🇺🇸 미국 · "MECHANICAL" · 총 6건
필터 보기현재 지수
50.0
0 = 부정 우세
50 = 중립
100 = 긍정 우세
최근 7일 기준 12,213건을 분석한 결과, 뉴스 심리지수는 50.0(균형)입니다. 긍정 1건(0.0%)·중립 12,211건(100.0%)·부정 1건(0.0%)이며, 중립 비중이 뚜렷하게 높습니다. 성향 지수는 종합 19.3(중도 균형)입니다.
The Logitech G512 X 98 lets you swap between mechanical and analog switches in an attempt to achieve the best of both worlds. Unfortunately, its solution isn't as well thought-out as I'd hoped.
In 1987, Richard Greenhill, a British photographer who was fascinated by (but had no actual training in) robotics, decided he wanted to build a life-size humanoid that could do useful things, like carrying luggage. He was working at a startup called Intergalactic Robots, but he couldn’t convince anyone there to build such a machine, so he set about building one himself, in his attic. To help with his project, he organized a weekly get-together of a dozen or so like-minded folks. Every Wednesday night, his wife, Sally, would make a big pot of spaghetti, and the group would tinker with components scavenged from old printers and picked up from junkyards. They called themselves the Shadow Group. They eventually constructed several different robots, but their main project was the two-legged Shadow Walker. In 1987, photographer Richard Greenhill organized a weekly gathering of DIY enthusiasts to work on projects in his attic, including the Shadow Walker. Richard Greenhill and David Buckley Greenhill’s friend David Buckley, a robotics and animatronics expert he’d met at Intergalactic, sketched out a rough design based on medical textbooks of human bone structure and muscle movement. The robot’s skeleton, made of maple, was greatly simplified—only one bone in the lower leg and a single wide toe on each foot. The ankle’s double-axis design allowed for two degrees of movement. The knee had no complicating kneecap. Greenhill didn’t want the robot to use motors, so its movement was controlled using compressed air to extend and contract 28 “air-muscles”—his version of a McKibben muscle, invented in the 1950s to mimic musculature with pneumatics. The muscles were connected to the bones across eight joints (hips, knees, ankles, toes), which provided 12 degrees of freedom. RELATED: The Short, Strange Life of the First Friendly Robot The robot’s headless torso held the control valves, electronics, and computer interfaces. It stood 168 centimeters tall and 46 cm wide and weighed about 38 kilograms. The group managed to get the robot to stand up reliably and balance itself; it could even regain its center if pushed a little. But walking turned out to be more of a challenge. Rich Walker joined the group as a teenager and began writing software to get the robot to stand. He was particularly interested in using neural networks to solve balancing problems, although he ran into a number of hardware obstacles, including the unreliability of the sensors and the valves, and the robot’s overall fragility. Over time, Walker and the team developed a standard library of routines to control the robot. Walker wrote a detailed description of the Shadow Walker in 1999, which is available on David Buckley’s website. The 1st International Robot Olympics By the time the Shadow Group began developing Shadow Walker, engineers in academia and industry had been working on robotics for several decades. The world’s first industrial robot, the Unimate, debuted in 1961, and in 1967 Donald Michie and others began building a series of Freddy robots to investigate machine intelligence. The IEEE created its first dedicated robotics organization in 1984 when it established the IEEE Robotics and Automation Council, which became the IEEE Robotics and Automation Society in 1987. Also in 1987, the nonprofit International Federation of Robotics was established to promote research, development, use, and cooperation in the field of robotics. As Shadow Walker pushed the limits for a DIY humanoid robot, industrial humanoids were also gaining ground. In 1986, Honda began working on its experimental (E-series) and later the prototype (P-series) humanoid robots, finally unveiling the P2 in 1996. The P2 stood 183 cm tall and weighed 210 kg. It was the first humanoid capable of stable, autonomous walking. This work eventually led to the development of the groundbreaking ASIMO. Greenhill’s friend, roboticist David Buckley, consulted medical textbooks to create Shadow Walker’s humanoid design.Richard Greenhill and David Buckley In the late 1980s, the public was both fascinated and horrified by the potential of robots. Businesses saw robots as a way to increase productivity, while workers worried they would take their jobs. Children viewed them as wondrous toys, while people with disabilities embraced them as tools of liberation. Military experts hoped robots would fight wars without endangering human soldiers, while politicians pondered if robots might eventually get to vote. Philosophers thought robots could challenge our notions of intelligence (and stupidity), while the religious struggled with concerns about the human race in a robot-dominated future. Shadow Walker’s simplified anatomy included only one bone in the lower leg and a single wide toe on each foot.Science Museum Group Peter Mowforth, cofounder of the Turing Institute in Glasgow, noted these disparate visions for robots when he announced the 1st International Robot Olympics, to be held in 27 and 28 September 1990 and hosted by the Turing Institute and the University of Strathclyde. The Olympics would round up the world’s best robots and showcase them head-to-head. Mowforth himself thought all of the competing visions of robots were overblown. Steeped in machine learning research and robotics development, he knew firsthand the limitations of the state of the art: Robots rarely worked as intended, easily broke down, and glitched over seemingly trivial problems. He envisioned the Robot Olympics as a testbed to assess what the latest generation of robots could and could not do. At the 1990 Robot Olympics, held in Glasgow, Shadow Walker wore pants to conceal its pneumatic “air-muscles” from competitors.Adam Hart-Davis/Science Source The call for participation was wide open. Instead of having predetermined categories of competition, the organizers opted to see who applied to compete and then group them based on their claimed capabilities. In addition to picking the winners of individual events, the judges would select an overall Olympic champion based on the quality of the hardware, the sophistication of behavior, and novelty. Other prizes were given for young competitors, technologies that showed commercial potential, and design. In the end, more than 50 robots were entered, from a mix of universities, industry, and hobbyist groups from Canada, France, India, Japan, Mexico, the Soviet Union, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Yugoslavia. There were plenty of disappointments. Trolleyman, a golf-cart-like wheeled robot, suffered a power failure while carrying the opening Olympic torch through the streets of Glasgow. The pile rug in the arena tripped up many robots that had been trained only on flat, smooth floors. David Buckley later concluded that the events were too difficult, and that the Olympics didn’t push development forward. Of course, there were winners. In a surprise triumph for vintage technology, the fully mechanical 19th-century Japanese Archer from the Museum of Automata in York, England, won gold in javelin, beating out competitors more than 100 years its junior. The overall Olympic Champion was Yamabico, Shoji Suzuki’s entry from the University of Tsukuba, in Japan, which won bronze in obstacle avoidance and gold in wall following, but was disqualified in the talking category for not speaking English. The Shadow Group had high hopes for Shadow Walker. Unfortunately, though, it failed to take a step, and the biped race was won by the Cardiff University Biped. Shadow Walker now resides in the collections of the Science Museum in London. The Legacy of Shadow Walker In 1997, a paying customer in search of a robotic leg compelled the Shadow Group to get serious and become a registered company. Shadow Robot is now Britain’s oldest robotics company. Rich Walker, who had left the Shadow Group to earn a B.A. in mathematics and a diploma in computer science at the University of Cambridge, joined Shadow Robot in 1999 as technical director. Today he’s the director of the company. Shadow Robot specializes in durable robot hands rather than walking robots. But the focus on hands is also a legacy of the Shadow Group. Walker remembers that the Shadow Group’s first humanoid hand in the late 1990s was impressive simply for being able to pick up a pint of beer (a smooth-sided, thin-walled glass). Today, Shadow Robot’s hands are testbeds for dexterity. Gone are the pneumatic muscles, replaced by actuators that move each finger with precision. The classic model contains 20 motors, allowing for abductive and adductive movement with 24 degrees of freedom. Shadow Walker’s operator wore a data suit that captured his movements and allowed the robot to copy them.Richard Greenhill In a recent blog post, Sejal Parsotomo, senior marketing executive at Shadow Robot, wrote that while humanoid robots are great for public relations, specialized dexterity is key for success: A robot that can walk into your factory may be impressive, but a robot that can reliably manipulate objects is transformative. In its struggles to take more than a few steps, the Shadow Walker showed the inherent difficulty that robots had in mastering even low-level skills. In August 2025, Beijing hosted the World Humanoid Robot Games. Competing in sports such as gymnastics, soccer, and track events, as well as more “useful” tasks like hotel cleaning and sorting medicine, these robots could literally have run circles around the competitors in the first Robot Olympics 35 years earlier. And yet, there is still so much work needed in order for robots to navigate the human-built environment. Despite the astonishing progress, we’re still not all that close to actually useful humanoid robots. Part of a continuing series looking at historical artifacts that embrace the boundless potential of technology. An abridged version of this article appears in the June 2026 print issue as “Learning to Walk.” References Richard Greenhill gives an overview of his life and the founding of the Shadow Group in a post on Shadow Robot’s corporate website. David Buckley has a compilation of resources on the Shadow Biped Walker, including specifications from the 1999 iteration and a brochure from the 1st International Robot Olympics. There is coverage of the Robot Olympics worthy of a gossip sheet in La Repubblica and lovely footage of the competition in this TV-am interview of Peter Mowforth by Lorraine Kelly.
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Director Owen Harris, showrunner Ira Parker and stunt coordinator Rob Inch break down the grueling shoot behind the HBO prequel’s biggest action sequence.
“Social engineering” sounds like something out of a conspiracy thriller, charged with totalitarian control and fringe paranoia. More mundanely, it’s come to be associated with phishing and other scams, in which fraudsters manipulate people into disclosing personal information. Yet the concept is older and more benign: it is the deliberate shaping of human behavior, often at scale. It predates silicon—and became pervasive, and ungoverned, especially once its practitioners learned to hide it. Authoritarian regimes and more recently scammers and big companies have profited from it. To defend ourselves from bad actors, and to benefit from social engineering’s good side, we need to reclaim the name, and govern it prudently. The roots of engineering In 1894, Dutch entrepreneur Jacques van Marken urged companies to hire “social engineers” to manage human systems such as insurance, education, and profit sharing for workers as carefully as they did mechanical ones. Fifteen years later, reformer William H. Tolman published Social Engineering, describing how U.S. industrialists optimized workers’ conditions alongside manufacturing methods. If industrialists could shape steel and electricity on demand, why not society itself? By the 1920s, that confidence had spread. The architect Le Corbusier declared that dwellings were “machines for living in,” imagining cities as orderly lattices where people moved like parts on a conveyor belt. Civilization would run like a Swiss watch. The idea soon darkened. Authoritarian regimes pushed it to extremes, promising to fashion “the New Man.” In Nazi Germany, engineer Fritz Todt founded Organization Todt, a vast state engineering enterprise that emerged from the autobahn highway system and later operated concentration camps using slave labor. In the Soviet Union, leaders adopted U.S. scientific management techniques to plan factory-worker movements and classify populations through centralized records, feeding both rapid industrialization drives and the gulag system of forced labor. The same tools and managerial methods used to build highways and enact five-year plans worked for repression and mass control. By the 1950s, “social engineering” had become a contaminated phrase. The revelations of Nazi and Soviet abuses, along with Cold War critiques of grand social planning turned the term from a progressive slogan into a warning label. Banishing the words pushed the practice underground, making it harder to recognize when it resurfaced in new forms—such as organizational psychology and systems management that still relied on classification and behavioral influence techniques but under softer, less loaded labels. Social engineering’s more subtle spread In the postwar years, the new social-engineering lexicon included “human factors” and “urban planning,” all promising integration rather than command. As computing advanced, the language shifted again: “customer journey mapping” to track interactions, “user experience” to script them. Engineering, which began as a means of reshaping physical space, set its sights on shaping behavior. Digital design features embedded in our smartphones now target our attention and desire. Language helps conceal these modern forms of social engineering. “Data analytics” sounds neutral beside “surveillance.” “Personalization” flatters individuality while still sorting users into predictable categories. “Behavioral nudges” guide decisions without the sense of intrusion. We attach “social” as a favorable modifier to sciences, capital, and media, yet recoil when it meets “engineering.” That discomfort is a clue. Engineering implies control, and control prompts us to ask who directs whom, toward what ends, and with whose permission. Not all social engineering these days is hidden. Hackers don’t need to break a firewall if someone hands over their password. Romance scammers cultivate intimacy the way farmers cultivate crops. They succeed not through force but by exploiting trust. If even these obvious attacks work, the invisible kind, with roots in social engineering, are a shoo-in. Most of the social engineering we encounter is proprietary and beyond our control. Firms build recommendation algorithms tuned to boost engagement and profit with no hearings or right of appeal. Browser and cookie defaults decide what data we surrender. A single autoplay toggle can cost users hours and build unhealthy habits. These are acts of engineering as deliberate as laying a road or redrawing an electoral district. They create a kind of curated itch by which boredom never settles, and satisfaction never arrives. The results are predictable—users click on targeted ads, make purchases, form habits, and lock in opinions. Consent has transformed along with it. Once straightforward and revocable, it is now subtle and persistent, buried in defaults or opaque terms of service too quickly accepted. You remain free to opt out, much as you are free to refuse roads or electricity. Consent has become the preselected setting of modern life. When social engineering operated more in the open, citizens could contest it, at least in societies with responsive government. Today’s invisible version diffuses accountability so thoroughly that scrutiny becomes hard to direct. Despite recent congressional hearings on social media’s impact on youth mental health and juries agreeing that firms are knowingly designing algorithms that cause harm, pinpointing responsibility remains elusive. When the mechanism is buried inside a system used by billions, we cannot easily point to a single decision-maker or trace the precise moment of manipulation. Today’s social engineering is less overt and theatrical than its predecessors. Earlier versions arrived on public posters and loudspeakers for mass audiences. Today’s version is more intimate, delivered through personal devices and constant feeds tailored to the individual. The model succeeds because participation feels like freedom, not control. Not all social engineering is dystopian. Well-kept parks foster community, accessible buildings extend dignity, vaccines and seatbelts save lives. Even in the digital realm, positive examples exist: browser extensions that automatically block hidden trackers, search engines that refuse to build personalized surveillance profiles, and decentralized social platforms that give users greater control over their own data and feeds. The term “social engineering” still unsettles, though. But “asocial” engineering, which ignores human consequences entirely, is worse. Recognition of the human dimension to engineering is the beginning of repair. Only by seeing the machinery clearly and naming it honestly can we decide who engineers what and why. The machinery will not dismantle itself. Once named, it becomes subject to choice. That negotiation of purpose, power, and process are the defining political questions of any real democracy. We cannot ensure that social engineering serves and sustains society so long as we dodge the words.
This sponsored article is brought to you by Applied Materials. At pivotal moments in history, progress has required more than individual brilliance. The most consequential breakthroughs — such as those achieved under the Human Genome Project — required a new operating paradigm: Concentrate the world’s best talent around a single mission, establish a common platform, share critical infrastructure, and collapse feedback loops. When stakes are high and timelines are compressed, sequential and siloed innovation simply cannot keep pace. Today’s AI era is creating an engineering race with similar demands. Every company is pushing to deliver higher-performance AI systems, faster. But performance is no longer defined by compute alone. AI workloads are increasingly dominated by the movement of data: In many cases, moving bits consumes as much — or more — energy than compute itself. As a result, reducing energy per bit can extend system‑level performance alongside gains in peak compute. The path to energy‑efficient AI therefore runs through system‑level engineering, spanning three tightly interconnected domains: Logic, where performance per watt depends on efficient transistor switching, low‑loss power, and signal delivery through dense wiring stacks. Memory, where surging bandwidth and capacity demands expose the memory wall, with processor capability advancing faster than memory access. Advanced packaging, where 3D integration, chiplet architectures, and high‑density interconnects bring compute and memory closer together — enabling system designs monolithic scaling can no longer sustain. These domains can no longer be optimized independently. Gains in logic efficiency stall without sufficient memory bandwidth. Advances in memory bandwidth fall short if packaging cannot deliver proximity within thermal and mechanical constraints. Packaging, in turn, is constrained by the precision of both front‑end device fabrication and back‑end integration processes. In the angstrom era, the hardest problems arise at the boundaries — between compute and memory in the package, front‑end and back‑end integration, and the tightly coupled process steps needed for precise 3D fabrication. And it is precisely this boundary‑driven complexity where the traditional innovation model breaks down. The Traditional R&D Workflow Is Too Slow for Angstrom‑Era AI For decades, the semiconductor industry’s R&D model has resembled a relay race. Capabilities are developed in one part of the ecosystem, handed off downstream through integration and manufacturing, evaluated by chip and system designers, and only then fed back for the next iteration. That model worked when progress was dominated by relatively modular steps that could be scaled independently and simply dropped into the manufacturing flow. But the AI timeline has upended these rules. At angstrom‑scale dimensions, the physics enforces inescapable coupling across the entire stack: materials choices shape integration schemes; integration defines design rules; design rules dictate power delivery; wiring sets thermal budgets; and thermals ultimately constrain packaging scaling. System architects simply cannot wait 10–15 years for each major semiconductor technology inflection to mature. Representing a roughly $5 billion investment, EPIC is the largest commitment to advanced semiconductor equipment R&D in U.S. history. A long‑term perspective is essential to align materials innovation with emerging device architectures — and to develop the tools and processes required to integrate both with manufacturable precision. At Applied Materials, together with our customers, we are charting a course across the next 3–4 generations, extending as far as 10 years down the roadmap. The angstrom era demands that we break down silos and bring together the industry’s best minds — from leading companies to leading academic institutions. If the problem is coupled, the solution must be coupled. If the timeline is compressed, the learning loop must be compressed. It’s not enough to just innovate — we must innovate how we innovate. EPIC: A Center and Platform for High‑Velocity Co‑Innovation This is the challenge that Applied Materials EPIC Center is designed to solve. Representing a roughly US $5 billion investment, EPIC is the largest commitment to advanced semiconductor equipment R&D in U.S. history. When it opens in 2026, it will deliver state‑of‑the‑art cleanroom capabilities built from the ground up to shorten the path from early‑stage research to full‑scale manufacturing. But the facilities are only one component of the model. EPIC is also a platform, an operating system for high-velocity co‑innovation that revolutionizes how ideas move from the lab to the fab. EPIC is a platform, an operating system for high-velocity co‑innovation that revolutionizes how ideas move from the lab to the fab.Applied Materials The EPIC model compresses the traditional workflow. Customer engineers work side‑by‑side with Applied technologists from day one — moving beyond isolated process optimization and downstream handoffs. Within a shared, secure environment, EPIC tightly integrates atomistic modeling, test vehicles, process development, validation, and metrology feedback. Constraints that once surfaced late in development are identified and addressed early. The result is a potentially 2x faster path that benefits the entire ecosystem under one roof: Chipmakers gain earlier access to Applied’s R&D portfolio, faster learning cycles, and accelerated transfer of next‑generation technologies into high‑volume manufacturing. Ecosystem partners gain earlier access to advanced manufacturing technology and collaboration opportunities that expand what is possible through materials innovation. Academic institutions gain opportunities to strengthen the lab‑to‑fab pipeline and help develop future semiconductor talent. Building on decades of co‑development, we are reinventing the innovation pipeline with our partners across logic, memory, and advanced packaging to deliver the next leap in energy‑efficient AI. Accelerating Advanced Logic Logic remains the engine of AI compute. In the angstrom era, however, system‑level gains are increasingly constrained by power and energy. Extending AI performance now depends on architectures that deliver more performance per watt — accelerating the move to 3D devices such as gate‑all‑around (GAA) transistors, which boost density within a compact footprint while preserving power efficiency. Architectures that deliver more performance per watt are accelerating the move to 3D devices such as gate‑all‑around (GAA) transistors, and further out, complementary FETs (CFETs), which push density scaling even more.Applied Materials These architectural shifts are unfolding at unprecedented scale, with the logic roadmap already extending beyond first‑generation GAA toward more advanced designs. One key example is GAA with backside power delivery, which relocates thick power lines to the backside of the wafer, reducing resistive losses and freeing front‑side routing for tighter logic cell integration. Another example brings adjacent GAA PMOS and NMOS transistors closer together while inserting a dielectric isolation wall between them to minimize electrical interference. Further out, complementary FETs (CFETs) push density scaling even more by stacking PMOS and NMOS devices directly atop one another. While these architectures deliver compelling gains in performance per watt and logic density without relying solely on tighter lithography, they significantly raise integration complexity. Manufacturing a single GAA device today can involve more than 2,000 tightly interdependent process steps. At the same time, wiring stacks continue to grow taller and denser to connect these advanced logic devices. Modern leading‑edge GPUs now in development pack more than 300 billion transistors into an area little larger than a postage stamp, interconnected by over 2,000 miles of wiring. Modern leading‑edge GPUs now in development pack more than 300 billion transistors into an area little larger than a postage stamp, interconnected by over 2,000 miles of wiring.Applied Materials At this level of complexity, the process steps used to create these precise 3D devices and wiring stacks cannot be optimized independently. Design and process must evolve in lockstep, and materials innovation and fabrication methods must advance alongside device architecture. EPIC’s co‑innovation model is designed to accelerate exactly this convergence — enabling logic compute to continue advancing the frontiers of AI at the pace the roadmap demands. Powering the Memory Roadmap At the same time, the AI computing era is fundamentally reshaping how data is generated, moved, and processed — making memory technologies, especially DRAM, central to delivering the energy‑efficient performance AI systems require. As models grow larger and more data‑hungry, the DRAM roadmap is shifting toward architectures that deliver higher density, greater bandwidth, and faster access per watt. At the DRAM cell level, AI performance requirements are driving a transition from 6F² buried‑channel array transistors (BCAT) to more compact 4F², and beyond that, architectures that move past what 2D scaling alone can deliver. Applied Materials At the DRAM cell level, this shift is driving a transition from 6F² buried‑channel array transistors (BCAT) to more compact 4F² architectures, which orient the transistor vertically to boost density and reduce chip area. Looking beyond 4F², sustaining gains in performance per watt will require moving past what 2D scaling alone can deliver. The industry is therefore turning to 3D DRAM, stacking memory cells vertically to add capacity within a constrained footprint. As these structures grow taller and aspect ratios intensify, high-mobility materials engineering in three dimensions becomes increasingly critical to performance and reliability. Beyond the memory cell array, another powerful lever for DRAM scaling is shrinking the peripheral circuitry, which includes logic transistors and interconnect wiring. One emerging approach places select periphery functions beneath the DRAM array by bonding two wafers — one optimized for the DRAM cells and the other for CMOS logic — using multiple wiring layers. Beyond the memory cell array, another powerful lever for DRAM scaling is shrinking the peripheral circuitry, which includes logic transistors and interconnect wiring.Applied Materials In parallel, DRAM performance is being extended by leveraging logic‑proven enhancers in the memory periphery. These include mobility boosters such as embedded silicon germanium and stress films, along with wiring upgrades like improved low‑k dielectrics and advanced copper interconnects. Memory manufacturers are also transitioning periphery transistors from planar devices to FinFET architectures, following the logic roadmap to further improve I/O speed. These valuable inflections are central to EPIC’s mission — where they can be co-developed and rapidly validated for next‑generation memory systems. Driving System Scaling With Advanced Packaging As data movement becomes the dominant energy cost in AI systems, advanced packaging has emerged as a critical lever for improving system‑level efficiency—shortening interconnect distances, increasing bandwidth density, and reducing the power required to move data between logic and memory. The rise of 3D packages such as high‑bandwidth memory (HBM) underscores why advanced packaging is becoming central to the AI era.Applied Materials High‑bandwidth memory (HBM) marks a major inflection along this path. By stacking DRAM dies — scaling to 16 layers and beyond — and placing memory much closer to the processor, HBM enables rapid access to ever‑larger working datasets. This delivers step‑function gains in both bandwidth and energy efficiency. More broadly, the rise of 3D packages such as HBM underscores why advanced packaging is becoming central to the AI era. Packaging now addresses system‑level constraints that logic and memory device scaling alone can no longer overcome. It also enables a move away from monolithic systems‑on‑chip toward chiplet‑based architectures, as AI workloads increasingly demand flexible designs that combine logic, memory, and specialized accelerators optimized for specific tasks. A vital technology powering this roadmap is hybrid bonding. With interconnect pitches approaching those of on‑chip wiring, conventional bumps and microbumps run into fundamental limits in density, power, and signal integrity. Hybrid bonding removes these barriers by allowing dramatically higher interconnect and I/O density, supporting a broad range of chiplet architectures — from memory stacking to tighter compute‑memory integration. EPIC tackles high‑value advanced‑packaging challenges through early, parallel co‑innovation across materials, integration, and manufacturing.Applied Materials As bonded structures like HBM stacks grow larger and more complex, warpage control, die placement, stack alignment, and thermal management become first‑order challenges. EPIC tackles these and other high‑value advanced‑packaging challenges through early, parallel co‑innovation across materials, integration, and manufacturing. Bringing It All Together Across logic, memory, and advanced packaging, our industry faces an ambitious roadmap that promises significant gains in energy efficiency for AI systems. But realizing that potential demands breakthrough materials innovation at a time when feature sizes are shrinking, interfaces are multiplying, and process interdependencies are escalating. These challenges cannot be solved on 10–15‑year timelines under the traditional relay‑race model. We must break down silos, align earlier across the ecosystem, and parallelize learning to keep pace with AI’s demands. In the AI era, progress will be defined by the speed at which lightbulb moments turn into manufacturing and commercialization reality. The only viable path forward is a new innovation model — and EPIC is how we are driving it.