Jun Li

The surface of the uranium compound UTe2 crystal looks like a frozen sea: in some places, electrons move freely; in others, they get stuck near atoms. A scanning tunneling microscope, a device that probes the surface with an atomically sharp tip and senses individual electrons, revealed that this landscape is not random.

You sleep, but your heart keeps telling stories. The rhythm of beats, the pauses between them, the respiratory waves — all shift from one sleep stage to the next. In a sleep lab, this is read from a host of sensors on the head, face, legs, and chest. It's cumbersome, expensive, and not something you can do at home.

The universe wasn't born in silence. Primordial gravitational waves — ripples in spacetime — still carry the echo of that event. Scientists try to hear it in two ways. Low 'notes' are captured in the Big Bang's afterglow — light emitted 380,000 years later.

When a massive star explodes, its remnants fly apart like fragments of fireworks. But how do we know how far away such an explosion occurred? Astronomers have found a way: they look at the gas clouds that these remnants collide with. The idea is simple. Supernova remnants are often surrounded by clouds of cold molecular gas.

In the heart of the Eagle Nebula, about 7000 light-years away, three giant pillars of gas and dust rise — the Pillars of Creation. Their shape is familiar to many from Hubble Space Telescope images. Now, Webb's infrared camera has allowed us to peer inside these dense cocoons where stars are born.