optical resonator

A magnetic vortex is like a tiny whirlpool in the sea, except that instead of water, it's magnetization that swirls. Such vortices could become memory cells in future computers, but to write and read information, you need to be able to move each vortex individually. So far, this is done crudely — shifting a whole bunch at once.

A weak laser beam falls onto a tiny structure — a hybrid cavity made of metal and glass. Inside is trapped a single light-emitting molecule. Normally, such light only slightly changes color as it scatters off thermal vibrations of atoms.

A guitar string is stretched between two mirrors. A beam of light bounces back and forth between them, and the string shudders at every touch. Sometimes the light loses energy — the string takes it and dissipates it as heat, like a fading sound. Other times, the string shifts the pitch of the light itself, changing its color but barely dimming it.

In a dark room, an infrared laser flashes, and a speck of black K3C60 powder conducts electricity without resistance for a split second. The light strikes at 10 terahertz — a thousand times faster than a microwave oven. The effect is a hundred times stronger than at other frequencies. Why this particular frequency?

A tiny diamond bridge vibrates so strongly that it starts to 'sing' at many frequencies at once. Previously, such vibrations would dampen themselves: the harder the resonator swung, the harder it was to add energy. Physicists found a loophole in this rule. They used light to drive the diamond. Light pushes on the bridge, making it tremble.

An ordinary superconductor works only in nature's freezer — at temperatures below minus one hundred degrees. The carbon-ball material K₃C₆₀ is no exception: without cold, it resists current like a crowd in a narrow corridor. But physicists noticed something strange: if you shine a laser on it, it starts conducting without loss even in warmth.

Cooled nearly to absolute zero with liquid helium, the semiconductor disk reached such a low level of entropy that its thermal trembling became less than one phonon — a quantum of sound.