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Issue 9: Entwined 28 October 2025 This issue takes a moment to revel in the science that surrounds us. Come walk the tangled paths less followed, who knows what you may come across! Editorial Unravelling the Threads: From the Editors-in-Chief & Cover Illustrator by Ingrid Sefton, Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin & Anabelle Dewi Saraswati A word from the Editors-in-Chief, and fascinating insights into this issue's cover. Knot theory Knot Theory and Its Applications. Why Knot? by Ryan Rud Untangle the knot theory with Ryan to reveal the role of this mathematical marvel in our everyday life. Hugging Entwined: A Hug Story by Elise Volpato Embrace the physiology, psychology and cultural complexities of hugs, as Elise opens us up to their undeniable benefits. Geological time periods Enter . . . the Anthropocene? by Rita Fortune Rita digs into questions of how and where we can draw a line in the sand, in attempts to disentangle a new geological time period. Cosmic matter The Cosmos in Our Palms: A Reflection of Our Cosmic Origins by Mishen De Silva Gain a new appreciation with Mishen of how the beauty and mystery of the cosmos is not just among us, but within us. Humans of UniMelb Rewilding Our Cities with Dr Kylie Soanes by Ciara Dahl Uncover life behind and between the concrete jungle, as Ciara talks all things urban ecology with Dr Kylie Soanes. Brain connectome Conferring with Consciousness by Ingrid Sefton Me, myself and my brain - Ingrid traverses the neural paths that comprise the conscious experience. Journey of food The Life of Matcha by Kara Miwa-Dale Delicately grown, globally consumed: Kara evaluates the intersection of matcha's deep-rooted social importance with physical health and current trends. Gunpowder Ancient Asian Alchemy: Big Booms by Isaac Tian Aiming for immortality, landing at gunpowder? Isaac explores how a quest for life is fundamentally entangled in the alchemy of gunpowder. Classical biology Eyeballs, a Knife, and No Fear of God by Jess Walton Travel back in time with Jess to meet the early anatomists who helped pioneer the arduous and neverending human quest to seek answers from deep within ourselves. Literally speaking, that is. Axolotls Axolotl: The Little God of the Lake by Danny He Dive into the history, habitat, and hardhsips of your favourite frilly friends. Axolotls are so much more than a cute face, and time may be running out to save them. Camouflage Living Pixels by KJ Srivastava Uncovering the science behind camouflaging creatures that have no eyes makes this trick no less magical, as KJ reveals. Pacific Island futures Human-Cetacean Relations by Andrew Irvin Taking us to Tonga, Andrew tells a tale of a musician swimming between the worlds of communication, marine science and a future for Pacific Islands. Philosophy of science It’s Dangerous to Go Alone by Julia Lockerd Join Julia to debate the importance of epistemic and social relationships in the development of modern science. Perceptions of time Time Perception – The Chaos Binding Your World Together by Furqan Mohsin Spend a moment with Furqan considering how our perception of time strings us together, yet fundamentally pulls us apart.

< Back to Issue 9 Human-Cetacean Relations by Andrew Irvin 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Edited by Kara Miwa-Dale Creative, fascinating and full of interesting little tidbits, "Human-Cetacean Relations" would be best viewed as a PDF to retain its formatting, footnotes and references - check it out here! Andrew's article here A copy without footnotes and references is available on this page. – Tonga, 2049 – Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Ancient Asian Alchemy: Big Booms by Isaac Tian 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Edited by Luci Ackland One question has plagued the human condition since the beginning of time: how can we escape death? Well, we certainly know who didn’t find the answer – the alchemists of ancient China. It’s 210 BC, and you are an alchemist standing before Emperor Qin Shi Huang in his court. You hand him an elixir supposed to grant him immortality and eternal reign. Only the serum contains what we now call “mercury” and if anything, you granted him mortality, as he drops dead before you (1). Where does one begin in this journey to immortality? How do we combine chemicals to find the perfect serum? Keep in mind, we have not even come close to establishing the periodic table at this point (no, that will occur about 1000 years later) (2). Saltpetre – or potassium nitrate – had been used extensively to treat common illnesses and to maintain good health. There’s our starting point (3). The search for this magic elixir persists for the next eleven centuries. We never give up… do we? The ingenuity of the alchemists spoke to them: it told them to mix in a few other ingredients to the saltpetre. With the trio of saltpetre, sulfur and charcoal, gunpowder was henceforth born into this world (4). The alchemists must have been in for a surprise when their “potion of immortality” sparked and exploded before them. So how does gunpowder explode? Why don’t other flammable items like match tips and dry wood explode when we set them alight? It comes down to a few key things. First is our perception of explosions. Chemicals don’t simply “explode” – it’s not an inherent quality of reactions – however, they can combust. Combustion is the release of energy from a fuel. Wood and matches combust, but they do so in a way that is relatively slower than gunpowder. Gunpowder combusts rapidly – so there is a large amount of energy release within a short period of time. Secondly, it’s about the availability of oxygen. Items that combust slowly typically have to wait for the oxygen to trickle in from the surrounding air, since oxygen is a critical component of combustion. This does not apply to gunpowder. The oxygen for its combustion is right there in the nitrate compound (of potassium nitrate – or saltpetre). So unlike burning wood or matches, the combustion does not need to wait for oxygen to arrive from the surrounding environment – it’s already in there with the rest of the powder (5)! To go further on that point: the closer the atoms are, the faster the combustion reaction can progress, because chemical compounds don’t need to wait long for the heat to get to them. Since gunpowder is… well… a powder, it’s rather compact and all the molecules of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and carbon sit tightly next to one another. It is this physical arrangement that permits the fast transfer of heat between molecules, ensuring that a lot of energy can be released at once. Ultimately, when all these physical and chemical phenomena occur in perfect unison, the high temperatures rapidly increase the kinetic energy of surrounding air molecules, causing them to shoot outwards at great speeds to form a “barrier” of sorts. When this barrier, also known as a shockwave, hits your eardrums, the gunpowder delivers what it does best: BOOM! Now, let’s combust some gunpowder, build up some gaseous pressure, and launch ourselves into the modern day. It’s been about twelve centuries – what have we been doing with all the gunpowder? As it turns out, we humans are very inventive, but also violent (Wow – who knew?). We quickly realised that the physical properties of the resulting gases can be harnessed to quickly move very heavy objects (6). Said heavy objects could then be guided in the direction of, say, a human being or a structure. Weaponry derived from gunpowder has existed for a very long time, albeit rather inefficient at first. The introduction of gunpowder to warfare came in the early 10th century, when soldiers applied gunpowder to arrows that would ignite and create fire arrows. Of course, whilst it might have been effective in creating a hole in humans, it was significantly less so when it came to creating holes in walls and structures. Only after 300 years did we then invent cannons and guns. However, those guns were slow – really, really slow – to the point that bows and arrows were actually preferred during warfare of that era. It would be another 600 years before we realised that there were more effective ways of reloading a gun; brandishing a new trend of military technology that would set the stage for the First and Second World Wars (7). By that point, the most terrifying of weapons had begun to stray away from the use of gunpowder. Missiles and rockets began employing other chemicals as propellants, owing to the advantage it had over gunpowder (7). It would also be remiss of this article to omit the exploitation of atomic power – pervading the world with such destruction that gunpowder appeared like a child’s toy (8). The tragic irony of a supposed innovation in immortality leading to mortality by war and conflict will forever embed itself into our history. Even with the right intentions, the invention by the great minds of alchemy has sparked a chain reaction for widespread destruction and warfare. It only makes you wonder – what are we making now that will lead us further astray in the future? References 1. Glancey J. The army that conquered the world. BBC. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20170411-the-army-that-conquered-the-world 2. Guharay DM. A brief history of the periodic table. ASBMBTODAY. Accessed August 28, 2025. https://www.asbmb.org/asbmb-today/science/020721/a-brief-history-of-the-periodic-table 3. Butler A, Moffett J. Saltpetre in Early and Medieval Chinese Medicine. Asian Medicine . 2009;5(1):173-185. doi: 10.1163/157342109X568982 4. Paradowski, R.J. Invention of Gunpowder and Guns. EBSCO Research Starters. 2022. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/history/invention-gunpowder-and-guns 5. Stanford University. Detonation and Combustion. Stanford University. Accessed September 4, 2025. https://cs.stanford.edu/people/eroberts/courses/ww2/projects/firebombing/detonation-and-combustion.htm 6. Britannica. Ammunition | Bullets, Shells & Cartridges. Britannica. 2025. Accessed September 25, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/technology/ammunition 7. Beyer G. How Did Gunpowder Change Warfare? TheCollector. 2025. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.thecollector.com/how-did-gunpowder-change-warfare/ 8. ICAN. History of Nuclear Weapons. ICAN. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.icanw.org/nuclear_weapons_history Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 The Life of Matcha by Kara Miwa-Dale 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Ingrid Sefton Edited by Isaac Tian I sway gently in the spring breeze, my vibrant green surface alive with chlorophyll. It’s a warm April day in Uji, Kyoto, and the conditions are perfect. If you haven’t already guessed, I am a matcha leaf. And this is my journey: from a shaded tea field to a powdered cultural icon. A farmer approaches, her movements calm and focused. She hums a soft tune as she reaches towards me. Then, everything goes dark. But this is not the end of my story – it is just the beginning… Cultivated in the shadows About four weeks before I was plucked, my world dimmed – intentionally. Farmers shaded me from direct sunlight using bamboo screens, an ancient practice known as tana cultivation (1). Among this shaded world, photosynthesis slowed and carbohydrates grew scarce. In response, I redirected my nitrogen reserves into free amino acids, favouring the formation of compounds like theanine (2). The shade also awakened genes involved in amino acid transport and theanine biosynthesis, enhancing the pathways responsible for L-theanine production - an amino acid known to induce a state of calm alertness in humans (2). At the same time, the production of catechins, the source of my bitterness, gradually declined (2). I don’t mean to brag, but the fact that I was chosen, among so many other leaves, meant that I was of exceptional quality. My glow-up from leaf to powder Shortly after harvest, I was gently steamed. This critical step deactivated polyphenol oxidase enzymes, stopping the process of oxidation before my leaves turned brown (3). From here, I was then air-dried, my veins and stems removed, and I was ground between granite millstones into an ultra-fine powder – matcha. My transformation into powder amplifies the capacity for the valuable L-theanine, catechins and chlorophyll to be ingested, enhancing my potential effects on the human body (4). A mindful celebration of my life I received the highest of honours: to be prepared in a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. In the 12 th century, Zen Buddhist monks first brought powdered green tea to Japan (5). They valued it as a tool for meditation, as much a spiritual discipline as a drink. The tea master – or chadoka – prepares me with graceful precision. Every movement is intentional; each sip a meditation. The ceremony follows the teaching of ‘ichigo ichie’, a philosophy that refers to the attitude of putting one’s whole spirit into a bowl of tea, since each tea ceremony is a once-in-a-lifetime gathering (6). My consumption increases alpha brain wave activity, a state associated with relaxed alertness, or focus without stress (7). My travels to the West I am one of the lucky ones. Elsewhere, leaves of a lower grade are processed with less care by hurried hands. They are shipped in bulk across continents, their bitterness masked with sugar and milk, where they are sold in Starbucks as ‘green tea lattes’ or in an array of matcha-flavoured sweets, far removed from my cultural roots. In the West, I’ve become something else entirely. A token of wellness, luxury, even a lifestyle aesthetic. I have become a cultural symbol of Japan, while also gaining status as a ‘health food’ and a marker of social prestige – representing the so-called ‘clean lifestyle’, or even the ideals of the ‘performative male’. Anthropologists describe this phenomenon as cultural food colonialism: the commodification of a food or drink by another society, often without a full appreciation of its historical and cultural roots. I am now enjoyed throughout the world, yet my true value and original purpose are sometimes forgotten, consumed more as a passing trend than with the intention of mindful presence. Sometimes I am added to products by companies eager to capitalise on a fad. My chemistry Science plays a big part in my newfound fame. Research has found that the L-theanine, e pigallocatechin gallate (EGCG) and rutin contained within my leaves elicit a variety of physiological benefits. L-theanine counteracts the stimulating effects of caffeine, giving drinkers a calmer ‘buzz’ and a more gradual release of energy compared to coffee. This unique combination of L-theanine and caffeine may enhance concentration and memory, while also alleviating stress (8). As a result, I am particularly appealing to those who embrace a ‘slow-living lifestyle’ or to individuals who become jittery from coffee due to overstimulation of the nervous system. Another prominent compound found in my powder, EGCG is renowned for its ability to protect cells from damage, reduce inflammation, and support heart health, while also exhibiting anti-tumour properties. By neutralising harmful free radicals, EGCG further helps to reduce oxidative stress, which is associated with ageing and a range of chronic diseases (9). I also contain a particularly high rutin content compared to other teas. This polyphenic compound is a potent antioxidant and, in combination with ascorbic acid (vitamin C), contributes to cardiovascular protection by strengthening blood vessels and improving circulation (10). In addition, rutin has demonstrated antidiabetic properties, helping to regulate blood sugar levels and improve metabolic function (10). A hot commodity and a growing concern As global demand for my vibrant green leaves continues to soar, tea plantations are expanding rapidly, sometimes at the expense of native ecosystems. My growth often comes with a cost: natural habitats are cleared to make way for me, leading to a loss of biodiversity. Farmers face increased pressure to cultivate larger harvests, striving to meet global demand while upholding sustainable practices. This so-called ‘matcha mania’ has even led to global shortages. Farmers can’t keep up, prices are climbing, and some companies have resorted to limiting purchases to stop people from stockpiling. My rise in popularity is exciting, but it raises an important question: how can we enjoy the benefits I bring while ensuring that my cultivation is ecologically responsible? My future I am torn - pulled in two different directions. On one hand, I swell with pride that my fellow matcha leaves and I are travelling across the globe, introducing more people to the calm, focused energy I can bring. I am pleased when coffee drinkers opt for me in search of a gentler buzz, or when someone slows down to whisk me into a beautiful frothy drink, savouring the ritual and satisfaction I was always meant to inspire. But my popularity is not without its complications. Can the old and the traditional truly coexist with the new? I watch, bewildered, as I am mixed with banana pudding, pistachio lattes, and other curious concoctions. Those consuming these drinks delight in their sweetness, but I wonder whether they can appreciate what makes me special under the layers of so many other products. I fear that my origins may be overshadowed by trends and novelty. I hope that my tradition is remembered, even as I am enjoyed in new ways around the world. Yet if you pause, every cup offers a quiet invitation. The next time you take a sip of my green goodness, take a deep breath. Let its warmth and aroma envelop you, and consider the long journey I’ve taken to reach your cup. From the shaded tea gardens where I was grown, to the careful whisking that releases my flavour, each sip embodies countless steps, immense human labour, and a story that spans cultures and continents. What seems like an everyday ritual holds so much more. In that stillness, remember how even small acts connect us to the world, to tradition, and to the delicate balance between old and new. References 1. Purvis L. Tencha: Why Shade-Growing is Essential to Matcha Green Tea. Mizuba Tea Co . September 26, 2017. https://mizubatea.com/blogs/news-1/it-can-only-be-tencha-why-shade-growing-is-essential-to-matcha 2. Chen X, Ye K, Xu Y, Zhao Y, Zhao D. Effect of Shading on the Morphological, Physiological, and Biochemical Characteristics as Well as the Transcriptome of Matcha Green Tea. International Journal of Molecular Sciences . 2022;23(22):14169. doi: 10.3390/ijms232214169 3. Wang J, Li Z. Effects of processing technology on tea quality analyzed using high-resolution mass spectrometry-based metabolomics. Food Chemistry . 2024;443:138548. doi: 10.1016/j.foodchem.2024.138548 4. Devkota HP, Gaire BP, Hori K, Subedi L, Adhikari-Devkota A, Belwal T, et al. The science of matcha: Bioactive compounds, analytical techniques and biological properties. T rends in Food Science & Technology . 2021;118:735-43. doi: 10.1016/j.tifs.2021.10.021 5. McNamee GL. Matcha . Encyclopaedia Britannica. September 10, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/topic/matcha 6. Phenimax Legends of Japan. Ichigo Ichie: The Deeper Meaning Behind a Once-in-a-Lifetime Tea Gathering. Phenimax Legends of Japan ; December 1, 2024. https://phenimax.com/sw/blogs/japanese-tea-article/onetime-onemeeting 7. Baba Y, Inagaki S, Nakagawa S, Kobayashi M, Kaneko T, Takihara T. Effects of Daily Matcha and Caffeine Intake on Mild Acute Psychological Stress-Related Cognitive Function in Middle-Aged and Older Adults: A Randomized Placebo-Controlled Study. Nutrients . 2021;13(5). doi: 10.3390/nu13051700 8. Mancini E, Beglinger C, Drewe J, Zanchi D, Lang UE, Borgwardt S. Green tea effects on cognition, mood and human brain function: A systematic review. Phytomedicine . 2017;34:26-37. doi: 10.3390/foods9040483 9. Capasso L, De Masi L, Sirignano C, Maresca V, Basile A, Nebbioso A, et al. Epigallocatechin Gallate (EGCG): Pharmacological Properties, Biological Activities and Therapeutic Potential. Molecules . 2025;30(3):654. doi: 10.3390/molecules30030654 10. Kochman J, Jakubczyk K, Antoniewicz J, Mruk H, Janda K. Health Benefits and Chemical Composition of Matcha Green Tea: A Review. Molecules . 2021;26(1):85. doi: 10.3390/molecules26010085 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

OmniSci Magazine is the University of Melbourne's science magazine, written by students. Read our recent issues and view the magnificent illustrations! Cover Art: Anabelle Dewi Saraswati READ NOW Welcome to OmniSci Magazine OmniSci Magazine is a student-led science magazine and social club at UniMelb. We are a group of students passionate about science communication and a platform for students to share their creativity. Read More More from OmniSci Magazine Previous Issues Illustration by Louise Cen READ ISSUE 6 National Science Week 'SCIENCE IS EVERYWHERE' PHOTO/ART COMPETITION VIEW SUBMISSIONS

< Back to Issue 9 Eyeballs, a Knife, and No Fear of God by Jess Walton 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by Chavindi Sinhara Mudalige Humans have wanted to understand our bodies the entire time we’ve had them, which is to say, the entire time. Late Classical Athens, around 300 BC, at a peak of intellectual prosperity: Herophilos cuts into a corpse. From this, he’s going to make the novel argument that the brain contains knowledge, and in doing so, he’s going to criticize Aristotle’s writing, which describes the brain as something akin to an air conditioner. Aristotle thought the brain was a cooling chamber, essentially, to prevent the heart from overheating, and that cognition happened in the heart. Much, much earlier, around 1000 BC in India, Sushruta, in his foundational surgical text, overestimated the bone count in humans by over 100. Many ancient societies had impressively detailed understanding of anatomy, considering they had no microscopes, no cameras, no X-rays; usually nothing more than their knives and eyeballs. It’s important to note as well that this article is a brief overview of a complex subject, with a major focus on Classical, meaning Ancient Greek and Roman, examples, and is in no way a complete story of early anatomical developments across the globe. Asia, Africa, the Americas and the Arab world each had their own rich and complex traditions, beyond the few examples cherry-picked here. Most societies had a few impressive hits and a few impressive misses; in a way, their approach to science isn’t all that different from ours today. What can we learn from them, and what can we learn about ourselves? In Ancient Athens, Aristotle believed the heart to be both the intellectual and emotional center of humans; the “seat of the soul” (1). Some remnants of this remain in our modern association between heart and emotion, though we know now it isn’t backed by science. His reasoning behind this was the convergence of blood vessels at the heart and its importance; from this, he also, perhaps reasonably, thought it to be the source of blood (2). Despite being deservedly considered a major anatomist, Aristotle likely made his observations from examining and dissecting the bodies of animals, particularly lower mammals, like dogs or livestock, instead of real humans (3). He unknowingly used homologous structures, long before evolution or even Charles Darwin himself was conceptualized, to essentially assume the anatomy of humans from other animals. Given this, his conclusions on the brain become a little more understandable. The brain is a strange-looking organ, critically important to life, though not obviously connected to the pulse or rich with blood; how were they to understand the structure of nerves and white matter? That it assists the heart in some way becomes a logical conclusion. So why not serve a cooling function? Blood is hot, so the heart must get hot. Overheating is usually bad; see fire. And the brain’s size makes it ideal for such a thing. The thing about anatomy and science, Aristotle’s assertion being one primordial example of many around the ancient world, is that it changes. Herophilos and Erasistratus were two more Greek anatomists who succeeded and often contested Aristotle. Unlike him, they dissected humans, having no qualms about a man’s dead—or, according to some sources, still alive—body (4). However, they offered several accurate, or at least more accurate, insights inside human bodies. Herophilus argued that the brain wasn’t a cooling chamber but contained knowledge (5). While he was at it, he argued that the heart has four chambers, unlike Aristotle, who claimed it only has three (5). Many of Herophilos and Erasistratus’ insights required Aristotle’s, or some other prior Mediterranean scholar’s, claims to give them something to criticise. Praxagoras was one such anatomist, from about 400 BC, about 100 years earlier. He correctly associated the pulse with natural movement within the body, but also asserted that arteries carry air (6). There is, possibly because of this claim, debate as to whether he had any practical anatomical experience or observed any dissections. If so, it’s quite impressive to miss the blood in arteries. He did, however, note that veins carry blood (2). Thus, he was later included in Herophilos’ critique. Before we criticise how long it took for them to realise seemingly obvious facts, we must remember that bloodletting as an acceptable treatment persisted into the 19 th Century. Modern and recent understandings are far from flawless. A couple of hundred years later, Galen, a Roman from the late 2 nd Century AD, would voice similar critiques (2). Galen would later become famous for his theory of the four humors: blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm, each with associated personalities and elements (7). While these are all real liquids found somewhere in the human body, they do not really work as the four-way counterbalance he describes. Galen made some incredible leaps forward in Roman anatomy, including developing more elaborate tools for dissection and surgery processes, which would be instrumental in allowing future developments in the field. However, he also learned more anatomy from treating severe gladiator injuries—which is awesome—or like Aristotle, from dissections and studies on lower mammals (7). This led to some interesting conclusions; his description and diagrams of a human uterus match that of a dog’s uterus exactly, for example (7). He did well with the tools he had, but guesswork has its limits. Three hundred years before Aristotle, and over seven centuries before Galen, the ancient Indian physician Sushruta, a continent away, was revolutionizing, and if there was nothing to revolutionise, inventing surgeries and surgical techniques. He also valued an understanding of human anatomy, which likely contributed to his surgical skill, and dedicated a portion of his seminal Sanskrit work, Sushruta Samhita , to anatomy, calling it the Sharira Sthana . In his work, he describes in detail the head, which he correctly identified as the major center of essentially all function, particularly the cranial nerves (8). He also includes the first detailed guide to human dissection, alongside the anatomy of the embryo at various developmental stages; this is described as arising from seven skins, each with their own associated ailments, and while the skins are anomalous, many of the ailments correlate impressively with known diseases (8). There’s also, incredibly, a detailed description of cataract surgery procedure, where exceptionally specific incision locations in the cornea are interspersed with instructions to sedate the patient with wine mixed with cannabis, which makes sense in a world far predating modern anesthesia, then to spray the eye with breast milk (9). This part seems outlandish and harder to explain, but anyone who has studied immunology can tell you that breast milk contains antibodies and antibacterial proteins. Sushruta likely made some link between breast milk and reduced post-op infections, even if there were not yet microscopes to see bacteria with. Even if they couldn’t see why on the molecular scale, ancient anatomists were able to understand what worked and what didn’t and justify it to the best of their knowledge. When Sushruta describes the bones of the human body, he does so in great detail, and also counts more than 300 of them. Humans typically have 206 bones, give or take a rib: Sushruta mildly overestimated. This is thought to be from him, largely basing his skeletal insights off child cadavers, before many bones have fused together (9). Hindu religious law calls for the cremation of any body over two years old, in its natural and thus undissected state; though there are accounts of Sushruta performing dissections, presumably on adults, the bodies he likely had the most exposure to were infants. Sushruta was working within the confines of the society and world that he lived in, as was Herophilos. Medical insights which seem obvious to us today, like that the brain is for thinking and the heart is for beating blood, and that blood goes through the arteries and is most definitely a liquid, rely upon prior knowledge reached with tools that hadn’t even been invented yet. These firsts—surgeons, anatomists, scientists—would probably have to be physically pried away from microscopes and X-rays, if ever introduced to them. They often didn’t even have a human body to dissect, yet drew human anatomical conclusions regardless. And it’s easy to marvel at their mistakes, but it’s even easier to marvel at how much they got right; Herophilos correctly uncovered nerves and linked them to sensation and response, which is impressive in itself. Could you find a nerve in some meat, with just your naked eye? He also linked the heart and the pulse. The Huangdi Neijing , for example, is a Chinese medical text said, though disputed, to be from 2600 BC, which describes the relationships between organs in military terms: the heart as a king, the liver as a commandant, and the gallbladder as an attorney-general responsible for coordination (10). However, both like and before Herophilos, it also correctly identifies the cyclic nature of blood flow and links it to the heart (10). The Edwin Smith Papyrus, dating from 1700 BC in Ancient Egypt, is the oldest known surgical text, describing 48 different injuries with treatments; all shockingly accurate (11). Sushruta may have miscounted the bones, but he described their shapes accurately and suggested legitimate therapies for particular bone breakages and dislocations. Nowadays, little has changed: in just the 1950s, lobotomies became the standard cure for a headache; even long after we developed microscopes, we were recommending treatments, like scrambling our brains, that only 70 years later seem ridiculously stupid. We’re far from done charting our own bodies, either. In 2018, an entirely new type of tissue all throughout the body was found: the interstitium, which is critical in cell and organ communication across the body (12). It’s been there the whole time, but no one had noticed before. Humans are humans; it is only natural to want to understand ourselves, and as a part of that, our bodies. We now study our ancestors as they studied themselves; the same mix of awe, confusion and confidence. Their methods and conclusions may be fallible, but their curiosity was not, and as long as we remain, never will be, dead. These examples were only a fraction of those whose work has been preserved, who themselves were only a fraction of the ancient people across the globe who investigated human anatomy. A millennium from now, our descendants will laugh at our misconceptions, when they have mapped every neuron in the human brain with instruments we could not conceive of. But without us, they wouldn’t know what they know, and without our original anatomists, we wouldn’t know what we know. Our modern granular understanding of our own structure is built on the bodies we looked in before ours. So, we should perhaps extend some empathy to our predecessors. They had only eyeballs, a knife, and our own curiosity. Different tools, same bodies. References Aird WC. Discovery of the cardiovascular system: from Galen to William Harvey. J Thromb Haemost. 2011;9(Suppl 1):118–29. Johnston IH, Papavramidou N. Galen on the Pulses: Medico-historical Analysis, Textual Tradition, Translation [Internet]. De Gruyter; 2023 [cited 2025 Oct 10]. Available from: https://www.degruyterbrill.com/document/doi/10.1515/9783110612677/html Crivellato E, Ribatti D. A portrait of Aristotle as an anatomist. Clin Anat. 2007;20(5):447–85. Papa V, Varotto E, Vaccarezza M, Ballestriero R, Tafuri D, Galassi FM. The teaching of anatomy throughout the centuries: from Herophilus to plastination and beyond. Med Hist. 2019;3(2):69–77. Bay NSY, Bay BH. Greek anatomist Herophilus: the father of anatomy. Anat Cell Biol. 2010;43(4):280–3. Wright J. Review of: Praxagoras of Cos on Arteries, Pulse and Pneuma. Studies in Ancient Medicine, 48 . Bryn Mawr Class Rev [Internet]. [cited 2025 Oct 10]. Available from: https://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2017/2017.07.34/ Ajita R. Galen and his contribution to anatomy: a review. J Evid Based Med Healthc. 2015;4(26):4509–16. Bhattacharya S. Sushruta—the very first anatomist of the world. Indian J Surg. 2022;84(5):901–4. Loukas M, Lanteri A, Ferrauiola J, Tubbs RS, Maharaja G, Shoja MM, et al. Anatomy in ancient India: a focus on the Sushruta Samhita . J Anat. 2010;217(6):646–50. O’Boyle C. TVN Persaud, Early history of human anatomy: from antiquity to the beginning of the modern era. Med Hist. 1987;31(4):478–9. van Middendorp JJ, Sanchez GM, Burridge AL. The Edwin Smith papyrus: a clinical reappraisal of the oldest known document on spinal injuries. Eur Spine J. 2010 Nov;19(11):1815–23. Benias PC, Wells RG, Sackey-Aboagye B, Klavan H, Reidy J, Buonocore D, et al. Structure and distribution of an unrecognized interstitium in human tissues. Sci Rep. 2018;8(1):4947. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 It’s Dangerous to Go Alone by Julia Lockerd 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Jason Chien Edited by Luci Ackland It’s safe to say that as a species, we have done a fair bit of thinking over the years. From microbes to mammals, to mapping the stars, we have always searched for ways to make meaning of the world and its many mysteries. Every day, the amount of knowledge possessed grows, building on the ideas we learn from each other. But what is knowledge without someone to know it? And how can we build a reliable foundation upon which to amass this knowledge? Many modern philosophers take a ‘what’s mine is mine’ approach to epistemology – the development of knowledge – with ideas like trust and collaboration altogether excluded from the recipe for ‘good science’ (1). Philosopher John Locke suggests that an ‘autonomous knower’ (2) – that’s you! – should only accept input from someone existing outside the self if she already possesses empirical evidence confirming that input is true (3). That is to say, don’t believe anything you read online, or in a book, or hear from your friend, or your professor alone. Basically, don’t believe the sky is blue unless you can look outside and see it for yourself. This seems like a hard way to live and makes it nearly impossible to make any headway on scientific advancement. If there is truly no way to build on previous knowledge, how do we measure anything at all? When considering scientific disciplines, the (presumably brooding) ‘autonomous knower’ must give up her lone wolf life and finally make some friends. This is not only for her emotional benefit, but also because science simply cannot occur without it. Epstein (2006) argues that the three main drivers of scientific collaboration are as follows: 1. The topic demands it. This applies to fields such as cognitive psychology, where the topic is an amalgam of different specialisations. 2. To gain a new perspective. Researchers interviewed by Epstein highlighted how collaboration helps them gain new approaches and techniques. 3. To provide additional knowledge. Although it’s all well and good to assert you should only believe what you can prove yourself (looking at you, Locke), collaboration is crucial to avoid ‘reinventing the wheel’ every time you want to learn something new (4). This last reason, by its very nature, proves that, despite my best efforts, no one person can possess the whole of human understanding by herself. Thus, the ‘many-headed knower’ makes her appearance on stage. This version of the knower exists as an alternative to Locke’s Autonomous Knower, where multiple individuals can share fragments of a greater epistemic idea. Without it, whole scientific disciplines can be reasoned away as no single person possesses the evidence to prove the scientific idea exists (2). For example, many medical devices could not be realised without input from both clinicians and engineers. If knowledge cannot be shared between these two groups, MedTech might cease to exist at all. With the multiheaded knower by your side, you can now solve scientific conundrums with the power of friendship (or, begrudging teamwork if it’s 11.59pm and you’re still working on that group project due at 12.00am). To fully grasp how systems of collaboration function, we need to investigate the interpersonal relationships that make up the heads of the knower. Generally, these relationships are of two kinds: Moral and Epistemic trust. Returning to our old friend, the multi-headed knower, epistemic trust allows multiple heads to exist, while moral trust in social bonds between researchers keeps her many heads attached. Epistemic trust involves the acceptance of knowledge provided by an external source as true. While trustworthiness often evokes a sense of superior moral value, epistemic trust has far more to do with the perceived competency of the individual providing information. Wagenknecht calls these relationships ‘Epistemic Dependence’ (5). The word dependence here is interesting, as it reveals a certain vulnerability in the relationship between researchers. Wagenknecht likens it to someone asking for directions in a foreign city. Simply, it is a blind trust that one's partner knows the way to go and is capable of leading them there. But where does this trust come from? If trust were truly blind, I could justify my lab results with a simple ‘Trust me bro,’ and my supervisor would go ‘Fantastic. Nobel prize for you.’ Unfortunately, this isn’t how it works, and my career trajectory will (probably) look a little more complicated. It is instead proposed that there are ‘shades of trust and distrust’ that can be influenced by external modifiers, such as accurate conduct of experiments, analysis of results, and epistemic authority. In this model, trust is a dynamic concept that builds or deteriorates between trustees over a chain of interactions (5). If a series of interactions is positive and trust is progressively built up, at some point, an asymptotic limit of trust will be reached. However, the level of epistemic trust between any two researchers is high but never complete, even when there is no reason to doubt the other's testimony. This is good news for Locke, as there still might be a space in which his autonomous knower can exist in happy isolation. Moral trust, the far less popular younger brother of Epistemic trust, is the scrappy underdog in the world of scientific relationships. It is argued that morality shouldn’t even get a seat at the big kids' table, as there is no place for it in scientific collaboration (2). This raises the ever-devious question: why not lie? A little fudge of the numbers could make you the next Elizabeth Holmes, minus the jail time and general disgrace (6). To find an answer, I turn to T.M. Scanlon’s ‘What We Owe Each Other’ (7). Specifically, in chapter five, he discusses the ever-sexy ‘structure of moral contractualism’. Scanlon explores a set of moral requirements that must be accepted or rejected based on the concern we hold for another's well-being, their own personal values, and perspective. Simply, academic falsification is rare because one researcher owes it to another to give a truthful testimony. Returning to the analogy of being lost in a foreign city, what keeps the locals from sending a tourist in the wrong direction out of laziness or fun? I argue that it is the acceptance of a moral principle out of concern for another person's well-being. Immanuel Kant believed lying was always wrong, in every situation (a stance I’m sure made him suuuuuuuuper fun to be around) (8). If this is true, the structure of scientific collaboration must surely crumble in the absence of moral trust (9). Interestingly, Scanlon discusses the place of ‘impersonal values’ in the development of moral code. This relates to reasons for adherence to a moral code that does not pertain to the well-being or status of any one individual. He uses the preservation of the Grand Canyon as an example. We do not deface the Grand Canyon because it would harm any particular group of people, and we cannot argue that this principle is 'what we owe to others', as the canyon doesn't have any personal feelings (that we know of). Instead, only the value we have tied to the land itself stops us from turning it into the biggest lazy river in the world (7). In the context of research, not only do we owe it to each other to adhere to truthfulness, but we also owe it to science as a concept. Essentially, if you’re not doing science with a pure and truthful heart, you’re not doing science at all. Someone needs to tell Dr. Evil about this. As scientific communities have relied more and more on each other to produce collaborative results, science as a whole has become somewhat of a team sport. I argue that while epistemic and moral are two different forms of trust – or even the same form of trust applied to different issues – they both contribute to the social basis of scientific collaboration. Trust in itself is a purely social concept; just as knowledge cannot exist without a 'knower', trust cannot exist without two people, between whom that trust can exist. Therefore, whether you subscribe to the idea that moral trust has any place in scientific collaboration, it is indisputable that there is a social level to any interaction between researchers. This is to say nothing about the more 'frivolous' aspects of collaboration in which personal opinions, egos, and attitudes have been anecdotally proven to affect the quality of collaborative work. Science, at its core, is about understanding. It makes sense that we can’t even get off the ground if we don't start by understanding each other. References 1. J. Locke. An Essay concerning Human Understanding. www.gutenberg.org , 1689. Available: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/10615/10615-h/10615-h.htm 2. J. Hardwig. The Role of Trust in Knowledge. The Journal of Philosophy . 1991;88(12):693. doi: 10.2307/2027007 3. R. W. Grant. John Locke on Custom’s Power and Reason’s Authority. The Review of Politics. 2012;74(4) 607–629.doi: 10.2307/23355688. Available: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23355688 4. S. Epstein. Making Interdisciplinary Collaboration Work. Available: https://www.cs.hunter.cuny.edu/~epstein/papers/collaboration.pdf . [Accessed: Mar. 29, 2024] 5. S. Wagenknecht. Facing the Incompleteness of Epistemic Trust: Managing Dependence in Scientific Practice. Social Epistemology . 2014;29(2):160–184. doi: 10.1080/02691728.2013.794872 6. E. Fricker. Testimony and Epistemic Autonomy. The Epistemology of Testimony . 2006:225–245. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199276011.003.0011 7. T. M. Scanlon. What We Owe to Each Other. 1998. Available: https://www.hup.harvard.edu/file/feeds/PDF/9780674248953_sample.pdf 8. T. L. Carson. Kant and the Absolute Prohibition against Lying. Lying and Deception . 2010:67–87. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199577415.003.0004 9. Immanuel Kant. An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment? by Immanuel Kant 1784. Marxists.org , 1798. Available: https://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/ethics/kant/enlightenment.htm Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Unravelling the Threads: From the Editors-in-Chief & Cover Illustrator by Ingrid Sefton, Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin & Anabelle Dewi Saraswati 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by the Editor-in-Chiefs Innovation evolves, and perhaps what once made headlines becomes embodied in ourselves and in our universe. The science that we once saw is no longer visible, yet no less integral in the ways in which it governs our world. Like the strings of a puppet, scientific principles guide us and coordinate the patterns and movements which shape our daily lives. Yet equally, science encourages us to look behind the curtain in order to unravel the forces which pull on the strings of our universe. Following these rich threads of knowledge, so often taken for granted, this issue brings to the fore and celebrates the science that keeps our world running. An introspective chat with the brain, a journey along the production line that creates our much-loved daily cup of matcha, fundamental questions about how we seek and create knowledge: Entwined seeks to make explanations explicit and start conversations about the scientific mechanisms embedded in our lives. When we take the time to focus our gaze, encourage awe at the everyday and seek reflection over reaction – that’s when we start to disentangle the science that binds us; that which keeps us Entwined . Begin your immersion in the world of Entwined with Issue 9’s Cover Illustrator, Anabelle Dewi Saraswati , as she explains the vision and rationale behind her work. “I found myself drawn to the world of Art Nouveau for these cover illustrations, captivated by the way forms seem to grow into each other, sharing meaning and life, much like the theme of ‘Entwined’ itself. There is something magical about that moment in history, where art, architecture, and science all seemed to bleed into one another, each discipline borrowing and lending, rooted in the emphasis on the beauty of nature after the coldness created by the Industrial Revolution. That sense of crossover felt like the perfect encapsulation for this issue, derived from pictorial history. The way feminine figures and flowing hair seem to melt into vines and leaves, everything tangled together in a quiet conversation. The motion and sense of growth, but also its hidden mathematical precision required to produce such beautiful curving forms. Art Nouveau captured how the artificial and natural worlds are always weaving into each other, inseparable. I wanted to draw from that imagery in a way that acknowledges its history I return to my architectural roots in structure, composition and line with my approach in building these pieces. The signage piece is fully hand-drawn and deliberate – reflecting the craft and typographic precision of the era. The collage is a layering of textures and fragments, letting ideas overlap and bleed into each other, much like memories and histories do. A way to begin the issue visually to trace the growth of worlds as they intertwine. Paying homage to the harmony between the natural and the human-made, to reflect on how we are shaped by the places we inhabit, the histories we inherit, and the stories we choose to keep alive.” Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Enter . . . the Anthropocene? by Rita Fortune 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Zara Burk Edited by Kylie Wang We live in a time where humanity’s impact on the world around us is clearly visible. From the neverending barrage of information about climate change, to extinction and habitat loss, the consequences of our actions are impossible to avoid. There’s no denying that the world around us is changing, but what if there are deeper implications? What if our impact on the planet will be apparent thousands, even millions of years into the future? Have we changed our planet’s system to such an extent that the birth of our species defined a new geological epoch? The geological timescale is how we understand the relative timing of past events. From the advent of life, to mass extinctions, all of it is documented in the rock record. Our geological past is divided into formalised time periods: eons, eras, periods, epochs and ages. These time periods are generally divided by major changes visible in the rock record, such as mass extinctions, major climate shifts, or changes in magnetic polarity, with absolute ages determined by radioactive dating (1). Currently, we are formally sitting in the Holocene Epoch, which began around 11.7 thousand years ago, with the end of the last glacial maximum and beginning of the subsequent warmer interglacial phase (2). However, due to the enormity of impact on earth systems that humanity has had, especially since the dawn of the industrial revolution, some scientists are pushing for the formalisation of a new epoch: the Anthropocene. The concept of the Anthropocene was first officially coined by Paul Crutzen and Eugene Stoermer in 2002 (3). Initially, it was used to recognise the exploitation of earth’s resources by humankind, including the emission of greenhouse gases, urbanisation of land, and increase in species extinction rates. Crutzen and Stoermer suggested the beginning of the Anthropocene to be in the late 18th century, as, in the last 200 years, the “global effects of human activities have become clearly noticeable” (3). The concept, at its core, has remained the same since then, but there have been some changes and debate around formal definitions and informal uses of the term. The Anthropocene has been adopted in popular culture, with its broad use encompassing humanity’s interactions with the earth, but there is ongoing debate about its formal use. Furthermore, although the theory traces its origins to earth system science, efforts to formalise the Anthropocene have been multidisciplinary, involving not only stratigraphers and palaeontologists, but also experts from various scientific backgrounds (4). Formalising the Anthropocene as an epoch distinct from the Holocene relies on being able to find stratal evidence in the rock record for where this transition took place (4). There are countless pieces of evidence for our impact on Earth’s systems.Yet, there is still debate around which ones can be used to define the Anthropocene. The Anthropocene Working Group identified as potential evidence for the beginning of the Anthropocene: the increase in sedimentation and erosion rates; changes to carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus cycles; climate change and increase in sea level, and; biotic changes such as unprecedented spread of species across Earth (4). Many of these impacts will leave permanent evidence in the geological record, indicating our existence long after our civilisations have crumbled. There are many potential ways to define the beginning of the Anthropocene. Crutzen suggested this crucial moment to be the invention of the steam engine, which led to the industrial revolution, often used as a baseline to compare our current climate to (3). However, evidence of industrialisation from this time is really only visible in Europe, with sediments from the Southern Hemisphere showing no change (5). More recently, it has been posited that the detonation of the first atomic bomb in 1945 should be the official marker of the Anthropocene, as it deposited a thin stratal layer of radionuclides, which do not naturally occur in the environment (6). While it’s clear that humans are a major source of change on Earth, some say that it does not necessarily mean we’ve entered a new epoch. Although geological time periods are often delineated based on environmental change, not every environmental change necessitates the creation of a new epoch. There have been past periods of (relatively) rapid climate change that are not associated with new time periods. An example of this is the Palaeocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (PETM). During this time, there was significant global warming, change in habitats, and migration in species. This warm period lasted for approximately 100,000 years, but there were no mass extinctions. Once temperatures returned to normal, ecosystems essentially returned to how they were before the event (7). Geologically speaking, the proposed Anthropocene is a minuscule amount of time. Although the effects are extreme, if we stopped all emissions right now, it is possible that within 5000 years the climate could return to pre-industrial levels (8). Another argument presented by some authors is that the stratigraphic basis for the Anthropocene doesn’t exist yet, and is merely expected to exist in the future. Many structures which have an anthropogenic origin, such as excavation, boreholes and mine dumps, are not yet geological strata. Additionally, in strata that have recorded anthropogenic change, such as speleothems, marshes, lake and ocean floor sediments, the layers representing the Anthropocene would be so thin as to be difficult to distinguish from the underlying Holocene sediments (6). Without the gift of hindsight that has allowed scientists to examine previous epochs, it is difficult to say whether or not the change we currently see will be significant enough on a geological scale to officially move us into a new epoch. There has been suggestion that instead of a new epoch, the Anthropocene could be a Sub-Age, or an Age within the Holocene Epoch (4); acknowledging our profound impact on the earth, but believing that the earth’s system will eventually return to pre-industrial levels. Further complicating the matter, there are suggestions that humans have been altering the earth’s climate since long before the industrial revolution. Evidence shows that a rise in CO2 occurred with the advent of farming by early humans, 7000 years ago. Around the same time, there was also a rise in atmospheric methane, which has been attributed to rice paddies and livestock (9). With the increase in human population happening at this time, there was likewise an increase in land clearance, both to accommodate dwellings and farming. Even though these emissions and land clearing are tiny by today’s standards, they may have been enough to push our climate away from heading into its next glacial period, priming the warmer conditions we experience today. Some arguments have even been made that irreversible impact by humans stretches back even further, to the Pleistocene extinctions of megafauna across multiple continents (10). There is no doubt that humans have had, and are having, a massive impact on the environment. The atmosphere and oceans will take thousands of years to recover from their current level of warming. However, these massive changes do not necessarily mean that we have entered a new epoch. Although it appears there will be ample stratigraphic records of our impacts on this planet, without hindsight, it is difficult to see just how much change we have created. In the context of geological time, humans have been around for a minutely short period. Although what’s happening today might seem dramatic to us, it is possible that millions of years in the future all we will have left behind is a few centimetres of ocean floor sediment. Either way, the Anthropocene as an informal term for our current time period is valuable for acknowledging the consequences of our actions, and a reminder of the permanence of our record. References 1.University of Calgary. Geologic time scale. Energy Education. 2024. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://energyeducation.ca/encyclopedia/Geologic_time_scale#cite_note-GTS-3 2. Walker M, Johnsen S, Rasmussen SO, Popp T, Steffensen JP, Gibbard P, et al. Formal definition and dating of the GSSP (Global Stratotype Section and Point) for the base of the Holocene using the Greenland NGRIP ice core, and selected auxiliary records. J. Quaternary Sci. 2009;24(1):3–17. doi: 10.1002/jqs.1227 3. Crutzen PJ, Stoermer EF. The ‘Anthropocene’ (2000) [Internet]. Benner S, Lax G, Crutzen PJ, Pöschl U, Lelieveld J, Brauch HG, editors. Cham: Springer International Publishing; 2021. 3 p. (Paul J. Crutzen and the Anthropocene: A New Epoch in Earth’s History). Available from: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-82202-6_2 4. Zalasiewicz J, Waters CN, Summerhayes CP, Wolfe AP, Barnosky AD, Cearreta A, et al. The Working Group on the Anthropocene: Summary of evidence and interim recommendations. Anthropocene. 2017;19:55–60. doi: 10.1016/j.ancene.2017.09.001 5. Pare S. Nuclear bombs set off new geological epoch in the 1950s, scientists say. Live Science. 2023. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://www.livescience.com/planet-earth/nuclear-bombs-set-off-new-geological-epoch-in-the-1950s-scientists-say 6. Finney S, Edwards L. The “Anthropocene” epoch: Scientific decision or political statement? GSA Today. 2016;26:4–10. doi: 10.1130/GSATG270A.1 7. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (PETM). Britannica. 2023. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/science/Paleocene-Eocene-Thermal-Maximum 8. The Royal Society. If emissions of greenhouse gases were stopped, would the climate return to the conditions of 200 years ago? The Royal Society. 2020. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://royalsociety.org/news-resources/projects/climate-change-evidence-causes/question-20/ 9. Ruddiman WF, He F, Vavrus SJ, Kutzbach JE. The early anthropogenic hypothesis: A review. Quaternary Science Reviews. 2020;240:106386. doi: 10.1016/j.quascirev.2020.106386 10. Doughty CE, Wolf A, Field CB. Biophysical feedbacks between the Pleistocene megafauna extinction and climate: The first human-induced global warming? Geophys. Res. Lett. 2010;37(15). doi:10.1029/2010GL043985 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Rewilding Our Cities with Dr Kylie Soanes by Ciara Dahl 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Jess Walton Edited by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo When you think of nature, I bet the last things that come to mind are skyscrapers, freeways and footpaths. Welcome to the hidden world of urban ecology! I recently spoke to urban ecologist and prolific science communicator Dr Kylie Soanes about the challenges of conserving wildlife in urban environments, and what drives her to protect nature in our cities. Dr Kylie Soanes is determined to protect wildlife in our urban environments. (1) A research fellow at the University of Melbourne, Soanes describes herself as “your friendly neighbourhood wildlife scientist” on a mission to “save nature in cities and towns.” Her projects range from designing rope bridges to help endangered possums cross busy roads, to installing floating wetlands that bring biodiversity back to our urban waterways. Cities are a bustling weave of people and places, but where does nature belong in all of that chaos? That’s the question Soanes has dedicated much of her career to exploring. Like many of us, she grew up in a classic urban environment, longing to get into the wild. Her passion for learning about the natural world eventually grew into a career studying ecology and conservation at university. There is a common assumption that nature doesn't belong in cities. However, Soanes emphasises that cities are a “perfect place for people to connect with nature; there’s heaps of amazing biodiversity here”, adding that “it doesn't always have to look like the pristine natural conditions for it to be valuable”. She emphasises that communicating this message is the "first real step" in shifting mindsets. Soanes notes that urban ecology is often more about working with people than with science, explaining that “there are still people in this space that need to use it." Urban ecologists must be skilled collaborators, working with communities and experts across disciplines – from architects and engineers, to social scientists and artists – to reach solutions that balance the needs of nature and people. But what happens when communities don't feel seen by urban plans? A recent effort to protect swamp wallaby habitat along the Merri Creek Trail by diverting pedestrian traffic was met with concern from the community about personal safety (2). Cases like these highlight the challenges urban ecologists face every day when trying to make space for nature in our cities. Soanes argues that it is critical for urban ecologists to discuss “social risks and social justice, to make sure that we're not changing cities in a way that makes it worse for people". Public outcries like these often stem from communities that are faced with “a decision that they think that they weren't involved in”. The biggest tool in an urban ecologist's belt is community consultation, "so that everybody is brought along on the journey and we can make the right call for everyone." Some of Soanes’ favourite work is not just about protecting nature in cities, but putting it back. She speaks about creating new habitats in urban spaces, such as floating wetlands that transform bleak industrial wastelands into thriving ecosystems, or even rooftop gardens that reclaim space for nature. One of the most exciting areas of urban ecology includes restoring locally extinct species. Soanes cites the example of the endangered Key’s Matchstick Grasshopper, which was reintroduced to Royal Park in 2022 to restore the local population and support a healthy ecosystem (3). Often, such projects are overlooked in urban areas. She explains how they are frequently “put in the too hard basket”; but there is now a shift in focus towards “physically reintroducing species once we know that all the things that they need are there". So, where can we find some of Melbourne’s most exciting urban ecology projects? You can spot the floating wetlands in various locations along the Yarra River (4), and native wildflower meadows planted on roadsides throughout the city (5). Ever spotted those wooden boxes on trees around Melbourne’s gardens? They’re not decorations – they’re artificial hollows providing safe places for wildlife to nest (6). Additionally, “lots of councils are really embracing water sensitive urban design" by installing "miniature wetlands that slow rainwater down and clean it up before it hits our stormwater system" (7). The City of Melbourne has installed floating wetlands in the Yarra River since 2022. (4) Soanes also emphasises how cultural values and knowledge can be woven into urban ecology projects. She points to the revitalised Moonee Ponds Creek as an example, noting “it has a calendar for the Wurundjeri seasons and a beautiful cultural trail.” Projects like these offer valuable opportunities for communities to connect not only with nature, but with culture. So, how can we make our own homes more wildlife-friendly? Soanes encourages asking, “What can I add to make living here easier for species other than me? ”. It could be as simple as planting a few more native plants in your garden. As the warmer months approach, placing birdbaths or shallow water trays outside can help wildlife keep cool, “especially as our cities become hotter and drier”. Outside of her work as a researcher, Soanes has a strong social media presence, using it as a platform to share her conservation messages with the wider public. She emphasises that science communication is "about making your messages and your science accessible not just to the broader public, but to the people making decisions". Dr Kylie Soanes platforms her conservation messages on social media. (8) Soanes argues that "showcasing and celebrating those stories of success" gives people "hope that they can make change in their area", while inspiring councils and urban land managers to apply similar solutions. She acknowledges that wildlife conservation can feel "very heavy” at times but stresses “it is important to show that there are all these options out there.” "There are so many other people that want the same things, or would like to see their neighbourhood become a little bit better for nature," she adds. "I think almost everybody cares about nature – it just doesn't always look like wearing khaki and carrying binoculars at all times." A big thank you to Dr Kylie Soanes for taking the time to speak with us and shed light on the fascinating world of urban ecology. To keep up with her work, follow her on Instagram @drkyliesoanes or explore her research and projects at kyliesoanes.com . References Soanes K. Dr Kylie Soanes [Internet]. Dr Kylie Soanes. [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://kyliesoanes.com/ Paul M. A “balancing act” as council votes to fence dogs out of park, sparking safety concerns [Internet]. ABC News. 2025 Aug 21. Available from: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2025-08-21/merri-creek-dog-fence-swamp-wallaby-coburg-victoria/105675854 City of Melbourne. Melbourne jumps at the chance to bring back the grasshopper [Internet]. City of Melbourne. 2022 [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/media/melbourne-jumps-chance-bring-back-grasshopper Balance Enviro. Yarra River Floating Wetlands – Balance Enviro Solutions [Internet]. 2022. Available from: https://balanceenviro.com.au/project/yarra-river-floating-wetlands/ City of Melbourne. Wildflower meadows and rare blooms boost biodiversity in Melbourne [Internet]. Vic.gov.au . 2024 [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/news/wildflower-meadows-and-rare-blooms-boost-biodiversity-melbourne#meadows Arthur Rylah Institute. Use of nest boxes in Victoria [Internet]. 2020. Available from: https://www.ari.vic.gov.au/research/people-and-nature/use-of-nest-boxes-in-victoria Melbourne Water. Constructed wetlands | Melbourne Water [Internet]. 2022. Available from: https://www.melbournewater.com.au/building-and-works/stormwater-management/options-treating-stormwater/constructed-wetlands Soanes K. Dr Kylie Soanes [Instagram page]. Instagram. [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.instagram.com/drkyliesoanes/?hl=en Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 The Cosmos in Our Palms: A Reflection of Our Cosmic Origins by Mishen De Silva 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Heather Sutherland Edited by Nirali Bhagat The Stars and I As I lay down, head held up high, I open my eyes to the Stars and I. In silent dominion, sits the adorned sky, Scattered patterns and celestine fortresses, Locked behind veils of gas, dust and time. Where do I stand, between the Stars and I? Separated by infinities, Yet entranced by familiarity, Perhaps the Stars and I are not as different as I thought. Iron cladded blood, calcium forged bones, carbon cells, Myself, an echo to a stellar memory. What lies between the Stars and I? Long before breath touched my lungs, Fire forged my heart, And light filled my eyes, I was written in the same primordial script, Of matter and light. Seven more lines to which I exist, As a witness and whisper to our shared cosmic thread. A child of the sky, A memory, dreaming of itself, Who am I, but both the Stars and I. The universe first learned to know itself, I second, Where could it have all begun, between the Stars and I? Origins of Cosmic Matter To understand this profound connection between us and the cosmos, we must trace back 13.8 billion years to the birth of matter itself. The complex matter which encapsulates our very existence stems from one crucial cosmic event, the Big Bang (1). In this moment, hydrogen and helium were formed and became the building blocks to the universe. In the early stages of our universe forming, seas of hydrogen and helium gas were pulled by gravity to create stars, in an event known as gravitational collapse (2). These stars became the furnaces for existence. As spheres of fire, they fused atoms together to create more complex ones. This is known as stellar nucleosynthesis, where stars form heavier elements, such as carbon, calcium, nitrogen, oxygen and iron, through the nuclear fusion of hydrogen and helium (3). As time goes on, the core of a star collapses in on itself, creating a supernova. A supernova is an explosion of unimaginable heat, which is crucial in forming all the elements heavier than iron (1). In its lifetime, a star transmutes what was once darkness and barren, into a seed of complex matter. In death, they scatter the elements of their creation across the cosmos, planting them in vast fields of space, from which new stars ignite, planets take form, and life may slowly emerge (3). Through this, we can begin to appreciate our existence as something far greater than ourselves, where the iron in our blood, calcium in our bones and carbon in our cells were all created long before Earth even existed. Life on Earth As the clouds of gas and dust from countless stellar generations drift through the galaxy, they soon clump together to form planetesimals, in a process known as accretion (4). Planetesimals are small, icy and rocky cosmic bodies, which collide together to form planets (4). The planetesimals which collided and merged to form a young Earth made an environment rich with the ingredients to create life. Over eons, elements such as carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and phosphorus have worked together to create the complex chemistries we see on Earth (5). The same elements, once inside stars, became crucial hallmarks for organic life: carbon forms the backbone of DNA and protein, nitrogen is essential for amino acids, oxygen supports respiration, and phosphorus forms our energy molecules, ATP (6). In this way, every organism before us, from microscopic bacteria, to the fleeting fruit fly, across the vastness of a whale, to the depth of a human soul, were all forged in the fire of the stars. As we detangle the web of our cosmic origins, we can begin to view our existence not only as entwined with every being around us, but also a direct continuation of the cosmos and its evolution. Figure 1. Elements found in stars which make up our body (7) The Cycle of Return It is important to recognise that this cosmic history does not end with us. Matter and energy are never lost, only transformed to take on new forms. An example of this is the carbon cycle, where carbon atoms are continuously moving and taking on new forms in the atmosphere, land and oceans (8). Through death and decay, in between birth and being, our physical selves become part of the soil, water and air, being reused by plants and other organisms to create new biological cycles (9). Similar to the impermanence of our existence, the Earth too will not last forever. Just like any star, our Sun will eventually exhaust the hydrogen in its core, swelling into a giant inferno consuming our world with it (10). However, this is not the end we think it is. Over eons, through supernovae and stellar collisions, the elements to our origins of life will be scattered across different depths of space, perhaps forming new stars, planets or even life elsewhere (11). Figure 2. The Carbon Cycle (12) In the present, each organism, cell and breath of life, exists as an homage to the universe’s constant transformation and reorganisation into new forms. With each howl of a dog, cry of a baby and rustle of a tree, we all exist under a profound and truly out of this world connection. A part of a much bigger cycle, the matter which formed the stars, which created the elements giving rise to life on Earth, will one day become something new again. And so, the more we examine this complex cycle, the more we can dissolve the distance between the “Stars and I”. We were never separate from the stars, and the cosmos is no longer just ‘out there’; it is something within us, around us, and inextricably mixed with who we fundamentally are. References Muhammad, T. Why We’re All Made of Star Dust. Science News Today [Internet]. 2025 May [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.sciencenewstoday.org/why-were-all-made-of-star-dust Lineweaver, C.H., Egan, C.A. Life, gravity and the second law of thermodynamics. Physics of Life Reviews. 2008;5(4): 225–242. doi: 10.1016/j.plrev.2008.08.002 Fox, R. F. Origin of Life and Energy. Encyclopedia of Energy . 2004:781–792. doi: 10.1016/b0-12-176480-x/00054-1 Halliday, A. N., Canup, R. M. The accretion of planet Earth. Nature Reviews Earth & Environment . 2022;4:1–17. doi: 10.1038/s43017-022-00370-0 The origin of life: The conditions that sparked life on Earth. Research Outreach [Internet]. 2019 Dec [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://researchoutreach.org/articles/origin-life-conditions-sparked-life-earth/ Remick, K. A., Helmann, J. D. The elements of life: A biocentric tour of the periodic table. Advances in Microbial Physiology. 2023;82:1–127. doi: 10.1016/bs.ampbs.2022.11.001 Lotzof, K. Are we really made of stardust? Natural History Museum [Internet]. [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/are-we-really-made-of-stardust.html Pulselli, F. M. Global Warming Potential and the Net Carbon Balance. Encyclopedia of Ecology. 2008:1741–1746. doi: /10.1016/b978-008045405-4.00112-9 Huang, T., Hu, Q., Shen, Y., Anglés, A., Fernández-Remolar, D. C. Biogeochemical Cycles. Encyclopedia of Biodiversity. 2024;6:393–407. doi: 10.1016/b978-0-12-822562-2.00347-9 Staff, A. What will happen to the planets when the Sun becomes a red giant? Astronomy Magazine [Internet]. 2020 Sep [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.astronomy.com/observing/what-will-happen-to-the-planets-when-the-sun-becomes-a-red-giant/ Betz, E. How will life on Earth end? Astronomy Magazine [Internet]. 2023 Aug [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.astronomy.com/science/how-will-life-on-earth-end/ Sultan, H., Li, Y., Ahmed, W., Shah, A., Faizan, M., Ahmad, A., Nie, L., Yixue, M., & Khan, M. N. (2024). Biochar and nano biochar: Enhancing salt resilience in plants and soil while mitigating greenhouse gas emissions: A comprehensive review. Journal of Environmental Management. 2024; 355 :120448–120448. doi: 10.1016/j.jenvman.2024.120448 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Living Pixels by KJ Srivastava 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Max Yang Edited by Nirali Bhagat We’ve all seen those hypnotic videos of colour-changing animals – a cuttlefish pulsing stripes across its body, a chameleon melting from green to gold, or an octopus vanishing into coral like a magician’s smoke bomb. Their skin shifts hues like it’s nothing. But how do they actually do that? Take starfish, for instance. They don’t seem to have eyes, yet somehow they “know” what their surroundings look like. Cephalopods, your octopuses, squids, and cuttlefish, go even further, creating patterns that match their environment with uncanny precision. How can they pull that off if they can’t even see any details around them? Seeing Without Eyes? A chromatophore is a specialised cell found in animals, and even some bacteria, that contains pigment or reflects light. You’ll find them across the animal kingdom: in fish, frogs, chameleons, and even in certain bacteria (yes, microbes get to have fun too). Depending on the species, chromatophores come in different flavours. Some are pigment-based, like those filled with melanin (the same as in human skin), while others use microscopic structures to bend and reflect light, acting like natural nanotech (1). Under white light, chromatophores are often classified by the colour they show off – red, brown, blue, green, and the iridescent in-betweens. In vertebrates like fish and reptiles, these cells sit in neat layers under the skin, filtering and bouncing light to produce a kaleidoscope of shades. Chromatophores 101: Nature’s Colour Cells In creatures like octopuses and cuttlefish, chromatophores are tiny, elastic sacs filled with pigment. These sacs are surrounded by radial muscle fibres which are wired to the nervous system. When the animal wants to display a colour, it sends a signal that contracts those muscles, pulling the pigment sac open like an umbrella. The expanded pigment becomes visible on the surface. Relax the muscle and the sac snaps shut – colour gone! So instead of pigment just sitting there passively, the cephalopod is actively controlling its skin colour with muscle contractions, at speeds fast enough to create those mesmerising rippling patterns. All these changes are actively, neurally controlled; they're not automatic like blushing. They're often voluntary, and dynamic, responding to things like light, mood, temperature, and stress (2). In fact, cephalopod chromatophores are sensitive to direct electrical stimulation. One study found that when researchers applied oscillating electrical patterns to the squid Sepioteuthis lessonia, the pigment sacs expanded and contracted in synchronised, wave-like patterns under 1.5Hz; essentially, we can rhythmically ‘play’ these cells like an instrument! (1) Chromatophores in vertebrates work a bit differently. Instead of opening and closing sacs, the pigment inside the cell moves around, spreading out when the colour needs to be more visible, clustering together when it doesn't. Still responsive, still cool, just a little less… flashy. Layers, Pigments, and Light Tricks Here’s where things get really interesting. Chromatophores aren’t all for show. They’re sensitive to light, chemistry, and electrical signals, which makes them incredibly valuable for science and technology! Some fish chromatophores, for example, visibly change colour in the presence of toxins like cholera and pertussis. They detect these threats in real time, with the colour change varying with concentration, meaning you can even tell how much of a toxin is there, not just whether it is present (3). That makes them powerful candidates for biosensors, living tools that can monitor environmental or biological conditions. Why is it a big deal? Unlike traditional sensors made of synthetic materials or inert components, chromatophore-based systems are made of living cells. They keep reacting, adapting, and functioning over time, giving them an edge in sensitivity, flexibility, and longevity (2). While chromatophores already act as living, colour-changing pixels, researchers are exploring how to use them in adaptive camouflage technologies. Imagine a bandage that shifts colour when it detects infection, the moment bacteria start to grow, not just after the infection has spread. Or ocean sensors that monitor salinity and pollution, while blending seamlessly into coral reefs so as not to disturb marine life. All of these possibilities are made an achievable reality by these remarkable sacs of pigment! These amazing cells offer a glimpse at what happens when evolution builds something both beautiful and functional. Next time you see a chameleon vanish into a leaf, or an octopus ripple with light like a living mood ring, take a second to think about what’s really going on under the surface. Behind every colour shift is a tiny symphony of biology and physics, all working together in real time. And the best part? It’s still magic. It doesn't stop being magic when we figure out how it works! References Lei Y, Chen W, Mulchandani A. Microbial biosensors. Analytica chimica acta . 2006;568(1-2):200-10. doi: 10.1016/j.aca.2005.11.065 Tan L, Schirmer K. Cell culture-based biosensing techniques for detecting toxicity in water. Current opinion in biotechnology . 2017;45:59-68. doi: 10.1016/j.copbio.2016.11.026 Plant TK, Chaplen FW, Jovanovic G, Kolodziej W, Trempy JE, Willard C, Liburdy JA, Pence DV, Paul BK. Sensitive-cell-based fish chromatophore biosensor. InBiomedical Vibrational Spectroscopy and Biohazard Detection Technologies 2004;5321;265-274. doi: 10.1117/12.528093 Kim T, Bower DQ, Deravi LF. Cephalopod chromatophores contain photosensitizing nanostructures that may facilitate light sensing and signaling in the skin. Journal of Materials Chemistry C . 2025;13(3):1138-45. doi: 10.1039/D4TC04333B Previous article Next article Entwined back to