Abvolt to Gigavolt

The CGS electromagnetic system uses centimeters, grams, and seconds as base units instead of meters, kilograms, and seconds. When you derive the unit of voltage from these smaller base units, the resulting "natural" voltage unit comes out absurdly small — 10⁻⁸ V. This is not a flaw but a consequence of the choice of base units: the CGS system was designed to make electromagnetic equations simpler (no factors of 4π or μ₀ in certain formulas), and the price was impractical unit sizes. The abvolt is to the volt what a grain of sand is to a boulder.

Rarely in isolation. Physicists working in the CGS-EMU system in the late 19th and early 20th centuries used abvolts in theoretical derivations and internal calculations, but they almost always converted results to "practical" units (volts, amperes, ohms) for publication and laboratory records. The practical units were specifically designed by the British Association for the Advancement of Science in the 1860s–1870s as convenient multiples of the CGS units. The volt was defined as exactly 10⁸ abvolts precisely so that real-world voltages would have sensible numerical values.

They come from two different CGS subsystems. The abvolt belongs to CGS-EMU (electromagnetic units), where the unit of current (abampere = 10 A) is defined by magnetic force. The statvolt belongs to CGS-ESU (electrostatic units), where the unit of charge (statcoulomb) is defined by Coulomb's law. The ratio between them is the speed of light: 1 statvolt = c × 10⁻⁶ volts ≈ 299.8 V, while 1 abvolt = 10⁻⁸ V. So one statvolt equals about 29.98 billion abvolts. The two systems produce wildly different unit sizes because one is optimized for magnetism and the other for electrostatics.

Because electricity and magnetism were studied as separate phenomena before Maxwell unified them in the 1860s. Electrostatics researchers defined units based on Coulomb's force law (ESU system), while magnetism researchers defined units based on Ampère's force law (EMU system). Each system made its own equations clean but produced incompatible units for shared quantities like voltage and charge. Gaussian units tried to merge both by using ESU for electric quantities and EMU for magnetic ones, with the speed of light as the bridge. SI finally resolved the mess by treating the ampere as a base unit independent of mechanical units.

In 1861, a committee led by William Thomson (Lord Kelvin) and James Clerk Maxwell chose centimeter, gram, and second as base units because they were already standard in laboratory physics. They then derived "absolute" electromagnetic units — the abvolt, abampere, abohm — from mechanical force equations. The resulting unit sizes were wildly impractical (the abvolt is 10⁻⁸ V), so the same committee created "practical" multiples: the volt (10⁸ abvolts), ampere (0.1 abampere), and ohm (10⁹ abohms). These practical units eventually became SI, while the absolute units faded into textbook footnotes.

Yes — pulsars and magnetars. A rapidly spinning neutron star with a powerful magnetic field generates an electric potential across its magnetosphere that can reach 10¹² to 10¹⁵ volts (thousands to millions of gigavolts). The Crab Pulsar, spinning 30 times per second with a magnetic field of about 10⁸ tesla, creates an estimated 10¹⁶ V potential. These fields rip electrons from the neutron star surface and accelerate them to near-light speed, producing the beams of radiation we detect as pulsar signals. No laboratory on Earth comes within a factor of a million of these voltages.

The leading theory is diffusive shock acceleration (Fermi acceleration). A charged particle bounces back and forth across the expanding shock wave of a supernova remnant, gaining a small percentage of energy with each crossing — like a ping-pong ball caught between two converging walls. Over thousands of years and millions of crossings, protons accumulate energies of 10¹⁵ to 10²⁰ eV, equivalent to being accelerated through 10⁶ to 10¹¹ gigavolts. The highest-energy cosmic ray ever detected (the Oh-My-God particle, 1991) carried 3.2 × 10²⁰ eV — the kinetic energy of a baseball pitched at 100 km/h, concentrated in a single proton.

Air breaks down at about 3 MV per meter, so a gigavolt potential in open air would arc across a 300-meter gap. Even in the best vacuum, field emission from metal surfaces limits practical voltages to a few hundred megavolts before electrons tunnel out of the electrode surface and create runaway breakdown. You could theoretically use a Van de Graaff in a pressurized SF₆ tank, but the tank would need to be kilometers in diameter. Particle accelerators avoid the problem entirely by using time-varying RF fields that never require a static gigavolt potential anywhere.

One electronvolt is the energy a single electron gains when accelerated through one volt. So one GeV equals the energy gained by one electron crossing a potential of one gigavolt. A proton at the LHC has 6,500 GeV of energy — equivalent to 6,500 GV of acceleration for a singly charged particle. But a calcium ion with charge +20 would only need 325 GV. The distinction matters: particle physicists quote energy in eV because it is charge-independent. Converting to volts requires knowing the particle's charge state.

Terrestrial gamma-ray flashes (TGFs) may come close. Discovered by satellites in 1994, TGFs are millisecond bursts of gamma rays originating from thunderstorms at about 10–15 km altitude. One theory holds that extreme electric fields in thunderclouds accelerate electrons to relativistic speeds through runaway breakdown — a process requiring effective potentials of hundreds of megavolts to low gigavolts. The electrons emit bremsstrahlung gamma rays energetic enough to produce electron-positron pairs. So thunderstorms may briefly generate near-gigavolt conditions, making them the most extreme particle accelerators in Earth's atmosphere.