If you’ve ever stared at a quartz clock keeping perfect time through months of power outages, or relied on a medical MRI scan to spot a tiny, hard-to-see abnormality, you’ve used something built by the team here at Atomic Physics Instruments. For years, I’ve fielded questions from customers—from grad students building quantum sensors in campus labs to engineers testing satellite navigation systems—asking how these seemingly magical tools actually work. It’s not rocket science, exactly, but it is the kind of precision engineering that takes every trick of atomic physics, wraps it in decades of lab-tested design, and turns it into a tool someone can hold, use, and trust. Let me break that down, starting with the core thing all our instruments revolve around: the humble atom. Atomic Physics Instruments

Atoms are not the solid, billiard-ball-like bits we drew in high school chemistry. They’re tiny, dynamic systems with a nucleus of protons and neutrons surrounded by a cloud of electrons that orbit only at very specific energy levels. For any given atom, those energy levels are like a fingerprint—no two elements have the exact same set of gaps between their allowed energy states. That’s the secret sauce here. When an atom absorbs a photon (a tiny particle of light), it jumps to a higher energy level. When it drops back down, it emits a photon of exactly the energy difference between those two levels. And crucially, those energy differences are fixed for a particular atom, like a cosmic ruler that never changes. That’s why atomic clocks don’t drift, why atomic magnetometers can pick up the tiny magnetic field from a single nerve firing, and why our quantum sensors work in some of the harshest environments on Earth.
Let’s start with one of the most common instruments we build: a rubidium atomic clock. You might not think you need an atomic clock, but if you use GPS, you do. The satellites that power GPS have atomic clocks on board, and a nanosecond of drift translates to about a foot of error on the ground. Here’s how our rubidium atomic clocks work, step by step. First, we take a glass cell filled with rubidium gas—rubidium is an alkali metal, same family as sodium, and it’s perfect because its outer electron has a very easy-to-measure set of energy levels. We also add a tiny amount of buffer gas, usually neon, to keep the rubidium atoms from colliding too hard with the cell walls; those collisions would mess up their energy states.
Next, we shine a near-infrared laser through this cell. This isn’t just any laser—it’s tuned to exactly the frequency that will bump rubidium’s outer electron from its ground state to the first excited state. Most of the rubidium atoms in the cell get absorbed by this laser, lifting them up. But here’s the trick: we also apply a very weak radio frequency (RF) signal across the cell. If that RF signal is at exactly the frequency of the energy gap between two of rubidium’s other states, it will make the excited atoms drop back down and then flip back up repeatedly in a process called resonance. When resonance hits, something funny happens to the light coming through the cell: instead of being absorbed, it passes right through. Our instrument’s detector picks up this change in light, and we use it to adjust the RF signal until it’s perfectly matched to rubidium’s resonance frequency.
And that resonance frequency? For rubidium, it’s 6.836 billion cycles per second. That’s our clock. Every time the RF hits that frequency, we count a “tick”—exactly 6.8 billion ticks make one second. Compare that to a quartz clock, which drifts about one second every 10 years; our rubidium clocks drift less than one second in 30 million years. That’s the kind of precision that makes GPS work, that keeps undersea communication cables synchronized, and that powers the time servers for banks and stock exchanges.
Now, let’s talk about another workhorse in our lineup: the spin-exchange relaxation-free (SERF) atomic magnetometer. These are the tools we supply for everything from brain imaging (MEG, or magnetoencephalography, which measures the tiny magnetic fields from neurons firing) to mineral exploration, where they can pick up the magnetic anomaly from a hidden oil deposit deep underground. For a long time, magnetometers relied on bulky, expensive cryogenic systems—you had to cool them to liquid helium temperatures, just like an MRI machine. But SERF magnetometers run at room temperature. Here’s how that works.
Again, we start with a glass cell, this time filled with a mix of potassium (another alkali metal, easier to work with than rubidium for some applications) and the same buffer gas we use in atomic clocks. We heat the cell to a toasty 175 degrees Celsius—hot enough to turn the potassium into a gas, but not so hot that it’s hard to handle. Then we shine a circularly polarized laser through the cell. Circular polarization means the light’s electric field spins in a consistent direction, and when it hits the potassium atoms, it “aligns” their outer electrons so that all their tiny magnetic moments point the same way—this process is called optical pumping.
Now, this is where the magnetometer part comes in. A magnetic field exerts a tiny torque on the aligned electrons, twisting their direction. As those electrons twist, they change how they interact with a second, weaker laser (the probe laser) that we also shine through the cell. The probe laser’s polarization shifts slightly, and our detector picks up that shift. The size of the shift is directly proportional to the strength of the external magnetic field.
Wait, why SERF? The “relaxation-free” part is key here. Normally, when atoms collide with each other, they bump their magnetic moments out of alignment, which blurs the signal and makes the magnetometer less sensitive. If we make the gas density high enough, and apply a small magnetic field to keep the atoms in a high-spin state, spin-exchange collisions between potassium atoms flip their spins but don’t mess up the overall alignment—so the signal doesn’t degrade. That’s why we can get sensitivity down to femtotesla, which is a millionth of a billionth of a tesla. For context, the Earth’s magnetic field is about 50,000 nanotesla; our magnetometers can pick up a signal 100 million times weaker than that. That’s why they can map the activity of individual neurons in the brain, or find a small mineral deposit buried under thousands of feet of rock.
Over the past decade, we’ve seen a huge rise in demand for a newer type of atomic physics instrument: quantum sensors for defense and aerospace. These use the same basic atomic resonance principles, but they’re designed to measure acceleration and rotation instead of magnetic fields or time. Think of them as gyroscopes, but without moving parts—no spinning wheels, no friction, nothing to wear out. That’s a game-changer for navigation, especially in places where GPS is blocked: a missile that can’t rely on GPS won’t get thrown off course, a submarine can navigate under the Arctic ice without surfacing to ping GPS satellites, and a drone can fly in a jammed environment for hours without drifting.
Our quantum accelerometers work by trapping atoms in a vacuum chamber with lasers—this is called atom interferometry, and it’s one of the most precise measurement techniques ever invented. Here’s how it works, in simple terms. First, we cool a cloud of rubidium atoms down to just a few microkelvins above absolute zero—colder than deep space. We use three laser pulses to split the atom cloud into two parts: one part stays in its original state, the other is kicked to a higher energy level and starts moving apart at a tiny, constant speed. After a short time, we hit the cloud with two more laser pulses, which reverse the process: they bring the two parts back together.
When the two parts recombine, they interfere with each other, like two waves of water meeting. The pattern of that interference depends on how much the cloud moved while it was split. If the whole sensor is accelerating—say, the instrument is moved by a car, or a rocket, or even the rotation of the Earth—the two parts of the atom cloud will have traveled different distances, and the interference pattern changes. We can measure that change with a detector, and convert it directly into a measurement of acceleration. Because atoms follow the laws of quantum mechanics, this is far more precise than any mechanical gyroscope or accelerometer. Our quantum navigation systems can keep track of position within a meter after a full day of travel, compared to traditional systems that would drift kilometers in the same time.
I get asked all the time: why should a customer choose an atomic physics instrument over an older, cheaper technology? The answer boils down to three things: precision, reliability, and size. Twenty years ago, atomic clocks were the size of a refrigerator, cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, and only worked in lab conditions. Now, the atomic clocks we supply for GPS satellites are smaller than a loaf of bread, cost a fraction of that, and can survive the vibration of a rocket launch and the vacuum of space for 15 years with no maintenance. Our SERF magnetometers used to be big, cryogenic devices; now they’re small enough to fit in a portable backpack, so a geologist can walk into a remote mine site and scan for ore deposits in real time.
But that doesn’t mean building these instruments is easy. Every part has to be machined to tolerances finer than the width of a human hair. The laser diodes have to be stabilized to within a fraction of a nanometer of their target wavelength. The vacuum chambers have to be leak-tight for years, so that the atoms never collide with air molecules and get knocked out of alignment. Even the power supply has to be calibrated to within millivolts, because a tiny fluctuation in voltage would throw off the RF signal in an atomic clock, making the time drift.

At Atomic Physics Instruments, we work with customers across industries: from university physics labs testing quantum computing, to aerospace companies building next-generation satellites, to medical device makers improving MEG scanners. We’re not just selling tools—we’re selling access to a universe of precision that wasn’t possible 30 years ago. If you’re working on a project that needs atomic-level accuracy, whether for navigation, research, medical imaging, or industrial testing, I’d encourage you to reach out for a procurement conversation. Our engineering team can work with you to design a custom solution that fits your exact needs, or help you select from our standard line of instruments that are already field-proven.
Optical Instruments You don’t need a physics PhD to understand that atomic instruments work by harnessing the consistent, predictable behavior of atoms. Every “tick” of an atomic clock, every twist of a magnetic field picked up by a SERF magnetometer, every interference pattern in a quantum accelerometer is rooted in that simple, fixed energy fingerprint of atoms. It’s that combination of fundamental science and practical engineering that makes these instruments so powerful, and that makes them useful for everything from the phones in your pocket to the satellites that keep our global economy running.
References
- Budker, D., & Romalis, M. V. (2007). Optical magnetometry. Nature Physics, 3(4), 227-234.
- Maleki, L. (2004). The rubidium atomic clock and its applications. Proceedings of the IEEE, 92(10), 1597-1613.
- Kasevich, M., & Chu, S. (1991). Atomic interferometry using stimulated Raman transitions. Physical Review Letters, 67(2), 181-184.
- Letokhov, V. S. (1987). Laser spectroscopy of atoms and molecules. Springer-Verlag.
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