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Showing posts with label Hubble Space Telescope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hubble Space Telescope. Show all posts

Thursday, December 31, 2015

Year's End on the Frozen Steppe

December 29.  The autumn and winter that until now have been mild turned seasonal today.  The temperature dropped to -10C, the snow fell heavily, and the wind howled so fiercely that it woke me at 4am.  The walk to the Embassy, normally ten minutes in good weather, took twice as long as I walked sideways at times to make progress into the wind and shield myself from the biting snow.
Mid-December View of Astana and the Esil River
I say today was seasonal, but I'm getting used enough to Astana that even the "mild" weather of the preceding weeks would be seen differently by someone accustomed to the East Coast of the US.  Suffice it to say that I was snow shoeing last weekend and that ice houses have dotted the Esil River for some weeks now.  For anyone who wants to see winter in all her glory, Kazakhstan's northern steppe -- same latitude as Newfoundland and Labrador -- should rank high as a desirable destination.  Even if we have yet to see the -40C temperatures of a year ago, it is nevertheless abundantly clear that winter, Kazakhstan's longest season, has arrived.


With Colleagues at Astana's Ice City
It is a good time for brooding in all senses.  If some of that brooding seemed to take a negative turn in my last post (The Last Thing on My Mind), it did lead to a positive decision:  my overseas career will end when I depart Kazakhstan in mid-2017.  I will finish out my final two years in the Foreign Service back in Washington, closer to family and to home as I ease toward retirement.

That decision, once made, has had an effect I did not foresee.  Much as a person who is terminally ill might do all she or he can to live his/her life to the fullest that health will allow, so I, too, now know when my overseas life will end.  It has put a focus on the next year and a half that would not have been there had I not chosen to return to the US.  The next eighteen months are there to be lived fully and well so that there will be no retrospective regrets in the years to follow.  The closer the end date comes, the more precious each day will be.

Ten years.  My overseas career with the State Department began in September 2005 when I boarded a plane in New York bound for Moscow.  Since then I've only worked in the US for one year plus some months for language training.  I already find myself looking back with memories, some bad but mostly good.

Moscow.  It was a dream come true to be assigned to Embassy Moscow.  I traveled for the first time as a tourist to the Soviet Union in 1978 and then again in 1981.  In 1987-88 I spent six months on an IREX grant based mainly in Leningrad but with occasional travel to Moscow and Armenia, and this was followed by travel for conferences in 1994 and 2003.  Returning to Moscow in 2005, I felt I had landed in a city much changed from the one I remembered in the Soviet period.  The city was bright and alive with culture and commerce, and I spent every spare hour I could soaking it in.  My sisters came to visit, and my son spent a long summer.  When I landed in Moscow in 2005, it seemed that two years would last forever.  When the movers arrived to pack me out in August 2007, I had tears in my eyes.  The two years felt more as if they had been two months.

Tashkent.  I had never been to Central Asia before I arrived at Embassy Tashkent in April 2008, but I had long wanted to go there.  My interest in Uzbekistan had been there ever since the days I had devoted myself to researching the Stalin period purges in Soviet astronomy.  The fate of the Tashkent Astronomical Observatory and its director Alexander Postoev were key to many of the cascading events that extended all the way to Leningrad and that consumed the country's best astronomers.  Now I got to visit that observatory at last and share archival papers with the current director who was striving to restore the observatory's lost history.  Even if much of my life was being ever more consumed by a long and contentious divorce, I traveled and saw the historic cities of Samarkand, Bukhara, Khiva, and Kokand.  My son came to visit twice, and we took long trips together to Karakalpakstan and the Ferghana Valley.

Bucharest.  I've already written volumes about my time in Romania.  As readers of my previous web journal know (http://attitude-analyst.blogspot.com), I thought my career was over when I first landed in Bucharest.  My assignment there seemed a disaster, but instead my three years in Bucharest were the making of the person I am today.  2012 was easily the happiest year of a life that has included many good years, and I now consider Romania a second home.

Work.  Yes, official work has kept me busy wherever I have served.  I've been busiest in Astana and in Moscow, least busy in Romania, and have participated in diplomatic endeavors that I'm proud to look back on.  Still, if I'm to look at the years I'm proudest of when it comes to official work, I will find them in the years when I worked on the Hubble Space Telescope project before joining the State Department.  


Christmas with NN
Life.  But when it comes to living and growing, it's been my overseas career with the State Department that wins out over anything that came before it.  I have made new friends wherever I have gone, and a few of them have become so close that I consider them to be part of my close family.  The pain of saying goodbye to PE when I left Romania was as great as if I were parting from my own son, but I also learned that distance does not have to break ties if the bonds are already strong.  So it is with PE, and so it will be with NN who entered my life shortly after I arrived in Kazakhstan some fifteen months ago.  I may have only one biological son, but I also have two emotionally adopted daughters who never would have entered my life had it not been for the Department of State.


Carving Turkey on Boxing Day with BL
And so, as 2015 counts down to its final hours, I look back and appreciate the past.  My Boxing Day reception with sixteen guests is now history, and NN and I will toast the New Year quietly at midnight, she with tea and I with a more traditional beverage.  I will think back fondly on all the friends I have made these ten years.  And then, with the fireworks that will fill Astana's wintry night sky fading to the future, I will turn and look in that direction as well with the purpose of living what remains of this international career fully and well.  And to all my readers I wish --

Happy New Year!  С Новым Годом!  An nou fericit!  Янги йилингиз билан!  Жаңа жыл құтты болсын!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Savor the Leap Second

By any measure, today is the longest day of 2015.  No, I'm not referring to the summer solstice that took place over a week ago.  That day was as long as any other day this year.

Come to think of it, today is longer than any day in 2014.  Or in 2013 for that matter.  In fact, it's the longest day on record since June 30, 2012.

What I mean is that today, June 30, 2015, will be 86,401 seconds in length.  All other days of this year and of almost any year contain only 86,400 seconds.  It's just that every once and a while either June 30 or December 31 will have an extra second.  Why?  By international agreement, the final minute of the final hour of the day will be 61 seconds in length instead of 60.  When the clock shows 23:59:59, it won't trip over to 0:00:00 as usual.  Instead, it will go 23:59:59, 23:59:60, and only then 0:00:00.  How cool is that?

Now, I'm not referring to the digital clock in your kitchen, although you may find it out of sync by a second after midnight unless you update it.  Or perhaps you don't care about a few seconds here or there?

What I am referring to is Coordinated Universal Time, UTC for short.  I'm not going to go into a long, drawn-out scientific explanation.  This may be the longest day, but I'm not going to attempt a detailed explanation when many well-written ones are already to be found.  (See, for example, the explanation from the Time Services Bureau at the U.S. Naval Observatory:  http://tycho.usno.navy.mil/leapsec.html.)  What I have in mind for these jottings is something social.

For those who may have heard of Greenwich Mean Time and like to refer to GMT, I have a cosmic message:  GMT doesn't exist.  It hasn't existed in any official sense for decades, yet it has held on in the public imagination.  Rather, the closest thing we have to a world time from which all our local civil times are determined is UTC.  

The general story goes like this.  Our ancestors told time approximately by the rising and setting of the Sun, Moon, and stars.  By the middle ages, astronomers were the timekeepers, and any major city worth its salt maintained its own time.  Then came the great ocean explorers and the need for accurate navigation tools that led to the international conference of 1884 that chose Greenwich to be the prime meridian.  At about the same time railroads and the need to maintain railroad schedules forced the need for time zones.  Got it?  If you've already read A Timely Remembrance of Chester A. Arthur, you already know all of this.

But the story did not end with Chester A. Arthur.  As we got into the mid-20th century, the first atomic clocks appeared and allowed for the second to be defined based on oscillations of cesium atoms.  At the same time astronomers began to realize the the Earth's rotation is itself non-uniform and in fact has been slowing since the early days of the solar system.  Suffice it to say that at the time of the dinosaurs, the day was only about 23 hours in length as measured using today's time scales.

Through the 1950s and 1960s there was lots of scientific hand wringing over how to meld together our human concept of time with the accuracy of an atomic second.  Different compromises were tried, but the one that stuck came in 1972.  UTC would be defined based on the atomic second, but the International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service (IERS) would carefully monitor the Earth's rotation and recommend insertion of a leap second at midnight on June 30 or December 31 whenever UTC diverged from UT1 by more than 0.6 seconds.

"Hold on there," you say, "Where did that UT1 come from?"

Think of UT1 as time based on the Earth's rotation.  OK, it's the Earth's rotation relative to a mean Sun instead of the real, physical Sun, but trust me.  It's time based on the Earth's rotation and the rising and setting of the Sun much as time was defined by our ancestors millenia ago.

The compromise of 1972 decreed that UTC was to be based on the SI second -- i.e., the atomic second -- but that leap seconds would be added as needed to keep UTC and UT1 within a second of each other.  How's that for a melding of scientific accuracy with our social concept of time?

To date some 35 leap seconds have been inserted.  The one that will be inserted at midnight today is No. 36.  If you had not adjusted that digital clock in your kitchen these past 43 years, it would now be off by 36 seconds.  In another 30 years or so it might be off by a minute, perhaps just enough for you to notice.

So get this.  There's a move afoot to get rid of leap seconds.  Much of the push comes from businesses that are dependent on complex computer systems in which accurate time is of critical importance.  Your run-of-the-mill programmer likely as not did not program these systems for the occasional insertion of a leap second when IERS dictates.  If you are trading millions of shares of whatever on the stock market and the system crashes when it tries to cross the midnight hour on a day with a leap second, you might be upset.  If you are on an airplane and the air traffic control system crashes at midnight on such a day, you might be more than upset.  Proponents of eliminating leap seconds might add that as a result, you might never have cause to be upset about anything every again.

Sure enough, in 1972 the world did not depend on the complex and interlocking computer systems that rule our lives today.  In that year, the year when I graduated from high school, the world was a much simpler place where computers were big things that ingested computer cards.  Slide rules, typewriters, pencils, and paper were the norm.  Leap seconds couldn't crash anything.

As it stands, much of the scientific community doesn't care if leap seconds are eliminated either, and the International Telecommunications Union (ITU) will take a vote on changing the definition of UTC at the end of the year.

"Stop right there," you exclaim again.  "What does telecommunications have to do with time?"

Well, that goes back to those simpler days when the most accurate time was broadcast by radio.  In the United States it was NIST, in those days still the National Bureau of Standards, that operated shortwave station WWV to broadcast the most accurate time available in the country.  Other countries had their own national stations for time signals.  That's why international time is handled by the ITU.

When the ITU meets, all member countries will get a vote.  For the United States, it's my own Department of State that casts the vote.

"And what is the official U.S. position?"  Speaking very unofficially and only for myself and not representing the Department of State in any way in this web journal, I will just say that my understanding is that we favor elimination of the leap second.

"So does anyone still want to preserve the leap second?"  

Yes, there are some concerned communities.  Many although not all astronomers want to maintain the status quo.  Of course, astronomers have been trained to think about time since the dawn of modern man, so it's no surprise that astronomers get what the leap second is about and how to handle it in all their systems.  The same can be said about many of the engineers who work on space systems.  I had to keep track of UTC, TDB, TT, TAI, and the conversions between these time scales in the years I worked on Hubble Space Telescope.  Don't worry, I won't go into what those other time scales were about, but suffice it to say that anyone who is worried about relativistic effects when accounting for velocity aberration or pointing a telescope to sub-arcsecond accuracy is going to need to know how to handle time.

Russia also wants to maintain the leap second.  Perhaps the poor computers of the Soviet period forced Soviet programmers to be better than ours.  Perhaps their systems handle leap seconds properly.  Great Britain also wants to retain the leap second; some say the UK fears that elimination of the leap second is the first step towards diminishing the importance of the Greenwich Meridian.

Finally, there is one other group.  Let's call this the group of historians, philosophers, and dreamers.  Perhaps we can throw in people of a certain age, and I include myself here.  Sure, we can live in a world without leap seconds.  We already live in a world of time zones and daylight saving time where the idea of the Sun being anywhere near overhead at noon has long been done away with.  It will be centuries before UTC and UT1 separate at anywhere near the level of what we already do administratively today with our own hands.

To me, a self-professed dreamer and woman of a certain age, the point of retaining leap seconds is that our concept of time is part of being human.  Even time zones and daylight saving time are still tied to the Earth's rotation.  If leap seconds are eliminated, we turn over time to atomic clocks.  It will take many centuries, but at some point we will get to a point when we will no longer associate noon with being the middle of the day.  We will have put our computer systems ahead of ourselves, maintaining time for the machines we created rather than for people.  In doing so, we diminish ourselves.


And so, enjoy this, the longest day since June 30, 2012.  Wherever you are, savor that one extra second inserted into your day or night.  Let's fix those complex, interlocking computer systems.  This leap second is here to keep the clock in sync with the rising and setting of the Sun, to keep it in sync with us, the human race.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Hubble's 25th Birthday: A Personal Memory from Ms. FHST

Hubble Space Telescope was launched by the shuttle Discovery (STS-31) on 24 April 1990 at 12:34 UTC.  For those of us who worked on the project, the inside joke that the “Hubble Constant is 2 years until launch” had been broken.  No longer was this a mission that we were working towards but, rather, a mission that was about to become reality.  The question in all our minds was, “Will it work?  Will all the years of hard work and planning pay off?”

I first joined the Hubble project in 1982.  It hadn't even been named for American astronomer Edwin Hubble yet.  That was to come a year later in 1983.  When I started, it was simply ST, Space Telescope.  I was a comparative latecomer to the project.  For those who had been there at the beginning in the 1970s, it had been the Large Space Telescope, the Large being dropped as budgets and the realities of operating a telescope in space began to settle in.  Still, it was to be Big with a capital B, a 2.4-meter optical telescope that would operate above the distorting layers of the Earth's atmosphere.  It would be controlled remotely from a control center at Goddard Space Flight Center (GSFC) in Maryland with all science planning done at the newly established Space Telescope Science Institute on the campus of Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.  To those of us who worked there, ST ScI would become known simply as the 'tute, truly an internationally-run observatory whose telescope just happened to be in orbit.

My own role on Hubble was a modest one.  I had an MS degree in astronomy with specializations in celestial mechanics and in astrometry, the science of positional astronomy that compiles positions of stars and other celestial objects.  Thus it was no surprise that my first assignment was to work on the attitude determination system that would use data from spacecraft sensors to determine Hubble's pointing to an accuracy of better than an arcsecond.  The name of the project was PASS, an acronym for POCC Applications Software Support, with POCC itself being an acronymn for Payload Operations Control Center.  Our often repeated inside joke was that we had to be an acronym within an acronym in order not to be a somewhat impolite-sounding POCCASS.

Hubble was to be controlled to an accuracy of 3 milli-arcseconds, finer than any pointing control that had been attempted until that time.  It was to be done using data from gyroscopes, sun sensors, and star trackers.  In 1978, on an earlier mission, I had already made my acquaintance with the Fixed Head Star Tracker (FHST).  Hubble was equipped with three of them, and they would be used to update gyro-based attitudes after every spacecraft slew to a new target.  An FHST had a field-of-view (FOV) of 8-deg by 8-deg and could measure a star's position to 20 arcseconds, good enough to go to the next step of determining what stars were in the field-of-view of the telescope's main optics and use them to determine Hubble's pointing to the sub-arcsecond level.  Little did I know when I joined the project that I was to become the most knowledgeable person on FHSTs, eventually becoming known to many as Ms. FHST.


Cutaway Diagram of a Fixed Head Star Tracker

Hubble was scheduled to be launched by the Space Shuttle in October 1986, and we were all under pressure to complete the ground control systems on time.  The pace was frenetic, and from one system audit review to the next, it was becoming clearer that we would not be ready.  But a shuttle launch could not be changed without upsetting all of NASA's mission schedules.  Senior managers began to think that we would launch Hubble and let it sit in safe mode in orbit, a sort of minimum energy cocoon mode, until the ground systems could be finished and tested.

That went out the window on January 28, 1986, when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded 73-seconds after launch, killing all on board in the most tragic space accident experienced by the US until that time.  After the tragedy of the loss of all the astronauts on board Challenger had sunk in, we began to realize that our own problem now was not whether we would be ready for a launch in October 1986 but, rather, whether Hubble would be launched at all.  Would the Shuttle ever fly again?  After a few months we were assured that Hubble's launch would take place in 1988.  That launch date soon began to slip, however, leading to our inside joke that we knew the true Hubble Constant[1] to be “two years until launch.”

For me the morning of 24 April 1990 was one of sitting in front of the television and watching the launch and feeling the same thrill I had felt at every launch since the early days of the space program.  This time, however, the thrill was even greater, for Shuttle Discovery was carrying a mission that I had a direct role in.

My own launch excitement in the sense of work, however, began two days later on the morning of April 26.  That afternoon the Canadian-built manipulator arm was to remove Hubble from the shuttle bay and release it into space.  Hubble's systems were being turned on one-by-one and tested before the release.  I had just arrived at my office a short distance from GSFC when a PASS friend and colleague called.  I don't remember his precise words, but they were something like, “Robyn, get out here.  We can't identify what stars the FHSTs are seeing.”  A chill went down my spine.  If Hubble were to be released without the FHSTs being able to identify star patterns, Hubble would be literally lost in space, locked into its cocoon-like safe mode until engineers like me could figure out what had gone wrong.

An hour later I was sitting in front of a terminal in the Space Telescope Operations Control Center (STOCC) at GSFC.   My colleague and friend explained, “We've been trying ever since the FHSTs were turned on, but no matter what we try, the algorithms can't identify the star patterns.”  As calmly as I could, I asked, “Can you get me all the FHST telemetry since the trackers were turned on?  Let's start reprocessing from scratch, taking it step-by-step and paying close attention to detail.”

The STOCC at GSFC
From my experience on an earlier mission, I already knew just how temperamental FHSTs could be.  These were instruments from before the days of charged couple devices (CCDs).  They used simple optics and an image dissector tube, and they could observe only one star at a time.  A controllable magnetic field was used to cause the dissector tube's photomultiplier and photocathode to scan the FOV in a serpentine pattern and lock onto any object brighter than a threshold magnitude for 20 seconds before breaking track and continuing the scan.  FHSTs had been known to track not just stars but the Moon, planets, nebulae, other satellites, space debris, and even bright cities on the Earth's limb.  The trick was to edit out all the junk so that only star tracks remained and then massage those tracks into point images using gyroscope rate data that measured moment-to-moment spacecraft motion.  Finally, these FHST-measured star positions would be passed into a pattern match algorithm that would take the measured positions and compare them with positions in a star catalog.  That pattern match algorithm required fine tuning in order to work reliably.  All-in-all we had just a few hours to get it right before Hubble would be released into orbit on its own.

Slowly, as calmly as we could, we began reprocessing telemetry from the start.  We edited out spurious objects.  We adjusted the editing parameters to get star images with the smallest possible clump size.  As we worked, I became dimly aware of the big screen that hung at the front of the STOCC.  There was Hubble, perched on the manipulator arm, as the solar arrays began to unfurl, unrolling from their containers and glistening like ever-lengthening, golden sails in the bright sun.  Just as the second solar array finished unfurling, we did it.  We identified the stars that were being seen by the FHSTs.  We did some hand calculation sanity checks to make sure we had identified the right stars.  We had.  “Now let's do it again with another data set,” I said. 
 
Hubble on its Own, Released from the Maniupator Arm

One data set after another, we repeated the process, making further adjustments until we could identify stars correctly without further intervention from us.  The algorithms we had designed were working.  A higher level mission manager approached and asked, “Are we GO with the FHSTs?”  We nodded yes.  Shortly after we watched in real time as Hubble drifted away from the arm and from the shuttle.  We had done our part.  Hubble would not be lost in space.

That was my role 25-years ago.  My day in the STOCC as the solar arrays unfurled is one of those images frozen in my long-term memory.  Hubble didn't have an easy start.  Soon the newspapers were joking about Hubble Trouble when it turned out that the telescope's main mirror had been ground to the wrong figure and suffered from spherical aberration that was giving blurry images.  My FHSTs were not out the woods yet either.  Another part of PASS, the Mission Scheduling System, was attempting to use the FHSTs in a way they had never been used before by commanding them to lock on to preplanned reference stars after each telescope slew to a new target.  The FHSTs were failing to find the right stars one time out of three, each failure resulting in the loss of science observations for a good part of an orbit.  It was the second largest problem in Hubble's early operations right behind the flawed mirror.

As they say, however, the rest is history.  Once the mirror's spherical aberration was understood, it was possible to grind corrective lenses that were installed by astronauts on the first servicing mission to Hubble in December 1993.  Those corrective lenses were known by the name of COSTAR, Corrective Optics Space Telescope Axial Replacement, and they silenced the cries of Hubble Trouble, enabling Hubble to give the crisp images that have become part of both our scientific and cultural lives.

For my part, I was brought onto a team whose mandate was to reengineer the Mission Scheduling System.  We were known as MSRE, the Mission Scheduler Re-engineering team.  We pronounced MSRE like ms'ry, and thus our inside gallows humor was “MSRE loves company.”  My part of the mandate was the Pointing Control Subsystem.  Over the next several years, working as a team, we improved the FHST reference star success rate to better than 99%. 

The last effort I had a small hand in before leaving HST and PASS in 2005 was the design of what became known as the Two-Gyro Science Mode that would radically change the pointing control algorithms in a way that had never been attempted before.  A gyro gives information in one dimension, and thus three gyros are needed to know a spacecraft's orientation in three dimensions.  Six gyros were installed on Hubble for redundancy and in the knowledge that gyros are mechanical devices that eventually wear out and fail.  Hubble's gyros began to fail within a few years after launch, but they were replaced during servicing missions.  After the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster in 2003, however, all future servicing missions to Hubble were canceled.  Of the six gyros on Hubble, three had already failed.  It was only a matter of time before yet another would fail and force Hubble into permanent safe mode, ending its mission of scientific discovery.

The idea behind this last effort on Hubble was to take me back to my FHSTs.  Gyroscopes give rate information, whereas FHSTs give position information.  But could we watch stars as they moved in an FHST FOV?  Could those position measurements be used to compute a rate, effectively allowing the FHSTs to take the place of one of the gyros?  The answer was yes, they could.  The newly designed control algorithms were so successful that NASA shut down the third of the three remaining operational gyros in August 2005, keeping it in reserve and thereby extending Hubble's operational life.  Even after a final servicing mission to Hubble was reinstated and six new gyros were installed in 2009, Two-Gyro Science Mode has remained the primary control algorithm for Hubble.

How long will Hubble continue to provide us with the beautiful photos and ground-breaking science for which it has no equal?  Current estimates are that Hubble will continue to operate at least until 2018, when the next generation James Webb Space Telescope is scheduled for launch.  It may continue in operation well beyond that as long as budgets allow and spacecraft systems continue to function.  Not bad for a telescope that was designed and built with 1970s and 80s technology and that many thought would not last for its original projected lifetime of 15 years.

If you're wondering by now how it was that this engineer left the Hubble project to start a diplomatic career with the U.S. State Department, the answer is that even in those days, I had something of a double life.  Outside of my day job on the Hubble project, I was known as a historian of Soviet science.  In the summer after Hubble's launch, I published perhaps my most important history work on Soviet astronomy in 1936-37 during the height of Stalin's Great Purges.  When I left the Hubble project in 2005, in a sense I exchanged my hobby for my career, my career for my hobby.

But on this April 24th, on the 25th anniversary of Hubble's launch, my mind will be back there, reliving the moments of frustration and exhilaration and recalling the faces and names of so many colleagues and friends from the PASS project who were there at the beginning.  And Ms. FHST will smile and feel an inner warmth to know that her children-in-engineering, those three Fixed Head Star Trackers on Hubble, have not missed a beat and continue to guide Hubble on to discoveries that take us back ever further towards the dawn of our Universe.
 
2014 Reunion Picnic with PASS Friends and Families
 


[1] The actual Hubble Constant is a measure describing the expansion of the Universe.  The current best estimates are in the vicinity of 71 km/s/Mpc, where Mpc is a megaparsec, a distance of approximately 3.3 million light years.