Ke Wang

Two vortex rings launched one after the other pass through each other and swap places. This dance, first seen in the 19th century with smoke rings, has now been reproduced on a quantum processor. Vortices are the actors on a quantum stage where time plays the role of an extra dimension.

Twisted layers of atoms in a material form a pattern of tiny regions, domains, each of which can be electrified in one of two directions, like a compass needle pointing north or south. Previously, such materials were studied only as a whole, measuring thousands of domains at once, and their collective behavior was like a choir where individual voices are not heard.

The light of every star is its unique passport, but the entries are written in the language of spectra and colors. For old giants, such documents are almost indistinguishable: their spectra overlap, and deciphering the details by hand was practically impossible.

A sheet of graphene one atom thick is twisted at a small angle, and it starts behaving like a layered pie with layers slightly rotated relative to each other. At a certain twist angle, this material becomes a superconductor: electrons begin to move in pairs, like dancers in a waltz, without losing energy. But what exactly happens inside has remained a mystery.

A huge pool of clear liquid is hidden deep underground. Inside, there is nothing but a pristine 'broth' that flashes with faint light when an invisible particle flies through. This is the JUNO detector—20,000 tons of liquid scintillator built to hunt for neutrinos. The main enemy of such a hunt is not darkness but its own noise.

A pot of boiling porridge: bubbles burst, steam escapes, and everything gets mixed up. Massive stars in giant gas clouds behave in much the same way. Their radiation and stellar winds blow out enormous cavities, molecular bubbles, scattering material all around.