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< Back to Issue 8 Glowing Limelight, Fashioned Stars by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin 3 June 2025 Edited by Kylie Wang Illustrated by Jessica Walton Good evening Rose Bowl, Pasadena! The crowd erupts into a roar, the stadium air overcome with a thunder of adulation. Between throngs of teenagers tearing through streets in pursuit of the Beatles, concert-goers fainting at the sight of Michael Jackson, and Top Tens of the day made to navigate flirty fan calls on daytime TV in front of live audiences (1), pop history as we know it has always revolved around the deep, fanatic reverence of the star . Stars in all corners of the entertainment cosmos, be it music, film or TV, have long had their lives glamorised. Tales told of luxurious jet-setting, post-show mischief and infamous public appearances peppered with paparazzi. Fame turned into fables, circulated eagerly by the wider populace. Having avidly followed a plethora of musicians, actors and comedians at different points of my own life, the gurgling vortex of stardom culture has remained ever-intriguing. Why do our relationships with stars mean so much to our society, and have they shifted over time? Public perceptions & parasocial relationships Our journey begins with the making of a star. A star is born from an assemblage of artistic choices: artwork, stage personas, press releases, bold onstage costumes and more, which constellate into a fashioned image. Or, a ‘manufactured personal reality’ (2). This reality is what audiences draw upon when forming attachments to stars, a process that moulds complex, contradicting human beings into idealised forms that may resonate, validate or provide meaning to them. The mid-century women empowered by the feminine sexuality and intelligence of Marilyn Monroe (2), or the working class Eastern European following of Depeche Mode who saw the band as an emblem of social rebellion under the USSR in the late 80s (3), are such examples. Such attachment gives rise to the infamous ‘parasocial relationship’ (PSR). An often derisive term aptly used today to call out toxic, boundary-crossing online fan behaviour, parasocial relationships at their core simply encompass socio-emotional connections formed with media figures (4). In it, audiences extend emotional energy, time or interest towards figures that whilst unreciprocated, create a perceived idea of intimacy similar to that of two-way relationships. For the audience, PSRs can evoke feelings of safety, trust and various forms of devotion, self-strengthened through personal habits – think dressing like a favourite ‘bias’, or diligently watching a favourite director’s closet picks. PSRs have historically been one-sided. Audience reactions to sensation and scandal have had the power to make or break an artist’s image, but restricted channels of dialogue meant that direct two-way feedback was often “fragmented” (2). The influencing power of the star’s image lay within reach of the star themselves, and more often than not, was shaped by the wider commercial agendas of their agency or labels. That is, until recently… The rise of the Internet Whilst the glitz and glamour of stardom remains strongly relevant, we can focus on the advent of the internet as the most powerful force in reshaping the relationship between fan and star. Termed the “o ne and a half sided” PSR (4), seen today is a shift in power dynamics towards one of increased fan-star symbiosis. As the theory notes, technology has allowed for greater perceived proximity and reciprocity, blurring the line between social and parasocial. Under the extensive nature of the current digital world, our internet presence has become increasingly considered a material extension of our real-life selves (4), whether through Zoom calls, real-time story updates or live vlogs. Direct messages or comments that allow instant reply have muddied the realm of physical and virtual reality, thus leading audiences to feel ‘physically’ closer to the figures in question. This decrease in constructed social distance has fostered notions of reciprocity, viewing stars as people they can reach out to and touch, converse with, and most importantly, influence in return – regardless of any actual ability to do so (4). As we witness stars defend their personal choices against an onslaught of ‘netizen’ backlash or wryly reply to a barrage of invasive thirst tweets (5), we see the increased power that global audiences have over said stars’ images. Eroded power barriers between the star and fan have heightened both positive and negative emotional engagement. Well-documented are various behaviours that disrespect boundaries between personal and professional lives, such as harassment, stalking, and other breaches of privacy. Yet, the rise of the ordinary, accessible star has also allowed greater exposure to previously hidden or stigmatised facets of figures’ lives, fostering safe spaces for perceived authenticity and vulnerability that can counter blind idealisation (6). Evolving industries & societies Under the diluted power networks of stardom today, we can describe celebrity image production as increasingly decentralised (6). Technology has made entry into the entertainment industry more accessible by providing numerous channels for artistic output, whether it be through releasing music independently on streaming services like Spotify, Bandcamp or Soundcloud, or creating short-form video skits on platforms like TikTok or Instagram. With top-down connections to age-old media institutions no longer required, the pool of faces that audiences can form relationships with has drastically expanded (7). Social norms – at the time of writing – have also welcomed the notion of diversified talents. As prevailing social, cultural and political structures shape value judgments made of stars (2), we have seen increased audience meaning-making in the dimensions of gender, ethnicity, class or sexual orientation over past decades (8) aligned with a gradual direction towards progressive and learned landscapes. Here, celebrity advocacy for causes and movements beyond the stage is nothing new, but fan bases can now dissect their forays into activism more publicly than ever before. A world unapologetically critical of “out of touch” (9) wealthy stars crooning out Lennon’s Imagine at the beginning of the pandemic would unlikely have welcomed the white-saviorist charity event that was Live Aid 1985 with as open arms as the dominant media narrative did then (10). A hyper-consumerist present If the exclusive stardom of yore can be likened to the dominance of a supermarket monopoly, then stardom today looks more like a diverse hub of online stores for buyers to ‘Click and Collect’ from. Whilst this setup offers diversified perspectives to a consuming audience, it embodies wider societal trends towards hyper-commodification. Market an image that sells well, and everyone will be famous for 15 minutes , as Andy Warhol supposedly declared (11). Reinforcing the ephemerality of mass consumerism are internet memes or trends (12) that morph and dilute rebellious celebrity motifs for overarching capitalistic agendas – think Brat Summer campaigns in the style of Charli xcx’s 2024 album co-opted by the most unethical multinational corporation you’ve ever come across. Like with the discourse exposing ‘nepo’ babies in the entertainment industry (13), we are reminded that despite the semblances of democratisation, the limelight remains far from a level stage. Stardom, beyond So what then? What lies in store for the future star? On one hand, the perception of proximity with the decline of ‘untouchable’ star personas can strengthen fan worship and deification, with frenzied consequences. On the other hand, increased artist-audience dialogue can pave the way for real change over performative gestures as lessening power imbalances bring a form of democratisation that can platform diverse and marginalised voices in art. All in all, stars today may no longer be able to fully present themselves and be perceived solely as spectral, enigmatic illusions that audiences can latch upon, but the new freedoms and avenues that come with being more truly known may be just as bedazzling. References 1. Robinson P. The great pop power shift: how online armies replaced fan clubs. The Guardian [Internet]. 2014 Aug 25; Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/aug/25/great-pop-power-shift-how-online-armies-replaced-fan-clubs 2. Dyer R. Introduction. In: Heavenly Bodies [Internet]. Routledge; 2004. Available from: https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203605516 3. Wynarczyk N. Tracing Eastern Europe’s obsession with Depeche Mode [Internet]. Dazed. 2017. Available from: https://www.dazeddigital.com/music/article/36659/1/tracing-eastern-europe-s-obsession-with-depeche-mode 4. Hoffner CA, Bond BJ. Parasocial Relationships, Social Media, & Well-Being. Current Opinion in Psychology [Internet]. 2022 Feb;45(1):1–6. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2022.101306 5. Yodovich N. Buzzfeed’s “celebrities reading thirst tweets”: examining the sexualization of men and women in the #MeToo era. Journal of gender studies. 2024 Feb 28;33(8):1–11. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1080/09589236.2024.2324263 6. Driessens O. The Celebritization of Society and Culture: Understanding the Structural Dynamics of Celebrity Culture. International Journal of Cultural Studies [Internet]. 2013;16(6):641–57. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1177/1367877912459140 7. Carboni M. The digitization of music and the accessibility of the artist. Journal of Professional Communication [Internet]. 2014 Jun 4;3(2). Available from: https://doi.org/10.15173/jpc.v3i2.163 8. Stewart S, Giles D. Celebrity status and the attribution of value. European Journal of Cultural Studies [Internet]. 2019 Jul 21;23(1). Available from: https://doi.org/10.1177/1367549419861618 9. Caramanica J. This “Imagine” Cover Is No Heaven. The New York Times [Internet]. 2020 Mar 20; Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/20/arts/music/coronavirus-gal-gadot-imagine.html 10. Grant J. Live Aid/8: perpetuating the superiority myth. Critical Arts [Internet]. 2015 May 4;29(3):310–26. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1080/02560046.2015.1059547 11. Nuwer R. Andy Warhol Probably Never Said His Celebrated “Fifteen Minutes of Fame” Line [Internet]. Smithsonian Magazine. Smithsonian Magazine; 2014. Available from: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/andy-warhol-probably-never-said-his-celebrated-fame-line-180950456/ 12. Cirisano T. “Brat” summer and the dilemmas of going mainstream [Internet]. MIDiA Research. 2024. Available from: https://www.midiaresearch.com/blog/brat-summer-and-the-dilemmas-of-going-mainstream 13. Jones N. How a Nepo Baby Is Born [Internet]. Vulture. 2022. Available from: https://www.vulture.com/article/what-is-a-nepotism-baby.html Previous article Next article Enigma back to

By Clarisse Sawyer < Back to Issue 3 Death of the Scientific Hero By Clarisse Sawyer 10 September 2022 Edited by Ruby Dempsey Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen Next Trigger warning: This article mentions racism, sexism and misogyny and death. As a kid I was obsessed, like most kids, with animals of any kind. I would spend hours at a time scouring the beach for shells, getting sunburnt watching lizards, and tentatively feeding the praying mantises I caught, watching with morbid fascination as they hunted and dismembered the unfortunate crickets. It was only natural that I soon became interested in science. The long days of summer holidays were spent pouring over children’s encyclopaedias and watching David Attenborough documentaries. Through David Attenborough, I discovered two incredibly influential scientists - the co-discoverers of evolution, Charles Darwin, and Alfred Wallace. I idolised them, in particular, Wallace. As a shy child, who avoided the limelight like the plague, I had a natural inclination to root for the underdog, and Wallace was presented as such. Wallace was, in contrast to Darwin, much poorer, much more humble, and received much less credit for the theory of evolution than his co-discoverer Darwin. In my developing brain, Wallace took on the status of hero. I would chatter incessantly about him. I developed an interest in insects and butterfly collecting because he was a lepidopterist. I am sure my parents found me insufferable, but they hid their frustrations well, through subtle eye rolls and conversation changes, because they were happy to see me interested in science. So for my 11th birthday, my Dad bought me a book of Wallace’s letters from his time spent as a butterfly collector in the Malay Archipelago. The book was a lot drier than an 11 year old would have hoped for. Most of it was just taxonomy, peppered with the odd personalised comment complaining about the heat. But there was one passage which stood out to me in particular. A passage in which he describes shooting a “wild woman”, upon mistaking her for an orangutan in the forest canopy. In this section he details taking the baby she carefully carried on her back, and raising it as his own “n-word baby”. He promptly taxidermied the mother, with the intention of selling her remains to a wealthy private collector in England7. It was at this point I stopped reading. At 11, there was no way I could tell this was just an incredibly bad taste joke, and that in reality Wallace had actually shot a peculiar subspecies of orangutan, and not a Malaysian woman carrying her child. At 11, I believed my hero would kill me, if I wasn’t half white, if I wasn’t so light skinned, if I didn’t wear clothes, if I didn’t speak English. I would wonder for years afterwards: how brown would I have to be? To be plastinised, taxidermied, sold to some rich collector to sit in a sterile glass cabinet, at the back of some ex nobleman’s mansion. The passage ruined Wallace for me, but not science. Sometimes I wonder, if my passion for science was only marginally less, would I still be in science? I don’t know. For every child who is only mildly deterred by the racism or sexism of their former heroes, surely there is one child whose passion slowly fades, until the only time it is mentioned is by anxious mothers pushing their children to study medicine. I lost my hero, a precedent for who a scientist should be, in addition to developing a paranoia. A paranoia that if I were to start idolising another white, male, historical, scientific figure, I would be met with the same realisation that he would’ve despised me. And I haven’t been able to find a new hero since. Despite there being numerous people of colour, and women in science for a millennia before me, they weren’t the ones promoted to me, or if they were, I found them unrelatable save for their gender or the colour of their skin. They were people who were, 99% of the time, hard working to a fault, such as Marie Curie. Often this diligence was presented as being a detriment to their happiness. So my decision to study science, like many other women and people of colour, was also a decision to be my own precedent for what a scientist should be. While this is empowering, it is difficult not to envy those, like the privileged archetype of a white man, who might be able to draw confidence and inspiration from the figures in the preliminary pages of scientific textbooks. Whilst the majority of them may prove unrelatable, the sheer quantity would ensure that at least one would be a sympathetic character, in stark contrast to the singular, tokenistic entries on historical non-white or female scientists in such text books. But does it really have to be this way? Why should anyone have to feel alienated by scientific history? Why are there not more diverse heroes for us to fall back on? At the crux of my alienation from Wallace, and scientific history more generally, was deceit, more specifically what I perceived as lying by omission. The initial presentation of scientific figures such as Wallace by media, institutions and the like is so sympathetic and devoid of grisly details, that upon discovering the multifaceted nature of these individuals, I experienced a kind of historical whiplash. A scientific education is often presented as being objective. What you are taught in a classroom, at least at a primary or secondary level, is not meant to be subject to much nuance or interpretation. Now, when this concerns science itself, it is a non-issue, because it is true, for instance, that chromosomes are made of DNA, or that the first electron shell of an atom contains 2 electrons. The issue is that the perception of objectivity carries over into the way science history is taught. Unfortunately, this teaching is unavoidably subjective. Teachers and institutions often present positive anecdotes about scientists' hobbies and personal lives. A teacher may share for instance, an endearing fact about the influential French palaeontologist, Georges Cuvier, that he became as knowledgeable in biology as university trained naturalists by the age of 126. However, said teacher may neglect to mention the fact that after her death, Georges Cuvier dissected and taxidermied Sarah Baartman , a South African woman of the Khoisan tribe, and paraded her as a freak for the English public5. Her plastinated body remained on display at the Museum of Manin Paris until 19744. In this example, it would be impossible to say that the teacher’s presentation of Cuvier was objective. Choosing to share the nicest facts about a scientist, to make them appealing to your audience, while neglecting the ugly truths,is at best, irresponsible, and at worst, lying by omission. .Abhorrent actions, such as Cuvier’s treatment of Baartman’s corpse, a woman with whom he had danced and conversed with before her death, are treated as unnecessary details in objective scientific history, as they do not pertain to Cuvier’s scientific discoveries. However, equally unnecessary details, such as Cuvier’s early aptitude for biology, are peppered into school curricula liberally. However, it would be unfair to say that the primary reason why natural history is taught in this way is because of conscious racism and sexism. There are a multitude of explanations for why educators teach like this. Educators may choose to include only the nicer traits of scientific figures, in part perhaps because they do not want to risk disengaging students with affronting subject matter. Further, the morbidity and the racism of scientific history is not exactly appropriate content to teach to younger children. Precedent also plays a role in the way in which natural history is taught. Teaching natural history in an unbiased and inclusive fashion would require rewriting a lot of material. Educators would also have to reevaluate their own personal perceptions of historical figures, which is a difficult task. For instance in Australia, the textbooks A Short History of Australia2 and The Story of Australia3, which were staples of Australian high school history classes for decades, are white-centric stories of Australian exploration, which gloss over perturbing historic details such as massacres of Indigenous peoples. While teaching scientific history in a fair, unbiased and age appropriate manner might seem like an impossible task, there are a variety of small steps educators can take towards this end goal. A strong start would be the following; if teachers decide to include personal details about famous scientific figures, they should seek to include both positive and negative anecdotes, which frame negative actions in a disapproving light. The negative anecdotes serve to ensure that students don’t get ‘whiplash’ as they pursue their education, and also serve to show that modern science does not condone or approve of these actions. In the case of younger students, it is best for teachers to avoid talking about triggering topics, so teachers should teach scientific history from an objective standpoint sans personal details. Teachers also should, as part of their responsibilities as an educator, seek out alternative historical perspectives which challenge their own preconceived notions. And educational institutions should offer professional development courses which provide educators with a more balanced view on scientific history. These actions would help eliminate any subliminal biases teachers might have whilst teaching scientific history. And why are there not more diverse heroes for us to fall back upon? Lack of equal opportunity for marginalised groups in Western society for most of history and the systemic erasure of their contributions is an obvious reason, however through relying on secondary, colonial sources for information, instead of delving deeper into primary sources, educators and institutions inadvertently gloss over scientific contributions by marginalised groups. For example, the contributions of Indigenous Australian scientists and explorers are often ignored by museums. Many famous white explorers of Australia, such as Thomas Mitchell, Charles Sturt and Alexander Forrest worked closely alongside Indigenous guides, who helped navigate territory, and point out items of scientific interest, and their names are actually often acknowledged in primary sources1. For instance, one of explorer Thomas Mitchell’s chief guides, Yuranigh, is mentioned extensively in Mitchell’s personal accounts of his expeditions, and was acknowledged posthumously by Mitchell with a grave and monument1. These people, who were explorers in their own right, have largely been relegated to the footnotes of history and museums, in particular after the publications such as the aforementioned textbooks A Short History of Australia, and The Story of Australia in the 1950’s, which deliberately omitted Indigenous contributions to white Australian exploration in order to sell the false narrative of terra nullius. Luckily, through researching primary sources further, historians, educators and curators will be able to change the narrative, and shed light on these marginalised scientists. But what of scientific heroes? How is it possible to keep students engaged without the more personal aspects of science, given that many scientific figures will have to be cut from curriculums, at least for younger students?My answer to that would be to find new heroes. History is littered with people who made significant contributions without committing atrocities. And who knows, maybe in the void left by problematic figures, space could be cleared for more diverse heroes, the kind removed from history textbooks, such as Yuranigh; an exciting prospect. And yet, there is an unavoidable anguish in throwing out the old in favour of the new. Coming to terms with the fact that the people we idolised were terrible people is no easy feat. But all we can endeavour to do is to portray scientific figures as they were. To portray all aspects of these figures, good and bad, or none at all, and hopefully develop a new history, a new tradition, one that is inclusive, one for which everyone can be proud of and take solace in. References 1. Watson T. Recognising Australia's Indigenous explorers [Internet]. researchgate.net. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/321579451_Recognising_Australia's_indigenous_explorers 2. Scott E. Short History of Australia. Forgotten Books; 2019. 3. SHAW A. The story of Australia. London: Faber; 1975. 4. Parkinson J. The significance of Sarah Baartman [Internet]. BBC News. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35240987 5. Kelsey-Sugg A, Fennell M. Sarah Baartman was taken from her home in South Africa and sold as a 'freak show'. This is how she returned [Internet]. Abc.net.au. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-11-17/stuff-the-british-stole-sarah-baartman-south-africa-london/100568276 6. Georges Cuvier [Internet]. Britannica Kids. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://kids.britannica.com/students/article/Georges-Cuvier/273885 7. Wallace A, Van Wyhe J, Rookmaaker K. Letters from the Malay Archipelago. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press; 2013. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 4 Why Our Concept of Colours is Broken by Selin Duran 1 July 2023 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic and Megane Boucherat Illustrated by Aizere Malibek The world that surrounds us is made from a combination of three main colours: red, yellow and blue. Known as the primary colours, it's the first thing we learn in primary school art class. In illusions, however, our concept of colours becomes warped and fails us. The only question is how do we fix it? Take the infamous colour-changing dress of 2015. This dress became an internet sensation due to its ambiguity of colour with the major question being “Is the dress black and blue or white and gold?” The dress, despite causing many online debates, is actually black and blue. Nevertheless this debate raises an important question about colours. Why do we see different colours in the same image? Let's begin with colour theory. Colour theory is a set of guidelines that artists use when mixing colours within the spectrum. With the intention of provoking different psychological responses, colours are used to either complement or contrast one another [1]. We see this through the infamous dress - with black and blue complimenting each, then gold and white. Our highly subjective perception allows us to see visually appealing combinations of colours juxtaposed to contrasting combinations. However, what we also need to consider are the light sources being used. Ranging from natural light to blue light and other artificial lighting, the light that we are exposed to can alter our perspective of colour. On our devices, we see colours through a series of red, green, and blue pixels that combine to make new colours for every image that we see [2]. Similarly, the frequent manipulation of our devices’ brightness also contributes to different colours being shown on the screens. These are the primary reasons why the famous dress was perceived so differently by everyone: each device shows a different version of the same colour depending on its display settings, which affects how many red, green and blue pixels there are. In addition to the colour theory, another effect— the Bezold Effect—is at its peak with the infamous dress. The Bezold Effect is an optical illusion where a colour’s appearance is affected by the presence of colours that surround the object [3]. For this dress, it’s seen through the shadows that form on and around the bodice. With brighter surroundings, such as the sun or an overly brightened screen, the blue from the dress appears gold to the eye, while the black appears white. The dress reverts to its original colours when the screen is darkened or artificial light is used. Circling back to colour theory, the changes in colours aren’t randomly allocated: they are opposing colours of the colour wheel. The wheel is a visual illustration of colours arranged by their wavelength, used to display the relationship of primary colours to their corresponding secondary colours [4]. With blue contrasting a yellow or gold, the changes in lighting perfectly display the contrasting colours on the wheel. The fascinating nature of colours is not something we can fix. In the era of digital displays and evolving technologies, we can’t see things the “right” way because there is no notable “right” or “wrong” way to look at the world. The dress is just one of those illusions that changes depending on the context and surroundings that it’s placed in. You can manipulate these colours and force them to change by physically changing the brightness on a device. So out of curiosity, I decided to conduct a little experiment of my own through an Instagram poll to see what my friends thought of this dress. While only 37 people participated, it was still fun to see what would happen with the votes; however, I was surprised to see the results after 24 hours. I expected a majority to choose the “real” colour of the dress, since the dress has been around in the media for a while and the answer is also online, but people still had contrasting opinions about the dress. With only 54% of people seeing black and blue and 46% white and gold, I began questioning our vastly different perceptions. The answer always seemed obvious as the dress was always black and blue not white and gold but that didn’t mean that other people saw what I saw. My favourite response came from a friend who saw the dress as blue and gold and after that, my opinion changed. For me, the dress is now blue and with tints of gold and I can’t see it any other way. This truly goes to show that there’s more behind the dress than what meets the eye. When I first saw the image my brightness was at the lowest it could possibly be and now after looking at the image enough, it’s just blue and gold. The ambiguity of this image is what makes the dress the best example of a real-life illusion. Other colour combinations act the same way in different lighting, but what we see is completely dependent on our perceptions, and every now and then, it’s always fun to put up a debate. References Eliassen MM. Colour theory. Salem Press Encyclopedia [Internet]. 2023 Jan 1 [cited 2023 May 13]; Available from: https://discovery.ebsco.com/linkprocessor/plink?id=30f4180b-d38d-38e6-95df-fcf469ab5c8a Mertes, A. (2021, February 23). Why Computer Monitors Display the Same Colors Differently . https://www.qualitylogoproducts.com/ . https://www.qualitylogoproducts.com/promo-university/why-monitors-display-different-colors.htm#:~:text=The%20pixels%20are%20in%20some,shows%20up%20on%20the%20screen Lasikadmin. (2022, June 2). What is Bezold Effect? | Useful Bezold Effect. LASIK of Nevada. https://lasikofnv.com/blog/test-your-vision-by-bezold-effect/#:~:text=What%20is%20the%20Bezold%20Effect,one%20to%20the%20human%20eye Understanding color theory: the color wheel and finding complementary colors . (n.d.). https://www.invisionapp.com/inside-design/understanding-color-theory-the-color-wheel-and-finding-complementary-colors/ Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

By Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko, Patrick Grave, Yvette Marris Message from the Editors in Chief By Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko, Patrick Grave, Yvette Marris 23 March 2022 Edited by the Committee Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen Another year in science has passed, with 2022 disappearing into 2023. With a mandated return to campus life at the University, there seems a tangible break from the past three years of lockdowns, isolation and online existence. Over the summer holidays, four of our wonderful OmniSci contributers—Andrew, Julia, Lily and Yvette—have written about science that has made a mark in 2022, with topics spanning DNA of the ancient past to the future of art crafted by artificial intelligence. Our writers were supported by editors, Tanya and myself, and the cover and article art for this issue has been created by Quynh Anh. Thanks also goes to our behind-the-scenes events duo, Andrew (again!) and Aisyah, who have been working hard on promotion to showcase the work of our team on this mini-issue, and our treasurer-secretary, Maya, who keeps us all in line. On behalf of the whole team, we're incredibly excited to share our summer issue, 2022: A Year in Science. If you would like to support our work, you can sign up as a member, join our mailing list or get in touch at omniscimag@gmail.com—all this and more on our About Us page. Most importantly, please read on! Previous article Next article

Issue 1: Science is Everywhere Foreword from Dr Jen Marti n From the Editors-in-Chief Hear from the founder and leader of the UniMelb Science Communication Teaching Program! A few words from our four Editors-in-Chief on the inaugural issue of OmniSci Magazine! 2 minute read 2 minute read Columns The body, et cetera Conversations in science Chatter Wiggling Ears By Rachel Ko Let’s take a trip down evolution lane to uncover the story behind everyone’s favourite useless party trick: ear wiggling. 3 minute read Behind the Scenes of COVID-19 with Dr Julian Druce By Zachary Holloway In conversatio n with Dr Julian Druc e. 6 minute read Silent Conversations: How Trees Talk to One Another By Lily McCann What do trees talk about? 5 minute read Science Ethics Cinema to Reality Humans of UniMelb Should We Protect Our Genetic Information? By Grace Law How much is our genetic and biometric data worth? And why are others so keen to get their hands on it? Can We Build the Iron Man Suit? By Manthila Ranatunga Ever wondered what it takes to build the Iron Man suit? Research - Is it For Me? By Renee Papaluca Hear from current research students about their experiences studying science at UniMelb. 4 minute read 4 minute read 4 minute read The Greenhouse Unpacking the Latest IPCC Report — What Climate Science is Telling Us By Sonia Truong Unpacking the latest UN IPCC report on the science behind climate change. 5 minute read Features Our Microbial Frenemies By Wei Han Chong Diseases and pandemics have always been the source of great disasters throughout history, so why don't we do away with them? 7 minute read Where The Wild Things Were B y Ashleigh Hallinan Biodiversity loss is perhaps just as catastrophic as climate change, so let's consider the role of ecosystem restoration in battling this ecological emergency. 6 minute read Understanding the Mysterious Science of Sleep By Evelyn Kiantoro Sleep, our favourite way to wind down and relax. But why do we sleep? Moreover, what are dreams? 6 minute read The Rise of The Planet of AI By A shley Mamuko When does tech become fully integrated into our lives? 7 minute read The Intellectual’s False Dilemma: Art vs Science By Natalie Cierpisz The age-old debate once again resurfaces. Art and science. Two worlds collide 6 minute read Climate Change, Vaccines & Lockdowns: How and Why Science Has Become a Polarising Political Debate By Mia Horsfall How should scientific research and political legislation interact, and what role should they play in public discourse? 6 minute read Sick of Lockdown? Let Science Explain Why. By T anya Kovacevic The mechanisms behind lockdown fatigue - and how to treat it. 6 minute read Let's Torque Competition Winner Bionics: Seeing into the Future By J oshua Nicholls Let's explore the ground-breaking technology that could help Australians suffering from visual impairment. Let's Torque is the premier science communication organisation taking STEM to Victorian schools and undergrad students. They host a science communication competition annually. 5 minute read Let's Torque website

< Back to Issue 2 Man-Made Science: On the Origins of the Gender Gap Scientific practice remains doused in centuries of unreasoned and illogical discrimination against women. But what is the best way to unravel the complexities of such an intricate web of injustice, intellectual theft and suffering? by Mia Horsfall 10 December 2021 Edited by Natalie Cierpisz & Ruby Dempsey Illustrated by Janna Dingle Alice Ball was born in Seattle on July 24, 1892. She would grow up in Washington, achieving top marks in school before studying Chemistry at the University of Washington. She would have her article "Benzoylations in Ether Solution" published in the Journal of the American Chemical Society. Ball then pursued a Masters of Chemistry at the University of Hawaii, where she would study chaulmoogra oil and its treatment of leprosy. Ball revolutionised the application of the oil, discovering its water solubility in its ester ethyl form, enabling it to be dissolved within the bloodstream. At the time, this revolutionary treatment was the best available for leprosy, having resoundingly positive impacts on more than 8000 people. Ball would die at the age of 24, and Arthur L. Dean, the future President of the University of Hawaii, would publish her findings, the treatment coming to be known as the “Dean Method”. It was not until 2000 that Alice Ball was formally recognised as having pioneered the method. Ball is not a rarity in the history of recognition of women in science. Women have been rendered oblique in the fabric of scientific contribution, pushed into corners by their male counterparts. You are not a scientist, they say. You are a worker, a contributor to a broader scientific framework that lies beyond the tips of your fingers. Your worth does not extend past your utility, your body and brain useful insofar as we dictate. Make no mistake, your work is not yours to own. These women, these scientists, these thinkers are perpetually framed in this lens, their stories framed in the contexts they were stolen from. Throughout history, women have been slotted in around men, in the world, in language, crammed in, letting femininity compress and fold over herself. The notion of feminist and masculinist lenses of science is not inherently divisive despite the dichotomised nature of their terminology. Rather, examining the feminist lenses of science contributes to a richer understanding of the epistemic value of science itself. The dangers of not examining said lenses are not only very real, they are tragic. Historically, women have occupied lesser paid, more arduous, and more dangerous positions within STEM industries, the most famous instance being the large number of women who contracted radiation poisoning from painting watch-faces with self-luminous paint. However, there is no unified definition of a “feminist lens of science”. Various feminist philosophers and critics have taken hugely diversified approaches to exploring the hierarchal structure of scientific industries. A more limited feminist approach looks purely at the consequential issues of exclusion, examining issues of employment and discrimination and attempting to rectify these after they have occurred. This is a relatively contained approach to gender disparities within STEM, in contrast to more encompassing ideologies of socialist or existentialist feminism that examines the reason women are excluded in the primary instance, and how their exclusion permeates scientific practice. Existentialist feminism upholds that sex-based discrimination occurs not as a result of biological differences, but due to the social valuation of those biological differences. It is, as Sue Rosser points out, “man’s conception of woman as Other” that leads to ostracisation. In a similar vein, socialist feminism defines knowledge as a product of human investigation rather than an innate property of scientific practice. As a consequence, knowledge is inevitably influenced by social values and indeed, cannot exist without bias. As Rosser points out, this has a very tangible impact at industry level, where “the social shaping of technology has often been conceptualised in terms of men, excluding women at all levels”. So long as the notion of conventional masculinity saturates scientific practice, the proportion of women who not only pursue science but who are recognised for their work will remain diminished. It is no coincidence that of professionals working across STEM industries, only 28 per cent are women. Sexism is not merely a product of academic culture, it is ingrained within the practice of science itself. The study of evolutionary biology is a prime example, where Darwin posited in 1859 “the average standard of mental power in man must be above that of women”. A decade later, Antoinette Brown Blackwell proved this to be an illogical conclusion, much of the research conducted was conducted with this in mind. As a result, foundational assumptions about the makeup of “human nature” were built upon these misguided foundations. It was not until much later that this groundwork was actively revised in mainstream science. Primatologists Jane Goodall, Dian Fossey and Biruté Galdikas demonstrated that there was very little, if anything, biologically different in the “moral and intellectual” capacities of men and women by investigating the evolutionary significance of female primates. Despite this, science, particularly in the life sciences, remains endowed with sexism that has arisen as a consequence of systemic inequality. One ramification of the surplus of male bioscientists that has been historically upheld is the stigmatisation and mystification of female anatomy and the differences of treatment for various diseases. That is, the predominance of male scientists results in lack of female subjects in medical experiments, leading to “under-diagnosis, inappropriate treatment and higher death rates for cardiovascular and other disease in women”, as Rosser points out. Such a lack of research not only directly results in higher suffering in women, but it is also indicative of a broader culture of apathy and negligence in the treatment of women. Much of these issues arise as a consequence of what is known as the “gender data gap”, a term coined by feminist journalist Caroline Criado Perez. Essentially, our default human is male and our data disproportionately accounts for them. This impacts every area of life, from women being 50 per cent more likely to be misdiagnosed after a heart attack (heart-fail experiment subjects are primarily male) to being 17 per cent more likely to die in a car crash (crash-test dummies are designed with masculine anatomy). These implications are severe, particularly in the realms of psychology, where diagnoses and psychological science has been used as a weapon to marginalise and obscure the autonomy of women. The etymology of the word “hysteria” has its roots from the Latin word for “uterus”, the construction of the word sexist from its conception. Since then, women who have advocated for change have consistently been deemed mentally unfit to serve within social spheres. This notion has bled into psychological practice and shapes much of the diagnostic procedure we see today, however subliminally. Further, the conduct of psychological studies is perhaps inescapably plagued by bias and assumption. This exists within every area of science but is particularly poignant in psychology, where successful post-publication replication is at its lowest. Whilst the reasons for why replication is so low within this field is contested, it undoubtedly means that psychological studies are subject to greater subjectivity in regards to their theoretical frameworks. This, in turn, enables researchers’ own biases and assumptions to saturate the work they conduct. Psychological studies examining sexism often treat it as a distinct social phenomenon that occurs in particular settings rather than a pervasive behaviour ingrained within institutions and scientific practice. One study examines the British Psychological Society’s guidelines surrounding ethical scientific practice, but particularly in regard to the prevention of sexism. The primary issue found here is that the guidelines preventing sexism are concerned more with the wellbeing of the subjects than the epistemic frameworks of the studies themselves. This results in a relatively poor understanding of the way androcentrism has permeated science’s theoretical framework, not merely its applications. When we look at the impact of sexism in psychological and medical sciences in tandem, it becomes evident the way sexist institutions have bled not only into the repercussions of scientific research, but in the very frameworks we use to conduct research. The systemic issues ingrained within the practice of science become tangibly visible in the gender disparities that exist within the sciences. In the US, women earn half of total science and engineering bachelor’s degrees, but only 39 per cent of postdoctoral fellowships and 18 per cent of professorships. Female academics from around the world are pioneering solutions to the persistent gender-discrimination problems facing the scientific community. Liisa Husu suggests that the key to tackling gendered scientific practice is by examining the “non-events”, the things that seemingly do not occur. These include a lack of referencing for female colleagues in publication, lack of recognition or attribution for work (both contemporary and historic). The lack of attendance of female professors and academics at conferences is another contributing factor, as such events not only enable cross-collaboration and open practice to occur without impediment, but facilitate connections to be formed within the academic world. The establishment of ethics committees that oversee scientific publications are also hugely influential. For example, in the US, the National Institutes of Health Funding implemented a regulation that women must be encompassed in “human studies”. These regulations need to be enforced and upheld with rigour and commitment. They cannot be perceived as extraneous or superfluous to the research conducted. This can be aided by requiring pre-publication replication or at the very least, evaluation by researchers independent of the original study. Our standard human is not a white, 70 kg man in his 30s. Our people are bold and bright and diverse and our science has no choice but to reflect that. The face of the scientific community has for too long been dominated by a voice that has been ignorant and apathetic to the suffering it has inflicted. To accept and enable these inbuilt systemic biases to persist is a gross injustice to the communities that have suffered as a result of silence. You are a scientist, we say. You are a beating, breathing, vibrant contributor to our collective pursuit of knowledge. Your voice is vital and worthy of being heard. And heard it will be. References: Arnhart, L., 1992. Feminism, Primatology, and Ethical Naturalism. Politics and the Life Sciences, 11(2), pp.157-170. Australian Government. 2021. Second national data report on girls and women in STEM. [online] Colwell, R., 2020. Women Scientists Have the Evidence About Sexism. [online] The Atlantic Condor, S., 1991. Sexism in Psychological Research: A Brief Note. Feminism & Psychology, 1(3), pp.430-434. England, C., 2016. One in five men have erectile dysfunction. 90% of women experience PMS. Guess which one researchers study more?. Espach, A., 2017. What It Really Means When You Call a Woman “Hysterical”. [online] Vogue. Ferro, S., 2013. Science Is Institutionally Sexist. Here Are 4 Ways To Help Fix It. [online] Popular Science. Plato.stanford.edu. 2020. Feminist Epistemology and Philosophy of Science (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy). [online] Rosser, S., 2005. Through the Lenses of Feminist Theory: Focus on Women and Information Technology. Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies, 26(1), pp.1-23. Samuel, S., 2019. Women suffer needless pain because almost everything is designed for men. [online] Vox. Slawson, N., 2019. 'Women have been woefully neglected': does medical science have a gender problem?. [online] the Guardian. Previous article back to DISORDER 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 6 Editorial by Ingrid Sefton & Rachel Ko 28 May 2024 Edited by Committee Illustrated by Louise Cen Science craves fundamentals. Without a true appreciation of the basics, the most complex and elaborate theories will crumble. Both the natural and manmade worlds are meticulously crafted, full to the brim with nuances and modulations, from the laws of physics to the laws of democracy. There is, in our minds, an inextricable desire for classification, organisation, rationalisation. We are in a ruthless pursuit of understanding, striving to decompose the elemental origins of the world around us into fathomable pieces. What drives this urge to discern the building blocks of life? Perhaps, it is the belief that a bottom-up understanding of the laws governing the universe will afford us the ability to reconstruct and create. To know how to defy these laws, rebelling against constraints of the natural world. It is also conceivable that this desire stems from overwhelm. We may never truly understand the expanse of natural forces, cosmological phenomena and ubiquitous elemental power operating beyond any level of mortal control. By examining the microscopic, science becomes tangible. But in isolation, these atoms, elements, fragments of knowledge are just that: fragmented. Scientific understanding exists on a continuum, where the microscopic informs the macroscopic and is contextualised by time, place and culture. It leads one to wonder how exactly “science” should be conceptualised. There is no doubt many people conceive a certain rationality and procedure inherent to scientific progress. Yet, the idea of a specific methodology with the aim to uncover a particular truth is a relatively modern perception of science. Our yearning for understanding and knowledge, on the other hand, is anything but new. Knowledge systems adapt. We observe, we learn, we ask questions. Scientific method and controlled experimentation inform our understanding. But we are also human; inextricably driven by passion and curiosity and irrationality. Should science seek to exclude these values and forces guiding our intrigue? Elemental asks of its contributors to transform their perspective on scientific exploration and consider these different scales of understanding. Creation, destruction, classification and investigation are united in this issue, through the elements of Science. Join us as we dissect our world, from the most natural senses of the human state, to the most mysterious artificial elements of technological intelligence, and beyond. Come explore! Let us see what we can create. Previous article Next article Elemental back to

< Back to Issue 5 A Message from the Editors in Chief Rachel Ko & Ingrid Sefton 24 October 2023 Edited by Committee Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin “There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know.” - Donald Rumsfeld Science should never be considered as pursuing absolute truth. In fact, more often than not, the deeper we dive into its exploration, the more questions that arise. The world of science affords us choices in how we appropriate the understandings and knowledge gained in its study. Every day, science pushes us to tiptoe this fine line between pushing boundaries and crossing them altogether. It is perhaps this unknown that makes the pursuit of science so wicked in itself, taunting us with the promise of making the next big discovery, or finally finding the cure to cancer. But it is also what drives us, entrances us, and keeps our desire for knowledge burning — it’s edge-of-your-seat exciting. At its onset, we envisioned this issue as a chance to probe the mysterious nuances of science — a peek into the ‘Wicked’ness of the world. Seeking to ask questions of the ethical, the malicious and the unknown, contributors were inspired to delve into the darker sides of science. Each article ventures into the limits of what we do, and, just as importantly, don’t know in this ever-evolving field. The word Wicked in itself is a complex character, begging for ambiguous interpretation. Is there such a thing as pure evil? Are we all, just a bit, inherently wicked? What makes something wickedly cool? (Was Kristin Chenoweth’s Glinda the best portrayal that Broadway could ask for?) And so, in the hands of our creators, something wicked this way comes … As with every edition of our magazine, each piece has been created, edited and illustrated entirely by students. This issue continues to stand true to our aim of providing a platform within, and beyond, the university community for students of all backgrounds to craft their science communication skills in a supportive, creative environment. Countless hours have been poured into the curation of each edition with the hope of making innovative science content easily accessible — so please, enjoy! To all our passionate, dedicated contributors - thank you for the time you have invested in crafting the wonderful, wicked world of Issue 5 of OmniSci. It has been a privilege to watch the collaboration of inquisitive minds, from diverse scientific and artistic worlds, produce this collection of work. We also wish to extend our gratitude to you, our wonderful readers, in your ongoing support of OmniSci. The time you give to reading and engaging with our student-driven magazine does not go unnoticed, motivating and inspiring us for our future endeavours. Now, take a moment, and come venture into the Wicked world of Issue 5 with us… Wicked back to

< Back to Issue 2 Hidden Worlds: a peek into the nanoscale using helium ion microscopy How do scientists know what happens at scales smaller than you can see using an optical microscope? One exciting method is the helium ion microscope which can be used to view cells, crystals and specially engineered materials with extreme detail, revealing the beauty that exists at scales too small to imagine! by Erin Grant 10 December 2021 Edited by Jessica Nguy and Hamish Payne Illustrated by Erin Grant The room is white, with three smooth walls and a fourth containing a small sample prep bench and high shelves. In the centre is a desk with three monitors. Next to it, occupying most of the space, is the microscope. Eight feet tall, a few feet wide, resting on an isolated floor surrounded by caution tape; “NO STEP” written in big block letters. Wires protrude from its tiered shape in orderly chaos. It is a clean, technological space; we are ready to explore science. A colleague and I are at the Materials Characterisation and Fabrication Platform of the University of Melbourne to finish off the last steps of a scientific paper I’ve been working on for many years. What I need, as the icing on the cake, is an image. What does my sample look like way down there, at the nanometre scale? Objects that are only nanometres in size are very hard to imagine when we’re used to thinking about metres, centimetres, or maybe even millimetres. We can see those length scales; they are part of our everyday. So, if you’re told that proteins have a diameter of a few nanometres, what does that mean? Well, to be precise, a nanometre is one-billionth of a metre. A human hair, the go-to yardstick for describing small things, has a width between 0.05-0.1 millimetres, which means that if you wanted to slice a hair into nanometre-wide strands you’d end up with nearly 100,000 pieces. Unfortunately, that’s still hard to visualise, but I’ve found that when working with and thinking about scales like this every day, you gain a sort of mental landscape that small things occupy, perhaps not entirely in context, but a space that contains an overall ‘vibe’ of smallness. I first noticed this when I worked in a laboratory that studies the tiny nematode worm C. elegans. These creatures are half a millimetre long, so although they are clearly visible to the naked eye, you need a microscope if you want to use them for science. After looking at these tiny creatures under magnification for many weeks, I came to recognise a feeling almost like being underwater. Upon putting my eyes to the lens, my focus would change from the macroscopic world around me, to one of minutiae. This change in perspective was quite immersive, I almost felt like I was inhabiting that small petri dish too. Working with samples even smaller than that now, I have carried some of that mental landscape with me. It now feels commonplace to imagine tiny systems, such as crystals or molecules which were once foreign. Much of this ability to visualise small things comes from the fact that in many cases, we can actually see them too. Physics has given us many tools with which we can peer into the smallest systems that exist. Helium ion microscopy, which I have come here to carry out, is one such technique. Dr Anders Barlow runs the helium ion microscope (HIM) at this facility. He warmly welcomes me and my colleague into the quiet room and jumps straight into an enthusiastic explanation of the machine – he can tell we’re not just here for some pictures, we want to know the inner workings of the microscope too. The HIM is a bit like the more mature surveyor of minuscule worlds: the electron microscope. While a regular optical microscope uses light to illuminate a sample, the electron microscope uses electrons. When they collide with the sample these electrons can bounce off or lose energy through several mechanisms. The lost energy can go into heat or light, but more usefully, the energy might be transferred to other electrons in the sample, called secondary electrons, ejecting them like a drill removing rocks from a quarry. The secondary electrons can be detected at each point across the sample as the beam is scanned over its surface. If more electrons are detected, then the pixel at that point is brighter compared to areas where there are fewer electrons. This tells you about the topography or composition of the sample at that point on its surface and provides a grayscale image. The HIM works in the same way, but it can generate sharper images because helium ions are heavier than electrons. This is important because the increased resolution of electron and helium ion microscopes is enabled by their quantum mechanical properties - namely the particle’s wavelength. You may have heard about the wave-like nature of light, which is a basic property of quantum mechanics. Particles also have a wavelength, called the de Broglie wavelength, which is inversely proportional to their mass - the heavier the particle, the shorter the wavelength. Having a shorter wavelength allows smaller details to be resolved because of a pesky phenomenon called diffraction. Diffraction occurs when a wave encounters a gap that is of the same or smaller width to its wavelength. When this happens, the wave that emerges on the other side will be spread out. You can think of the features that you want to image as being similar to gaps, so when light, or a particle, interacts with features that are very close together it will spread out, making those features blurry or even invisible. But if you can ensure that the wavelength is smaller than whatever feature you want to see, diffraction will not occur. Interestingly, physicists can actually take advantage of diffraction, and another phenomenon called interference, when they study periodic structures like crystals, but that’s a different article! So, because the de Broglie wavelength is very short for particles with mass, like electrons, an electron microscope can generate images of higher resolution than an optical microscope. Likewise, helium ions are even heavier than electrons because they are composed of one electron, two protons, and two neutrons. This makes them about 7,000 times heavier than a single electron (electrons are very light compared to protons and neutrons!) and consequently the images they can make are very sharp. With our samples ready, lab manager Anders loads my sample into the microscope and begins lowering the pressure in its internal chamber. Having a high vacuum – approximately a billion times lower than atmospheric pressure – is essential because it prevents air from interfering with the helium beam. Making the beam is perhaps the most miraculous part of this technological feat. At the very top of the microscope’s column, there’s a tiny filament shaped like a needle. Not like a needle, in fact, it is the sharpest needle we humans can make. To achieve this, the point is shaped by first extreme heat, and then some extreme voltages until the very tip is composed of only three atoms, reverently referred to as the trimer. Once the trimer has been formed, a high voltage is applied to the needle, resulting in an extreme electric field around the tip. Next, helium gas is introduced into the chamber and individual helium atoms are attracted towards the region of the high electric field. The field is so strong that it strips each helium atom of one electron, ionising it, and these now positively charged ions are repelled from each of the three atoms in the trimer as three corresponding beams. Using sophisticated focusing fields down the length of the column allows Anders to choose only one of the beams for imaging; we are creating a picture using a beam only one atom wide! Generating such a precise beam requires constant maintenance, but once Anders is satisfied with how it looks today, he begins scanning over a large area for what we’ve come to find: tiny proteins stuck to a diamond. In an experimental PhD, you often find yourself answering small incremental questions and today I want to know how well I’ve attached these proteins to my diamond and what the coverage looks like. Other measures have told me that I probably have a lot of them, but the best way to know is to have a look! That’s what Anders does for researchers at the university; he helps us find out whether we have done a good job putting things together or coming up with new techniques. This is something he loves about his job. “I love the exposure I get to many areas of science,” he says, “Imaging of all forms is ubiquitous in research, and the HIM is applicable to most fields, so we see samples from materials science, polymers, nanomaterials, and biomaterials, through to medical technologies and devices, to cell and tissue biology of human, plant and animal origin. I never get tired of seeing what new specimens may come through the lab door.” Unfortunately, the first images we see are very dark and washed out, like a photograph taken in low-light; not many secondary electrons are making it to the detector. To combat this, Anders uses a flood gun to stop charge build up on the surface of the diamond. When the helium ions create secondary electrons, they are ejected from the surface at low speeds. As electrons are negatively charged, the bombarded surface, which now lacks electrons, will become positive and the low energy secondary electrons will be attracted back to the surface instead of making it to the detector. In an electron microscope this is avoided by coating insulators, such as my diamond, with a conductive material like gold. If the surface is conductive, the positive charge that is left behind by the secondary electrons will be offset by electrons from the metallic coating that can flow towards the sudden appearance of positive charges. In this case, the ejected electrons can escape and be detected. However, a coating like this would reduce the resolution of the image; if you want to measure proteins that are twelve nanometres high, but you put a three-nanometre coating over them, you’ll lose a lot of the resolution! To get around this, the HIM uses the flood gun, which lightly sprays the surface with electrons of low energy as the helium beam passes over. This neutralises the surface and lets the secondary electrons escape in the same way as having a conductive layer. Once Anders turns on the flood gun, the contrast increases, allowing us to zoom in on a small region of the diamond, and there they are! Thousands of spherical proteins arranged neatly across the surface, only twelve nanometres in diameter. The sight is spectacular, only one try and we got what we came for. I am three years into a PhD and I’ve become very used to the feeling of disappointment that can accompany new experimental techniques. Things rarely work out the first time around, so to see those little spheres straight away was magical. Dotted across the diamond surface is another, extra, gem. To keep protein nice and happy, you must prepare it in a salty solution. So, when the protein was deposited, some regular table salt, NaCl, came too. We can see this salt in our images as crystals in two distinctive and very beautiful patterns which you can see in the images below. Protein on the surface of my diamond. Each small pale circle is one of these spherical proteins. The first image shows a large creeping pattern, reminiscent of snowflakes or tree roots, which spreads its soft fingers across several hundred nanometres. These crystals have taken on an amorphous pattern, where the crystal structure is broken up rather than being one continuous arrangement of the atoms. The second pattern however, shown in the right image, is what a continuous NaCl crystal looks like. When large enough crystals can form without becoming amorphous they look like precise cubes of various sizes all strewn about. One of my favourite aspects about looking at very small things, is how the patterns you see often mirror those at much larger scales. Look at a fingerprint and you’ll find mountains and valleys, or the roots of a tree and you’ll see a river system. Salt (NaCl) can take on a highly ordered structure shown by the cubic crystals (left) or an amorphous pattern similar in shape to tree roots (right). The astonishing images we get from this single session are all in a day’s work for Anders. He has imaged numerous kinds of cells on all manner of interesting substrates, patterned surfaces covered in needle-like protrusions, and many kinds of man-made materials. Today, there are vials on his prep-bench which, at first glance, look much like jars of hair. However, they are not hair, in fact they are strands of carbon fibre covered in various coatings, awaiting examination. ‘What are your favourite types of samples to look at?’ I want to know. “Cell biology is fascinating,” he says. “We’ve imaged red blood cells, pancreatic cells, stem cells, and various bacterial cells in this microscope. Most often researchers are interested in cell life and death, and the HIM assists by providing high resolution images of the structure and surface topography of the cell membrane.” Recently however, Anders has been helping researchers look at polymer materials for water filtration. “These are hierarchical porous structures, meaning they’re engineered to have pore sizes that vary through the membrane. It is stunning to see the materials at low magnification with large pores, and as we zoom in and in and in, to see new pore sizes become visible at each level, like a material engineered with a fractal quality.” One of the unique things about the HIM, Anders reminds me, is that it’s not just for imaging. Since helium ions are heavy, they carry a higher momentum than electrons. “We leverage the momentum of the ions to actually modify structures too. We can create new surface properties, new devices, new technologies, on a scale that is often too small for any other fabrication technique. This is some of the most exciting work.” If you know anyone who needs some nanoscale drilling done, then the HIM is your instrument! Today’s excursion across the university campus has been thrilling. I got what I came for and I’m excited to find other projects that could benefit from the insight and beautiful images the HIM can provide. Imaging instruments have always fascinated me and I’m looking forward to witnessing how far we will be able to delve into the nanoscale world in the years to come, thanks to the fast pace of engineering and physics research. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

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

< Back to Issue 2 How to use a time machine Whilst time travel is thought to be nothing more than science fiction, the very laws of physics point to its possibility. Physicists have long sought the answer to such a phenomenon using knowledge from rockets to generating wormholes. by Sabine Elias 10 December 2021 Edited by Niesha Baker Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen So you have just entered the TARDIS machine and are trying to work out how to use it to travel to the past to re-write the present and save the future? Well, look no further because you have come to right place. In this article, I will be describing how to jumpstart your time traveling vehicle and by the end, you will be proficient in navigating your way through the universe and evading time. Do be warned however, that batteries are not included and the simulation may crash at times. Now, you are probably wishing that you could travel back in time to have not clicked this article and saved yourself these two minutes of life that you will never get back. But is time travel really a possibility? We often think about the world as a state of order. Social and political constructs generally keep society running in a systematic manner. But what if I told you the entire universe came to exist from disorder? Before we get to logistics, let me introduce you to a little something known as ‘entropy’. Entropy describes the state of disorder (1). Take a closed bottle containing gas. Once you open this bottle, the gas will diffuse out into the open space with no way to retrieve it in the exact same state back inside the bottle. In essence, this gas has become ‘disordered’ and thus its entropy has increased. For years, scientists have understood that the entropy of the universe is always increasing, which means that stars, planets and galaxies are in constant motion away from each other (1). If we wanted to travel back in time, we would essentially have to reverse every single chemical reaction that has occurred from the point in time we currently stand in, to the point in time that we wish to travel to (2). This is theoretically impossible as we would be violating the laws of physics and decreasing the entropy of the universe but we still do not know if it is physically impossible. Let Brain Cox explain: Another problem with time travel would be altering events of the past. Take the Grandfather Paradox: if someone travelled back in time to kill their ancestor, then the possibility of their existence in the future would be zero (3). Thus, they would have been unable to time travel to begin with to have killed their ancestor. This issue of causality is expanded upon through the Novikov Self-Consistency Principle (4). This states that if an event causes a paradox or changes the past, the possibility of this event occurring would be impossible. However, this principle is not widely accepted by time travel enthusiasts. Now, whilst your TARDIS machine may be nothing but a prop at this point in time, it could still help provide evidence on the possibility of time travel. Take this example: you set up two duplicates of the same clock that read the same time and placed one into a rocket that blasts off into space. The rocket orbits around the Earth and then returns and is compared to the clock that remained on Earth. You would find that less time has passed on the clock that was in the rocket. Why? Because moving clocks run slower than stationary clocks. That is, as you move faster through space, you move slower through time. This is known as Time Dilation (5). An example of time dilation is the comparison of time on the International Space Station (ISS) to the time on Earth. Astronauts who have spent 6 months in the ISS have aged 0.005 seconds less than people on Earth (6). This does not seem like much because the astronauts are not traveling close to the speed of light. To see the effects of time dilation multiply, one would need to be very close to the speed of light. If you were to travel in space at 90 per cent the speed of light, whilst everyone on earth would age by 22 years you would only have aged by 9! Speed is not the only thing that affects how fast we age, gravity also affects our experience of time. A stronger gravitational field means that time travels slower in that field. For instance, your feet age slower than your head considering the slightly smaller gravitational pull on your feet compared to your head. Now take a black hole; we know that black holes have immensely strong gravitational fields where one hour near a black hole would equal approximately 100,000,000 years for a person on earth (7). So what would happen if you travelled through a black hole? No one really knows what occurs inside a black hole but we know trying to enter will likely turn you into spaghetti (8). That being said, we can only observe things that go as far as the event horizon of the black hole, so once something has entered it, we do not know what has happened. Black holes have however, been especially useful in theoretically explaining the possibility of time travel. Placing someone in a strong gravitational field or having them experience motions close to the speed of light would have them experience time slower compared to someone on Earth. This brings us to wormholes. Einstein’s theory of general relativity predicts the existence of wormholes which would theoretically permit time travel. To travel to a galaxy that is 2.5 million light years away with the fastest rocket on earth would be impossible as it would take longer than a human lifetime. This is where wormholes come to the rescue. A wormhole would provide us with a shortcut to our location of interest. Imagine folding a paper in half and poking a pen through it to represent your route of travel. You are essentially skipping the length of the paper and traveling from one end to the other. Source: The Independent. (2008). The Big Question: Is time travel possible, and is there any chance (9). You then situate one mouth of the wormhole in a spacecraft traveling close to the speed of light and the other mouth on Earth. If you then went through the mouth on Earth and travelled through to the space craft, you would be traveling back in time. This is because time would be passing much slower at the other end of the wormhole than where you entered from. However, physicists have not yet developed such advanced technology capable of this, but theoretically speaking, this is a possibility if such technology was developed in the future. Whilst you may have thought that time travel was merely based on science fiction, the laws of physics do not forbid its existence. However, here is some food for thought: “If time travel is possible, where are the tourists from the future?” Stephen Hawking Perhaps with time, we may transform this theory into reality. So for the time being, just sit back and enjoy the presence of your TARDIS machine. Perhaps you might even get lost in time from the very thought of time travel. References: 1. Wehrl, Alfred. “General Properties of Entropy.” Reviews of Modern Physics 50, no. 2 (April 1, 1978): 221–60. https://doi.org/10.1103/revmodphys.50.221. 2. BBC. “Brian Cox Explains Why Time Travels in One Direction - Wonders of the Universe - BBC Two.” YouTube, March 10, 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQSoaiubuA0. 3. Smith, Nicholas J.J. “Time Travel (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, November 14, 2013. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/time-travel/#GraPar. 4. Carlini, A., V.P. Frolov, M.B. Mensky, I.D. Novikov, and H.H. Soleng. “Time machines: The principle of self-consistency as a consequence of the principle of minimal action.” International Journal of Modern Physics, no. 05 (October 1995): 557–80. https://doi.org/10.1142/s0218271895000399. 5. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Time Dilation | Explanation, Examples, & Twin Paradox.” In Encyclopædia Britannica, 2019. https://www.britannica.com/science/time-dilation. 6. Dickerson, Kelly. “Here’s Why Astronauts Age Slower than the Rest of Us Here on Earth.” Business Insider Australia, August 20, 2015. https://www.businessinsider.com.au/do-astronauts-age-slower-than-people-on-earth-2015-8. 7. Gharat, Sarvesh Vikas. “Relativity and Time Dilation.” International Journal for Research in Applied Science and Engineering Technology 7, no. 11 (November 30, 2019): 650–51. https://doi.org/10.22214/ijraset.2019.11103. 8. "Death by spaghettification: Scientists record last moments of star devoured by black hole." NewsRx Health & Science, November 1, 2020, 236. Gale Academic OneFile. https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A639405517/AONE?u=unimelb&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=6812ee05. 9. “The Big Question: Is Time Travel Possible, and Is There Any Chance.” The Independent, February 8, 2008. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/big-question-time-travel-possible-and-there-any-chance-it-will-ever-take-place-779761.html. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article