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Nanotubes make miniature gas sensors

Every gas has a unique breakdown voltage – the electric field at which it is ionized – and ionization sensors identify gases by measuring these voltages. The concentration of the gas can be determined by measuring the current discharged in the device. However, existing sensors are bulky, consume lots of power and require “risky” high voltages to operate.

Ajayan and colleagues made a simple discharge device in which the cathode is a thin-film array that contains billions of multiwall nanotubes. The anode is an aluminium sheet (see figure). Individual nanotubes in the film create very high electric fields near their tips, and the combined effect of all the nanotubes is to increase the overall field and so speed up the gas breakdown process. This means that the gases can be ionized at voltages that are up to 65% lower than in traditional sensors.

The researchers also found that the current discharged in the device was six times higher than in conventional electrodes, which makes the detector highly sensitive. It is able to detect concentrations of gas as low as 10-7 moles per litre. Moreover, it can distinguish between different gases in a mixture and is not affected by external factors such as temperature or humidity – unlike previous detectors.

The Rensselaer team says that its device could be incorporated into battery-operated portable sensors for use in environmental, industrial and even counter-terrorism applications. “We also intend to expand our technique to detect biomolecules, such as proteins, antibodies and DNA,” team member Nikhil Koratkar told PhysicsWeb.

Pressure builds on Pluto

When a nearby body passes between the Earth and a star, it briefly blocks out the light from the star. This effect is known as occultation, and for an object with no atmosphere, the starlight switches off and on sharply as the body moves in front of the star. But as Pluto traverses the sky, light from background stars is refracted and absorbed by its atmosphere, leading to complex variations in the starlight intensity detected on Earth. By inspecting this pattern, astronomers can estimate the temperature and pressure of the atmosphere.

During the 1988 study, Pluto was at its closest point to the Sun – the perihelion – in its 248-year orbit. As it subsequently moved away from the Sun, astronomers forecast that its atmosphere would cool, contract and drop in pressure. But observations at visible and infrared wavelengths show that the atmosphere has actually expanded and its pressure doubled.

To explain the apparent contradiction, astronomers propose that there may be a thermal ‘time lag’ effect: Pluto would take time to warm up as it approaches the Sun, but would retain heat as it recedes. If this is true, astronomers could expect to see the atmosphere contract and fall in pressure in the future. Alternatively, there is evidence that the surface of Pluto has been darkening since the 1950s, which would allow it to absorb more heat and maintain a larger and higher-pressure atmosphere.

Pluto is thought to be part of the Kuiper belt, a band of icy, rocky bodies that orbits beyond Neptune. When a comet from the Kuiper belt approaches the Sun, ices within it are heated until they evaporate to produce the familiar ‘tail’. A similar process is thought to take place on Pluto, which is just massive enough to retain the gases as an atmosphere. But Pluto is so far from the Sun, even at perihelion, that astronomers believe that the atmosphere must consist of nitrogen, which boils at 78 K.

Super-fast microscope comes into focus

Scanning probe microscopes can produce three-dimensional images with molecular resolution, and can also be used to follow processes, such as polymer crystallization. However, they are very slow because the image must be collected one pixel at a time, line by line.

In a scanning probe microscope the force between a mechanical probe and a surface is measured as the probe is moved or scanned across the surface. The probe oscillates but does not actually touch the surface, and the force is measured by monitoring the deflection of the optical microcantilever on which the probe is mounted. The rate at which an image can be acquired depends on two factors: the intensity of the optical signal from the probe and the way that the probe mechanically moves across the sample.

Andy Humphris, Jamie Hobbs and Mervyn Miles increased the amplitude of the probe oscillations from a few nanometres to several micrometres, which allowed data to be collected continuously rather than at individual points. Moreover, the probe was made to oscillate at its resonant frequency, which allowed thousands of lines to be scanned in a second. The team enhanced the intensity of the optical signal from the probe by reflecting a laser beam off the underside of the sample to ensure that it could still be detected at the larger oscillation distances.

To test their microscope, the researchers compared an image of a polymer thin film taken in a relatively short time – about 8 milliseconds – with a conventional image that had been produced in about 20 minutes. They found that the resolution and the quality of the two were very similar. The team says that the instrument could be used in nanotechnology and biotechnology for imaging at video rate speeds and beyond.

Nuclear physicists confirm element 110 discovery

Element 110 – also known as Darmstadtium – was first discovered at GSI in 1994, and was quickly seen in other experiments at Berkeley and the JINR laboratory in Russia. However, none of the observations confirmed the others because they all produced different isotopes of the new element. In total seven different isotopes were created, with the lightest containing 157 neutrons and the heaviest having 171 neutrons.

In 1998, the GSI team produced an isotope of element 110 with a mass number of 271 – which is written as 271110 – by colliding lead-208 and nickel-64 nuclei. Now, Gregorich and colleagues have repeated this reaction at Berkeley using the lab’s 88-inch cyclotron facility. The Berkeley team accelerated a beam of nickel-64 nuclei to an energy of 309 MeV and directed it at a lead-208 target. The team observed two chains of events which signalled the production and decay of 271110. Gregorich and colleagues compared these alpha-decay sequences with those reported by the GSI team and found a “striking agreement”.

The Berkeley committee that investigated the element 118 affair was critical of the fact that no-one in the experiment, apart from Ninov, had traced the three events purporting to show the production of element 118 all the way back to the raw-data tapes. The latest element 110 paper points out that “the raw data containing each of the two decay chains have been subjected to close scrutiny to ensure that these events are not the result of the same process leading to the incorrect report of element 118”. Although Ninov is not one of the co-authors, he is acknowledged for his participation in the work.

Where did the Moon come from?

Carsten Münker and co-workers at the University of Münster compared the ratios of niobium (Nb) to tantalum (Ta) in samples of rock from the Moon, Earth, Mars and meteorites. The team found a Nb/Ta ratio of 17 for the Moon, compared with 14 on Earth. The ratio in the other samples was almost 20, which should be consistent for bodies throughout the solar system – including the object that collided with the Earth.

According to the researchers, this variation suggests that the impact that formed the Moon took place during the formation of the Earth’s rocky mantle and iron core – a process that geologists believe was aided by the impact. Under high pressures, niobium becomes ‘siderophile’ or iron-loving, so much of the terrestrial niobium would have become incorporated into the Earth’s core when it formed, leaving a niobium-poor mantle.

If the giant impact occurred while the core and mantle were forming, the Earth would have contributed little niobium to the Moon. But Münker and colleagues calculated that the lunar Nb/Ta ratio would be boosted to the observed level if up to 65% of the Moon consisted of impactor material.

This theory also leads Münker’s team to believe that the Moon must be at least 4.5 billion years old, since radioisotope dating shows that the Earth’s core and mantle were fully formed by that time.

Fermi gas atoms form supercool molecules

All atoms are either bosons or fermions depending on whether they possess integer or half-integer spin, and the difference between the two types of atoms becomes clear when they are cooled to near absolute zero. Bosonic atoms can all collapse into the same quantum ground state to form a Bose-Einstein condensate. Fermionic atoms, on the other hand, obey the Pauli exclusion principle and cannot form such a condensate. However, if a gas of fermionic atoms is cooled to a low enough temperature the atoms will occupy all the available quantum states to form a so-called quantum degenerate Fermi gas. Both Bose condensates and quantum degenerate Fermi gases display many novel physical properties.

In 1995 physicists observed Bose-Einstein condensation in a gas of atoms for the first time, and four years later Jin and co-workers made the first degenerate Fermi gas. Since then physicists have been trying to do the same with molecules but this is difficult because the techniques used to cool atoms do not necessarily work for molecules.

Jin and co-workers started with a quantum gas of fermionic potassium-40 atoms and applied a magnetic field to produce a weakly bound state known as a ‘Fesbach resonance’. By carefully tuning the value of the magnetic field the resonance energy can be made equal to the energy of the atoms, which leads to the formation of molecules. The Boulder team was able to confirm that the binding energy of the molecules agreed with theoretical predictions by using a radio-frequency field to split them apart

The team now hopes to observe fermionic superfluidity – in which fermions pair up to form bosons which then undergo Bose-Einstein condensation, as happens in low-temperature superconductivity – in such a system. The experiment could also help in the search for an electron dipole moment or the creation of entangled states for quantum computing.

New look for nanowire devices

Semiconductor nanowires are one-dimensional structures with novel electrical and optical properties that can be used as building blocks in nanoscale devices such as field-effect transistors, sensors and light-emitting diodes. Hybrid devices combine the flexibility of organic materials such as polymers with the useful electronic and optical properties of semiconductor materials. At present, however, these structures lack mechanical strength and this limits their use in practical applications.

Chen and Könenkamp prepared a polymer-metal-polymer stack that consisted of a metal layer sandwiched between two polymer films about 8 microns thick. They used fast-ion irradiation to drill holes in this stack, and then grew semiconductor nanowires in the holes. Each nanowire had a diameter of about 100 nanometres and as many as 100 million nanowires could be packed into a square centimetre. When source and drain contacts are added to the top and bottom of the stack it can act as a transistor, with the metal layer in the middle playing the role of the gate electrode.

The design ensures that the source, drain and gate electrodes are all firmly embedded in the polymer substrate, which means that the semiconductor device itself is not affected by external stresses. Moreover, high packing densities can be achieved without the traditional time-consuming lithographic techniques normally used to make such devices.

Although the transistor currently suffers from a relatively high leakage current, Chen and Könenkamp hope to reduce this in future experiments. The pair also plans to decrease the width of the gate electrode to below 100 nanometres by using thinner intermediate metallic layers. This should lead to faster switching and might even allow single-electron effects to be observed in the device.

Nature’s flawed mirror

There is a small problem in the universe: matter. The stars, planets and life itself are all made of the stuff. But if physicists are to believe what they see in experiments at particle accelerators, the universe should contain no matter at all. It is thought that equal amounts of matter and antimatter were created in the Big Bang about 14 billion years ago, and this matter and antimatter should have completely annihilated each other soon afterwards to leave just a cloud of photons. Instead, matter prevailed. Antimatter is almost completely absent from today’s universe – being found in only the tiniest quantities for fleeting moments in collisions between cosmic particles. So where did it all go?

The key to answering this question was provided in 1965 by the Russian physicist and dissident Andrei Sakharov. He proposed that a tiny asymmetry that had been observed between the microscopic properties of matter and antimatter – a process called charge-parity violation – could be responsible for the preponderance of matter over antimatter. Now two “B-factory” experiments have shed new light on this mysterious phenomenon. The BABAR experiment at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Center (SLAC) in the US and the BELLE experiment at the KEK laboratory in Japan have collected data from more than 150 million matter-antimatter collisions, and the results have pinned down the effect with unprecedented precision.

The appeal of symmetry

The definition of matter and antimatter is purely conventional. The particles that occur in everyday matter and their heavier cousins are labelled matter, while their corresponding antiparticles are labelled antimatter (see “Particles and antiparticles” in Further information). In the theory that describes the interactions between elementary particles – the Standard Model of particle physics – antimatter is related to matter by an operation called charge conjugation, C, which transforms a particle into its corresponding antiparticle. Whether or not there is an exact symmetry between matter and antimatter is a very interesting question.

Symmetry is important in physics because it can simplify the description of a system. A circle, for example, has rotational symmetry because it looks the same if we rotate it around its centre. Mathematically, all we need to know to be able to define the circle are the co-ordinates of its centre, relative to some co-ordinate system, and its radius. But a system that possesses symmetry usually hides something too. If we want to define and measure the orientation of our circle, for example, we first need to distort it in some way. We might add a blob at one point on its circumference, which would break or “violate” its rotational symmetry. The orientation of the circle could then be determined in terms of the position of the blob. However, we now have more things to measure. The mathematical description of the modified circle is not as simple as it was before because we need to include the co-ordinates of the blob.

Just as geometrical figures can exhibit symmetries, so can whole dynamical systems. But there is one important difference. Most symmetries of dynamical systems have the profound consequence that some quantity in the system is conserved. This was proved by the German mathematician Emmy Noether in 1915 when she showed that a symmetry implies a conservation law, and vice versa.

For example, the results of experiments do not depend on where the experiments are performed, or on the orientation of the apparatus. The consequence of these particular symmetries is that linear and angular momenta are both conserved. Similarly, the laws of physics do not depend on the time at which they are determined, a symmetry which has the consequence that energy is conserved. Furthermore, experiments are insensitive to the overall phase of quantum-mechanical wavefunctions – a property known as gauge invariance – which leads to the conservation of electric charge.

All scientific measurements rely on a co-ordinate system. If we want to measure the distance between two masses, for example, we need a ruler. But it would be absurd if the laws of physics were to depend on the ruler’s origin or orientation. Indeed, the equivalence of different co-ordinate systems is the most fundamental principle of relativity. However, we must perform experiments to test whether or not a given physical phenomenon respects a particular symmetry. And it is an empirical fact that our description of nature is simply not the same when its co-ordinates are reflected in a mirror.

Nature’s left and right

A co-ordinate system is not just defined by its origin and orientation. We also have to chose its “handedness”, as any undergraduate who has toiled with electromagnetism will affirm. In particle physics, left- and right-handed co-ordinate systems are related by what is called the parity transformation, P. This operation reverses the signs of the three spatial co-ordinates – x, y and z – in the same way that the charge-conjugation operator, C, reverses the sign of the electric charge of a particle. At the beginning of the 1950s it was considered to be self-evident that the laws of physics should not depend on the handedness of the co-ordinate system used. In other words, particle interactions should conserve parity. But this was subsequently proved to be wrong.

In 1956 Chien-Shiung Wu and co-workers famously showed that the radioactive beta decay of particular cobalt nuclei – which have been polarized so that their spin angular momenta all point in the same direction – is not symmetric under the parity transformation. The electrons that were produced in the decays were found to be emitted preferentially in the opposite direction to the polarization of the nucleus. This means that the weak radioactive decays that we observe in nature occur with a higher probability than their mirror images (see Wu et al. in further reading).

This result was put into a wider context soon afterwards. Analogous experiments were performed with muons, which decay via the weak force to an electron, a muon-neutrino and an electron-antineutrino. Once again it was found that the electrons produced in the decays had a preference for the direction opposite to that of the muon polarization, thereby providing further evidence for parity violation in the weak interaction. However, when the experiment was repeated using antimuons, the positrons (antielectrons) that were produced favoured the same direction as the antimuon polarization (figure 1). This meant that the symmetry between matter and antimatter – symmetry under the C transformation – was violated. So, C and P were both violated by the weak interaction.

Further observations of muon and antimuon decays had remarkable consequences. The number of times that an antimuon emits a positron in the same direction as its polarization was found to be equal to the number of times that a muon emits an electron in the opposite direction. In other words, the physics looked the same for antimatter using a right-handed co-ordinate system as it did for matter using a left-handed co-ordinate system. Symmetry under the combined operation of C and P seemed to be respected. The appealing principle that all co-ordinate systems should be equivalent was restored, albeit in a slightly weaker form, because one could not distinguish between a left-handed description of matter and a right-handed description of antimatter.

If the laws of physics did respect CP symmetry, the associated quantity – the CP quantum number – would be conserved in all particle interactions, according to Noether’s theorem. But in 1963 James Christenson, James Cronin, Val Fitch and Rene Turlay working at the Brookhaven National Laboratory in the US put the final nail in the coffin of the equivalence of left- and right-handed co-ordinate systems. They found that a type of kaon called a K-long – a long-lived neutral meson consisting of a mixture of a down quark and an anti-strange quark with a strange quark and an anti-down quark – occasionally decays into a pair of pions. If CP were conserved, the K-long system would have a CP quantum number of -1, while a pair of pions has a CP value of +1, and, therefore, this decay would be forbidden.

This demonstrated for the first time that the combined CP symmetry is violated by the weak interaction. The effect is very tiny, which explains why it had not been detected sooner. However, it left no doubt that the description of the weak force depends on whether you use a left-handed or right-handed co-ordinate system, and on your definition of matter and antimatter. But could this explain the matter-antimatter asymmetry in the universe?

The search for asymmetry

In the Standard Model, all observable CP-violating quantities in nature are proportional to the height of a particular triangle (figure 2). This “unitarity” triangle represents complex numbers that describe how particles interact with each other, and it would not exist if CP symmetry was respected.

Interactions between quarks are described by a “coupling strength”, which is a number that represents the strength of the force between them. It turns out that if the coupling strength of an interaction is not a real number but a complex one, then the interaction generally violates CP symmetry. In the Standard Model the couplings between the light (up and down) quarks and the heavy (bottom and top) quarks are proportional to the lengths of the sides of the triangle in the complex plane. The imaginary parts of these complex numbers are therefore equal to the height of the triangle.

However, determining the height of this triangle from the CP-violating effects that are observed in kaon decays is extremely difficult, and the calculation has so far eluded theorists. It has therefore been impossible to pin down this fundamental measure of CP violation despite several decades of kaon experiments. This situation prompted researchers to study CP violation in a new context – the decays of neutral B-mesons. B-mesons are similar to neutral kaons but consist of an anti-down quark and a heavy bottom quark.

Just after the neutral B-meson, B0, was discovered in 1981, Ashton Carter and Tony Sanda at Rockefeller University in the US predicted that it should decay in a different way to its antimatter partner, the anti-B0 meson. They proposed that CP violation, combined with a quantum-mechanical effect that causes a B0-meson to oscillate into an anti-B0 meson and vice versa, would cause the mean lifetimes of the two mesons to appear different for certain decays. B-mesons can decay into a variety of different daughter states, each of which has a certain probability of occurring. However, the total lifetimes of the B0 and anti-B0 meson are the same because the small variations in the rates of their individual decays cancel out overall.

Carter and Sanda calculated that the asymmetry between the B0 and anti-B0 meson decay rates would be a simple sinusoidal function of the time between the production of a B-meson and its decay about a trillionth of a second later. Furthermore, they determined that in certain special decays – in which the B0 and anti-B0 meson decay into the same daughter particles – the amplitude of the sinusoid would be sin2β, where β is one of the three angles of the unitarity triangle.

Measuring any two of these three angles would completely define the triangle, and thereby determine the CP-violation measure of the Standard Model. But this, of course, assumes that the angles of the triangle add up 180°. To really test the whole Standard Model picture of CP violation we need to measure all three angles. This will allow us to prove whether the triangle is, in fact, really a triangle and not something more complicated.

All that was left to do was to get hold of some B-mesons and antimesons, and to measure their decay-time distributions. The trouble is that one needs an awful lot of them because their CP-violating decays are very rare.

Enter the B-factory

A B-factory is a particle accelerator that is devoted to the production of B-mesons. Two such facilities were completed in 1999: PEP-II at the SLAC laboratory in California and KEK-B sited at the KEK laboratory in Japan. Both of these machines collide electrons and positrons at a combined energy close to11 GeV, which is the optimum energy to produce B0 and anti-B0 meson pairs. This is equal to the mass of what is called the γ resonance – a bound state of a bottom quark and an anti-bottom quark.

The crucial difference between these and other electron-positron accelerators, such as the former LEP collider at CERN, is that they are asymmetric. The electron and positron beams are accelerated to different energies before being made to collide with each other, which allows the effects of CP violation to be measured. Once a B0 -anti-B0 meson pair is produced inside the detector, the mesons travel in roughly the same direction at about half the speed of light (figure 3). They then decay independently, allowing the distance between their decay positions to be measured.

Both of the asymmetric B-factories hosts a single experimental detector: BABAR at PEP-II and BELLE at KEK-B. They are currently neck-and-neck in terms of the quality of measurements made, each detector having collected data from about 80 million B0 -anti-B0 meson pairs. The experiments measure the momenta and positions of the particles that the B-mesons decay into, enabling researchers to determine the difference in lifetime between the B0 and the anti-B0 meson.

The best way to measure CP violation at the two experiments is to study B-meson decays that produce a J/ψ particle – a charm quark and a anti-charm quark – plus a short-lived neutral kaon, K-short. This decay allows researchers to measure the angle β in the unitarity triangle. However, it is only observable in about 5 out of every 100,000 decays of B-meson pairs, and the finite efficiency of the detectors means that we can obtain sufficient information about just one of these. In order to measure CP violation with any precision from the time distribution of the B-meson decays, about 100 such events are required, which is why we need at least 10 million B-mesons in total.

And there is another major challenge in detecting CP violation – how to determine whether the J/ψ-K-short pair came from a B0 or an anti-B0 meson. This is overcome by a technique known as flavour-tagging. When one of the B-mesons decays into a J/ψ-K-short final state, the other decays into a different combination of particles. By examining the electric charges and types of these “tagging” particles, it is possible to determine whether their parent was a B0 or an anti-B0 meson. The charge of a particle, for example, is determined simply from the curvature of the tracks in the magnetic field inside the detector.

The difference in decay-time distributions between the “tagged-Bs” and the “CP-Bs” can then be measured for two samples: events where the B0 was tagged and events where the anti-B0 meson was tagged (figure 4). A definite asymmetry can be seen between the two samples, which is made explicit by dividing the difference between the two distributions by their sum. The sinusoidal modulation of the B-meson decay rate is clear, and a fit to the data from the BABAR experiment gives its amplitude as sin2β = 0.741 ± 0.067 ± 0.034, where the first uncertainty is statistical and the second is systematic. The BELLE experiment finds a consistent value of sin2β = 0.719 ± 0.074 ± 0.035. These results are an impressive achievement and confirm the first direct observation of CP violation outside the kaon system.

To date it has only been possible for the B-factory experiments to make statistically significant confirmed measurements of sin2β. However, measurements that will determine the other angles of the unitary triangle are under way. These require considerably more data because the relevant decays are much rarer than the J/ψ-K-short, and the theoretical calculation in terms of the angles of the unitarity triangle is also more difficult. In January 2003 the BELLE collaboration also found evidence for CP violation in the decay of a B-meson into a pair of pions, although this has not yet been observed at the BABAR experiment (see Nakadaira et al. in further reading).

The combined measurements from BABAR and BELLE are in agreement with earlier, less precise determinations of sin2β. This provides an important test of the Standard Model picture of CP violation because the previous values of sin2β are indirect – based only on measurements of the lengths of the sides of the unitarity triangle. If the Standard Model was wrong, then the direct and indirect measurements would not necessarily agree. The results have also allowed the shape of the unitarity triangle to be pinned down much more precisely than ever before.

A little is not enough

There is, however, one glaring problem with the outcome. Although CP violation is still thought to be a key ingredient in the explanation of the matter-antimatter asymmetry in the universe, the amount of CP violation in the Standard Model is insufficient to account for all of it. And not just by a factor of two or three but by several orders of magnitude. There must be additional sources of CP violation that have simply not been seen in our experiments. Researchers at BELLE and BABAR are currently hoping to find evidence for a new source of CP violation that could manifest itself in B-meson decays to different final states. And a new B-factory called LHC-B will come on line when the Large Hadron Collider at CERN starts taking data in 2007. This will provide even more precise tests of the Standard Model picture of CP violation.

However, the answer to the mystery of the matter-antimatter asymmetry in the universe may lie beyond the Standard Model altogether. A new potential source of CP violation has recently been identified in neutrinos (see Murayama in further reading). There is compelling evidence that neutrinos “oscillate” between their three different flavours – electron, muon and tau – just like the mixing between quarks that causes the B0 and anti-B0 meson mesons to transform into one another. This implies that neutrinos have mass, whereas they are massless in the Standard Model, and offers the intriguing possibility that CP violation may also appear in the coupling strengths between different neutrinos.

Furthermore, if it turns out that neutrinos are equivalent to their own antiparticles, super-heavy neutrinos may have propagated throughout the early universe. And their interactions could have easily violated CP symmetry enough to explain the matter-antimatter imbalance that we see today.

The exciting new possibility of CP violation in neutrino oscillations will hopefully be addressed by a future particle accelerator – a neutrino factory. But that is an altogether different matter.

Further information

Particles and antiparticles

Everyday matter is composed of just three types of particles: up quarks, down quarks and electrons. Quarks are bound together by the strong nuclear force to form protons and neutrons in atomic nuclei, while the electromagnetic force holds electrons in orbits around the nucleus. Some atoms can undergo radioactive beta decay, in which a neutron decays into a proton, an electron and an electron-antineutrino via the weak nuclear force.

It turns out that nature uses a broader range of fundamental building blocks than those found in ordinary matter. These include the charm and top quarks, which are heavy copies of the up quark, and the strange and bottom quarks, which are heavy copies of the down quark. The electron is also joined by two more massive cousins – the muon and tau leptons – and each of these also has a corresponding neutrino. These heavier particles are mostly unstable and decay quickly into ordinary particles, which explains why they are not found in everyday life. However, they do occur naturally in extreme conditions, and were present in abundance in the early universe.

Each particle is also known to have a corresponding antiparticle, which has the same mass but an opposite electric charge and magnetic moment. Antiparticles were predicted to exist by the British physicist Paul Dirac in 1928, when he combined the principles of special relativity with quantum mechanics. The first to be observed was the positron (antielectron) in 1933, and the antiproton was discovered 22 years later. The antiproton is composed of two anti-up quarks and an anti-down quark, and has a charge of -1 in terms of the charge of the electron. The antineutron, although neutral like the neutron, is distinguishable from the neutron because it is composed of two anti-down quarks and one anti-up quark.

Some particles, such as photons, correspond to their own antiparticle. They are electrically neutral and cannot be characterized as either matter or antimatter.

Electrons and nuclei get entangled

But reaching the quantum scale in computing is about much more than miniaturization. By exploiting counterintuitive effects at the heart of quantum mechanics, researchers are taking a “bottom-up” approach and are striving to produce a fully fledged quantum computer. Such devices would be able to solve more difficult problems than a classical computer in a fraction of the time.

Now Michael Mehring, Jens Mende and Werner Scherer at the University of Stuttgart in Germany have taken an important step towards this goal. They have succeeded in entangling the quantum spins of electrons and nuclei in an organic molecule (Phys. Rev. Lett. 90 153001).

In the July issue of Physics World Jonathan Baugh and Raymond Laflamme from the University of Waterloo in Ontario, Canada describe how this electron-nuclear system could form a basic element of a solid-state quantum computer.

Dawn of the cantilaser

Now Igor Bargatin and Michael Roukes of the California Institute of Technology aim to recapitulate this history. In a recent preprint they propose to replace the familiar resonant cavities of optical lasers with resonant nano-scale cantilevers, and have dubbed the magneto-mechanical device a “cantilaser” (arXiv.org/abs/cond-mat/0304605).

The active medium in a conventional laser is an electromagnetic cavity that resonates at the same frequency as the optical transitions of electrons in the medium. This requires a population inversion of atoms that are in excited states, which is maintained by “pumping” the cavity externally. In contrast, the active medium in the mechanical laser is the intrinsic angular momenta (spin) of electrons and nuclei.

In the July issue of Physics World John A Sidles from the University of Washington in Seattle explains how a magnetic resonance force microscope could form the basis of a mechanical laser.

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