Ars Technica
중도 성향
IT/기술
S&P 500 blocks fast SpaceX entry, won’t waive rule for unprofitable AI firms
SpaceX won’t get easy access to billions of dollars from passive investors.
🇺🇸 미국 · IT/기술 · "BLOCKS" · 총 13건
필터 보기현재 지수
50.0
0 = 부정 우세
50 = 중립
100 = 긍정 우세
최근 7일 기준 11,970건을 분석한 결과, 뉴스 심리지수는 50.0(균형)입니다. 긍정 1건(0.0%)·중립 11,968건(100.0%)·부정 1건(0.0%)이며, 중립 비중이 뚜렷하게 높습니다. 성향 지수는 종합 19.1(중도 균형)입니다.
SpaceX won’t get easy access to billions of dollars from passive investors.
This popular ad blocker app for iPhones, iPads, and Macs can now block ads from loading inside apps, including web browsers, thanks to a new feature in the latest Apple software.
The legal building blocks for AI personhood already exist, scattered across corporate law, animal rights cases, and First Amendment doctrine
Electrons are great. We use them to move vehicles, illuminate cities, and, of course, compute. But computation is not confined to the world of electronics. And shifting to alternative nonelectronic realms can unlock unique advantages: Photonic chips, for instance, process information with light while generating little heat. Another compelling alternative is fluidics, which uses pressurized gases or liquids to build logic circuits. Pioneered in the 1960s but sidelined by microchips, the field reemerged in the 1990s as “microfluidics.” This approach aims to shrink laboratories onto a single chip by creating microscopic fluid channels with integrated micropneumatic control systems. Today, there is a second fluidic revival, this time in the domain of soft robotics. Scaling microfluidic designs up to the millimeter-scale range (millifluidics) enables the higher flow rates necessary to drive robotic actuators. These robots exploit the nonlinear behaviors of soft materials to create lifelike motion and safer interactions, often utilizing pressurized air. By building systems that “think” with the same air that powers them, we can drastically reduce the need for bulky electronic-to-pneumatic interfaces. This is the focus of my Soiboi Studio robotics lab. With millifluidic logic, I have steadily scaled the complexity of my designs. What began with a simple oscillator has most recently evolved into a clock featuring a soft, four-digit, seven-segment display. What Is Millifluidics? Building on microfluidics research from the early 2000s and recent developments from the Grover Lab at the University of California, Riverside, I’ve developed millifluidic devices using standard 3D printing and silicone casting. The basic architecture is simple: A flexible membrane is sandwiched between rigid layers embedded with networks of air channels. Just as electronics rely on differing voltage potentials, these fluidic circuits operate on the pressure difference between atmospheric pressure (logical 0) and a near-vacuum at around −60 kilopascals of relative pressure (logical 1). Using negative pressure means the membrane is pulled into openings. This creates robust seals that allow me to replicate electronic building blocks. A cast silicone membrane forms the face of the clock [top], while behind it sits 3D-printed millifluidic blocks [middle rows]. An Arduino Uno controls driver boards that operate solenoids, which are connected to valves that are attached to a vacuum pump [bottom row].James Provost While fluidic resistors are easily realized by adjusting the channel geometry, the heart of the system is a valve that mimics a metal-oxide-semiconductor field-effect transistor, or MOSFET. This vacuum “transistor” features a flow layer with two chambers (the source and drain) divided by a central valve seat and a control layer containing a cavity (the gate). A membrane runs between the control and flow layers and normally prevents airflow between the source and drain chambers. To switch the transistor on, a vacuum is applied to the gate chamber, sucking the membrane into the cavity and lifting it off the seat. This opens a path for airflow, equivalent to closing an electric circuit. By adding a small aperture to the membrane, I created a check valve—the fluidic equivalent of a diode. By combining transistors and resistive “pull-down” channels, I can build a full suite of logic gates. The original microfluidic designs that inspired me were fabricated from etched glass and milled acrylic. Adapting them for a standard 3D printer required reengineering the logic elements and mastering two critical fabrication techniques. First, I need airtight prints, yet printed plastic is notoriously porous. By printing at elevated temperatures, slow speeds, and slight overextrusion, I was able to fill microscopic gaps. When you’re using transparent filament, there’s a handy visual indicator: The more transparent the plastic appears, the lower its porosity. Second, I used glass for my print bed. By printing the upper and lower chambers directly against this bed, I got the interface surface to become mirror smooth. This finish is essential for creating reliable, airtight seals. A 0.3-millimeter silicone membrane is placed between the layers and secured with screws. How Does the Soft Clock Work? The clockface is a cast silicone membrane. Each digit segment is formed by a small underlying cavity. When air is evacuated from this cavity, the membrane is sucked inward to create a concave hollow; when atmospheric pressure is restored, the silicone pops back flush with the surface. The result is a mesmerizing, organic motion. The “brain” of the clock is an Arduino Uno, while the fluidics significantly reduce the hardware footprint. A four-digit, seven-segment display with two separator dots would require 29 solenoid valves to control directly. My clock needs just 11 valves. A pneumatic transistor is off when its upper control chamber is at atmospheric pressure [top]. When air is removed from the control chamber, it lifts a membrane, which allows air to flow between lower flow chambers and turns the transistor on [bottom]. James Provost To understand how it works, consider a standard electronic four-digit, seven-segment LED display. This also uses 11 pins to drive its digits. (In clockface displays, an additional pin is required to drive the separator dots.) Every digit is connected to a shared data bus with seven lines, one per segment. The four control lines select individual digits. Only one digit is illuminated at time, and strobing the digits at least 50 times per second creates the illusion that all four are simultaneously illuminated. Such high-speed switching is not possible with air. Instead, I rely on memory. Each segment acts like a capacitor: By evacuating its cavity (logic 1), you “charge” the segment; by restoring atmospheric pressure (logic 0), you discharge it. Hence, each digit acts as an independent 7-bit memory. If the system is sufficiently airtight, the segments maintain their state for several seconds. Like the electronic display, the system utilizes a seven-line data bus. Each line connects to a solenoid valve that provides either vacuum or atmospheric pressure. To selectively address the individual digits, I placed a fluidic transistor between each segment and its data line. All the transistors’ control inputs for a given digit are combined into one “write enable” line connected to its own solenoid valve. Activating this valve allows me to write data into the corresponding digit’s memory. The clock updates one digit per second, meaning a full cycle across the face takes 4 seconds. This cycle also drives the separator dots: A set of fluidic diodes connects the enable lines to the dots’ cavities. Consequently, as each digit is addressed, the dots pulse automatically. This display is more than a clock; it is a soft robot that happens to tell time. By offloading computation to the same air that powers movement, the clock approaches a new class of machines that are simpler, lighter, and more integrated. I’m now developing a guide for getting started with vacuum-powered logic and may release a refined version of this clock in the future. Watching the silicone skin morph serves as a fascinating reminder that not all logic needs silicon; sometimes, all you need is flexible silicone and a flow of air. This article appears in the June 2026 print issue as “The Soft Clock.”
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I have been an application-specific IC (ASIC) designer for almost three decades. Over that time, I’ve moved through the full academic trajectory, from graduate student to full professor; later, I transitioned to industry after an unsuccessful stint at entrepreneurship. When I made the switch to the private sector in 2019, I began focusing on a critically important aspect of the electronic industry: silicon intellectual property. As much as 80 percent of the physical area in today’s most advanced chips is occupied by blocks that aren’t made for specific products or even designed by the consumer-facing companies that built them. Instead, chipmakers draw heavily on established silicon IP from companies like Arm, Cadence, Rambus, Synopsys, and the company I work for, Silicon Creations. Throughout my career, I’ve designed chips for very different purposes, including enabling the research program in my academic lab and expanding the IP portfolio of my company. When I joined Silicon Creations, I had no idea how differently the industry approaches IC design and encountered a steep learning curve. Initially, it seemed that much of my two decades of academic research and training did not directly translate to the role. I had to learn new skills and adopt a new mindset. Today, demand for ASICs is rapidly growing, driven by the need for specialized chips in the automotive sector, AI applications, and more. By one market estimate, the ASIC market is expected to grow from US $23.4 billion to $38.8 billion by 2033, and the semiconductor industry as a whole is projected to hit $1 trillion by 2030. The industry needs more chip designers—but if you’re coming from an academic background as I did, there are a few things you’ll need to know. Different goals lead to different strategies The differences between industry and academe begin with a divergence in purpose. In academia, my primary objective was to generate new knowledge: to propose a novel circuit technique, validate an unconventional architecture, or explore the limits of performance in a given domain. A successful chip is one that demonstrates a concept. In industry, it is not nearly enough to prove that something can work. The goal is to ensure that it works reliably, repeatedly, and at scale. Success is measured not by novelty but by whether the silicon meets specifications, yields as expected in production, and supports a competitive product delivered on schedule. This leads to a stark contrast in risk tolerance. Academic designs often deliberately push into unproven territory, where even partial success can yield valuable insight. In industry, however, we systematically minimize risk. The cost of failure makes first-time silicon success a central requirement—especially at advanced technology nodes, where the lithography masks used to transfer circuit designs onto silicon wafers alone can cost tens of millions of dollars. As a result, industry design flows are built around eliminating uncertainty through conservative margins, extensive validation, and careful reuse of proven solutions. “Academia explores the design space, asking what is possible, while industry exploits it, determining what is viable at scale.” This paradigm has existed since the 1970s, when application-specific chip design was established. However, the gulf between academia and industry has expanded since the mid-2010s, when FinFET technology, a 3D architecture using vertical “fins” of silicon, was widely adopted in industry. System designs are also becoming increasingly modular with the advent of chiplets. This fundamentally altered the economics and complexity of ASIC development, with design costs rising by almost an order of magnitude. Initiatives like Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co.’s University FinFET Program and new government-funded chip-design hubs now let some well-resourced universities design for more advanced architectures, but the technology is still out of reach for many academics. What the industry-academia split means in practice Consider a startup developing an ASIC. Its engineering team may have deep expertise in a particular algorithm, sensor interface, or system architecture, the features that define its competitive advantage. But it is unlikely to possess world-class expertise in every supporting function. Developing each of these blocks internally would require significant time, capital, and specialized talent. Doing so could delay market entry beyond the startup’s viability. Even large semiconductor companies face similar constraints. Advanced-node development demands intense focus. Allocating a team to redesign a standard interface block that has already been implemented elsewhere may be difficult to justify when differentiation lies at the system level, such as an inference chip’s ability to speed up neural network computations. The time it takes to move a new chip from conception to market and risk mitigation, not self-sufficiency, govern most decisions about in-house development versus outsourcing. The economics of advanced IC manufacturing reinforce this reality. When the development cost of a leading-edge chip reaches hundreds of millions of dollars, minimizing risk becomes a central design imperative. In this context, silicon IP emerged as a practical solution. Similar to how software developers rely on preexisting libraries rather than writing every function from scratch, ASIC designers license predesigned, preverified silicon blocks—such as processor cores, memory interfaces, and security engines—from highly specialized IP vendors. These blocks can then be integrated into larger, increasingly complex systems. Design scope, verification, and time horizons With the use of silicon IP, industry is able to widen the scope of its designs. Academic efforts tend to focus on block-level innovation: a new analog-to-digital converter architecture or an ultralow-noise amplifier, for instance. These designs typically abstract away many of the complexities of bringing a chip to market, such as packaging constraints, long-term reliability, and manufacturing yield. In industry, the focus shifts to system-level integration. Modern systems on chips, or SoCs, incorporate dozens or even hundreds of functional blocks. Managing signal integrity, timing, firmware interaction, and system-level validation becomes as critical as the design of any individual block. Verification philosophy also diverges sharply. In academia, the goal of verification is to demonstrate that the concept works under nominal conditions, which may not always reflect how it would perform in real applications. Even if only a fraction of fabricated chips from a multiproject wafer operates correctly, the design may still be considered a success if it validates the underlying idea. At my academic lab for instance, we used to receive 40 chips from a TSMC prototyping service and started testing them in batches of five. If the first five or 10 chips proved functional, we had already collected more than enough data for a publication. If some of them failed, we weren’t required to mention this when publishing the results. In industry, verification is exhaustive, critical, and often dominates the development schedule. Failures are measured in parts per million, and even rare anomalies are carefully analyzed and documented to identify root causes and prevent recurrence. When I started at Silicon Creations, I was surprised by the level of detail and scrutiny designs face. Differences in time horizons and economic constraints reinforce each of these contrasts. Academic projects operate on flexible timelines aligned with research and funding cycles. If I missed a deadline, I just had to wait for the next cycle. Industry projects are driven by fixed product schedules and market windows, frequently targeting costly leading-edge nodes to achieve competitive performance, power, and area efficiency. Missing a deadline can negate the value of an entire design and may have major financial consequences along the entire supply chain. In essence, academia explores the design space, asking what is possible, while industry exploits it, determining what is viable at scale. Both are indispensable, but they operate under fundamentally different definitions of success. As ASIC complexity continues to grow, understanding both perspectives will be essential for the next generation of engineers navigating the evolving semiconductor landscape. This article appears in the June 2026 print issue.
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Garlic, as your grandmother may have told you, repels mosquitoes; it also completely blocks them from mating and laying eggs. Diallyl disulfide, it turns out, deserves the credit.
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Editor’s note: If you’d like to pinpoint the instant when the world entered the nuclear age, 5:29:45 a.m. Mountain War Time on 16 July 1945, is an excellent choice. That was the moment when human beings first unleashed the power of the nucleus in an immense, blinding ball of fire above a gloomy stretch of desert in the Jornada del Muerto basin in New Mexico. Emily Seyl’s Trinity: An Illustrated History of the World’s First Atomic Test (The University of Chicago Press) offers hundreds of startlingly vivid photographs of the Manhattan Project that emerged from a 20-year restoration effort. This excerpt and the accompanying photos record the massive effort to capture the awesome detonation of “the Gadget.” aspect_ratioReprinted with permission from Trinity: An Illustrated History of the World’s First Atomic Test by Emily Seyl with contributions by Alan B. Carr, published by The University of Chicago Press. © 2026 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved. In the North 10,000 photography bunker, Berlyn Brixner was listening to the countdown on a loudspeaker, his head inside a turret loaded with cameras and film. He was one of the only people instructed to look toward the blast—through his welder’s glasses—ready to follow the path of the fireball as it launched into the sky. The two Mitchell movie cameras at his station would deliver the best footage to come of the Trinity test, used by Los Alamos scientists to make some of the first measurements of the effects of a nuclear explosion. Related: New Trinity Book Uncovers Images of the First Atomic Test When the detonators fired, the cameras captured what Brixner could not have seen—the very first light of a violent, silent sea of energy unfurling into the basin. As 32 blocks of high explosives erupted all together, their incredible force surged inward toward the sleeping plutonium core, compressing the dense sphere of metal instantaneously from all sides and bringing its atoms impossibly close together. A carefully timed burst of neutrons sowed momentary, uncontrolled chaos, and then, as quickly as it began, the fission chain reaction ended. Footage from a high-speed Fastax camera in Brixner’s bunker, shot through a thick glass porthole, shows a translucent orb bursting through the darkness less than a hundredth of a second after detonation, as a rush of heat, light, and matter blew apart the Gadget. When the brightness faded enough for witnesses to make out ground zero, they saw a wall of dust rise up around a brilliant, shape-shifting, multicolored ball of flames—forming a fiery cloud that shot into the sky atop a twisting stream of debris. The camera footage tells a story no less dramatic but hundreds of times more intricate, preserving the moment for scientists to return to again and again to measure and describe the behavior of the fireball and other visible effects with exacting detail. On balance, the photography effort was a huge success, despite only 11 of the 52 cameras producing satisfactory images. By arranging those cameras at intentionally staggered distances, complementary angles, and with a broad spectrum of frame rates and focal lengths, the Spectrographic and Photographic Measurements Group was able to piece together a remarkably complete picture of their subject. On 12 July 1945, Herbert Lehr, a U.S. Army sergeant and electrical engineer assigned to Los Alamos, delivered the plutonium core to the McDonald ranch house, where the bomb was assembled. Los Alamos National Laboratory According to the group’s leader, Julian Mack, the more than 100,000 frames that were captured still “give no idea of the brightness, or of time and space scales.” Mack attributed fortune, as much as foresight, to the photographic record that was made, especially during the earliest phase of the blast. Indeed, the explosion was several times more powerful than predicted, and the intensity of its effects overwhelmed many of the cameras and diagnostic instruments. The human observers were similarly overcome. “The shot was truly awe-inspiring,” said Norris Bradbury, the physicist who would succeed Robert Oppenheimer as director of Los Alamos. “Most experiences in life can be comprehended by prior experiences, but the atom bomb did not fit into any preconception possessed by anybody. The most startling feature was the intense light.” Norris Bradbury, the physicist responsible for the final assembly of the Gadget, stands next to the partially assembled bomb at the top of the shot tower. The cables on the outside of the bomb would transmit the signals to trigger the synchronized detonations of conventional explosives, which would then create the inward-directed shock wave that would compress the bomb’s plutonium core. Bradbury would go on to succeed Robert Oppenheimer as director of Los Alamos on 17 October 1945.Los Alamos National Laboratory It is a common sentiment that words and even pictures pale in comparison to the experience of the explosion. Even so, soldiers, scientists, and many other witnesses have added their firsthand accounts—often absorbing and poetic—to complement the trove of hard data collected during the test shot. They describe an intense and blinding brightness that filled the basin with daytime; an ominous, darkening cloud rearing its head in eerie silence; the wait for the invisible wave rushing out from the heart of the Gadget; and the mighty roar that arrived at last, in a thunder, and seemed never to leave. Physicist Isidor Isaac Rabi, watching from 20 miles away, remembered, “It blasted; it pounced; it bored its way right through you.” James Chadwick, head of the British contingent of scientists who joined the Manhattan Project, later said, “Although I had lived through this moment in my imagination many times during the past few years and everything happened almost as I had pictured it, the reality was shattering.” The blast, captured with an assortment of high-speed and motion-picture cameras, shows the fireball expanding between 25 milliseconds and 60 seconds, by which time the mushroom cloud is over 3 kilometers high.Los Alamos National Laboratory And physicist George Kistiakowsky found himself certain that “at the end of the world—in the last millisecond of the Earth’s existence—the last human will see what we saw.”
When Ana Inês Inácio goes to work at the Netherlands Organization for Applied Scientific Research (TNO) in The Hague, she thinks about signals most people never notice: radio waves moving between satellites, sensors, and future wireless networks. The integrated circuits the research scientist designs lay the foundation for next-generation RF sensor systems critical to advancing radar technologies. Ana Inês Inácio EMPLOYER Netherlands Organization for Applied Scientific Research, TNO TITLE Scientist IEEE MEMBER GRADE Senior member ALMA MATER University of Aveiro, in Portugal Those invisible RF signals are only part of what earned the IEEE senior member her global recognition. Inácio recently received the IEEE–Eta Kappa Nu Outstanding Young Professional Award for “leadership in IEEE Young Professionals, fostering innovation and inclusivity, and pioneering advancements in RF sensor systems, bridging technical excellence with impactful community engagement.” The recognition from IEEE’s honor society reflects a career built along two parallel paths: advancing RF circuit design while helping engineers worldwide build professional communities. “I’ve always liked building things,” Inácio says. “Sometimes that means circuits; sometimes it means helping people connect and grow together.” That blend of technical innovation and global leadership gives her work impact far beyond the laboratory. EE lessons at the kitchen table Inácio grew up in Vales do Rio, a rural village near Covilhã in central Portugal. The region was known for farming and textiles, she says. Many residents worked in the textile industry, including her grandfather, who repaired machinery such as industrial looms. He became her first engineering teacher without ever holding the formal title. Through correspondence courses delivered by mail, he taught himself electrical systems. At home, he explained electricity to his granddaughter while he repaired the household’s appliances and wiring. “He would show me why something broke and how we could fix it,” she recalls. It sparked her curiosity. Her mother was a tailor who later managed other tailors. Her father left his factory job to attend culinary school and now cooks at an elder-care facility. Curiosity was a trait that ran through the family. By high school, Inácio was drawn equally to mathematics and physics and to biology and geology, she says. Encouragement from teachers and an uncle, an engineer, ultimately steered her toward electronics engineering. Conducting research on integrated circuits In 2008 she enrolled in an integrated master’s degree program in electrical and telecommunications engineering at the Universidade de Aveiro in Portugal, a five-year degree that combined undergraduate and graduate studies. An opportunity to study abroad changed her path. In 2012 she moved to the Netherlands to study at Eindhoven University of Technology (TU/e) through a six-month European exchange program with UAveiro. A professor encouraged her to stay on, so she completed her final year of masters in the Netherlands. She focused on techniques to improve the linearization of RF power amplifiers at Thales. The company, based in Hengelo, Netherlands, designs and produces electronics for defense and security. She earned her master’s degree from UAveiro in 2013. After graduating, she joined the integrated circuit design group at the University of Twente, in The Netherlands, conducting collaborative research as part of a nationally funded program on linearization techniques for RF front-end systems. The experience introduced her to international research culture and persuaded her to pursue a career abroad, she says. Engineering the future of wireless Inácio joined TNO in 2018 as a junior scientist and innovator: her first professional industry job. Today she designs integrated RF front-end systems—the circuits that allow devices to transmit and receive wireless signals. The components sit at the core of modern communications, enabling sensor networks, satellite links, and emerging 6G technologies. Her work aims to tackle a central challenge: getting greater performance from smaller chips. “As communication evolves, we need more bandwidth to transfer more data at higher speeds,” she says. “The question is how much complexity you can integrate into one system while keeping it efficient.” Unlike commercial lab environments, which reuse established designs, research projects often start from scratch. Each transmit-receive chain—the signal path that converts digital data to radio waves and back again—is tailored to specific requirements. Her work focuses on improving key circuit characteristics including linearity (ensuring that the signals that go out of the antenna are not distorted) as well as noise reduction (so design blocks can be optimized). Advanced design techniques help devices communicate more reliably while consuming less energy, a critical need for large sensor networks such as the Internet of Things, she says. Artificial intelligence is beginning to influence her field, she says: “AI is already helping us work faster. The real challenge is learning how to use it to make better designs, not just quicker ones.” A parallel vocation with IEEE While her technical career flourished in research labs, an additional journey unfolded through IEEE. Inácio joined the organization in 2009 as a student after discovering UAveiro’s student branch. What began as curiosity evolved into a long-term leadership path. She advanced through roles within Region 8—covering Europe, Africa, and the Middle East—one of the organization’s most culturally diverse regions. She was the student branch’s vice chair, and the region’s student representative for more than 22,000 IEEE members. She also served as the Young Professionals Affinity Group chair for the IEEE Benelux Section, which encompasses Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg. Currently, she serves as the immediate past chair of the Region 8 Young Professionals Committee, and vice chair and IEEE Member and Geographical Activities representative on the IEEE Young Professionals Committee. In those roles, she represents close to 135,000 IEEE members. In addition, she is an active member of the IEEE Microwave Theory and Technology Society, currently serving as its Young Professionals liaison. Her involvement with IEEE has boosted her professional confidence, she says. “IEEE didn’t directly give me promotions at my day job, but it gave me leadership skills, networking opportunities, and the ability to work with people from everywhere,” she says. Those experiences now shape her collaborations at TNO, where international teamwork is essential. The IEEE-HKN Outstanding Young Professional Award recognizes that combination of technical excellence and community impact, she says. Looking back, Inácio sees a clear thread connecting her childhood curiosity, her international career, and her IEEE leadership: Engineering, she says, is ultimately about people as much as it is about technology.
A guide to ten technological components — from THz communications and AI/ML to reconfigurable intelligent surfaces — poised to define 6G wireless networks. What Attendees will Learn Which frequencies 6G will use — Understand why THz bands (above 100 GHz) and the7–24 GHz range are under consideration, what challenges CMOS technology faces at sub-THz frequencies, and how new semiconductor approaches aim to close the output-power gap for future link budgets. How AI/ML and joint communications and sensing reshape the air interface — how auto encoder-based end-to-end learning can replace traditional signal-processing blocks, and how a single waveform may serve both data transmission and radar-like environmental sensing. What reconfigurable intelligent surfaces and photonics bring to the radio environment— Explore how programmable metamaterial panels can steer and shape electromagnetic waves, and how visible light communications and all-photonics networks extend capacity and lower latency. How ultra-massive MIMO, full-duplex, and new network topologies enable a true 3D“network of networks” — Understand how antenna arrays with vastly more elements, simultaneously transmit/receive on the same frequency, and non-terrestrial nodes converge to deliver ubiquitous, high-capacity 6G coverage. Download this free whitepaper now!
Many of the world’s most advanced electronic systems—including Internet routers, wireless base stations, medical imaging scanners, and some artificial intelligence tools—depend on field-programmable gate arrays. Computer chips with internal hardware circuits, the FPGAs can be reconfigured after manufacturing. On 12 March, an IEEE Milestone plaque recognizing the first FPGA was dedicated at the Advanced Micro Devices campus in San Jose, Calif., the former Xilinx headquarters and the birthplace of the technology. The FPGA earned the Milestone designation because it introduced iteration to semiconductor design. Engineers could redesign hardware repeatedly without fabricating a new chip, dramatically reducing development risk and enabling faster innovation at a time when semiconductor costs were rising rapidly. The ceremony, which was organized by the IEEE Santa Clara Valley Section, brought together professionals from across the semiconductor industry and IEEE leadership. Speakers at the event included Stephen Trimberger, an IEEE and ACM Fellow whose technical contributions helped shape modern FPGA architecture. Trimberger reflected on how the invention enabled software-programmable hardware. Solving computing’s flexibility-performance tradeoff FPGAs emerged in the 1980s to address a core limitation in computing. A microprocessor executes software instructions sequentially, making it flexible but sometimes too slow for workloads requiring many operations at once. At the other extreme, application-specific integrated circuits are chips designed to do only one task. ASICs achieve high efficiency but require lengthy development cycles and nonrecurring engineering costs, which are large, upfront investments. Expenses include designing the chip and preparing it for manufacturing—a process that involves creating detailed layouts, building masks for the fabrication machines, and setting up production lines to handle the tiny circuits. “ASICs can deliver the best performance, but the development cycle is long and the nonrecurring engineering cost can be very high,” says Jason Cong, an IEEE Fellow and professor of computer science at the University of California, Los Angeles. “FPGAs provide a sweet spot between processors and custom silicon.” Cong’s foundational work in FPGA design automation and high-level synthesis transformed how reconfigurable systems are programmed. He developed synthesis tools that translate C/C++ into hardware designs, for example. At the heart of his work is an underlying principle first espoused by electrical engineer Ross Freeman: By configuring hardware using programmable memory embedded inside the chip, FPGAs combine hardware-level speed with the adaptability traditionally associated with software. Silicon Valley origins: the first FPGA The FPGA architecture originated in the mid-1980s at Xilinx, a Silicon Valley company founded in 1984. The invention is widely credited to Freeman, a Xilinx cofounder and the startup’s CTO. He envisioned a chip with circuitry that could be configured after fabrication rather than fixed permanently during creation. Articles about the history of the FPGA emphasize that he saw it as a deliberate break from conventional chip design. At the time, semiconductor engineers treated transistors as scarce resources. Custom chips were carefully optimized so that nearly every transistor served a specific purpose. Freeman proposed a different approach. He figured Moore’s Law would soon change chip economics. The principle holds that transistor counts roughly double every two years, making computing cheaper and more powerful. Freeman posited that as transistors became abundant, flexibility would matter more than perfect efficiency. He envisioned a device composed of programmable logic blocks connected through configurable routing—a chip filled with what he described as “open gates,” ready to be defined by users after manufacturing. Instead of fixing hardware in silicon permanently, engineers could configure and reconfigure circuits as requirements evolved. Freeman sometimes compared the concept to a blank cassette tape: Manufacturers would supply the medium, while engineers determined its function. The analogy captured a profound shift in who controls the technology, shifting hardware design flexibility from chip fabrication facilities to the system designers themselves. In 1985 Xilinx introduced the first FPGA for commercial sale: the XC2064. The device contained 64 configurable logic blocks—small digital circuits capable of performing logical operations—arranged in an 8-by-8 grid. Programmable routing channels allowed engineers to define how signals moved between blocks, effectively wiring a custom circuit with software. Fabricated using a 2-micrometer process (meaning that 2 µm was the minimum size of the features that could be patterned onto silicon using photolithography), the XC2064 implemented a few thousand logic gates. Modern FPGAs can contain hundreds of millions of gates, enabling vastly more complex designs. Yet the XC2064 established a design workflow still used today: Engineers describe the hardware behavior digitally and then “compile the design,” a process that automatically translates the plans into the instructions the FPGA needs to set its logic blocks and wiring, according to AMD. Engineers then load that configuration onto the chip. The breakthrough: hardware defined by memory Earlier programmable logic devices, such as erasable programmable read-only memory, or EPROM, allowed limited customization but relied on largely fixed wiring structures that did not scale well as circuits grew more complex, Cong says. FPGAs introduced programmable interconnects—networks of electronic switches controlled by memory cells distributed across the chip. When powered on, the device loads a bitstream configuration file that determines how its internal circuits behave. “As process technology improved and transistor counts increased, the cost of programmability became much less significant,” Cong says. From “glue logic” to essential infrastructure “Initially, FPGAs were used as what engineers called glue logic,” Cong says. Glue logic refers to simple circuits that connect processors, memory, and peripheral devices so the system works reliably, according to PC Magazine. In other words, it “glues” different components together, especially when interfaces change frequently. Early adopters recognized the advantage of hardware that could adapt as standards evolved. In “The History, Status, and Future of FPGAs,” published in Communications of the ACM, engineers at Xilinx and organizations such as Bell Labs, Fairchild Semiconductor, IBM, and Sun Microsystems said the earliest uses of FPGAs were for prototyping ASICs. They also used it for validating complex systems by running their software before fabrication, allowing the companies to deploy specialized products manufactured in modest volumes. Those uses revealed a broader shift: Hardware no longer needed to remain fixed once deployed. Attendees at the Milestone plaque dedication ceremony included (seated L to R) 2025 IEEE President Kathleen Kramer, 2024 IEEE President Tom Coughlin, and Santa Clara Valley Section Milestones Chair Brian Berg.Douglas Peck/AMD Semiconductor economics changed the equation The rise of FPGAs closely followed changes in semiconductor economics, Cong says. Developing a custom chip requires a large upfront investment before production begins. As fabrication costs increased, products had to ship in large quantities to make ASIC development economically viable, according to a post published by AnySilicon. FPGAs allowed designers to move forward without that larger monetary commitment. ASIC development typically requires 18 to 24 months from conception to silicon, while FPGA implementations often can be completed within three to six months using modern design tools, Cong says. The shorter cycle and the ability to reconfigure the hardware enabled startups, universities, and equipment manufacturers to experiment with advanced architectures that were previously accessible mainly to large chip companies. Lookup tables and the rise of reconfigurable computing A popular technique for implementing mathematical functions in hardware is the lookup table (LUT). A LUT is a small memory element that stores the results of logical operations, according to “LUT-LLM: Efficient Large Language Model Inference with Memory-based Computations on FPGAs,” a paper selected for presentation next month at the 34th IEEE International Symposium on Field-Programmable Custom Computing Machines (FCCM). Instead of repeatedly recalculating outcomes, the chip retrieves answers directly from memory. Cong compares the approach to consulting multiplication tables rather than recomputing the arithmetic each time. Research led by Cong and others helped develop efficient methods for mapping digital circuits onto LUT-based architectures, shaping routing and layout strategies used in modern devices. As transistor budgets expanded, FPGA vendors integrated memory blocks, digital signal-processing units, high-speed communication interfaces, cryptographic engines, and embedded processors, transforming the devices into versatile computing platforms. Why the gate arrays are distinct from CPUs, GPUs, and ASICs FPGAs coexist with other processors because each one optimizes different priorities. Central processing units excel at general computing. Graphics processing units, designed to perform many calculations simultaneously, dominate large parallel workloads such as AI training. ASICs provide maximum efficiency when designs remain stable and production volumes are high. “ASICs can deliver the best performance, but the development cycle is long, and the nonrecurring engineering cost can be very high. FPGAs provide a sweet spot between processors and custom silicon.” —Jason Cong, IEEE Fellow and professor of computer science at UCLA. “FPGAs are not replacements for CPUs or GPUs,” Cong says. “They complement those processors in heterogeneous computing systems.” Modern computing platforms increasingly combine multiple types of processors to balance flexibility, performance, and energy efficiency. A Milestone for an idea, not just a device This IEEE Milestone recognizes more than a successful semiconductor product. It also acknowledges a shift in how engineers innovate. Reconfigurable hardware allows designers to test ideas quickly, refine architectures, and deploy systems while standards and markets evolve. “Without FPGAs,” Cong says, “the pace of hardware innovation would likely be much slower.” Four decades after the first FPGA appeared, the technology’s enduring legacy reflects Freeman’s insight: Hardware did not need to remain fixed. By accepting a small amount of unused silicon in exchange for adaptability, engineers transformed chips from static products into platforms for continuous experimentation—turning silicon itself into a medium engineers could rewrite. Among those who attended the Milestone ceremony were 2025 IEEE President Kathleen Kramer; 2024 IEEE President Tom Coughlin; Avery Lu, chair of the IEEE Santa Clara Valley Section; and Brian Berg, history and milestones chair of IEEE Region 6. They joined AMD’s chief executive, Lisa Su, and Salil Raje, senior vice president and general manager of adaptive and embedded computing at AMD. The IEEE Milestone plaque honoring the field-programmable gate array reads: “The FPGA is an integrated circuit with user-programmable Boolean logic functions and interconnects. FPGA inventor Ross Freeman cofounded Xilinx to productize his 1984 invention, and in 1985 the XC2064 was introduced with 64 programmable 4-input logic functions. Xilinx’s FPGAs helped accelerate a dramatic industry shift wherein ‘fabless’ companies could use software tools to design hardware while engaging ‘foundry’ companies to handle the capital-intensive task of manufacturing the software-defined hardware.” Administered by the IEEE History Center and supported by donors, the IEEE Milestone program recognizes outstanding technical developments worldwide that are at least 25 years old. Check out Spectrum’s History of Technology channel to read more stories about key engineering achievements.