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Leaving aside AI for research at the moment, as anyone with a pulse knows at this point, we are in a period of rapid change in terms of AI tools and specifically their role in higher education. There is an arms race among universities about what tools should be made available to students. There are equity of access issues here - wealthy students are likely to pay out of pocket for more expensive subscriptions, regardless of what universities provide. Princeton announced that it's providing everyone with chatGPT subscriptions (the equivalent of the $20/mo GPT 6 Astra). Cornell is doing something similar, including Claude. This is likely just the beginning, as the major AI firms want to hook customers for life provide a great opportunity to many users, and prestigious universities don't want to risk being perceived as inadequate relative to their peers. In the meantime, it's honestly not clear if undergraduate students even want this. This WSJ article talks about how demand is through the roof at Harvard for a reading-intensive humanities course. The reaction from some students at Princeton to being given GPT subscriptions is not exactly a ringing endorsement. There is no question that these tools, when used correctly, can be powerful tools to develop educational materials. A nice example that has gone a bit viral in the last week is this site, by Nathan Liow, an undergraduate CS major at UT Austin. He's been using Claude Opus 5.5 to create interactive visuals to go with the notes he took from his AP courses, leading to some very clean demonstrations for calculus, statistics, and physics. Without these tools, it would be a huge investment of effort to create these kinds of visualizations. We must figure out the ways that AI capabilities can help learning, rather than removing all of the "intellectual friction" needed to build up analytical skills, critical thinking, and knowledge. Separately: Tomorrow is Election Day in the US. If you are eligible, please vote! The only way representative government can work remotely effectively is if the electorate stands up and votes. (Corollary: Anyone who pins their political strategy on suppressing voter turnout does not believe in representative government.)
Back in the ancient mists of time, scientists and mathematicians would circulate preprints of their articles among friends and colleagues via the postal service, as a courtesy, to get feedback and to try to make sure people in the community were aware of their forthcoming work. As the wikipedia entry says, with the advent of widespread LaTeX and the development of the web, Paul Ginsparg (then at LANL) put together an html-based site for electronic sharing of preprints, initially at xxx.lanl.gov (back before "xxx" in URLs was the kind of thing filtered and blocked by employers). In 2001 he moved to Cornell, and by then the lab was perhaps relieved to see the site, rebranded as the arXiv, shift to Cornell's library/repository infrastructure. PIs my age remember (fondly? maybe?) the old days of the arXiv, when Prof. Ginsparg's rather dry sense of humor pervaded the site. The skull-and-crossbones logo. The "help"/FAQ pages that basically said, "if you can't figure out how to .tar.gz all of your necessary LaTeX files, and you can't figure out how to make your .eps figures small, maybe you should reconsider whether you're smart enough to be sharing your ideas here". The arXiv was for preprints, without peer review (though interesting follow-on sites like Scirate now exist for organized commenting on the articles). From these modest beginnings, the arXiv has grown enormously, including imitators/spin-offs such as chemrxiv and biorXiv and socarXiv. The arXiv has recently become an independent nonprofit, hired a CEO, secured multiyear philanthropic support, and hosts over 3 million articles. It's been interesting seeing some level of complaints online about some of these steps, but when the audience is so large, not everyone is going to be happy. Rapid growth has been a major issue - see here for a graph of monthly submissions: The exponential rise (except for a slight pandemic-correlated shoulder) has been problematic, especially recently. One hallmark of the arXiv over the years has been its ability to function with comparatively minimal need for "moderation". Early on, one consequence of the minimalistic help and moderate technical entry barrier was that it was unusual for fringe/pseudoscience to make its way onto the server. (Hence the establishment of viXra.) With the ease of cranking out properly formatted readable manuscripts using AI, clearly the arXiv has been struggling. If 10-15% of submissions need some kind of human intervention or review, the support needs are rapidly outpacing the limited count of support staff. There can be substantial backlogs. To help deal with this, the arXiv recently updated its policies regarding AI-generated content (and AI cannot be a co-author, because the AI tools cannot take responsibility for content), and most recently has had to limit submission rates to two papers per month per submitting author. These moves, too, have drawn some criticism (e.g. here). Personally, I think the operators of the arXiv face an incredibly challenging environment and are doing the best they can - the idea that they are making moves because they are establishment sticks in the mud who don't understand the New Way of Doing Science is just wrong-headed. It's completely unclear where all this is heading. Exponential growth in nature signals instability and does not continue forever. If proponents of very heavily AI-driven research want to establish a repository specifically for that work, that's up to them. [It is very on brand for the hard core AI advocates to argue that the arXiv is somehow morally obligated to host everything (regardless of hardware or personnel costs) so that future AI tools can read everything (a repository growing too quickly for human researchers to keep up) and summarize it.] One overarching point that should come up in any arXiv discussion: The arXiv has become a global repository for an enormous amount of human knowledge, without charging anyone publication fees. This should make interested parties think reallllllly hard about economic models of for-profit publishers.
We are less than one month away from the end of the federal fiscal year, and traditionally there are internal deadlines for agencies to allocate their final spending by around September 9. Right now, the NSF is on track to issue about 4000 fewer (!!) awards in FY26 than it did annually back in FY21-FY24, and 2000 fewer than it did in the incredibly tumultuous FY25 (with its government shutdowns and mass cutbacks in agency personnel). This is dire, if like me you are a supporter of the agency and its vital role in the US research ecosystem. Perhaps even more distressing, the NSF is on track to underspend its FY26 budget appropriation (congressionally approved, presidentially signed) by between $1.25-1.5B, or 15-18%. This is essentially unprecedented - in the past, the NSF has always spent ~ 99% of its appropriation in a given fiscal year. Some large portion of this is from the mid-FY clawbacks that were reported in Science and Nature, supposedly squirreled away to support an as-yet unannounced OSTP "grand challenges" program. While technically the funds don't go away at the end of September, this kind of underspending raises the possibility of a pocket rescission. OMB and the executive branch have been pushing for massive cuts to the agency; Congress has disagreed. It sure looks like all the "see, don't worry, Congress didn't allow big cuts to the NSF" palliative statements don't hold up very well to scrutiny, if the majority party is content to just give up Article I power to the executive branch. In this period of complete flood-the-zone craziness, the mainstream news media seemingly doesn't have the bandwidth or interest to report on this; they seem to have judged that it's too obscure, it doesn't play in Peoria, the public doesn't really care. This kind of disruption will have ripple effects that last for many years and affect US scientific and economic competitiveness, and it's happening without much notice. This week's news about an agreement between NIH and DOD to funnel NIH funds for infectious disease to DOD (or, in the official statement, to work together on projects of mutual interest), is at least getting some public attention. Agencies agreeing to pass around at minimum hundreds of millions of dollars outside congressional oversight or what the appropriations acts say is another example of an Article I crisis, when the majority party basically hands over what are supposed to be congressional powers to executive branch. (An additional sciencey blog post coming soon!)
Yesterday I attended the 40th annual summer research colloquium of the Smalley-Curl Institute at Rice, a fun internal conference that provides a great opportunity for undergrads (including visitors), graduate students, and a few postdocs to present their work. The keynote speaker was our EVPR, Prof. David Sholl, who gave a very informative talk about reproducibility in the chemical engineering/materials literature. We hear a lot these days about crises of reproducibility in scientific research, and Prof. Sholl rightly points out that in some fields the expectation of reproducible results is high - no one would spend $1B on a chemical engineering plant if they weren't very sure that the catalytic processes were going to work as expected at scale. Keys to reproducibility include, unsurprisingly, repeated results and independent replication. One metaresult that was interesting is this paper, looking at the literature on metal-organic frameworks and how often there are published replications of syntheses; not as often as you would think or want! A truly surprising (to me, anyway) result is this one. The Brunauer–Emmett–Teller (BET) (yes, that Teller) method is a long-established technique that uses gas adsorption measurements to infer the surface area of porous materials. Many research groups were given identical raw adsorption isotherms and asked to calculate the specific surface areas, resulting in a surprisingly large spread of results (Fig 1 of the paper). Clearly not everyone had the same analysis procedures even for a technique developed in the 1930s! Some take-away lessons from this are encapsulated here, in an article titled "Five easy ways to make your research more reproducible". Good stuff. The talk raised a number of questions relevant to our present era of huge enthusiasm about AI-based materials research and "self-driving" labs. If the AI models are all trained on the literature, and the literature is not representative of complete and reproducible procedures, that's a problem. One personal anecdote about reproducibility and its challenges in materials synthesis. Twenty years ago (!), I was working with a colleague who had a postdoc who was synthesizing Fe3O4 (magnetite) nanoparticles via wet chemistry methods (see here). We did some fun electronic transport experiments bridging very closely spaced electrodes with such nanoparticles, and we saw some very dramatic hysteretic response kick in as \(T\) was reduced below about 120 K. That's the temperature of the Verwey transition in magnetite, where the material enters a more insulating low temperature phase. Basically all of the devices we made with that batch of nanoparticles showed this phenomenon. Then the postdoc took up a faculty position and a senior grad student came in and took over the synthesis, and for several months, subsequent batches of nanoparticles just didn't seem to show the effect. The key issue is oxygen stoichiometry. Get a little oxygen rich, and you form nanoparticles that include some \(\gamma\)-Fe2O3, which doesn't have the Verwey physics and in nanoparticle form looks really similar in x-ray diffraction to the desired magnetite. Anyway, we started working with a collaborator who could grow epitaxial Fe3O4 films, and in those devices the electronic effect was there all the time. All this led to this publication and subsequent papers, and I still think it's a cool set of result about a nonequilibrium transition in a correlated material. In the end, after several months the chemistry grad student did get back to making nanoparticle batches that showed the transition. It turns out that at some point he had changed the length of a piece of tubing in the gas manifold, and unexpectedly that had altered the reaction kinetics just a little. Changing it back got the synthesis to be reliable again. This is an example of how finicky materials synthesis can be!
For non-US folks, feel free to skip. For US folks: The Office of Management and Budget, which for much of its history has been a comparatively uncontroversial element of the executive branch, has set rules and guidelines for how many executive-branch agencies conduct business and interact with, e.g., universities. For the purposes of how the research ecosystem operates, the most relevant is OMB's "Uniform Guidance" about how grants and contracts work. Periodically these rules are updated for various reasons, including the goals and policies of the presidential administration. The standard way this works is that the proposed changes are published in the Federal Register; there is a public comment period; OMB makes revisions and then publishes the new rules. In principle, Congress can act to override or prevent rule changes, but without the agreement of the President, this is an extremely challenging path. OMB has proposed sweeping changes to the Uniform Guidance, summarized here. These proposed rule changes are huge deviations from previous practice. For example, they would have all final grant decisions made by political appointees or hires of the executive branch (rather than, e.g., agency subject matter experts); grants could be cancelled at any time for essentially any reason (completely undefined insufficient support of the president's priorities), with no appeal process; international collaborations would be severely curtailed. That's just three for starters. Note that this would also go beyond just the public research enterprise - it would allow the executive branch to cancel funding for things like bridges, roads, schools, agriculture, etc. for undefined political reasons. It would be a huge transfer of power from Congress to the presidency. Here is another summary by the AAU. Here is an editorial essay from ars technica. The public comment period on this runs until July 13. Here is a link where you can make a comment. Here is a guide for how to be effective at this from Stand Up for Science. The APS has a tool for helping people to comment about specific aspects of the rule changes. It is also a good idea to contact congressional delegations (representatives, senators). It's important to have a clear public record about the proposed changes. They may try to implement these regardless, but if so, there will be a continued fight over this in Congress and through the courts.
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[Note that this article is a transcript of the video embedded above.] Have you ever thought about windows? Like really considered the idea? If we hadn’t been exposed to them our entire lives, it might seem like kind of a bizarre concept. On the face of it, windows are about light. But it’s more esoteric than that, especially now that we can make our own light. We want to be inside, but not all the way inside. So we put holes in the wall. It’s a heck of a trade-off: you get light and a view of the outdoors, but it comes at a cost. Not just the cost of the glass itself, but also the structural changes they require and their effects on ventilation, sound, cooling, heating, safety, and security inside a building. As simple as they seem, windows are a technology of sorts. And like a lot of building science, we’ve slowly been making progress, readjusting those tradeoffs and giving us the benefits without so many of the costs. I love to pick a relatively innocuous part of the built environment and really take a close look. So, I’ve built a few demonstrations in the garage to show you how far the science of glazing has come. I’m Grady, and this is Practical Engineering. Glass is not a good substitute for an exterior wall, in many respects. If you take some wall away and replace it with a window, you’re not trading like-for-like. For one, you never accidentally throw a baseball through a brick wall. But it’s especially true when it comes to heat. And this is a pretty big deal because we collectively spend vast sums of money, resources, effort, and energy on maintaining a comfortable thermal climate inside our buildings. Almost all the time, in almost all the places, the temperature outside of a building is different from the temperature we want it to be inside. But the laws of physics (also all the time in all the places) are constantly working to equalize those temperatures. We usually categorize the flow of heat into three separate modes. Conduction is heat moving through solid objects, atoms or molecules that are tightly packed, transmitting energy to their neighbors directly by vibrating against each other. Convection is heat transfer via the movement of a fluid like air or water. Radiation is heat transfer through electromagnetic waves. Since it is literally light, radiation doesn’t need a medium. All three play a role in the walls of buildings. And of course, it works both ways: sometimes it’s too hot outside and you want to keep that heat out. Sometimes it’s too cold and you want to keep the heat in. Any movement of heat from inside to out or vice versa is a flow of power, just like we measure with electricity. If you have 500 watts of heat flowing out of your house, you essentially need a 500 watt heater inside to make up for the loss and maintain a steady temperature. And just like voltage is a difference in potential that drives electrical current, heat flow is driven by a difference in temperature. The bigger that difference, the greater the flow of heat through a given wall. Continuing the electrical metaphor, insulation is the generic term we use to describe materials that resist the transmission of heat from one side to the other. It makes sense that we put it in our walls. In the US, we use R-value as a measure of this resistance. This is kind of a cursed unit of measurement, so I’m going to gloss over the scientific definition. But, a typical exterior wall assembly will usually have an R value between 10 and 25, depending on climate and how new the building is. A simple pane of glass has an R value of about 1. Let me show that to you. I built this box of foam insulation in my garage. Inside, I have a 25 watt ceramic heat emitter. I can close this up and wait for the temperature inside to stabilize. When that happens, we can assume that the heat going into the box is the same as the heat flowing out. Okay, this has pretty much settled out, and you can see that the difference between the interior and exterior probes is about 43 degrees Fahrenheit, I think that’s around 24 celsius. This is R-5 foam, soif you do the math for a perfectly sealed box with these dimensions that should be right around 50 F, 28 C, um, so accounting for the imperfections in my setup, like this, uh, terrible tape seal, that’s actually pretty close. Um, so now I’m going to swap this lid out with a pane of glass, and we’ll set this going again. Okay, this has settled out. And you can see that the temperature inside the shop hasn’t really changed, but the temperature inside the box has gone down a lot compared to the foam lid. The difference is about 22 F, which I think is around 13 C. So, just replacing one side of the box with glass instead of foam, it takes a much smaller difference in temperature to move that same 25 watts out of the box. I’m sure you see the issue here. If we want windows in our buildings, it comes at a cost of thermal efficiency. For every square foot or square meter of exterior wall that we swap with single pane windows, heat will move through that space roughly 10 to 25 times faster. So, we rarely use single-pane glazing anymore. Almost all modern windows use two, and sometimes even three panes of glass with a sealed air gap between them. Sometimes this gap is filled with a heavy gas like argon or krypton that has lower conduction and convection. There are even vacuum insulated panels that have no air inside, eliminating convection entirely. It seems like a simple change, but it makes a pretty big difference. I happen to have a double-pane glass unit, so we can try the experiment again. Okay, this demo has settled out now, and you can see that the temperature difference is right at 30 F, 17 C. Remember with the foam lid it was about 43 degrees and with the single pane it was around 23 degrees. So this is basically right in the middle. It’s not as good as when there was no window, but it’s a lot better than the single pane of glass. This varies a lot with details of the frame and coatings. But very generally, modern double-pane windows can double to quadruple the insulative value of a single pane of glass, and that can make a huge difference in a building with a lot of them. This idea of a sealed air gap between panes comes with one problem. If you’ve ever brought a bag of chips on an airplane, you know what I’m talking about. If the glass manufacturer is at a low elevation and the window’s going to be installed somewhere much higher, you end up with an overpressure situation between the panes compared to the barometric pressure. That can cause them to bow out and even fracture. In some cases, manufacturers will actually dial in the pressure for the altitude of the final destination. Another option is to install a capillary tube that equalizes the pressure inside and out. These are very narrow diameter and long tubes meant to reduce the amount of moisture that diffuses between the panes, which would otherwise lead to condensation inside the unit. Insulating glass panels help reduce heat conduction and convection, but that’s not the only way heat gets into and out of a building. The whole point of a window is to let in light, and we already learned that heat can move as electromagnetic waves. Of course, if we block visible light through a window to avoid heat transfer, that kind of defeats the purpose. But radiation also happens at other wavelengths on the electromagnetic spectrum. Specifically, for the temperatures we deal with on a day-to-day basis, most of the thermal radiation happens in infrared: wavelengths longer than visible light but shorter than microwaves. Even within that range, there are big differences in how the waves interact with matter. That’s particularly true for windows. Typical stuff at ambient temperatures like a sun-baked driveway or human body, emit thermal radiation mostly in the far-infrared spectrum. This is the stuff you can see on a normal infrared camera. And even though glass is designed to let visible light through, it is almost completely opaque to longwave infrared light. Try looking through a window with an infrared camera and you just see the window itself, not anything beyond. It’s cool to think that if our eyes worked a bit differently - if they were tuned to a slightly different part of the electromagnetic spectrum - a glass window would be entirely useless. And it seems like it would be a good thing for our thermal problem, preventing heat from transferring through. Unfortunately it’s not that simple. Glass isn’t just opaque to far-IR; it’s also highly emissive. That means it mostly absorbs thermal radiation rather than reflecting it. So, the radiation doesn’t come directly through, but it does warm the glass, which can then just conduct through the pane and reradiate it where you don’t want it to go, whether inside or out. It’s basically radiation with extra steps. On the shorter wavelength part of the spectrum we call near IR, it’s a little different. The main source of near IR radiation is the sun, and like visible light, that radiation can pass directly through most glass. This is how greenhouses work. The shortwave radiation passes right through where it can warm the stuff inside. But the stuff inside radiates longwave IR, which can’t pass back out through the glass. So, windows are kind of a two-way half-door for far infrared (since they absorb and reradiate it in both directions) and a one-way door for near infrared, but we can do better than that, mostly through low-emissivity or low-e coatings. These coatings essentially convert a pane of glass into a mirror for IR. And you can see the difference really well with an IR camera. You still get some reflections with an uncoated pane, but the difference is obvious when you put a coated pane next to an uncoated one. But this gets a little tricky, especially when it comes to near IR. If you live in a cold climate and your main use of energy is heating, you’re happy to invite as much sunlight as you can get inside. You don’t want to reflect the near IR. The opposite is true in warm climates. Fortunately, manufacturers can tune the coatings according to the climate. You can reflect shortwave radiation if you’re worried most about cooling, or you can let it in to gather more heat inside. Window manufacturers also sometimes vary which face is coated. In warmer climates, you can coat the inside of the outer pane, called “surface 2,” reflecting the IR before it crosses the gap to keep it from warming the air between the panes. In cooler climates, you can put it on “surface 3” to reflect the long-waveshort-wave IR back into your house without it having to cross the air gap. Making windows more thermally efficient isn’t the only use for glass coatings. If you’re like me, there’s a good chance you have the Merlin app installed on your phone. I think it’s a bit of an inevitability that once you reach a certain age, you start getting interested in birds. Unfortunately, one of the largest human-caused sources of bird mortality is actually windows. At certain angles, windows work essentially like mirrors, reflecting the trees and sky, and birds (bless their hearts) can’t always tell the difference. It can happen the other way too. Sometimes a bird will see something inside a building or all the way through two windows that they want to fly toward, not recognizing that there’s solid glass in the way. For you and me, walking into a glass pane like a sliding door is embarrassing, but for a bird flying at much higher speeds with tiny, hollow bones, it is often fatal. McCormick Place Convention Center on the lakeshore in Chicago may be the most famous case study. In an average year, monitors would find around 1,000 dead birds around the building from collisions with the windows. In October 2023, nearly 1,000 birds died in a single night. The owner finally decided to address the problem head on, installing a pattern of dots on all the glass surrounding the building. The solution cut the number of bird strikes by 95 percent. Awareness about bird safe glass is continuing to grow, and so are the number of solutions. Many glass manufacturers have bird-safe products that work in a similar way. The goal is to break the illusion of glass being a mirror or imperceptible as a solid surface, so most of the fixes involve patterns or designs on the glass. I think it looks pretty cool, actually. And because many bird species can see into the ultraviolet spectrum, you can even get dots and patterns that are practically invisible to humans, but still perceptible to birds to keep them from crashing into windows. Some cities are already including requirements for bird safe glass into codes, particularly in major migration corridors and for buildings that use large, uninterrupted facades of glass. This is a really common design for tall buildings and skyscrapers. Ever since I was a kid, I have always been impressed with this kind of facade. From the outside, it looks like a sleek, continuous column of glass. And it’s pretty interesting how it’s actually done. These are called walls, specifically curtain walls. But they’re also not walls in the traditional sense, at least when it comes to bearing loads. We typically think of a building’s exterior walls as the primary load path - the way forces from the building are transferred to the foundation. With curtain walls, that’s not true, and that name kind of gives it away. In buildings with curtain walls, the load bearing happens through interior columns. The exterior walls just hang there. Not that this needs another analogy, but it’s pretty much like the building is wearing a coat. This has a lot of advantages. A curtain wall is relatively lightweight, reducing structural loads on a building. It’s also thin, maximizing space in a building where it comes at a premium. They’re also unitized: you get very large pieces assembled in a factory so they go up quickly on a construction site. And, of course, you get a lot of light into the building when the entire exterior wall is a window. But how do you hold the glass in place? The process of installing glass, called glazing, is not like installing most other materials. You can’t use traditional fasteners like nails or screws. Glass is brittle, and the sharp point forces would induce too much stress. If you look at the windows of your house, the glass panes are usually sandwiched inside a frame with softer material that both seals against the glass to keep out the weather and spreads out the holding forces across a larger area along the edges of the glass. That’s sometimes called captured glazing. It’s done on large buildings with expansive glass facades too, but it’s not the only way. When you really want the outside of a building to look like only glass with no mullions or framing elements protruding beyond the panes, you can use structural silicone glazing, where the sealant does some or all the work to hold the glass in place. In 4-sided structural glazing, the glass panels are adhesively bonded on all four edges. You have nothing on the exterior except smooth glass. If you’re used to the silicone sealants sold at the hardware store, this might seem absolutely crazy to you. I definitely wouldn’t trust a tube of bathroom caulk to hold thousands of pounds of glass hundreds of feet in the air above sidewalks and roads full of people. To be fair, these systems do usually have some kind of mechanical clips or toggles that surreptitiously prevent panes from coming entirely loose if the sealant fails, but also, structural silicone is very different from caulk. Just to demonstrate this, I have a glass block. First I’m going to attach this to a metal plate using typical silicone caulk you might use in the bathroom. I’m starting with a 45-pound weight on the hook, which is probably a bit ambitious. And of course, the camera died right when that dropped, but it held 45 lbs for just about a minute before it dropped. And part of that’s cause, even after 2 weeks of curing, you can see, only the caulk around the edges actually cured. This stuff is just not designed for heavy weights like this. Now I’ll try it with structural silicone. This stuff comes from a few manufacturers in a variety of strengths, curing systems, and material compatibilities. After I let this cure for a week, which is when the manufacturer says it reaches 50 percent of its strength, I tried my little demo again. Wow. It’s holding 45 pounds just fine. So I added this small metal anvil just for good measure, and it’s still holding fine. Just a silly little experiment like this can give you a lot more confidence that those big insulated glass units on tall buildings aren’t going anywhere. But the engineering of windows doesn’t stop at holding them in place. We also have to think about what happens if they break. The most typical glass we think about with picture frames and windows is actually annealed glass. The manufacturing process is pretty impressive. The molten material is allowed to spread out and float atop a bed of molten tin, making it extremely flat and very consistent in thickness. Then the glass is allowed to cool slowly, which relieves internal stresses. That makes it possible to cut along clean lines and even drill holes in the material. But it also means that when annealed glass breaks, it usually fractures into large, razor-sharp shards that can be extremely dangerous. I think most people have enough experience with the issue that there’s hardly a need at all to say that broken glass is a serious hazard. And in many cases, it’s a simply unacceptable hazard: a slip in the shower that breaks the door, a toddler on a glass tabletop, even pushing too hard on a glass door. There are plenty of documented cases where a simple accident became fatal simply because of how annealed glass becomes jagged and razor-sharp when it fractures. One of the main solutions to the problem is tempering the glass. If you heat glass and cool it down quickly, often using a high-pressure blast of air, you can get the outside to cool a little quicker than the inside of the glass. The outside faces shrink. Then when the inside cools, it shrinks as well, pulling the outside faces of the glass into compression. If you use a polarizing filter, sometimes you can even see the stresses in tempered glass. This is a tricky process because if the cooling happens unevenly, the glass will crack or break. I’ve discovered this myself by accidentally setting a glass dish on the stove burner. But if you do it right, tempering glass makes it much stronger than typical annealed glass. Since the outer faces are in compression, cracks are less able to propagate. But even if it does break, tempered glass has a big advantage. Instead of the large shards, you tiny, relatively harmless pieces. These can still have sharp edges, but just being so much smaller means they’re much less able to injure someone. They have a lot less mass when they fall, and the edges are shorter, so it’s more like angry gravel and less like deadly knives and spears. That’s why tempered glass is often called safety glass, and lots of building codes require it in situations where broken glass can pose a safety hazard like glass doors, large windows close to the ground, and in bathrooms and showers. Most vehicles also use tempered glass on the side windows to reduce the risk of injury during a crash. One disadvantage of tempered glass is that it can’t be modified after the fact. All that built-up stress in the material makes sure it shatters into tiny pieces, but it also prevents you from cutting or drilling holes. Tempering has to be the final step. The other disadvantage also comes from its main advantage. Because tempered glass breaks in a relatively safe way, it doesn’t offer much security. And really it’s true for annealed glass too. Windows aren’t just a thermal weak point in buildings; they are also a security weak point. Why would a criminal struggle to break through a reinforced door if they can just quickly smash a window? That’s where laminated glass comes in. You can glue individual panes of glass together where they still retain almost perfect optical clarity. But even better than that, you can sandwich a tough plastic interlayer between those panes of glass, creating a composite material. And it behaves a lot differently when it breaks. Now you don’t have shards separating at all. Even completely cracked apart, the glass stays adhered to the plastic instead of flying apart. And more importantly, this is still a barrier even after it breaks. I’m not getting my hand through there. Laminated glass is ideal for overhead applications, where a break could otherwise rain down shards on people below. And it’s perfect for commercial buildings, especially on ground floors, to make it more challenging for someone to break in through a window or glass door. Laminated glass is also standard on vehicle windshields to offer more protection from a road hazard that could otherwise break through the glass and injure the driver or passengers. What’s kind of crazy is that I’m just scratching the surface of modern window technology, not to mention the glass itself, which can get a lot more complicated for applications like phone screens. But these are all innovations that are kind of hiding in plain sight, and to me at least, they make the view through a window just a little bit sweeter.
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Camillo Sitte’s blueprint for making beautiful cities seized the imagination of the world before falling into obscurity in the twentieth century. Here is his forgotten formula.
The French mathematician Nicolas de Condorcet was a passionate believer in democracy, but he also discovered a frustrating paradox within it: A majority can sometimes vote itself into a logical loop. Mathematicians have now found that this “logical loop” maps onto a strange topological shape: the Klein bottle, a surface with no distinct inside or outside. On this episode of The Quanta Podcast, host Samir Patel speaks with writer Alex Stone about this new connection between this centuries-old voting paradox and the Klein bottle — and how it illustrates just how difficult it is to translate a group of individual preferences into a single choice. This topic was covered in a recent story for Quanta Magazine. Each week on The Quanta Podcast, Quanta Magazine editor-in-chief Samir Patel and Senior Editor Hannah Waters speak with the people behind the award-winning publication to navigate through some of the most important and mind-expanding questions in science and math.