Last night saw what was reported to be the largest gathering yet of the Boston Skeptics in the Pub. The second floor of Tommy Doyle’s in Harvard Square was packed to the beams. The crowd came to find out more about CERN’s doomsday device supercollider (LHC), a project that has been the focus of headlines that question the safety of a machine designed to recreate conditions at the moment of the Big Bang. This uncertainty has gone Hollywood in the form of the recent Ron Howard/Tom Hanks offering in which a completely unreasonable amount of anti-matter produced by the collider is stolen and used as fuel for a bomb to explode the Vatican.

It seems that CERN is quite concerned with the fallout, as it were, from Dan Brown’s book. Even on this night, the majority of the debunking presented in Dr. Shulamit Moed’s fantastic talk was about this very question. Up until that point in the lecture (at about the one hour mark), Dr. Moed discussed particle physics in a way that had me fooling myself into thinking this isn’t so bad… Perhaps I can have a decent handle on the subtleties of Top quarks and lucky charm quarks and gluons and muons and so forth. My confidence was eventually dashed by the appearance of a terrifying slide riddled with formulae. These kinds of greek-letter-infested ciphers ensure the integrity of the physicist mystique.

To hell with the dangers of anti-matter. I wanted to hear about the vicious murmurings of black hole creation! There is a supposed danger, in the popular imagination, that proton collisions at the LHC will yield microscopic black holes that will grow astonishingly fast and suck us all into oblivion. In fact, this possibility was placed front and center on the Skeptics event horizon announcement and I was disappointed that Dr. Moed did not address it in her talk. So, here is what the folks at CERN have to say on the matter:

Speculations about microscopic black holes at the LHC refer to particles produced in the collisions of pairs of protons, each of which has an energy comparable to that of a mosquito in flight. Astronomical black holes are much heavier than anything that could be produced at the LHC.

According to the well-established properties of gravity, described by Einstein’s relativity, it is impossible for microscopic black holes to be produced at the LHC. There are, however, some speculative theories that predict the production of such particles at the LHC. All these theories predict that these particles would disintegrate immediately. Black holes, therefore, would have no time to start accreting matter and to cause macroscopic effects.

Oh! Einstein says it’s okay. Nevermind then.

It is clear that too much has been made of the various dangers of the LHC for purposes that range from sheer paranoia to attention mongering. The physics, what we know about the behavior and order of the natural world, is consistent with the LHC being as safe as any collider that currently exists. Even still, there is a small, mischievous part of me that muses darkly about the timing of when the LHC will reach full operation after all the set-backs. 2012 is just around the bend.

We’ve all done it, haven’t we. There was an meeting exam looming and, for one reason or another, studying just didn’t happen in a timely manner. So cramming ensued and the exam was taken in a caffeine haze. But what happens to the memory of that biological pathway stuffed into your brain in a panic-frenzy at 4:45am? Odds are it doesn’t stick around much longer than the exam period…if that long. But why how?

Susumu Tonegawa and colleagues at MIT’s Picower Institute for Learning and Memory have demonstrated some molecular reasoning for how sleep is critical for the formation of long-term memories. In a study that is to be published tomorrow in Neuron, the authors show that, during sleep, mice “consolidated” short-term memories into long-term ones by “replaying” decisions made during the negotiation of a maze. They found that this process was entirely reliant upon a particular hippocampus circuit (the trisynaptic pathway) and without this functionality, the memories of the day were not consolidated during sleep. As a result, long-term recall of those same memories was impaired.

So if an all-nighter is unavoidable because of perhaps ill-considered extracurricular activities, get some sleep as soon as you can and maybe some of that information will still be around for the quarterly presentation final.

To take a look at the work itself, you can go here (subscription, institutional or otherwise, required).

Following the lead of the fine folks at the Nature Network hub located in that lesser phenomenal city to the south, NN Boston has now established a Twitter presence.

We plan on using the exceptional super-powers afforded to those who Tweet and Re-tweet to bring you news and events happening in Beantown’s science scene. There is also a dodgy plan to live blog certain events via Twitter, as circumstances warrant, to bring You, dear NN reader, as close to the experience as possible without leaving the lab.

In addition, if you have an event or a news item that you would like to get out to the folks that follow NN Boston, send a link or item to me at rpinsonn@gmail.com.

So come on over, check us out. Follow us too, if the mood strikes. You never know where we might end up next. Okay maybe you will sometimes.

Earthrise was the inspiration behind the Perspective Is Everything tagline of the Apollo 11 40th Anniversary symposium at MIT. This is no banal linkage. Seeing Earth from space changed it all. At the time, that spectacular image brought into sharp relief our planet’s seeming fragility and, it is argued, inspired the environmental movement of the 1970s that expanded and continues to this day. The goal of the symposium was not only to celebrate the achievements of the past, but also to analyze the current state and what space will mean going forward. In a “what have you done for me, lately” world, the average citizen could be forgiven for thinking that space exploration just ain’t what it used to be. The people at this gathering were hell-bent on banishing that perception.

If there was a watchword for the symposium it was energy. Combined with environmental concerns, energy was the prime preoccupation of nearly every participant. Any why not? Energy sustains life. The search for it and the procurement and protection of it are at the center of our economic, environmental and political circumstances. That pretty much runs the gamut doesn’t it? The space race provided the raw materials, both in terms of material invention and human ingenuity, that revolutionized innumerable aspects of our daily lives. And now many, including those at this symposium, believe that space may once again hold answers for some of our most vexing challenges. One is a plan to employ a combination of manned and robotic space missions to gaze back at Earth to better understand our environment and weather. Another is human exploration of Mars and beyond in hopes of discerning the particulars of planetary composition and evolution. This would not only provide potential new sources of raw materials but also allow us to perhaps peer into the past of what Earth was or to the future of what we may become.

Yet NASA has a PR problem. Even in light of the accomplishments and precedents of the Apollo program and the mind-blowing advancements since, there are still significant numbers of Americans that view our adventures in space as a waste of both time and money. This yawning chasm between the public perception of space mission utility and actual progress needs to be addressed if NASA’s (and humanity’s) goals are to be reached. Ted Sorenson, former counsel and speechwriter for President Kennedy argued that we need to find solutions that fit today. It is a problem of wrong analogy, he said. Simply stating that the United States must embark on an Apollo or Manhattan Project or Marshall Plan style effort to solve our environmental and energy needs is not sufficient. Sorenson, and several others at the symposium, are well aware that new rules must be written to appeal to the next generation of scientists and leaders. Without public support and in the absence of inspiration, the promises of space may never be fully realized.

Things are not looking good over at Harvard. The endowment has taken an unprecedented hit and because the university depends so heavily on its endowment to pay for basic operations, administrators are still looking for more ways to cut costs. While Harvard is aiming to get its spending down to the levels of just four years ago, the university has expanded so much during that time, especially in the sciences, that cost cutting is turning out to be quite painful.

The latest casualty: faculty. According to this Boston Globe article, retiring professors and those being lured away by other universities likely won’t be replaced. The article quotes the chair of the physics department saying that five of his professors have been approached by other schools. Classes and seminars are also being cut and one library has been closed.

How did this happen? Forbes magazine came out a few months ago with this article detailing how Harvard’s endowment managers engaged in some risky practices to milk more money out of the school’s investments. It describes, for example, how Harvard’s chief money manager in the 1990s ran his operation almost like a hedge fund.

As banks and other corporations are reeling and (hopefully) adjusting the way they do business, it will be interesting to see if universities—many of which have seen their endowments plunge—will also re-examine how they finance future construction projects and program expansions.

For now, Harvard’s financial struggles are symbolized by the large construction site in Allston, where building has slowed recently. It was supposed to become a large science complex. For now, it’s a hole in the ground—and a question mark. This article from the Crimson, examining how the Allston expansion is faring in this financial mess, quotes the COO of Harvard’s Allston Development Group saying that it’s “extremely unlikely” that construction of the science complex will stop forever. But the article goes on to say that “he would not say for certain.”

Red and blue floods illuminated servers in formal attire. A live jazz band set the mood. Cheese, cheese and more cheese was piled on glass slabs suspended from high metal frames by thin wires, leaving an impression of weightlessness. More servers walked around with hors d’oeuvres and glasses of red and white wine. The front most table was festooned with more appetizers and drinks that were arrayed around ice sculptures. Where was I?

I wandered around the room, trying to accomplish the “mingling” mission suggested by the MIT press office. The left side of the room was lined with posters detailing the work of students and faculty within the Aero/Astro department of MIT. I stopped now and then to listen to and talk with students that were noticeably excited to be there. The event was a periodic recognition (this being the 40th anniversary) of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing. Just as much though, this gathering was a celebration of the role that MIT played in America’s space program. Throughout the hall, there were many older gentlemen wearing the school’s red tie or name tags with their program and year of graduation. Never before have I personally witnessed, in one place, so many that could and should be called heroes. It was nothing less than a gathering of old friends and colleagues from the dawn of manned space exploration.

Eventually an announcement was made; a warning really. There was to be a demonstration at the far end of the hall of the new TALARIS system, which uses propelled air to mimic conditions at 1/6 the gravity found on earth’s surface. The goal of TALARIS is to work out the bugs of a new probe designed to hop around the surface of Mars or the Moon to reach and explore terrain that would be inaccessible to a wheeled rover. The fellow who performed the introductions soothed the crowd by stating the noise would be “no louder than your average disco.” Righty-O. All of the students setting up the demo fixed goggles over there faces, prompting some nervous looks from the swelling crowd around the test platform. Needless to say, TALARIS floated with expected grace and the goggles were not necessary. Not this time.

The music continued and the piles of food were much reduced. The minute hand continued to describe its inevitable arc and the crowd began to thin, even around the likes of Buzz Aldrin and Chris Kraft. This crowd was in celebration mode, but I still sensed that everyone felt the weight and thrill of what is left to be done.

We are gathered around a small conference table in the shared art space known as 300 Summer Street in Boston. The uncorrupted concrete floor stretches out over a studio space enclosed by three concrete walls and a glass partition. Besides the four present and dedicated members of Glimpse, the other tenants include a PR firm and a realtor. The trappings of these trades are spread across any available surface. These are the humble beginnings of a new journal that promises to bridge science, art and society through the unique perspective of vision.

Megan Hurst, the founder and editor of Glimpse, believes that “innovation and advancement of thought come from cross-pollination —the application of patterns of thinking and insights from one field to another.” Using this premise, she harnesses her broad interests and skills to create a journal centered on the idea that what we observe and learn through our sense of sight is beautifully complex. She and her small staff of talented (and volunteer) writers, artists and scientists draw on the lessons of how different individuals and societies view and interpret symbols, colors and shapes. Add to this the burgeoning insights of neuroscience, psychology and astronomy and the makings of a multidisciplinary journal spring to life.

Each issue is divided into segments that compliment the varied interests of founder and contributors alike. Time, personal experience, the arts, and social and physical sciences all have their place. Seeming disparate disciplines are tied together by a theme for each issue such as written language or political symbols. Future planned issues will explore the many facets of cosmos and color.

But what was the motivation to invest so much personal time and treasure into a new publication at a moment when publishers are perishing left and right? Says Ms. Hurst: “I wanted to read something like Glimpse…and I couldn’t find it. I could find nuggets of it, but scattered here and there – never in one publication.” The goal of any multidisciplinary journal is to gather these bits and pieces and organize them in a way that drives innovation and thought. Glimpse Journal is already accomplishing this feat.

And what about going forward into the future? At first it would seem that this journal could eventually run short on topics to cover. But think about that for a moment. What in our lives cannot be related to our sense of sight? Ms. Hurst, in what I am coming to understand as characteristic passion, argues that this journal will continue to “serve a different knowledge development function than traditionally specialized publications.” There will always be thoughtful, talented individuals that want to find a new perspective on the things that drive them. Perhaps many of them, like Ms. Hurst, will want to read something like Glimpse.

Not long ago, I started writing for Nature Network over at Political Animal, and although there’s no chance whatsoever that I will give up that outlet for my inner wonk, I am excited that the Boston Blog is now my primary home. Muchas gracias to Corie for giving me this opportunity.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, in a moment of what might be described as cool rationality outrageous delusion, once called Boston the Hub of the solar system. This is a sentiment that is carried into the present by Boston’s nickname and, to some extent, in the self-image of the folks that live in and around this fine town. Naturally, science and higher education have always been a defining component of this character trait. So, true to the goals of Nature Network, I will do my best to get out into Beantown to observe and report on science and technology events that are important to us and the community that we live in. From art exhibits to lectures; from symposia to social gatherings at one watering hole or another, science is happening.

I intend (and I believe that You, the reader, expect) for this to be a dialogue. So please, if there are events or stories that could use a little more exposure, a nudge or two into the light of day, feel free to drop me a line anytime, anyway. I’ll be there to check it out first hand and let everyone else know what they missed out on.

This is gonna be fun.

Research hospitals in Boston have been hit with a double whammy; the combination of lower payments from medical insurers on the clinical side, with declining funding from the NIH on the research side, has made life tough at places like Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, one of Harvard’s affiliated hospitals.

Not only has BIDMC laid off people and cut/freeze salaries, but now it’s also reducing its research space by about 11 percent, according to the Globe. Hospitals, especially the big-name ones like those affiliated with Harvard, enjoyed the riches of ballooning NIH budgets of the 1990s and early 2000s and expanded their research facilities, perhaps a little too much, but now are suffering as they can’t afford to maintain them.

There’s been some temporary relief from Obama’s stimulus plan, but still, BIDMC’s share likely won’t be enough to close its $28 million gap. Plus, that money must be spent by 2010…and then what? Will biomedical researchers and institutions ever get out of these boom-bust cycles they seem to be caught in?

At a US Senate hearing yesterday, the chairing senator, Tom Harkin, suggested that the NIH stimulus money should perhaps be exempted from the ‘spend-in-two-years’ rule and should instead be spread out over 4 years.

We all like to blow off steam, in our own ways. Some do yoga, some run, whereas others eat vast quantities of ice cream while killing brain cells with House reruns (was that an overshare?). MIT students do it in a way all their own, complete with a test of gravity, aerodynamics, and mass destruction. Sort of.

Every year, MIT undergrads celebrate the last day they can drop a class without it appearing on their transcript by, appropriately enough, dropping a piano from the top of a building.

HT Bostonist

And this is far from the only time of the year that MIT students scale great heights and push the envelope of good behavior, albeit in a geeky way. For a pictorial tour of MIT Senior class pranks, click here.