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Science Fiction

Light Pollution and the End of the Construction of Imagination – Part 2 2943

Julius Melien, 15 d.
Well, as I said in the previous article, I grew up and became a scientist. Not an astronomer, but a biologist. A biologist passionate about the stars. And many may ask: why didn’t you study astronomy? There are three reasons for that. The first is that I love biology. The second is that I was never good at mathematics. And the third is that I discovered that astronomers nowadays barely look at the sky. Telescopes work automatically, providing data to be analyzed later. That romantic astronomy of the past no longer exists. It was almost poetic, because imagination was the fuel for those scientists. Therefore, in cases like mine, it is much better to remain an amateur. This reminds me of a curious anecdote in which the writer Isaac Asimov is said to have refused an invitation to visit a factory where robots performed tasks on assembly lines, because he did not want to compromise his imagination. Returning to my story, when I was 21 years old, my father surprised me by taking me to a well-known store and buying a telescope. It was a relatively simple instrument, with a 60 mm aperture, but it allowed me to see the surface of the Moon perfectly, as well as Jupiter’s four largest moons and even Saturn’s rings. I don’t even need to say how I felt, do I? I became a child again! And that telescope is still here with me today, 30 years later. But here comes the bad part, which gives these two articles their title… Light pollution has reached extremely high levels, to the point that in large cities, when you look at the sky, you see very few stars, only the brightest ones. City lights have erased the night sky. What child today will look up at the sky and be enchanted by all that immensity? Who will feel themselves on the shores of the cosmic ocean, as Carl Sagan said in the first episode of the classic series Cosmos? How will imagination be built? In the same way, the inspiration of many poets and artists will be compromised. A child today, upon hearing stories of a time when the sky was filled with shining stars, might think that either the batteries ran out and no one replaced them, or that the bulbs burned out and no one changed them. It is still a child using their imagination, but without having experienced one of the most beautiful spectacles of creation. That spectacle is still there, happening, and it will continue to happen for a very, very long time. Or rather, as long as time exists, it will continue, but with a curtain separating the stage from the audience. Today there are movements and campaigns aimed at solving this issue, but I believe it is a great challenge to overcome. Until then, one alternative is to leave large urban centers and seek regions far away, at least 50 km from these cities, where one can truly enjoy the magical view of a clear and genuinely dark sky. I always wish clear skies to everyone, and ad astra!

Light Pollution and the End of the Construction of Imagination – Part 1 3277

Julius Melien, 17 d.
One of the memories I carry most fondly is when my interest in everything related to outer space first awakened. I clearly remember that in 1980 I saw a TV report about a lunar eclipse that we would be able to observe. The images shown on the news program impacted me so deeply that I could hardly sleep that night. The sight of the lunar craters, caught in that characteristic interplay of light and shadow, became etched in my mind. The next day, I questioned a teacher who was a friend of my family almost to the point of exhausting him, asking so many questions about the subject. Next year, I also saw TV advertisements announcing the theatrical release of "The Empire Strikes Back". In a way, my imagination was launched in a manner analogous to the catapult effect that spacecraft and space probes use when they swing around planets. There wasn’t a single clear night when I didn’t spend hours looking up at the sky, at the immensity of the universe. At that time, the night sky was truly dark, since light pollution caused by city lights did not yet have as significant an effect as it does today. In 1982, Carl Sagan’s series "Cosmos" also premiered on television, and even its soundtrack struck me deeply. Then, in 1984, with the debut of several animated series, two of them being "Groizer X" and "Star Blazers", the American version of "Space Battleship Yamato", I experienced yet another “gravitational catapult” effect, further fueling my imagination. In 1986, the passage of Halley’s Comet took over newspapers, magazines, TV programs, and even my school science books. That was it! This was the definitive confirmation of my passion for the space. At that time, however, I still lived in the realm of fantasy, driven solely by what my imagination brought me. I would look at the sky on clear nights and think that traveling through space was like it was in the movies, challenging, full of adventures and dangers, yet seeming simple and even comfortable. After all, in science fiction films, many aspects of physics were disregarded, using a kind of poetic license. But I grew up. I became a scientist. My gaze acquired a new perspective, yet without ever losing the magic of imagination from the beginning of this story. What came next? In the second part of this story, I will conclude… Clear skies to all, and Ad astra!

The First Kill and the Conquest of Outer Space 4411

Julius Melien, 22 d.
When I watched "2001: A Space Odyssey" for the first time, directed by Stanley Kubrick, I must have been around 12 to 14 years old. Obviously, I understood absolutely nothing. I watched it driven purely by my affinity for science fiction, more specifically for the theme of space. However, when I watched it again almost 20 years later, already graduated as a biologist, I arrived at an understanding of the first act that I believe few people have had. At least that was my perception, since none of the people I spoke to about it saw the connection that I am about to present. There is a striking scene in the film that I call “The Cut”: the abrupt transition from the first to the second act, in which an ancestral primate of humankind, holding a bone, throws it into the air, and the camera follows the bone as it rises until the director cuts to a space station in a future time. The message I perceived was that, at the moment these hominids began to consume meat, since before that they gathered seeds, ate roots and vegetables alongside herbivorous animals, there was a significant change that, in my view, represented an evolutionary leap. When an individual noticed the skeleton of an animal, there was a long, robust bone, probably a femur. He picked up this bone and began to manipulate it until he discovered that it could be used as a weapon. Wisely, the director alternates scenes of this individual testing the new weapon with scenes of him killing an animal that lived among them, followed immediately by scenes of them feeding on the meat of that slaughtered animal. We know that, among all sources of protein, meat has the highest protein content in the diet, and it is very likely that this increase in protein intake in the diet of our ancestors enabled an increase in brain mass and, consequently, an increase in cranial volume. This can be observed by comparing skulls of other closely related primates, such as chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans, and even fossil skulls that have been found. This difference is evident, allowing us to conclude that this was what propelled us evolutionarily in relation to our relatives within the primate order. It is clear in the scenes that, in addition to using the bone as a tool to kill prey, it was also used as a weapon to attack other groups or to defend against them, since behavior related to dispute and conquest has always been part of our construction as a biological species. And what is the relationship between all of this and the famous “cut” at the end of the film’s first act? It is that, at the moment our ancestors began to feed on meat, a process of brain enlargement began, which led to an increase in intelligence, an essential condition that would later make possible the conquest of outer space, as shown in the abrupt cut from the scene of the bone being thrown into the air to a space station in orbit. Well, this was my free interpretation of that important moment in the film. For this reason, I invite everyone to take a careful look at the messages that are conveyed, whether in films, songs, or works of art in general. The author has the need to communicate something through their art.

What is the most expensive liquid on Earth? 7298

Anas Bedraoui, 2 y.
Imagine a liquid so precious that just a small droplet could be worth more than a diamond. This isn’t a scene from a science fiction story; it’s reality, and the liquid is scorpion venom. Scorpion venom is potentially the most expensive liquid on Earth, with prices soaring to millions of dollars for just one gallon. But what makes it so incredibly valuable? Scorpions, those small, often feared creatures, carry in their tails a venom used for defense and hunting. Extracting this venom is a meticulous and often hazardous task. Specialists must carefully ‘milk’ the scorpions, a process that involves stimulating the scorpions to release their venom, which is then collected drop by drop. This labor-intensive method, combined with the venom’s scarcity, drives its high cost. But the price tag is not just due to the danger and difficulty of extraction. The real treasure of scorpion venom lies in its composition and potential to revolutionize medicine. Scorpion venom is a cocktail of numerous compounds, including peptides and proteins, each with specific effects. For instance, chlorotoxin, found in the venom of the deathstalker scorpion (Leiurus quinquestriatus), shows promise in targeting cancer cells, making it a beacon of hope for new cancer treatments. Another component, called scorpine, has been studied for its antimicrobial properties and its potential to combat malaria. Researchers are intrigued by how these compounds can lead to breakthroughs in drug development. Imagine a new kind of painkiller derived from scorpion venom that could offer relief without the side effects of current medications, or innovative treatments capable of combating autoimmune diseases and even halting the spread of cancer. These are not just hopeful speculations but real possibilities being explored in labs around the world. The process of transforming venom into medicine is complex and involves identifying and isolating the active components, understanding their mechanisms of action, and then synthesizing them in forms suitable for medical use. Despite the challenges, the potential health benefits drive scientists and pharmaceutical companies to invest in this research. This intricate dance of danger, rarity, and medical promise makes scorpion venom more than just an expensive liquid; it’s a symbol of the incredible potential hidden in nature, awaiting discovery. In a world where answers to some of our biggest health challenges might be found in the most unexpected places, scorpion venom stands as a testament to the wonders of the natural world and human ingenuity’s boundless curiosity.