The
          broad goals of nanotechnology—the
          ability to inexpensively arrange atoms in most of the ways permitted
          by physical law—are now widely accepted, but we need more. It
          is not enough to agree that heavier than air flight is possible, nor
          is it sufficient to believe that some design based on rockets can
          reach the moon, nor does the abstract realization that mass can be
          converted to energy change the course of history. We need to move
          to the next step: the Wright Brothers, the Apollo Program, the Manhattan
          Project—we need to translate abstract agreement into a focused
          and funded project.
     
    This
          raises the obvious question: focused on what?
     
      Nanosystems gave
          us a persuasive feasibility argument for assemblers,
          but didn't give us a design for a specific assembler. For every fundamental
          design problem, Nanosystems gave us several feasible solutions—but
          never picked one specific solution. Indeed, one of the main thrusts
          was that we could have confidence that assemblers were feasible precisely
          because there were many solutions to every problem—it's difficult
          to be absolutely certain that a specific solution will work, but when
          there are many possible solutions available it's almost certain one
          of them will work.
     
    We
          have seen continued work on specific aspects of assembler design but
          we haven't seen a complete design. Such a design (and accompanying
          analysis) is feasible today, but a complete design will require the
          work of a team of people for some years. We need to explore the space
          of possible designs, analyze at least some designs in full detail,
          and then use those designs as a point of focus for further development.
          We can start today, but have not.
     
    The
          major consequence of this failure is continued delay, much of which
          will be caused by continued confusion about "what is an assembler." While
          we know that all the fundamental problems can be solved, we don't
          have a single design or embodiment that selects a specific solution
          for each problem and integrates those specific solutions into a single
          unified system. Perhaps more seriously, there is the fog and uncertainty
          created by mental confusion and misunderstanding. People have a hard
          time grasping complex arguments and abstract conclusions, and when
          we are hearing new ideas for the first time it's very easy to get
          confused. Flight to the moon was thought impossible because "there
          is no air to push against" in the vacuum of space. Airplane wings
          push against air, propellers push against air, helicopter blades push
          against air—surely the proposed space rockets were meant to
          push against air? But there is no air in space! So can our experience
          with familiar things mislead us when we consider fundamentally new
          ideas.
     
    A
          project with many people must have a clear, detailed, and comprehensive
          description of both the goal and how to achieve it. We need at least
          one design for an assembler with all the kinks worked out, all the
          irritating little design issues settled, all the potential sticking
          points resolved. Without this, any effort to build an assembler will
          deteriorate into chaos and confusion as the people involved find themselves
          working at cross purposes—possibly without even realizing it.
          If we want to build a heavier-than-air flying machine, and one person
          designs the blades for a helicopter and another works out the wings
          of an airplane while a third says we should propel the device by throwing
          sticks of dynamite out the rear and exploding them, the result will
          be chaos.
     
    Right
          now, the detail that we can achieve in a system design is limited
          by the fact that serious design efforts have so far been limited to
          one or perhaps two people. We could greatly increase the detail of
          the design by increasing the number of people (provided they are the
          right people). Half a dozen to a dozen people, properly coordinated,
          would be a great improvement over the present situation, and would
          start to provide us with system designs that had a level of detail
          that would give us greater collective clarity in understanding the
          goal and a greater ability to determine the developmental pathways
          for reaching it.
     
    Besides
          pursuing designs in greater depth and detail, we should also examine
          designs that differ radically in their approach and assumptions—we
          can explore the design space seeking designs that are (for example)
          easier to build. Consider the Analytical Engine, designed by Babbage
          in the 1830's. The single most important intellectual development
          of the 20th century, Babbage's design was never built nor was there
          any systematic exploration of possible alternatives. 
     
    Looking
          back with the advantage of 20-20 hindsight, we can see what Babbage
          and the rest of the world missed: relays. Relays were known in the
          1830's, and were widely deployed in the 1840's for use in telegraphy.
          Had Babbage and others explored the design space for "Analytical Engines," they
          might have realized that a relay-based computer was relatively easy
          to build and quite practical. But they didn't, and so missed an opportunity
          of historic magnitude.
     
    Let's
          not miss another opportunity.