Silke Weinfurtner is trying to build the universe from scratch. In a physics lab at the University of Nottingham—close to the Sherwood forest of legendary English outlaw Robin Hood—she and her colleagues will work with a huge superconducting coil magnet, 1 meter across. Inside, there’s a small pool of liquid, whose gentle ripples stand to mimic the matter fluctuations that gave rise to the structures we observe in the cosmos.

Weinfurtner isn’t an evil genius hell-bent on creating a world of her own to rule. She just wants to understand the origins of the one we already have.

The Big Bang is by far the most popular model of our universe’s beginnings, but even its fans disagree about how it happened. The theory depends on the existence of a hypothetical quantum field that stretched the universe ultra-rapidly and uniformly in all directions, expanding it by a huge factor in a fraction of a second: a process dubbed inflation. But that inflation or the field responsible for it—the inflaton—is impossible to prove directly. Which is why Weinfurtner wants to mimic it in a lab.

If the Big Bang theory is right, the baby universe would have been created with tiny ripples—so-called ‘quantum fluctuations’—which got stretched during inflation and turned into matter and radiation, or light. These fluctuations are thought to have eventually magnified to cosmic size, seeding galaxies, stars, and planets. And it’s these tiny ripples that Weinfurtner wants to model with that massive superconducting magnet. Inside, she’ll put a circular tank, some 6 centimeters in diameter, filled with layered water and butanol (the liquids have different densities, so they don’t mix).

Then, her group of researchers will kick in the artificial gravity distortions. “The strength of the magnetic field varies with its position,” says Richard Hill, one of the paper’s co-authors. “By moving the pool to different regions of the field, the effective gravitational force can be increased or decreased,” he says, “and can even be turned upside-down.”

By varying gravity, the team hopes to create ripples—but unlike those on a pond, the distortions will appear between the two liquids. “By carefully adjusting the speed of the ripples we can model an inflating universe,” says another team member, Anastasios Avgoustidis. In cosmic inflation, space rapidly expands while the ripples of matter propagate at a constant speed—and in the experiment, the speed of the ripples rapidly decreases as the liquid’s volume remains constant. “The equations describing the propagation of ripples in these two scenarios are identical,” Avgoustidis says.

That’s important: If the resulting fluctuations look as if they might trigger structures like those found in today’s universe, then we may have had a glimpse of how inflation worked.

This isn’t the first time Weinfurtner—or anyone else—has tried to mimic cosmic phenomena on a tiny scale. Around the world, astrophysicists can be found in labs, developing ever more sophisticated set-ups using sound waves that travel just like light waves in strong gravitational fields, or magnets to trigger perturbations in fluids and gases.

Last June, Weinfurtner used a large water tank with a sink in the middle to mimic another difficult-to-observe phenomenon: the superradiance of a black hole. And it was William Unruh, a physicist at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver (and Weinfurtner’s advisor a decade ago), who pioneered the idea of simulating gravity in a lab in 1981. After all, “we cannot rerun the universe—and cannot live long enough to see the results of the experiment if we could,” says Unruh.

Analog gravity experiments have gotten more sophisticated since Unruh’s first experiment, which used a fluid simulation of gravity to show that the event horizon of a real black hole does to light what a sonic black hole does to sound. In other words: What we can measure and express in the lab can be used to explore properties of astrophysical black holes. It even works for the famous Hawking radiation, the prediction that black holes radiate heat and at some point will totally evaporate. A few years ago, Jeff Steinhauer of the Technion in Haifa, Israel, discovered the radiation’s sonic analog.