Drop by drop from a faucet, or a steady stream without a single splash. That's roughly what the two regimes of current in a superconducting contact look like. Only here, the role of water is played by Cooper pairs — bound electrons that move without resistance. In one limit, pairs seep through one by one, like sparse drops: current flows, but with losses. In the other, they pour as a single stream, with no friction at all. Between these extremes lies a chasm that until now could not be crossed in the same device.
It all comes down to a prohibition imposed by quantum mechanics: you cannot simultaneously measure exactly how much charge has passed through the contact and what the phase of the wave of the superconducting state is. These are two 'conjugate' properties — the more precisely you know one, the fuzzier the other becomes. In a Josephson junction (the thin barrier between two superconductors), the battle is between the charging energy and the Josephson coupling energy. Whichever dominates dictates the character of the current. But usually this ratio is fixed at the time of fabrication, like a faucet that either drips or pours, and cannot be readjusted.
The authors of the work circumvented this limitation using a scanning tunneling microscope cooled to millikelvins — temperatures just a few thousandths of a degree above absolute zero. They used the microscope's tip as a movable contact: by changing the distance between the tip and the superconducting surface, they could smoothly tune the ratio of the two energies over many orders of magnitude. The result was a kind of 'quantum rheostat.' For the first time, they were able to trace how individual jumps of pairs give way to a continuous flow, and capture this transition in a single contact.
Such an experiment is not just a pretty trick. It gives physicists a controllable tool to observe how quantum strangeness yields to familiar classical behavior. A faucet that can smoothly transition from a drip to a stream opens the way to finer tuning of superconducting circuits and, possibly, to new components for quantum computers.
The temperature of the experiment (millikelvins) is so low that the thermal motion of atoms virtually freezes: it's colder than interstellar space, where it's still 'warm' from the cosmic microwave background.