Where to find extra hours and how to survive 2026 under an active Sun
December on Earth is always a race against the clock: deadlines are looming, gifts aren't bought, and year-end reviews remain unwritten. It feels like 24 hours in a day is catastrophically insufficient. But who said we are obliged to live within this particular coordinate system?
In honor of our institute’s transformation into the Snowtech: Institute of Scientific Fairy Tales and New Year’s Miracles, we decided to find a way out of this time trap. So, we turned to someone who knows more about time and space than we do — heliophysicist Tatiana Podladchikova. It turns out that a "New Year’s miracle" is simply a matter of astrophysics: on one planet, you can stretch the holiday into eternity; on another, you can close your annual plan in a single workday; and a third allows you to send a text message to your distant descendants.
In honor of our institute’s transformation into the Snowtech: Institute of Scientific Fairy Tales and New Year’s Miracles, we decided to find a way out of this time trap. So, we turned to someone who knows more about time and space than we do — heliophysicist Tatiana Podladchikova. It turns out that a "New Year’s miracle" is simply a matter of astrophysics: on one planet, you can stretch the holiday into eternity; on another, you can close your annual plan in a single workday; and a third allows you to send a text message to your distant descendants.
Tatiana Podladchikova //
PhD in Technical Sciences, a heliophysicist, associate professor and the Director of the Skoltech Center for Digital Engineering.
She investigates the nature of solar storms and develops space weather services that help protect Earth-bound technologies from the whims of our star.
She investigates the nature of solar storms and develops space weather services that help protect Earth-bound technologies from the whims of our star.
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— Tatiana, let’s be honest: December on Earth is a fight for survival. We never have enough hours in the day, and the year flies by too fast. If we look at the Solar System as a menu of lifestyle options, do we have any alternatives? Where should a person exhausted by Earthly time management go?
— Let’s say the "Martian mode" isn’t for us. Working on Earth on Mars time sounds too much like perpetual jet lag with a cumulative effect. Is there a place where we can stretch the holiday out a bit longer? Where you set the table, and the night lasts forever.
— Sounds tempting. But let’s look at the opposite situation. Suppose I’m an efficiency manager or a student before finals. I need a place where I can close all my deadlines as quickly as possible. Where should I fly?
— Oh, the Solar System offers plenty of options. We are just used to our "standard hotel room": one rotation around the axis — 24 hours, one revolution around the Sun — 365 days. But shift your focus, and the rules of the game change drastically.
Take Mars, for example. It seems almost like Earth; a day there is only 37 minutes longer than ours. Engineers on Martian missions once conducted an experiment where they lived according to rover time. It was a constant shift: today you start your shift in the morning, a week later — in the afternoon, and a month later — when everyone on Earth is going to bed.
People felt a serious disruption to their biorhythms; they even called themselves "part-time Martians." They had to live behind blackout curtains during the day to simulate night and blast bright lights at night. A living human being has to completely rewire their physiology for those "extra" 37 minutes. It seems like nothing, a statistical error. But this "nothing" fundamentally changes life. Imagine a grain of sand moved by the wind — at first, it’s unnoticeable, but then suddenly, a whole dune has grown.
Take Mars, for example. It seems almost like Earth; a day there is only 37 minutes longer than ours. Engineers on Martian missions once conducted an experiment where they lived according to rover time. It was a constant shift: today you start your shift in the morning, a week later — in the afternoon, and a month later — when everyone on Earth is going to bed.
People felt a serious disruption to their biorhythms; they even called themselves "part-time Martians." They had to live behind blackout curtains during the day to simulate night and blast bright lights at night. A living human being has to completely rewire their physiology for those "extra" 37 minutes. It seems like nothing, a statistical error. But this "nothing" fundamentally changes life. Imagine a grain of sand moved by the wind — at first, it’s unnoticeable, but then suddenly, a whole dune has grown.
— Then you want Venus. It’s a rebel planet; it rotates against the grain, in the opposite direction to its movement around the Sun. And it does so very, very slowly. The year moves forward, while the day seems to try to unwind backward.
The time from sunrise to sunrise there is 117 Earth days, while a full rotation around its axis takes 243 days (sidereal day). At the same time, a Venusian year lasts 225 days. The result is amazing: if you lived on Venus, you could watch the sunrise, then — before that same day is even over — celebrate the New Year, all while the Venusian noon hasn’t even arrived yet. Imagine: the champagne is popped, the year has changed, but the sun is still high in the sky. A stunning option for those who never want the party to end.
The time from sunrise to sunrise there is 117 Earth days, while a full rotation around its axis takes 243 days (sidereal day). At the same time, a Venusian year lasts 225 days. The result is amazing: if you lived on Venus, you could watch the sunrise, then — before that same day is even over — celebrate the New Year, all while the Venusian noon hasn’t even arrived yet. Imagine: the champagne is popped, the year has changed, but the sun is still high in the sky. A stunning option for those who never want the party to end.
— To Mercury. The situation there is reversed: the time from sunrise to sunrise is 176 Earth days, while a year flies by in just 88 — exactly half that time.
It’s a paradox: one solar day on Mercury lasts two Mercurian years. That means you see the sunrise, celebrate the New Year, and you still have to wait just as long for the next sunrise. If our institute moved to Mercury, we would fulfill our KPIs for two years in a single workday.
It’s a paradox: one solar day on Mercury lasts two Mercurian years. That means you see the sunrise, celebrate the New Year, and you still have to wait just as long for the next sunrise. If our institute moved to Mercury, we would fulfill our KPIs for two years in a single workday.
— And then we could go into hibernation with a clear conscience. Also for two years.
— Yes! Perfect for the post-December reporting period.
— Okay, we’ve sorted out the deadlines. But what about the classic promise to "start a new life in January"? On Earth, that enthusiasm usually burns out by February. Where would I have more time to get into the swing of things?
— On Jupiter. It spins rapidly — a day there lasts only 10 hours. In that time, you have to wake up, get everything done, and go to sleep.
However, a year there lasts 12 Earth years. If you decide to start a new life in January on Jupiter, that "January" would last a whole Earth year. There is genuinely enough time for change; you don’t have to rush.
However, a year there lasts 12 Earth years. If you decide to start a new life in January on Jupiter, that "January" would last a whole Earth year. There is genuinely enough time for change; you don’t have to rush.
— And the final option — for introverts. Where should one go to send out congratulatory messages once and then forget about social obligations more or less forever?
— That is undoubtedly Pluto. It is very far away, and one revolution around the Sun takes almost 248 Earth years. It turns out that during one year on Pluto, several generations of people pass on Earth.
If we look at a human lifespan — born, grew up, grew old — a hypothetical resident of Pluto would live not even a year there, but merely a single season. And a message saying "Happy New Year!" would be delivered to their distant descendants. It’s a scale of time that is difficult to even comprehend.
If we look at a human lifespan — born, grew up, grew old — a hypothetical resident of Pluto would live not even a year there, but merely a single season. And a message saying "Happy New Year!" would be delivered to their distant descendants. It’s a scale of time that is difficult to even comprehend.
— Okay, the planets are clear: somewhere deadlines are burning, elsewhere they stretch into eternity. But the Sun itself doesn’t just hang motionless in the void. It has its own "year." If we look at ourselves on a galactic scale, who are we? Long-livers or random passersby?
— To be honest? We aren't even infants.
Look, our entire Solar System — the Sun, planets, asteroids — is hurtling at tremendous speed around the center of the Milky Way, around the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A*. One such revolution — let’s call it a "galactic year" — takes approximately 225–250 million Earth years.
Now, let’s overlay human history onto this cycle. Homo sapiens as a species appeared roughly 300,000 years ago. If you do the math, on the galactic calendar, we have existed for less than half a day. We literally just woke up, blinked — and here we are.
Look, our entire Solar System — the Sun, planets, asteroids — is hurtling at tremendous speed around the center of the Milky Way, around the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A*. One such revolution — let’s call it a "galactic year" — takes approximately 225–250 million Earth years.
Now, let’s overlay human history onto this cycle. Homo sapiens as a species appeared roughly 300,000 years ago. If you do the math, on the galactic calendar, we have existed for less than half a day. We literally just woke up, blinked — and here we are.
— That hurts the ego. Was there anyone on Earth who lasted longer? Dinosaurs?
— The dinosaurs. They appeared about 230 million years ago and reigned on the planet for a very long time. In fact, dinosaurs lived through almost a full galactic year. They managed to take a victory lap around the center of the Galaxy. Meanwhile, we haven’t even finished our morning coffee, if we stick to the half-day analogy.
Therefore, when we discuss the influence of galactic cycles on evolution, we need to be more modest. We fly through different arms of the Galaxy, pass through gas clouds, encounter different stars, and are exposed to cosmic rays — all of this can have an impact. But on the scale of our "afternoon," we simply haven't had time to feel any of it yet.
Therefore, when we discuss the influence of galactic cycles on evolution, we need to be more modest. We fly through different arms of the Galaxy, pass through gas clouds, encounter different stars, and are exposed to cosmic rays — all of this can have an impact. But on the scale of our "afternoon," we simply haven't had time to feel any of it yet.
— Fine, the timing is clear: we’re the new kids on the block. But what about the location? In prime real estate, three factors matter: location, location, location. Where is Earth situated — in the center of the action or in a dormitory suburb?
— We live in a quiet suburb, far from the center. And that, by the way, is a good thing. Because in the center, near the black hole, completely different laws apply.
You’ve surely seen Interstellar. Remember that effect: the stronger the gravity, the slower time flows? That isn’t science fiction; it’s physics. The closer you are to the center of the Milky Way, to that colossal mass, the slower your clock ticks.
But the most amazing thing is that this effect works even on Earth; we just don’t notice it.
You’ve surely seen Interstellar. Remember that effect: the stronger the gravity, the slower time flows? That isn’t science fiction; it’s physics. The closer you are to the center of the Milky Way, to that colossal mass, the slower your clock ticks.
But the most amazing thing is that this effect works even on Earth; we just don’t notice it.
— So time flows differently for someone living in a penthouse versus someone on the ground floor?
— Exactly! If you take ultra-precise atomic clocks and place one at sea level and the other on a mountaintop, they will show different times. Where gravity is slightly weaker (on a mountain or in a flying airplane), time flows slightly faster.
Over 7–9 centuries, a clock on a mountain would run ahead by about one second. Astronauts on the ISS also age slightly slower than you and I do on Earth — by fractions of a second. These are tiny values, but they are real.
Now, if we were to approach the event horizon of a black hole, time would slow down thousands of times over. To an outside observer, it would look like an endless slow-motion shot.
Over 7–9 centuries, a clock on a mountain would run ahead by about one second. Astronauts on the ISS also age slightly slower than you and I do on Earth — by fractions of a second. These are tiny values, but they are real.
Now, if we were to approach the event horizon of a black hole, time would slow down thousands of times over. To an outside observer, it would look like an endless slow-motion shot.
— So, the best way to prolong youth isn’t cosmetology, but moving closer to a black hole?
— Technically, yes. You would save a massive amount of time, though you’d hardly be able to return to Earth to brag about it.
— Listening to you, one realizes that space is a rather extreme place. Time freezes there, while here a year flies by in a day. Against this backdrop, Earth looks like a suspiciously cozy resort. Is this a pattern, or did we just get incredibly lucky?
— We got lucky, many times over. We won the cosmic lottery.
First, the age of our star. The Sun is currently in its middle age — it is about 4.5–5 billion years old. This is the calmest, most favorable period.
When a star is young, it behaves like a rowdy teenager: flares, ejections, harsh ultraviolet radiation. If Earth had tried to host life during the Sun’s first billion years, that UV radiation would have simply sterilized everything alive. But now the Sun has "settled down." We have a comfortable 11-year activity cycle and a stable supply of heat and light.
Second, we have protection. A magnetic field and an atmosphere — that is our privilege. It is a shield that covers us from solar wind and cosmic radiation. Without it, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking.
First, the age of our star. The Sun is currently in its middle age — it is about 4.5–5 billion years old. This is the calmest, most favorable period.
When a star is young, it behaves like a rowdy teenager: flares, ejections, harsh ultraviolet radiation. If Earth had tried to host life during the Sun’s first billion years, that UV radiation would have simply sterilized everything alive. But now the Sun has "settled down." We have a comfortable 11-year activity cycle and a stable supply of heat and light.
Second, we have protection. A magnetic field and an atmosphere — that is our privilege. It is a shield that covers us from solar wind and cosmic radiation. Without it, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking.
— Are there examples of those who were less lucky? Just so we appreciate what we have.
— Look at Mars. It’s a sad fairy tale. Once upon a time, it was very similar to Earth; it had a magnetic field. But for some reason, Mars lost it. And then the solar wind — that stream of particles from our "gentle" Sun — literally stripped away the Martian atmosphere. Over millions of years, only pitiful remnants were left.
Therefore, when we dream of colonizing Mars, we must understand: there is no safety dome there. We would have to live either deep underground, never seeing the sun, or build massive protective structures. Mars is a planet that lost its shield.
Therefore, when we dream of colonizing Mars, we must understand: there is no safety dome there. We would have to live either deep underground, never seeing the sun, or build massive protective structures. Mars is a planet that lost its shield.
— Sounds like a death sentence. Or is there still a chance to fix everything? You know, like in old fairy tales: turn a desert into a blooming garden.
Science is sometimes bolder than fairy tales. There was a brilliant astrophysicist, Carl Sagan, a great dreamer. He looked at Venus — which, let me remind you, is a true hell: pressure like a kilometer underwater, temperatures that melt lead, an atmosphere of dense carbon dioxide.
And Sagan proposed a daring idea: let’s seed Venus’s atmosphere with blue-green algae. Cyanobacteria. Let them "eat" this carbon dioxide and produce oxygen. According to his calculations, in just 300 years, we could completely transform the atmosphere and get a second Earth.
And Sagan proposed a daring idea: let’s seed Venus’s atmosphere with blue-green algae. Cyanobacteria. Let them "eat" this carbon dioxide and produce oxygen. According to his calculations, in just 300 years, we could completely transform the atmosphere and get a second Earth.
— Cyanobacteria! The very ones that survived several galactic years on Earth! How old are the traces of cyanobacterial mats found in Australia? About 4 billion years? That means they’ve held on here for 15–20 galactic years and are doing quite well. They even staged the Oxygen Revolution, but how long did that take them — about a billion years? Can they handle Venus in just 300?
— Yes, you’re right; on the scale of nature, that sounds incredibly fast. Sagan was a big optimist. But the thought itself is amazing! We have been observing sunspots for 400 years — that’s longer than the time Sagan allotted for terraforming Venus. Why not launch an experiment whose results our great-great-grandchildren will see?
Of course, this is just a theory for now. But it reminds us that life is a stubborn thing. And that even hellish conditions might possibly be changed if we apply intelligence.
Of course, this is just a theory for now. But it reminds us that life is a stubborn thing. And that even hellish conditions might possibly be changed if we apply intelligence.
— We’ve talked about eternity, now let’s talk about the immediate future. On New Year’s Eve, it’s customary to check the weather forecast — will the winter be harsh, are the forecasters predicting a rainy summer... What does the cosmic weather bureau promise us for 2026? Should we pack an umbrella for the solar wind?
— An umbrella is unlikely to help, but it’s worth being prepared. The Sun is currently at the peak of its activity. This means a huge number of sunspots — zones of powerful magnetic fields — are appearing on its surface.
This year and next, these spots are so gigantic that they can sometimes be seen even with the naked eye (of course, only through special protective glasses!). If the human eye can distinguish a spot on the Sun’s disk, it means its diameter is over 50,000 kilometers. Can you imagine? That’s four times the diameter of Earth. Quite the "freckle."
This year and next, these spots are so gigantic that they can sometimes be seen even with the naked eye (of course, only through special protective glasses!). If the human eye can distinguish a spot on the Sun’s disk, it means its diameter is over 50,000 kilometers. Can you imagine? That’s four times the diameter of Earth. Quite the "freckle."
— And what do these giant "freckles" threaten us with?
— The more sunspots there are, the more flares and plasma ejections occur. The Sun is literally storming.
We already felt this in May 2024, when one of the strongest magnetic storms in the last 150 years occurred. An ordinary person might not have even noticed — well, the aurora borealis was beautiful, and that’s about it. But technology went crazy.
Transpolar flights had to be rerouted because radio communication disappeared at the poles. But the most amazing thing happened to farmers in the US and Canada. They couldn’t plant their crops because the GPS on their smart tractors failed. The tractors were simply driving off track, making crooked rows. The damage was estimated at half a billion dollars! Satellites had to perform over 5,000 maneuvers just to stay in orbit.
So, in 2026, we remain at the maximum. Expect active events, vivid auroras, and perhaps new surprises for navigators.
We already felt this in May 2024, when one of the strongest magnetic storms in the last 150 years occurred. An ordinary person might not have even noticed — well, the aurora borealis was beautiful, and that’s about it. But technology went crazy.
Transpolar flights had to be rerouted because radio communication disappeared at the poles. But the most amazing thing happened to farmers in the US and Canada. They couldn’t plant their crops because the GPS on their smart tractors failed. The tractors were simply driving off track, making crooked rows. The damage was estimated at half a billion dollars! Satellites had to perform over 5,000 maneuvers just to stay in orbit.
So, in 2026, we remain at the maximum. Expect active events, vivid auroras, and perhaps new surprises for navigators.
— Will there be anything beautiful worth looking up for, instead of staring at a smartphone screen?
— Definitely! In August 2026, a total solar eclipse awaits us. It is an incredible spectacle.
Since the Sun is currently at peak activity, its corona — the outer atmosphere that flares up around the black disk of the Moon — will look like a giant shaggy hedgehog with rays shooting out in all directions. It’s not just beautiful; it is priceless for science, but it also mesmerizes the ordinary observer to the point of goosebumps. I highly recommend not missing it.
Since the Sun is currently at peak activity, its corona — the outer atmosphere that flares up around the black disk of the Moon — will look like a giant shaggy hedgehog with rays shooting out in all directions. It’s not just beautiful; it is priceless for science, but it also mesmerizes the ordinary observer to the point of goosebumps. I highly recommend not missing it.
— Tatiana, our project is called "Snowtech: Institute of Winter Wonders" What would you wish for our community — students, scientists, all of us — in this new cosmic year?
— I wish you flashes of ideas as bright as those on the Sun. Stable orbits for your projects — so that you are not blown off course by the winds of change. And, of course, the radiance of discovery.
May your internal energy warm you and drive you forward, just as a thermonuclear reaction drives the life of stars. And no matter what magnetic storms rage outside, I wish us all good weather at home.
And on Earth.
May your internal energy warm you and drive you forward, just as a thermonuclear reaction drives the life of stars. And no matter what magnetic storms rage outside, I wish us all good weather at home.
And on Earth.
— And if we look even wider? Thousands of exoplanets are being discovered now. are there places more interesting than Earth? Maybe planets with two suns, like Tatooine in Star Wars?
— Oh yes, there are many such worlds. Imagine: two sunrises, two sunsets, double shadows. Or a situation where one star has set, but the second is still shining — and there is simply no night.
But the most amazing thing is that the more worlds we discover, the clearer we understand the value of our own. We search for a "second Earth" not just for oxygen, water, or comfortable gravity. Perhaps the true goal of these searches is to see the uniqueness of our home and better realize our place in the Universe.
Curiosity is a natural force that compels us to go beyond the visible horizon. It leads us from the first telescopes to interplanetary stations, from observing the stars to dreaming of Venus. As Giordano Bruno said, there are countless worlds — and humans inevitably reach for them to learn what lies beyond the boundary of the possible.
Space exploration is precisely that — stepping beyond limits: into the unknown, into the next stage of our evolution. Our spacecraft go further and further into the cosmic ocean, to asteroids, planets, and the Sun itself. And if humanity wants to survive in the distant future, it will have to move together with the evolution of the Solar System: strive for other stars, build colonies, create new worlds — go beyond the framework of the familiar.
Flight to the stars remains one of humanity's most daring ideas: it requires colossal energy, the finest orbital mechanics, and the ability to sustain life on an endless journey. An alternative might be the development of nearby worlds — colonies, orbital megastructures, terraforming. And there is an almost fantastic thought — to prolong the life of the Sun itself, to "feed" it with hydrogen, although this is currently far beyond our technology and understanding of physics.
We are cosmic travelers. In every one of our orbits around the Sun, there is a part of the Universe's history. After all, the atoms of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and iron in our bodies were born in the cores of stars that exploded billions of years ago. Perhaps the atoms in your left hand came from one star, and those in your right — from another.
And if we are woven from stars, then we should live like stars — expanding horizons and boldly going further than what seems to be the limit of our vision.
But the most amazing thing is that the more worlds we discover, the clearer we understand the value of our own. We search for a "second Earth" not just for oxygen, water, or comfortable gravity. Perhaps the true goal of these searches is to see the uniqueness of our home and better realize our place in the Universe.
Curiosity is a natural force that compels us to go beyond the visible horizon. It leads us from the first telescopes to interplanetary stations, from observing the stars to dreaming of Venus. As Giordano Bruno said, there are countless worlds — and humans inevitably reach for them to learn what lies beyond the boundary of the possible.
Space exploration is precisely that — stepping beyond limits: into the unknown, into the next stage of our evolution. Our spacecraft go further and further into the cosmic ocean, to asteroids, planets, and the Sun itself. And if humanity wants to survive in the distant future, it will have to move together with the evolution of the Solar System: strive for other stars, build colonies, create new worlds — go beyond the framework of the familiar.
Flight to the stars remains one of humanity's most daring ideas: it requires colossal energy, the finest orbital mechanics, and the ability to sustain life on an endless journey. An alternative might be the development of nearby worlds — colonies, orbital megastructures, terraforming. And there is an almost fantastic thought — to prolong the life of the Sun itself, to "feed" it with hydrogen, although this is currently far beyond our technology and understanding of physics.
We are cosmic travelers. In every one of our orbits around the Sun, there is a part of the Universe's history. After all, the atoms of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and iron in our bodies were born in the cores of stars that exploded billions of years ago. Perhaps the atoms in your left hand came from one star, and those in your right — from another.
And if we are woven from stars, then we should live like stars — expanding horizons and boldly going further than what seems to be the limit of our vision.
