
by Katie Yurkewicz
Human safety is always the first concern at the
Large Hadron Collider. But the machine also
needs shielding from its own proton beams, which
each pack the energy of a high-speed train.
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| When particles collide, a spray of new particles is created; this simulation shows what happens when lead ions collide in the Large Hadron Collider’s ALICE detector. While each particle carries only a tiny puff of energy, the combined energy of particles in the beam is that of a speeding train. |
| Image courtesy of the
ALICE Collaboration |
When people talk about the super-high energies
of proton collisions in the Large Hadron Collider,
it’s easy to envision a series of explosions—pop,
pop, pop—that give off flashes of light and shake
the room.
Not so. Even though the protons are hurtling
along at nearly the speed of light, each one is
so tiny that when it smashes head-on into another,
the collision releases just a puff of energy, in
ordinary human terms—about 30 trillionths of
the energy a 60-watt light bulb puts out in a
second. Still, this is so much more energy than
any collider has achieved before that scientists
expect to see exciting new physics in the debris.
But the proton beams themselves are another
matter. Each beam contains 280 trillion protons
with the combined energy of a high-speed train
going 200 kilometers per hour, squeezed into
a stream much thinner than a human hair. They’ll
race around a circular ring 11,245 times per second,
year after year, inside one of the world’s largest,
most sensitive, and most complex machines.
The beams throw off billions of stray particles
that will heat up anything they hit, and they
pass within about a centimeter of thousands of
superconducting magnets that have to be kept
colder than the vacuum of outer space. If stray
particles damage the magnets or other sensitive
equipment, the collider could be forced to shut
down for weeks, months, or more. And if the beam
veers ever so slightly off, parts of the $8.7 billion
machine—by far the most powerful accelerator ever
built—would be destroyed.
Just as scientists at CERN, the European
particle physics lab in Switzerland, have taken elaborate
precautions to make sure the beams don’t
harm people, they’ve also had to craft the world’s
most sophisticated machine protection system
to save the LHC from itself. The system shields
the LHC’s 9000 magnets from the beams and
from themselves; traps stray particles so they don’t
damage critical components; and safely disposes
of the beams—and their formidable energy—when
necessary.
To harness the powerful beams of protons and
steer them around the ring, scientists have to
create strong magnetic fields. This requires superconducting
electromagnets, whose wire coils
can carry large electric currents with virtually no
resistance. For the wire to become superconducting,
the magnets must be kept very cold—in
this case at a temperature of -271 degrees Celsius,
close to absolute zero.
Together the LHC’s magnets store even more
energy than the proton beams do—a whopping
10,000 megajoules, compared to 362 megajoules
for the beams. Most of this energy is contained
in 1232 superconducting dipole magnets, which do
most of the work of beam steering.
While a beam of particles by itself creates very
little heat, beam particles straying from the core
of the beam will heat up surrounding material.
It takes just a small number of beam particles
hitting a magnet in one spot to raise the magnet’s
temperature above a critical point, causing
it to suddenly change from superconducting to
“normal” conducting. This change, called a quench,
releases the stored energy of the magnet and
its neighbors; it can heat a small part of the
magnet from -271 to 700°C (-456 to 1300°F) in
less than one second.
“If we don’t do anything, all the stored energy
will go into one magnet, and that magnet will
be destroyed,” says CERN’s Rudiger Schmidt,
coordinator of LHC machine protection. “We
have to detect a quench and take action to put
the energy somewhere that it’s not dangerous.”
When a quench begins, the beams are shut
down and power to the affected magnet is immediately
cut. Then heaters fire up, quickly raising the
temperature of the whole 14.3-meter-long, 35-ton
magnet and dissipating the energy.
Each dipole magnet is connected to 153 neighbors,
and their energy also has to be immediately
removed. A switch sends the energy into large
resistors, where it heats eight tons of steel to a
temperature of 300°C (570°F) in less than two
minutes.
The LHC isn’t the first accelerator to face
the danger of magnet quenches. Fermi National
Accelerator Laboratory’s Tevatron collider, the
first to use superconducting magnets, has faced
this problem since it began operation in the
late 1970s, followed more recently by the HERA
accelerator at Germany’s DESY laboratory in
Hamburg. Scientists learned from those accelerators
how to deal with quenches. The scale of
the LHC increases the challenge significantly,
however: each of the LHC’s eight sectors is similar
in size to one Tevatron.
Can quenches be prevented? Some, such as
those caused by infinitesimal changes within the
magnet, are unavoidable. But many quenches are
due to the interaction of stray beam particles with
the magnets. As the beam intensity increases, so
does the number of quenches.
“It takes 30 minutes to five hours to restart the
LHC after a quench,” says Schmidt. “If we quench
10 times a day, it’s too much. If we never quench,
we’re being too conservative. We have to operate
such that we don’t quench too frequently.”
But limiting the beam intensity shouldn’t be,
and isn’t, the only solution. Keeping the stray
beam particles from hitting the sensitive parts of
the LHC is the task of the collimation, or beam
cleaning, system.
How does CERN ensure that the LHC’s proton beams are safe for
those working on the accelerator—and for everyone else?
Under no circumstances are people and beams allowed in
the same place at the same time. State-of-the-art access control
gates keep everyone out of the beam areas while the LHC is
running. If someone were to break into one of those areas when
the beams were on, an interlock system would immediately turn
the beams off and safely dispose of their energy.
Once the LHC begins operating, some areas of the machine
will remain radioactive even when the beams are turned off. Only
workers with appropriate training and monitoring equipment will
be allowed to enter those areas. CERN’s access and radiation
control systems, developed over many years, were subject to an
extensive review and approval process by the French authorities.
Since the collider is 100 meters or more below ground,
people living and working at the surface are well shielded from the
LHC beams and the small amounts of radiation they generate.
The risk of radioactive substances reaching the surface through
ventilation shafts, or spreading through ground water or cooling
water, has been exhaustively studied by CERN scientists and by
officials from the Swiss and French governments. They concluded
that any exposure to the public would be far below government
limits—approximately one percent of the level of natural radiation
in the area.
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Each hair-thin beam of protons that races around
the Large Hadron Collider contains as much
energy as a locomotive going 200 kilometers per
hour. When it’s time to shut the machine down,
that energy—so concentrated that it could drill a
hole in any material—must be safely absorbed.
The machine protection system does the job in
just 80 millionths of a second.
-
A thin wall down the middle of the septum
magnet separates the two beams of protons,
which are going in opposite directions.
-
When it’s time to shut down, the fast kicker
magnet deflects the beam so it crosses the septum.
Once on the other side, it’s free of the magnetic
fields that normally force it to take a curving
path around the collider, so it goes straight.
-
The dilution magnet spreads the beam out,
diluting its intensity by a factor of 100,000.
-
The watered-down beam hits a cylinder of
graphite composite eight meters long and one
meter in diameter, which is encased in concrete.
As it absorbs the beam energy, it becomes very hot
but does not melt.
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The beams’ tightly focused cores are surrounded
by a halo of stray particles generated by interactions between the two beams, small
imperfections in any of the LHC’s thousands of
sophisticated components, and a variety of
other sources. With the high-intensity beams
making 400 million trips around the LHC in a
typical 10-hour beam lifetime, more than 500 billion
particles may migrate from the core. The
energy in the halo is enough to not only quench
magnets, but to melt them.
“The parameters of the LHC beam are so high
that microscopic effects can be very destructive
to the machine and to the detectors,” says Nikolai
Mokhov of Fermilab, a pioneering researcher in
collimator systems who works on the LHC’s
machine protection system.
One of the first advances in machine protection
came in the late 1970s, when Fermilab’s Helen
Edwards placed stainless steel shielding in front
of the first superconducting magnets to protect
them from stray particles. These collimators
trapped the particles while allowing the beam’s
core to pass through, and were the precursors
of today’s complex collimator systems.
The LHC’s 100 collimators are strategically
stationed in critical areas of the accelerator. No
longer stationary blocks of steel, they are made
of graphite composites, and they open and close
automatically or at the request of accelerator
operators.
Why use a light material like graphite, and
not something heavy and seemingly impenetrable
like lead? If the material were heavy, all the
beam’s energy would concentrate in the first half
meter of the block. Combine that with the lower
melting point of a material like lead, and in short
order your beam-dump block would become a
beam-dump mess. Using a light, high-melting-point
material like graphite ensures that the
beam energy is distributed throughout the block,
and that the block will last for the decades-long
life of the LHC.
Say a magnet quenches, too much beam goes off
course, or—the most likely yet least dramatic
scenario—the beams have lost too many protons
during normal collisions and scientists need
to load a fresh set. What happens to the old
beams? Even at the ends of their usual 10-hour life
spans they still hold 200 megajoules of energy
that can't be sent just anywhere.
“This beam is not a danger by itself,” Schmidt
says, “but the fact that it can deposit its energy
in a tenth of a thousandth of a second makes it
dangerous to the machine.”
When the time comes, the beams are extracted,
or dumped, into two huge cylindrical blocks. Eight
meters long, one meter in diameter, and made of
graphite composites encased in concrete, they
are the only thing that can withstand the full
power of the beam. But first the beam has to be
diffused, because in its compressed form it would
drill a hole tens of meters long in any material.
So as the beams pass out of the LHC, they
spread out and hit the blocks in a shape that
resembles a cursive “e.” The dump takes just
eighty-millionths of a second, dilutes the energy
of the beam by a factor of 100,000 and heats
the center of the lines that make up the “e” to
almost 700°C.
In 2003, two-thirds of the superconducting
magnets in the Tevatron’s six-kilometer ring
quenched at the same time. The beam drilled a
hole in one collimator and created a 30-centimeter
groove in another. That accident, while serious,
was the only one in the accelerator’s 20-year
history, and the machine was back up and running
within two weeks. Could something similar happen
on a larger scale at the LHC?
“In a bad accident, the
beam could go off
course and drill a hole
through one or two
magnets.”
Rudiger Schmidt, CERN
“In a bad accident, the beam could go off course
and drill a hole through one or two magnets,” says
Schmidt. While this would not destroy the LHC, it
would still require time and money for repair.
Replacing a dipole magnet, for which CERN has
30-40 spares, would take 30 days. A more complicated
repair, or replacement of a less common
component, would take longer.
“The beam at the LHC is 150 times more powerful,
so the scale of the accident could be 150
times higher,” says Mokhov. “We want to guarantee
that this will never, never happen at the LHC. Our
goal is to design a system to exclude this type of
accident completely.”
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