During a break between snow flurries last night, I slogged out to the MIT campus to watch the Autonomous Robot Design Competition. This year, the teams built autonomous "space cats"--Lego robots charged with hunting down and bringing back robot mice that (mostly) wandered the field of play.

Our next shoot for the Materials Science mini series "Making Stuff" brought us to the annual fall meeting of the Materials Research Society (MRS), our partner in creating "Making Stuff." As their website states, they are "an organization of materials researchers from academia, industry, and government that promotes communication for the advancement of interdisciplinary materials research to improve the quality of life." This annual meeting is where the who's who of the Materials Science world come to rub elbows, spread their knowledge and share the enthusiasm they have for their field. Our host David Pogue hit the floor of the Hynes Convention Center in Boston ready to tackle some tough questions. Or more accurately, some stiff questions.

You see, when it comes to materials, most people's idea of what "strength" means is inaccurate. Our expert on material strength, Mark Eberhart explains...

In casual conversation the word "strong" has multiple meanings, most of which are quite different from what a scientist means when using this word.  For example, upon seeing bullets bounce off a sheet of steel, we might describe the steel as strong.  A rock climber might be thankful for the strong rope that brought her to a stop after a thirty-foot fall. And, a builder might represent an I-beam as strong because it bends immeasurably when supporting an entire building.  Actually, none of the materials in these examples is necessarily strong...

Every summer, they descend on Stonehenge by the thousands to watch the sun rise on the longest day of the year -Pagans, Druids, party animals, foreign exchange students, families with kids, documentary producers.  Some dance, drum or dream the night away; others sip or smoke all manner of mind-altering substances.  When dawn arrives obscured by clouds (or sheets of rain, like the year I tried to attend), no one seems to mind. The vibe is festive and life affirming.  I wonder how many revelers realize they've just boogied down on a sacred burial ground.

In the year 2009, NOVA lost a very good friend - Robert Rines, who passed away at the age of 87. Bob was a man of many talents - a patent attorney who founded a law school dedicated to intellectual property law; a member of the National Inventors Hall of Fame and holder of more than 100 patents; a musician and composer who, at the age of 11, played a violin duet with Einstein.

 

One day more than a decade ago, I had lunch with Bob and he told me about an upcoming trip to Scotland's Loch Ness.  In 1972, Bob had what he always believed was a sighting of an enormous creature in Loch Ness, and ever after, one of his greatest passions was searching for the so-called Loch Ness monster, aka Nessie.

With his talent for drawing the best and the brightest into his circle, Bob assembled a team of faithful followers and lots of high powered electronics to help him in his search. On the team was my husband, Sheldon Apsell, like Bob an MIT alumnus and an inventor. Sheldon accompanied Bob to Loch Ness for many years, and he was there in 1999 when, as a result of the enthusiasm generated at my luncheon with Bob, we made a NOVA documentary about the search for Nessie.

August 26, 2009, 5:24 am --40 minutes to sunrise.  In the Stonehenge parking lot, we huddle by our cars, fumbling with flashlights and drinking coffee from a thermos to ward off the chill. Our cameraman and soundman have unloaded their gear, and we're poised to head into the stone circle for approximately three precious hours of "exclusive access."  But the security guards have decided there's not yet enough ambient light for us to move safely among the stones. So we wait.

The guards are mostly young strapping men.  They wear fluorescent yellow rain jackets that almost glow in the dark, but the rest of their gear is black --trousers, sweaters, gloves, knit caps, and massive flashlights that look a lot like billy clubs.  I wonder how spooky or lonely it might be to patrol Stonehenge all night, and I ask one of the guards.  He chuckles and says he much prefers night shifts to working days.  Why?   He smacks his flashlight rhythmically into the palm of his left hand.  "Because at night you get jumpers."   Jumpers?  "People who jump the fence.  They think no one's looking, that they're gonna get in and touch the stones.  But no jumper has ever got to the stones on my watch. Keeps it interesting. Keeps me fit."