Imagine a city where each district has its own independent power plant, and the electric current in the wires hums to its own rhythm. When these districts are suddenly connected, chaos ensues: the currents start interacting, and closed loops and whirlpools appear in the grid. Something similar happens inside a new material — tiny superconductor particles scattered in an insulator. Upon cooling to very low temperatures, each particle enters a state of superconductivity (a phenomenon discovered last century and explained by John Bardeen, where electricity flows without loss) yet retains its own quantum 'tuning'.
Using an ultra-sensitive microscope that exploits interference (the combining of waves) and enables quantum measurements of the magnetic field, scientists glimpsed these uninvited vortices. It turned out that without an external magnet, they aren't round as usual, but elongated and tangled: their shape echoing the whimsical pattern of conducting pathways in the material. Numerical simulations confirmed that the currents meander through random channels, bridging disconnected superconducting 'islands'.
Similar vortex patterns appear in other exotic states of matter — for instance, in a Bose-Einstein condensate, where atoms behave as a single wave. The idea of topological defects came from cosmology: something akin, but on a gigantic scale, could have happened right after the Big Bang, when space was violently inflating, and 'strings'—thin threads of colossal energy — were born in the fabric of the universe. So the experiment with a tiny composite becomes a kind of time machine, helping us understand how order emerged from chaos at the dawn of creation.
The quantum of magnetic flux carried by a single vortex is tens of millions of times weaker than Earth's magnetic field. It would take an entire army of such vortices to budge a compass needle.
The idea of cosmic strings has been played with in science fiction — for example, in Star Trek, they could warp space and serve as portals.