Science is primarily an investigation of our place of the Universe — the place that people occupy in a world which ranges from the tiniest subatomic particles to the furthest reaches of space and time. We do not exist in isolation, and science is a human cultural activity, not a purely dispassionate striving after truth, no matter how hard we might try. It is all about where we came from, and where we are going. And it is the most exciting story ever told.

For Little Things

I was going through my file cabinet and found this little leaf tucked away in a folder from high school. Three of us wrote this after a day in Honors Biology:

“The Protein Song”
Sung to the tune of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”

Fibrillin, the wacked-out protein,
Had a mutated code,
And if the lymphocytes saw it,
They would’ve engulfed it whole.

All of the other proteins
Used to laugh and call it names.
They wouldn’t let the poor protein
Play any enzyme games.

Then one strange new mitosis,
DNA came to say,
“Protein, with your weird make-up,
Won’t you come mutate with us.”

Then all the cells did love it,
As they evolved through time.
Fibrillin, you wacked-out protein,
I’m so glad that you are mine!

I went to see Project Nim knowing of the indiscretions that occurred during the experiment, but I did not expect the extent of them. It was clear that the novelty of having a chimpanzee in the home overrode any adherence to the procedure of treating Nim as a human child. Most of Nim’s caretakers were well-meaning, but they also viewed him as either an amusing toy or an interesting study. Only one, Bob Ingersoll, treated Nim with acknowledgement of his “chimphood”.

As I watched these interviewees speak about Nim, I realized I was learning less about the chimpanzee—and animal language acquisition—than the humans who were touched by him. Though they were to study language with the chimp, they could not bridge the communication gap. They remembered Nim with reverence, detachment, and bewilderment. Though some were charmed by his alien manner, they still spoke of him as observers from an unbreachable distance. They could not move past their humanity to connect with a chimpanzee.

These interviewees are subjects of film just as Nim is. Each interview and frame are crafted to create the story that director James Marsh wants to tell. Terms such as “non-fiction” and “documentary” are misleading. Films have narration, and every one well-told has themes, morals, and a point-of-view. Nim’s caretakers saw him as an experimental subject. Marsh sees him as a victim of science gone wrong.

Dr. Terrace did not uncover any secrets on language, but his experiment and this documentary still reveal this truth: An object of study is affected by the study, but its observers will be changed as well.

Science tells us we are merely beasts, but we don’t feel like that. We feel like angels trapped inside the bodies of beasts, forever craving transcendence.

Memory Implant Gives Rats Sharper Recollection »

Researchers have developed technology that supplements learning and recall:

The rats were implanted with a tiny array of electrodes, which threaded from the top of the head down into two neighboring pieces of the hippocampus, a structure that is crucial for forming these new memories, in rats as in humans. The two slivers of tissue, called CA1 and CA3, communicate with each other as the brain learns and stores new information. The device transmits these exchanges to a computer.

[…]

The researchers, having recorded the appropriate signal from CA1, simply replayed it, like a melody on a player piano — and the animals remembered. The implant acted as if it were CA1, at least for this one task.

It seems like the implant needs to be active during learning to record the neural activity to be mimicked. This technology may not directly translate to humans and may not be viable at all for people who have severe neurodegenerative disorders, but this is still exciting as the realization of theory.

This is also very exciting for me. If I had a neural implant, maybe I wouldn’t lose words and time anymore.

But when I told my father that I would love to have this memory enhancer, he told me, “Amber, you are not a rat.”

I would beg to differ.

From The Sun To 134340 Pluto »

Since I came to Boston years ago, I wanted to tour the Community Solar System, an exhibit of the planets, each one stationed at a different site around Greater Boston. Finally, last week, a friend and I embarked on this grand, geeky journey. Armed with our T passes and cameras, we met at the Museum of Science for our very first stop.

I didn’t realize the Sun created a shadow.

We were off to a great start.

But our progress was quickly stalled when, much to our dismay, Mercury could not be found. According to the guide, the first planet should had been in the front plaza. Instead, there was a rock garden filled with different specimens from around the world. Fascinating, but none were the rock of our interest.

Luckily, we found a replacement. Near the Planetarium is a newer exhibit of the solar system, but it wasn’t nearly as cool because you didn’t have to brave a celestial expedition to view it.

Definitely not the original, but it would do.

An elevator ride later, we were at the Venus. The light at the roof was bright. The air was hot and crisp. It was so warm, it might have been an early test to see if we would have the courage to journey beyond.

We got this far. We’re moving forward.

To visit Earth we left the museum for on the Green Line. We were a bit confused when we arrive to the site. The third planet was hidden in the back courtyard of the Royal Sonesta, but luckily for us, the gentleman in the lobby didn’t seem fazed when we asked where Earth was.

The planet had definitely seen better days.

Across the street, Mars was surrounded by commercial comfort at the CambridgeSide Galleria. It seemed like an odd place for the patron of war.

Having finished our tour of the inner planets, we headed back to the T to journey into Boston to see the outer planets. Along the way, we passed by a street art presentation along Cambridge Street. Beautiful metal birds fluttered overhead.

It was the last glimpse of hope before we crossed the river.

Jupiter was easy to find. In the middle of the bustle of South Station, it was impossible to miss if you were going from the T to the buses.

The largest planet couldn’t capture the attention of this crowd. This is a sad day for the solar system.

As we journeyed further among the outer planets, we met an unforeseen obstacle: Sunday. Saturn was seated in the Cambridge Public Library, but unthinking of the day, we arrived with the doors closed to us. We could not view the ringed splendor.

Dismayed but not disheartened, we immediately sought a substitute. At the Harvard COOP, we managed to find a suitable likeness.

I don’t think that’s to scale though.

Uranus was also difficult to access, far out in Jamaica Plain. The library was also closed, but we hoped to catch a glimpse of the planet through a window.

Not even a glimmer.

Even worse, Neptune was farther out in Saugus and the bus to its location didn’t run on Sundays. We were prepared for a trek, but for not the four miles by foot.

Lesson learned: The outer planets aren’t very social.

.. except for Pluto. But does it count since it isn’t a planet anymore?

Still, we have explored the entirety of the solar system! Even if the outer planets were unavailable, the journey was exciting. At the end of the day, I learned that 1) I am a better photo editor than photographer, 2) planets are not available for visits on Sundays, and 3) nerdy friends are the best because they will suffer a sweltering summer Sunday to scout the solar system with you.

Would I do this again? Sure! But just so I don’t wait another nine years to travel the solar system, Foursquare should have a special badge for this journey. After doing it twice, I deserve to be a “Master of the Universe”.