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The echoes of eternity hidden in rocks

At the start of George Pal’s film of H G Wells’ novella The Time Machine, a dishevelled Rod Taylor stumbles into a dinner party of his friends with a tale to tell. He has been building a time machine that has taken him to the far future where the evil Morlocks battle the gentle Eloi for domination of the Earth. A masterpiece of retro-Edwardian engineering, the device is dominated by a huge spinning disc that controls its movement through time. Push the lever forwards for the future, backwards for the past, and the faster the disc cycles, the faster through time you travel.

If only life were so simple. A handy little time machine would, after all, be the answer to many of the biggest questions in geology. How long ago did something happen? What was its duration? When did it finish? These questions are asked daily by geologists of all flavours – whether they are tracing the evolution of species, trying to work out when a particular range of mountains formed, analysing changes in the Earth’s sea level or deciphering major historical shifts in our planet’s climate.

This latter discipline, which involves using rocks and sediments to elucidate the Earth’s past climate, has become a field of geological research in its own right, known as “palaeoclimatology”. But palaeoclimatology has also started to revolutionize the way that geological time is measured and has given geoscientists of all types an accurate way of calibrating and measuring time. Indeed, by combining this knowledge with periodic variations in the Earth’s orbit, it has become possible to discriminate between geological events with a precision of 1% or better.

The geology game

There are two fundamental approaches to the way that time is measured in the earth sciences: relative and absolute.

Relative time is the province of “stratigraphy”, in which geologists study the layers in rocks. Such “strata” are a feature of sedimentary rocks, which are formed by sediments being deposited, compressed and then hardened over geological time. Rock strata can be laid down in a variety of different environments, for example in deep sea beds or in shallow waters. To the naked eye, rock strata at different depths and locations often look very similar – so how then can they be used to measure relative time? The answer lies with palaeontology: the study of fossils.

The beauty of these preserved remains of former plants and animals is that the evolutionary development of individual “lineages” of fossils is unique – it never repeats. Any particular fossil-containing “biostratigraphic” layer contains fossil fauna that are as distinctive as a fingerprint. Find that fingerprint in other locations and you know that these rocks are the same age. However, there are other ways of matching the ages of sediments and rocks, including one that exploits the fact that the direction of the Earth’s magnetic field has flip-flopped over the course of geological time – sometimes for relatively short intervals of a million years or less and sometimes for much longer periods of up to 100 million years. What this means is that each rock stratum has a magnetization that indicates the polarity of the Earth’s magnetic field at the time the stratum was deposited.

Geologists can identify each successive pair of time periods over which the Earth’s magnetic field first pointed one way and then the other

Using the magnetic polarity of rocks for correlation – a technique known as “magnetostratigraphy” – geologists can identify each successive pair of time periods over which the Earth’s magnetic field first pointed in one direction and then the other. These “polarity chrons” are numbered in order starting from today and increasing into the past, with the dinosaurs going extinct, for example, 66 million years ago during Chron 29. But because there are only two types of magnetic signature – normal or reversed polarity – magnetostratigraphy has to be combined with biostratigraphy (with its unique fingerprint) to identify which chron is which. Combining these chron boundaries with biostratigraphic data, researchers have created what is now known as the geomagnetic polarity time scale, which matches geological events, such as different ice ages, to the flipping of the Earth’s magnetic field (see box).

The geomagnetic polarity time scale

It has been known since the 1920s that the Earth’s magnetic field undergoes periodic reversals, with the most recent of these zones of flip-flopping magnetism (“chrons”) depicted on the above timeline. (Green indicates that the direction, or “inclination”, of the field was opposite to what it is today.) The rocks that were being created in the regions where new crust forms (mid-ocean ridges) took on the magnetization prevailing at the time. These rocks are formed where tectonic plates move apart and lava emerges from the gap between the plates before spreading horizontally along the sea-bed floor. But the magnetic field directions are also encoded at different depths in sediments below the sea bed. So as the sea bed spreads at a more-or-less constant rate of about 1 cm per 1000 years, if you can measure the horizontal distance between chrons on the sea bed it is possible to estimate the time that elapsed between magnetic reversals. And if you match the age of a recently formed region on the sea floor with its corresponding chron in a sediment, you can start assigning dates to chrons – and hence to biostratigraphic boundaries calculated by studying the fossil record.

Gatekeepers of time

The geomagnetic polarity time scale has been a great achievement but essential to its success has been the addition of control points of actual, absolute date. Assigning true chronological ages to rocks is the science of “geochronology” and its father is the New Zealand nuclear physicist Ernest Rutherford. He famously established the principles underlying the radioactive transmutation of elements while working at McGill University in Canada with Frederick Soddy in 1902 and almost immediately realized that the spontaneous decay of radioactive materials could be used to measure the passage of time in the fossil record. As unstable isotopes decay at a particular rate, all we need to do to obtain a natural chronometer is to measure the accumulation of stable daughter products in minerals that had once borne radioactive materials.

Geochronology developed through the 20th century, with various isotope systems being investigated and their decay constants refined, including uranium to lead, uranium to thorium, and neodymium to samarium. But by the 1990s, when the geomagnetic polarity time scale had fully matured, the favoured system was the decay of radioactive potassium-40 nuclei into stable argon-40. The quantity of potassium-40 in a particular rock falls away exponentially with a half-life of about 1.25 billion years, whereas any argon-40 that is created remains trapped within the material. So by measuring the amount of these isotopes in the rock and knowing the half-life of potassium-40, it is simple to calculate the age of the sample.

The “K–Ar technique”, as it is known, can be used on any cores and rock sections that contain potassium-rich minerals, such as glauconites. It has allowed the absolute ages of particular strata of deep-sea cores and outcrops of rocks on land to be determined. It has also been widely used to date hominid fossils found in East Africa, with, for example, the australopithecine ape Lucy – the skeleton of which was discovered in 1974 – being judged to be 3.2–3.4 million years old. Unfortunately, K–Ar dates cannot be applied systematically to all cores and rock outcrops because the relevant minerals required to make the measurements are not necessarily always present.

Age points therefore have to be correlated to different outcrops or cores using indirect methods, such as through biostratigraphic and magnetostratigraphic data. But even with such techniques, there are limitations on the available time resolution, imposed by the relatively long gaps between identifiable dates. So, for example, if two absolute dates are 10 million years apart, then even if we identify 20 different equally spaced biostratigraphic fingerprints in between, the best temporal resolution will then be 500,000 years, which is still a long time. Thankfully, however, a way to address this problem has emerged over the last decade.

Windmills of your mind

The standard methods for constructing geological timescales – based on geochronology, magnetostratigraphy and biostratigraphy – changed drastically in the 1990s with the advent of a new kind of dating technique, known as “astrochronology”. This technique builds on the work of the Serbian astronomer Milutin Milankovic´, who between 1915 and 1940 worked out a mathematical theory for the major climate cycles that occurred towards the end of the Pliocene epoch (which finished 2.6 million years ago) and then throughout the Pleistocene (from that point to 11,700 years ago).

During these cycles, the Earth’s glaciers repeatedly pushed outwards from the poles – sometimes reaching as far as 40˚ either side of the equator – before retreating back and then going out again. Milankovic´ hypothesized that these regular cycles, which reoccurred about once every 110,000 years, were caused by periodic variations in the quantity and distribution of solar radiation falling on the Earth – and that these changes in sunlight were in turn caused by variations in the eccentricity, precession and obliquity of the Earth’s orbit (figure 1).

1 Cycling through history

colourful graph

As was first realized by the Serbian astronomer Milutin Milankovic´, the Earth has undergone huge climate cycles each lasting roughly 110,000 years during which time the planet’s glaciers repeatedly pushed out towards the equator before retreating. These cycles were caused by periodic variations in the amount and distribution of sunlight falling on the Earth, which were in turn the result of variations in our planet’s obliquity (tilt), eccentricity (deviation from a true circular orbit) and precession (the poles wobbling about the axis). Shown here are the changes in sunlight falling at an altitude of 65°N, given in terms of the rate of energy falling per square metre.

Milankovic´’s ideas remained controversial and for many years remained purely theoretical. But things changed in the 1960s when researchers developed techniques to drill out samples of sediment from the ocean floor – so-called deep-sea cores – and also identified accurate proxies for climate change, particularly the (tiny) changes in the ratio of oxygen-18 to oxygen-16, known as δ18O. As the Nobel-prize-winning chemist Harold Urey and his University of Chicago colleague Cesare Emiliani first showed, the rate at which oxygen-16 is incorporated into a calcium-carbonate crystal lattice depends on temperature, with warmer samples incorporating more. In fact, the situation is more complex: when global temperatures fall and ice sheets grow, the δ18O signal in deep-sea sediments has two parts, one depending on temperature and the other on ice volume.

Thanks in particular to the pioneering work of the University of Cambridge chemist Nicholas Shackleton, measurements of the δ18O ratio in carbonate-secreting Foraminifera micro-organisms have allowed geoscientists to determine how ice sheets in the late Cenozoic era – over at least the last five million years – had periodically grown, melted and then grown again. As a result, it became possible to link the variation in the Earth’s orbit with signatures of δ18O in sedimentary rocks. Shackleton’s work showing that the variation of δ18O in deep-sea cores exactly tracked the astronomical cycles predicted by Milankovic´ was published in a seminal 1976 Science paper written with Jim Hays and John Imbrie called “Variations in the Earth’s orbit: pacemaker of the ice ages” (194 1121).

A better system

In fact, what had been developed as a way of assessing temperature and ice-volume change in the geological past became so accurate that it morphed into a highly accurate clock for measuring the passage of geological time. As more and more cores from all the world’s oceans were retrieved and analysed – provided the different oxygen isotope “stages” could be unequivocally identified using magnetobiostratigraphy – the astronomical timescale was steadily extended step by step further back in time. This has been achieved with the retrieval of yet more undisturbed cores from the deep sea by researchers working on the Integrated Ocean Drilling Program – an international marine research effort that began in 2003 and that is about to embark on a further 10-year survey. In fact, whereas geologists could previously only date events using astrochronology to those that had happened within, broadly, the last 150,000 years, we can now go back to a quite remarkable 80 million years before the present and it is possible, using astrochronology, to discriminate between events of this antiquity with previously undreamed of resolution.

Large drill on an ocean vessel

So accurate has the system become that in 1990 when Shackleton analysed the δ18O signal encoded in a core extracted from the eastern Pacific Ocean, which had a very high sedimentation rate and hence produced thick strata and a good time resolution, he was able to identify one particularly important chron boundary that had occurred 780,000 years ago. Geochronologists had previously assigned it an age of 730,000 years – a difference of more than 6%. Shackleton was so sure about his measurements that he argued that the K–Ar decay constant, which had been used to determine the previous estimate, was incorrect and should be recalibrated. He was right and many geochronologists had to eat humble pie as they had been supplying the geological community with the wrong constant for several years, which meant that much of the rest of the Cenozoic timescale was out too. As one of his graduate students I know, full well, how much Shackleton liked that! He loved nothing better than putting the intellectual cat among the pigeons of scientific consensus and thereafter would often boast of his success over the geochronologists.

One of the curiosities of astrochronology is that it makes sense of much more of the geological record than just the accurate calibration of the deep-sea record of sediments. “Rhythmically banded” sections – where older rock formations have Milankovic´ cycles imprinted in the form of colour and particle variations – have been found in almost all parts of the geological record from the Late Jurassic epoch (161–145 million years ago) to the Silurian epoch (443–419 million years ago) – as well as much in-between (figure 2). This should mean that in principle the technique can be applied to older sections.

2 Get into the rhythm

Stratified rock formations

“Rhythmically banded” sections – where older rock formations have Milankovic´ cycles imprinted in the form of colour and particle variations – have been found in almost all parts of the geological record. Shown here is an example of such structures from the Upper Changhsingian Dalong Formation at Shangsi in China, being 252–254 million years old.

Indeed, now that we understand that variations in the Earth’s orbit around the Sun have been such a powerful influence on the record of the past 80 million years of Earth history, it is perhaps not surprising to find that such cycles have affected even earlier times of sedimentary deposition. And yet, all is not straightforward. Although the cycle of glaciations and deglaciations has controlled the oxygen-isotope signal in the deep-sea record over the last 40 million years, the problem is that before then the Earth was ice-free. What then can account for the imprinting of the orbital record on these older cyclic sediments? The probability is that it is the temperature component only, rather than having anything to do with ice volume, particularly at the most sensitive latitudes to incoming solar insolation, which Milankovic´ himself identified as about 65˚N and 65˚S.

And then again, the whole science of astrochronology is based upon the hypothesis that the Earth’s orbital parameters have varied in a uniform and repeatable manner. If these parameters themselves have varied, then some form of correction will need to be devised for any systematic deviations in the astronomically tuned timescale as we delve further and further back into deep time. So next time you find yourself watching George Pal’s version of The Time Machine, with the machine’s endlessly spinning disc, spare a thought for how he correctly, and unawares, saw the future of geology, where time is measured, like his spinning disc, in cycles.

Why locusts don’t need airbags

Locusts have been the bane of farmers for centuries. One locust can consume its own body weight in vegetation a day, and in a single plague that struck Ethiopia in 1958, swarms of the insects destroyed 167,000 tonnes of grain – enough to feed a million people for a year. But for the neurobiologist Claire Rind, locusts are also an inspiration. The reason? Their incredible talent for avoiding collisions. Research has shown that locusts can avoid fast-approaching objects as little as 45 ms before a collision – nearly 10 times faster than the blink of a human eye. This ability is crucial to their infamous swarming behaviour: a single swarm can contain millions of insects and may fly 200 km in one day, yet somehow the locusts manage to avoid crashing into each other or triggering airborne mayhem.

After years of studying how locusts react to objects looming towards them, Rind and her interdisciplinary group of collaborators have now used the insects as a model for computerized systems that help robots detect and avoid impending collisions. These systems are based on visual information alone, which is important for two reasons. The first is that they mimic locusts, which, like humans, rely on sight rather than echolocation or the touch of feelers or whiskers to avoid running into things. The other reason why such systems are important is that they could pave the way for quicker-reacting collision sensors and automatic braking systems in cars.

All in the neurons

Rind, a specialist in invertebrate neurobiology at Newcastle University in the UK, began by trying to understand locusts’ amazing ability to avoid collisions. To do this, she and her collaborators took an unusual approach: they made the insects repeatedly watch clips of colliding spaceships from the blockbuster movie series Star Wars. This research earned Rind an Ig Nobel prize for “research that first makes you laugh, and then makes you think” in 2005, but it also revealed that the insects’ visual neurons responded to the looming spacecraft. Later, she discovered that these same neurons triggered escape reactions when flying locusts (as opposed to stationary, cinema-going ones) were approached by objects.

Locusts have several neurons that are “looming-sensitive”, which means that they react to an object that occupies an increasing share of the insect’s field of vision. But the attention of Rind and her team was drawn to a specific pair of neurons called lobula giant movement detectors (LGMDs). Locusts are one of only a handful of species known to have these neurons, and they have two of them – one behind each of their compound eyes, which are located on opposite sides of their bodies. According to Rind’s colleague Roger Santer, this configuration is “particularly cool” because having only one such neuron per locust eye makes it possible to study the same specific neuron in many different locusts. “We can be sure that we are recording from the same neuron in all our experiments, allowing us a good insight into how that particular neuron works,” says Santer, a biologist at Aberystwyth University in the UK.

The group’s studies showed that the LGMD neurons are part of a powerful data-processing system. Fractions of a second before an impending collision, the neuron sends a warning message from the locust’s brain to the motor centres in its wings and legs, triggering immediate evasive action. At first, the locust – like any animal – will instinctively steer out of the incoming object’s way. If it is unable to do so, at the very last moment it “does this emergency last-ditch behaviour that we call a glide”, says Santer. “All of a sudden, it folds its wings up, which we think would cause it to lose height, so at the last moment it drops out of the position where it would’ve been. So if there is an attacking bird that is coming in and wants to grab it, and the locust’s course has suddenly changed, the locust can survive and fly another day.”

Technology mimicking nature

Once the researchers understood how collision detection worked in locusts, they began developing computational models to copy it. One important feature of their model is that it picks out the boundary edges of objects, and then responds only when the rate of the object’s angular change increases (as it would for a rapidly oncoming object). This means that the system detects changes in motion, rather than motion itself – just like the locust, says Rind. However, she adds that her team is still studying the interplay between the locusts’ LGMDs and the neurons’ inputs to determine exactly how it is done biologically.

A locust perched on a robot

In recent years, Rind and her collaborators have worked with robotics specialist Shigang Yue of the University of Lincoln, UK, to test their computer models with the help of a robot equipped with a miniature video camera and insect-like 360˚ vision. The robot had to find its way along a path full of stationary and moving obstacles, relying on visual input and a combination of two locust-inspired software models to guide its reactions to approaching objects.

In these experiments, output from the video camera was divided into left and right overlapping fields, one for each robotic “eye”. Images from the two fields were then processed by a neural network of simulated cells, the job of which was to react to looming objects and generate motor commands for evasive action. The network consisted of three layers of cells in a so-called “retinotopical” arrangement – meaning that neighbouring cells look at neighbouring areas of the image – plus a fourth “output” cell that summed activity in the layers (a simulated LGMD, in essence).

The first layer of cells was composed of photoreceptors, each of them “looking” at a small region of the video image. When the approach of an object’s edge caused the level of light falling onto a photoreceptor to change, the cell sent a signal to its counterpart in the same retinotopic position in the second layer of cells. Excitation from the signal also generated a “ring of inhibition” in the third layer that spread out like ripples on a pond, creating an inhibitory area, or mask, around the excitation. This was important because when an object approaches, both the amount of edge and the speed of the edge’s movement on the photoreceptors’ surface increase exponentially. Hence, the faster the edges move, the more likely it is that the excitation they cause can jump over the inhibited cells onto ones that are not yet inhibited, and are thus able to react and transmit excitation. This then allows excitation to build up in the simulated LGMDs (figure 1), and the final step is to convert their output into motor commands that would cause the robot to brake and move to avoid running into things.

The results were impressive: the group’s robot could perceive an imminent collision and avoid it in 500 ms – not quite as fast as a blink of a human eye, which is typically over within 400 ms, but still promising for a new method. “The system works because it extracts features of images that are most indicative of collision, such as edges that move with increasing angular velocity over the facets of the compound eye,” Rind explains. “Edges that move with the same velocity or a decreasing velocity cannot effectively trigger a warning. The system is used at different sensitivities, so the sudden presence of an object triggers one type of reaction whereas an object that would cause an imminent interception – in the locust’s case, a bird such as a black kite that catches locusts in a swarm, a metre or so away, triggers another.”

1 Looming large

Graph of the progress of a ball rolling towards a robot equipped with a video camera

In this test scene from Claire Rind and Shigang Yue’s research, a ball was sent rolling towards a robot equipped with a video camera and an “LGMD agent” – a network of simulated cells that mimics the image-processing techniques of a locust’s neurons. As the ball loomed larger in the robot’s field of view (see series of images above), excitation levels in the simulated LGMD increased, reaching a threshold (blue dashed line) between frames 30 and 40 and peaking shortly before impact in frame 55. Video footage was recorded at about 25 frames per second.

From swarms to traffic jams

In Rind’s view, the collision-avoidance system that evolved in the locust and that her team has mimicked in a robot is better than the conventional radar- or infrared-based collision-avoidance systems currently used in autonomous cars. As well as being more complex (and potentially more expensive), these other methods also rely on very heavy-duty computer processing, and do not react well to sudden changes (such as a child running onto the road) or cluttered environments containing many people and vehicles.

This solution copied from biology is potentially simpler and more efficient than conventional computer vision approaches

Noel Sharkey, an artificial intelligence and robotics researcher at the University of Sheffield, UK, who was not involved in Rind’s research, agrees that if the locust-mimicking system were incorporated into an autonomous car, it would likely perform better than other vision-based systems for collision avoidance. However, he adds, most autonomous vehicles currently in development use sonar sensors, which are also extremely fast and not too costly. Another researcher, bioroboticist Barbara Webb of the University of Edinburgh, UK, points out that the system would need to be tested at car-like speeds, under road-like conditions, and over long distances before it could be incorporated into an autonomous vehicle. Still, she adds, “This solution copied from biology is potentially simpler and more efficient than conventional computer vision approaches, hence more useful for applications such as robots and cars.”

Although a car with a locust-inspired collision-avoidance system may still be some way off, Rind’s colleague Yue notes that artificial visual neural systems could also provide new solutions for computer vision in other dynamic environments, such as helping people who are visually impaired or improving the movements of non-player characters in video games. Rind, meanwhile, is optimistic about her system’s chances of finding its way to a highway near you. “Our system is not implemented anywhere yet, but as our economy and others pick up, motor manufacturing will have more money to spend on innovative safety measures,” she says. “Public pressure to have safer cars is a good motivator.”

Why is fundamental science important?

In less than 100 seconds, John Dainton argues the importance of giving academics the freedom to explore their intellectual curiosities. Many huge developments to benefit society – including the electrification of technologies and the World Wide Web – have emerged from the pursuit of fundamental answers, Dainton explains.

Watch more from our 100 Second Science video series.

Waiter, there's a bug in my cocktail!

By Hamish Johnston

Just in time for Christmas, researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) have unveiled the ultimate “cocktail accessory”. It’s an edible self-propelled boat that whizzes around on the surface of an alcoholic drink.

(more…)

Unpaired spins make graphene magnetic

Researchers in the US have observed room-temperature ferromagnetism in a graphene nanostructure for the first time. The result, until now only predicted by theory, suggests that graphene could be used to create spintronics devices, which are circuits that use the spin of the electron to process and store information.

Graphene, a sheet of carbon just one atom thick, is a promising material for making molecular electronic devices of the future thanks to its unique electronic and mechanical properties. These include extremely high electrical and thermal conductivity plus exceptional mechanical strength. Room-temperature ferromagnetism can now be added to this already impressive list.

Sakhrat Khizroev at Florida International University and colleagues made their discovery by making a number of different measurements of the magnetic properties of graphene samples that had been functionalized with nitrophenyl (NP) groups. This involves the attachment of NP groups to the surface of graphene (see figure). The resulting graphene-based material appears to become an organic molecular magnet with ferromagnetic and antiferromagnetic ordering that persists at temperatures above 400 K.

“Unpairing” electron spins

The researchers, who include Jeongmin Hong at the University of California, Berkeley, Robert Haddon at University of California, Riverside and Walt de Heer at the Georgia Institute of Technology, have been working on these experiments since 2008. “We believe that the NP groups act to unpair electron spins at periodically spaced carbon sites along certain graphene orientations, known as ‘armchair’ and ‘zigzag’,” Hong says. “It is the interactions between these unpaired spins that lead to the magnetic order we observed.” Graphene functionalized with hydrogen also appears to have similar magnetic properties, he adds.

Ours is a “gentle chemistry” approach
Jeongmin Hong of the University of California, Berkeley

“Ours is a ‘gentle chemistry’ approach that makes use of functionalization rather than introducing defects into graphene, which is a much more aggressive strategy,” Hong explains. “Although previous research mainly looked at heavily defected material, large numbers of defects in graphene can hinder the formation of the pure zigzag edges needed for magnetism here.”

According to the researchers, the NP-functionalized graphene could be used as a new type of single-layer magnet. It might also be used to make new types of spintronics devices based entirely on carbon that exploit the unpaired spins that are present. Spintronics is a relatively new technology that exploits the spin of an electron as well as its charge.

More details about the research can be found in ACS Nano.

A black-belt physicist

By Michael Banks

Not many school pupils can boast having had a world-champion physics teacher, so say hello to Julie McGavigan, who teaches physics at Eastwood High School near Glasgow and bagged a gold medal at the World Karate Championships in Denmark in October.

The 27 year old, who says the win in Denmark came as “quite a shock”, is a 3rd Dan in Shotokan karate and has taught physics for five years after studying the subject at the University of Glasgow.

McGavigan also teaches karate at evening classes at Eastwood High, where she puts physics principles to good use.  “Physics helps me understand why certain stances, moves and combinations work when practising karate,” McGavigan told physicsworld.com.

(more…)

'Wizzing' physics, fundamental prizes, galactic paradoxes and more

By Tushna Commissariat

“Wizzing” to the top of the Red Folder this week is a group of physicists at the “Splash Lab” at Brigham Young University who have studied the physics of “splashback” that occurs when people urinate. Using high-speed cameras the researchers filmed jets of liquid from a “synthetic urethra” striking toilet walls. They found that the stream of liquid breaks up into droplets when it is about 15 cm from the urethra exit. “Wizz kids” Tadd Truscott and Randy Hurd suggest that apart from sitting down on the toilet (and risk being called Sitzpinklers by their German friends), men should get nice and close when doing their business to eliminate splashback. Take a look at their video about “Urinal dynamics” above.

(more…)

Relativity revives quantum secrecy scheme

Quantum mechanics and special relativity have been used to implement a protocol that ensures that a “sealed envelope” is not opened ahead of time – according to its creators in Switzerland and Singapore. Sealed envelope systems, whether literal or metaphorical, allow information to remain temporarily inaccessible to both author and intended recipient, and are used in processes such as secure voting. The latest experimental results could lead to improvements in certain kinds of financial transaction, say the researchers.

Quantum mechanics is already exploited commercially in cryptography to carry out what is known as quantum key distribution. This involves two parties, known conventionally as Alice and Bob, sharing a secret cryptography key in the form of a string of quantum particles. Any eavesdropper trying to make measurements of the particles will reveal their presence by destroying the particles’ quantum state.

Rather than protecting against intrusive third parties, a sealed envelope – or “bit commitment” – ensures mutual trustworthiness. A bit of information (0 or 1) is deposited and neither changed by Alice, the creator, nor looked at by Bob, the receiver, prematurely. Research in the early 1990s appeared to show that quantum mechanics could be used to achieve bit commitment by ensuring that any tampering by either Alice or Bob would be revealed in the altered state of the quantum particles. But in 1997 Dominic Mayers of the Université de Montréal in Canada, as well as Hoi-Kwong Lo and Hoi Fung Chau of the Institute of Advanced Study in Princeton, US, poured cold water on the idea, showing, in fact, that even with the hypothetical envelope in Bob’s hands, Alice will always be able to make it look as if she created a “one” when she actually created a “zero”, and vice versa.

Distant agents

The latest work, carried out by Hugo Zbinden and colleagues at the University of Geneva together with researchers at the National University of Singapore, provides experimental demonstration of a scheme that overcomes this problem. The underlying concept was proposed last year by Adrian Kent of the University of Cambridge in the UK, and exploits special relativity as well as quantum mechanics. It splits up the roles of Alice and Bob so that each works with two distant agents spaced far apart from one another. The idea is that the speed of light imposes a minimum time for any causal influence to travel between Alice or Bob and their respective agents. This time delay removes the possibility for the kind of tampering that impairs a non-relativistic approach.

In Kent’s scheme, it is receiver Bob who initiates the information transfer. He sends a string of photons to Alice, polarizing each one as he chooses, either horizontally, vertically, or along one of two different diagonal axes. Alice then declares her choice of bit value via the type of polarizer she uses to measure the state of the photons. For the sake of argument, if she plumps for “zero” she uses a horizontal–vertical polarizer, whereas if she opts instead for “one” she uses a diagonal polarizer.

The result of each photon measurement is sent at close to the speed of light to Alice’s two agents, who in turn communicate the results to Bob’s agents (positioned close by). Since no information can travel faster than light, this set-up guarantees that in the time it takes for data to travel from Alice to her agents, none of the six parties could have tampered with those data. That is the time that the metaphorical envelope remains closed.

Hoodwinking thwarted

To find out whether Alice has told him the truth about her bit choice, Bob compares Alice’s results with his polarizations for all those photons (roughly half) that he happened to polarize along one of the two axes of Alice’s polarizer. If Alice is honest, there will be a 100% match. But if instead she tries to make him believe that she chose the other bit value, there will only be about a 50% match. That is because in re-measuring the photons using the other set of polarizers, to try and hoodwink Bob, she will no longer have access to the original polarization information, having destroyed it with her first set of measurements.

However, it is still possible that Alice cheated in a different way, forwarding the photons to her agents without making a measurement. By getting her agents to make the measurement instead, she would be able to make her bit choice at a later time than she claimed. Bob, however, can check for this particular trick thanks to the fact that each of them has two agents. Being spaced so far apart, the first of Alice’s agents wouldn’t be able to communicate the result of his or her measurement to the second agent before the envelope is opened. The deceit would therefore be revealed in a disparity between the two agents’ results.

The first experimental test of this scheme was actually reported earlier this year by Yang Liu of the University of Science and Technology of China in Hefei and colleagues. But by sending laser beams through free space they could not transmit data beyond the horizon, limiting the distance between the various parties to about 20 km and the commitment time to only 30 µs. They also sent a limited number of photons – only 107 in all – giving any cheats a 5% chance of success.

No cheating the odds

The Swiss–Singapore team has achieved better results by modifying Kent’s scheme slightly. They allow Alice to communicate with her agents via a fibre-optic cable, separating out the bit decision from the polarization measurements. This allows the two sets of agents to be separated by more than 9000 km, resulting in a whopping commitment time of 15 milliseconds. The probability of successful cheating using this set up, they calculate, was a tiny 1 in 18 million.

Kent speculates that the scheme could be used in financial markets, allowing traders to commit to buy or sell something – be that gold or shares, for example – before declaring that commitment. “The idea is that you have an extra mechanism for controlling how information propagates,” he explains, “so damping down the arms race in which everyone is fighting to get a nanosecond ahead of everyone else.”

Kent is confident that there are no loop holes in his scheme, claiming that the team’s analyses “characterize every possible attack and show that none of them can work”. He points out that his calculations do not account for the effects of general relativity, but says those effects are likely to be very small. “Were there a portal connecting Geneva to Singapore it is possible that someone could break the scheme,” he adds, “but that is not something that I lie awake at night worrying about.”

Chau, now at the University of Hong Kong, believes that the latest work will have “addressed a lot of the practical issues”, identified by himself and others, needed to turn quantum cryptography into a real-world technology. But he argues that the new experiments still leave “room to improve and develop”, adding that detection using non-identical detectors remains an outstanding problem.

The research is reported in Physical Review Letters.

A new way to look for axions

By Hamish Johnston

There’s an interesting preprint on the arXiv server that proposes a new way of detecting dark-matter particles. I’ve been thinking about dark matter because last week physicists working on the LUX experiment announced that the underground detector had failed to find any dark-matter particles in the first three months of its operation. LUX was designed to look for WIMPs (weakly interacting massive particles), but WIMPs are not the only game in town when it comes to dark matter. There are also axions, which are the quarry of this latest proposal by three physicists in the US.

Axions are hypothetical particles that were first postulated in the 1970s to help explain puzzling aspects of quantum chromodynamics, which is the theory that describes interactions between quarks and gluons. Axions are also interesting from a cosmological point of view because they have mass but do not interact strongly with electromagnetic radiation. These properties make them prime candidates for dark matter, a mysterious substance that appears to make up most of the matter in the universe.

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Do cloaked objects shine brightly?

Invisibility cloaks might actually make the objects they aim to hide more visible, according to researchers in the US. While existing cloaking concepts might have the potential to render objects invisible to specific electromagnetic frequencies, a recent study has shown that, when integrating over the entire spectrum, the combined scattering of the cloak is always greater than the original uncloaked object. When exposed to short broadband pulses, these cloaks might therefore be turned instead into easier-to-see “beacons”. The team proposes two solutions to this problem: a passive approach using thin shells of superconducting material; and an active solution based on metamaterials.

The topic of practical invisibility cloaks – a staple of much fantasy and science fiction – has received a great deal of scientific and media interest of late, especially the possibility of achieving cloaking at visible light frequencies. One promising avenue of enquiry has been with metamaterials, an appropriately designed shell of which can be used to drastically suppress the scattering of light from an object (for a given wavelength), making it almost undetectable. A successful demonstration of this principle, which rendered an object invisible to microwaves, was undertaken in 2006.

Brightly scattered

According to Andrea Alù and his colleague Francesco Monticone of the University of Texas at Austin, most cloaking techniques used today, including popular ones such as transformation cloaks and plasmonic cloaks, are fundamentally limited by causality and passivity to actually scatter more than the uncloaked object, if you integrate over the entire spectrum, instead of looking at just the wavelength being cloaked. “This means that if you excite the cloak with a pulse, you would actually see it more easily than the uncloaked object it is trying to hide,” says Alù. The researchers go on to explain that, apart from the scientific significance of solving the scattering problem, it is equally important for a variety of situations – from warfare to commercial uses – where it is essential that a cloaked object at a given frequency does not become a beacon in a range of the other frequencies.

In the new work, the researchers first looked at three different basic types of passive cloaks: a plasmonic cloak; a mantle cloak; and a transformation-optics cloak. The plasmonic cloak showed the most scattering, followed by the mantle cloak with slightly less scattering and the transformation-optics cloak showed the least scattering, but overall they found that all three cloaked objects scattered drastically more than the uncloaked object, over a range of frequencies.

Cloak and dagger

Nonetheless, the team has used its results to propose a number of possible workarounds to this global-scattering issue. The first approach uses passive, and suitably tailored, diamagnetic or superconducting thin shells, providing up to a 25% reduction in the integrated scattering by providing a near-zero permeability for static magnetic fields. A second, active approach would instead use metamaterials with specifically positioned, powered amplifiers. Current cloaking designs have a fundamental constraint on the frequency dispersion of their passive components (described by Foster’s reactance theorem) in which the impedance of passive surfaces always grows with frequency, resulting in narrow bandwidths of cloaking and an increased global scattering. By including operational amplifiers in specific positions along the cloaking surface, the team believes it should be possible to break this limit, creating a surface impedance that decreases with frequency, allowing for cloaking over a significantly larger bandwidth.

“I don’t think that the paper asks the right question,” comments Ulf Leonhardt, a physicist from the University of St Andrews in the UK, who argues that while perfect cloaking may be physically impossible, imperfect invisibility might be perfectly sufficient. In a hypothetical perfect cloak, the speed of light would need to be infinite across all frequencies to create the effect that the light had gone around the cloaked object in the same time that it would have taken to pass through it. In an imperfect cloak, the light would take slightly longer to cross the cloak object than the equivalent amount of empty space. But, Leonhardt proposes, only very sensitive equipment would be able to detect this. “In a scattering analysis, such as the present study,” he adds, “the difference between free-space propagation and propagation with the device is considered. If the light takes longer, then this amounts to a big difference that, however, is just an artefact of the analysis. It would tell you that the cloaking device performs rather badly, whereas in reality it works just fine.”

The research is published in Physical Review X.

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