List of practice Questions

Building transistors today is done with lithography, which is a "top-down'' process that uses patterning to create the complex layers that make up the transistor structure. It’s a bit like exposing a negative on photographic paper to get the pattern you want and then using this pattern as a template to place each material—metal, insulator or semiconductor—in exactly the right location. This process has worked successfully since the 1950s. But as we get to ever-smaller dimensions, new approaches to building nano-scale devices will be required. At IBM’s T.J. Watson Research Center, we use a technique called self-assembly to grow and directly control nanostructures that could one day form parts of integrated circuits. Self-assembly looks at a ``bottom-up’’ approach that builds nanostructures in a way that is dictated by physics rather than by an imposed pattern. In some ways it’s like farming, in that you plant seeds to grow a crop, and then support the growth with the right conditions to get the result you want.
Exploring self-assembly doesn’t mean we are ready to throw away today’s approach; instead, we want to use top-down strategies that we have already learned over many years, and combine them with new tricks that use self-assembly. Think of it as water splashing onto a pane of glass. It spontaneously forms little hemispheres because of surface tension. But the positions and sizes of the droplets are random. Now imagine there is a scratch on the glass. Water droplets form on the scratch, because it is a good, low energy place for the water molecules to stick. We have now combined self-assembly (make a hemispherical droplet on this surface) with an imposed pattern (make a droplet on this part of the surface by using carefully placed scratches.) The result is that we can build more complicated patterns. Flexible, customized patterns—like this water example, but on the nano-scale—help us build integrated circuits. The more precisely we can direct this self-assembly, the more versatility we can achieve.
 

The genius of American democracy comes not from any special virtue of the American people but from the unprecedented opportunities of this continent and from a peculiar and unrepeatable combination of historical circumstances. These circumstances have given our institutions their character and their virtues. The very same facts which explain these virtues, explain also our inability to make a ``philosophy'' of them. They explain, therefore, why we have nothing in the line of a theory that can be exported to other peoples of the world. We should not ask others to adopt our ``philosophy'' because we have no philosophy which can be exported. My argument is simple. It is based on forgotten commonplaces of American history—facts so obvious that we no longer see them. I argue, in a word, that American democracy is unique. It possesses a ``genius'' all its own. By this I mean what the Romans might have described as the tutelary spirit assigned to our nation at its birth and presiding over its destiny. Or what we more prosaically might call a characteristic disposition of our culture.
In one sense, of course, everybody has a political theory, even if it is expressed only in hostility to theories. But this is a barren paradox, concealing more than it discovers. In our political life we have been like Molière's M. Jourdain, who was astonished to discover that all his life he had been speaking prose. We have not been much interested in the ``grammar'' of politics; we have been more interested in the way it works rather than in the theory behind it.
While Artificial Intelligence was born prematurely in an era that treated it with skepticism, it overcame the challenges and now boasts of a present where machines perform highly specialized tasks. A few decades more and we may have Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) – machines that are capable of human-level performance on full range of tasks that at present we only can tackle.
But have we accounted for what this progress entails? The future prospects of AGI have led to a marked divide in the scientific community. On one hand, we have the Progressive Scientists who support AGI, and on the other we have the Ethical Scientists who consider the flight to be as perilous as that of Icarus. The Progressive Scientists have maintained a cavalier attitude towards the fear expressed by the Ethical Scientists and have dismissed it as the fear of “unknown”. They realize little that this doubt stems out, not from what is unseen but out of what exists. A look at the history shows that humans are themselves far from being reliably human-friendly. We do many terrible things to each other and to many other sensitive creatures with whom we share the planet. If super-intelligent machines can’t prove to be a lot better than us, we’ll be in deep trouble. We’ll have powerful new intelligence amplifying the dark sides of our own fallible natures. Given how catastrophic the consequences could be, the disdain with which the Ethical scientists view the future of AGI does not seem misplaced.