There is a grandeur in this view of life

This post has been sitting in my drafts for about three weeks, so it will probably go on a different tack than I imagined when I started.

Short version of this post:

I really, really like science. Like, really.

Long version:

When I was young, I wanted to be an artist, or a scientist, or an aid worker.  Of my vague career plans, the only one I knew the name for was 'artist', but the three played roughly equal roles in my imagined futures.

A few weeks ago I finished my degree in zoology, and while I still haven't given up the idea of doing a health science conversion course and running off and helping people (I'm only twenty-two! I have time to do a million things yet!), the idea of being an artist of any description has fallen by the wayside.  The main factors that tipped my hand at the time of making my choices for the CAO were "I probably won't get an A1 in Art, waa," and "Working on a portfolio for art college puts me at risk of not geting A1s in other subjects, waa."

It wasn't just that I wasn't good - that's a matter of work - but I didn't think I could shine. Worse, I didn't think I could contribute. I like to feel I'm leaving things better than they were before - it stems from a combination of helpfulness and insecurity. I didn't think - I still don't think - myself capable of creating something that would change people's hearts and minds and make them see something wonderful in the world.

At the same time, I spent fifth and sixth year falling in love with biology and physics.* I had always read books about nature as a kid, and genetics when I got a bit older, but this gave me more of a grounding in everything. My physics teacher was fantastic, but my biology teacher wasn't anything of the sort, and even that didn't do anything to stifle the thrill of knowing that this was how stuff worked. The fact that we could know these things was so quietly spectacular. If I became a good artist, I could help people see things a different way, but if I became a scientist, I could help people to see things that were there regardless of my part in it. Science only asks for your eyes.

The deciding factor in choosing to study science was that I could be helpful without having to interact directly with the people I'd be helping, because I was seventeen and neurotic and convinced that I would be awkward and people would throw things at me. Being crippingly insecure has worked out pretty well in the long-term though! Reading about what other people have discovered is wonderful, but doing my own research, even if it was my little final year project, is something else.

There are a handful of pieces of art that have made me ache inside. During my degree I got that feeling at least once a day. Both learning how things work and learning how people discovered that makes me happy in a simple, profound way. The first time I saw cells stained with DAPI under a fluorescence microscope was breath-taking. (DAPI is a nuclear stain, used for cells counts. It didn't tell me anything other than that there were cells there, which I knew to begin with. Didn't make it any less beautiful. We had to discover cells, and then microscopy, and then fluorophores, to get there!) My supervisor, who was showing me how to use the fluorescence microscope, was more concerned with the fact that the organelles I was staining for hadn't appeared on the other stains, but I was enraptured.

One of my favourite things about science is that it is not a body of work. It is an approach to the world, and it can be wrong, and that's not just fine, it's vital. All new art movements are a reaction against what's come before, but science builds on itself, discards what doesn't work and improves on what it can. I'm excited to start contributing to that. Even if every path I follow turns out to be a dead-end, I've eliminated one possibility and saved someone else time in working it out.

I'm not sure how I feel about tattoos of text - they can look well, but there's something a but too bald about them for me - but if someone demanded I get any phrase tattooed on my face, it would be "There is a grandeur in this view of life." That is probably one of my favourite combinations of words. Darwin wrote it about evolution, which I think is one of the most elegant theories proposed, and a great example of the simplicity of science - look at the world around you and see what you can make of it. I think this phrase also rings just as true if you take "this view of life" as being "the scientific method" - try to strip yourself of preconceptions, and based on what you can prove to be true, see what you can ascertain about the world. If it's true, it will be true whether or not you discover it, and whether or not it's believed. It won't need the right kind of eyes, and that's pretty wonderful. If I can uncover something new and true, and show it to people who wouldn't have known it otherwise, that will make me happy.

* I didn't take chemistry for Leaving Cert, and having done two years of it in college, it still doesn't hold the same place in my heart. I don't know why. It's missing some wonder.

Science in cinema

for two films, a TV show, and a book. So you can't say I didn't say.

A disproportionate amount of the films and TV I've watched recently have had science as a key plot point. I'm all for creative license - I know if I were to start working in an office very few people would be as fabulous as Joan Holloway - but if a work is trying to address the issues of the day, or raise important questions, I do think they're due some regards for facts.

So, here is what I think of things I have seen recently, and one thing I have read!

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Contact by Carl Sagan (1985)

I like this book an awful lot. I found the writing style to be extremely elegant - it's almost in the style of a report, not florid for its own sake, and yet still evocative and moving. Maybe that's just because the story is told through someone* who loves science, and hot damn do I love science. It seems as though it should be dry, and yet it's not, which I think is some feat.

One thing I love about this book is the accuracy of the timescale. It starts sometime in the eighties, and ends around the turn or the milennium. It's funny, because the back cover of my copy promises "Aliens are coming to judge us" and the book itself describes in loving or masochistic detail the waiting, and the struggles for funding, and the internal power struggles, and the politics of big discoveries, and some further waiting. Between the style and the content - the book is over three quarters of the way through before aliens make any sort of appearance, and they don't really have that much to do with it - I can see how it wouldn't be for everyone, but I really like the respect Sagan shows for the tedium.

The book is also an ongoing discussion of the relationship between religion and science. Sagan was famously good at courteously debating believers in real life, and in his book he doesn't reduce the religious spokespeople to mulishly short-sighted hillbillies, but allows them intelligent discussion. One of them is the strongest characters in the book. It was refreshing to see that degree of complexity explored, when the debate in pop culture is often reduced to "invisible sky wizard, hurr"/"evil soulless monsters spitting in God's face", depending on who the writer agrees with.

If I'm honest, I didn't like the ending - searching for the imprint of the maker of the universe in primes - but Carl Sagan is flat-out better than I, he can do what he wants.

Also, I will never say no to The Future, as predicted by the eighties.

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Contact (1997)

Okay, I realise they can't have three quarters of the film be Jodie Foster sitting in a dark room waiting for something to happen. It was never going to compare well to the book for accuracy. It shows the squabbling for funding at the start, at has a "Four Years Later" cut-scene, but after that, it falls into the trap of having everything happen at once. They discover the message, then they discover the image within the message, then they discover the blueprint within that, the latter two within minutes of each other. Everything is discovered by the one group of people, as well. Sagan allows non-characters to make discoveries and collaborate on research, rather than have his characters be the shining geniuses every step of the way.  These are all pedantic points, but they're so commonly ignored in pop depictions of science, and the source material addressed them so maturely that it's a disappointment. As these things go, it's quite a good depiction of science.

The only part of the film that really jarred with me from a "That is not how science works" perspective was the ending. Jodie Foster leaves the building where she was being questioned about her experience in the machine, having conceded that she can't reasonably expect anyone to take her word for it, to be met by cheering crowds howling signs saying that they believe her. On a personal level, anyone would love that level of support, especially after hours of questions from a mean government man. As a scientist, I'm not sure how I would feel if I had no evidence for my findings, and people chose to believe it because it made a good story. I feel it strays from the point of the book. And science. (Also, surely she would have noticed the crowds on her way in to the building.)

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Prometheus (2012)

Everyone in this film is a terrible scientist, with the exception of the geologist, and I'm only giving him a pass because he doesn't do any geologing.  The stated aim of the voyage was that it was a scientific expedition, and at no point does anyone adhere to anything resembling the scientific method.

The thesis of the two... archaeologists? Maybe? is that as the same images appear around the world, they must represent something real. That it quite a jump, and not a reason to spend trillions of dollars. It's also uncomfortably reminiscent of the argument for theism that all these separate cultures can't have come up with religions and afterlives and creation myths on their own, so there must be something to it.

When it turns out that the space-god-aliens are dead, the male archaeologist sulks and goes drinking and says that the expedition has been for nothing. Then his drink poisoned by morally ambiguous Michael Fassbender robot, so I guess that's a lesson in not giving up the second things don't turn out the way you want them to. Really, I have no idea how he completed a PhD with that attitude.

On a technique-based note, Noomi Rapace and Ford are awfully careless with the two thousand-year-old, immaculately preserved head they find. "Oh look, are those living cells on the outer surface?" Maybe, but it seems more likely that they belong to a detrivorous micro-organism than to the head! And why would they assume the brain has the same structure as a human brain when they start shocking it to see what happens? And why has their DNA apparently not diverged from humans in the interim since our creation? And why did this scene sound like the writes wrote down all the biological-ish terms they knew and tried to work them in?

On a personal note, I hope that one thing that comes out of this kind of sci-fi is that when space travel becomes common, there are safety procedures for dealing with terrifying aliens. Also space-ghosts.

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Jekyll (2007)

I like Steven Moffat quite a lot when he wrotes short, contained stories. It's just a pity he can't carry an arc in  Doctor Who. (Hee.) This one is about a man, Tom Jackman, who learns he's a descendant of Doctor Jekyll, and begins to lose control of the Hyde alter-ego. He also gets chased by a shadowy organisation who want to use Hyde for research

This story isn't hugely grounded in science, but a theory floated by one character is that Jackman is a clone of Henry Jekyll created by the shadowy organisation, since the latter left no children.  She says that Jackman was never born, but "grown here". NOT HOW CLONING WORKS. First of all, a DNA sample is required, which means tissue that's been dead for more than minutes will be useless. Secondly, since cells can't yet be induced to develop fully - or even very far at all - in a lab, an artificially created zygote still needs a surrogate mother. The only developmental stage of 'test tube babies' that occurs in vitro is fertilisation.

The twist is that there was never a potion, Hyde was brought out by Jekyll's love of his servant, Alice. The second twist is that it is Jackman's wife, Claire, who is the clone of Alice. Claire is horrified by this revelation, insisting "I'm a real person!" I wasn't aware of that as a stereotype, that if you're a clone of someone you somehow don't count. I can't see how being genetically identical to someone affects your personhood - after all, identical twins exist. I can see how she'd react like that if she found out she were a robot that had been programmed to believe it were human, but I think writing in that horror - at the fact of being a clone, not that fact of being created to turn her husband into a weapon - shows a fundamental misunderstanding of cloning, to the point of being irresponsible writing.

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In conclusion, science is good, and the scientific method is good, and you can't use your films to accuse scientists of playing god if they haven't performed any science, and if you're writing about hot topics you should understand them, not pander to misinformation.

* I cannot remember the term for the narrative style is omniscient, but focuses on the perspective of a single character rather than jumping between them. Writer people, help?

P.S. I had reached the bust of the top I mentioned in the previous post when I realised it was going to be too wide and rip it all out. It was very sad.

FO: DNA scarf

This has taken me a shameful length of time to finish! Cables require my eyes as well as hands, so I wasn't able  to work on it while studying. Quite happy with how it turned out though!

The pattern is here.  I did fourteen pattern repeats instead of nine, as when I was half-way through what the pattern said to do, it was too short altogether.  I was worried fourteen might have been going overboard, but I think it turned out a nice length.

I used 3.5mm needles for the whole scarf, as using the 2.75mms that the pattern recommended to start off looked too narrow. The yarn is Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino - far finer than I would have considered for a scarf, but the projects that used it on Ravelry made the helix look really sharp.  It's cosy without being bulky, and the whole scarf only needed just over three skeins.

I really like this pattern an awful lot, and might make something for myself with it. (A hat? A jumper? Another scarf? WHO KNOWS!) I do love me some molecular biology, and as it is, I don't think I'm making best use of my knitwear to inform people of this fact.

P.S. I have been making headbands/ear-warmers to sell at a craft sale, but I haven't been able to take pictures I can use, because my hair is currently at a length where wearing headbands gives me eighties sports hair. And that's just not a good sell.

So I'll need to either cut my hair, or borrow someone's head, before I can take pictures. (That yarn is from this hat, which I frogged after realising it would do nothing to keep my head warm. But so pretty!)

wip Wednesday: DNA scarf

I started this yesterday.  It's nice to be working on something new!

Pattern

The yarn is Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino.  It's finer than I'd usually use for scarves, but the projects on Ravely that used it look great.  I'm also concerned that it's a bit narrow, but that should be fixed by blocking at the end - I'll have to do it for the cables anyway.

Close-up of the double-helix.

I'm really excited about this scarf! It's been in my Ravelry queue for a while. Combining science-nerdiness with knitting-nerdiness makes me a specific kind of happy. I'd like to make something with the double helix pattern for myself somewhere down the line. After this I just have to make a pair of socks for my mum's birthday, then I'll be free to work on whatever! Or study for finals. Mostly study for finals. But still!

Thesis is due in six days, oh my.

Zoidberg understands me.

You know things are getting real when PubMed has edged out Facebook on my 'Most frequently visited' sites.  Makes me feel like a scientist though.  Boom.

I have been working on a commissioned pair of gloves for what feels like a million years.  They're nearly finished, and I'm looking forward to new projects (and thesis free time to work on them a bit more)!  My brother's 30th is on Thursday, so I'm going to make him this scarf.  (It will be late.  Thesis.  My excuse and reason for everything these days.)  I've loved it since I came across it, and was considering making one for myself, but as a geneticist I think he'll appreciate it.  Family of nerds.

Now, do basal receptors play a role in transducing mechanical signals and initiating intracellular responses?  LET'S FIND OUT!

You know your god is man-made when he hates the same people you do.

I like this quote because it holds true whatever you hold 'god' to be.  I can remember reading somewhere (maybe one of Feynman's autobiographies?  Who knows.) that god tends to be replaced by science - when we can't explain something, it is attributed to magic or God.  When we can explain it, it can still be rejigged to that a god made it so if that's what you want to believe, but it doesn't become so mysterious.  I'm a scientist, and not religious, so I could be biased, but I think that science is beautiful and that there is more wonder in knowing how something works than in letting it be a mystery.  The crashing of waves against the shore isn't any less beautiful because I understand tides and currents, or because I know how sand forms.  

Any belief system is exploitable though.  A great many indigenous races have had their way of life destroyed for being filthy heathen savages who would not hearken unto God's Word.  Whatever about the Troubles, they were honest - they didn't pretend it was about anything other than people, not acting on God's Holy Word.  I do take it more personally when people turn real science into nonsense though.  A field study showing female meadow voles to be more aggressive at certain times of the year gets turned into "BITCHES BE CRAZY, SCIENTISTS FIND."  Or a sample group of five people that proves some stereotype is SCIENCE SCIENCE SCIENCE SAID IT SO I'M NOT A BIGOT.  "Science says women are just stupider" is as misguided as "The Bible says women should be obedient."

What got me thinking about this is the ridiculous, but surprisingly pervasive "Men are X, women are Y" trope. How, wonders pretend bigotry science, can men and women ever understand each other when they are just fundamentally different?  (Never mind that this erases transgendered people - science!)  I'll certainly grant you that the average man and the average woman are different - and yes, some women do harp on, and some men do just want to watch sportsball all the time..  Here are some equally pertinent questions:

How can I ever understand my mother?  How can I ever understand my aunt's two-year-old grand-daughter?  How can I ever understand my female friends?  The waitress at the place I went to for lunch today?  My brother's girlfriend?  The girl in my class I don't really get on with?  The other three billion people on the planet with whom I share a chromosome but not a body or mind?

By employing basic empathy and treating them all as humans, SCIENCE BEING A REAL PERSON ACCOMPLISHED!

This isn't a very good post, it's poorly written and I haven't said what I meant to, but it has been a long week (of real science, in a real lab!).  I guess it is just a little disheartening that some people are determined to declare that the available information proves them right, and that whatever mysteries of the universe we uncover, there will always be people determined to ignore the evidence of their own eyes and decide the only worthwhile information is that which dehumanises some group.  Even if that information doesn't actually exist.

Isn't it enough that it's amazing, even if you're wrong?

Nature is majestic.

I had labs four out of five days this week.  They partly consisted of drawing pre-prepared slides.  Here is a three-day-old chick embryo:

I tried to select the one which looked least like an alien.  There wasn't one.  But at least this week is getting me drawing, it's been a while!

More than the sum of the parts.

I was raised as a Catholic.  It didn't work out.  The parts I agree with are common sense about being a half-decent person, and the parts I don't I really don't.  One can't easily avoid Catholicism in Ireland though.  Today, for example, is Ash Wednesday.  And one minor thing I take issue with is the instruction to

Remember that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.

I believe this is meant as an instruction in humility - don't go thinking you're so great, you will wither and die and vanish.  This is certainly true regardless of whether you're religious or not.  But what does that have to do with anything?  The fine details don't matter - meat and chemicals and a calcium-based frame are a little more complicated than 'dust', but it's still just stuff, so no big deal.

Whether I care about this or not depends really on whether "You" addresses the individual or all members of the race.  I will live for about sixty more years, then I will die and in a hundred years few people will know my name.  Less, if I don't have children.  If it's the race, though, that's just silly.  These bundles of stuff can think and feel and know.  They can fall in love and burn with hatred and get their hearts broken.  They can create purpose and meaning and gods.  They can care and they can pretend it matters and they can try and try and try.  And I don't understand how that is cheapened by the fact that we're stuff.  I really and truly don't.   I think that's quite an achievement for dust or chemicals or whatever you attribute life to.  I mightn't be much as an individual, but as a phenomenon, I'm pretty fantastic.

Darwin put it much more aptly and more achingly beautifully than I could:

There is a grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having originally been breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone on cycling according to the fixed law of gravity, endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.

Physics happens and geochemical processes happen and life happens.  Just how it goes.  Being everyday doesn't make any of them any less beautiful. 

Mobius scarf.

My best friend is a theoretical physicist (in the making) so I made her a Mobius scarf for her twenty-first birthday. I'm told it has been much appreciated by the maths society in college.

I used this pattern, though I had to look elsewhere to clarify some of the instructions, and the wool is Louisa Harding Grace, which is only gorgeous.