Tiny humans, big universe: How to balance anxiety and wonder in astrophysics
The universe is a huge place, inconceivably vast. And it can make even the most brilliant minds feel very, very small.
Dr. Michelle Thaller is an astronomer who studies binary stars and the life cycles of stars. She is Assistant Director of Science Communication at NASA. She went to college at Harvard University, completed a post-doctoral research fellowship at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) in Pasadena, Calif. then started working for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory's (JPL) Spitzer Space Telescope. After a hugely successful mission, she moved on to NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center (GSFC), in the Washington D.C. area. In her off-hours often puts on about 30lbs of Elizabethan garb and performs intricate Renaissance dances. For more information, visit NASA.
Michelle Thaller: One of the big challenges of my life has been to kind of breakdown this barrier as scientists being somehow The Other. You know, “Being a scientist isn’t really a normal way to be a human being.”
And somehow there are all these judgments about—that “you must be very logical” or “you must be very smart,” whatever that means. And no one ever seems to really understand that when you learn where the atoms in your body came from, you know, when you learn the scale of the universe, when you learn the stories that you’re involved in, there has to be some emotional response to that, you know?
That just doesn’t roll off you and never affect you. And I don’t really have a great way to deal with everything that I’ve learned being an astrophysicist, you know. If I ever give people the impression that all this is “just okay” with me, that’s entirely wrong.
There are days when, you know, I understand that I am a collection of atoms that came from the hearts of stars, that briefly comes together and forms planets and people and everything that’s in our world. And then, you know, I was observing one night at Mount Palomar, where we were observing supernovae. And supernovae are the explosions of an entire solar system. A whole solar system is destroyed. A star and all of its planets.
And our telescopes are so good now that at a typical night at Mount Palomar you see about 20 of those a night. You know, you see 20 entire solar systems ripped apart—every night! So we’re here very briefly, you know. We’re little collections of atoms that come together and scatter and then form other things and, you know, travel on through the universe.
And sometimes that’s incredibly inspiring, and sometimes you think about the story that you’re a part of. The water in my body has hydrogen from the Big Bang, from the very start of the universe. Then the oxygen came from stars that had to die, you know? You hold your arms around yourself and you have a story that’s billions of years and trillions of miles across, just in your own self.
And then you think about how brief we are and how, you know, we are this little collection that comes together and disperses.
And sometimes I hide under the bed and it’s given me anxiety attacks, and you cling to the people that you love and you have sex with all the wrong people, and you try to find some way to just kind of work out this energy that you don’t know what to do with.
So there’s a balance between nihilism and inspiration, and I have to say that while that balance is sometimes painful because you’re a human being and you don’t know how to deal with this scale of things. It is an absolutely wonderful place to walk.
That balance between being part of everything, and being so brief, or almost nothing.
And you have to hold those two things in your hands at the same time. And everybody you meet and everything you do in life—and when you’re out grocery shopping and when you’re driving on the highway—these thoughts just don’t really ever leave. So it’s not the easiest place to be. There’s no great answer there. There’s no great comfort.
But the inspiring part is you’re part of a story that is mind-blowingly dramatic and beautiful, even if you’re a brief part. And so to me the balance tips towards inspiration. Some days it’s more towards the nihilism, but you take that little bit of truth and you wrap it up and you carry it with you. It never really leaves.
The universe is a huge place, inconceivably vast. And it can make even the most brilliant minds feel very, very small. Yet NASA's very own Michelle Thaller thinks that we can use this to our advantage, by finding "that balance between being part of everything, and being so brief, or almost nothing." You can follow Michelle on Twitter here.
Ready your Schrödinger's Cat Jokes.
- For a time, quantum computing was more theory than fact.
- That's starting to change.
- New quantum computer designs look like they might be scalable.
Quantum computing has existed in theory since the 1980's. It's slowly making its way into fact, the latest of which can be seen in a paper published in Nature called, "Deterministic teleportation of a quantum gate between two logical qubits."
To ensure that we're all familiar with a few basic terms: in electronics, a 'logic gate' is something that takes in one or more than one binary inputs and produces a single binary output. To put it in reductive terms: if you produce information that goes into a chip in your computer as a '0,' the logic gate is what sends it out the other side as a '1.'
A quantum gate means that the '1' in question here can — roughly speaking — go back through the gate and become a '0' once again. But that's not quite the whole of it.
A qubit is a single unit of quantum information. To continue with our simple analogy: you don't have to think about computers producing a string of information that is either a zero or a one. A quantum computer can do both, simultaneously. But that can only happen if you build a functional quantum gate.
That's why the results of the study from the folks at The Yale Quantum Institute saying that they were able to create a quantum gate with a "process fidelity" of 79% is so striking. It could very well spell the beginning of the pathway towards realistic quantum computing.
The team went about doing this through using a superconducting microwave cavity to create a data qubit — that is, they used a device that operates a bit like a organ pipe or a music box but for microwave frequencies. They paired that data qubit with a transmon — that is, a superconducting qubit that isn't as sensitive to quantum noise as it otherwise could be, which is a good thing, because noise can destroy information stored in a quantum state. The two are then connected through a process called a 'quantum bus.'
That process translates into a quantum property being able to be sent from one location to the other without any interaction between the two through something called a teleported CNOT gate, which is the 'official' name for a quantum gate. Single qubits made the leap from one side of the gate to the other with a high degree of accuracy.
Above: encoded qubits and 'CNOT Truth table,' i.e., the read-out.
The team then entangled these bits of information as a way of further proving that they were literally transporting the qubit from one place to somewhere else. They then analyzed the space between the quantum points to determine that something that doesn't follow the classical definition of physics occurred.
They conclude by noting that "... the teleported gate … uses relatively modest elements, all of which are part of the standard toolbox for quantum computation in general. Therefore ... progress to improve any of the elements will directly increase gate performance."
In other words: they did something simple and did it well. And that the only forward here is up. And down. At the same time.
These modern-day hermits can sometimes spend decades without ever leaving their apartments.
- A hikikomori is a type of person in Japan who locks themselves away in their bedrooms, sometimes for years.
- This is a relatively new phenomenon in Japan, likely due to rigid social customs and high expectations for academic and business success.
- Many believe hikikomori to be a result of how Japan interprets and handles mental health issues.
How a cataclysm worse than what killed the dinosaurs destroyed 90 percent of all life on Earth.
While the demise of the dinosaurs gets more attention as far as mass extinctions go, an even more disastrous event called "the Great Dying” or the “End-Permian Extinction” happened on Earth prior to that. Now scientists discovered how this cataclysm, which took place about 250 million years ago, managed to kill off more than 90 percent of all life on the planet.
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