< 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

< Back to Issue 7 Neuralink: Mind Over Matter? by Kara Miwa-Dale 22 October 2024 edited by Weilena Liu illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin What if I told you that you could control a computer mouse with just your thoughts? It sounds like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, doesn’t it? But this isn’t fiction… Welcome to the brain-computer interface, a device which is able to record and interpret neural activity in the brain, enabling direct communication between your mind and a computer. Tech billionaire Elon Musk founded ‘Neuralink’, a company developing coin-sized brain-chips that can be surgically inserted into the brain using a robot. Neuralink made headlines a few months ago by successfully implanting their brain-chip, dubbed ‘Telepathy’, into their first trial patient, Noland Arbaugh. While there were a few technical glitches, it seems to be working relatively well so far. Noland has been able to regain some of the autonomy that he lost following a devastating spinal cord injury. He is even able to play video games with a superhuman-like reaction speed, thanks to the more direct communication route between the Neuralink implant and his computer. But it doesn’t stop there; Elon Musk’s ultimate vision is to have millions of people using Neuralink in the next 10 years, not only to restore autonomy to those with serious injuries, but to push the boundaries of what the human brain is capable of. He thinks that Neuralink will allow us to compete with AI and vastly improve our speed and efficiency of communication, which is ‘pitifully slow’ in comparison to AI. Neuralink implants may seem like an incredible leap in scientific technology, but what will happen if they become normalised in our society? Let’s imagine for a moment … Jade, April 7th 2044 Shoving my jacket into my bag, I dart out of the hospital and pull onto the main road in my Tesla. As I speed past the intersection, I see a giant advertisement plastered on a sleek building: ‘Neuralink: Seamless Thoughts, Limitless Possibilities’. When I signed up to get a Neuralink implant, all I’d thought about were the infinite possibilities of how it would change my life – not what could go wrong. I wish I could say that I was brainwashed into getting a Neuralink, or that I had no choice in the matter. But the truth? I got an implant so that I could be ‘ahead of the crowd’ and because I was so frustrated at feeling inadequate compared to the other doctors at my hospital. When I graduated medical school, at the top of my class, people told me that I would do ‘great things’ and ‘change the world’. I followed the standard path, landing my first job and climbing the ranks one caffeine-fuelled shift at a time. I loved my job. Every time I saved a life, it felt like all my effort had paid off. Then Neuralink happened. I still remember the day Dr Maxwell - a doctor I worked with - proudly announced that he’d ‘bitten the bullet’ and gotten the implant. Over the coming weeks, we watched in awe: his diagnoses were quicker and more accurate than any human could imagine, and he went home as energetic as he’d arrived. Now, the extra hours I spent figuring out tricky cases were no longer a representation of my work ethic, but a symptom of my inadequacy compared to the Neuralink-enhanced doctors. One by one, my colleagues signed up for the implant. I hated the thought of having something foreign nestled in my brain, recording my brain’s neurons every second of the day. I told myself I wouldn’t let peer pressure get to me. But, as I watched those around me get promoted while I continued to work endless days, the frustration started to build. One afternoon, the department head came into my office to tell me that they were reconsidering the renewal of my contract. I wasn’t ‘keeping up’ with my Neuralink-enhanced colleagues. “We respect your personal decision, of course,” she said with hollow politeness. I wasn’t keen on being pressured into it, but at the same time, I genuinely believed that the implant would improve my life. When I told my friends and family about getting an implant, they were concerned. They tried to list all the things that could go wrong, but I came up with enough reasons to convince myself that it was the right decision. Once they saw how incredible the Neuralink device was, I thought, they would want one too. *** I’m jolted back to reality as the car veers slightly left, and I manually yank the wheel to correct it. Perhaps my implant glitched for a second… *** Everything changed after I had my Neuralink implanted. I was the only person in my family who had one, although a couple of friends did. At first, I felt invincible. The phenomenal speed with which I was able to come up with previously challenging diagnoses was thrilling. I was able to process enormous amounts of data and draw connections that I had never been able to before. It was addictive to feel that I was working at my full potential, using my newfound ‘superpower’ to save more lives than ever. About a month in, my thoughts began racing uncontrollably, until I felt like I was drowning in a flood of information. Sometimes, the input was so overwhelming that my head pounded and I struggled to breathe. My thoughts didn’t even feel like mine anymore. Family and friends started to grow more and more distant from me. This device was stuck inside my brain like superglue, and sometimes I just wanted to dig it right out of my skull. When I asked the doctor about removing it, he looked at me and smirked, “Why on earth would you want to get rid of such a game-changing device? Neuralink’s the new normal, honey. Get used to it.” *** A honk startles me as a car zooms past, nearly colliding with mine. I turn into a quieter street to regain my composure. But then – suddenly – thoughts of accelerating the car bombard my mind – so loud that I can barely hear myself think. The speedometer rises from 60 to 80 to 100 km an hour. I desperately try to disconnect my Neuralink from the car, to manually override the system – anything that will slow the car down. I start pushing random buttons hoping that I will get some kind of response. A red light flashes on my dashboard. ERROR. SIGNAL DISRUPTED BY UNKNOWN USER. I look up and meet the panicked eyes of a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair. Noah, April 7th 2044 The sun makes its final, glorious descent below the horizon, painting a beautiful array of pinks and oranges across the sky. I take a deep breath as Sophia, my support worker, pushes me along the road. We’re on our way to the grocery store, just in time for the end of day specials, which are all I can afford right now. Since my accident, I’ve tried my best to appreciate what I have, but it isn’t easy. Some days, I’m filled with rage as I struggle to complete daily tasks that I did on autopilot before my accident – back when I wasn’t confined to a wheelchair. It’s been hard to come to terms with this new body that I’m stuck with, and all the ways it seems to betray me. I miss the simple things – going to the grocery store by myself or playing board games with friends. But most of all, I miss working as an architect. I loved seeing my clients’ faces light up as they imagined the memories they would make in the new homes I had designed. This sense of satisfaction was taken from me the moment I was paralysed from the neck down. It’s why I’m so desperate to get a Neuralink implant. I would get one right this second if they weren’t so expensive. The Neuralink device isn’t covered by my insurance because the government claims that it wouldn’t be ‘cost effective’. While it won’t restore movement in my arms and legs, this implant would give me some precious freedom back. Maybe if I keep saving and take out a loan, I’ll have just enough to cover it and get my life back … *** “God, these Tesla drivers think they own the road!” I chuckle at Sophia, as a Tesla races towards the crossing in this 40km zone. As we begin to cross the road, I realise that the Tesla is showing no signs of slowing down. The car swerves violently, hurtling towards us without mercy. Sophia’s face pales as she frantically tries to push me out of the road. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact. Bibliography: Cernat, M., Borțun, D., & Matei, C. (2022, April). Human-Computer Interaction: Ethical Perspectives on Technology and Its (Mis) uses. In International Conference on Enterprise Information Systems (pp. 338-349). Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-39386-0_16 Fridman, Lex. (Host). (2024, August 3rd). Elon Musk: Neuralink and the Future of Humanity (No 438). [Audio podcast episode]. In Lex Fridman Podcast. https://lexfridman.com/elon-musk-and-neuralink-team/ Jawad, A. J. (2021). Engineering ethics of neuralink brain computer interfaces devices. Perspective , 4 (1). https://doi.org/10.23880/abca-16000160 Oravec, B. Neurotechnology, Ethical Privacy, and Information Technology. Knighted , 36. https://www.mga.edu/arts-letters/docs/knighted-journal/Issue-6.pdf#page=37 Youssef, N. O. A., Guia, V., Walczysko, F., Suriyasuphapong, S., & Moslemi, C. (2020). Ethical concerns and consequences of Neuralink. Natural Science. https://rucforsk.ruc.dk/ws/files/75503337/NIB3_Group1_Neuralink.pdf Previous article Next article apex back to

< Back to Issue 4 The Mirage of Camouflage by Krisha Ajay Darji 1 July 2023 Edited by Megane Boucherat and Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Imagine driving on a highway and the road is shimmered by the scorching midday sun. Whilst you drive further on a day like this, you might envision a wet patch gleaming on the road. Does it make you wonder how a mirage passes by playing with your vision? While there is physics involved in this phenomenon, evolution through natural selection has rendered some of its own biological members the ability to play with visual perceptions in subtle but enchanting ways! What comes to your mind when you hear the word camouflage? Some might visualize a chameleon blending in almost any background possible. Others might envision a soldier wearing camouflage pants and shirts to match the earthy tones for their defence. Colourful frogs, butterflies, snakes and so on might cross your mind as you think deeper about this phenomenon. Nature is filled with some of the most fascinating examples of camouflage. Camouflage as a Prehistoric Phenomenon The coloration patterns found on the Sinosauropteryx, a tiny, feathered, carnivorous dinosaur that lived in what is now China during the Early Cretaceous period was studied by a group of scientists. They discovered evidence of coloration patterns corresponding to modern animal camouflage by tracing the distribution of the dark pigmented feathers over the body. This included stripes running around its eyes and across the tail, and countershading with a dark back and pale bottom. By contrasting and comparing the mask and striped tail with the colours of contemporary animals, we can learn more about the evolution of camouflage as a means of natural selection [1]. The presence of stripes on only tails rather than the whole body of certain animals is not well understood, but they are suspected to function as a type of disruptive camouflage. Disruptive camouflage means visually separating the outline of a portion of the body from the others and to make it less noticeable. It could also serve as a type of deception by attracting predators' attention to the tail and away from the more vital parts - the body and head. Birds are found to be the most evident illustration of this as they descend from the theropod dinosaur [1]. Early tyrannosauroids, the ancestors of the ferocious T-rex, coexisted with Sinosauropteryx and may have even hunted the little dinosaur. Sinosauropteryx hunted tiny lizards, as was demonstrated by direct evidence in the shape of a whole animal preserved in the stomach of one of the specimens found. Hence, it is clear that camouflage patterns were developing at that time; since vision was critically important to these dinosaurs while they were hunting and being hunted. This example demonstrates camouflage as a prehistoric phenomenon and its evolution in the animal kingdom. Camouflage in Modern Day Animals Animals use camouflage primarily for defence. Blending in with their background prevents them from being seen easily by predators. The use of warning coloration, mimicry, countershading, background matching and disruptive coloration are mechanisms through which animals employ camouflage. Sneaky Snakes! The harmless scarlet king snake has stripes that resemble those of the deadly coral snake, but it is not poisonous. The only significant distinction between the two is the arrangement of the colours in their patterns. While the pattern for coral snakes is red-yellow-black, for scarlet king snakes it is red-black-yellow [2]. The difference is simple for anyone to remember thanks to a rhyme! Red on yellow kills a fellow, Red on black won’t hurt Jack! This is a classic example of mimicry: a form of camouflage in which one organism imitates the appearance of another to avoid predators. The Walking Leaf! The leaf insect or the waking leaf belongs to the family Phylliidae and is quite like its name. The walking leaf's body has patterns on its outer edges that look like the bite marks that caterpillars leave behind in leaves. To resemble a leaf swinging more accurately in the breeze, the insect even sways while walking! This is an example of a type of camouflage known as background matching- one of the most prevalent forms of camouflage. It is a mechanism through which a particular organism hides itself by resembling its surroundings in terms of its hues, shapes, or movement [2]. Mottled Moth! It is challenging for predators to determine the form and direction of the tiger moth as it is mottled with intricate patterns of black, white, and orange on its wings. This is an example of disruptive camouflage: when an animal has a patterned coloration, such as spots or stripes, it can be difficult to detect the animal's contour [2]. Lurking Leopards! Black rosettes on a light tan backdrop serve as the hallmarks of the leopard’s well known coat patterns. Their coats also include a subtle countershading to help them amalgamate with their environment and evade detection by prey. A leopard's body has a significantly lighter underside than the rest of its coat, which consists mostly of its belly and the bottom of its legs. This produces a shading effect that helps conceal the leopard's body form and contour, making it more challenging to see in low light or when seen from below. This is a typical example of countershading, which is a type of camouflage wherein the animal’s body is darker in colour, but its underside is lighter. It works by manipulating the interactions between light and shadows; thus, making the animal difficult to detect [2]. But what allows these animals to change their colours? Animals can camouflage themselves through two primary mechanisms: Pigments - biochromes Physical structures - prisms While some species have natural and microscopic pigments known as biochromes, others possess physical structures like prisms for camouflage. Biochromes can reflect some wavelengths of light while absorbing others. Species with biochromes can actually seem to alter their colour. Prisms can reflect and scatter light to give rise to a colour that is different from the animal’s skin [2]. Camouflage is not quite restricted to the sense of vision. There are several other ways evolution has taught the living world to adapt and protect themselves in the wild. There is a whole exciting world of behavioural and olfactory camouflage employed by diverse species in the animal kingdom. Ultimately, the compelling association of camouflage with the phenomenon of mirage conveys to us how nature always evolves and expands to secure the continued existence of its inhabitants. From the glistening heat of mirages on arid vistas to the delicate patterns on the wings of a butterfly, this fascinating juxtaposition of mirage and camouflage delivers a peek into the incredible mechanisms that animals deploy to traverse their natural habitats and survive amidst the obstacles they encounter. References Smithwick F. We discovered this dinosaur had stripes – and that tells us a lot about how it lived [Internet]. 2017 [cited 2023 May 12]. Available from: https://theconversation.com/we-discovered-this-dinosaur-had-stripes-and-that-tells-us-a-lot-about-how-it-lived-86170 National Geographic. Camouflage [Internet]. [cited 2023 May 12]. Available from: https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/camouflage/ Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

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

< Back to Issue 9 Time Perception – The Chaos Binding Your World Together by Furqan Mohsin 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Noah Chen Edited by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo Take a moment to clap your hands together. Do you hear the sound of the clap right as your hands come into contact? This does appear to occur at the same time. Yet the sound of the clap travels much slower than the light from your hands, and your brain differs in the time taken to process sound and light. So how does the clap appear to be in sync? Our ability to measure time is the glue that holds our perception of the world together. It ties our senses, our memories and the events of our lives into a coherent narrative. Yet this system is rarely thought about, and, in many ways, peculiarly disconnected from reality. For instance, time tends to flow faster when we feel excited (1), slow down when we move slowly (2) and even seems to flow differently when we look at the colour red (3). Our window of time tends to expand when we’re taking in a high density of important information (4) and contracts when we are in a state of flow (5). Overall, our subjective experience of time is malleable, ebbing in and out of alignment with real, objective time. This indicates our perception of time is shaped by our environment and internal state rather than a direct readout of physical time, and our best neuroscientific theories of time perception support this. Though scientists have theorised our brain uses a central clock or metronome, more recent evidence suggests our mechanisms for perceiving time are distributed across our brain (6). For example, there seem to be distinct mechanisms involved in tracking time of less than a second, compared to more than a second (7). Each sense also seems to have its own timing systems, meaning vision, hearing and touch modalities are able to track their own time (8). Rather than syncing to a central clock, many researchers believe the measurement of time is implicit in the timing of neural processes and inferred from external signals (9). It’s not a metronome – it’s an orchestra without a conductor, each player keeping the other in check. This means our flow of time is dynamic, stitched together from our environment, alertness and the neuronal activity of the brain itself. Our subjective experience of time and the inner workings of time in the brain are very different from the steady, constant flow we perceive physical time to be. Yet, time as an objective feature of the universe is dynamic in its own way. We all share the basic experience of “being” in a present moment. According to our best understanding of physics, however, time is tied to space, with no point in spacetime being uniquely privileged (10). This means there is no singular present moment we all share. Rather, depending on their position and motion through space, different people can experience different chains of events in time. In essence – different people experience different presents (11). Time is also inherently directionless. Fundamental equations in physics are time-symmetric, meaning the laws of physics work in reverse (12). Our experience of time as a directional flow is fundamental to how we see the world, but this flow is a product of entropy (13). This refers to how arrangements of particles in a system are overwhelmingly likely to progress from states of order into states of increasing disorder. An apple decays and doesn’t revitalise. Ice cubes melt and don’t reform. But this is also not a fundamental force, like we perceive the flow of time to be. It is a statistical tendency that emerges only on the large-scale interactions of an uncountable number of particles. In summary, time in physics is far from an independent arrow. It is interweaved with space and has direction only through the relationships between particles. Yet it remains an integral aspect of our reality. If objective time is so different from our intuitions, how do we explain our experience of time? Why do we experience a seemingly shared present moment, and a sense of time flowing forward steadily? Ultimately, this is because our experience of time is constructed. We need the experience of a present moment to draw together events in the world (14). The clap of your hands, in the truest sense, is a collection of particles. But by interweaving the myriad streams of brain activity and sensory stimuli, the mind places this clap within a moment. Just as we, as a species, place ourselves within a moment. Time in the brain is represented through a shifting, organised chaos of neural activity and interconnected systems. Within physics, it is bound with space and progresses forward through a dance of particles organised through thermodynamics. Collectively, we tell stories and plan futures through a shared sense of time that has been somehow ordered from the chaos. If you’re ever without a clock and wondering how much time has passed, remember, you are not alone. References Gable PA, Wilhelm AL, Poole BD. How Does Emotion Influence Time Perception? A Review of Evidence Linking Emotional Motivation and Time Processing. Front Psychol . 2022;13. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2022.848154 De Kock R, Zhou W, Joiner WM, Wiener M. Slowing the body slows down time perception. eLife . 2021. doi: 10.7554/eLife.63607 Shibasaki M, Masataka N. The color red distorts time perception for men, but not for women. Sci Rep . 2014;4(1):5899. doi: 10.1038/srep05899 Matthews WJ, Meck WH. Temporal cognition: Connecting subjective time to perception, attention, and memory. Psychol Bull. 2016 Aug;142(8):865–907. Hancock P. A meta-analysis of flow effects and the perception of time. Acta Psychol (Amst) . 2016;142(8):865-907. doi: 10.1037/bul0000045 Ivry RB, Schlerf JE. Dedicated and intrinsic models of time perception. Trends Cogn Sci . 2008;12(7):273–80. doi: 1 0.1016/j.tics.2008.04.002 Paton JJ, Buonomano DV. The Neural Basis of Timing: Distributed Mechanisms for Diverse Functions. Neuron . 2018;98(4):687–705. doi: 10.1016/j.neuron.2018.03.045 Rammsayer T, Pichelmann S. Visual-auditory differences in duration discrimination depend on modality-specific, sensory-automatic temporal processing: Converging evidence for the validity of the Sensory-Automatic Timing Hypothesis. Q J Exp Psychol . 2018;71(11):2364-2377. doi: 10.1177/1747021817741611 Buhusi CV, Meck WH. What makes us tick? Functional and neural mechanisms of interval timing. Nat Rev Neurosci . 2005 Oct;6(10):755-65. doi: 10.1038/nrn1764 Buonomano D, Rovelli C. Bridging the neuroscience and physics of time. arXiv . 2021. doi: 10.48550/arXiv.2110.01976 Baron S, Miller K. An Introduction to the Philosophy of Time. 1st ed. Polity; 2018. 280 p. Carrol S. Time. In: The Biggest Ideas In The Universe: Space, Time and Motion. Dutton; 2022. p. 304. Buonomano D. Your Brain Is a Time Machine: The Neuroscience and Physics of Time. 1st ed. W. W. Norton & Company; 2017. 304 p. Eagleman DM. Human time perception and its illusions. Curr Opin Neurobiol. 2008;18(2):131–136. doi: 10.1016/j.conb.2008.06.002 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 10 The Human Body: A Portrait Painted by a Thousand Minds by Isaac Tian 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Chris Cao Edited by Adrija Dutta The only nourishment humans hunger for more than food is truth. For millennia, we have been propelled by this inarticulable appetite for discovery, yet our understanding of the human body has remained limited–and at times, conflicting. Our fascination with ourselves began long before the modern day. Prior to the interconnectedness of the contemporary global platform, research into the human body was undertaken independently in various cultures. As a result of geographical separation, cultures have arrived at different interpretations of our bodies, diseases, and treatments (1). The Chinese developed Traditional Chinese Medicine; from the Indian subcontinent arose Ayurveda; the Greek laid the basis for Unani. More recently, the Europeans gave us naturopathy, homeopathy, and of course–Western medicine. The modern Australian medical system is predominantly founded on conventional Western medicine. Nevertheless, traces of foreign medical practices have embedded themselves into the system (2). In a world now riddled with cultural intersections, the frontiers of knowledge and established practices collide, leaving us – as patients – with a critical question: who is right, and who is wrong? More interestingly, could both sides of the argument be right? The vast backdrop of conventional Western medicine has certainly served us well. Western scientists have – for the most part – established a reliable theoretical basis upon which our understanding of bodily functions, diseases and treatments are founded (3). Through various experiments, they have visualised the microscopic and characterised the medically novel, revealing previously undiscovered cellular and molecular mechanisms, ultimately birthing the biomedical foundations of Western medicine (3). Discoveries such as William Harvey’s elaboration of the circulatory system in 1628, Edward Jenner’s founding principles of vaccination in the 1700s, and Louis Pasteur’s discovery of microbial origins in the 1800s are episodes in a lengthy collection that forms the foundation for Western medicine (3). Whilst there are still gaps in the Western understanding of bodies, studies such as these largely suggest that the foundations for Western medicine are tangibly sound - rendering them reliable to an extent. The strength of Western medicine lies in the tangibility of the proposed cellular mechanisms. Alternative approaches such as Traditional Chinese Medicine and Ayurveda places greater emphasis on spirituality in body systems, undertaking the belief that intangible forces are at play to influence the human condition (3). Due to their immaterial nature, scientific inquiry is largely unable to support or refute these spiritual ideas. Although, interestingly – treatments based on these foundations aren’t completely unfounded. For example, the concept of Qi (pronounced chee ) is central to Traditional Chinese Medicine. Qi is thought to be a fundamental life force that circulates around the body, and it is believed that acupuncture can stimulate this circulation to relieve pain (1, 4). Sounds insane right? How can we manipulate an immaterial force to alleviate physical symptoms? It turns out that it may not be the immaterial Qi the acupuncture needle targets – but rather the fascia of musculoskeletal systems that cause the nerve stimulation experienced in acupuncture (5). Remarkably, acupuncture has been shown to reduce multiple types of pain in patients (4). The fascination here lies neither in the tangibility of Western mechanisms nor the grandeur of Chinese spirituality alone, but in how the two systems converge. The treatment stems from ancient China, but its mechanisms are more clearly elucidated by Western medicine. This harmonious combination of varying cultural understanding is fascinating. Better yet, it achieves the ultimate goal of treatments – to deliver a beneficial outcome to the patient. The interplay of medical systems extends beyond just China and the West. For instance, yoga – widely prevalent in Ayurveda – is traditionally grounded in the Ayurvedic ideas of the three energies (called doshas) and the five elements in the human body, a foundation that may seem outdated. However, the practice of Yoga remains highly effective and complements many Western medical treatments (1). Additionally, it has been shown to improve outcomes of chronic conditions and pain (6). These positive outcomes for patients bode well with the Western understanding of pain sensation pathways (7). The human body seems endlessly complex and rightly so. Medicine has been and will likely always be a developing field of intersecting understanding. By virtue of their persistence throughout centuries and even millennia, the medical systems from various cultures merit exploration and investigation. Whilst it is imprudent to single out a medical system as the best, it is prudent to cherish how differing approaches can complement each other to deliver benefits to patients. Validity and truth should not be overly emphasised when the goal of medicine is to do the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Through cooperation and unity, each system contributes to a more complete understanding of health. References Baars EW, Hamre HJ. Whole Medical Systems versus the System of Conventional Biomedicine: A Critical, Narrative Review of Similarities, Differences, and Factors That Promote the Integration Process. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2017;2017:4904930. doi: 10.1155/2017/4904930 PubMed PMID: 28785290; PubMed Central PMCID: PMC5530407. Australian Health Practitioner Regulation Agency. AHPRA Annual Report 2023-24 [Internet]. Australian Health Practitioner Regulation Agency; [cited 2026 May 10]. Available from: https://www.ahpra.gov.au/Publications/Annual-reports/Annual-report-2024/Highlights.aspx Silvano G. A brief history of Western medicine. Journal of Traditional Chinese Medical Sciences. 2021 Nov 1;8:S10–6. doi: 10.1016/j.jtcms.2020.06.002 Vickers AJ, Linde K. Acupuncture for chronic pain. JAMA. 2014 Mar 5;311(9):955–6. doi: 10.1001/jama.2013.285478 PubMed PMID: 24595780; PubMed Central PMCID: PMC4036643. Finando S, Finando D. Qi, acupuncture, and the fascia: a reconsideration of the fundamental principles of acupuncture. J Altern Complement Med. 2012 Sep;18(9):880–6. doi: 10.1089/acm.2011.0599 PubMed PMID: 22874011. Holtzman S, Beggs RT. Yoga for chronic low back pain: A meta-analysis of randomized controlled trials. Pain Res Manag. 2013;18(5):267–72. doi: 10.1155/2013/105919 PubMed PMID: 23894731; PubMed Central PMCID: PMC3805350. Gupta S, Gautam S, Kumar U, Arora T, Dada R. Potential Role of Yoga Intervention in the Management of Chronic Non-malignant Pain. Evid Based Complement Alternat Med. 2022 May 28;2022:5448671. doi: 10.1155/2022/5448671 PubMed PMID: 35668780; PubMed Central PMCID: PMC9167073. Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

< Back to Issue 5 Wicked Invaders of the Wild Serenie Tsai 24 October 2023 Edited by Krisha Darji Illustrated by Jennifer Nguyen Since the beginning of time, there has been a continuous flow of species in and out of regions that establishes a foundation for ecosystems. When species are introduced into new environments and replicate excessively to interfere with native species, they become invasive. Invasive species refer to those that spread into new areas and pose a threat to other species. Factors contributing to their menacing status include overfeeding native species, lack of predators, and outcompeting native species (Sakai et al., 2001). Invasive species shouldn’t be confused with feral species which are domestic animals that have reverted to their wild state, or pests which are organisms harmful to human activity (Contrera-Abarca et al., 2022; Hill, 1987). Furthermore, not all introduced species are invasive; crops such as wheat, tomato and rice have been integrated with native agriculture successfully. Many species were introduced accidentally and turned invasive; however, some were intentionally introduced to manage other species, and a lack of foresight resulted in detrimental ecological impacts. Each year, invasive species cost the global economy over a trillion dollars in damages (Roth, 2019). Claimed ecological benefits of invasive species Contrary to the name, invasive species could potentially benefit the invaded ecosystem. Herbivores can reap the benefits of the introduced biodiversity, and native plants can increase their tolerance (Brändle et al., 2008; Mullerscharer, 2004). Deer and goats aid in suppressing introduced grasses and inhibit wildfires (Fornoni, 2010). Likewise, species such as foxes and cats have the capacity to regulate the number of rats and rabbits. Furthermore, megafaunal extinction has opened opportunities to fill empty niches, for example, camels could fill the ecological niche of a now-extinct giant marsupial (Chew et al., 1965; Weber, 2017). Thus, studies indicate the possibility of species evolving to fill vacant niches (Meachen et al., 2014). Below, I’ll explore the rise and downfall of invasive species in Australia. Cane toad Cane toads are notorious for their unforeseen invasion. Originally introduced as a biological control for cane beetles in 1935, their rookie status was advantageous to their proliferation and dominance over native species (Freeland & Martin, 1985). Several native predators were overthrown and native fauna in Australia lacked resistance to the cane toad’s poison used as a defence mechanism (Smith & Philips, 2006). However, research suggests an evolutionary adaptation to such poison (Philips &Shine, 2006). There isn't a universal method to regulate cane toads, so efforts to completely eradicate cane toads are futile. However, populations are kept low by continuously monitoring areas and targeting cane toad eggs or their adult form. Common Myna The origins of Common Myna introduced into New South Wales and Victoria are uncertain; however, it was introduced into Northern Queensland as a mechanism to predate on grasshoppers and cane beetles(Neville & Liindsay, 2011) and introduced into Mauritius to control locust plagues (Bauer, 2023). The Common Myna poses an alarming threat to ecosystems and mankind, its severity is elucidated by its position in the world’s top 100 invasive species list (Lowe et al., 2000). It has spurred human health concerns including the spread of mites and acting as a vector for diseases destructive to human and farm stock (Tidemann, 1998). Myna also has a vicious habit of fostering competition with cavity-nesting native birds, forcing them and their eggs from their nest, however, the extent of this is unclear, and the influence of habitat destruction needs to be considered (Grarock et al., 2013). The impact of this bird lacks empirical evidence, so appropriate management is undecided (Grarock et al., 2012). However, modification of habitats could be advantageous as the Myna impact urban areas more, whereas intervening in their food resources would be rendered useless with their highly variable diet (Brochier et al., 2012). Zebra mussels Zebra mussels accidentally invaded Australia's aquatic locality when introduced by the ballast water of cargo ships. From an ecological perspective, Zebra Mussels overgrow the shells of native molluscs and create an imbalance within the ecosystem (Dzierżyńska-Białończyk et al., 2018). From a societal perspective, it colonizes docks, ship hulls, and water pipes and damages power plants (Lovell et al., 2006) Controlling the spread of Zebra Mussels includes manual removal, chlorine, thermal treatment and more. Control methods It is crucial to deploy preventative methods to mitigate the spread of invasive species before it becomes irreversible. Few known control methods are employed for certain types of animals but with no guarantee of success. Some places place bounties on catching the animals, however, the results of this technique are conflicting. In 1893, foxes were the target of financial incentives, but the scheme was deemed ineffective (Saunders et al., 2010). However, government bounties were introduced for Tasmanian tigers in 1888, which drastically caused a population decline and their eventual extinction (National Museum of Australia, 2019). Similarly, the prevalence of Cane Toads became unbearable, and in response, armies were deployed, and fences in rural communities were funded. Moreover, in 2007, inspired by a local pub’s scheme to hand out beers in exchange for cane toads, the government staged a “Toad Day Out” to establish a bounty for cane toads (Williams, 2011). Invasive species are detrimental to ecosystems, whether introduced intentionally or by accident, management of species is still a work in progress. References Lowe S., Browne M., Boudjelas S., & De Poorter M. (2000) 100 of the World’s Worst Invasive Alien Species: A selection from the Global Invasive Species Database . The Invasive Species Specialist Group (ISSG). Bauer, I. L. (2023). T he oral repellent–science fiction or common sense? Insects, vector- borne diseases, failing strategies, and a bold proposition. Tropical Diseases, Travel Medicine and Vaccines, 9(1), 7. Brändle, M., Kühn, I., Klotz, S., Belle, C., & Brandl, R. (2008). Species richness of herbivores on exotic host plants increases with time since introduction of the host. Diversity and Distributions, 14(6), 905–912. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1472-4642.2008.00511.x Brochier, B., Vangeluwe, D., & Van den Berg, T. (2010). Alien invasive birds. Revue scientifique et technique, 29(2), 217. Chicago. Cayley, N. W., & Lindsey, T. What bird is that?: a completely revised and updated edition of the classic Australian ornithological work . Chew, R. M., & Chew, A. E. (1965). The Primary Productivity of a Desert-Shrub ( Larrea tridentata ) Community . Ecological Monographs, 35(4), 355–375. https://doi.org/10.2307/1942146 Contreras-Abarca, R., Crespin, S. J., Moreira-Arce, D., & Simonetti, J. A. (2022). Redefining feral dogs in biodiversity conservation . Biological Conservation, 265, 109434. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.biocon.2021.109434 Fornoni, J. (2010). Ecological and evolutionary implications of plant tolerance to herbivory. Functional Ecology, 25(2), 399–407. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2435.2010.01805.x Freeland, W. J., & Martin, K. C. (1985). The rate of range expansion by Bufo marinus in Northern Australia , 1980-84 . Wildlife Research, 12(3), 555-559. Grarock, K., Lindenmayer, D. B., Wood, J. T., & Tidemann, C. R. (2013). Does human- induced habitat modification influence the impact of introduced species? A case study on cavity-nesting by the introduced common myna ( Acridotheres tristis ) and two Australian native parrots. Environmental Management, 52, 958-970. G. Smith, J., & L. Phillips, B. (2006). Toxic tucker: the potential impact of Cane Toads on Australian reptiles . Pacific Conservation Biology, 12(1), 40. https://doi.org/10.1071/pc060040 G. Smith J, L. Phillips B. Toxic tucker: the potential impact of Cane Toads on Australian reptiles. Pacific Conservation Biology [Internet]. 2006;12(1):40. Available from: http://www.publish.csiro.au/pc/PC060040 Hill, D. S. (1987). Agricultural Insect Pests of Temperate Regions and Their Control . In Google Books. CUP Archive. https://books.google.com.au/books?hl=en&lr=&id=3-w8AAAAIAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA27&dq=pests+definition&ots=90_-WiF_MZ&sig=pKxuVjDJ_bZ3iNMb5TpfXA16ENI#v=onepage&q=pests%20definition&f=false Lovell, S. J., Stone, S. F., & Fernandez, L. (2006). The Economic Impacts of Aquatic Invasive Species: A Review of the Literature. Agricultural and Resource Economics Review, 35(1), 195–208. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1068280500010157 Meachen, J. A., Janowicz, A. C., Avery, J. E., & Sadleir, R. W. (2014). Ecological Changes in Coyotes ( Canis latrans ) in Response to the Ice Age Megafaunal Extinctions . PLoS ONE, 9(12), e116041. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0116041 Mullerscharer, H. (2004). Evolution in invasive plants: implications for biological control . Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 19(8), 417–422. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tree.2004.05.010 ANU. Myna problems. (n.d.). Fennerschool-Associated.anu.edu.au . http://fennerschool- associated.anu.edu.au//myna/problem.html National Museum of Australia. (2019). Extinction of thylacine | National Museum of Australia . Nma.gov.au . https://www.nma.gov.au/defining-moments/resources/extinction-of-thylacine Cayley, N. W. & Lindsey T. (2011) What bird is that?: a completely revised and updated edition of the classic Australian ornithological work . Walsh Bay, N.S.W.: Australia’s Heritage Publishing. Phillips, B. L., & Shine, R. (2006). An invasive species induces rapid adaptive change in a native predator: cane toads and black snakes in Australia . Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 273(1593), 1545–1550. https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2006.3479 Roth, A. (2019, July 3). Why you should never release exotic pets into the wild. Animals. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/article/exotic-pets-become-invasive-species Sakai, A. K., Allendorf, F. W., Holt, J. S., Lodge, D. M., Molofsky, J., With, K. A., Baughman, S., Cabin, R. J., Cohen, J. E., Ellstrand, N. C., McCauley, D. E., O’Neil, P., Parker, I. M., Thompson, J. N., & Weller, S. G. (2001). The Population Biology of Invasive Species. Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics , 32(1), 305–332. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.ecolsys.32.081501.114037 Saunders, G. R., Gentle, M. N., & Dickman, C. R. (2010). The impacts and management of foxes ( Vulpes vulpes ) in Australia . Mammal review, 40(3), 181-211. Weber, L. (2013). Plants that miss the megafauna. Wildlife Australia, 50(3), 22–25. https://search.informit.org/doi/10.3316/ielapa.555395530308043 Williams, G. (2011). 100 Alien Invaders . In Google Books. Bradt Travel Guides. https://books.google.com.au/books?hl=en&lr=&id=qtS9TksHmOUC&oi=fnd&pg=PP1&dq=invasive+species+australia+bounty+ Wicked back to

Understanding the Mysterious Science of Sleep By Evelyn Kiantoro Sleeping is just something we do at the end of the day, but why? It’s a daily routine we rarely question! Check out this article for a brief review of the current research out there on sleep and dreams. Edited by Katherine Tweedie, Juulke Castelijn & Niesha Baker Issue 1: September 24, 2021 Illustration by Casey Boswell “Today I don’t feel like doing anything, I just wanna lay in my bed,” sings Bruno Mars in The Lazy Song. That is exactly what our inner narrative says every Monday morning, right? After the long weekend, having fun partying or catching up with some work, there is nothing worse than getting back into the weekday grind. All we want is an eternity of rest and sleep because – for the majority of us – sleep is a way to relax; it takes us away from the stressful reality of life. However, our physical condition when we sleep suggests that it is not actually very safe. When we sleep, we are in a mysterious state; we lie down and are vulnerable to predators without any defence. To minimise the dangers of sleeping, humans built houses that provide warmth and shelter from the weather and protection from predators. But sleeping is seen in various other lifeforms, not just us humans – and species that live in the wild experience conditions that are far more dangerous. Dreams are an even bigger mystery in the science of sleep; they do not seem to have any significant benefits, and their purpose is largely unknown. However, as with everything that is passed on from generation to generation, sleep and dreams must have a significant evolutionary advantage for our fitness and survival. Due to the different obstacles and routines faced by various species, different species sleep in different ways. Generally, predatory animals such as humans can sleep for long periods of time (1). Conversely, prey animals are constantly vigilant; instead of sleeping for a long time, they only rest for short periods (2). A particularly interesting example are dolphins and seals, who have evolved to keep half of their brain “asleep” while the other is “awake” during sleep (3). This shows us that sleep really is important for our survival, and that various organisms have even adopted mechanisms to combat obstacles to sleeping. So, the cost of sleeping must be worth it, right? The answer is “yes” – but scientists are unsure of exactly why. Why do we sleep? Various theories in literature on the purpose of sleep have been broadly categorised into two theories: the adaptive and restorative theories. One of the reasonings behind the adaptive theories proposes that creatures that are inactive at night have increased chances of survival due to a lower risk of injury (4). Another perspective suggests that humans sleep at night to conserve energy for the day, when it is more efficient to hunt for food (5). This theory has also been supported by the fact that humans have a 10 per cent decrease in metabolism during sleep (6). However, both theories were proposed in relation to our ancient lifestyle when we needed to physically hunt for food. Looking at our present lifestyle, this reasoning may not be as applicable – but it is still embedded in our system. There are other theories that explore the reasoning behind sleep from the perspective of restoration. The restorative theory speculates that sleep allows us to repair cellular components that were used throughout the day, as many important growth hormones are shown to be released during sleep (7). This theory is also supported by the most widely accepted reasoning for why we sleep, which is that sleep is necessary for the growth and maintenance of the brain’s structure and function, and that it is crucial for optimising memory consolidation (8, 9). Sleep also affects other physiological aspects, such as immune function, endocrine function, cardiovascular health and mood (10, 11, 12) . Sleep disorders are shown to be associated with cardiovascular disease, and sleep reportedly enhances immune defences against pathogens. The fact that there are various theories explaining why we sleep shows that there is no single perfect explanation. Regardless of why we sleep, we still get into bed at the end of the day. This is mainly because of our circadian rhythm, which controls our desire for sleep. Our circadian rhythm is controlled via the hypothalamus: an area at the centre of our brain that receives sensory inputs from various parts of the body. During sleep, the hypothalamus receives input from our eyes, which detect light levels (13). When we are exposed to high levels of light in the morning, the circadian rhythm promotes wakefulness (14). However, at night, when there is less exposure to light, the circadian rhythm promotes sleep due to the increase in the production of the sleep-regulating hormone, melatonin (15). Even though we have a central control system that regulates when we sleep, there is still a large variation in sleeping time among humans; some people sleep for only five hours, and others sleep for up to ten or more (16). Sleep duration is affected by factors such as physical and social environment, diet, activity, body mass index, comorbidities and mental health (17). Despite the contributions of lifestyle differences, some studies have shown that human sleep duration and timing is also influenced by genetic factors but is regulated by the circadian rhythm and brain activity (18). Currently, little is known about the specific genes and genetic mechanism involved in sleep duration, and more research is still being done in the area (19). These factors could explain why people often feel sleepy throughout the day, in addition to the variation in sleeping patterns in the population. However, as is so often the case in science, there is no one specific factor that may result in differences within the population – instead, a combination of these factors is likely to be responsible. The phases of sleep Did you know that there are different kinds of sleep? All humans go through two different sleep phases: non-rapid eye movement (NREM) sleep and rapid eye movement (REM) sleep (20). NREM takes up approximately 75–80 per cent of our total sleep duration, whereas REM takes up 20–25 per cent (21). Sleeping normally progresses from NREM 1–4 through to REM, and this cycle occurs four to five times each night (22) - for more details on sleep phases, check out Table 1! Most of the restoration processes in the body are believed to take place during NREM 3, as well as during REM. However, one particular question often stands out when it comes to sleep stages: when do we dream? Dreams: what are they, anyway? While there are some exceptions, it is widely believed that dreaming most frequently occurs when a person is in the REM stage of sleeping (25). When some individuals sleep, they sometimes have difficulty distinguishing between reality and the dreaming state. This can be explained by the fact that we are consciously aware in dreams, and we often have perception and emotion (26). Dreams are in fact richer than our consciousness – they can create scenarios that may be impossible in our conscious reality (27). They are highly visual, contain sounds and are often an experience instead of a mere thought (28). Interestingly, the striking similarities between consciousness and dreams may indicate that dreams reflect the organisation and function of our brain (29)! Various evidence has shown that dreams are more likely to be a result of our imagination. One argument states that blended characters and the bizarre properties of our dreams are more likely to be produced by our imaginations, as these are not something an individual would experience in the conscious state (30). Furthermore, the fact that dreams rarely contain smells or pain may be a result of us having difficulties imagining those sensations while awake (31). Looking at dreams as a higher form of our imagination may explain our uncertainty, poor recall, disconnection from the environment and lack of control over the situation while dreaming (32). However, it is interesting to keep in mind that our imagination is a result of the knowledge we already have. This knowledge is based on what we learn from our conscious reality, explaining why our dreams sometimes feel so realistic. An unsolved mystery Did you realise that sleep is one of the few activities you were not taught to do? As newborns, we only know how to digest and excrete food, breathe, show emotions and sleep. We digest food as an energy source; we excrete food to prevent the build-up of toxic substances; we breathe to supply our organs with oxygen; and we show emotions to communicate how we feel. So why is sleep one of these essential activities? And why is dreaming such a universal human experience? Despite extensive research, the answer remains buried in us like a secret in a mystery novel. This answer is not so far away – but unfortunately for us, it is not the type of book you can finish in a day. Instead, it is one with an infinite number of chapters. References: 1, 2. Purves, Dale, George J. Augustine, David Fitzpatrick, William C. Hall, Anthony-Samuel LaMantia, and Leonard E. White, Neuroscience (5th Edition). Sunderland, MA: Sinauer Associates, 2012, 627. 3. Siegel, Jerome M., “Do All Animals Sleep?”, Trends in Neurosciences 31, no. 4 (2008): 208-213. doi: 10.1016/j.tins.2008.02.001. 4. Siegel, Jerome M., “Sleep Viewed as a State of Adaptive Inactivity”, Nature Reviews 10, no. 10 (2009): 747-753. doi: 10.1038/nrn2697. 5. Freiberg, Andrew S., “Why We Sleep: A Hypothesis for an Ultimate or Evolutionary Origin for Sleep and Other Physiological Rhythms,” Journal of Circadian Rhythms 18, no. 1 (2020): 1-5. doi: 10.5334/jcr.189. 6, 7, 8, 13, 15, 22, 23, 25. Brinkman, Joshua E., Vamsi Reddy, and Sandeep Sharma, Physiology of Sleep (Treasure Island, FL: StatPearls, 2021). 9. Rasch, Bjorn, and Jan Born, “About Sleep’s Role in Memory”, Physiological Reviews 93, no. 2 (2013): 681-766. doi: 10.1152/physrev.00032.2012. 10. Leproult, Rachel, and Eve Van Cauter, “Role of Sleep and Sleep Loss in Hormonal Release and Metabolism”, Endocrine Development 17 (2009): 11-21. doi: 10.1159/000262524. 11, 14, 24. Jawabri, Khalid H., and Avais Raja, Physiology, Sleep Patterns. Treasure Island, FL: StatPearls, 2021. 12. Ahmad, Adeel and S. Claudia Didia, “Effects of Sleep Duration on Cardiovascular Events,” Current Cardiology Reports 22, no. 4 (2020): 18. doi: 10.1007/s11886-020-1271-0. 16, 19. Keene, Alex C., and Erik R. Duboue, “The Origins and Evolution of Sleep,” Journal of Experimental Biology 221, no. 11 (2018): 1-14. doi: 10.1242/jeb.159533. 17. Billings, Martha E., Lauren Hale, and Dayna A. Johnson, “Physical and Social Environment Relationship with Sleep Health and Disorders,” Chest 157, no. 5 (2020): 1305-1308. doi: 10.1016/j.chest.2019.12.002. 18. Porkka-Heiskanen, T., “Sleep regulatory factors,” Italiennes de Biologie 152, no. 2-3 (2014): 57-65. doi: 10.12871/000298292014231. 20. Miyazaki, Shinichi, Chih-Yao Liu, and Yu Hayashi, “Sleep in Vertebrate and Invertebrate Animals, and Insights Into the Function and Evolution of Sleep,” Neuroscience Research 118 (2017): 3-12. doi: 10.1016/j.neures.2017.04.017. 21. Troynikov, Olga, Christopher G. Watson, and Nazia Nawaz, “Sleep Environments and Sleep Physiology,” Journal of Thermal Biology 78, (2018): 192-203, doi: 10.1016/j.jtherbio.2018.09.012. 26, 27. Hobson, Allan J., “REM Sleep and Dreaming: Towards a Theory of Protoconsciousness,” Nature Reviews 10, (2009): 803-813. doi: 10.1038/nrn2716. 28, 31, 32. Nir, Yuval, and Giulio Tononi, “Dreaming and the Brain: From Phenomenology to Neurophysiology,” Trends in Cognitive Sciences 14, no. 2 (2011): 1-25. doi:10.1016/j.tics.2009.12.001. 30. Ichikawa, Jonathan, “Dreaming and Imagination,” Mind & Language 24, no.1 (2009): 103-121, doi: 10.1111/j.1468-0017.2008.01355.x.

< Back to Issue 10 The Predictions of Genomics: Fictions Once Called Fact by Scarlett Yang 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by Aimee Fogarty-Bennett What is a prediction in science? We often think a prediction is just a guess about the outcome of an event – something we throw out into the blue and then try to test. I, for one, have definitely thrown out random guesses when I didn't do any pre-reading for my university practicals. However, predictions are more than random guesses. They require a set of precise beliefs about how the world works. In making a prediction, we essentially pull from a past set of beliefs, particularly scientific knowledge, to say we believe this will happen in the future. Scientific predictions must be precise so that they can be proven wrong. We like making statements that are likely to be true under all circumstances (after all, it does feel great to be right!). However, it's important to know that the point of a prediction is its provability. When our prediction is wrong, we are able to begin questioning the perceived ‘facts’ of science and revise them to more accurately predict the future. It is precisely this falsifiability, and what happens when our predictions are proven wrong or incomplete, that is sometimes more important than a correct prediction. Essentially, we can say that scientific predictions are 1) based on past knowledge, and 2) specific. Think of it this way: we are trying to run a printer, and we know that there is a red cartridge and a blue cartridge inside. A guess would be to say, "We will print colour”. This is not specific enough to be proven wrong, and not based on our past knowledge. Instead, a prediction would be that, based on colour theory, "if I have red and blue , I should get purple text." If we print and get green ink, I know there is something wrong with my past knowledge. What we thought was fact becomes fiction we had postulated. Each new fact we collect reshapes the prediction that follows, nudging our proposed knowledge closer to the truth. After all, what makes science ‘science’ is the fact that it is rarely certain, but rather a process of increasingly more accurate predictions. One of the most extraordinary fields for watching this process is genomics. Understanding our genome The birth of genome analysis arguably came with the Human Genome Project. The idea was, in itself, quite simple. If we could sequence all three billion base pairs of human DNA, every genetic instruction our body follows, we could surely understand all diseases. It would enable us to predict, and ultimately prevent, the things that kill us. It took thirteen years and roughly three billion dollars. It was completed in 2003 (1). It was an incredible achievement. Unfortunately, it did not solve all problems. However, it was incredible all the same because it revealed the scale of what we did not yet know about human function. The genome is not a simple instruction manual. It is a dense, layered system in which the same sequence can mean different things depending on context, timing, the presence of other genes, and environmental signals we are still cataloguing. Say, if our red cartridge and blue cartridge are the genetic code, whether or not we get purple ink depends on the instructions the computer sends, whether the printer is working, and the relative amounts of red and blue ink, including the possibility of no blue at all. A green page means something is releasing yellow somewhere we didn't expect. A red page means something is blocking the blue cartridge entirely. It's easy to know we have blue and red cartridges inside. Understanding how the cartridges are actually used by the printer has occupied genomics ever since. These letters have allowed us to do something genuinely strange and exciting: simulate a living organism from its own genetic data. NeuroMechFly is one such project, a digital fruit fly with sensors that receive signals and six legs that respond to virtual terrain (2). The aim of the project is to find where our predictions, shown by the simulation, about real flies fail, and what that tells us about the nervous system and how it controls movement. If the model holds up to real behaviour, our understanding is roughly correct. If not, there is more to know. So far, researchers are still working on it. But what simulations like this can do is expand our understanding of humans, since more than 60% of fruit fly genes have human counterparts, and roughly 75% of the genes known to cause human genetic diseases are also found in flies (3). Indeed, fruit flies have helped us understand human biology in the past, including giving us the first tumour suppressor gene (4). But even so, isn't it interesting to consider the effects of using flies as a model of disease for humans? And whether our predictions about being "similar enough" actually hold? It is important to keep in mind that we cannot always extend our understanding directly across species. If we do, we can meet a paradox . Paradoxes We know that as we get older, we get significantly higher cancer rates. The science behind this is simple. As our cells replicate more, there are higher chances of mutations building up, thus leading to higher chances of cancer. Similarly, larger humans have higher rates of cancer, simply because there are more cells, more divisions, and as a result, a higher chance of mutation. Essentially, printing a thousand pages should produce more errors than printing ten. If we extend this knowledge to a bowhead whale, which weighs over 80,000 kg and lives more than 200 years compared to humans – averaging around 70 kg and 80 years ourselves – we would predict whales must be riddled with cancer. This prediction was reasonable, evidence-based, and most importantly, wrong. Across mammals, there is no correlation between body size, lifespan, and cancer incidence. A mouse weighs around 20 grams. A blue whale weighs up to 150,000 kilograms. The cancer-rate difference between them is incredibly small. The observation that large, long-lived animals do not carry proportionally enormous cancer burdens was first formally noted by the statistician Richard Peto in 1977. It became known as Peto's Paradox, and it has been generating arguments ever since (5). I have two predictions about why it fails. First, cancer rates in large animals are simply difficult to measure. Our data is incomplete, our sample sizes are skewed, and our conclusions are premature. Second, for a whale-sized organism to exist at all, it must have evolved mechanisms of cancer suppression far beyond our own. Either or both could be true. Neither might be. So far in science, we have found extraordinary mechanisms that potentially explain parts of this paradox. TP53 is a tumour suppressor gene which codes for a protein that detects DNA damage and triggers cell death before a damaged cell can divide. Elephants have 20 copies of this gene compared to the single copy humans carry (6). When their cells are exposed to DNA damage, they undergo apoptosis more effectively, meaning problematic cells die before they can replicate. Bowhead whales express a gene called CIRBP at around 100 times the level of other mammals, which dramatically improves the repair of double-stranded DNA breaks (7). Rather than killing damaged cells, the whale's cells repair the DNA so that mutations rarely accumulate. When researchers applied these mechanisms by introducing higher CIRBP expression into fruit flies, the flies lived longer and became more resistant to radiation-induced DNA damage. In human cells, DNA repair efficiency roughly doubled (7). We are starting to take what evolution spent millions of years building and turn our predictions into intention. We are starting to explore the possibility of applying these mechanisms to humans through the exciting field of genetic engineering. Genetic Engineering If we understand genetic information from genomics well enough, can we rewrite it? As with all things in science, the answer is: only if we narrow the scope of the question, and provide specificity. If a genetic condition is caused by a single gene, the answer increasingly is yes. One such case is a baby called KJ Muldoon, who was born with a faulty gene for the protein that breaks down nitrogen. Without it, ammonia builds up in the blood, which is highly toxic. Using a CRISPR base editing therapy designed specifically for KJ's mutation, the wrong DNA letter was converted to the correct one (8). Instead of living in and out of hospital, KJ has been able to live a normal life. Genetic engineering is a field of extraordinarily rapid development. We have already moved from the early approach of extracting cells, editing them outside the body and returning them, to delivering the editing machinery directly into living tissue. Maybe one day we can answer the broader question of addressing diseases that are caused by far more complex factors than a single gene. But for now, being able to help KJ live a normal life despite being born with a condition that had no cure is an inspiring example of how predictions can be turned into intentions, fiction into fact, and how genomics is changing the world of biology. References National Human Genome Research Institute. International consortium completes Human Genome Project. National Institutes of Health. April 14, 2003. https://www.genome.gov/11006929/2003-release-international-consortium-completes-hgp Lobato-Rios V, Ramalingasetty ST, Özdil PG, Arreguit J, Ijspeert AJ, Ramdya P. NeuroMechFly, a neuromechanical model of adult Drosophila melanogaster . Nat Methods . 2022;19(5):620-627. doi:10.1038/s41592-022-01466-7 Reiter LT, Potocki L, Chien S, Gribskov M, Bier E. A systematic analysis of human disease-associated gene sequences in Drosophila melanogaster . Genome Res . 2001;11(6):1114-1125. doi:10.1101/gr.169101 Gateff E. Malignant neoplasms of genetic origin in Drosophila melanogaster . Science . 1978;200(4349):1448-1459. doi:10.1126/science.96525 Callier V. Core Concept: Solving Peto's Paradox to better understand cancer. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A . 2019;116(6):1825-1828. doi:10.1073/pnas.1821517116 Sulak M, Fong R, Mika K, et al. TP53 copy number expansion is associated with the evolution of increased body size and an enhanced DNA damage response in elephants. eLife . 2016;5:e11994. doi:10.7554/eLife.11994 Firsanov D, Zacher M, Tian X, et al. Evidence for improved DNA repair in the long-lived bowhead whale. Nature . 2025;648(8094):717-725. doi:10.1038/s41586-025-09694-5 Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. World's first patient treated with personalized CRISPR gene editing therapy at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. CHOP News. May 15, 2025. https://www.chop.edu/news/worlds-first-patient-treated-personalized-crispr-gene-editing-therapy-childrens-hospital Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

< Back to Print Editions Print Edition 3: Issue 7, 8 and 9 2024/2025 ABOUT THIS EDITION OmniSci Magazine is driven by an ardent community of not solely scientists, but writers, artists, innovators and beyond; all who are united by their passion for science communication. Integrating interdisciplinary expertise, contributors seek to engage fellow students and the general public in scientific discussions. To spark such a discourse is to celebrate the beauty and dissonance embedded in science, holding space for disagreement and paving a path forward towards discovery. The creation of Issue 7: Apex , Issue 8: Enigma and Issue 9: Entwined over 2024 and 2025 has seen contributors create ever more thoughtful, informative and intriguing content, aiming to make the innovations of science readily accessible, yet duly nuanced to the public. With diverse written and visual formats, our contributors have formed a body of work that seeks to captivate and question. We are extremely proud to share this collection and hope that whether you leave with one more question answered or one more curiosity sparked, we have succeeded in our aims. FEATURED ISSUES Issue 7: Apex This issue surveys our world from above. So come along, and revel in the expansive view. Issue 8: Enigma This issue unspools the long-hidden threads in science. Come make sense of the puzzles and mysteries with us! Or perhaps, leave just as addled. Issue 9: Entwined This issue takes a moment to revel in the science that surrounds us. Come walk the tangled paths less followed, who knows what you may come across! PURCHASE A COPY Keen to purchase a copy of the magazine? Click here to do so, at an OmniSci Magazine exclusive price! Alternatively, visit the Science Gallery Melbourne to find our magazines stocked in person. back to print editions

< Back to Issue 8 Mental Time Travel: How Far Can I Remember? by Sophie Potvin 3 June 2025 Edited by Kara Miwa-Dale Illustrated by Elena Pilo Boyl Trigger warning: This article mentions mental illness and trauma... If at any point the content is distressing, please contact any of the support services listed at the end of the article. Mental Time Travel: How Far Can I Remember? I like to go back in time. Travel to places I have been to. See faces I have not seen in a while. Meet my younger self. See the world as new. As every memory slips through my fingers, I write the pages hoping not to forget anymore. How far can I remember? She opens her eyes, her head hammering as she puts her glasses on to ease the pain. The room is uncommonly empty; it almost echoes her thoughts. In the centre of the room is a teal box in the shape of a seahorse with the label “Recreate your favorite scenes!” This box is the hippocampus — the seahorse shaped structure that is found in the medial temporal lobe (MTL) of the brain — that encodes the space and context of a memory. It is essential for associating information from sensory cortices, binding it to the context and sending the information to the rest of the brain. Confusion makes its way through her mind as a sheet appears on top of the box like magic. It says “Pick a book, read the recipe, and put the right items in the teal seahorse box.” Did you know that every memory is a reconstruction — that a scene is made up every time you remember an event? She does not know it yet, but she will certainly learn that when these fragile pieces are brought back together in the hippocampus, she can relive a moment. Endless shelves of books and objects suddenly appear in rows and columns just like a grid, a playground. She notices that the shelf in front of her, the one wearing the tag “2025”, is half empty. The one next to it, with the sticker “2024”, is full. She walks through a few rows, imagining what secrets are held in the books and between their lines. Her hand chooses the blue book “Costa Rica: Camaronal” and flips through the pages. These words are written in her handwriting: “starry sky, moonlight, high tide, sunburn, hammocks, turtles, beach, sunrise, sand, meetings, deck of cards”. She finds the objects at the end of the shelf and runs to the teal box. She can feel the air sticking to her skin, and hear the waves crashing on the shore. It is the power of mental time-travelling; recollecting episodes of her life. The objects disappear from the box, the feeling goes away, but she wants more. She runs like a child and stops in front of the “2019” shelf to experience a Dungeons & Dragons Friday night with her high school friends. She seems surprised to see that the list of objects for that memory is so short. She brings back the objects, but the hippocampus can only make her travel to a blurry place. Moments from six years ago are already a faint memory. Her curiosity takes over when she wonders how far she can remember. She finds the recipe of her last night of summer camp in 2013: “‘I Love It (feat. Charli XCX)’, dance, lights”. She sighs when looking at the short list because she hates to forget, she really does. Her heart starts beating fast, is her memory failing her? How bad can it be? She continues to wander down the alleys, but her eyes are tearing up as she thinks how she might be nothing without her memories; only a few objects are left, most of them did not stand the test of time. As she reaches her early years, she notices the label “cognitive self” and the floor colour changes under her feet. The cognitive self is a knowledge structure that helps to integrate and bind memories from personal experiences. These experiences are added to the evolving self-consciousness. Along with neurobiological changes in brain structures and the acquisition of language, this can help to make them last longer and shape a sense of being. At least she knows that she is someone. Intrigued, she brings all the objects she can find in the “2004” shelf, but there is no recipe to guide her, no story to be made. All the pieces are in the box, but nothing happened; no feelings, no breeze, no music. The memories that were made in the first two years of her life, were taking the form of beliefs, habits or procedures. There is nothing she can consciously recollect. The inability to consciously recollect memories from one’s own early years of life is also known as infantile amnesia. While waiting for the hippocampus box to make its magic, she loses patience, hits the box a few times begging it to give her back her memories. She does not know that it is universal: cognitively healthy adults and nonhuman species like mice or birds experience infantile amnesia. During infantile neurodevelopment, humans and other species like birds and rats undergo a critical period of learning for memory. Throughout critical periods, different functions like language, sensory functions or memory—in this case, the hippocampal memory system—mature with experience. The presence of specific stimuli are essential for functional development because without it, its competence will forever be impaired. Her hippocampal system must have been responsive to a great amount of experiences to ensure its maturation. It is working as it should. Inside of her, a void of hopelessness sits in her chest because she feels like her brain is failing her; it is her against biology. She looks for clues in the fuller shelves wondering where the memories could be hidden. Were memories ever stored or created? They were created, but any information was stored in latent form due to the immature mechanisms of the young hippocampus. They can get activated under particular circumstances, but not recollected consciously. It is a failure in memory retrieval, not a failure in memory storage. She finds a trap on the green floor thinking pieces might be hidden in the basement. Events leave traces—whether they are full-fledged memories or only remnants—and during the critical period, deleterious experiences can have lifelong consequences on behaviour, affection and the development of psychopathologies. The trap is too small for her to enter, warning her she should not enter this road. She understands that some things are not meant to be found. These moments she cannot recollect are hiding in plain sight; they are embedded in her. Somehow, she learned from them. For a second, she hates the teal seahorse box. Then, she looks at it in awe, terrified and amazed at peace with herself. The hippocampus box starts to turn and Joe Dassin plays. Threads of lights bind items and books together. It takes her back as far as she can go. Feelings. Moments. People. Episodes. Magic. Her. She opens her eyes, teal ink pen in her hand as she is writing these words. Some things I will never remember; My first steps on my two feet. The first time I met my sisters. Just old stories or memories handpicked from a field of photos; And in the end, I would be a stranger. Support resources Grief Australia: counselling services, support groups https://www.grief.org.au/ga/ga/Get-Support.aspx?hkey=2876868e-8666-4ed2-a6a5-3d0ee6e86c30 Griefline: free telephone support, community forum and support groups https://griefline.org.au/ Better Health Channel: coping strategies, list of support services, education on grief https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/servicesandsupport/grief Beyond Blue: understanding grief, resources, support, counselling https://www.beyondblue.org.au/mental-health/grief-and-loss Lifeline: real stories, techniques & strategies, apps & tools, support guides, interactive https://toolkit.lifeline.org.au/topics/grief-loss/what-is-grief?gclid=CjwKCAjw-KipBhBtEiwAWjgwrE1pJaaBabh3pT_UR0PlVBZTFMEA26NVJe2ue8sqCF0BLg2rMI4i2xoCp5IQAvD_BwE Reach Out Australia: coping strategies https://au.reachout.com/articles/working-through-grief?gclid=CjwKCAjw-KipBhBtEiwAWjgwrKXLb9w-wXXVLIbhZDkPumIF6ebe-0Pk77Hv7-cK4dLDrHJxCRkyRBoC2B4QAvD_BwE Find a Helpline: for international/country-specific helplines https://findahelpline.com/ References 1. Li S, Callaghan BL, Richardson R. Infantile amnesia: forgotten but not gone. Learn Mem [Internet]. 2014, March [cited 2025 Mar 27]; 21(3):135–9. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3929851/ 2. Donato F, Alberini CM, Amso D, Dragoi G, Dranovsky A, Newcombe NS. The Ontogeny of Hippocampus-Dependent Memories. J Neurosci [Internet] . 2021, Feb 3 [cited 2025 Mar 27]; 41(5):920–6. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1523/JNEUROSCI.1651-20.2020 3. Howe, ML. Early Childhood Memories Are not Repressed: Either They Were Never Formed or Were Quickly Forgotten. Topics in Cognitive Science [Internet]. 2022, July 11 [cited 2025 Mar 27]; 16(4): 707–717. Available from: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/tops.12636 4. Bauer PJ, Amnesia, Infantile☆. In: Benson JB, editor. Encyclopedia of Infant and Early Childhood Development (Second Edition) [Internet]. Oxford: Elsevier; 2020. p. 45–55 [cited 2025 Mar 27]. Available from: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780128093245212078 5. Stoencheva B, Stoyanova K, Stoyanov D. Infantile Amnesia can be Operationalized as a Psychological Meta Norm in the Development of Memory. JIN [Internet]. 2025, Feb 10 [cited 2025 Mar 27]; 24(2):1–11. Available from: https://www.imrpress.com/journal/JIN/24/2/10.31083/JIN25889 Previous article Next article Enigma back to