into space. Stars twinkle when seen from Earth because the air moves constantly, and not just in one direction; there are different currents at different altitudes. The air currents act as sheets with multitudes of lenses that shift the point-like images of stars, just like the sunlight playing on the bottom of a swimming pool. Much of this twinkling happens at high frequenciesâabout once every hundredth of a second. And, as it turns out, all this makes detecting a transit of an Earth in front of a Sun-like star practically impossible even with the largest telescopes. A telescope in space has its own challenges (although as the Hubble space telescope taught us, they are not insurmountable), but to find small planets, itâs the only way to go.
The Europeans already had a mission in the pipeline that could easily accommodate the transit hunting. Hunting the co nvection and rot ation of stars (known as COROT, and
referring to the famous pointillist impressionist painter), the telescope was to obtain thousands of images of stars, resembling pointillist paintings, in order to study their subtle light variations and help understand basic things about stars, like their rotation and internal convection. Of course, COROT could do an excellent job detecting planet transits in the process, with its name now standing for convection, rotation, and transits (CoRoT).
In the meantime, NASA had missed an early opportunity to fund a space telescope dedicated to discovering transiting planets, one with a stated goal to discover planets as small as Earth and determine how common planets like ours actually are. William Borucki of the NASA Ames Research Center in California had been trying to convince the agency that his experiment would succeed. Even a null result, meaning that no transiting Earths were discovered, would be meaningful, implying that planets like ours are very rare. NASA panels had turned him down before, but in 1999 Bill Borucki was assembling a crew to propose again; he asked me and a dozen more colleagues to join. The successful discovery of more and more exoplanets with the Doppler shift method was a powerful new motivation.
Even though I hadnât done much work on the problem at the time, I had first thought of discovering such planets in 1999, when a group of us, mostly at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics, and mostly observers and engineers, came together to propose to NASA an innovative space telescope design for planet detectionâwith a square mirror, as opposed to a round one. My colleagues Costas Papaliolios and
Peter Nisenson had invented this unusual design in order to minimize stellar glare and allow glimpses of planets huddled close to their stars. With a team of about twenty and led by our experienced space mission scientist Gary Melnick, we prepared a detailed scientific and engineering proposal.
My job on the team was to work out what kind of planets our telescope might be able to discover. It seemed then that super-Earths were in reach. (I liked to call them super-Earths and super-Venuses for short, as it had been common in astronomy to use the adjective âsuperâ for newly discovered or hypothesized objects that are larger in size or energy than known ones. For example, stars that are larger than giant stars are called supergiants, explosions that are stronger than novae are called supernovae, and so on.) The shorthand stuck, as youâve probably already surmised. 18
Finally, in December 2001, the Kepler mission, as it was now known, was approved. Seven years later, in March 2009, Kepler was launched from Cape Canaveral in Florida and two months later beamed down to Earth images and exquisite measurements from stars and planets hundreds of light-years away. Kepler is NASAâs first mission capable of finding Earth-size and smaller planets within the habitable zone of stars similar to the Sun (a topic we will return to later). It is a fairly modest telescope, about
Fiona Wilde, Sullivan Clarke