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< Back to Issue 9 Human-Cetacean Relations by Andrew Irvin 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Edited by Kara Miwa-Dale Creative, fascinating and full of interesting little tidbits, "Human-Cetacean Relations" would be best viewed as a PDF to retain its formatting, footnotes and references - check it out here! Andrew's article here A copy without footnotes and references is available on this page. – Tonga, 2049 – The Doctorate Isles When asked which nations take their PhD. scholarship most seriously, few people would venture a guess that Tonga had been closely keeping tabs on its academic attainment for decades. One of those Tongans was Tofa’s mom, who unflinchingly raised the reality of her eldest child’s enrolment gap nearly every time they had a conversation. Having met the eclectic and charming Rafael Bauer at the start of an undergraduate career, Lesieli didn’t let her relationship interrupt her first love – studying, which led to a steady, unbroken path through postdoctoral fellowships – eventually resulting in a tenured position in Medical Anthropology. Both in stature and demeanour, Tofa’s mother was a force to behold. Tofa’s dad, Rafael, was an American of much more indeterminate qualities; an electrical technician alongside his wife at University of California, Berkeley, he was a lifelong gearhead who never quite gave up the rock club sound tech roots of his youth. Rafael was a uniquely West Coast mix of pre-United States Californian, Bay area railroad-era immigrant Chinese, and late 20 th century Silicon Valley surf nerd, who despite his own parents’ cultural pedigree had always felt as though he were moving between worlds, even when he couldn’t manage to be any more deeply at home. This was a sentiment Tofa had always shared, but despite a temperamental affinity with their father, they found themselves growing into the spitting image of their mother. So as Tofa stared at the holo-tablet, they were confronted by a miniature version of themselves, twenty-five years on, in an alternate, hypothetical world where Tofa may have embraced a life of both femininity and pedantry. Tofa braced themselves, eyes pre-emptively glazing over slightly, as their mother laid in, yet again… “Why won’t you just pick a lane and stay the course, you know? See something through to the end?” On their periodic video calls, Dr. Lokotui – having kept her maiden name for the sake of her publication record – always ended up asking some form of the same question. It never failed to trigger Tofa’s ire. “Med school is literally the only thing I’ve walked away from, and that’s because I didn’t even start ,” they reminded their mother in persistent exasperation. “I have finished four albums, and for each and every one, I have toured for at least a year, always to the end.” In that process, Tofa noted, they had managed to build enough of a persona to dispense with the necessary attachment of a surname entirely, successfully avoiding the uncomfortable explanation of preferential nomenclature between their parents. Tofa knew their mother reserved a uniquely complicated form of resentment for her eldest child, and they spent concerted effort trying not to actively exacerbate this reaction, which they seemed to elicit simply by being themselves. Their younger brother, Tanginoa, had carved a much cleaner path to adoration in their mother’s books; playing rugby through college on the way to a sports medicine residency. The cumulative anxiety of navigating the conversation now had Tofa pacing with a purpose, weightily padding the deck of their beachside three-bedroom bungalow, overlooking Monterey Bay. Irate, she snidely remarked, “…and I don’t need to pick a lane when I go swimming. I’ve got the whole ocean to splash around in, Doctor Mom.” “ Si'i lile , Tofa…” Lesieli sighed in a combination of consternation and resignation, years beyond rising to active irritation at Tofa’s sarcastically applied epithet of respect. Tofa, in turn, was endlessly frustrated by the fundamentally uptight approach toward life their mother consistently decided to apply. “I’ve got to get back to grading, but here – talk to your father…” she said, unceremoniously passing the holo-tablet over to Tofa’s dad, Rafael. Growing up, Tofa often wondered how the most easy-going guy in California had ended up with—possibly—the most tenacious woman ever to make her way out of Tonga. He had drolly explained one night when Tofa was headlining one of the 90 th anniversary shows at the Fillmore Auditorium, “You know, I’ve never had to make a decision I didn’t feel was worth the trouble of thinking about.” He had admitted this while they were tucked away in the green room, leaning forward from the overstuffed, formerly vibrant yellow couch, tour-stained and wine-mottled. Fidgeting quietly against the Piñatex upholstery, he paused to sip a Pacifico loaded with lime before he’d continued, “Your mother isn’t wrong often…so I let her make the waves and just ride them all the way to shore.” He pointed the mouth of his beer bottle solemnly, slowly, in Tofa’s direction. Despite the flurry of activity and noise emanating from all directions, on-stage and off, as the festival wore on, Rafael managed to manufacture a moment of connection, encapsulated in this glimpse into his marriage to Tofa’s mother, “Don’t tell her that – if she ever realizes how easy all her empowerment has made things, she’ll start giving me extra homework.” Tofa had laughed uproariously at hearing this then, five years back. There wasn’t a problem Dr. Lokotui didn’t think could be solved with more studying. Now, seeing their dad again, Tofa suddenly felt a smile stretching across their face. “Hey, pops! What’s new?” “Oh, steady as she goes over here, Tof’. Looks like good weather down your way. It’s been a gnarly winter - how’s the surf been down the coast?” Rafael asked, peering around the miniature holo-view on the tablet, trying to get a glimpse of the sea. Tofa realigned themselves to show a view of the roaring, rolling January waves. “Heavy hitters – I haven’t gone out since Sunday when the swells at Asilomar were more my size. I tried out the new suit, though, and I think the CetaceaSkin team is on to something with these new fibre layers. I could’ve stayed in the water all day if I hadn’t been getting thrashed. Can’t spend too much time floating around – tryna get busy sorting out samples for the new single,” Tofa explained, happy to have a receptive audience with shared interests in their father. “I don’t know about those drysuits – half the fun of spending time in the ocean is getting wet! But tell me more about this song. Is there anything I can hear yet?” their father asked. “Which species are you putting up front in the mix on this one?” “I haven’t broken down all the logs yet, but based upon what I spotted, I’ve got some new clips from the Manuma'a, Lafu, Hengehenga, and I finally got a good take of the Malau to include,” Tofa rattled off the local birds they’d captured on record. The Malau was a point of pride, as they hadn’t seen one since they were twelve, and despite improved conservation efforts, it remained a vulnerable species. Since having the opportunity to go on vacation throughout the entirety of their childhood was relegated to the few visits when their mother hauled Tofa along with their little brother back to Nuku’alofa and out to ‘Eua to see their extended family, Tofa found these days of calm gave them the opportunity to both listen both closely and broadly. As they learned how their family extended across the islands, Tofa also learned every layer of life that flitted through the ocean air. Summer break in the United States was always the thick of Tongan “winter,” so apart from the few weeks of term break when their cousins were free to roam with them, they spent a lot of time along the shore, watching –hearing–seabirds. From the second visit onward, once they were old enough to handle their own recording device, that meant they had an opportunity to put everything on-file for later listening and editing. Unlike many bird spotters, they were less interested in snapping photos, instead tuning in tightly on the sounds each species would make as they walked along the sand. It was always stunning to them how differently the same ocean could strike an impression on a person, all because of what was happening on land. They became obsessed with sensorial experience of the intertidal zone, discovering how sound sped up beneath the waves. It was here they first heard the song beneath the sea. Wading out, head dipping beneath the waves, the humpbacks hailed the young musician. All Tofa wanted was to get closer, and better know the source of that sound. “How is that underwater rig you’ve been working on coming along?” Tofa’s father asked, bringing their reflections upon the deep back to the present. “So far, so good. Tweaking the input parameters to ensure it can handle the decibel thresholds, but the octave dropper on the output is working just fine. It should be ready for testing soon. We’ve got until the end of the season for sea trials before the holo-band. I think we’ll finally be able to provide some level of justice in truly hearing what they’ve been singing to us all these years,” Tofa explained, partially in an effort to convince themselves of the value in their long-running effort toward coordinated antiphony, lining out parts for their friends of the deep to commune upon. Rafael smiled proudly, with a shake of his head, “You’ve definitely got your mother’s intellect, Tofa.” “I don’t see why she can’t make a dissertation out of it!” Dr. Lokotui called the other room, still clearly keeping an ear tuned in to Tofa’s conversation. Diving Decibels Deep Six Months later The booming enormity of the waves of pressure across the ocean as the Earth birthed another island into the waters of Tonga were disorienting to every sense. Feeling reality shudder and shift around you, realizing the atmosphere, the sea – the planet itself can burble and burp, and rattle humans to their core or wipe them from the map with only a slight shift of its crust – it instills a sense of geological humility in a person. Perhaps this was the reason Tofa had been so vociferously opposed to the various seismic charges and sonar tests perpetrated by the navies of Pacific Rim nations over the course of human history. They knew how waves in every form could be monumentally catastrophic upon unsuspecting populations. More than most of the world, Tonga had cultivated an affinity for marine mammals, with non-trivial portion of the tourism economy tied to the seasonal migration of humpback whales, and increasingly close attention to dolphins residing within the expanded marine protected areas of the country. This interest in sound had honed itself from a precocious curiosity into a unilaterally focused passion over the course of their childhood, and now Tofa finally had a means of sharing those sentiments with the perennial subjects of their attention. Their years of devouring all the emerging research, when accompanied with a dedicated interest in music theory – and unfettered access to a wide range of remaining paywalled journals through good ol’ Dr. Mom’s home office accounts – left Tofa uniquely positioned to explore the coastal waters of ‘Eua, experienced through a filter of their own design. Now, as a child of Tonga who had endeavoured to understand their ancestral home as a shared space, Tofa had a platform to offer the world an invitation to a symphony performed by an otherwise inscrutable chorus. Tofa had constructed a seat along the Humpback Highway, not on the front row, but in the orchestra pit itself. With the Strat-Stat coverage providing a relay point overhead to feed the signal out, it was Tofa’s turn to benefit from performing behind a paywall. Project Ceti was happy to hear over forty thousand people had pledged support for this holo-band broadcast, and the audience continued to swell online now that word was out that Tofa was finally underwater. It had taken over six months from the time Tofa had commissioned the design to get all the pieces in place for their new drysuit, but it was working better than they’d expected. While the tech for long-duration SCUBA operations had never been employed in this manner to-date, and with a comms-enabled IDM, Tofa was most excited about the two-way Soundfish system they’d been able to pull together with the help of a few submarine engineering colleagues and audio technician friends. Taken independently, any element of the Soundfish design might not seem new or innovative, but when daisy-chained in the manner Tofa intended, they now held the means of embedding themselves – or any operator – within the social life of a pod on its regular migrations. With the prototype school of Soundfish numbering eight in total, Tofa had prepared to deliver an expansive soundscape rendered remotely in immersive surround – piped through speakers the world over – to give their audience a glimpse into the role they had established amongst the whales. This culmination of years of applied research into whale behaviour and increasingly documented language structure led them back to Tonga, where Tofa now floated, suspended ten meters below the surface of the ocean off the coast of ‘Eua. The soft, deep wail through their headphones had presaged the arrival of Bomp, the Humpback whale they’d become acquainted with over successive years in the water. Moments later, the call of Bomp’s companion, Wahaloo, followed, and Tofa was overjoyed. The audio was coming through as clear as they could have hoped. The interface had yet to be fully tested, as the polyphonic drop unit technically worked, but whether it carried rhetorical value to its cetacean recipients was yet to be determined. There was every reason to wonder if the Soundfish could keep up with the pods they were designed to accompany after this ceremonial introduction. The saildrone, glider, and satellite monitoring all had the benefit of being able to keep pace with the whales, but none were able to embed themselves amongst the pod communities. Tofa hoped the Soundfish would provide the appropriate avatar for human immersion in the society of their giant friends. As the sound began to swell in their headphones, Tofa beamed in response; there were three other whales out there, and from the higher frequency joining the others, at least one calf among them. Tofa had been studying the records collected each year, and had steadily incorporated each season’s shifting songs into their repertoire. The culmination of their whole endeavour was now at-hand – Tofa turned their mic off stand-by, running hot, and setting a two second delay sequence on each Soundfish channel before sending out the same signal. With a controlled croon, Tofa began softly singing their greeting, echoed by the Soundfish. The gain was markedly lower on channel five, but otherwise, all systems were operational. Tofa made a brief adjustment to the levels, pulse racing with excitement – breath control momentarily forgotten – bad praxis in the scuba days of old. In the new suit, there was far less hazard of hyperventilation. Most critically, two seconds later, Bomp replied, and Tofa’s breath caught in their chest. They understood, Hello, again , – greetings identified through coda indicating repetition and recognition, as inferred through recent prevailing research and their field notes, with a unique coda Tofa had isolated to ‘Eua. Tofa’s breath caught, pulse pounding while their heart shuddered in their chest. Within two more seconds, the rest of the pod joined in chorus, and Tofa’s in-mask heads-up display exploded with celebratory reactions from the multitudes around the world bearing witness on the holo-band. Well beyond the simplicity of playback contact calls, with the applied tech delivering octave shifts to match pitch, Tofa had forged a voice to bridge the gap between land-bound life and their biggest friends in all the world. They felt tears welling up, and suddenly found themselves trying excruciatingly hard to compose their reaction, as they had no practical way to wipe their eyes. Drawing upon a life of musical theory and a ceaseless curiosity to understand the creatures all around, Tofa’s patient cooing and clicking slowly unveiled a story that took years to decipher, and the pod was finally engaged, their curiosity piqued by these oddly-shaped fish and their friendly human. The concert lasted hours. While Tofa played none of the hits for which they were best known, it proved to be the most important performance of their entire career. Decompressing from the experience after the pod wandered on, Tofa rocked slowly in a hammock, fielding questions on the exchange terminal from fans and press, as her folks called in over holo-view. “It was beautiful, Tof’. Every moment,” their father offered. But it was Dr. Lokotui, who clasped Rafael’s shoulder – nodding solemnly and silently behind his seated form – that truly gave Tofa pause. Looking over the Soundfish tracking map, they knew they had embarked on a world tour of an entirely different sort. Now that Tofa had a way to spend the rest of their days listening to, learning from, and calling back to the pod, their change of career plans came as a surprise to the general public, including derision from some of the more recalcitrant Anthropocentrists in the biological research community, still riddled with those who would deny the ontological vastness to be more deeply explored and brought within human comprehension as our species approaches the Tree of Life with greater humility. There was, however, one academic who Tofa was pleasantly surprised to find now fully supportive of their endeavours. Doctor Mom replied, her eyes alone smiling, with a glint of belated understanding and more than a hint of pride, “Sounds like a good research question for your dissertation, Tofa.” Pupuʻa Puʻu Rorqal Nova District, Kingdom of Tonga – 2449 CE Never had this many pods convened at one time – in earlier ages, most humans would have lost all sense of decorum, seeing so many whales assembled. Now, King Tupou XIV presided proudly, ministerial delegation, visiting dignitaries from Niue and scientific advisors floating, dry-suited, nearby, their drop resonators at the ready when called upon in the formalities. It was, in every way, a commemorative moment, but it was not the king who first broke the silence, but the Grand Cantor briefly surfacing to lobtail before drawing level with the humans floating ten meters below – a gesture of vigor and vitality from the matriarch of the pods, now 78 years old – who drew forward through the water, lumbering silently toward the royal entourage to bring the proceedings to a start. The mount on which we gather to once again commemorate the first choral union, as echoed in the songs of the Podmothers, all passed down along through the Soundfishes’ song. The Grand Cantor paused a moment, rotating her flippers in opposition, slowly turning to behold the assembled members of the summit. Our gratitude is deep for the effort of each Pod sharing songs of the year another chorus passes. From across the seamount, sunlight was visible rippling across the caudal peduncles of those cetaceans gathered in attendance, the gathered masses of each pod lobtailing in response; a form of applause few humans had ever been graced with an opportunity to hear. Cousins of the deep, we know of those who move about the overtow – oh, humanity! – there is a greater freedom they seek among the guiding light above. Whales of various species sang out at this testament to reconciliation. The violence they have perpetrated across the deep from time immemorial may never be undone. But peace is the current of the time – for peace with each other we float now together. When walking on solid ground, the King was not inclined to bow to anyone. But now, whatever gesture of deference he could muster seemed inadequate. So instead, he spoke; the ease with which the Grand Cantor and the assembled pods heard his words was the product of three long centuries of language models built on broader understanding. He need not have sung at all, but King Tupou XIV had spent his years of study the way others may have applied themselves toward the piano, or learning French. Perhaps if he’d been Tahitian – instead, his booming timbre and tone required a much slighter drop than Tofa’s first forays into the songs of the sea. “As our ocean grows deeper, so does our bond. We are here to listen, to learn, and to leave our failings in the past. We offer all we have on land to share beneath the waves, and our peace finds inspiration in your own.” The King paused, overwhelmed by the scene. Calls of concurrence rang out through the water from whales and humans alike. Flukes slapped the surface; it seemed the summit was off to an auspicious start. THE END Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 The Cosmos in Our Palms: A Reflection of Our Cosmic Origins by Mishen De Silva 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Heather Sutherland Edited by Nirali Bhagat The Stars and I As I lay down, head held up high, I open my eyes to the Stars and I. In silent dominion, sits the adorned sky, Scattered patterns and celestine fortresses, Locked behind veils of gas, dust and time. Where do I stand, between the Stars and I? Separated by infinities, Yet entranced by familiarity, Perhaps the Stars and I are not as different as I thought. Iron cladded blood, calcium forged bones, carbon cells, Myself, an echo to a stellar memory. What lies between the Stars and I? Long before breath touched my lungs, Fire forged my heart, And light filled my eyes, I was written in the same primordial script, Of matter and light. Seven more lines to which I exist, As a witness and whisper to our shared cosmic thread. A child of the sky, A memory, dreaming of itself, Who am I, but both the Stars and I. The universe first learned to know itself, I second, Where could it have all begun, between the Stars and I? Origins of Cosmic Matter To understand this profound connection between us and the cosmos, we must trace back 13.8 billion years to the birth of matter itself. The complex matter which encapsulates our very existence stems from one crucial cosmic event, the Big Bang (1). In this moment, hydrogen and helium were formed and became the building blocks to the universe. In the early stages of our universe forming, seas of hydrogen and helium gas were pulled by gravity to create stars, in an event known as gravitational collapse (2). These stars became the furnaces for existence. As spheres of fire, they fused atoms together to create more complex ones. This is known as stellar nucleosynthesis, where stars form heavier elements, such as carbon, calcium, nitrogen, oxygen and iron, through the nuclear fusion of hydrogen and helium (3). As time goes on, the core of a star collapses in on itself, creating a supernova. A supernova is an explosion of unimaginable heat, which is crucial in forming all the elements heavier than iron (1). In its lifetime, a star transmutes what was once darkness and barren, into a seed of complex matter. In death, they scatter the elements of their creation across the cosmos, planting them in vast fields of space, from which new stars ignite, planets take form, and life may slowly emerge (3). Through this, we can begin to appreciate our existence as something far greater than ourselves, where the iron in our blood, calcium in our bones and carbon in our cells were all created long before Earth even existed. Life on Earth As the clouds of gas and dust from countless stellar generations drift through the galaxy, they soon clump together to form planetesimals, in a process known as accretion (4). Planetesimals are small, icy and rocky cosmic bodies, which collide together to form planets (4). The planetesimals which collided and merged to form a young Earth made an environment rich with the ingredients to create life. Over eons, elements such as carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and phosphorus have worked together to create the complex chemistries we see on Earth (5). The same elements, once inside stars, became crucial hallmarks for organic life: carbon forms the backbone of DNA and protein, nitrogen is essential for amino acids, oxygen supports respiration, and phosphorus forms our energy molecules, ATP (6). In this way, every organism before us, from microscopic bacteria, to the fleeting fruit fly, across the vastness of a whale, to the depth of a human soul, were all forged in the fire of the stars. As we detangle the web of our cosmic origins, we can begin to view our existence not only as entwined with every being around us, but also a direct continuation of the cosmos and its evolution. Figure 1. Elements found in stars which make up our body (7) The Cycle of Return It is important to recognise that this cosmic history does not end with us. Matter and energy are never lost, only transformed to take on new forms. An example of this is the carbon cycle, where carbon atoms are continuously moving and taking on new forms in the atmosphere, land and oceans (8). Through death and decay, in between birth and being, our physical selves become part of the soil, water and air, being reused by plants and other organisms to create new biological cycles (9). Similar to the impermanence of our existence, the Earth too will not last forever. Just like any star, our Sun will eventually exhaust the hydrogen in its core, swelling into a giant inferno consuming our world with it (10). However, this is not the end we think it is. Over eons, through supernovae and stellar collisions, the elements to our origins of life will be scattered across different depths of space, perhaps forming new stars, planets or even life elsewhere (11). Figure 2. The Carbon Cycle (12) In the present, each organism, cell and breath of life, exists as an homage to the universe’s constant transformation and reorganisation into new forms. With each howl of a dog, cry of a baby and rustle of a tree, we all exist under a profound and truly out of this world connection. A part of a much bigger cycle, the matter which formed the stars, which created the elements giving rise to life on Earth, will one day become something new again. And so, the more we examine this complex cycle, the more we can dissolve the distance between the “Stars and I”. We were never separate from the stars, and the cosmos is no longer just ‘out there’; it is something within us, around us, and inextricably mixed with who we fundamentally are. References Muhammad, T. Why We’re All Made of Star Dust. Science News Today [Internet]. 2025 May [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.sciencenewstoday.org/why-were-all-made-of-star-dust Lineweaver, C.H., Egan, C.A. Life, gravity and the second law of thermodynamics. Physics of Life Reviews. 2008;5(4): 225–242. doi: 10.1016/j.plrev.2008.08.002 Fox, R. F. Origin of Life and Energy. Encyclopedia of Energy . 2004:781–792. doi: 10.1016/b0-12-176480-x/00054-1 Halliday, A. N., Canup, R. M. The accretion of planet Earth. Nature Reviews Earth & Environment . 2022;4:1–17. doi: 10.1038/s43017-022-00370-0 The origin of life: The conditions that sparked life on Earth. Research Outreach [Internet]. 2019 Dec [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://researchoutreach.org/articles/origin-life-conditions-sparked-life-earth/ Remick, K. A., Helmann, J. D. The elements of life: A biocentric tour of the periodic table. Advances in Microbial Physiology. 2023;82:1–127. doi: 10.1016/bs.ampbs.2022.11.001 Lotzof, K. Are we really made of stardust? Natural History Museum [Internet]. [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/are-we-really-made-of-stardust.html Pulselli, F. M. Global Warming Potential and the Net Carbon Balance. Encyclopedia of Ecology. 2008:1741–1746. doi: /10.1016/b978-008045405-4.00112-9 Huang, T., Hu, Q., Shen, Y., Anglés, A., Fernández-Remolar, D. C. Biogeochemical Cycles. Encyclopedia of Biodiversity. 2024;6:393–407. doi: 10.1016/b978-0-12-822562-2.00347-9 Staff, A. What will happen to the planets when the Sun becomes a red giant? Astronomy Magazine [Internet]. 2020 Sep [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.astronomy.com/observing/what-will-happen-to-the-planets-when-the-sun-becomes-a-red-giant/ Betz, E. How will life on Earth end? Astronomy Magazine [Internet]. 2023 Aug [cited 2025 Oct 8]. Available from: https://www.astronomy.com/science/how-will-life-on-earth-end/ Sultan, H., Li, Y., Ahmed, W., Shah, A., Faizan, M., Ahmad, A., Nie, L., Yixue, M., & Khan, M. N. (2024). Biochar and nano biochar: Enhancing salt resilience in plants and soil while mitigating greenhouse gas emissions: A comprehensive review. Journal of Environmental Management. 2024; 355 :120448–120448. doi: 10.1016/j.jenvman.2024.120448 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Living Pixels by KJ Srivastava 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Max Yang Edited by Nirali Bhagat We’ve all seen those hypnotic videos of colour-changing animals – a cuttlefish pulsing stripes across its body, a chameleon melting from green to gold, or an octopus vanishing into coral like a magician’s smoke bomb. Their skin shifts hues like it’s nothing. But how do they actually do that? Take starfish, for instance. They don’t seem to have eyes, yet somehow they “know” what their surroundings look like. Cephalopods, your octopuses, squids, and cuttlefish, go even further, creating patterns that match their environment with uncanny precision. How can they pull that off if they can’t even see any details around them? Seeing Without Eyes? A chromatophore is a specialised cell found in animals, and even some bacteria, that contains pigment or reflects light. You’ll find them across the animal kingdom: in fish, frogs, chameleons, and even in certain bacteria (yes, microbes get to have fun too). Depending on the species, chromatophores come in different flavours. Some are pigment-based, like those filled with melanin (the same as in human skin), while others use microscopic structures to bend and reflect light, acting like natural nanotech (1). Under white light, chromatophores are often classified by the colour they show off – red, brown, blue, green, and the iridescent in-betweens. In vertebrates like fish and reptiles, these cells sit in neat layers under the skin, filtering and bouncing light to produce a kaleidoscope of shades. Chromatophores 101: Nature’s Colour Cells In creatures like octopuses and cuttlefish, chromatophores are tiny, elastic sacs filled with pigment. These sacs are surrounded by radial muscle fibres which are wired to the nervous system. When the animal wants to display a colour, it sends a signal that contracts those muscles, pulling the pigment sac open like an umbrella. The expanded pigment becomes visible on the surface. Relax the muscle and the sac snaps shut – colour gone! So instead of pigment just sitting there passively, the cephalopod is actively controlling its skin colour with muscle contractions, at speeds fast enough to create those mesmerising rippling patterns. All these changes are actively, neurally controlled; they're not automatic like blushing. They're often voluntary, and dynamic, responding to things like light, mood, temperature, and stress (2). In fact, cephalopod chromatophores are sensitive to direct electrical stimulation. One study found that when researchers applied oscillating electrical patterns to the squid Sepioteuthis lessonia, the pigment sacs expanded and contracted in synchronised, wave-like patterns under 1.5Hz; essentially, we can rhythmically ‘play’ these cells like an instrument! (1) Chromatophores in vertebrates work a bit differently. Instead of opening and closing sacs, the pigment inside the cell moves around, spreading out when the colour needs to be more visible, clustering together when it doesn't. Still responsive, still cool, just a little less… flashy. Layers, Pigments, and Light Tricks Here’s where things get really interesting. Chromatophores aren’t all for show. They’re sensitive to light, chemistry, and electrical signals, which makes them incredibly valuable for science and technology! Some fish chromatophores, for example, visibly change colour in the presence of toxins like cholera and pertussis. They detect these threats in real time, with the colour change varying with concentration, meaning you can even tell how much of a toxin is there, not just whether it is present (3). That makes them powerful candidates for biosensors, living tools that can monitor environmental or biological conditions. Why is it a big deal? Unlike traditional sensors made of synthetic materials or inert components, chromatophore-based systems are made of living cells. They keep reacting, adapting, and functioning over time, giving them an edge in sensitivity, flexibility, and longevity (2). While chromatophores already act as living, colour-changing pixels, researchers are exploring how to use them in adaptive camouflage technologies. Imagine a bandage that shifts colour when it detects infection, the moment bacteria start to grow, not just after the infection has spread. Or ocean sensors that monitor salinity and pollution, while blending seamlessly into coral reefs so as not to disturb marine life. All of these possibilities are made an achievable reality by these remarkable sacs of pigment! These amazing cells offer a glimpse at what happens when evolution builds something both beautiful and functional. Next time you see a chameleon vanish into a leaf, or an octopus ripple with light like a living mood ring, take a second to think about what’s really going on under the surface. Behind every colour shift is a tiny symphony of biology and physics, all working together in real time. And the best part? It’s still magic. It doesn't stop being magic when we figure out how it works! References Lei Y, Chen W, Mulchandani A. Microbial biosensors. Analytica chimica acta . 2006;568(1-2):200-10. doi: 10.1016/j.aca.2005.11.065 Tan L, Schirmer K. Cell culture-based biosensing techniques for detecting toxicity in water. Current opinion in biotechnology . 2017;45:59-68. doi: 10.1016/j.copbio.2016.11.026 Plant TK, Chaplen FW, Jovanovic G, Kolodziej W, Trempy JE, Willard C, Liburdy JA, Pence DV, Paul BK. Sensitive-cell-based fish chromatophore biosensor. InBiomedical Vibrational Spectroscopy and Biohazard Detection Technologies 2004;5321;265-274. doi: 10.1117/12.528093 Kim T, Bower DQ, Deravi LF. Cephalopod chromatophores contain photosensitizing nanostructures that may facilitate light sensing and signaling in the skin. Journal of Materials Chemistry C . 2025;13(3):1138-45. doi: 10.1039/D4TC04333B Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 It’s Dangerous to Go Alone by Julia Lockerd 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Jason Chien Edited by Luci Ackland It’s safe to say that as a species, we have done a fair bit of thinking over the years. From microbes to mammals, to mapping the stars, we have always searched for ways to make meaning of the world and its many mysteries. Every day, the amount of knowledge possessed grows, building on the ideas we learn from each other. But what is knowledge without someone to know it? And how can we build a reliable foundation upon which to amass this knowledge? Many modern philosophers take a ‘what’s mine is mine’ approach to epistemology – the development of knowledge – with ideas like trust and collaboration altogether excluded from the recipe for ‘good science’ (1). Philosopher John Locke suggests that an ‘autonomous knower’ (2) – that’s you! – should only accept input from someone existing outside the self if she already possesses empirical evidence confirming that input is true (3). That is to say, don’t believe anything you read online, or in a book, or hear from your friend, or your professor alone. Basically, don’t believe the sky is blue unless you can look outside and see it for yourself. This seems like a hard way to live and makes it nearly impossible to make any headway on scientific advancement. If there is truly no way to build on previous knowledge, how do we measure anything at all? When considering scientific disciplines, the (presumably brooding) ‘autonomous knower’ must give up her lone wolf life and finally make some friends. This is not only for her emotional benefit, but also because science simply cannot occur without it. Epstein (2006) argues that the three main drivers of scientific collaboration are as follows: 1. The topic demands it. This applies to fields such as cognitive psychology, where the topic is an amalgam of different specialisations. 2. To gain a new perspective. Researchers interviewed by Epstein highlighted how collaboration helps them gain new approaches and techniques. 3. To provide additional knowledge. Although it’s all well and good to assert you should only believe what you can prove yourself (looking at you, Locke), collaboration is crucial to avoid ‘reinventing the wheel’ every time you want to learn something new (4). This last reason, by its very nature, proves that, despite my best efforts, no one person can possess the whole of human understanding by herself. Thus, the ‘many-headed knower’ makes her appearance on stage. This version of the knower exists as an alternative to Locke’s Autonomous Knower, where multiple individuals can share fragments of a greater epistemic idea. Without it, whole scientific disciplines can be reasoned away as no single person possesses the evidence to prove the scientific idea exists (2). For example, many medical devices could not be realised without input from both clinicians and engineers. If knowledge cannot be shared between these two groups, MedTech might cease to exist at all. With the multiheaded knower by your side, you can now solve scientific conundrums with the power of friendship (or, begrudging teamwork if it’s 11.59pm and you’re still working on that group project due at 12.00am). To fully grasp how systems of collaboration function, we need to investigate the interpersonal relationships that make up the heads of the knower. Generally, these relationships are of two kinds: Moral and Epistemic trust. Returning to our old friend, the multi-headed knower, epistemic trust allows multiple heads to exist, while moral trust in social bonds between researchers keeps her many heads attached. Epistemic trust involves the acceptance of knowledge provided by an external source as true. While trustworthiness often evokes a sense of superior moral value, epistemic trust has far more to do with the perceived competency of the individual providing information. Wagenknecht calls these relationships ‘Epistemic Dependence’ (5). The word dependence here is interesting, as it reveals a certain vulnerability in the relationship between researchers. Wagenknecht likens it to someone asking for directions in a foreign city. Simply, it is a blind trust that one's partner knows the way to go and is capable of leading them there. But where does this trust come from? If trust were truly blind, I could justify my lab results with a simple ‘Trust me bro,’ and my supervisor would go ‘Fantastic. Nobel prize for you.’ Unfortunately, this isn’t how it works, and my career trajectory will (probably) look a little more complicated. It is instead proposed that there are ‘shades of trust and distrust’ that can be influenced by external modifiers, such as accurate conduct of experiments, analysis of results, and epistemic authority. In this model, trust is a dynamic concept that builds or deteriorates between trustees over a chain of interactions (5). If a series of interactions is positive and trust is progressively built up, at some point, an asymptotic limit of trust will be reached. However, the level of epistemic trust between any two researchers is high but never complete, even when there is no reason to doubt the other's testimony. This is good news for Locke, as there still might be a space in which his autonomous knower can exist in happy isolation. Moral trust, the far less popular younger brother of Epistemic trust, is the scrappy underdog in the world of scientific relationships. It is argued that morality shouldn’t even get a seat at the big kids' table, as there is no place for it in scientific collaboration (2). This raises the ever-devious question: why not lie? A little fudge of the numbers could make you the next Elizabeth Holmes, minus the jail time and general disgrace (6). To find an answer, I turn to T.M. Scanlon’s ‘What We Owe Each Other’ (7). Specifically, in chapter five, he discusses the ever-sexy ‘structure of moral contractualism’. Scanlon explores a set of moral requirements that must be accepted or rejected based on the concern we hold for another's well-being, their own personal values, and perspective. Simply, academic falsification is rare because one researcher owes it to another to give a truthful testimony. Returning to the analogy of being lost in a foreign city, what keeps the locals from sending a tourist in the wrong direction out of laziness or fun? I argue that it is the acceptance of a moral principle out of concern for another person's well-being. Immanuel Kant believed lying was always wrong, in every situation (a stance I’m sure made him suuuuuuuuper fun to be around) (8). If this is true, the structure of scientific collaboration must surely crumble in the absence of moral trust (9). Interestingly, Scanlon discusses the place of ‘impersonal values’ in the development of moral code. This relates to reasons for adherence to a moral code that does not pertain to the well-being or status of any one individual. He uses the preservation of the Grand Canyon as an example. We do not deface the Grand Canyon because it would harm any particular group of people, and we cannot argue that this principle is 'what we owe to others', as the canyon doesn't have any personal feelings (that we know of). Instead, only the value we have tied to the land itself stops us from turning it into the biggest lazy river in the world (7). In the context of research, not only do we owe it to each other to adhere to truthfulness, but we also owe it to science as a concept. Essentially, if you’re not doing science with a pure and truthful heart, you’re not doing science at all. Someone needs to tell Dr. Evil about this. As scientific communities have relied more and more on each other to produce collaborative results, science as a whole has become somewhat of a team sport. I argue that while epistemic and moral are two different forms of trust – or even the same form of trust applied to different issues – they both contribute to the social basis of scientific collaboration. Trust in itself is a purely social concept; just as knowledge cannot exist without a 'knower', trust cannot exist without two people, between whom that trust can exist. Therefore, whether you subscribe to the idea that moral trust has any place in scientific collaboration, it is indisputable that there is a social level to any interaction between researchers. This is to say nothing about the more 'frivolous' aspects of collaboration in which personal opinions, egos, and attitudes have been anecdotally proven to affect the quality of collaborative work. Science, at its core, is about understanding. It makes sense that we can’t even get off the ground if we don't start by understanding each other. References 1. J. Locke. An Essay concerning Human Understanding. www.gutenberg.org , 1689. Available: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/10615/10615-h/10615-h.htm 2. J. Hardwig. The Role of Trust in Knowledge. The Journal of Philosophy . 1991;88(12):693. doi: 10.2307/2027007 3. R. W. Grant. John Locke on Custom’s Power and Reason’s Authority. The Review of Politics. 2012;74(4) 607–629.doi: 10.2307/23355688. Available: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23355688 4. S. Epstein. Making Interdisciplinary Collaboration Work. Available: https://www.cs.hunter.cuny.edu/~epstein/papers/collaboration.pdf . [Accessed: Mar. 29, 2024] 5. S. Wagenknecht. Facing the Incompleteness of Epistemic Trust: Managing Dependence in Scientific Practice. Social Epistemology . 2014;29(2):160–184. doi: 10.1080/02691728.2013.794872 6. E. Fricker. Testimony and Epistemic Autonomy. The Epistemology of Testimony . 2006:225–245. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199276011.003.0011 7. T. M. Scanlon. What We Owe to Each Other. 1998. Available: https://www.hup.harvard.edu/file/feeds/PDF/9780674248953_sample.pdf 8. T. L. Carson. Kant and the Absolute Prohibition against Lying. Lying and Deception . 2010:67–87. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199577415.003.0004 9. Immanuel Kant. An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment? by Immanuel Kant 1784. Marxists.org , 1798. Available: https://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/ethics/kant/enlightenment.htm Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Axolotl: The Little God of the Lake by Danny He 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Saraf Ishman Edited by Ciara Dahl Creation “When the fifth sun was created, it did not move. The god of the wind carved a destructive path through the realm, slaying all other gods to induce the Sun into movement. Xolotl, guide for the dead, escaped his sacrifice by transforming into an invulnerable salamander. Eventually, even he was captured. Upon his sacrifice, the Sun began its course. Thus began the time of man.” - Author’s creative interpretation of Aztec mythology. The otherworldly biology of the axolotl ( Ambystoma mexicanum) attracted fascination among the Aztecs, who named it after the god of fire and lightning (1). They believed the shapeshifting god Xolotl took many forms, from a chimera depicted as a dog-headed man, to a skeleton, to a deformed monster with reversed feet (1). He was a renowned shapeshifter who would guide the dead on their journey to the afterlife (1). Centuries on, the axolotl would transform from a feared deity to a beloved icon and subject of scientific marvel. Fascination “Auguste Dumeril lounged by the lake. The humidity of Lake Xochimilco was beginning to take its toll. He had recently been informed of a marvellous reptile, one that resided exclusively in the canals of ancient Aztec, capable of regrowing limbs and organs including its brain. He wondered of the scientific possibilities of studying such a creature. A self-regenerating invertebrate could fascinate the scientific community and make wonderful contributions to medicine. This creature is to be taken back home to Paris” - Imaging a day with French Zoologist August Dumeril. The axolotl exhibits many biological peculiarities. Cousin of the tiger salamander ( Ambystoma tigrinum) , it has evolved over millions of years to take advantage of the bountiful resources of the Mexican basins (2). It remains in its juvenile, tadpole-like form throughout its adulthood, retaining its gills and breathing through its skin (2). The animal’s near perfect regeneration and its potential application for medical research fascinated scientists. French zoologist Auguste Dumeril was the first to conduct research on the axolotl after discovering it during his expedition to Mexico (3). Decades later, proteins were discovered which enabled the miraculous processes of complete, scar-free regeneration of an injured axolotl (4). Scientists continue to research methods in which the axolotl’s regeneration can facilitate trauma care and cancer research (4, 5). Conservation “Pedro set his spade down, straw hat clutched close to his chest. His eyes fixated on the water before him. Just below the surface, he had thought something had moved along the river bank. It had been many years since he had last seen an axolotl. The Méndez Rosas had been working as Chinamperos for generations. The axolotl had been a welcome sight for his forefathers, now it is a sign of hope for Lake Xochilmilco.” - an interview with Pedro, a 7th generation Chinamperos (7). Chinampas are large man-made farming islands created by the Aztecs (6). The capital city was built upon an island on a vast lake using a series of complex canals to prevent their city from flooding (6). Chinamperos use the lake's nutrient-rich soil to grow crops and create a self-sustaining system resilient to pests and disease (6). Productive chinampas ensure greater food security for Mexico City. A perfect symbiosis between water and land, a healthy chinampa cannot be without a healthy body of water (6). As chinampas grow they become refuge for wildlife such as the axolotl (6). As axolotls breathe through their skin, their presence indicates excellent water quality and hence a healthy chinampa (6). However, this once thriving ecosystem is now under threat from urbanisation. Drainage of the lake has resulted in the range of chinampas being limited to Lake Xochilmilco (6). Pollution and climate change has altered the landscape, while expansion of the city has resulted in the loss of precious wetlands (6). These changes have driven axolotls to critical endangerment. A once venerated and sacred creature has been neglected and buried by the relentless incursion of human civilisation (6). It is now a race against time to save the wild axolotls as few remain in Lake Xochilmilco (2). As urbanisation continues to bear down upon the chinampas, calls have been made to protect these dwindling areas of refuge (2). The fate of the axolotl is yet to be determined, but it is certain that the loss of another species will continue to set a dangerous precedent for the conservation of our ecosystems. Aztec mythology describes the god represented by the axolotl as the caretaker of his underworld kingdom and a guide for lost souls (1). Perhaps it is now important for us to take care of the axolotl as Xolotl has taken care of us. References Spence L. Mexico and Peru [Internet]. Senate; 1994. Accessed September 29, 2025. https://archive.org/details/mexicoperu00spen The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Axolotl. Britannica . July 20, 1998. Updated 27 August, 2025. Accessed September 29, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/animal/axolotl Reiß C. Cut and Paste: The Mexican Axolotl, Experimental Practices and the Long History of Regeneration Research in Amphibians, 1864-Present. Front Cell Dev Biol . 2022;10:786533. doi:10.3389/fcell.2022.786533 Huang L, Ho C, Ye X, Gao Y, Guo W, Chen J, et al. Mechanisms and translational applications of regeneration in limbs: From renewable animals to humans. Ann Anat . 2024;255:152288. doi:10.1016/j.aanat.2024.152288 Suleiman S, Schembri-Wismayer P, Calleja-Agius J. The axolotl model for cancer research: a mini-review. J BUON . 2019;24(6):2227–31. Accessed September 29, 2025. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/338630505_The_axolotl_model_for_cancer_research_a_mini-review The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Chinampa. Encyclopaedia Britannica . July 20, 1998. Updated 26 May, 2017. Accessed September 29, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/topic/chinampa Nature on PBS. Wild axolotls are being saved by... nuns and Aztec gardens? | WILD HOPE. Youtube. September 12, 2023. Accessed September 29, 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NL0ad3jBWRI&t=808s Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Knot Theory and Its Applications. Why Knot? by Ryan Rud 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Saraf Ishmam Edited by Elijah McEvoy Knot theory is a theoretical study in mathematics, where your brain thinks of an imaginary knot, and manipulates it to your heart’s desire. Yes, the kind of knot you are probably thinking of now, it might be a shoelace, a knot in a piece of string or some utility knot. Good job, but it’s missing one detail: the knot needs to be tied at its ends. Think of this as a string with both ends tied together so that it can’t come undone when you play with it. Now you can pull at and twist this knot, as long as you don’t break it. Congratulations, you now understand the basics of knot theory. (1) So why should we care about a niche field of maths that you will probably never use in your everyday life? Well, the first answer to that is simply ‘for the love of the game’. For some people problem-solving is an endless endeavour that satisfies an urge to understand and be intellectually stimulated. But that’s not for everyone. So then we remember all the times when random elements of pure mathematics became essential when applied to seemingly unrelated topics. Such as how number theory became applied to information transmission, cryptography and computing. (2) How quaternions made for more efficient digital transformations in computer science. (3) Or how graph theory was used to strongly conjecture that any two people have 6 degrees of separation between each other. (4) Although we may not routinely ponder these discoveries, it is because of the works of pure mathematicians that we can admire certain facts that we could not prove otherwise or appreciate how they silently helped to make all the digital devices in your homes. But before we get into the applications, it is good to be familiar with some general terminology. That knot which you pictured earlier with its ends tied is called a standard knot. In 1867 Lord Kelvin thought of the revolutionary idea that what we know as elements - the ones made of protons and neutrons - are actually types of standard knots. (5) He wasn’t right, but it inspired his assistant Peter Guthrie Tait to begin the rigorous study of knots and we have been trying to find applications ever since. Here are the first knots in the greater sequence of the periodic table of knots (see cover image for more!): Figure 1. An ordered table of the first 15 prime knots. (6) There are knots made from one piece of string (prime knots) and knots made from multiple knots joined end-to-end (composite knots) (Fig.2b). There are also links, where two closed knots are combined without gluing the string (Fig.2a). Understanding any further implications of this terminology is not necessary here, but it may help to have a visual understanding of them for the next part. Figure 2. a) Showcasing types of mathematical links; unlink on the left, Hopf link in the centre and whitehead link on the left. b) Demonstrating how two prime knots are combined into a composite knot. c) Demonstrating chirality in trefoil knots, notice the overlapping pattern. Lastly, like many things in mathematics we need a way to systematically and efficiently describe how we manipulate the knots. Luckily, Kurt Reidemeister had the pleasure of providing us with a knot-manipulating moveset in the 1930s through rigorous proofs.These are the legal set of moves that can be done to a knot without changing the knot structure. If we were to cut the knot, twist or untwist the string and then reattach the ends, this is called a crossing switch and it changes the knot. Again, this is not an extensive course but it helps to know of the terminology and visualise it. Feel free to do more research into the details of these topics using the references below! Figure 3. A depiction of the Reidemeister moves. DNA and knot theory Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) is the most important and relevant knotting molecule. Each cell nucleus contains (on the millionth order) DNA that is regularly knotting, coiling and compressing to fit into this tight space. However, the best application of knot theory is to the closed end, circular DNA in bacteria. During DNA replication, the unwinding of DNA at one end creates immense torsional strain on the other side of the loop, which is enough supercoiling that prevents replication and leads to cell death.To counter this, bacteria utilise an enzyme known as type II topoisomerase which makes double-stranded cuts in the DNA, followed by a rearrangement of the tangle and reconnecting of the strands, a crossing switch! Without this adaptation, all cellular life would have evolved differently. If you gave this DNA to a mathematician and asked which position in the DNA would be best for this enzyme to cut with the intent of untangling, they could spend a lifetime performing Reidemeister moves and contemplating, never knowing where or how many cuts to make. In contrast to our world’s best mathematicians, topoisomerase is incredibly efficient in where it cuts. We have yet to understand what mechanism allows for such accurate cuts, but practical research into topoisomerase could potentially help knot theorists solve the immensely inscrutable question of the minimum number of crossing switches to simplify any knot. Furthermore, if an understanding of the mechanisms for topoisomerases in bacteria and humans is possible, then humanity can access a new form of control over DNA. It has been speculated that there are possible uses of topoisomerases to inhibit cancer growth, or as a revolutionary way to treat bacterial disease. While we do not have this intel right now, this is one of the ways knot theory could be integral to applied sciences and given time and research funding, it can prove itself useful. (7-8) Knots in chemistry So what other molecules can form knots? Chemists have been creating molecules which involve the basic knots and links since the 1960s (see Fig 4), when topological isomerism was discovered and characterised. Topological isomers are chemicals that are similar in many properties, but differ in spatial arrangement. We can think of it like chirality for knots (see Fig 2c). Chirality is the property of an object not being the same as its mirror image, like a right and left hand. Subsequently, these molecules were made through a technique called ‘templating’, where a metal ion or some template structure was used to produce a desired product, based on how the template interacts with the reactants. There is also another category of knot called a ravel (Fig 4h), where a knot has multiple strings connected at vertices. Altogether, the study of topological isomerism and templating techniques have been advanced by the experimental desire to produce these beautiful molecules. This then indirectly contributes to the production of new molecules and drugs that can go on to have real world impacts. (9) Figure 4. a) The first molecular trefoil knot produced in 1989. c) The first molecule pentafoil knot produced in 2011. d) First molecular Borromean rings, a type of link produced in 2004. f) The first molecule solomon link produced in 2013. h) The first molecular ravel produced in 2011. (9) The recent breakthrough in knot theory I admit, progress in knot theory is slow and perhaps you did not find the scientific revelation of knot theory here that you were hoping for. But that does not mean that current research is ineffective. As recent as June of this year, there was a groundbreaking proof. Think back to the prime and composite knots (scroll up if you have to). Prime knots have an unknotting number, which is the number of crossing changes needed to simplify it to the unknot, similar to what the topoisomerase does. If we merge two prime knots into a composite knot, it can be easily seen that it takes as many crossing switches to simplify the composite, as it does the crossing switches for the sum of the primes. In other words, to untangle a composite knot, you cut and reglue it as many times as the prime knots that make it up. Now, the breakthrough was a proof that it is possible to untangle some composite knots through less crossing switches than the sum of its prime knots. This may seem bleak, but it disproves a widely believed conjecture and now theorists are one step closer to solving the question of the minimum number of crossing switches needed to simplify a knot. (10) Conclusion I will end this with a quote from Dr Arunima Ray, a mathematician that specialises in knot theory and low-dimensional topology at the University of Melbourne, and a dear professor of mine. Hopefully this is just more proof (pun intended) that the work us mathematicians do is tangible: “I had never imagined that mathematics could be used to describe something so abstract as knot theory, but to me the appeal was its tangibility. No matter who you are, there really is something in mathematics for you.” References Pencovitch M. What’s not to love? [Internet] Mathematics Today . 2021. Available from: https://ima.org.uk/17434/whats-knot-to-love/ Koblitz N. A course in number theory and cryptography . 2nd ed. Springer Science & Business Media; 1994. Jeremiah. Understanding quaternions. 3D Game Engine Programming [Internet]. June 25, 2012. Available from: https://www.3dgep.com/understanding-quaternions/ Zhang L, Tu W. Six degrees of separation in online society [Internet]. Research Gate. 2009. Available from: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/255614427_Six_Degrees_of_Separation_in_Online_Society Wilson RM. Holograms tie optical vortices in knots. Physics Today. 2010. https://doi.org/ 10.1063/1.3366639 Li M, Wang T, Kau A, George W, Petrenko A. Knots. Brilliant. 2025 [Internet]. Available from: https://brilliant.org/wiki/knots/ Catherine. All tangled up: an introduction to knot theory [Internet]. Gleammath. April 28, 2021. Available from: https://www.gleammath.com/post/all-tangled-up-an-introduction-to-knot-theory Skjeltorp AT, Clausen S, Helgesen G, Pieranski P. Knots and applications to biology, chemistry and physics. In: Riste T, Sherrington D, editors. Physics of Biomaterials: Fluctuations, Selfassembly and Evolution. Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands; 1996. p.187–217. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-009-1722-4_8 Horner KE, Miller MA, Steed JW, Sutcliffe PM. Knot theory in modern chemistry [Internet]. Chemical Society Reviews. 2016;45(23). Available from: https://durham-repository.worktribe.com/output/1394834 Brittenham M, Hermiller S. Unknotting number is not additive under connected sum [Internet]. Arxiv . 2025. Available from: https://arxiv.org/html/2506.24088v1 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 The Life of Matcha by Kara Miwa-Dale 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Ingrid Sefton Edited by Isaac Tian I sway gently in the spring breeze, my vibrant green surface alive with chlorophyll. It’s a warm April day in Uji, Kyoto, and the conditions are perfect. If you haven’t already guessed, I am a matcha leaf. And this is my journey: from a shaded tea field to a powdered cultural icon. A farmer approaches, her movements calm and focused. She hums a soft tune as she reaches towards me. Then, everything goes dark. But this is not the end of my story – it is just the beginning… Cultivated in the shadows About four weeks before I was plucked, my world dimmed – intentionally. Farmers shaded me from direct sunlight using bamboo screens, an ancient practice known as tana cultivation (1). Among this shaded world, photosynthesis slowed and carbohydrates grew scarce. In response, I redirected my nitrogen reserves into free amino acids, favouring the formation of compounds like theanine (2). The shade also awakened genes involved in amino acid transport and theanine biosynthesis, enhancing the pathways responsible for L-theanine production - an amino acid known to induce a state of calm alertness in humans (2). At the same time, the production of catechins, the source of my bitterness, gradually declined (2). I don’t mean to brag, but the fact that I was chosen, among so many other leaves, meant that I was of exceptional quality. My glow-up from leaf to powder Shortly after harvest, I was gently steamed. This critical step deactivated polyphenol oxidase enzymes, stopping the process of oxidation before my leaves turned brown (3). From here, I was then air-dried, my veins and stems removed, and I was ground between granite millstones into an ultra-fine powder – matcha. My transformation into powder amplifies the capacity for the valuable L-theanine, catechins and chlorophyll to be ingested, enhancing my potential effects on the human body (4). A mindful celebration of my life I received the highest of honours: to be prepared in a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. In the 12 th century, Zen Buddhist monks first brought powdered green tea to Japan (5). They valued it as a tool for meditation, as much a spiritual discipline as a drink. The tea master – or chadoka – prepares me with graceful precision. Every movement is intentional; each sip a meditation. The ceremony follows the teaching of ‘ichigo ichie’, a philosophy that refers to the attitude of putting one’s whole spirit into a bowl of tea, since each tea ceremony is a once-in-a-lifetime gathering (6). My consumption increases alpha brain wave activity, a state associated with relaxed alertness, or focus without stress (7). My travels to the West I am one of the lucky ones. Elsewhere, leaves of a lower grade are processed with less care by hurried hands. They are shipped in bulk across continents, their bitterness masked with sugar and milk, where they are sold in Starbucks as ‘green tea lattes’ or in an array of matcha-flavoured sweets, far removed from my cultural roots. In the West, I’ve become something else entirely. A token of wellness, luxury, even a lifestyle aesthetic. I have become a cultural symbol of Japan, while also gaining status as a ‘health food’ and a marker of social prestige – representing the so-called ‘clean lifestyle’, or even the ideals of the ‘performative male’. Anthropologists describe this phenomenon as cultural food colonialism: the commodification of a food or drink by another society, often without a full appreciation of its historical and cultural roots. I am now enjoyed throughout the world, yet my true value and original purpose are sometimes forgotten, consumed more as a passing trend than with the intention of mindful presence. Sometimes I am added to products by companies eager to capitalise on a fad. My chemistry Science plays a big part in my newfound fame. Research has found that the L-theanine, e pigallocatechin gallate (EGCG) and rutin contained within my leaves elicit a variety of physiological benefits. L-theanine counteracts the stimulating effects of caffeine, giving drinkers a calmer ‘buzz’ and a more gradual release of energy compared to coffee. This unique combination of L-theanine and caffeine may enhance concentration and memory, while also alleviating stress (8). As a result, I am particularly appealing to those who embrace a ‘slow-living lifestyle’ or to individuals who become jittery from coffee due to overstimulation of the nervous system. Another prominent compound found in my powder, EGCG is renowned for its ability to protect cells from damage, reduce inflammation, and support heart health, while also exhibiting anti-tumour properties. By neutralising harmful free radicals, EGCG further helps to reduce oxidative stress, which is associated with ageing and a range of chronic diseases (9). I also contain a particularly high rutin content compared to other teas. This polyphenic compound is a potent antioxidant and, in combination with ascorbic acid (vitamin C), contributes to cardiovascular protection by strengthening blood vessels and improving circulation (10). In addition, rutin has demonstrated antidiabetic properties, helping to regulate blood sugar levels and improve metabolic function (10). A hot commodity and a growing concern As global demand for my vibrant green leaves continues to soar, tea plantations are expanding rapidly, sometimes at the expense of native ecosystems. My growth often comes with a cost: natural habitats are cleared to make way for me, leading to a loss of biodiversity. Farmers face increased pressure to cultivate larger harvests, striving to meet global demand while upholding sustainable practices. This so-called ‘matcha mania’ has even led to global shortages. Farmers can’t keep up, prices are climbing, and some companies have resorted to limiting purchases to stop people from stockpiling. My rise in popularity is exciting, but it raises an important question: how can we enjoy the benefits I bring while ensuring that my cultivation is ecologically responsible? My future I am torn - pulled in two different directions. On one hand, I swell with pride that my fellow matcha leaves and I are travelling across the globe, introducing more people to the calm, focused energy I can bring. I am pleased when coffee drinkers opt for me in search of a gentler buzz, or when someone slows down to whisk me into a beautiful frothy drink, savouring the ritual and satisfaction I was always meant to inspire. But my popularity is not without its complications. Can the old and the traditional truly coexist with the new? I watch, bewildered, as I am mixed with banana pudding, pistachio lattes, and other curious concoctions. Those consuming these drinks delight in their sweetness, but I wonder whether they can appreciate what makes me special under the layers of so many other products. I fear that my origins may be overshadowed by trends and novelty. I hope that my tradition is remembered, even as I am enjoyed in new ways around the world. Yet if you pause, every cup offers a quiet invitation. The next time you take a sip of my green goodness, take a deep breath. Let its warmth and aroma envelop you, and consider the long journey I’ve taken to reach your cup. From the shaded tea gardens where I was grown, to the careful whisking that releases my flavour, each sip embodies countless steps, immense human labour, and a story that spans cultures and continents. What seems like an everyday ritual holds so much more. In that stillness, remember how even small acts connect us to the world, to tradition, and to the delicate balance between old and new. References 1. Purvis L. Tencha: Why Shade-Growing is Essential to Matcha Green Tea. Mizuba Tea Co . September 26, 2017. https://mizubatea.com/blogs/news-1/it-can-only-be-tencha-why-shade-growing-is-essential-to-matcha 2. Chen X, Ye K, Xu Y, Zhao Y, Zhao D. Effect of Shading on the Morphological, Physiological, and Biochemical Characteristics as Well as the Transcriptome of Matcha Green Tea. International Journal of Molecular Sciences . 2022;23(22):14169. doi: 10.3390/ijms232214169 3. Wang J, Li Z. Effects of processing technology on tea quality analyzed using high-resolution mass spectrometry-based metabolomics. Food Chemistry . 2024;443:138548. doi: 10.1016/j.foodchem.2024.138548 4. Devkota HP, Gaire BP, Hori K, Subedi L, Adhikari-Devkota A, Belwal T, et al. The science of matcha: Bioactive compounds, analytical techniques and biological properties. T rends in Food Science & Technology . 2021;118:735-43. doi: 10.1016/j.tifs.2021.10.021 5. McNamee GL. Matcha . Encyclopaedia Britannica. September 10, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/topic/matcha 6. Phenimax Legends of Japan. Ichigo Ichie: The Deeper Meaning Behind a Once-in-a-Lifetime Tea Gathering. Phenimax Legends of Japan ; December 1, 2024. https://phenimax.com/sw/blogs/japanese-tea-article/onetime-onemeeting 7. Baba Y, Inagaki S, Nakagawa S, Kobayashi M, Kaneko T, Takihara T. Effects of Daily Matcha and Caffeine Intake on Mild Acute Psychological Stress-Related Cognitive Function in Middle-Aged and Older Adults: A Randomized Placebo-Controlled Study. Nutrients . 2021;13(5). doi: 10.3390/nu13051700 8. Mancini E, Beglinger C, Drewe J, Zanchi D, Lang UE, Borgwardt S. Green tea effects on cognition, mood and human brain function: A systematic review. Phytomedicine . 2017;34:26-37. doi: 10.3390/foods9040483 9. Capasso L, De Masi L, Sirignano C, Maresca V, Basile A, Nebbioso A, et al. Epigallocatechin Gallate (EGCG): Pharmacological Properties, Biological Activities and Therapeutic Potential. Molecules . 2025;30(3):654. doi: 10.3390/molecules30030654 10. Kochman J, Jakubczyk K, Antoniewicz J, Mruk H, Janda K. Health Benefits and Chemical Composition of Matcha Green Tea: A Review. Molecules . 2021;26(1):85. doi: 10.3390/molecules26010085 Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Eyeballs, a Knife, and No Fear of God by Jess Walton 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by Chavindi Sinhara Mudalige Humans have wanted to understand our bodies the entire time we’ve had them, which is to say, the entire time. Late Classical Athens, around 300 BC, at a peak of intellectual prosperity: Herophilos cuts into a corpse. From this, he’s going to make the novel argument that the brain contains knowledge, and in doing so, he’s going to criticize Aristotle’s writing, which describes the brain as something akin to an air conditioner. Aristotle thought the brain was a cooling chamber, essentially, to prevent the heart from overheating, and that cognition happened in the heart. Much, much earlier, around 1000 BC in India, Sushruta, in his foundational surgical text, overestimated the bone count in humans by over 100. Many ancient societies had impressively detailed understanding of anatomy, considering they had no microscopes, no cameras, no X-rays; usually nothing more than their knives and eyeballs. It’s important to note as well that this article is a brief overview of a complex subject, with a major focus on Classical, meaning Ancient Greek and Roman, examples, and is in no way a complete story of early anatomical developments across the globe. Asia, Africa, the Americas and the Arab world each had their own rich and complex traditions, beyond the few examples cherry-picked here. Most societies had a few impressive hits and a few impressive misses; in a way, their approach to science isn’t all that different from ours today. What can we learn from them, and what can we learn about ourselves? In Ancient Athens, Aristotle believed the heart to be both the intellectual and emotional center of humans; the “seat of the soul” (1). Some remnants of this remain in our modern association between heart and emotion, though we know now it isn’t backed by science. His reasoning behind this was the convergence of blood vessels at the heart and its importance; from this, he also, perhaps reasonably, thought it to be the source of blood (2). Despite being deservedly considered a major anatomist, Aristotle likely made his observations from examining and dissecting the bodies of animals, particularly lower mammals, like dogs or livestock, instead of real humans (3). He unknowingly used homologous structures, long before evolution or even Charles Darwin himself was conceptualized, to essentially assume the anatomy of humans from other animals. Given this, his conclusions on the brain become a little more understandable. The brain is a strange-looking organ, critically important to life, though not obviously connected to the pulse or rich with blood; how were they to understand the structure of nerves and white matter? That it assists the heart in some way becomes a logical conclusion. So why not serve a cooling function? Blood is hot, so the heart must get hot. Overheating is usually bad; see fire. And the brain’s size makes it ideal for such a thing. The thing about anatomy and science, Aristotle’s assertion being one primordial example of many around the ancient world, is that it changes. Herophilos and Erasistratus were two more Greek anatomists who succeeded and often contested Aristotle. Unlike him, they dissected humans, having no qualms about a man’s dead—or, according to some sources, still alive—body (4). However, they offered several accurate, or at least more accurate, insights inside human bodies. Herophilus argued that the brain wasn’t a cooling chamber but contained knowledge (5). While he was at it, he argued that the heart has four chambers, unlike Aristotle, who claimed it only has three (5). Many of Herophilos and Erasistratus’ insights required Aristotle’s, or some other prior Mediterranean scholar’s, claims to give them something to criticise. Praxagoras was one such anatomist, from about 400 BC, about 100 years earlier. He correctly associated the pulse with natural movement within the body, but also asserted that arteries carry air (6). There is, possibly because of this claim, debate as to whether he had any practical anatomical experience or observed any dissections. If so, it’s quite impressive to miss the blood in arteries. He did, however, note that veins carry blood (2). Thus, he was later included in Herophilos’ critique. Before we criticise how long it took for them to realise seemingly obvious facts, we must remember that bloodletting as an acceptable treatment persisted into the 19 th Century. Modern and recent understandings are far from flawless. A couple of hundred years later, Galen, a Roman from the late 2 nd Century AD, would voice similar critiques (2). Galen would later become famous for his theory of the four humors: blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm, each with associated personalities and elements (7). While these are all real liquids found somewhere in the human body, they do not really work as the four-way counterbalance he describes. Galen made some incredible leaps forward in Roman anatomy, including developing more elaborate tools for dissection and surgery processes, which would be instrumental in allowing future developments in the field. However, he also learned more anatomy from treating severe gladiator injuries—which is awesome—or like Aristotle, from dissections and studies on lower mammals (7). This led to some interesting conclusions; his description and diagrams of a human uterus match that of a dog’s uterus exactly, for example (7). He did well with the tools he had, but guesswork has its limits. Three hundred years before Aristotle, and over seven centuries before Galen, the ancient Indian physician Sushruta, a continent away, was revolutionizing, and if there was nothing to revolutionise, inventing surgeries and surgical techniques. He also valued an understanding of human anatomy, which likely contributed to his surgical skill, and dedicated a portion of his seminal Sanskrit work, Sushruta Samhita , to anatomy, calling it the Sharira Sthana . In his work, he describes in detail the head, which he correctly identified as the major center of essentially all function, particularly the cranial nerves (8). He also includes the first detailed guide to human dissection, alongside the anatomy of the embryo at various developmental stages; this is described as arising from seven skins, each with their own associated ailments, and while the skins are anomalous, many of the ailments correlate impressively with known diseases (8). There’s also, incredibly, a detailed description of cataract surgery procedure, where exceptionally specific incision locations in the cornea are interspersed with instructions to sedate the patient with wine mixed with cannabis, which makes sense in a world far predating modern anesthesia, then to spray the eye with breast milk (9). This part seems outlandish and harder to explain, but anyone who has studied immunology can tell you that breast milk contains antibodies and antibacterial proteins. Sushruta likely made some link between breast milk and reduced post-op infections, even if there were not yet microscopes to see bacteria with. Even if they couldn’t see why on the molecular scale, ancient anatomists were able to understand what worked and what didn’t and justify it to the best of their knowledge. When Sushruta describes the bones of the human body, he does so in great detail, and also counts more than 300 of them. Humans typically have 206 bones, give or take a rib: Sushruta mildly overestimated. This is thought to be from him, largely basing his skeletal insights off child cadavers, before many bones have fused together (9). Hindu religious law calls for the cremation of any body over two years old, in its natural and thus undissected state; though there are accounts of Sushruta performing dissections, presumably on adults, the bodies he likely had the most exposure to were infants. Sushruta was working within the confines of the society and world that he lived in, as was Herophilos. Medical insights which seem obvious to us today, like that the brain is for thinking and the heart is for beating blood, and that blood goes through the arteries and is most definitely a liquid, rely upon prior knowledge reached with tools that hadn’t even been invented yet. These firsts—surgeons, anatomists, scientists—would probably have to be physically pried away from microscopes and X-rays, if ever introduced to them. They often didn’t even have a human body to dissect, yet drew human anatomical conclusions regardless. And it’s easy to marvel at their mistakes, but it’s even easier to marvel at how much they got right; Herophilos correctly uncovered nerves and linked them to sensation and response, which is impressive in itself. Could you find a nerve in some meat, with just your naked eye? He also linked the heart and the pulse. The Huangdi Neijing , for example, is a Chinese medical text said, though disputed, to be from 2600 BC, which describes the relationships between organs in military terms: the heart as a king, the liver as a commandant, and the gallbladder as an attorney-general responsible for coordination (10). However, both like and before Herophilos, it also correctly identifies the cyclic nature of blood flow and links it to the heart (10). The Edwin Smith Papyrus, dating from 1700 BC in Ancient Egypt, is the oldest known surgical text, describing 48 different injuries with treatments; all shockingly accurate (11). Sushruta may have miscounted the bones, but he described their shapes accurately and suggested legitimate therapies for particular bone breakages and dislocations. Nowadays, little has changed: in just the 1950s, lobotomies became the standard cure for a headache; even long after we developed microscopes, we were recommending treatments, like scrambling our brains, that only 70 years later seem ridiculously stupid. We’re far from done charting our own bodies, either. In 2018, an entirely new type of tissue all throughout the body was found: the interstitium, which is critical in cell and organ communication across the body (12). It’s been there the whole time, but no one had noticed before. Humans are humans; it is only natural to want to understand ourselves, and as a part of that, our bodies. We now study our ancestors as they studied themselves; the same mix of awe, confusion and confidence. Their methods and conclusions may be fallible, but their curiosity was not, and as long as we remain, never will be, dead. These examples were only a fraction of those whose work has been preserved, who themselves were only a fraction of the ancient people across the globe who investigated human anatomy. A millennium from now, our descendants will laugh at our misconceptions, when they have mapped every neuron in the human brain with instruments we could not conceive of. But without us, they wouldn’t know what they know, and without our original anatomists, we wouldn’t know what we know. Our modern granular understanding of our own structure is built on the bodies we looked in before ours. So, we should perhaps extend some empathy to our predecessors. They had only eyeballs, a knife, and our own curiosity. Different tools, same bodies. References Aird WC. Discovery of the cardiovascular system: from Galen to William Harvey. J Thromb Haemost. 2011;9(Suppl 1):118–29. Johnston IH, Papavramidou N. Galen on the Pulses: Medico-historical Analysis, Textual Tradition, Translation [Internet]. De Gruyter; 2023 [cited 2025 Oct 10]. Available from: https://www.degruyterbrill.com/document/doi/10.1515/9783110612677/html Crivellato E, Ribatti D. A portrait of Aristotle as an anatomist. Clin Anat. 2007;20(5):447–85. Papa V, Varotto E, Vaccarezza M, Ballestriero R, Tafuri D, Galassi FM. The teaching of anatomy throughout the centuries: from Herophilus to plastination and beyond. Med Hist. 2019;3(2):69–77. Bay NSY, Bay BH. Greek anatomist Herophilus: the father of anatomy. Anat Cell Biol. 2010;43(4):280–3. Wright J. Review of: Praxagoras of Cos on Arteries, Pulse and Pneuma. Studies in Ancient Medicine, 48 . Bryn Mawr Class Rev [Internet]. [cited 2025 Oct 10]. Available from: https://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2017/2017.07.34/ Ajita R. Galen and his contribution to anatomy: a review. J Evid Based Med Healthc. 2015;4(26):4509–16. Bhattacharya S. Sushruta—the very first anatomist of the world. Indian J Surg. 2022;84(5):901–4. Loukas M, Lanteri A, Ferrauiola J, Tubbs RS, Maharaja G, Shoja MM, et al. Anatomy in ancient India: a focus on the Sushruta Samhita . J Anat. 2010;217(6):646–50. O’Boyle C. TVN Persaud, Early history of human anatomy: from antiquity to the beginning of the modern era. Med Hist. 1987;31(4):478–9. van Middendorp JJ, Sanchez GM, Burridge AL. The Edwin Smith papyrus: a clinical reappraisal of the oldest known document on spinal injuries. Eur Spine J. 2010 Nov;19(11):1815–23. Benias PC, Wells RG, Sackey-Aboagye B, Klavan H, Reidy J, Buonocore D, et al. Structure and distribution of an unrecognized interstitium in human tissues. Sci Rep. 2018;8(1):4947. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Conferring with Consciousness by Ingrid Sefton 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Heather Sutherland Edited by Steph Liang Down the rabbit hole Indulge me for a moment, will you? I value your opinion. Your opinion, as in, one which has arisen from your mind. I would assume. It would seem unusual to consider that, perhaps, your thoughts are not your own. Stranger still to ponder the possibility that they did not arise from your mind. I digress – or maybe not. For it is this dilemma which I wish to pick your brain on. The mind. The brain. You. Are they one and the same; entwined? What do you think? Again, assuming it is you thinking. Assuming you feel certain enough to agree with this. Really, with what certainty can we say anything? You may be wondering who “I” am. I am but you, of course! I kid, but not entirely. Think of me as the brain; your brain if you wish. An excellent name I gave myself, if you ask me. Before we spiral any deeper into this chasm that is consciousness – because that is what this is about, is that not what this, life, is all about? – I must disclose a few things. One, I do not expect you to have answers to these questions I pose. Because two. We do not have answers. I apologise that I have not come bearing the answers to our existence, that I have not yet unpicked these questions of “who?”, “how?”, “why?”. I come offering an alternative. I wish to present to you these entangled threads of consciousness: of what we currently know, of what we hope to know and of where we can proceed from here. Then it’s back to you. You get to decide what you think (again, with the thinking). Maybe, for you and the workings of your inner mind, consciousness and all it entails will be revealed in full clarity. Maybe not. You certainly won’t know unless you try. A brief neural memoir Many a Nobel prize has been awarded for discoveries relating to the nervous system: from the morphology of neurons (Golgi and Cajal 1906) and their electrical signalling properties (Eccles, Hodgkin and Huxley 1963), to the nature of information processing in the visual system (Hubel and Wiesel 1981) (1). Despite some obvious gaps remaining in what is known about the brain (ahem, that slight issue of consciousness), the field of neuroscience has rapidly progressed over the last century. Gone are the days of thinking I was nothing more than a cooling mechanism for the blood, as Greek philosopher Aristotle once believed (2). How dismissive of my intellect! I assure you, I have far more important things to be doing. Generating the experience of “you”, as one small matter. The techniques developed to study the brain have also rapidly advanced. It was not until the invention of microscopes in the 19 th century that the neuron doctrine even came about . Pioneered by Santiago Ramón y Cajal, this is the (now) well-accepted concept that the nervous system is made up of discrete cells known as neurons, challenging older theories which proposed a continuous neural network (3). Today, neuroscientists have the ability to appreciate my anatomical and functional complexity at a huge range of temporal and spatial resolutions. Whole-brain connectivity can be studied using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), while the electrical activity of single neurons can be recorded using patch-clamp electrode technology. Not to mention optogenetics, chemogenetics, viral transduction: while the available experimental techniques are still unable to address all our brainy questions, the field of neuroscience has never been in a better position to get closer to answers. The potential of neurons Neurons: those special, excitable cells that make up the squishy entity I seem to be. The mechanisms of how neurons detect, generate and transmit signals have been described in utmost precision. When I talk of excitable cells, I am not referring to a bunch of cheerful, eager neurons. Excitability, in this context, refers to the fact that neurons can respond to a sensory stimulus by generating and propagating electrical signals, known as action potentials. Clearly, I am made up of slightly more than two neurons cheerfully signalling to each other back and forth. Try 86 billion, between the cortex and cerebellum combined (4). Yet, despite our deep understanding of neural signalling mechanisms, this has yet to reveal an explanation for consciousness. Individual neurons in isolation, it would appear, don’t hold the answers we want. In turn, a focus of neuroscience research has been on the wider “neuronal correlates of consciousness”, the minimal neuronal mechanisms that are sufficient to generate a conscious experience (5). This relates broadly to the generation of consciousness itself, but also to studying the neural underpinnings of specific conscious experiences. For example, which collective neural substrates support the process of visual object recognition. This is often a focus of fMRI studies, which examine brain activity in an attempt to pin-point where in the brain a particular cognitive function may be performed. Fancy techniques aside, some of the most fundamental insights into my regional specialisations have arisen from careful observation following selective lesions or damage to the brain. The critical, yet specific role of Broca’s area in speech production was discovered in 1861 by surgeon Paul Broca’s observations of his patient “Tan”. Tan had lost his ability to produce meaningful speech, yet was still able to comprehend speech; Broca identified a lesion in Tan’s left frontal lobe post-mortem, drawing the conclusion that this region is selectively involved in speech production (6). But what does all of this show us? Perhaps the only thing that neuroscientists can agree on, is that conscious experience is fundamentally, in some way, somehow, related to my activity: the brain. In turn, the activity of the brain is related to the activity of neurons; firing and signalling and transforming information. A lot is known about neurons. Less can be said about specific cognitive functions, yet we can see correlations between the regional brain activity and particular conscious experiences. Here lies my problem. The elephant in the room. How do we get from individual neurons to conscious experience? A map with no destination Enter “The Connectome” and the Human Connectome Project: a collective attempt to map the neuronal connections of the human brain, in an effort to connect structure to function (7). And in turn, for our purposes, to ideally connect this to consciousness. The rationale is that by modelling and trying to “build” a brain using a bottom-up approach, we may therefore understand the mechanisms of how cognitive functions arise. I’m sure it will come as no surprise that this isn’t the simplest of tasks. To measure, record and model billions of neurons and synapses requires techniques, time, and resources that are incredibly hard to come by in sufficient quantities. Excitingly, scientists have recently managed to successfully map a whole brain. That is, of a fly (8). With 3016 neurons and 548000 synapses, this was no simple feat. In case you had forgotten my own complexity, however, let me remind you of my 86 billion neurons, and estimated 1.5 x10 14 total synapses in the cortex alone (4). Progress has also been made on the human front, nonetheless. It was recently announced that a cubic millimetre of human temporal cortex has been completely reconstructed using electron microscopy, involving 1.4 petabytes of electron microscopy data (1000 Terabytes or one quadrillion bytes) (9). One cubic millimetre down, approximately a million to go. Putting practicalities aside, let us suppose we do, one day, manage to map and model an entire human brain, in all its intricacies. What now? What does one actually do with this data, and how would this allow us to better understand how consciousness arises? Up until now, we have been following the train of thought that consciousness, somehow, results from the activity of neurons, yet does not arise from the activity of individual neurons. This leads us to the notion that perhaps consciousness is due to the collective, computational activity of neurons working together – that with enough complexity, and enough information processing, together this will lead to the first-person experience of being “you”. Does this actually make sense? You tell me. Wishful thinking and conscious rocks The notion that, at a certain level of complex neuronal signal processing, a first-person perspective of “being you” (i.e. consciousness) arises is often termed “strong emergence” or “magical emergence” (10). With what we currently know about the properties of neurons, there is fundamentally no reason why this should happen. The “property” of consciousness, which cannot be predicted from the principles of how individual neurons function, seemingly just emerges. Consciousness, therefore, must somehow be greater than the sum of its parts, only emerging when neurons interact as a wider network. Maybe, the answer to this is merely that we don’t understand the mechanisms of neurons as well as we think we do. It could be that we have missed a fundamental property of how neurons operate and upon discovery of this, it would suddenly be completely explicable how consciousness arises. Or maybe, computation and neural signalling is not all there is to it. An alternative line of thinking is that rather than consciousness being a property that “arises”, it is a basic constituent of the universe that is missing from our current model of standard physics (11). That is, consciousness has been present all along and exists in everything. The philosophical view of ‘panpsychism’ embraces this idea to the extreme, proposing that everything within the universe is, to some degree, conscious (12). As in yes, that rock over there might just be conscious. Other theories suggest that consciousness only emerges in a recognisable form in certain conditions or at some critical threshold; myself and all my neurons apparently being one such example of the “right” conditions. Theories of consciousness don’t just stop at computation and fundamental properties of the universe. Quantum physics, microtubule computations, electromagnetic fields; all have been proposed as part of this web of “why” (13). While some theories arguably veer more towards pseudoscience than well-founded scholarship, they all make one thing clear. At this stage, just about every idea remains fair game in the quest for answers. Pondering hard, or hardly pondering? The question of consciousness is far from limited to the field of neuroscience. Philosophers too have long wracked their brains in an attempt to rationalise and unpick this problem. What unites the work of neuroscientists and philosophers alike, along with the many theories of consciousness, is that nothing provides a satisfactory explanation for why consciousness should emerge from the activity of neurons. Philosopher David Chalmers has termed this the “hard problem”. “Why should physical processing give rise to a rich inner life at all? It seems objectively unreasonable that it should, and yet it does” (14). If consciousness is simply the result of high-level processing and the computational activity of neurons, why would we even need to be conscious? If all the brain is doing is computation, and thus everything can be done via computation, there would appear to be no purpose in having a subjective experience of being “you”. Whichever side of consciousness we may be inclined to take, computational, fundamental, or otherwise, the fact remains. We cannot seem to move beyond mere description, to explanation. We have not solved the “hard problem”. A final conundrum, and a sole certainty Physicist Emerson M Pugh once made the somewhat sceptical remark that “if the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn't.” (15) Is the reason that we have yet to understand consciousness simply, frustratingly, that we are not meant to? Logical conundrums aside, I rest my case. I hope I have given you some food for thought, or at the very least, not set off too dramatic an existential crisis. Somewhere between the neural wirings of the brain and the experience of consciousness lies an answer, regardless of whether we are destined to find it out. Make of this what you will. And if nothing else, let me try reassuring you once again with the wisdom of René Descartes. “ Cogito, ergo sum ” “ I think, therefore I am ” (16). If you are here, and you are thinking, you are conscious. You, my friend, are you. References Nobel Prizes in nerve signaling. Nobel Prize Outreach. September 16, 2009. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/themes/nobel-prizes-in-nerve-signaling-1906-2000/ . Rábano A. Aristotle’ s “mistake”: the structure and function of the brain in the treatises on biology. Neurosciences and History . 2018;6(4):138-43. Golgi C. The neuron doctrine - theory and facts . 1906. p. 190–217. https://www.nobelprize.org/uploads/2018/06/golgi-lecture.pdf Herculano-Houzel S. The human brain in numbers: a linearly scaled-up primate brain. Front Hum Neurosci . 2009;3:31. doi: 10.3389/neuro.09.031.2009 Koch C, Massimini M, Boly M, Tononi G. Neural correlates of consciousness: progress and problems. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2016;17(5):307-21. Broca area . Encyclopedia Britannica; 2025. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/science/Broca-area Elam JS, Glasser MF, Harms MP, Sotiropoulos SN, Andersson JLR, Burgess GC, et al. The Human Connectome Project: A retrospective. NeuroImage . 2021;244. doi: 10.1016/j.neuroimage.2021.118543 Winding M, Pedigo BD, Barnes CL, Patsolic HG, Park Y, Kazimiers T, et al. The connectome of an insect brain. Science . 2023;379(6636). doi: 10.1126/science.add9330 Shapson-Coe A, Januszewski M, Berger DR, Pope A, Wu Y, Blakely T, et al. A petavoxel fragment of human cerebral cortex reconstructed at nanoscale resolution. Science . 2024;384(6696). doi: 10.1126/science.adk4858 Chalmers D. Strong and Weak Emergence. In: Clayton P, Davies P. The Re-Emergence of Emergence: The Emergentist Hypothesis from Science to Religion . Oxford University Press; 2008. Kitchener PD, Hales CG. What Neuroscientists Think, and Don’t Think, About Consciousness. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience . 2022;16. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2022.767612 Goff P, William Seager, and Sean Allen-Hermanson. Panpsychism . The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Summer 2022. Seth AK, Bayne T. Theories of consciousness. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2022;23(7):439-52. doi: 10.1038/s41583-022-00587-4 Chalmers D. Facing up to the hard problem of consciousness . In: Shear J. Explaining Consciousness: The Hard Problem. MIT Press; 1997. Pugh GE. The Biological Origin of Human Values . Routledge & Kegan Paul; 1978. Descartes R. Principles of Philosophy . 1644. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Ancient Asian Alchemy: Big Booms by Isaac Tian 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Edited by Luci Ackland One question has plagued the human condition since the beginning of time: how can we escape death? Well, we certainly know who didn’t find the answer – the alchemists of ancient China. It’s 210 BC, and you are an alchemist standing before Emperor Qin Shi Huang in his court. You hand him an elixir supposed to grant him immortality and eternal reign. Only the serum contains what we now call “mercury” and if anything, you granted him mortality, as he drops dead before you (1). Where does one begin in this journey to immortality? How do we combine chemicals to find the perfect serum? Keep in mind, we have not even come close to establishing the periodic table at this point (no, that will occur about 1000 years later) (2). Saltpetre – or potassium nitrate – had been used extensively to treat common illnesses and to maintain good health. There’s our starting point (3). The search for this magic elixir persists for the next eleven centuries. We never give up… do we? The ingenuity of the alchemists spoke to them: it told them to mix in a few other ingredients to the saltpetre. With the trio of saltpetre, sulfur and charcoal, gunpowder was henceforth born into this world (4). The alchemists must have been in for a surprise when their “potion of immortality” sparked and exploded before them. So how does gunpowder explode? Why don’t other flammable items like match tips and dry wood explode when we set them alight? It comes down to a few key things. First is our perception of explosions. Chemicals don’t simply “explode” – it’s not an inherent quality of reactions – however, they can combust. Combustion is the release of energy from a fuel. Wood and matches combust, but they do so in a way that is relatively slower than gunpowder. Gunpowder combusts rapidly – so there is a large amount of energy release within a short period of time. Secondly, it’s about the availability of oxygen. Items that combust slowly typically have to wait for the oxygen to trickle in from the surrounding air, since oxygen is a critical component of combustion. This does not apply to gunpowder. The oxygen for its combustion is right there in the nitrate compound (of potassium nitrate – or saltpetre). So unlike burning wood or matches, the combustion does not need to wait for oxygen to arrive from the surrounding environment – it’s already in there with the rest of the powder (5)! To go further on that point: the closer the atoms are, the faster the combustion reaction can progress, because chemical compounds don’t need to wait long for the heat to get to them. Since gunpowder is… well… a powder, it’s rather compact and all the molecules of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and carbon sit tightly next to one another. It is this physical arrangement that permits the fast transfer of heat between molecules, ensuring that a lot of energy can be released at once. Ultimately, when all these physical and chemical phenomena occur in perfect unison, the high temperatures rapidly increase the kinetic energy of surrounding air molecules, causing them to shoot outwards at great speeds to form a “barrier” of sorts. When this barrier, also known as a shockwave, hits your eardrums, the gunpowder delivers what it does best: BOOM! Now, let’s combust some gunpowder, build up some gaseous pressure, and launch ourselves into the modern day. It’s been about twelve centuries – what have we been doing with all the gunpowder? As it turns out, we humans are very inventive, but also violent (Wow – who knew?). We quickly realised that the physical properties of the resulting gases can be harnessed to quickly move very heavy objects (6). Said heavy objects could then be guided in the direction of, say, a human being or a structure. Weaponry derived from gunpowder has existed for a very long time, albeit rather inefficient at first. The introduction of gunpowder to warfare came in the early 10th century, when soldiers applied gunpowder to arrows that would ignite and create fire arrows. Of course, whilst it might have been effective in creating a hole in humans, it was significantly less so when it came to creating holes in walls and structures. Only after 300 years did we then invent cannons and guns. However, those guns were slow – really, really slow – to the point that bows and arrows were actually preferred during warfare of that era. It would be another 600 years before we realised that there were more effective ways of reloading a gun; brandishing a new trend of military technology that would set the stage for the First and Second World Wars (7). By that point, the most terrifying of weapons had begun to stray away from the use of gunpowder. Missiles and rockets began employing other chemicals as propellants, owing to the advantage it had over gunpowder (7). It would also be remiss of this article to omit the exploitation of atomic power – pervading the world with such destruction that gunpowder appeared like a child’s toy (8). The tragic irony of a supposed innovation in immortality leading to mortality by war and conflict will forever embed itself into our history. Even with the right intentions, the invention by the great minds of alchemy has sparked a chain reaction for widespread destruction and warfare. It only makes you wonder – what are we making now that will lead us further astray in the future? References 1. Glancey J. The army that conquered the world. BBC. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20170411-the-army-that-conquered-the-world 2. Guharay DM. A brief history of the periodic table. ASBMBTODAY. Accessed August 28, 2025. https://www.asbmb.org/asbmb-today/science/020721/a-brief-history-of-the-periodic-table 3. Butler A, Moffett J. Saltpetre in Early and Medieval Chinese Medicine. Asian Medicine . 2009;5(1):173-185. doi: 10.1163/157342109X568982 4. Paradowski, R.J. Invention of Gunpowder and Guns. EBSCO Research Starters. 2022. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/history/invention-gunpowder-and-guns 5. Stanford University. Detonation and Combustion. Stanford University. Accessed September 4, 2025. https://cs.stanford.edu/people/eroberts/courses/ww2/projects/firebombing/detonation-and-combustion.htm 6. Britannica. Ammunition | Bullets, Shells & Cartridges. Britannica. 2025. Accessed September 25, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/technology/ammunition 7. Beyer G. How Did Gunpowder Change Warfare? TheCollector. 2025. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.thecollector.com/how-did-gunpowder-change-warfare/ 8. ICAN. History of Nuclear Weapons. ICAN. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.icanw.org/nuclear_weapons_history Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Unravelling the Threads: From the Editors-in-Chief & Cover Illustrator by Ingrid Sefton, Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin & Anabelle Dewi Saraswati 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by the Editor-in-Chiefs Innovation evolves, and perhaps what once made headlines becomes embodied in ourselves and in our universe. The science that we once saw is no longer visible, yet no less integral in the ways in which it governs our world. Like the strings of a puppet, scientific principles guide us and coordinate the patterns and movements which shape our daily lives. Yet equally, science encourages us to look behind the curtain in order to unravel the forces which pull on the strings of our universe. Following these rich threads of knowledge, so often taken for granted, this issue brings to the fore and celebrates the science that keeps our world running. An introspective chat with the brain, a journey along the production line that creates our much-loved daily cup of matcha, fundamental questions about how we seek and create knowledge: Entwined seeks to make explanations explicit and start conversations about the scientific mechanisms embedded in our lives. When we take the time to focus our gaze, encourage awe at the everyday and seek reflection over reaction – that’s when we start to disentangle the science that binds us; that which keeps us Entwined . Begin your immersion in the world of Entwined with Issue 9’s Cover Illustrator, Anabelle Dewi Saraswati , as she explains the vision and rationale behind her work. “I found myself drawn to the world of Art Nouveau for these cover illustrations, captivated by the way forms seem to grow into each other, sharing meaning and life, much like the theme of ‘Entwined’ itself. There is something magical about that moment in history, where art, architecture, and science all seemed to bleed into one another, each discipline borrowing and lending, rooted in the emphasis on the beauty of nature after the coldness created by the Industrial Revolution. That sense of crossover felt like the perfect encapsulation for this issue, derived from pictorial history. The way feminine figures and flowing hair seem to melt into vines and leaves, everything tangled together in a quiet conversation. The motion and sense of growth, but also its hidden mathematical precision required to produce such beautiful curving forms. Art Nouveau captured how the artificial and natural worlds are always weaving into each other, inseparable. I wanted to draw from that imagery in a way that acknowledges its history I return to my architectural roots in structure, composition and line with my approach in building these pieces. The signage piece is fully hand-drawn and deliberate – reflecting the craft and typographic precision of the era. The collage is a layering of textures and fragments, letting ideas overlap and bleed into each other, much like memories and histories do. A way to begin the issue visually to trace the growth of worlds as they intertwine. Paying homage to the harmony between the natural and the human-made, to reflect on how we are shaped by the places we inhabit, the histories we inherit, and the stories we choose to keep alive.” Previous article Next article Entwined back to

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