Reed's Ruminations: A Blog by Dan Reed

Understanding the World through Genetics and New Technologies

N.B.: An abbreviated version of this perspective is scheduled to appear in the Iowa City Press-Citizen. On February 15, 2013, I will be participating in a televised and webcast discussion of personalized medicine as part of the University of Iowa's WorldCanvass series.

DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) – it is literally the stuff of life. Three billion instances of four nucleotides (abbreviated GATC) (in the haploid genome) define our humanity, and slight variations across those three billion instances are responsible for all our differences, including our susceptibility and predisposition to diseases. Thus, understanding how DNA regulates biological processes is key to the mechanics of life and to treating disease at its most fundamental levels.

In 2003, after multiple years of painstaking work, two groups, one public and one private, each succeeded in sequencing the DNA of one individual – a human genome – at a cost of roughly three billion dollars. This technological tour de force required collaborations among research laboratories across the country, vast arrays of robotic machines to identify DNA snippets and massive amounts of computing power to assemble the snippets into a complete genome sequence via a technique known as shotgun sequencing.

In the intervening ten years, the cost to sequence a genome has dropped below ten thousand dollars. In other words, for the price of a minivan, you could have your family's DNA sequenced today. More importantly, technological advances will soon push that price below $1000, with $100 sequencing soon to follow. Very soon, having your DNA sequenced is likely to cost less than what most of us spend on gas for our cars each month.

In many ways, the dramatic reductions in DNA sequencing cost are due to advances in some of the same technologies that have given us powerful, yet inexpensive mobile telephones and other electronic devices. Automated DNA sequencers rely on robotics for sample management, advanced computing for coordination and data management, and miniaturization and nanotechnology for biological process and sample analysis.

Beyond the potential for scientific insight, these dramatic declines in DNA sequence costs have been in part due to perceived business and healthcare opportunities. Many companies, including ones created by faculty and students at the University of , see personalized medicine as a new frontier, much in the way that advanced imaging – x-ray computerized tomography (CT), positron emission tomography (PET) and magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) – transformed assessment and diagnosis in the 1970s and 1980s. To spur research and innovation, the X Prize Foundation has offered 10 million dollars to the first group to sequence 100 human genomes highly accurately at a cost of $1,000 or less.

Toward Personalized Medicine

What are the implications of inexpensive DNA sequencing for each of us? We can read the letters in each of our personal books of life. However, we do not yet understand fully how those letters collectively define the operating manual for our cells and our bodies, but biomedical research is bringing us closer to commonplace medical treatments.

Today, if you visit your primary care physician, he or she compares your current health to that of a typical human of your age and gender. Therein is the problem. There is no mass production of typical humans; each of us is custom made and slightly different, unique among the roughly seven billion people on this planet. We celebrate those differences, for they define our humanity. In that sense, every child's mother is right when she calls her child special and precious, for we are, in so many wondrous ways.

Biologically, DNA variations and the genes expressed lead to our differing appearance, behavior, physiology and metabolic processes. When combined with our varied lifestyles, environments, exercise patterns and food preferences, it is no surprise that we have different physical reactions to the same drugs and medical treatments. None of us is typical, yet today's medicine treats us as if we are.

When you visit your physician in a few years, to what might he or she compare your current health? Ideally, it would be you at your very best, perhaps at age 25 when you were in peak physical and mental condition, at your optimum weight, and living a healthy lifestyle. More to the point, your physician would then tailor your treatment based on a deep understanding of your unique genetic characteristics, your current condition, physical environment, and your body's particular reactions to those treatments. This is the promise of personalized medicine – earlier and more effective treatment tailored specifically for you.

Our DNA is the personal operating manual that directs our cells and physiology. Understanding that is essential to personalized medicine, but it is not enough. We also need inexpensive and routine diagnostics that can compare the "current you" and the "healthiest possible you" to determine what is wrong.

All of this is analogous to how we now diagnose automobile problems. In addition to inspecting the vehicle, all mechanics read the data captured by the vehicle's onboard monitoring electronics. That data include the vehicle's history of operation and all deviations from the factory-defined standard. While you drive, the vehicle continually monitors itself, raising alarms if there are problems.

Just as the best car repair is the one you never need, the best health care is treatment you never need because you are well. The next best case is early intervention that alerts you and your caregivers before serious issues develop. Late intervention when you are very sick is both damaging to you and expensive for all of us.

As with DNA sequencing, new technologies are bringing the medical diagnostics version of personal monitoring ever closer, allowing each of us to track our physiology and lifestyle. There are already smartphone apps that can measure heart rate and lung function, wearable devices that monitor exercise and sleep functions, and wireless meters for glucose monitoring. Some individuals in the quantified self community are now measuring their bodies in ways that were heretofore only possible in a research environment. Via microfluidics, nanotechnology, robotics, advanced computing and other technologies, the Star Trek tricorder is on the horizon.

Societal Implications

Like all new technologies, genetic medicine brings a new set of societal questions. If DNA sequencing uncovers an untreatable genetic defect, do you want to know? It is not a hypothetical question; we are already facing this ethical dilemma for selected diseases. Because you are genetically similar to your siblings, what are the implications for them if you fit a particular disease profile? What is the appropriate ethical and economic balance between personalized health care treatment and cost, particularly if you choose a lifestyle that worsens your health, given a genetic predisposition to a disease? How do we protect individual privacy in a world of "big data" and inexpensive health monitoring devices?

As a comprehensive research university that combines the sciences, engineering and medicine with the liberal arts and humanities, the University of Iowa (UI) brings insights and expertise to all aspects of genetics-based personalized medicine. The UI is a major participant in scientific and biomedical research, as well as the transfer of research ideas into practice via new companies created by its faculty, research staff and students. It is also engaged actively in helping shape the ethical, social, legal and economic frameworks that will govern this transformation.

This exciting new world of personalized medicine is ripe with the promise of improved health for our citizens, by helping our children remain healthy, by allowing our seniors to live independently for longer periods, and by ensuring our citizens in rural areas can monitor their health in detail.

I believe the future is bright. Via personalized medicine, we can improve the quality of life and reduce health care costs for everyone, while respecting and protecting our individuality.

Remember, we are all special. Our DNA tells us so.

Related articles

A human genome in minutes, and what it will mean to you

Could DNA databases herald a new era of medicine?

The personalized medicine revolution is almost here

DNA test analyzes genes known to contribute to cancer

Online Higher Education

N.B. I also write for the Communications of the ACM (CACM). The following essay recently appeared on the CACM blog.

Update:  Today, Coursera and a consortium of twelve major universities announced that they will offer online courses together.

The higher education community is abuzz with debates regarding massive open online courses (MOOCs) and distance education, fueled in no small part by the stunning response to Sebastian Thrun and Peter Norvig's online AI course at Stanford. (This and other courses have since become part of Udacity.) In turn, MIT's Open Courseware and online learning initiative, MITx, were the progenitors of edX, a joint venture between MIT and Harvard. The Khan Academy has adopted a different model, emphasizing micro-lectures on thousands of topics. Since then, other public, private and non-profit institutions, not to mention pundits and commentators, have joined the fray.

Many of us have seen parts of this movie before, when new e-learning technologies were projected to transform higher education. Although no one died in a climactic car crash, a series of these technologies failed to deliver on their early promise.

At one time, CATV lectures for continuing education were common in the U.S. At Illinois, I remember PLATO, a much more ambitious experiment, which brought plasma displays, speech synthesis, touch screens and computer-aided instruction (CAI) to thousands of students in the 1970s and 1980s. This amazing set of technologies reshaped the lives of both students and developers, but it faded away. (See Mind to Mind: Building Innovation). Roughly twenty years later, we tried again, when a group of us at Illinois launched an Internet computer science master's program that targeted India. Alas, broadband limitations then constrained delivery to batch mode; a revised version of it continues today.

Each of these technologies and many others had their place, but none fundamentally reshaped the active lecturer, passive listener model that is the hallmark of most university courses. Today and tomorrow may be different, with nearly ubiquitous global broadband now available for delivery, a plethora of inexpensive consumer computing devices for consumption, and rich cloud services to host that content. In addition, the rise of social networks and crowdsourcing connecting geographically distributed groups has created cohesive intellectual communities.

Yet the other social, political and economic dynamics may be even more important. There is a growing public backlash against rising college tuition, there are persistent questions about the economic value of college degrees, and there is continuing demand for lifelong skills refresh as economic shifts eliminate job classes.

Like technological and cultural shifts, the online education issues are subtle and intertwined. Thus, it is instructive (how apt) to learn from the past. Heeding Santayana's dictum, there are lessons to be gleaned from another labor intensive, active-passive endeavor – musical performance – when a transformative technology was introduced, the lowly phonograph record. Let us begin with a bit of history.

Lessons from the Shellac 78s and Vinyl 45s

The year 1877 was an important demarcation line in the history of musical experiences and delivery. Thomas Edison perfected the cylindrical phonograph, later more widely popularized by Emile Berliner in the form of the gramophone record. In a testimony to the longevity of a successful technology, that format defined recorded music delivery for most of the 20^th century.

Today, the time when music could only be heard live and locally seems like an era lost in the mists of pre-history, yet it was little more than a century ago. In short order, the widespread recording of individual musicians, groups and orchestras, and the subsequent rise of record contracts and distribution systems transformed the sociology and economics of music. For the first time, these recordings brought musical performances to diverse national and international audiences. A single performance could now be heard and reheard by millions of individuals at the times and places of their own choosing.

As a personal aside, I still remember the Victrola and 78 RPM records that belonged to my aunt. The Victrola was spring driven and powered by a crank on the side. The smell of the record sleeves, the heft and thickness of the shellac 78s, the scratchy sound, and sheen of the oil polish on the wooden cabinet are deeply imprinted.

Widespread record distribution and radio made some performers, later called recording artists, wealthy, international stars. Meanwhile, other musicians of equal or near equal skill, who did not secure recording contracts, were relegated to an economic and cultural netherworld of local performances and limited fame. During my teen years, the apotheosis of this highly bimodal distribution was AM Top 40 radio and Casey Kasem's American Top 40, along with the LP concept album.

Since then, musical genres have become ever more diverse and specialized, as new technology has allowed recording labels to target likeminded audiences, even if small in size. In turn, independent musicians have taken to the web, sometimes bypassing record labels and delivering music directly to their fans, all the while balancing income against size of fan base. Against this backdrop, digital content pirates and intellectual property advocates are locked in a technological and cultural battle around verification and access, payment, sharing and portability.

Educational Commodities

What are the parallels with the music industry and higher education? First, both musical performance and education began as "local and live." To experience a performance, one traditionally had little choice but to buy tickets (pay tuition) to see the musician (instructor) perform live. In both cases, the quality of the performance might vary widely with the skill of the performer, but the approbation and fame, or derision and complaints, were geographically bounded. Each city and region had its local performers and acolytes.

As I noted earlier, records and distribution systems changed this music production and consumption model profoundly. Truly successful musicians, defined by popularity and revenues, now have international reach and global distribution networks. They are megabrands with millions of followers. Via the web, even performers in esoteric musical genres have geographically distributed, albeit much smaller, audiences.

Online education has the same potential to transform a small number of instructors and institutions into megabrands, with hundreds of thousands of globally distributed students. It could also allow teachers of more esoteric material to reach global audiences. The question is culturally simple. As a student, would you rather take a required general education or specialty elective course from one of several internationally rated instructors and/or lauded scholars, or be constrained to the pedagogical skill and intellectual acumen of the professors at a single university?

Second, by making courses marketable commodities that can be purchased from multiple, non-local purveyors, the spatio-temporal constraints of only local delivery and consumption disappear, allowing students (customers) to purchase from a much wider palette. This has several important corollaries, some good and some not. We may be able to deliver higher quality content to more students and disseminate new knowledge more rapidly, including lifelong skills refresh. There is also the risk that diversity of pedagogical approaches and experimentation could be lost, that cross-disciplinary experiences could be more difficult to facilitate, or that linking research and education could more challenging.

It is likely, even possible, however, that many generic courses will become true commodities, with much less local value differentiation. After all, introductory courses such as chemistry 101 are similar at all institutions across the country. Disciplinary curriculum standards and accreditation bodies help assure this. Should such courses be replicated everywhere, or should a marketplace of consumer (student) choice determine which instances of these courses succeed?

This is not just a question for general education, but one that applies to computing as well. Introductory programming, algorithms and data structures and many of our other core curriculum courses are amenable to this approach. The advanced courses and seminars offered by highly respected faculty have potentially different dynamics, as Thrun and Norvig's AI course showed, but there are commonalities.

Without doubt, there are some "third rails" in this uncertain future, a few of which challenge the very nature of today's higher education model. These include certification and verification, branding and economics. Today, there are more questions than answers, which is why university leaders and trustees are so concerned and engaged.

Quo Vadis?

In addition to delivering content, our existing higher education structures and processes triage applicants for quality, validate student identities and certify (via testing) that graduates possess the knowledge and skills asserted. Yes, the true degree of competency varies widely across individual graduates, but the brand equity of the institutions is a qualitative standard (i.e., one knows what an MIT or Michigan degree connotes).

We have long passed the point when no one on the Internet knows if you are a dog. (See Remembering Internet Dogs for a bit of history.) Nevertheless, online certification and verification remain difficult issues, with some analogs to the ongoing debate around digital content piracy and free versus paid content access. How do we best verify online student capabilities and identities and confirm that the asserted identity corresponds to the individual completing the online coursework? In the old days of CATV education, onsite, proctored examinations were the solution.

On the economic front, what content should be freely available and what should be accessible only via fee? Perhaps more importantly, what are the economic implications for educational institutions and faculty? The true production costs of courses (e.g., history and engineering) vary substantially, and one often implicitly subsidizes the other via tuition. The national commoditization of some courses could eliminate many of these cross-disciplinary subsidies and even eliminate faculty positions or even entire departments at some universities.

Online education could also drive states to reduce support for public colleges and universities even more. They might opt to offer course vouchers or financial support directly to students rather than institutions. In aggregate, the effects of such changes could also have profound research implications, with colleges and universities unable to sustain the economic base needed to subsidize research.

Finally, what are the branding implications? If a student has taken online courses from ten different institutions, from whom do they receive a degree? Does the degree even matter, or is the only substantive question one of verified competency? In this brave new world, I suspect the institutions with the most to fear are those with lesser brands. One attends MIT, Harvard, or Stanford for brand equity, not just knowledge. The music analogy is strong here, relegating some institutions to the status of local cover bands, performing for secondary audiences.

Parting Thoughts

As a technologist, I am always somewhat chary when anyone proclaims a new technology as radical and game changing. Sometimes the technology is revolutionary, as the phonograph proved, but we have all seen technologies introduced with great fanfare, only to watch them fade into obscurity. In addition, our higher education institutions have proven resilient and effective in socializing and educating young adults for hundreds of years. Make no mistake, our colleges and universities are not without faults, and they are often slow to embrace change and respond to shifting social expectations.

Nevertheless, I think this is time of profound change, of punctuated equilibrium when the confluence of technologies, social expectations and economic pressures will necessitate substantive change in our university structures. We must move carefully and thoughtfully, embracing opportunity while diligently preserving that which we cherish and value.

Lux et veritas.

A Question to Ponder

I speak to groups large and small on an almost weekly basis. Some of these are technical presentations; others address global policy issues; and still others are public events for a popular audience. If you were to see me speak on related topics in semi-contiguous weeks, you might assume that the presentations never change. It is true that I have a series of standard "stump speeches," but I also add new content to each of these, allowing them to evolve as I develop new ideas and understand what topics resonate with the audience.

For popular audiences, I occasionally open by jokingly opining that some members of the audience, for reasons both baffling and befuddling, may find my erudite and insightful presentation, though delivered with elegance, verve and panache, rather turgid and opaque. In that rare and extraordinary event, I humbly offer an alternate question for them to ponder while the dismal proceedings that are my prepared remarks meander interminably toward their much-anticipated conclusion.

That self-deprecating opening usually makes people smile, albeit weakly. What follows, though, is a very simple, though serious question. I simply ask, "What probability of successful return would you accept to be the first human to set foot on Mars?"

Walking on Mars

Superficially, this is the quintessential geek question, conjuring images of mighty rockets like the old Saturn V, complex orbital dynamics, spacesuits and EVAs, and ultimately, the an adventure on the red planet itself. On reflection, though, the question is more subtle, morphing into something deeper that makes the audience think carefully about themselves and the nature of the human condition.

Let us begin with the geek part, probability and statistics. There are many possible answers to the question, only one of which is categorically wrong. Anyone who says, "Why probability one, of course!" has failed to consider that nothing in life – other than death – is certain. Notwithstanding the popular claim, even taxes can be changed. One need only recall the old astronaut joke about sitting atop millions of pounds of fuel and thousands of parts, all produced by the lowest bidder. Hence, unless one's answer is, "I have no interest in going," any answer involves accepting some degree of risk.

The technically inclined among the audience inevitably then begin considering possible failure modes and probabilities, including mechanical, electronic, biological, chemical, environmental and social ones. In the mind's eye, one sees rockets exploding on the launch pad, solar storms creating lethal radiation during the long flight, failed entry in the thin Martian atmosphere, and a host of other deadly scenarios. The process reminds us that everything is fraught with some risk, and that we habitually and instinctively calculate risk-reward ratios every day. It is only the extraordinary risks that we consciously contemplate, and even then only rarely.

Risk and Remembrance

The question also illuminates two other salient issues. The first is one's personal risk-reward ratio. For a very few, perhaps the most reckless and thrill seeking among us, probability zero is an acceptable answer. For others, the adventuresome and the explorers, those with the putative "right stuff," almost any carefully quantified, non-zero probability is acceptable, for it offers the hope, even if improbable, of safe return. Many opt for an answer where the prospects of success exceed those for failure, for they value their lives.

The second aspect cuts to the centrality of our humanity, our insatiable curiosity and our hope to be remembered for having done something new, for having made a difference. To set foot Mars offers a chance to answer some deeply intriguing and vexing scientific questions about planetary formation and history and about the possibility of life on Mars, past or present. To be the first offers something else, the opportunity to be remembered, at least in the brief span of recorded human history, for having done something extraordinary.

What Is Your Answer?

It is an interesting and thought provoking question. It is a presentation unto itself. What probability of successful return would you accept?

As for me, as John Glenn once said, if there were a bird on the pad and they offered me a ride, I would be on it. I would have calculated the risks with the engineers, worked with the scientists and made an informed choice. Beyond that, the science, the technology, the curiosity, the opportunity – I feel their call.

Predicting Our Technological Future

What does the future hold? Those who are fortunate or lucky enough to anticipate major social, economic or technical changes will generally be more successful than those who do not, though sometimes luck plays a role. The factors leading to change are manifold, and I am no expert in either economic theory or social dynamics. That leaves technology, and I am perhaps foolhardy enough to hazard a few guesses about what the future may hold.

Foolhardy, foolishly rash, unwisely bold, those are all operative, for the Brownian motion of component technology changes that together enable new products is complex indeed. It does not take a rocket scientist, though I was once a member of a rocket simulation team, to extrapolate the continued proliferation of mobile and embedded devices, the rapid growth of "big data," and the seemingly insatiable demand for more wired and wireless broadband capability. Beyond devices, big data and broadband, lie the challenges and opportunities posed by the Internet of Things, the dark silicon challenges beyond Dennard scaling, the rise of post-GUI natural user interfaces and a shift from explicit to implicit computing.

Dennis Gannon, Jim Larus and I speculated about all of these topics in the January 2012 issue of IEEE Computer in the cover article entitled, Imagining the Future: Thoughts on Computing. We also discussed the social and policy implications of new technologies, including the nature of privacy and security in a sensor-rich, big data world, the need for new approaches to adaptive spectrum allocation that respond more quickly to shifting demand, and social and technical expectations for new computing curricula.

All of us who are or have been researchers know that creating new technologies is exciting and fulfilling. Combining technologies to create viable products within a shifting policy landscape is a challenge of a different sort. When thinking about product and process failures, all of us would do well to recall Richard Feynman's telling denouement of human folly when serving on the review commission following the space shuttle Challenger's explosion, "For a successful technology, reality must take precedence over public relations, for nature cannot be fooled."

Marketing does not make successful products, at least not for long. Instead, they must have real and intrinsic value to the users, and they must operate reliably as advertised. Predicting user value is, of course, far more difficult than it superficially seems, else venture capitalists would have higher success rates, and major corporations would not be foundering on the rocks of technological change.

Nor is past or present success a guarantee of future profitability. Shot any Polaroids lately? Written any VAX assembly code this month for anything other than legacy systems? Still driving your Rambler to work? All three products were icons of the 1960s and 1970s, yet their parent companies are no more.

There are many reasons why initial success becomes the father of later failure. Sometimes designers cling too long to old technology, sometimes companies make ill-advised leaps to new and untried technology, and sometimes leaders cling to old business models when change is essential to survival.

As William Gibson famously noted, "The future is already here. It's just not very evenly distributed." Though both pithy and true, it is hardly a guide to navigating the implied temporal mixing of present and future. Instead, I take more comfort from Søren Kierkegaard, "Life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backwards."

SC11: The Cray, Fernbach and Kennedy Awards

N.B. I also write for the Communications of the ACM (CACM). The following essay recently appeared on the CACM blog.

This week is the annual gathering of the supercomputing faithful at SC11, held this year in Seattle. Jointly sponsored by ACM and IEEE, the conference attracts roughly ten thousand attendees. Only a handful of U.S. sites can now host it due to the space requirements for the technical program and the trade show. Unless the Washington State Convention Center expands, this will be the last time Seattle will host the conference.

This is the 24^th year of the conference and my 21^st year of attendance. I look forward to it eagerly each time. For many of us, the conference is a chance to see old friends, track the global competition of the world's fastest machines via the Top500 list, discuss the latest hardware and software, and explore the applications of supercomputing to complex problems. To use a technically relevant analogy, my mean free path before encountering someone and stopping for conversation is often no more than ten meters. That is both wonderfully stimulating and, by week's end, exhausting.

SC11 Cray, Fernbach and Kennedy Awards

For the third year in a row, I had the honor and privilege to chair the selection committee for the IEEE Seymour Cray and Sidney Fernbach awards, both of which are being presented at SC11. These eponymously named awards recognize truly outstanding contributions to high-performance computing, in honor of two early leaders of our field. The Seymour Cray award recognizes individuals whose innovative contributions to high performance computing systems best exemplify the creative spirit demonstrated by Seymour Cray. In turn, the Sidney Fernbach award is given to for outstanding contribution in the application of high-performance computers using innovative approaches.

In addition to chairing the Cray and Fernbach award selection committee, I also had the privilege to be a member of the selection committee for the Ken Kennedy Award. The Kennedy award recognizes the contributions to programmability and productivity and community service and mentoring. The Kennedy award will also be presented at SC11.

Cray and Fernbach Award Presentation

I am looking forward to the Wednesday (November 16^th) session, were we will present all three awards and hear from the recipients. The 2011 Seymour Cray Award will be presented to Dr. Charles (Chuck) Seitz. Not only did Chuck and his colleagues stimulate a revolution in distributed memory supercomputing design with the Cosmic Cube, he developed the message passing techniques and hardware that have connected some of the world's fastest machines, including the Intel Paragon, ASCI Red and the Cray T3D/E. Chuck also led the team that founded Myricom, which developed the Myrinet interconnect.

I was equally pleased that we will present the 2011 Sidney Fernbach Award to Dr. Cleve Moler for his seminal contributions to linear algebra, mathematical software, and enabling tools for computational science. Cleve co-authored the widely used LINPACK and EISPACK scientific subroutine libraries, which are used a wide range of computational science applications. In addition, Cleve is the chief mathematician for MathWorks, the company he co-founded to commercialize MATLAB, perhaps the most widely used toolkit in all of science and engineering.

Finally, I am thrilled that the ACM-IEEE Ken Kennedy award will be presented to Professor Susan Graham, in recognition of her foundational compilation algorithms and programming tools, research and discipline leadership, and exceptional mentoring. Sue has made seminal contributions to programming software, as part of the UC-Berkeley UNIX project and other collaborations. If you have used a program performance profiler, such as gprof, you are the beneficiary of her work. As anyone who has worked with her knows, she has also mentored generations of students.

The three awards and the work of the recipients reflect the evolving interplay of technology, software, applications and algorithms in advancing high-performance computing. They also recognize intellectual leadership and mentoring of a new generation of high-performance computing talent. This interplay of technology and mentorship has continued to enable innovative scientific research and engineering practice, the vanguard of computational science and engineering.

Committee Acknowledgment

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the insights, perspectives and thoughtful evaluations of the Cray and Fernbach Awards Committee:

• Doug Burger, Microsoft
• Bill Dally, Stanford and NVIDIA
• Jim Demmel, University of California at Berkeley
• Jack Dongarra, University of Tennessee and Oak Ridge National Laboratory
• Bill Gropp, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
• Mary Hall, University of Utah
• Bob Lucas, USC Information Sciences Institute
• Satoshi Matsuoka, Tokyo Institute of Technology
• Paul Messina, Argonne National Laboratory
• Wolfgang Nagel, Technical University of Dresden
• Vivek Sarkar, Rice University
• Horst Simon, Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory
• Andy White, Los Alamos National Laboratory

On behalf of the committee, I also want to express my deepest thanks to Anne Marie Kelly from the IEEE Computer Society.