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Quantum cryptography tackles video

“We’ve demonstrated encrypted video because we wanted to show two things, first of all that we encrypt a large amount of information, and secondly that we can regularly change the encryption key,” said Shields. “We’ve also carried out some tests with MCI and seen that our system can operate on their network continuously for a month with no problems.”

Communication with quantum cryptography is inherently secure because each bit in a cryptographic key — basically a large number that should only be known to the sender and receiver — is encoded upon a single photon. Any attempts by a third party to “hack” or copy this key will quickly become obvious to the sender and receiver.

Toshiba’s “Quantum Key Server” can generate up to 100 quantum (single-photon) keys per second, enough to encrypt each video frame with a separate key. It operates at 1.55 microns over standard optical fibre and continually monitors and adjusts the optical path length to allow the system to operate continuously without any need for user intervention.

At present Toshiba uses heavily attenuated laser pulses to generate the quantum key and customized avalanche photodetectors to detect them. However, Shields says that the firm is developing quantum-dot based LEDs and detectors that can generate and detect single photons. “This technology [quantum dots] is not only potentially low cost but could also allow higher bit rates and longer fibre lengths,” he said. “We have prototypes devices for both and are now integrating them into our cryptography system, but it will be 2 to 3 years before it is used routinely.”

Last year quantum cryptography was used in a commercial transaction for the first time when the Mayor of Vienna transferred money from the City Hall to Bank Austria Creditanstalt over a fibre-optic cable using a quantum key.

How to make a blockbuster

Sitabhra Sinha and Raj Kumar Pan of the Institute of Mathematical Sciences in Chennai analyzed data on about 2000 films released in the US between 1999 and 2004. They found that the total income distribution of all movies released in a particular year followed a power law with a tail that had a “Pareto” exponent of 2. The distribution of wealth in many western countries follows a similar pattern. Sinha and Pan also observed that the income per cinema of all movies — regardless of their success — follows the same power-law decay curve over about 20 weeks.

“These results mean that, for the high-earner movies, the opening pretty much determines how it will perform over its entire theatre lifetime,” Sinha told PhysicsWeb. “As such it lends support to the classic “blockbuster” strategy of opening the movie simultaneously on as many screens as possible — a strategy that has been used since Jaws.”

However, the results are puzzling because the Pareto tail in wealth distributions are often explained in terms of interactions between “agents”, and movies do not interact with each other directly. Moreover, the power law also applies to the income in the opening week of the film, before film-goers themselves have had time to interact with each other.

“Even more important, the exponent of two associated with the tail is quantitatively identical to that seen recently for other popularity distributions, such as the number of citations of scientific papers and online sales of books,” says Sinha. “These results may be offering a glimpse of a universal dynamic that underlies the emergence of popularity — of a product or idea — in society.”

Lens makers go flat out

Vladimir Presnyakov and Tigran Galstian of the University of Laval in Quebec made their lens by adding a small amount of a light-sensitive monomer to a liquid crystal in a commercially available electro-optic cell and irradiating it with a laser beam (J. Appl. Phys. 97 103101).

The laser caused the monomers to form a polymer network, and since the intensity of the laser beam varied with position, the density of the network also varied with position. This in turn influenced the orientation of the liquid crystal molecules in the cell and the refractive index at different positions. Therefore, by carefully controlling the intensity profile of the laser, it is possible for the cell to act as a lens.

It is also possible to change the profile of the refractive index across the lens, and therefore the focal length of the lens, by applying a voltage. For instance, the Laval team was able to vary the focal length by a factor of five (from 1.6 to 8 metres) in a few milliseconds by increasing the applied voltage from 1.5 to 4.5 volts.

Presnyakov and Galstian say that their device is a good alternative to other prototype liquid lenses because it has no moving parts. Furthermore, they claim that their lens is simpler, more robust and more cost-effective than other lenses.

Looking inside glass

The atoms in liquids and glasses are ordered on nearest-neighbour length scales but, unlike crystalline materials, they are not ordered over much longer distances. Glasses are formed when a liquid is quenched so quickly that the atoms do not have time to re-arrange themselves into a crystalline state, which has a lower energy, and they form a disordered amorphous network instead.

This disorder makes liquids and glasses notoriously difficult to study but Salmon and co-workers have now overcome some of these problems by using neutron diffraction to probe samples of zinc chloride and germanium selenide in which various atoms have been replaced by different isotopes of the same element. This approach exploits the fact that different isotopes scatter neutrons by different amounts but the isotopic substitution does not change the structure of the material. This allows the team to determine the relative positions of pairs of atoms in the two materials.

Salmon and colleagues found that the ordering of atomic pairs in the two structures was very similar on both intermediate (about 6 Angstroms) and extended (around 60 Angstroms) scales. This is surprising because the two materials have very different chemical properties: the bonds in the zinc chloride network are ionic, while germanium selenide is a covalently bonded material. According to the Bath-Bristol-ILL team the results suggest that the structural ordering they observe could be a general feature of all glasses.

“Our results provide insights into the nature of glassy networks and may also lead to the preparation of new materials by rational design,” Salmon told PhysicsWeb. “These materials include ‘optically active’ glasses for applications such as fibre lasers and amplifiers, and glasses used for the storage of nuclear waste.”

Dancing to the ideas of Einstein

Mark Baldwin

Early in 2003 Rambert Dance Company was approached by Jerry Cowhig, managing director of Institute of Physics Publishing, to take part in the celebrations for Einstein Year. The Institute of Physics wanted to commission a new work that used Einstein’s theories as its inspiration. It was decided that I should choreograph the piece, which would mark my first creation as artistic director for Rambert following my appointment in December 2002.

I have to confess it was quite a daunting challenge at first. I knew little about physics theories when the project began, and had no idea how they could possibly relate to dance. However, I was delighted that the Institute had taken such a bold step and chosen to collaborate on a dance project. It was a perfect opportunity to cross the barriers of art and science.

As part of the project, Peter Main, the Institute’s director of education and science, put me in touch with the theoretical physicist Ray Rivers from Imperial College, London. His job was to educate me on the particular theories that I would be dealing with in the piece, namely special relativity, Brownian motion and the photoelectric effect.

One of the most important things that we agreed early on was that the new work should not be a science lesson for the audience. The essence of the collaboration has been the union of art and science to create a unique project for the Einstein celebrations. Therefore, our methods for staging the production were focused on finding points of inspiration within each of the concepts, which I could then transfer into choreographic principles.

For example, the theory of Brownian motion has been the main source of inspiration for the choreographic structure within the piece. The random movement of a pollen grain on the surface of water inspired my choice of movement. I have imagined that the dancers’ bodies will move around the stage in a similar way – as if driven by an unseen force. The result is an exciting series of unexpected movements, full of athletic and physical surprises. Other than the challenge of learning the science, I actually found the whole experience unexpectedly liberating, and was surprised at the compatibility of the two subjects. I was able to appreciate physics as a powerful discipline that explores and questions the world around us, inspiring the imagination. Dance thrives on this kind of inspiration to create movement, and so I found the abstract ideas an ideal partner for the work.

Constant Speed comprises many different creative elements, and the impact of costumes, lighting, design and live music are all integral parts of the work’s full effect. I will not get to see the final result until the day before the première, but I am delighted with how the piece has developed so far. It has been important for me to create a work with strong artistic integrity, as much as fulfilling the unique requirements of the project.

Working with Ray and the team at the Institute has been a great experience. As well as enlightening me about ideas I never knew existed, it has given me a new awareness of how far physics reaches into our daily lives. And what have I learned about scientists? That they too can be obsessive and charming…just like artists!

Let’s dance

Dancers

Read Saturday, the latest book by Ian McEwan, the foremost literary novelist in the UK today, and you will be immersed in modern neuroscience, Schrödinger’s cat and much more. Read the October 2004 issue of Harper’s Magazine and you will find a short story entitled “The accelerating expansion of the universe” by the American literary giant John Updike. Read Angels and Demons by Dan Brown, the best-selling novelist, and you will find an enjoyable, if unbelievable, tale about CERN, antimatter and the Vatican. These books follow a series of highly successful plays with scientific themes that included Copenhagen, Humble Boy, Oxygen and Infinities (see “Physics meets art and literature” Physics World November 2002 pp29-41; “Science treads the boards” Physics World November 2004 pp16-17).

Later this month, interactions between the worlds of art and science will enter a new dimension when 18 dancers from Rambert Dance Company perform a new work called Constant Speed at Sadler’s Wells theatre in London. Commissioned by the Institute of Physics (which also publishes this magazine), and advised by Ray Rivers, a theorist at Imperial College, the choreographer Mark Baldwin has drawn his inspiration from Einstein’s great breakthroughs of 1905. Dance is all about movement, so Einstein’s work on Brownian motion provides the most obvious and direct inspiration, although there are also allusions to quantum theory and relativity However, Baldwin and Rivers both stress that the work – which lasts 27 minutes – is not intended to be a science lesson for the general public (see “Dancing to the ideas of Einstein”).

So what is in this for the physics community, beyond the chance to experience a form of art that will be foreign to many? First, the collaboration is generating a lot of publicity – more, says Baldwin, than any project he has been involved in before – and this will benefit both sides. Second, Rambert has an extensive outreach programme that involves taking its work into schools: with Constant Speed becoming part of the company’s repertoire, physics will again be reaching audiences that it has not reached in the past. In particular, dance offers a chance to reach that part of the school population that is least interested in the physical sciences – young girls.

Of course, C P Snow was not complaining about the absence of scientific themes in books, plays and so forth when he started the two cultures debate. Rather he was concerned that many in the humanities seemed to take pride in their lack of knowledge of the sciences. However, with the high priests of the arts – McEwan, Updike, Rambert and so on – leading the way, the gap between the two cultures could well start to close.

Optical clocks

It is 50 years this month since Louis Essen demonstrated the first caesium atomic clock at the National Physical Laboratory and set in motion the shift to atomic timekeeping. Back then, the second was defined in terms of the period of the Earth’s rotation, but this was found to fluctuate as our ability to measure time improved. Essen showed that atoms, which have a set of discrete energy levels, could provide a much more stable reference time interval. In 1967, some 12 years later, the second was officially redefined by the Comité International des Poids et Mesures in terms of the gap between two specific energy levels in a caesium-133 atom.

Since Essen’s pioneering work, the accuracy of caesium clocks has steadily improved by a factor of 10 or so every decade, such that today’s best atomic clocks are accurate to better than one part in 1015. These improvements have led to many scientific advances as well as to technologies such as the Global Positioning System (GPS) and the Internet, which depend critically on time and frequency standards. Although this performance is impressive, a new type of device known as an “optical clock” could lead to even greater improvements.

In a standard atomic clock, a beam of caesium-133 atoms is probed by microwaves that have a frequency of about 9.2 x 109 Hz. When the microwave frequency is adjusted to a value of exactly 9192 631 770 Hz, the photons have an energy that is equal to the energy difference between the two very closely spaced energy levels that make up the ground state of the caesium atoms. The atoms absorb the microwaves and a signal generated from the absorption is fed back to the microwave source, which stops it drifting from this specific frequency. The stability imposed on the microwave source by the atoms is what allows us to define the second as “the duration of 9192 631 770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the caesium-133 atom”.

Optical clocks, in contrast, use light rather than microwaves. All other things being equal, the stability of an atomic clock is proportional to its operating frequency and inversely proportional to the width of the electronic transition. Since light has a frequency of about 1015 Hz – roughly 100,000 times higher than that of microwaves – clocks based on narrow transitions at optical, rather than microwave, frequencies should be much more stable. Clocks need to be both stable and accurate, with greater stability making it much easier and quicker to judge how accurate a clock really is. Optical clocks have many potential applications – from improved GPS measurements and better tracking of deep-space probes to fundamental tests of general relativity and measurements of the physical constants. They could even lead to the second being redefined once again.

Atomic clocks: from past to present

The use of atomic timekeeping has progressed steadily since Essen’s pioneering work (see box below). The clock that he developed 50 years ago at the National Physical Laboratory (NPL) was relatively primitive by today’s standards, having an accuracy of just one part in 1010. It used a beam of hot caesium atoms that had been evaporated from an oven. The atoms were probed using a technique that was originally developed by Norman Ramsey from Harvard University, for which he shared the 1989 Nobel Prize for Physics. It involved firing a short pulse of microwaves at one position along the beam, followed – a few milliseconds later – by another short pulse further along the beam. Interference between the excitation of the atoms by the two probe pulses creates a set of fringes as a function of the microwave frequency. These interference fringes, the widths of which are inversely proportional to the interval between pulses, sub-divide the absorption profile of a single pulse, thereby increasing the spectral resolution.

Various companies began to develop commercial caesium clocks based on Essen’s ideas, the best of which now have accuracies of a little better than one part in 1012. However, during the early 1990s a new type of caesium atomic clock known as an “atomic fountain” was developed by André Clairon, Christophe Salomon, Claude Cohen-Tannoudji and co-workers at the Observatoire de Paris and the Ecole Normale Supérieure. It was based on the pioneering work of Steven Chu and Bill Phillips, who in the mid-1980s developed techniques using lasers and magnetic fields to trap clouds of atoms that had been cooled to temperatures below 1 mK. In the fountain, cold caesium atoms are launched upwards to a height of about a metre before falling back under gravity. The atoms, which pass through a microwave cavity once on the way up and once on the way down, move so slowly that they interact with the microwaves for much longer periods than they would if they were hot.

This arrangement allowed Clairon to use time-separated “Ramsey pulses” to probe the atoms’ microwave absorption with a resolution of just 1 Hz – much less than the 100 Hz for the hot atoms in the caesium-beam clock. With such narrow features, fountain clocks are typically stable to about one part in 1015, provided that the fluctuations in the frequency of the clock are averaged over the course of a day. In other words, they can measure time to better than 100 picoseconds (10-10 s) per day.

Today’s best caesium-fountain clocks are now accurate to better than 1 part in 1015, and contribute as primary frequency standards to the international timescale. Indeed, atomic clocks are now so good that time and frequency can be measured more precisely than any other physical quantity. Not surprisingly, applications have blossomed. For example, atomic clocks can be found on board all 24 of the satellites that form the heart of the Global Positioning System. These clocks – together with ground-based clocks – enable sailors, pilots, drivers and walkers to know their location to within a few metres.

Enter the optical clock

Although caesium-fountain clocks are now very accurate, there are limits to how much better they could get. First, collisions between cold caesium atoms in the fountain can shift the frequency of the atomic transition. Second, the stabilities of one part in 1015 are only possible by averaging the signal over a period of about a day, which makes it hard to use the fountain clock at this level of accuracy in real time. Optical clocks, however, could meet our needs for better timekeeping. With frequencies approaching 1015 Hz – some 100,000 times higher than the 9.2 GHz microwave frequency of the fountain – optical clocks should be stable to almost one part in 1015 simply by averaging over just a few seconds, rather than a day. With longer averaging times, stabilities of one part in 1017 or better should be possible.

Optical clocks could have many applications. For example, while planes can navigate via GPS, it is not yet acceptable to land an aircraft by GPS alone because the atomic clocks on satellites are still not accurate enough and it takes too long to compute positions. Highly accurate clocks will also be useful for deep-space probes, which need to travel vast distances. Moreover, improvements in the ground-based “master clocks” that calibrate the GPS atomic clocks – along with better satellite clocks – will allow transportation systems to locate vehicles with sub-metre precision in real time. When integrated with mobile-phone technology, the commercial possibilities of such developments are immense.

Highly accurate clocks could also help us to measure fundamental constants and test the laws of physics, such as Einstein’s theories of special and general relativity. Some theorists believe that the fine-structure constant, α, which characterizes the strength of the electromagnetic interaction, may have changed over the history of our universe (see “Are the laws of nature changing with time?” Physics World April 2003 pp33-38). If confirmed, the results would be of huge significance in cosmology and for theories that attempt to unify the four fundamental forces of nature.

One of the best ways of searching for present-day variations of a is to compare the frequencies of different types of atomic clock over the course of several years. While this is a short period of time compared with cosmological timescales, this approach can provide results that are competitive with rival astrophysical measurements due to the high frequency resolution achievable. The better the clocks, the smaller the variations in α that could be detected, with the current limit approaching one part in 1015 per year.

Inside an optical clock

There are three main elements to an optical clock. The first is a highly stable reference frequency provided by a narrow optical absorption in an atom or ion. This “clock transition” will typically have a natural line width of a few hertz or less. The second element of the clock is a laser, known as a “local oscillator”, which should also have a very narrow line width so that it does not broaden the atomic transition. The third component is some way of counting the extremely rapid oscillations of the local oscillator; these oscillations are the “ticks” of the clock. A device called a femtosecond comb is used for this part of the device (see “femtosecond comb”).

Critical to the performance of an optical clock is the first element – the clock transition. This needs to be as narrow as possible to make the clock stable. Its frequency should also be unaffected by external perturbations such as electric and magnetic fields so that the clock is as accurate as possible. The ideal frequency reference would be a single, motionless atom, unperturbed by any interactions with other atoms or the environment. We can come fairly close to this utopia by trapping a single ion in the tiny gap between the electrodes of an electromagnetic trap (figure 1). This trapping allows the ion to be laser-cooled to a temperature of about 1 mK and be confined to a region of space just a few tens of nanometres across. The clock transition is therefore not broadened by the effects of temperature or motion.

To probe the clock transition one needs a highly monochromatic laser, which can be achieved by stabilizing the laser frequency to a mode of an environmentally isolated low-drift optical reference cavity. Lasers with line widths that are less than 1 Hz have been achieved with this approach by groups at the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) in Boulder, Colorado, the JILA lab at the University of Colorado and NPL.

Unfortunately, it is not easy to monitor the light being absorbed because narrow transitions are intrinsically very weak. The solution lies with a technique developed by the Nobel laureate Hans Dehmelt, which enables the absorption to be detected with almost 100% efficiency. Known as “electron shelving”, the technique is based on the fact that when the ion absorbs the probe light, it jumps to a long-lived excited state, where it remains for about a second. During this time, the ion cannot be laser-cooled – the process where the ion repeatedly jumps between its ground state and a short-lived excited state, absorbing and re-emitting photons at the cooling wavelength.

The upshot is that when the ion is “shelved” in the long-lived excited state, no fluorescence photons from the cooling transition are emitted. The absence or presence of this fluorescence tells us whether the probe light has driven the ion to the long-lived state or not (figure 2). By measuring the probability of the ion jumping to the long-lived state as a function of the frequency of the probe laser, we can observe the narrow spectral profile of the clock transition. The frequency of the laser light can then be stabilized to the centre of this profile, where the transition probability is at a maximum.

A number of labs around the world are investigating optical clocks using various species of ion. The choice of ion depends on several factors, such as how narrow the clock transition is, the wavelengths of the lasers that are needed to cool and probe the trapped ion, and the predicted sensitivity to external perturbations, which can shift the transition frequencies.

In 2000 Jim Bergquist and co-workers at NIST observed a cold-ion clock-transition line width of just 7 Hz at 282 nm in a single mercury-199 ion – the narrowest of any such clock transition to date. This is only a factor of four greater than the intrinsic natural line width of 1.7 Hz. Meanwhile, researchers at the Physikalisch-Technische Bundesanstalt (PTB) in Braunschweig, Germany, are studying a clock based on the 435 nm transition in ytterbium-171 ions, while groups at NPL and the Canadian National Research Council are investigating clocks based on the 674 nm transition in strontium-88 ions. All these experiments currently demonstrate line widths within a factor of 10 of the mercury line width.

Researchers in all of these groups have already stabilized the clock-laser frequency to the centre frequency of these narrow clock-transition profiles. In this way, frequency stabilities of better than one part in 1015 have been demonstrated for the mercury-199 clock and the ytterbium-171 clock when averaged for about 100 s and 1000 s, respectively. Ensuring that these clocks are affected as little as possible by external perturbations will be a key challenge.

Other ions being studied include some where the upper state of the clock transition is extremely long-lived, thereby allowing full benefit to be gained from the narrowest 0.1 Hz probe-laser line widths available. For example, researchers at NIST are studying a clock based on an aluminium-27 ion in which the upper state lasts for 30 s, while scientists at NPL are experimenting with a clock based on an ytterbium-171 ion in which the upper state lasts for an incredible six years! The only snag with the NIST clock is that the aluminium ion would have to be cooled using an extreme-ultraviolet laser, which is a formidable challenge.

Instead, Dave Wineland, Bergquist and co-workers at NIST are using an interesting experimental arrangement whereby the aluminium-27 ion is trapped with another species of ion – beryllium-9 – that can be cooled more easily. Laser-cooling the beryllium ion “sympathetically” cools the aluminium ion. The researchers cannot, however, probe the weak aluminium clock transition using the electron-shelving technique because there is no strong cooling fluorescence from the aluminium ion. Instead, Wineland and colleagues call upon techniques they developed for quantum-information-processing experiments, which enable information about the clock profile to be “mapped back” to the beryllium ion for read-out.

Clocks from clouds of atoms

Although single trapped ions could lead to highly accurate atomic clocks, they are not perfect. In particular, the signal-to-noise ratio of the atomic absorption signal – and thus the stability of the clock – is compromised because there is only one ion in the trap. One possible alternative is to use weak transitions in clouds of a million or so cold atoms. Clocks that use such transitions should be very stable because the stability is directly proportional to the square root of the number of atoms contributing to the signal.

The bulk of the work in this area has been carried out at the PTB and at NIST. Researchers there have focused on neutral calcium atoms, which have a weak transition at 657 nm with a natural line width of about 400 Hz between the 1S0 ground state and the 3P1 metastable state. In these experiments, the calcium atoms are laser-cooled to a few millikelvin in a “magneto-optical trap” similar to that used for cooling caesium atoms before they are launched in a caesium fountain. The problem is that the cooling light strongly perturbs the atoms, which means that it has to be turned off before the 657 nm clock transition can be probed. As a result, the atom cloud expands under gravity during the probe pulse and so has to be recaptured and recooled before it can be probed again. The rapid expansion means that the atoms can only be probed for a very short period of time, significantly broadening the atomic transition. Nevertheless, various tricks – including extra cooling of the atoms to 12 μK and applying two probe pulses about a millisecond apart – have led to accuracies of one part in 1014.

So how can these atomic optical clocks be improved? One option is to use a narrower clock transition, such as the 698 nm 1S0–3P0 transition in neutral strontium, which offers a line width of just 10-3 Hz. However, to use these narrower clock transitions you need a way of lengthening the interrogation time. One solution was presented in 2001 by Hidetoshi Katori from the University of Tokyo, who suggested confining the cooled atoms in what is known as an optical lattice.

An optical lattice is a region of space where standing light waves overlap to create a 3D potential that rises and falls periodically with position. The lattice has regular sites that are less than a wavelength apart, in which atoms can be trapped – a bit like eggs in an egg box (figure 3). By holding the atoms in the lattice sites, Katori reasoned, they could be probed for as long as one likes. One possible pitfall is that the trapping light beams will perturb the atoms and change the frequency of the clock transition. However, Katori proposed that the optical trap should be created with light at a “magic” wavelength of about 800 nm, where the shifts of the upper and lower levels of the strontium clock transition are exactly equal. The transition frequency will therefore be insensitive to intensity.

A number of groups are working on this lattice idea using strontium and ytterbium. The combination of high stability and low systematic frequency shifts provided by these atoms may offer the best of both worlds in the future.

Counting optical frequencies

One of the key challenges in building an optical clock is to count the “ticks” – the oscillation of the light source. However, light oscillates so fast – roughly once every femtosecond (10-15 s) – that it would be impossible to count individual oscillations using any conventional electronic device. The solution is to use a device called a “femtosecond comb”. First demonstrated in 1999 by Ted Hänsch and his group at the Max Planck Institute for Quantum Optics in Garching, Germany, this device bridges the gap between the microwave and optical regions of the spectrum in a single step.

The comb consists of a “mode-locked” femtosecond laser, which emits a train of pulses at a typical repetition rate, frep, of a few hundred megahertz. In the frequency domain, the sequence of pulses appears as a series of equally spaced frequencies – rather like the teeth of a comb. The frequency of any line in the comb is an integer multiple of the comb spacing (nfrep) plus an offset frequency (f0), which depends on the difference in the group velocity and phase velocity within the laser cavity. The all-important tick rate, fopt, is related to frep and f0, both of which can be determined experimentally.

The comb spacing, or repetition rate frep, can be measured from the beat signal between adjacent comb modes (figure 4). The simplest way of determining f0 is to have a comb that spans a complete optical octave, i.e. a factor of two in frequency. Some femtosecond lasers can now produce an octave-spanning comb directly. Alternatively, a short piece of microstructured fibre, in which an array of air holes surrounds the fibre core, can be used to broaden the spectrum by means of nonlinear frequency-mixing effects in the fibre.

With frep and f0 stabilized to a microwave atomic clock – and thereby compared with the caesium primary frequency standard – the comb can be used to measure the frequency of an optical standard fopt. This is done by determining the beat frequency between the optical frequency and the precisely known frequency of the nearest comb mode. However, as first demonstrated in 2001 by Scott Diddams and colleagues at NIST, it is also possible to turn this process on its head and to stabilize the comb to an optical standard rather than to a microwave standard. The comb then acts as the “clockwork” of the optical clock, dividing the optical frequency to produce a countable microwave output frequency frep.

Future times

Several groups have shown that femtosecond optical-frequency combs are a reliable way of comparing optical frequencies at the level of one part in 1019. As a result of comb developments, the accuracy of optical-frequency measurements has risen dramatically over the past few years, and is fast approaching the limit set by the current, caesium-based definition of the second (figure 5). The best published measurement of an optical frequency is that of the strontium-ion standard at NPL, which has an uncertainty of 3.4 parts in 1015 (see Margolis et al. in further reading). However, researchers at NIST have just reported a preliminary measurement of the mercury-ion standard with an uncertainty of 1.5 parts in 1015, which is very close to the uncertainty of the caesium standard.

If optical-frequency standards become more reproducible than caesium-fountain standards, a primary standard for time that is based on an optical clock could be on the cards within a decade or so. But given the many different species of atom or ion that are currently being investigated, much research is still needed to work out which is the best. Whether or not a clear front runner emerges, two things are highly likely. First, the powerful femtosecond-comb techniques will play a key role in comparing the accuracy of different clocks. Second, reproducibilities of one part in 1017 or 1018 will be reached.

To do any better, we will have to work even harder at stabilizing environmental factors such as magnetic and electric fields. The effects of general relativity will also become highly significant; after all, two clocks that are separated by just 1 cm in height will have transition frequencies that are gravitationally redshifted by one part in 1018 with respect to each other. Experiments comparing optical clocks in remote locations will therefore become a major challenge. Despite these difficulties, optical clocks are here to stay and will have applications – ranging from communication and navigation to fundamental physics – of which Louis Essen, half a century ago, could never have dreamed.

Defining moments in atomic timekeeping

1949  Ramsey’s separated oscillatory field technique
1955  First caesium atomic clock
1960  Hydrogen maser
1967  Redefinition of the second in terms of caesium
1975  Proposals for laser cooling of atoms and ions
1978  Laser cooling of trapped ions
1980s GPS satellite navigation introduced
1985  Laser cooling of atoms
1993  First caesium-fountain clock
1999  First optical-frequency measurement with femtosecond combs
2001  Concept of an optical clock demonstrated

Electromechanical microscope nudges the nanoscale

Piezoelectricity is an intrinsic property of biological systems and is most pronounced in biomaterials that contain arrays of proteins or polysaccharides. The surface layer of a tooth is made of enamel, which consists mainly of crystals of a molecule called hydroxyapatite and a small amount of organic material — mostly protein — that is concentrated in the lower sub-layers of enamel. The inner layer of tooth, called dentin, contains a significantly higher fraction of collagen, which is the most abundant protein in nature. A team led by Sergei Kalinin of Oak Ridge and Alexei Gruverman at North Carolina State built up a detailed picture of a tooth that had been cross-sectioned along its length by measuring the intensity of the piezoelectric signal at different positions.

The team found that the enamel layer contains several isolated piezoelectric regions that are as small as 50 nanometres across, and that the dentin layer contains larger piezoelectric domains about 200 nanometres in size. This result is consistent with the fact that dentin contains a high density of collagen and enamel does not. In comparison, an optical image of the same tooth cannot provide this level of resolution. Moreover, the measurements revealed other details, such as the spiral shape of protein fibrils in dentin and how these fibrils are arranged antiparallel to each other (see figure).

“Our approach provides a new way to study structure and molecular organization in connective and calcified tissue such as teeth, bone and cartilage by monitoring their electromechanical properties,” says Kalinin. “Moreover, since piezoelectricity is ubiquitous in biological systems, the technique could be used to image almost any biomaterial.”

Tiny fridge aims big

Many next-generation scientific instruments will rely on sensors cooled to temperatures near 100 millikelvin (mK). However, present-day solid-state refrigerators cannot go below about 1 K. Moreover, the cooling techniques that can reach 100 mK are complicated and expensive.

Now Joel Ullom and colleagues at the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) in Boulder, Colorado, and the University of Notre Dame in Indiana have demonstrated a new approach to this problem. The chip-scale electron-tunnelling refrigerator consists of a stack of thin films: the bottom layer is a “normal” metal, the middle film an insulator and the top layer is a superconducting metal.

When a battery is connected across the stack, the hottest electrons in the metal layer tunnel through the insulator and into the superconductor. This tunnelling cools the normal metal and drains energy from the electrons and lattice vibrations in the object being cooled, which is not electrically connected to the refrigerator (see figure). “This is the same way that evaporation of the hottest molecules produces cooling in a ‘swamp’ air conditioner,” says Ullom.

The NIST team used four pairs of devices, each measuring 25 microns by 15 microns, to cool a 450 by 450 micron object from a temperature of 320 mK down to 225 mK. “By volume, it is as if a refrigerator the size of a person reached out and cooled the Statue of Liberty,” says Ullom.

The team says that a combination of inexpensive helium-3 refrigerators and improved electron-tunnelling devices could ultimately be capable of cooling centimetre-sized objects to 100 mK and below. Such a combination could then be used in a variety of cryogenic applications, including X-ray sensors for defect analysis in the semiconductor industry or photon detectors in a planned satellite mission to search for polarization in the cosmic microwave background.

Fusion seen in table-top experiment

The experimental set-up consists of a centimetre-sized cylindrical crystal of lithium tantalate (LiTaO) surrounded by deuterium gas. This material is pryoelectric, which means that positive and negative charges build up on opposite faces of the crystal when it is heated. This creates an electric field that is high enough to ionize any deuterium atoms that stray near a tiny tungsten tip attached to the positively charged surface. These deuterium ions get repelled from the surface and are accelerated by the field towards an erbium deuteride target, where the fusion reactions take place.

The device currently emits about 900 neutrons every second, and the UCLA team say that it could be used as a “simple palm-sized neutron generator” if the output can be increased to about one million neutrons per second. Using tritium rather than deuterium in the target will increase the neutron yield by a factor of 250, says Naranjo, and optimizing the geometry and increasing the beam current should provide another factor of four.

“What they have made is a cute little neutron generator,” says Michael Saltmarsh, a physicist who has retired from the Oak Ridge National Laboratory in the US. “You can imagine having one of those in your pocket but don’t get it too warm! However, the neutron intensity is still much lower than you can get from commercially available neutron generators.”

Putterman and co-workers at UCLA are also involved in efforts to generate fusion reactions in “sonoluminescence” experiments in which bubbles in a liquid are forced to expand and contract by sound waves. In 2002 Rusi Taleyarkhan of Oak Ridge and colleagues reported that they had observed “bubble fusion” in experiments with deuterated acetone. The report was greeted with skepticism by other researchers in the field, including the UCLA group, who were unable to reproduce the results. However, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) in the US has recently funded Taleyarkhan, who is now at Purdue University, and Putterman to collaborate and exchange information on bubble fusion.

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