They say fusion is 50 years away, and they've  been saying that for 50 years.

But if so why   are billions suddenly being pumped into  fusion startups?

Well to train LLMs,   but there's a reason the technobrats are  bullish on fusion in particular.

The fact is,   the technological challenges have been  chipped away and in many cases solved   over the past decades, and there's really  no one deal-breaker difficulty remaining.

One of the final challenges is deciding  on the physical vessel to contain our mini   artificial stars--and we have some pretty  sci-fi options that are nearly ready to go.

Solar power is the ultimate in clean  energy—and it’s delicious when you can get it,   which isn’t everywhere all the time.

But solar  power is just fusion power that’s happening far   away.

Slam hydrogen nuclei together into  helium and a bit of the original mass is   converted into energy.

In the core of the Sun,  that energy mostly radiates into empty space,   with a miniscule fraction hitting the  Earth and powering nearly all of life.

A minisculer fraction hits our solar panels,  and only in, well, sunny places and times.

There’s a limit to how far we can scale  solar energy collection until we build our   Dyson sphere.

Why build a cage around a star  if you can instead build a star inside a cage?

What if we can run mini-Suns right here on the  surface of the Earth?

That’s the goal of the   artificial fusion reactor.

Today I want to talk  about a specific aspect of fusion—and that’s how   to confine hydrogen fusion in a way that leads  to a net energy output.

I want to talk about   how to bottle a star.

I’m going to reference  ITER a lot—that’s the European Union’s fusion   experiment—and I’ll refer to it because it’s  the largest and arguably the most advanced,   and is projected to achieve “first plasma” this  year.

I do want to emphasize that there’s a LOT   of exciting stuff in recent years from smaller  efforts—both national programs and increasingly   private endeavors.

We’ll come back to some of  the more speculative advances another time.

Let’s start by taking whatever lessons we can  from the Sun.

Our home star sustains a steady   fusion rate for billions of years because  it confines its nuclear inferno by crushing   it under the weight of 100,000 Earths.

Single  protons—hydrogen nuclei—are fused in a series of   steps to produce helium-4 plus a lot of energy.

The Sun’s proton-proton chain runs at something   like 100 million Earth atmospheres of pressure  and over 15 million Kelvin temperature, generating   the equivalent of 20 million times the entire  world’s nuclear arsenal in energy every second.

So the Sun both crams protons close together and  gets them moving really fast in order to get them   to stick.

We need to do the same—we need to both  compress and heat our nuclei.

And the resulting   fusion needs to output more energy than was  used to reach that state.

One big efficiency   upgrade is to focus on the most energy-rich fusion  reactions.

Rather than going all the way to helium   from single protons like the Sun does, we can fuse  the heavy hydrogen isotopes deuterium and tritium.

The Sun can achieve net energy gain starting with  protons because of the incredible densities it   reaches.

Even with heavy isotope fusion, have  to  compensate further with a lot higher temperatures— in fact something like 100 times the  temperature of the core of the sun.

There is no material in the universe that wouldn’t  be instantly vaporized at the temperatures   needed for fusion.

How are we supposed  to even contain our fusion reaction,   let alone crush it to the needed pressures?

Well, there are two broad approaches.

Inertial  confinement and magnetic confinement.

Inertial   confinement attempts to slam nuclei together  with some sort of shock.

In 2022 the National   Ignition Facility achieved net energy output  for the first time by forcing fuel together   with lasers.

But it’s not the first inertial  confinement approach to succeed.

The hydrogen   bomb is a type of inertial confinement  where the thing slamming nuclei together   is an fission bomb—an old-school atomic  explosion.

The latter is rather uncontrolled,   and so not suitable for sustained energy  production.

But even the controlled inertial   confinement approaches have the issue of rather  bursty energy output, and so are generally not   thought to be the most likely option for our  first-generation commercial fusion reactors.

Those are more likely to be magnetic confinement  reactors.

The hydrogen in a reactor is so hot that   positively charged nuclei are stripped of their  negatively charged electrons making a plasma of   electrically charged particles that can be  manipulated by magnetic fields.

These fields   are created by powerful electromagnets made from  superconductors, and those superconductors have to   be cooled to near absolute zero.

So you have this  center-of-a-star-hot plasma, mere meters away from   matter that’s colder than intergalactic space.

So  to bottle our star we have to create the largest   temperature gradient in the known universe—which I  guess is something to be proud of all on its own.

Magnetic confinement reactors work by squeezing  the plasma so it flows around a torus, and then   compressing the torus with magnetic field and  heating it by blasting in energy via particle   beams until fusion is achieved.

This has to be  done cleverly because if you just run plasma in a   circle leads, various instabilities that are fatal  for your plasma, and perhaps for your reactor… The leading solutions for stable toroidal plasma  confinement are the tokamak and stellarator.

The   details of their differences aren’t too  important here.

Tokamaks are more widely   used—for example by ITER, so I’ll cover this just  briefly.

Tokamaks use three systems of magnets.

The first system is the Torodial system,  which is the main containment system and   gives the plasma the donut shape.

The next  system is the poloidal system which helps   shape and position the plasma near the inner  wall.

This is to help compress the plasma for   more reactions to occur.

Lastly, the central  solenoid drives the direction of the plasma,   spinning the plasma in a circle.

Tokamaks suppress instabilities by … In contrast, stellarators combine all three  magnetic systems into one using a 3D design,   making them significantly more complicated.

To some extent, the magnetic field is a  relatively solved problem.

There are no doubt   refinements to be made in the form of the field,  and definitely in the generation of the field with   new superconductor technology.

That’s something  we can come back to another time.

Currently,   one of the biggest engineering and research  challenges in fusion is in how to build the   actual physical containment chamber for  that field and the plasma it holds.

How   do we build a wall that can hold a mini-Sun?

The magnetic fields certainly helps by creating   what’s called the ‘pedestal’ region,  where the plasma is cooler and sparser,   relative to the middle where the fusion  reactions are happening, this helps create   a small buffer between the fusion plasma and the  wall.

So the material doesn’t literally have to   withstand contact with millions-Kelvin  plasmas.

But it still has to do a lot.

That wall is the first point of contact between  the plasma and the outside world—and we call that   plasma-facing surface the first-wall.

While the  magnetic field keeps the highest temperature parts   of the plasma out of direct contact with the wall,  a lot of energetic particles do reach it, and the   wall needs to withstand that.

It then needs to  take the heat generated by this incoming radiation   and transport it to somewhere useful to actually  generate power.

Finally, as if this wasn’t enough,   the chamber wall needs to create new fuel  for fusion.

Let’s look at these one by one.

Within the coiled ribbon of millions-of-Kelvin  plasma, heavy hydrogen nuclei collide and release   energetic gamma rays and very fast-moving neutrons  and helium nuclei.

Those gamma rays and helium   nuclei help keep the plasma hot.

So hot that it  radiates x-rays.

This thermal radiation bakes   the outer wall of the chamber, and the wall  has to very quickly conduct this heat to the   cooling system quickly or be at risk of melting.

Even more energy is carried by the neutrons.

These neutral particles are not affected by  the magnetic field and so fly straight out of   the plasma.

They deposit kinetic energy into the  wall, and this is the main source of heat energy   from fusion.

Some neutrons hit nuclei in the  wall, potentially creating unstable isotopes.

Some helium and hydrogen nuclei also end up with  enough energy to escape the magnetic field and   reach the first wall.

Some of these are tritium  nuclei, which are also highly unstable.

As a   result of the neutron and tritium bombardment  the wall becomes more radioactive over time.

These impacts also erode the wall, with the  wall’s own nuclei getting smacked from the   surface into the plasma chamber in  an effect called sputtering.

This   degrades the shielding over time,  and also contaminates the plasma.

Finally, an imperfect wall structure can lead  to runaway instabilities in the plasma called   “edge localization modes”.

These can result in  localized failure of the magnetic confinement,   and to large amounts of energy being  dumped into the wall, which is not   good for the wall.

This can also trigger larger  magnetohydrodynamic instabilities in the plasma,   causing the plasma to shed a lot of energy  and potentially kill the fusion reaction.

Assuming our wall can survive the above,  the heat generated within the wall will   be carried away by some “working  fluid”--water is a popular choice,   but also molten salts and even lithium.

The working fluid both cools the wall   and heats the fluid to the point  that it can turn a generator.

We’ve just generated electricity.

Nice.

But even  if we got more power out than we used to create   our plasma, this process is not sustainable.

The deuterium part of the fuel is enormously   abundant—there are 33 grams per cubic meter of  seawater, which means basically limitless.

But   the tritium is not abundant—it has a half-life of  12 years and so is almost non-existent naturally.

The reactor has to make its own tritium.

That’s not super complicated.

Hit a lithium   nucleus with a neutron and it’ll split into two  tritium nuclei.

So the trick is to place a layer   of lithium behind the first wall.

That wall  will slow neutrons from the fusion reaction,   extracting some of their energy, and the  neutrons will then hit the lithium and   breed tritium.

Obviously the lithium has to be  replaced, but fortunately lithium is moderately   abundant—with thousands of years worth in the  ground and millions of years worth in the ocean.

One major issue with this is that the fusion  reaction doesn’t produce enough neutrons to   breed a sustainable amount of tritium.

To deal  with this, a neutron multiplier is needed—this   is a layer of material that amplifies the  neutron flux—one neutron goes in and two come   out to feed the tritium breeder.

That way each  fusion reaction replaces the tritium it uses.

So now that we know all the miracles  that the reactor wall has to pull off,   let’s look at the options for materials.

The most traditional pick for a fusion reactor  first wall is the metal tungsten.

It’s metal,   so it’s structurally strong.

And it has the  highest melting temperature of all metals,   so can stay solid under heavier bombardment.

It’s also less inclined to hold onto as many   of the radioactive tritium as other  materials.

And, very importantly,   it has a low sputtering rate—fewer  tungsten atoms ejected into the plasma.

However, it also has a major weakness with  regards sputtering—in that those tungsten   atoms that do join the plasma have a pretty  unfortunate effect.

Tungsten has 74 protons in   the nucleus compared to hydrogen’s one proton.

That means tungsten’s electrons are much more   strongly bound.

So while the plasma’s hydrogen  is fully ionized—liberated of electrons— the   tungsten atom will retain 20 or 30 electrons,  even inside the plasma.

So now when a tungsten   atom bumps into another particle in the plasma,  some of the energy of the collision goes into   exciting one of those electron.

That electron  then drops back to a de-excited state, emitting   a photon in the process.

And that photon then  escapes the plasma, taking that energy with it.

The larger the atomic number of the atom, the  more electrons it can retain in the plasma,   and also the smaller the energy gap  between electron levels.

That means   more opportunities ot absorb energy  from the plasma and radiate it away.

This effect is called line emission cooling,  and it’s a great way to lose a lot of energy   from your plasma very quickly.

Even a little  bit of a heavy element like tungsten in the   plasma can make it very difficult to  keep it hot enough to sustain fusion.

Tungsten has major advantages, but the issue  with pollution of the plasma was enough to   convince the ITER team to try something  different.

At least to start with.

In fact,   they planned to go in the opposite direction to  tungsten in terms of location on the periodic   table by using beryllium for the plasma-facing  layer.

Beryllium is the 4th element on the   periodic table, so even though it will end up  polluting the plasma, those contaminants tend   to be completely ionized.

There are very few  electrons in atomic shells to radiate away the   plasma’s heat.

In fact, beryllium actually removes  pollutants.

It can capture oxygen impurities,   which themselves are released from oxidized  metals in the vessel wall when the machine is   running.

Oxygen in the plasma can cause  the plasma to cool just like tungsten.

Beryllium has other major benefits.

It has  an extremely high thermal conductivity,   allowing it to quickly transfer heat from  the front plasma-facing surface to the back   surface with the cooling systems.

And one of  the most compelling benefits of Beryllium is   that it acts as a neutron multiplier—doubling  the neutrons available for tritium breeding.

So what’s the downside?

Beryllium does have a  much higher sputtering rate than tungsten—and   even though the ejected impurities don’t harm  the plasma nearly as much, this does mean the   beryllium surface erodes much more quickly than  tungsten.

That means the wall needs to be replaced   more often.

Also, fluctuations in the plasma will  induce electrical currents in a beryllium wall,   and those currents experience massive  forces from the strong magnetic field.

This can damage the wall and even cause  it to fail while the reactor is running.

A huge disadvantage of beryllium is that it’s  extremely toxic.

Erosion of the wall fills the   reactor chamber with beryllium dust, which  cannot under any circumstances be allowed   to get out of the reactor if you want to keep  your nuclear engineers "operational."

Finally,   beryllium is super rare.

ITER would need  12 tonnes of the stuff for its first wall.

ITER had originally planned a beryllium first  wall, but just in 2023 decided that the hassles   outweighed the benefits and shifted their plan to  good ol’ tungsten.

This is a pretty safe choice   for ITER as an experimental facility,  but for commercial fusion some kind of   neutron multiplier feeding the tritium breeder is  needed.

ITER is currently testing various options.

So we still have the problem of tungsten polluting  the plasma.

There are other options for the   plasma-facing surface though.

Boron is currently  getting the most attention from the ITER crew,   since it’s the next lightest element after  beryllium.

The idea is to build a tungsten wall,   and then sprinkle a little bit of boron  powder into the reactor while its running.

This should then evaporate and coat the  wall, reducing the amount of tungsten   that cooks off into the plasma.

Boron does  the icky side effect of retaining tritium,   which means the inner wall could become  dangerously radioactive over time.

Meanwhile, going the other direction on the  periodic table from beryllium we get lithium,   which if you remember we were using to breed  tritium behind the first wall.

At first glance   lithium seems a non-starter for the plasma facing  wall because lithium metal has a melting point   of 182 degrees Celsius.

But who says the  first wall really has to be solid.

There’s   this idea to coat the reactor chamber in  a layer of liquid lithium, which has many   advantages.

You can’t really damage a liquid  structurally—Seriously, go hit a lake with a   hammer and see what happens.

Lithium nuclei would  end up in the plasma instead of the tungsten   behind it.

But this is actually good for the  plasma.

Getting plasmas up to temperature requires   physicists to add large amounts of energy,  both with EM fields and with “neutral beam   injectors”.

Experiments like the Lithium  Tokamak Experiment-Beta (LTX-β) at the   Princeton Plasma Physics Lab suggest that  a little bit of lithium in the plasma may   help the plasma get up to temperature more  easily.

Finally, the lithium can even double   as the coolant and the tritium breeder if it  is moved through and behind the tungsten wall.

As I said, ITER is supposed to produce its  first plasma this year, but is projected   to achieve its first fusion reaction in  2035, smashing two deuteriums together to  produce helium-3.

Now its first commercial  grade deuterium-tritium fusion is slated   for 2039.

If all that works then I guess we  build a lot of them.

But it's also possible   that one of the many smaller enterprises will  beat ITER--they certainly talk a big game,   with some projecting first-fusion in  the next few years.

But that's a story   for another episode.

Personally I don't  care who wins--I just want my infinite   free energy so I can train a godlike  LLM to take over writing spacetime.