By Rob Mitchum

Treating a brain tumor in a lab dish is easy. Scientists have developed a full arsenal of treatments to kill tumor cells, using natural toxins, chemotherapeutic drugs, and even gene therapy to send them to an early grave. But making those therapies work in the actual setting of the brain is a much different ballgame. The first major challenge is even delivering the therapy to the right place, as any drug must get past the brain’s defense systems and navigate the organ’s complex architecture. In addition, the therapy must be a picky killer, eradicating tumor cells while leaving the healthy brain cells intact.

Researchers are therefore searching for a smarter delivery system that can maximize the effectiveness of these brain tumor therapies, collaborating with experts in the world of chemistry, materials science, and engineering. Bakhtiar Yamini, an assistant professor of surgery at the University of Chicago Medicine, is collaborating on one such effort with a biotechnology company in Nebraska, targeting the most difficult malignant brain tumors Yamini sees in his neurosurgery practice. By designing a new nanoparticle “shell” capable of selectively targeting therapeutics to brain tumor cells — and capable of being watched as it travels through the brain — the research team hopes to make eradicating these cells in their native environment as simple as killing them in a dish.

“Even though new therapies are being developed that can kill cells in culture, getting them into the brain tumor is a big problem, so development of a vehicle is an important step,” Yamini said. “People have previously used both targeting and image guidance in the treatment of other cancers, but bringing these two strategies together in one vehicle is something that would be really useful.”

In Phase I of their NIH-funded project, Yamini and collaborators at LNKChemsolutions developed a nanoparticle made from materials such as polylactic acid and polycaprolactone. Despite the complicated chemical names, these materials are commonly used in biodegradable products — a feature that offers an advantage over other nanoparticles made from gold, titanium, and other metals. The nanoparticles are also customizable, able to carry a variety of therapeutics and different targeting signals, and incorporate a metal, iron oxide, that allows doctors to visualize the nanoparticles’ travels using MRI technology.

For Phase II of the project, funded late last year, the team is taking their technology to animal models. A nanoparticle designed to target a protein called the EGF receptor (often overexpressed by tumor cells) and deliver the chemotherapy drug temozolomide will be tested in mice and rats that have brain tumors. If those experiments are a success, the team will try the therapy on a larger animal model: dogs. Partnering with veterinary clinics in Chicago and Minnesota, the researchers will offer the treatment to pet owners willing to volunteer their sick dog for a cutting-edge therapy.

“That’s how we will develop the treatment, but at the same time it should be effective at helping the dogs,” Yamini said. “It’s essentially a clinical trial for dogs that have brain tumors, and because their tumors are very similar to human ones, the results in the dogs will have relevance to humans.”

Because of the blood-brain barrier, which prevents most molecules from passing from the body’s blood supply into the brain, just injecting the nanoparticles into a vein won’t work. Directly infusing particles into the brain during surgery to remove the tumor is possible, but the spread of particles by that method can be unpredictable and may miss the target. Instead, Yamini will use a method known as convection enhanced delivery to push the nanoparticles very slowly into the desired area of the brain, squeezing them through the space between brain cells. The iron oxide tags will allow surgeons to monitor the path of the nanoparticles by MRI as they are being infused through the brain.

“The image guidance is a big factor, because ‘blind’ infusion of the nanoparticles can be problematic,” Yamini said. “If you plan to treat the upper right corner and you see, on MRI, that the infusion actually went to the lower left, you can put your catheter back in and try again. This paradigm of ‘adaptive image guidance’ allows you to adjust subsequent treatments to target the areas that were missed on the original injection.”

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By Rob Mitchum

In cells, DNA doesn’t often hang out in the long, stretched-out strings you see in science textbooks. Most of the time, it is stored tight in a package called a nucleosome, wound like a ball of yarn around a protein called chromatin. In order for a gene to be “activated,” the stretch of DNA where it resides must first be unspooled from the nucleosome, so that cellular factors can attach to the strand and begin making protein from the DNA recipe. In a new study published this week in Nature, a team of University of Chicago researchers took advantage of this connection between unspooling and activation to solve a mystery that haunts many a recent genetics study.

Genome-wide association studies, commonly called GWAS, look for genetic variants associated with diseases or other genetic traits such as height or hair color. Since the completion of the Human Genome Project and the development of gene chip technology, scientists have performed hundreds of these studies. But many of them offer a befuddling result, with some of the most significant GWAS “hits” coming from variants that lie in the spaces between the protein-encoding genes, regions once dismissed as “junk DNA.” Nevertheless, some of these variants have been observed to affect the expression of nearby genes by some unknown process, leading them to be named expression quantitative trait loci, or eQTLs.

But how do these “non-coding” variants exert their dramatic effects upon gene expression — and ultimately, upon diseases and traits? The Department of Human Genetics laboratories of Jonathan Pritchard and Yoav Gilad found one potential method by selectively targeting the unspooled segments of DNA.

“Much of the regulation is occurring in these regions where the DNA is unfolded, so it’s accessible for proteins to come in,” said Pritchard, professor of human genetics at the University of Chicago Biological Sciences. “What we were interested in was figuring out the main mechanisms by which variation is affecting regulation. We postulated that changes in these open regions would be a major mechanism.”

In cell cultures of B cells (a kind of white blood cell) from 70 West African individuals, researchers used an enzyme called DNaseI to cut the DNA into short segments. Because DNaseI can only work on segments that are unspooled from chromatin, the chopping process left the team with markers of DNA regions that are open for business - in this case the team measured a total of 2.7 billion DNaseI cut sites. The researchers could then use the DNaseI cut sites to create a detailed map and test for genetic variants that predict whether a given stretch of DNA was more likely to be open or closed in an individual, with open segments likely reflecting genes actively under transcription.

“Basically what we’re doing is mapping these locations,” Pritchard said. “The power of DNaseI is that it’s giving us a slightly indirect way of measuring transcription factor occupancy, but it’s giving us information about essentially all factors at once.”

The nearly 10,000 variants found in that test were dubbed “DNaseI sensitivity QTLs,” or dsQTLs for short. The naming similarity to eQTLs was no accident, as the researchers found a significant overlap between the two classes of genetic markers. Up to half of eQTLs were estimated to also be dsQTLs, meaning that the gene variant exerted its power to increase or decrease expression of its gene by affecting the probability of the DNA segment being opened or closed. “dsQTLs are therefore a major mechanism by which genetic variation may affect gene expression levels,” the authors write.

“I think one of the things this paper does is to clarify one of the main mechanisms by which eQTLs arise,” Pritchard said. “Many people measure eQTLs, but generally it has been very difficult to figure out what are the causal variants that drive them and how they act. This is kind of filling in the black box for perhaps as many as half the eQTLs.”

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In the aftermath of a mass extinction, nature tends to get creative. Those lucky species that survive often explode with Seussian abandon into a diverse array of shapes, sizes, and behaviors, capitalizing upon the ecological opportunities left available by their less fortunate peers. Usually, the oddities produced by these “adaptive radiations” are whittled down by natural selection to only a few surviving forms. But evolutionary biologists are interested in the course these radiations take — the dynamics that result when nature hits the “randomize” button.

Scientists have tried to understand the order underlying this chaos by studying modern animals that have established broad diversity, such as the immense cichlid family of fishes (which encompasses over 1,000 documented species) or Darwin’s finches of the Galapagos islands. But these studies can only work backwards from the species that exist today. To watch an adaptive radiation unfold, a better source is the fossil record, as the University of Chicago’s Lauren Sallan and the University of Oxford’s Matt Friedman discovered in a recent journal article for Proceedings of the Royal Society B.

Sallan and Friedman used fossil databases from two prehistoric mass extinction events: the Hangenberg event, of roughly 359 million years ago, and the end-Cretaceous extinction, which ended the age of dinosaurs. By measuring how surviving fish species changed body shape and size after these ecological disturbances, the researchers could test two common theories of adaptive radiation inspired by studying surviving species. One model proposed a free-for-all “burst” of divergence followed by a long period of relative stability. Another, sometimes known as the “general vertebrate model,” introduced the idea of staged divergences, with habitat-driven changes in body type preceding diversification of head types.

“There hadn’t been any tests of these things using fossils,” said Sallan, a graduate student in the Department of Organismal Biology and Anatomy. “You have all these analyses of diversification, yet not one of them goes back to the fossil record and says what’s happening at this time period, and the next time period, and the one after that.”

When Sallan and Friedman looked carefully at their data, they didn’t find evidence for either of the pre-existing theories. Instead, they saw a staged radiation that started not tail-first, but head-first, with surviving species initially trying out a wide range of head shapes attached to similar bodies. The driver of this diversity may have been a simple factor: food. Faced with far less competition, the surviving fish evolved new types of teeth, jaws, and heads to take advantage of the expanded menu suddenly available. Later, once head shapes stabilized, different body types from broad and flat to thin and eel-like appeared as new species adapted to their surroundings.

“It seems like resources, feeding and diet are the most important factors at the initial stage,” said Sallan, who works in the laboratory of University of Chicago Professor Michael Coates.

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In books and movies, time travel is typically fraught with negative consequences. Any attempt to change the past — say, stopping the JFK assassination, or taking your mom to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance — is bound to produce ripples of change that alter the future. But what if you could safely contain a trip back in time within the boundaries of a test tube? In a new paper published in Nature, a University of Chicago geneticist used a form of “molecular time travel” to observe a crucial event in the evolutionary history of life on Earth…and extinguish a favorite argument of intelligent design advocates.

The concept of “irreducible complexity” is a favorite talking point of the forces against evolution, both today and historically. As the argument goes, the complex structures found within modern organisms — from the eye to the microscopic protein machines that conduct business in cells — are far too complicated to be the result of the random genetic mutations and selective forces at the core of Darwin’s grand theory. The argument is so old that Darwin himself addressed it in On the Origin of Species, speculating on how an accumulation of small changes could lead from a simple photoreceptor to the wondrous eye shared by many organisms today.

The best way to demonstrate how the minute changes of evolution could produce great complexity is to capture that process in action. But to happen upon such a leap live would be a biological needle in an enormous haystack. A better strategy would be to pick a historic leap in complexity from the evolutionary past, and then go back and observe how it happened. Easy, right?

To accomplish this task, Joe Thornton, a new faculty member in the Departments of Human Genetics and Ecology & Evolution, developed the method of “molecular time travel.” Instead of a Delorean, Thornton’s method uses a computational analysis of the genes from modern-day species to resurrect the genes of ancestral species that lived hundreds of millions of years ago. For the new paper, Thornton and colleagues at the University of Oregon decided to “travel” back to look at a complex molecular machine found in various species of fungus.

“Our strategy was to use ‘molecular time travel’ to reconstruct and experimentally characterize all the proteins in this molecular machine just before and after it increased in complexity,” said Thornton, professor of human genetics and evolution & ecology at the University of Chicago, professor of biology at the University of Oregon, and an Early Career Scientist of the Howard Hughes Medical Institute. “By reconstructing the machine’s components as they existed in the deep past,” Thornton said, “we were able to establish exactly how each protein’s function changed over time and identify the specific genetic mutations that caused the machine to become more elaborate.”

Their target was a molecular machine called the V-ATPase proton pump, which helps maintain the proper acidity of compartments within cells. In modern Fungi, this pump contains a six-part ring made up of three separate proteins, but that wasn’t always the case. Some 800 million years ago, that same ring was made from only two proteins, meaning some kind of event occurred around then to increase the complexity of this machine.

Thornton’s group calculated the genetic sequence of the ring proteins from that ancient ancestor using the sequences of 139 modern Fungi family members, computationally tracing their common elements back up the Tree of Life to their ancient predecessor. The researchers could then reproduce the protein before the split (called Anc.3-11) and the two proteins that came after the split (Anc.3 and Anc.11), and see how they functioned in the proton pump’s ring.

Surprisingly, the “newer” proteins were less versatile than the ancestral Anc.3-11, which could substitute for either of its descendants when transplanted into modern Fungi. The result suggests that the pump’s increase in complexity resulted not from the evolution of a new, “better-designed” function, but from an initial loss of versatility.

“It’s counter-intuitive but simple: complexity increased because protein functions were lost, not gained,” Thornton said. “Just as in society, complexity increases when individuals and institutions forget how to be generalists and come to depend on specialists with increasingly narrow capacities.”

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As another year comes to a close we’d like to look back at the fascinating research breakthroughs and inspiring patient stories from 2011. ScienceLife ran 168 posts this year, and while we wish we could highlight all of them, here are a handful of our favorites from each month.

January

Patrick Wilson found out that the H1N1 virus could end up helping us fight all types of flu. Stephen Pruett-Jones studied how some male birds mimic the sounds of predators to pick up the ladies (with an audio clip). We interviewed David Gozal about his study on the link between childhood obesity and lack of sleep, and took a look at NCAA regulations mandating sickle cell testing for athletes.

February

Harold Pollack gave a lecture on why violent crime in urban, minority communities should be considered a public health epidemic. Siri Atma Greeley studied the actual medical benefit of widespread genetic testing. Stacy Lindau wanted to know why so few women get help for sexual problems after surviving cancer. We talked to Bana Jabri about the causes of celiac disease, and Sliman Bensmaïa showed us how the brain processes the basic elements of touch very much like it handles visual information.

March

Sola Olopade educated women in Nigeria about using clean-burning stoves to prevent indoor pollution. Stefano Allesina and Jonathan Levine looked at how rock-paper-scissors helps explain evolution. Joshua Miller went to Yellowstone Park to see what stories the ghostly bones of animals can tell, and Scott Eggener questioned the wisdom of indiscriminate prostate cancer screening.

Photo by Gerald Waddell

Andrea King studied the wide range of responses to drinking alcohol, and why it can be fun for some people and a bummer for others. Cheryl Reed took a ride in a helicopter with our UCAN nurses. Kamal Sharma looked at the genes that control animals’ gait, and Ningqi Hou studied how urban environments can dictate how much exercise people get.

May

Daniel McGehee looked at the long-term effects of nicotine on the brain. Habibul Ahsan went to Bangladesh to study the health impacts of accidental exposure to arsenic in drinking water. The brain’s overlooked supporting cells got their due at a conference on neuroscience, and we remembered a landmark discovery about a once popular drug taken during pregnancy that we now know can cause cancer.

June

As we headed into summer, Diana Lauderdale used Google to track MRSA. We learned about an extraordinary transplant where a man received a new heart, liver AND kidney. Daniel Geynisman gave us the rundown on whether or not cell phones are killing us (they’re not, as long as you don’t use them in the car), and some UChicago undergrads studied what happens to gorillas on the birth control pill.

July

We spoke to Donald Jensen and Andrew Aronsohn about the new outlook for patients with hepatitis C. Igor Schneider made a time machine to find the genetic switch for limb development. Farr Curlin led a study about the benefits of addressing spiritual needs alongside medical care, and Adam Cifu looked at the phenomenon of scientific study reversals.

August

Stefano Allesina dug into the long, shady history of nepotism in academia in Italy. John Schneider talked about his work addressing sexual health and stigma in India. Michael Becker discovered a new treatment for the Royal Disease, and we had the rare chance to name check a Spiderman villain in a post.

September

Martha McClintock and Suzanne Conzen studied the connection between social isolation, stress and breast cancer. Gallego Romero traveled to India to search for the origins of lactose intolerance. Stephanie Dulawa developed a mouse model for OCD, and Paul Vezina looked at a different kind of obsession, compulsive gambling.

October

Arshiya Baig started a pilot project to help people learn about life with diabetes through pictures. Manyuan Long found that some of the youngest genes are in the brain. Jens Ludwig and Stacy Lindau published a landmark study about the connection between neighborhood poverty and health, and Issam Awad studied a rare brain disease that soon could be treated with a drug instead of surgery.

November

Cathy Pfister and Tim Wootton figured out how to use seashells to track climate change over the years. Lianne Kurina found a link between loneliness and sleep quality. Shantanu Nundy, Monica Peek and Marshall Chin developed a program to send text message reminders to people with diabetes, and Pan Chen looked at the links between childhood abuse and aggressive behavior in adults.

December

Inbal Ben-Ami Bartal, Jean Decety and Peggy Mason discovered that rats can show empathy for their fellow rats in distress. Maciej Lesniak performed a scary but amazing brain surgery on a patient who was awake. Cathryn Nagler searched for the source of food allergies within our bodies, while Stafano Guandalini uncovered the challenges in educating doctors about one of those allergies, celiac disease.

Whew. Hope you were able to click through at least a few of those. We look forward to another great year of research in 2012. We’re taking a break next week, but we’ll be back on January 5. Happy holidays!

All of the animal life on Earth, including human beings, can be traced back to a unicellular ancestor somewhat similar to the modern-day protozoa. In one sense, the hundreds of millions of years of evolution is the story of how organisms became more and more complex, growing from a single cell to trillions of highly specialized cells forming different organs and tissues in a single body. Yet while you could easily tell a protozoa from a human in a police lineup, cells from the two species are made up of many of the same proteins, performing similar jobs. What changed to produce these profound differences in complexity?

One potential area where this complexity may have bloomed is tyrosine phosphorylation, a key cellular signal for pathways that control cell growth, proliferation, and structure. Enzymes called tyrosine kinases add a phosphate group to a wide range of cellular targets, which can act like a light switch, turning their function on or off. The phosphorylated proteins are recognized by another group of proteins with a special “sensor” called the SH2 domain. Because tyrosine kinases will promiscuously phosphorylate many targets in the cell, the very picky SH2 domain proteins are responsible for sorting out the noise.

“Tyrosine kinases tend to be not that selective,” said Piers Nash, assistant professor in the Ben May Department of Cancer Research at the University of Chicago who studies this system. “They’ll phosphorylate a lot of things, and that creates all of these docking sites for SH2-domain-containing proteins. It’s really up to the SH2 domains to interpret those signals and convert them into downstream signaling pathways.”

The more complex the cell, the more unique types of SH2 domains that are needed to perform this important sorting function. In the unicellular cousins of animals, organisms can get by with just a single SH2 domain. But in humans, some 121 SH2 domains are known to exist, managing many different pathways in many different cells. In two recent papers, Nash’s laboratory studied how these SH2 domains manage their impressive selectivity and the evolutionary pathway that they took from simple protozoa to complicated human.

It’s essential that SH2 domains only bind to the right phosphorylated protein — repeatedly screwing up and activating the wrong pathway could lead to diabetes, cancer, or worse. But scientists have struggled to figure out how SH2 domains choose their appropriate target, with some even concluding that they aren’t so selective at all, merely in the right part of the cell at the right time to only bind the correct protein. However, that wasn’t what a research team led Bernard Liu from Nash’s laboratory found when they looked at how SH2 domains bind actual cell targets such as the insulin receptor.

“It turned out that the SH2 domains were exquisitely selective, much more selective than the general motifs for the SH2 domains that had previously been mapped,” Nash said. “So it was clear there was additional information encoded in the peptide that the SH2 domain makes use of.”

The researchers then deduced that the SH2 domains select their target through a kind of language, looking for the exact sequence of amino acids - or “word” - that marks the appropriate match. Because each amino acid (akin to the letters of the word) will either attract a particular SH2 domain or reject its peers, changing only one amino acid can completely change the meaning, like altering the word “light” to “fight.”

“For SH2 domains, that makes all the difference in the world. They can sense incredibly subtle differences,” Nash said. “It’s looking at the entire peptide and seeing both the permissive and the non-permissive residues, integrating that and making this collective decision about what to bind.”

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If you called someone a rat, they probably wouldn’t take it as a compliment. But in a clever new study published today in Science, a team of University of Chicago neurobiologists show that rodents could serve as role models for how humans should behave. Rats were given a difficult choice between heart and stomach: either open a container of chocolate chips and enjoy the feast, or free a companion and share the chocolate chip bounty. The results argue that humans aren’t the only species to feel empathy for the distress of another and act upon it, suggesting a deep evolutionary basis for helping your fellow creature.

When Inbal Ben-Ami Bartal was a master’s student in Israel researching immunosuppression after surgery, she noticed a strange phenomenon in her laboratory rats. When rats were brought to the room where she regularly conducted surgical procedures, they grew extremely agitated.

“It was very obvious that rats could sense what was going on with other rats,” Bartal said. “They freaked out and were affected by the emotional state of the other rats once they were removed from the cages.”

Other researchers had previously noticed this phenomenon in both humans and animals and gave it the name “emotional contagion,” describing when the distress or pain of one individual spreads to others. In 2006, Jeffrey Mogil of McGill University found evidence of this effect in mice, observing that when one mouse is given a mildly painful stimulus, a second mouse viewing the first mouse’s pain will exhibit increased sensitivity to pain. When that paper was published, it was considered by some to be the first evidence for empathy in a rodent. But Bartal, having started as a graduate student advised by Jean Decety, Irving B. Harris Professor of Psychology and Psychiatry at the University of Chicago, wanted to find more definite proof of rat compassion.

Collaborating with the laboratory of Peggy Mason, professor of neurobiology, Bartal designed a test to see whether emotional contagion could actually drive a rat to take action. Two rats who live together in the same cage were placed in a special arena, with one held in a transparent, tube-shaped restrainer and one allowed to roam free. The restrainer’s door could be opened by a nudge from the outside, though the free rat - at least initially - didn’t know that. But after several sessions where the free rat was visibly agitated by his trapped companion’s distress, he figured out how to pop open the restrainer. As you can see in this video from Science, once the free rat learned this trick, he would take action almost immediately upon being placed in the arena during subsequent sessions.

“We are not training these rats in any way,” Bartal said. “These rats are learning because they are motivated by something internal. We’re not showing them how to open the door, they don’t get any previous exposure on opening the door, and it’s hard to open the door. But they keep trying and trying, and it eventually works.”

Proving that the free rat’s actions were motivated by empathy required more experimental conditions. When the restrainer was left empty, or when researchers put a stuffed toy rat in the tube, the free rat showed no interest in opening the restrainer door. He did, however, when the arena was rigged so that opening the restrainer released the trapped rat into a separate compartment from the free rat, showing that the free rat was not motivated by the “reward” of social interaction. The experiments left behavior motivated by empathy as the simplest explanation for the rats’ behavior.

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Have you ever cheated on a test by glancing over at someone else’s work? Or relied on a fellow student to carry the load on a group project while you coast along with minimal effort? While few will admit to these forms of cheating, they have long been fixtures of the classroom. However, a lazy individual benefiting from the hard work of a colleague is not a trick exclusive to humans. In a recent study of bacterial infections in plants, the laboratory of evolutionary biologist Joy Bergelson demonstrated that these unsavory practices can also be found in pathogens - and that may be a good thing for us.

In the bacterial world, the goal is survival. What we perceive as an infection is merely colonization for the bacterial population, who are establishing a new home where they can happily feed off the host’s nutrients and reproduce. Bacteria build and release virulence factors to achieve this settlement and evade immune system defenses. But because these factors spread out, benefiting an individual bacterium’s neighbors as well as itself, a sneaky bacterium can get by without producing its own virulence factors. In laboratory dish experiments, scientists observed that bacteria engineered without the ability to release factors can still thrive so long as they are paired with normal, pathogenic partners.

Though scientists described this “cooperator-cheater model” in the artificial environment of the dish, nobody had yet observed it in a natural setting. For a study published in September by the journal Ecology Letters, a team led by postdoctoral fellow Luke Barrett discovered the model in action within the cells of the popular genetic model plant Arabidopsis thaliana.

“We’re showing that cheating actually happens in nature, and that the cheaters persist,” Bergelson said. “You can make cheaters that do well in the lab, and you can show that these systems may be stable in theory, but to show that it is actually happening in nature is novel.”

Recently, researchers discovered that Arabidopsis carried two strains of the bacteria Pseudomonas syringae, a common plant pathogen. While one strain had all the normal pathogenic activity, another was a kind of bacterial pacifist, with a broken system for secreting virulence factors. Surprisingly, these two strains appear with almost equal frequency in Arabidopsis, suggesting that the non-pathogenic strains are far more successful in nature than previously thought.

To test the nature of this relationship, researchers took the two natural strains and experimentally infected plants with only one or the other. When grown alone, the “cheater” strain was not nearly as successful without its more aggressive partner around to unwittingly “donate” virulence factors. Additional modeling suggested that the more aggressive the virulent strain, the more likely it was that cheaters would be found nearby eager to exploit the hard work of their pathogenic peers. The cheater strains are also harder for the host immune system to spot, since the machinery that produces and releases virulence factors is a frequent target of those defenses.

“When you go into the field, it’s kind of a curiosity: why would non-pathogenic cheaters be almost as common as pathogens inside the host?” Bergelson said. “It turns out that the cheaters can do really well as long as they’re with the pathogenic variety, and they don’t pay the price of having to actually make a secretion system or effectors. They also don’t run any risk of being recognized because it is the presence of secreted effectors that causes the recognition events in the first place. So, these non-pathogens have some good things going for them.”

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By Matt Wood

Sometimes scientific discoveries happen by accident. Henri Becquerel discovered radioactivity when a uranium rock he left wrapped up in a drawer with some X-ray equipment imprinted itself on a photographic plate. Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin when he noticed that mold growing in a staphylococcus culture was killing all the bacteria around it. In 2007, Catherine Pfister and her colleague Timothy Wootton made their own accidental discovery. They were studying how species interact in the coastal waters around Tatoosh Island off the northwestern tip of Washington state when they found something alarming about the chemistry of the seawater—a discovery that points to the adverse effects of increasing amounts of fossil fuel carbon in the atmosphere.

As a routine part of their work, Pfister and Wootton were measuring pH levels in the waters around Tatoosh Island. Such readings are usually the boring part of field research, providing context for the rest of the experiments. “If you were studying tree growth you’d always have to be measuring the weather,” said Pfister, an associate professor of ecology and evolution at the University of Chicago, “And this is the weather for us, what the ocean is like.”

Instead of the slight declines predicted by models, however, Pfister and Wootton, a professor of ecology and evolution, found that pH levels in the water were dropping at an order of magnitude faster than expected.

The pH levels in seawater are part of the basic chemistry of the ocean. Plants and animals develop and interact in a certain pH and evolve as it changes naturally over time. What concerned Pfister and Wootton was how the rapid drop in pH they recorded would affect the ecosystem. “We all know that there’s a strong pH dependence of biological reactions, and we don’t know how those reactions will change if pH changes rapidly,” Pfister said.

Rapid decline in seawater pH is a symptom of what’s called “ocean acidification,” or decreasing alkalinity as ocean water absorbs increasing amounts of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere generated by burning fossil fuels. Scientists estimate that the ocean absorbs at least a third of that carbon dioxide.

In 2008, they published their findings about the declining pH levels in PNAS. What they didn’t know at the time was whether those readings were part of a sustained trend or just an unexpected natural variation. “We have a lot of concern about that,” Pfister said. “We haven’t been measuring [pH levels] for that long in the ocean. There’s a very short instrumental record in the ocean, and the instrumental record only goes back to the 1990s.” Most of the pH data on record was also from tropical waters and the open ocean, in areas with less species diversity than the rich coastal waters around Tatoosh Island.

To find out if their measurements represented a new trend, they turned to a tried and true method of measuring historical ocean environments: sea shells, specifically the shells of the California mussel (cross section pictured above). Mussel shells are made of calcium carbonate and grow annual layers or bands just like trees. Scientists often use hard structures like this to infer things about the environment in which an organism lived, so the chemical composition and growth patterns of these mussel shells can be used to study the chemical composition of the ocean.

The results of this study are published in a new paper in PLoS ONE. Pfister, Wootton, graduate student Sophie McCoy and colleagues from the University of Chicago Department of Geophysical Sciences analyzed carbon and oxygen isotopes in shells that had been growing near their instruments for the past decade, as well as shells collected by researchers 30 to 40 years ago and ones provided by the local Makah tribe from over 1,000 years ago. Carbon isotope levels drop in conjunction with pH. When they compared the shells from the three different time periods, they found that the ones from the last decade showed a precipitous drop in carbon isotope values similar to the pH decline recorded by their instruments in the earlier research. The findings both confirmed the earlier measurements and demonstrated that shells might be used to measure historical pH levels in water when no instrumental record exists.

Unfortunately, Pfister says that they’re left with another mystery. read more

What made the human brain? According to Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke, it was a giant obsidian monolith inspiring primates to use tools and weapons. Scientists have taken a more nuanced approach, looking for the biology behind the complex structures and enhanced function of the human brain. But merely comparing the genes expressed in adult human brains to those of other animals yielded few promising differences, leading scientists to focus on changes in the regulation of old genes rather than the arrival of new genes. After all, the construction of a structure as important as the brain cannot rely on unpredictable, novel genes with new functions, right?

However, those young genes are recently taking on a higher profile. In a 2010 paper, the University of Chicago laboratory of Manyuan Long demonstrated that new genes exclusive to a given species can be just as critical to an organism’s survival as the old, conserved genes it shares with other species. The implication at the time was that what makes us uniquely human could lie in those “young” genes that only appeared in our genome relatively recently.

“Animal models have proven to be very useful and important for dissecting human disease,” said Sidi Chen in 2010 about that study. “But if our intuition is correct, some important health information for humans will reside in the unique parts of the human genome.”

A new study from Long’s lab appearing yesterday in PLoS Biology identifies one important place where those new genes may play role: the human brain. By merging a database of gene age with gene transcription data from humans and mice, researchers looked for where young genes specific to each species were expressed.They found that a higher percentage of primate-specific young genes were expressed in the brain compared to mouse-specific young genes. Human-specific young genes also were more likely to be expressed in uniquely human brain structures, such as the neocortex and prefrontal cortex.

“Newer genes are found in newer parts of the human brain,” said Yong Zhang, PhD, postdoctoral researcher and first author on the study. “We know the brain is the most remarkable difference between humans and other mammals and primates. These new genes are a candidate for future studies, as they are more likely to underlie this difference.”

Another intriguing finding in the gene age data was inspired by Zhang’s visit to the obstetrician with his pregnant wife. While viewing an ultrasound of his unborn child, Zhang said he realized that much of human development takes place during fetal stages - suggesting those early months should be a critical time for gene expression. As predicted, young human-specific genes in the brain were more likely to be turned on during fetal or infant development.The early activity of these genes suggests scientists should be looking at earlier developmental stages for genetic activity that ultimately shapes the complexity of the human brain.

“What’s really surprising is that the evolutionary newest genes on the block act early,” said co-author Patrick Landback, a graduate student in Long’s laboratory. “The primate-specific genes act before birth, even when a human embryo doesn’t look very different from a mouse embryo. But the actual differences are laid out early.”

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By Meghan Sullivan

What is it about viruses that so easily captures our attention? With the teeth mostly taken out of bacterial infections by the advent of penicillin and parasites a rare and mostly exotic concern, viruses remain one nemesis that we often struggle to treat. Unlike complex bacteria and parasites, viruses are little more than genetic material wrapped up in a vessel designed to take its blue prints to the next host. Once in a host, viruses inject their genetic material into cells and take over the cellular machinery to carry out their lifecycles. Imagine terrorists sneaking into a Ford factory and using the assembly lines to crank out WMDs. Infected cells eventually die, but not before triggering immune responses (coughing, sneezing, etc) that aide their spread to the next host.

Taken starkly, viruses execute an elegant life cycle. If the aim of life is to pass on one’s genetic material, viruses have succeeded by reducing themselves to only genetic material, relying on other organisms for the messy business of replicating and spreading. The only way to make the process more streamlined would be to cut out the effort of budding, replicating, and finding its next host.

Which, it seems, viruses have also done.

Called human endogenous retroviruses (HERVs), some viruses have slipped their genetic material into our genome, inserting themselves between host genes or in the long stretches of inaptly named “junk” DNA. Over the course of evolution, these genetic stowaways were passed down to the host’s offspring right alongside genes for blue eyes and attached earlobes. Millions of years later, we find remnants of the viruses encountered by our ancestors written in our DNA like graffiti in a bathroom stall. HERVs comprise as much as 8% of the human genome and some may have integrated into our genomes as long ago as 60-70 million years ago.

Considering the vast changes our genome has undergone in the past 70 million years (by comparison, the human-chimpanzee split occurred only 6 million years ago) it makes sense that the HERVs fossilized in our genome have also been changing. HERVs, like the rest of our genome, acquire DNA mutations at a low but consistent rate. Scientists are able to estimate when a HERV integrated - and by extension, when it was last infectious - by comparing mutations in long terminal repeat (LTR) sequences, stretches of DNA that flank the viral genes like book ends. At the time of integration, these regions are identical, but the longer the HERV has been in the genome, the more mutations the LTRs acquire. By comparing the differences in LTRs flanking HERVs, scientists can estimate how long a HERV has been in the genome.

Previously, the youngest HERVs were estimated to be 800,000 years old. For a recent paper in the journal PLoS ONE that explored how recently HERVs were actually circulating as viruses, Aashish Jha, a University of Chicago graduate student in the Department of Human Genetics and former member of Douglas Nixon’s lab at UCSF, looked for recent integrations into the human genome. Using a genome browser at UCSC, Jha and colleagues tracked all the human-specific, full-length HERVs at a particular place in the human genome. Interestingly, one HERV called k106 didn’t fit the normal timeline.

“It looked interesting because it did not have any mutations in its LTRs,” Jha said.

This was an unusual find, as the age of most HERVs insures at least a few mutations that would aid in dating it. Using genetic information from 51 ethnically diverse individuals, Jha and colleagues were able to estimate that the k106 HERV integrated between 92 and 100 thousand years ago, making it one of the youngest HERVs ever identified.

“This time period is exactly the time modern humans were emerging,” Jha pointed out, “So someone was infected and, given that it was a small population size, it rapidly became fixed in the genome. Then humans moved out of Africa…so even though the virus is new we find it fixed in every human population.”

Having identified this recently integrated, human-specific HERV, it’s possible to gain insight on the ways HERVs have affected the course of our development. LTRs flanking HERVs contain signals that control when and where genes are turned on and off. Placing these viral signals in front of host genes could impact how and when they are expressed and, in some cases, lend an advantage to the individuals possessing it.

“There are multiple ways they [affect evolution],” Jha said.

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The evidence for recent, accelerating global climate change is very strong, as it is for the role we humans have played in influencing our Earth’s weather. But for the most part, there have been few direct tests of how climate change could affect the organisms that inhabit our planet. Much of the evidence on this point is either anecdotal, correlational, or based upon predictive models, such as reports that 1 billion people will be forced to relocate due to climate changes or predictions of increased extinction risk due to changes in temperature, ocean chemistry, sea level, and other factors. None of these studies get at a crucial question that will determine the true impact of these environmental shifts: in a footrace between climate change and evolution, what will win?

Two studies published today in Science suggest an answer for one particular species, the small flowering plant Arabidopsis thaliana. Just as the fruit fly Drosophila melanogaster has become an important tool for scientists studying animal genetics, Arabidopsis is the model organism of choice for studying plant genes. Researchers around the world - including the laboratory of Joy Bergelson, professor and chair of evolution & ecology at the University of Chicago - have characterized the genome of Arabidopsis and looked at the variation within the species.

“Arabidopsis is pretty much ubiquitous; it’s been collected in most parts of the world. You find it throughout Eurasia, Russia, up through Scandinavia and down through the Iberian peninsula,” Bergelson said. “So, as a community, we now we have thousands and thousands of lines from all over, many of which are housed in this lab.”

Those resources allowed Bergelson’s laboratory and another group from Brown University to study the relationship between climate change and evolution in this plant species via two separate experiments. In the first, a team led by University of Chicago postdoctoral researcher Angela Hancock applied the popular methodology of genome-wide association studies (GWAS) to the plant, with a twist. Instead of looking for gene variants associated with a particular characteristic of the plant itself, the team looked for variants associated with different climate variables, such as temperature, precipitation, and humidity. (If it sounds familiar, ScienceLife wrote about a similar study Hancock performed with human genetics in 2010.)

Their analysis produced a list of climate-associated genes that reflect familiar biological processes, controlling aspects of photosynthesis, growth, energy metabolism, and other activities important to plant health. To test whether these genes were truly related to a plant’s fitness in a given climate, the researchers tested their ability to predict how well a plant would grow when grown in one particular climate, that of Lille France, based on the number of favorable variants that they carried. Happily, the gene variants were truly predictive, suggesting that the variants produced by their GWAS indeed played a role in a plant’s ability to grow and reproduce in a given climate.

“You can actually predict pretty decently changes in the relative fitness of plants just based on the results from our worldwide scan,” Bergelson said. “It didn’t have to work - it was a longshot really - but we were happy to see that it did work.”

But for the future of climate change, the more critical question was how these variants initially appeared in the Arabidopsis genome. For many of the climate-associated variants, the University of Chicago team found evidence of “selective sweeps,” an evolutionary process where a new, favorable mutation appears and spreads rapidly through a species. In the case of Arabidopsis, this finding suggests that the plant adapted to shifts in climate thanks to the random appearance and subsequent spread of these helpful mutations, rather than drawing from pre-existing genetic variation. But in times of rapid climate change, there may not be sufficient time to wait for those genetic changes to occur.

“The key there is that the variant is novel, and so the extent to which a plant or an organism depends on sweeps to adapt to climate means that there is an intrinsic delay,” Bergelson said. “As the climate continues to change, they may not have the standing variation that they would need to adapt. That’s going to slow things down.”

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The ability to drink animal milk into adulthood is something that most of us take for granted.  But lactose tolerance is a genetic marvel, an exclusive human trait facilitated by a genetic mutation that only appeared in the last 10,000 years. In fact, the persistent production of the enzyme lactase (which digests lactose) has been so useful to humans, it has evolved several times in different populations around the world. The mutation that allows for lactose tolerance in people of European origin is different from the mutation observed in African or Saudi Arabian populations - an example of what is called “convergent evolution.”

One corner of the world where lactose tolerance has not been well studied is India. Cattle have a long history in India, both as an agricultural animal and a figure of worship. In fact, India has grown to become the world’s largest producer of milk, using both cattle and water buffalo as dairy animals. Cheese, yogurt, and cream-based curries are a staple of the Indian diet, and many Indian citizens consider themselves lactose tolerant. But other than a few small studies, nobody had looked at whether Indians have their own unique mutation - or whether they were even as tolerant of dairy as commonly thought.

“India is fantastic because it’s really, really diverse culturally and geographically,” said Irene Gallego Romero, a post-doctoral researcher in the University of Chicago Department of Human Genetics. “They have a history of milk consumption, but nobody had looked at whether they were actually lactose tolerant or not.”

Gallego Romero’s research, conducted while a graduate student at the University of Cambridge and recently published in Molecular Biology and Evolution, allowed her to do more fieldwork than a genetics project typically allows. To collect samples, Romero went on two separate trips to India in 2008, spending two months each time traveling the country and asking for saliva samples from remote populations to assemble a truly countrywide data set. Along the way, there were some unforeseen technical obstacles to collecting samples from inhabitants of rural Indian villages: “It’s really hard to get 2 milliliters of saliva from toothless men,” Gallego Romero said.

The final tally included almost 2,300 individuals from 105 different tribes and castes, five different language families, 22 of 28 states, and even one group from Nepal. Romero and a team of researchers from the United Kingdom, Estonia, India, and the United States then zeroed in on the chromosomal region where most of the previously-detected lactose tolerance mutations are located. To the authors’ surprise, what they found there was not a new India-specific mutation, but a familiar genetic pattern - a single switch from C to T, characteristic of the common European mutation.

“We thought they would have a different mutation, because they’ve had cattle for a long time and they’ve been drinking milk,” Gallego Romero said. “But it was all European, except for a couple mutations that we haven’t proven yet do anything. We were very shocked by that, it was interesting.”

The finding suggests that the most common lactose tolerance mutation made a two-way migration out of the Middle East less than 10,000 years ago. While the mutation spread across Europe, another explorer must have brought the mutation eastward to India - likely traveling along the coast of the Persian Gulf where other pockets of the same mutation have been found, Gallego Romero said. Once the ability to take nourishment from milk in adulthood met the pastoralist cattle-herding cultures of northwest India, it made for the perfect evolutionary mix.

“All you need is a few people,” Gallego Romero said. “It’s not disadvantageous if you’re not drinking milk, it’s just sitting there, so it’s going to drift like anything else that’s neutral and then it’s going to hit some advantageous population and spread,” Gallego Romero said. “So then you have to ask the important question: Who decided to start drinking milk from a cow the first time?”

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Medical school isn’t cheap. Today, medical students graduate with an average debt over $155,000, and the need to pay off those mortgage-sized loans drives many a young doctor away from more modestly compensated but sorely needed fields such as primary care and family medicine. To alleviate this financial pressure, many organizations have started scholarships to help with the med school tuition bill, rewarding scholastic achievements and commitments to work in underserved populations. The American Medical Association’s Physicians of Tomorrow program is one such effort, and this week’s announcement of the 2011 recipients [pdf] carried a heavy Pritzker School of Medicine presence.

Two of the 18 (11 percent, but who’s counting) fourth-year medical students receiving the $10,000 scholarship were from the University of Chicago’s medical school. Laura Blinkhorn (left) and Maggie Moore (right) are the two very impressive Pritzker students among the recipients, each with very impressive biographies already built in their young careers. Blinkhorn has done work with South Side neighborhoods as part of the Pritzker Summer Service Partnership, works with the Washington Park Free Children’s Clinic, and is planning to spend 3 months of the next year doing a clinical rotation in the African country of Gabon. Moore volunteered at the Maria Shelter Clinic for Women and Children and the South Side “Girls on the Run” program, and somehow finds time to write poetry about her medical experiences. Because of poems such as “Cadaver Memorial” and a collection called “A Third Year’s Life in Lyrics,” Moore was given the Johnson F. Hammond, MD Scholarships supporting medical journalism by the AMA. Congrats!

New Furniture for Molecular Engineering

When you are building a new house, you’re gonna need some furniture. The same thing goes for building a new research institute - before you can fill it with people, you need somewhere for them to sit. The University of Chicago’s Institute for Molecular Engineering, which was born in December and acquired a leader in March, has this week announced four named professorships made possible by anonymous donations. The funded positions give the institute the power to recruit prominent researchers to help realize the institute’s unique vision blending biology, chemistry, and physics.

“The big job in front of us is to bring together people with expertise in broadly applicable areas of enabling technology, such as synthesis of new materials, biological engineering, new ways of doing computing and quantum information science,” said Matthew Tirrell, the founding Pritzker Director of the Institute for Molecular Engineering and senior scientist at Argonne.

Elsewhere…

The San Diego Union-Tribune Keith Darcé wrote an excellent overview of the Earth Microbiome Project, the global study of the world’s bacterial populations that has previously been featured on the blog. Our own Jack Gilbert is featured (he mentions their current project swabbing bacteria from the animals of the San Diego Zoo), and an interesting hunt for bacteria able to survive in high-salt conditions is also explained.

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By John Easton

Let’s start with a statistic: almost 2,000 citations a year. One paper by Paul Meier, the Ralph and Mary Otis Isham Distinguished Service Professor emeritus of statistics, pharmacological and physiological sciences, medicine, and the college, has been cited more often, by a wide margin, than any other paper in the field. At last count it was the fifth most cited research paper of all time, in any field. With about 34,000 citations to date, Kaplan, E. L., and Meier, P. (1958), “Nonparametric Estimation from Incomplete Observations,” has been cited by another scientific publication about once, on average, for every day of Meier’s long life—he was born in 1924—and still counting.

Sadly, however, that ratio can only increase. Citation counting will continue, but the numbering of days stopped on Sunday, August 7th, when Professor Meier, a world-class statistician who made “extraordinary contributions to statistics and to society,” according to Columbia University - and everyone else - passed away peacefully at his Manhattan home.

The Kaplan-Meier estimator is used ubiquitously in medical studies to estimate and depict the fraction of patients living for a certain amount of time after treatment. This is not as simple as it sounds. Survival curves are complicated by the uncooperative way in which research subjects often behave. Some leave a study part of the way through. Others elect not to die before the study ends. These are known as “censored observations.” The Kaplan-Meier estimate is a simple way to compute the survival curve despite such troublesome behavior.

There was almost a Kaplan estimator and a Meier estimator. Each had submitted a separate manuscript to the Journal of the American Statistical Association, but the editor recommended that their papers be combined into one. It took them four years. “At one place he solved a problem that I couldn’t solve,” Meier later recalled in an interview [pdf]. “Other places I solved problems he couldn’t.” Finally published in 1958, it was only cited 25 times over the next ten years. Then, boosted by statisticians’ increased computing power, it caught on. It has since been applied to data from clinical trials of therapies for every disease from cancer to cardiology to concussion.

Friends and colleagues point out that this was only one of Meier’s fundamental contributions. He published many more studies, was a persistent and outspoken advocate for randomization in clinical studies, helped design some of the 20th Century’s most important clinical trials and trained many of the leaders in the field.

“Paul was a friend and colleague as well as one of the most influential statisticians of an important era,” recalled Stephen Stigler, the current chair of statistics at the University of Chicago. “He left an indelible mark on us, and through his research on the world’s clinic analytical practice. He will be missed and cannot be replaced.”

“I have been so fortunate and privileged to know this truly great, wonderful, helpful, kind man who was always so generous with his skills and wise advice,” said toxoplasmosis expert Rima McLeod, professor of ophthalmology and visual sciences at the University. “He is one of the founding fathers and giants of statistics in the past century. He was at the same time simply a modest, helpful, supportive and warm colleague who only let you know how special he was by the quality and content of what he said and wrote.”

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