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Because most things about Earth change so slowly, it's difficult to imagine them being any different in the past. But Earth's rotation has been slowing due to tidal interactions with the Moon, meaning that days were considerably shorter in the past. It's easy to think that a 22-hour day wouldn't be all that different, but that turns out not to be entirely true.

For example, some modeling has indicated that certain day lengths will be in resonance with other effects caused by the planet's rotation, which can potentially offset the drag caused by the tides. Now, a new paper looks at how these resonances could affect the climate. The results suggest that it would shift rain to occurring in the morning and evening while leaving midday skies largely cloud-free. The resulting Earth would be considerably warmer.

On the Lamb

We're all pretty familiar with the fact that the daytime Sun warms up the air. And those of us who remember high school chemistry will recall that a gas that is warmed will expand. So, it shouldn't be a surprise to hear that the Earth's atmosphere expands due to warming on its day side and contracts back again as it cools (these lag the daytime peak in sunlight). These differences provide something a bit like a handle that the gravitational pulls of the Sun and Moon can grab onto, exerting additional forces on the atmosphere. This complicated network of forces churns our atmosphere, helping shape the planet's weather.

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One of the most striking things about the explosion of renewable power that's happening in the US is that much of it is going on in states governed by politicians who don't believe in the problem wind and solar are meant to address. Acceptance of the evidence for climate change tends to be lowest among Republicans, yet many of the states where renewable power has boomed—wind in Wyoming and Iowa, solar in Texas—are governed by Republicans.

That's partly because, up until about 2020, there was a strong bipartisan consensus in favor of expanding wind and solar power, with support above 75 percent among both parties. Since then, however, support among Republicans has dropped dramatically, approaching 50 percent, according to polling data released this week.

Renewables enjoyed solid Republican support until recently. (credit: Pew Research)

To a certain extent, none of this should be surprising. The current leader of the Republican Party has been saying that wind turbines cause cancer and offshore wind is killing whales. And conservative-backed groups have been spreading misinformation in order to drum up opposition to solar power facilities.

Enlarge / Ozone-producing chemicals come from a variety of sources and don't respect state borders. (credit: John Edward Linden)

On Tuesday, a slim majority of the US Supreme Court issued an emergency ruling that places a stay on rules developed by the Environmental Protection Agency, meant to limit the spread of ozone-generating pollutants across state lines. Because it was handled on an emergency basis, the decision was made without any evidence gathered during lower court proceedings. As a result, the justices don't even agree on the nature of the regulations the EPA has proposed, leading to a blistering dissent from Justice Amy Coney Barrett, who was joined by the court's three liberal justices.

Bad neighbors

The rule at issue arose from the EPA's regular process of revisiting existing limits in light of changes in public health information and pollution-control technology. In this case, the focus was on ozone-producing chemicals; in 2015, the EPA chose to lower the limit on ozone from 75 to 70 parts per billion.

Once these standards are set, states are required to submit plans that fulfill two purposes. One is to limit pollution within the state itself; the second involves pollution controls that will limit the exposure in states that are downwind of the pollution sources. The EPA is required to evaluate these plans; if they are deemed insufficient, the EPA can require the states to follow a federal plan devised by the EPA.

Enlarge / Top row: individual steps in the reaction process. Bottom row: cartoon diagram of the top, showing the position of each DNA and RNA strand. (credit: Hiraizumi, et. al.)

While CRISPR is probably the most prominent gene-editing technology, there are others, some developed before and since. And people have been developing CRISPR variants to perform more specialized functions, like altering specific bases. In all of these cases, researchers are trying to balance a number of competing factors: convenience, flexibility, specificity and precision for the editing, low error rates, and so on.

So, having additional options for editing can be a good thing, enabling new ways of balancing those different needs. On Wednesday, a pair of papers in Nature describe a DNA-based parasite that moves itself around bacterial genomes through a mechanism that hasn't been previously described. It's nowhere near ready for use in humans, but it may have some distinctive features that make it worth further development.

Going mobile

Mobile genetic elements, commonly called transposons, are quite common in many species—they make up nearly half the sequences in the human genome, for example. They are indeed mobile, showing up in new locations throughout the genome, sometimes by cutting themselves out and hopping to new locations, other times by sending a copy out to a new place in the genome. For any of this to work, they need to have an enzyme that cuts DNA and specifically recognizes the right transposon sequence to insert into the cut.

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Earlier this week, the US Senate passed what's being called the ADVANCE Act, for Accelerating Deployment of Versatile, Advanced Nuclear for Clean Energy. Among a number of other changes, the bill would attempt to streamline permitting for newer reactor technology and offer cash incentives for the first companies that build new plants that rely on one of a handful of different technologies. It enjoyed broad bipartisan support both in the House and Senate and now heads to President Biden for his signature.

Given Biden's penchant for promoting his bipartisan credentials, it's likely to be signed into law. But the biggest hurdles nuclear power faces are all economic, rather than regulatory, and the bill provides very little in the way of direct funding that could help overcome those barriers.

Incentives

For reasons that will be clear only to congressional staffers, the Senate version of the bill was attached to an amendment to the Federal Fire Prevention and Control Act. Nevertheless, it passed by a margin of 88-2, indicating widespread (and potentially veto-proof) support. Having passed the House already, there's nothing left but the president's signature.

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It's one of the world's worst-kept secrets that large language models give blatantly false answers to queries and do so with a confidence that's indistinguishable from when they get things right. There are a number of reasons for this. The AI could have been trained on misinformation; the answer could require some extrapolation from facts that the LLM isn't capable of; or some aspect of the LLM's training might have incentivized a falsehood.

But perhaps the simplest explanation is that an LLM doesn't recognize what constitutes a correct answer but is compelled to provide one. So it simply makes something up, a habit that has been termed confabulation.

Figuring out when an LLM is making something up would obviously have tremendous value, given how quickly people have started relying on them for everything from college essays to job applications. Now, researchers from the University of Oxford say they've found a relatively simple way to determine when LLMs appear to be confabulating that works with all popular models and across a broad range of subjects. And, in doing so, they develop evidence that most of the alternative facts LLMs provide are a product of confabulation.

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A key aspect of humans' evolutionary success is the fact that we don't have to learn how to do things from scratch. Our societies have developed various ways—from formal education to YouTube videos—to convey what others have learned. This makes learning how to do things far easier than learning by doing, and it gives us more space to experiment; we can learn to build new things or handle tasks more efficiently, then pass information on how to do so on to others.

Some of our closer relatives, like chimps and bonobos, learn from their fellow species-members. They don't seem to engage in this iterative process of improvement—they don't, in technical terms, have a cumulative culture where new technologies are built on past knowledge. So, when did humans develop this ability?

Based on a new analysis of stone toolmaking, two researchers are arguing that the ability is relatively recent, dating to just 600,000 years ago. That's roughly the same time our ancestors and the Neanderthals went their separate ways.

Enlarge (credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, Joseph Olmsted (STScI))

Supermassive black holes appear to be present at the center of every galaxy, going back to some of the earliest galaxies in the Universe. And we have no idea how they got there. It shouldn't be possible for them to grow from supernova remnants to supermassive sizes as quickly as they do. And we're not aware of any other mechanism that could form something big enough that extreme growth wouldn't be necessary.

The seeming impossibility of supermassive black holes in the early Universe was already a bit of a problem; the James Webb Space Telescope has only made it worse by finding ever-earlier instances of galaxies with supermassive black holes. In the latest example, researchers have used the Webb to characterize a quasar powered by a supermassive black hole as it existed approximately 750 million years after the Big Bang. And it looks shockingly normal.

Looking back in time

Quasars are the brightest objects in the Universe, powered by actively feeding supermassive black holes. The galaxy surrounding them feeds them enough material that they form bright accretion disks and powerful jets, both of which emit copious amounts of radiation. They're often partly shrouded in dust, which glows from absorbing some of the energy emitted by the black hole. These quasars emit so much radiation that they ultimately drive some of the nearby material out of the galaxy entirely.

Enlarge / This is an intact phage. A tailocin looks like one of these with its head cut off. (credit: iLexx)

Long before humans became interested in killing bacteria, viruses were on the job. Viruses that attack bacteria, termed "phages" (short for bacteriophage), were first identified by their ability to create bare patches on the surface of culture plates that were otherwise covered by a lawn of bacteria. After playing critical roles in the early development of molecular biology, a number of phages have been developed as potential therapies to be used when antibiotic resistance limits the effectiveness of traditional medicines.

But we're relative latecomers in terms of turning phages into tools. Researchers have described a number of cases where bacteria have maintained pieces of disabled viruses in their genomes and converted them into weapons that can be used to kill other bacteria that might otherwise compete for resources. I only just became aware of that weaponization, thanks to a new study showing that this process has helped maintain diverse bacterial populations for centuries.

Evolving a killer

The new work started when researchers were studying the population of bacteria associated with a plant growing wild in Germany. The population included diverse members of the genus Pseudomonas, which can include plant pathogens. Normally, when bacteria infect a new victim, a single strain expands dramatically as it successfully exploits its host. In this case, though, the Pseudomonas population contained a variety of different strains that appeared to maintain a stable competition.

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The development of gene editing tools, which enable the specific targeting and correction of mutations, hold the promise of allowing us to correct those mutations that cause genetic diseases. However, the technology has been around for a while now—two researchers were critical to its development in 2020—and there have been only a few cases where gene editing has been used to target diseases.

One of the reasons for that is the challenge of targeting specific cells in a living organism. Many genetic diseases affect only a specific cell type, such as red blood cells in sickle-cell anemia, or specific tissue. Ideally, to limit potential side effects, we'd like to ensure that enough of the editing takes place in the affected tissue to have an impact, while minimizing editing elsewhere to limit side effects. But our ability to do so has been limited. Plus, a lot of the cells affected by genetic diseases are mature and have stopped dividing. So, we either need to repeat the gene editing treatments indefinitely or find a way to target the stem cell population that produces the mature cells.

On Thursday, a US-based research team said that they've done gene editing experiments that targeted a high-profile genetic disease: cystic fibrosis. Their technique largely targets the tissue most affected by the disease (the lung), and occurs in the stem cell populations that produce mature lung cells, ensuring that the effect is stable.