Z. Liu

At Japan's KEK laboratory, electrons and their antimatter counterparts, positrons, collide inside the Belle II detector. In such collisions, new particles are born for a fleeting moment. Among them is J/ψ, a bound state of a charm quark and its antiquark.

When matter accumulates on the surface of a neutron star, the ultra-dense remnant of a dead star, an explosion occurs, akin to a giant thermonuclear bomb. In this inferno, nuclei of elements not found on Earth are born within seconds. To understand which ones, their masses must be known with great precision.

Inside an atom's nucleus, protons and neutrons stack in layers, like spectators in a packed hall. When a layer is full, the nucleus becomes especially stable — physicists call these 'full rows' magic numbers. One of them, 32, has long been elusive: in nuclei with 32 neutrons, its effect is weak, and in some neighbors it seems absent altogether.

Five galaxies that long ago stopped igniting new stars look like houses with darkened windows. But the ALMA radio telescope and the James Webb Space Telescope peered inside and saw that in these 'sleeping' houses, a fire still smolders.

A vast city lights new streetlamps every night. But then a hurricane sweeps in, rips all the fuel from the warehouses, and the lamps go out one by one. Something similar has been spotted by astronomers in a galaxy whose light has traveled 12.5 billion years to reach us.

An assembly line spits out parts one by one per cycle. If the cycle is short and defects are few, the line runs fast. In quantum optics, a single-photon source plays the role of such a line: it must emit exactly one quantum of light per cycle, and the more cycles per second, the more photons go into the fiber.