It's all about Science & Technology even cosmos(Universe); Here you will find latest research going on in scientific world & Upcoming future aspect and Technologies like Biotechnology ,Nanotechnology , AI , transhumanism ,Anti-Aging ,cancer Stem cell , Quantum physics.......list goes on I'll hope you will enjoy in the ocean of Science & Technology
IS THERE LIFE POSSIBLE ON ANY OTHER PLANET OTHER THAN THE EARTH
ARE WE ALONE IN THIS
WHOLE UNIVERSE ?
PERHAPS THERE IS SOMETHING WE STILL DON'T KNOW
I THINK EVERYBODY OF US USED TO ASK THIS QUESTIONS AND STILL WAITING FOR ANSWER CURIOUSLY & SO MIGHT BE ONE DAY WE HOPEFULLY WILL REVEALED THIS MYSTERY THAT HAS PUZZLED US FROM LONG AGO . ISN'T IT ?
BUT WE HAVE MADE APPROACH TO SOME EXTENT AND WE HAVE GOT SOME EVIDENCE THROUGH THE ADVANCEMENT MADE IN "ASTRO-BIOLOGY" THAT MAKE US TO THINK THAT THE LIFE CAN BE POSSIBLE ELSEWHERE
Below this post one of the Amazing & best of all time documentary that is also one of the NOVA series that I've seen has been embedded Hopefully you Like it .
Finding Life Beyond Earth Are we Alone? NOVA HD
By Michael D. Lemonick Photographs by Mark Thiessen
An electronic signaltravels from NASA's Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, California, to a robotic rover clinging to the underside of foot-thick ice on an Alaskan lake. The rover's spotlight begins to glow. "It worked!" exclaims John Leichty, a young JPL engineer huddled in a tent on the lake ice nearby. It may not sound like a technological tour de force, but this could be the first small step toward the exploration of a distant moon.
More than 4,000 miles to the south, geomicrobiologist Penelope Boston sloshes through murky, calf-deep water in a pitch-dark cavern
in Mexico, more than 50 feet underground. Like the other scientists
with her, Boston wears an industrial-strength respirator and carries a
canister of spare air to cope with the poisonous hydrogen sulfide and carbon monoxide
gases that frequently permeate the cave. The rushing water around her
feet is laced with sulfuric acid. Suddenly her headlamp illuminates an
elongated droplet of thick, semitransparent fluid oozing from the chalky, crumbling wall. "Isn't it cute?" she exclaims.
These two sites—a frozen Arctic lake and a toxic tropical cave—could provide clues to
one of the oldest, most compelling mysteries on Earth: Is there life
beyond our planet? Life on other worlds, whether in our own solar system
or orbiting distant stars, might well have to
survive in ice-covered oceans, like those on Jupiter's moon Europa, or
in sealed, gas-filled caves, which could be plentiful on Mars. If you
can figure out how to
isolate and identify life-forms that thrive in similarly extreme
surroundings on Earth, you're a step ahead in searching for life
elsewhere.
Scientists at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) inspect a
probe like one that might someday travel beneath the ice of Jupiter's
moon Europa.
It's difficult to pin down when the search for life among the stars morphed from science fiction to
science, but one key milestone was an astronomy meeting in November
1961. It was organized by Frank Drake, a young radio astronomer who was
intrigued with the idea of searching for alien radio transmissions.
When he called the meeting, the search for
extraterrestrial intelligence, or SETI, "was essentially taboo in
astronomy," Drake, now 84, remembers. But with his lab director's
blessing, he brought in a handful of astronomers, chemists, biologists,
and engineers, including a young planetary scientist named Carl Sagan, to discuss what is now called astrobiology, the science of life beyond Earth. In particular, Drake wanted some expert help in deciding how sensible it might be to devote significant radio telescope time to listening for alien broadcasts and what might be the most promising way to
search. How many civilizations might reasonably be out there? he
wondered. So before his guests arrived, he scribbled an equation on the
blackboard.
That scribble, now famous as the Drake equation, lays out a
process for answering his question. You start out with the formation
rate of sunlike stars in the Milky Way, then multiply that by the
fraction of such stars that have planetary systems. Take the resulting
number and multiply that by the number of life-friendly planets on
average in each such system—planets, that is, that are about the size of
Earth and orbit at the right distance from their star to be hospitable to
life. Multiply that by the fraction of those planets where life arises,
then by the fraction of those where life evolves intelligence, and then
by the fraction of those that might develop the technology to emit radio signals we could detect.
The Drake equation, formulated in
1961, estimates the number of alien civilizations we could detect.
Recent discoveries of numerous planets in the Milky Way have raised the
odds.
The final step: Multiply the number of radio-savvy civilizations by the average time they're likely to keep broadcasting or even to survive. If such advanced societies typically blow themselves up in a nuclear holocaust just a few decades after developing radio technology, for example, there would probably be very few to listen for at any given time.
The equation made perfect sense, but there
was one problem. Nobody had a clue what any of those fractions or
numbers were, except for the very first variable in the equation: the
formation rate of sunlike stars. The rest was pure guesswork. If SETI
scientists managed to
snag an extraterrestrial radio signal, of course, these uncertainties
wouldn't matter. But until that happened, experts on every item in the
Drake equation would have to try to fill it in by nailing down the numbers—by finding the occurrence rate for planets around sunlike stars or by trying to solve the mystery of how life took root on Earth.
It would be a third of a century before scientists could even begin to
put rough estimates into the equation. In 1995 Michel Mayor and Didier
Queloz of the University of Geneva detected the first planet orbiting a
sunlike star outside our solar system. That world, known as 51 Pegasi b,
about 50 light-years from
Earth, is a huge, gaseous blob about half the size of Jupiter, with an
orbit so tight that its "year" is only four days long and its surface temperature close to 2000°F.
Nobody thought for a moment that life
could ever take hold in such hellish conditions. But the discovery of
even a single planet was an enormous breakthrough. Early the next year
Geoffrey Marcy, then at San Francisco
State University and now at UC Berkeley, would lead his own team in
finding a second extrasolar planet, then a third. After that, the
floodgates opened. To date, astronomers have confirmed nearly two thousand so-called exoplanets, ranging in size from smaller than Earth to
bigger than Jupiter; thousands more—most found by the exquisitely
sensitive Kepler space telescope, which went into orbit in 2009—await
confirmation.
None of these planets is an exact match for
Earth, but scientists are confident they'll find one that is before too
long. Based on the discoveries of somewhat larger planets made to
date, astronomers recently calculated that more than a fifth of stars
like the sun harbor habitable, Earthlike planets. Statistically
speaking, the nearest one could be a mere 12 light-years away, which is
practically next door in cosmic terms.
That's good news for astrobiologists. But in recent years planet hunters have realized that there's no reason to limit their search to
stars just like our sun. "When I was in high school," says David
Charbonneau, an astronomer at Harvard, "we were taught that Earth orbits
an average star. But that's a lie." In fact, about 80 percent of the
stars in the Milky Way are small, cool, dim, reddish bodies known as M
dwarfs. If an Earthlike planet circled an M dwarf at the right
distance—it would have to be closer in than the Earth is to our sun to
avoid being too cold—it could provide a place where life could gain a
foothold just as easily as on an Earthlike planet orbiting a sunlike
star.
Moreover, scientists now believe a planet
doesn't have to be the same size as Earth to be habitable. "If you ask
me," says Dimitar Sasselov, another Harvard astronomer, "anywhere from
one to five Earth masses is ideal." In short, the variety of habitable
planets and the stars they might orbit is likely to be far greater than
what Drake and his fellow conferees conservatively assumed at that
meeting back in 1961.
A microbe retrieved in 2013 from Lake
Whillans, half a mile beneath the Antarctic ice, reveals life's ability
to take hold even in the most extreme environments.
TRISTA Vick-Majors and PAMELA SantibÁÑez, Priscu Research Group, Montana State University, Bozeman
That's not all: It turns out that the range
of temperatures and chemical environments where extremophilic organisms
might be able to thrive is also greater than anyone at Drake's meeting
could have imagined. In the 1970s oceanographers such as National
Geographic Explorer-in-Residence
Robert Ballard discovered superheated gushers, known as hydrothermal
vents, nourishing a rich ecosystem of bacteria. Feasting on hydrogen sulfide
and other chemicals dissolved in the water, these microbes in turn feed
higher organisms. Scientists have also found life-forms that flourish
in hot springs, in frigid lakes thousands of feet below the surface of
the Antarctic ice sheet, in highly acidic or highly alkaline or
extremely salty or radioactive locations, and even in minute cracks in
solid rock a mile or more underground. "On Earth these are niche
environments," says Lisa Kaltenegger, who holds joint appointments at
Harvard and the Max Planck Institute for Astronomy in Heidelberg,
Germany. "But on another planet you can easily envision that they could
be dominant scenarios."
The one factor that
biologists argue is critical for life as we know it is water in liquid
form—a powerful solvent capable of transporting dissolved nutrients to
all parts of an organism. In our own solar system we've known since the
Mariner 9 Mars orbiter mission in 1971 that water once likely flowed
freely on the red planet. So life might have existed there, at least in
microbial form—and it's plausible that remnants of that life could still
endure underground, where liquid water may linger. Jupiter's moon
Europa also shows cracks in its relatively young, ice-covered
surface—evidence that beneath the ice lies an ocean of liquid water. At a
half billion miles or so from the sun, Europa's water should be frozen
solid. But this moon is constantly flexing under the tidal push and pull
of Jupiter and several of its other moons, generating heat that could
keep the water below liquid. In theory, life could exist in that water
too.
In 2005 NASA's Cassini spacecraft spotted
jets of water erupting from Saturn's moon Enceladus; subsequent
measurements by the spacecraft reported in April of this year confirm an
underground source of water on that moon as well. Scientists still
don't know how much water might be under Enceladus's icy shell, however,
or whether it's been liquid long enough to permit life to exist. The
surface of Titan, Saturn's largest moon, has rivers, lakes, and rain.
But Titan's meteorological cycle is based on liquid hydrocarbons such as
methane and ethane, not water. Something might be alive there, but what
it would be like is very hard to guess.
Mars is far more Earthlike, and far closer,
than any of these distant moons. The search for life has driven
virtually every mission to the red planet. The NASA rover Curiosity is
currently exploring Gale crater, where a huge lake sat billions of years
ago and where it's now clear that the chemical environment would have
been hospitable to microbes, if they existed.
Penelope Boston of the New Mexico Institute of Mining and
Technology and the National Cave and Karst Research Institute captures a
drop of biofilm from the Cueva de Villa Luz ("cave of the lighted
house") in Mexico. The viscous goo—dubbed a snottite—harbors bacteria
that derive energy from hydrogen sulfide within the toxic cave.
Life-forms in such extreme ecosystems serve as earthly analogues for
organisms that might thrive in extraterrestrial environments.
A cave in Mexico isn't Mars, of course, and a
lake in northern Alaska isn't Europa. But it's the search for
extraterrestrial life that has taken JPL astrobiologist Kevin Hand and
the other members of his team, including John Leichty, to Sukok Lake, 20
miles from Barrow, Alaska. The same quest has lured Penelope Boston and
her colleagues multiple times to the poisonous Cueva de Villa Luz, a
cave near Tapijulapa in Mexico. Both sites let the researchers test new
techniques for searching for life in environments that are at least
broadly similar to what space probes might encounter. In particular,
they're looking for biosignatures—visual or chemical clues that signal
the presence of life, past or present, in places where scientists won't
have the luxury of doing sophisticated laboratory experiments.
Take the Mexican cave. Orbiting spacecraft
have shown that caves do exist on Mars, and they're just the sorts of
places where microbes might have taken refuge when the planet lost its
atmosphere and surface water some three billion years ago. Such Martian
cave dwellers would have had to survive on an energy source other than
sunlight—like the dripping ooze that has Boston so enchanted. The
scientists refer to these unlovely droplets as "snottites." One of
thousands in the cave, varying in length from a fraction of an inch to a
couple of feet, it does look uncannily like mucus. It's actually a
biofilm, a community of microbes bound together in a viscous, gooey
blob.
The snottite microbes are chemotrophs,
Boston explains. "They oxidize hydrogen sulfide—that's their only
energy source—and they produce this goo as part of their lifestyle."
Snottites are just one of the microbial
communities that exist here. Boston, of the New Mexico Institute of
Mining and Technology and the National Cave and Karst Research
Institute, says that all told there are about a dozen communities of
microbes in the cave. "Each one has a very distinct physical appearance.
Each one is tapping into different nutrient systems."
One of these communities is especially
intriguing to Boston and her colleagues. It doesn't form drips or blobs
but instead makes patterns on the cave walls, including spots, lines,
and even networks of lines that look almost like hieroglyphics.
Astrobiologists have come to call these patterns biovermiculations, or
bioverms for short, from the word "vermiculation," meaning decorated
with "irregular patterns of lines, as though made by worm tracks."
It turns out that patterns like these aren't
made only by microorganisms growing on cave walls. "It happens on a
variety of different scales, usually in places where some resource is in
short supply," says Keith Schubert, a Baylor University engineer who
specializes in imaging systems and who came to Cueva de Villa Luz to set
up cameras for long-term monitoring inside the cave. Grasses and trees
in arid regions create bioverm patterns as well, says Schubert. So do
soil crusts, which are communities of bacteria, mosses, and lichens that
cover the ground in deserts. If this hypothesis holds up—and it's still
only a hypothesis—then Boston, Schubert, and other scientists who are
documenting bioverms may have found something crucially important. Until
now, many of the markers of life astrobiologists have looked for are
gases, like oxygen, that are given off by organisms on Earth. But life
that produces an oxygen biosignature may be only one kind among many. "What excites me about bioverms," says
Boston, "is that we've seen them at all these different scales and in
all these wildly different environments, and yet the characters of the
patterns are very similar." It's highly plausible, she and Schubert
believe, that these patterns, based on simple rules of growth and
competition for resources, could be literally a universal signature of
life. In caves, moreover, even when the microbial communities die, they
leave the patterns behind. If a rover should see something like this on
the wall of a Martian cave, says Schubert, "it could direct you where to
focus your attention." At the opposite end of North America, the scientists and engineers shivering at Sukok Lake
are on a similar mission. They're working at two different locations on
the lake, one next to a cluster of three small tents the scientists have
dubbed "Nasaville," and the other, with just a single tent, about a
half mile away as the crow flies. Because methane gas bubbling from the
lake bottom churns up the water, ice has a hard time forming in some
places. To snowmobile from one camp to the other, the scientists have to
take a curving, indirect route to avoid a potentially fatal dunking. It was the methane that first drew the
scientists to Sukok and other nearby Alaska lakes back in 2009. This
common hydrocarbon gas is generated by microbes, known collectively as
methanogens, that decompose organic matter, making it another potential
biosignature astrobiologists could look for on other worlds. But methane
also comes from volcanic eruptions and other nonbiological sources, and
it forms naturally in the atmosphere of giant planets like Jupiter as
well as on Saturn's moon Titan. So it's crucial that scientists be able
to distinguish biological methane from its nonbiological cousin. If
you're focused on ice-covered Europa, as Kevin Hand is, ice-covered,
methane-rich Sukok Lake isn't a bad place to get your feet wet—as long
as you don't do it literally. Hand, a National Geographic emerging explorer,
favors Europa over Mars as a place to do astrobiology, for one key
reason. Suppose we do go to Mars, he says, and find living organisms in
the subsurface that are DNA based, like life on Earth. That could mean
that DNA is a universal molecule of life, which is certainly possible.
But it could also mean that life on Earth and life on Mars share a
common origin. We know for certain that rocks blasted off the surface of
Mars by asteroid impacts have ended up on Earth. It's also likely that
Earth rocks have traveled to Mars. If living microbes were trapped
inside such spacefaring rocks and survived the journey, which is at
least plausible, they could have seeded whichever planet they ended up
on. "If life on Mars were found to be DNA based," says Hand, "I think we
would have some confusion as to whether or not that was a separate
origin of DNA." But Europa is vastly farther away. If life were found
there, it would point to a second, independent origin—even if it were
DNA based. Europa certainly seems to have the basic
ingredients for life. Liquid water is abundant, and the ocean floor may
also have hydrothermal vents, similar to Earth's, that could provide
nutrients for any life that might exist there. Up at the surface, comets
periodically crash into Europa, depositing organic chemicals that might
also serve as the building blocks of life. Particles from Jupiter's
radiation belts split apart the hydrogen and oxygen that makes up the
ice, forming a whole suite of molecules that living organisms could use
to metabolize chemical nutrients from the vents. The big unknown is how those chemicals could
make it all the way down through the ice, which is probably 10 to 15
miles thick. The Voyager and Galileo missions made it clear, however,
that the ice is riddled with cracks. Early in 2013 Hand and Caltech
astronomer Mike Brown used the Keck II telescope to show that salts from
Europa's ocean were likely making their way to the surface, possibly
through some of those cracks. And late in 2013 another team of
observers, using the Hubble Space Telescope, reported plumes of liquid
water spraying from Europa's south pole. Europa's ice is evidently not
impenetrable. This makes the idea of sending a probe to
orbit Europa all the more compelling. Unfortunately the orbiter mission
the National Research Council evaluated in its 2011 report was deemed
scientifically sound
but, at $4.7 billion, too expensive. A JPL team led by Robert
Pappalardo went back to the drawing board and reimagined the mission.
Their Europa Clipper probe would orbit Jupiter, not Europa, which would
require less propellant and save money, but it would make something like
45 flybys of the moon in an attempt to understand its surface and
atmospheric chemistry, and indirectly the chemistry of the ocean. All told, Pappalardo says, the redesigned
mission should come in at under two billion dollars over its whole life
span. If the mission concept goes forward, he says, "we envision a
launch sometime in the early to mid 2020s." If that launch takes place
aboard an Atlas V rocket, the trip to Europa will take about six years.
"But it's also possible," he says, "that we could launch on the new
SLS, the Space Launch System, that NASA is currently developing. It's a
big rocket, and with that we could get there in 2.7 years."
The Clipper likely wouldn't be able to find life on Europa, but it could
help make the case for a follow-up lander that could dig into the
surface, studying its chemistry the way rovers have studied Mars's. The
Clipper could also scout out the best places for such a lander to set
down. The next logical step after a lander—sending a probe down to
explore Europa's ocean—could be a lot tougher, depending on how thick
the ice is. As an alternative, mission scientists might try to reach a
lake that may be entirely contained within the ice near the surface.
"When that undersea explorer eventually does come to fruition," says Hand, "in evolutionary terms, it'll be like Homo sapiens to the Australopithecus we've been testing in Alaska."
Frank Drake is still looking for extraterrestrial signals—a discovery that would trump everything else.
The relatively crude rover Hand and his crew are testing at Sukok Lake
crawls along under a foot of ice, its built-in buoyancy keeping it
firmly pressed against the frozen subsurface, sensors measuring the
temperature, salinity, pH, and other characteristics of the water. It
doesn't look for organisms directly, however; that's currently the job
of the scientists working on another aspect of Hand's project across the
lake, including John Priscu of Montana State University, who last year
extracted living bacteria from Lake Whillans, half a mile under the West
Antarctic ice sheet. Along with geobiologist Alison Murray, of the
Desert Research Institute in Reno, Nevada, and her graduate student
Paula Matheus-Carnevali, Priscu is investigating what characteristics
frigid environments need to make them friendly to life and what sorts of
organisms actually live there.
Useful as the studyof extremophiles is to
contemplating the nature of life beyond our planet, it can only provide
terrestrial clues to an extraterrestrial mystery. Soon, however, we will
have other means to fill in missing parts of the Drake equation. NASA
has approved a new planet-hunting telescope known as the Transiting
Exoplanet Survey Satellite. Scheduled to launch in 2017, TESS will look
for planets around our nearest neighboring stars, finding targets for
astrophysicists searching planetary atmospheres for biosignature gases.
The James Webb Space Telescope, scheduled for a 2018 launch, will make
those searches far easier than they are today— although recent
observations with the Hubble, including the discovery of clouds on a
super-Earth known as GJ 1214b, make it clear that nobody is sitting
around waiting for the Webb.
Some astrobiologists are even investigating a
possibility that sounds more like science fiction than science. All of
the focus on biosignatures and extremophiles assumes that life on other
worlds, like life on Earth, will be built from complex molecules that
incorporate carbon as an essential part of their structures—and use
water as a solvent. One reason is that carbon and water are abundant
throughout the Milky Way. Another is that we don't know how to look for
noncarbon life, since we don't know what biosignatures it might leave.
"If we limit our search this way, we could
fail," says Harvard's Sasselov. "We need to make an effort to understand
at least some of the alternatives and what their atmospheric signatures
might be." So Sasselov's group at Harvard is looking at alternate
biologies that could plausibly exist on distant worlds, where, for
instance, a sulfur cycle might replace the carbon cycle that dominates
terrestrial biology.
In the background of all this research is
the project that got astrobiology started more than half a century ago.
Although he's technically retired, Frank Drake is still looking for
extraterrestrial signals—a discovery that would trump everything else.
Though Drake is frustrated that the funding for SETI has mostly dried
up, he's excited about a brand-new project that would try to detect
flashes of light, rather than radio transmissions, from alien
civilizations. "It's wise to try every possible approach," he says,
"because we're not very good at psyching out what extraterrestrials
might actually be doing."
Michael Lemonick's latest book is Mirror Earth: The Search for Our Planet's Twin. Mark Thiessen shot our story on the solar system in the July 2013 issue.
Finding Life Beyond Earth Are we Alone? NOVA HD
See Next: Seriously the links below are Awesome they will blow your Mind I Guarantee you ..Don't Forget to make click on it
How scientists are creating synthetic life from scratch
By Susannah Locke
Over the past decade, the ease of sequencing and creating DNA has improved so much that the possibilities of genetic engineering have expanded tremendously.
Researchers can now go way beyond the slight tinkering they've been done in the past — like adding or deactivating a single gene. Instead, some scientists are now focusing on broadly creating and re-engineering living things wholesale to improve our environment, our energy, and our health
Welcome to the strange new world of synthetic biology, in which living things are a tool to be manipulated for practical ends. It's a world in which, someday, organisms designed from scratch could convert waste into fuel or enter people's bodies to kill cancer.
Some scientists see synthetic biology as the best bet to tackle some of the world's most pressing problems — like the ever-increasing demand for food and energy.But the prospect of possible mishaps, not to mention concerns about tinkering with life to begin with, are certainly there, too. Here's a primer on synthetic biology.
What is synthetic biology, anyway?
The term "synthetic biology" generally refers to the engineering of new biological tools for practical purposes. If that sounds a lot like the existing practice of genetic engineering — well, that makes sense, because it is.
Many scientists simply refer to synthetic biology as "genetic engineering on steroids" (to quote Jim Collins, a pioneer in the field). But there's not always a clear line at which ho-hum genetic engineering flips over into synthetic biology territory.
MANY CALL SYNTHETIC BIOLOGY "GENETIC ENGINEERING ON STEROIDS"
In general, if you're genetically engineering foods like corn and soy by adding or modifying a single gene, that's not synthetic biology. But if you're adding in a whole suite of genes or creating an entirely new genetic code that doesn't exist anywhere in nature, then you're definitely entering synthetic biology territory.
Synthetic biologists use a variety of approaches, some of which can overlap:
1) Removing inefficiencies in cells
Some researchers are trying to remove inefficiencies from cells that are a byproduct of the haphazard nature of evolution. For example, if you're engineering bacteria to produce biofuels, you want the process to be as efficient as possible. Researchers also use this kind of approach to find the limits of life — how simple or how different can something be and still be alive?
2) Combining genetic sequences in extreme ways
Some researchers want to combine many genes from various organisms to make new tools. For example, some who are interested in having algae make fuel think that combining DNA across many algae strains will be the key that has eluded them so far.
3) Designing new "living machines"
Others are trying to design living machines by reprogramming DNA into logical circuits to make them function like miniature computers. For example, researchers have gotten cells to do arithmetic and show their answers by lighting up in a certain color.
What could we do with synthetic biology?
Green fuels is one area where synthetic biology could have a major impact. AFP/Getty Images
Like any new technology, it's difficult to tell exactly where synthetic biology will have its biggest impact. But there are a few big areas of interest, which right now are in medicine, energy, food, and environmental remediation.
1) Medicine
Synthetic biology might one day let scientists program cells to precisely detect and kill cancer cells. Or perhaps program cells to self-assemble into spare organs for transplants. Some scientists are already using partially synthetic organisms to manufacture drugs that are otherwise impractical to make.
2) Food and fragrances
In theory, new techniques could allow researchers to design yeast to make the perfect beer or wine. Or create food in the lab more efficiently than growing it on land. "We can design better and healthier proteins than we get from nature," biologist and entrepreneur Craig Venter told the New York Times.
Already, synthetic biology companies are selling orange and grapefruit flavorings produced by yeast. And the company Evolva makes yeast-generated artificial vanilla flavoring and is working on better tasting sugar substitutes.
3) Energy and environment
Another possibility is that synthetic biologists could program cells to produce usable fuel. For example, Exxon Mobile has a partnership with Synthetic Genomics (co-founded by Craig Venter) to research fuel from algae. Ideally, helpful organisms would eat things we don't need, like non-edible plant matter. Even more ideally, they'd eat the extra carbon dioxide in the atmosphere that's warming the planet. Or toxic waste or oil from oil spills.
4) The weird stuff
How about some microbes that live on your skin to prevent you from getting oily and smelly? How about some other ones that secrete the perfume of your choice? How about some that quickly break down cholesterol so it won't clog people's arteries?
What have scientists done with synthetic biology so far?
Yeast growing on a petri dish. Yeast is a major player in synthetic biology these days. Rising Damp/Flickr
We're not yet at the point of designer cells that kill cancer or turn plastic waste into fuel. But scientistshave done a few exciting things already:
1) A more efficient process for making anti-malarial drugs
Artemisinin is one of the most effective drugs to treat malaria. But for a long time, it had to be derived from the sweet wormwood plant Artemisia annua — a slow and expensive process.
That changed in 2013, when pharmaceutical firm Sanofi used synthetic biology to produce artemisinin at an industrial scale. The company did this by taking the plant's genes for making artemisinic acid and putting them in yeast, allowing them to produce the drug more quickly and efficiently. The effort is widely cited as the first large-scale drug project to use synthetic biology and as a major achievement for the field.
2) Creating bacteria from scratch
In 2010, researchers at the J. Craig Venter Institute published the results of a 15-year, $40 million project to make the first synthetic cell. How did they do it? They took the genomic code from one bacterial species, made it in a lab from scratch, and then put it into an entirely different species — that lived.
The genome they made also included some deleted genes and new sequences that acted as watermarks. And, all in all, the scientists created the first life-form living on completely synthetic genetic material. They called it the first synthetic cell. (However, they didn't say that they created life itself from scratch. Had they put the DNA into an already-dead cell, nothing would have happened.)
This work didn't create bacteria that was useful for any particular purpose, but it was an important proof of principle that a cell can survive on lab-made DNA.
3) Creating yeast from scratch
In 2014, a team of researchers from many institutions including Johns Hopkins University revealed that they had synthesized an entire yeast chromosome from scratch. And the chromosome functioned when put back into a yeast cell. This was an especially impressive feat because yeast's genetic material is more complex than bacteria's.
The scientists called the DNA they made a "designer chromosome" because they deleted any sequences that they found unnecessary and added in elements that will allow future researchers to easily delete any gene they want. The goal is to rewrite the entire yeast genome in five years. So far, they've done about 3 percent of it, by length. Only 15 more chromosomes to go.
So how do you design an organism from scratch?
The main tool here is the computer. Researchers work with the code of existing organisms' genetic material as essentially a text file, tweaking it, deleting parts, adding parts, adding parts from other organisms, whatever they want.
Then they need to take that information and turn it into physical DNA. So they use a DNA synthesis machine that creates actual DNA from the necessary molecules. DNA that has been made by a machine is considered "synthetic DNA."
The researchers have to get that DNA into the organism of choice, and the techniques here can vary depending on the type of cell. Shorter chunks of DNA are easier to work with than longer chunks, which is why you see many small DNA pieces in the graphic below (from Nature News).
Designing the first fully synthetic yeast chromosome. Nature News
How do scientists program cells to act like a computer?
This is an approach that has garnered a lot of interest. It's essentially designing genes to function in logical circuits, sort of like computers. It has attracted work from many academic groups and startups. And even high school students are now participating in the yearly synthetic bio iGEM competition, which included 245 teams in 2013.
Here's the idea. Genes can be thought of like an input/output system that already does some simple logic. The inputs are molecules that interact with genes to help turn them on or off. The outputs are what the gene makes after it's turned on — usually a protein of some sort. For example, the gene for the enzyme that digests lactose naturally turns on whenever there's lactose around, but not glucose.
SCIENTISTS HAVE DESIGNED CELLS TO DO ADDITION OR SUBTRACTION
Scientists have come up with clever ways to manipulate, combine, and tweak these stretches of DNA to do some pretty interesting things.
In 2012, Swiss researchers showed that they could get mammalian cells to do math. They created genes that only turn on if two particular inputs are there at the same time — so that the genes essentially compute an "AND" function. And they made others that compute other functions. By combining basic logical functions — "AND," "OR," "NOT," and combinations of them — they got cells to do binary addition and subtraction like computers do and then show the right answer by glowing red or green. Others have done projects that also involved memory.
In another example (pictured), a team from the University of California at San Francisco created a plate ofE. coli bacteria that can sense and then trace out an edge of a picture. It's a demonstration of simple logic that could someday get built up into far more complex code. The logic they programmed is as follows: (1) If you sense light, make a certain cell signaling molecule. (2) If you're sensing the signaling molecule (meaning you're near a cell that's in the light) and are not yourself sensing light, then manufacture a dark pigment.
These E. coli have been engineered so that they can find and trace an edge by producing a dark pigment. Popular Science
Researchers have also made DNA elements that are toggle switches that can be turned on or off, ones that reduce noise in response to negative feedback, and ones that create an oscillating signal, among others.
There are now thousands of such interchangeable building blocks held in various databases, such as the public one run by the BioBricks Foundation. The idea is to use these tools to engineer living machines that can perform a variety of tasks.
What about changing the molecules of DNA itself?
Researchers are changing the molecules that make up DNA. UIG via Getty Images
Normally, the cellular factories that construct proteins from DNA instructions are doing so from a limited number of types of parts. There are only 20 standard amino acids — the building blocks that make up the estimated 19,629 human proteins.
But what if an engineer wants to use a lab-made amino acid, a new widget that's never been seen in nature?
First, they'd have to mess with DNA. The DNA that codes for proteins is read three letters at a time, and all of DNA's four letters (A, C, T, G) already have a hard translation for what amino acids they code for. And all of the combinations are already taken.
SOME SCIENTISTS WANT TO EXPAND THE DNA ALPHABET WITH MORE LETTERS
So, in order to use new amino acids, some engineers want to expand the DNA alphabet with even more letters. This is tricky because it requires retrofitting artificial DNA letters onto eons-old cellular machinery.
In May, 2014, researchers published in Nature that after screening some 300 possible new DNA letters, they found ones that E. coli bacteria would accept. They called these new letters X and Y. The bacteria were able to use their existing machinery to copy DNA containing X and Y for 24 generations (about 15 hours). But researchers have only shown that the cells could copy the DNA, not actually use it. Next up, they'll need to demonstrate that they can get cells to read these new letters to actually make proteins.
Other groups have been focusing on the chemical backbone that holds DNA together. They've created DNA with several other backbones, called XNAs, and have shown that they can get cells to accept and copy them. One possibility is to use such techniques to make DNA that's hardier and more resistant to degradation.
What are the major challenges in synthetic biology?
1) Designer cells can evolve — in unpredictable ways
As helpful as evolution has been for actual life in the real world, life's ever-changing nature is annoying if you're trying to engineer life to become a predictable tool.
Here's why: cells acquire random mutations in their DNA. And some cells will produce more offspring than others or completely die off. The result is that every new generation is slightly different than the one before. That can be an annoyance if, say, you are trying to design cells to perform a specific task in a pharmaceutical factory.
2) Cells are very messy
Another challenge is that cells are far more disorganized than a circuit board or computer program. The elements of a circuit board can be lined up in a precise order so that the output of one element can be funneled straight into the input of the next.
But a cell is an altogether messier situation. The molecules in a cell, including those that people are using as inputs and outputs, are generally lumped together in the same space and — literally — jiggling around randomly. So there's a way higher chance of something cross-reacting, and that can cause problems.
3) Mammals' cells are difficult
A third challenge is that cells from more complex creatures, like mammals, tend to be far more difficult to engineer than, say, bacteria.
Mammals' cells, for example, usually have two copies of each gene in a cell, whereas bacteria generally have one. Also, the processes that regulate what genes get used are more multilayered and complicated. And inserting and deleting genes in mammals' cells is also far more difficult. (Although in the past few years, a new gene editing system calledCRISPR has made deleting genes easier.)
How would I know if my food contains synthetic biology products?
You generally wouldn't know. There's no federal law that requires ingredients from synthetic biology to be labeled. This is the case in the US for all genetically engineered foods, including GMO corn and soy and products made from them.
Several ingredients produced by synthetic organisms (but not actually containing these organisms) are on the market in soaps, cosmetics, and foods. You can read a good review of what's going on with these ingredients and (non-)transparency about them in this New York Times story here.
Isn't there a risk that these artificial cells could escape into the wild?
That's one concern, although researchers aren't usually in the habit of simply sending these organisms to the dump without precautions.
There are generally rules in place for them to kill any lab organisms before disposal, generally in a high-temperature, high-pressure oven called an autoclave. (Even a dead lab mouse that hasn't been genetically altered gets autoclaved first, too.)
In some cases, researchers have made organisms that can only survive in the lab — by, for example, tweaking them to need a nutrient that doesn't exist in the wild. It's also possible that scientists could program a kill switch that would turn on at a certain point. (So, for instance, a cell designed to kill cancer could be programmed to self-destruct after it's done its job.)
Is this going to be one more technology that only the rich will get to use while the rest of the world suffers?
Well, only time will tell. Legally, it's possible to patent most of the things that these people are doing. But it's not necessarily the case that that's how synthetic biology will play out. Many people support an open source model, where all information is free for everyone to use.
In a recent piece in Nature, writer Bryn Nelsondescribes this debate as a clash between engineers and computer scientists, who tend to favor the open source model, and biotech people, who often argue that patents provide economic incentives for innovation.
So far, synthetic biology has been using both. For example, the people uploading genetic sequences into the BioBricks catalog must affirm that they won't claim the sequences as their own intellectual property. But most companies making commercial products, like drugs and food ingredients, are working under the patent system.
More on synthetic biology:
Profile of and a Q&A with Craig Venter, the biggest name in synthetic bio