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< Back to Issue 9 Conferring with Consciousness by Ingrid Sefton 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Heather Sutherland Edited by Steph Liang Down the rabbit hole Indulge me for a moment, will you? I value your opinion. Your opinion, as in, one which has arisen from your mind. I would assume. It would seem unusual to consider that, perhaps, your thoughts are not your own. Stranger still to ponder the possibility that they did not arise from your mind. I digress – or maybe not. For it is this dilemma which I wish to pick your brain on. The mind. The brain. You. Are they one and the same; entwined? What do you think? Again, assuming it is you thinking. Assuming you feel certain enough to agree with this. Really, with what certainty can we say anything? You may be wondering who “I” am. I am but you, of course! I kid, but not entirely. Think of me as the brain; your brain if you wish. An excellent name I gave myself, if you ask me. Before we spiral any deeper into this chasm that is consciousness – because that is what this is about, is that not what this, life, is all about? – I must disclose a few things. One, I do not expect you to have answers to these questions I pose. Because two. We do not have answers. I apologise that I have not come bearing the answers to our existence, that I have not yet unpicked these questions of “who?”, “how?”, “why?”. I come offering an alternative. I wish to present to you these entangled threads of consciousness: of what we currently know, of what we hope to know and of where we can proceed from here. Then it’s back to you. You get to decide what you think (again, with the thinking). Maybe, for you and the workings of your inner mind, consciousness and all it entails will be revealed in full clarity. Maybe not. You certainly won’t know unless you try. A brief neural memoir Many a Nobel prize has been awarded for discoveries relating to the nervous system: from the morphology of neurons (Golgi and Cajal 1906) and their electrical signalling properties (Eccles, Hodgkin and Huxley 1963), to the nature of information processing in the visual system (Hubel and Wiesel 1981) (1). Despite some obvious gaps remaining in what is known about the brain (ahem, that slight issue of consciousness), the field of neuroscience has rapidly progressed over the last century. Gone are the days of thinking I was nothing more than a cooling mechanism for the blood, as Greek philosopher Aristotle once believed (2). How dismissive of my intellect! I assure you, I have far more important things to be doing. Generating the experience of “you”, as one small matter. The techniques developed to study the brain have also rapidly advanced. It was not until the invention of microscopes in the 19 th century that the neuron doctrine even came about . Pioneered by Santiago Ramón y Cajal, this is the (now) well-accepted concept that the nervous system is made up of discrete cells known as neurons, challenging older theories which proposed a continuous neural network (3). Today, neuroscientists have the ability to appreciate my anatomical and functional complexity at a huge range of temporal and spatial resolutions. Whole-brain connectivity can be studied using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), while the electrical activity of single neurons can be recorded using patch-clamp electrode technology. Not to mention optogenetics, chemogenetics, viral transduction: while the available experimental techniques are still unable to address all our brainy questions, the field of neuroscience has never been in a better position to get closer to answers. The potential of neurons Neurons: those special, excitable cells that make up the squishy entity I seem to be. The mechanisms of how neurons detect, generate and transmit signals have been described in utmost precision. When I talk of excitable cells, I am not referring to a bunch of cheerful, eager neurons. Excitability, in this context, refers to the fact that neurons can respond to a sensory stimulus by generating and propagating electrical signals, known as action potentials. Clearly, I am made up of slightly more than two neurons cheerfully signalling to each other back and forth. Try 86 billion, between the cortex and cerebellum combined (4). Yet, despite our deep understanding of neural signalling mechanisms, this has yet to reveal an explanation for consciousness. Individual neurons in isolation, it would appear, don’t hold the answers we want. In turn, a focus of neuroscience research has been on the wider “neuronal correlates of consciousness”, the minimal neuronal mechanisms that are sufficient to generate a conscious experience (5). This relates broadly to the generation of consciousness itself, but also to studying the neural underpinnings of specific conscious experiences. For example, which collective neural substrates support the process of visual object recognition. This is often a focus of fMRI studies, which examine brain activity in an attempt to pin-point where in the brain a particular cognitive function may be performed. Fancy techniques aside, some of the most fundamental insights into my regional specialisations have arisen from careful observation following selective lesions or damage to the brain. The critical, yet specific role of Broca’s area in speech production was discovered in 1861 by surgeon Paul Broca’s observations of his patient “Tan”. Tan had lost his ability to produce meaningful speech, yet was still able to comprehend speech; Broca identified a lesion in Tan’s left frontal lobe post-mortem, drawing the conclusion that this region is selectively involved in speech production (6). But what does all of this show us? Perhaps the only thing that neuroscientists can agree on, is that conscious experience is fundamentally, in some way, somehow, related to my activity: the brain. In turn, the activity of the brain is related to the activity of neurons; firing and signalling and transforming information. A lot is known about neurons. Less can be said about specific cognitive functions, yet we can see correlations between the regional brain activity and particular conscious experiences. Here lies my problem. The elephant in the room. How do we get from individual neurons to conscious experience? A map with no destination Enter “The Connectome” and the Human Connectome Project: a collective attempt to map the neuronal connections of the human brain, in an effort to connect structure to function (7). And in turn, for our purposes, to ideally connect this to consciousness. The rationale is that by modelling and trying to “build” a brain using a bottom-up approach, we may therefore understand the mechanisms of how cognitive functions arise. I’m sure it will come as no surprise that this isn’t the simplest of tasks. To measure, record and model billions of neurons and synapses requires techniques, time, and resources that are incredibly hard to come by in sufficient quantities. Excitingly, scientists have recently managed to successfully map a whole brain. That is, of a fly (8). With 3016 neurons and 548000 synapses, this was no simple feat. In case you had forgotten my own complexity, however, let me remind you of my 86 billion neurons, and estimated 1.5 x10 14 total synapses in the cortex alone (4). Progress has also been made on the human front, nonetheless. It was recently announced that a cubic millimetre of human temporal cortex has been completely reconstructed using electron microscopy, involving 1.4 petabytes of electron microscopy data (1000 Terabytes or one quadrillion bytes) (9). One cubic millimetre down, approximately a million to go. Putting practicalities aside, let us suppose we do, one day, manage to map and model an entire human brain, in all its intricacies. What now? What does one actually do with this data, and how would this allow us to better understand how consciousness arises? Up until now, we have been following the train of thought that consciousness, somehow, results from the activity of neurons, yet does not arise from the activity of individual neurons. This leads us to the notion that perhaps consciousness is due to the collective, computational activity of neurons working together – that with enough complexity, and enough information processing, together this will lead to the first-person experience of being “you”. Does this actually make sense? You tell me. Wishful thinking and conscious rocks The notion that, at a certain level of complex neuronal signal processing, a first-person perspective of “being you” (i.e. consciousness) arises is often termed “strong emergence” or “magical emergence” (10). With what we currently know about the properties of neurons, there is fundamentally no reason why this should happen. The “property” of consciousness, which cannot be predicted from the principles of how individual neurons function, seemingly just emerges. Consciousness, therefore, must somehow be greater than the sum of its parts, only emerging when neurons interact as a wider network. Maybe, the answer to this is merely that we don’t understand the mechanisms of neurons as well as we think we do. It could be that we have missed a fundamental property of how neurons operate and upon discovery of this, it would suddenly be completely explicable how consciousness arises. Or maybe, computation and neural signalling is not all there is to it. An alternative line of thinking is that rather than consciousness being a property that “arises”, it is a basic constituent of the universe that is missing from our current model of standard physics (11). That is, consciousness has been present all along and exists in everything. The philosophical view of ‘panpsychism’ embraces this idea to the extreme, proposing that everything within the universe is, to some degree, conscious (12). As in yes, that rock over there might just be conscious. Other theories suggest that consciousness only emerges in a recognisable form in certain conditions or at some critical threshold; myself and all my neurons apparently being one such example of the “right” conditions. Theories of consciousness don’t just stop at computation and fundamental properties of the universe. Quantum physics, microtubule computations, electromagnetic fields; all have been proposed as part of this web of “why” (13). While some theories arguably veer more towards pseudoscience than well-founded scholarship, they all make one thing clear. At this stage, just about every idea remains fair game in the quest for answers. Pondering hard, or hardly pondering? The question of consciousness is far from limited to the field of neuroscience. Philosophers too have long wracked their brains in an attempt to rationalise and unpick this problem. What unites the work of neuroscientists and philosophers alike, along with the many theories of consciousness, is that nothing provides a satisfactory explanation for why consciousness should emerge from the activity of neurons. Philosopher David Chalmers has termed this the “hard problem”. “Why should physical processing give rise to a rich inner life at all? It seems objectively unreasonable that it should, and yet it does” (14). If consciousness is simply the result of high-level processing and the computational activity of neurons, why would we even need to be conscious? If all the brain is doing is computation, and thus everything can be done via computation, there would appear to be no purpose in having a subjective experience of being “you”. Whichever side of consciousness we may be inclined to take, computational, fundamental, or otherwise, the fact remains. We cannot seem to move beyond mere description, to explanation. We have not solved the “hard problem”. A final conundrum, and a sole certainty Physicist Emerson M Pugh once made the somewhat sceptical remark that “if the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn't.” (15) Is the reason that we have yet to understand consciousness simply, frustratingly, that we are not meant to? Logical conundrums aside, I rest my case. I hope I have given you some food for thought, or at the very least, not set off too dramatic an existential crisis. Somewhere between the neural wirings of the brain and the experience of consciousness lies an answer, regardless of whether we are destined to find it out. Make of this what you will. And if nothing else, let me try reassuring you once again with the wisdom of René Descartes. “ Cogito, ergo sum ” “ I think, therefore I am ” (16). If you are here, and you are thinking, you are conscious. You, my friend, are you. References Nobel Prizes in nerve signaling. Nobel Prize Outreach. September 16, 2009. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/themes/nobel-prizes-in-nerve-signaling-1906-2000/ . Rábano A. Aristotle’ s “mistake”: the structure and function of the brain in the treatises on biology. Neurosciences and History . 2018;6(4):138-43. Golgi C. The neuron doctrine - theory and facts . 1906. p. 190–217. https://www.nobelprize.org/uploads/2018/06/golgi-lecture.pdf Herculano-Houzel S. The human brain in numbers: a linearly scaled-up primate brain. Front Hum Neurosci . 2009;3:31. doi: 10.3389/neuro.09.031.2009 Koch C, Massimini M, Boly M, Tononi G. Neural correlates of consciousness: progress and problems. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2016;17(5):307-21. Broca area . Encyclopedia Britannica; 2025. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/science/Broca-area Elam JS, Glasser MF, Harms MP, Sotiropoulos SN, Andersson JLR, Burgess GC, et al. The Human Connectome Project: A retrospective. NeuroImage . 2021;244. doi: 10.1016/j.neuroimage.2021.118543 Winding M, Pedigo BD, Barnes CL, Patsolic HG, Park Y, Kazimiers T, et al. The connectome of an insect brain. Science . 2023;379(6636). doi: 10.1126/science.add9330 Shapson-Coe A, Januszewski M, Berger DR, Pope A, Wu Y, Blakely T, et al. A petavoxel fragment of human cerebral cortex reconstructed at nanoscale resolution. Science . 2024;384(6696). doi: 10.1126/science.adk4858 Chalmers D. Strong and Weak Emergence. In: Clayton P, Davies P. The Re-Emergence of Emergence: The Emergentist Hypothesis from Science to Religion . Oxford University Press; 2008. Kitchener PD, Hales CG. What Neuroscientists Think, and Don’t Think, About Consciousness. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience . 2022;16. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2022.767612 Goff P, William Seager, and Sean Allen-Hermanson. Panpsychism . The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Summer 2022. Seth AK, Bayne T. Theories of consciousness. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2022;23(7):439-52. doi: 10.1038/s41583-022-00587-4 Chalmers D. Facing up to the hard problem of consciousness . In: Shear J. Explaining Consciousness: The Hard Problem. MIT Press; 1997. Pugh GE. The Biological Origin of Human Values . Routledge & Kegan Paul; 1978. Descartes R. Principles of Philosophy . 1644. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 8 Microbic Mirror of The Self by Sarah Ibrahimi 3 June 2025 Edited by Jax Soon-Legaspi Illustrated by Noah Chen For decades, we did not fully understand the functional purposes of many parts of the human body. The spleen was once thought of as dispensable, earwax merely as dirty waste and the appendix as a useless leftover from the course of human evolution. But science has a habit of humbling us and we now know that all of these components serve essential purposes in the human body. Our understanding of the gut microbiome is following a similar pattern. However, beyond knowing that it plays a role, we still lack a full understanding of the true nature and mechanisms of this mysterious system. Given the average person's current understanding of microbes, it is unsurprising that they are often associated with disease, capable of causing some of the most deadly disorders. They are thought of as a foreign figure entirely and that should remain separate from us. Nevertheless, just like their occupation all over our skin, our gut is home to them too. When we think of our own identities, we tend to boil ourselves down to a singular body, a singular self. Typically, we define ourselves by our jobs, the activities we enjoy and the values we admire - elements all tied to a single individual. Yet, within us lives an entire biosphere that hosts a whole community of microbes. These minute beings govern our guts in symbiosis with other systems of the human body and outnumber human cells ten to one (1). It is a wonder how we are home to trillions of bacteria and are barely conscious of their existence. How do these seemingly fatal organisms operate cooperatively with the body? Can we construe the self as a singular individual when our body is a complex community with seemingly precarious organisms living within us? “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us” - Ralph Waldo Emerson The community that is composed of bacteria, fungi, viruses and archaea plays a significant role in many aspects of our lives, affecting the way we digest food down to the regulation of our mental health. We understand the digestive system to be composed of the mouth, stomach, intestines and other vital organs as the main drivers of digestion. Similarly, the immune system depends on the bone marrow, spleen, white blood cells and antibodies to suppress an infection. Yet, the microbes sequestered within our gut assist extensively in driving the actions associated with these systems. In digestion, the range of their skill extends from the ability to synthesise vitamin K to using cross-feeding mechanisms - a phenomena where one bacterium breaks down parts of plant compounds and passes the byproducts to others, resulting in boosted health (2,3). They have also been shown to promote gut barrier integrity to prevent the entry of harmful pathogens, while also aiding in regulating immune system homeostasis, assisting the body in blocking harmful pathogens and enabling a strengthened immune response in the face of infection (3). Although there has been extensive research conducted to investigate the role of gut microbes in our physical health, their effects on our mental health have often been overlooked. Yet, they play a fundamental role in its regulation and the promotion of positive wellbeing. This contribution is most evident in the context of the gut-brain axis, which consists of two-way signalling between the central nervous system and enteric nervous system, serving the emotional and cognitive domains of the brain. Working hand-in-hand, the mental state of an individual can cause harmful alterations to the composition of healthy gut microbes and in a reciprocal manner, a dysregulated gut flora can adversely affect the brain through pathways such as immune activation and the production of neuroactive substances (4). Such imbalances in the gut microbiota have been linked to the emergence of depressive-like behaviours (5), though there is an increased prevalence of other psychiatric disorders like bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and anxiety that occur as a result too (6). The last decade of science has demonstrated a dramatic increase in the understanding of the gut microbiome as we know it today. Like in any field however, there is still more to be discovered. Similar to the infamous genome-wide association studies that assist in the recognition of certain genetic markers to particular diseases or traits through a statistical basis, metagenome-wide association studies are being conducted to identify associations with microbiome structures and several major diseases (7). Research in this field has already allowed for the detection of shifts in gut compositions and how these changes functionally contribute to many metabolic diseases. However, small sample sizes for such research highlight the requirement for greater development within the field. “The self is not something ready-made, but something in continuous formation through choice of action” - John Dewey The human body has a mutual relationship with the gut microbiome, like that of the gut-brain axis. So when one of these systems is not functioning at its peak, the performance of the other is also derailed. Dysbiosis of the gut's natural flora contributes to clinical conditions such as Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and anxiety (4). However, microbial imbalance is mediated through the actions and behaviours of the individual at hand. Both chronic and acute stressors can increase gut barrier permeability, resulting in a “leaky” gut, allowing bacteria to seep into the cracks and trigger an array of physiological responses like inflammation. It is safe to say that there is no single, definitive state that our individual guts exist in. In a world driven by antimicrobial usage, fluctuating diets and the invisible weight of daily stress, the gut microbiome remains in a state of constant transformation. Ever-changing, they mirror the conscious and unconscious choices we make, ultimately shaping our health in ways we are only beginning to imagine. References National Institutes of Health (NIH) [Internet]. 2015 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. NIH Human Microbiome Project defines normal bacterial makeup of the body. Available from: https://www.nih.gov/news-events/news-releases/nih-human-microbiome-project-defines-normal-bacterial-makeup-body Mueller C, Macpherson AJ. Layers of mutualism with commensal bacteria protect us from intestinal inflammation. 2006 Feb 1 [cited 2025 Jun 1]; Available from: https://gut.bmj.com/content/55/2/276 Zhang YJ, Li S, Gan RY, Zhou T, Xu DP, Li HB. Impacts of Gut Bacteria on Human Health and Diseases. International Journal of Molecular Sciences. 2015 Apr;16(4):7493–519. Carabotti M, Scirocco A, Maselli MA, Severi C. The gut-brain axis: interactions between enteric microbiota, central and enteric nervous systems. Ann Gastroenterol. 2015;28(2):203–9. Bested AC, Logan AC, Selhub EM. Intestinal microbiota, probiotics and mental health: from Metchnikoff to modern advances: Part I – autointoxication revisited. Gut Pathogens. 2013 Mar 18;5(1):5. Nikolova VL, Smith MRB, Hall LJ, Cleare AJ, Stone JM, Young AH. Perturbations in Gut Microbiota Composition in Psychiatric Disorders: A Review and Meta-analysis. JAMA Psychiatry. 2021 Dec 1;78(12):1343–54. Wang J, Jia H. Metagenome-wide association studies: fine-mining the microbiome. Nat Rev Microbiol. 2016 Aug;14(8):508–22. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 4 Big Bang To Black Holes: Probing the Illusionary Nature of Time by Mahsa Nabizada 1 July 2023 Edited by Elijah McEvoy and Caitlin Kane Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Time is ubiquitous: it governs our daily lives, marking our existence from birth to death. We measure time in seconds, minutes, hours, days or years, using man-made tools like clocks and calendars which reinforce the perception that it is tangible and objective. In fact, the most used noun in English is time (1). However, delving into the realms of science and philosophy, the true nature of time becomes illusionary. We can acknowledge our personal perception of time is inherently subjective. Our experiences of time vary depending on our surroundings, emotional state and physical state. For example, while time may seem to drag on when we're bored or anxious, it can pass quickly when we're having a good time. Although we imagine time to be objective, it could be merely an illusion resulting from the limitations of our perceptions and the conditions of our observation. Exploring these questions requires scientific perspectives, so let's delve into the enigmatic physics of time. In three-dimensional space, physical spaces are fixed, meaning that we can revisit the same location repeatedly. For example, we may visit our favourite restaurant as many times as we wish. However, this is not the case with time. Time only moves forward, and we cannot go back to a previous moment; it belongs to the past and cannot be retrieved (2). This unidirectional nature of time is referred to as the arrow of time. Time is believed to originate from the Big Bang, the event that marked the beginning of the universe (3). From that point, time has progressed towards the present, where you are currently reading this article, and it continues to move into the future. The second law of thermodynamics, known as entropy, plays a crucial role in representing the forward movement of this arrow of time (4). Entropy refers to the state of disorder, uncertainty, or randomness in a system like a measure of the disorder present in the universe. At the moment of the Big Bang, the universe had low entropy, with matter and energy concentrated and organised. However, since that initial state, matter in the universe has been expanding and moving away from each other, leading to an increase in entropy and transforming the universe into a high entropy system. The concepts of the arrow of time and entropy, guided by the second law of thermodynamics, allow for a distinction between the past and the future and play a pivotal role in the existence of life. Without entropy and the resulting change there would be no discernible difference between events that occurred 1000 years ago and events happening in the present. Furthermore, the progression of life from birth to death can be explained through the phenomenon of entropy, as governed by the second law. However, on the quantum level, the behaviour of particles becomes more complex. Just as there is no inherent forward or backward direction in vast space, at the molecular level, the concept of entropy is not as apparent. While time appears to have a clear direction on the macroscopic level, when observing the particles that make up the universe, time can flow and operate in multiple directions. The laws of physics that govern these particles do not distinguish between the past and the future. They describe the behaviours of physical systems without differentiating between temporal directions. The theory of general relativity, proposed by Albert Einstein, provides a fundamental framework for understanding the workings of spacetime (5). According to the theory of general relativity, the presence of mass or energy causes a distortion in the fabric of spacetime, which in turn affects the motion of other objects. For example, it describes gravity as the curvature of spacetime caused by the presence of mass and energy. Essentially, spacetime can be thought of as a fluid that is influenced by both gravity and velocity. This theory has illuminated not just the behaviour of celestial bodies and the vast structure of the universe, but also enhanced our understanding of the intricate interplay between space, time, and matter. Within Einstein’s theories, time dilation is a scientific phenomenon that can be explored through a thought experiment known as the twin paradox (6). It demonstrates how the perception of time can vary between two individuals who experience different levels of motion or gravitational forces. Time dilation is not limited to the twin paradox or space travel; it is a fundamental concept in understanding the relationship between time, motion, and gravity. It has been experimentally confirmed and plays a significant role in our understanding of the universe. Imagine you, Twin A, are stationary on Earth while your sister, Twin B, is traveling in a rocket at a constant speed. Due to the sideways motion of the rocket, Twin B’s clock will appear slower to Twin A since her path through spacetime is longer due to the effects of special relativity and time dilation. Therefore, from Twin A’s perspective on Earth, time seems to pass slower on the moving rocket. However, from Twin B’s perspective, Twin A is the one in motion and therefore Twin A’s clock appears slower to her. Both frames of reference seem to indicate that the other's clock is slower, which seems contradictory. In reality, both observations are correct because the laws of physics remain the same in both frames of reference. Now, the question arises: who is actually younger? According to each twin's viewpoint, the other twin is younger. However, in reality, only one twin can have aged less than the other. Fortunately, there is a resolution to this paradox. When Twin B turns around to return to Earth, she undergoes acceleration which means the usual laws no longer apply. As a result, Twin B will be younger than her Earth-bound sister, Twin A, upon returning to Earth due to the effects of acceleration. To explain this effect during the period of acceleration, we need to consider that general relativity causes time dilation in the presence of gravitational fields. Gravitational time dilation means that clocks run slower in stronger gravitational fields compared to clocks in weaker gravitational fields. During the acceleration phase, when Twin B’s rocket is returning to Earth, her time now appears to go slower, while the clock on Earth appears to run faster. This phenomenon is similar to the extreme time dilation experienced near the edge of a black hole, known as an event horizon (7). From the observer’s frame of reference outside the black hole, time slows as an object approaches the event horizon, until it appears time has stopped. Hence an object falling into the black hole would appear to have stopped, completely frozen. Even though it governs our daily lives and despite our ability to measure it with great accuracy, there is no definitive answer to what time truly is. From the subjective experiences of our daily lives to the enigmatic physics of the Big Bang and black holes, the illusionary nature of time unveils an array of complexities, reminding us that this fundamental concept remains one of the most captivating mysteries of our existence. As famously stated by Einstein: "For us believing physicists, the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion” (8). References Study: “Time” Is Most Often Used Noun [Internet]. www.cbsnews.com . 2006. Available from: https://www.cbsnews.com/news/study-time-is-most-often-used-noun/ Davies P. The arrow of time. Royal Astronomical Society [Internet]. 2005 Feb 1 [cited 2023 Jun 4];46(1):1.26–9. Available from: https://academic.oup.com/astrogeo/article/46/1/1.26/253257 University of Western Australia. Evidence for the Big Bang [Internet]. Evidence for the Big Bang. 2014 p. 1–4. Available from: https://www.uwa.edu.au/study/-/media/Faculties/Science/Docs/Evidence-for-the-Big-Bang.pdf Hall N. Second Law - Entropy [Internet]. Glenn Research Center | NASA. 2023. Available from: https://www1.grc.nasa.gov/beginners-guide-to-aeronautics/second-law-entropy/ Norton JD. General Relativity [Internet]. sites.pitt.edu . 2001 [cited 2022 Feb]. Available from: https://sites.pitt.edu/~jdnorton/teaching/HPS_0410/chapters/general_relativity/ Perkowitz S. Twin paradox | physics | Britannica. In: Encyclopædia Britannica [Internet]. 2020 [cited 2013 Jun 14]. Available from: https://www.britannica.com/science/twin-paradox Hadi H, Atazadeh K, Darabi F. Quantum time dilation in the near-horizon region of a black hole. Physics Letters B [Internet]. 2022 Nov 10 [cited 2023 Jun 11];834:137471. Available from: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0370269322006050 A Debate Over the Physics of Time | Quanta Magazine [Internet]. Quanta Magazine. 2016. Available from: https://www.quantamagazine.org/a-debate-over-the-physics-of-time-20160719/ Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

Thinking of joining the OmniSci committee? We spoke to Aisyah, who incorporates her love for design into illustrations, events and social media at OmniSci, and shares her advice for those interested in getting involved (just do it!). Aisyah is a designer and Events Officer at OmniSci in her final year of a Bachelor of Science in geography. For Issue 4: Mirage, she is contributing to social media and as an illustrator. Meet OmniSci Designer & Committee Member Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Aisyah is a designer and Events Officer at OmniSci in her final year of a Bachelor of Science in geography. For Issue 4: Mirage, she is contributing to social media and as an illustrator interviewed by Caitlin Kane What are you studying? I am studying the Bachelor of Science in geography, now in my final year. Do you have any advice for younger students? It’s alright to not know what you’re doing. But on the flipside, if you do feel you know what you’re doing, be very aware that could change in the next few years. Always be open to new options. What first got you interested in science? When I was a kid, my parents encouraged me to ask questions about the world. I also had my own little book of inventions… if there was a problem somewhere, even if it was with the most outlandish invention, I would seek a way to solve that problem. That idea of being able to figure out how the world works is very fascinating to me. How did you get involved with OmniSci? During lockdown, I saw on the bulletin an expression of interest for a new magazine. I’d just entered uni, wanted to try everything and thought why not, it seems like such a great opportunity. And it is! What is your role at OmniSci? I’ve done a lot of graphic design and I’m going to return for this issue in that role. I’ve basically collaborated with writers to make art that looks good, goes with my style and can convey what they want to say in their article. I’m also in the committee for OmniSci, and have been since last year. Within that, I’ve put multiple hats on: I’ve enjoyed organising multiple events for the club, and helping out with social media. Social events have had a great turnout this year, which is awesome. A new year is always a new opportunity for more people to learn about the magazine. What is your favourite thing about contributing at OmniSci so far? I’ve really enjoyed the graphics side of things. I love creating and it’s really awesome to be able to put art to something text-based. It’s interpretation… You’re bound by what the article says and what the science says, but there is freedom within to express something. I definitely enjoy being able to put my creativity into promotion [as a committee member]. Doing it in a way that’s aesthetically pleasing—it matters to me when things look nice! Do you have any advice for people thinking of getting involved, especially more on the committee side? Yes—do it! Come and join… If you’re interested, feel free to come along because no role should be too daunting for you, and there is always opportunity to make the role fit how you want, it’s quite flexible. Can you give us a sneak peak of what you're working on this issue? If there’s a lot to come, maybe you can just tell us where you’re up to in the process. I’ll be working on the design and looking forward to collaborating with the writer as to how to convey their article properly. In the future, I’m looking forward to being able to create more content for OmniSci—really looking forward to that. What do you like doing in your spare time (when you're not contributing at OmniSci)? A range of things—I like to read, edit photos, do graphic design of random illustrations. I also crochet, do a bit of arts and crafts on the side, and take a whole lot of photos. Which chemical element would you name your firstborn child (or pet) after? Wait, let me pull up the periodic table! Let’s see… Neon. Feels like a great name for a child or an animal. Like calling your kid Jaz or Jet. It’s very snazzy! Do you have anything else you’d like to share with the OmniSci community? Stay looking on our Facebook page! Keep in touch and always keep on communicating, consuming and learning more about science, because that’s how the world progresses honestly. See Aisyah's designs Should We Protect Our Genetic Information? The Rise of The Planet of AI Maxing the Vax: why some countries are losing the COVID vaccination race What’s the forecast for smallholder farmers of Arabica coffee? The Ethics of Space Travel Space exploration in Antarctica The Mirage of Camouflage FINAL Big Bang to Black Holes: Illusionary Nature of Time

By Mia Horsfall < Back to Issue 3 AI and a notion of 'artificial humanity' By Mia Horsfall 10 September 2022 Edited by Breana Galea and Andrew Lim Illustrated by Matthew Duffy Next In the cradle of the day, a girl blinks to life. The sun is cool, still crouched beyond the trees, waiting for its cue to take centre-stage. Knees and knobs and spokes and all, she struggles to stand in the grass, furrowing her toes into the Earth for traction. Clean, unmarked and without memories, she looks to the sky with contentment, unaware of the work ahead. The notion of “Artificial” Intelligence is an interesting way to describe the vast and variegated mechanisms it encompasses. Not only does it pre-suppose the existence of “intelligence” within these machines, but it implies the existence of some antithetical “natural” intelligence. The term itself is a dichotomy, simultaneously alienating and connecting AI to humans. This poses some significant moral and ethical dilemmas that are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. As the advent of AI becomes more intricately interwoven with mundane happenings, we are forced to grapple with the seemingly unanswerable question: At what point does “Artificial” Intelligence become indistinguishable from “Authentic” Intelligence? With the advent of Artificial Intelligence, public opinion surrounding the role AI should and does occupy has undergone dramatic alterations. Films and books such as “Her” (2013) and “Klara and the Sun” (2021) have explored the implications of assimilation of AI with humanity. In both pieces, AI transcends the purely utilitarian role originally defined and progresses into emotional connections with human counter-parts. It stands to reason that if these AI can enter and engage in emotionally significant relationships in the same capacity as humans, what exactly does the distinction between human and machine become? In order to define what AI is, we should first come to a conclusion of what it means to be human. So why is it so important to arrive at a definition of humanity in considering the ethics of AI inclusion in society? Well, as Hauskeller points out ‘the term ‘human’ is not primarily used to refer to a particular kind of entity...it implies a particular moral status’ (Hauskeller, 2009). That is, a subject is assigned a higher moral value in its assignment as ‘human’ and a purely physical application of the word would result in little distinction between us and other species. ‘A meaning of the word is a kind of employment of it’ (Wittgenstein, 1953), suggesting meanings and the terms to describe them are co-dependent and self-referential. Hence what it means to be ‘human’ is directly aligned with what subjects are assigned such a title. But arriving at a definition for “human” is no easy task. Philosophers and scientists have debated what constitutes the term human with little success, the definition changing across historical periods. In order to demonstrate the transient nature of the term ‘human’, a comparative analysis of definitions across historical periods provides a comprehensive overview of the dynamism that defines humankind. Hauskeller contends that any given definition of ‘human’ is ‘persuasive’. That is, each attempt ‘implicitly or explicitly claims to be of prime significance for the way we ought to lead our lives’ (Haukeller, 2009). By nature of the fact there exists multiple definitions of what characterises humanity, it can be inferred ideals of human society are themselves transient. For instance, Plato contends intelligence prevails above every aspect of human nature (White, 2013) as it is ‘the only part of himself which he does not share with the animal kingdom’ (Plato, referenced in White 2013). Whilst this definition may appear simplistic or constrictive, it is also not intrinsically wrong, merely indicative of the era in which it was formulated. Kant expounds upon the need to define ‘humanity’ asserting that any definition of an individual in isolation from a collective is futile and insufficient. Rather, it is only the ability ‘to treat himself and others according to the principle of freedom under the laws’ (Kant, referenced in Cohen, 2008) that defines humanity. In essence, it is only in relation to others that individuals may exist as human, congruent with Cohen’s assertion that ‘the study of the other is the yardstick by which men measure their own common humanity’ (Cohen, 2008). Heidegger adopts a markedly different approach in his ‘Being and time’, recognising the fluidity of human nature and creating Dasein who Oleson asserts is ‘the being of a human being, understood as the being that is concerned with being itself’ (Oleson, 2013), embodying the definition of humanity through a representation of the history of being (Oleson, 2013). Dasein exists as ‘the connection between historicality and temporality’ (Heidegger, 1927), and in this way, Heidegger seeks to define humanity by means of its instability. From these hugely variegated definitions of what constitutes the state of being human, it becomes clear we are unlikely to determine one singular, immutable definition of what it is to be human. Hence, it is difficult to have a constant point of comparison to see whether AI has “surpassed” its limits and transcended into some form of humanity. But with the increasing capabilities of AI, it stands to reason there be provisions in place in both law and politics to account not only for the implications of AI upon humanity, but for the representation of AI and its potential forms. Even if this representation or legislation is aspirational, it stands to reason there be policies in place, as various machine learning figures become more and more prominent in society and culture. At the end of the day, the girl stands cemented in her place. The line between her arms and the cogs she operates is indistinguishable amongst the black haze of smoke. In a town not too far from here, children kiss their mothers good night and fall asleep. But here, in this place, with this grime, she stands cold and unfeeling, the sky obscured by the machinery above. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 7 Timeless Titans: Billionaires defying death by Holly McNaughton 22 October 2024 edited by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo illustrated by Esme MacGillivray Humans are destined to face an unavoidable end, but what if we weren't? What if humans could push the boundaries of death and become "un-ageable"? What would be the consequences if the world's top apex predators became immortal? The concept of anti-ageing and the quest for eternal life is not new. Cleopatra supposedly bathed in donkeys’ milk to reduce wrinkles. The first emperor of the Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), tried to achieve immortality by taking pills. Unfortunately for him, the key ingredient was the highly toxic substance—mercury. In 16th century France, members of the nobility would drink gold to preserve youthful looks. Much like in the past, today’s leading figures in the anti-ageing field are those with power and wealth. Today, the same obsessive quest for youth persists, but now it is backed by cutting-edge science and more importantly, staggering wealth. This article delves into the latest anti-ageing trends—pills, specialised diets, and more—championed by modern-day billionaires. We’ll explore the innovations they fund, and more provocatively, what it means for humanity when death is no longer inevitable. Anti-ageing pills The first “key” to anti-ageing is metformin, which dates to the1920s and was first discovered in the medicinal herb Galega officinalis . It lowers blood sugar levels and is taken as a popular treatment for type 2 diabetes (Bailey, 2017). Metformin works by tricking your body into thinking there is not enough energy, lowering blood glucose levels, and helping the insulin your body makes to work better. In a 2014 clinical study, patients with type 2 diabetes initiated with metformin had longer survivals than non-diabetics who did not receive the drug (Bannister et al. 2014). Although this is a correlation, not causation, some studies state Metformin has increased lifespan in mice (Martin-Montalvo et al., 2013). While we are anticipating the results of a trial on the effects on humans, and particularly the effects on non-diabetic lifespan, some are already convinced by the results from preliminary studies, such as Byran Johnson. Johnson is a self-proclaimed Professional Rejuvenation Athlete and founder of Project Blueprint. The Blueprint protocol is an extensive regimen of exercise, health tests, supplements, and a strict diet, to reverse biological age. Bryan has been following the protocol since 2021 and has successfully slowed down his rate of ageing to 0.76, meaning that for every year, Bryan is only ageing 277 days. Luckily, it only costs him 2 million a year. As part of the protocol, Bryan takes several prescription drugs daily, including metformin twice a day and rapamycin. Rapamycin is another promising “key” anti-ageing drug that works as a mTOR inhibitor. mTOR is a key component in cell growth, proliferation and survival. By inhibiting mTOR, cell growth and protein synthesis processes are slowed, thus reducing the chance of pathology (disease and/or injury) of cells and tissues. It has been shown to extend the lifespan of mice, yeast, worms and fruit flies (Harrison et al., 2009) and in 2018, elderly humans given rapamycin showed promising results with improvement in immune function and decreased infection rates (Mannick et al., 2018), which could ultimately lead to longer lifespans. Young blood transfusion Throughout history, blood has been a popular anti-ageing remedy. In the 15th century, Pope Innocent VIII drank the blood of three young boys, to heal his ailments (Scott & DeFrancesco, 2015). It did not work. The term “Young Blood transfusion” is now used to refer to the practice of transfusing blood from a young person into an older one to tackle age-related diseases. The rationale comes from parabiosis experiments. Parabiosis is the anatomical and physiological union of two organisms, and in the 1950s it was performed on two mice, surgically stitched together. A month after the procedure, the older mice showed rejuvenation (Conboy et al., 2005). In 2017, a new startup called Ambrosia emerged offering transfusion from young people at $8,000 a session. According to the U.S Food and Drug Administration, there were no clinical benefits of this treatment, and it was shortly shut down. PayPal founder Peter Thiel believes he will live to be 120 years old; a fan of young blood transfusions, he also credits his future success to taking human growth hormones daily and following a strict paleo diet. The science of which diet is best for anti-ageing is constantly changing. The paleo diet cuts out sugar, carbohydrates and highly processed food and is praised by celebs, but is not currently supported by science for having anti-aging benefits. Other diets such as intermittent fasting, keto and veganism are all praised for their anti-aging properties, but again the claims are under-researched. However, there is a growing body of evidence that a whole-food, plant-based diet can aid in the prevention, and in some cases reversal, of chronic diseases (Solway et al., 2020). For example, in Loma Linda, California, one of the world's five original blue zones (areas of the world with the healthiest, longest-living populations), the life expectancy is 10 years longer than the average American, which has been linked to the high number of Adventist vegetarians in the community. The key link between all five blue zones is a mostly whole-food, plant-based diet. Ethical and social implications – consequences of immortal humans The cure to ageing is still a while away but there is already a growing body of evidence of how we can extend our lifespans, but is that a good idea? The first argument against extending human lifespans is the risk of furthering the gaps in inequality. There is already a 30–40-year life expectancy gap between first-world and third-world countries. As highlighted in this article, it is primarily the wealthy benefiting from advancements in anti-ageing. Although, it is the responsibility of politicians and governments to remove the disparities worldwide. Thus, the question arises – should our focus and resources be directed towards addressing the health crises in developing countries instead? The second argument is overpopulation. An interesting study that looked at a 100-year projection of population size if no one aged after 60 showed that total population size only increased by 22% or 9 million to 11 million (Gavrilov & Gavrilova, 2010). They also pointed out that many members of society may choose to reject new anti-ageing technologies due to religious reasons, fear of side effects and/or costs. I would also like to point out that the world’s declining birth rates due to increased fertility issues may also mean overpopulation won’t be a near-future issue. An increasing population size does however mean increased demand for finite resources like water. Increases in water demand could cause an increase in civil and international conflicts over existing water supplies. In Australia, water scarcity is already a persistent issue, given the relatively dry and variable climate and an increased population size will see demand rise above our limits. To conclude, science has not found a cure for mortality, but with the development in age reversal or anti-ageing science, we may see the longevity of life increasing as well as quality of life. There are several ethical and social implications of an “un-ageable” race, but most importantly, developments in the anti-ageing community may allow loved ones to be healthier for longer. References AIHW, Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2024). Deaths in Australia. Retrieved from https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/life-expectancy-deaths/deaths-in-australia Bannister, C. A., Holden, S. E., Jenkins-Jones, S., Morgan, C. L., Halcox, J. P., Schernthaner, G.,Mukherjee, J., & Currie, C. J. (2014). Can people with type 2 diabetes live longer than those without? A comparison of mortality in people initiated with metformin or sulphonylurea monotherapy and matched, non-diabetic controls. Diabetes Obes Metab , 16 (11), 1165-1173. https://doi.org/10.1111/dom.12354 Bailey, C. J. (2017). Metformin: historical overview. Diabetologia , 60 (9), 1566-1576. Conboy, I. M., Conboy, M. J., Wagers, A. J., Girma, E. R., Weissman, I. L., & Rando, T. A. (2005). Rejuvenation of aged progenitor cells by exposure to a young systemic environment. Nature , 433 (7027), 760-764. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature03260 Gavrilov, L. A., & Gavrilova, N. S. (2010). Demographic consequences of defeating aging. Rejuvenation Res , 13 (2-3), 329-334. https://doi.org/10.1089/rej.2009.0977 doi.org Metformin: historical overview - Diabetologia Metformin (dimethylbiguanide) has become the preferred first-line oral blood glucose-lowering agent to manage type 2 diabetes. Its history is linked to Galega officinalis (also known as goat’s rue), a traditional herbal medicine in Europe, found to be rich in guanidine, which, in 1918, was shown to lower blood glucose. Guanidine derivatives, including metformin, were synthesised and some (not metformin) were used to treat diabetes in the 1920s and 1930s but were discontinued due to toxicity and the increased availability of insulin. Metformin was rediscovered in the search for antimalarial agents in the 1940s and, during clinical tests, proved useful to treat influenza when it sometimes lowered blood glucose. This property was pursued by the French physician Jean Sterne, who first reported the use of metformin to treat diabetes in 1957. However, metformin received limited attention as it was less potent than other glucose-lowering biguanides (phenformin and buformin), which were generally discontinued in the late 1970s due to high risk of lactic acidosis. Metformin’s future was precarious, its reputation tarnished by association with other biguanides despite evident differences. The ability of metformin to counter insulin resistance and address adult-onset hyperglycaemia without weight gain or increased risk of hypoglycaemia gradually gathered credence in Europe, and after intensive scrutiny metformin was introduced into the USA in 1995. Long-term cardiovascular benefits of metformin were identified by the UK Prospective Diabetes Study (UKPDS) in 1998, providing a new rationale to adopt metformin as initial therapy to manage hyperglycaemia in type 2 diabetes. Sixty years after its introduction in diabetes treatment, metformin has become the most prescribed glucose-lowering medicine worldwide with the potential for further therapeutic applications. Harrison, D. E., Strong, R., Sharp, Z. D., Nelson, J. F., Astle, C. M., Flurkey, K., Nadon, N. L., Wilkinson, J. E., Frenkel, K., Carter, C. S., Pahor, M., Javors, M. A., Fernandez, E., & Miller, R. A. (2009). Rapamycin fed late in life extends lifespan in genetically heterogeneous mice. Nature , 460 (7253), 392-395. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature08221 Martin-Montalvo, A., Mercken, E. M., Mitchell, S. J., Palacios, H. H., Mote, P. L., Scheibye-Knudsen, M., Gomes, A. P., Ward, T. M., Minor, R. K., Blouin, M. J., Schwab, M., Pollak, M., Zhang, Y., Yu, Y., Becker, K. G., Bohr, V. A., Ingram, D. K., Sinclair, D. A., Wolf, N. S., . . . de Cabo, R. (2013). Metformin improves healthspan and lifespan in mice. Nat Commun , 4 , 2192. https://doi.org/10.1038/ncomms3192 Mannick, J. B., Morris, M., Hockey, H.-U. P., Roma, G., Beibel, M., Kulmatycki, K., Watkins, M., Shavlakadze, T., Zhou, W., Quinn, D., Glass, D. J., & Klickstein, L. B. (2018). TORC1 inhibition enhances immune function and reduces infections in the elderly. Science Translational Medicine , 10 (449), eaaq1564. https://doi.org/doi:10.1126/scitranslmed.aaq1564 Scott, C., & DeFrancesco, L. (2015). Selling Long Life. Nature Biotechnology , 33 , 28-37. Solway, J., McBride, M., Haq, F., Abdul, W., & Miller, R. (2020). Diet and Dermatology: The Role of a Whole-food, doi.org Selling long life - Nature Biotechnology A new generation of commercial entities is beginning to explore opportunities for new types of interventions and services in a graying world. Plant-based Diet in Preventing and Reversing Skin Aging-A Review. J Clin Aesthet Dermatol , 13 (5), 38-43. Poganik, J. R., Zhang, B., Baht, G. S., Tyshkovskiy, A., Deik, A., Kerepesi, C., Yim, S. H., Lu, A. T.,Haghani, A., Gong, T., Hedman, A. M., Andolf, E., Pershagen, G., Almqvist, C., Clish, C. B., Horvath, S., White, J. P., & Gladyshev, V. N. (2023). Biological age is increased by stress and restored upon recovery. Cell Metab , 35 (5), 807-820.e805. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cmet.2023.03.015 Previous article Next article apex back to

< Back to Issue 10 Unpacking Myths: Distortions of Sex Differences in Popular Culture by Vicenta Wheatley 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Jessica Walton Edited by Han Chong Open TikTok, scroll through Reddit, or fall down a Youtube rabbit hole about dating and relationships, and you will almost certainly encounter a familiar set of claims: men are biologically wired to seek young, fertile women, while women are evolutionarily programmed to prefer high-status providers. These preferences are presented as universal, ancient, and essentially fixed. The studies cited are real, and the researchers exist, yet something crucial gets lost between the data that differentiates a statistical pattern from a universal truth. This is not simply a story about misunderstanding science. In some cases, simplified narratives about attraction may be actively reinforced because they are commercially effective (1). Dating platforms, for example, operate within engagement driven systems where presenting certain patterns such as “younger is more desirable” can increase competition, user activity, and in some cases subscription behaviour. Whether intentional or not, the result is the same: complex research is translated into persuasive but incomplete stories about how men and women are supposed to be. To understand how distortion happens, it helps to first understand what the science actually says, because the research is more careful and more interesting than its popular reputation suggests. Evolutionary psychology does not claim that all men and women behave identically, but instead it identifies probabilistic patterns shaped by millions of years of reproductive pressures. The key thing to note here is that these are tendencies, not rules, and they come with enormous individual variation. The question, then, is not whether differences exist, but how they are interpreted, and why that interpretation so often becomes simplified the moment it enters public discourse. What the Science Actually Says Evolutionary psychology attempts to explain certain human behaviours through the lens of reproductive adaptation. At its core is the idea that psychological tendencies, much like physical traits, may have evolved because they increased reproductive success in ancestral environments. One of the field’s most influential frameworks is the sexual selection theory first proposed by Charles Darwin, suggesting that traits linked to mate competition and mate choice become more common over generations. From this perspective, evolutionary psychologists argue that men and women may, on average, display somewhat different mating preferences due to asymmetries in parental investment (2). Figure 1 . Average importance ratings of partner characteristics across male and female participants in romantic and sexual attraction contexts. While average sex differences appear in some traits, substantial overlap remains between groups. Adapted from (3). Since women have historically faced greater biological costs associated with reproduction through pregnancy, childbirth and, for most of human history, primary infant care, the parental investment theory predicts that women may place greater emphasis on stability, commitment, and resources when selecting long-term partners. Men, in contrast, may be somewhat more likely to prioritise cues associated with fertility and reproductive health, such as youth and physical attractiveness (Fig. 1). Research in this area is not purely speculative, nor was it invented by a podcast host holding a microphone the size of a small telescope. In a widely cited 1989 cross-cultural study spanning 37 societies, evolutionary psychologist David Buss found that women consistently rated financial prospects and ambition as more important in long-term partners, while men placed greater emphasis on youth and attractiveness (4). Subsequent studies have identified similar broad patterns across cultures, lending support to the idea that some mating preferences may have evolutionary roots (5). Yet the popular interpretation of these findings is usually far more rigid than the research itself. Let’s be clear, evolutionary psychologists do not argue that all men pursue casual relationships, nor that all women seek wealthy providers. The differences observed are statistical averages across populations, not fixed scripts handed out at birth. In reality, the overlap between men and women is substantial, and human attraction is shaped by a dense interaction of biology, personality, culture, upbringing, social norms, economic conditions, and individual experience. Let’s also remember that humans exhibit mutual mate choice, meaning both sexes tend to value qualities such as kindness, intelligence, emotional stability and loyalty among others, particularly in long term relationships. The science, in other words, is far more nuanced and probabilistic than its online afterlife often suggests. When Research Becomes Content Once these findings leave academic journals, however, they often undergo a dramatic simplification. On social media platforms, dating podcasts, YouTube commentary channels, and algorithm-driven feeds, probabilistic patterns are frequently reframed as fixed biological truths. For instance, a statistical tendency for men, on average, to prioritise youth in certain contexts becomes the sweeping claim that women inevitably “lose value” with age, which is usually accompanied by a graph created from non-peer-reviewed data, a ring light, and enough confidence to make one briefly forget what a sample bias is. Findings about short-term mating strategies are transformed into declarations that men are biologically incapable of monogamy. The context and variation embedded within the original research are gradually stripped away and replaced with narratives that are far easier to package into viral content. Part of the appeal of these narratives lies in their simplicity. We all know human relationships are emotionally messy and socially complicated, but biological explanations can sometimes offer the illusion of certainty. Algorithms further intensify this process by rewarding emotionally charged claims that provoke engagement. Nuance rarely performs as well online as confidence does. A creator who states that attraction is shaped by a complex interaction of evolutionary, social, and cultural influences is unlikely to generate the same reaction as someone confidently declaring that “men are just wired this way” while speaking in a podcast. In this sense, the distortion of scientific findings is not always accidental. Simplified biological narratives are highly marketable because they are easily understood and capable of reinforcing existing insecurities. Within digital dating ecosystems, where apps and influencers often profit from continued dissatisfaction and competition, there may even be incentives to amplify narratives that encourage users to constantly optimise themselves in the pursuit of desirability. Dating app data provides a particularly striking example of how this process unfolds. OkCupid user data is frequently circulated online to support the claim that men of all ages overwhelmingly prefer women in their early twenties, with stronger aggregate attention toward younger women (Fig. 2b); while female preference patterns appear to remain relatively age-aligned. These visualisations are often interpreted in a highly deterministic way, stripped of their behavioural and contextual limitations. In particular, messaging and preference data from dating platforms reflect engagement patterns within an insular digital environment rather than stable or universal mate preferences. Despite this, such findings are repeatedly circulated as evidence of fixed biological tendencies. Figure 3. Distribution of age differences in unmarried/cohabitant straight couples within the U.S. Age disparity between male-to-female is displayed in years on the x-axis, while frequency of couple age gap is shown as a percentage on the y-axis. Data compiled from U.S. Census Bureau estimates. Adapted from (7). Messaging behaviour on dating apps does not necessarily reflect long-term compatibility or actual partner selection. When broader relationship outcomes are considered, this interpretation becomes less stable. Age differences in real-world couples are generally modest, with most partnerships clustering around relatively small age gaps (Fig. 3). Marriage and cohabitation data, for instance, show far smaller age gaps than viral internet discourse might imply. Nor do these datasets capture the influence of culture, social expectations, or the fact that attraction itself is highly multidimensional. The issue, then, is not that the original research is fabricated, but that selective interpretations become amplified to the point that statistical tendencies are reframed as fixed biological determinism. The Social Cost of Simplified Science The distortion of these findings matters because biological explanations rarely stay confined to academic discussion. Once ideas about attraction and sex differences enter popular culture, they begin shaping real expectations about relationships and personal value. Claims that men are biologically programmed to prioritise youth, for example, are often interpreted less as statistical observations and more as warnings directed at women. Entire online industries have emerged around this premise, from female value discourse to anti-ageing products marketed with thinly veiled evolutionary language. Exposure to enough of this content can encourage the perception that desirability functions like a countdown, reinforced by highly persuasive and aggressive marketing frameworks. What makes these narratives particularly persuasive is their association with science . Most people are not reading evolutionary psychology papers directly, nor are they spending their evenings analysing sample sizes and methodological limitations for fun. Instead, findings are filtered down through influencers, dating coaches, podcasts, and viral clips that present contested or nuanced ideas with remarkable certainty. Once a claim is framed as biological, it can become harder to critique because it appears rooted in nature itself rather than social interpretation. Statements such as “men are naturally non monogamous” or “women are wired to seek providers” can gradually shift from descriptive claims about averages into prescriptive assumptions about how people should behave. In this way, scientific language can end up reinforcing existing gender norms while giving them the appearance of inevitability. These narratives affect all genders, albeit in different ways. Men are increasingly told that their value depends on wealth, height, status, confidence, and sexual success, while emotional vulnerability is framed as weakness. Women, meanwhile, are frequently confronted with narratives suggesting that desirability peaks in their early twenties before declining with age; encouraging constant self-monitoring through beauty routines, cosmetic procedures, anti-ageing products, and pressure to remain attractive within increasingly narrow standards. However, while rising engagement with cosmetic procedures is often linked to these cultural narratives, this relationship is likely multifactorial rather than singular in origin. An increased access to minimally invasive treatments, changing medical norms around cosmetic enhancement, and broader social media exposure all plausibly contribute to these trends, alongside the influence of appearance-focused cultural messaging. For instance, reports indicate a substantial rise in cosmetic procedures among younger age groups in recent years (8,9), and while these figures cannot be attributed to a single causal driver, they are nonetheless consistent with environments in which aesthetic pressure and visibility have increased. Taken together, this suggests a complex interaction between cultural narratives, medical technology, and evolving aesthetic norms, where expectations about attractiveness may play a meaningful reinforcing role. Research into human attraction and sex differences can offer valuable insight into broad behavioural patterns, but those findings are frequently distorted once they enter popular culture. Probabilistic trends in mating preferences and behaviour are often repackaged into rigid truths about how men and women supposedly are. In an online environment that rewards certainty over nuance, scientific literacy matters more than ever for not only understanding the research itself, but for recognising when complex findings are being simplified into something far more prescriptive than they were ever intended to be. References Brady WJ, Wills JA, Jost JT, Tucker JA, Van Bavel JJ. Emotions shapes the diffusion of moralized content in social networks. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2017;114(28):73138. doi:10.1073/pnas.1618923114 Trivers, R. Parental investment and sexual selection. In: Campbell B, editor. Sexual Selection and the Descent of Man . Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company; 1972. P.136-79 Scheller M, de Sousa AA, Brotto LA, Little AC. The role of sexual and romantic attraction in human mate preferences. J Sex Res. 2023. doi:10.1080/00224499.2023.2176811 Buss, D. Sex differences in human mate preferences: evolutionary hypotheses tested in 37 cultures. Behav Brain Sci . 1989;12(1):1-14. doi:10.1017/S0140525X00023992 Thomas AH, Jonason PK, Blackburn JD, Kennair LEO, Lowe R, Malouff JM, et al. Mate preference priorities in the East and West: a cross cultural test of the mate preference priority model. J Pers. 2020;88(3):606-20. doi:10.1111/jopy.12514 Rudder C. Dataclysm: Who we are (when we think no one’s looking). New York: Crown; 2014. Kamenov A. Age disparities in relationships: statistics. City-Data Blog; 2020. https://www.city-data.com/blog/2620-age-disparity/ CNN Health. Surge in cosmetic procedures among young people. 2024 Jan 16. https://edition.cnn.com/2024/01/16/health/young-cosmetic-procedures Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Gen Z driving increase in cosmetic injectables. 2026 Feb 28. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2026-02-28/gen-z-driving-boost-cosmetic-injectables/106258646 Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

< Back to Issue 8 Cracking the Code: A Word from the Editors-in-Chief by Ingrid Sefton & Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin 3 June 2025 Edited by Illustrated by May Du “Cogito, ergo sum.” I think, therefore I am . - René Descartes Is this, perhaps, the only fundamental truth? When we know with certainty that we are thinking, we recognise the ultimate proof of our existence. An absolute, some might say, in a world inherently characterised by doubt. Intuition has, and always will be, a powerful and compelling force driving our scientific exploration. That gut feeling of why or how or what is behind any given phenomena has been a catalyst for the innovation seen throughout millenia of scientific inquiry. Despite this, mere intuition is far from a reliable guide to making meaning of the world around us. Take the highly revered and long held notion of the “Spark of Life” – the supposition that a divine ‘spark’ was required for life and consciousness to be imbued in a human. While fascinating, fundamental scientific discoveries have since disproved such a mystical perception of life in exchange for far more logical, if perhaps less magical, biological explanations. Jumping to the present, and the collective effort of human minds have conceptualised and uncovered mechanistic explanations for so much of both human biology and the broader workings of our physical world. Where much life itself was once seen as an irreducible mystery, now come mapped abstractions of atoms to matter, cell division to DNA. The list forever goes on. But to return to our initial proposition – can we know anything with no whisper of a doubt, other than that we, in this moment, exist? What exists in the world around us? Much remains a mystery. How does this mystery propel us forward? What conclusions can we draw from the clues? How can we make sense of the corkboard, evidence bound by push pins and string? It’s no surprise that the enigmas of science draw the brightest, most inquisitive minds, eager to puzzle nature’s secrets and crack the codes of our existence. Thus , Enigma unravels how we yearn to explore, learn and piece together the scientific foundations of our world – even as we accept that we may never fully understand it. From the minute synaptic connections within our bodies, to the all encompassing wonder of the stars above, we are gripped by the need to know more. After all, human curiosity is only insatiable. So have on your tweed deerstalker, take a closer look through the magnifying glass, and follow the clues, if you dare. Charting the facets of our existence is life’s great challenge, and the game is indeed afoot! Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< 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 8 Terror Birds: The Discovery of Prolific Hunters by Jason Chien 3 June 2025 Edited by Luci Ackland Illustrated by Max Yang It began in the 1880s with a toothless jaw. And then some leg and hip bones and a vertebra were found. The leg bones, comparable in size to those of African ostriches, also bore similarities to fossils of the unrelated, giant, flightless Gastornis birds of Europe. Across the 1880s and 1890s, these discoveries slowly led archaeologists to realise they were dealing with a hitherto unknown group of giant, fearsome birds (1). With more complete fossil specimens subsequently discovered and clues provided by their unique morphologies, it did not take long for paleontologists to realise that all members of the “terror birds”, or Phorusrhacids, were carnivores, and that some were apex predators. Through isotopic dating of sediments in which terror bird fossils were found, paleontologists concluded that this taxonomic family existed from 43 million years ago (mya) – possibly even earlier – until their extinction 100,000 years ago (although no single species of Phorusrhacids survived this long) (2,3). Various fossils have since been found in South America and deemed to belong to Phorusrhacids species. Though most fossils have been found in Argentina, they have also been found in Brazil, Uruguay, Chile, Bolivia, Peru, the Southern United States and most recently, in Colombia. Throughout South America, there are various more fossils currently being discovered, some of which are being assigned to new species. At the moment, there are at least 18 characterised species, with some fossil-described species in contention of belonging to Phorusrhacids (4). Although size differed between species, there are morphological features common to all Phorusrhacids. Species such as Kelenken guillermoi , Phorusrhacos longissimus , and a few individuals of the North American Titanis walleri were giants at least 2 meters tall, weighing more than 100kg. Meanwhile, the shorter North American Titanis walleri was 1.4 to 1.9m in height and weighed an impressive 150kg (5,6). At the other extreme, the comparatively tiny Psilopterus bachmanni weighed only 4.5kg (7)! Smaller Phorusrhacids preyed on small vertebrates and invertebrates, with some species perhaps capable of short flight durations, filling a different predator niche than their larger counterparts (7). Though the prehistoric South American environment, unlike today's, was generally grasslands and woodlands, different Phorusrhacids species lived in distinct habitats. These differences include variation in aridity, as well as differences in the large and small prey present in different localities (8). Furthermore, Earth’s overall climate also varied during the more than 40 million years in which terror birds were present, such that the habitats of different terror bird species living in different periods of geologic time also differed. Reconstruction of some specifics of each locality’s prehistoric environment is not always possible (9). Lastly, the earliest and latest discovered fossils of each species indicate the period during which a species survived, but the boundary at which a species becomes distinctly different from an ancestral species is not always clear (10). Here are some terror birds whose habitats are better understood: Phorusrhacos longissimus : an environment with water bodies and a mix of open and enclosed areas. For instance, the first discovered terror bird fossils originated from longissimus individuals living in what was later reconstructed to be temperate forests and bushlands. This bird survived during parts of the Miocene period (23 mya to 5 mya) (8,10) Titanis Walleri : Tropical grasslands with springs, similar to today’s Florida. This species lived in a more unique environment than other terror birds, from 5 mya to 1.8 mya (5,6) But what did all the terror birds, large and small, have in common regarding how they hunted? From the structure of the terror birds’ legs, feet and hips, a paleontologist can infer features that suggest some terror birds were fast runners (11), or otherwise had limbs adapted for running. Despite natural uncertainties associated with paleontology, there is some headway into the running speeds of some terror bird species. For instance, the running speed of the 1m tall, 45kg Patagornis marshi was estimated to be 50 km/h (12,13), more than enough to chase down their prey. Once the prey was chased down, some terror birds would use their powerful legs to kick and incapacitate it, as suggested by features indicating strength in the bones of some species (14). Furthermore, some terror bird species possessed sharp claws, which are thought to have been used to stab prey (14). Though not all terror birds – especially the smaller species – were fast runners, all terror birds used their beaks when hunting, relying on beak strikes rather than the biting force used by many other birds. Their long necks were able to be flexed far backwards and forwards, allowing them to frontally strike prey repeatedly and powerfully with their beaks. Unlike that of many other birds, their ancestors and even their closest living relatives (the seriemas), the skull structure of most terror bird species is such that there is no moveable hinge between the upper beak and the skull due to the fusion of some bones in that region. This adaptation allows the skulls of Phorusrhacids to specifically resist loads from striking prey without suffering damage – though only if the strikes are precise (15). Other interesting features of the terror birds include gaze stabilisation and their hearing capacity. Based on their inner ear anatomies, the terror birds had the capacity for fast head movements while maintaining sight on their prey, evidencing their agility. Further evidence from the inner ear anatomies indicate the enhanced ability of the terror birds to hear low frequency sounds. Low frequency sound waves can travel a longer distance and are less affected by obstacles that absorb and scatter sound, allowing the terror birds to hear prey far out of sight. If terror birds were capable of producing low frequency sound as well, this would have enabled them to communicate from long distances apart (11). If one were to picture the heterogeneity of the terror bird species, they would probably imagine a predator in the act of hunting, or doing something else. In periods of geologic time with the greatest terror bird diversity, you may even be able to picture individuals of two different terror bird species, though you wouldn’t see two species of apex predator terror birds together (10). However, if you were to imagine beyond the bird, you would wonder how the flora, the other animals present, the climate, and many more all played a role in the story of the terror birds. Tracing the lineages of the Phorusrhacids backwards, one would reach a bird capable of flight. The characteristic of complete flightlessness arose specifically in large Phorusrhacids species, which were apex predators that consumed large mammals (10). The extinction of dinosaurs, and the absence of large placental carnivores in South America from 65 mya to 3 mya, made the apex predator niche unfilled (16). Subsequently, they started to be filled by the ancestors of large Phorusrhacids. But with diverse fauna, why did terror birds become one of the apex predators, and not many other animal groups, for instance the South American marsupial mammals? It is a persistent evolutionary mystery in perhaps all of paleontology, with many possible explanations but few, if any, ways to test them (17). Two hypotheses have been proposed to explain the demise of the terror birds: the encroachment of North American fauna into South America beginning 9 mya; and the episode of global cooling that occurred 3 mya. Due to continental drift, the North and South American continents were drifting towards each other, with a land bridge formed by 3 mya, though the movement of some groups of animals across the gap began much earlier. Known as the Great American biotic exchange, North American placental carnivores, some of them large predators, moved into South America and rapidly diversified (9). The former hypothesis suggests that competition with these predators drove the terror birds to extinction. In the latter hypothesis, rapid cooling not only affected the terror birds, but also affected the ecosystems where the terror birds lived (9). Despite the lack of direct evidence that is able to resolve this uncertainty, the contingent belief is that the latter hypothesis is more likely to be true and that the encroachment of North American fauna in the former hypothesis had a small to none effect on the extinction of the terror birds (9,12). Attached to every bone and bone fragment is a history of discovery, of being dated, of measurement, of cataloging and sometimes, of reexamination. Every bone was once a part of the organism, each with the potential to yield valuable information. As a testament to how far science has come since the early days of fossil hunting, we now have a much larger cache of fossils to make comparisons to, we have the tools to model an organism’s mass and some of its biomechanics based on fossilised bones, and we even have the means to look at the bone structures under a light or electron microscope to infer some of an organism’s probable behavioural characteristics. The fact that we figured out this much about the birds is astounding. Fossils form only under specific conditions – an organism has to be buried before there is a chance of it being eaten and then covered with sediments in conditions where microorganisms that decompose the body cannot survive (such as anoxic environments). Scientists estimate that the fossil record contains less than 0.1% of all species that have ever lived (18)! Furthermore, it is common ecological knowledge that for every ecosystem, the population of apex predators is small and are less likely to be preserved in the fossil record. Many mysteries, ranging from their colours to their various behaviour, remain. Perhaps these mysteries are what deepen our curiosity and account for our fascination with these organisms. Still, we are truly fortunate to be able to infer so much from the terror birds’ unique morphology and get to know of them and their stories, beyond just what we imagine them to be. References Buffetaut, E. Who discovered the Phorusrhacidae? An episode in the history of avian palaeontology. In: Göhlich UB, Kroh A, editors. Proceedings of the 8th International Meeting Society of Avian Paleontology and Evolution; 2013 Dec 10; Naturhistorisches Museum Wien. Vienna (AT): Naturhistorisches Museum Wien, 2013 [cited 2025 May 12.]. p.123-134. Available from: https://verlag.nhm-wien.ac.at/buecher/2013_SAPE_Proceedings/10_Buffetaut.pdf Jones W, Rinderknecht A, Alvarenga H, Montenegro F, Ubilla M. The last terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae): new evidence from the late Pleistocene of Uruguay. PalZ [Internet]. 2018 Jun [cited 2025 May 12];92(2):365–72. Available from: http://link.springer.com/10.1007/s12542-017-0388-y Acosta Hospitaleche C, Jones W. Insights on the oldest terror bird (Aves, Phorusrhacidae) from the Eocene of Argentina. Historical Biology [Internet]. 2025 Feb [cited 2025 May 12];37(2):391–9. Available from: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/08912963.2024.2304592 Degrange FJ, Cooke SB, Ortiz‐Pabon LG, Pelegrin JS, Perdomo CA, Salas‐Gismondi R, et al. A gigantic new terror bird (Cariamiformes, Phorusrhacidae) from middle Miocene tropical environments of La Venta in northern South America. Papers in Palaeontology [Internet]. 2024 Nov [cited 2025 May 12];10(6):e1601. Available from: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/spp2.1601 Gould GC, Quitmyer IR. Titanis walleri : bones of contention. Bull Fla Mus Nat Hist. 2005 [cited 2025 May 12]. 45(4):201-229. Available from https://flmnhbulletin.com/index.php/flmnh/article/download/flmnh-vol45-no4-pp201-230/vol45-no4/1140 Baskin JA. The giant flightless bird Titanis walleri (Aves: Phorusrhacidae) from the Pleistocene coastal plain of south Texas. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology [Internet]. 1995 Dec 27 [cited 2025 May 12];15(4):842–4. Available from: http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02724634.1995.10011266 Degrange FJ, Noriega JI, Areta JI. Diversity and paleobiology of the Santacrucian birds. In: Bargo MS, Kay RF, Vizcaíno SF, editors. Early Miocene Paleobiology in Patagonia: High-Latitude Paleocommunities of the Santa Cruz Formation [Internet]. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; 2012 [cited 2025 May 13]. p. 138–55. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511667381.010 Vizcaíno SF, Bargo MS, Kay RF, Fariña RA, Di Giacomo M, Perry JMG, et al. A baseline paleoecological study for the Santa Cruz formation (Late–early miocene) at the Atlantic coast of Patagonia, Argentina. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology [Internet]. 2010 Jun [cited 2025 May 13];292(3–4):507–19. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.palaeo.2010.04.022 Prevosti FJ, Romano CO, Forasiepi AM, Hemming S, Bonini R, Candela AM, et al. New radiometric 40Ar–39Ar dates and faunistic analyses refine evolutionary dynamics of Neogene vertebrate assemblages in southern South America. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2021 May 10 [cited 2025 Jun 1];11(1):9830. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-021-89135-1 LaBarge TW, Gardner JD, Organ CL. The evolution and ecology of gigantism in terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae). Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2024 Apr 30 [cited 2025 May 13];291(2021):20240235. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2024.0235 Degrange FJ. Research: The “Terror Bird:” Paleobiology of a Fierce Bird. 2015. Accessed May 13, 2025. https://www.myfossil.org/research-the-terror-bird-paleobiology-of-a-fierce-bird/ Marsà JAG, Agnolín FL, Angst D, Buffetaut E. Paleohistological analysis of “terror birds” (Phorusrhacidae, Brontornithidae): Paleobiological Inferences. Diversity (14242818) [Internet]. 2025 Mar 1 [cited 2025 May 12];17(3):153. Available from: https://doi.org/10.3390/d17030153 Blanco RE, Jones WW. Terror birds on the run: a mechanical model to estimate its maximum running speed. Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2005 Sep 7 [cited 2025 May 13];272(1574):1769–73. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2005.3133 Melchor RN, Feola SF, Cardonatto MC, Espinoza N, Rojas-Manriquez MA, Herazo L. First terror bird footprints reveal functionally didactyl posture. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2023 Sep 30 [cited 2025 Jun 1];13(1):16474. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-023-43771-x Degrange FJ, Tambussi CP, Moreno K, Witmer LM, Wroe S. Mechanical analysis of feeding behavior in the extinct “terror bird” Andalgalornis steulleti (Gruiformes: Phorusrhacidae). Turvey ST, editor. PLoS ONE [Internet]. 2010 Aug 18 [cited 2025 Jun 1];5(8):e11856. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0011856 Marshall LG. Scientific American. 1994 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. The terror birds of south america. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/scientificamerican0294-90 Olson ME, Arroyo-Santos A. How to study adaptation(And why to do it that way). The Quarterly Review of Biology [Internet]. 2015 Jun [cited 2025 Jun 1];90(2):167–91. Available from: https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/10.1086/681438 How can I become a fossil? [Internet]. 2018 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. Available from: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180215-how-does-fossilisation-happen Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 10 Reimagining Time: From Relativity to Wormholes by Zahra Halela 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Saraf Ishmam Edited by Thanishka Rajmohan Time is a social construct. It interweaves itself into the very fabric of humanity as a rigid structure that does not allow for tardiness. It creates and constrains, and at its essence, it controls. When viewed through a scientific lens, time is a fundamental physical dimension. It exists independently, within a fourth dimension invisible to the eye. It is not universal either – it passes at different rates according to speed and gravity. Is it truly too far-fetched to stretch and warp the limits of time itself, to imagine time that exists beyond the present, and into the past or future? One such consideration comes from the mathematical equation that describes how things change over time. Here, time is a quantity, often referred to as coordinate time. Coordinates are often thought to have direct and measurable quantities, as in, for every input of x there is an output of y . Special relativity, however, reaches beyond the limitations that direct coordinates constrain us to, and instead posits that these measurements’ results are dependent on the motion of an observer. Essentially, they conclude that absolute space and time are, in fact, products of fiction (1). Special relativity, then, can be harnessed in the understanding of time travel into the future. Another possibility is one presented by a well-known film, Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar . In Interstellar , a different type of relativity is explored, namely general relativity, which contemplates the confounding query of how time travel into the past can be feasible. General relativity is a theory proposed by Einstein which interweaves time, gravity and space (2). While special relativity does acknowledge the connectedness of space and time, general relativity is able to tie in the fundamental ‘force’ of gravity as something that is not a force, but in fact a warping of spacetime. Essentially, general relativity propounds that massive objects are able to distort the relationship between space and time, which is a key concept in the film (3). Nevertheless, general relativity has its limitations, in that it fails to incorporate quantum physics and Mach’s principles (4). Thus, if general relativity still requires further modifications to be irrefutable and robust, then other possibilities must be considered for time travel to come to fruition in the future. One potential mechanism is the existence of wormholes. Wormholes are tunnels within spacetime that connect parts of the universe through a certain type of warping, its theoretical background aligning heavily with general relativity (5). This then begs the question – can wormholes provide a satisfactory solution for time travel? The answer is slightly more complicated than merely a yes or a no. If one were to consider travel between two distances, a wormhole seems to be the perfect answer, theoretically. Not only do they facilitate time travel between galaxies, but also allow for interterrestrial communication within parallel universes (6). On a more practical note, however, wormholes still have a marginally long way to go before a substantial discovery is made to turn a complex theory into fact. References Bertschinger E. Coordinates and proper time. Accessed April 6, 2026. https://ocw.mit.edu/courses/8-224-exploring-black-holes-general-relativity-astrophysics-spring-2003/3982882af388dae3407906357a419cba_coordsproptime.pdf Buzzo D. Time Travel: Time Dilation. Electronic Visualisation and the Arts. 2014 . doi: 10.14236/EWIC/EVA2014.21 . Dutfield S, Bartels M, Tillman NT. What is the theory of general relativity? Understanding Einstein’s space-time revolution | Space. Accessed May 13, 2026. https://www.space.com/17661-theory-general-relativity.html Palomo MU. Einstein’s theoretical failures of General Relativity. Independent physics. December 2, 2023. Accessed May 13, 2026. https://independentphysics.com/einsteins-failures-of-general-relativity-gravitational-potential-energy-and-machs-principle/ Aichelburg PC. Wormholes and time travel. In: Vol 504. AIP. 2000;504(1):1111-1112. doi: 10.1063/1.1290914 . Morris MS, Thorne KS, Yurtsever U. Wormholes, time machines, and the weak energy condition. Phys Rev Lett . 1988;61(13):1446-1449. doi: 10.1103/PhysRevLett.61.1446 . Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

< Back to Issue 5 Three-Parent Babies? The Future of Mitochondrial Donation in Australia Kara Miwa-Dale 24 October 2023 Edited by Yasmin Potts Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Mitochondria are the ‘powerhouse of the cell’. Sound familiar? This fact was likely drilled into you during high school biology classes (or by looking at memes). Beyond this, you may not have given mitochondria a second thought - but you should! This organelle has been at the centre of some heated parliamentary debates relating to mitochondrial donation. This new IVF technology, which aims to prevent women from passing on mitochondrial disease, will reshape Australia’s approach to genetic and reproductive technologies. Mitochondrial donation was legalised in Australia last year when ‘Maeve’s Law’ was passed in the Senate. This law reform has generated a minefield of social and ethical questions that are yet to be fully answered. What is mitochondrial disease? Mitochondria are the small but mighty structures found in all our cells (except red blood cells) that produce more than 90% of the energy used by our bodies (Cleveland Clinic, 2023). This organelle is vital for the functioning of important organs such as the heart, brain and liver (Cleveland Clinic, 2023). Mitochondria also have their own DNA, with a relatively small genome size of 37 genes (Garcia et al., 2017), compared to the 20,000 genes in our nuclear DNA (Nurk et al., 2022). Mitochondrial disease refers to a group of disorders in which ‘faulty’ mitochondria results in a range of symptoms such as poor motor control, developmental delay, seizures and cardiac disease (Mito Foundation, 2023). Half of the cases of mitochondrial disease are caused by mutations in mitochondrial DNA. These mutations are transmitted through maternal inheritance, which means that all the mitochondria in your cells are passed on from your biological mother (Mito Foundation, 2023). It is believed that about 1 in 200 people have a mutation in their mitochondrial DNA, with 1 in 5000 people having some form of mitochondrial disease (Mito Foundation, 2023). There is currently no cure for this group of conditions. How does mitochondrial donation work? Mitochondrial donation, also known as Mitochondrial Replacement Therapy (MRT), is an IVF technology which aims to prevent women from passing on mitochondrial disease to their children. For individuals with mitochondrial disease, this technology is currently the only way to have biological children without the risk of passing on their disease. MRT is used to create an embryo containing the nuclear DNA from two parents, in addition to mitochondrial DNA from an egg donor. This process involves taking the nuclear DNA from an embryo (created using the mother’s egg and father’s sperm) and inserting it into a donor egg which contains healthy mitochondria (NHMRC, 2023). The child will still inherit all of their unique characteristics, such as hair colour, through the nuclear DNA of their prospective parents. Therefore, it would be impossible to tell that an individual had been conceived through MRT simply by looking at them. Challenges in defining parenthood. Children conceived through MRT have been popularly referred to in the media as ‘three-parent babies’ since the technique creates an embryo containing DNA from three different individuals. However, this label is inaccurate and misleading. It suggests that all three parents make an equal contribution to the identity of the child, when in fact mitochondrial donors contribute only 0.1% of the child’s total genetic material. So, technically the term ‘2.002-parent babies’ would be more accurate! Under Australian law, mitochondrial donors will not have legal status as parents since their genetic contribution is not thought to influence the unique characteristics of the child. However, there are some concerns about the potential psychological impacts on children conceived through MRT, as the definition of parenthood is becoming increasingly blurry. It is possible that children conceived through mitochondrial donation will regard their mitochondrial donor as significant to their identity, considering how different their life may have looked without them. As researchers learn more about the function of mitochondria, we may indeed find that mitochondrial DNA has a greater influence on a person’s characteristics than we once thought. More recent studies have linked mitochondrial DNA to athletic performance (Maruszak et al., 2014), psychiatric disorders (Sequeira et al., 2012), and ageing (Wallace, 2010). Should mitochondrial donors remain anonymous? If mitochondrial donors contribute such a tiny amount of DNA to a child, and do not influence any of their personal characteristics, should they be obligated to disclose their identity to the recipient? Australia no longer allows egg or sperm donors to remain anonymous in order to protect the rights of individuals to know their biological origins. Yet, in the case of mitochondrial donation, there is a much smaller proportion of DNA involved. Some experts have compared mitochondrial donation to organ donation, in the sense that the donation also provides someone with the organ (or organelle) that enables them to live a healthy life, without altering their unique characteristics. It has therefore been argued that mitochondrial donation should be treated in a similar way to organ donation, allowing donors to remain anonymous. Considering that donated eggs are often in low supply, permitting anonymous donors may provide a way of improving the availability of donor eggs. It is likely that Australia will follow the lead of the UK by permitting anonymous donation. Are we ‘playing God’ by altering the genome? By making heritable changes to an individual’s genome, we are heading into new and potentially dangerous territory. Opponents of mitochondrial donation have voiced fears about the ‘slippery slope’ between trying to eradicate mitochondrial disease and taking this technology too far into the realm of ‘designer babies’. Considering that mitochondrial donation does not involve making any changes to nuclear DNA, and can only be used for medical reasons, these statements seem a bit sensationalist. However, there are some genuine reasons to be concerned about the safety of this technology and its implications for the future of humankind. While MRT is generally considered to be safe based on clinical research, there are still some uncertainties about its efficacy in clinical practice. For example, clinical research has found that there is a chance of ‘carry-over’ of unhealthy mitochondria during the MRT process (Klopstock, Klopstock & Prokisch, 2016). If this carry-over occurs, there is a potential for the numbers of unhealthy mitochondria to gradually increase as the embryo develops, essentially undoing all the hard work of creating an embryo free from mitochondrial disease. However, the percentage of carry-over is usually less than 2% and is likely to become lower as the technology advances (Klopstock, Klopstock & Prokisch, 2016). Unfortunately, we won’t know about any negative long-term impacts of MRT until we are able to observe the development of children conceived through this technology. However, adults over the age of 18 cannot be forced to participate in a study, which makes it more challenging to track long-term outcomes. An important consideration is the privacy and autonomy of these individuals - that they are not over-medicalised or viewed as some sort of ‘spectacle’ to the public. The future of mitochondrial donation in Australia. ‘Maeve’s Law’ was named in honour of Maeve Hood, a cheerful 7-year-old who was diagnosed with a rare mitochondrial disease at 18 months old. The law was passed with the aim of preventing the transmission of mitochondrial disease in Australia, which affects around fifty families each year. This revolutionary law permits the creation of a human embryo containing genetic material from three people and allows heritable changes to be made to the genome (although under strict guidelines). Such practices were previously illegal in Australia due to understandable concern that these technologies could be destructive in the wrong hands. Maeve’s Law introduces an exception to these prohibitions solely for the purpose of preventing serious mitochondrial disease. While MRT is no longer illegal in Australia, Maeve’s Law does not authorise the immediate use of MRT in clinical practice. The law outlines a two-stage approach in which the technology will be implemented, provided that clinical trials are successful. This initiative will be conducted by Monash University through the mitoHOPE (Healthy Outcomes Pilot and Evaluation) program, for which they received $15 million in funding (Monash University, 2023). Stage 1, which is expected to last around ten years, will involve clinical research aimed at improving MRT techniques and validating its safety. After an initial review, mitochondrial donation may become available in a clinical practice setting in Stage 2. Mitochondrial donation is an exciting technology which provides hope to the many Australians touched by the devastating effects of mitochondrial disease. However, it is important that more research is conducted into its safety and efficacy, as well as the long-term implications of its use. As is often the case with groundbreaking technologies such as this, the laws and policies lag behind the science. The passing of Maeve’s Law is only the start of what will be a long journey to the successful implementation of mitochondrial donation in Australia. The next ten years will be crucial in setting a precedent for how our society approaches the use of other novel genetic technologies in healthcare. The question is no longer ‘should we use mitochondrial donation?’ but ‘how can we implement this technology in a safe and ethical way?’ References Cleveland Clinic. (2023). Mitochondrial Diseases . https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/15612-mitochondrial-diseases Garcia, I., Jones, E., Ramos, M., Innis-Whitehouse, W., & Gilkerson, R. (2017). The little big genome: The organization of mitochondrial DNA . Frontiers in Bioscience (Landmark Edition), 22, 710. Klopstock, T., Klopstock, B., & Prokisch, H. (2016). Mitochondrial replacement approaches: Challenges for clinical implementation . Genome Medicine, 8(1), 1-3. Maruszak, A., Adamczyk, J. G., Siewierski, M., Sozański, H., Gajewski, A., & Żekanowski, C. (2014). Mitochondrial DNA variation is associated with elite athletic status in the Polish population. Scandinavian Journal of Medicine & Science in Sports, 24(2), 311-318. Mito Foundation. (2023). Maybe Mito Patient Factsheet. https://www.mito.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Maybe-Mito-Patient-Factsheet1.pdf Mito Foundation. (2023). Mitochondrial Disease: The Need For Mitochondrial Donation . https://www.mito.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Brief-mitochondrial-donation-2.pdf Monash University. (2023). Introducing Mitochondrial Donation into Australia. The mitoHOPE Program. https://www.monash.edu/medicine/mitohope National Health and Medical Research Council. (2023). Mitochondrial Donation. https://www.nhmrc.gov.au/mitochondrial-donation Nurk, S., Koren, S., Rhie, A., Rautiainen, M., Bzikadze, A. V., Mikheenko, A., & Phillippy, A. M. (2022). The complete sequence of a human genome . Science, 376(6588), 44-53. Sequeira, A., Martin, M. V., Rollins, B., Moon, E. A., Bunney, W. E., Macciardi, F., & Vawter, M. P. (2012). Mitochondrial mutations and polymorphisms in psychiatric disorders. Frontiers in Genetics, 3, 103. Wallace, D. C. (2010). Mitochondrial DNA mutations in disease and aging. Environmental and Molecular Mutagenesis, 51(5), 440-450. Wicked back to