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< Back to Issue 10 When Fiction Feels Real: How the Brain Builds Reality by Terra Gi 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Sophie Lei Edited by Han Chong Most of us assume the brain can clearly separate what is real from what is imagined. Fact seems stable and objective, while fiction seems invented, distant, and unreal. But the brain does not work with reality in such a simple way. Whether we are seeing the world, imagining an image, or becoming absorbed in a story, the brain is still creating an experience from the information it receives. This makes the boundary between fact and fiction less obvious than we often think. The reason imagination can feel so real is that the brain may not process it as something completely separate from perception. Studies led by Joel Pearson at the University of New South Wales suggest that the same brain pathways code for both imagination and perception, with imagination acting like a weaker form of perception (1, 2, 3). This makes sense when we consider vision. Around 70% of the information we receive comes through sight: visual information enters through the retina, travels to the occipital lobe at the back of our head, and is decoded by the brain into a complete image. But imagined images are also formed inside the brain, even though they have no external input. One begins in the outside world; the other begins internally. Yet both are reconstructed by the brain, and both exist as images within it. The question becomes less about whether imagination is ‘fake’, and more about whether the brain can always recognise that difference. This is why a dream can feel real right until we wake up, or why imagining a situation can make us nervous before anything has actually happened (1, 4). The brain may only realise the difference once reality interrupts it. Until then, imagination is still an experience the brain has to respond to. The placebo effect shows that the brain does not simply dismiss something because it is not physically real. The word placebo comes from the Latin meaning “I please”, and in medicine, it refers to a ‘fake’ treatment given without an active drug ingredient. At first, this seems like a purely psychological trick: the patient believes they are receiving treatment, so they feel better. However, research by Jon-Kar Zubieta, published in The Journal of Neuroscience, challenged this assumption. His study found that when patients were given a painkiller placebo, their brains released natural pain-relieving chemicals, known as endorphins. Studies on placebo analgesia have shown that this belief in treatment can itself activate endogenous opioid systems in the brain (5, 6). This overturned the idea that the placebo effect was only a matter of belief or imagination; the placebo did not work because the medicine was real, but because the brain responded as if it was. If the brain struggles to separate fact from fiction unless it is clearly corrected, then imagination becomes something we can use, not just something we experience. We can use this to mentally simulate nerve-wracking situations before facing them, or even to picture ourselves achieving future goals so they feel more possible and familiar (1, 4). Bleasdale C. “The Dress”. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_dress#/media/File:The_dress_blueblackwhitegold.jpg The same idea also applies to perception. The famous blue-and-black or white-and-gold dress showed that even vision is not just a direct copy of reality. The dress was physically blue and black, and the same light from the dress entered people’s retinas. But the brain does not stop at the retina. It has to interpret the visual information it receives, including assumptions about light and shadow (7). On one hand, people who saw blue and black interpreted the dress as being lit from the front, so their brains kept the darker colours. On the other hand, people who saw white and gold interpreted the dress as being in shadow, with light coming from behind it, so their brains ‘corrected’ the image differently. This means they were not seeing a different object; their brains were making different predictions about the same object. The same problem appears beyond visual perception. People often believe they are seeing issues objectively, when their brains are already filtering information through unconscious bias. Psychologist Emily Pronin describes this as a “bias blind spot”: people can recognise bias in others more easily than in themselves (8). This helps explain why people can look at the same evidence but walk away with completely different conclusions. Their brains are not just receiving facts; they are selecting and interpreting them in ways that fit existing beliefs. This has serious consequences beyond optical illusions. If perception is already filtered through assumptions, then memory and judgement are also less objective than we like to believe. Eyewitness accounts, for example, can feel completely sincere while still being inaccurate, because the brain does not record events like a camera. It reconstructs them, filling in gaps with expectation, emotion, and later information (9). The same pattern helps explain why misinformation spreads so easily (10). When people encounter complex or uncertain information, the brain often shortcuts the process by relying on what feels familiar, emotionally convincing, or consistent with what they already believe. In this way, false information does not always persuade us because it is carefully reasoned; it often works because it fits neatly into a mental story the brain has already begun building. Neuropsychologist and neurobiologist Roger Sperry once said, “Before brains, there was no colour or sound in the universe, nor was there any flavour or aroma and probably little sense and no feeling or emotion” (11). Reality may exist outside us, but experience is made inside the brain. So if our brains are constantly interpreting, imagining, and filling in gaps, then fiction is not meaningless at all. It is one of the ways the brain practises, believes, and builds reality. References Dijkstra N, Fleming SM. Subjective signal strength distinguishes reality from imagination. Nat Commun. 2023;14(1):1627. doi:10.1038/s41467-023-37322-1 Dijkstra N, Bosch SE, van Gerven MAJ. Shared neural mechanisms of visual perception and imagery. Trends Cogn Sci. 2019;23(5):423-434. doi:10.1016/j.tics.2019.02.004 Ganis G, Thompson WL, Kosslyn SM. Brain areas underlying visual mental imagery and visual perception: an fMRI study. Brain Res Cogn Brain Res. 2004;20(2):226-241. doi:10.1016/j.cogbrainres.2004.02.012 Saplakoglu Y. Is it real or imagined? Here’s how your brain tells the difference. WIRED. Aug 27 2023. https://www.wired.com/story/is-it-real-or-imagined-heres-how-your-brain-tells-the-difference/ Zubieta JK, Bueller JA, Jackson LR, Scott DJ, Xu Y, Koeppe RA, et al. Placebo effects mediated by endogenous opioid activity on μ-opioid receptors. J Neurosci. 2005;25(34):7754-7762. doi:10.1523/JNEUROSCI.0439-05.2005 Benedetti F, Mayberg HS, Wager TD, Stohler CS, Zubieta JK. Neurobiological mechanisms of the placebo effect. J Neurosci. 2005;25(45):10390-10402. doi:10.1523/JNEUROSCI.3458-05.2005 Wallisch P. Illumination assumptions account for individual differences in the perceptual interpretation of a profoundly ambiguous stimulus in the color domain: “the dress”. J Vis. 2017;17(4):5. doi:10.1167/17.4.5 Pronin E, Lin DY, Ross L. The bias blind spot: perceptions of bias in self versus others. Pers Soc Psychol Bull. 2002;28(3):369-381. doi:10.1177/0146167202286008 Loftus EF, Palmer JC. Reconstruction of automobile destruction: an example of the interaction between language and memory. J Verbal Learn Verbal Behav. 1974;13(5):585-589. doi:10.1016/S0022-5371(74)80011-3 Lewandowsky S, Ecker UKH, Seifert CM, Schwarz N, Cook J. Misinformation and its correction: continued influence and successful debiasing. Psychol Sci Public Interest. 2012;13(3):106-131. doi:10.1177/1529100612451018 Sperry RW. Problems outstanding in the evolution of brain function. James Arthur Lecture on the Evolution of the Human Brain. 1964. https://people.uncw.edu/puente/sperry/sperrypapers/60s/107-1964.pdf Bleasdale C. “The Dress”. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_dress#/media/File:The_dress_blueblackwhitegold.jpg Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

< Back to Issue 2 Postdoc Possibilities Thinking about postgraduate research? This column has some advice for you, courtesy of a recent PhD graduate. by Renee Papaluca 10 December 2021 Edited by Ruby Dempsey and Breana Galea Illustrated by Casey Boswell The idea of (dis)order is apparent in many scientific fields. One example of this is artificial light at night, which can disrupt our ecosystems. I caught up with Marty Lockett, a recent PhD graduate in this field, to learn more about the research pathway and their experience studying science at the University of Melbourne. Marty Lockett. Image included with permission. Marty recently completed his PhD in the Urban Light Lab, School of Biosciences. In his spare time, Marty enjoys birdwatching, Lego and science fiction. What was the ‘light-bulb moment’ that prompted you to study science? “I have always enjoyed the outdoors. For example, bushwalking, snorkelling, birdwatching — all that sort of stuff. I am more of a latecomer to science. About 10 years ago, I took long-service leave from my job. I used to be a lawyer. I ended up spending a lot of time doing volunteer work for conservation and restoration organisations… and I was exposed for the first time to the world of science and ecology. The work involved things like cleaning up rubbish, tree planting, weed removal, and banding and recapturing birds with researchers. It was really eye-opening! I realised I could do this for a job… I had never studied science, apart from chemistry at school. I had never been exposed to ecology or really considered it as a potential career option. Having that opportunity to immerse myself in nature in a more constructive and helpful way, rather than being a passive observer, really got me thinking.” Why did you choose to complete a research pathway? “So, I came into this not having an undergraduate degree in science. I completed a Masters of Environment to begin with. My thinking there was to try and get into environmental management, conservation or restoration management. As part of that masters, I completed a couple of third-year animal behaviour subjects. I found this really interesting as I hadn’t studied much about the behaviour of wildlife. Off the back of that, I decided to focus on this area for my research capstone subject. I met Dr Therésa Jones [current supervisor] and … did a mini research project on artificial light at night which is her area of specialization. From there, I got hooked on research… I wanted to find out more and, from there, decided to complete a PhD… There’s so much to learn about the world. Being in the position where the world now knows something that it once didn’t because of your work is really powerful.” What was the focus of your PhD research? Why did you choose this area? “My main project was looking at the effects of artificial light at night on an important food chain in Eucalyptus woodlands.” “There's a lot of research on the effects of artificial light at night on individual organisms… There's less but increasing research on interactions between species. As you spread out wider, there's [even] less research on more complex communities and on the wider cascading ecological effects of artificial light at night. I wanted to look into the effects of artificial light on a system that was underexplored and really important here in Australia.” “I chose a specific Eucalyptus woodland food chain consisting of river red gum trees, lerp psyllids, and birds that eat them. Lerps are the white bumps you sometimes see on Eucalyptus leaves. These are made by the nymphs [juveniles] of insects called lerp psyllids. Psyllids feed on leaf sap. Since eucalyptus sap is very rich in carbohydrates, they secrete the excess carbohydrates and use it to build little white domes over themselves. This takes a resource which is completely indigestible by most animals [Eucalyptus sap] and it turns it into something that is highly digestible by a whole range of animals… like birds, other insects, possums [and] bats. So lerps are a really key food resource in Eucalyptus woodlands. At the next level of the food chain, I chose a bird that was particularly dependent on lerps known as bell miners. I wanted to see the effect of artificial light at night at each level of this food chain. This is because all three organisms were vulnerable to… [the] effects of artificial light at night in different ways, and impacts at one level of the food chain might have cascading effects on other levels.” What did your day-to-day life as a PhD researcher look like? “It's really varied. In my case, I broke it down into three main work categories. So first up, you've got reading and writing. In the early days, before you start doing any experiments, you've got to learn a lot about your area, find out what's known, what's unknown, form hypotheses and figure out ways of testing them…” “In the middle, there is much more time spent on fieldwork and lab work. The extent of this will vary depending on the project… In my case, it was probably 50/50… An amazing amount of research involves what we refer to as ‘art and crafts’ where, after you design an experiment, you've got to then figure out a way to test that experiment on a tight budget. For example, building insect traps; you have to think about how you will make it work logistically. You need something that can be easily broken down and transported, but is rigid enough to stand up in a street, doesn't blow over in the wind and all those kinds of things. Fieldwork involved rigging up electric lights in a paddock, finding ways to stop parrots eating sound recorders; all kinds of weird stuff I never thought I'd be doing. Then there’s the actual fieldwork itself — catching bugs, measuring trees — whatever it is you need to do to gather data.” “The third main activity is statistical analysis and coding, which often go hand in hand. Most of [my] analysis was done in R [programming language], which was another thing that I hadn't done before… I hadn't really appreciated, as an outsider, just how much time scientists spend on statistics and coding. Coding governs a whole lot of things [in research], not just statistics. So you'll use coding to measure the number and diversity of vocalisations in birdsong recordings. You also may use it for physical mapping of study sites. In stats, there is obviously coding involved in statistical analysis, but also for creating the plots for your papers. It's all coding!” “At the end, you come back to reading and writing. You've gathered all your data, you've written up your results and then you've got to put them in context for your reader.” What advice would you give to students considering this research pathway? “There's two aspects to a PhD. On one hand, you are researching something that is of interest to you. This might be a particular organism, process or scientific question… That's a really important element of the PhD. But the other element is about you upskilling. Basically, a PhD is like a research apprenticeship and it's mostly self-driven… Your supervisor is there to guide you but you've got to come up with all the questions yourself, and figure out how to test them. I feel like it's really important to make the most of both these aspects; you want to do a great research project and find out something interesting that the world didn't know before. But you also want to make sure you're making the most of this time to meet people, take on skills, try things out and get outside your comfort zone. This is really important in making yourself as attractive as possible to future employers and a well-rounded researcher.” What are your future plans following your PhD? “I would like to take these skills and apply them in an in-house ecologist or research position. I’d like to do work where there's a chance to both conduct research and apply what we know to achieve better outcomes for wildlife. So, for example, working on the practical application of artificial light, working with people who make decisions about installing artificial light fixtures and helping them to find better ways to balance the needs of humans and the needs of wildlife.” Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

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

issue 3 : alien 10 September 2022 This issue is about exploring all things exotic, unfamiliar, unknown. Dive into the column and feature articles by our talented writers below! columns The Body, Et Cetera “Blink and you’ll miss it”: A Third Eyelid? By Rachel Ko This article unpacks the fascinating evidence for evolution reflected within our very own eyes, connecting us to our reptilian ancestors. Chatter Belly bugs: the aliens that live in our gut By Lily McCann In this issue we explore how microbes influence our health and emotions, and what this means for our concept of identity. Humans of UniMelb In conversation with Paul Beuchat By Renee Papaluca I caught up with Paul Beuchat to learn more about his research journey and his potentially ‘alien’ methods of teaching. Our Past, Present & Future Waving Hello to the Aliens By Reah Shetty Our interaction with the idea of aliens has evolved. The question is how far have we come and how far will we go? Science Books Believing in aliens... A science? By Juulke Castelijn I wasn’t expecting to be persuaded of the existence of life beyond the confines of Earth. Ethics in Science The Ethics of Space Travel By Monica Blasioli Being the beginning of research into the impacts of space travel, can turning space travel into monopoly truly be justified? Wonders of the Landscape Space exploration in Antartica By Ashleigh Hallinan What makes Antarctica special when it comes to meteorite discovery? Science in the Age of Politics Hope, Humanity and the Starry Night Sky By Andrew Lim This second feature in the ‘Science in the Age of Politics’ series considers the importance of the stars, and scientific diplomacy, amidst rising global tensions. features Death of the Scientific Hero By Clarisse Sawyer How do we teach scientific history without promoting historical bigots? Mighty Microscopic Warriors! By Gaurika Loomba Equipped with a plethora of signalling chemicals and cells with different features, our heroic immune system fights wars daily without us realising it. Love and Aliens By Gavin Choong The First Nations’ perspectives are profound, and must be recognised by the Australian legal system. Existing in an Alien World: Navigating Neurodiversity in a System Built for Someone Else By Hazel Theophania Autism isn’t some inscrutable mystery - we’re people, and learning how we operate will help dismantle the barriers built up around us. AI and a notion of 'artificial humanity' By Mia Horsfall We still consider AI as other (or 'alien') to us, but ideal utility would be gained from toeing the precarious line between humanity and machine.

By Rachel Ko < Back to Issue 3 “Blink and you’ll miss it”: A Third Eyelid? By Rachel Ko 10 September 2022 Edited by Ashleigh Hallinan and Yvette Marris Rachel Ko Next The creature snarls a deep, thundering growl, tensing its protruding muscles that are covered in layers of thick, green, armour-like scales, individually rattling by the sheer force of its stance. Clenching its claws, the lizard glares with a bizarrely human expression, a villain trapped in a peculiar hybrid humanoid form. As the screams of terrified students fill the air, the camera zooms into the mutant’s glistening yellow eye, and it blinks; a slimy, translucent covering flickers across its eyeball, leaving a trail of moisture - grotesque proof of its reptilian form. A charm of the cinematic world is that aliens, radioactive spider superheroes and giant mutant lizards can exist in the same universe as the regular person. On a recent movie night, watching The Amazing Spiderman, the villain Lizard caught my eye. The creature is a metamorphosed version of human scientist Dr Curt Connors, who had attempted cross-species genetic regeneration on himself. Largely CGI, the Lizard’s primitive no-frills characterisation makes him an unconventional superhero antagonist. However, upon focus, these exaggerated reptilian characteristics are wha become staples of the Lizard’s uniquely villainous appeal: the alien-green colouring, the razor-sharp claws, the terrifying teeth and, of course, the glistening yellow eyes. Figure 1: Spiderman's 'The Lizard' In reference to the creation of these eerie eyeballs, animation supervisor David Schaub confirmed the purposeful inclusion of a nictitating membrane (1). This membrane is a slimy skin-like covering more commonly known as the Third Eyelid. In animals such as birds, reptiles, fish, amphibians, and some mammals (2), it acts as a bizarre protective mechanism that maintains moisture while retaining vision (3) - and also gives the Lizard’s glare that extra kick. Acting like a windscreen wiper, the membrane ‘nictitates’, meaning it blinks, to keep debris and dust out of the eye while simultaneously hydrating it. Its transparency also allows vision underground or underwater (4). Figure 2: A bird blinking! There is just one primate species known to have a prominent nictitating membrane: the Calabar angwantibo, also known as the golden potto, which is a rare African prosimian primate found only in Cameroon and Nigeria (5). Figure 3: Look at the Calabar's nictating membrane! The membrane is a major characterising feature of The Amazing Spiderman’s creepy mutant reptilian aura. However, this Third Eyelid actually has a homologous counterpart in Dr Connors’ eyes too. In fact, it is found in all humans, and is known as our plica semilunaris, a vertical fold of conjunctiva in the inner corner of the eye (6). Although it plays a minor role in eye movement and tear drainage (7), the plica semilunaris has nowhere near as great a function in humans as the nictitating membrane does in animals (8). The plica semilunaris and its associated muscles are merely an evolutionary remnant of the nictitating membrane that existed in our reptilian ancestors millions of years ago (9). Evolution is driven by selective advantage: the traits that allow organisms to survive and reproduce are the ones that are selected for and thrive within the population, passed down from one generation to the next (10). Traits that are disadvantageous to organisms decrease their chance of survival and reproduction, meaning fewer offspring will inherit the trait, causing it to eventually disappear from the population (11). The mystery remains as to why human ancestors lost the nictitating membrane in the first place, but it is likely that changes in habitat and lifestyle regarding eye physiology made it selectively advantageous to lose the Third Eyelid, rather than wasting precious energy on maintaining a no-longer-vital mechanism (12). For some reason, though, once the nictitating membrane had evolved into nothing more than a miniscule pink fold in the corner of the eye, it still persisted. Some argue that this is because humans have had no evolutionary incentive to completely lose them (13) – the plica semilunaris is just harmless enough that it has flown under the radar of evolution’s cut. Having suggested that, however, the primary clinical significance of the plica semilunaris has been connected to allergies of the eye, in which release of inflammatory molecules like histamine causes the tissue to become swollen and itchy (14). Thus, it is worth considering another argument: that the persistence of the plica semilunaris may be indicative of some beneficial function, particularly in its role in human eye protection. It has been found that the tissue observed in early intrauterine (within the uterus) development has a dense infiltration of immune cells like macrophages and granulocytes that serve to engulf and destroy foreign invaders of the tissue (15). Along with the abundance of blood vessels and immune chemical signalling, this has suggested a specialised role in eye protection, a benefit that may have very well ensured the plica semilunaris’ survival within human populations until this day (16). One fascinating clinical case, which showcases the outlandish capabilities of this vestigial feature, is of a child for whom it was not a question of why the plica semilunaris persisted, but an actual nictitating membrane. This peculiar instance was presented on a 9 year-old girl whose left eye had a non-progressive translucent membrane covering it horizontally. The globe of the eye was able to move freely beneath the membrane, suggesting that there was no attachment. However, it was causing amblyopia (also known as a lazy eye), and poor vision, so the nictitating membrane was successfully removed by simple excision (17). Figure 4: The plica semilunaris Figure 5: A clinical case of a human nictating membrane The only other recorded case of persisting nictitating membrane was an infant boy born prematurely with Edwards syndrome, who had nictitating membranes in both eyes (18). However, due to the baby’s infancy and condition, membrane imaging was unobtainable. Thus, arguably, the most striking aspect of the 9 year-old girl’s case was the pre-procedure imaging of her eye: an intriguing, almost alien-like fusion of the human eye and that of our reptilian ancestors. This case study can be interpreted as an exaggerated example of an existing link between the nictitating membranes we see in animals today, and the plica semilunaris that exists, tucked away, in the corner of our very own eyes. So, next time you find yourself staring into your partner’s baby blues, or putting on eyeliner in the mirror, keep an eye out for this fascinating evolutionary remnant; but be quick because - blink and you’ll miss it. References Sarto D. 'Spider-Man'’s Lizard Part 1: The Animation [Internet]. Animation World Network. 2012 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.awn.com/vfxworld/spider-mans-lizard-part-1-animation Butler A, Hodos W. Comparative vertebrate neuroanatomy. Hoboken (New Jersey): Wiley-Interscience; 2005. Why do cats have an inner eyelid as well as outer ones? [Internet]. Scientific American. 2006 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-do-cats-have-an-inner/ The Equine Manual [Internet]. Elsevier; 2006. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-7020-2769-7.X5001-1 Montagna W, Machida H, Perkins EM. The skin of primates. XXXIII. The skin of the angwantibo (Arctocebus calabarensis) [Internet]. Vol. 25, American Journal of Physical Anthropology. Wiley; 1966. p. 277–90. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/ajpa.1330250307 Plica semilunaris [Internet]. Merriam-Webster.com medical dictionary. [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.merriam-webster.com/medical/plica%20semilunaris LaFee S. Body and Whole [Internet]. UC Health - UC San Diego. 2016 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://health.ucsd.edu/news/features/pages/2016-06-30-listicle-body-and-whole.aspx Dartt D. Foundation Volume2, Chapter 2. The Conjunctiva–Structure and Function [Internet]. Oculist.net. 2006 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: http://www.oculist.net/downaton502/prof/ebook/duanes/pages/v8/v8c002.html Gonzalez R. 10 Vestigial Traits You Didn't Know You Had [Internet]. Gizmodo. 2011 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://gizmodo.com/10-vestigial-traits-you-didnt-know-you-had-5829687 Sukhodolets V. V. (1986). K voprosu o roli estestvennogo otbora v évoliutsii [The role of natural selection in evolution]. Genetika, 22(2), 181–193. Sukhodolets V. V. (1986). K voprosu o roli estestvennogo otbora v évoliutsii [The role of natural selection in evolution]. Genetika, 22(2), 181–193. Gonzalez R. 10 Vestigial Traits You Didn't Know You Had [Internet]. Gizmodo. 2011 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://gizmodo.com/10-vestigial-traits-you-didnt-know-you-had-5829687 Kotecki P, Olito F. We No Longer Need These 9 Body Parts [Internet]. ScienceAlert. 2019 [cited 4 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.sciencealert.com/we-no-longer-need-these-9-body-parts Bielory L, Friedlaender MH. Allergic Conjunctivitis [Internet]. Vol. 28, Immunology and Allergy Clinics of North America. Elsevier BV; 2008. p. 43–58. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.iac.2007.12.005 Arends G, Schramm U. The structure of the human semilunar plica at different stages of its development a morphological and morphometric study [Internet]. Vol. 186, Annals of Anatomy - Anatomischer Anzeiger. Elsevier BV; 2004. p. 195–207. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/S0940-9602(04)80002-5 Arends G, Schramm U. The structure of the human semilunar plica at different stages of its development a morphological and morphometric study [Internet]. Vol. 186, Annals of Anatomy - Anatomischer Anzeiger. Elsevier BV; 2004. p. 195–207. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/S0940-9602(04)80002-5 Vokuda H, Heralgi M, Thallangady A, Venkatachalam K. Persistent unilateral nictitating membrane in a 9-year-old girl: A rare case report [Internet]. Vol. 65, Indian Journal of Ophthalmology. Medknow; 2017. p. 253. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.4103/ijo.IJO_436_15 García-Castro JM, Carlota Reyes de Torres L. Nictitating Membrane in Trisomy 18 Syndrome [Internet]. Vol. 80, American Journal of Ophthalmology. Elsevier BV; 1975. p. 550–1. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/0002-9394(75)90228-7 Images Figure 1: Galloway, R. (2022, January 25). Lizard originally had a different look in 'Spider-Man: No way home'. We Got This Covered. Retrieved August 9, 2022, from https://wegotthiscovered.com/movies/lizard-originally-had-a-different-look-in-spider-man-no-way-home/ Figure 2: Hudson T. (2010, July) Retrieved Sep 13, 2022, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nictitating_membrane#/media/File:Bir d_blink-edit.jpg Figure 3: Sharma R. Calabar angwantibo - Alchetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia [Internet]. Alchetron.com. 2018 [cited 7 May 2022]. Available from: https://alchetron.com/Calabar-angwantibo Figure 4: Amir, D. (2019, January 16). Twitter. Retrieved August 9, 2022, from https://twitter.com/dorsaamir/status/1085557444196 081664 Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 2 The Evolution of Science Communication In the current age of social media, users hold far more autonomy over the posts and information which they share online. However, this was not always the case, with the media once being far more regulated, and restricted for only certain individuals. With users now having far more power over content posted online, how does this impact the information which others receive about the COVID-19 pandemic? by Monica Blasioli 10 December 2021 Edited by Khoa-Anh Tran & Yen Sim Illustrated by Rachel Ko Trigger warning: This article mentions illness, and death or dying. Since the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020, science communication has started to evolve in ways never before seen across the globe. There appears to be an endless amount of infographics, Facebook posts, and YouTube and TikTok videos… including some with dancing doctors. Information not only about the COVID-19 virus, but countless diseases and scientific concepts, is available in more casual, accessible language at only the touch of a button. Any questions which you might have about science or your body can be answered through a quick Google search. In this sense, science communication is now far more rapid, as well as more accessible than in research papers (which always seem like they are written in a foreign language at times). However, the downside of having vast amounts of information available is that it can create challenges in determining the validity of what is being presented. In previous years, science communication was typically limited to the more typical forms of media, such as in a newspaper or a magazine, or even through a television interview. These were typically completed by professionals in the field, such as a research scientist or a medical doctor. When looking at the 1920 Influenza outbreak, many citizens at that time would have received their information from printed newspapers and posters on bulletin boards, as seen below. Image 1, [1] Somewhat similar to today's age, there were signs displaying the importance of mask-wearing, and newspapers explaining the closures of schools and shops, the distribution of vaccines, and reports of death rates. These messages were, and still are, created and approved by larger institutions, governments and medical professionals, particularly doctors. As seen on the (left / right / below / above), doctors are urging people to not become complacent, despite a recent drop in influenza cases. This is rather similar to current newspaper or television news reports - only in reference to COVID-19, instead of influenza. Image 2, [2] There were, of course, still groups which were uncertain about the scientific evidence being provided by journalists, doctors and government officials at this time. In November of 1918, it was declared that “the epidemic of [influenza] disease is practically over,” with mask laws being relaxed. However, only a few days later, the previous mask laws were reintroduced with a spike in Influenza cases. As unpacked in Dr Dolan’s research [3], the “Anti-Mask League” formed and protested in response to this back track, claiming that masks were unsanitary, unnecessary, and stifling their freedom. As this was during the early 20th century, the league advertised their protests in local newspapers, with reports that hundreds of San Francisco residents were fined for not abiding by mask rules, often due to their alliance with the Anti-Mask League. The San Francisco Anti-Mask League is one of the most renowned and infamous groups of its time, with smaller-scale groups also questioning the science being communicated. This type of conflicting information surrounding mask issues, and the opinion that they restrict personal freedoms, have incited similar responses throughout history. However, resistance by anti-mask groups has not existed on such an influential and global scale, as it has during the current COVID-19 pandemic. With the rise of the age of “new media,” including platforms such as Instagram and Facebook, individuals now have far more autonomy over their role in the media, meaning that they yield a lot more power over the information others are receiving. Almost anybody can interpret scientific material online and upload it in a video of them dancing to some music on TikTok, spreading information to potentially hundreds of thousands of viewers across the globe. In many ways this new found autonomy and power can be quite beneficial. Australian Doctor Imogen Hines uses her platform on TikTok, alongside her medical education and current scientific research, to break down medical treatments and mistruths, particularly surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic. These videos use simple language and straight-forward analogies, “humanising” the often intimidating figures in the medical field, and allowing the general public to be well-informed about scientific concepts. For example, Dr Imogen breaks down the research surrounding long term side effects of vaccines using a milkshake analogy! https://www.tiktok.com/@imi_imogen1/video/7027448207823211777?is_copy_url=1&is_from_webapp=v1&lang=en On the other hand, this phenomenon can have pretty serious ramifications, with many individuals feeling rightfully confused about what the truth really is, when there appears to be so many versions of it posted across the internet. Following a rather controversial study on Ivermectin as a treatment for COVID-19, the internet was soon buzzing with excitement about the prospect of a drug that many believed could replace the need for a vaccine. Despite numerous gaps in the original study, and countless further studies refuting Invermectin’s ability to treat COVID-19, many social media users are continuing to spread this myth online. Both governments and hospitals alike have been accused of hiding a seemingly “good” cure from their citizens. In Texas, a group of doctors won a legal case which allowed Texas Huguley Hospital to refuse administering Ivermectin to a COVID-19 infected Deputy Sheriff. This sparked outrage on Facebook, with users and the Sheriff’s wife demanding greater freedoms over their medical treatments, instead of just relying on the judgement of doctors and hospital staff. In this instance, the misinformation surrounding Ivermectin is not only influencing individuals to seek out futile treatments, but it is also spreading mistrust with the science and medical communities, who work incredibly hard to protect the world, particularly over the past two years. Despite Ivermectin being used in a clinical setting to treat parasitic (not viral) infections in humans for a number of years now, it can be extremely dangerous for individuals to have complete power over their medical treatments. The dosage and timing of treatment is crucial in ensuring success. Just like with everyday medications such as paracetamol, taking Ivermectin in high doses is risky. A COVID-19 infected woman from Sydney who read about Ivermectin on social media took a very high dosage of the drug after purchasing it from an online seller, which resulted in severe diarrhea and vomiting. In order to combat some of this misinformation, a number of social media platforms are “fact checking” posts or providing warnings on posts with keywords, such as ‘COVID-19’ or ‘vaccination.’ On Instagram, each post with these keywords will contain a banner at the bottom inviting users to visit their “COVID-19 Information Centre,” which provides a list of information supported by WHO and UNICEF about how vaccines are of high-standard, well-researched, and generally resulting in mild side effects. In addition, on Facebook, posts identified to be spreading mistruths will provide users with websites explaining the truth, before they can access the original posts. However, these warnings and fact-checks can only go so far. Posts blindly supporting the use of Ivermectin, falsely reporting side effects of vaccines, and arguing that masks cannot block virus particles still circulate the internet. Often those most vulnerable in the community are at risk of being led astray with misinformation. In principle, evidence-based, concise, easy-to-understand science communication is essential to break down the barrier between research and the general public, ensuring that citizens are well-informed and more comfortable about the world around them. In the situation of a public health crisis such as the COVID-19 pandemic, this communication is crucial in ensuring that all citizens can remain well-informed, safe and healthy. Misinformation and dodgy studies can not only lead people astray, but also cost them their health and wellbeing. References: 1. Kathleen McGarvey, “Historian John Barry compares COVID-19 to the 1918 flu pandemic,” University of Rochester, October 6, 2020. https://www.rochester.edu/newscenter/historian-john-barry-compares-covid-19-to-1918-flu-pandemic-454732/ 2. Kathleen McGarvey, “Historian John Barry compares COVID-19 to the 1918 flu pandemic,” University of Rochester, October 6, 2020. https://www.rochester.edu/newscenter/historian-john-barry-compares-covid-19-to-1918-flu-pandemic-454732/ 3. Brian Dolan, Unmasking History: Who Was Behind the Anti-Mask League Protests During the 1918 Influenza Epidemic in San Francisco? Perspectives in Medical Humanities (San Francisco: UC Medical Humanities Consortium, 2020) Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 2 Spirituality and Science Science is limited by the philosophies which govern it. Common thinking is that science is a rigid, cold and largely academic field which sneers at the domain of spirituality. I posit that one must move beyond this point of view in order to do good science, and to find the true aims and values of the discipline. by Hamish Payne 10 December 2021 Edited by Irene Yonsuh Lee & Khoa-Anh Tran Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen When I was fifteen, I thought that I could thwart my English teacher. He had given us homework that was simple enough; discuss with our families whether true altruism exists. I did not have this discussion with my household but instead hosted the debate in my head, coming to a measured conclusion. However, the privacy of my argumentation showed the next day when my teacher asked me to share. He immediately suggested that I had only been thinking by myself and had not welcomed others into my discussion. This is not my most interesting story, but it did teach me something important: every thought that I have had contains traces of me. Even when I am fiercely debating contrary viewpoints on a subject, even when I am having my most dissonant thoughts, it is my own voice against which I argue. Whenever I have drawn my pen across the page, I have been leaving my fingerprints in the ink. At the time, these traces of me made me very uncomfortable. I have always heard that the beauty in science is that it does not matter if it is considered in isolation or in consultation with others; its facts and its theorems are invariant. This vision of science as a haven for unchanging logic was popularised by Descartes. For the cartesian, the body is split from nature, allowing one to consider the latter more sterilely. But the mind is also split from the body, and our talents, ambitions and passions are split apart in our minds. This thinking for centuries has spurred enormous strides forward in physical technology and has made humanity feel in control of our environment largely because the cartesian divide heralds natural determinism wherein each phenomenon has a direct and exploitable cause[1]. However, there is no room for individual expression in the Cartesian framework – no place for perception, experience, or spirituality. Though my retelling is likely apocryphal, the story of Galileo serves in my mind as a symbol of this divide. From the instant Galileo sought to place the sun at the centre of our solar system, he toppled the heavens and was thus persecuted by the purveyors of spirituality. The persecution of both the scientist and his heliocentric principle barred faith and belief from the scientific process and hence placed reason and logic at its centre. Yet it should not be forgotten that the clergy of the Roman Inquisition paid Galileo in kind and forbad the scientist a spirit. But what are the consequences of taking such a divided view of nature? When I hear people talk about scientists today, they treat the scientist not as someone who lives but as someone who develops rules about life. Scientists must never strive for innate beauty, but for inert truth, guided by cold logic – even Oscar Wilde wrote that “the advantage of science is that it is emotionless”[2]. As a continuation of Galileo being branded apostate, the scientist has been stripped of the right to ambiguity in his explanations, and uncertainty in his world view. If science is not complete, it is deemed a failure. But this is ludicrous. Any scientist must know and accept that the cartesian split neglects certain aspects of the world – those properties of a system which emerge only when all its parts are combined. Moreover, nature still eludes science on a very deep level. For example, there is still no widely accepted philosophical explanation of quantum mechanics, no ability to predict the chaotic flow of a surging river, no profound understanding of the synchronisation of heart cells. Science is so woefully incomplete and incapable of dealing with the sheer scale of disorder in the world that most real-world systems must undergo several fundamental simplifications to be modelled, lest they take years to understand. And when things are cut apart, it becomes even more difficult to stitch them back into the complete picture. Then what remains of the aims of science if it is only an imitation of nature – a painting with no colours, shadows on the wall? When I ask myself this question, I find Feynman’s words echo back in my head: doing science is no more than thinking about “the inconceivable nature of nature”[3]. Science seeks to connect us with nature. It is not about disassembling it and organising it, splitting it into more and more isolated pieces, but about marvelling at the whole system, attempting to let it all sit in your mind - to look at the dancing shadows and understand what is casting them, enjoying the dance all the same. Likewise, in his book, Nonlinear Dynamics and Chaos, Steven Strogatz humorously lists life under the list of unexplored scientific domains[4]. He does not relegate, however, science to its usual, removed, and sterilised place in this. Instead, he suggests that nature is so complex, that one cannot help but marvel at it with no real hope of controlling or quantifying it. I argue that these two scientists are just as much talking about what it means to be spiritual as scientific. To be spiritual is to try relentlessly to understand our life and our world and their relationship, even as they mercurially shift and change. Simply put, spirituality arises from a profound connection with nature. For example, the unity of the mind and the natural world is the bedrock of Eastern mysticism. The discipline seeks to connect the two through considered meditation and direly avoids their division. Such is highlighted by the Buddhist philosopher Asvaghosha; “When the mind is disturbed, the multiplicity of things is produced, but when the mind is quieted, the multiplicity of things disappears.” Western religions similarly connect nature and the spirit. Polytheistic traditions like the ancient Greek and Roman ascribe to their gods an element of the world each to control. The communication of the individual with a god is thus the interaction of the individual with the natural world. Similarly, the God of Judaism, Christianity and Islam is often present in awesome acts of nature. Particularly in the oldest parts of the Bible, God is seen to communicate through natural disasters and great floods and great fish and plagues and pestilences. Whilst I must admit that this analysis is somewhat superficial, it certainly illustrates the place nature holds deep in our minds and mythology. In an overwhelming number of cases, nature begets spirituality. Science is likewise born of nature and, for me at least, is therefore spiritual. But the value in reclassifying science as something spiritual as well as logical is not argumentation for naught. The scientist who is spiritual and fully connected with nature is better equipped than any. Guarding the connection between the individual and nature as sacred allows us to question our world on a more fundamental, truer level. Take as an example a question I hear often in my studies of physics: “Why is this theorem true?” Whilst it sounds reasonable enough, this type of question leads its asker down a reductionistic rabbit hole, in pitting mathematics against nature. Instead of seeing mathematics as a tool to describe nature, nature is seen as a product of mathematics. The rich physical world is reduced into rigidly true or false statements when we know such dichotomies are severely inept in the real world. Perhaps the scientist who is more holistically, spiritually connected with nature would be prompted to ask instead: “How true is this theorem to the world?” One does not have to look far to see how this subtle shift in approach to science can be incredibly successful. A fundamental principle of quantum physics states that matter is simultaneously particle-like and wave-like. This ambiguity in physical explanation, which would not be allowed from a cartesian point of view, is acceptable because it matches completely what is observed rather than attempting to reduce nature into the language of mathematics. Werner Heisenberg even wrote that “we cannot speak about atoms in ordinary language”, demonstrating the need for scientific holism. Approaching scientific discovery from a spiritual perspective allows us to move beyond the constraints of a reductive language. Likewise, studying science increases our spiritual relationship with nature. Albert Camus, perhaps rather unknowingly, said much the same thing in his unpublished novel, La Mort Heureuse. The protagonist, Mersault, on the brink of his death, says of the red, sunset clouds: “When I was young, my mother told me that [the clouds] were the souls of the dead who were travelling to Heaven. I was amazed that my soul was red. Now I know that it’s more likely the promise of wind. But that’s just as marvelous.”[5] What is spiritual is natural. Intellectual curiosity is rooted in the physical world, even as it changes and develops, becomes completely chaotic and throws more and more unanswerable questions in our faces. Science persists not because it seeks to provide answers to all of life’s questions, but because it provokes the mind into deeper questioning and, in that, deeper connection with nature and its ineffable, uncapturable beauty. The most marvellous thing about taking this perspective is that the science I do becomes more personal and ignites a stronger passion. I no longer must worry about the traces of myself; they are a necessary part of my understanding of the world and have shown me that, although science is “emotionless” in its methodology, it should not be so in its execution. Science is not spiritual because it precludes knowledge that is born from blind faith, but because it pushes knowledge to somewhere that is deeply human and that is beyond faith. References: [1] Fritjof Capra. 2000. The Tao of Physics : An Exploration of the Parallels between Modern Physics and Eastern Mysticism. 35th Anniversary Edition. Boston: Shambhala. [2] Wilde, Oscar. (1890) 2018. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York, Ny: Olive Editions. [3] Feynman, Richard. 1983. “Fun to Imagine with Richard Feynman.” Documentary. BBC. [4] Strogatz, Steven H. (2014) 2019. Nonlinear Dynamics and Chaos : With Applications to Physics, Biology, Chemistry, and Engineering. Second. Boca Raton: Crc Press. [5] Camus, Albert. (1971) 2010. La Mort Hereuse. Paris: Gallimard. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

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

< Back to Issue 4 From the Editors-in-Chief by Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko, Patrick Grave, Yvette Marris 1 July 2023 Edited by the Committee Illustrated by Gemma van der Hurk Scirocco, summer sun, shimmering on the horizon. Salt-caked channels spiderweb your lips, scored by rivulets of sweat. Shifting, hissing sands sting your legs. You are the explorer, the adventurer, the scientist. A rusted spring, you heave forward, straining for each step, hauling empty waterskins. ----- The lonely deserts of science provide fertile ground for mirages. An optical phenomenon that appears to show lakes in the distance, the mirage has long been a metaphor for foolhardy hopes and desperate quests. The allure of a sparkling oasis just over the horizon, however, is undeniable. The practice of science involves both kinds of stories. Some scientists set a distant goal and reach it — perhaps they are lucky, perhaps they have exactly the right skills. Other scientists yearn to crack a certain problem but never quite get there. In this issue of OmniSci Magazine, we chose to explore this quest for the unknown that may be bold, unlucky, or even foolhardy: chasing the ‘Mirage’. Each article was written entirely by a student, edited by students, and is accompanied by an illustration that was created by a student. We, as a magazine, exist to provide university students a place to develop their science communication skills and share their work. If there’s a piece you enjoy, feel free to leave a comment or send us some feedback – we love to know that our work means something to the wider world. We’d like to thank all our contributors — our writers, designers, editors, and committee — who have each invested countless hours into crafting an issue that we are all incredibly proud of. We’d also like to thank you, our readers; we are incredibly grateful that people want to read student pieces and learn little bits from the work. That’s enough talking from us until next issue. Go and read some fantastic student writing! Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

< Back to Issue 2 Tactile communication: how touch conveys the things we can’t say Our daily dose of touch has decreased through months of lockdowns. But why is touch so important to us, and why do we feel the lack of it so severely? by Lily McCann 10 December 2021 Edited by Juulke Castelijn and Ethan Newnham Illustrated by Janna Dingle In a confusing world, thrust in and out of lockdowns, estranged from family and friends, you may have felt somewhat lost and out of touch in recent years. What helps to bring you back to a sense of self and belonging? For me it's a hug from my partner, a pat on the back from a sibling or a cuddle with my dog. Positive physical contact helps ground us and reassure us of our place in the world. It's an instinct cultivated from our first moments of life and one crucial to development. As the first sense to form, touch is the start of our gradual awakening into the world and informs our developmental progress. Even touching a mother’s stomach in pregnancy can alter the behaviour of the foetus within[1]. In the mid-late 20th century, researchers began to study the impact of sensory deprivation on children and infants, examining those placed in institutions who suffered from neglect[2]. This was a poignant problem following World War II, when millions of children were orphaned or displaced. The limited number of carers in overcrowded orphanages that attempted to harbour them meant that infants and young children were often left to lie day after day without a hug, stroke or any other form of caring contact. Upon studying these children, it became clear that the impact of deprivation was devastating, resulting in a number of cognitive, behavioural and physical deficits. Studies have since established that increasing tactile contact with developing children is protective against such problems[3]. For instance, simply stroking isolated premature babies improves mental development and physical growth[4]. It seems that touch provides a message to the infant’s body, communicating that it is safe and guarded and in an environment where it can grow and flourish. As you might expect, this process is closely related to stress responses. Studies have shown that in stressful situations of food deprivation, mice populations prioritise survival, neglecting breeding and exploration. When food is plentiful, this is reversed. A mother’s touch has a similar effect on human infants, decreasing stress levels and facilitating development and exploration[5]. We see another good example of this in dogs. Along with other domesticated animals, dog display something called ‘Domestication Syndrome’, which describes a set of features animals shaped by human breeding efforts share[6]. The ‘cute’ physique of such animals (floppy ears, snubby nose, curly tails) are correlated with increased stress tolerance and more tame behaviours. Interestingly, in dogs this decrease in stress is also paired with increased desire for and pleasure in touch. This is clear even between dog breeds: the working Australian Kelpie with its active herding instincts is more likely to chase down a bicycle than snuggle into you and ignore it like the floppy-eared Cavalier. Correlation studies abound, but what about the mechanism behind all these associations? How does touch affect our body? How is its message conveyed? The key mediators of tactile communication are nerve cells, otherwise known as neurons. These cells conduct signals to, from and within our brain. They’re particularly important for sensation, transferring information about our external environment to our inner mind. For touch, there are neurons in our skin with specialised endings that can sense pressure, vibration, temperature and stretch. They respond to these stimuli by firing little signals that tell our brain we’re touching something. There are actually two distinct types of touch that we use. Typing, turning book pages or handling tools are all mediated by the first type, discriminative touch, which is mainly limited to the palmar surface of our hands and fingers. Have a look at your palm now, then flip it over and examine the back of your hand. Notice anything different? The main difference is that the inner surface of your hand is smooth. Check out the back of it – it’s hairy. Hairy skin is differentiated by – you guessed it – hair, but also by the method of touch sensation. The type of touch experienced by hairy skin is affective touch. Affective touch holds the key to explaining our emotional dependence on tactile communication because it describes touch that has emotional and social relevance. It relies on a type of sensory nerve called CT fibres, which are specialised for positive social touch: they respond best to the temperature of human skin and a gentle, stroking pressure. Parents automatically use this sort of touch when interacting with their children[7]. This caring touch is incredibly powerful. It can cause the release of oxytocin (the “bonding hormone”)[8], decrease stress levels[9], and trigger the facial muscles that form a smile[10]. It can stimulate unique emotional responses, such as excitement, affection or calm. It even has the power to speak to DNA itself: research has shown that changing touch exposure in mice affects how DNA is structured and expressed[11]. Social touch is an essential component of how we define ourselves as humans. Without it, touch would mean nothing more than that a person is present, that their skin is warm or cold, dry or wet. The warmth of our partner’s hand wouldn’t create a sense of belonging, hugging a friend wouldn’t trigger memories of time spent together, stroking your child wouldn’t give rise to feelings of love. Affective touch colours our world and gives it meaning. Whilst some suggest that social touch encompasses all intentional, consensual interpersonal touch, I would argue that even accidental touch has a social impact[12]. In recent times we have all felt the change of walking down empty streets. Where bumping or brushing against another person was taken for granted as simply unavoidable on the morning train a couple of years ago, COVID19 has introduced new connotations to such accidental touch, all but prohibiting it. Whilst you may have been frustrated by clustered train carriages, you can’t help but notice that it feels a little lonely when the train is quiet, and the nearest passenger is more than 1.5m away. Even accidental touch signals to the body that you are part of a community, part of a herd, and for a social animal that must be comforting. Look at sheep, for instance: under stress, harassed by sheepdogs or farmers, they automatically cluster together in a group. Whilst an individual bump between two sheep in the herd may be fortuitous, the fact that crowding together maximises interpersonal contact is no accident. The comfort of touch is a fact of human life, but one not often actively acknowledged. Lockdowns and isolation have reminded us all how necessary social contact can be for our wellbeing. Touch is a part of the chatter that defines our place amongst others and our identities as part of a community. So if your pet, friend or partner are in need of comfort, administer a bit of affective touch and see the miraculous calming effects of the actions of those CT nerve cells. Stay safe and sanitise, but remember, hugs are helpful too! References [1]Marx, Viola, and Emese Nagy. 2017. "Fetal Behavioral Responses To The Touch Of The Mother’S Abdomen: A Frame-By-Frame Analysis". Infant Behavior And Development 47: 83-91. doi:10.1016/j.infbeh.2017.03.005. [2] van der Horst, Frank C. P., and René van der Veer. 2008. "Loneliness In Infancy: Harry Harlow, John Bowlby And Issues Of Separation". Integrative Psychological And Behavioral Science 42 (4): 325-335. doi:10.1007/s12124-008-9071-x. [3] Ardiel, Evan L, and Catharine H Rankin. 2010. "The Importance Of Touch In Development". Paediatrics & Child Health 15 (3): 153-156. doi:10.1093/pch/15.3.153. [4] Rice, Ruth D. 1977. "Neurophysiological Development In Premature Infants Following Stimulation.". Developmental Psychology 13 (1): 69-76. doi:10.1037/0012-1649.13.1.69. [5] Caldji, Christian, Josie Diorio, and Michael J Meaney. 2000. "Variations In Maternal Care In Infancy Regulate The Development Of Stress Reactivity". Biological Psychiatry 48 (12): 1164-1174. doi:10.1016/s0006-3223(00)01084-2. [6] Trut, Lyudmila. 1999. "Early Canid Domestication: The Farm-Fox Experiment". American Scientist 87 (2): 160. doi:10.1511/1999.2.160. [7]Croy, Ilona, Edda Drechsler, Paul Hamilton, Thomas Hummel, and Håkan Olausson. 2016. "Olfactory Modulation Of Affective Touch Processing — A Neurophysiological Investigation". Neuroimage 135: 135-141. doi:10.1016/j.neuroimage.2016.04.046.v [8]Walker, Susannah C., Paula D. Trotter, William T. Swaney, Andrew Marshall, and Francis P. Mcglone. 2017. "C-Tactile Afferents: Cutaneous Mediators Of Oxytocin Release During Affiliative Tactile Interactions?". Neuropeptides 64: 27-38. doi:10.1016/j.npep.2017.01.001. [9]Field, Tiffany. 2010. "Touch For Socioemotional And Physical Well-Being: A Review". Developmental Review 30 (4): 367-383. doi:10.1016/j.dr.2011.01.001. [10]Pawling, Ralph, Peter R. Cannon, Francis P. McGlone, and Susannah C. Walker. 2017. "C-Tactile Afferent Stimulating Touch Carries A Positive Affective Value". PLOS ONE 12 (3): e0173457. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0173457. [11]Bagot, R. C., T.-Y. Zhang, X. Wen, T. T. T. Nguyen, H.-B. Nguyen, J. Diorio, T. P. Wong, and M. J. Meaney. 2012. "Variations In Postnatal Maternal Care And The Epigenetic Regulation Of Metabotropic Glutamate Receptor 1 Expression And Hippocampal Function In The Rat". Proceedings Of The National Academy Of Sciences 109 (Supplement_2): 17200-17207. doi:10.1073/pnas.1204599109. [12] Cascio, Carissa J., David Moore, and Francis McGlone. 2019. "Social Touch And Human Development". Developmental Cognitive Neuroscience 35: 5-11. doi:10.1016/j.dcn.2018.04.009. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 2 Hiccups Evolution might be a theory, but if it’s evidence you’re after, there’s no need to look further than your own body. The human form is full of fascinating parts and functions that hold hidden histories - from the column that brought you a deep-dive into ear wiggling in Issue 1, here’s an exploration of why we hiccup! by Rachel Ko 10 December 2021 Edited by Katherine Tweedie and Ashleigh Hallinan Illustrated by Gemma Van der Hurk Hiccups bring a special brand of chaos to a day. It’s one that lingers, rendering us helpless and in suspense; a subtle, internal chaos of quiet frustration that forces us to drop what we’re doing to monitor each breath – in and out, in and out – until the moment they abruptly decide to stop. It’s an experience we’ve all had – one that can hit anyone at any time – and for most of us, hiccups are a concentrated episode of inconvenience; best ignored, and overcome. Yet, despite our haste to get rid of them when they interrupt our day, hiccups seem to have mystified humans for generations. Historically, the phenomenon has been the source of many superstitions, both good and bad. A range of cultures associate them with the concept of remembrance: in Russia, hiccups mean someone is missing you (1), while an Indian myth suggests that someone is remembering you negatively for the evils you have committed (2). Likewise, in Ancient Greece, hiccups were a sign that you were being complained about (3), while in Hungary, they mean you are currently the subject of gossip. On a darker note, a Japanese superstition prophesises death to one who hiccups 100 times. (4) Clearly, the need to justify everything, even things as trivial as hiccups, has always been an inherent human characteristic, transcending culture and time. As such, science has more recently made its attempt at objectively identifying a reason behind the strange phenomenon of hiccups. After all, if you take a step back and think about it, hiccups are indeed quite strange. Anatomically, hiccups (known scientifically as singultus) are involuntary spasms of the diaphragm (5): the dome-like sheet of muscle separating the chest and abdominal cavities. (6) The inspiratory muscles, including the intercostal and neck muscles, also spasm, while the expiratory muscles are inhibited. (7) These sudden contractions cause a rapid intake of air (“hic”), followed by the immediate closure of the glottis or vocal cords (“up”). (8) As many of us have probably experienced, a range of stimuli can cause these involuntary contractions. The physical stimuli include anything that stretches and bloats the stomach, (9) such as overeating, rapid food consumption and gulping, especially of carbonated drinks. (10) Emotionally, intense feelings and our responses to them, such as laughing, sobbing, anxiety and excitement, can also be triggers. (11) This list is not at all exhaustive; in fact, the range of stimuli is so large that hiccups might be considered the common thread between a drunk man, a Parkinson’s disease patient and anyone who watches The Notebook. The one thing that alcohol, (12) some neurological drugs (13) and intense sobbing (14) do have in common is that they exogenously stimulate the hiccup reflex arc. (15) This arc involves the vagal and phrenic nerves that stretch from the brainstem to the abdomen which cause the diaphragm to contract involuntarily. (16) According to Professor Georg Petroianu from the Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine, (17) many familiar home remedies for hiccupping – being scared, swallowing ice, drinking water upside down – interrupt this reflex arc, actually giving these solutions a somewhat scientific rationale. While modern research has successfully mapped out the process of hiccups, their purpose is still unclear. As of now, the hiccup reflex arc and the resulting diaphragmatic spasms seem to be effectively useless. Of the existing theories for the function of hiccups, the most prominent seems to be that they are a remnant of our evolutionary development, (18) essentially ‘vestigial’; in this case, a feature that once served our amphibian ancestors millions of years ago, but now retain little of their original function. (19) In particular, hiccups are believed to be a relic of the ancient transition of organisms from water to land. (20) When early fish lived in stagnant waters with little oxygen, they developed lungs to take advantage of the air overhead, in addition to using gills while underwater. (21) In this system, inhalation would allow water to move over the gills, during which a rapid closure of the glottis – which we see now in hiccupping – would prevent water from entering the lungs. It is theorised that when descendants of these fish moved onto land, gills were lost, but the neural circuit for this glottis closing mechanism was retained. (22) This neural circuit is indeed observable in human beings today, in the form of the hiccup central pattern generator (CPG). (23) CPGs exist for other oscillating actions like breathing and walking, (24) but a particular cross-species CPG stands out as a link to human hiccupping: the neural CPG that is also used by tadpoles for gill ventilation. Tadpoles “breathe” in a recurring, rhythmic pattern that shares a fundamental characteristic feature with hiccups: both involve inspiration with closing of the glottis. (25) This phenomenon strengthens the idea that the hiccup CPG may be left over from a previous stage in evolution and has been retained in both humans and frogs. However, the CPG in frogs is still used for ventilation, while in humans, the evolution of lungs to replace gills has rendered it useless. (26) Based on this information, it seems hiccupping lost its function with time and the development of the human lungs, remaining as nothing more than an evolutionary remnant. However, we cannot discredit hiccupping as having become entirely useless as soon as gills were lost. Interestingly, hiccupping has only been observed in mammals – not in birds, lizards or other air-breathing animals. (27) This suggests that there must have been some evolutionary advantage to hiccupping at some point, at least in mammals. A popular theory for this function stems from the uniquely mammalian trait of nursing. (28) Considering the fact that human babies hiccup in the womb even before birth, this theory considers hiccupping to be almost a glorified burp, intended to remove air from the stomach. This becomes particularly advantageous when closing the glottis prevents milk from entering the lungs, aiding the act of nursing. (29) Today, we reduce hiccups to the disorder and disarray they bring to our day. But, next time you are hit with a bout of hiccups, take a second to find some calm amidst the chaos and appreciate yet another fascinating evolutionary fossil, before you hurry to dismiss them. After that, feel free to eat those lemons or gargle that salty water to your diaphragm’s content. References Sonya Vatomsky, "7 Cures For Hiccups From World Folklore," Mentalfloss.Com, 2017, https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/500937/7-cures-hiccups-world-folklore. Derek Lue, "Indian Superstition: Hiccups | Dartmouth Folklore Archive," Journeys.Dartmouth.Edu, 2018, https://journeys.dartmouth.edu/folklorearchive/2018/11/14/indian-superstition-hiccups/. Vatomsky, "7 Cures For Hiccups From World Folklore". James Mundy, "10 Most Interesting Superstitions In Japanese Culture | Insidejapan Tours," Insidejapan Blog, 2013, https://www.insidejapantours.com/blog/2013/07/08/10-most-interesting-superstitions-in-japanese-culture/. Paul Rousseau, "Hiccups," Southern Medical Journal, no. 88, 2 (1995): 175-181, doi:10.1097/00007611-199502000-00002. Bruno Bordoni and Emiliano Zanier, "Anatomic Connections Of The Diaphragm Influence Of Respiration On The Body System," Journal Of Multidisciplinary Healthcare, no. 6 (2013): 281, doi:10.2147/jmdh.s45443. Christian Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," Bioessays no. 25, 2 (2003): 182-188, doi:10.1002/bies.10224. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. John Cameron, “Why Do We Hiccup?,” filmed for TedEd, 2016, TED Video, https://ed.ted.com/lessons/why-do-we-hiccup-john-cameron#watch. Monika Steger, Markus Schneemann, and Mark Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," Alimentary Pharmacology & Therapeutics 42, no. 9 (. 2015): 1037-1050, doi:10.1111/apt.13374. Lien-Fu Lin, and Pi-Teh Huang, "An Uncommon Cause Of Hiccups: Sarcoidosis Presenting Solely As Hiccups," Journal Of The Chinese Medical Association 73, no. 12 (2010): 647-650, doi:10.1016/s1726-4901(10)70141-6. Steger, Schneemann and Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," 1037-1050. Unax Lertxundi et al., "Hiccups In Parkinson’s Disease: An Analysis Of Cases Reported In The European Pharmacovigilance Database And A Review Of The Literature," European Journal Of Clinical Pharmacology 73, no. 9 (2017): 1159-1164, doi:10.1007/s00228-017-2275-6. Lin and Huang, "An Uncommon Cause Of Hiccups: Sarcoidosis Presenting Solely As Hiccups," 647-650. Peter J. Kahrilas and Guoxiang Shi, "Why Do We Hiccup?" Gut 41, no. 5 (1997): 712-713, doi:10.1136/gut.41.5.712. Steger, Schneemann and Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," 1037-1050. Georg A. Petroianu, "Treatment Of Hiccup By Vagal Maneuvers," Journal Of The History Of The Neurosciences 24, no. 2 (2014): 123-136, doi:10.1080/0964704x.2014.897133. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Cameron, “Why Do We Hiccup?” Michael Mosley, "Anatomical Clues To Human Evolution From Fish," BBC News, published 2011, https://www.bbc.com/news/health-13278255. Michael Hedrick and Stephen Katz, "Control Of Breathing In Primitive Fishes," Phylogeny, Anatomy And Physiology Of Ancient Fishes (2015): 179-200, doi:10.1201/b18798-9. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Pierre A. Guertin, "Central Pattern Generator For Locomotion: Anatomical, Physiological, And Pathophysiological Considerations," Frontiers In Neurology 3 (2013), doi:10.3389/fneur.2012.00183. Hedrick and Katz, "Control Of Breathing In Primitive Fishes," 179-200. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Daniel Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," Bioessays 34, no. 6 (2012): 451-453, doi:10.1002/bies.201100194. Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," 451-453. [1] Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," 451-453. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 4 PT by Saachin Simpson 1 July 2023 Edited by Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko and Patrick Grave Illustrated by Jolin See 'Pt' (medical abbreviation for ‘patient’) recounts a patient visit on an early-morning ward round at Footscray Hospital in my first placement as a second-year medical student. The line “I came to hospital with my innocence” was actually said by the patient and stuck with me, eventually inspiring this poem, which I wrote in a Narrative Medicine class run by Dr Fiona Reilly and Dr Mariam Tokhi. The poem depicts a dramatic rise and fall in tension during the patient visit. It is bookended by soulless technical medical abbreviations that exemplify patient notes on electronic medical records. Pt Pt alert and oriented, sitting upright in chair. Breathing comfortably, responsive to questions. Bilat basal creps, bilat pitting oedema to knee. Pt gazes out window at the opposite concrete wall Pt’s cataracts suddenly shimmer, a sorcerer’s crystal ball. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt’s power becomes apparent in his mighty ocular grip Pt’s lungs echo black tattered sails of a ramshackle timber ship. “I came to hospital with my innocence” Professional, qualified eyes dart from computer To patient And back. “and now I muse on dark and violent tricks” Med student looks at intern looks at reg looks at consultant. Feet shuffle, lips purse Pretending not to hear. “Your poisons gift no remedy, your words fat and hollow” Like a serpentine hiss, his derision rings through sterile air 5-step Therapeutic Guidelines for Reassurance (vol 23.4, updated 2023) does little for his despair. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt to await GEM. Frusemide 40mmHg. Cease abx. Refer physio. Refer OT. Call family. For d/c Monday. Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE