Transistors, the building blocks of modern electronics, are typically made of silicon. Because it’s a semiconductor, this material can control the flow of electricity in a circuit. But silicon has fundamental physical limits that restrict how compact and energy-efficient a transistor can be.

MIT researchers have now replaced silicon with a magnetic semiconductor, creating a magnetic transistor that could enable smaller, faster, and more energy-efficient circuits. The material’s magnetism strongly influences its electronic behavior, leading to more efficient control of the flow of electricity. 

The team used a novel magnetic material and an optimization process that reduces the material’s defects, which boosts the transistor’s performance.

The material’s unique magnetic properties also allow for transistors with built-in memory, which would simplify circuit design and unlock new applications for high-performance electronics.

“People have known about magnets for thousands of years, but there are very limited ways to incorporate magnetism into electronics. We have shown a new way to efficiently utilize magnetism that opens up a lot of possibilities for future applications and research,” says Chung-Tao Chou, an MIT graduate student in the departments of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science (EECS) and Physics, and co-lead author of a paper on this advance.

Chou is joined on the paper by co-lead author Eugene Park, a graduate student in the Department of Materials Science and Engineering (DMSE); Julian Klein, a DMSE research scientist; Josep Ingla-Aynes, a postdoc in the MIT Plasma Science and Fusion Center; Jagadeesh S. Moodera, a senior research scientist in the Department of Physics; and senior authors Frances Ross, TDK Professor in DMSE; and Luqiao Liu, an associate professor in EECS, and a member of the Research Laboratory of Electronics; as well as others at the University of Chemistry and Technology in Prague. The paper appears today in Physical Review Letters.

Overcoming the limits

In an electronic device, silicon semiconductor transistors act like tiny light switches that turn a circuit on and off, or amplify weak signals in a communication system. They do this using a small input voltage.

But a fundamental physical limit of silicon semiconductors prevents a transistor from operating below a certain voltage, which hinders its energy efficiency.

To make more efficient electronics, researchers have spent decades working toward magnetic transistors that utilize electron spin to control the flow of electricity. Electron spin is a fundamental property that enables electrons to behave like tiny magnets.

So far, scientists have mostly been limited to using certain magnetic materials. These lack the favorable electronic properties of semiconductors, constraining device performance.

“In this work, we combine magnetism and semiconductor physics to realize useful spintronic devices,” Liu says.

The researchers replace the silicon in the surface layer of a transistor with chromium sulfur bromide, a two-dimensional material that acts as a magnetic semiconductor.

Due to the material’s structure, researchers can switch between two magnetic states very cleanly. This makes it ideal for use in a transistor that smoothly switches between “on” and “off.”

“One of the biggest challenges we faced was finding the right material. We tried many other materials that didn’t work,” Chou says.

They discovered that changing these magnetic states modifies the material’s electronic properties, enabling low-energy operation. And unlike many other 2D materials, chromium sulfur bromide remains stable in air.

To make a transistor, the researchers pattern electrodes onto a silicon substrate, then carefully align and transfer the 2D material on top. They use tape to pick up a tiny piece of material, only a few tens of nanometers thick, and place it onto the substrate.

“A lot of researchers will use solvents or glue to do the transfer, but transistors require a very clean surface. We eliminate all those risks by simplifying this step,” Chou says.

Leveraging magnetism

This lack of contamination enables their device to outperform existing magnetic transistors. Most others can only create a weak magnetic effect, changing the flow of current by a few percent or less. Their new transistor can switch or amplify the electric current by a factor of 10.

They use an external magnetic field to change the magnetic state of the material, switching the transistor using significantly less energy than would usually be required.

The material also allows them to control the magnetic states with electric current. This is important because engineers cannot apply magnetic fields to individual transistors in an electronic device. They need to control each one electrically.

The material’s magnetic properties could also enable transistors with built-in memory, simplifying the design of logic or memory circuits.

A typical memory device has a magnetic cell to store information and a transistor to read it out. Their method can combine both into one magnetic transistor.

“Now, not only are transistors turning on and off, they are also remembering information. And because we can switch the transistor with greater magnitude, the signal is much stronger so we can read out the information faster, and in a much more reliable way,” Liu says.

Building on this demonstration, the researchers plan to further study the use of electrical current to control the device. They are also working to make their method scalable so they can fabricate arrays of transistors.

This research was supported, in part, by the Semiconductor Research Corporation, the U.S. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), the U.S. National Science Foundation (NSF), the U.S. Department of Energy, the U.S. Army Research Office, and the Czech Ministry of Education, Youth, and Sports. The work was partially carried out at the MIT.nano facilities.

Before Ila Kumar thinks about how to build technology, she asks a different question: What is the context that technology will operate in, and who needs to be involved in the design? 

For Kumar, meaningful innovation doesn’t result from engineers or designers working in isolation. Instead, she believes the best innovations emerge when the people who stand to benefit from a technology help create it from the very beginning. 

That philosophy has guided her research in the Lifelong Kindergarten group, where she works alongside young people who have experienced trauma during childhood, particularly those involved in the child welfare system, to reimagine how technology can support healing, connection, and independence. 

“I really think that community-based design is the only way that we can make technology that accounts for communities’ needs, but also their barriers, their cultures, their concerns,” Kumar says. “It’s the only way that we can make really sustainable and positively impactful technology.” 

Today, Kumar is preparing to enter the sixth and final year of her PhD. But when she first arrived at MIT in 2021, she envisioned staying only long enough to complete a master’s degree. However, Kumar quickly fell in love with her work and decided to stay at MIT and pursue her doctorate.

Before graduate school, Kumar grew up in Philadelphia, attended the University of Pennsylvania, and worked on several projects at the intersection of technology and mental health or psychology research. 

Through those experiences, Kumar began to question whether the technology she was helping to develop was having the sustained impact she hoped for. “I had done a number of projects that were ‘tech for good,’” she says. “And I wasn’t seeing that what I was doing had a long-term impact.” 

Rather than walking away from technology altogether, Kumar began to rethink how it was created. “If we design technology in community-based ways and really think about holistic well-being,” she says, “maybe we can actually create things that help people.” 

That conviction eventually became the foundation of her doctoral research, and over the course of her PhD, Kumar has increasingly moved from simply listening to communities to building with them. 

Public conversations about technology often present a choice: Embrace it or reject it. Kumar believes that it’s not that simple. 

Kumar sees the way digital platforms have the potential to both harm young people’s mental health and development, and help young people process emotions, strengthen relationships, and practice healthy vulnerability — if those tools are designed thoughtfully and embedded in the systems where young people already receive care and support. 

Much of her work explores exactly what that could look like. 

One project Kumar worked on, in partnership with Stepping Forward LA and with the input of the young people who would use the app, replaces text-heavy communication with a visual collage system to help young people impacted by trauma and the child welfare system to express emotions that may be difficult to put into words, and to build a sense of connectedness with one another. 

In an ongoing project, Kumar is collaborating with the Justice Resource Institute to design a mobile app that supports youth in playing an active role in their treatment-planning process and helps them work toward the goals they set outside of the therapy office. The group is working with clinicians and youth to design and evaluate the system.

“We are not sitting at MIT designing tools and just throwing them at people,” Kumar says.  “We’re designing it together. We need to actually have the folks that are relevant to providing the care in the room.” 

That idea became even clearer to Kumar through a 10-month technology leadership circle she co-facilitated with Foster America. The program brought together people with lived experience of foster care and technology experts to envision how digital technologies could fill gaps in care for young people in the child welfare system. 

This project surfaced the importance of not just designing tools that center youths’ needs but also considering the ways in which social services need to be brought into the innovation process. 

Those ideas have also led Kumar to explorations that involve one of technology’s newest frontiers: artificial intelligence. She began asking questions after she realized that young people who had experienced trauma had already been turning to AI to make critical life decisions, even as many caregivers were not aware of it.

As a result, Kumar has increasingly focused on supporting care providers in talking with young people about AI. She has led training workshops with organizations that serve young people impacted by trauma or involved in the child welfare system.

Kumar’s passion for advocating for young people extends far beyond the lab. She also volunteers as a court-appointed special advocate, working one-on-one with a young person in the child welfare system while pursuing her PhD. 

The role has deepened both her understanding of the challenges young people face and her belief that lasting change depends on relationships.

Some of her most meaningful moments have come while working directly with young people.  Last summer, she, alongside another graduate student in her lab, mentored two interns with foster care experience during a six-week program that blended technology, creativity, and personal growth. 

“It felt like a real privilege,” Kumar says. “Even the six weeks was not enough.” 

Those relationships have also inspired Kumar to address how community-based research is conducted at MIT. 

Recognizing that many students interested in community-engaged work often feel isolated, she collaborated with the Priscilla King Gray Public Service Center to co-teach a course on community-driven innovation. She later established a biweekly community of practice connecting researchers across MIT and Harvard University who are navigating the benefits and challenges of conducting research alongside communities rather than simply studying them. 

Outside of research, Kumar enjoys birdwatching, cooking with friends, and creating graphic illustrations — creative pursuits that, much like her research, reward patience, observation, and careful attention. 

As technology becomes increasingly woven into young people’s lives, Kumar hopes innovation will move beyond the lab and into the communities it is meant to serve. 

“The future of actually impactful technologies,” Kumar says, “is when researchers are making decisions with communities instead of for them.”

Solving complex social problems with multiple interrelated causes can involve juggling a variety of factors. Securing funding, designing the right programs, and sustaining the political will necessary to implement them demands a targeted approach.

Lyonel Tanganco, a graduate student in MIT’s Master in Data, Economics, and Design of Policy (DEDP) program, seeks to connect data, policy, and practice-based community interventions to improve living conditions and service delivery in middle-income countries. His studies have allowed him to work with innovative practitioners making real improvements in the world, he says.

“There’s innovation at work in middle-income countries,” says Tanganco, a native of the Philippines. “Seeing the attitudes to adopt and scale new policies and procedures to improve lives has been very interesting to me.” 

Taking those innovative practices and investigating their adaptability and potential to scale is at the heart of Tanganco’s research and work. “How do we make growth broad-based and inclusive?” he asks.

The DEDP master’s program, jointly run by MIT’s Department of Economics and the Abdul Latif Jameel Poverty Action Lab (J-PAL), equips development professionals from across the globe with the practical skills and theoretical knowledge needed to tackle these and other kinds of challenges. J-PAL seeks to reduce poverty by ensuring that policy is informed by scientific evidence — conducting randomized impact evaluations; helping governments, nongovernmental organizations, donors, and the private sector apply the resulting evidence to their work; and training researchers, policymakers, practitioners, and donors to generate and use that evidence.

Designing a path to more effective policies and practices

Before arriving at MIT, Tanganco earned degrees in management science and economics, graduating at the top of his class from Ateneo de Manila University in the Philippines. He was previously the director of the Policy, Research, and Liaison Office in the Philippine Department of Finance. His work focused on helping develop the nation’s response to the Covid-19 outbreak, tax policy reform, and communications support for key policy initiatives.

“During my time in government, we sought to increase revenues for health care and increase outlays for health-care programs,” he says. “We were thinking about health care from the financing perspective.” 

Tanganco’s efforts helped increase taxes on cigarettes, vaping, and alcohol products, which funded a sixfold increase in the health-care budget. Allocating more funding for health care, he says, may yield better outcomes. 

Additionally, Tanganco supported reforms to increase taxation on top Filipino income earners while lowering taxes for others, which the government subsequently implemented. Later, he and some of his colleagues formed a “policy think-and-do tank” — Malusog at Matalinong Bata Coalition (Smart and Healthy Kids Coalition) — that collaborates closely with government agencies on large-scale social programs. 

There, he played a key role in designing and advancing a conditional cash transfer program aimed at addressing malnutrition that now reaches more than 190,000 Filipino households. “The program gives families the equivalent of $12 per month under the condition that they bring their children for regular monthly checkups,” Tanganco says. “It increased health-seeking behavior eightfold.”

While he saw success in implementing these programs, Tanganco still found gaps in both knowledge and implementation he thought he could close by enrolling in a program like DEDP. “I wanted a graduate program that taught me what I couldn’t get from a professional career,” he says.

Expanding research into targeted areas

Tanganco describes living in a middle-income country as “living in two contradictory worlds at the same time.” 

“I’ve seen gleaming metropolitan skylines alongside underserved communities; pockets of affluence surrounded by persistent poverty; world-class hospitals alongside children who still lack access to basic health care,” he says. “The through line in my work is figuring out how to help middle-income countries translate economic growth to better lives and better human outcomes.” 

His DEDP studies have taken him to Indonesia this summer for work on a capstone project with economist Benjamin Olken, the TEPCO Professor of Economics and co-faculty director of J-PAL. The research, conducted in collaboration with Indonesian local governments, involves the design and rollout of a randomized evaluation of a tax intervention. 

“So far, I’ve visited and conferred with several local Indonesian governments to assess tax administration issues,” he says. Investigating Indonesian governmental interventions may help improve service delivery and support. One of the ways Tanganco hopes to help Indonesians, Filipinos, and others is by developing tools to raise revenues in simple, effective, and fair ways, making it easier to improve constituent sentiment and service delivery. 

Tanganco wants to help policymakers and others understand how politics and other factors influence areas like investments in nutrition and environment. His studies have sharpened his investigative approach in these critical areas.

In the Philippines, for example, one-in-four children is malnourished. “Children who lack proper nutrition before age 2 develop smaller brains, perform worse in school and work, and are far more likely to remain in poverty,” Tanganco reports. “Their potential is capped before they get the chance to use it.”  

Middle-income countries also suffer disproportionately from climate-change-related impacts. “Typhoons and extreme heat severely disrupt learning and economic growth in the Philippines,” Tanganco says. “More than a tenth of school days are lost because of climate issues.” 

Essentially, without improved policies and practices alongside a sustained effort to improve lives, “we’re losing extraordinary opportunities for human advancement to wasted potential,” Tanganco believes. “Experiences like that abound,” he says. 

From the classroom to the next chapter 

Tanganco values opportunities to range beyond his DEDP studies. He fondly remembers completing a doctoral-level course in environmental economics co-taught by Olken and Jacob Moscona, the 3M Career Development Assistant Professor of Economics. Its focus on research appealed to him. “I was glad to have time to think about the problems I’m trying to solve,” he says.

Tanganco also enjoyed exploring Greater Boston with his wife — a graduate student at Harvard University — and his fellow DEDP students. From restaurants to concerts with other music nerds, he appreciates the time they spent outside the classroom. “We discuss our hopes and our home countries’ challenges,” he enthuses. “I’m excited to see what folks will do after this.”

Tanganco is especially pleased with the Institute’s commitment to ensuring scholarship centers an interdisciplinary approach. He likens the MIT educational style to “Avatar: The Last Airbender’s” Uncle Iroh, who recommends drawing wisdom from a variety of elements to ensure wisdom doesn’t grow stale. 

These and additional opportunities to step outside his previously defined areas of expertise left a lasting impact on him. “Everyone at MIT is open to collaboration,” he says. “There are a lot of thinkers and doers here, and you don’t have to work hard to convince other students to help you.”

As Tanganco continues his work, he encourages practitioners — doctors, nutritionists, and community health workers, for example — to partner with economists and other researchers to translate their expertise into quantifiable metrics policymakers can understand. “Develop an eye for impact,” he adds.

Enrolling in the DEDP program “has been game-changing,” Tanganco concludes. “The program provides a solid foundation for understanding the world and how to make a positive, measurable difference in the lives of other people, especially the least fortunate among us.”

After extensive modifications over the past seven years, the Gulfstream IV (G-IV) aircraft operated and maintained by MIT Lincoln Laboratory's Tactical Defense Systems Group and Flight Test Facility (FTF) recently flew home from Canada. 

Transforming the standard business jet into a highly specialized research platform — which will support the U.S. Air Force's Air Vehicle Survivability Evaluation (AVSE) program for decades to come — represented the largest and most complex airborne test bed modernization in Lincoln Laboratory history. The Tactical Defense Systems Group, assisted by the FTF, coordinated the effort with the Toronto-based aerospace company Field Aviation.

"Our team made hundreds of trips to Canada and dedicated countless weekends to keep the project moving along," says David Culbertson, FTF manager. "Seeing the aircraft finally return to the laboratory invoked a sense of pride and satisfaction."

An airborne testing infrastructure

For more than 40 years, the Tactical Defense Systems Group has supported the AVSE program, leveraging airborne test beds to assess how U.S. aircraft and space assets fare against current and emerging threats. The group had been conducting airborne testing for the AVSE program with a modified Gulfstream II (G-II) since the early 1990s. In 2013, they began a series of studies to replace the G-II because parts availability issues were looming. These studies concluded that the G-IV was the best option, given its performance and capabilities, including its respectively higher altitude and longer range; long-term sustainability; and cost. The laboratory purchased the G-IV in 2015.

To avoid repeatedly reopening the costly Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) certification process over the planned operational lifetime of the G-IV (25 to 30 years), the group decided to complete all anticipated aircraft modifications at once, rather than in phases. Following a competitive bidding process, the laboratory selected Field Aviation to perform the modifications. Field Aviation had modified the G-II, in addition to other laboratory aircraft. In December 2018, FTF pilots flew the G-IV to Toronto, where it was expected to remain for approximately three to four years.

However, Covid-19 pandemic-related disruptions and contractor management shifts extended this timeline. To help bring the aircraft home, the laboratory stepped in to oversee aircraft modifications, maintenance, and reassembly. Laboratory engineers, mechanics, pilots, program managers, and legal teams worked together to secure Canadian work permits and maintain a continuous onsite presence. Senior aircraft mechanic Craig Rowe served as lead crew chief, traveling monthly with team members to Canada; for his efforts, he was recognized with a 2026 MIT Excellence Award for Outstanding Contributor. 

A structural overhaul

To modify the aircraft, mechanics removed, tracked, and ultimately reinstalled more than 2,000 components. The revamped G-IV incorporated 12 major modifications that required sweeping structural changes.

For example, on the wings, mechanics installed four pylons for carrying external sensor pods weighing anywhere from 200 to more than 1,000 pounds. The wings had to be structurally fortified to withstand the added weight, stress, and aerodynamic loads that would be experienced during flight. They added a fifth sensor pylon, capable of holding up to 2,000 pounds and accommodating systems nearly 19 feet long, to the forward lower fuselage. Development of the pylons spanned nearly five years because of intensive reverse engineering, including purchasing and disassembling a wing from a scrapped G-IV to measure the internal structural components. Installation took almost two years because access to the inner wing structure was limited to small panels normally used for inspections.

Mechanics modified the roof and lower fuselage to create flat surfaces to allow rapid mounting of external antennas and sensor systems without repeated incursions into the aircraft's pressurized fuselage. They extended the aircraft's nose and tail with standardized sensor-mounting interfaces to enable rapid placement of sensors for both forward- and aft-facing test scenarios. The six-foot nose extension required completely gutting the cockpit so the internal structure could be reinforced to bear the weight of the mounting interface and test systems.

In the interior, the team installed 14 equipment racks; workstations for six onboard operators; fiber-optic, Ethernet, and coaxial cables; liquid- and air-cooling systems; and dedicated power-distribution infrastructure separated from the baseline aircraft for safety reasons.

The remodel also required developing a means to generate sufficient electrical power to operate the test systems in flight while meeting FAA fire-containment standards. The aircraft’s original auxiliary power unit (APU) — normally intended to assist only with engine startup — was far too small for the mission requirements and could not operate airborne. Field Aviation engineers designed an entirely new fireproof titanium enclosure to house a larger APU capable of producing nearly double the original electrical output up to the 45,000-foot G-IV altitude ceiling. The laboratory's Engineering Division ran simulations to validate that the APU inlet airflow would allow for maximum APU power output throughout the flight duration.

Steps toward mission qualification 

After reassembling the G-IV, FTF mechanics conducted hundreds of operational checks to ensure every aircraft system disturbed during the modification worked properly and to validate aircraft safety and readiness to resume flight operations. The aircraft completed multiple post-modification flights without a single maintenance write-up.

"It's extremely rare for a heavily modified aircraft of this complexity to have no write-ups," says program manager Paul Mancini from the Tactical Defense Systems Group. "That's a testament to the quality of work of the FTF mechanics who put the airplane back together and the Field Aviation engineers who completed the modifications."

Since the G-IV returned home this spring, test pilots have been evaluating its airworthiness — i.e., in-flight safety and functionality. The Tactical Defense Systems Group expects approximately another 18 months to complete flight testing, mission systems modification, test systems installation, and FAA certification before the aircraft becomes fully mission-qualified to operationally support the AVSE program.

MIT President Sally Kornbluth formally welcomed the undergraduate Class of 2030 to campus on Sunday, noting that the Institute quickly “feels like home” to new students. 

The annual event, officially called the President’s Convocation for First-Years and Families, is held at the Johnson Ice Rink on campus on the weekend most new undergraduates arrive on campus. 

The Class of 2030 consists of more than 1,100 first-year undergraduates from all over the map, representing a broad variety of academic interests and backgrounds. Yet even for such a wide-ranging group, Kornbluth observed, “It is very, very common for new students to say that in coming to MIT, they have finally found their place. They have finally found their people. And it feels like home.”

Kornbluth’s remarks outlined some of the binding forces that connect students, through the shared culture of inquiry and discovery at MIT.

“I was struck right away by the wall-to-wall enthusiasm for fundamental science, what we like to think of as curiosity on a mission,” Kornbluth said. “Every day here, hundreds of people are pushing the boundaries of human knowledge.” 

This month alone, she noted, “astronomers here just discovered an entirely new type of astrophysical object, a black hole star. … And then, two days later, an MIT research team discovered that a drug that blocks a certain enzyme can reduce the risk of developing lung cancer.” 

Kornbluth added: “And that’s just a regular [occurrence] here. As you’ll see, the discoveries just keep on coming in everything, from climate science to computer science, nuclear science to neuroscience, from chemistry to quantum.” 

Secondly, Kornbluth said, people in the MIT community are frequently motivated by a desire to have an impact through their work.

“We’re also driven to make a positive difference in the world,” she told the audience of more than 2,000, which frequently applauded at key junctures. 

A third common feature of campus life, Kornbluth told the crowd, is the “spirit of entrepreneurship” on campus, generally defined as a propensity to take action. 

“Now, I don’t mean that everybody has to start a company, though a lot of people do,” Kornbluth said. “But at MIT, when we talk about entrepreneurship, we also mean the broad spirit of, do something, try something, with your whole heart … and let the doing teach you how to make a difference.” 

Kornbluth also made a series of remarks about AI, noting that MIT has “deep ties” to the development of the technology and that AI tools are expanding and accelerating work in many fields of research. 

That said, she added, “As educators, it is our challenge to derive AI’s benefits and counteract its harms.” And she called a recent report MIT has issued about AI and education “a powerful reminder that MIT was founded to help human beings develop their own powers of discovery, problem-solving, and invention. That is still and will always be our essential work. It is the experience you all came here for.”

All told, Kornbluth said, “We’re so glad and so grateful that you chose to bring your talent, your energy, your curiosity, and your creativity to MIT. And we’re thrilled to be starting this new year with all of you.” 

Kornbluth then introduced the audience to other campus administration leaders who were sitting onstage for her remarks: Provost Anantha Chandrakasan, Chancellor Melissa Nobles, and Vice Chancellor for Graduate and Undergraduate Education David L. Darmofal. 

Attendees also heard remarks from two faculty members who are also alumni, per convocation tradition. 

Anna Huang SM ’08, the Robert N. Noyce Career Development Professor in both the Music and Theater Arts program and the Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, discussed her work as well as the student experience on campus. 

Huang studies human-computer interactions and develops human-AI collaborations in music making, and urged the students to follow their interests — which, in Huang’s case, are quite broad. She spent years working at Google and is also a composer herself.

“You’re going to discover so much here at MIT,” Huang said. “I discover something new every day.” 

She urged students to participate in campus activities and to pursue programs such as MISTI, the global experiences program at MIT that enables internships, study abroad, and more. Huang also emphasized that MIT is a collaborative, interdisciplinary place where students can thrive by working with others. 

“MIT is a very, very supportive environment,” Huang added. “And we value the perspective and the combinations of unique interests you bring.” 

Huang was followed at the podium by Desirée Plata PhD ’09, associate dean of engineering, School of Engineering Distinguished Climate and Energy Professor, and associate professor of civil and environmental engineering, who urged the students to cultivate an ethos of optimism about their studies and ability to improve the world. 

Plata’s wide-ranging work applies chemical engineering to climate issues — for instance, as she noted, by working to replicate methane-capture processes observed in nature onto new technologies that could be located in mines. Deploying such techniques to reduce the presence of greenhouse gases could help slow the worldwide rise of temperatures. 

“Modulating the warming rate of the planet is admittedly ambitious,” Plata said. “But it’s not impossible. At least not from a thermodynamic perspective. And that’s just the kind of problem we like to solve.” 

Plata also encouraged students to cultivate a feeling of open-minded optimism about their own pursuits.

“When I walk onto MIT’s campus each morning, I take a deep breath. I feel that same sense of possibility that I felt the [first] time I set foot here,” Plata said. “A high privilege of my life is being able to engage some of the most talented minds of our time. To engage all of you. To help develop your respective paths. And enjoy the amplifying impact you’re going to go on and have in this world.”

After Plata spoke, Kornbluth, who is from a musical family and enjoys singing, joined the campus a capella group The Chorallaries onstage for a spirited rendition of the songs “Arise All Ye of MIT” and “Take Me Back to Tech.” And with that, students filed out of the rink, ready to explore their new home. 

The MIT Quantum Initiative (QMIT) has launched a new postdoctoral fellowship program to accelerate interdisciplinary quantum research and develop the next generation of scientific leaders working at the frontiers of quantum science and technology.

Supported by a grant from the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation, the program reflects QMIT’s vision of expanding the boundaries of quantum science by encouraging researchers to connect quantum approaches with other disciplines and emerging applications. 

As opportunities in quantum research expand, investing in outstanding early-career researchers has never been more important. These fellowships are designed to help cultivate the next generation of quantum leaders, providing the resources and collaborative environment needed to advance transformative research at MIT.

“Quantum science and technology is in a period of extraordinary opportunity, opening new pathways to solving problems across computation, materials, sensing, and communication. Programs like this help MIT attract outstanding researchers whose ideas will shape the future of the field,” says Anantha Chandrakasan, MIT provost and the Vannevar Bush Professor of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science. 

Launched in December 2025 as an MIT strategic initiative, QMIT brings together researchers from across the Institute to accelerate quantum discovery and apply quantum advances to some of society’s most consequential scientific, technological, industrial, and national security challenges. 

“Quantum science is becoming increasingly interdisciplinary,” says Danna Freedman, the Frederick George Keyes Professor of Chemistry and faculty director of QMIT. “Some of the most exciting breakthroughs will come from researchers who combine deep expertise in quantum with new perspectives from other fields. This fellowship is designed to create exactly those kinds of opportunities.”

The QMIT Fellowship is intentionally designed to foster an interdisciplinary research community. Eligible applicants are outstanding quantum researchers working in a range of fields across physics, chemistry and materials science, and fundamental aspects of biological and Earth sciences. The program specifically seeks researchers whose work combines deep expertise in quantum science with a willingness to explore new intellectual frontiers.

One example of the interdisciplinary vision behind the program is the possibility of applying quantum systems to better understand biological processes, bringing together expertise in atomic physics, quantum algorithms, and biology. The fellows will be embedded across the research areas that define QMIT, including quantum computing, quantum sensing and precision measurement, quantum materials, quantum simulation, and quantum networks. Their research may also explore emerging interdisciplinary approaches that combine artificial intelligence and quantum science.

Fellows supported through the program will join MIT’s extensive quantum ecosystem, working alongside researchers across the Institute, including those affiliated with the Research Laboratory of Electronics, MIT Lincoln Laboratory, the Department of Physics, the Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, the MIT-Harvard Center for Ultracold Atoms, and numerous interdisciplinary research centers and laboratories.

Beyond supporting individual research projects, the fellowship program is intended to strengthen the broader quantum community at MIT by fostering collaboration, mentorship, and intellectual exchange across disciplines.

“Quantum research, in the next few years and across a wide range of domains, is going to make the impossible possible,” says Ian Waitz, MIT’s vice president for research and the head of QMIT. “The QMIT fellowship program is an investment in outstanding postdoctoral scholars who will help bring tremendous new quantum capabilities to unforeseen, creative, and transformative applications in science and technology.”

The inaugural QMIT Fellows will begin their appointments during the 2026 academic year. QMIT expects to open applications for a new cohort in fall 2026 as it continues building a community of researchers working across disciplines to advance the future of quantum science.

When exploring solar system bodies for signs of past or present life, scientists have mainly focused on planets that have (or had) a liquid surface similar to Earth’s. However, mounting evidence suggests that the ingredients for life may exist in a very different environment: the highly acidic clouds that blanket Venus.

Those clouds are made up of about 98 percent sulfuric acid, which scientists had believed to be too acidic for complex biological molecules to survive. But in a new study, MIT researchers have shown that short peptides can not only remain stable in these extremely acidic conditions, they can also fold into shapes that may allow them to have biological functions.

“If peptides find their way to that cloud layer of concentrated sulfuric acid, they will stay and be stably preserved in that cloud of droplets. And once these macromolecules have a defined three-dimensional structure, they can potentially have a function,” says Mei Hong, an MIT professor of chemistry and one of the senior authors of the new study.

The findings suggest that scientists should not rule out planets that don’t resemble Earth in their search for life, says Sara Seager, the Class of 1941 Professor of Planetary Sciences in the Department of Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences and a professor in the departments of Physics and of Aeronautics and Astronautics.

“We really don’t know the full extent of what planet archetypes are out there. We’re seeking exoplanets that might be a true Earth twin, but what if they’re all Venuses? Our findings definitely open up a whole range of possibilities,” says Seager, another senior author of the study. She will be joining the University of Toronto faculty in September.

Janusz Petkowski, a research assistant professor at Wroclaw University of Science and Technology, is also a senior author of the paper, which appears this week in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Jia Yi Zhang, an MIT graduate student, is the paper’s lead author, and former MIT postdoc Aurelio Dregni is also an author. 

Surviving harsh conditions

While Venus’s surface is too hot to be hospitable to life, its cloud layer, which extends from 30 to 40 miles above the planet’s surface, features milder temperatures suitable for life. The clouds are made from droplets of sulfuric acid, which can dissolve metals and destroys most biological molecules on Earth.

Meteorites that contain peptide building blocks regularly enter Venus’s atmosphere, raising the possibility that those peptides could serve as building blocks for simple life forms — if they could survive the clouds’ corrosive environment.

In 2020, Seager’s lab began a series of studies looking at whether different types of biological molecules could persist under those highly acidic conditions. In their initial experiments, working with MIT’s Department of Chemistry Instrumentation Facility (DCIF), they used nuclear magnetic resonance (NMR) spectroscopy — which measures the magnetic properties of atomic nuclei within molecules — to analyze the structures of a variety of molecules in a solution of nearly pure sulfuric acid. 

Those studies showed that nucleic acids, the building blocks of DNA, could remain intact under highly acidic conditions, as could lipids and amino acids. The next step was to figure out if peptides — short strings of amino acids — could persist, and more importantly, whether they could then fold into shapes that might give them biological functions.

For that challenging task, researchers at DCIF suggested that Seager join forces with Hong, an NMR expert who has an advanced 800-megahertz solution NMR spectrometer in her lab. 

To their surprise, the researchers found that the peptides they studied remained stable for many weeks. They believe this is a result of the lack of water in such highly acidic solutions. At 98 percent sulfuric acid, there are very few water molecules, which means that hydrolysis, the chemical reaction that breaks peptide bonds in acid, can’t happen.

“Without water, an acid that you would consider a harsh solvent suddenly is not as menacing as one might think,” Hong says.

After confirming that the peptides remained intact, the researchers began to explore their structures. One of the peptides that the researchers analyzed, a molecule known as HHQ, is a synthetic seven-amino-acid peptide that Hong had previously studied for its role in forming catalytic amyloid fibrils. 

In water, this peptide forms flat beta sheets that eventually form long fibrils. However, in concentrated sulfuric acid, the researchers found that it takes on an entirely different shape — a loop shaped like the Greek letter omega. Such so-called omega loops are occasionally found in some naturally occurring proteins, where they form links between other structural motifs such as sheets or helices.

The other two peptides that the researchers analyzed were a longer variation of HHQ, called HHQ13, and a completely different peptide called K7, which contains seven amino acids. These peptides also formed omega loops in sulfuric acid.

The researchers believe that molecules of sulfuric acid act as a scaffold for the loops, sliding into the center of each loop and holding it in that shape. 

“What hadn’t been known is that peptides can survive so well and have specific three-dimensional shapes in an acidic environment,” Hong says.

Structure and function

In naturally occurring proteins in aqueous solution, omega loops are thought to play a role in protein folding and molecular recognition. Whether they could have other biological functions is not known. However, the fact that peptides can form well-defined, folded structures in acidic environments is an important step in showing that peptides may be able to perform biological functions in such environments.

“Life needs to have specially shaped proteins so that they have a specific target they can latch onto and perform their function. Before this, people thought that peptides couldn’t survive in sulfuric acid, so showing peptides are not only stable, but also fold, is a really big deal,” says Seager, who is leading the Morning Star Missions to Venus.

Adriaan Bax, chief of the Section on Biophysical NMR at the Laboratory of Chemical Physics at the National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, described the results as “important and unexpected.”

“The observation that these peptides retain a substantial degree of conformational order in concentrated sulfuric acid raises the prospect that folded oligopeptide/protein structures can exist in such environments, potentially supporting the possibility of life in atmospheric conditions that are very different from Earth,” says Bax, who was not involved in the research.

Seager now hopes to pursue additional studies of a molecule called peptide nucleic acid (PNA) — an artificially synthesized molecule that is similar to DNA but with the sugar-phosphate backbone replaced by a peptide backbone. Her lab has previously shown that this molecule, which doesn’t naturally exist on Earth but could offer a potential alternative to DNA, is stable as a single strand in highly acidic environments. She now hopes to study the stability of double-stranded PNA.

The researchers also hope to analyze longer peptides to see if they also take on omega loop shapes, or other structures, in highly concentrated sulfuric acid.

The research was funded by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, the NOMIS Foundation, and the National Institutes of Health. 

Sai Ravela, principal research scientist in MIT’s Department of Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences (EAPS), works with a team of researchers, local partners, and community collaborators to develop game-based computer models to help local communities find solutions to their unique geographical and environmental challenges.

Ravela came to MIT as a postdoc in 2002. Prior to that, he had been working on robotics and computer vision, but he was excited by the idea of studying the climate system and wanted to work in the field of sustainability. “Suddenly, overnight, I became a climate person,” Ravela says.

His project, funded by a 2025 Abdul Latif Jameel Water and Food Systems Lab (J-WAFS) India Grant, explores how agricultural decision-making occurs under climate stress. Using localized climate projections and a participatory approach, the project aims to help communities discover ways to improve their collective agricultural resilience.

EAPS postdoc Anamitra Saha is a key contributor on the grant, working with Ravela and local collaborators to combine downscaled climate modeling, participatory decision-making, and community-based adaptation planning. Other team members include Myisha Ahmad (Carthago Consultancy), Jayanta Basu (University of Calcutta), Anusree Ghosh (Bangladesh Open University), Showmitra Sarkar (Khulna University of Engineering and Technology), and Bivuti Sikder (Dhaka University). 

In a process known as downscaling, researchers take large-scale climate projections and turn them into highly detailed local projections. From these hazard maps, Ravela and Saha can estimate the risk of extreme weather phenomena such as flooding, drought, heat waves, and salinity-related stress. 

“We kind of simulate what the outcome could be in that region,” Ravela explains. “Would it improve agricultural productivity? Would it reduce agricultural productivity? Would it change certain land use patterns? Would the land be less livable, more livable?” 

The team combines surveys, scientific models, and local knowledge to build an impact graph that allows them to explore what might happen to a region during simulated weather events.

Although Ravela knew hazard maps could be useful, he was troubled by how rarely they reached the people whose lives were most affected by the risks they described. “We had clients like insurance companies,” he says. “But I never saw it reach people in a way that made a difference in their lives. And that really bothered me.”

To address this gap, he began thinking about how to help communities engage with hazard maps directly and take part in the decision-making process. In conversations that informed the game’s development, Ravela heard people whose livelihoods are vulnerable to climate events voice immediate concerns about what would happen if a future season failed: “If I don’t plant next season — if I can’t — what would I do?” Ravela wanted to help people think instead about possible choices, different paths, and their respective risks.

When he asked himself what circumstances allow someone to think about risk, the answer began to take shape. “Well, roll a die. Toss a coin,” he thought. “And where do you do these things? In a game.”

How it works

The process the collaborating team developed takes place in three stages. The first is a “snakes and ladders” game, played with physical game pieces and tokens. The second is a mixed game that still uses the gameboard, but a computer generates events and manages portfolios, allowing the system to calculate risk percentages. Once players become comfortable with the mixed game, the final stage, developed by Ravela, abandons the board game and moves fully into a more detailed computer simulation that can be played on a cellphone app.

“We tried this in different stages in three places,” says Ravela. Two villages, Bally Island and Joygopalpur, are in India's Sundarbans region. The third is a village in Bangladesh just across the border. In each location, the work depends on collaboration with local residents, community organizers, and regional partners who help shape the game around local land, water, livelihood, and governance conditions. During development, informal community-engagement sessions helped the team refine and adapt the game. Those interactions also led to intriguing observations that are now helping the team formulate hypotheses for future formal research.

The three villages lie in a coastal region that faces numerous extreme weather events threatening water availability and agricultural productivity. As riverbeds rise from sediment accumulation over time and the land sinks from groundwater extraction, saltwater can more easily intrude into groundwater aquifers, while freshwater drainage, recharge, and flushing become increasingly difficult, intensifying waterlogging and drought. 

“There’s a vicious cycle that’s happening with salinization of the soil,” Ravela explains. 

One visible result is that Boro rice leaves now often begin browning far too early in the season, as salinity and water stress damage crops before they can mature. This cycle occurs in many coastal communities, suggesting to Ravela that the outcomes of the J-WAFS project could have applications around the world.

That broader potential comes from what the game is able to reveal. Instead of treating potential interventions — such as embankments, canals, recharge, crops, fisheries, and energy — as separate choices, the simulation lets players see how each intervention affects the coupled system of land, water, salinity, and livelihoods. When players test different options, simply raising embankments often proves less effective than expected, because it does not break the underlying cycle that causes the land to flood. 

More-integrated strategies — combining mangrove restoration, canal excavation, groundwater recharge, diversified agriculture and fisheries, better water management, and merging solar panels into farming with agrivoltaics or aquavoltaics — can generate better long-term returns while also making the landscape more resilient.

The game also creates space to consider dramatic alternatives to embankment-based protection, including seasonal migration, livelihood shifts, and other difficult choices. These possibilities can be explored safely inside the game, even when they would be almost unimaginable to raise in real life. In this way, difficult questions that might otherwise be avoided can be explored, rather than ignored. And if the game reveals that a difficult choice could lead to better long-term outcomes, that result is not a prescription, but a basis for informed conversation between the community, government, and other decision-makers.

Competition or cooperation?

To make the game effective at developing strategies, Ravela’s team had to understand how many people should play at one time. Too few players may not generate enough diversity of ideas, while too many can slow the process significantly. During game development, groups of roughly ten to twelve people seemed especially workable: large enough to support active interaction, but small enough for practical discussion and learning. 

“Once it crosses a dozen people,” Ravela explains, “it becomes very, very viable as a way to solve problems.”

The games have sparked interest and generated new strategies. People are often excited by the prospect of playing, and repeated play reveals different kinds of expertise. Some participants become especially engaged strategy-explorers; others contribute through discussion, critique, memory, and local knowledge. Together, the process helps identify players who are especially adept at thinking across different dimensions of the problem.

Ravela emphasizes the social aspect of the games as central to their efficacy. “Even though the game is on a phone,” he says, “players are within each other’s reach.” An emcee or facilitator encourages players to engage with one another by asking them to explain their gameplay, discuss their reasoning, and learn from one another’s choices.

While competition is not an explicit feature of the game, there can be zero-sum outcomes. One household’s decision about land, water, drainage, or energy may improve its own outcome while making conditions worse for others. Initially, players may aim for individual success. As they explore longer simulated time horizons, they often shift toward cooperative strategies. 

After each game, the research team and local facilitators lead an educational session where people can learn from each other’s strategies. At first, players often attempt to copy the previous winner’s gameplay — usually, making as much money as possible and saving it in case of disaster. But some disasters are too large for one person to handle alone. 

“That strategy is only optimal up to a certain horizon,” Ravela explains, “because when everyone replicates that strategy, the community doesn’t necessarily thrive.”

As players recognize this, they begin to evolve collective modes of behavior, such as creating a common insurance pool where everyone contributes money to a disaster relief fund. Through multiple iterations of the game, players often appeared to converge on cooperative solutions. 

“The community in this way, playing a game against nature, simulated nature, comes upon solutions that work for them,” says Ravela. “We would love to formally explore this in the future,” Ravela adds.

Why the game works

Ravela’s team sees three advantages to game-based decision-making. First, the game brings new perspectives to the table that formal decision-making often misses. Many communities have strong hierarchies that can discourage women or less powerful community members from participating openly. The game allows people to offer insight without necessarily violating cultural norms. One recurring impression was that women — often responsible for managing family affairs — diversified their portfolios earlier, while men more often concentrated on a single livelihood strategy. The observation was striking enough that the team hopes to test and quantify it formally in future studies.

Second, in the game, all players begin on a level playing field, regardless of status, gender, or wealth. “It democratizes the process,” explains Ravela. In the simulation, a wealthy, influential community figure has no intrinsic advantage over a seamstress. The game reduces natural biases by giving everyone’s ideas a chance to be tested under the same conditions.

Third, because the game is a simulation, people can explore choices that might be too risky, too expensive, or too socially difficult to consider in real life. People may not want to discuss a large aquifer management system, a new land-use arrangement, or a difficult livelihood transition if the real-world implications feel too overwhelming. But inside the game, they can test possibilities without immediate consequence. “So, what, you lose? You start again,” says Ravela.

This is where the game becomes more than a communication tool. It turns uncertainty into a shared decision space. Players can test interventions, observe trade-offs, compare outcomes, and discover strategies before real disasters force those choices upon them. The game shifts the conversation from avoiding risk to reasoning about it, and from fatalistic thinking to collective agency.

Ravela and his collaborators also see the games as a way to address roadblocks in policy implementation by allowing community members to own the solutions they discover. Traditionally, donors may give money to a nongovernmental organization (NGO) that has proposed a project, and the NGO then distributes resources in the community. But it is not always obvious what has actually been implemented, or whether the community has had meaningful ownership of the decision. “In seeking solutions to problems, often the difficulty is developing the policy that provides metrics for the effectiveness of those solutions,” Ravela says. “Games enable people to quickly see the policy space, rather than approaching problems only reactively.”

When people test policies in the game, see how they work, and revise them through repeated play and refinement, they can begin to propose those policies themselves. The result is not simply a technical recommendation from outside experts, but a community-informed basis for action.

What's next?

The broader project, developed with collaborators and community partners in India and Bangladesh, has attracted interest in Bangladesh and Thailand, where similar game-based coastal agricultural resilience projects are being explored. Some customization is necessary to adjust the game to local conditions, but the simulations are highly adaptable. Between 75 and 80 percent of the game can remain the same across locations, while the rest can be tuned to local geography, livelihoods, hazards, and governance structures. Although each place brings its own challenges, “the way land and water and people interact is very similar,” says Ravela.

Building on insights from these game-development and informal community-engagement sessions, Ravela hopes the project can eventually expand to other locations, including members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations and some places in Latin America. But he emphasizes the importance of establishing longitudinal outcomes before scaling. “The critical question is, does it answer real problems?” he says.

Future formal research will test these emerging hypotheses prospectively and longitudinally. The resulting evidence will help determine whether, where, and how to scale the approach.

If computationally assisted decision-making proves useful over time, the impact could spread far beyond the initial development locations. But the work is not only about finding an optimal solution. It is also about helping people work with one another. As Ravela puts it, “the process really is about helping the people work with each other as much as it is about finding an optimal solution, because part of finding the optimal solution is finding people to work with each other.”

It all started with some exasperated emails. Back in 2009, a group of researchers began venting their frustration with the programming languages designed to help scientists and other researchers perform complex mathematical operations and statistical simulations without learning how to code. These programming languages were rigid and slow. If scientists built something that really worked, they’d need to rewrite the entire program in another language just to run it more quickly.

The emails turned into a research project at MIT with the mission of building an easy-to-use, high-performance programming language called Julia, which is designed for scientific research, data analysis, and modeling complex systems such as jet engines, drugs, financial markets, and robots, to name a few examples.

That research project turned into a lab at MIT, and the lab turned into the company JuliaHub. Along the way, Julia gained a loyal following among scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and others. Today, the free and open-source language counts more than 1 million users, including people working in thousands of companies and universities around the world.

It is only a slight exaggeration to say Julia has been used to model everything under the sun, from the behavior of tiny atoms to semiconductors, neural networks, race cars, and airplanes. It has also been used to study much beyond the sun, with astronomers using Julia for imaging black holes.

Julia’s secret sauce is in the way it compiles code depending on the type of data being used. Such “just-in-time compilation” makes Julia faster and more flexible than other numerical programming languages.

“Scientists and engineers are not programmers. Building scientific applications with multidisciplinary teams of scientists, engineers, and programmers is challenging,” JuliaHub co-founder and CEO Viral Shah says. “We asked: What if you could equip the scientists and engineers with a programming language that allowed them to express their ideas at a high level and also get great software performance?”

Making programming easy for non-programmers has been a north star for JuliaHub’s founders, who include Julia co-creators Shah, MIT professor of mathematics Alan Edelman, Jeff Bezanson SM ’12, PhD ’15, and former MIT research scientist Stefan Karpinski.

In April, JuliaHub’s team took another big step in that direction with the launch of Dyad 3.0, the latest version of its AI platform to help engineering teams accelerate the development of complex physical systems like rockets, heat pumps, and satellites. Engineers are already using Dyad to direct autonomous AI agents as they work through physics simulations, safety analyses, quality controls, and more.

“With Dyad 3.0, you can upload data and design documents and the system will design an entire aircraft for you,” Shah says. “Working with customers like Boeing, we are building agentic hardware design capabilities for engineers. Simplistically, you want to say, ‘Okay computer, build me a plane’; upload the design documents; and have the system account for all the physics, compile all the code, verify everything, and build the entire design agentically.”

Humble beginnings

After discussing the need for better programming languages for scientists and other researchers, Julia’s co-creators started the Julia Lab around 2009. The Julia Lab remains active in MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Laboratory.

The core idea was to create a high-performance platform that would excel at engineering, scientific, and mathematics applications. Shah says before Julia, scientists and engineers would either have to hire someone to build software for them or accept the slow performance of the few programming languages designed for them.

“We wanted to create something as easy to use as Python or MATLAB but as fast as the C programming language,” Shah says. “We built Julia for ourselves.”

Edelman says at first, the researchers didn’t think anyone would want their creation.

“We figured it would take 10 years before anyone was interested, but we said, ‘Patience is a virtue, so let’s do it,’” Edelman recalls.

The MIT researchers announced Julia with a blog post in 2012. They quickly realized many other researchers shared their frustration.

“When we first started, we were targeting interactive research workflows, but increasingly people are using it for everything,” Bezanson says. “Now we’re moving the whole stack of the language onto smaller, embedded devices as we evolve with our users.”

Since those early days, Edelman has taught a class on Julia with students from nearly every department at MIT. Today, he often learns students are already using Julia when they enroll in the class for applications as wide ranging as robotics, astronomy, physics simulations, and finance.

“Researchers come up to me and say, ‘I tell my supervisor I’m using Julia because it’s fast, but don’t tell them I’m using Julia because it’s really fun,’” Edelman says. “The key thing is Julia’s abstractions. A lot of times a coding language forces you to solve the one problem you’re thinking about. Julia’s language makes it so you’re solving not only the problem you’re thinking about, but other people’s problems around the world too. It encourages you to solve problems more generally.”

As Julia gained popularity, researchers around the world started asking the Julia team for support. By 2015, the demand became strong enough that they decided to start JuliaHub and help users through the company full-time. They received support from the MIT Deshpande Center for Technological Innovation and others at MIT to get the company off the ground.

JuliaHub’s work has evolved from simply helping users to advancing the language more generally. That’s powered an impressive list of creations from Julia’s loyal users. Julia has been used to simulate computer circuits, detect health disparities, model global climates and oceans, analyze brain activity, and more. 

After someone built a pharmaceutical modeling platform in Julia, it was used to accelerate development of Moderna’s Covid-19 vaccine. In another case, researchers used Julia to create a program for avoiding aircraft collisions. They found it ran about 50 times faster than an earlier version built on Python. Engineers at Meta used Julia to develop a better audio codec for WhatsApp’s 4 billion users.

“Over the years we’ve seen industrial, government, and academic users doing all kinds of interesting things with the Julia language,” Edelman says. “It’s honestly surprised us in many ways, the wide-ranging things people are using it for.”

Autonomous design

JuliaHub launched Dyad 1.0 in June of 2025 as a research agent to accelerate programming and Dyad 2.0 in December. The founders believe Dyad 3.0 represents a new level of ability and autonomy for designing complex systems.

“One important thing about Dyad is that it is a physics compiler and hence enforces physical laws,” Shah explains. “General AI systems often solve physical problems in ways that violate physical laws. When using the Dyad agent, it will detect such violations and guide the agent in the direction of the physically correct solution. We expect it will decrease design times in product engineering by orders of magnitude, leading to months of work being accomplished in hours.”

One way Edelman sees the impact of Julia is through his class. One student recently used Dyad to model how robots move around in space. Another used it to build a rocket engine.

“At the end he said, ‘I couldn’t believe how easy that was — I just got a rocket engine!’” Edelman recalls.

This past spring, MIT physics graduate student Manu Srivastava opened an email from a group of high school students in India he had never met.

They were hoping to enter Beamline for Schools, an international competition that gives secondary school students the chance to design and carry out experiments using particle accelerator beams. And they were looking for a mentor.

Srivastava, who studies quantum gravity as a PhD student in the MIT Center for Theoretical Physics – a Leinweber Institute, with Professor Hong Liu, gets other requests to mentor students, often through companies charging families for access to scientists or students at prestigious universities. He usually declines, but this message came directly from the students.

“I've also cold-emailed a lot in my early career, and it usually never works,” he says. “But this email seemed very genuine. They wanted to do something nice and they just needed some guidance.”

Many months and many more emails and calls later, the students secured a place with Srivastava to attend CERN, in Geneva, where they spent two weeks turning their proposed idea into a real experiment. 

Finding an experiment worth doing

Calling themselves Team attoPION, the students are one of five teams selected in the 13th annual Beamline for Schools competition from a record 712 teams representing 89 countries and more than 4,500 students. The six high schoolers met through a combination of science competitions and mutual friends, and attend four schools in four cities across India.

When they first met with Srivastava, the students already had several experimental ideas. His role, he says, was to help determine which directions were practical and scientifically interesting.

They settled on measuring pion charge exchange. Pions are short-lived subatomic particles that can carry positive, negative, or neutral charge. In the process the students want to study, a positively charged pion interacts with a neutron in a target material, producing a neutral pion and a positively charged proton. The team wants to characterize how often that reaction occurs.

Srivastava suspected such a measurement could have relevance to the Deep Underground Neutrino Experiment, or DUNE, a major international experiment designed to study neutrinos.

Dave Newbold, a co-spokesperson for DUNE, says understanding how pions interact with matter helps researchers quantify uncertainties in DUNE’s measurements. In particular, pion interactions can affect estimates of a neutrino’s flavor and energy, which researchers need to measure accurately to determine whether they have observed something new.

And although Beamline for Schools has an educational mission, Newbold says the students aren't simply reproducing a classroom demonstration. “The proposal is real experimental particle physics!” he notes.

If successful, Newbold believes the work could improve scientists' understanding of this particular interaction and potentially lead to a publishable result. Similar “test beam” experiments remain important tools in particle physics: DUNE's detector designs were themselves demonstrated using the (albeit much larger) ProtoDUNE experiments at CERN.

“This [proposal] stands out because of the work the students have put into motivating their measurement, and demonstrating that the experiment is feasible,” Newbold says. “It's certainly at a level far above anything I was thinking about at high school.”

Learning to navigate uncertainty

At CERN, the students worked hands-on with detectors and data-acquisition systems, collected and analyze data, and attended talks by CERN scientists.

In advance of the trip, the team worked with Berare Göktürk, one of the support scientists for Beamline for Schools. In their preparation sessions for the experiment, they realized that the charge-exchange process they hope to observe is extremely rare, forcing them to think through how they might reliably detect it.

With just a few months months to prepare and only 12 days of test-beam time, Göktürk cautioned that producing a result useful to a much larger experiment would be an ambitious outcome.

“We prepare in the best way possible, but we also stay humble and we are aware of the limitations we have,” she says. Her priority is for the students to “understand the journey of a scientist” as they encounter technical problems and work together to solve them.

For Srivastava, mentoring an experiment has also taken him well outside his own specialty. A theoretical physicist, he credits MIT's culture with encouraging him to follow questions beyond the boundaries of his research, including by attending seminars, colloquia, and research meetings across physics.

The experience has been personally meaningful for Srivastava, who grew up in India and sees the mentorship as a way to encourage young people there to pursue fundamental science. 

“I didn't even know what CERN was in high school,” he says. “But these students, they are just that good. They deserve all the credit.”

Although Jacob Becraft had two swings and two misses when he first tried to become an entrepreneur as a graduate student, the MIT Sandbox Innovation Fund Program allowed him to keep at it. This especially benefited cancer patients, as Becraft went on to co-found Strand Therapeutics: a $550-million firm whose programmable mRNA drug has shrunk tumors in patients who had exhausted all other treatment options.

Stories like Becraft’s took center stage at the recent 10-year anniversary celebration of the MIT Sandbox Innovation Fund Program, where student founders, alumni, mentors, and university leaders gathered to reflect on a decade of empowering student entrepreneurs. Speaking at the event, Becraft referred to Strand as "our third swing at the plate," explaining that the Sandbox model gave him "the freedom and ability to fail fast" — letting previous venture ideas "blow up in our faces" before moving on.

For Strand, Becraft says, MIT Sandbox helped him and his co-founder, Tasuku Kitada, to "get out, do some travel, some market research, meet with experts in the field, meet with mentors who could help us build the company — and eventually find investors who were going to back this big vision to transform medicine."

MIT Sandbox was launched in 2016 by Ian Waitz, then-dean of the School of Engineering and now MIT's vice president for research, to lower the barrier for students to try entrepreneurship. The concept of a new program focused on student-led entrepreneurship was developed in consultation with internal MIT leaders and supporters of MIT, including Alan Spoon, a life member emeritus of the MIT Corporation. From its inception, MIT Sandbox has been open to all MIT students, from undergraduates to PhD students. Teams are awarded between $500 and $5,000 to begin their process, and they are matched with two mentors and connected with other expert advisors. 

As they make progress, students can go before the program’s funding board to ask for up to $25,000. Supported entirely by alumni, corporate sponsors, entrepreneurs, and investors, the program has grown to include about 350 teams each semester, some of which are new and some continuing their participation according to their own timelines.

Anantha P. Chandrakasan, MIT provost, explained in the program's decade-in-review report: "Since its inception 10 years ago, MIT Sandbox has been a defining part of MIT's innovation ecosystem, ensuring that every student with the curiosity to explore entrepreneurship has the resources, mentorship, and community to take their first steps."

MIT Sandbox is a "home," where students can "explore, seriously test assumptions, talk to customers, build prototypes, fail, pivot, learn, and grow," says Jinane Abounadi, founding executive director of Sandbox. "And they can do that with a lot of support — and I don't just mean financial support. I mean a lot of support from a lot of people."

For Samuel Udotong, co-founder and CTO of Fireflies.ai, early funding was the difference between an idea and a company. "I think largely because we had gotten a little bit of Sandbox funding, we were actually able to take the risk to move out to San Francisco and try to build the company," he says. "But it would have been really a money barrier if we hadn't gotten the initial $5,000 from Sandbox."

Startup investor and advisor Sophie V. Vandebroek says, "MIT has extraordinary students from around the globe as well as faculty who are top experts in their fields. What’s often lacking," she says, "is confidence. That is where Sandbox plays a vital role. Sandbox enables every individual student to believe that they can be an entrepreneur."

At the anniversary celebration, Fred Parietti, co-founder and CEO of Multiply Labs, recounted how his early product prototypes were developed on his kitchen table and had to be moved regularly according to the dictates of his grad school housemates. Those prototypes wouldn't have been built at all, he said, without MIT Sandbox.

The first funding he received was minimal, "but it wasn't zero, and zero represented my resources as a student. That belief in us and the possibility to build a prototype were game-changers," Parietti said.

Multiply Labs, with 60-plus employees, has raised $36 million and develops robotics technology to manufacture biological drugs safely and economically. The firm supplies pharmaceutical customers including AstraZeneca and Kyverna Therapeutics, whose chief medical and development officer, Naji Gehchan, is an MIT Sandbox mentor.

That same willingness to back an unconventional approach helped AeroShield get off the ground. "One of the things that enables me to stand here today is that Sandbox created a safe environment where it was encouraged to look at this problem backwards, rather than from the nanostructure up," says Elise Strobach, CEO and founder of AeroShield.

The anniversary celebration speakers also included Ross Finman, CEO and founder of Augmodo; Laureen Meroueh, CEO and founder of Hertha Metals; and Daris Bunadar, chief scientist at Lightmatter. All were working on their PhDs when they started exploring commercial applications of their research. All recognize the critical role that MIT Sandbox, in addition to other programs — such as the MIT I-Corps Program, the Martin Trust Center for MIT Entrepreneurship, MIT Venture Mentoring Service (VMS), and the Bernard M. Gordon-MIT Engineering Leadership Program — played in their development as entrepreneurs. These programs offered the space to explore the possibility of not only founding a deep tech company, but also taking on an executive role as their ventures raised venture capital and grew into substantial companies. Today they all have big ambitions for the growth and impact of their companies — ambitions that are made possible only thanks to innovative technologies and an entrepreneurial drive. 

Over its decade of existence, MIT Sandbox has supported over 4,000 teams, representing 8,000 participants associated with a wide range of industries and nonprofit endeavors. It has disbursed more than $11 million in non-dilutive funding, meaning the program takes no stake in the resulting ventures. MIT Sandbox has been involved in the creation of 475 companies in more than 30 countries, and companies that were started in the program have raised $8.7 billion in venture funding.

MIT Sandbox collaborates with other programs across MIT — including the Martin Trust Center, VMS, Kuo Sharp Center, MITdesignX, the PKG Center for Social Impact, the MIT Climate Project, I-Corps, and others — and its teams have excelled in innovation accelerators and competitions. Nine out of 10 winners of MIT's $100K Entrepreneurship Competition have been MIT Sandbox participants.

Apart from the program's impressive results, MIT Sandbox aims to first and foremost serve as a great educational tool, developing the innovators themselves.

"From an educator's perspective, this is just another incredible way to teach," said Abounadi at the anniversary celebration. "MIT Sandbox is a place where students can start seeing themselves as people who can create a meaningful impact in the world," she said, "and that is really what innovation and entrepreneurship are all about."

Paula T. Hammond, School of Engineering dean and Institute Professor, echoed the same sentiments: "What I find most compelling, year after year, is not only what students build, but how they change. They gain confidence, learn to refine before they scale, and begin to see themselves as people who can create meaningful impact, strengthening not only their own trajectories, but the broader MIT community."

Growing up in Waverly, Tennessee, Gage Coon spent much of his childhood outside. His family had everything from chickens to horses and even an emu named Big Bird. Coon and his cousins would explore the woods surrounding their home, and his father, a mechanic, taught him how to build and repair things around the house. His mother, a secretary at the local high school’s vocational school who loves gardening and birdwatching, encouraged him to experience as much of the world around him as he could.

That hands-on upbringing, which taught Coon to appreciate the natural world and the processes that sustain it, continues to influence how he approaches science today.

Now entering his third year as a PhD student in MIT’s Department of Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences, Coon studies some of the smallest organisms on Earth: microbes. His research focuses on how microorganisms cycle carbon and sulfur through the environment and how to leverage those processes to help address climate change. Though he studies organisms too small to see with the naked eye, the experimental nature of his work — whether in the lab or on a research vessel in the open ocean — is especially satisfying.

“I think I enjoy that physicality of seeing what I’m working with, seeing its change, and being able to touch it,” Coon says.

Coon did not initially set out to study microbiology. His interest in science began with chemistry. A high school chemistry teacher and a summer program introduced him to the subject. But later, at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, he joined a lab focused on microbial biogeochemistry and was delighted to find a field that brought together the different areas that interested him: chemistry, the environment, and the larger climate processes shaping our Earth.

The transition from rural Tennessee to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and MIT has been a significant one. As a first-generation student, he did not learn about PhD programs until several years into college.

Once he discovered academic research, however, Coon was drawn to the possibility of spending his career learning.

“I discovered this world of academia, and so I was really excited when I learned about it,” he says. “I was like, ‘Oh my god, constant learning. That is exactly what I want to do forever.’”

Coon began studying the microbes that drive carbon and sulfur cycling in marine sediments as an undergraduate, eventually joining research cruises to investigate these processes firsthand.

His first research cruise, in 2022 after his second year of college, took him to the Atlantic continental slope to study methane seeps and how microbes prevent this methane from escaping to our atmosphere. For Coon, experiencing the ocean up close changed the way he understood the microscopic organisms he was studying.

“It is very powerful seeing yourself in the middle of the ocean, with a whole other world of complex life beneath you,” he says.

At MIT, working with his advisor Tanja Bosak, a professor of geobiology, Coon has continued studying microbial carbon and sulfur cycling, but with a greater emphasis on the applications. One of his major projects explores how microbes could be used to reduce methane emissions from wastewater treatment.

When wastewater is treated, microbes break down organic material in large tanks called anaerobic digesters. One of the final products of this process is the powerful greenhouse gas methane. However, Coon and his colleagues found a way to change what the microbes produce by adding gypsum, a waste product that is created from fertilizer manufacturing

The system uses the added gypsum to turn the methane into carbonate, which can be used to make cement, agriculture, and pharmaceuticals. The process also produces elemental sulfur, necessary for global fertilizer production, which is currently sources from oil and gas refinement. The approach effectively turns two waste products, sewage and waste gypsum, into useful materials while reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

For Coon, the possibility of creating a system that is both environmentally beneficial and economically useful is central to the project. Now that the laboratory experiments have ended, the researchers are looking toward conducting pilot-scale testing. Coon and his advisors have been communicating with companies interested in adapting the system to larger facilities, and hope the technology can eventually move beyond the laboratory.

“If enough small places start doing their pilot-scale studies, then hopefully you could convince some place like Boston or another big city to do this and really make a contribution to our global goal to decrease emissions on the gigaton scale,” he says.

The wastewater project is only one part of Coon’s PhD research. He also studies geological processes that could produce molecular hydrogen, a potential carbon-free energy source. His work examines how iron-rich rocks break down and generate hydrogen underground. He is continuing his thesis work by focusing on microbial competition for acetate, and what this means for global methane emissions from coastal wetlands. This work could improve future climate predictions and support engineered mitigation efforts to decrease emissions from these wetlands. 

Across these projects, Coon is interested in the connection between the microscopic and the massive. But Coon’s PhD has also given him an opportunity to think about science beyond his own research.

One of the parts of graduate school he has enjoyed most is mentoring younger researchers. He has worked with a handful of students through MIT’s Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program and from Tufts University, teaching them laboratory techniques and experimental geobiology.

Outside the lab, Coon maintains some of the same connection to the natural world that characterized his childhood in Tennessee. He spends time hiking to explore local geology, playing bluegrass guitar, and speed-solving Rubik’s Cubes. 

Looking ahead, Coon sees himself continuing in academia, working in government, or helping to bring environmental technologies into practice.

What matters most, he says, is continuing to produce knowledge that can help people understand and potentially improve the world around them.

“I do think, no matter what,” he says, “I’ll be somewhere thinking about how microscopic life connects to the global ecosystem and carbon emissions.”

A protein’s function is determined by its structure, and structure — the way a protein folds — is determined by its sequence of amino acids, the building blocks of proteins. 

Many methods for designing novel proteins, including examples that could bind to a disease-causing molecule in our cells, involve a two-step process: The structure comes first, and then a machine-learning framework generates a repertoire of sequences that could potentially adopt that structure. 

In nature, many different amino acid sequences can fold into the same structure. At the same time, one amino acid sequence can potentially adopt different structures depending on the protein’s flexibility or a functional trigger. Therefore, when researchers use artificial intelligence to design new proteins, the challenge is to guide AI to “see” that there are many potentially useful answers — that many sequences can adopt the same fold

“For years, the field has measured success by asking whether a model can reproduce the protein sequence that evolution happened to select — our work shows that this isn’t the best metric for protein design,” says Amy E. Keating, Department of Biology head, Jay A. Stein (1968) Professor of Biology, professor of biological engineering, and senior author of a paper recently published in PNAS. 

PottsMPNN, a new machine-learning framework developed in the Department of Biology, incorporates the physical principles that govern protein structure and stability, improving sequence generation and the ability to predict how mutations will affect a protein’s stability. In other words, the model has a better understanding of the sequence-energy landscape, meaning the relationship between the identity of each amino acid and the stability of the protein.

Adding this framework to a protein design pipeline will allow researchers to design structurally feasible proteins with sequences that don’t resemble those of any native protein. 

“If we’re thinking about a completely novel, designed structure, there would be no native sequence to compare it to,” says graduate student and lead author Foster Birnbaum. “What we actually care about is how likely the generated sequences are to fold into the desired structures, how well the model understands the sequence-energy landscape, and how well it can predict the effect of mutations on the stability of the protein.” 

Beyond the noise 

In the same way that AI has recently powered some dramatic social changes, so too has machine learning impacted the pace and breadth of fundamental biological research. Only recently has it become possible to reliably use a computational model to generate a protein structure or sequence. Perhaps the most widely used model today, however, was released in 2022. 

“For a field that’s moving as fast as machine learning in biology, that model has not been surpassed — we’ve been trying to understand why that is, and what it is about that model that makes it so useful,” Birnbaum says. 

Birnbaum was first interested in strategic applications of something researchers call “noise,” or adding variations to a protein structure during training. Noise decreases the tendency of the model to overly mimic native sequences, increasing the diversity of structures for which it’s able to generate sequences.

PottsMPNN also uses a pairwise distribution to capture interactions between amino acids. The ability to account for the physical interactions between all 20 possible sequence options at a pair of positions in the protein is a key reason that PottsMPNN more accurately models the sequence-energy landscape than other methods. 

Finally, Birnbaum says, they introduced sets of evolutionarily related sequences into training the PottsMPNN framework to teach the model how different sequences can adopt the same folded structure.

Birnbaum acknowledges that in trying to shift away from adhering to native sequences, incorporating evolutionary information is, in some ways, still a reliance on them. But PottsMPNN succeeded in demonstrating that as the model depends less and less on native sequences, structural compatibility and energy prediction, including for novel proteins, improve. 

Protein design in the age of AI

“Once we can design any protein we want, that enables us to do a potentially scary amount of biological engineering,” Birnbaum says. “It’s a difficult task, but I’m really optimistic about this century’s progress in biology.”

Birnbaum hopes that the model could be further improved and fine-tuned for a specific task, which has in the past led to better predictions, for example, on the outcome or consequence of a particular mutation. 

Ultimately, according to Keating, “Our methods move the field toward designing useful new-to-nature proteins for diverse applications while providing a stronger foundation for future advances.” 

Modern processors are fast, in part, because they guess. Rather than waiting to find out which way a program will branch, a chip predicts the likely path and races ahead. When the guess is right, time is saved. When it's wrong, the work is discarded, but traces of it linger. Since the Spectre vulnerability was disclosed in 2018, attackers have known how to read those traces to pull secrets out of memory they should never see.

Chipmakers and operating system developers have spent years building defenses. A new study from MIT's Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Laboratory (CSAIL) shows that a key assumption behind many of them doesn't hold.

The defenses work by wiping or isolating the processor's prediction machinery, removing anything an attacker might have planted. The catch, as PhD student Daniël Trujillo and MIT Assistant Professor Mengjia Yan point out, is that the wipe and the moment the predictions get used can't happen at the same instant. There is always a gap — sometimes only a handful of instructions wide. Anything that runs in that gap can dirty the machinery all over again. The researchers call this class of attack "TONTOU."

Mind the gap

Their contribution is a reliable way to get code into that gap. Computers constantly pause whatever they're doing to handle interrupts: small, routine tasks triggered by timers, network traffic, and hardware. Ordinary programs can set those timers themselves. By tuning a timer with enough precision, Trujillo and Yan can make the processor take its detour at exactly the wrong moment, and the interrupt execution does the contaminating. They call the technique "interrupt injection."

The team tested four processor generations from Intel and AMD, and got mispredictions on both. On Intel chips, the attack defeated two different protections, one built in software for older parts, one built into the silicon of newer ones. Curiously, the newer protection held firm on one Intel generation and failed on another, suggesting chipmakers implement the same nominal defense in meaningfully different ways.

AMD's defense, called saferet, cleans the prediction machinery immediately before each use, leaving a vulnerable window just two instructions wide, which typically execute within tens of nanoseconds. The researchers hit it anyway, by slowing down the processor at that exact spot to make the target easier to strike.

From a bad guess to a password file

To show what this means in practice, the team built a working exploit on an AMD system running a current Linux kernel. They first stripped away a defense that scrambles where the operating system sits in memory, succeeding in all 10 tries in about nine minutes each. That helped them read protected memory at roughly five bytes per second — slow, but fast enough to locate and copy "/etc/shadow," the file storing the system's root password hash, in half their attempts.

The paper suggests cleaning the prediction machinery a second time, when the interrupt finishes. That looks workable on AMD. On Intel it may backfire: Because the attack relies on the interrupt leaving behind a consistent state rather than any particular one, the standard fix could make the attack more reliable, not less. Newer Intel chips include a dedicated instruction that appears to help.

The other option, blocking interrupts during the vulnerable window, would likely cost too much performance to be practical.

Trujillo and Yan notified AMD and Intel in early February and reached Linux kernel maintainers in March, coordinating with AMD to warn cloud providers and other downstream customers. AMD then released a patch that mitigates the attack, which can be obtained by updating your operating system. Their code is publicly available.

The research was supported, in part, by the U.S. Air Force Office of Scientific Research under an award made through the U.S. Department of War, and ACE, one of the seven centers in JUMP 2.0, a program sponsored by the U.S. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA). It was presented at both Black Hat USA and USENIX Security this month.

A new set of modular components allows users to create reconfigurable smart devices with electrical connections that keep working no matter which shape the structure forms.

This electrical modularity can enable engineers to design interactive devices that can sense which shape they have taken, without the need for external wires. For instance, the modular components, which the researchers call “bifur-circuits,” could be used to rapidly design and prototype adaptable smart devices, like assistive furniture that helps individuals change body positions while recovering from injuries or reconfigurable robotic grippers that remain electrically connected when they change shapes for different applications. 

Developed by MIT researchers, these 3D-printed building blocks, which are a type of structure known as a mechanical metamaterial, can be combined to form many more possible configurations than traditional metamaterial structures. 

In a study presenting the new system, the researchers demonstrated several interactive objects, including a chair that converts to a table with storage and can also flatten for stowing. The structure senses its configuration and sends corresponding messages to an electronic display. 

These new metamaterials could also be used to design antennas for communications and sensing that form new shapes to adjust their frequencies in changing environmental conditions, without bulky mechanical parts. 

“Metamaterials can make complex mechanical assemblies easy to manufacture just by using repeating units. Our work expands on this design space. If we think of mechanical metamaterials as building blocks, then our work is one way to take advantage of their geometry to embed intrinsic intelligence into hardware, which could open many possibilities,” says Marwa AlAlawi, a mechanical engineering graduate student and lead author of a paper on the devices.

AlAlawi is joined on the paper by co-senior authors Ticha Sethapakdi, an electrical engineering and computer science (EECS) graduate student at MIT; and Stefanie Mueller, an associate professor in MIT’s departments of EECS and Mechanical Engineering and leader of the Human-Computer Interaction Group at the Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab (CSAIL). Their co-authors include others at MIT, the University of Tokyo, and the University of Michigan. The research will be presented at the ACM Symposium on User Interface Software and Technology.

Shape-changing interactive structures

Mechanical metamaterials are programmable, three-dimensional structures of repeating units that can form complex shapes due to their geometries. When squeezed, pushed, or pulled, metamaterials can bend or twist in precise ways. 

For instance, “auxetic” metamaterials get wider when stretched, instead of narrowing.

In prior work, the MIT researchers used auxetic metamaterials to build reconfigurable antennas that formed three shapes depending on how the structure was stretched. This allowed the antenna to dynamically adjust its frequency range without complex, moving parts.

Next, the team wanted to expand the number of antenna configurations but were limited because the auxetic metamaterials could only form three fixed states.

In this work they created “bifur-circuits,” which are auxetic metamaterials that can form many more shapes based on how the modular units are connected and rotated. 

The units are also designed to be electrically modular. Due to the way conductive material is integrated into the bifur-circuits, electrical connections throughout the structure are maintained no matter how the object is rotated, pressed, or twisted to form new shapes. 

To create interactive objects with many possible configurations, bifur-circuits leverage a property known as mechanical bifurcation. 

Mechanical bifurcation is a sudden change in how a mechanism behaves when a force exerted on it passes a tipping point. For instance, when you gently bend the ends of a plastic ruler, once that force reaches a critical threshold, the ruler buckles.

In bifur-circuits, this bifurcation occurs when connected blocks are rotated in certain ways around a pivot point. The property allows connected blocks to form more stable configurations than one block could on its own.

Adding more bifur-circuits to a structure exponentially increases the number of potential configurations.

“Bifurcation allow us to significantly expand on this reconfigurability space. Just adding one extra unit gives us so many more combinations out of the same structure,” says AlAlawi.

Connecting and rotating components activates a unique circuit between adjacent units. This interactivity allows the units to communicate with one another, enabling the structure to sense its configuration.   

One of the biggest challenges the researchers faced was incorporating a conductive material that was flexible enough to bend, but still offered enough efficiency in the flow of electricity.

“The conductive material was a constraint we had to work around in the design process, and it dictated how the sensing between blocks would happen,” AlAlawi says.

Once they perfected the design, the researchers tested the durability of reconfigurable structures by compressing them more than 10,000 times. The structures showed no degradation in electrical connectivity.

The researchers also developed a user-friendly construction and simulation tool to simplify the bifur-circuit design process. The software generates instructions for a multimaterial 3D printer, which can fabricate the reconfigurable objects in one pass.

They demonstrated the versatility of bifur-circuits by fabricating a chair that can sense its geometry when its shape is changed to a tea table, as well as a shape-shifting controller that will launch one of several video games based on its configuration.

Bifur-circuits could someday be used in applications like interactive rehabilitation tools, shape-changing grippers for modular soft robots, or reconfigurable shelters that could respond to changing environmental conditions after a natural disaster.

In the future, the researchers want to explore more applications for bifur-circuits. They also want to add more interactivity into the structures and investigate additional metamaterial shapes.

“Bifur-circuits are one step toward developing mechanical building blocks with integrated intelligence. It would be interesting to build on this work and come up with building blocks that allow us to create a structure with any form or shape we want, and which are structurally stable and can be actuated,” AlAlawi says. 

This work was funded, in part, by Japan’s Science and Technology Agency and the Bahrain Crown Prince International Scholarship Program.

A Colorado native who originally planned to attend college close to home, Sydney Baller decided to come to MIT for the strong academic community. She knew she had found a new home in McCormick Hall after attending its Campus Preview Weekend (CPW) events in 2023. 

McCormick Hall opened in 1963 as MIT’s first women’s residence — a move that provided women the first real opportunity to attend the Institute in significant numbers. To support continuity of the McCormick community through its first renovation in its 63-year existence, MIT has established a dedicated McCormick lounge in the Stratton Student Center (Building W20), funded efforts to maintain dorm traditions, and more.

Now a rising senior in mechanical engineering, Baller is a year-round athlete (basketball and outdoor track), crafting enthusiast, and co-president of McCormick’s student government. With construction underway to renovate the residence, Baller is taking time to help support future MIT women so they can have the same powerful residential experience she’s had.

McCormick is scheduled to open again in August 2028 — well after Baller graduates. In this interview, she describes her thoughts on the transition and how she is working to maintain a sense of community among the dorm’s residents and incoming first-year students while updates are ongoing.

Q: Why did you choose to live in McCormick? 

A: I was recruited to play basketball in college, and other schools were pressing me for a decision. MIT was like, “Well, you got in. It’s up to you what you want to do.”  

So I came to CPW to find out what the campus is like. I stayed in [co-ed] Baker with one of my teammates. It was weird for me. I could have probably adjusted to being in a living space with men, but I guess I just bristled at the concept. I grew up in a Christian household, so I was used to certain things. I shared a bathroom with my sister, not my brother. 

What really set it in stone was going to the other CPW events at McCormick. They were like — “We’re an all-women’s community. The dorm is quieter. Everyone’s super nice. We like to do crafts.” Then they showed us the craft room. A whole room dedicated to crafts? I was sold.

Q: How would you describe the community in McCormick?

A: On the day my dad helped me move in, we had three suitcases I brought from Denver. He and I sorted out my stuff, and then we went down to the laundry room. I thought I saw a big spider or something, and a girl who was standing there asked, “Are you talking about Despereaux?” I had never even talked to this girl before. Even this was a way to bond! 

There’s a lot to love. Our heads of house are amazing. After the last day of class every semester, they have a tea and churro study break. They make the churros themselves. So we just come down, drink tea, chat with our friends, and eat churros and little tea sandwiches. That’s very McCormick — a little break with some good chatting. 

The heads of house also run something called “karao-cake.” When I first heard about it, I was like — “I’ll go for the cake.” They have a karaoke machine with a bunch of microphones attached, and we all sing songs together. And if they pick a song we don’t like, we all yell “No!” Everyone's on the same page. It gives really good sisterhood vibes. 

Also, I personally loved our all-women’s gym. As someone who has been an athlete for many years, I can say: We had amazing equipment in there. I’d rather work out where I don’t have to fight for a rack. I can just go and lift and do my workout.

Overall, the McCormick community is what you make of it. You can choose to be invested and have a great time. You can also just choose for it to be the place you come back to every night. I was in the same room sophomore and junior year, and so were a lot of the girls around me. By the end of last year it was like that scene from the “Barbie” movie — when they’re all in their houses, and say “Good night, Barbie! Good night, Barbie!”

Q: How did you get involved in the renovation project? 

A: I originally joined house government to be the craft chair and athletic chair. Later, I decided to run for co-president because McCormick was my first home away from home. I had honestly planned to go to college close to home, or where my friends were going. The thought of going to another state and being on my own just seemed too out of the ordinary. When I came here, I knew one person. 

When MIT first told us the dorm was being renovated, I was pretty excited to see what they were going to do. They held all-dorm events, brought donuts, and asked us to come and talk about what we envisioned for renovation. I said I wanted the biggest craft room you can imagine, pianos in every corner, and to get rid of the study cubicles in the penthouse no one uses. We really got to dream, right? 

But then MIT announced a one-year delay in the renovation, and you have the emotions. McCormick was home — and then they say it’s going to get renovated, then they say it will be next year. When my friend and I decided to run to become co-presidents, the rest of the dorm really didn’t want to talk anymore. We started meeting with [the Division of] Student Life on Zoom, but it was hard to get resident engagement. I appreciate that we’re in the conversations. We get to hear the numbers before other people do, but that’s just information.

Q: What’s the role of house government while the residence is being renovated? 

A: We do things that keep the energy alive. McCormick is more than just a building. The housing office just told us more than 300 incoming students expressed interest in the McCormick community, even though the dorm is being renovated.

To bring momentum into the renovation, we held an end-of-semester party where we dropped nice crewnecks, got a food truck, and had popcorn, cotton candy, a DJ, games, face paint — all the stuff. We also enjoy dorm movie outings, which would be a great tradition to continue. When the Taylor Swift “Eras Tour” movie was in theaters, we all got to have the experience of going over on the T together, and then sitting together singing Taylor Swift songs. We also saw “Wicked” and “Wicked for Good.” We have chill events, too, like crochet, painting, and eating pastries. All of this is about being together. Even if we’re not sitting there having a conversation, we’re existing together. That feels like home.

I’m also trying to help people who are dealing with the transition. It can be hard. You can’t have our heads of house move with you, or the craft room. You can’t have the cute merch that one of our students designs. If someone who has been moved to Maseeh doesn’t know anyone else on their floor, they don't get to have that Barbie moment. But maybe McCormick is holding a study break where they can hang out — a throwback to the old days, where we can craft, or drink boba, or whatever. 

Q: Has the effort been worth it? 

A: It’s worth it to me because I get to keep the momentum going, but I won’t know for sure until the dorm is open again and a freshman checks into their room and experiences the community.

They took our feedback doing the donuts and stuff, and they put a lot of our ideas into the design, but now I’ve got to see the finished product. I know MIT has to balance a lot of things, so they’re not necessarily going to do everything just because we asked. 

Q: What are your goals for when the renovation’s finished? 

A: The building won’t reopen before I graduate, so I guess there’s two things.

When I graduate, I would hope to see a house government team that’s excited to continue the traditions. It’s different to be affiliated with a community than to be living in it. I would love to graduate and leave here knowing McCormick is in good hands and the momentum our generation started helped drive us through to reopening. 

And when the dorm reopens, I want to come back and get a tour. I would just love to see the excitement around being back in the dorm. I’ll buy my own plane ticket!

Today, anyone with a large enough artificial intelligence model can generate millions of new material designs in minutes. Unfortunately, that hasn’t led to a huge leap in the number of new materials being used to improve the performance of products like computer chips and rockets.

One reason for the translation gap is that current models don’t reliably factor in the chemical stability of the materials they generate, and unstable materials aren’t very useful in the real world. That forces industries to allocate huge computational budgets to screening out all the unstable materials they generate, in some cases leaving behind a tiny fraction of usable options.

Now, MIT researchers have developed a framework that can be applied at the beginning of the materials generation process to vastly improve the stability rate while achieving targeted material properties. It works by ensuring every design satisfies certain key rules of chemistry relating to the electrons around the materials’ atoms before the expensive generation step begins. The researchers call their approach “crystal generator with valence-constrained design, or CrysVCD.

In a paper published today in Nature Computational Science, the researchers show how CrysVCD allowed several commonly used material models to meet those valence shell rules more often, and used it to achieve high lattice-dynamics stability — a stringent stability test — in nearly 70 percent of computational material generations. They also showed the approach could support the creation of materials with specific desired properties, like high thermal conductivity or high dielectric constant, which is important for computer chips and data centers.

A hint of how the researchers envision people using their system is in the name.

“If material-generating models are like DVDs, we are like the DVD player,” says associate professor of nuclear science and engineering Mingda Li. “You can plug this into any kind of model, not only existing diffusion models but also future models, where people can’t generate enough stable materials, and it can improve stability.”

Joining Li on the paper are Mouyang Cheng SM ’26 and Weiliang Luo, MIT doctoral students in materials science and engineering and chemistry, respectively; Hao Tang PhD ’26, a recent graduate in materials science and engineering; Bowen Yu, a senior undergraduate in physics; Yongqiang Cheng, a staff scientist at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory; Weiwei Xie, an associate professor at Michigan State University; Ju Li, MIT’s Carl Richard Soderberg Professor in Power Engineering; and Heather Kulik, MIT’s Lammot du Pont Professor of Chemical Engineering.

More efficient materials

Computational approaches to materials design have been around for decades, but recent advances in artificial intelligence have increased excitement about their potential. Of particular interest are models that can start with a desired material property and work backward to deliver a material that achieves that goal.

Some of those models use an AI technique known as diffusion, which is commonly used to generate images, while others use large language models like the one powering ChatGPT and Claude, but both approaches struggle to ensure their material generations achieve chemical stability or follow fundamental principles about how chemicals interact and behave.

The solution has been to add another layer of computing on top of the generative process to filter out unstable materials.

“It’s becoming easy to generate the material structure,” Cheng says. “But the validation process, especially the part where you test the stability, has a huge computational cost. It’s something like 90 percent of the computational cost for creating usable materials, and it can take weeks or months.”

Big companies with huge computing budgets can afford to run those processes, but many small companies and research labs can’t, potentially limiting innovation in the field.

“In academia, where we have fewer resources, I think we can still achieve strong performance with smarter designs and other approaches,” Kulik explains. “Generating a model and then down-selecting for stability is inefficient. There’s a high computational cost. But if we put a language model in the beginning of the process to constrain the generation, you can significantly enhance the ratio of stable materials generated.”

The new study involved MIT researchers affiliated with the departments of Materials Science and Engineering, Chemistry, Chemical Engineering, Physics, and Nuclear Science and Engineering. Together the researchers combined AI diffusion models with a language model. In the first stage of their process, the language model produces chemically valid formulas. In the second stage, the diffusion model uses that formula to generate the corresponding atomic structure of the crystal material in coordination with the underlying material generation model.

“Diffusion for typical material generation is a slow process — you can think of it like 1,000 steps to create one material,” Luo says.

“In contrast, when our model is used in the beginning, you can think of it like five steps. It allows you to screen out the unstable materials to generate higher quality materials. And it works with any models generating materials,” Tang adds.

The researchers showed their approach created more stable materials an order of magnitude more efficiently than approaches that rely on screening materials after they’re generated. When fine-tuned on stability metrics, their approach produced crystalline materials that achieved 68 percent mechanical stability and 85 percent metastability, which measures if a material stays in a stable state when undisturbed.

The researchers then used their approach to generate material candidates with high thermal conductivity and easy polarization in an electric field.

“These are materials useful for the semiconductor industry and high thermal conductivity materials relevant to data center cooling,” Ju Li says. “In principle, you could also use this to create other properties, but thermal conductivity has become really important for cooling data centers. There’s been a huge increase in energy use in that industry, and 30 percent of that energy goes to cooling. The industry needs materials with high thermal conductivity to more efficiently remove the heat.”

Democratizing material design

The new approach doesn’t work with every kind of material — it works best with solid structures with highly ordered internal arrangements. Still, the approach could be used to generate stable new crystalline materials with a host of important properties.

“We are not just generating stable materials, we’re also prioritizing performance,” Cheng says. “Any time you have two goals, achieving those goals with anything over 50 percent is hard in this field. In the past, people might have a goal for specific properties and not stability, or vice-versa, and get a single-digit percentage of materials that fit their goal.”

Ultimately the approach will enable more researchers to develop novel materials for a range of next-generation applications.

“This will save huge computation costs and time by removing downstream selection requirements,” Li says. “That will help not only large efforts that generate hundreds of millions of materials, but also smaller research groups with targeted applications.”

The work was supported, in part, by the U.S. Department of Energy, a Mathworks Engineering Fellowship, the National Science Foundation, and the U.S. Defense Threat Reduction Agency.

In the 20th century, the United States built the world’s dominant manufacturing powerhouse. A thriving middle class grew, well into the 1970s. The U.S. was a beacon of democracy, defeating fascism in World War II and beating back communism and other forms of authoritarianism during the Cold War. 

To MIT economist Daron Acemoglu, there is a deep intertwining among these things. Democracy, his work has shown, helps economies grow. As the industrial economy expanded, in Britain, the U.S., and other countries in the 19th and 20th centuries, so did democratic participation, as people tried to stake out new rights, or make real the rights ascribed to them. 

“The industrial age created the tools for shared prosperity around which democracy organized,” says Acemoglu, a Nobel Prize-winning economist and Institute Professor at MIT. 

Today, though, income inequality has grown markedly in the U.S., starting around 1980. The U.S. has deindustrialized to a significant extent, offshoring production and hurting shop-floor workers and their families. As Acemoglu sees it, this economic realignment has had deep civic consequences: A stranded working class has become more alienated from the institutions and ideas traditionally buttressing democracy.

And for those around the world supporting democracy, he says, “You really need to have the working classes in your coalition for it to make any sense.”

Acemoglu explores these topics in a new book, “What Happened to Liberal Democracy? Remaking a Politics of Shared Prosperity,” published by Penguin Random House. In it, he looks broadly at the benefits of democracy, the tensions it faces in everyday life, and democracy’s trajectory in recent decades.

Broadly, Acemoglu favors rebuilding “working-class liberalism,” essentially seeking the largest coalition that favors self-government and the rule of law. “Working-class liberalism has strong communal roots, eschews social engineering, and prioritizes shared prosperity, jobs, and public services,” Acemoglu writes in the book.

After all, Acemoglu believes, democracy is the one form of rule that promotes rights and liberties, and allows the flexibility and “experimentation” we need to address all the challenges a complicated world throws at us.

“Democracy is the only way we can make progress in society,” Acemoglu says. “Trying to impose top-down solutions to all our problems will ultimately not work.” 

Along the narrow corridor

Acemoglu has long studied the relationship between economic growth, rights, and democracy. With economist Simon Johnson of MIT and political scientist James Robinson, now of the University of Chicago, Acemoglu published a landmark series of studies in the early 2000s demonstrating that economic growth is helped by the development of stable democratic institutions, including property rights. For that work, Acemoglu, Johnson, and Robinson later shared the 2024 Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel. 

Acemoglu’s 2012 bestseller “Why Nations Fail”— written before democracy’s current challenges seemed as acute — synthesized his research on these topics. His 2019 book “The Narrow Corridor,” co-authored with Robinson, casts democratic governments as essential to liberty because they protect people simultaneously from overreach by an authoritarian state, on the one hand, and from domination by other groups in society, on the other. 

However, as Acemoglu has consistently emphasized, self-governance is an ongoing effort; this machine does not run on its own. Relatedly, in the new book, Acemoglu critiques some famous attempts to formulate governance as a neat “social contract,” including Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s conception of a “general will” in society. 

Those ideas helped make the case for political rights, but actual governance in a pluralistic society will always be a messy process. 

“You have to allow communities, and societies in aggregate, to build rules around shared values for anything to stick as institutions, norms, or aspirations,” Acemoglu says. “When you go down the social contractarian path, you sometimes fool yourself into thinking there are clear solutions to dilemmas that in reality don’t quite have such obvious ways of being resolved.” 

For instance, Acemoglu notes, democracy itself “is built on tolerance and acceptance of plural perspectives, but how do you deal with people who are intolerant?” In the book, he largely regards interventions to stamp out seemingly intolerant thought as being unwise and politically counterproductive.

“You’re not going to have a clear-cut solution to all cases,” he says.

The economic realignment

Even with leaders backing a pragmatic, flexible approach to self-governance, democracy faces another challenge: supporting the material welfare of citizens. And here, “What Happened to Liberal Democracy?” takes an unflinching look at the postwar economy, finding fault lines that have shaken the political order. 

The roughly three decades after World War II were fantastic for many workers in democracies, and certainly in the U.S., where middle-class incomes grew by 2.5 percent annually into the 1970s. 

There were always going to be forces pushing back on this trend, and U.S. companies started offshoring and outsourcing production work to clamp down on wage growth. But one other technological and economic trend occurred just as the middle classes of the industrial economy were reaching new heights. 

“Then computers happened,” writes Acemoglu in the book — referring to a complex set of economic and civic realignments involving technology-driven shifts in work. 

Over time, computers started replacing significant numbers of clerical office workers, shop-floor industrial workers, and other types of employees who were earning middle-class wages without holding a college degree. In recent decades, middle-class incomes have only grown by about 0.5 percent annually. 

To be sure, computers have produced plenty of benefits, and created many new forms of work. But as research shows, those jobs have tended to go mostly to college-educated employees, creating a significant split in society between well-educated, well-paid, white-collar workers, and less-educated, worse-paid workers in blue-collar and service jobs. That national share of income hauled in by the top 1 percent of earners has basically doubled in this time, from 10 percent to nearly 20 percent.

Crucially, in Acemoglu’s analysis, this material gap between more-educated and less-educated social cohorts has translated to U.S. politics, with political groupings reshuffling along educational lines, and cultural politics following suit. That’s the dynamic the U.S. faces now — even as one also accounts for the effects of social media and other polarizing features of contemporary society. 

“We now live in a less-industrial world, and we also live in an age defined by social media, much greater levels of conflict, more polarization, and now AI, and all of that complicates things,” Acemoglu says. 

Always a work in progress

This precise feature of contemporary society — deindustrialization fueling an earnings gap that has led to more political polarization — is what shapes Acemoglu’s prescription in response, the idea that “working-class liberalism” is needed to strengthen democracy. 

There are many potential ingredients in this formula, from politicians determined to reach across class lines to workers regaining the impetus to organize in their workplaces. 

“Trade union participation itself is a very important form of local governance that’s very difficult or unimaginable in an authoritarian society,” Acemoglu says, even while noting that he has not always agreed with the actions of particular unions in the past. 

Still, Acemoglu adds, “I don’t think the economic aspect is the only one, in that you cannot just gain the trust of workers by ensuring there are wage gains. That is an important step but it is not sufficient.” Voters need asurances that politicians are thinking about them, at least share their concerns, and have a grounding in similar values. More candidates today need to seek a shared language about those things.

That’s not easy in a world characterized, in part, by global migrations, increasingly diverse national populations, and economic flux. But it is possible, Acemoglu thinks. 

“There are deep dilemmas faced by liberal democracy that were sometimes going to come to boiling points, and this becomes more heightened when societies such as the U.S. and some European ones are simultaneously becoming more complex, more globalized, and more hetereogeneous,” Acemoglu says. On the other hand, he adds, “Multiracial tensions, I would say, were much worse for the U.S. in the 1950s and 1960s. We made democracy work then, in the face of much more difficult race problems, so why not today?”

None of this is a straightforward task, of course. “Forging working-class liberalism is a tall order in the best of times and much more challenging in today’s polarized environment,” Acemoglu writes in the new book. Still, he adds, even in frustrating moments, the stakes are too important for people to relent.

“Democracy is a success,” Acemoglu says. “It’s easy to fall into a trap of painting the democratic project as being doomed to failure, and I want to avoid that.” He adds: “It continues to be a work in progress.” 

Iron is essential. Our cells need it to produce energy, carry oxygen throughout the body, and power countless chemical reactions that sustain life. But this metal has a dark side. When too much of it is left free inside cells, it can trigger destructive reactions that break down DNA, proteins, and even cell membranes.

Now, MIT associate professor of biology and Whitehead Institute for Biomedical Research member Ankur Jain; MIT assistant professor of biology and Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research member Whitney Henry; and Pushkal Sharma PhD '26 have discovered that cells rely on an unexpected protector against this threat: small molecules called polyamines.

The researchers’ detailed findings, published Aug. 14 in the journal Cell, reveal that polyamines act like storage lockers for iron, safely holding the metal in a non-reactive state until cells need it.

These findings solve a decades-old mystery about why cells maintain such extraordinarily high levels of polyamines and uncover a previously unknown defense mechanism that protects cells from toxic iron overload.

This work could also help scientists develop better cancer treatments, by allowing iron overload to trigger cancer cell death. It could also offer new clues about diseases like early-onset Parkinson’s disease, in which mutations affect polyamine levels within neurons.

The Jain Lab studies RNA, the intermediary between DNA and the tiny molecular machines called proteins that perform most of the essential tasks inside cells. The lab is particularly interested in how RNA folds, misfolds, and sometimes clumps inside cells.

Jain and Sharma first began studying polyamines because these molecules bind to RNA and help shape its structure. However, they suspected that polyamines must be playing other roles inside cells: they’re among the most abundant small molecules within cells, present at levels comparable to ATP, the molecule cells use as their energy currency.

“We’ve known that without polyamines, cells stop growing and dividing,” Jain says. “But their best-known function only requires a small fraction of the polyamine levels cells actually have.”

To uncover polyamines’ hidden function inside cells, the researchers used a large-scale genetic approach that allows them to screen the entire genome at once, rather than testing genes one-by-one, in order to find out which cellular processes are impacted when polyamine levels are changed within cells.

The screen revealed that when cells have reduced levels of polyamines, a protein called GPX4 becomes essential for survival. GPX4 is known to prevent harmful chemical reactions that damage the fatty molecules that make up cell membranes. 

The team also found that cells with lower polyamine levels have higher amounts of another protein that acts as an iron sponge and keeps the metal in a mineralized form. Together, these findings led the researchers to hypothesize that polyamines might be helping keep iron in a safe, non-reactive state within cells.

To test this idea, they developed a new fluorescent sensor that would allow them to measure chemically reactive iron inside living cells. The new sensor causes living cells to glow based on the amount of chemically reactive iron they contain, allowing researchers to track any changes under a microscope in real-time.

The team paired the new iron sensor with another sensor they had previously developed that measures polyamine levels within cells. By employing them simultaneously, they observed a striking pattern: As polyamine levels dropped within cells, the amount of chemically reactive iron went up, offering new evidence that polyamines play a key role in preventing toxic iron build up inside cells.

Beyond answering a fundamental biological question, these findings could have implications for cancer treatment. Cancer cells often rely on high polyamine levels to support their rapid growth and division. However, cancer drugs designed to lower polyamine levels to stop cell division have had limited success.

“We saw that when polyamine levels fall, cells rely on GPX4 to protect themselves from iron toxicity,” says Sharma, who is also the first author of the study. “This could mean that combining drugs that lower polyamine levels with those that block GPX4 might be more effective for killing cancer cells than targeting either pathway alone.”

The discovery may also have implications beyond cancer. Mutations in genes that help move polyamines around cells are linked to a rare form of early-onset Parkinson’s disease, and scientists have long observed unusually high levels of iron in the brains of Parkinson’s patients. 

While it is still unclear whether excess iron directly contributes to neuron death in Parkinson’s, the discovery that polyamines help buffer reactive iron inside cells offers a possible explanation for this link and opens new directions for future investigation.

In addition, the researchers expect the new iron sensor to be a valuable tool for other scientists. By allowing them to track chemically reactive iron inside living cells, it could power new discoveries in aging, cancer, and neurodegeneration.

“There are a lot of promising future directions for this work,” Jain says. “It’s exciting to think about how these tools and findings could help answer further questions about disease pathways and potentially help design better therapies.”

This work is supported by grants from the National Institutes of Health, Bumpus Foundation, and Pew Charitable Trusts. The content is solely the responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily represent the official views of the NIH.

A former MIT class project is becoming an $850 million effort to manufacture a new kind of aircraft in Ohio.

Electra began as an idea for a hybrid plane that could take off from shorter runways than traditional airplanes but have more range and speed than all-electric aircraft. Now, like other great MIT projects, it’s making an impact far beyond campus.

The company’s fixed-wing aircraft is designed to make travel easier, especially for people who don’t live in the immediate vicinity of a major airport. The plane features a smaller, more efficient engine than traditional planes, along with batteries to give it added power during takeoffs and landings.

With a range of around 1,200 miles and a cruising speed of around 200 miles per hour, the plane could improve the travel experience for many kinds of trips while cutting down on fuel use. And, given the much shorter runway needs and quieter operation than traditional planes, the plane can leverage unique access points such as barges, parking lots, and soccer fields to take off and land instead of traditional airports. 

“Helping people travel between 50 and 250 miles is the sweet spot for this technology,” says Electra Director of Technology Development Chris Courtin SM ’19, PhD ’24. “This can be a better option than driving or commercial airlines for many kinds of trips. There’s a lot of people traveling in that range and a huge amount of friction in existing ground and air transport systems. This could be a big benefit to those people.”

Courtin has worked on the hybrid plane concept since its inception, first as part of a class project at MIT, then as a teacher’s assistant, and finally as part of his PhD thesis. The company was founded by another alumnus, John Langford ’79, SM ’83, SM ’85, PhD ’87, and counts two MIT professors — Mark Drela and John Hansman — as its founding technical advisors.

“The company has really benefited from a strong collaboration with MIT,” Courtin says. “One of the compelling things about MIT is it gives people space to marry the theoretical side with the practical side — to actually go build the airplane and see if people will buy it.”

Electra has already built and flown a two-seated version of its plane. Last month, the company announced an $850 million investment to scale production of its nine-passenger aircraft in Springfield and Clark County, Ohio. The investment, which is expected to create 1,975 new jobs, means Electra will be building the next chapter of aviation in the state where engine-powered human flight first began.

From concept to company

The origins of Electra date back to a 2017 project among graduate students in MIT class 16.886 (Air Transportation Systems Architecting). Electric vertical takeoff and landing (eVTOL) aircraft were garnering excitement at the time, and Courtin’s group wanted to compare that approach to alternative designs.

“It was an open-ended, project-based class where you look at developments in aerospace,” Courtin says. “My group realized short takeoff and landing aircraft had a lot of advantages over eVTOL for getting people where they wanted to go. We started exploring using the same technology — lightweight, electric motors suitable for aviation — to make a new aircraft, which we now call the ultra-short takeoff and landing aircraft.”

The idea was to use batteries and small electric motors to shorten the runway and landing space of a fixed-wing aircraft while leveraging blown wind to travel farther distances in the sky than would be possible with electric motors alone.

The concept was developed further in several senior design classes co-taught by Drela and Hansman, while Courtin served as a teacher’s assistant. In the classes, student collaborators built a subscale model of the aircraft to prove it would work, testing it in MIT’s Wright Brothers Wind Tunnel and in flight. Courtin went on to work on parts of the concept for his PhD. 

In 2019, John Langford, who had been running the aircraft company Aurora Flight Sciences, which had recently been acquired by Boeing, got involved. Electra was officially formed that year.

As a first step, Electra’s team built the EL2, a two-seated version of its aircraft. That included designing and testing the hybrid propulsion system. The EL2 completed its first test flights in 2023 and has since completed over 200 flights.

The aircraft has a gas-powered generator located in its nose and two batteries under the floor, both of which feed the propellers during takeoff and landing. When cruising, the aircraft uses the generator, which can also charge the batteries.

“The gas generator is like a traditional turbine engine used in a conventional aircraft, only instead of driving a propeller or fan it drives an electric generator,” Courtin explains. “That feeds power to the eight motors on the wing. It allows you to have a smaller and more efficient engine because you can size it for cruising, not takeoff and landing conditions.”

The eight motors create a blown lift effect that allows the aircraft to take off and land in areas about the length of a soccer field, much shorter than the runways for conventional airplanes.

For travelers, “the big benefit is you can save a lot of time,” Courtin says. “You don’t need to go to an airport, and you don’t have to go to a train station.”

Operators could also maximize existing infrastructure at airports:

“If you’re three hours away from the nearest major airport, there’s a lot of friction in that,” Courtin says. “With Electra, we could fly you to the nearest major airport, and you don’t need to use a runway, so it doesn’t add to congestion at these very low-capacity places.”

Electra’s aircraft are also more affordable than traditional aircraft and far more quiet.

“The large number of propellers means you can make them much quieter than if you only had one or two,” Courtin explains. “That’s important because helicopters are restricted from operating in places they otherwise could because of the noise.”

Scaling up

Construction on Electra’s 96-acre Ohio manufacturing facility will begin next year. The facility’s initial phase will be capable of producing 400 of its nine-seat aircraft each year. The next phase will expand capacity to around 800 aircraft per year.

Electra’s team could see their aircraft shuttling people to major airports for longer trips or ultimately eliminating the need for conventional airports entirely.

“If you don’t have an existing airport, that’s a very difficult thing to build these days,” Courtin says. “But finding a soccer field-sized area is not hard, especially with our noise reductions.”

Electra’s team is also exploring applications around military logistics, cargo transport, and humanitarian missions.

For the passenger aircraft application, Electra’s team believes that as it scales production, it will be able to make the passenger aircraft accessible to a broad swath of travelers.

“If we can keep the fixed-wing design simplicity and make this large enough, then the per-seat cost could get to a range where a lot of people would have access to this,” Courtin says. “It wouldn’t just be a luxury product, so it could help a lot of people.”