I seem to remember that a probable black hole was found some years ago thanks to microlensing. It was a small, free-floating black hole, just the kind that Swainy was talking about. So yes, I'm convinced that such invisible lonely black holes exist. It would most definitely not be a good thing if such an isolated black hole came floating into our solar system.
But what are the chances that it will? Some years ago I made a model of the inner solar system. I used a round yellow table cloth, two meters in diameter, for the Sun. (Well, I had to make it yellow, otherwise I couldn't show my model to other people and make them understand that the table cloth was the Sun, could I?)
I used small peas for Mercury and the Moon and somewhat larger cotton balls, two centimeters in diameter, for Venus, the Earth and Mars. (Yes, I know that the Mars cotton ball ought to have been smaller, but I had to approximate.) Venus was a white cotton ball, the Earth a blue cotton ball and Mars a red cotton ball.
Now I had to place these objects at the proper distance from each other. I don't remember how far away from the "Sun" that I put Mercury and Venus, but I remember that I had figured their proper distances out, more or less. I do remember that I put the Earth at two hundred meters from the "Sun", and Mars at three hundred meters away from it. Again, this was of course an approximation, but it was good enough for my purposes. As for the Earth and the Moon, I think I held them about sixty centimeters away from each other.
Well, I ended up with an inner solar system that was absolutely shockingly empty. I had two persons holding up the "Sun" for me. I then walked away from the "Sun" with a group of people who wanted to see where I would place the planets. Taking meter-long strides (more or less), I determined when the person holding up "Mercury" would have to stop. Everybody stopped and looked back at the "Sun". So this is how big the Sun would look in the sky from the vantage point of Mercury, then? After we had put "Mercury" in its proper "orbit", we continued walking until I determined that we had reached the postion of "Venus". The "Venus-carrier" remained in her place while the rest of us continued walking until we were two hundred meters from the "Sun", so that we had reached the position of the "Earth". I made sure that the person holding the "Earth" remembered to keep the pea-sized "Moon" about sixty centimeters away from the "Earth" in his other hand.
As we reached the postion of the "Earth", everybody marvelled at how far away we seemed to have walked from the people holding the "Sun". The "Sun" looked so tiny, even though it had looked extremely big when I had shown off the table cloth and the peas and the cotton balls before we started our walk. But everyone agreed that the real Sun looks about this small in the sky when we see it from our vantage point of the Earth.
I left the "Earth-carrier" in his place, while the rest of us walked to the postion of "Mars". Now the Sun looked just ridiculously tiny. As for the Earth, we couldn't see it at all. We could see the person holding the Earth and the Moon, of course, but we couldn't see the "Earth" that he was holding.
This experiment brought home a couple of points. First, although the inner solar system is a comparatively crowded place as cosmic neighbourhoods go, it is still incredibly empty. Second, compared with everything else in space, the Moon is ridiculously close to us. Have you ever doubted that Neil Armstrong and the other Apollo astronauts ever walked on the Moon? Have you ever wondered why the United States didn't follow up its successful Moon landings by sending astronauts to Mars pretty much right away? You can stop wondering and doubting right now. Do you realize that Mars is approximately 150 times farther away from us than the Moon? Imagine that you taught your son to swim, and you knew he could swim across a hundred meter pond. Just because you knew he could swim across that pond, would you be comfortable dropping him in the middle of a ten thousand meter lake and feel certain that he could swim ashore?
The third point that my experiment brought home is that our galaxy must be absolutely
incredibly large and empty. After all, compared with the rest of our galaxy, the Solar system, let alone the
inner Solar system, is incredibly tiny and crowded. Even so, it is so marvellously large and empty. So how large and empty is our entire galaxy?
Swainy, you said:
How many of those harmless black holes, are wondering around the milky way? 200 billion stars, times 13 billion years. There Must be one or two of them. Good job we'll not see em coming Huh?
If you ask me, there must be many, many more than just one or two lonely and invisible black holes wandering around the Milky Way. If you ask me, there must be thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands of them. Or hundreds of thousands of them? Maybe millions of them? Even more of them? No. I don't think there are more than a million of them. In fact, I really doubt that there are that many. But there are undoubtedly some of them out there.
Okay. And so what? There are two hundred
billion stars in our galaxy. If a perfectly normal ordinary star came blundering into our solar system, it might wreak as much havoc here as a black hole would. Suppose that astronomers found a lonely black hole only nine light years away from us. Wouldn't people be terrified? Wouldn't we think that the black hole was immediately headed our way? But
Sirius is nine light years away from us. When was the last time you worried that Sirius would come blundering straight into our solar system, its white dwarf companion in tow? If we don't assume that Sirius is trying to do us in, why should we think that an invisible black hole is lurking out there and has got our number?
Given how much empty space our galaxy contains, the chances that one of those free-floating black holes that undoubtedly exist would happen to wander into our own tiny, tiny, tiny, microscopic part of our galaxy is... well, zero. Or one in a quintillion, or one in an umpti-zillion, or something like that. In other words, it is, for all intents and purposes, zero.
Ann