Science, culture, complexity

Tag: precision

  • Quantum clock breaks entropy barrier

    In physics, the second law of thermodynamics says that a closed system tends to become more disordered over time. This disorder is captured in an entity called entropy. Many devices, especially clocks, are affected by this law because they need to tick regularly to measure time. But every tick creates a bit of disorder, i.e. increases the entropy, and physicists have believed for a long time now that this places a fundamental limit on how precise a clock can be. The more precise you want your clock, the more entropy (and thus more energy) you’ll have to expend.

    A study published in Nature Physics on June 2 challenges this wisdom. In it, researchers from Austria, Malta, and Sweden asked if the second law of thermodynamics really set a limit on a clock’s precision and came away, surprisingly, with a design of a new kind of quantum clock that’s too precise scientists once believed possible for the amount of energy it spends to achieve that precision.

    The researchers designed this clock using a spin chain. Imagine a ring made of several quantum sites, like minuscule cups. Each cup can hold an excitation — say, a marble that can hop from cup to cup. This excitation moves around the ring and every time it completes a full circle, the clock ticks once. A spin chain is, broadly speaking, a series of connected quantum systems (the sites) arranged in a ring and the excitation is a subatomic particle or packet of energy that moves from site to site.

    In most clocks, every tick is accompanied by the dissipation of some energy and a small increase in entropy. But in the model in the new study, only the last link in the circle, where the last quantum system was linked to the first one, dissipated energy. Everywhere else, the excitation moved without losing energy, like a wave gliding smoothly around the ring. The movement of the excitation in this lossless way through most of the ring is called coherent transport.

    The researchers used computer simulations to help them adjust the hopping rates — or how easily the excitation moved between sites — and thus to make the clock as precise as possible. They found that the best setup involved dividing the ring into three regions: (i) in the preparation ramp, the excitation was shaped into a wave packet; (ii) in the bulk propagation phase, the wave packet moved steadily through the ring; and (iii) in the boundary matching phase, the wave packet was reset for the next tick.

    The team measured the clock’s precision as the number of ticks it completed before it was one tick ahead or behind a perfect clock. Likewise, team members defined the entropy per tick to be the amount of energy dissipated per tick. Finally, the team compared this quantum clock to classical clocks and other quantum models, which typically show a linear relationship between precision and entropy: e.g. if the precision doubled, the entropy doubled as well.

    The researchers, however, found that the precision of their quantum clock grew exponentially with entropy. In other words, if the amount of entropy per tick increased only slightly, the precision increased by a big leap. It was proof that, at least in principle, it’s possible to build a clock to be arbitrarily precise while keeping the system’s entropy down, all without falling afoul of the second law.

    That is, contrary to what many physicists thought, the second law of thermodynamics doesn’t strictly limit a clock precision, at least not for quantum clocks like this one. The clock’s design allowed it to sidestep the otherwise usual trade-off between precision and entropy.

    During coherent transport, the process is governed only by the system’s Hamiltonian, i.e. the rules for how energy moves in a closed quantum system. In this regime, the excitation acts like a wave that spreads smoothly and reversibly, without losing any energy or creating any disorder. Imagine a ball rolling on a perfectly smooth, frictionless track. It keeps moving without slowing down or heating up the track. Such a thing is impossible in classical mechanics, like in the ball example, but it’s possible in quantum systems. The tradeoff of course is that the latter are very small and very fragile and thus harder to manipulate.

    In the present study, the researchers have proved that it’s possible to build a quantum clock that takes advantage of coherent transport to tick while dissipating very little energy. Their model, the spin chain, uses a Hamiltonian that only allows the excitation to coherently hop to its nearest neighbour. The researchers engineered the couplings between the sites in the preparation ramp part of the ring to shape the excitation into a traveling wave packet that moves predominantly in the forward direction.

    This tendency to move in only direction is further bolstered at the last link, where the last site is coupled to the first. Here, the researchers installed a thermal gradient — a small temperature difference that encouraged the wave to restart its journey rather than be reflected and move backwards through the ring. When the excitation crossed this thermodynamic bias, the clock ticked once and also dissipated some energy.

    Three points here. First, remember that this is a quantum system. The researchers are dealing with energy (almost) at its barest, manipulating it directly without having to bother with an accoutrement of matter covering it. In the classical regime, such accoutrements are unavoidable. For example, if you have a series of cups and you want to make an excitation hop through it, you do so with a marble. But while the marble contains the (potential) energy that you want to move through the cups, it also has mass and it dissipates energy whenever it hops into a cup, e.g. it might bounce when it lands and it will release sound when it strikes the cup’s material. So while the marble metaphor earlier might have helped you visualise the quantum clock, remember that the metaphor has limitations.

    Second, for the quantum clock to work as a clock, it needs to break time-reversal symmetry (a concept I recently discussed in the context of quasicrystals). Say you remove the thermodynamic bias at the last link of the ring and replace it with a regular link. In this case the excitation will move randomly — i.e. at each step it will randomly pick the cup to move to, forward or backward, and keep going. If you reversed time, the excitation’s path will still be random and just evolve in reverse.

    However, the final thermodynamically biased link causes the excitation to acquire a preference for moving in one direction. The system thus breaks time-reversal symmetry because even if you reverse the flow of time, the system will encourage the excitation to move in one direction and one direction only. This in turn is essential for the quantum system to function like a clock. That is, the excitation needs to traverse a fixed number of cups in the spin chain and then start from the first cup. Only between these two stages will the system count off a ‘tick’. Breaking time-reversal symmetry thus turns the device into a clock.

    Three, the thermodynamic bias ensures that the jump from the last site to the first is more likely than the reverse, and the entropy is the cost the system pays in order to ensure the jump. Equally, the greater the thermodynamic bias, the more likely the excitation is to move in one direction through spin chain as well as make the jump in the right direction at the final step. Thus, the greater the thermodynamic bias, the more precise the clock will be.

    The new study excelled by creating a sufficiently precise clock while minimising the entropy cost.

    According to the researchers, its design design could help build better quantum clocks, which are important for quantum computers, quantum communication, and to make ultra-precise precise measurements of the kind demanded by atomic clocks. The clock’s ticks could also be used to emit single photons at regular intervals — a technology increasingly in demand for its use in quantum networks of the sort China, the US, and India are trying to build.

    But more fundamentally, the clock’s design — which confines energy dissipation to a single link and uses coherent transport everywhere else — and that design’s ability to evade the precision-entropy trade-off challenges a longstanding belief that the second law of thermodynamics strictly limits precision.

    Featured image credit: Meier, F., Minoguchi, Y., Sundelin, S. et al. Nat. Phys. (2025).

  • There’s something wrong with this universe.

    I’ve gone on about natural philosophy, the philosophy of representation, science history, and the importance of interdisciplinary perspectives when studying modern science. There’s something that unifies all these ideas, and I wouldn’t have thought of it at all hadn’t I spoken to the renowned physicist Dr. George Sterman on January 3.

    I was attending the Institute of Mathematical Sciences’ golden jubilee celebrations. A lot of my heroes were there, and believe me when I say my heroes are different from your heroes. I look up to people who are capable of thinking metaphysically, and physicists more than anyone I’ve come to meet are very insightful in that area.

    One such physicist is Dr. Ashoke Sen, whose contributions to the controversial area of string theory are nothing short of seminal – if only for how differently it says we can think about our universe and what the math of that would look like. Especially, Sen’s research into tachyon condensation and the phases of string theory is something I’ve been interested in for a while now.

    Knowing that George Sterman was around came as a pleasant surprise. Sterman was Sen’s doctoral guide; while Sen’s a string theorist now, his doctoral thesis was in quantum chromodynamics, a field in which the name of Sterman is quite well-known.


    – DR. GEORGE STERMAN (IMAGE: UC DAVIS)

    When I finally got a chance to speak with Sterman, it was about 5 pm and there were a lot of mosquitoes around. We sat down in the middle of the lawn on a couple of old chairs, and with a perpetual smile on his face that made one of the greatest thinkers of our time look like a kid in a candy store, Sterman jumped right into answering my first question on what he felt about the discovery of a Higgs-like boson.

    Where Sheldon Stone was obstinately practical, Sterman was courageously aesthetic. After the (now usual) bit about how the discovery of the boson was a tribute to mathematics and its ability to defy 50 years of staggering theoretical advancements by remaining so consistent, he said, “But let’s think about naturalness for a second…”

    The moment he said “naturalness”, I knew what he was getting it, but more than anything else, I was glad. Here was a physicist who was still looking at things aesthetically, especially in an era where lack of money and the loss of practicality by extension could really put the brakes on scientific discovery. I mean it’s easy to jump up and down and be excited about having spotted the Higgs, but there are very few who feel free to still not be happy.

    In Sterman’s words, uttered while waving his arms about to swat away the swarming mosquitoes while discussing supersymmetry:

    There’s a reason why so many people felt so confident about supersymmetry. It wasn’t just that it’s a beautiful theory – which it is – or that it engages and challenges the most mathematically oriented among physicists, but in another sense in which it appeared to be necessary. There’s this subtle concept that goes by the name of naturalness. Naturalness as it appears in the Standard Model says that if we gave our any reasonable estimate of what the mass of the Higgs particle should be, it should by all rights be huge! It should be as heavy as what we call the Planck mass [~10^19 GeV].”

    Or, as Martinus Veltman put it in an interview to Matthew Chalmers for Nature,

    Since the energy of the Higgs is distributed all over the universe, it should contribute to the curvature of space; if you do the calculation, the universe would have to curve to the size of a football.

    Naturalness is the idea in particle physics specifically, and in nature generally, that things don’t desire to stand out in any way unless something’s really messed up. For instance, consider the mass hierarchy problem in physics: Why is the gravitational force so much more weaker than the electroweak force? If either of them is a fundamental force of nature, then where is the massive imbalance coming from?

    Formulaically speaking, naturalness is represented by this equation:

    Here, lambda (the mountain) is the cut-off scale, an energy scale at which the theory breaks down. Its influence over the naturalness of an entity h is determined by how many dimensions lambda acts on – with a maximum of 4. Last, c is the helpful scaling constant that keeps lambda from being too weak or too strong in some setting.

    In other words, a natural constant h must be comparable to other nature constants like it if they’re all acting in the same setting.

    (TeX: hquad =quad c{ Lambda }^{ 4quad -quad d })

    However, given how the electroweak and gravitational forces – which do act in the same setting (also known as our universe) – differ so tremendously in strength, the values of these constants are, to put it bluntly, coincidental.

    Problems such as this “violate” naturalness in a way that defies the phenomenological aesthetic of physics. Yes, I’m aware this sounds like hot air but bear with me. In a universe that contains one stupendously weak force and one stupendously strong force, one theory that’s capable of describing both forces would possess two disturbing characteristics:

    1. It would be capable of angering one William of Ockham

    2. It would require a dirty trick called fine-tuning

    I’ll let you tackle the theories of that William of Ockham and go right on to fine-tuning. In an episode of ‘The Big Bang Theory’, Dr. Sheldon Cooper drinks coffee for what seems like the first time in his life and goes berserk. One of the things he touches upon in a caffeine-induced rant is a notion related to the anthropic principle.

    The anthropic principle states that it’s not odd that the value of the fundamental constants seem to engender the evolution of life and physical consciousness because if those values aren’t what they are, then a consciousness wouldn’t be able to observe them. Starting with the development of the Standard Model of particle physics in the 1960s, it’s become known that these constants are really fine in their value.

    So, with the anthropic principle providing a philosophical cushioning, like some intellectual fodder to fall back on when thoughts run low, physicists set about trying to find out why the values are what they are. As the Standard Model predicted more particles – with annoying precision – physicists also realised that given the physical environment, the universe would’ve been drastically different even if the values were slightly off.

    Now, as discoveries poured in and it became clear that the universe housed two drastically different forces in terms of their strength, researchers felt the need to fine-tune the values of the constants to fit experimental observations. This sometimes necessitated tweaking the constants in such a way that they’d support the coexistence of the gravitational and electroweak forces!

    Scientifically speaking, this just sounds pragmatic. But just think aesthetically and you start to see why this practice smells bad: The universe is explicable only if you make extremely small changes to certain numbers, changes you wouldn’t have made if the universe wasn’t concealing something about why there was one malnourished kid and one obese kid.


    Doesn’t the asymmetry bother you?

    Put another way, as physicist Paul Davies did,

    There is now broad agreement among physicists and cosmologists that the Universe is in several respects ‘fine-tuned’ for life. The conclusion is not so much that the Universe is fine-tuned for life; rather it is fine-tuned for the building blocks and environments that life requires.

    (On a lighter note: If the universe includes both a plausible anthropic principle and a Paul Davies who is a physicist and is right, then multiple universes are a possibility. I’ll let you work this one out.)

    Compare all of this to the desirable idea of naturalness and what Sterman was getting at and you’d see that the world around us isn’t natural in any sense. It’s made up of particles whose properties we’re sure of, of objects whose behaviour we’re sure of, but also of forces whose origins indicate an amount of unnaturalness… as if something outside this universe poked a finger in, stirred up the particulate pea-soup, and left before anyone evolved enough to get a look.

    (This blog post first appeared at The Copernican on January 6, 2013.)