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Humans of UniMelb Research - Is it For Me? By Renee Papaluca Thinking about completing your Honours year or a PhD at UniMelb? This column has some advice for you, courtesy of current research students. Edited by Ruby Dempsey & Sam Williams Issue 1: September 24, 2021 Illustration by Gemma Van der Hurk Science is everywhere, but how can we contribute to furthering our knowledge of science? I caught up with some current research students to learn more about the Honours-PhD pathway and their experience studying science at the University of Melbourne. Caitlin Kane Caitlin is a current Honours student at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. In her spare time, she likes to go on bike rides and read. What was the ‘lightbulb moment’ that prompted you to study science? “When I was five, I had all these books that covered basic topics like the human body and the ocean. I thought they were wild! I was just a really curious kid that loved learning things and being certain about things. For me, science was an approach to learning and understanding the world that [was] very investigative. I guess I was just curious about a lot of things and science just took that curiosity and said, ‘now you can do anything with it’". Why did you choose to study Honours? “Honours, at least for me, is a clarifying year.” “Doing a bachelor’s degree in science doesn’t [necessarily] make you a scientist … A lot of the skills you need as a scientist are practical ones; depending on your area [of study] ... Those skills are very different from what you actually learn in university.” “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my degree as there are a lot of options, like doing a PhD or ... going into the workforce… I thought that Honours would really help me clarify what kinds of science I like and give me time to figure out what I wanted to do next.” What’s involved in your research? “There are many variants of HPV (human papillomavirus) circulating in Australia - some of those variants cause cancer, and some are covered by vaccination. To understand how well vaccination is working in Australia, I test for HPV in patient samples, note the patient’s vaccination status, and examine the data to see which HPV variants are prevalent right now. This involves lab skills like pipetting, running polymerase chain reactions (PCRs) and extracting DNA. When I say ‘I’ do all these steps, it’s really like 10 people ... There are a lot of different people who do different parts of the project to keep it running.” What advice would you give to prospective Honours students? “Be informed of your options, don’t be scared of talking to supervisors, and talk to older students. Everytime I would ask an older student … [’what do you wish you would have known?’] they would come out with killer advice. That’s the only trick!” “The best piece of advice I got was that ‘some supervisors only want an extra set of hands’… They just want the work to be done and that is not the kind of supervisor you want.” Alex Ritter Alex is currently completing his 2nd PhD year in the Department of Physics. In his spare time, he enjoys singing in choirs, doing crosswords, and doting over his housemate’s cat. What was the ‘lightbulb moment’ that prompted you to study science? “Going through school, there are always those things you [tend to] gravitate towards...I really liked maths and science... and wanted to do something to do with them. In high school, I also had some opportunities to do extension physics… [which] really got me interested [in tertiary study]... Luckily, it's still something I enjoy so it was the right choice.” Why did you choose to continue to a PhD following your Masters? “I did Masters of Science in Physics straight after undergrad. I really enjoyed it! I loved … really getting into the graduate subjects; diving into more detail” “[The thing] I found the most challenging was the transition into research and that whole different style of thinking. My experience was that your first year is still coursework and learning high level topics and your second year is largely research. So, I found in second year - especially towards the end - finishing the thesis was quite challenging but ultimately rewarding” What are you currently researching? “My general area of research is theoretical particle physics. This describes the tiny, subatomic particles that make us up. So, we look at electrons, inside neutrons and all the forces that hold them together. I work in dark matter ... It doesn’t give off light but it interacts gravitationally. My research generally is introducing new sub-atomic particles and forces to try and explain what dark matter might be.” Can you have a life outside of your PhD? “The thing with a PhD and research, especially in physics, is that you set your own schedule which has its pros and cons. During the pandemic, I found it difficult to keep myself motivated whilst being stuck inside all day. Due to the flexibility, it really depends on how you want to approach your PhD. I still wanted to have a life outside of my PhD. I don’t wake up and think about my PhD 24/7! I still do a fair bit of choral singing as a hobby.” “My advice is that you can balance things in a PhD but it comes down to what your personality is like and how well you can set boundaries. For example, are you someone who gets absolutely absorbed in tasks and spends hours on them? Do you overwork yourself or do you underwork yourself? How good are you at time management? I think the best thing to do is to be self-aware about how you are as a worker and researcher before you get started.” What advice would you give to prospective Masters or PhD students? “Be honest with yourself and be honest with your supervisor. Know who you are and know what your limits are and try to build everything around that.” “I think the hardest part for me was knowing what to do at the start of the process. There isn’t a lot of information [available]... In terms of picking a supervisor, I think the best advice is to try and chat to them as honestly as you can about the things they do and what kinds of students they like.. For example, try and see how busy your supervisor is. Sometimes, a supervisor can be great, their research is great and can be super interesting... But, often they’ll be in high demand with very little time … to be a hands-on supervisor. I think also trying to get an understanding of what the working relationship will be like is also important.”

< Back to Issue 7 Soaring Heights: An Ode to the Airliner by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin 22 October 2024 edited by Lauren Zhang illustrated by Esme MacGillivray A smile at your neighbour-to-be, a quick check and an awkward squeeze as you sidle into your seat: 18A. Window seat, a coveted treasure! A clatter . Whoops! As you fumble for your dropped phone, your feet–which jut out ungracefully onto the aisle, end up as a speed bump for the wheels of someone’s carry-on. Yeowch! It isn’t without more jostling that everyone finally settles into their seats, and with a scan at the window, the tarmac outside is looking busy. Hmm. It makes sense–this flight is just one of the 36.8 million trips around the world flown over the past year (International Air Transport Association, 2024). Commercial aviation has clocked many miles since its first official iteration in 1914: a 27-km long “airboat” route established around Tampa Bay, Florida (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Proving successful, it catalysed an industry and led to the establishment of carriers like Qantas, and the Netherlands’ KLM. Mechanics of Ascent (and Staying Afloat) As said Qantas plane pulls up in the window view, its tail dipped red with the roo taxies ahead of you on the tarmac. Your plane is now at the front of the runway queue and the engines begin to roar. You’re thrusted backwards as gravity moulds you to your seat. For a split second, as you look out the window, you can’t help but wonder– how on earth did you even get up here? How is this heavy, huge plane not falling out of the sky? The ability for a plane to stay afloat lies in its wings, which allow the plane to fly. The wings enable this through generating lift (NASA, 2022). Lift is described as one of the forces acting on an object like a plane, countering weight under gravity which is the force acting in the opposite direction, according to Newton’s Third Law ( figure 1a ). A plane's wings are constructed in a curved ‘airfoil’ shape with optimal aerodynamic properties: as pressure decreases above the wing with deflected oncoming air pushed up, the velocity increases, as per Bernoulli’s principle. This increases the difference in pressure above and below the wing, which remains high, generating a lift force that pushes the plane upwards (NASA, 2022) ( figure 1b ). Figure 1a. Forces that act on a plane . Note. From Four Forces on an Airplane by Glenn Research Centre. NASA, 2022 . https://www1.grc.nasa.gov/beginners-guide-to-aeronautics/four-forces-on-an-airplane/ . Copyright 2022 NASA. Figure 1b. An airfoil, with geometric properties suitable for generating lift. Note. From Four Forces of Flight by Let’s Talk Science. Let’s Talk Science, 2024. https://letstalkscience.ca/educational-resources/backgrounders/four-forces-flight . Copyright 2021 Let’s Talk Science. Looking laterally, the thrust of a plane’s engines counters the horizontal drag force that airfoils minimise, all whilst maximising lift. Advancements in plane design over the mid-20th century focused on optimising this ‘Lift to Drag ratio’ for greater efficiency, a priority stemming from the austere, military landscape of World War II (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Influenced by warplane manufacturing trends, the commercial sphere saw a transition from wooden to durable aluminium frames. In conjunction with this, double-wing biplanes were superseded by single-wing monoplanes ( figure 2a, b ), which had a safer configuration that reduced airflow interference whilst maximising speed and stability (Chatfield, 1928). Figure 2a. A biplane, the De Havilland DH-82A Tiger Moth. Note. From DH-82A Tiger Moth [photograph] by Temora Aviation Museum. Temora Aviation Museum, 2017 . https://aviationmuseum.com.au/dh-82a-tiger-moth/ . Copyright 2024 Temora Aviation Museum. Figure 2b. A monoplane, an Airbus A310. Note. From Airbus A310-221, Swissair AN0521293 [photograph] by Aragão, P, 1995. Wikimedia Commons . https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Airbus_A310-221,_Swissair_AN0521293.jpg CC BY-SA 3.0. Taking a Breather Without really noticing it, you’re somewhat upright again. Employing head shakes and gulps to make your own ears pop, you can also hear the babies bawling in discomfort a few aisles back. Blocked ears are our body’s response to atmospheric pressure changes that occur faster than our ears can adjust to (Bhattacharya et al., 2019). Atmospheric pressure describes the weight of air in the atmosphere above a given region of the Earth’s surface (NOAA, 2023), which decreases with altitude. Our bodies are suited to pressure conditions at sea level, allowing sufficient intake of oxygen through saturated haemoglobin within the bloodstream. Subsequently, the average human body can maintain this intake until 10000 ft (around 3000 m) in the air, with altitudes exceeding this likely to result in hypoxia and impairment (Bagshaw & Illig, 2018). Such limits have had implications for commercial flying. Trips in the early era were capped at low altitudes and proved highly uncomfortable: passengers were exposed to chilly winds, roaring engines, and thinner air, and pilots were forced to navigate around geographical obstacles like mountain ranges and low-lying weather irregularities. However, this changed in 1938 when Boeing unveiled the 307 Stratoliner, which featured pressurised cabins. Since then, air travel above breathing limits became possible, morphing into the high-altitude trips taken today (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Via a process still relevant to us today, excess clean air left untouched by jet engines in combustion is diverted away, cooled, and pumped into the cabin (Filburn, 2019). Carried out in incremental adjustments during ascent and descent, the pressure controller regulates air inflow based on the cockpit’s readings of cruising altitude. Mass computerisation in the late 20th century enabled precise real-time readings, allowing safety features like sensitive pressure release valves, sensor-triggered oxygen mask deployment, or manual depressurisation. However, the sky does indeed dictate the limits, as pressure conditions are simulated at slightly higher altitudes than sea level to avoid fuselage strain (Filburn, 2019). This minor pressure discrepancy plays a part in why we feel weary and tired whilst flying–our cells are working at an oxygen deficit for the duration of the flight. Your yawn just about now proves this point. Time for your first snooze of many… Food, Glorious Food A groggy couple of hours later and it’s either lunch time or dinner, your head isn’t too sure. You wait with bated breath, anticipating the arrival of the flight attendant wheeling the bulky cart through the narrow aisle... Only to be met with a chicken sausage that vaguely tastes like chicken, with vaguely-mashed potato and a vaguely-limp salad on the side. Oh, and don’t forget the searing sweetness of the jelly cup! You’re far from alone in your lukewarm reception of your lunch-dinner. Aeroplane food remains notorious amongst travellers for its supposedly flat taste. Whilst airlines like Thai Airways and Air France have employed Michelin-star chefs to translate an assortment of gourmet cultural dishes to tray table fare (De Syon, 2008; Thai Airways, 2018), the common culprit responsible for the less-than-appetising experience remains – being on a plane. As Spence (2017) details, multiple factors play into how you rate your inflight dinner, many relating to the effects of air travel on our bodies. The ‘above sea level’ air pressure within the plane coincides with higher thresholds for detecting bitterness at 5000-10000 ft (around 1500-3000m), heightening our sensitivity to the tart undertones of everyday foods. Dry pressurised air that cycles through the cabin is about as humid as desert environments, which hampers our smell perception and thus taste. Less intuitively, the loud ambient noise of the plane’s engines also appears to hinder olfactory perception, though the reason as to why remains unclear. Nevertheless, alleviating the grumbling passenger and stomach is an area of interest with a few successful forays. One angle of approach involves food enhancement. Incorporating sensory and textural elements into meals such as chillies and the occasional crunch or crackle can compensate for impaired perception. Interestingly, umami has been observed as the least affected taste sense mid-air (Spence, 2017), inspiring British Airways’ intense and aromatic umami-rich menus – though with the unwitting drawback of threatening to stink up the plane on multiple occasions (Moskvitch, 2015). Meanwhile, Singapore Changi Airport houses a simulation chamber for food preparation in a low-pressure environment, taking it up a notch in both quality and cost (Moskvitch, 2015). Alternatively, passengers can be psychologically tricked into perceiving food to be more appetising than it is in reality. Some examples of this include the use of noise-cancelling headphones, cabin lighting designed for enhancing the appearance of food, or appealing language for describing meals. Both off-ground and in air, it was found that humans were inclined to respond more positively to dishes described in an appetising and detailed manner (Spence, 2017), rather than the vague choices of “sausage or pasta”. Whilst these innovations have covered some ground, De Syon (2008) also notes that sociology can influence our perceptions of food on a plane. The enjoyment of meals is dependent upon core social rituals like dining communally or comforting meal-time habits–both of which are tricky to navigate and achieve on a packed plane with front-on seating. What Goes Up Must Come Down Not long now! Accompanied by the movies you’ve played for the first time in your life and oodles of complimentary tea, there’s about half an hour left until landing. Jolt! The seatbelt sign is bold and bright as you can feel the plane gradually descending–it’s getting bumpy! As your plane rocks about and the airport comes into view as a speck in the distance, your descent is at the mercy of the crosswinds… and turbulence? Not only do these vortices of air cause havoc mid-flight, near cloud bands and thunderstorms (National Weather Service, 2019), they also pose a challenge during landing in the form of local, “clear-air” convection currents invisible on radar. These currents often occur in summer months and in the early afternoon when incoming solar energy is at its highest. In particular, they emerge when the surface of the earth is unevenly heated, including across regions such as the oceans, grassland, or in this case, the pavement near the airport. Consequently, this creates pockets of warm and cool air that rapidly rise and fall, creating downdrafts, thereby trapping planes ( figure 3 ). Luckily, pilots are specifically trained to recognise these surface winds, and can adjust their landing glidepath to suit local conditions forewarned in Terminal Aerodrome Forecasts for a steady, controlled descent (BOM, 2014). Figure 3. Varying glidepath due to local convection currents - note the different types of surfaces. Note. From Turbulence by National Weather Service. National Weather Service, 2019. https://www.weather.gov/source/zhu/ZHU_Training_Page/turbulence_stuff/turbulence/turbulence.htm . Copyright 2019 National Weather Service. Even with its bumpier experiences that draw endless complaints, it is undeniable that commercial aviation has grown tremendously over the century to deliver the safe, efficient and comfortable flights we are accustomed to today. Building upon a history of ingenuity and scientific discovery, it's almost certain that the industry will soar to even greater heights in our increasingly globalised world. Enough talk–you’re finally here! It’s a relief when you clamber from your seat, giving those arms and legs a much needed stretch. Now, time to trod along on solid ground… …and onto the connecting flight. Cheap stopover tickets. Darn it. References Aragão, P. (1995). Airbus A310-221, Swissair AN0521293 . Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9b/Airbus_A310-221%2C_Swissair_JP5963897.jpg Bagshaw, M., & Illig, P. (2019). The aircraft cabin environment. Travel Medicine , 429–436. https://doi.org/10.1016/b978-0-323-54696-6.00047-1 Bhattacharya, S., Singh, A., & Marzo, R. R. (2019). “Airplane ear”—A neglected yet preventable problem. AIMS Public Health , 6 (3), 320–325. https://doi.org/10.3934/publichealth.2019.3.320 BOM. (2014). Hazardous Weather Phenomena - Turbulence . Bureau of Meteorology. http://www.bom.gov.au/aviation/data/education/turbulence.pdf Chatfield, C. H. (1928). Monoplane or Biplane. SAE Transactions , 23 , 217–264. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44437123 De Syon, G. (2008). Is it really better to travel than to arrive? Airline food as a reflection of consumer anxiety. In Food for Thought: Essays on Eating and Culture (pp. 199–207). McFarland. Filburn, T. (2019). Cabin pressurization and air-conditioning. Commercial Aviation in the Jet Era and the Systems That Make It Possible , 45–57. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20111-1_4 International Air Transport Association. (2024). Global Outlook for Air Transport . https://www.iata.org/en/iata-repository/publications/economic-reports/global-outlook-for-air-transport-june-2024-report/ Let’s Talk Science. (2024). Four Forces of Flight . Let’s Talk Science. https://letstalkscience.ca/educational-resources/backgrounders/four-forces-flight Moskvitch, K. (2015, January 12). Why does food taste different on planes? British Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20150112-why-in-flight-food-tastes-weird NASA. (2022). Four forces on an Airplane . Glenn Research Center | NASA. https://www1.grc.nasa.gov/beginners-guide-to-aeronautics/four-forces-on-an-airplane/ National Air and Space Museum. (2022). The Evolution of the Commercial Flying Experience . National Air and Space Museum; Smithsonian. https://airandspace.si.edu/explore/stories/evolution-commercial-flying-experience National Weather Service. (2019). Turbulence . National Weather Service. https://www.weather.gov/source/zhu/ZHU_Training_Page/turbulence_stuff/turbulence/turbulence.htm NOAA. (2023). Air pressure . National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. https://www.noaa.gov/jetstream/atmosphere/air-pressure Spence, C. (2017). Tasting in the air: A review. International Journal of Gastronomy and Food Science , 9 , 10–15. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijgfs.2017.05.001 Temora Aviation Museum. (2017). DH-82A Tiger Moth . Temora Aviation Museum. https://aviationmuseum.com.au/dh-82a-tiger-moth/ Thai Airways. (2018). THAI launches Michelin Star street food prepared by Jay Fai for Royal Silk Class and Royal First Class passengers . Thai Airways. https://www.thaiairways.com/en_ID/news/news_announcement/news_detail/News33.page Previous article Next article apex back to

Forward by Dr. Jen Martin Issue 1: September 24, 2021 Image from Dr Jen Martin I’m sitting cross-legged on top of an enormous granite boulder which is intricately patterned with lichen and overlooking the forest. It’s pouring with rain and the weather matches my mood: I feel confused and lost even though I know this patch of forest better than the back of my hand. For years I’ve been working here night and day studying the behaviour of a population of bobucks or mountain brushtail possums. I know their movements and habits intimately, having followed some of these possums from the time they were tiny pink jellybeans in their mothers’ pouches. I love this forest and its inhabitants, and I feel privileged beyond words that I’ve had glimpses of the world through these animals’ eyes. But today I feel despondent. I chose ecology because I wanted to make a difference in the world: to protect animals and the habitats they depend on. And there’s no question field research like mine is essential to successful conservation. To protect wildlife, we need to understand what different species do and what they need. But there’s a missing link. The people with the power to make decisions to conserve nature aren’t the same people who will read my thesis or papers or go to my conference talks. And that’s why I feel so lost. Why have I never learned how to share my work with farmers, policy makers and voters, all of whom may never have studied science? Why didn’t anyone tell me: it’s not just the science that matters, it’s having the confidence and the skills to communicate that science to the people who need to know about it? "Science isn't finished until it is communicated." Sir Mark Walport Fast forward 15 years and I can see my afternoon of despair in the rain was a catalyst. It’s why I decided I needed to learn how to talk and write about science for different audiences. And why I decided the most useful contribution I could make as a scientist was not to do the research myself, but rather to teach other scientists how to communicate effectively about their work. Science communication has been my focus for more than a decade now. You only need think of the Covid-19 pandemic, or the biodiversity or climate crises to realise that scientists play a pivotal role in tackling many of the problems we face. But scientists need to do more than question, experiment and discover; even the most brilliant research is wasted if no one knows it’s been done or the people whose lives it affects can’t understand it. Sir Mark Walport, former Chief Science Advisor to the UK Government, said: ‘Science isn’t finished until it’s communicated’. And I couldn’t agree more. The more scientists who seek out every opportunity to share their work with others - and know how to communicate about their work in effective and engaging ways - the better. And that’s why I couldn’t be more excited about OmniSci. Science really is everywhere, and I invite you to revel in its complexity, wonder, and relevance in these stories. And to applaud the science students behind this magazine who want to share their knowledge and passion with you. These are the scientists the world needs. Dr Jen Martin (@scidocmartin) Founder and Leader of the UniMelb Science Communication Teaching Program (@UniMelbSciComm)

< Back to Issue 6 Everything, Everywhere, All at Once: The Art of Decomposition by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo 28 May 2024 Edited by Subham Priya Illustrated by Jessica Walton From a single point in time, to a burst of colour and light, our universe came along into existence (The National Academy of Sciences, 2022). Within the multitude of galaxies and stars sprinkled across the universe, our little planet sits inside the solar system within the Milky Way. Like the way the universe came from a singularity, we were created from a singular cell. Over time, this cell divided and divided until we became these complex beings filled with different flavours of cells and the elements that comprise them. We are ever growing, just as the universe is ever expanding (Harvey, A., & Choi, C. Q., 2022). Though the fate of our universe is still a mystery, our fate is a little less mystical and thought-provoking – but that doesn’t make it any less interesting. Our less mystical yet fascinating fate begins with decomposition. Decomposition is the process in which dead tissue is broken down and converted into simpler forms. Large scavengers, such as vultures, foxes and crows, eat chunks of the corpse using it as a source of energy (Trees for Life, 2024). When these scavengers excrete waste — which is certainly not a pretty sight — their dung attracts smaller organisms like dung beetles. Little creepy crawlies — beetles, maggots and earthworms — all come along to the corpse, munching on its bits and pieces. They even lay their eggs in the openings of the corpse like the eyes, nose and mouth, an even LESSER pretty sight! If we zoom in further, we see microscopic bugs grow upon this dead body and take up nutrients. These bacteria then proceed with anaerobic decomposition, which occurs in the absence of oxygen. This produces gases like methane and carbon dioxide, causing the corpse to swell – the reason why dead bodies smell so bad (Trees for Life, 2024). After all that decaying, eventually, all that will remain of the carcass would be the cartilage, skin and bone, which a range of flies, beetles and parasites take advantage of (Trees for Life, 2024). Small critters such as mice and voles may come along, gnawing on the bone for calcium. How else are such little creatures supposed to get strong bones? Decomposition of dead flora is slightly different than the process for animals. For plant decomposition, fungi are the key players. When the tree leaves die and fall to the ground, they form a thick layer on the soil surface along with other dead plants, termed the litter layer (Trees for Life, 2024). Fungi have a body structure of white thread-like filaments called the hyphae, which resemble the white strings of floss. These white fungal floss take over the litter layer and consume nutrients whilst breaking down the litter layer. Unlike the decomposition of an animal, the decomposition process for plants is odourless. Phew! Over time, little wriggly earthworms begin to take control of breakdown. We use earthworms in our compost bins because they are great decomposers for dead plants and make organic fertiliser for our gardens. Whether an animal or a plant, decomposition takes each and every atom, from the carbon to the sodium atoms and recycles them to be used to create something new. It may be daunting from a human perspective to think that after all we’ve lived for, we would only be broken down and that the littlest bits of us, recycled. As our body takes its final breath, the brain fires the last of its neurons flooding our mind with bursts of colour, the way different elements cause the explosion of colours in fireworks lighting up the night sky. As the body decomposes, slowly each molecule of our body returns to the Earth, allowing for new life to take place. A sapling to sprout out from the depths of the soil. We are carried through the life of a new being; perhaps a tree, the grass or the flowers. Once again each molecule and atom in that being will return to the Earth like clockwork. And perhaps, return to the universe, a part of little sparkles that litter the night sky. References Harvey, A., & Choi, C. Q. (2022). Our expanding universe: Age, history & other facts . https://www.space.com/52-the-expanding-universe-from-the-big-bang-to-today.html Trees for Life. (2024). Decomposition and decay . https://treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/habitats-and-ecology/ecology/decomposition-and-decay/#:~:text=Decomposition%20is%20the%20first%20 The National Academy of Sciences. (2022). How did the universe begin? How will it end? https://thesciencebehindit.org/how-did-the-universe-begin-how-will-it-end/#:~:text=The%20Big%20Bang%20theory%20says,in%20an%20already%20existing%20spac e Previous article Next article Elemental back to

'Science is everywhere' Competition Submissions Scroll to view the submissions we received for National Science Week 2021! Lily Robinson, 20 Science is everywhere in our lives. As soon as you take a walk outside, you are immersed in it. This picture is of a dam at my family home at the end of a drought. The water was crystal clear and there were these amazing deep cracks in the mud. I decided to rotate the image upside down to symbolise the impact of the drought upending our lives and the bush around us. Rebecca André, 23 I captured this photograph on my Olympus OM-2 film camera while out on a lunchtime walk. At first I took no notice of this indistinct bunch of leaves but as I moved around them the sun caught my attention and I noticed the illuminated veins. This photgraph reminds me that the beauty of the natural world is all around us all the time, if only we are mindful to observe it. Through science and observation, the beauty of unseen worlds and intricate truths are revealed to us. Sajitha Biju, 36 Vivipary in papaya fruit: Viviparous germination is a type of seed germination seen in plants, where the seeds/embryo begin to develop before they detach from the parent plant. Viviparous germination is also seen in the mangrove Avicennia. Stephanie Tsang, 25 A photograph of a jellyfish pulsing through the cold waters of Port Philip Bay, Victoria. It has no brain nor heart. Science is spectacular and can be found submersed underwater. Cnidarians have been around for millions of years and later and are the common ancestors of many other creatures. The oldest fossils found date back to around 500 million years old. They are found all over the world following the ocean currents. Stephanie Tsang, 25 A photograph of a jellyfish pulsing through the cold waters of Port Philip Bay, Victoria. It has no brain nor heart. Science is spectacular and can be found submersed underwater. Cnidarians have been around for millions of years and later and are the common ancestors of many other creatures. The oldest fossils found date back to around 500 million years old. They are found all over the world following the ocean currents. Betty La, 24 I like to practise on this contraption of wood, metal and vibrating air almost every morning. My motor pattern for the music is set into motion, followed by eighty-eight felt-covered hammers acting as oddly-shaped springs, dancing along steel strings wound with copper. They are spurred on by levers of black and white. The sound is amplified from a wooden soundboard, which expands and contracts imperceptibly with the temperature of the room. Ella Banic, 19 I wish I could explain why I think science is everywhere, but it is too ubiquitous for me to comprehend. In my artwork I have been interested in the relationship between humans and nature, particularly in the liminality of experience. While I can’t really describe what science is or where to find it, in this piece I see science as a life force; which gives us direction and allows us to see above the surface. Sarah Wehbe, 18 This photo of a strawberry was taken with a magnifying glass to show the individual hairs and textured skin of the strawberry that you wouldn't normally notice. These fibrous hairs protect the fruit from insect damage and each of these yellow seeds contain the DNA to produce a whole new strawberry plant. Biological sciences are all around us in the foods that we eat. Junsheng He, 18 This photo of the Moon was taken on the 26th of May this year, the day when the total lunar eclipse took place. When we think of the Moon, it is always an image of a shining silverish sphere. Nevertheless, in this particular night, red light shines to the Moon when it is passing through the shadow of the Earth, turning it to the "Blood" Moon. It insinuates that even the seemingly ordered patterns, the forever rotating heavenly bodies, can change their property driven by the power of science. Minchi Gong, 20 Furry Buddy and Pumpkin: I’ve got a pumpkin from the market, and left it on my desk for a couple of weeks because I was too busy to cook it. One day I surprisingly found that there’re a bunch of furry moulds growing on its body, which successfully caught my eyes. Wow I never thought the mould can be so AESTHETIC! Seems like these little furry microorganisms are so keen to show their sense of presence and to express their interpretation of arts. Louie Minoza, 30 Here we witness the first moments of a new born calf. As it witnesses the warm glow of the setting sun for the first time, unconcerned on where the bright light is going. Taking in the textures and scents of the grass under its body. The feeling of fullness as it suckles on it’s mothers teat after instincts urges it to go against gravity. This new found freedom shall be utilized to embark and explore this world it was born in. Caitlin Kane, 20 Have you ever wondered how a clear sky becomes an electrically charged thunderstorm? Electric currents, like those that flow in our powerlines, are made by the movement of tiny charged particles called electrons. When operating safely within a house, electricity can light a bulb, keep a fridge chilly or charge a car. In the big woolly clouds above our heads, the movement of dust, ice and water can create a static electric charge, like when hair is rubbed with a balloon. Sachinthani Karunarathne, 28 years In the fall, you see trees having photogenic colours. Trees do this not for the beauty what we see but to conserve energy during winter. Because due to changes in the length of daylight and temperature, the leaves stop their food-making process (photosynthesis). So, chlorophyll pigment breaks down, the green colour disappears, and the yellow to orange colours become visible and give the leaves part of their fall splendour. Caelan Mitchell, 23 Copper is one of my favourite metals. It has a significant history, and it looks stunning. It looks even more stunning when you catch an everyday object stained by a rich patina — a complex of copper oxides formed by heat and air. I've never seen anything like this. Joanna Stubbs An Australian native Eucalypt growing for years next to an urban creek and bike path in inner city Melbourne. Scientific research is required in how anthropogenic climate change will affect specific tree species, and inform measures on how best to ensure their survival in a warming climate. Sachinthani Karunarathne, 28 Blood oranges may have a sinister-sounding name, but they’re just a natural mutation of standard oranges. This mutation led to the production of anthocyanins, which make not just blood oranges bright red but also blueberries blue. The flesh develops its characteristic maroon colour when the fruit develops with low temperatures during the night. The anthocyanin pigments continue accumulating in cold storage after harvest. Longer the fridge time redder they become! Sachini Pathirana, 28 A microscopic image of a cell? Nah it’s simple kitchen science. When you wash oily dishes, you will see oil droplets forming thin layers like this on water. This is because adhesive force between oil and water molecules is greater than cohesive force between oil molecules. So, the oil molecules do not mix with water molecules. As a result, oil spreads on the water surface forming a thin layer. Sachini Pathirana, 28 Kernel colour was used to unravel an odd phenomenon in non-Mendelian inheritance: transposons. Transposons are stretches of DNA that jump from place to place in the genome, and landing in the middle of a pigment gene would alter the colour of that cell. Barbara McClintock won a Nobel Prize for her discovery of these transposons. Even the regular white/yellow corn you find in supermarkets has made big genetic leaps. Yitao Gan, 21 The beauty of nature from the preys, harvesters and predators. Christian Theodosiou, 19 My entry shows a sapling in the foreground and a waterfall in the background, captured at midday in the Springbrook mountains of Queensland this year. I aimed to photograph the scene so that perspective gives the appearance that the young plant is being watered by the waterfall and I think that the forms of the leaf and the white foamy water are quite complementary. Even though this waterfall does not directly feed this plant, the fact of their shared environment draws a life-giving relationship between them anyway. Science is everywhere because we, like all complex or simple organisms, are situated within and sustained by infinite webs of interdependence. Whether biological or more molecular, all science everywhere is defined by both obvious relationships, and those that take more time, devotion and study to identify. Teck-Phui Chua, 22 A sapling is growing where an older tree once grew. However, upon closer inspection, the older tree never fully died; part of it was still alive which has allowed a sapling to sprout from its trunk. In a similar vein, science is everywhere and has always been, but what has changed is how much we understand as one generation passes their knowledge onto the next so new discoveries can be made. Additionally, the tree may have seemed dead, but there was still life in it. Whether we choose to act on strong scientific evidence or ignore it, the science will still be there. Sarah Wehbe, 18 Interactions between living organisms are everywhere and are the essence of life itself. This image illustrates the commensal relationship between algae and turtles. The turtle’s shell provides an ideal surface for the algae’s growth, and the turtle is completely unaffected by its presence. In fact, it may help turtles camouflage and hide from prey. This simple interaction between living organisms highlights the existence of science in every aspect of life. Grace Li, 22 Science is often overlooked as a form of art due to its ubiquity. However, a simple photograph can be the reminder needed that science is not only everywhere, but it is beautiful. For example, a photograph is the result of photons travelling from the sun, bouncing off objects, and landing on a camera's sensor. Similarly, these incredible macro-photographic patterns of a lamp is captured by photons travelling through optic fiber. Christina Evans, 43 The bee retrieves pollen from the prickly thistles & how it's all stored on its hind legs like saddlebags. Xuezhi Yang It is fascinating how science is present everywhere, oftentimes interacting with itself creating intricate and mesmerizing works of art. In my artwork, I attempted to capture the anatomy and essence of the Antelope Jackrabbit's ears as light rays penetrate through them. Without light, the delicate and daedal arteries and veins would have been otherwise invisible, tucked away in fur and cartilage. If we truly pay attention, art is found everywhere in science.

By Lily McCann < Back to Issue 3 Belly bugs: the aliens that live in our gut By Lily McCann 10 September 2022 Edited by Andrew Lim and Zhiyou Low Illustrated by Helena Pantsis Next Figure 1 (1): "Animalcules" The figures above may look exceedingly simple to you. Beautifully drawn, yes, but nothing particularly complicated —mere ovals and lines of black ink. If I told you that the drawings were 350 years old, your interest might be piqued by that fascination we hold for all historical relics. You might wonder what the images are attempting to portray. You would only be more confused, however, were I to describe them to you using the name they were known by to the artist: “animalcules”. (2) These drawings, penned by a Dutch draughtsman in the early 1680s, are the first known depictions of bacteria from inside a human body (2). They were discovered by a man called Anthonie van Leeuwenhoek in a sample taken from between his teeth. Leeuwenhoek had examined “animalcules” in various water samples before turning to saliva, analysing the shape and movements of the little cells beneath his microscope, which he made from hand-crafted glass mounted between plates of brass. It is now known that these “animalcules” are in fact bacteria, and that they are avid colonisers not only of our mouths but every other body surface, too. These single-celled organisms parted ways with animals some 2.7 billion years ago in evolution and could not appear any more alien to ourselves (3). Though simple in structure and function, they are capable of populating the most inhospitable and extraterrestrial of environments. In fact, Deinococcus radiodurans (pictured below) can survive for years in the harsh vacuum of space (4). Figure 2 (5): Deinococcus radiodurans Freaky, right? The evolutionary distance between bacteria and ourselves does not seem to deter them from entering into the most intimate of symbiotic relationships with us. Despite their alien-ness, despite billions of years of divergent evolution, we have not lost the ability to communicate with these distant relatives of ours. In fact, communication with bacteria is a daily and essential part of our lives. The reason we can still chat with these creatures is that they are made up of the same basic “stuff” that we are: genetic material made of sugars, phosphates and nitrogen bases to dictate our functions; proteins to carry out our cellular processes; membranes to hold us together. All these aspects form a common basis for language. Just as human languages consist of orally transmitted units of sounds that can be translated and understood, bacteria can impart signals in the form of particles that can be decoded and acted upon by our own cells. One example of this kind of dialogue is the production of molecules called short chain fatty acids by bacteria that digest plant materials in our gut. These bacteria impart their gratitude to us for supplying them with suitable foods by releasing short chain fatty acids, which in turn tell our gut not to worry, signalling our cells and instructing them to reduce inflammation, build up our gut wall and even help fix our blood pressure. These molecules can also travel to the brain, where they are thought to influence the release of various signals including that of the “feel-good” hormone serotonin. (6) There’s a whole world of dialogue beyond this often referred to as the gut-brain axis of health. Research into the area has revealed that signals produced by gut bacteria are extremely influential in a number of conditions including anxiety and Parkinson’s disease. These relationships often work both ways, giving rise to a strange “chicken-and-egg” situation: those who demonstrate symptoms of such conditions are found to carry altered gut bacterial populations, and altering gut bacteria can in turn change symptoms. For example, in a cruel experiment involving the separation of infant monkeys from their mothers, the stress caused by separation changed the distribution of bacteria colonies in the infants’ guts, whilst administering a certain bacteria often imparted to infants by their mothers was found to reverse the symptoms of this stress (7). The way that bacteria can change our very emotions has significant implications for our idea of personhood. What are we, if how we act depends on the alien cells we carry in our digestive tracts? Perhaps we ought to extend our definition of identity to include these little cells that are truly, it seems, a part of how we are—another organ of our body, even. Happily (for those of you who support the philosophy of a ‘growth mindset’), the way our gut influences our minds is subject to manipulation. And we do not need a scientist to isolate and administer a certain bacterial species to us in order to change it; evidence suggests that simply altering what we eat can have a profound influence. Dietary change is known to directly alter bacterial gut colonies, and the change shown to bring about the most harmonious of conversations with our gut is increasing our intake of dietary fibre. Flooding our gut community with plentiful fibre causes a rush of signals from bacteria that promote gut health, mental health and healthy ageing. In contrast, a low fibre diet can promote diabetes, cardiovascular problems and, for pregnant mothers, may compromise the neural functioning of a developing child (8). What does this mean for medicine? Can we harness the billion-year old dialogue between our cells and the aliens that colonise our gut for our own benefit? Can we coax these residents into a mutually beneficial relationship by approaching them in the right tone? These questions are gradually gaining popularity among the scientific community as trials of probiotic administration are explored in the context of treating illnesses from depression to gastrointestinal disorders (9). We are yet to see where such studies will lead us. When the outside world seems increasingly bleak, I find comfort in the fact that within us rumbles on the activity of an intricate and disinterested universe, completely alien to and yet an integral part of ourselves. Like farmers of a garden in times of shortage, we exist in a state of codependency with the world we nurture inside our bodies. If we foster a good relationship with its inhabitants, they can protect us from the afflictions of illness, sadness and madness that threaten our species day by day. References : 1. The Royal Society. Bacteria from Leeuwenhoek's mouth [Internet]. 2022 [cited 17 March 2022]. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/cms/asset/2bf20f9f-28e1-4126-bd7e-f92950899a2b/rstb20140344f03.jpg 2. Lane N. The unseen world: reflections on Leeuwenhoek (1677) ‘Concerning little animals’ | Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences [Internet]. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. 2022 [cited 17 April 2022]. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rstb.2014.0344 3. Cooper G. The Origin and Evolution of Cells [Internet]. Ncbi.nlm.nih.gov. 2022 [cited 17 April 2022]. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK9841/#:~:text=The%20eukaryotes%20developed%20at%20least,is%20from%20present%2Dday%20eukaryotes 4. Cox M, Battista J. Deinococcus radiodurans — the consummate survivor. Nature Reviews Microbiology. 2005;3(11):882-892. 5. 5. The European Synchroton. Deinococcus radiodurans [Internet]. 2022 [cited 5 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.esrf.fr/UsersAndScience/Experiments/MX/Research_and_Development/Biology/Deinococcus_radiodurans 6. De Angelis M, Piccolo M, Vannini L, Siragusa S, De Giacomo A, Serrazzanetti D et al. Fecal Microbiota and Metabolome of Children with Autism and Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. PLoS ONE. 2013;8(10):e76993. 7. Bailey M, Coe C. Maternal separation disrupts the integrity of the intestinal microflora in infant rhesus monkeys. Developmental Psychobiology. 1999;35(2):146-155. 8. Buffington S, Di Prisco G, Auchtung T, Ajami N, Petrosino J, Costa-Mattioli M. Microbial Reconstitution Reverses Maternal Diet-Induced Social and Synaptic Deficits in Offspring. Cell. 2016;165(7):1762-1775. 9. Kazemi A, Noorbala A, Azam K, Eskandari M, Djafarian K. Effect of probiotic and prebiotic vs placebo on psychological outcomes in patients with major depressive disorder: A randomized clinical trial. Clinical Nutrition. 2019;38(2):522-528. 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Have you ever wondered if trees talk to each other? Happily, many scientists across time have had the same thought. So much fascinating knowledge has arisen from their research about the intricacies of trees and the different ways they converse with one another. Chatter Silent Conversations: How Trees Talk to One Another By Lily McCann There are so many conversations that go on beyond our hearing. This column explores communication between trees and how it might change the way we perceive them. Edited by Ethan Newnham, Irene Lee & Niesha Baker Issue 1: September 24, 2021 Illustration by Rachel Ko It’s getting brighter. A long, long winter is receding and warm days are flooding in. I’m not one for sunbathing, but I love to lie in the backyard in the shade of the gums and gaze up into the branches. They seem to revel in the weather as much as I do, waving arms languidly in the light or holding still as if afraid to lose a single ray of sun. If there’s a breeze, you might just be able to hear them whispering to one another. There’s a whole family of these gums in my backyard and each one is different. I can picture them as distinctly as the faces of people I love. One wears a thick, red coat of shaggy bark; another has pale, smooth skin; a third sheds its outer layer in long, stringy filaments that droop like scarves from its limbs. These different forms express distinct personalities. Gum trees make you feel there is more to them than just wood and leaves. There’s a red gum in Central Victoria called the ‘Maternity Tree’. It’s incredible to look at. The huge trunk is hollowed out and forms a sort of alcove or belly, open to the sky. Generations of Dja Dja Wurrung women have sought shelter here when in labour. An arson attack recently blackened the trunk and lower branches, but the tree survived (1). Such trees have incredibly long, rich lives. Imagine all the things they would say, if they could only tell us their stories. Whilst the ‘whispering’ of foliage in the wind may not have significance beyond its symbolism, there are other kinds of communication trees can harness. All we see when a breeze blows are branches and leaves swaying before it, but all the time a plethora of tiny molecules are pouring out from trees into the air. These compounds act like tiny, encrypted messages riding the wind, to be decoded by neighbours. They can carry warnings about unwanted visitors, or even coordinate group projects like flowering, so that trees can bloom in synchrony. If we turn our gaze lower we can see that more dialogue spreads below ground. Trees have their own telephone cable system (7), linking up members of the same and even different species. This system takes the form of fungal networks, which transfer nutrients and signals between trees (3). Unfortunately, subscription to this network isn’t free: fungi demand a sugar supply for their services. Overall, though, the relationship is beneficial to both parties and allows for an effective form of underground communication in forests. These conversations are not restricted to deep-rooted, leaf-bearing beings: trees are multilingual. A whole web of inter-species dialogue murmurs amongst the branches beyond the grasp of our deaf ears. Through the language of scent, trees entice pollinators such as bees and birds to feed on their nectar and spread their pollen (4). They warn predators against attacking by releasing certain chemicals (5). They can even manipulate other species for their own defence: when attacked by wax scale insects, a Persimmon tree calls up its own personal army by alerting ladybugs, who feed on the scales, averting the threat to the tree (6). Such relationships demonstrate the crucial role trees play in local ecosystems and their essentially cooperative natures. Trees can be very altruistic, especially when it comes to family members. Mother trees foster the growth of young ones by providing nutrients, and descendants support their elderly relatives - even corpses of hewn-down trees - through their underground cable systems. These intimate, extensive connections between trees are not so different from our own societal networks. Do trees, too, have communities, family loyalties, friends? Can they express the qualities of love and trust required, in the human world, for such relationships? This thought begs the question: Can trees feel? They certainly have an emotional impact on us. I can sense it as I lie under the gums. Think about the last time you went hiking, sat in a tree’s shade, walked through a local park. There’s something about being amongst trees that calms and inspires. Science agrees: one study has shown that walking in forests is more beneficial to our health than walking through the city. How do trees manage to have such a strong effect on us? Peter Wohlleben, German forester and author of The Hidden Life of Trees, suggests that happy trees may impart their mood to us (9). He compares the atmosphere around ‘unhappy’ trees in plantations where threats abound and stress signals fill the air to old forests where ecosystem relations are more stabilised and trees healthier. We feel more relaxed and content in these latter environments. The emotive capacity of trees is yet to be proven scientifically, but is it a reasonable claim? If we define happiness as the circulation of ‘good’ molecules such as growth hormones and sugars, and the absence of ‘bad’ ones like distress signals, then we may suggest that for trees an abundance of good cues and a lack of warnings could be associated with a positive state. And this positive state - allowing trees to fulfill day-to-day functions, grow and proliferate, live in harmony with their environment - could be termed a kind of happiness in its own right. This may seem like a stretch - after all, how can you feel happiness without a brain? But Baluska et al. suggest that trees have those too, or something like them: command centres, integrative hubs in roots functioning somewhat like our own brains (10). Others compare a tree to an axon, a single nerve, conducting electrical signals along its length (11). Perhaps we could say that a forest, the aggregate of all these nerve connections, is a brain. Whilst we can draw endless analogies between the two, trees and animals parted ways 1.5 billion years ago in their evolutionary paths (12). Each developed their own ways of listening and responding to their environments. Who’s to say whether they haven’t both developed their own kinds of consciousness? If we take the time to contemplate trees, we can see that they are infinitely more complex and sensitive than we could have imagined. They have their own modes of communicating with and reacting to their environment. The fact is, trees are storytellers. They send out a constant flow of information into the air, the soil, and the root and fungal systems that join them to their community. Even if we can’t converse with trees in the same way that we converse with each other, it’s worth listening in on their chatter. They could tell us about changes in climate, threats to their environment, and how we can best help these graceful beings and the world around them. References: 1. Schubert, Shannon. “700yo Aboriginal Maternity Tree Set Alight in Victoria.” www.abc.net.au , August 8, 2021. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-08-08/dja-dja-wurrung-birthing-tree-set-on-fire/100359690. 2. Pichersky, Eran, and Jonathan Gershenzon. “The Formation and Function of Plant Volatiles: Perfumes for Pollinator Attraction and Defense.” Current Opinion in Plant Biology 5, no. 3 (June 2002): 237–43. https://doi.org/10.1016/s1369-5266(02)00251-0.; Falik, Omer, Ishay Hoffmann, and Ariel Novoplansky. “Say It with Flowers.” Plant Signaling & Behavior 9, no. 4 (March 5, 2014): e28258. https://doi.org/10.4161/psb.28258. 3. Simard, Suzanne W., David A. Perry, Melanie D. Jones, David D. Myrold, Daniel M. Durall, and Randy Molina. “Net Transfer of Carbon between Ectomycorrhizal Tree Species in the Field.” Nature 388, no. 6642 (August 1997): 579–82. https://doi.org/10.1038/41557. 4. Buchmann, Stephen L, and Gary Paul Nabhan. The Forgotten Pollinators. Editorial: Washington, D.C.: Island Press/Shearwater Books, 1997. 5. De Moraes, Consuelo M., Mark C. Mescher, and James H. Tumlinson. “Caterpillar-Induced Nocturnal Plant Volatiles Repel Conspecific Females.” Nature 410, no. 6828 (March 2001): 577–80. https://doi.org/10.1038/35069058. 6. Zhang, Yanfeng, Yingping Xie, Jiaoliang Xue, Guoliang Peng, and Xu Wang. “Effect of Volatile Emissions, Especially -Pinene, from Persimmon Trees Infested by Japanese Wax Scales or Treated with Methyl Jasmonate on Recruitment of Ladybeetle Predators.” Environmental Entomology 38, no. 5 (October 1, 2009): 1439–45. https://doi.org/10.1603/022.038.0512. 7, 9. Wohlleben, Peter, Jane Billinghurst, Tim F Flannery, Suzanne W Simard, and David Suzuki Institute. The Hidden Life of Trees : The Illustrated Edition. Vancouver ; Berkeley: David Suzuki Institute, 2018. 10. Baluška, František, Stefano Mancuso, Dieter Volkmann, and Peter Barlow. “The ‘Root-Brain’ Hypothesis of Charles and Francis Darwin.” Plant Signaling & Behavior 4, no. 12 (December 2009): 1121–27. https://doi.org/10.4161/psb.4.12.10574. 11. Hedrich, Rainer, Vicenta Salvador-Recatalà, and Ingo Dreyer. “Electrical Wiring and Long-Distance Plant Communication.” Trends in Plant Science 21, no. 5 (May 2016): 376–87. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tplants.2016.01.016. 12. Wang, Daniel Y.-C., Sudhir Kumar, and S. Blair Hedges. “Divergence Time Estimates for the Early History of Animal Phyla and the Origin of Plants, Animals and Fungi.” Proceedings of the Royal Society of London. Series B: Biological Sciences 266, no. 1415 (January 22, 1999): 163–71. https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.1999.0617.

Issue 5: Wicked 24 October 2023 This issue spotlights the mischievous, malevolent and morally dubious. Dive into a fascinating selection of articles by our talented writers below! A Message from the Editors in Chief Rachel Ko & Ingrid Sefton A word from our Editors-in-Chief. Columns Chatter Why Do We Gossip? Lily McCann Rumours, reputation and reciprocity: Lily debates the connotations we make with gossip and whether our assumptions of its malicious nature are justified. Ethics in Science Three-Parent Babies? The Future of Mitochondrial Donation in Australia Kara Miwa-Dale Cutting edge IVF technology is challenging our perceptions of what it means to be a parent. Kara deconstructs the social issues and ethics of mitochondrial donation. Features When Dark Matters Ingrid Sefton Dark matter: it has a name, yet no identity. Ingrid untangles the enigmatic nature of dark matter, probing into just what we do and don’t know about this cosmological puzzle. Black Holes: Defying Reality and Challenging Perception Mahsa Nabizada Black holes: portals into the unknown? Mahsa guides us through the mind warping and perception defying nuances of black holes. On the Folklore of Fossils Ethan Bisogni Ethan traverses the interface of palaeontology and mythology, considering the insights fossils provide into both natural phenomena and human nature. Wicked Invaders of the Wild Serenie Tsai In this article, Serenie examines the detrimental and dastardly effects of invasive species and their future implications. Griefbots: A New Way to Grieve (or Not) Akanksha Agarwal Akanksha considers the efficacy and ethics of AI Griefbots, exploring the implications for grieving, and the boundaries between life, death and human connection. Serial Killers Selin Duran Ever find yourself falling down the rabbit hole of gory true crime stories? Selin explores why our society is so infatuated with the lives of cold-blooded killers.

By Renee Papaluca < Back to Issue 3 In conversation with Paul Beuchat By Renee Papaluca 10 September 2022 Edited by Zhiyou Low and Andrew Lim Illustrated by Ravon Chew Next Paul is currently a postdoctoral teaching fellow in the Faculty of Engineering and Information Technology. In his spare time, he enjoys overnight hikes, fixing bikes, and rock climbing. Note: The following exchange has been edited and condensed. What was the ‘lightbulb moment’ that prompted you to study science? I often say that I chose engineering a little bit by not wanting to choose anything else. I think it also played into my strengths back in high school. I wasn't particularly into English, history or languages but I really enjoyed physics, chemistry and maths. So, that already drew me to science broadly. What ended up directing me towards engineering, and particularly mechanical engineering, was just always tinkering at home. My dad was always tinkering and building things. We had a garage with all of the tools necessary, and I had free rein to pull things apart and put them back together. Mechanical engineering was a way of taking a more formal route of enjoyment into the hobby. Why did you choose to pursue a research pathway? After I finished my double degrees in Science and Engineering, I got a job, which I enjoyed. It was fun working with a bigger team. In this case, it was an oil and gas company with some pretty big equipment involved. This wasn’t just tinkering with something little in the garage, but something on an industrial scale. At some stage, though, I felt like there was a bit missing. There was a research arm as part of the company, but that wasn't somewhere that I could get to. I was excited by the kind of work being done in that area, and I saw a PhD as a way of pursuing that love so that I could then work on those sorts of exciting things. What advice would you give to students considering a research pathway? Certainly, while I was a PhD, all the postdocs would say that the PhD was the best time of their life. Then the PhDs would say that the Masters was the best. So, be prepared for it to be hard. The advice is to be passionate about the topic and not be fearful about uncertainty or knowing the exact topic straightaway. Also, you likely will need a lot of support to get through the hard parts. It’s nice to have tangential input in the form of seminars, visiting academics from other institutions or even from PhDs in the same group or department. This input gives you new knowledge, new exciting fields and new industry connections. What sparked your love of teaching? My original intention was to complete my PhD, gain the relevant skills and return to the industry. My passion for teaching was sparked during my PhD experience; I got to supervise Masters students that are working on a larger project with me. It was a close collaboration with someone, where you start the process of teaching them whatever the topic is. You work on it together, and eventually, the student becomes the master. They can now guide you along, as well as having vibrant discussions together. That's what I find exciting about tertiary education more broadly - we all are pushing the limits of engineering to achieve better outcomes together. What does your day-to-day life as a teaching fellow look like? One of the focuses of my position was to include more project-based teaching, i.e. to include more hands-on education and work in the classroom, which was not included previously. I got the opportunity to create a new subject. I initially spent a lot of time developing what it was going to be. My day-to-day work included choosing new topics to add to the subject and linking them to a hands-on project, like a ground robot. There's a whole bunch of work that goes into designing a robot and the relevant software on top of preparing lecture slides and delivery—all these bits and pieces that make up a subject. Scattered throughout all this is teaching research; the teaching team assesses the students, and I need to assess the teaching itself. For instance, I need to understand what is being attempted in a particular class, what we are intending to achieve and how this aligns with the current best practices in education research publications. What advice would you give to students considering academic teaching as a career? One of the very nice things here at the University of Melbourne is the support teaching staff can receive through the Graduate Certificate of University Teaching. This gives you insight into and guidance on how to tackle the whole field. For instance, one of the lecturers mentioned that you have to be passionate about teaching because it has its ups and downs. Certainly, while developing a new subject, I found it to be quite stressful. It’s a different way of thinking, and all-new terminology, which is exciting and scary, and that took me a little bit by surprise. Where I shot myself in the foot the most was trying to do too much. I was in a very lucky position where I had free rein to make a subject as hands-on as possible, which opened the floodgates to possibilities. Prioritising was extremely important. It's not that you don’t try everything, but trying too many new exciting ideas at the same time means they probably are all going to fail or take an exorbitant amount of time to implement properly. Being realistic in my instruction was important. Also, having a mentor or someone you can talk very openly with was helpful. What are your future plans? For now, my intention is to stay in teaching. I’d like to push this position to the limits of what I can achieve and see where it takes me. I can also imagine the level of curriculum redesign in shifting whole courses to project-based learning. Current reports, like from the Council of Engineering Deans, are pushing for all engineering education to shift over to project-based learning within the next five to ten years. I’d like to continue teaching, with a view to contributing to higher-level curriculum development. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 9 Entwined: A Hug Story by Elise Volpato 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Esme MacGillivray Edited by Steph Liang Ranging from Will’s heartbreaking collapse in Sean’s arms (Good Will Hunting (1)), to Sheeta and Pazu’s cheerful embrace (Castle in the Sky (2)), to Love Actually’s opening scene (3), hugs are everywhere. In cinema, songs, poems or artworks, they embody strong emotional connections. A s we observe and experience affectionate physical touch in various contexts, let us not forget about the importance of emotional connections in our own lives . Sharing a hug with your lover(s), your friends, your family, your pets; it seems to be an ordinary action… for extraordinary benefits. When hugging, we can all feel pleasant emotions such as serenity, joy, love. But what is the science behind being entwined to someone? Both psychologists and neuroscientists have puzzled over this question, and proposed potential explanations from numerous studies. Before we dig deeper into the warm world of hugs, I invite you to take some time to reflect on your own experiences: is physical contact important for you? What makes a good hug? Does being entwined to someone mean something to you? We will see that the perspectives on hugging differ through culture, physiology and psychology. Let’s now unknot the strings of our health through the lens of hugging! Hugging as a cultural practice Hugging is embedded in culture. It is often considered as a social greeting, either at the moment of an encounter between two people, or when they say goodbye to each other. Hugging, rather than handshaking, implies a reduction of interpersonal distance, greater emotional involvement and the willingness to show it. It is important that both people want this closer contact, as physical proximity is not appreciated by everybody. This is where particular cultural customs will feel natural for some and uncomfortable for others, depending on the greeting expectations and the person’s disposition to comply with them. Certain cultures will favour handshakes, kisses on the cheeks, a quick tap on the shoulder, or head nods (4). Hugging is not a universal practice. In fact, hugs are more common in warmer countries (alongside other forms of social touch), and within young people and females, but less practiced by conservative and religious populations (5). Physical touch seems less prevalent in Asian cultures – for instance, compared to countries such as Mexico, Costa Rica, or Sweden, China often has the lowest levels of hugging, whether between partners, friends, or a parent and their child (5). Hugs are also a symbol of cohesion, with sports teams’ group hugs providing motivation before a match or celebration after the victory. Interestingly, most studies into this have been conducted in Europe and Northern America, reflecting a bias in the cultural significance of hugging and what we take it to symbolise. Cultural context highlights that hugging serves multiple functions: greeting, social support, but also group cohesion and strengthening relationships. Why your body wants a hug Whether the cultural environment promotes hugging or not, this action inevitably has a physiological impact on people. A primary belief is that the physical warmth of an embrace makes the body feel relaxed, comfortable, and protected. It does not stop there, with hugging triggering various biochemical and physiological reactions, such as a higher magnitude of plasma oxytocin (bonding hormone), decrease in cortisol (stress hormone), and lower blood pressure (6). Hugging also reduces colds, promoting a more efficient immune system, and daily hugging predicts lower levels of two proinflammatory cytokines (7). Clinically, inflammation is a significant health marker, and plays a role in both mental and physical diseases. These results support the “affection exchange theory”, stating that affectionate interpersonal behaviour decreases stress and enhances immunity (excluding mitigating factors). Interestingly, studies show a general preference for right-arm given hugs. This effect is bigger (92%) when there is little emotional connection between huggers; for instance, in a “Social Media Challenge” setting where one person has their eyes covered and is hugged by random people (8). On the other hand, only 59% of people in international airport arrival halls (who are likely strongly connected to each other) hug with the right arm (9). These findings align with the “right hemisphere theory”, which states that the right hemisphere of the brain is dominant in emotional processing. Therefore, in situations of emotional hugging, the right hemisphere (which controls the left side of the body) takes the lead, so individuals hug each other with their left arm. Hence, emotional networks in the brain affect our hugging behaviour. Mind and perception If physical health can be bettered by regular hugs, we should not forget the undeniable links between physiology and mental health. Indeed, they are entwined in a virtuous circle. Due to decreased blood pressure and pulse, stress regulation is enhanced. This regulation is essential to emotional stability, for example before public speaking (10). Cortisol levels – which are related to both physical and psychological stresses - are lowered following a twenty-second hug, compared to no physical connection. This “well-being hack” works either with another person or even by self-hugging (11). Furthermore, research suggests that oxytocin has analgesic effects and influences pain processing areas in the brain (12). Pain is often thought of as a physical process, but it is multifactorial. In psychology, the “gate-control theory” (13) explains that a “gate” in the spinal cord exerts effects on pain perception by combining excitatory inputs from noxious stimuli with inhibitory ones. Thus, pain perception is modulated by both physical, ascending factors, and psychological, descending elements. As oxytocin release aids pain management, human psychology is positively influenced by the benefits of this neuromodulator, as well as the conscious, pleasant perception of hugging. Clearly, our mental health is particularly impacted by physical connection. As there is a lot of individual variability in the way people enjoy embraces, we may wonder whether hugs are more context-dependent or trait-dependent. When we look at personality traits, extraverted individuals tend to take the initiative in hugging, illustrating their spontaneity and warmth. On the other hand, neuroticism shows a tendency to social withdrawal combined with low self-esteem (14). While personality traits can be present from birth, some elements depend on our experiences during infancy. This is particularly relevant for attachment styles. When elaborating on this theory in 1969, Bowlby (15) described how it was essential for a child to not only experience affectionate and encouraging language, but also caresses and physical embraces, in order to develop a secure attachment. Throughout our entire lifespan, regular and adequate physical touch is hugely beneficial to human development. Conclusion The science behind hugging reveals multiple benefits. As long as the embrace is agreed on by all parties, there are minimal negatives, and the hug makes way for social, physiological and psychological advantages. As human beings, we are a highly social species that craves social connection, whether it is through physical bonds, emotional links, or both (hint: a key factor to achieve both is hidden in this article). Being interlaced is a marvellous way to improve your day, and even your life – go increase your oxytocin levels, I promise it is worth it. In the end, feeling entwined tells a meaningful story: a hug-story. References Scalia P, ed. Good Will Hunting . Miramax Films; 1997. Seyama T, Kasahara Y, eds. Castle in the Sky . Toei; 1986. Moore N, ed. Love Actually . Universal Pictures; 2003. Ocklenburg S. The Psychology and Neuroscience of Hugging . Springer Nature Affective Interpersonal Touch in Close Relationships: A Cross-Cultural Perspective. ResearchGate . doi: 10.1177/0146167220988373 Grewen KM, Girdler SS, Amico J, Light KC. Effects of Partner Support on Resting Oxytocin, Cortisol, Norepinephrine, and Blood Pressure Before and After Warm Partner Contact. Psychosomatic Medicine . 2005;67(4):531-538. doi: 10.1097/01.psy.0000170341.88395.47 Lisa, Floyd K. Daily Hugging Predicts Lower Levels of Two Proinflammatory Cytokines. Western Journal of Communication . 2020;85(4):487-506. doi: 10.1080/10570314.2020.1850851 Packheiser J, Rook N, Dursun Z, et al. Embracing your emotions: affective state impacts lateralisation of human embraces. Psychological Research . 2018;83(1):26-36. doi: 10.1007/s00426-018-0985-8 Turnbull OH, Stein L, Lucas MD. Lateral Preferences in Adult Embracing: A Test of the “Hemispheric Asymmetry” Theory of Infant Cradling. The Journal of Genetic Psychology . 1995;156(1):17-21. doi: 10.1080/00221325.1995.9914802 Grewen KM, Anderson BJ, Girdler SS, Light KC. Warm Partner Contact Is Related to Lower Cardiovascular Reactivity. Behavioral Medicine . 2003;29(3):123-130. doi: 10.1080/08964280309596065 Dreisoerner A, Junker NM, Schlotz W, et al. Self-soothing touch and being hugged reduce cortisol responses to stress: A randomized controlled trial on stress, physical touch, and social identity. Comprehensive Psychoneuroendocrinology . 2021;8(100091):100091. doi: 10.1016/j.cpnec.2021.100091 1.Boll S, Almeida de Minas AC, Raftogianni A, Herpertz SC, Grinevich V. Oxytocin and Pain Perception: From Animal Models to Human Research. Neuroscience . 2018;387:149-161. doi: 10.1016/j.neuroscience.2017.09.041 Melzack R, Wall PD. Pain Mechanisms: A New Theory. Science . 1965;150(3699):971-978. Forsell LM, Åström JA. Meanings of Hugging: From Greeting Behavior to Touching Implications. Comprehensive Psychology . 2012;1:02.17.21.CP.1.13. doi: 10.2466/02.17.21.cp.1.13 Bowlby J. Attachment and Loss: Attachment .; 1969. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< 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