In 2008, Miguel Ramos read in the newspaper that 110-million-year-old amber bearing pristine Mesozoic insects had been discovered a few hours' drive from Madrid, where he lived. A physicist who specializes in glass, Ramos had wanted for years to get his hands on ancient amber. He contacted the paleontologists working at the site, who invited him to visit.

"They provided me with the clear samples that are not good for them," he said. "They have no interesting insects or whatever … but they are perfect for me."

Ramos spent the next several years intermittently working on measurements of the ancient glass. He hoped that the fossilized tree resin, after aging for so long, might approach a hypothetical form of matter known as ideal glass.

For decades, physicists have dreamed of this perfect amorphous solid. They desire ideal glass not so much for its own sake (though it would have unique, useful properties) but because its existence would solve a deep mystery. It's the mystery posed by every window and mirror, every piece of plastic and hard candy, and even the cytoplasm that fills every cell.