacture of such things might be commonplace, and as far as we know, there could be hundreds of thousands of them sailing through the near-darkness of deep space, hoping to be drawn into any gravitational field near at hand.

A very strange interview ran in the New Yorker recently in which the interviewer, one Isaac Chotiner, deflects Loebs efforts to underscore the empirical data upon which his conjecture is based while simultaneously trying to lure him into the most puerile forms of theological dispute. It's a bizarre display of bad journalism, and reading between the lines it's easy to see Loeb didn't much appreciate it.

The interview had been edited for length, and I suppose one of the things that was cut went like this.

In the article, Chotiner askes Loeb: My question is whether we tend to see things that we can’t know or understand through the prism of things we have heard about since we were kids. Aren’t we more likely to see something like an alien society as an explanation than something we maybe can’t even comprehend or put into words?

Perhaps this reply was cut. Loeb: "You obviously haven't listened to a word I said. I gave six empirical reasons to consider Oumuamua as the product of an advanced civilization, rather than a natural phenomenon. Ignoring these factors, you suggest that Oumuamua is entirely incomprehensible, and that my speculations are based on my childhood readings of science fiction magazines. You need to pay better attention, or get a new job."

What remains of Loeb's remarks makes perfect sense, by the way. He compares his simple conjecture to the mainstream idea of the multiverse—a theory that anything that can happen will happen an infinite number of times. He finds that theory unscientific, because there is no evidence. "It cannot be tested." The same is true, he argues, of string theory, which also continues to be held in high regard. 

"Whereas the next time we see an object like this one," he goes on, "we can contemplate taking a photograph. My motivation, in part, is to motivate the scientific community to collect more data on the next object rather than argue a priori that they know the answer."

While pursuing his own agenda, Chotiner lets the opportunity slip by to question this Harvard expert about the possible significance of such a visit. Loeb was recently quoted in a German magazine as saying, "If these beings are peaceful, we could learn a lot from them."

It occurs to me that one thing we might learn from these aliens is how to make a thinner pancake. I'm sure you've noticed that many of the pancakes served in restaurants are thick and doughy. They soak up the syrup like there's no tomorrow. (For them, I guess there isn't.) To make a thin, crisp pancake you need a runnier batter, of course. We used to call such pancakes "fritters."

Meanwhile, the idea that an object manufactured by a far-flung civilization drifted slowly around our sun and then back out into the void is sort of thrilling. While we wait for their return, we've got to think of a better word for them than "aliens."