Silence is Golden

It passed pretty much unnoticed amongst the other projects going on around here, but I wrote a short story the other week, and it’s up on LabLit: Silence is Golden.

A pub in Daresbury

Gratifyingly, Tania Hershman asked me on Twitter whether there were any more in the tank. I explained I was trying to write a novel–and maybe writing it as a series of short stories was the way to finally complete it. My two main characters have been stuck in a pub in Daresbury for over a year now, and I need some way of getting them out and back to advancing the plot. Maybe a short story for each chapter would do it.

Anyway, back to Silence is Golden. Before you ask, no it’s not based on a true event, although it is inspired by one. And indeed, it would fit well into the plot of the second novel I’ve got planned for that series, not to be confused with the other series of books that I’ve also got planned, and in fact wrote about eight chapters of several years ago, before I realized that I should start again (my writing, despite the construction of sentences such as these, has improved immensely in that time).

So, yes. Please remember to check out LabLit, because we have so much more than my writing on there. In the next couple of days there’ll even be the next in our highly irregular series of podcasts. Now, to winkle my characters away from their pints…

Posted in Literature, wibbling | Tagged , | 24 Comments

On health and safety gorn mad

The graduate student came running into the lab.

“The centrifuge is on fire!”

We’re talking quite a while ago now. The centrifuge, an old bench-top Heraeus, was a clunky old blue thing, top speed of about 5,000 rpm according to the book (a bit faster if it was in a good mood) but, and this is why we loved it so much, refrigerated. This meant we could load our protein samples in Centricons, set it spinning and piss off down the pub, returning six hours later to take the concentrated sample and set up a fresh load of crystallization trays.
Some burk with long hair breaking sensible H&S regs
I can’t even remember the centrifuge model, although I do recall we found one particular German post-doc’s pronunciation of it hilarious. The things that take up the old memory neurons, eh?

Anyway, there we were, one sunny Friday morning, with a centrifuge on fire. Never one to run away from danger (don’t ask me why. It must be genetic) I pushed past the wide-eyed grad student and dashed into the bug room. This was across the corridor from our lab, and contained two shaking incubators, a big old Beckman that we used for spinning down bug pellets, a microwave for some reason, and about three miles of shelving, upon which sat dozens and dozens of 2.5 litre flasks containing different media formulations.

Sure enough, smoke was billowing out of the back of the Heraeus. I nipped back into the corridor, grabbed a CO2 extinguisher from the bracket on the wall, back into the bug room—turned the electricity off at the wall—discharged the extinguisher into the grille at the rear of the centrifuge. I may, remembering the fire training we’d had a couple of weeks previously, even have warned the grad student that the horn-shaped nozzle got very cold so we should take care not to touch it.

All before the smoke alarm went off, too. Score, I thought.

I rang the workshop, and told them we had a dead centrifuge—and then rang admin and told them we needed a fire extinguisher recharging.

That’s when the fun began, of course.
Extincteur-p1010032
Health and Safety sent round a droid, dressed in a lab coat, natch, and a whole binder full of paperwork. I had an half hour interview and had to fill in the paperwork—all because I had discharged a fire extinguisher. It was full of questions such as “Why was the extinguisher discharged?” and “What alternative action could have been taken?” I thought one extinguisher recharge was a small price to pay in order to stop the lab burning down. Not according to these muppets: I seriously think they would have been happier if I hadn’t.

But then, this was the same H&S department that sealed the first aid kits in the corridors with cable ties. Because, when you’ve slit a vein in some freak accident involving a microtome, six quarts of hexane and a GFP-labelled zebrafish, you want to run madly around the labs and offices in search of a pair of scissors so you can get hold of a wound dressing.

And this, my friends, is why Health and Safety in labs has gone too far. These policies not only actually cause accidents, but also degrade respect for authority, especially Health and Safety administrators (those who make these rules, by the way, usually haven’t been within 50 billion Ångstroms of an operating laboratory in their life). Which in turn means that people get pissed off and fed up, and start ignoring rules, even the sensible ones. Unthinking blanket application of rules makes people disrespect the rule-maker, with consequences that are easily foreseeable. And yet it still happens.

Where did it all go wrong?

Posted in The stupid, it burns, wank | Tagged , | 10 Comments

Online women in science

Back in January I was in North Carolina to participate in the Borafest—that is, Science Online 2011. The main reason for going was a little project cooked up with Jenny Rohn and Karen James. To wit: we wanted to film some women scientists who might be just as capable as any man at presenting sciencey-type programmes: the next female David Attenborough, if you like.

Here, then, is the fruit of that project. A film (in two parts, because YouTube won’t let me upload more than 15 minutes at a time), with some very interesting and articulate characters:

The brave women in these videos are: Holly Bik; Sara Imari Walker (@ImariSara); Betul Kacar Arslan (@BetulKArslan); Olivia Koski; Pascale Lane (@PHLane); Karen Ventii and of course, Meg Lowman (@CanopyMeg). Enjoy!

Posted in Video | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Ignobel behaviour

Without further comment.
Tweet from Marc Abrahams

Posted in Friday afternoon | Tagged , , , , , | 13 Comments

On the hairy nature of light

One of the least strange physical phenomena is that light behaves like a wave. Some of the time, at least. (The Younger Pawn asked if she could surf on light, if it was a wave. I said only if she was really really small.)

Physics teachers demonstrate the wave nature of light using the double-slit, or Young’s, experiment. This is quite easy to understand, if you’re at all familiar with the movement of waves upon water: when a wave (of water or light) hits a barrier in which there is a small aperture, you get waves spreading out from the other side of the barrier.

But if you have two apertures (or slits) in the barrier, then the two waves interfere with each other, and you get a well-known pattern. I was going to draw a diagram but as usual, somebody on the internet has already done it for me. Even in three dimensions.

interference
Olaf Wucknitz

For this to work however, you generally need a coherent light source. Traditionally this involves a pinhole and an incoherent source (which is not what necessarily you put on your kebab after a hard night’s drinking)—hence the S0 in the above diagram—and a lens to refocus the whole shebang. In high school physics lessons they tend to use a laser as the coherent source, and highly expensive engineered twin slit gizmos that the physics teacher gets really upset about if it goes missing.

A couple of weeks ago I was at a film-making workshop and somebody showed a clip that was meant to demonstrate the problems of lighting labs for camera. One of the problematic experiments had a rather large static laser, some smoke to see the beam, a screen and lots of what you might call ‘proper’ equipment. The actual experiment was incidental, but I caught a glimpse of it and was intrigued.

It was, in fact, a variation on the double-slit experiment. The experimenter shone the laser at a wall, and then moved a wire into the beam. Naively, you’d expect the wire to cast a shadow on the wall. But what actually happens is that the wire acts as the partition between two virtual slits: the laser beam is split in two, and simulates a coherent light source shining simultaneously through two slits. And you get the laddering pattern on the wall.

Cool, I thought.

Wait a minute, I thought.

I’ve got a laser. I’ve got several in fact: weedy 1 milliWatt laser pointers with the old F1000 branding. I also, because every kid knows lasers are cool and I’m just a big kid at heart and it was there, have a green 50 mW laser which is a whole heap of fun. I mainly use it for intimidating the dirty pigeons in our garden.

So I raided the hairbrush, held a hair over the end of my laser pointer, and demonstrated the wave nature of light:

wave nature
Photo by J. Rohn

The distance from the central spot to the middle of the second maximum is about 4 cm. A human hair is about 100 µm diameter. Now, constructive interference occurs when

and assuming θ is less than about 10°


(from Wikipedia)

then 2 x λ = (0.04 x 0.0001)/4 = 1 x 10-6 = 1 µm.

So the wavelength of my laser is about 500 nm. Seeing as it’s rated as 532 nm and I’m a biologist, I’d call that a result.

Postscript

A couple of years ago I wrote a poem, called Morning. It contains the line,

and sunlight rainbows through Fresnel hair:

which annoyed a certain Stephen Curry, who was upset at the thought of hair diffracting anything on the wavelength of light. I took this as a sign that the good professor has no poetry in his soul, but I now feel scientifically vindicated, in that I have been able to use hair to do this experiment and Fresnel expanded Young’s famous experiment (and came up with an experimentally better version, lasers not being available to him), supporting the wave theory of light. So there.

Posted in Science | Tagged , , | 25 Comments

I fought the law

Here’s number three in the penguin series. When a rival company’s toy wanders into Penguin territory, things don’t turn out so well.

I fought the law

Posted in Penguins | Tagged , | 5 Comments

On writing papers

One languid Sydney lunchtime I copied a particularly egregious paragraph from one of my co-authors and emailed it to my boss, with simply a ‘!’ for comment. A few minutes later his reply snuck sheepishly into my inbox, with the single comment, “I have subjected my sandwiches to eating”, thus summing up pretty much all that is wrong with the writing in research papers today.

Actually, of course, there’s a bit more than that wrong with the writing of research papers today, but I have to use the anecdote somehow.

I used to hate reading papers (little has changed). They are invariably tedious and long-winded, with the interesting bits behind a Berlin Wall of passive tense and inscrutable and interminable sentence constructions that seem to exist merely to prevent the author saying something as simple as “I did a PCR.”

Now yes, I get that there should be objectivity, and I get that we are not writing to please ourselves, but surely there is a better way? In the day job I get to read papers from many disciplines, and there is something wrong when I notice a well-written paper; when I sit up and think, gosh, this is fun. It is painfully rare that I get past the second sentence of the abstract without the overwhelming urge to push somebody’s face (preferably the author’s) through the window, or failing that go and get a cup of tea.

With the exception of sex, science is the best fun you can have. Why, then, do you write your papers couched in such pre-Victorian language? Is it because everybody else does it? That well-written, damn it, enjoyable papers exist puts the lie to that one. It’s because you’re lazy, and you’re scared. There’s no need for it. You want people to read your paper (assuming you’re being deliberately obtuse, in which case you have no business publishing at all), and you want people to think how great you are.

So learn what it takes, and put it into practise. Take a course, if necessary. Break every one of the ten rules.

What’s it going to take, huh? Wake up and smell the roses, and write me a paper I will enjoy and understand, and rave about to everyone I know. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.

Posted in Literature, Rants | Tagged | 21 Comments

On belly button fluff

As you’ll have heard on the LabLit podcast, Jenny swabbed her belly button at the Science Online conference, all in the interests of science. You can find out why from Meg Lowman’s blog on Belly Button Diversity. Now, being the gentleman I am, I’m not going to tell you what (if anything) grew there—but here’s a picture of what grew from my own swabbed button:

Belly button culture

Well, what can I say? Looks like there’s a few skin-dwelling staph, as you might expect, but a rather low number of critters eating my fluff. Unlike some of the other filthy geeks I rubbed shoulders with that weekend <shudder>.

You can read what some of those filthy geeks think of it all at Rob Dunn‘s blog; as for me, I’ve said enough.

Posted in Science-less Sunday | Tagged , , | 7 Comments