Coffee bars and rideshare cars

Welcome to the May issue of Device, yet another entry into our efforts to advance the science of application-driven research. This month has some fantastic contributions spanning from the gorgeous cover by Zhiyong Fan & co-workers describing a tetrachromic photosensor (100357), the now-infamous "drinking bird" evaporative water harvester from Zuankai Wang & co-workers (100318) and a foam that accelerates wound healing using carbon monoxide by James Byrne & co-workers (100320), among others. Despite the higher-than-usual presence of energy-related devices in this issue, there's something touching every field in the issue somewhere. Of note from our front half is our first contribution to Cell Press's 50th Anniversary Celebration in Ao Liu, Kenji Nomura and Yong-Young Noh's piece on the future of metal oxide thin film transistors (oTFT) (100396). This is part of what will be an ongoing series that we're calling "Future Tech in Retrospect." These papers pair an emerging researcher with a veteran of the field and ask them to fill us in on what has happened in the past 50 years (after all, Device has not been around for most of Cell Press's venerable history) and then open their minds to blue-sky thinking. Each of these articles offers the authors the opportunity to speculate on what a future of a field could be—if only we solved certain key problems. Hopefully, their glowing vision of where we could go will galvanize researchers to address some of these bugbears and get us a bit closer to that bright future (and perhaps generate some great submissions to Device in the process). In other news, we're nearing the end of what I like to describe as the "first quarter conference deluge." Without fail, conferences such as SLAS, APS, RoboSoft, MRS, and ACS—alongside a slew of lab visits—have me and my colleagues on the road almost continuously from February through the end of April. Then, suddenly, things get mysteriously quiet until the end of the summer. On the one hand, I absolutely love getting to go to these events and participate in the conversations that spring up at coffee bars and banquet tables; after all, one of our advertised perks of becoming an editor is getting to attend these events and seldom having to present at one. On the other, life is going on at home, and by the end of what feels like the twelfth consecutive week wedged into United Economy Class, the energy wanes and it gets harder to keep a straight face for some of the more tedious aspects of work-related travel. It was in the midst this sort of travel and social fatigue that I was discussing with a colleague the challenges that come with this: the always-on email autoresponder that lets people know that you'll catch up with your inbox as soon as you're back to your desk (yeah, right), the reviewer invitations that never seem to quite find their way into your agenda (if I see you at a conference and then get a reviewer report in from you, my respect increases significantly), and the shame of grabbing yet another "meal" from a newsstand on the way through O'Hare (surely when I get home I'll make up for these questionable calories, right?). Topping this all off, in my last conference of this deluge, Taylor Swift released a new album entitled "The Tortured Poets Department". While I will leave the deeper lyrical analysis to my colleagues at Matter, the fact remained that my Swiftie spouse had the record on loop the entire time I was home the weekend it released. One track in particular struck me, and I joked with that same colleague that "I can do it with a broken heart" is the conference-regular anthem. I ended up caught on lyrics like:"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day" (Oh, look—it's that author I've been chasing for months just sitting at my dinner table! Time to dig deep and say hello)"I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague" (Why can't these folks keep an appointment? Maybe if I just stalk around these talks I can catch them checking their email…)"I cry a lot, but I am so productive" (It's 2 am in my time zone, but this is the only time I can get any of my normal day job in—so let's focus on the positives, shall we?). I remember plopping into a chair at San Diego's RoboSoft for the "Best Paper" talks, which are generally graduate student and postdoc talks, and thinking (perhaps shamefully) that I was down to single-digit days before I could go back to a semblance of work-life balance. I'm not proud of that thought, but I think we've all had it at one point or another, where the demands of constantly being "on" get the best of us. In that session, though, something happened that reminded me why I do this job in the first place. A graduate student from the University of Science and Technology of China, Zhanchi Wang, came to the podium, set down a camera tripod covered in soft robotic tentacles, put on a huge smile, and began to tell us—with demonstrations—about the work he and his advisor, Nikolaos Freris, have done in spiral robots for grasping. Not a single person could deny the charisma and excitement that Zhanchi brought to the room, and it reminded me of why I was there: to see and experience the science first-hand, in a way that you simply cannot get by reading the literature. I had the privilege of talking with him and playing with the graspers in the poster session that followed. The crowd that formed was absolutely vibrating with energy. The importance of getting to see, feel, and play with ideas in semi-formal situations is absolutely worth the effort—and it's these interactions that keep me optimistically grinding conferences all winter and spring. So, with that, I hope that you, with however much travel you have done this spring or have yet to come this summer, can find some time to breathe, relax and—more importantly—find the joy in science and engineering. Oh, and ignore the pop singers trying to sell you on trendy depression; even if relatable, you will find much better support in your fellow attendees, who are probably just as tired and even more excited to share their work.