2026-04-01 21:00:01
It’s easy to assume that Robert Woo was defined by the accident that took away his ability to walk.
Certainly, the day of his accident—14 December 2007—was a turning point. Woo, an architect working on the new Goldman Sachs headquarters in New York City, hadn’t attended his company’s holiday party the night before, and that morning he was the only one in the trailer that served as the construction-site office. He was bent over his laptop when, 30 floors above, a crane’s nylon sling gave way, sending about 6 tonnes of steel plummeting toward the trailer. The roof collapsed, folding Woo in half and smashing his face into his laptop, which smashed through his desk.
“I was conscious throughout the whole ordeal,” Woo remembers. “It was an out-of-body experience. I could hear myself screaming in pain. I could hear the voices of the rescue workers. I heard one firefighter say, ‘Don’t worry, we’re getting to you.’” The rescue workers hauled him out of the rubble and got him to the emergency room in 18 minutes flat; with one lung crushed and the other punctured, he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. In those frantic early moments, a doctor told him that he might be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. He remembers asking the doctors to let him die.
Woo simply couldn’t imagine how a paralyzed version of himself could continue living his life. Then 39 years old, he worked long hours and jetted around the world to supervise the construction of skyscrapers. More important, he had two young boys, ages 6 months and 2 years. “I couldn’t see having a life while being paralyzed from the neck down, not being able to teach my boys how to play ball,” he recalls. “What kind of life would that be?”
Robert Woo walks inside the Wandercraft facility in New York City using the company’s latest self-balancing exoskeleton. Nicole Millman
But in a Manhattan showroom last May, Woo showed that he’s not defined by that accident, which left him paralyzed from the chest down, but with the use of his arms. Instead, he has defined himself by how he has responded to his injury, and the new life he built after it.
In the showroom, Woo transferred himself from his wheelchair to a 80-kilogram (176-pound) exoskeleton suit. After strapping himself in, he manipulated a joystick in his left hand to rise from a chair and then proceeded to walk across the room on robotic legs. Woo’s steps were short but smooth, and he clanked as he walked.
This exoskeleton, from the French company Wandercraft, is one of the first to let the user walk without arm braces or crutches, which most other models require to stabilize the user’s upper body. The battery-powered exoskeleton took care of both propulsion and balance; Woo just had to steer. The bulky apparatus had a backplate that extended above Woo’s head, a large padded collar, armrests, motorized legs, and footplates. Walking across the room, he appeared to be half man, half machine. On the other side of the showroom’s plate-glass window, on Park Avenue, a kid walking by with his family came to a dead halt on the sidewalk, staring with awe at the cyborg inside.
Robert Woo prepares to walk in a Wandercraft exoskeleton; the device’s controller enables him to stand up, initiate walk mode, and choose a direction. Bryan Anselm/Redux
The amazement on the boy’s face was reminiscent of Woo’s young sons’ reaction when they saw a photo of Woo trying out an early exoskeleton, back in 2011. “Their first comment was, ‘Oh, Daddy’s in an Iron Man suit,’” he remembers. Then they asked, “When are you going to start flying?” To which Woo replied, “Well, I’ve got to learn how to walk first.”
The title of exoskeleton superhero suits Woo. He’s as soft-spoken and mild-mannered as Clark Kent, with a smile that lights up his face. Yet the strength underneath is undeniable; he has built a new life out of sheer determination.
For 15 years, he’s been a test pilot, early adopter, and clinical-study subject for the most prominent exoskeletons under development around the world. He placed the first order for an exoskeleton that was approved for home use, and he learned what it was like to be Iron Man around the house. Throughout it all, he has given the companies detailed feedback drawn from both his architectural design skills and his user experience. He has shaped the technology from inside of it.
Saikat Pal, a researcher at the New Jersey Institute of Technology, in Newark, met Woo during clinical trials for Wandercraft’s first model. Like so many others in the field, Pal quickly recognized that Woo brought a lot to the table. “He’s a super-mega user of exoskeletons: very enthusiastic, very athletic,” Pal says. “He’s the perfect subject.”
By pushing the technology forward, Woo has paved the way for thousands of people with spinal cord injuries as well as other forms of paralysis, who are now benefiting from exoskeletons in rehab clinics and in their homes. “Our bionics program at Mount Sinai started with Robert Woo,” says Angela Riccobono, the director of rehabilitation neuropsychology at Mount Sinai Hospital, in New York City, where Woo became an outpatient after his accident. “We have a plaque that dedicates our bionics program to him.”
Robert Woo walks down a sidewalk in New York City in 2015 using a ReWalk exoskeleton, one of the first exoskeletons designed for use outside the rehab clinic. Eliza Strickland
It’s a fitting tribute. Woo’s post-accident life has been marked by victories, frustrations, deep love, and one devastating loss, and yet he has continued to devote himself to bionics. And while his vision for exoskeletons hasn’t changed, experience has reshaped what he expects from them in his lifetime.
Long before Woo ever stood up in a robotic suit, he had developed the habits of mind that would later make him an unusually perceptive test pilot.
Woo has always been a builder, a tinkerer, a fixer. Growing up in the suburbs of Toronto, he put together model kits of battleships and airplanes without looking at the instructions. “I just put things together the way I thought it would work out,” he says. He trained as an architect and in 2000 joined the Toronto-based firm Adamson Associates Architects, a job that soon had him traveling to Europe and Asia to work on corporate high-rises.
Adamson specializes in taking the stunning designs of visionary architects and turning them into practical buildings with elevators and bathrooms. “Most of the design architects don’t really have a clue about how to build buildings,” Woo says. He liked solving those problems; he liked reconciling beautiful designs with the stubborn reality of construction. That talent for understanding a structure from the inside and spotting the flaws would prove essential later.
After his accident, Woo had two major surgeries to stabilize his crushed spine, which required surgeons to cut through muscles and nerves that connected to his arms. For two months, he couldn’t feel or move his arms; there was a chance he never would again. Only when sensation began creeping back into his fingertips did he allow himself to imagine a different future. If he wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down, he thought, maybe more of his body could be brought back online. “My focus was to walk again,” he says.
Woo was discharged in March 2008 and went back to his New York City apartment. He was still bedridden and required around-the-clock care. He doesn’t much like to talk about this next part: By May, his then-wife had moved back to Canada and filed for divorce, asking for full custody of their two children. Woo remembers her saying, “I can’t look after three babies, and one of them for life.”
It was a dark time. Riccobono of Mount Sinai, who met Woo shortly after he became an outpatient there in 2008, recalls the despondent look on his face the first time they talked. “I wasn’t sure that he wasn’t going to take his life, to be honest,” she says. “He felt like he had nothing to live for.”
Angela Riccobono of Mount Sinai Hospital (left) credits Woo with jump-starting the hospital’s bionics program; a plaque in the department of rehabilitation medicine recognizes his role.
Yet Woo harbors no animosity toward his ex-wife. “If we hadn’t separated and gone through the custody hearing, I don’t think I would have gotten this far,” he says. To win partial custody of his children, Woo had to become independent. He had to get off narcotic pain medications, regain strength, and learn how to navigate life in a wheelchair. He had to show that he no longer needed constant nursing, and that he could take care of both himself and his boys.
There were milestones: learning how to get back into his wheelchair after a fall, learning to drive a car with hand controls, learning to manage his body as it was, not as it had been. The biggest change came when he reconnected with his high school sweetheart, a vivacious woman named Vivian Springer. She was then dividing her time between Toronto and New York City, and she had a son who was almost the same age as Woo’s two boys. Springer had worked in a nursing home and knew how to change the sheets without getting him out of bed; she was currently working in human resources and knew how to deal with insurance companies. “You wouldn’t believe how much stress it lifted off of me,” Woo says. Over time, they became a family.
Robert Woo’s wife, Vivian, was trained in how to operate the device he used at home. His sons, Tristan (left) and Adrien, grew up watching their dad test exoskeletons. Left: Lifeward; Right: Robert Woo
Once Woo had that foundation in place, Riccobono witnessed a profound change. “He went from focusing on ‘what I can’t do anymore’ to ‘What’s still possible? What can I do with what I have?’” At Mount Sinai, Woo remembers asking his doctor Kristjan Ragnarsson, who was then chairman of the department of rehabilitation medicine, if he would ever walk again. “His response was, ‘Yes, you can walk again,’” Woo remembers, “‘but not the way you used to walk.’”
As soon as he had regained use of his hands, Woo had started googling, looking for anything that could get him back on his feet. He tried rehab equipment like the Lokomat, which used a harness suspended above a treadmill to enable users to walk. But at the time, it required three physical therapists: one to move each leg and one to control the machine. It was a far cry from the independent strides he dreamed of.
Several years in, he learned about two companies that had built something radically different: exoskeleton suits for people with spinal cord injuries. These prototypes had motors at the knees and the hips to move the legs, with the user stabilizing their upper body with arm braces. Woo desperately wanted to try one, although the technology was still experimental and far from regulatory approval. So he took the idea to Ragnarsson, asking if Mount Sinai could bring an exoskeleton into its rehab clinic for a test drive. Ragnarsson, who’s now retired, remembers the request well. “He certainly gave us the kick in the behind to get going with the technology,” he says.
Robert Woo tries out an early exoskeleton from Ekso Bionics at Mount Sinai Hospital, where he first began testing the technology. Mario Tama/Getty Images
Ragnarsson had seen decades of failed attempts to get paraplegics upright, including “inflatable garments made of the same material the astronauts used when they went to the moon,” he says. All those devices had proved too tiring for the user; in contrast, the battery-powered exoskeletons promised to do most of the work. And he knew one of the founders of Ekso Bionics, a Berkeley, Calif.–based company that had built exoskeletons for the military. In 2011, Ekso brought its new clinical prototype to Mount Sinai.
The day came for Woo’s first walk. “I was excited, and I was also scared, because I hadn’t stood up for almost five years,” he remembers. “Standing up for the first time was like floating, because I couldn’t feel my feet.” In that first Ekso model, Woo didn’t control when he stepped forward; instead, he shifted his weight in preparation, and then a physical therapist used a remote control to trigger the step. Woo walked slowly across the room, using a walker to stabilize his upper body, his steps a symphony of clunks and creaks and whirs. He found it mentally and physically exhausting, but the effort felt like progress.
Robert Woo stands using an exoskeleton and embraces his wife, Vivian. Woo says that exoskeleton use has both physical and psychological benefits. Mt. Sinai
Riccobono was there for those first steps, with tears running down her face. “I remembered how he looked the day I first met him, so defeated,” she says. “To see him rise from the chair, to see him rise to a standing position, to see how tall he was, to see him take those first steps—it was beautiful.” Ragnarsson saw clear benefits to the technology. “Any type of walking is good physiologically,” he says. “And it’s a tremendous boost psychologically to stand up and look someone in the eye.” Woo remembers hugging his partner, Springer, and for the first time not worrying about running over her toes with his wheelchair. I first met Woo a few days later, during his third session with the Ekso at Mount Sinai.
Ann Spungen (left), a researcher at a Veterans Affairs hospital, led early clinical trials of exoskeletons. Her research focused on the medical benefits of exoskeleton use. Robert Woo
Later that same year, at a Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) hospital in the Bronx, Woo got to try a prototype of the world’s other leading exoskeleton: the ReWalk, from the Israeli company of the same name (since renamed Lifeward). VA researchers, led by Ann Spungen, were keen to determine if exoskeleton use had real medical value for veterans with spinal cord injuries. Woo was part of that clinical trial, for which he had more than 70 walking sessions, and he’s since been in many others. But he remembers the first VA trial with the most gratitude. “Dr. Spungen’s first exoskeleton clinical trial really turned things around for me,” he says.
Over the course of the trial’s nine intense months, Woo says he saw noticeable improvements to many facets of his health. “By the end of the trial, I eliminated about three-quarters of my medication intake,” he says, including narcotic pain pills and medication for muscle spasms. He grew fitter, with less body fat, more muscle mass, and lower cholesterol. His circulation improved, he says, causing scrapes and cuts to heal more quickly, and his digestion improved too. The results Woo experienced have generally been borne out in research studies at the VA and elsewhere—exoskeletons aren’t just good for the mind, they’re good for the body.
During the VA trial, Woo began to think of exoskeletons not as miraculous machines, but as works in progress.
Pierre Asselin (right), a biomedical engineer, worked with Robert Woo during clinical trials of exoskeletons. He says Woo was always pushing the limits of the technology. Robert Woo
Pierre Asselin, the biomedical engineer coordinating the VA’s study, watched participants respond very differently to the equipment. “These devices are not the equivalent of walking—you’re tired after walking a mile,” he says. He notes that later models of both the Ekso and ReWalk enabled users to initiate each step through software that recognized when they shifted their weight. Asselin adds that the cognitive load is “like learning to drive a manual transmission car, where at first you’re really struggling to coordinate the clutch and the brake.” Woo picked it up immediately, he remembers.
Robert Woo uses an exoskeleton to reach items in a kitchen cabinet during a test of the device’s utility for everyday tasks. Eliza Strickland
Woo approached the ReWalk the way he had approached buildings in his previous life: He looked inside the structure and found the weak points. An early model left some users with leg abrasions where the straps rubbed—a small injury for most people, but a serious risk for someone who can’t feel a wound forming. Woo suggested better padding and stronger abdominal supports to redistribute the load. He also hated the heavy backpack that carried the battery and computer, so one afternoon he grabbed an old pack, cut off the straps, and rebuilt it into a compact hip-mounted pouch. Then he snapped photos and sent them to the company. The next model arrived with a fanny pack.
Robert Woo sent detailed design sketches as part of his feedback to exoskeleton engineers. Robert Woo
Sometimes his fixes were more ambitious. One Ekso unit that he used at Mount Sinai kept shutting down after 30 minutes. Woo felt the hip motors and found them hot to the touch. “I said, ‘Can I remove these? I’m going to make a really quick fix, okay? Give me a drill and I’ll put a couple of holes in it,” he recalls telling the therapists, proposing to create a DIY heat sink. He wasn’t allowed to modify the prototype, but a year later the company introduced improved cooling around the hip motors. “There is a Robert Woo design on this device,” one therapist told him.
Eythor Bender, who was then the CEO of Ekso, called Woo to thank him for his feedback and invite him to spend a week at Ekso’s headquarters. “There was no lack of engineering power in that building,” says Bender. “But sometimes when you work with engineers, they overlook important things.” Bender says Woo brought both design skills and lived experience to his weeklong residency. “He told the engineers, ‘Guys, this has to be something that people actually like to wear.’”
Ekso Bionics CEO Eythor Bender and Mount Sinai physician Kristjan Ragnarsson were both on hand for Woo’s early trials of the Ekso device. Ragnarsson says he saw physical and psychological benefits of exoskeleton use. Robert Woo
The longer Woo tested, the further ahead he started thinking. With motors only at the hips and knees, every exoskeleton still required crutches. Add powered ankles, he told the Ekso and ReWalk teams, and the suits could balance themselves, freeing the user’s hands. But Woo was ahead of his time. “They said they weren’t going to do that. They weren’t going to change their whole platform,” he remembers. Years later, though, hands-free exoskeletons like those from Wandercraft would emerge built around exactly that principle.
By the mid-2010s, Woo had pushed the technology as far as he could in clinics. What he wanted now was to use an exoskeleton at home.
That milestone came after ReWalk’s exoskeleton became the first to win FDA approval for home use in 2014. ReWalk engineers still remember Woo’s help on the final tests for that personal-use model. It was the end of May in 2015, recalls David Hexner, the company’s vice president of research and development. “He said, ‘Guys, this is great. I’m going to buy it.’”
Woo was the first customer to buy an exoskeleton to bring home, paying US $80,000 out of pocket. His insurance wouldn’t cover the cost, but he was able to make the purchase in part because of a legal settlement after his accident. The home-use model came with a requirement that the user have at least one companion who was fully trained in operating the device. In Woo’s case, that meant that Springer learned to suit him up, realign his balance, and help him if he fell.
On delivery day, two SUVs drove up to a hotel down the street from Woo’s condo in the Toronto area. The technicians hauled two huge boxes into a hotel room and assembled his personal exoskeleton. They took Woo’s measurements, made adjustments, checked the software. This latest version could be controlled by either weight shifting or tapping commands on a smartwatch, and Woo had the app ready. He tested out everything in the hotel room, signed off, and then the technicians drove his robot legs to his home.
That was the start of his golden period with the ReWalk—similar to the excitement many people experience with a new piece of exercise equipment. “I used it every day for a few hours, and then I started logging how many steps I’d done,” Woo says. “My last count was probably just slightly over a million steps,” he says, with half of those steps taken in his home unit and half in training programs and clinical trials.
The ReWalk was the first exoskeleton available for use outside the clinic. Robert Woo’s ReWalk arrived in two large boxes. ReWalk engineers assembled it in a hotel room, and Woo tried it out in the hallway before taking it home. Robert Woo
Tristan, Woo’s eldest son, remembers doing laps with his dad in the condo’s underground parking garage while his dad was training for a 5-kilometer race in New York City. Tristan admits that he had previously been embarrassed about his dad, but training for the race shifted something for him. “I was so used to not wanting to tell people that my dad was in a wheelchair, but then I shared his passion for the training,” he says. “When people would come up to us, I’d tell them about it.”
The ReWalk could turn ordinary moments into small engineering projects. On weekends, Woo would take his boys to the golf course behind their condo and bring a baseball. He had rigged two holsters to the sides of the suit so he could stash a crutch and stand on three points (two legs and one arm) while he pitched or caught. Throw, switch crutches, catch. On the day of his accident, he never thought such a scene would be possible. But with the exoskeleton, it became just another design problem to solve. “It’s a little more work. It’s not perfect,” he says. “But in the end, you still get to do what you want to do—which is play ball with your sons.”
Tristan, now a college student, says he didn’t realize at the time how hard his dad worked to make those mundane activities possible. “Reflecting on it now,” he says, “he has shaped almost every element of my life, and he definitely is my hero.”
But even during that golden stretch, the ReWalk had a way of asserting its limits. Every so often it would freeze mid-stride and require a reboot—a small technical hiccup in theory, but a serious problem when there’s a person strapped inside. Once, when he was walking on his own in the parking garage (without his mandated companion), the suit glitched and went into “graceful collapse” mode, lowering him to a seated position on the ground. Woo had to ask security to bring his wheelchair and a dolly.
He had imagined the exoskeleton would be most useful in the kitchen. Woo loves to cook, and he had pictured himself standing at the stove, looking down into pots, and moving easily between counter and sink. The reality, he found out, was more complicated. “It’s actually very time-consuming and troublesome” to cook in an exoskeleton, he says.
Preparing a meal meant first rolling through the kitchen in his wheelchair to gather every ingredient and utensil, then transferring himself into the ReWalk and moving himself into position at the counter, stopping at just the right moment. “That’s when I fell once,” Woo says. “I collided with the counter and then lost my balance and fell backward.” If all went well, he’d lean either on one crutch or the counter to keep his balance while he worked. But if he’d forgotten to grab the vinegar from the cabinet, he’d have to go into walk mode, crutch over to it, and figure out how to carry the bottle back to his workstation.
Sitting unused in Robert Woo’s home, his ReWalk exoskeleton reflects both the promise and the limits of early devices. Robert Woo
Gradually, he stopped trying. The suit, which he’d once worn every day, spent more time sitting idle in the hallway; like so many abandoned treadmills and stationary bikes, it gathered dust. Part of the reason was the exoskeleton’s practical limitations, but part of it was a shocking development: In 2024, Vivian was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. She died in November of that year, at the age of 54.
Woo was scheduled to begin a new round of clinical trials for the Wandercraft home-use exoskeleton that month. In the aftermath of Vivian’s death, he postponed his sessions and questioned whether he would ever go back. “At the time, I thought, ‘What’s the point?’” he remembers.
He did go back, though. “He just rolled up, right into my office,” says Mount Sinai’s Riccobono. “He still had Vivian’s box of ashes on his lap. That’s how fresh it was.” Woo brought the box into a meeting of spinal cord injury patients and shared the story of losing the love of his life. And he told them that he heard his wife’s voice in his head every day, telling him to get back to work. Once again, he was figuring out how to move forward with what he had.
In the Wandercraft showroom last May, Woo steered toward the door to the street, technicians flanking him like spotters. The slope down to the sidewalk was barely an inch high, but everyone tensed. He shifted his weight and took a step forward. The suit halted automatically. He tried again—step, stop; step, stop—as the suit kept detecting the slight decline and a safety feature kicked in. The Wandercraft isn’t yet rated for slopes of more than 2 percent, and even the gentle pitch of Park Avenue was enough to trigger its safeguards. When he finally reached the sidewalk, Woo broke into a grin. A man in the back seat of a stopped Uber leaned out his window, filming.
During testing of the Wandercraft exoskeleton, straps caused an abrasion on Robert Woo’s leg, which he documented as part of his feedback to the company. Robert Woo
Woo had recently completed seven sessions with the Wandercraft at the VA hospital and had been impressed overall. But at the showroom, he rolled up his pants leg to reveal an abrasion on his shin, the result of a strap that had worn away a patch of skin during a long walking session. He would later send Wandercraft a nine-page assessment with photos and a technology wish list, asking the company to work on things like padding, variable walking speeds, and deeper squats.
Wandercraft’s engineers relish that kind of user feedback, says CEO Matthieu Masselin. Exoskeletons are a far more difficult engineering problem than humanoid robots, he explains. “You basically have two systems of equal importance. You know about the robot—it’s fully quantified and measured. But you don’t know what the person is doing, and how the person is moving within the device.”
Since Woo began testing exoskeletons 15 years ago, both the technology and the market have made strides. ReWalk and Ekso won FDA clearance for clinical use in the 2010s, and both now sell home-use versions. The companies have sold thousands of exoskeletons to rehab clinics and personal users, and they see room for growth; in the United States alone, about 300,000 people live with spinal cord injuries, and millions more have mobility impairments from stroke, multiple sclerosis, or other conditions. The VA began supplying devices to eligible veterans in 2015, and Medicare recently established a system for reimbursement, a move that private insurers are beginning to follow. What was once experimental is slowly becoming established.
Researchers who test the devices say the technology still has significant limits. Pal, of the New Jersey Institute of Technology, mentions battery life, dexterity, and reliability as ongoing challenges. But, he says with a laugh, “Our bodies have evolved over many millions of years—these machines will need a bit more time.” Pal hopes the companies will keep pushing the technological frontier. “My lifetime goal is to see the day when someone like Robert Woo can wake up in the morning, put this device on, and then live an ordinary life.”
For Woo, the real question about the self-balancing Wandercraft was: Could he cook with it? In the VA hospital’s home mockup, he tried it out in the kitchen, stepping sideways to retrieve items from cabinets and squatting to grab something from the fridge’s lower shelf. For the first time in years, he could work at a counter without leaning on crutches. “The self-standing exoskeleton changes everything,” he says. He imagines a user placing a Thanksgiving turkey on a tray attached to the suit and walking it into the dining room.
Back in the showroom, Woo finishes the demo and brings the suit to a seated position before transferring back to his wheelchair. After so many years of testing prototypes, he’s now realistic about the technology’s timeline. A truly all-day exoskeleton—the kind you live in, the kind that replaces a wheelchair—may be a decade or more away. “It may not be for me,” he says. But that’s no longer the point. He’s thinking about young people who are newly injured, who are lying in hospital beds and trying to imagine how their lives can continue. “This will give them hope.”
2026-03-31 21:00:02
As a kid, I loved the 1980s aquatic adventure show Danger Bay. True to the TV show’s name, danger was always lurking at the Vancouver Aquarium, where the show was set. In one memorable episode, young Jonah and a friend get trapped in a sabotaged mini-submarine, and Jonah’s dad, a marine-mammal veterinarian, comes to the rescue in a bubble-shaped underwater vehicle. Good stuff! Only recently—as in when I started working on this column—did I learn that the rescue vehicle was not a stage prop but rather a real-world research submersible named Deep Rover.
Built in 1984 and launched the following year, Deep Rover was a departure from standard underwater vehicles, which typically required divers to lie in a prone position and look through tiny portholes while tethered to a support ship.
Deep Rover was designed to satisfy human curiosity about the underwater world. As the rover moved freely through the water down to depths of 1,000 meters, the operator sat up in relative comfort in the cab, inside a clear 13-centimeter-thick acrylic bubble with panoramic views—an inverted fishbowl, with the human immersed in breathable air while the sea creatures looked in. Used for scientific research and deepwater exploration, it set a number of dive records along the way.
Submarine designer Graham Hawkes [left] and marine biologist Sylvia Earle [right] came up with the idea for Deep Rover.Alain Le Garsmeur/Alamy
The team behind Deep Rover included U.S. marine biologist Sylvia Earle and British marine engineer and submarine designer Graham Hawkes. Earle and Hawkes’s collaboration had begun in May 1980, when Earle complained to Hawkes about the “stupid” arms on Jim, an atmospheric diving suit; she didn’t realize she was complaining to one of Jim’s designers. Hawkes explained the difficulty of designing flexible joints that could withstand dueling pressures of 101 kilopascals on the inside—that is, the normal atmospheric pressure at sea level—and up to about 4,100 kPa on the outside. But he listened carefully to Earle’s wish list for a useful manipulator. Several months later, he came back with a design for a superbly dexterous arm that could hold a pencil and write normal-size letters.
Earle and Hawkes next turned to designing a one-person bubble sub, which they considered so practical that it would be an easy sell. But after failing to attract funding, they decided to build it themselves. In the summer of 1981, they pooled their resources and cofounded Deep Ocean Technology, setting up shop in Earle’s garage in Oakland, Calif.
Phil Nuytten, a Canadian designer of submersibles and dive systems, engineered Deep Rover.Stuart Westmorland/RGB Ventures/Alamy
They still found that customers weren’t interested in their crewed submersible, though, so they turned to unmanned systems. Their first contract was for a remotely operated vehicle (ROV) for use in oil-rig inspection, maintenance, and repair. Other customers followed, and they ended up building 10 of these ROVs. In 1983, they returned to their original idea and contracted with the Canadian inventor and entrepreneur Phil Nuytten to engineer Deep Rover.
Nuytten didn’t have to be convinced of the value of the submersible. He had grown up on the water and shared their dream. As a teenager, he opened Vancouver’s first dive shop. He then worked as a commercial diver. He founded the ocean- and research-tech companies Can-Dive Services (in 1965) and Nuytco Research (in 1982), and he developed advanced submersibles as well as diving systems. These included the Newtsuit, an aluminum atmospheric diving suit for use on drilling rigs and salvage operations.
Deep Rover’s first assignment was to boost offshore oil exploration and drilling in eastern Canada. Funding came from the provincial government of Newfoundland and Labrador and the oil companies Petro-Canada and Husky Oil. But the collapse of oil prices in the mid-1980s made it uneconomical to operate the submersible. So the rover’s mission broadened to scientific research.
The pilot could operate Deep Rover safely for 4 to 6 hours at a depth of 1,000 meters and speeds of up to 1.5 knots (46 meters per minute). The submersible could be tethered to a support ship or move freely on its own. Two deep-cycle, lead-acid battery pods weighing about 170 kilograms apiece provided power. It had a VHF radio and two frequencies of through-water communications, plus tracking beacons.
From 1987 to 1989, Deep Rover did a series of dives in Oregon’s Crater Lake, the deepest lake in the United States. During one dive, National Park Service biologist Mark Buktenica [top] collected rock samples.NPS
The rover’s four thrusters—two horizontal fixed aft thrusters and two rotating wing thrusters—could be activated in any combination through microswitches built into the armrest. The pilot navigated using a gyro compass, sonar, and depth gauges (both digital and analog).
Much to Earle’s delight, Deep Rover had two excellent manipulators, each with four degrees of freedom, thus solving the problem that had started her down this path of invention. The pilot controlled the manipulators with a joystick at the end of each armrest. Sensory feedback systems helped the pilot “feel” the force, motion, and touch. The two arms had wraparound jaws and could lift about 90 kg.
If something went wrong, Deep Rover carried five days’ worth of life support stores and had a variety of redundant safety features: oxygen and carbon dioxide monitoring equipment; a halon (breathable) fire extinguisher; a full-face BIBS (built-in breathing system) that tapped into the starboard air bank; and a ground fault-detection system.
If needed, the rover could surface quickly by jettisoning equipment, including the battery pods and a 90-kg drop weight in the forward bay. In dire circumstances, the pressure hull (the acrylic bubble, that is) could separate from the frame, taking with it only its oxygen tanks, strobe, through-water communications, and wing thrusters.
From 1984 to 1992, Deep Rover conducted about 280 dives. It inspected two of the tunnels near Niagara Falls that divert water to the Sir Adam Beck II hydroelectric plant. In California’s Monterey Bay, the rover let researchers film previously unknown deep-sea marine life, which helped establish the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. At Crater Lake National Park, in Oregon, Deep Rover proved the existence of geothermal vents and bacteria mats, leading to the protection of the site from extractive drilling.
Deep Rover was featured in a short film shown at Vancouver’s Expo ’86, the first of several TV and movie appearances. There was Danger Bay. Director James Cameron used an early prototype of the submersible in his 1989 film The Abyss. Deep Rover also made an appearance in Cameron’s 2005 documentary Aliens of the Deep.
In 1992, Deep Rover came to the end of its working life. It now resides at Ingenium, Canada’s Museums of Science and Innovation, in Ottawa. For a time, Deep Ocean Engineering continued to develop later generations of the submersible. Eventually, though, uncrewed remotely operated and autonomous underwater vehicles became the norm for deep-sea missions, replacing human pilots with sensors and equipment. New ROVs can dive significantly deeper than human-piloted ones, and new cameras are so good that it feels like you’re there…almost. And yet, humans still long to have the personal experience of exploring the depths of the oceans.
Part of a continuing series looking at historical artifacts that embrace the boundless potential of technology.
An abridged version of this article appears in the April 2026 print issue as “All Alone in the Abyss.”
My friends at Ingenium, Canada’s Museums of Science and Innovation, helpfully provided me with background material on why they decided to acquire Deep Rover. They also published a great blog post about the rover.
Dirk Rosen, executive vice president of engineering at DEEP, published specifications for Deep Rover in his 1986 IEEE paper “Design and Application of the Deep Rover Submersible.”
Sylvia Earle, known affectionately as “Her Deepness,” has written extensively about the ocean depths. I found her book Sea Change: A Message of the Oceans (G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1995) to be especially enjoyable.
2026-03-31 02:00:02
To stay competitive, many small businesses need advanced wireless communication networks, not only to communicate but also to leverage technologies such as artificial intelligence, the Internet of Things, and robotics. Often, however, the businesses lack the technical expertise needed to install, configure, and maintain the systems.
Bhaskara Rallabandi, who spent more than two decades working for major telecom companies, decided to use his expertise to help small businesses. Rallabandi, an IEEE senior member, is an expert certified by the International Council on Systems Engineering.
Cofounder
Bhaskara Rallabandi
Founded
2023
Headquarters
Frisco, Texas
Employees
100
In 2023 he helped found Invences, a telecommunications automation company headquartered in Frisco, Texas.
Invences services include designing, building, and installing data centers, as well as cost-effective and secure wireless, private, IoT, and virtual communications networks.
The company has set up systems for farms, factories, and universities in rural and urban areas including underserved communities. Its mission, Rallabandi says, is to “build autonomous, ethical, and sustainable networks that connect communities intelligently.”
For his work, he was recognized last year for “entrepreneurial leadership in founding and scaling a U.S.-based technology company, advancing innovation in 5G/6G and Open RAN [radio access network], shaping global standards, and inspiring future leaders through mentorship and community impact” with the IEEE-USA Entrepreneur Achievement Award for Leadership in Entrepreneurial Spirit.
He began his telecommunications career in 2009 as a manager and principal network engineer at Verizon’s Innovation Labs in Waltham, Mass. He and his team ran some of the earliest long-term evolution and evolved packet core performance trials. (LTE is the 4G wireless broadband standard for mobile devices. EPC is the IP-based, high-performance core network architecture for 4G LTE networks.)
That work at Innovation Labs, he says, was key to the development of the first 4G systems. It set the stage for scalable, interoperable broadband architectures that underpin today’s 5G and 6G designs.
“We built the first bridge between legacy and cloud-native networks,” he says.
He left in 2011 to join AT&T Labs in Redmond, Wash. As senior manager and principal solutions architect, he oversaw the design, integration, and testing of the company’s next-generation wireless systems. He also led projects that redefined automation of networks and set up cloud computing systems including FirstNet, the nationwide broadband network for first responders, and VoLTE, the first voice-over-video LTE for conducting video calls.
In 2018 Rallabandi was hired as a principal and a senior manager of engineering at Samsung Networks Division’s Technology Solutions Division, in Plano, Texas. He led the development of 5G virtualization and Open RAN initiatives, which enable more flexible, scalable, and efficient large network deployments and interoperability among vendors.
Feeling that he wasn’t reaching his full potential in the corporate world, and to help small businesses, he opted to start his own venture in 2023 with his wife, Lakshmi Rallabandi, a computer science engineer. She is Invences’s CEO, and he is its founding principal and chief technology advisor.
Invences, which is self-funded and employs about 100 people, has more than 50 customers from around the world.
“I wanted to do something more interesting where I could use the knowledge I gained working for these big companies to fill the gaps they overlooked in terms of automation” for small businesses, he says. “I have a team of people who, combined, have 200 years of technology experience.”
The startup builds networks that simplify its clients’ operations and reduce their costs, he says.
Instead of duplicating how major telecom carriers build networks for dense urban areas, he says, his designs reimagine the network architecture to lower its complexity, costs, and operational overhead.
“Connectivity should not be a luxury. Rural communities deserve an infrastructure that fits their needs.”
The systems integrate new technologies such as Open RAN, virtualized RAN, digital twins, telemetry, and advanced analytics. Some networks also incorporate agentic AI, an autonomous system that runs independently of humans and uses AI agents that plan and act across the network. Digital twins evaluate the agent’s decisions before releasing them.
“Autonomy is not about removing humans from the loop,” Rallabandi says. “It is about giving systems the ability to manage complexity so humans can focus on intent and outcomes.”
Rallabandi also has worked on AI-driven telecom observability technologies designed to allow networks to detect anomalies and optimize performance automatically.
He has developed a virtual O-RAN innovation lab, where clients can test the interoperability of their 5G systems, try out their enhancements, run trials of future functions, and experiment with updates.
Invences partnered with Trilogy Networks to build the FarmGrid platform for farms in Fargo, N.D., and Yuma, Ariz. FarmGrid used private 5G networks, edge-computing AI, and digital twins to make the operations more efficient.
“The project connects farms with sensors, analytics platforms, and autonomous equipment to enable precision agriculture, water optimization, and real-time decision-making,” Rallabandi says.
IEEE Senior Member Bhaskara Rallabandi talks about partnering with Trilogy Networks to build the FarmGrid platform for farms in Fargo, N.D., and Yuma, Ariz.TECKNEXUS
Rallabandi says he believes staying involved with IEEE is important to his career development and a way to give back to the profession. He is a frequent invited speaker at IEEE conferences.
He is active with IEEE Future Networks and its Connecting the Unconnected (CTU) initiative. Members of the Future Networks technical community work to develop, standardize, and deploy 5G and 6G networks as well as successive generations.
CTU aims to bridge the digital divide by bringing Internet service to underserved communities. During itsannual challenge, Rallabandi works with the winning students, researchers, and innovators to help them turn their concepts into affordable, cost-effective options.
“CTU represents the best of IEEE,” he says. “It is about taking innovation out of conferences and into communities that need it the most.
“Connectivity should not be a luxury. Rural communities deserve an infrastructure that fits their needs.”
He participates in the recently launched IEEE Future Networks Empowerment Through Mentorship initiative, which helps innovators, entrepreneurs, and startups expand their companies by educating them about finance, marketing, and related concepts.
“IEEE gives me both a voice and a responsibility,” Rallabandi says. “We’re not just developing technology; we are shaping how humanity connects.”
2026-03-30 21:00:02
Facial recognition technology (FRT) dates back 60 years. Just over a decade ago, deep-learning methods tipped the technology into more useful—and menacing—territory. Now, retailers, your neighbors, and law enforcement are all storing your face and building up a fragmentary photo album of your life.
Yet the story those photos can tell inevitably has errors. FRT makers, like those of any diagnostic technology, must balance two types of errors: false positives and false negatives. There are three possible outcomes.
a) identifies the suspect, since the two images are of the same person, according to the software. Success!
b) matches another person in the footage with the suspect’s probe image. A false positive, coupled with sloppy verification, could put the wrong person behind bars and lets the real criminal escape justice.
c) fails to find a match at all. The suspect may be evading cameras, but if cameras just have low-light or bad-angle images, this creates a false negative. This type of error might let a suspect off and raise the cost of the manhunt.
In best-case scenarios—such as comparing someone’s passport photo to a photo taken by a border agent—false-negative rates are around two in 1,000 and false positives are less than one in 1 million.
In the rare event you’re one of those false negatives, a border agent might ask you to show your passport and take a second look at your face. But as people ask more of the technology, more ambitious applications could lead to more catastrophic errors. Let’s say that police are searching for a suspect, and they’re comparing an image taken with a security camera with a previous “mug shot” of the suspect.
Training-data composition, differences in how sensors detect faces, and intrinsic differences between groups, such as age, all affect an algorithm’s performance. The United Kingdom estimated that its FRT exposed some groups, such as women and darker-skinned people, to risks of misidentification as high as two orders of magnitude greater than it did to others.
Less clear photographs are harder for FRT to process.iStock
What happens with photos of people who aren’t cooperating, or vendors that train algorithms on biased datasets, or field agents who demand a swift match from a huge dataset? Here, things get murky.
THE NEGATIVES OF FALSE POSITIVES
2020: Robert Williams’s wrongful arrest cost him detention. The ensuing settlement requires Detroit police to enact policies that recognize FRT’s limits. iStock
ALGORITHMIC BIAS
2023: Court bans Rite Aid from using facial recognition for five years over its use of a racially biased algorithm. iStock
TOO FAST, TOO FURIOUS?
2026: U.S. immigration agents misidentify a woman they’d detained as two different women. VICTOR J. BLUE/BLOOMBERG/GETTY IMAGES
Consider a busy trade fair using FRT to check attendees against a database, or gallery, of images of the 10,000 registrants, for example. Even at 99.9 percent accuracy you’ll get about a dozen false positives or negatives, which may be worth the trade-off to the fair organizers. But if police start using something like that across a city of 1 million people, the number of potential victims of mistaken identity rises, as do the stakes.
What if we ask FRT to tell us if the government has ever recorded and stored an image of a given person? That’s what U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents have done since June 2025, using the Mobile Fortify app. The agency conducted more than 100,000 FRT searches in the first six months. The size of the potential gallery is at least 1.2 billion images.
At that size, assuming even best-case images, the system is likely to return around 1 million false matches, but at a rate at least 10 times as high for darker-skinned people, depending on the subgroup.
Responsible use of this powerful technology would involve independent identity checks, multiple sources of data, and a clear understanding of the error thresholds, says computer scientist Erik Learned-Miller of the University of Massachusetts Amherst: “The care we take in deploying such systems should be proportional to the stakes.”
2026-03-28 03:05:59
In a landmark case, a jury found this week that Meta and YouTube negligently designed their platforms and harmed the plaintiff, a 20-year-old woman referred to as Kaley G.M. The jury agreed with the plaintiff that social media is addictive and harmful and was deliberately designed to be that way. This finding aligns with my view as a clinical psychologist: that social media addiction is not a failure of users, but a feature of the platforms themselves. I believe that accountability must extend beyond individuals to the systems and incentives that shape their behavior.
In my clinical practice, I regularly see patients struggling with compulsive social media use. Many describe a pattern of “doomscrolling,” often using social media to numb themselves after a long day. Afterwards, they feel guilty and stressed about the time lost yet have had limited success changing this pattern on their own.
It’s easy to understand why scrolling can be so addictive. Social media interfaces are built around a powerful behavioral mechanism known as intermittent reinforcement, says Judson Brewer, an addiction researcher at Brown University, which is the strongest and most effective type of reinforcement learning. This is the same mechanism that slot machines rely on: Users never know when the next reward—a shower of quarters, or a slew of likes and comments—will appear. Not all the videos in our feeds captivate us, but if we scroll long enough, we are bound to arrive at one that does. The ongoing search for rewards ensnares us and reinforces itself.
Individuals typically struggle on their own to address compulsive social media use. This should be no surprise, as habits are not typically broken through sheer discipline but rather by altering the reinforcement loops that sustain them. Brewer argues that “there’s actually no neuroscientific evidence for the presence of willpower.” Placing the burden to self-regulate solely on users misses the deeper issue: These platforms are engineered to override individual control.
A growing body of research identifies social media use and constant digital connectivity as important influences on the growing incidence of adolescent mental health problems. Brewer notes that adolescents are particularly vulnerable, as they are in a “developmental phase” in which reinforcement learning processes are especially strong. This vulnerability can be exploited by the design features of large social media platforms.
NPR uncovered records from a recent lawsuit filed by Kentucky’s attorney general against TikTok. According to these documents, TikTok implemented interface mechanisms such as autoplay, infinite scrolling, and a highly personalized recommendation algorithm that were systematically optimized to maximize user engagement.
TikTok’s algorithmically tailored “For You” content continuously tracks user behaviors, such as how long a video is watched, whether it is replayed, or quickly skipped. The feed then curates short videos, or reels, for the user based on past scrolling behavior and what is most likely to hold attention.
These documents show one example of a tech company knowingly designing products to maximize attention. I believe social media companies also have the capacity to reduce addictiveness through intentional design choices.
The good news is we are not helpless. There are multiple levers for change: how we collectively talk about social media, how our governments regulate its design and access, and how we hold companies accountable for practices that shape user behavior.
Some countries are moving quickly to set policy around social media use. Australia has imposed a minimum age of 16 for social media accounts, with similar bans pending in Denmark, France, and Malaysia.
These bans typically rely on age verification. Users without verified accounts can still passively watch videos on platforms like YouTube, but this approach removes many of the most addictive features, including infinite scroll, personalized feeds, notifications, and systems for followers and likes. At the same time, age verification may cause different problems in the online ecosystem.
Other countries are targeting social media use in specific contexts. South Korea, for example, banned smartphone use in classrooms. And the United Kingdom is taking a different approach; its Age Appropriate Design Code instructs platforms to prioritize children’s safety while designing products. The code includes strong privacy defaults, limits on data collection, and constraints on features that nudge users toward greater engagement.
A report called Breaking the Algorithm, from Mental Health America, argues that social media platforms should shift from maximizing engagement to supporting well-being. It calls for revamping recommendation systems to spot patterns of unhealthy use and adjusting feeds accordingly—for example, by limiting extreme or distressing content.
The report also argues that users should not have to intentionally opt out of harmful design features. Instead, the safest settings should be the default. The report supports regulatory measures aimed at limiting features such as autoplay and infinite scroll while enforcing privacy and safety settings.
Platforms could also give users more control by adding natural speed bumps, such as stopping points or break reminders during scrolling. Research shows that interrupting infinite scroll with prompts such as “Do you want to keep going?” substantially reduces mindless scrolling and improves memory of content.
Some social media platforms are already experimenting with more ethical engagement. Mastodon, an open-source, decentralized platform, displays posts chronologically rather than ranking them for engagement, and does not offer algorithmically generated feeds like “For You.” Bluesky gives users control by letting them customize their own algorithms and toggle between different feed types, such as chronological or topic-based filters.
In light of the recent verdict, it is time for a national conversation about accountability for social media companies. Individual responsibility will always be important, but so are the mechanisms employed by big tech to shape user behavior. If social media platforms are currently designed to capture attention, they can also be designed to give some of it back.
2026-03-28 02:00:04
In today’s technological landscape, the only constant is the rate of obsolescence. As engineers move deeper into the eras of 6G, ubiquitous artificial intelligence, and hyper-miniaturized electronics, a traditional degree is only a starting point.
To remain competitive in today’s job market, technical specialists must evolve into future-ready professionals by cultivating more than just niche expertise. Success now demands a high degree of adaptive intelligence and strategic communication, allowing specialists to translate complex data into actionable business decisions as industry shifts accelerate.
To bridge the gap between technical proficiency and organizational leadership, the IEEE Professional Development Suite offers training on programs designed to build the strategic competencies required to navigate today’s complex landscape. The suite provides deep technical dives into domains such as telecommunications connectivity and microelectronics reliability. Organizations can stay ahead of the curve through informed decision-making and a future-ready workforce.
Within the semiconductor sector, which is projected to become a US $1 billion industry by 2030, electrostatic discharge (ESD) is a major reliability challenge. Because even a microscopic, unnoticed discharge can compromise a semiconductor, ESD issues account for up to one-third of all field failures, according to the EOS/ESD Association.
IEEE’s targeted training—the online Practical ESD Protection Design certificate program—equips teams with technical protocols to mitigate the risks and ensure long-term hardware reliability. Specialized ESD training has become essential for chip designers and manufacturing professionals seeking to improve discharge control.
The interactive modules cover theory, real-world case studies, and practical mitigation techniques. The standards-based instruction is aligned with ANSI/ESD S20.20–21: Protection of Electrical and Electronic Parts and other industry guidelines.
As 5G network capabilities expand globally, so does the demand for engineers who can master the protocols and procedures required to manage complex telecommunications systems. The IEEE 5G/6G Essential Protocols and Procedures Training and Innovation Testbed, in partnership with Wray Castle, takes a deep dive into the 5G network function framework, registration processes, and packet data unit session establishment. The program is designed for system engineers, integrators, and technical professionals responsible for 5G signaling. Stakeholders such as network operators, equipment vendors, regulators, and handset manufacturers could find the program to be beneficial as well.
“The IEEE Professional Development Suite ensures that learners are not just keeping pace with change but helping to drive it.”
To bridge the gap between theory and practice, the course includes three months of free access to the IEEE 5G/6G Innovation Testbed. The secure, cloud-based platform offers a private, end-to-end 5G network environment where individuals and teams can gain hands-on experience with critical system signaling and troubleshooting.
Technical knowledge alone is not enough to climb the corporate ladder. To thrive today, engineering leaders must have a strategic vision and people-centric leadership skills.
The IEEE Leading Technical Teams training program focuses on the challenges of managing engineers in R&D environments and fostering creative problem-solving through an immersive learning experience. It’s designed for professionals who have been in a leadership position for at least six months. Participants can gain self-awareness.
The program includes a 360-degree assessment that gathers feedback about the individual from peers and direct reports to build a personalized development plan. The goal is to help technical professionals transition from high-performing individual contributors into leaders who drive innovation by inspiring their teams rather than just managing tasks.
Organizations can enroll groups of 10 or more to learn as a cohort—which can ensure that everyone stays on the same page while setting a training schedule that fits the team’s deadlines.
In collaboration with the Rutgers Business School, IEEE offers two mini MBA programs to bridge the gap between technical expertise and executive leadership. The programs offer flexibility to fit the demanding schedules of senior professionals. The online format lets participants engage with content as their time permits, while live virtual office hours with faculty provide opportunities for real-time interaction.
During the mini MBA for engineers 12-week curriculum, technical professionals master core competencies such as financial analysis, business strategy, and negotiation to effectively transition into management roles.
The mini MBA in artificial intelligence embeds AI literacy directly into business strategy rather than treating the technology as a standalone subject. Participants learn to evaluate AI through financial modeling and governance frameworks, gaining a practical foundation to lead initiatives that incorporate the technology.
The programs are offered to individuals as well as to organizations interested in training groups of 10 employees or more.
All the programs within the IEEE Professional Development Suite offer continuing education units and professional development hours.
Earning globally recognized credits provides a professional advantage, signaling a commitment to growth that often serves as a prerequisite for advancing into senior, lead, or principal roles. Additionally, the credits satisfy annual professional engineering license renewal requirements, ensuring practitioners remain compliant while expanding their capabilities.
Developed by IEEE Educational Activities, the training programs are peer-reviewed and built to align with industry needs. By focusing on upskilling (improving current skills) and reskilling (learning new ones), the IEEE Professional Development Suite ensures that learners are not just keeping pace with change but helping to drive it.