Exosonic, a startup developing supersonic commercial air travel and UAV tech, is winding down after five years of operation. In an update posted to its website, Exosonic said it was unable to find the traction necessary to continue operations.  “Although the founders and team still believe in the need/desire for quiet supersonic flight and supersonic […]

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NextWave STEM is a leader in K-12 STEM education. Using the “five essentials” (leadership, self-development, team development, strategic thinking, civic-mindedness and innovation), the company’s vision is to empower students and educators to excel in a continuously changing world. Since its founding in 2017, NextWave STEM has partnered with more than 500 schools and community organizations nationally, served more than 200,000 students, and created award-winning STEM programs in emerging technologies. Schools and community organizations who have partnered with NextWave STEM report improved student attendance, increased student interest in STEM-related courses and careers, and increased teacher confidence in teaching STEM and emerging technologies.

NextWave STEM is a visionary leader that understands the needs of tomorrow and how to best equip and inspire the leaders of tomorrow with the tools and skills to be successful. By combining the project-based learning of STEM with innovative, emerging technologies, the company works to improve academic outcomes, close the achievement gap, and open new opportunities post high school and throughout one’s career.

The company makes STEM education engaging for students, easy for teachers and affordable for partners. Their solutions include award-winning curricula, hands-on exploration kits, and professional development. Courses cover: robotics and artificial intelligence, drones and coding, 3D printing and modeling, cybersecurity, entrepreneurship, and solar and renewable energy, and more. Courses are designed to help students develop the 21st Century skills needed to master problem solving and critical thinking, and be prepared for the influx of STEM-related careers, while professional development helps teachers master the facilitation of STEM education.

NextWaveSTEM® was born in Chicago as the brainchild of our founder, Udit Agarwal (pictured). While working as an IT analyst for Chicago Public Schools, Udit saw the need for excellent and easy-to-implement STEM education. He knew the importance of the education system and the economy at large to empower students with the 21st-century skills of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math as well as Critical Thinking, Problem Solving, and Innovation. Nonetheless, he didn’t see it being taught in a way that was fun for kids—while also meeting state and national standards.

As Udit learned more and became more interested in robotics, he started researching how to bring robotics classes to schools. He started putting the pieces together to start NextWaveSTEM. In 2017, Udit launched NextWaveSTEM® by offering after-school programming in Chicago. Today, at NextWaveSTEM, Udit’s company offers in-person and virtual courses for schools and turn-key curricula in Robotics, Drone Coding, Artificial Intelligence, 3D Printing, and more at K-12 schools nationwide.

“For our students, we hope to spark a new way of learning using real-world applications and inquiry-based learning,” says Udit. “For our fellow educators, we offer authentic support from our own educators, curriculum developers, and executive team.”

For these reasons and more, Udit Agarwal of NextWaveSTEM earned an EdTech Leadership Award for his visionary work in our field as part of The EdTech Awards from EdTech Digest. Learn more.

The post NextWaveSTEM appeared first on EdTech Digest.

Where’s your flying car? I’m sorry to say that I have no idea. But here’s something that is somewhat similar, in that it flies, transports things, and has “car” in the name: it’s a flying cart, called the Palletrone (pallet+drone), designed for human-robot interaction-based aerial cargo transportation.

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The way this thing works is fairly straightforward. The Palletrone will try to keep its roll and pitch at zero, to make sure that there’s a flat and stable platform for your preciouses, even if you don’t load those preciouses onto the drone evenly. Once loaded up, the drone relies on you to tell it where to go and what to do, using its IMU to respond to the slightest touch and translating those forces into control over the Palletrone’s horizontal, vertical, and yaw trajectories. This is particularly tricky to do, because the system has to be able to differentiate between the force exerted by cargo, and the force exerted by a human, since if the IMU senses a force moving the drone downward, it could be either. But professor Seung Jae Lee tells us that they developed “a simple but effective method to distinguish between them.”

Since the drone has to do all of this sensing and movement without pitching or rolling (since that would dump its cargo directly onto the floor) it’s equipped with internal propeller arms that can be rotated to vector thrust in any direction. We were curious about how having a bunch of unpredictable stuff sitting right above those rotors might affect the performance of the drone. But Seung Jae Lee says that the drone’s porous side structures allow for sufficient airflow and that even when the entire top of the drone is covered, thrust is only decreased by about 5 percent.

The current incarnation of the Palletrone is not particularly smart, and you need to remain in control of it, although if you let it go it will do its best to remain stationary (until it runs out of batteries). The researchers describe the experience of using this thing as “akin to maneuvering a shopping cart,” although I would guess that it’s somewhat noisier. In the video, the Palletrone is loaded down with just under 3 kilograms of cargo, which is respectable enough for testing. The drone is obviously not powerful enough to haul your typical grocery bag up the stairs to your apartment. But, it’s a couple of steps in the right direction, at least.

We also asked Seung Jae Lee about how he envisions the Palletrone being used, besides as just a logistics platform for either commercial or industrial use. “By attaching a camera to the platform, it could serve as a flying tripod or even act as a dolly, allowing for flexible camera movements and angles,” he says. “This would be particularly useful in environments where specialized filming equipment is difficult to procure.”

And for those of you about to comment something along the lines of, “this can’t possibly have enough battery life to be real-world useful,” they’re already working to solve that, with a docking system that allows one Palletrone to change the battery of another in-flight:

One Palletrone swaps out the battery of a second Palletrone.Seoul Tech

“The Palletrone Cart: Human-Robot Interaction-Based Aerial Cargo Transportation,” by Geonwoo Park, Hyungeun Park, Wooyong Park, Dongjae Lee, Murim Kim, and Seung Jae Lee from Seoul National University of Science and Technology in Korea, is published in IEEE Robotics And Automation Letters.

Serhii “Flash” Beskrestnov hates going to the front line. The risks terrify him. “I’m really not happy to do it at all,” he says. But to perform his particular self-appointed role in the Russia-Ukraine war, he believes it’s critical to exchange the relative safety of his suburban home north of the capital for places where the prospect of death is much more immediate. “From Kyiv,” he says, “nobody sees the real situation.”

So about once a month, he drives hundreds of kilometers east in a homemade mobile intelligence center: a black VW van in which stacks of radio hardware connect to an array of antennas on the roof that stand like porcupine quills when in use. Two small devices on the dash monitor for nearby drones. Over several days at a time, Flash studies the skies for Russian radio transmissions and tries to learn about the problems facing troops in the fields and in the trenches.

He is, at least in an unofficial capacity, a spy. But unlike other spies, Flash does not keep his work secret. In fact, he shares the results of these missions with more than 127,000 followers—including many soldiers and government officials—on several public social media channels. Earlier this year, for instance, he described how he had recorded five different Russian reconnaissance drones in a single night—one of which was flying directly above his van.

As well as the frontline information he shares on his public channels, he runs a “support service” for almost 2,000 military communications specialists on Signal and writes guides for building anti-drone equipment on a tight budget. “He’s a celebrity,” one special forces officer recently shouted to me over the thump of music in a Kyiv techno club. He’s “like a ray of sun,” an aviation specialist in Ukraine’s army told me. Flash tells me that he gets 500 messages every day asking for help.

Despite this reputation among rank-and-file service members—and maybe because of it—Flash has also become a source of some controversy among the upper echelons of Ukraine’s military, he tells me. The Armed Forces of Ukraine declined multiple requests for comment, but Flash and his colleagues claim that some high-ranking officials perceive him as a security threat, worrying that he shares too much information and doesn’t do enough to secure sensitive intel. As a result, some refuse to support or engage with him. Others, Flash says, pretend he doesn’t exist. Either way, he believes they are simply insecure about the value of their own contributions—“because everybody knows that Serhii Flash is not sitting in Kyiv like a colonel in the Ministry of Defense,” he tells me in the abrasive fashion that I’ve come to learn is typical of his character. 

But above all else, hours of conversations with numerous people involved in Ukraine’s defense, including frontline signalmen and volunteers, have made clear that even if Flash is a complicated figure, he’s undoubtedly an influential one. His work has become greatly important to those fighting on the ground, and he recently received formal recognition from the military for his contributions to the fight, with two medals of commendation—one from the commander of Ukraine’s ground forces, the other from the Ministry of Defense. 

Despite a small number of semi-autonomous machines with a reduced reliance on radio communications, the drones that saturate the skies above the battlefield will continue to largely depend on this technology for the foreseeable future. And in this race for survival—as each side constantly tries to best the other, only to start all over again when the other inevitably catches up—Ukrainian soldiers need to develop creative solutions, and fast. As Ukraine’s wartime radio guru, Flash may just be one of their best hopes for doing that. 

“I know nothing about his background,” says “Igrok,” who works with drones in Ukraine’s 110th Mechanized Brigade and whom we are identifying by his call sign, as is standard military practice. “But I do know that most engineers and all pilots know nothing about radios and antennas. His job is definitely one of the most powerful forces keeping Ukraine’s aerial defense in good condition.”

And given the mounting evidence that both militaries and militant groups in other parts of the world are now adopting drone tactics developed in Ukraine, it’s not only his country’s fate that Flash may help to determine—but also the ways that armies wage war for years to come.

A prescient hobby

Before I can even start asking questions during our meeting in May, Flash is rummaging around in the back of the Flash-mobile, pulling out bits of gear for his own version of show-and-tell: a drone monitor with a fin-shaped antenna; a walkie-talkie labeled with a sticker from Russia’s state security service, the FSB; an approximately 1.5-meter-long foldable antenna that he says probably came from a US-made Abrams tank.

Flash has parked on a small wooded road beside the Kyiv Sea, an enormous water reservoir north of the capital. He’s wearing a khaki sweat-wicking polo shirt, combat trousers, and combat boots, with a Glock 19 pistol strapped to his hip. (“I am a threat to the enemy,” he tells me, explaining that he feels he has to watch his back.) As we talk, he moves from one side to the other, as if the electromagnetic waves that he’s studied since childhood have somehow begun to control the motion of his body.

Now 49, Flash grew up in a suburb of Kyiv in the ’80s. His father, who was a colonel in the Soviet army, recalls bringing home broken radio equipment for his preteen son to tinker with. Flash showed talent from the start. He attended an after-school radio club, and his father fixed an antenna to the roof of their apartment for him. Later, Flash began communicating with people in countries beyond the Iron Curtain. “It was like an open door to the big world for me,” he says.

Flash recalls with amusement a time when a letter from the KGB arrived at his family home, giving his father the fright of his life. His father didn’t know that his son had sent a message on a prohibited radio frequency, and someone had noticed. Following the letter, when Flash reported to the service’s office in downtown Kyiv, his teenage appearance confounded them. Boy, what are you doing here? Flash recalls an embarrassed official saying. 

Ukraine had been a hub of innovation as part of the Soviet Union. But by the time Flash graduated from military communications college in 1997, Ukraine had been independent for six years, and corruption and a lack of investment had stripped away the armed forces’ former grandeur. Flash spent just a year working in a military radio factory before he joined a private communications company developing Ukraine’s first mobile network, where he worked with technologies far more advanced than what he had used in the military. The  project was called “Flash.” 

A decade and a half later, Flash had risen through the ranks of the industry to become head of department at the progenitor to the telecommunications company Vodafone Ukraine. But boredom prompted him to leave and become an entrepreneur. His many projects included a successful e-commerce site for construction services and a popular video game called Isotopium: Chernobyl, which he and a friend based on the “really neat concept,” according to a PC Gamer review, of allowing players to control real robots (fitted with radios, of course) around a physical arena. Released in 2019, it also received positive reviews from Reuters and BBC News.

But within just a few years, an unexpected attack would hurl his country into chaos—and upend Flash’s life. 

By early 2022, rumors were growing of a potential attack from Russia. Though he was still working on Isotopium, Flash began to organize a radio network across the northern suburbs of Kyiv in preparation. Near his home, he set up a repeater about 65 meters above ground level that could receive and then rebroadcast transmissions from all the radios in its network across a 200-square-kilometer area. Another radio amateur programmed and distributed handheld radios.

When Russian forces did invade, on February 24, they took both fiber-optic and mobile networks offline, as Flash had anticipated. The radio network became the only means of instant communications for civilians and, critically, volunteers mobilizing to fight in the region, who used it to share information about Russian troop movements. Flash fed this intel to several professional Ukrainian army units, including a unit of special reconnaissance forces. He later received an award from the head of the district’s military administration for his part in Kyiv’s defense. The head of the district council referred to Flash as “one of the most worthy people” in the region.

Within roughly a month of Russia’s incursion, Flash had created a private group called “Military Signalmen” on the encrypted messaging platform Signal, and invited civilian radio experts from his personal network to join alongside military communications specialists. “I am here to help you with technical issues,” he remembers writing to the group. “Ask me anything and I will try to find the answer for you.”

The kinds of questions that Flash and his civilian colleagues answered in the first months were often basic. Group members wanted to know how to update the firmware on their devices, reset their radios’ passwords, or set up the internal communications networks for large vehicles. Many of the people drafted as communications specialists in the Ukrainian military had little relevant experience; Flash claims that even professional soldiers lacked appropriate training and has referred to large parts of Ukraine’s military communications courses as “either nonsense or junk.” (The Korolov Zhytomyr Military Institute, where many communications specialists train, declined a request for comment.)

He demonstrates handheld spectrum analyzers with custom Ukrainian firmware.

News of the Signal group spread by word of mouth, and it soon became a kind of 24-hour support service that communications specialists in every sector of Ukraine’s frontline force subscribed to. “Any military engineer can ask anything and receive the answer within a couple of minutes,” Flash says. “It’s a nice way to teach people very quickly.” 

As the war progressed into its second year, Military Signalmen became, to an extent, self-sustaining. Its members had learned enough to answer one another’s questions themselves. And this is where several members tell me that Flash has contributed the most value. “The most important thing is that he brought together all these communications specialists in one team,” says Oleksandr “Moto,” a technician at an EU mission in Kyiv and an expert in Motorola equipment, who has advised members of the group. (He asked to not be identified by his surname, due to security concerns.) “It became very efficient.”

Today, Flash and his partners continue to answer occasional questions that require more advanced knowledge. But over the past year, as the group demanded less of his time, Flash has begun to focus on a rapidly proliferating weapon for which his experience had prepared him almost perfectly: the drone.  

A race without end

Larger strike drones similar to the US-made Reaper have been familiar in other recent conflicts, but sophisticated air defenses have rendered them less dominant in this war. Ukraine and Russia are developing and deploying vast numbers of other types of drones—including the now-notorious “FPV,” or first-person view, drone that pilots operate by wearing goggles that stream video of its perspective. These drones, which can carry payloads large enough to destroy tanks, are cheap (costing as little as $400), easy to produce, and difficult to shoot down. They use direct radio communications to transmit video feeds, receive commands, and navigate.

But their reliance on radio technology is a major vulnerability, because enemies can disrupt the signals that the drones emit—making them far less effective, if not inoperable. This form of electronic warfare—which most often involves emitting a more powerful signal at the same frequency as the operator’s—is called “jamming.”

Jamming, though, is an imperfect solution. Like drones, jammers themselves emit radio signals that can enable enemies to locate them. There are also effective countermeasures to bypass jammers. For example, a drone operator can use a tactic called “frequency hopping,” rapidly jumping between different frequencies to avoid a jammer’s signal. But even this method can be disrupted by algorithms that calculate the hopping patterns.

For this reason, jamming is a frequent focus of Flash’s work. In a January post on his Telegram channel, for instance, which people viewed 48,000 times, Flash explained how jammers used by some Ukrainian tanks were actually disrupting their own communications. “The cause of the problems is not direct interference with the reception range of the radio station, but very powerful signals from several [electronic warfare] antennae,” he wrote, suggesting that other tank crews experiencing the same problem might try spreading their antennas across the body of the tank. 

It is all part of an existential race in which Russia and Ukraine are constantly hunting for new methods of drone operation, drone jamming, and counter-jamming—and there’s no end in sight. In March, for example, Flash says, a frontline contact sent him photos of a Russian drone with what looks like a 10-kilometer-long spool of fiber-optic cable attached to its rear—one particularly novel method to bypass Ukrainian jammers. “It’s really crazy,” Flash says. “It looks really strange, but Russia showed us that this was possible.”

Flash’s trips to the front line make it easier for him to track developments like this. Not only does he monitor Russian drone activity from his souped-up VW, but he can study the problems that soldiers face in situ and nurture relationships with people who may later send him useful intel—or even enemy equipment they’ve seized. “The main problem is that our generals are located in Kyiv,” Flash says. “They send some messages to the military but do not understand how these military people are fighting on the front.”

Besides the advice he provides to Ukrainian troops, Flash also publishes online his own manuals for building and operating equipment that can offer protection from drones. Building their own tools can be soldiers’ best option, since Western military technology is typically expensive and domestic production is insufficient. Flash recommends buying most of the parts on AliExpress, the Chinese e-commerce platform, to reduce costs.

While all his activity suggests a close or at least cooperative relationship between Flash and Ukraine’s military, he sometimes finds himself on the outside looking in. In a post on Telegram in May, as well as during one of our meetings, Flash shared one of his greatest disappointments of the war: the military’s refusal of his proposal to create a database of all the radio frequencies used by Ukrainian forces. But when I mentioned this to an employee of a major electronic warfare company, who requested anonymity to speak about the sensitive subject, he suggested that the only reason Flash still complains about this is that the military hasn’t told him it already exists. (Given its sensitivity, MIT Technology Review was unable to independently confirm the existence of this database.) 

This anecdote is emblematic of Flash’s frustration with a military complex that may not always want his involvement. Ukraine’s armed forces, he has told me on several occasions, make no attempt to collaborate with him in an official manner. He claims not to receive any financial support, either. “I’m trying to help,” he says. “But nobody wants to help me.”

Both Flash and Yurii Pylypenko, another radio enthusiast who helps Flash manage his Telegram channel, say military officials have accused Flash of sharing too much information about Ukraine’s operations. Flash claims to verify every member of his closed Signal groups, which he says only discuss “technical issues” in any case. But he also admits the system is not perfect and that Russians could have gained access in the past. Several of the soldiers I interviewed for this story also claimed to have entered the groups without Flash’s verification process. 

It’s ultimately difficult to determine if some senior staff in the military hold Flash at arm’s length because of his regular, often strident criticism—or whether Flash’s criticism is the result of being held at arm’s length. But it seems unlikely either side’s grievances will subside soon; Pylypenko claims that senior officers have even tried to blackmail him over his involvement in Flash’s work. “They blame my help,” he wrote to me over Telegram, “because they think Serhii is a Russian agent reposting Russian propaganda.” 

Is the world prepared?

Flash’s greatest concern now is the prospect of Russia overwhelming Ukrainian forces with the cheap FPV drones. When they first started deploying FPVs, both sides were almost exclusively targeting expensive equipment. But as production has increased, they’re now using them to target individual soldiers, too. Because of Russia’s production superiority, this poses a serious danger—both physical and psychological—to Ukrainian soldiers. “Our army will be sitting under the ground because everybody who goes above ground will be killed,” Flash says. Some reports suggest that the prevalence of FPVs is already making it difficult for soldiers to expose themselves at all on the battlefield.

To combat this threat, Flash has a grand yet straightforward idea. He wants Ukraine to build a border “wall” of jamming systems that cover a broad range of the radio spectrum all along the front line. Russia has already done this itself with expensive vehicle-based systems, but these present easy targets for Ukrainian drones, which have destroyed several of them. Flash’s idea is to use a similar strategy, albeit with smaller, cheaper systems that are easier to replace. He claims, however, that military officials have shown no interest.

Although Flash is unwilling to divulge more details about this strategy (and who exactly he pitched it to), he believes that such a wall could provide a more sustainable means of protecting Ukrainian troops. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to say how long such a defense might last. Both sides are now in the process of developing artificial-intelligence programs that allow drones to lock on to targets while still outside enemy jamming range, rendering them jammer-proof when they come within it. Flash admits he is concerned—and he doesn’t appear to have a solution.

He’s not alone. The world is entirely unprepared for this new type of warfare, says Yaroslav Kalinin, a former Ukrainian intelligence officer and the CEO of Infozahyst, a manufacturer of equipment for electronic warfare. Kalinin recounts talking at an electronic-warfare-focused conference in Washington, DC, last December where representatives from some Western defense companies weren’t able to recognize the basic radio signals emitted by different types of drones. “Governments don’t count [drones] as a threat,” he says. “I need to run through the streets like a prophet—the end is near!”

Nevertheless, Ukraine has become, in essence, a laboratory for a new era of drone warfare—and, many argue, a new era of warfare entirely. Ukraine’s and Russia’s soldiers are its technicians. And Flash, who sometimes sleeps curled up in the back of his van while on the road, is one of its most passionate researchers. “Military developers from all over the world come to us for experience and advice,” he says. Only time will tell whether their contributions will be enough to see Ukraine through to the other side of this war. 

Charlie Metcalfe is a British journalist. He writes for magazines and newspapers, including Wired, the Guardian, and MIT Technology Review.

Video Friday is your weekly selection of awesome robotics videos, collected by your friends at IEEE Spectrum robotics. We also post a weekly calendar of upcoming robotics events for the next few months. Please send us your events for inclusion.

ICRA@40: 23–26 September 2024, ROTTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

IROS 2024: 14–18 October 2024, ABU DHABI, UAE

ICSR 2024: 23–26 October 2024, ODENSE, DENMARK

Cybathlon 2024: 25–27 October 2024, ZURICH

Enjoy today’s videos!

The National Science Foundation Human AugmentatioN via Dexterity Engineering Research Center (HAND ERC) was announced in August 2024. Funded for up to 10 years and $52 million, the HAND ERC is led by Northwestern University, with core members Texas A&M, Florida A&M, Carnegie Mellon, and MIT, and support from Wisconsin-Madison, Syracuse, and an innovation ecosystem consisting of companies, national labs, and civic and advocacy organizations. HAND will develop versatile, easy-to-use dexterous robot end effectors (hands).

[ HAND ]

The Environmental Robotics Lab at ETH Zurich, in partnership with Wilderness International (and some help from DJI and Audi), is using drones to sample DNA from the tops of trees in the Peruvian rainforest. Somehow, the treetops are where 60 to 90 percent of biodiversity is found, and these drones can help researchers determine what the heck is going on up there.

[ ERL ]

Thanks, Steffen!

1X introduces NEO Beta, “the pre-production build of our home humanoid.”

“Our priority is safety,” said Bernt Børnich, CEO at 1X. “Safety is the cornerstone that allows us to confidently introduce NEO Beta into homes, where it will gather essential feedback and demonstrate its capabilities in real-world settings. This year, we are deploying a limited number of NEO units in selected homes for research and development purposes. Doing so means we are taking another step toward achieving our mission.”

[ 1X ]

We love MangDang’s fun and affordable approach to robotics with Mini Pupper. The next generation of the little legged robot has just launched on Kickstarter, featuring new and updated robots that make it easy to explore embodied AI.

The Kickstarter is already fully funded after just a day or two, but there are still plenty of robots up for grabs.

[ Kickstarter ]

Quadrupeds in space can use their legs to reorient themselves. Or, if you throw one off a roof, it can learn to land on its feet.

To be presented at CoRL 2024.

[ ARL ]

HEBI Robotics, which apparently was once headquartered inside a Pittsburgh public bus, has imbued a table with actuators and a mind of its own.

[ HEBI Robotics ]

Carcinization is a concept in evolutionary biology where a crustacean that isn’t a crab eventually becomes a crab. So why not do the same thing with robots? Crab robots solve all problems!

[ KAIST ]

Waymo is smart, but also humans are really, really dumb sometimes.

[ Waymo ]

The Robotics Department of the University of Michigan created an interactive community art project. The group that led the creation believed that while roboticists typically take on critical and impactful problems in transportation, medicine, mobility, logistics, and manufacturing, there are many opportunities to find play and amusement. The final piece is a grid of art boxes, produced by different members of our robotics community, which offer an eight-inch-square view into their own work with robotics.

[ Michigan Robotics ]

I appreciate that UBTECH’s humanoid is doing an actual job, but why would you use a humanoid for this?

[ UBTECH ]

I’m sure most actuators go through some form of life-cycle testing. But if you really want to test an electric motor, put it into a BattleBot and see what happens.

[ Hardcore Robotics ]

Yes, but have you tried fighting a BattleBot?

[ AgileX ]

In this video, we present collaboration aerial grasping and transportation using multiple quadrotors with cable-suspended payloads. Grasping using a suspended gripper requires accurate tracking of the electromagnet to ensure a successful grasp while switching between different slack and taut modes. In this work, we grasp the payload using a hybrid control approach that switches between a quadrotor position control and a payload position control based on cable slackness. Finally, we use two quadrotors with suspended electromagnet systems to collaboratively grasp and pick up a larger payload for transportation.

[ Hybrid Robotics ]

I had not realized that the floretizing of broccoli was so violent.

[ Oxipital ]

While the RoboCup was held over a month ago, we still wanted to make a small summary of our results, the most memorable moments, and of course an homage to everyone who is involved with the B-Human team: the team members, the sponsors, and the fans at home. Thank you so much for making B-Human the team it is!

[ B-Human ]

Ten years. Two countries. Multiple redesigns. Some US $80 million invested. And, finally, Zero Zero Robotics has a product it says is ready for consumers, not just robotics hobbyists—the HoverAir X1. The company has sold several hundred thousand flying cameras since the HoverAir X1 started shipping last year. It hasn’t gotten the millions of units into consumer hands—or flying above them—that its founders would like to see, but it’s a start.

“It’s been like a 10-year-long Ph.D. project,” says Zero Zero founder and CEO Meng Qiu Wang. “The thesis topic hasn’t changed. In 2014 I looked at my cell phone and thought that if I could throw away the parts I don’t need—like the screen—and add some sensors, I could build a tiny robot.”

I first spoke to Wang in early 2016, when Zero Zero came out of stealth with its version of a flying camera—at $600. Wang had been working on the project for two years. He started the project in Silicon Valley, where he and cofounder Tony Zhang were finishing up Ph.D.s in computer science at Stanford University. Then the two decamped for China, where development costs are far less.

Flying cameras were a hot topic at the time; startup Lily Robotics demonstrated a $500 flying camera in mid-2015 (and was later charged with fraud for faking its demo video), and in March of 2016 drone-maker DJI introduced a drone with autonomous flying and tracking capabilities that turned it into much the same type of flying camera that Wang envisioned, albeit at the high price of $1400.

Wang aimed to make his flying camera cheaper and easier to use than these competitors by relying on image processing for navigation—no altimeter, no GPS. In this approach, which has changed little since the first design, one camera looks at the ground and algorithms follow the camera’s motion to navigate. Another camera looks out ahead, using facial and body recognition to track a single subject.

The current version, at $349, does what Wang had envisioned, which is, he told me, “to turn the camera into a cameraman.” But, he points out, the hardware and software, and particularly the user interface, changed a lot. The size and weight have been cut in half; it’s just 125 grams. This version uses a different and more powerful chipset, and the controls are on board; while you can select modes from a smart phone app, you don’t have to.

I can verify that it is cute (about the size of a paperback book), lightweight, and extremely easy to use. I’ve never flown a standard drone without help or crashing but had no problem sending the HoverAir up to follow me down the street and then land on my hand.

It isn’t perfect. It can’t fly over water—the movement of the water confuses the algorithms that judge speed through video images of the ground. And it only tracks people; though many would like it to track their pets, Wang says animals behave erratically, diving into bushes or other places the camera can’t follow. Since the autonomous navigation algorithms rely on the person being filmed to avoid objects and simply follows that path, such dives tend to cause the drone to crash.

Since we last spoke eight years ago, Wang has been through the highs and lows of the startup rollercoaster, turning to contract engineering for a while to keep his company alive. He’s become philosophical about much of the experience.

Here’s what he had to say.

We last spoke in 2016. Tell me how you’ve changed.

Meng Qiu Wang: When I got out of Stanford in 2014 and started the company with Tony [Zhang], I was eager and hungry and hasty and I thought I was ready. But retrospectively, I wasn’t ready to start a company. I was chasing fame and money, and excitement.

Now I’m 42, I have a daughter—everything seems more meaningful now. I’m not a Buddhist, but I have a lot of Zen in my philosophy now.

I was trying so hard to flip the page to see the next chapter of my life, but now I realize, there is no next chapter, flipping the page itself is life.

You were moving really fast in 2016 and 2017. What happened during that time?

Wang: After coming out of stealth, we ramped up from 60 to 140 people planning to take this product into mass production. We got a crazy amount of media attention—covered by 2,200 media outlets. We went to CES, and it seemed like we collected every trophy there was there.

And then Apple came to us, inviting us to retail at all the Apple stores. This was a big deal; I think we were the first third party robotic product to do live demos in Apple stores. We produced about 50,000 units, bringing in about $15 million in revenue in six months.

Then a giant company made us a generous offer and we took it. But it didn’t work out. It was a certainly lesson learned for us. I can’t say more about that, but at this point if I walk down the street and I see a box of pizza, I would not try to open it; there really is no free lunch.

This early version of the Hover flying camera generated a lot of initial excitement, but never fully took off.Zero Zero Robotics

How did you survive after that deal fell apart?

Wang: We went from 150 to about 50 people and turned to contract engineering. We worked with toy drone companies, with some industrial product companies. We built computer vision systems for larger drones. We did almost four years of contract work.

But you kept working on flying cameras and launched a Kickstarter campaign in 2018. What happened to that product?

Wang: It didn’t go well. The technology wasn’t really there. We filled some orders and refunded ones that we couldn’t fill because we couldn’t get the remote controller to work.

We really didn’t have enough resources to create a new product for a new product category, a flying camera, to educate the market.

So we decided to build a more conventional drone—our V-Coptr, a V-shaped bi-copter with only two propellers—to compete against DJI. We didn’t know how hard it would be. We worked on it for four years. Key engineers left out of total dismay, they lost faith, they lost hope.

We came so close to going bankrupt so many times—at least six times in 10 years I thought I wasn’t going to be able to make payroll for the next month, but each time I got super lucky with something random happening. I never missed paying one dime—not because of my abilities, just because of luck.

We still have a relatively healthy chunk of the team, though. And this summer my first ever software engineer is coming back. The people are the biggest wealth that we’ve collected over the years. The people who are still with us are not here for money or for success. We just realized along the way that we enjoy working with each other on impossible problems.

When we talked in 2016, you envisioned the flying camera as the first in a long line of personal robotics products. Is that still your goal?

Wang: In terms of short-term strategy, we are focusing 100 percent on the flying camera. I think about other things, but I’m not going to say I have an AI hardware company, though we do use AI. After 10 years I’ve given up on talking about that.

Do you still think there’s a big market for a flying camera?

Wang: I think flying cameras have the potential to become the second home robot [the first being the robotic vacuum] that can enter tens of millions of homes.