Guns versus butter in quantum information

From my college’s computer-science club, I received a T-shirt that reads:

while(not_dead){

sleep--;

time--;

awesome++;

}

/*There’s a reason we can’t hang out with you…*/

The message is written in Java, a programming language. Even if you’ve never programmed, you likely catch the drift: CS majors are the bees’ knees because, at the expense of sleep and social lives, they code. I disagree with part of said drift: CS majors hung out with me despite being awesome.

photo-3 copy

The rest of the drift—you have to give some to get some—synopsizes the physics I encountered this fall. To understand tradeoffs, you needn’t study QI. But what trades off with what, according to QI, can surprise us.

The T-shirt haunted me at the University of Nottingham, where researchers are blending QI with Einstein’s theory of relativity. Relativity describes accelerations, gravity, and space-time’s curvature. In other sources, you can read about physicists’ attempts to unify relativity and quantum mechanics, the Romeo and Tybalt of modern physics, into a theory of quantum gravity. In this article, relativity tangos with quantum mechanics in relativistic quantum information (RQI). If I move my quantum computer, RQIers ask, how do I change its information processing? How does space-time’s curvature affect computation? How can motion affect measurements?

Answers to these questions involve tradeoffs.

Nottingham

Nottingham researchers kindly tolerating a seminar by me

For example, acceleration entangles particles. Decades ago, physicists learned that acceleration creates particles. Say you’re gazing into a vacuum—not empty space, but nearly empty space, the lowest-energy system that can exist. Zooming away on a rocket, I accelerate relative to you. From my perspective, more particles than you think—and higher-energy particles—surround us.

Have I created matter? Have I violated the Principle of Conservation of Energy (and Mass)? I created particles in a sense, but at the expense of rocket fuel. You have to give some to get some:

Fuel--;
Particles++;

The math that describes my particles relates to the math that describes entanglement.* Entanglement is a relationship between quantum systems. Say you entangle two particles, then separate them. If you measure one, you instantaneously affect the other, even if the other occupies another city.

Say we encode information in quantum particles stored in a box.** Just as you encode messages by writing letters, we write messages in the ink of quantum particles. Say the box zooms off on a rocket. Just as acceleration led me to see particles in a vacuum, acceleration entangles the particles in our box. Since entanglement facilitates computation, you can process information by shaking a box. And performing another few steps.

When an RQIer told me so, she might as well have added that space-time has 106 dimensions and the US would win the World Cup. Then my T-shirt came to mind. To get some, you have to give some. When you give something, you might get something. Giving fuel gets you entanglement. To prove that statement, I need to do and interpret math. Till I have time to,

Fuel--;
Entanglement++;

offers intuition.

After cropping up in Nottingham, my T-shirt reared its head (collar?) in physics problem after physics problem. By “consuming entanglement”—forfeiting that ability to affect the particle in another city—you can teleport quantum information.

Entanglement--;
Quantum teleportation++;

My research involves tradeoffs between information and energy. As the Hungarian physicist Leó Szilárd showed, you can exchange information for work. Say you learn which half of a box*** a particle occupies, and you trap the particle in that half. Upon freeing the particle—forfeiting your knowledge about its location—you can lift a weight, charge a battery, or otherwise store energy.

Information--;
Energy++;

If you expend energy, Rolf Landauer showed, you can gain knowledge.

Energy--;
Information++;

No wonder my computer-science friends joked about sleep deprivation. But information can energize. For fuel, I forage in the blending of fields like QI and relativity, and in physical intuitions like those encapsulated in the pseudo-Java above. Much as Szilard’s physics enchants me, I’m glad that the pursuit of physics contradicts his conclusion:

while(not_dead){

Information++;

Energy++;

}

The code includes awesome++ implicitly.

*Bogoliubov transformations, to readers familiar with the term.

**In the fields in a cavity, to readers familiar with the terms.

***Physicists adore boxes, you might have noticed.

With thanks to Ivette Fuentes and the University of Nottingham for their hospitality and for their introduction to RQI.

Reporting from the ‘Frontiers of Quantum Information Science’

What am I referring to with this title? It is similar to the name of this blog–but that’s not where this particular title comes from–although there is a common denominator. Frontiers of Quantum Information Science was the theme for the 31st Jerusalem winter school in theoretical physics, which takes place annually at the Israeli Institute for Advanced Studies located on the Givat Ram campus of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The school took place from December 30, 2013 through January 9, 2014, but some of the attendees are still trickling back to their home institutions. The common denominator is that our very own John Preskill was the director of this school; co-directed by Michael Ben-Or and Patrick Hayden. John mentioned during a previous post and reiterated during his opening remarks that this is the first time the IIAS has chosen quantum information to be the topic for its prestigious advanced school–another sign of quantum information’s emergence as an important sub-field of physics. In this blog post, I’m going to do my best to recount these festivities while John protects his home from forest fires, prepares a talk for the Simons Institute’s workshop on Hamiltonian complexityteaches his quantum information course and celebrates his birthday 60+1.

The school was mainly targeted at physicists, but it was diversely represented. Proof of the value of this diversity came in an interaction between a computer scientist and a physicist, which led to one of the school’s most memorable moments. Both of my most memorable moments started with the talent show (I was surprised that so many talents were on display at a physics conference…) Anyways, towards the end of the show, Mateus Araújo Santos, a PhD student in Vienna, entered the stage and mentioned that he could channel “the ghost of Feynman” to serve as an oracle for NP-complete decision problems. After making this claim, people obviously turned to Scott Aaronson, hoping that he’d be able to break the oracle. However, in order for this to happen, we had to wait until Scott’s third lecture about linear optics and boson sampling the next day. You can watch Scott bombard the oracle with decision problems from 1:00-2:15 during the video from his third lecture.

oracle_aaronson

Scott Aaronson grilling the oracle with a string of NP-complete decision problems! From 1:00-2:15 during this video.

The other most memorable moment was when John briefly danced Gangnam style during Soonwon Choi‘s talent show performance. Unfortunately, I thought I had this on video, but the video didn’t record. If anyone has video evidence of this, then please share!
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Of sensors and science students

Click click.

Once the clasps unfastened, the tubular black case opened like a yard-long mussel. It might have held a bazooka, a collapsible pole tent, or enough shellfish for three plates of paella.

“This,” said Rob Young, for certain types of light, “is the most efficient detector in the world.”
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The Navajo connection

A few months ago, Prof. Keith Schwab brought visiting students and teachers from Navajo Preparatory School to tour some of the IQIM labs, listen to some quick lectures on optics, and talk to scientists. Since this opportunity was only allowed to the one carload that made the 11.5 hour drive from Farmington, NM, everyone involved agreed that we could reach far more students if the IQIM sent Caltech students there. Ana Brown and I both enjoyed speaking with the visiting students and teachers, and responded enthusiastically when Prof. Schwab offered to send us.  My enthusiasm momentarily dimmed when I realized our trip would be occurring in the dead of winter and it was projected to snow while we were there (having only lived in northern and southern California, let’s say I have a heightened sensitivity to weather), but I excitedly spent thanksgiving putting together demonstrations with supplies I found in my closet and garage. I’ve always enjoyed talking about applied math, science, and engineering to anyone, especially anyone young enough to have only heard “math is boring” or “science is too hard” few enough times I can convince them otherwise.  Navajo Prep seemed ideal for this, since the school prepares the students well and sends over 95% of the students to college, and is working to increase student interest in math, science, and engineering.

it's colder than it looks, I swear

Panorama from the center of Navajo Prep

With a suitcase half full of clothes and half full of tools and hacked-together electronics, I was picked up from the airport, and arrived at the school in the afternoon the Monday after Thanksgiving weekend. While Monday was spent arranging which classes I would attend, and what topics I would discuss, my second day involved a trip with the school’s outreach coordinator and Cody, one of the two students who visited Caltech, taking a tour of some of the local highlights, including a traditional Navajo lunch (steam corn stew, roast mutton, and I even tried ach’ii”) and toured the remnants of the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde, about half an hour from the school. Exploring a region with such a rich history and discussing it with my hosts, who are descendants in part from that history was an incredible experience.

yup, some 70 rooms built in a recess carved into the canyon wall almost a thousand years ago.

Rooms at the Oak Tree House at Mesa Verde

On Wednesday, I began talking to the freshman physics classes about optics, intending to discuss the properties of light, like frequency, speed, wavelength, velocity, energy, and momentum, but to give some context I began with a historical summary of discoveries in optics. I know I was surprised when I was preparing, so you might enjoy answering the same questions that I asked the class. Take a second, and guess when you think the first lenses were made and when wearable glasses were first used. (After you think you have a guess, scroll to the bottom to see how you did.)  When I realized that the class was more interested in seeing rather than hearing about optics, I skimmed over what I’d prepared in order to spend more time on the demonstrations where I showed refraction in glass and explained how that can be derived from assuming a different speed of light in the material. We found lenses for the students to manipulate/play with, and even though historically there were about 300 years between invention of glasses (and the proliferation of lens-making) and the invention of the telescope, some of the students unintentionally built telescopes after taking a second lens from their friends and were shocked to hear that what they had just made was better than the one Galileo used to first discover the four largest moons of Jupiter.

I promise this shot is not advertising for Under Armour.

Measuring focal lengths and observing lensing with a drop of water on a glass slide

We also demonstrated double slit diffraction and calculated light’s wavelength for three different laser pointers to within 5% accuracy using only a tape measure, a post-it, and a knife. I decided not to bring a demonstration to measure the speed of light with a laser, a few mirrors, a computer fan, and a reverse-biased photodiode hooked up to an old speaker, because I couldn’t get the fan to spin fast enough to get a reasonably short delay length. (From that can you guess what my set-up was?) On Thursday, Ana and I gave a similar lecture to a different pair of 90 minute freshman physics classes, and spent the other periods talking with math classes. In calculus, I described the different kinds of math classes offered in college, their applications, and their connections to each other in an attempt to give more meaning to the course titles they would no doubt be reading next fall. In geometry and trigonometry I answered the perennial high school math question: “when will we ever use this?” by talking about some applications in geometric optics.

Since I figure you readers like thinking about this sort of thing, I’ll elaborate: I started with the fact that a light beam’s incident angle (measured from the perpendicular of a surface) is equal to its reflected angle. This means that light propagation, like much of (but not all of) physics, is reversible in all but a few specific cases. As a result, light generated at or passing through the center of a circle is reflected off the circle back to the center. An ellipse has a similar property where light through one focus is all reflected to the other. Try deriving that from the fact that an ellipse is defined to be the set of all points where the sum of the distances to the two foci equals some fixed constant. In the lecture, I then used the fact that a parabola is the set of all points equidistant from a point (the focus) and a line (the directrix) to show that light from the focus is reflected off the parabola and collimated (focused at infinity).

Ana brought some IQIM hats and shirts, which the freshman physics classes seemed to definitely enjoy when we met with each class for 40 minutes on Friday.

We probably tripled the number of high school varsity football players who've worn IQIM gear in that one picture

One of the four freshman physics classes we got to spend time with

I tried to give them an impression of what we do in the IQIM, but I had a hard time giving a satisfactory explanation of the significance of quantum information, and Ana easily convinced me that it would be more engaging to use the 90 minute introduction I had already given them on optics to explain and describe solar energy, since many buildings deep in the Navajo reservation are off the power grid.  There are also plans to construct a large solar power plant on the reservation that will be much cleaner than the three local coal power plants in the region.

I think I made a joke and Ana might have been the only one to laugh.  Still, it's proof I can be funny.

Action shot during the lecture on solar

Ana and I also spoke to the senior seminar, which contained the entire graduating class, where she talked about the difficulties transitioning to college experienced by some of her friends in college who were from the Navajo reservation. She gave such great advice on applying to schools, applying for fellowships, and developing a healthy work/life balance, that the only thing I felt like I could contribute was some advice on picking a major (since I’ve picked about 4 different majors), where I described the difference between science and engineering, and talked about different fields within each. I loved how truly helpful I felt when so many of the students told us that they either found certain pieces of advice to be useful, thanked us for introducing them to an idea they hadn’t heard of, or asked us to come back soon.

Occasionally a student asked what I personally do, and their curiosity was rewarded with an explanation that lasted as long as they were interested.  The shortest lasted two sentences and the longest explanation (given to a calculus class of 5 people) involved 30 minutes with my laptop out showing all the steps I take to fabricate nanoscale devices to trap light in almost a cubic-wavelength volume in proximity to an “optically interesting” rare earth ion which my advisor and I hope will provide a viable quantum optical memory.  (Here‘s a little more about our work.)

In the evenings we cheered for the school’s basketball team, had dinner with some of the students and teachers, and discussed the school’s science curriculum and science fair projects. Ana and I consulted on a solar water heating project some of the students were working on, and, after the students all went home for the weekend, I even spent 2 hours in 17ºF weather the last night calibrating an 8″ diameter Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope that had been donated to the school. Compared to Pasadena the viewing was spectacular, and I could easily spot galaxies, nebulae, and discern stripes on Jupiter and the four Galilean moons. I can only expect that some of the students I met will be as excited as I was.

From wikipedia: “The earliest known lenses were made from polished crystal, often quartz, and have been dated as early as 700 BC for Assyrian lenses” and “Around 1284 in Italy, Salvino D’Armate is credited with inventing the first wearable eye glasses.” For anyone who’s interested in the history of science, I’d suggest you check it out.

Jostling the unreal in Oxford

Oxford, where the real and the unreal jostle in the streets, where windows open into other worlds…

So wrote Philip Pullman, author of The Golden Compass and its sequels. In the series, a girl wanders from the Oxford in another world to the Oxford in ours.

I’ve been honored to wander Oxford this fall. Visiting Oscar Dahlsten and Jon Barrett, I’ve been moonlighting in Vlatko Vedral’s QI group. We’re interweaving 21st-century knowledge about electrons and information with a Victorian fixation on energy and engines. This research program, quantum thermodynamics, should open a window onto our world.

Radcliffe camera

A new world. At least, a world new to the author.

To study our world from another angle, Oxford researchers are jostling the unreal. Oscar, Jon, Andrew Garner, and others are studying generalized probabilistic theories, or GPTs.

What’s a specific probabilistic theory, let alone a generalized one? In everyday, classical contexts, probabilities combine according to rules you know. Suppose you have a 90% chance of arriving in London-Heathrow Airport at 7:30 AM next Sunday. Suppose that, if you arrive in Heathrow at 7:30 AM, you’ll have a 70% chance of catching the 8:05 AM bus to Oxford. You have a probability 0.9 * 0.7 = 0.63 of arriving in Heathrow at 7:30 and catching the 8:05 bus. Why 0.9 * 0.7? Why not 0.90.7, or 0.9/(2 * 0.7)? How might probabilities combine, GPT researchers ask, and why do they combine as they do?

Not that, in GPTs, probabilities combine as in 0.9/(2 * 0.7). Consider the 0.9/(2 * 0.7) plucked from a daydream inspired by this City of Dreaming Spires. But probabilities do combine in ways we wouldn’t expect. By entangling two particles, separating them, and measuring one, you immediately change the probability that a measurement of Particle 2 yields some outcome. John Bell explored, and experimentalists have checked, statistics generated by entanglement. These statistics disobey rules that govern Heathrow-and-bus statistics. As do entanglement statistics, so do effects of quantum phenomena like discord, negative Wigner functions, and weak measurements. Quantum theory and its contrast with classicality force us to reconsider probability.
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Polarizer: Rise of the Efficiency

How should a visitor to Zürich spend her weekend?

Launch this question at a Swiss lunchtable, and you split diners into two camps. To take advantage of Zürich, some say, visit Geneva, Lucerne, or another spot outside Zürich. Other locals suggest museums, the lake, and the 19th-century ETH building.

P1040429

The 19th-century ETH building

ETH, short for a German name I’ve never pronounced, is the polytechnic from which Einstein graduated. The polytechnic houses a quantum-information (QI) theory group that’s pioneering ideas I’ve blogged about: single-shot information, epsilonification, and small-scale thermodynamics. While visiting the group this August, I triggered an avalanche of tourism advice. Caught between two camps, I chose Option Three: Contemplate polar codes.

Polar codes compress information into the smallest space possible. Imagine you write a message (say, a Zürich travel guide) and want to encode it in the fewest possible symbols (so it fits in my camera bag). The longer the message, the fewer encoding symbols you need per encoded symbol: The more punch each code letter can pack. As the message grows, the encoding-to-encoded ratio decreases. The lowest possible ratio is a number, represented by H, called the Shannon entropy.

So established Claude E. Shannon in 1948. But Shannon didn’t know how to code at efficiency H. Not for 51 years did we know.

I learned how, just before that weekend. ETH student David Sutter walked me through polar codes as though down Zürich’s Banhofstrasse.

P1040385

The Banhofstrasse, one of Zürich’s trendiest streets, early on a Sunday.

Say you’re encoding n copies of a random variable. When I say, “random variable,” think, “character in the travel guide.” Just as each character is one of 26 letters, each variable has one of many possible values.

Suppose the variables are independent and identically distributed. Even if you know some variables’ values, you can’t guess others’. Cryptoquote players might object that we can infer unknown from known letters. For example, a three-letter word that begins with “th” likely ends with “e.” But our message lacks patterns.

Think of the variables as diners at my lunchtable. Asking how to fill a weekend in Zürich—splitting the diners—I resembled the polarizer.

The polarizer is a mathematical object that sounds like an Arnold Schwarzenegger film and acts on the variables. Just as some diners pointed me outside Zürich, the polarizer gives some variables one property. Just some diners pointed me to within Zürich, the polarizer gives some variables another property. Just as I pointed myself at polar codes, the polarizer gives some variables a third property.

These properties involve entropy. Entropy quantifies uncertainty about a variable’s value—about which of the 26 letters a character represents. Even if you know the early variables’ values, you can’t guess the later variables’. But we can guess some polarized variables’ values. Call the first polarized variable u1, the second u2, etc. If we can guess the value of some ui, that ui has low entropy. If we can’t guess the value, ui has high entropy. The Nicole-esque variables have entropies like the earnings of Terminator Salvation: noteworthy but not chart-topping.

To recap: We want to squeeze a message into the tiniest space possible. Even if we know early variables’ values, we can’t infer later variables’. Applying the polarizer, we split the variables into low-, high-, and middling-entropy flocks. We can guess the value of each low-entropy ui, if we know the foregoing uh’s.

Almost finished!

In your camera-size travel guide, transcribe the high-entropy ui’s. These ui’s suggest the values of the low-entropy ui’s. When you want to decode the guide, guess the low-entropy ui’s. Then reverse the polarizer to reconstruct much of the original text.

The longer the original travel guide, the fewer errors you make while decoding, and the smaller the ratio of the encoded guide’s length to the original guide’s length. That ratio shrinks–as the guide’s length grows–to H. You’ve compressed a message maximally efficiently. As the Swiss say: Glückwünsche.

How does compression relate to QI? Quantum states form messages. Polar codes, ETH scientists have shown, compress quantum messages maximally efficiently. Researchers are exploring decoding strategies and relationships among (quantum) polar codes. With their help, Shannon-coded travel guides might fit not only in my camera bag, but also on the tip of my water bottle.

Should you need a Zürich travel guide, I recommend Grossmünster Church. Not only does the name fulfill your daily dose of umlauts. Not only did Ulrich Zwingli channel the Protestant Reformation into Switzerland there. Climbing a church tower affords a panorama of Zürich. After oohing over the hills and ahhing over the lake, you can shift your gaze toward ETH. The worldview being built there bewitches as much as the vista from any tower.

P1040476

A tower with a view.

With gratitude to ETH’s QI-theory group (particularly to Renato Renner) for its hospitality. And for its travel advice. With gratitude to David Sutter for his explanations and patience.

P1040411

The author and her neue Freunde.

Can a game teach kids quantum mechanics?

Five months ago, I received an email and then a phone call from Google’s Creative Lab Executive Producer, Lorraine Yurshansky. Lo, as she prefers to be called, is not your average thirty year-old. She has produced award-winning short films like Peter at the End (starring Napoleon Dynamite, aka Jon Heder), launched the wildly popular Maker Camp on Google+ and had time to run a couple of New York marathons as a warm-up to all of that. So why was she interested in talking to a quantum physicist?

You may remember reading about Google’s recent collaboration with NASA and D-Wave, on using NASA’s supercomputing facilities along with a D-Wave Two machine to solve optimization problems relevant to both Google (Glass, for example) and NASA (analysis of massive data sets). It was natural for Google, then, to want to promote this new collaboration through a short video about quantum computers. The video appeared last week on Google’s YouTube channel:

This is a very exciting collaboration in my view. Google has opened its doors to quantum computation and this has some powerful consequences. And it is all because of D-Wave. But, let me put my perspective in context, before Scott Aaronson unleashes the hounds of BQP on me.

Two years ago, together with Science magazine’s 2010 Breakthrough of the Year winner, Aaron O’ Connell, we decided to ask Google Ventures for $10,000,000 dollars to start a quantum computing company based on technology Aaron had developed as a graduate student at John Martini’s group at UCSB. The idea we pitched was that a hand-picked team of top experimentalists and theorists from around the world, would prototype new designs to achieve longer coherence times and greater connectivity between superconducting qubits, faster than in any academic environment. Google didn’t bite. At the time, I thought the reason behind the rejection was this: Google wants a real quantum computer now, not just a 10 year plan of how to make one based on superconducting X-mon qubits that may or may not work.

I was partially wrong. The reason for the rejection was not a lack of proof that our efforts would pay off eventually – it was a lack of any prototype on which Google could run algorithms relevant to their work. In other words, Aaron and I didn’t have something that Google could use right-away. But D-Wave did and Google was already dating D-Wave One for at least three years, before marrying D-Wave Two this May. Quantum computation has much to offer Google, so I am excited to see this relationship blossom (whether it be D-Wave or Pivit Inc that builds the first quantum computer). Which brings me back to that phone call five months ago…

Lorraine: Hi Spiro. Have you heard of Google’s collaboration with NASA on the new Quantum Artificial Intelligence Lab?

Me: Yes. It is all over the news!

Lo: Indeed. Can you help us design a mod for Minecraft to get kids excited about quantum mechanics and quantum computers?

Me: Minecraft? What is Minecraft? Is it like Warcraft or Starcraft?

Lo: (Omg, he doesn’t know Minecraft!?! How old is this guy?) Ahh, yeah, it is a game where you build cool structures by mining different kinds of blocks in this sandbox world. It is popular with kids.

Me: Oh, okay. Let me check out the game and see what I can come up with.

After looking at the game I realized three things:
1. The game has a fan base in the tens of millions.
2. There is an annual convention (Minecon) devoted to this game alone.
3. I had no idea how to incorporate quantum mechanics within Minecraft.

Lo and I decided that it would be better to bring some outside help, if we were to design a new mod for Minecraft. Enter E-Line Media and TeacherGaming, two companies dedicated to making games which focus on balancing the educational aspect with gameplay (which influences how addictive the game is). Over the next three months, producers, writers, game designers and coder-extraordinaire Dan200, came together to create a mod for Minecraft. But, we quickly came to a crossroads: Make a quantum simulator based on Dan200’s popular ComputerCraft mod, or focus on gameplay and a high-level representation of quantum mechanics within Minecraft?

The answer was not so easy at first, especially because I kept pushing for more authenticity (I asked Dan200 to create Hadamard and CNOT gates, but thankfully he and Scot Bayless – a legend in the gaming world – ignored me.) In the end, I would like to think that we went with the best of both worlds, given the time constraints we were operating under (a group of us are attending Minecon 2013 to showcase the new mod in two weeks) and the young audience we are trying to engage. For example, we decided that to prepare a pair of entangled qubits within Minecraft, you would use the Essence of Entanglement, an object crafted using the Essence of Superposition (Hadamard gate, yay!) and Quantum Dust placed in a CNOT configuration on a crafting table (don’t ask for more details). And when it came to Quantum Teleportation within the game, two entangled quantum computers would need to be placed at different parts of the world, each one with four surrounding pylons representing an encoding/decoding mechanism. Of course, on top of each pylon made of obsidian (and its far-away partner), you would need to place a crystal, as the required classical side-channel. As an authorized quantum mechanic, I allowed myself to bend quantum mechanics, but I could not bring myself to mess with Special Relativity.

As the mod launched two days ago, I am not sure how successful it will be. All I know is that the team behind its development is full of superstars, dedicated to making sure that John Preskill wins this bet (50 years from now):

The plan for the future is to upload a variety of posts and educational resources on qcraft.org discussing the science behind the high-level concepts presented within the game, at a level that middle-schoolers can appreciate. So, if you play Minecraft (or you have kids over the age of 10), download qCraft now and start building. It’s a free addition to Minecraft.

The cost and yield of moving from (quantum) state to (quantum) state

The countdown had begun.

In ten days, I’d move from Florida, where I’d spent the summer with family, to Caltech. Unfolded boxes leaned against my dresser, and suitcases yawned on the floor. I was working on a paper. Even if I’d turned around from my desk, I wouldn’t have seen the stacked books and folded sheets. I’d have seen Lorenz curves, because I’d drawn Lorenz curves all week, and the curves seemed imprinted on my eyeballs.

Using Lorenz curves, we illustrate how much we know about a quantum state. Say you have an electron, you’ll measure it using a magnet, and you can’t predict any measurement’s outcome. Whether you orient the magnet up-and-down, left-to-right, etc., you haven’t a clue what number you’ll read out. We represent this electron’s state by a straight line from (0, 0) to (1, 1).

Uniform_state

Say you know the electron’s state. Say you know that, if you orient the magnet up-and-down, you’ll read out +1. This state, we call “pure.” We represent it by a tented curve.

Pure_state

The more you know about a state, the more the state’s Lorenz curve deviates from the straight line.

Arbitrary_state

If Curve A fails to dip below Curve B, we know at least as much about State A as about State B. We can transform State A into State B by manipulating and/or discarding information.

Conversion_yield_part_1_arrow

By the time I’d drawn those figures, I’d listed the items that needed packing. A coauthor had moved from North America to Europe during the same time. If he could hop continents without impeding the paper, I could hop states. I unzipped the suitcases, packed a box, and returned to my desk.

Say Curve A dips below Curve B. We know too little about State A to transform it into State B. But we might combine State A with a state we know lots about. The latter state, C, might be pure. We have so much information about A + C, the amalgam can turn into B.

Yet more conversion costs Yet-more-conversion-costs-part-2

What’s the least amount of information we need about C to ensure that A + C can turn into B? That number, we call the “cost of transforming State A into State B.”

We call it that usually. But late in the evening, after I’d miscalculated two transformation costs and deleted four curves, days before my flight, I didn’t type the cost’s name into emails to coauthors. I typed “the cost of turning A into B” or “the cost of moving from state to state.”
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The million dollar conjecture you’ve never heard of…

Curating a blog like this one and writing about imaginary stuff like Fermat’s Lost Theorem means that you get the occasional comment of the form: I have a really short proof of a famous open problem in math. Can you check it for me? Usually, the answer is no. But, about a week ago, a reader of the blog that had caught an omission in a proof contained within one of my previous posts, asked me to do just that: Check out a short proof of Beal’s Conjecture. Many of you probably haven’t heard of billionaire Mr. Beal and his $1,000,000 conjecture, so here it is:

Let a,b,c and x,y,z > 2 be positive integers satisfying a^x+b^y=c^z. Then, gcd(a,b,c) > 1; that is, the numbers a,b,c have a common factor.

After reading the “short proof” of the conjecture, I realized that this was a pretty cool conjecture! Also, the short proof was wrong, though the ideas within were non-trivial. But, partial progress had been made by others, so I thought I would take a crack at it on the 10 hour flight from Athens to Philadelphia. In particular, I convinced myself that if I could prove the conjecture for all even exponents x,y,z, then I could claim half the prize. Well, I didn’t quite get there, but I made some progress using knowledge found in these two blog posts: Redemption: Part I and Fermat’s Lost Theorem. In particular, one can show that the conjecture holds true for x=y=2n and z = 2k, for n \ge 3, k \ge 1. Moreover, the general case of even exponents can be reduced to the case of x=y=p \ge 3 and y=z=q \ge 3, for p,q primes. Which makes one wonder if the general case has a similar reduction, where two of the three exponents can be assumed equal.

The proof is pretty trivial, since most of the heavy lifting is done by Fermat’s Last Theorem (which itself has a rather elegant, short proof I wanted to post in the margins – alas, WordPress has a no-writing-on-margins policy). Moreover, it turns out that the general case of even exponents follows from a combination of results obtained by others over the past two decades (see the Partial Results section of the Wikipedia article on the conjecture linked above – in particular, the (n,n,2) case). So why am I even bothering to write about my efforts? Because it’s math! And math equals magic. Also, in case this proof is not known and in the off chance that some of the ideas can be used in the general case. Okay, here we go…

Proof. The idea is to assume that the numbers a,b,c have no common factor and then reach a contradiction. We begin by noting that a^{2m}+b^{2n}=c^{2k} is equivalent to (a^m)^2+(b^n)^2=(c^k)^2. In other words, the triplet (a^m,b^n,c^k) is a Pythagorean triple (sides of a right triangle), so we must have a^m=2rs, b^n=r^2-s^2, c^k =r^2+s^2, for some positive integers r,s with no common factors (otherwise, our assumption that a,b,c have no common factor would be violated). There are two cases to consider now:

Case I: r is even. This implies that 2r=a_0^m and s=a_1^m, where a=a_0\cdot a_1 and a_0,a_1 have no factors in common. Moreover, since b^n=r^2-s^2=(r+s)(r-s) and r,s have no common factors, then r+s,r-s have no common factors either (why?) Hence, r+s = b_0^n, r-s=b_1^n, where b=b_0\cdot b_1 and b_0,b_1 have no factors in common. But, a_0^m = 2r = (r+s)+(r-s)=b_0^n+b_1^n, implying that a_0^m=b_0^n+b_1^n, where b_0,b_1,a_0 have no common factors.

Case II: s is even. This implies that 2s=a_1^m and r=a_0^m, where a=a_0\cdot a_1 and a_0,a_1 have no factors in common. As in Case I, r+s = b_0^n, r-s=b_1^n, where b=b_0\cdot b_1 and b_0,b_1 have no factors in common. But, a_1^m = 2s = (r+s)-(r-s)=b_0^n-b_1^n, implying that a_1^m+b_1^n=b_0^n, where b_0,b_1,a_1 have no common factors.

We have shown, then, that if Beal’s conjecture holds for the exponents (x,y,z)=(n,n,m) and (x,y,z)=(m,n,n), then it holds for (x,y,z)=(2m,2n,2k), for arbitrary k \ge 1. As it turns out, when m=n, Beal’s conjecture becomes Fermat’s Last Theorem, implying that the conjecture holds for all exponents (x,y,z)=(2n,2n,2k), with n\ge 3 and k\ge 1.

Open Problem: Are there any solutions to a^p+b^p= c\cdot (a+b)^q, for a,b,c positive integers and primes p,q\ge 3?

PS: If you find a mistake in the proof above, please let everyone know in the comments. I would really appreciate it!

The complementarity (not incompatibility) of reason and rhyme

Shortly after learning of the Institute for Quantum Information and Matter, I learned of its poetry.

I’d been eating lunch with a fellow QI student at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics. Perimeter’s faculty includes Daniel Gottesman, who earned his PhD at what became Caltech’s IQIM. Perhaps as Daniel passed our table, I wondered whether a liberal-arts enthusiast like me could fit in at Caltech.

“Have you seen Daniel Gottesman’s website?” my friend replied. “He’s written a sonnet.”

Quill

He could have written equations with that quill.

Digesting this news with my chicken wrap, I found the website after lunch. The sonnet concerned quantum error correction, the fixing of mistakes made during computations by quantum systems. After reading Daniel’s sonnet, I found John Preskill’s verses about Daniel. Then I found more verses of John’s.

To my Perimeter friend: You win. I’ll fit in, no doubt.

Exhibit A: the latest edition of The Quantum Times, the newsletter for the American Physical Society’s QI group. On page 10, my enthusiasm for QI bubbles over into verse. Don’t worry if you haven’t heard all the terms in the poem. Consider them guidebook entries, landmarks to visit during a Wikipedia trek.

If you know the jargon, listen to it with a newcomer’s ear. Does anyone other than me empathize with frustrated lattices? Or describe speeches accidentally as “monotonic” instead of as “monotonous”? Hearing jargon outside its natural habitat highlights how not to explain research to nonexperts. Examining names for mathematical objects can reveal properties that we never realized those objects had. Inviting us to poke fun at ourselves, the confrontation of jargon sprinkles whimsy onto the meringue of physics.

No matter your familiarity with physics or poetry: Enjoy. And fifty points if you persuade Physical Review Letters to publish this poem’s sequel.

Quantum information

By Nicole Yunger Halpern

If “CHSH” rings a bell,
you know QI’s fared, lately, well.
Such promise does this field portend!
In Neumark fashion, let’s extend
this quantum-information spring:
dilation, growth, this taking wing.

We span the space of physics types
from spin to hypersurface hype,
from neutron-beam experiment
to Bohm and Einstein’s discontent,
from records of a photon’s path
to algebra and other math
that’s more abstract and less applied—
of platforms’ details, purified.

We function as a refuge, too,
if lattices can frustrate you.
If gravity has got your goat,
momentum cutoffs cut your throat:
Forget regimes renormalized;
our states are (mostly) unit-sized.
Velocities stay mostly fixed;
results, at worst, look somewhat mixed.

Though factions I do not condone,
the action that most stirs my bones
is more a spook than Popov ghosts; 1
more at-a-distance, less quark-close.

This field’s a tot—cacophonous—
like cosine, not monotonous.
Cacophony enlivens thought:
We’ve learned from noise what discord’s not.

So take a chance on wave collapse;
enthuse about the CP maps;
in place of “part” and “piece,” say “bit”;
employ, as yardstick, Hilbert-Schmidt;
choose quantum as your nesting place,
of all the fields in physics space.

1 With apologies to Ludvig Faddeev.