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For three days straight, a laser blasted a jet of gas, and every second it produced a beam of electrons with the energy of a tiny lightning bolt. Previously, such beams could only be produced in huge halls where the accelerator takes up an entire building. Now the whole setup fits in a room and ran without a glitch for 72 hours.

Inside the Sun, reactions can produce light, almost undetectable particles called axions. One such reaction yields axions with an energy of 5.49 MeV, as if each one carried the energy of a tennis ball moving at 100 km/h. These particles pass freely through Earth, but occasionally they might collide with a xenon atom.

The 21-kilometer ring near Protvino was once planned to accelerate protons. Today, the same tunnel could host a very different machine — a muon collider. The muon is a heavy cousin of the electron, and that's its strength. On a curve, an electron radiates like a searchlight, losing precious energy. A muon radiates a billion times less.

The quantum many-body world is a jazz ensemble, where each electron improvises, continuously listening to all the others, and the overall wave function is born from this tense dialogue.

An ocean permeates all of space, yet remains invisible to us. This ocean is dark matter, and the waves on its surface are particles called axions. They are so light and elusive that they pass through Earth without noticing it. But if these waves crash against a shore made of a special material, they might leave a trace — a tiny electric current.

The oldest light in the universe has been traveling toward us for nearly 14 billion years. It was born when the cosmos first became transparent, and since then its plane of oscillation has been rotating ever so slightly. The cause is an invisible ocean permeating all of space: the dark energy field that makes the universe expand faster and faster.

The story began with a puzzle: in the 1930s, Fritz Zwicky noticed that clusters of galaxies behave as if an enormous invisible mass is hidden within them. Half a century later, Vera Rubin confirmed that stars on the outskirts of galaxies rotate too fast to be held by visible matter alone.

Dark matter is an invisible substance that reveals itself only through gravitational effects: it bends the light of distant galaxies, much like an unseen window that alters the path of light rays.

The mystery of the main break in the spectrum of galactic cosmic rays, the knee at 3 PeV, has persisted for nearly a century.

A giant tank of ultrapure water sits deep underground in Japan. Its walls are lined with thousands of light-sensitive sensors that catch faint flashes — the traces of ghostly particles passing through the water.

A detector filled with superfluid helium-4 is like a perfectly still lake. The liquid doesn't slosh or bubble: it's frozen in a single quantum state. An invisible guest, a dark matter particle, flies through it. It doesn't shine or leave a track. But sometimes it nudges a helium nucleus.

From 2016 to 2018, at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, protons collided at energies of 13 teraelectronvolts, as if two peas were accelerated to speeds where their impact spawns a whole swarm of new particles.

A shock wave in the Sun's corona is like the sonic boom from an airplane, except instead of air there is scorching plasma, and instead of sound there is a jump in density and magnetic field. On March 10, 2024, such a wave swept across the western part of the solar disk.

Until now, dark energy has been studied like a car engine — only by the acceleration the Universe's expansion gains.

A blazing furnace in a workshop or the hot exhaust of a turbine is not just heat: it's light, invisible to the human eye. Regular solar panels catch visible light, but here you need a receiver for invisible thermal radiation.

In nuclear transitions of beryllium-8, helium-4, and carbon-12, physicists from the ATOMKI collaboration have been seeing extra events since 2020—as if, when an excited nucleus decays, something else is sometimes born besides the usual photons. The energy of this "something" is always the same: about 17 million electron-volts.

Gamma rays are the most energetic flashes of light born deep within atoms. Their energies are like fingerprints: each radioactive element has its own pattern. But measuring that pattern with high precision is like weighing a grain of sand on a scale sitting on a vibrating truck. The new setup works like an ultra-sensitive thermometer.

An X-ray photon hits the detector like a pebble dropping into still water. The water is a thin film of aluminum and manganese, cooled to near absolute zero. The impact sends a heat wave rippling across the film, and by measuring its height, you can tell how much energy the photon carried.

Dark matter is invisible, but you can catch it on the rebound. Hydrogen embedded in a carbon film acts like a billiard ball: when a dark matter particle hits it, the proton flies out. That ejection is the signal you're looking for.

A solar flare is like an explosion in the atmosphere: bright, fast, with different 'voices.' X-rays come from electrons that have been accelerated and then abruptly slowed down, losing energy. But in 2017, detectors on the Fermi satellite caught a different signal — gamma rays that didn't fit this picture.

Light hits a silicon wafer, and a single electron is born inside it. An ordinary instrument wouldn't notice — the signal is too faint. The new detector not only hears it but also determines its energy with an accuracy of 589 millielectronvolts. That's like distinguishing the footsteps of an ant at arm's length. Inside the detector, a particle knocks an electron out of a silicon atom. This takes 0.

Dark matter doesn't emit or reflect light, yet its gravity holds galaxies together. What it's made of is a mystery. One leading candidate is the axion, an ultra-light particle. Searching for axions is like listening for a very faint radio signal, but the receiver's own noise gets in the way.

Dark matter is five times more massive than ordinary matter, yet it emits no light. Its nature remains unknown. One candidate is the ultra-light axion particle. Axions could pierce right through the planet, barely noticing atoms.

Dark matter is invisible, but according to calculations, it holds galaxies together. Catching its particles is like hearing a whisper in a noisy room. You need a material that responds loudly and noticeably to the slightest nudge. Molecular magnets could be such a material — substances where each molecule acts as an independent tiny magnet.

You need to sift through millions of keys to find the one that unlocks the lock of a disease. Each key is a molecule, and the lock is a protein in our body. Checking each key manually is impossible, so chemists use computer models that predict how a molecule will behave in reality. Until recently, accurate calculations took hours or days on powerful computers. The new tool AceFF does it in seconds.

Deep inside a cryostat, beneath layers of superconducting coils, lies a stack of hundreds of semiconductor layers. Each layer is just a few nanometers thick: gallium arsenide, then aluminum gallium arsenide. The electrons within these layers are confined to a plane, like ants on a sheet of paper.

The ARCADE2 radiometer on a high-altitude balloon detected an excess radio emission, while the ground-based EDGES experiment found an anomalously deep trough in the hydrogen spectrum at 21 cm. Both signals do not fit the standard cosmological model and point to an unknown source of soft photons.