The
The placer's objective reads simply: minimise total wirelength, subject to no overlaps, acceptable congestion, and timing. The classic engine behind modern placers is analytic placement: pretend every net is a little spring pulling its pins together, and solve for the cell positions that minimise total quadratic spring energy — a huge but well-behaved optimisation that yields a beautiful, illegal answer: cells piled on top of each other in dense clumps. Then comes the cleanup pipeline:
A timing-driven placer adds one more force: nets on critical paths get stiffer springs, so timing-critical cells are pulled tightly together while sleepy configuration logic is allowed to sprawl. And throughout, the placer watches the congestion map — a heat map of predicted routing demand versus supply per region. Where demand exceeds supply, the fix is to spread cells apart or lower local utilization: give the wires room before they are drawn.
Routing connects every net without two wires ever touching, obeying every design rule, on a chip with tens of millions of nets. No tool attacks that directly; routing runs as two acts:
The wires live in a metal stack of some 10–15 layers, and the stack has a shape: lower layers are thin and dense — fine pitch, high resistance, perfect for short local hops between neighbouring cells; upper layers are thick and fast — coarse pitch, low resistance, reserved for long-haul connections, clocks and power. A cross-chip net typically climbs the stack via a ladder of vias, sprints across on thick metal, and climbs back down to its destination pin.
The oldest routing algorithm is still the most beautiful. Lee's algorithm (1961) finds a shortest path from a source pin to a target on a grid with obstacles by flooding: label the source's neighbours 1, their neighbours 2, and so on — a breadth-first wavefront that flows around any obstacle like water. The moment the wave touches the target, walk backwards downhill (7, 6, 5, …) to recover a shortest path. If any path exists, the wave finds it, and no shorter one exists. Watch it run:
Modern detailed routers descend from this idea (with A*-style goal direction, line probes, and rip-up-and-reroute negotiation when nets fight over the same tracks), but the guarantee that makes maze routing immortal is Lee's: if a route exists, the flood will find it.
Long before detailed routing, tools score placements with the half-perimeter wirelength
(HPWL): for each net, the half-perimeter of the bounding box of its pins — for a two-pin net, simply
the Manhattan distance
Because wires are built up, not sideways. After the transistors are formed, the fab alternates: deposit an insulating glass layer, etch trenches, fill them with copper, polish flat, repeat — each repetition one metal layer, each connected to the next by vias. The result, seen edge-on in a microscope, looks like a multi-storey car park stacked over a single floor of transistors. The tiering is deliberate economics: fine-pitch lower layers are expensive to pattern and slow (resistance rises viciously as wires thin — the interconnect wall again), so the stack fattens as it rises, ending in metal thick enough to carry whole amps of supply current. When designers say a net "goes up to M12 for the journey", they mean it exactly: the signal literally rides the express motorway on the top floors.
A junior engineer reports: "Placement converged, and routing completed 99.9% of nets — nearly there!" The senior engineer hears a disaster. With ten million nets, 99.9% leaves ten thousand unrouted — and they are not random stragglers: they are concentrated in exactly the most congested spots, where the router fought hardest and lost. The last 0.1% is not finished by trying harder; it is finished by making room — spreading cells, lowering utilization, sometimes reopening the floorplan. That can perturb timing, which perturbs placement… which is why the pros' rule is: routability is designed in from the floorplan onward, never hoped for at the end. A chip either routes to 100.000% or it does not tape out.