Science, Allegedly
Science has solved many of the universe's great mysteries. It has avoided these on purpose.
21. What time is it on the moon right now?
Whatever time you want. There's nobody up there to argue, except a few flags and some very old golf balls. A single day on the moon, from one sunrise to the next, lasts about a month on Earth, so if you went up on Monday it would still be breakfast at Christmas. Space agencies are working on an official lunar time zone, which means the moon is about to receive its first meeting invite and its first daylight saving time debate. The moon has asked to be on Mountain Time, out of respect for Alberta. Nobody has told it that Alberta also argues about daylight saving time constantly.
22. Is the sun hot, or just very bright?
Both. Its surface is about 5,500 °C, hot enough to melt everything in your kitchen, including your excuses. The middle is millions of degrees, which is too hot to have a number that makes sense. The sun isn't just bright. It's bright, hot and, frankly, a bit of a show-off. It shows up every morning, flaunts itself all day, then leaves dramatically at sunset with all those colours like it's exiting a stage. Other stars find it exhausting. Fun fact: the sunlight hitting your face right now left the sun about 8 minutes S C I E N C E , A L L E G E D L Y
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ago, so technically you're getting a slightly old sun. It's still fresh enough. Wear sunscreen.
23. If space is a vacuum, who's emptying it?
A very old, very tired cosmic janitor named Gary. Gary has been vacuuming space since the Big Bang and has never once emptied the bag. That bag is called a black hole. Gary works the night shift, which in space is every shift. He has a mop the size of Saturn's rings (those are actually his mop heads drying), a radio that only plays static from 1977 and a dream of retiring to a nice quiet nebula. Every time a comet streaks across the sky, that's Gary chasing a piece of space dust he missed. If you see a shooting star, wave. Gary rarely gets visitors.
24. Is gravity stronger on Mondays?
Yes, measurably, in the space between you and your bed. Scientists call this "the Monday Pull." It begins at 6 a.m., peaks during your first meeting and weakens around 4 p.m. Friday before vanishing completely on Saturday, when gravity becomes so weak you can float to a brunch place. Mondays also bend time, which is why 10 a.m. Monday feels like a full day while all of Saturday lasts about nine minutes. Isaac Newton discovered gravity on a Monday, when an apple fell on his head. If it had been a Friday, the apple would have floated gently to his lap with a note that said "enjoy your weekend."
25. Where does the dark go when you turn on the light?
It hides under the bed and in the back of the closet, which is why those places are always dark. The dark isn't gone. The dark is waiting. The dark is patient. When you flip the switch, the dark scatters like cockroaches into every corner, behind the fridge, inside your shoes and into the bottom of your purse, where it lives with three loose mints and a receipt. When you turn the light off, it comes back out, stretches, and fills the room again like nothing happened. The dark is not evil. It's just very introverted and the light keeps throwing surprise parties.
26. How many Celsius is one Fahrenheit?
One degree Fahrenheit is about −17 °C, which surprises everyone. So if someone says it's "only one Fahrenheit" outside, bring two coats, a toque and a thermos of soup that you did not make in a microwave. (The boring answer: a change of one Fahrenheit degree equals about 0.56 Celsius degrees.) The two scales agree at exactly one temperature, −40, where Celsius and Fahrenheit finally shake hands, immediately freeze together and have to be pried apart with a credit card. Canadians use Celsius for the weather, Fahrenheit for the oven and "feels like" for complaining, which is the most accurate scale of all.
27. Do clouds have a weight limit before they legally become rain?
Yes. An average puffy cloud weighs about 500,000 kg, roughly 100 elephants floating over your picnic. When a cloud goes over the limit, the sky issues a citation, called drizzle. Repeat offenders get thunder, and habitual offenders lose their licence and are downgraded to fog, forced to hang around on the ground with the rest of us. Clouds try to stay under the limit by drifting over oceans and shedding a little weight in secret, like a person taking their shoes off before stepping on a scale. Hail is a cloud that tried to cheat and got caught. Snow is a cloud that paid its fine in instalments.
28. Do volcanoes ever get tired?
Yes. That's what a dormant volcano is: not dead, just napping. Some volcanoes nap for thousands of years, which is the kind of nap every parent dreams about. Never wake a napping volcano. It wakes up cranky in every direction at once, throws its blankets across three provinces and refuses to say sorry. Signs a volcano is getting tired include low rumbles, light steam and a general vibe of "leave me alone." Signs a volcano is about to wake up include all of those, plus scientists running. If you ever see the scientists running, don't ask questions. Just run in the same direction, but faster. S C I E N C E , A L L E G E D L Y
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29. Is a thermometer hot or cold on the inside?
Exactly as hot or cold as whatever it's touching. That's its whole job. A thermometer has no feelings of its own; it only tells you how everyone else feels, which makes it the most emotionally available object in your home. It has never once said "I'm fine" while secretly being 41 degrees. It has held turkeys, toddlers and the inside of your mouth, and never complained. Thermometers do get anxious around ovens and are deeply afraid of saunas. If yours stops working, it may simply be burnt out. Literally. Thank it for its service and buy a new one that has not yet seen the inside of your chili.
30. If I put a magnet in the freezer, does it attract cold?
No. Cold isn't really a thing; it's just what's left when heat leaves. So your magnet can't attract it, because there's nothing to grab, like trying to hug a draft. Your magnet will stick to the same fridge it always has, only now it'll be smug about having been inside. It will tell the other magnets about it. "It's very bright in there," it'll say. "There's a lemon nobody's touched since spring." The other magnets will pretend not to care. Eventually, the pizza delivery magnet will try to sneak into the freezer too, and that's how fridge politics begin.