Search Results

< Back to Issue 10 Dating Isn’t Physics – Opposites Don’t Attract by Elva Assisan 2 June 2026 Illustrated by Jessica Walton Edited by Cady Jacobson The opposites attract trope has a history of being very popular in our media, appearing quite literally everywhere from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen to 10 Things I Hate About You by Gil Junger. Its popularity is undoubtedly a result of the conflict and passion that this dynamic brings to a narrative. Popular culture portrays high contrast couples as those with more exciting, balanced and emotionally fulfilling lives. However, while it often looks like “you bring me out of my shell” when an introvert and extrovert meet in the beginning, it often ends in arguments about going out and staying in. Despite how popular the trope is, science suggests that opposites, in fact, do not attract. The ‘Similarity Attraction Affect’ theory proposes that individuals feel more attracted to those who are similar in attitudes (1). When people encounter those with similar attitudes, they feel affective attractions. They find that their interactions are smoother and therefore more enjoyable. Even in daily life, individuals find that they have more satisfying interactions with those that they have similarities with. When another person shares similar opinions or behaviours, it creates feelings of acceptance and emotional security. This validation strengthens self-esteem and encourages emotional closeness (1), as successful long-term relationships are usually built on compatibility and mutual understanding, rather than dramatic contrast. In addition to similarity increasing feelings of acceptance due to shared values, similarity has also been found to make communication easier. Couples who share values and lifestyles generally experience fewer misunderstandings and conflicts, as they approach situations in much the same way. If two people agree on major life decisions, such as family expectations, finances, and future goals, decision making becomes less stressful (2). On the other hand, relationships with more extreme differences become more exhausting over time as more major issues have to be resolved. Montoya, Horton and Kirchner conducted a meta-analysis examining attraction and found that both actual and perceived similarity significantly increased interpersonal attraction (3). Essentially, people are more likely to enjoy spending time with those who remind them of themselves by having shared humour, hobbies, and values. Building on this, it is not just about having similarities with another person, but having a dynamic where you are invited to act on your core traits and behaviours. For example, dominant people prefer to interact with partners who invite them to be dominant, and submissive people prefer to interact with partners who invite them to be submissive. When people have different qualities which work in conversation, that same mutual understanding is found. Another example of this is having an organised partner who remembers appointments, while the spontaneous partner ensures life contains fun, instead of colour-coded spreadsheets. Individuals are also naturally drawn to environments and relationships that reinforce their self-concept and worldview (4). Indeed, the idea that opposites attract may actually originate from this notion of complementarity. Importantly, the claim that similarity matters does not mean couples have to be the exact same. Healthy relationships still require individuality, compromise, and respect for differences. Minor differences can improve relationships by encouraging personal development and preventing boredom (2). While the idea that “opposites attract” sounds romantic and makes great material for movies, psychological research suggests that similarity is usually what keeps relationships alive, particularly once the excitement wears off. Ultimately, successful relationships are less about finding your complete opposite and more about finding someone whose weirdness matches your own closely enough that neither of you end up arguing about how to load the dishwasher every night. References Byrne D. An Overview (and Underview) of Research and Theory within the Attraction Paradigm. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships . 1997; 14 (3):417–431. doi:10.1177/0265407597143008 Luo S, Klohnen EC. Assortative Mating and Marital Quality in Newlyweds: A Couple-Centered Approach. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology . 2005; 88 (2):304–326. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.88.2.304 Montoya RM, Horton RS, Kirchner J. Is actual similarity necessary for attraction? A meta-analysis of actual and perceived similarity. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships . 2008; 25 (6):889–922. doi:10.1177/0265407508096700 Dryer DC, Horowitz LM. When do opposites attract? Interpersonal complementarity versus similarity. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology . 1997; 72 (3):592–603. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.72.3.592 Previous article back to Fact & Fiction Next article

By Lily McCann Svante Pääbo: Talking to the Past By Lily McCann 23 March 2022 Edited by Caitlin Kane Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen For a collection of numbers on a screen, the World Population Clock stirs a lot of emotions (1). Watch it tick on, recording a life, another life, a death, then more lives. The number — well past 8 billion now — reflects the extent of Homo sapiens’ conquest over the world. Evidence of our culture, with its complex language, society and infrastructure, is everywhere. But we seem to be the only earthly species to live in such a way, the only species to track our own numbers on a digital clock. We swarm the planet, all its continents and yet we are, essentially, alone. To challenge this isolation, scientists reach out in all directions, hoping for some kind of reflection that might shed light on who we are. Astronomers look to space; they probe the depths of the universe in search of life like our own. Others, like Svante Pääbo, look to the past. 300,000 years ago, when Homo sapiens first evolved, there was no paper, no writing, no human-like language with which to record stories, cultures, or day to day recounts. Scant traces of our ancestors are all that are left to tease us: fossilised footprints, makeshift tools, bones, grave sites. These markers are indecipherable whispers, slipping through in a hazy, broken form from a past era to our own. With a time machine or resurrection tool perhaps we could converse with the dead, but while these remain foreign to our current reality, how can we talk to the past? For Pääbo, the language of genetics is the key. Using the information carried in Palaeolithic bones, Pääbo has discovered links between present-day humans and prehistoric hominids that tell the story of our evolution and current condition. These incredible findings have earnt Pääbo the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine in 2022 (2). Some of his most important achievements establishing the field of Paleogenomics include the full sequencing of the Neanderthal genome and the discovery of a whole new hominin species: the Denisovan (3, 4). But what fascinates me is his discovery of genetic interrelations between these prehistoric species and Homo sapiens themselves. Pääbo compared Neanderthal and Denisovan genetics to those of modern humans across the world. He discovered similarities and patterns that suggest a flow of genes took place between our ancestors and these hominid species: in other words, our predecessors mingled sexually with Neanderthals and Denisovans at some point in history, passing their genetics onto us as encoded evidence of this fact (5). Human genomes from Europe and Asia were most closely related to Neanderthal genomes, and Pääbo has shown 1-2% of modern non-African Homo sapiens genes are Neanderthal in origin (3). Similar patterns were observed for Denisovans, with the closest relation with modern humans from Pacific islands (6). This data exposes an intimacy between prehistoric hominids that challenges our idea of humans as a species confined to solitude. This conversation between genomes is not without implications for modern human physiology. When Homo sapiens moved into Eurasia, Denisovan and Neanderthal locals had already adapted to places in which Homo sapiens were mere tourists (7). Transfer of certain genes from local populations into the Homo sapiens line may have assisted in their survival. One example is a gene found in Denisovans that is important for survival at high altitudes and has been inherited by modern day Tibetans (8). Researching the discrepancies between modern and prehistoric genetics can thereby allow us to show the function and significance of these shared genes. It is hard to visualise the world in which Neanderthals and Homo sapiens first met. Did the scene play out as a peaceful interaction between two groups of equals? Perhaps it was more akin to the pattern of colonisation with which we are familiar in modern history. As the last species of our evolutionary branch, the Homo genus, we cannot now recreate such a meeting. However these prehistoric meetings played out, we now have evidence that Homo sapiens and local species of hominids in Eurasia communicated on the most intimate of levels. An optimist might argue that these groups of pre-humans shared a harmonious understanding that could be reproduced if humans find an analogous life form elsewhere in the future. Communication is a powerful tool after all, traversing species and millennia. Perhaps genetic insights into the past can remind us that we are not really as isolated as we might think. References Current world population [Internet]. Worldometer. 2023 [cited 2023Mar7]. Available from: https://www.worldometers.info/world-population/ Hedestam GK, Wedell A. The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine 2022 [Internet]. NobelPrize.org. The Nobel Foundation; 2022 [cited 2023Mar7]. Available from: https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/medicine/2022/advanced-information/ Green RE, Krause J, Briggs AW, Maricic T, Stenzel U, Kircher M, et al. A draft sequence of the Neandertal genome. Science. 2010May7;328(5979):710–22. Krause J, Fu Q, Good JM, Viola B, Shunkov MV, Derevianko AP, et al. The complete mitochondrial DNA genome of an unknown hominin from southern Siberia. Nature. 2010Mar24;464(7290):894–7. Villanea FA, Schraiber JG. Multiple episodes of interbreeding between Neanderthal and modern humans. Nature Ecology & Evolution. 2018May26;3(1):39–44. Reich D, Patterson N, Kircher M, Delfin F, Nandineni MR, Pugach I, et al. Denisova admixture and the first modern human dispersals into Southeast Asia and Oceania. The American Journal of Human Genetics. 2011Oct11;89(4):516–28. Rogers AR, Bohlender RJ, Huff CD. Early history of neanderthals and Denisovans. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 2017Jul7;114(37):9859–63. Huerta-Sánchez E, Jin X, Asan, Bianba Z, Peter BM, Vinckenbosch N, et al. Altitude adaptation in Tibetans caused by introgression of Denisovan-like DNA. Nature. 2014;512(7513):194–7. Previous article Next article

< Back to Issue 8 Thinking Outside the Body: The Consciousness of Slime Moulds by Jessica Walton 3 June 2025 Edited by Han Chong Illustrated by Ashlee Yeo Imagine yourself as an urban planner for Tokyo’s public transport system in 1927. Imagine mapping out the most efficient paths through dense urban sprawl, around obstructing rivers and mountains. And imagine meticulously designing the most efficient possible model, after years of study and expertise… only to find your design prowess, 83 years later, matched by a slime mould: a creature with no eyes, no head nor limbs, nor nervous system. Of course, this is anachronistic. For one, the Tokyo railroad system developed over time, not all at once. But it was designed to meet the needs of the city and maximise efficiency. Yet in 2010, when researchers exposed the slime mould Physarum polycephalum to a plate mimicking Tokyo city (with population density represented by oat flakes) it almost exactly mimicked the Tokyo railroad system (1). This became one of the most iconic slime mould experiments, ushering in a flood of research about biological urban design asking the question: Could a slime mould, or other similar organisms, map out human cities for us? But a slime mould doesn’t know what cities are. They’re single-celled organisms; they don’t understand urban planning, or public transport, or humans. They are classified as protists, largely because we’re not sure how else to categorise them, not because they’re particularly ‘protist-y.’ They have no brain and are single-celled for most of their life; so they can’t plan routes, have preferences, or make memories. Right? Except, perhaps they can. Slime moulds are extremely well-studied organisms because they exhibit precisely these behaviours. But how do they think? And what does it mean— to think ? Slime moulds have evidenced memory and learning. The protoplasm network they form is really just one huge cell that eventually develops into a plasmodium, growing and releasing spores. While plasmodial slime moulds (like P. polycephalum ) do this during reproduction, cellular slime moulds (dictyostelids) are able to aggregate together into one cell like this when food is scarce or environments are difficult (meaning they must be able to detect and evaluate if these things are true). Most slime mould behaviour is understood through cell signalling and extracellular interaction mechanisms; responding to chemical gradients using receptors along their membrane, which signal to the cells to move up the concentration gradient of a chemoattractant molecule and away from a chemorepellent. This makes sense; bacteria (like almost every other living organism) do this all the time and it’s the chief way that they make decisions . But what about memory and preferences? What about stimuli beyond the immediate detected chemicals? Slime moulds can, for example, anticipate repeated events and avoid simple traps to reach food hidden behind a U-shaped barrier (2,3). These are beyond input-to-output; something more complex must be happening. Something conscious? Thinking ? The idea of consciousness requiring complex neuronal processes is becoming rapidly outdated as we observe patterns of thinking in organisms that, according to classical definitions, really should not be able to. Using the slime mould as an example, Sims and Kiverstein (2022) argue against the ‘neurocentric’ assumption that an organism must have a brain to be cognisant. Instead, P. polycephalum is suggested to exhibit spatial memory, with cognition being suggested to sometimes include external elements (3). They showed it may undergo simple, habitual learning and hypothesised it uses an oscillation-based mechanism within the cell (3). Similarly, oscillator units along the slime mould’s extending tendrils oscillate at a higher frequency at higher concentrations of food source molecules (like some tasty glucose), signalling to the slime mould to move in that direction (4). Sims and Kiverstein (2022) also posit that the slime trail left by slime mould could function as an external memory mechanism. They found that P. polycephalum avoids slime trails as they represent places it has already been; suggesting a method of spatial memory (4). This was further proved as not a pure input-output response by showing that the avoidance response could be overridden when food is placed on or near slime trails (5). They suggest that the slime mould was able to balance multiple inputs, including oscillation levels and slime trail signals, exhibiting simple decision-making. Should we count these processes as thinking ? This topic is debated by philosophers as much as biologists. Sims and Kiverstein (2022) use the Hypothesis of Extended Cognition, being that mind sometimes extends into the environment outside of the brain and body, to argue firmly that it does count. But at the end of the day, despite understanding the chemical and electrical processes between neurons signalling and the cellular makeup of the brain, we still don’t understand how electrical signals through a series of axons make the leap to complex consciousness. Rudimentary and external cognition pathways, as seen with the slime mould, may also be an evolutionary link in the building blocks to more complex, nerve-based consciousness and decision making (3). We don’t yet understand the phenomena inside our own skulls—how can we hope to define it across all other organisms? Slime moulds clearly have something beyond simple chemical reactions. This begs the question: Aren't our own minds also fundamentally just made of simple chemical reactions? And if a slime mould is able to evaluate multiple inputs, how wonderfully complex must such processes be inside (and outside) a sea anemone, a cockroach or a cat? There’s no way to know what such a consciousness would look like or feel like to our frame of reference. When a slime mould, moving as a network around an agar plate, ‘looks up’ (or an equivalent slime mould action) and perceives unfathomable entities, how does it process that? What does the slime mould think of us? Bibliography 1. Kay R, Mattacchione A, Katrycz C, Hatton BD. Stepwise slime mould growth as a template for urban design. Sci Rep. 2022 Jan 25;12(1):1322. 2. Saigusa T, Tero A, Nakagaki T, Kuramoto Y. Amoebae Anticipate Periodic Events. Phys Rev Lett. 2008 Jan 3;100(1):018101. 3. Sims M, Kiverstein J. Externalized memory in slime mould and the extended (non-neuronal) mind. Cognitive Systems Research. 2022 Jun 1;73:26–35. 4. Reid CR, Latty T, Dussutour A, Beekman M. Slime mold uses an externalized spatial “memory” to navigate in complex environments. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2012 Oct 23;109(43):17490–4. 5. Reid CR, Beekman M, Latty T, Dussutour A. Amoeboid organism uses extracellular secretions to make smart foraging decisions. Behavioral Ecology. 2013 Jul;24(4):812–8. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 8 In Your Dreams: Unpacking the Stories of Your Slumber by Ciara Dahl 3 June 2025 Edited by Ingrid Sefton Illustrated by Saraf Ishmam One minute you're flying through the sky, the next, you're naked in a room full of people. Except now, your teeth have started falling out? These surreal, and often illogical, experiences are what make dreams such a mystery. From ancient spiritual interpretations to modern neuroscience, people have long wondered not just what dreams mean , but why we have them at all. Are they cryptic messages from the unconscious? Perhaps a side effect of memory processing? Or maybe they are simply the brain’s way of entertaining itself while we sleep. Attempting to answer these questions is no easy feat. Despite being a universal human experience, dreams are inherently personal. Given no one but ourselves experiences our dreams, how can the fragmented recollections we have upon waking be objectively studied? Dream research was once steeped in spirituality and mysticism, often seen as divine messages from gods or whispered guidance from ancestors (1). Even Aristotle offered his own theory, suggesting dreams were the byproduct of internal bodily movements during sleep (1). It wasn’t until the early 20th century that dreams began to be studied through a psychological lens, most notably by Sigmund Freud, who proposed that dreams contained deeply personal and symbolic insights into the unconscious mind (2). Modern research, however, is beginning to uncover the connection between our dreams and complex cognitive processes such as memory consolidation. Techniques employed by oneirologists — that’s the fancy word for scientists specialising in the scientific study of dreams — includes fMRI, PET scans and EEG. Such methods are used to study brain activity during sleep and dreaming, particularly during REM and non-REM sleep (3). Using these technologies in tandem with qualitative descriptions gathered from individuals’ dream reports allows us to unpack the content and function of our dreams, whilst also considering questions such as why we seem to forget most of our dreams. What dreams are made of: influences on the content of our dreams There’s a growing body of evidence to suggest that our dream content is influenced by the consolidation of our memories as we sleep. Sleep provides an ideal neurological state for us to organise our recent memories into more long term memories (4). The reactivation and subsequent consolidation of memories in the sleeping brain appears to contribute to the content of dreams we recall upon awakening. In one study examining this phenomena, participants played extensive amounts of Tetris prior to sleeping. In the subsequent dream report collection, over 60% of participants cited seeing Tetris images in their dreams (5). This illustrates how the boundaries between waking and dreaming cognition are more porous than they appear, with dream content itself serving as a window into the neural mechanisms of memory consolidation. Not all dreaming can be directly tied to our most recent memories, but all dreams are built upon our prior experiences. For example, the appearance of recognisable friends or foes in our dreams in turn relies on our ability to recall their features and mannerisms (6). The bizarre patchwork of familiar situations we encounter in our dreams is also likely a reflection of the adaptive process of memory consolidation, as fragments of our memories are integrated during sleep. The Night Shift — what is the purpose of dreams We may be inching closer to understanding what influences the content of our dreams, but why do we dream in the first place? The Threat Simulation Theory (TST) argues that dreams act as an ancient biological defence mechanism, allowing us to simulate threatening events we may encounter in our waking life (7). TST suggests that on an evolutionary scale, being able to simulate threatening events in our sleep allows us to efficiently perceive and avoid threats whilst awake, leading to greater survival and reproductive success. It is a bit hard to imagine, however, that dreaming about being naked in public is going to be the key to our survival. This is why some scientists suggest that dreams are simply the brain’s attempt to make sense of random neural activity during REM sleep. This Activation-Synthesis Theory proposes that rather than rehearsing for real-life threats, our brains may just be firing off chaotic signals which it then tries to weave into bizarre and often disjointed stories (8). Whether dreams serve as a survival tool or are simply the byproduct of random brain activity, they offer a window into the complex workings of the sleeping mind. Vanishing Visions and the Concept of Dream Amnesia Have you ever woken up from such an absurd dream it seems impossible to forget, only to have forgotten the details by the end of breakfast? That’s what the experts call “dream amnesia”. It’s estimated that the average person dreams four to six times per night, yet you’d be lucky to remember even one of them by morning (6). At the molecular level, noradrenaline — a neurotransmitter associated with memory consolidation — is at its lowest concentrations while we sleep (9). This depletion could be a key factor contributing to dream amnesia, preventing the transfer of our dream experiences from short-term memory to long-term memory. Different sleep stages may also influence dream recall (6). It has been suggested that waking up during or just after REM sleep leads to more vivid dreams. In contrast, dream activity is low during non-REM sleep and hence, waking up during this sleep phase may also contribute to our poor dream recall. Although it can be disappointing to forget these wild dream experiences, dream amnesia may also serve an adaptive purpose. The “clean slate” hypothesis argues that forgetting dreams allows us to wake with a clear mind, free of the potentially disturbing content of our dreams (10). Alternatively, by maintaining a clear distinction between our dreaming and waking experiences, we are protected from confusing our dreams with reality, preventing anxiety that may otherwise ensue (11). Perhaps this forgetfulness may not be a flaw in our memory but a feature of it, helping us to preserve our mental clarity and emotional balance as we transition from the surreal world of our dreams to the demands of our waking life. In conclusion We may never fully unlock the secrets of our nightly adventures, but one thing is clear: dreams are a fascinating blend of memory, biology, and mystery. Whether they're ancient survival simulations, emotional clean-ups, or just the brain’s quirky way of entertaining itself while the lights are off, dreams remind us how wonderfully weird and complex the human mind truly is. Next time you find yourself tap dancing with Beyoncé or riding a roller coaster made of spaghetti, just enjoy the ride. Your brain is simply doing what it does best — keeping things entertaining, even in your sleep. References Palagini L, Rosenlicht N. Sleep, dreaming, and mental health: A review of historical and neurobiological perspectives. Sleep Medicine Reviews. 2011 Jun;15(3):179–86. Freud S. The Interpretation of Dreams [Internet]. 1900. Available from: https://psychclassics.yorku.ca/Freud/Dreams/dreams.pdf Ruby PM. Experimental Research on Dreaming: State of the Art and Neuropsychoanalytic Perspectives. Frontiers in Psychology [Internet]. 2011 Nov 18;2(286). Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3220269/#B107 Wamsley EJ. Dreaming and offline memory consolidation. Current Neurology and Neuroscience Reports [Internet]. 2014 Jan 30;14(3). Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4704085/ Stickgold R. Replaying the Game: Hypnagogic Images in Normals and Amnesics. Science. 2000 Oct 13;290(5490):350–3. Nir Y, Tononi G. Dreaming and the brain: from phenomenology to neurophysiology. Trends in Cognitive Sciences [Internet]. 2010 Jan 14;14(2):88–100. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2814941/ Revonsuo A. The reinterpretation of dreams: An evolutionary hypothesis of the function of dreaming. Behavioral and Brain Sciences [Internet]. 2000 Dec;23(6):877–901. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11515147/ Hobson JA, McCarley RW. The brain as a dream state generator: an activation-synthesis hypothesis of the dream process. The American journal of psychiatry [Internet]. 1977 [cited 2019 Nov 14];134(12):1335–48. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21570 Mitchell HA, Weinshenker D. Good night and good luck: Norepinephrine in sleep pharmacology. Biochemical Pharmacology. 2010 Mar;79(6):801–9. Eugene AR, Masiak J. The Neuroprotective Aspects of Sleep. MEDtube science [Internet]. 2015 Mar;3(1):35. Available from: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4651462/ Zhao J, Schoch SF, Valli K, Dresler M. Dream function and dream amnesia: dissolution of an apparent paradox. Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews. 2024 Nov 20;167. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

Issue 6: Elemental 28 May 2024 This issue explores the building blocks that comprise the world we live in. Our talented writers braved the elements - have a read below! Editorial by Ingrid Sefton & Rachel Ko A word from our Editors-in-Chief. Fire and Brimstone by Jesse Allen The world has long been subject to the fury of fire and volcanic eruptions. Technology to predict seismic activity may allow us to tame this elemental force. Hidden in Plain Sight: The dangerous chemicals in our everyday products by Kara Miwa-Dale Drink bottles, tinned food, receipts: a recipe for disaster? Interviewing A/Prof Mark Green, Kara exposes the hidden dangers of endocrine disrupting chemicals. A Frozen Odyssey: Shackleton’s Trans-Antarctic Expedition by Ethan Bisogni A pursuit of knowledge and a testament to survival, Ethan navigates the enthralling legacy of Sir Ernest Shackleton's Trans-Antarctic Expedition. Everything, Everywhere, All at Once: The Art of Decomposition by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo Arwen breaks down the intricacies of decomposition, leading us to consider the fundamental power not only in creation, but destruction. Out of our element by Serenie Tsai Following the industrial revolution, humankind has exploited and degraded the Earth's natural resources. Serenie shows how nature resists, maintaining the capacity to restore what humans have destroyed. Cosmic Carbon Vs Artificial Intelligence by Gaurika Loomba Carbon constitutes life and death, shaping conscious human existence. What threat could AI hold to the power of this element? Proprioception: Our Invisible Sixth Sense by Ingrid Sefton Our mysterious, yet omnipresent sixth sense - proprioception is the reason we know where our body and limbs are, even in the dark. A Brief History of the Elements: Finding a Seat at the Periodic Table by Xenophon Papas There's hydrogen and helium, then lithium, beryllium - or is there? The periodic table we know today was not always so, as Xen recounts.

By Andrew Lim < Back to Issue 3 Hope, Humanity and the Starry Night Sky By Andrew Lim 10 September 2022 Edited by Manfred Cain and Yvette Marris Illustrated by Ravon Chew Next Image 1: The Arecibo Observatory looms large over the forests of Puerto Rico The eerie signal reverberates out over the Caribbean skies, amplified by the telescope below. It oscillates between two odd resonating tones for little more than a couple of minutes, then shuts off. Eminent scholars, government administrators and elected representatives watch in wonderment, their eyes glued open. The forest birds and critters chirp and sing. It is November 16, 1974 – from a little spot in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, Earth is about to pop its head out the door to say ‘hello’. Those sing-song tunes, beamed out into space on modulated radio waves, are a binary message designed for some alien civilisation– a snapshot of humanity in 1679 bits. It sounds like the beginning of a bad sci-fi flick: the kind that ends with little green men coming down in UFOs for a cheap-CGI first contact. But it isn’t, and it doesn’t. Instead, the legacy of those telescope-amplified sounds – that ‘Arecibo Message’ – has a place in history as a symbol of human cooperation, here on Earth rather than in the stars. The message’s unifying vision imbued the famous ‘pale blue dot’ monologue of its co-creator Carl Sagan; and led to the launch of a multi-year international programme designing its successor message 45 years on, presenting extra-terrestrial communication as a mirror of our earth-bound relations. A unified message symbolizing a unified humanity. The previous feature in this series (Discovery, Blue Skies…and Partisan Bickering?) ended with a declaration of nuance: that science in politics matters solely because it transcends partisan bounds with clear analysis. Yet, looking at stories like Arecibo’s, so imbued with human optimism, maybe this cold, logical formulation isn’t enough. Perhaps for all its focus on appropriations bills, initiative funding and flawed infrastructure, that perspective lends insufficient weight to science’s ability to inspire, to cut through the fog of day-to-day policy battles with a beacon of what could yet be. But is this talk of hope just ideological posturing – a triumphant humanism gone mad? Or could there be some merit to its romantic vision of humanity speaking with one voice to the stars? Might it possibly be that science really is the key to bridging our divisions? COOPERATION AMIDST CHAOS Well, why not begin in the times of Arecibo? After all, the interstellar message came at a key moment in the Cold War. Just a few months before, US President Richard Nixon had made his way to Moscow to meet with General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev, leader of the USSR. The signing of a new arms treaty, a decade-long economic agreement and a friendly state dinner at the Kremlin all seemed to indicate a world inching away from the edge of nuclear apocalypse. Such pacifist optimism is found readily in the message’s surrounding documents, with its research proposal speaking glowingly of future messages designed and informed by “international scientific consultations…[similar to] the first Soviet-American conference on communication with extraterrestrial [sic] intelligence.” Indeed, it seems the spirit of the age. Soon after the Arecibo message’s transmission, the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project would see an American Apollo spacecraft docking with a Soviet Soyuz module. Mission commanders Thomas Stafford and Alexei Leonov conducted experiments, exchanged gifts, and even engaged in the world’s first international space handshake – a symbol of shared peace and prosperity for both superpowers. Image 2: Thomas Stafford and Alexei Leonov shake hands on the Apollo-Soyuz mission Apollo-Soyuz marked an effective end to the US-USSR ‘Space Race’ (discussed in Part I of this series), and would lead to successor programmes, including a series of missions where American space shuttles would send astronauts to the Russian space station Mir, and eventually the building of the 21st-century International Space Station (ISS). Science seemed capable of forging cooperation amidst the greatest of disagreements, transcending our human borders and divides. Frank Drake, the designer of the Arecibo Message, was filled with optimism, hoping that his message might herald the beginning of a new age, marked by united scientific discovery and unparalleled human growth. He triumphantly declared to the Cornell Chronicle on the day of its transmission that “the sense that something in the universe is much more clever than we are has preceded almost every important advance in applied technology. SCIENTIFIC SPHERES OF INTEREST Yet this rose-tinted vision of science as the great mediator perhaps has a few more cracks in it than its advocates like to admit. Even at the height of Nixon’s Cold War détente, science was not pure intellectual collaboration. Henry Kissinger, Nixon’s National Security Advisor and later Secretary of State, pioneered ‘triangular diplomacy’, the art of playing adversaries off against one another with alternating threats and incentives. In later years, he would declare that “it was always better for [the US] to be closer to either Moscow or Peking than either was to the other”. And as he opened channels of communication with China, it was science that would pave the way for a stronger relationship. In the Shanghai Communique negotiated on Nixon’s 1972 trip to China, both sides “discussed specific areas in such fields as science [and] technology…in which people-to-people contacts and exchanges would be mutually beneficial [and] undert[ook] to facilitate the further development of [them].” Scientific collaboration (often manipulated by spy agencies from the CIA to the KGB) was the carrot beside the military stick – a central part of building alliances in a world of realpolitik. To Kissinger and his colleagues, the world was to be divided into Image 3: US President Richard Nixon shakes hands with CCP Chairman Mao Zedong in China in 1972 spheres of influence, even in times of peace – and science was best used as a way of strengthening and shoring up your own prosperity. It is a realist view of science diplomacy that continues to this day, with US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton noting in Image 4: Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi meets with his Cambodian counterpart Prak Sokhonn in September 2021, pledging additional aid and vaccine doses. 2014 that “educational exchanges, cultural tours and scientific collaboration…may garner few headlines, but… [can] influence the next generation of U.S. and [foreign] leaders in a way no other initiative can match”. To both Clinton and Kissinger, science is an instrument of foreign policy, whether deployed overtly in winning over current governments or more subtly in shaping the views of future ones. For them, amidst competing interests and simmering tensions, we ignore science’s soft power at our own peril. Just look at China’s distribution over Sinovac COVID-19 vaccines in the pandemic. In October 2020, January 2021 and September 2021, Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi went on tours of Southeast Asia, promising vaccine aid while pushing closer connections between China and the rest of Asia. Last year, it was estimated that China had promised a total of over 255 million vaccine doses – a key step in building stronger economic and military ties in an increasingly tense region. Indeed, in mid-2021, just as concerns about Chinese vaccine efficacy grew, US President Joe Biden announced “half [a] billion doses with no strings attached…[no] pressure for favours, or potential concessions” from the sidelines of a G7 Summit. Secretary of Defence Lloyd Austin travelled across Southeast Asia. In the the Philippines he renewed a military deal just as a new shipment of vaccines was announced – a clear indicator of the linkage between medical and military diplomacy, something reinforced when Vice President Kamala Harris landed in Singapore later that year to declare the US “an arsenal of safe and effective vaccines for our entire world.” Australia is key to vaccine diplomacy too. On his visit here earlier this year, US Secretary of State Antony Blinken made a point of visiting the University of Melbourne’s Biomedical Precinct to talk about COVID-19, declaring on Australian television that our nation was central to “looking Image 5: United States Secretary of State Lloyd J Austin III meets with Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte in July 2021 for negotiations on renewing the Visiting Forces Agreement at the problems that afflict our people as well as the opportunities…dealing with COVID…[in] new coalitions [and] new partnerships.” These views are backed up locally too. Sitting down for an exclusive interview with OmniSci Magazine last year, Dr Amanda Caples, Lead Scientist of Victoria, was keen to characterise her work in terms of these developments, reminding us that Victoria had been key to “improving the understanding of the immunology and epidemiology of the virus, developing vaccines and treatments and leading research into the social impact of the pandemic”, and emphasising Australia’s national interest, declaring that “global policymakers understand that a high performing science and research system benefits the broader economy…science and research contribute to jobs and prosperity for all rather than just the few.” Science, it seems, whether in vaccines, trade or exchanges, just like fifty years ago, is again to be a key tool for grand strategy and national interests. Image 6: Dr Amanda Caples, Lead Scientist of Victoria ARGUMENTS AND ARMS But perhaps even this might be too optimistic an outlook – for that simmering balance of power occasionally boils over. We need only to look at what happened when the détente of Nixon and Brezhnev was dashed to pieces with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. The policy was roundly condemned as sheer naïveté in the face of wily adversaries, with President Ronald Reagan later describing détente in a radio address as “what a farmer has with his turkey – until Thanksgiving Day”. Science was the first target for diplomatic attacks. After the invasion, Senator Robert Dole (R-KS) launched legislation barring the National Science Foundation from funding trips to the USSR. And the push seemed bipartisan, with Representative George Brown Jr. (D-CA-36) proposing a House Joint Resolution enacting an immediate “halt [to] official travel related to scientific and technical cooperation with the Soviet Union”. Image 7: Russia’s cosmonauts board the ISS on 18th March 2022, shortly before Russia ends its participation in the program Now, as we face war on the European continent, even the ISS – the descendant of Apollo-Soyuz’s seemingly-apolitical scientific endeavours – seems to be falling apart spectacularly. On April 2 this year, Roscosmos, the Russian space agency, announced that it would be ending its participation in the ISS program, demanding a “full and unconditional removal of…sanctions” imposed over the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Earlier in the year, Roscosmos’ Director General Dmitry Rogozin openly suggested on Twitter that the ISS being without Russian involvement would lead to “an uncontrolled deorbit and fall [of the station] into the United States or Europe”, alluding to “the option of dropping a 500-ton structure [on] India and China.” Rogozin’s threats became even more pronounced as the war continued, with Roscosmos producing a video depicting Russia’s two astronauts on the station not bringing NASA astronaut Mark Vande Hei back to Earth with them (American astronauts primarily go to and return from space via Russian Soyuz capsules). Shared by Russian state news, its chilling final scenes show the Russian segment of the ISS detaching too, with Vande Hei presumably left to die in space aboard the station. Such attacks need not remain rhetorical, either. Scientific advancements have long been tied to weaponry and defence systems, with mathematicians and physicists from John Littlewood to Richard Feynman involved in making bombs and ballistics in times of war. Even Arecibo, that bastion of a united humanity, began life as a Department of Defence initiative detecting Soviet ballistic missiles. Today, the AUKUS defence partnership – one of the most significant Indo-Pacific defence developments in recent memory – centres on sharing nuclear submarine science and technology, promising scientific cooperation regarding “cyber capabilities, artificial intelligence, quantum technologies, and additional undersea capabilities”. Even if induced by factors beyond our control, such weapons-based science is a far cry from the pacifist ideals of the Arecibo message. Thus, perhaps this messy reality is more central to our science than we like to admit. From the ISS to Australia’s waters, science still is intertwined with conflict and frequently co-opted by geopolitical actors in times of renewed aggression. Science at its worst is mere weaponry. But at its best, it speaks to something greater. HOPE IN THE DARKNESS In June 1977, the world was far from diplomatically stagnant. From the rumblings of Middle Eastern peace (what became the Camp David Accords) to new hopes of nuclear arms reduction, US President Jimmy Carter had quite the array of diplomatic dilemmas to consider. But amidst all that cold politics, he penned a letter to be sent on board the spacecraft Voyager, now the furthest manmade object from our solar system, declaring “We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours…This record represents our hope and our determination, and our good will in a vast and awesome universe.” And if this magazine has purported to speak to the ‘alien’ – far removed from our human lives - then perhaps we have discovered quite the opposite: that looking out up there is so much about looking in down here. Science presents a way we can look out at the alien and see ourselves – “survive our time…into yours”, finding a path ahead reflected in the inky blackness above. We are often constrained by time and circumstance, forced in the face of nefarious actors to compromise our idealism and use science as a mere weapon or tool. Discovery for discovery’s sake is frequently the first casualty when battle lines are drawn and aggression begun, and too often the political pessimism of the scientist can seem overpowering. But if the stories of broken détentes, diplomatic realpolitik and weaponised technology have made it all feel inevitable, then perhaps it is worth considering the story we began with, looking up into the night sky and remembering that somewhere amidst the stars is a tiny warble in the electromagnetic spectrum. Long after the funds and papers that forged it have faded away, after the people who wrote it have perished, it will continue. In its odd combination of ones and zeroes, it will represent humanity: our contradictions and our fears, our constant foibles and infighting, but also our occasional glimpses of a future beyond them. A signal…a reminder that when the times, the people Image 8: President Jimmy Carter’s message, sent aboard Voyager, the furthest man-made probe from Earth and the ideas line up just right, science can be the torchbearer for something greater. Something so rare that amidst all the ills of the world, it often seems non-existent, and so powerful that over two millennia ago, Aeschylus himself deemed it the very thing given to humanity by Prometheus to save us from destruction – the ideal that transformed us from mortals fixated on ourselves and our deaths to a civilisation capable of great things. “τυφλὰς…ἐλπίδας”, he called it: blind hope. A handshake in a capsule. A life-saving jab on board a ship. A binary message in a bottle, out among the stars. Fleeting images – not of what we are, but of what we can be: visions of blind hope, that sheer belief that we can grow past our worst violent impulses and reach out into the great beyond. Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s naïve. But, on a brisk fall evening, looking out at a sky full of stars, each one more twinkling than the last, it’s easy to stop and imagine…maybe it’s the only thing that matters. Andrew Lim is an Editor and Feature Writer with OmniSci Magazine and led the team behind the Australian Finalist Submission to the New Arecibo Message Challenge. Image Credits (in order): National Atmospheric and Ionosphere Centre; National Aeronautics and Space Administration; National Archives Nixon White House Photo Office Collection; Kith Serey/Pool via Reuters; Malacanang Presidential Photo via Reuters; The Office of the Lead Scientist of Victoria; AP; National Aeronautics and Space Administration Previous article Next article alien back to

Something is not what it seems... ¿ Can you find it ? Can you find the creature that does not belong in the desert? Issue 4: Mirage 1 July 2023 Is that shape in the distance reality or just a figment of your imagination? This issue explores the realms of science that are not what they seem. Check out the articles below! From the Editors-in-Chief Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko, Patrick Grave, Yvette Marris In this issue of OmniSci Magazine, we chose to explore this quest for the unknown that may be bold, unlucky, or even foolhardy: chasing the ‘Mirage’. Fool Me Once Julia Lockerd Placebo treatments can trick our brains into thinking we've taken real medicine. Julia delves into how this cornerstone of modern clinical trials may be affected by sex. Real Life Replicants Elijah McEvoy Elijah traverses the ins and outs of generative AI, considering what being 'human' really means in the age of replication. Big Bang To Black Holes: Probing the Illusionary Nature of Time Mahsa Nabizada Ever wondered why time is so hard to pin down? Mahsa explores time as a physical phenonenon, and questions how objective it really is. Interviewing Dr Karen Freilich Rachel Ko Rachel interviews Dr Karen Freilich, one of the hosts of 'Humerus Hacks', a podcast that communicates science in a perfect marriage of education and entertainment. PT Saachin Simpson Saachin shares a poem inspired by his experience on ward rounds as a medical student The Mirage of Camouflage Krisha Ajay Darji Creatures often lurk in the dark, or even in bright daylight - which Krisha uncovers in an account of mesmerising faunal camouflage secrets. Talking to Yourself: The Biology of Hallucinations Lily McCann Lily explores how human consciousness can foster hallucination, further fed by the intricate psychologies of our brains. Why Our Concept of Colours is Broken Selin Duran Selin delves into how and why we perceive colours differently, and how optical illusions can work. Echidnas: Gentle Courters In The Competitive Animal Kingdom Emily Siwing Xia Hidden amidst the oft ferocious dealings of the animal kingdom, Emily places the spotlight instead on the gentle, yet effective mating rituals of the echidna. The Power of Light Serenie Tsai Serenie enlightens with a play-by-play of light’s many potentials, all of which render it a powerful force that can be harnessed in the future.

< Back to Issue 9 Enter . . . the Anthropocene? by Rita Fortune 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Zara Burk Edited by Kylie Wang We live in a time where humanity’s impact on the world around us is clearly visible. From the neverending barrage of information about climate change, to extinction and habitat loss, the consequences of our actions are impossible to avoid. There’s no denying that the world around us is changing, but what if there are deeper implications? What if our impact on the planet will be apparent thousands, even millions of years into the future? Have we changed our planet’s system to such an extent that the birth of our species defined a new geological epoch? The geological timescale is how we understand the relative timing of past events. From the advent of life, to mass extinctions, all of it is documented in the rock record. Our geological past is divided into formalised time periods: eons, eras, periods, epochs and ages. These time periods are generally divided by major changes visible in the rock record, such as mass extinctions, major climate shifts, or changes in magnetic polarity, with absolute ages determined by radioactive dating (1). Currently, we are formally sitting in the Holocene Epoch, which began around 11.7 thousand years ago, with the end of the last glacial maximum and beginning of the subsequent warmer interglacial phase (2). However, due to the enormity of impact on earth systems that humanity has had, especially since the dawn of the industrial revolution, some scientists are pushing for the formalisation of a new epoch: the Anthropocene. The concept of the Anthropocene was first officially coined by Paul Crutzen and Eugene Stoermer in 2002 (3). Initially, it was used to recognise the exploitation of earth’s resources by humankind, including the emission of greenhouse gases, urbanisation of land, and increase in species extinction rates. Crutzen and Stoermer suggested the beginning of the Anthropocene to be in the late 18th century, as, in the last 200 years, the “global effects of human activities have become clearly noticeable” (3). The concept, at its core, has remained the same since then, but there have been some changes and debate around formal definitions and informal uses of the term. The Anthropocene has been adopted in popular culture, with its broad use encompassing humanity’s interactions with the earth, but there is ongoing debate about its formal use. Furthermore, although the theory traces its origins to earth system science, efforts to formalise the Anthropocene have been multidisciplinary, involving not only stratigraphers and palaeontologists, but also experts from various scientific backgrounds (4). Formalising the Anthropocene as an epoch distinct from the Holocene relies on being able to find stratal evidence in the rock record for where this transition took place (4). There are countless pieces of evidence for our impact on Earth’s systems.Yet, there is still debate around which ones can be used to define the Anthropocene. The Anthropocene Working Group identified as potential evidence for the beginning of the Anthropocene: the increase in sedimentation and erosion rates; changes to carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus cycles; climate change and increase in sea level, and; biotic changes such as unprecedented spread of species across Earth (4). Many of these impacts will leave permanent evidence in the geological record, indicating our existence long after our civilisations have crumbled. There are many potential ways to define the beginning of the Anthropocene. Crutzen suggested this crucial moment to be the invention of the steam engine, which led to the industrial revolution, often used as a baseline to compare our current climate to (3). However, evidence of industrialisation from this time is really only visible in Europe, with sediments from the Southern Hemisphere showing no change (5). More recently, it has been posited that the detonation of the first atomic bomb in 1945 should be the official marker of the Anthropocene, as it deposited a thin stratal layer of radionuclides, which do not naturally occur in the environment (6). While it’s clear that humans are a major source of change on Earth, some say that it does not necessarily mean we’ve entered a new epoch. Although geological time periods are often delineated based on environmental change, not every environmental change necessitates the creation of a new epoch. There have been past periods of (relatively) rapid climate change that are not associated with new time periods. An example of this is the Palaeocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (PETM). During this time, there was significant global warming, change in habitats, and migration in species. This warm period lasted for approximately 100,000 years, but there were no mass extinctions. Once temperatures returned to normal, ecosystems essentially returned to how they were before the event (7). Geologically speaking, the proposed Anthropocene is a minuscule amount of time. Although the effects are extreme, if we stopped all emissions right now, it is possible that within 5000 years the climate could return to pre-industrial levels (8). Another argument presented by some authors is that the stratigraphic basis for the Anthropocene doesn’t exist yet, and is merely expected to exist in the future. Many structures which have an anthropogenic origin, such as excavation, boreholes and mine dumps, are not yet geological strata. Additionally, in strata that have recorded anthropogenic change, such as speleothems, marshes, lake and ocean floor sediments, the layers representing the Anthropocene would be so thin as to be difficult to distinguish from the underlying Holocene sediments (6). Without the gift of hindsight that has allowed scientists to examine previous epochs, it is difficult to say whether or not the change we currently see will be significant enough on a geological scale to officially move us into a new epoch. There has been suggestion that instead of a new epoch, the Anthropocene could be a Sub-Age, or an Age within the Holocene Epoch (4); acknowledging our profound impact on the earth, but believing that the earth’s system will eventually return to pre-industrial levels. Further complicating the matter, there are suggestions that humans have been altering the earth’s climate since long before the industrial revolution. Evidence shows that a rise in CO2 occurred with the advent of farming by early humans, 7000 years ago. Around the same time, there was also a rise in atmospheric methane, which has been attributed to rice paddies and livestock (9). With the increase in human population happening at this time, there was likewise an increase in land clearance, both to accommodate dwellings and farming. Even though these emissions and land clearing are tiny by today’s standards, they may have been enough to push our climate away from heading into its next glacial period, priming the warmer conditions we experience today. Some arguments have even been made that irreversible impact by humans stretches back even further, to the Pleistocene extinctions of megafauna across multiple continents (10). There is no doubt that humans have had, and are having, a massive impact on the environment. The atmosphere and oceans will take thousands of years to recover from their current level of warming. However, these massive changes do not necessarily mean that we have entered a new epoch. Although it appears there will be ample stratigraphic records of our impacts on this planet, without hindsight, it is difficult to see just how much change we have created. In the context of geological time, humans have been around for a minutely short period. Although what’s happening today might seem dramatic to us, it is possible that millions of years in the future all we will have left behind is a few centimetres of ocean floor sediment. Either way, the Anthropocene as an informal term for our current time period is valuable for acknowledging the consequences of our actions, and a reminder of the permanence of our record. References 1.University of Calgary. Geologic time scale. Energy Education. 2024. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://energyeducation.ca/encyclopedia/Geologic_time_scale#cite_note-GTS-3 2. Walker M, Johnsen S, Rasmussen SO, Popp T, Steffensen JP, Gibbard P, et al. Formal definition and dating of the GSSP (Global Stratotype Section and Point) for the base of the Holocene using the Greenland NGRIP ice core, and selected auxiliary records. J. Quaternary Sci. 2009;24(1):3–17. doi: 10.1002/jqs.1227 3. Crutzen PJ, Stoermer EF. The ‘Anthropocene’ (2000) [Internet]. Benner S, Lax G, Crutzen PJ, Pöschl U, Lelieveld J, Brauch HG, editors. Cham: Springer International Publishing; 2021. 3 p. (Paul J. Crutzen and the Anthropocene: A New Epoch in Earth’s History). Available from: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-82202-6_2 4. Zalasiewicz J, Waters CN, Summerhayes CP, Wolfe AP, Barnosky AD, Cearreta A, et al. The Working Group on the Anthropocene: Summary of evidence and interim recommendations. Anthropocene. 2017;19:55–60. doi: 10.1016/j.ancene.2017.09.001 5. Pare S. Nuclear bombs set off new geological epoch in the 1950s, scientists say. Live Science. 2023. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://www.livescience.com/planet-earth/nuclear-bombs-set-off-new-geological-epoch-in-the-1950s-scientists-say 6. Finney S, Edwards L. The “Anthropocene” epoch: Scientific decision or political statement? GSA Today. 2016;26:4–10. doi: 10.1130/GSATG270A.1 7. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (PETM). Britannica. 2023. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/science/Paleocene-Eocene-Thermal-Maximum 8. The Royal Society. If emissions of greenhouse gases were stopped, would the climate return to the conditions of 200 years ago? The Royal Society. 2020. Accessed October 21, 2025. https://royalsociety.org/news-resources/projects/climate-change-evidence-causes/question-20/ 9. Ruddiman WF, He F, Vavrus SJ, Kutzbach JE. The early anthropogenic hypothesis: A review. Quaternary Science Reviews. 2020;240:106386. doi: 10.1016/j.quascirev.2020.106386 10. Doughty CE, Wolf A, Field CB. Biophysical feedbacks between the Pleistocene megafauna extinction and climate: The first human-induced global warming? Geophys. Res. Lett. 2010;37(15). doi:10.1029/2010GL043985 Previous article Next article Entwined 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