We should set ourselves the goal of doing things in space that make people here and elsewhere look up and say, “Wow, the Kiwis are doing that? That’s AWESOME!”

Last week, Science Twitter was roiled by claims that “disruptive science” was on the wane. The Nature paper that kicked off this storm in our social media teacup is profusely illustrated with graphs and charts. The problem is that it could also be Exhibit A in a demonstration of how data science can generate buzz while remaining largely disconnected from reality.

These images will show us the environment of the black hole itself, test Einstein’s understanding of gravity, and give unprecedented proof that black holes truly exist in our universe. Because seeing really is believing. Even for scientists.

Imagine living in a world where walking and biking was as safe – by Commander Hadfield's measure – as flying in space. 

This is the week the Nobel Prizes are announced, and today is the day (at least in New Zealand; first place in the world to see the light, as the tourist people say) the Physics prize is announced. And this year the odds-on favourite will be LIGO and the discovery of gravitational waves.

As you can guess from the title, The First Three Minutes tells the story of the moments following the Big Bang. The early universe sets the stage for the development of the cosmos we observe today, and the Cosmic Microwave Background is a key link between the distant past and the present day.  

If you are trying to build a time machine, don't bother: even if we can design them, the universe makes it impossible for us (or anyone) to build them.

Just as earthquakes are the release of energy stored in subterranean faults, these gravitational waves were set in motion when two black holes – faults in space itself – became a single, stable object. Call it a spacequake.

Gravitational waves are already the science story of the week but if the rumours hold up they will one of the science stories of the century.

The equation-filled blackboard is one of the most reliable props of academia, not just in cartoons and movies, but in real life. You know a scientific discussion is taking a turn for the serious when the protagonists head to the board. Walking into a colleague's office, a glance at the scrawled notes on their board gives you a taste of their current research preoccupations and teaching commitments; wobbly chalk drawings along the bottom edge are a pretty good sign that the office's owner has a small child in their life.

The Particle at the End of the Universe is one of the best. Carroll's account provides an excellent account of what we have learnt about the particle realm, capturing the excitement of the hunt and the grandeur of what has been discovered.