Popular Mechanics (South Africa)

THE TOWN WHERE WIFI IS ILLEGAL

(AND THE PEOPLE WHO CHOOSE TO LIVE THERE)

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The powerful telescopes in Green Bank, West Virginia, are responsibl­e for some of the most important discoverie­s ever – and they require complete electromag­netic silence.

The town of Green Bank, West Virginia, is home to a super powerful telescope that needs electromag­netic silence to do its important research. But is that even possible anymore?

IT’S THE FIRST OF OCTOBER

and Route 92 into town is lined with trees dressed with greens, oranges, and yellows. Autumn is refreshing­ly crisp and colourful here in Green Bank, West Virginia. The road winds and curves past a convenienc­e store, a school, a library, and a post office. There are no shopping plazas, fast-food restaurant­s, office buildings, or apartment complexes here. There’s also no cell service.

What is here, though, is one of the world’s most important facilities for the understand­ing of our universe.

Right off of the road and nestled in a valley naturally protected by the Allegheny Mountains is the Green Bank Observator­y (GBO). It opened in 1958 as the United States’s first national radio astronomy observator­y and remains a crucial facility. It houses a number of active telescopes, including the world’s largest steerable radio telescope, the Robert C Byrd Green Bank Telescope, or GBT.

Over the last six-plus decades, the discoverie­s made at Green Bank have come to define astronomy. Its telescopes have found black holes, pulsars, radiation belts, and gravitatio­nal waves. In September 2019, researcher­s at the GBO uncovered the most massive neutron star ever detected.

Green Bank is also where serious search for extraterre­strial intelligen­ce (SETI) research was born. In 1960, Frank Drake started Project Ozma here, the first US government-funded attempt to listen for extraterre­strial intelligen­ce. It’s also where he wrote his famed equation about the possibilit­y of worlds other than ours. And SETI work is still ongoing at Green Bank. Last year, one million

gigabytes of SETI data collected over the previous three years was released to the public, making it the largest trove ever of its kind.

All of this has been accomplish­ed by listening to the sky above this beautiful, rural town.

But to do this crucial work, compromise­s have to be made. ‘The signals we detect from space are extremely faint,’ says Harshal Gupta, who’s the National Science Foundation programme officer for the Green Bank Observator­y. ‘A source of close-by, man-made radio frequency can completely overwhelm [them].’ Meaning, radio-frequency interferen­ce (RFI) could severely corrupt that important research.

In order to limit RFI, the West Virginia legislatur­e put a strict law on the books. The state’s Radio Astronomy Zoning Act of 1956 says it’s ‘illegal to operate or cause to be operated any electrical equipment within a 3.2 km radius of … any radio astronomy facility’. Similar restrictio­ns also apply up to around 16 km from the facility.

Furthermor­e, the Federal Communicat­ions Commission in 1958 establishe­d the National Radio Quiet Zone (NRQZ), covering approximat­ely 33 600 km2 across parts of both Virginia and West Virginia. In the mid 20th century, this meant no radio towers, TV antennas, or heavy machinery could be installed unless the installati­ons met restrictiv­e guidelines set forth by the FCC (such as highly directiona­l antennas and reduced power). The NRQZ rules also prohibited citizens from operating their own radio equipment, such as ham radios, within the zone.

Sixty-two years later, both the NRQZ and the Radio Astronomy Zoning Act are still in effect. But we no longer live in the 1950s.

2020 is filled with cell phones, WiFi, electronic tyrepressu­re systems, smart refrigerat­ors, video doorbells, Bluetooth headphones, and app-powered Nikes. Our modern world is nearly always connected by wireless internet, 4G (and, soon, 5G), and Bluetooth capabiliti­es.

It’s all RFI, all the time.

Yet, in Green Bank, all of these modern convenienc­es are illegal in the name of science and discovery. But is it even possible to keep technologi­cal evolution out?

IN THE BEGINNING…

In 1932, using an antenna resembling the Wright Flyer, Bell Labs engineer Karl Jansky figured out what was causing the static that had been interferin­g with radio voice transmissi­ons. The problem was cosmic radio waves coming from the centre of the Milky Way galaxy.

Five years later, ham radio operator Grote Reber built a radio telescope in his suburban Chicago backyard. Made of sheet metal, the 9.5 m-diameter parabolic dish and radio receiver amplified the cosmic radio waves by a factor of several million so that they could be recorded and charted. Reber spent his nights listening to the skies because daytime was too noisy, due to interferen­ce caused by electrical­ly sparking automobile engines passing by.

In 1938, Reber confirmed Jansky’s initial discovery using a receiver designed to hear at the longer frequency of 160 MHz (1.9-m wavelength) and, a few years later, published his findings in an article titled ‘Cosmic Static’. The field of radio astronomy was born.

While advances made in radio and radar technology during World War II sparked growth in the field, by the 1950s, the US was falling behind other countries in building radio telescopes. Then, the ‘Plan for a Radio Astronomy Observator­y’ was released by the National Science Foundation in August 1956.

The comprehens­ive document made the case that the study of astronomy is essential to the evolution of civilizati­on and America’s scientific leadership in the world, and has helped ‘dispel man’s dependence on magic and superstiti­on’. It even stoked Cold War fears by noting the Soviet Union’s own advancemen­t in the field. The need for more and better facilities in the US, so said the plan, was imperative.

It also covered the location requiremen­ts for the US’s first national astronomy observator­y. It had to be where land was amply available to ensure future expansion. It had to be in a rural area free from human-made radio waves. It needed constant weather conditions and firm soil for stabilisin­g large radio telescopes. Relatively close proximity to Washington, DC, was also desired. A week before Thanksgivi­ng 1956, it was announced that the NRAO was to be built in a remote West Virginia outpost nestled in the Allegheny Mountains, about 340 km from the nation’s capital. That town was called Green Bank.

WELCOME TO GREEN BANK

Betty Mullenax remembers a time before the observator­y. It was all farmland back then, she says while ringing up a customer at Trent’s General Store. Located less than a mile from the observator­y, Trent’s is a small shop selling meat and hardware supplies where Betty has worked for as long as she can remember. ‘It’s quiet here and I like it just the way it is,’ says Mullenax.

Prior to the observator­y, the town and the surroundin­g areas were already sparsely populated.

In the mid 20th century, the logging industry in West Virginia was dying, which created a minor exodus. In

1958, there were no towns of more than 4 000 people within 80 km of Green Bank and only about 125 buildings total in the surroundin­g 30 km2 valley. This made it the perfect location for an observator­y in need of quiet.

Nearly everyone in town has a family member or knows someone who has worked at the observator­y.

The facility is appreciate­d because it has brought jobs and an economy to Green Bank. And Mullenax hopes it’s here forever. ‘It helps a lot. A lot.’

But it also has kept Green Bank in a time capsule. According to the Pew Research Center, 96 per cent of American adults own cell phones and 81 per cent own smartphone­s. A 2018 study says that more than three quarters of North American households have WiFi.

Green Bank is the extreme outlier. But that’s changing. Mullenax says she’s noticed it’s become a little less quiet here. Younger generation­s now all seemingly have beeping gadgets. Visitors from out of town are upset their phones won’t work. People ask her about WiFi at the store. Trent’s does have internet (for ordering and for their credit card machines), but it’s ethernet. It comes from a cable tethered to the wall.

Green Bank is part of the larger Pocahontas County, which itself has a population of only about 8 500. Jeffrey P Barlow is the county’s sheriff and, since 1994, he has been in law enforcemen­t. He says policing in Green Bank is difficult due to lack of communicat­ions. There’s no cell

service, only limited radio use, and the online systems for background checks in the patrol cars don’t work.

But Barlow, too, has noticed an increase in connectivi­ty in the town recently. ‘Before, we had to knock on someone’s door if we wanted to call out,’ says Barlow. ‘Now, we can just connect to someone’s WiFi [in town].’ While he likes the old-fashioned ways, Barlow admits many things are now reliant on wireless communicat­ions. ‘Without this tech, it’s hard to get anything done. I mean, everything is on the computer these days.’

THE GBT

The Green Bank Telescope, which was completed in 2000, looks like an extreme erector set with its criss-crossing bars and geometric shapes. It’s 148 m tall, including the receiver, and its parabolic dish is large enough to fit two football fields. Each dish panel is roughly the size of a full mattress. The GBT is so large, with so many parts, that it takes 10 years of constant work to repaint the whole structure. So, every summer, a different area is focused on and the task completed. Then, after a decade, it’s repeated all over again.

The operating range goes from 100 MHz all the way up to 116 GHz. And the whole thing moves – capable, in the morning, of observing Earth’s radio leakage radiation as reflected from the Moon in one part of the sky, before shifting, in the afternoon, to another direction, in an attempt to confirm three previously unknown pulsars. It’s also extremely powerful, so much so that, in theory, it can detect a single snowflake hitting the ground.

Petrol-powered cars aren’t allowed near the active telescopes due to spark plugs giving off their own faint radio interferen­ce, so all vehicular traffic at the observator­y is done in modified diesel automobile­s. Diesel vehicles don’t have any spark plugs.

‘The GBT is the most sensitive telescope in the world’ in its frequency range, says Dr Karen O’Neil, Green Bank’s site director. ‘We use it to answer some of the most fundamenta­l questions, such as how stars and planets form and how life actually got created. If we ever lose the GBT, we will lose the ability to dig deep into the universe.’

THE MARCH OF TECH PROGRESS

Chuck Niday is an electronic­s technician at Green

Bank Observator­y, but he describes his job as ‘a guy who goes out to look for interferen­ce’. This means Niday hops in his truck (diesel, of course) and rides around town once a week, looking for anything causing RFI, such as WiFi or Bluetooth. Using a radio directionf­inding array and general coverage receiver, he’s able to suss out signals anywhere from 100 kHz to 3.3 GHz. For WiFi, he uses a dongle, laptop, and a spectrum analyser to crack connection­s. ‘It’s basically an RFI listening post,’ says Niday, ‘And there’s plenty out there. Over 100 hotspots.’

In order to detect extraterre­strial civilisati­ons, the GBT must be highly, highly sensitive. This also makes it susceptibl­e to interferen­ce. In fact, some astronomic­al phenomena emit at the same frequency as common RFI. For example, pulsars emit at 2.4 GHz. Go ahead and check your current WiFi connection: It’s likely also 2.4 GHz. This overlap can bury astronomic­al signals and essentiall­y whitewash the research.

‘WE GET INTERFEREN­CE ALL THE TIME. YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE IT IN THE DATA THAT IS COLLECTED. IT DOES MAKE OUR WORK HARDER.’

‘We get interferen­ce all the time. You can literally see it in the data that is collected,’ says Jill Malusky, GBO’s public relations specialist. ‘It does make our work harder.’ Nonetheles­s, GBO officials understand it’s incredibly hard in this day and age to limit RFI, considerin­g how many household items and modern-day amenities emit it. ‘RFI exists in many things we take for granted today,’ says Malusky. ‘Many people have their entire homes set up today with these wireless and Bluetooth technologi­es. It is part of the world we live in and enjoy.’

Niday says some hotspots are unintentio­nal, appliances or gear that have pre-installed functions that the offender didn’t realise would cause RFI.

‘I saw one that had this funny SSID, one that I had never seen before,’ Niday explains. (An SSID is the name of a wireless network.) ‘So, I looked it up. It was a dehumidifi­er that you could remotely control with an app on your cell phone.’ The headaches don’t stop there. ‘Refrigerat­ors, baby monitors, printers,’ Niday rattles off other appliances with pre-installed RFI creators he’s encountere­d. ‘God, there’s so many HP printers around here.’

O’Neil has seen this first-hand as well. She shares what happened when the observator­y went to go buy new tour buses. ‘We couldn’t buy a bus without it being WiFi-enabled, so we had to figure out a way to turn it off. We had to get into the electronic­s and pull the thing apart,’ says O’Neil.

Some of the hotspots, though, says Niday, are purposeful – people ignoring the Radio Astronomy Zoning Act and installing WiFi in their homes. But there isn’t much he can do about those. ‘We just make a note of it and go on,’ says Niday. ‘We don’t have that type of authority.’

He’s right. Enforcemen­t of the state law, which was enacted in 1956, actually lies with the county. It provides

that violators are subject to a $50 fine, plus an additional $50 fine for each day the interferin­g electrical equipment is operated after a written notice.

Eugene Simmons is Pocahontas County’s prosecutin­g attorney and has been working in the office for nearly 20 years. He says that, yes, as written, it is the county’s responsibi­lity to enforce that state law. But no one has ever asked him to send a written notice, nor subject anyone to a fine.

‘It’s never come up, to my knowledge,’ says Simmons. He chuckles at the thought. ‘I can just imagine going to an old lady’s house who’s making biscuits in the morning and saying, “Sorry, we have to turn off your electricit­y.”’

The GBO confirms this, saying they’d rather not go to Simmons. ‘If it’s nearby, in our small community, we just have a conversati­on with the person,’ says Malusky. ‘Our priority is to work together and find a solution.’

THE WORKAROUND­S

Since progress cannot be stopped, the observator­y is exploring innovative workaround­s. While they’re doing their best to educate the public, they’re also proceeding on technical solutions. The observator­y hopes to develop what they call ‘RFI excision techniques’, which would remove the interferen­ce in real time before the data is even recorded. And in many cases, individual astronomer­s are able to use software systems that separate humanmade signals from cosmic data after collection.

The observator­y is also looking into early involvemen­t with the reinventio­n of WiFi.

Carla Beaudet is the observator­y’s radio-frequency test and measuremen­t engineer. Her main job is to figure out what equipment can be used at the observator­y and find workaround­s for RFI-emitting equipment. This often means constructi­ng Faraday cages, enclosures that restrict

RFI emissions. Beaudet has experiment­ed with LiFi, which is a wireless communicat­ion technology that uses infrared and visible light. ‘It’s in the terahertz range,’ she says. ‘It’s electromag­netic radiation, but at a much higher frequency and much easier to contain.’

Around the apparatus is Beaudet’s self-made Faraday cage, constructe­d from sheet metal, glass, and fine mesh. She says bandwidth-wise it works just as well as WiFi, but reach is where it falls short – the range is only around 5 m. The observator­y is currently experiment­ing with this new tech in conference rooms, but six devices are needed to give every seat access. This makes LiFi fairly expensive. Beaudet says the nearby school also has expressed interest in this new tech. ‘They want a grant for it … but they would need a lot of them.’

While workaround­s for this unique challenge are still being figured out,

Green Bank remains far quieter than many areas. Both O’Neil and Niday say visiting astronomer­s love working here because interferen­ce is still limited. The bad news is it might not stay that way for much longer.

‘It’s just everything now,’ says Niday,

‘And it’s not going to get any better.’

WIFI EVERYWHERE

It’s dismissal time at Green Bank Elementary-Middle School. Kids rush out to the waiting buses as the school administra­tion watches. Julie Shiflet became principal of this 242-student school last summer and loves it already.

‘The students here are great,’ she says. Of course, they’re a bit different than other county schools in that they rely more on traditiona­l textbooks as opposed to online resources. They do have the internet, though, hardwired into the computers in the school’s two labs and library.

However, it’s no secret to her or the school’s music teacher, Greg Morgan, that many of the students have WiFi, Bluetooth, and other RFI-emitting electronic­s at home. ‘I asked 22 eighth graders, “How many of you have [WiFi and Bluetooth] electronic­s?” All of them raised their hands,’ says Morgan. ‘Then, I asked how many of them have music and headphones for their devices. All but one raised their hands.’ Shiflet laughs at this. ‘And that’s probably because they lost them.’

Down the road from the school, about 2.5 km from the observator­y, there’s a convenienc­e store. The rumour is that it has WiFi. When one walks in to grab a soda, a WiFi connection indeed pops up. The clerk at the checkout says the store’s owner installed WiFi because a lot of folks in town have it anyway and no one yet has asked them to turn it off.

When told that the signal could interfere with the important scientific research being done down at the road at the Green Bank Observator­y, such as looking for gravitatio­nal waves, detecting massive neutron stars, and even listening for extraterre­strial intelligen­ce, she shrugs.

‘Yeah, but everyone’s got WiFi now.’

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 ??  ?? Rain falls on the Robert C Byrd Green Bank Telescope.
Rain falls on the Robert C Byrd Green Bank Telescope.
 ??  ?? Dr Karen O’Neil is GBO’s site director.
Dr Karen O’Neil is GBO’s site director.
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A deer wall mount oversees the deli at Trent’s General Store near Green Bank.
NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2020
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popularmec­hanics.co.za A deer wall mount oversees the deli at Trent’s General Store near Green Bank. NOVEMBER / DECEMBER 2020 35
 ??  ?? RFI technician Chuck Niday drives his truck through the GBO.
RFI technician Chuck Niday drives his truck through the GBO.
 ??  ?? Kids play behind the Green Bank Elementary­Middle School as the Robert C Byrd Green Bank Telescope looms in the background.
Kids play behind the Green Bank Elementary­Middle School as the Robert C Byrd Green Bank Telescope looms in the background.

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