Dynamite with a laser beam: artist Yvette Mattern's Global Rainbow in Whitley Bay, 2012. Photo: Getty
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Firing lasers into a box made of gold – the race to turn light particles into matter

This could prove a neater way to investigate the fundamental building blocks of nature than examining the debris created by high-energy particle collisions.

By the time you read this, someone might already have done it. The publication of a report in May marked the beginning of the race to turn light into matter. Once the race is won, we could enter a new era in particle physics experiments but the real prize is far more valuable. This is about understanding the roots of our existence.

The idea of creating particles from light was dreamed up in 1934. The basic procedure is to smash together two photons, which are bundles of light energy. Calculations showed that, if done correctly, two particles of matter would magically appear in place of the light. The procedure invokes Albert Einstein’s equation E=mc2. The same equation lies behind the release of energy from nuclear fission. Not only do we now have atomic bombs but, it turns out, we also have the technology to take things in the opposite direction.

A team of physicists from Imperial College London has worked out the details. To collide photons to make matter, first fire a laser into an empty box made of gold. This creates a sea of photons with enormous amounts of energy. At the same time, accelerate a beam of electrons to nearly the speed of light using another high-power laser. Slam those electrons into a slab of gold and they will release a stream of photons to collide with the sea of photons in the gold box. The result will be the creation of electrons – one of the building blocks of matter – and positrons, the electron’s antimatter particle.

Now that it’s clear how to do it, there is little stopping scientists from performing this astonishing trick tomorrow. There are many facilities around the world that could string the various necessary technologies together.

What’s more, ramp up the energies of the lasers and it should eventually be possible to create bigger, heavier particles out of light. This could prove a neater way to investigate the fundamental building blocks of nature than examining the debris created by high-energy particle collisions in machines such as Cern’s Large Hadron Collider. Yet the big spin-off of such feats is in firing the imagination. This is science for the soul.

What this branch of physics teaches us is that our everyday intuition is not to be trusted. That matter and energy are two forms of the same stuff is entirely counter-intuitive. We have long given intellectual assent to the idea but it is so far removed from our day-to-day experience of the world that it may always seem implausible.

This interplay of light and matter is the rock on which the modern world is built. The silicon microchips in your smartphone and your laptop – maybe even your toaster – rely on the fluidity of matter. The microscopic electrical switches they contain work only because electrons are both matter and energy, flowing from one existence to the other as circumstances dictate.

Equally, we are solidly matter in our experience, yet we now know that we are made of stuff that can, in the right circumstances, be transformed into flashes of energy. That energy could, given sufficiently advanced technology, be turned back into us.

In some ways, it is a lesson about our impermanence but it is also a glimpse of our extraordinary gifts. We are matter that began its existence 14 billion years ago as a flash of primordial light. And now, that matter has learned the first step in repeating the process of its creation. For all the conflicts, disasters and alarming election results that human beings generate, we should still be proud of our species.

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

This article first appeared in the 28 May 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The elites vs the people

Azeem Ward
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Living the Meme: What happened to Azeem Ward and his flute?

In the first of a new series investigating what happens to people after they become memes, we speak to Azeem Ward, whose flute recital went viral in 2015.

The Sixties had Woodstock. The Nineties had Lollapalooza. The Tens – and, if we’re being honest, just a single year of them – had Azeem's Senior Flute Recital.

If you were inactive on the internet between 12 and 16 May 2015, you’ll be forgiven for not knowing who Azeem Ward is. After setting up a Facebook page for his end of year flute performance, the University of California student was inundated with over 100,000 RSVPs from the United Kindom, along with multiple requests to fly to England and play (for no apparent reason) Darude’s “Sandstorm” in Nando’s. After international news coverage, Ward – as all memes inevitably do – appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live! to discuss his newfound fame. On 16 May, he had to turn hordes of people away from the 500 seat recital hall, and over 55,000 individuals tuned into a livestream of the event. Then, Ward disappeared. Not from social media, and not from the world, but from the internet’s collective consciousness.

Search interest in "Azeem Ward" over time

“I’d say no,” answers Ward, when I ask him whether, one and a half years later, he still receives any special attention or has any fan interactions. “I’m just regular Azeem now, and I’m okay with that. Regular me is a more focussed person that is not reacting to things that are happening around me.”

Ward is Skyping me from his home in Iowa, where he is getting his master’s degree in flute performance. He spends his time composing flute beatbox songs, learning how to produce music, and teaching a class on flute fundamentals at the university. “A lot of [the students] here in Iowa know what happened but they don’t go like: ‘Oh my God! It’s Azeem!’. It’s just like, ‘Hey, what’s up man? I saw that one thing about you on Jimmy Kimmel’.”  

The original Facebook event page

Ward regained his anonymity when he moved to Iowa, as many of his fellow undergraduate students in California recognised him because he was on the local news. “But the whole viral thing was a UK thing,” he explains, “It wasn’t really around the whole US.”

An Azeem meme

Four months after his famed flute recital, Ward did come to the UK and toured the country to perform as part of various university freshers’ weeks. “That was a crazy time,” he says, “I was over there for five weeks and played 22 shows in 12 different cities, all the way from London to Scotland.” His concerts were popular, though most people came to take a selfie or ask about how the recital happened, and only a few wanted to talk to him about music. Still, Ward profited from the events. “We did make some pretty good money," he says, admitting he earnt around $5,000. 

Despite clearly enjoying this time, Ward seems unfazed that his viral fame is now over. His only regrets, he says, are that he didn’t make any connections in the music business while in the UK, and that he didn’t have any social media accounts set up before he went viral, so there was nowhere for people to go to listen to his music. “When you go viral people hold onto that rather than taking you seriously as a musician,” he says. “Sometimes it annoyed me but sometimes I realised that I wouldn’t be there in the first place if it wasn’t for going viral.”

Azeem now, photo courtesy of Azeem Ward

So what advice would Ward give to the next person who finds themselves, unwittingly, the object of the internet’s affection?

“I'd say don't lose sight of what you've already been doing in your life, like keep your focus. I'd say that sometimes in your head you're like ‘Oh man, I have to do this now’, but you've just got to stay focussed on your goals. When you have your own path and you go viral you have a lot of people asking you to do all these different things. It was pretty intense – I’m not used to having a lot of people look at me and my actions, so I was pretty anxious at first. In the end I realised that I came to do what I came to do, and I had to go do it.”

Although Ward doesn’t miss being internet-famous, it is clear that going viral had an impact on him. He recalls the peak of the madness with telling clarity, sharing specific details such as "256 people” clicked attending in "four hours", and “then 512”, before 12,000 people RSVP’d overnight. Mostly, however, he seems very grounded, though he acknowledges it was “out of control” and “really crazy”.

Perhaps Ward feels this way because he received little in the way of negativity or hate. He fondly discusses memes that were created and art that was drawn about him, and the support of his family and friends. “Even though there were a lot of silly things going on, I managed to make it positive for the school,” he says. “I had no haters. Everyone was like ‘Damn, Azeem. Good job, man’.”

One day, Ward hopes to come back to London, although he is wary of returning. Not because of his viral fame, nor the number of selfies he might have to take with Nando's customers, but because of Brexit. Our conversation, like all post-June conversations, turns swiftly to the topic, and Ward asks me about the economy. “I was thinking about trying to do a doctorate over in London, but if things aren't going to be so good in a few years...” 

Ward admits he wouldn’t be bothered if he never went viral again. “When I think of something going viral, I think it has a point in time where there’s so much interest and then it goes away. I’d like to produce material and the attention to keep going up.” So do you want to be famous, I ask? “Do I really want to be famous?” he ponders. “Being famous is okay, I guess. But I want to be is respected and appreciated.”

To listen to Azeem’s music visit soundcloud.com/azeem-ward or Like his Facebook page.

To suggest an interviewee for Living the Meme, reach out to Amelia on Twitter.

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.