MIT’s Crazy Materials Could Make for Self-Assembling Ikea Furniture




To most people, the things Skylar Tibbits makes at MIT’s Self-Assembly Lab looks like nothing more than scraps of stuff. But where others see bits of wood and swatches of fabric, Tibbits sees robots. Lots and lots of robots.


They don’t have microprocessors, gleaming titanium skeletons, or an unhealthy obsession in Sarah Connor, but the wood panels and carbon fiber Tibbits’ team fabricates combine sensors, logic, and outputs in ways that could transform everything from airplanes to clothing to flat-pack furniture.


As its name suggests, the Self-Assembly Lab focuses on making things that can, well, self-assemble. It has created a series of small wood planks, for instance, that fold into a toy elephants when exposed to moisture. Tibbets and collaborators Christophe Guberan and Erik Demaine are working on clothing that could morph in response to the weather. In the future, the Lab’s research could make way for Ikea furniture that assembles itself with a splash of water—no Allen wrench required.


Some examples of the Lab's morphing wood.

3-D printed wood “robots” respond to external cues and changes shape. Self Assembly Lab, MIT



How 4-D Printing Works


Tibbits refers to these processes collectively as “4-D printing.” It’s like 3-D printing but with a fourth dimension: time, or as Tibbits likes to call it, “dynamism.” In the future, Tibbits thinks it will be possible to program all types of materials.


The tools Tibbits and company use are not especially novel. In the case of the carbon fiber projects, the manufacturing process is thoroughly two-dimensional. The team starts with a standard carbon fiber roll that follows the typical warp and weft pattern. A secondary material, formulated in Tibbet’s lab to respond to changes in temperature, is spot-printed on the mesh using a CNC gantry. As the carbon fiber is exposed to heat, the temperature-sensitive material changes shape and causes the sheet to deform in ways specified by the designer.


A team is testing the possibility of using it to make a smarter race car spoiler. As the driver turns, friction creates heat that could trigger the temperature-sensitive material in the carbon fiber. As a result, the spoiler would change shape to optimize aerodynamics and eke out greater performance. In time, the same carbon fiber trick could be used to increase a jet engine’s efficiency, lowering its carbon footprint.


The 3-D printed wood projects use a traditional fused deposition printer, like a MakerBot, paired with a specially-formulated plastic filament filled with pulverized wood fibers. By specifying the pattern of the “wood grain” during the printing process, designers can control how it curls when wet.


Tibbits’ work isn’t about using high-end equipment. It’s about tapping the genius-level intellect of his team, including researchers Athina Papadopoulou, Carrie McKnelly, Christopher Martin, and Filipe Camposare, to consider materials in new ways. Each creation combines discordant materials into some cohesive, newly useful whole. “We’ve gotten used to making materials our slaves, but there’s a lot of craft in material properties,” he says.


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The shape shifting carbon fiber is being used to make morphing spoilers for race cars by Tibbits team with corporate sponsorship from Autodesk, Carbitex, and the Briggs Automotive Company. Self Assembly Lab, MIT



So When Can I Get My Self Assembling Äpplarö?


In the earliest days of his lab, Tibbits had to struggle with tools to realize his vision. Affordable 3-D printers couldn’t print large objects, so his lab developed software that allowed him to print a 50-foot long chain inside a 5-inch box. Now the barriers to adoption are more prosaic—making engineers aware of these wonder materials and convincing them to give the new stuff a shot.


Mainstream adoption will require refinement and eventually approval from standards organizations and the like. But even more importantly, Tibbits says, is getting engineers to change their mindset about what programmability means.


“I think the biggest barrier is a super outdated mentality of what robots are,” he says. That said, the designer has been able to convince some forward-looking companies, including Carbitex, Autodesk, Airbus, and Briggs Automotive Company, to experiment with his materials and help fund their development.


“We can listen to materials and use them as a programmable material. We can program biology,” he says. “Computing isn’t in computers anymore; computing is everything.”



Alleged Silk Road 2 Mastermind Worked for Ex-Googler’s Secret Startup


To all appearances, 26-year-old Blake Benthall was living the Silicon Valley dream. He drove a $127,000 Tesla Model S and spent his days working as a contractor for companies that included Close, a secretive startup founded by former Googlers.


But according to federal prosecutors, he played another role that was hidden even from his colleagues at Close. By night, the authorities say, he was pulling in hundreds of thousands of dollars running the Silk Road 2, the illegal online drug bazaar created in the wake of the Silk Road’s shutdown last year.


Benthall’s story—or what we know of it from the public record—shows that crime in the internet age often brews where we least expect. The same skills that can help launch a modern startup can build something that runs afoul of the law. This is particularly true after the rise of bitcoin, the digital currency that has revamped the way we move money online, often several steps ahead of regulators and other authorities.




progressive #sf's riot squads are just expensive photo opportunities


A photo posted by Blake Benthall (@blakeisblake) on Oct 10, 2014 at 2:22pm PDT




Benthall, a keyboardist and Radiohead fan, who considers Edward Snowden a “hero,” describes himself on his Twitter profile as a “rocket scientist” and “bitcoin dreamer.” He’s active on GitHub, the social coding website that’s de rigeur for high-tech programmers, and he’s a fan of hackathons. Earlier this year, he spent days on a startup bus filled with coders and entrepreneurs, rolling from San Antonio to Austin’s South by Southwest conference, creating a new business idea en route. A few years ago, he wrote a fun little program dubbed TweetCall, which lets you call an 800 number and convert whatever you say into the phone into a tweet.


“He just seemed like a regular programmer dude,” says a programmer who knew Benthall casually. He describes Benthall as an extremely focused coder with a tendency to take control of projects. Other than the Tesla, Benthall didn’t appear to be remarkably rich, or the kind of guy who would have $100,000 in cash lying around his house, as prosecutors allege.


He was a talented developer but a renegade and a “terrible team player at work,” according to one Redditor who claims to have worked with Benthall. The alleged Silk Road 2 mastermind’s LinkedIn profile says he worked short stints at a grab-bag of tech companies, including Elon Musk’s SpaceX.


We don’t know exactly when he worked there, or what he did for Close—just that he was a contract software developer—but we know a little more about the company. Close CEO Falson Fatemi didn’t respond to our messages seeking comment, but in her online bio, she describes it as “a stealth startup of ex-Googlers backed by NEA, Felicis Ventures, Mark Cuban, Dave McClure, and more.” And it would seem the company aims to provide a kind of software plug-in that helps you make sense of your far-flung social network connections.


In a 2012 blog post describing the “future I want to help create,” Fatemi said she’d like to improve the intelligence of social networks. “I have so many connections on various platforms to the point that I don’t know who I know anymore,” she wrote. “I want technology that provides me with information on who I know, how often I communicate with them and on what platform, and generates my circles of friends automatically.”


We probably wouldn’t have known about Close if not for Benthall’s arrest. The company makes a cameo in the Silk Road 2 charging documents. According to the documents, Benthall was hosting the Silk Road 2 server on a subdomain of the close.co internet address, which until Thursday was used by the startup.


In late May, after Benthall had left SpaceX, federal investigators snagged the server running the Silk Road 2. It had been tucked into a data center somewhere beyond US jurisdiction, but the feds got at it anyway. They had to take the computer offline for a few hours to copy its contents for forensic investigation.


During that time, the site’s administrator, known as “Defcon”—the feds claim this is Benthall—may have experienced a mild panic attack. His internet service provider pumped out dozens of warning messages, warning that the Silk Road 2 server was offline. “Our server srv2.close.co has not been responding for several hours. Do NOT reboot the machine, there is a critical process we need to watch,” Benthall allegedly said to the ISP.


But Fatemi apparently knew nothing about this server running on her company’s Close.co domain. Benthall’s arrest took her by surprise. “I just can’t believe this,” she wrote on Twitter on Thursday. “I’ve worked with Blake in the past and this seems out of character.”


Kevin Poulsen contributed to this story.



Star Light


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Belkin International



If you had asked me two years ago if I thought lightbulbs with Wi-Fi connectivity would ever be a thing, I would have smirked and politely replied “No.” The benefits of adding modern day technology to a nineteenth-century creation would have easily been lost on me.


Good thing I’m not a futurist.


A few weeks ago, a box from Belkin arrived at my house. Inside was the $99 WeMo LED Lighting Starter Kit, which included two 60-watt WeMo Smart LED Bulbs and one WeMo Link. (Additional bulbs can be purchased separately for $29 each.)


While you could argue, quite reasonably, that the world probably doesn’t need another connected-lightbulb solution, Belkin’s WeMo’s solution comes with a few interesting differences. Unlike the Hue, WeMo is really an entire ecosystem. The product line, which consists of cameras, switches, lights, and even Crock-Pots, offers you control over everything from outlets to light switches, and now individual bulbs. Granted, the Smart Bulbs don’t offer disco capabilities, but I don’t think I’ve ever wished I could change the color of a bulb on a whim (outside of decorating for holidays, naturally).


The Link part of Belkin’s kit is a Zigbee-based unit that’s approximately double the size of Apple’s iPad charging brick. Once it’s plugged into a standard power outlet, it acts as a bridge to link the lightbulbs to your Wi-Fi network. The bridge allows Belkin to keep the smart bulbs roughly the same size of traditional bulbs, while packing the real brains of the setup into a unit you can tuck away in any corner outlet.


The setup process mirrors that of other WeMo devices, albeit with an additional component or two. You’ll need to plug in the Link, wait for it to power on, and then connect to the small wireless network it creates. Once connected, you launch the WeMo mobile app, and wait for it to recognize the Link. At this point during the setup process, you’ll need to point the Link towards your home’s Wi-Fi network by entering the applicable credentials and tap done. The Link then automatically connects the bulbs you have installed—with the potential to control up to fifty bulbs using only one Link.


Despite the immediate need for a firmware upgrade, once the bulbs were connected to my Wi-Fi network, the setup process was painless. The time from unboxing to the completion of the firmware update was just shy of twenty-minutes (half of which is attributed to the update process).


You’re able to control the bulbs using the WeMo app on an Android or iOS device. Naturally, you can toggle the lights on or off with the tap of a button, as well as set the brightness level or create rules.


Rules automate when and how the bulbs power up or down. For example, the WeMo app can use your location to determine local sunrise and sunset times. Using this info, you can have the bulbs automatically power up as it starts to get dark, instead of having to adjust a hard-programed time every few months as the seasons change.


I set the bulbs to gradually turn on over the course of thirty-minutes at sunset. Then three hours later the bulbs take fifteen-minutes to completely turn off, gradually lowering brightness until they would go dark.


The gradual increase or decrease in brightness sounds like a novelty, but I found it useful. In fact, I hardly ever noticed the exact moment the lights turned on or off. Instead of having the sudden shock of a bright light in the morning, or darkness at night, my eyes were able to adjust to the change in lighting over time.


One of my concerns about installing a connected light bulb like this was that it could only be turned on or off from the app, rendering the bulbs useless to my kids or a babysitter. With the WeMo bulbs, however, anyone can power them on or off using the proper light switch.


You can even group bulbs using a new feature in the WeMo app. By creating groups, you’re able to control an entire room with a single rule, in lieu of tediously creating rules for individual bulbs. I desperately wish this grouping functionality extended to other WeMo products. I would love to have the ability to group the WeMo Switch and Light Switch in my office, with two rules controlling them both, instead of the four rules I currently have setup.


The Smart LED Bulbs aren’t breaking any new ground in the market of Wi-Fi light bulbs. But there are enough genuinely useful additions here to make Belkin’s kit a compelling option—especially if you’re interested in automating other parts of your home too.