Your phone could show if a bridge is about to collapse
Lina Zeldovich has written about science, medicine and technology for Popular Science, Smithsonian, National Geographic, Scientific American, Reader’s Digest, the New York Times and other major national and international publications. A Columbia J-School alumna, she has won several awards for her stories, including the ASJA Crisis Coverage Award for Covid reporting, and has been a contributing editor at Nautilus Magazine. In 2021, Zeldovich released her first book, The Other Dark Matter, published by the University of Chicago Press, about the science and business of turning waste into wealth and health. You can find her on http://linazeldovich.com/ and @linazeldovich.
In summer 2017, Thomas Matarazzo, then a postdoctoral researcher at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, landed in San Francisco with a colleague. They rented two cars, drove up to the Golden Gate bridge, timing it to the city’s rush hour, and rode over to the other side in heavy traffic. Once they reached the other end, they turned around and did it again. And again. And again.
“I drove over that bridge 100 times over five days, back and forth,” says Matarazzo, now an associate director of High-Performance Computing in the Center for Innovation in Engineering at the United States Military Academy, West Point. “It was surprisingly stressful, I never anticipated that. I had to maintain the speed of about 30 miles an hour when the speed limit is 45. I felt bad for everybody behind me.”
Matarazzo had to drive slowly because the quality of data they were collecting depended on it. The pair was designing and testing a new smartphone app that could gather data about the bridge’s structural integrity—a low-cost citizen-scientist alternative to the current industrial methods, which aren’t always possible, partly because they’re expensive and complex. In the era of aging infrastructure, when some bridges in the United States and other countries are structurally unsound to the point of collapsing, such an app could inform authorities about the need for urgent repairs, or at least prompt closing the most dangerous structures.
There are 619,588 bridges in the U.S., and some of them are very old. For example, the Benjamin Franklin Bridge connecting Philadelphia to Camden, N.J., is 96-years-old while the Brooklyn Bridge is 153. So it’s hardly surprising that many could use some upgrades. “In the U.S., a lot of them were built in the post-World War II period to accommodate the surge of motorization,” says Carlo Ratti, architect and engineer who directs the Senseable City Lab at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. “They are beginning to reach the end of their life.”
According to the 2022 American Road & Transportation Builders Association’s report, one in three U.S. bridges needs repair or replacement. The Department of Transportation (DOT) National Bridge Inventory (NBI) database reveals concerning numbers. Thirty-six percent of U.S. bridges need repair work and over 78,000 bridges should be replaced. More than 43,500 bridges are rated in poor condition and classified as “structurally deficient” – an alarming description. Yet, people drive over them 167.5 million times a day. The Pittsburgh bridge which collapsed in January this year—only hours before President Biden arrived to discuss the new infrastructure law—was on the “poor” rating list.
Assessing the structural integrity of a bridge is not an easy endeavor. Most of the time, these are visual inspections, Matarazzo explains. Engineers check cracks, rust and other signs of wear and tear. They also check for wildlife—birds which may build nests or even small animals that make homes inside the bridge structures, which can slowly chip at the structure. However, visual inspections may not tell the whole story. A more sophisticated and significantly more expensive inspection requires placing special sensors on the bridge that essentially listen to how the bridge vibrates.
“Some bridges can afford expensive sensors to do the job, but that comes at a very high cost—hundreds of thousands of dollars per bridge per year,” Ratti says.
We may think of bridges as immovable steel and concrete monoliths, but they naturally vibrate, oscillating slightly. That movement can be influenced by the traffic that passes over them, and even by wind. Bridges of different types vibrate differently—some have longer vibrational frequencies and others shorter ones. A good way to visualize this phenomenon is to place a ruler over the edge of a desk and flick it slightly. If the ruler protrudes far off the desk, it will vibrate slowly. But if you shorten the end that hangs off, it will vibrate much faster. It works similarly with bridges, except there are more factors at play, including not only the length, but also the design and the materials used.
The long suspension bridges such as the Golden Gate or Verrazano Narrows, which hang on a series of cables, are more flexible, and their vibration amplitudes are longer. The Golden Gate Bridge can vibrate at 0.106 Hertz, where one Hertz is one oscillation per second. “Think about standing on the bridge for about 10 seconds—that's how long it takes for it to move all the way up and all the way down in one oscillation,” Matarazzo says.
On the contrary, the concrete span bridges that rest on multiple columns like Brooklyn Bridge or Manhattan Bridge, are “stiffer” and have greater vibrational frequencies. A concrete bridge can have a frequency of 10 Hertz, moving 10 times in one second—like that shorter stretch of a ruler.
The special devices that can pick up and record these vibrations over time are called accelerometers. A network of these devices for each bridge can cost $20,000 to $50,000, and more—and require trained personnel to place them. The sensors also must stay on the bridge for some time to establish what’s a healthy vibrational baseline for a given bridge. Maintaining them adds to the cost. “Some bridges can afford expensive sensors to do the job, but that comes at a very high cost—hundreds of thousands of dollars per bridge per year,” Ratti says.
Making sense of the readouts they gather is another challenge, which requires a high level of technical expertise. “You generally need somebody, some type of expert capable of doing the analysis to translate that data into information,” says Matarazzo, which ticks up the price, so doing visual inspections often proves to be a more economical choice for state-level DOTs with tight budgets. “The existing systems work well, but have downsides,” Ratti says. The team thought the old method could use some modernizing.
Smartphones, which are carried by millions of people, contain dozens of sensors, including the accelerometers capable of picking up the bridges’ vibrations. That’s why Matarazzo and his colleague drove over the bridge 100 times—they were trying to pick up enough data. Timing it to rush hour supported that goal because traffic caused more “excitation,” Matarazzo explains. “Excitation is a big word we use when we talk about what drives the vibration,” he says. “When there's a lot of traffic, there's more excitation and more vibration.” They also collaborated with Uber, whose drivers made 72 trips across the bridge to gather data in different cars.
The next step was to clean the data from “noise”—various vibrations that weren’t relevant to the bridge but came from the cars themselves. “It could be jumps in speed, it could be potholes, it could be a bunch of other things," Matarazzo says. But as the team gathered more data, it became easier to tell the bridge vibrational frequencies from all others because the noises generated by cars, traffic and other things tend to “cancel out.”
The team specifically picked the Golden Gate bridge because the civil structural engineering community had studied it extensively over the years and collected a host of vibrational data, using traditional sensors. When the researchers compared their app-collected frequencies with those gathered by 240 accelerometers formerly placed on the Golden Gate, the results were the same—the data from the phones converged with that from the bridge’s sensors. The smartphone-collected data were just as good as those from industry devices.
The study authors estimate that officials could use crowdsourced data to make key improvements that would help new bridges to last about 14 years longer.
The team also tested their method on a different type of bridge—not a suspension one like the Golden Gate, but a concrete span bridge in Ciampino, Italy. There they compared 280 car trips over the bridge to the six sensors that had been placed on the bridge for seven months. The results were slightly less matching, but a larger volume of trips would fix the divergence, the researchers wrote in their study, titled Crowdsourcing bridge dynamic monitoring with smartphone vehicle trips, published last month in Nature Communications Engineering.
Although the smartphones proved effective, the app is not quite ready to be rolled out commercially for people to start using. “It is still a pilot version,” so there’s room for improvement, says Ratti, who co-authored the study. “But on a more optimistic note, it has really low barriers to entry—all you need is smartphones on cars—so that makes the system easy to reach a global audience.” And the study authors estimate that the use of crowdsourced data would result in a new bridge lasting about 14 years longer.
Matarazzo hopes that the app could be eventually accessible for your average citizen scientist to collect the data and supply it to their local transportation authorities. “I hope that this idea can spark a different type of relationship with infrastructure where people think about the data they're collecting as some type of contribution or investment into their communities,” he says. “So that they can help their own department of transportation, their own municipality to support that bridge and keep it maintained better, longer and safer.”
Lina Zeldovich has written about science, medicine and technology for Popular Science, Smithsonian, National Geographic, Scientific American, Reader’s Digest, the New York Times and other major national and international publications. A Columbia J-School alumna, she has won several awards for her stories, including the ASJA Crisis Coverage Award for Covid reporting, and has been a contributing editor at Nautilus Magazine. In 2021, Zeldovich released her first book, The Other Dark Matter, published by the University of Chicago Press, about the science and business of turning waste into wealth and health. You can find her on http://linazeldovich.com/ and @linazeldovich.
When doctors couldn’t stop her daughter’s seizures, this mom earned a PhD and found a treatment herself.
Twenty-eight years ago, Tracy Dixon-Salazaar woke to the sound of her daughter, two-year-old Savannah, in the midst of a medical emergency.
“I entered [Savannah’s room] to see her tiny little body jerking about violently in her bed,” Tracy said in an interview. “I thought she was choking.” When she and her husband frantically called 911, the paramedic told them it was likely that Savannah had had a seizure—a term neither Tracy nor her husband had ever heard before.
Over the next several years, Savannah’s seizures continued and worsened. By age five Savannah was having seizures dozens of times each day, and her parents noticed significant developmental delays. Savannah was unable to use the restroom and functioned more like a toddler than a five-year-old.
Doctors were mystified: Tracy and her husband had no family history of seizures, and there was no event—such as an injury or infection—that could have caused them. Doctors were also confused as to why Savannah’s seizures were happening so frequently despite trying different seizure medications.
Doctors eventually diagnosed Savannah with Lennox-Gaustaut Syndrome, or LGS, an epilepsy disorder with no cure and a poor prognosis. People with LGS are often resistant to several kinds of anti-seizure medications, and often suffer from developmental delays and behavioral problems. People with LGS also have a higher chance of injury as well as a higher chance of sudden unexpected death (SUDEP) due to the frequent seizures. In about 70 percent of cases, LGS has an identifiable cause such as a brain injury or genetic syndrome. In about 30 percent of cases, however, the cause is unknown.
Watching her daughter struggle through repeated seizures was devastating to Tracy and the rest of the family.
“This disease, it comes into your life. It’s uninvited. It’s unannounced and it takes over every aspect of your daily life,” said Tracy in an interview with Today.com. “Plus it’s attacking the thing that is most precious to you—your kid.”
Desperate to find some answers, Tracy began combing the medical literature for information about epilepsy and LGS. She enrolled in college courses to better understand the papers she was reading.
“Ironically, I thought I needed to go to college to take English classes to understand these papers—but soon learned it wasn’t English classes I needed, It was science,” Tracy said. When she took her first college science course, Tracy says, she “fell in love with the subject.”
Tracy was now a caregiver to Savannah, who continued to have hundreds of seizures a month, as well as a full-time student, studying late into the night and while her kids were at school, using classwork as “an outlet for the pain.”
“I couldn’t help my daughter,” Tracy said. “Studying was something I could do.”
Twelve years later, Tracy had earned a PhD in neurobiology.
After her post-doctoral training, Tracy started working at a lab that explored the genetics of epilepsy. Savannah’s doctors hadn’t found a genetic cause for her seizures, so Tracy decided to sequence her genome again to check for other abnormalities—and what she found was life-changing.
Tracy discovered that Savannah had a calcium channel mutation, meaning that too much calcium was passing through Savannah’s neural pathways, leading to seizures. The information made sense to Tracy: Anti-seizure medications often leech calcium from a person’s bones. When doctors had prescribed Savannah calcium supplements in the past to counteract these effects, her seizures had gotten worse every time she took the medication. Tracy took her discovery to Savannah’s doctor, who agreed to prescribe her a calcium blocker.
The change in Savannah was almost immediate.
Within two weeks, Savannah’s seizures had decreased by 95 percent. Once on a daily seven-drug regimen, she was soon weaned to just four, and then three. Amazingly, Tracy started to notice changes in Savannah’s personality and development, too.
“She just exploded in her personality and her talking and her walking and her potty training and oh my gosh she is just so sassy,” Tracy said in an interview.
Since starting the calcium blocker eleven years ago, Savannah has continued to make enormous strides. Though still unable to read or write, Savannah enjoys puzzles and social media. She’s “obsessed” with boys, says Tracy. And while Tracy suspects she’ll never be able to live independently, she and her daughter can now share more “normal” moments—something she never anticipated at the start of Savannah’s journey with LGS. While preparing for an event, Savannah helped Tracy get ready.
“We picked out a dress and it was the first time in our lives that we did something normal as a mother and a daughter,” she said. “It was pretty cool.”
A sleek, four-foot tall white robot glides across a cafe storefront in Tokyo’s Nihonbashi district, holding a two-tiered serving tray full of tea sandwiches and pastries. The cafe’s patrons smile and say thanks as they take the tray—but it’s not the robot they’re thanking. Instead, the patrons are talking to the person controlling the robot—a restaurant employee who operates the avatar from the comfort of their home.
It’s a typical scene at DAWN, short for Diverse Avatar Working Network—a cafe that launched in Tokyo six years ago as an experimental pop-up and quickly became an overnight success. Today, the cafe is a permanent fixture in Nihonbashi, staffing roughly 60 remote workers who control the robots remotely and communicate to customers via a built-in microphone.
More than just a creative idea, however, DAWN is being hailed as a life-changing opportunity. The workers who control the robots remotely (known as “pilots”) all have disabilities that limit their ability to move around freely and travel outside their homes. Worldwide, an estimated 16 percent of the global population lives with a significant disability—and according to the World Health Organization, these disabilities give rise to other problems, such as exclusion from education, unemployment, and poverty.
These are all problems that Kentaro Yoshifuji, founder and CEO of Ory Laboratory, which supplies the robot servers at DAWN, is looking to correct. Yoshifuji, who was bedridden for several years in high school due to an undisclosed health problem, launched the company to help enable people who are house-bound or bedridden to more fully participate in society, as well as end the loneliness, isolation, and feelings of worthlessness that can sometimes go hand-in-hand with being disabled.
“It’s heartbreaking to think that [people with disabilities] feel they are a burden to society, or that they fear their families suffer by caring for them,” said Yoshifuji in an interview in 2020. “We are dedicating ourselves to providing workable, technology-based solutions. That is our purpose.”
Shota Kuwahara, a DAWN employee with muscular dystrophy. Ory Labs, Inc.
Wanting to connect with others and feel useful is a common sentiment that’s shared by the workers at DAWN. Marianne, a mother of two who lives near Mt. Fuji, Japan, is functionally disabled due to chronic pain and fatigue. Working at DAWN has allowed Marianne to provide for her family as well as help alleviate her loneliness and grief.Shota, Kuwahara, a DAWN employee with muscular dystrophy, agrees. "There are many difficulties in my daily life, but I believe my life has a purpose and is not being wasted," he says. "Being useful, able to help other people, even feeling needed by others, is so motivational."