Extreme coastal flooding events are occurring far more frequently in our warming world than ever before, threatening countless communities that will only become more vulnerable as climate change intensifies.

A recent study found that once-in-a-century flooding events now strike on our planet about once a decade. The study, published June 10 in the journal Nature Climate Change, also found that human-driven climate change has quadrupled the frequency of coastal sea level extremes since 1900.

The findings were released alongside another study by a separate team, published in the journal Science Advances, that found human-caused sea level rise was clearly measurable at 97% of sites sampled around the world, and was responsible for around 58% of the observed daily extreme water level exceedances between 2000 and 2018. In other words, human activities are the primary drivers behind sea level extremes — which include storm surges, high tides and rising sea level anomalies.

As the ocean's potential to devastate coastal communities surges, Live Science spoke with Sönke Dangendorf, lead author of the Nature Climate Change study, to learn more about what's to come. Here's what he had to say.

Patrick Pester: How do you separate human-driven sea level rise from natural forces?

Sönke Dangendorf: The absolute basis for doing these kinds of investigations is to work with observations, but observations are unfortunately sparse. We have a few more than 100 tide gauges [distributed worldwide] that offer long, century-scale records of sea level change since the early 20th century. We see that sea levels are changing at those locations, but we cannot tell a whole lot about what is happening elsewhere. So, what we can do is use the same climate models that we use to produce future projections of sea level change.

If you compare observations with the models, then the models need to be able to reproduce what the observations have shown. That was the first step we did, and indeed we proved in this study that the climate models are capable of reproducing observed climate. The nice thing with climate models then is that if you are able to reproduce what has been observed, you can start doing experiments. For instance, you can keep greenhouse gases constant in the modeling and then assess the influence of natural climate variability on the changes that we have observed. That's what we did in the study.

We found that we have seen already a 12-fold increase on average globally in what used to be a once-in-100-year event in 1900. And when we do these forcing experiments, we have also seen that anthropogenic forcing [human-driven change], in particular since the 1970s, has become the dominant force.

PP: What does this mean for coastal communities around the world?

SD: A couple of centimeters of sea level rise doesn't sound like a whole lot in theory, but if you live along the coast, it hits you much harder than you might think. Just an example: I used to live along the U.S. East Coast in Norfolk, Virginia. The community was built along the water, and they used to be fine in the 1950s and 1960s; they wouldn't see flooding at all, or maybe just once every five or six years. But due to sea level rise, what happens now is that high tide leads to flooding. You see flooded streets, and that affects your commute, so people increasingly cannot make it to work.

It affects your daily life suddenly. And then it makes it very hard for you and your coastal community because you have increasing insurance costs — the accumulated costs of these events can easily be as much as a major hurricane making landfall. So, this is a daily experience that many people already have, and it's a direct impact of sea level rise.

With respect to what we assessed in these more extreme events, people may absorb a once-in-a-100-year event once in their lifetime. They may experience something like a Storm Sandy, and they may be able to recover from that, but if you think about recovering from that basically every eight years — the frequency of these events nowadays compared to 1900 — that's of course way more difficult and not feasible for many people.

PP: What can we do?

SD: We can adapt. The silver lining here is that we have shown humans are the dominant forcing factor behind these changes. That's the silver lining because it means if we react, we can do something about it.

The reaction to changes in climate is often delayed, so we have sea level rise that we are already committed to. For instance, if you look into projections, they all agree with respect to what happens until around 2060, independently of how much greenhouse gases are emitted. There's no way around that. We could stop emitting greenhouse gases today, and we would still experience it. So, we need to adapt to that sea level rise, but if we mitigate climate change, if we stop emitting greenhouse gases, then we can avoid dangerous sea level rise, and that's very important.

PP: What will the world look like in 2060 with the committed sea level rise?

SD: According to the last IPCC [Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change] report, what used to be a once-in-a-100-year event in the present day will occur annually at 19% to 31% of tide gauge locations by 2050. So, at about a quarter of the locations, you will experience these once-in-a-100-year events annually, and that is something that is just mind-blowing.

The changes are happening much quicker in low-latitude locations. The reason is that in the tropics you typically have a less variable climate. You don't have these massive swings all the time. For instance, in the North Sea, we have a storm season, and we have huge tide ranges. We are already adapted to pretty massive changes of multiple meters, so a couple of centimeters of sea level rise do not play out that hard, but in the tropics, where it's more calm, it makes a huge difference.

As an analogy, think about two hurdle runners. You have one hurdle runner that's compared to the tropics; he jumps very consistently but always below the hurdle, so he never makes it over. Then you have another hurdle runner that's the North Sea type of guy. His jumps are very variable. Sometimes he's very high and makes it over that hurdle, but very often he also jumps very low. Now think about lowering that hurdle, which is comparable to increasing sea levels. Suddenly, that hurdle runner who is very consistent makes it over all of the time, while the guy from the North Sea may jump over the hurdle a couple more times, but he also still has the very extreme lows. So, the constant jumper is way more sensitive to these changes.

Editor's note: This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

This stunning astronaut photo shows the last time one of NASA's iconic space shuttles photobombed astronauts' view of Earth as the spacecraft docked with the ISS.

NASA's Space Shuttle Program included five plane-like spacecraft — Columbia, Challenger, Discovery, Atlantis and Endeavour — which collectively completed 135 missions between 1981 and 2011, racking up more than 32,000 hours in space. During that time, they helped to construct the ISS and, later, ferry astronauts to and from the station. The space shuttles also helped to deploy and maintain several other important spacecraft, including the Hubble Space Telescope.

The last space shuttle to fly was Atlantis, which successfully completed 33 missions (the second-highest total, behind Discovery).

This photo shows Atlantis approaching the ISS for the last time as it passed over the distinctive turquoise waters of the Bahamas. The space shuttle's bay doors are open, exposing its cargo area. This was standard procedure for all space shuttles once they reached low Earth orbit because it prevented the spacecraft's radiators from overheating.

The open doors also enabled the shuttle's docking mechanism, located within its cargo bay, to attach to the ISS, thus creating a pressurized seal so that astronauts could move between the two spacecraft.

Atlantis' final flight began on July 8, 2011, when it launched from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida vertically strapped to a massive fuel tank and a pair of rocket boosters. It returned to Earth on July 21, gliding down to land onto a runway at the launch site. (The spacecraft is now on display at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex.)

In addition to helping construct the ISS, NASA's space shuttles visited Russia's Mir space station, serviced Hubble, and deployed both the Magellan probe to Venus and the Galileo probe to Jupiter. In total, the space shuttle orbited Earth 4,848 times, traveling nearly 126 million miles (203 million kilometers) — more than 525 times the distance between Earth and the moon.

Astronaut photos of the space shuttles were popular because they offered "punctuated snapshots of distinct places on Earth" that were "framed by a human eye," NASA representatives wrote in 2011. "These images speak to people."

While the Space Shuttle Program achieved a lot during its 30-year history, it famously suffered two tragedies: the 1986 Challenger and 2003 Columbia disasters, which killed all crewmembers on board.

NASA eventually canceled the program in 2011, citing the high cost of maintaining the aging spacecraft and a reduced need for the vehicles after the completion of the ISS the same year. To this day, the space shuttles remain the only winged spacecraft to carry humans into space.

See more Earth from space

Archaeologists have found five pairs of iron shackles at a 2,300-year-old Celtic site in France ‪—‬ a discovery that suggests the small settlement was frequented by metalsmiths and slave traders.

The "extremely rare" shackles were discovered in the town of Allonnes in France's Loire Valley in 2019, but the finds from the two-year-long excavation were announced to the public on July 9 in a translated statement from the French National Institute for Preventive Archaeological Research (INRAP).

The settlement at Allonnes was established along with a religious complex in the third century B.C., according to the statement. Specialist artisans ‪—‬ including blacksmiths, coppersmiths, bronze workers and sheet-metal workers ‪—‬ plied their trade from small workshops, archaeologists found at Allonnes.

During the excavation, the team discovered a large number of high-quality metal objects — such as swords, spearheads, keys and horse harness fittings — but the iron shackles were a surprise because they are extremely rare for the time period. Excavators found a double-wrist restraint, an ankle restraint and three other portions of metal restraints.

The presence of shackles suggests that Allonnes may have been a hub for slave trading in the Late Iron Age (450 to 50 B.C.), according to the statement.

"The identification of restraints and weapons suggests a hierarchical social organization composed of dominant and subordinate groups — prisoners or slaves," Thierry Lejars, a specialist in Celtic metalwork, said in a translated interview with INRAP.

The Gauls, a loose association of Celtic tribes, were known to enslave prisoners of war, convicts and debtors, according to the statement, and they were often forced to work in the fields. These men, women and children then lost their rights and could be bought and sold by their owners. Because the Celts did not leave many historical records of their own, however, not much is known about the practice of slavery in pre-Roman Gaul. The shackles from Allonnes provide new insight into the lives of people who were typically invisible in historical accounts.

The small diameter of the wrist restraint ‪—‬ 2.4 inches (6 centimeters) ‪—‬ suggests it may have been used on a woman or a child, according to the statement. And the ankle restraint was over 2.2 pounds (1 kilogram), revealing the weight that enslaved people had to carry around.

Archaeologists also uncovered a religious sanctuary at Allonnes, along with offerings that included clothing and jewelry such as rings and amulets. Many of the offerings had been deliberately deformed or mutilated, likely to transform a mundane possession into a gift for the gods, the statement reported.

Hundreds of coins were also recovered at the site, and their mint dates spanned more than five centuries, Isabelle Bollard-Raineau, an ancient-coin expert with the French ministry of culture, said in the translated INRAP interview. About a third of the coins found at Allonnes had been filed, sheared or etched with a chisel.

"These mutilations reveal a ritual intention: the removal of the coin's commercial function in order to dedicate the object to the sacred, thereby ensuring the permanence of the offering," Bollard-Raineau said.

Allonnes was a significant Celtic site at the intersection of several major roads in ancient times, and the analysis of the metal finds has revealed important new information about some of the most powerless members of Gallic society.

See how much you know about the Celts with our Celtic quiz!

Interstellar space just got a little sweeter: A type of sugar called erythrulose has been found near the center of the Milky Way, according to a new study.

The detection, made in a gas cloud called G+0.693-0.027, is the first time this sugar has been found outside the solar system and adds to research identifying similar life-friendly ingredients around our galaxy, such as water.

Erythrulose, which is made up of four carbon atoms, is also found in raspberries. Its interstellar presence was confirmed by the Yebes 40-meter and IRAM 30-meter radio telescopes in Spain, the research team reported Monday (July 13) in the journal Nature Astronomy. The signal of erythrulose was confirmed with patterns measured in the laboratory.

While space researchers often focus on water and carbon when searching for the ingredients of life, sugars are also essential. "Sugars are important molecules in living systems, helping to provide energy, build important biological structures, and form parts of genetic material," the researchers said in a statement.

"We were able to achieve this detection thanks to the combination of exceptionally sensitive observations, extensive frequency coverage, and highly accurate laboratory spectroscopic data," study co-author Izaskun Jiménez-Serra, a staff researcher at the Spanish National Research Council, told Live Science in an email. "In addition, our astronomical target is one of the richest chemical inventories in the galaxy, which enhances the probabilities of detection,"

Finding erythrulose, he added, "is particularly relevant for the field of origins of life" because that sugar changes the configuration of threose — yet another sugar which is believed to be the precursor of the first nucleic acids that evolved into RNA and DNA.

Sugar, space, and everything nice

Sugar has been spotted in meteorites and asteroid samples before, particularly ribose (an RNA building block) and glucose (a product of photosynthesis on Earth). Recently, for example, samples from the asteroid Bennu returned by the OSIRIS-REx mission were found to contain both ribose and glucose, suggesting that these vital ingredients for biology are available elsewhere in the solar system.

Previously, scientists could not figure out how erythrulose could be made in conditions simulating the early Earth. That's because lab experiments "yield insufficient concentrations" of erythrulose on the surface of prebiotic (pre-life) Earth, the researchers explained.

The new finding of erythrulose in an interstellar gas and dust cloud, by contrast, suggests that erythrulose could be found in the interstellar medium for incorporation into rocky planets like Earth earlier, when they are first forming and evolving.

As such, ribose, glucose and erythrulose could have been part of the "sugar inventory" on Earth before it fully formed, the researchers said. "The findings suggest that erythrulose can be made from simpler molecules on dust grains in space, and may then become part of more complex chemical systems," the team said in the statement.

The sweet detection adds further evidence to the theory that many, if not all, of the essential ingredients of life are plentiful in space.

"One of the most exciting next steps is to search for even more complex sugars and for molecules that are direct precursors of RNA, and other biologically important compounds," Jiménez-Serra told Live Science. "We want to understand how far prebiotic chemistry can progress before planets are even formed, and what chemical inventory young planetary systems inherit from interstellar space."

This unique helmet comes from the Elamite culture, an ancient civilization that flourished for nearly three millennia in what is now Iran. Likely worn by a warrior king more than 3,000 years ago, the helmet has been decorated with a large bird of prey that is swooping down over three divine figures.

The dome-shaped bronze helmet measures roughly 8.5 inches (21.6 centimeters) in diameter and has a thin, cutaway area on the front that would have gone over the wearer's eyebrows. Originally, a small projection would have extended down between them to cover the wearer's nose. Gold-covered silver studs line the edge of the helmet, and a bronze tube on the back likely once held a plume of feathers or hair.

The helmet, which is in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, was made by a master artisan of the Elamite culture, one of the earliest civilizations of the ancient Near East. The Elamites lived in what is now southwest Iran, along the eastern Persian Gulf, from roughly 2700 B.C. until they were conquered by the Persian Empire in 539 B.C. Elam was frequently at war with neighboring Mesopotamian cities, including Ur and Babylon, and archaeologists have found numerous examples of the culture's elaborate weapons and armor.

But this particular helmet is "a masterpiece of ancient art" that "has no parallels in either the representative art of the ancient Near East or from excavations," archaeologist Oscar White Muscarella wrote in a 1988 book about the ancient Near Eastern bronze and iron artifacts in The Met's collection. This helmet's unique shape and decorations make it stand out from other Elamite armor.

On the front of the helmet are three gold deities: two females and one male. The male deity carries a vessel with water cascading out of it, suggesting he is an Elamite water god. The two identical goddesses wear horned headdresses and jewelry, and they are holding up their hands in a gesture of prayer. A raptor is positioned vertically over the water god, possibly symbolizing the bird of prey of the battlefield that awaits the victims of the warrior king who wore the helmet, Charles K. Wilkinson, curator emeritus of Near Eastern art at The Met, wrote in a 1965 study of the object.

The helmet certainly would have been worn by someone of high rank in the Elamite culture, Muscarella and Wilkinson both wrote, but it was likely symbolic as well as functional. The representations of important deities were probably intended to ward off evil and conflict on the ancient battlefield.

For more stunning archaeological discoveries, check out our Astonishing Artifacts archives.

Can you put together last week's Astonishing Artifact?

On April 6, the four crewmembers of NASA's Artemis II mission swooped around the far side of the moon in their Orion spacecraft, disappearing from Earth's sight and losing all contact with humanity for roughly 40 minutes.

At the same time, some 250,000 miles (400,000 kilometers) away, Chris White, the mission's lead communications officer, was nervously pacing the halls of NASA's Mission Control Center in Houston, waiting for the chance to do his job again.

"It was all nerves," White, the lead integrated communications officer (INCO) on Artemis II, told Live Science. In addition to maintaining communication with the Orion spacecraft (an impossible task while the moon blocked every signal), the INCO team also controlled its exterior cameras — a job White had previously done for the International Space Station (ISS).

The team knew for over a year what Orion's lunar flyby would entail, and which shots the cameras should capture. They had sent a checklist of nearly 300 commands to Orion that morning, telling the cameras exactly what to do after the spacecraft vanished behind the moon. All that remained was to wait.

After 40 minutes, bits of telemetry data started popping up on White's monitor as the Orion crew reemerged safely from behind the moon. Voice contact soon followed. But it would still take another day for Orion's flyby photos to traverse the space between the moon and Houston. When White finally opened the file the next morning, his body failed him.

"I opened a photo — the eclipse photo — and I couldn't breathe," White said. "I was like, 'There's no way that this turned out this well on the first try.'"

The INCO team's incredible Orion spacecraft photos have now been viewed by tens of millions of Earthlings. Live Science recently spoke with White to get the inside story of the images and the entire Artemis II mission as it was seen from NASA mission control.

Brandon Specktor: In a nutshell, what was your job on the Artemis II mission?

Chris White: During the mission, the INCO console manages all of the communication systems on the spacecraft, as the name kind of implies. We handle not just the video and the camera system but also the onboard audio system — which was the first flight for that — the system for radio communication and the optical communication system, which was a laser system on Artemis II. We also handle a couple of other minor systems.

BS: What was the vibe during liftoff?

CW: So, for liftoff, I was in the back, in a support room. The vibe was intense. Everybody was laser-focused on the task at hand. During simulations leading up to it, we had fake, simulated CGI views [of liftoff] to give us an idea of what we were going to see. I always thought, "Man, it's going to look so much cooler in real time." But then during liftoff, I looked up from my console screen zero times to look at the live video. So I didn't see a lot of that footage until the next day, when I had a chance to breathe.

The INCO team was basically flat-out busy for at least the first three flight days. For a lot of my team, it wasn't until after flight day three where things — and I'm going to use air quotes — loosely "calmed down." I don't think any of us truly relaxed until the vehicle was safely in the water.

BS: Let's talk about the lunar flyby. What was your experience watching along with the crew as they got closer and closer to the moon?

CW: It was incredible. I've seen the moon through the ISS cameras, and I'd watched the moon, over the course of the previous five flight days, slowly get larger and larger. But there was something logarithmic — almost like it just got really large very quickly on flight day six as we got close to the moon.

And the moon looked wrong, which sounds kind of crazy to say. We're so used to the way that the moon looks from our perspective here on the Earth, that when the vehicle was coming at it from an angle, you could see more of the backside of the moon. So you're in awe of it approaching and getting larger and realizing what's about to happen ‪—‬ but also my brain hurt trying to reconcile what I was seeing, because it didn't look correct. The shape and texture were different than what my brain expected.

BS: And the colors too, based on what the astronauts said. Did you notice anything unusual about the moon's coloration?

CW: It was hard to tell. The bandwidth limitations of being that far away from Earth made it hard to distinguish a lot of those finer details. But there was a moment where we looked at it and we were like, "I think we can tweak the exposure on this." It was a little too dark, and then we bumped it up a little bit. And all of a sudden, these muted grays became a little bit more brown. I was not expecting to be able to see that from our cameras.

You see it much more in some of the high-res photos that the crew took. But it was honestly shocking to see how much more color shows up even just a little bit as you get closer.

BS: As you were doing that flyby, did you have a strict checklist of shots you had to take?

CW: Yeah, absolutely. Flyby was a heavily choreographed event for the Orion cameras, as well as the crew and the science community. But we had started working on that plan well over one year earlier, and we knew exactly what shots we wanted and when we wanted them. The timing of all that shifts slightly, depending on exactly when you launch. So we had a framework in place, and then we just tweaked the timing in the 24 hours leading up to the events.

I think it was something like 290 total commands over the course of eight hours. We just scripted and time-tagged and put them on the vehicle, so it just clicked through them.

BS: How does that work during the eclipse phase, when you were out of contact?

CW: So we knew when Earthset ‪—‬ and, therefore, the start of the loss of signal (LOS) ‪—‬ would be and when Earthrise would be. And so we had the cameras flip into kind of a time-lapse mode at that point and then take a 30-second interval time lapse as the Earth got smaller and smaller and smaller behind the moon. All of that was scripted.

And then, behind the moon, during the LOS, it continued to take photos at a slower pace. I think it was like once every few minutes. We had all that on a timer, basically.

BS: How soon after the lunar flyby did you get to see the images?

CW: Luckily, we had a great optical comm pass that same night. So all those photos came down via laser to the Earth, and I saw them the next day. I didn't see them in the moment; I saw them the next day.

And I opened that photo — the eclipse photo — and I couldn't breathe. I was like, "There's no way that this turned out this well on the first try."

BS: Is that the photo that stands out most to you from the flyby?

CW: Yeah, it absolutely is. A lot of the photos you take in space, people are like, "Oh, where are the stars?" And it's because you have to expose the camera to the very bright, shiny spacecraft in front of you, and all the stars fade away into the blackness in the background.

But because the sun was behind the moon, you have the moon in the foreground in focus, the sun kind of bleeding out from behind it. The stars and the planets are all there. You can see Venus; you can see Saturn; you can see Mars. And then you have the glow of the spacecraft — it's not lit by the sun, but by the Earth — in the foreground. It was an incredible photo.

BS: What were you guys doing during that loss-of-signal phase? What was the vibe like then?

CW: I was pacing around the control center. The INCO team is responsible for keeping communication with the vehicle as much as we can, and there's not really much that we can do about that when you put a celestial body between us and the crew.

It's all nerves. It's all of the, "Hey, did we configure everything correctly? Are communications going to come back on the other side?" So just to distract myself for the 40 minutes that we were at LOS, I just kind of walked around the building and chatted with other people, just to try to keep myself distracted.

It wasn't until about three or four minutes after Earthrise that we started getting stable video, and then the crew called down. And that was really when I breathed a sigh of relief, once I heard voice coming down from the vehicle again.

BS: Do you feel different after this mission?

CW: People keep asking me that. I don't know that I've had quite enough time to fully unpack the mission. But I think it's slowly sinking in that we just sent four people around the moon, literally further away from Earth than ever. And I think, not only did we change them and the flight control team from that experience, but I think we changed a lot of people's perceptions of the moon, which is awesome.

BS: Do you know what your role for Artemis III is going to be?

CW: I definitely still plan to be on the INCO team for Artemis III. I will not be the lead for that mission. But I definitely still plan to be on console and hope to take some even more incredible photos during that mission.

BS: Any closing thoughts?

CW: I just want to stress what a team effort this was. The vehicle cameras had a script and a plan that involved not just the INCO team. But to point these cameras, I have to get the solar arrays swung forward in a specific direction, so I have to coordinate with the power guys. I have to sometimes ask the GNC [guidance, navigation and control] team to rotate the vehicle itself, which is entirely different from how we do things on ISS. There was our imagery team handling camera settings and proper exposure. There's the engineers who developed these systems.

This was not just me and the INCO team on console. It was truly a full flight control team effort to get these.

Editor's note: This interview has been condensed and edited lightly for clarity.

Are you a NASA nerd? See how well you score on our Artemis quiz to find out!

Consider the following scenario. Suzy is 63, recently retired, and trying to decide when to start receiving Social Security and how to manage her retirement savings to minimize the tax hit.

She opens an AI chatbot, types in the details and gets a calm, well-organized and confident answer: Claim now, convert this much, here is the reasoning.

The chatbot sounds authoritative and even shows its work. So Suzy follows its guidance and never calls a financial planner. Maybe the advice was fine. But maybe it quietly ignored the fact that Suzy's spouse is younger and in poor health, which can flip the Social Security math. It also may have overlooked that the retirement savings plan conversion it suggested would push Suzy into paying higher Medicare premiums two years later.

Suzy won't find out for a long time, if ever, whether this guidance was right for her. And the AI will never call back to say it was unsure.

Suzy isn't an exception. AI chatbots have entered everyday life with remarkable speed: A 2025 Pew Research Center survey found that 34% of U.S. adults and 58% of those under 30 have used ChatGPT, roughly double the share two years earlier.

A growing number are asking AI about money, and some are getting burned. According to a 2025 survey of 2,000 U.S. adults by Pearl.com, a professional services platform, 19% said they lost more than $100 by following financial advice from an AI chatbot. Among Gen Z investors, that figure rose to 27%.

These aren't hypothetical risks. People are already paying for answers about their money that are confident — and wrong.

As a finance professor who has been closely watching the spread of AI into personal finance, this is the part of the AI story that worries me most. And it's not the part you usually hear about.

We argue about AI the wrong way

There are two seemingly opposite complaints about AI. One is that people trust it too much, treating a chatbot like an oracle, a tendency researchers call algorithm appreciation. The other is that people don't trust it enough and dismiss its useful tools, a tendency known as algorithm aversion.

I argue these are actually two sides of the same coin, and what decides which side you see is whether you can tell when the AI is wrong.

When an AI fails in an obvious way, you notice and lose confidence. So you're more likely to seek a professional or another human you trust sooner than you otherwise would. That is the safe failure.

The dangerous failure is the opposite. The answer is fluent, confident — and wrong. You have no way to catch it, so you keep managing the problem yourself long past when you should have asked for help.

The trouble is that with money, the second kind of failure is the common kind.

When you mistake fluency for accuracy

Three things make financial advice especially treacherous for AI.

First, fluency is not accuracy. People naturally read a confident and well-articulated answer as competent. But how polished an answer sounds tells you almost nothing about whether it fits your situation or the accuracy of the proposed solution. A chatbot can be word-perfect and still be wrong about your taxes, because your taxes depend on details it never asked about.

Second, AI is least reliable exactly where the stakes are highest. AI tools are good at routine and general topics: what a Roth IRA is, how compound interest works, the difference between a stock and a bond.

But financial life is full of rare, complicated, one-time decisions: exercising stock options, understanding the alternative minimum tax, making required, minimum 401(k) distributions, deciding on a Social Security strategy as a couple, drawing up a divorce settlement.

I made a similar argument three years ago about AI trading on Wall Street. Because market crashes are rare, there's little data for AI to learn from, so it can be most confident exactly where it is least informed.

That worry hasn't faded. Market watchers now caution that AI trading bots are creating fresh financial risks, and that same blind spot applies to your personal finances. Researchers call this uneven competence a "jagged frontier" — reliable with common cases but unreliable for unusual ones. And in finance, the unusual cases tend to be the expensive ones.

Third, you often can't check the work. Financial advice is what economists call a "credence good," like a mechanic's diagnosis or a doctor's recommendation. You often can't tell whether the advice was good, sometimes for years. A mistaken tax move may not surface until an audit. A bad 401(k) drawdown plan may not bite until the stock market slumps. Without quick feedback, the wrong-but-confident answer never gets corrected.

This is why the Pearl numbers above are probably an undercount, since they capture only losses people noticed.

The quiet failure is the one to watch

Notice that the real harm in Suzy's story isn't a single dramatic mistake. It's that a confident answer made Suzy feel no need to call a professional, so the call never happened.

The danger is not so much that you act on bad advice but that you never seek good advice. The smoother and more reassuring the tool, the easier it is to stay in do-it-yourself mode past the point when you need outside help.

Who's most at risk? In a study of a large robo-advising platform in India, co-author Vishaal Baulkaran and I found that its users skew young, are predominantly male and tend to be smaller retail investors and professionals. And new account sign-ups rise during periods of high market volatility.

In other words, the people leaning hardest on automated advice match that 27% figure among those Gen Zers who lost more than $100 while using a chatbot for financial advice. They reach for it just when markets turn turbulent and a wrong move is most costly.

There's also an incentive worth naming. In my new analysis, I argue that a tool that earns its revenue by holding your attention has a reason to sound confident and helpful: Confidence keeps you on the platform. The catch is that the user it retains that way is sometimes the one who should have been handed off to a human.

A system tuned to keep you engaged isn't the same as one tuned to protect your financial future, and the two can point in different directions. The disruption is already underway, as wealth managers face what Bloomberg has called a chatbot reckoning. A single, new AI tax tool recently sent wealth management stocks sliding as investors bet that automated advice will eat into the business.

How to be smart about using AI

These findings don't mean that people should avoid AI for money advice. Used well, these tools are a valuable and free financial educator.

This is also not to say that a financial adviser always has the right answers. As with finding any kind of specialist, it's important to do research first and make sure they meet the kind of criteria laid out by the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Fee transparency is also crucial.

But if you do turn to AI, the skill is knowing where to draw the line.

Treat AI as a starting point, not a verdict. It's excellent for learning concepts, drafting questions and getting oriented before a meeting. It can teach people the vocabulary to have a smarter conversation with an expert.

But watch out for the signals that you have left its comfort zone and entered the territory where AI is weakest and a confident answer is least trustworthy. The red flags are large dollar amounts, tax consequences, anything irreversible and anything that turns on the specifics of your situation rather than a general rule.

Estate questions, the drawdown of retirement savings, strategies for claiming Social Security benefits, business structure and major one-time transactions all belong in this category. Those are the decisions that call for bringing in a human, such as a certified financial planner.

And remember, confidence isn't competence. When the answer about your money sounds most polished and most certain, that's not a reason to relax. On the hardest questions, that smooth confidence is exactly the signal that you should pick up the phone and talk to an expert.

This edited article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Archaeologists have discovered 18 ancient tombs in an Egyptian town along the Mediterranean Sea.

The tombs ‪—‬ which were unearthed in Marina el-Alamein (also spelled Alamin), about 60 miles (100 kilometers) west of Alexandria ‪—‬ date to the Ptolemaic (322 to 30 B.C.) or Roman (30 B.C. to A.D. 395) period, the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities said in a translated statement announcing the find.

During the Ptolemaic period, Egypt was ruled by the descendants of one of Alexander the Great's generals, while the Roman period started with the death of Cleopatra VII, when Egypt became incorporated into the Roman Empire as a province.

The team noted that 11 of the tombs had been carved deep into the ground, while the seven others were located closer to the ground's surface. The tombs held many artifacts ‪—‬ most notably, 24 "gold tongues" that were likely put into the mouths of mummies, and an offering altar with a base designed to look like a false door.

"The false door is one of the oldest and most recognizable elements of ancient Egyptian funerary architecture. In traditional Egyptian belief, it symbolized the interface between the worlds of the living and the dead, through which the deceased could spiritually receive offerings presented by the living," Hesham Hussein, the undersecretary for Lower Egypt and Sinai archaeology at Egypt's Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, told Live Science in an email.

The fact that the design of a false door was carved into the altar "suggests that the symbolic meaning of the false door remained important even as its architectural function evolved," Hussein added.

Gold tongues from ancient Egypt

Gold tongues have been found in mummies at a number of ancient Egyptian sites. The ancient Egyptians considered gold to be the flesh of the gods, and they believed gold tongues could help the deceased communicate with them in the afterlife.

"Gold tongues are a well-documented feature of some burials dating to the Ptolemaic and Roman periods in Egypt," Hussein said. "They are generally interpreted as symbolic funerary amulets intended to enable the deceased to speak in the afterlife, particularly during the judgment before Osiris, or more broadly to communicate and recite sacred formulas in the next world."

Interestingly, one of the newly found gold tongues is shaped like the "Eye of Horus." Horus was a falcon-headed god associated with the sky and warfare. Artifacts shaped like his eye are often found in Egypt and were used to ward off evil, according to the statement.

However, it's unclear if some of these artifacts are actually gold tongues, Attilio Mastrocinque, a retired archaeology professor formerly at the University of Verona in Italy, told Live Science. Mastrocinque has written extensively about Greek and Roman religion but was not involved in this excavation.

After looking at the photos posted by the ministry, he noted that one appears to show a wheat ear. Wheat ears were associated with fertility and images of them were popular in the ancient world. The newfound artifact looks similar to silver wheat ears that have been found in Roman sanctuaries in Europe, Mastrocinque added.

Altar with a false door?

False doors are commonly found in ancient Egyptian tombs and offering altars are often near these doors. In this case, the base of an offering altar resembles a false door.

Krzysztof Jakubiak, an archaeology professor at the University of Warsaw who has excavated at Marina el-Alamein in the past but was not involved in the recent excavation, noted that this find likely needs additional analysis.

"I would exercise caution in asserting a direct comparison between the iconographic motifs visible on the discovered altar and those of the false door iconography," Jakubiak told Live Science in an email. He said it's possible that the altar was not finished and its existing appearance simply resembles a false door.

Hala Mostafa, an archaeology professor at Ain Shams University said in an email that he thought the altar may depict the hieroglyphic sign for "offering" rather than a false door.

Goddess statue and other finds

One of the tombs contained an 8.2-foot-long (2.5 meters) granite coffin whose lid was still on when the tomb was discovered. The team is currently examining the skeletal remains found inside.

Other finds included an incomplete statue of Aphrodite, a Greek goddess associated with love and beauty. During ancient Egypt's Ptolemaic dynasty, Greek culture and religion became increasingly popular in Egypt. Mastrocinque said it will be interesting to see if there is a structure for Aphrodite near the statue

"It is important to know where this statue has been found," Mastrocinque told Live Science in an email. "Was there a little cultic place of Aphrodite within this funerary complex?"

Dorota Dzierzbicka, director of the Polish-Egyptian Archaeological Mission to Marina el-Alamein, said that the new finds, along with finds made at the site in the past, reveal that the town was "a culturally diverse community in which Egyptian and Graeco-Roman traditions coexisted and blended in everyday life and funerary practices." She noted that the new discoveries were made by Egyptian archaeologists who work at the site.

See how much you know about mummies with our mummy quiz!

The two major earthquakes that struck Venezuela just 39 seconds apart on June 24 had slightly different epicenters in north-central Venezuela. The first (M7.2) struck near San Felipe, and the second (M7.5) near Yumare, leaving thousands dead and thousands more injured, according to government officials. But beyond the devastation, the sequence opened a rare scientific opportunity: Researchers think the unusual "earthquake doublet" could offer new insight into how large fault systems interact and how some of the most destructive earthquakes grow.

Large earthquakes are typically followed by smaller aftershocks. But particularly intense events can also alter stress on nearby faults ‪or along the same fault, ‪triggering another major earthquake.

These scenarios are infrequent but not unprecedented. The 2023 sequence in Kahramanmaraş, Turkey, and the 1997 earthquake doublet in Harnai, Pakistan, are two well-known examples.

The Venezuelan sequence also reinforces an emerging consensus among seismologists: that treating faults as isolated structures may underestimate the destructive power of quakes in regions where multiple tectonic faults meet, as they do both in Venezuela and around California's San Andreas Fault system. That's a problem, because many of the seismic hazard models in California do not account for those multi-fault interactions.

A natural laboratory for understanding major earthquakes

The fault system involved in the Venezuelan earthquake ‪—‬ which includes the Boconó, Morón, San Sebastián and El Pilar faults ‪—‬ shares several key characteristics with the San Andreas Fault. Both are right-lateral strike-slip fault systems ‪—‬ in which the crustal blocks slide horizontally past each other ‪—‬ located along the boundary between two tectonic plates: the South American and Caribbean plates in Venezuela, and the Pacific and North American plates in California.

Despite these similarities, researchers caution that the two systems differ in important ways.

"The main difference is that the Venezuelan plate boundary has a much more complex fault architecture," Julián García Mayordomo, a senior scientist in the Geological Hazards and Climate Change Department at the Geological and Mining Institute of Spain, told Live Science.

The difference stems largely from the Maracaibo block, whose interaction with surrounding faults creates a much more intricate plate boundary than California's.

"The other difference is the speed at which the plates move," García Mayordomo pointed out.

In Venezuela, the tectonic plates move past each other at about 0.8 inches (20 millimeters) per year, compared with roughly 1.2 inches (30 millimeters) along the San Andreas Fault. Faster plate motion allows tectonic stress to accumulate more quickly, which influences how often large earthquakes occur over long timescales, but not when the next one will strike.

Along the San Andreas Fault, magnitude 7 or larger earthquakes occur, on average every 100 to 200 years, although the frequency of recurrence varies along the fault. The last major rupture in Southern California was the magnitude 7.9 Fort Tejon earthquake in 1857. In Venezuela, estimated slip rates suggest recurrence intervals of one to two centuries. The region experienced two devastating earthquakes in 1812, part of a multiple-rupture sequence that included events of magnitude 7.5, 7.2 and 6.5, and a 2018 study concluded that the Boconó Fault had already accumulated enough strain to generate another major earthquake.

However, these are statistical averages. The recurrence of large earthquakes is highly irregular and depends on a multitude of factors, many of which we still don't fully understand. So a major event could occur in 100 years ‪—‬ or even tomorrow.

Looking beyond individual faults

This uncertainty is precisely one of the reasons the Venezuelan seismic doublet is generating so much interest among seismologists.

"It is the kind of natural event that can sharpen and test the rupture-interaction concepts that paleoseismic models like ours can only infer indirectly," said Liliane Burkhard, a geologist and geophysicist at the University of Bern and first author of a recent study suggesting that the junction between the San Andreas and San Jacinto faults in Southern California is experiencing some of its highest tectonic stress levels in the past 1,000 years, told Live Science.

"Our Cajon Pass work relied on centuries of paleoseismic reconstructions to infer how stress evolves and whether ruptures can cross between fault systems," Burkhard told Live Science. But that doesn't give geologists real-time data, captured by seismic instruments, showing how different faults interact during quakes, she added.

The Venezuela doublet offers exactly that opportunity. The main lesson for California, Burkhard said, is that interactions between neighboring faults can play an important role in the evolution of large earthquakes.

"Whether it is Cajon Pass where the San Andreas and San Jacinto systems meet or the Boconó-San Sebastián in Venezuela, these are precisely the locations where single-fault hazard models break down because the real behavior depends on how stress is shared and transferred between adjacent structures," she said.

Still, the two systems are quite different. The Venezuelan sequence represents a different type of cascading rupture than the one described in Burkhard's research. At Cajon Pass, the "earthquake gate" concept explores whether a single rupture can jump from one fault system to another during the same earthquake, over tens of seconds of rupture propagation along a continuous fault trace. The Venezuelan doublet, by contrast, "looks like two distinct ruptures on what may be two separate fault structures, triggered in close succession," Burkhard said.

For Burkhard, the Venezuelan earthquake reinforces the need for seismic hazard models to move beyond treating faults as isolated structures and instead represent them as interconnected networks. The challenge is particularly relevant in California, where roughly 300 active faults may interact in ways that traditional hazard models do not capture.

New Zealand has already incorporated this lesson. After the 2016 Kaikōura earthquake ruptured at least 12 faults in a single event, New Zealand revised its National Seismic Hazard Model to include complex multifault ruptures.

García Mayordomo argues that both Venezuela and the United States should incorporate these complex rupture scenarios into seismic hazard assessments and building codes. Earthquakes involving multiple faults can produce longer-lasting shaking that increases structural fatigue and, ultimately, the risk of collapse.

"It's like a boxing match," García Mayordomo said. "Many times the winner isn't the boxer who lands the hardest punch but the one who keeps punching for longer."

Even so, researchers cautioned against drawing sweeping conclusions from a single earthquake.

"Each earthquake gives us one possible scenario," Judith Hubbard, an earthquake scientist and structural geologist at Cornell University told Live Science. "The range of earthquake behaviors is wide."

This image from the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) offers a rare look at the hidden workings of Centaurus A, one of the most unusual and active galaxies relatively near Earth. JWST detected wavelengths of light humans cannot see, revealing a galaxy shaped by violence and chaos.

Centaurus A is relatively close to the Milky Way, which enabled JWST to study the strange galaxy in remarkable detail. It's no quiet, ordinary galaxy; it's the aftermath of a major cosmic collision. At its heart is an actively feeding supermassive black hole, surrounded by vast clouds of dust that trace the galaxy's turbulent history.

In visible light — such as images from the European Southern Observatory's La Silla Observatory and Very Large Telescope in Chile — thick dust lanes obscure Centaurus A's center, blocking part of the story. The Hubble and Spitzer space telescopes, both of which can see in near-infrared wavelengths, previously imaged Centaurus A, but they also saw mainly dust. But infrared light can pass through that dust, which enabled JWST's Mid-Infrared Instrument to see the galaxy's center glowing in white and pale pink, revealing filaments, loops and clouds of warm dust stretching across the scene.

Scientists believe Centaurus A collided with another galaxy roughly 2 billion years ago. That ancient merger left visible scars, which JWST captured in striking detail. Evidence of a galaxy pulled, stirred and reshaped over immense timescales appears throughout the image, from the warped gray-and-white parallelogram-shaped structure cutting across the galaxy, to the pink and lavender ribbons curving above and below it in an S shape. The image reveals how galaxy mergers rearrange dust and gas, trigger star formation and influence galaxy growth over time.

The image also shows how a nearby supermassive black hole can both fuel and limit the birth of stars. As material falls toward the black hole at the center of Centaurus A, it releases enormous energy and launches powerful jets that shape the surrounding gas and dust.

The image comes near the end of JWST's fourth year of science operations, which began with the release of spectacular images in July 2022. The telescope launched on Dec. 25, 2021, and is predicted to operate for about 20 years.

See how much you know about the world's most powerful telescope with our James Webb Space Telescope quiz!

Albert Einstein gave us the theory of relativity, explained the photoelectric effect and predicted the existence of gravitational waves. He revolutionized our understanding of space, time and gravity.

In fact, he is so famous for his brilliance that "Einstein" is synonymous with "genius." But being a genius doesn't mean you're infallible. So was Einstein wrong about anything?

"For sure, he was wrong about tons of things," Nicolás Yunes, a theoretical physicist at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, told Live Science. "We remember him for the things he was right about, for the most part, because the things he was right about shocked the scientific world and eventually those ripples affected everyone on Earth."

For example, one of his most famous predictions was marred by a mathematical mistake. In 1916, Einstein correctly realized that the acceleration of matter could produce ripples in space-time that we now call gravitational waves. But when he and the physicist Nathan Rosen described these waves using mathematics, they ran into a problem: Any solution to the equations of general relativity that would allow for gravitational waves "blew up," Yunes said. "They had these singularities … these divergences. And solutions that diverge and explode like that, they can't be physical representations of reality."

As a result, Einstein changed his mind and decided that gravitational waves couldn't exist. He wrote up his results and submitted them to the journal Physical Review, which had recently begun sending papers to outside experts for peer review. An anonymous reviewer caught an error in Einstein's math, and when Einstein learned about it, he was so furious that he withdrew the paper and submitted it to a different journal.

But the reviewer had spotted a real error: Einstein's mathematical infinities were a coordinate artifact. Much like Earth's lines of longitude seem to converge to a "singularity" at the North Pole even though nothing unusual is happening there on the ground, Einstein's math could have been fixed by using a different set of coordinates.

Without Einstein's knowledge, the reviewer befriended and demonstrated the error to Einstein's assistant, who explained it to Einstein. Einstein corrected the error and republished the paper with the opposite conclusion, showing that gravitational waves do, in fact, exist.

Calculating "impossible infinities"

Remarkably, Einstein stumbled on the same error twice — at least, it seemed that way. When examining the mathematics around black holes, he once again calculated impossible infinities ‪—‬ this time, at the edge of a black hole. And once again, he concluded that this must mean the object couldn't exist.

"Einstein remained skeptical of the existence of black holes," John D. Norton, a professor in the Department of History and Philosophy of Science at the University of Pittsburgh, told Live Science in an email. "He was resolute in his judgment that there would be a singularity in space-time already at the event horizon of a black hole, which is now merely regarded as marking the point of no return for those falling into a black hole."

But this time, Einstein was not convinced that he made a mistake. Norton argues this wasn't just stubbornness; it reflected a philosophical belief in how Einstein thought mathematics and physics should relate to each other.

"He was unmoved by alternative analyses that found his mathematical infinities to be merely artifacts of the particular mathematical methods he preferred," Norton said.

Einstein and quantum mechanics

Einstein's resistance to quantum mechanics is probably his most famous wrong turn. His central objection was to a phenomenon called quantum entanglement: the idea that two particles can be linked in such a way that measuring one instantly affects the other, no matter the distance between them. In a 1947 letter to his colleague Max Born, he wrote, "I cannot seriously believe in it because the theory cannot be reconciled with the idea that physics should represent a reality in time and space, free from spooky actions at a distance."

Einstein thought this instantaneous phenomenon seemed to violate special relativity, which says that nothing can travel faster than light. As a result, he believed quantum mechanics must be incomplete and that there was some deeper, unknown description of reality that would restore order.

"He died not liking quantum mechanics," Yunes said. It wasn't until 1964, almost a decade after Einstein's death, that John Bell proved entanglement was real.

"Today, a lot of the technology that we have relies on quantum mechanics, and so we know it's correct," Yunes said. "But it's still incompatible with general relativity, with [Einstein's] classical theory."

"It's possible that general relativity is wrong," Yunes said. "It's also possible that quantum mechanics is not the right description when you're talking about systems that are very strongly gravitating and you're looking at Planck-scale-type dynamics," which are incredibly small scales at which quantum effects dominate. For instance, the center of a black hole, which is both compressed to the quantum scale but also sits inside the most intense gravitational field in the universe, is a place where general relativity predicts a singularity that quantum mechanics has no way to describe.

But many of Einstein's mistakes still moved science forward. "General relativity is a good example," Norton said. "Einstein based it on the idea that he was generalizing the principle of relativity to acceleration and on what he soon called Mach's principle. Neither proved compatible with his final general theory of relativity."

Einstein's mistakes might come as a surprise to others, but they didn't to him. Once, when writing a book with his collaborator Leopold Infeld, Infeld told him he was taking special care with it because Einstein's name would appear on it. Einstein laughed and said, "There are incorrect papers under my name, too."

See how much you know about Albert Einstein with our Einstein quiz!

Tropical forests draw down and store large quantities of CO₂ from the atmosphere. The Amazon rainforest in South America, for example, stores approximately 123 billion tonnes of carbon — more than is stored in any other terrestrial ecosystem in the world. But these forests are facing a critical challenge.

Research from 2023, which was carried out by me and more than 100 colleagues, found that tropical forests in South America are vulnerable to climate extremes. We determined that during an El Niño event, the warm phase of a natural fluctuation in the Earth's climate system, South American tropical forests may fail to act as a carbon sink.

This finding becomes even more alarming when we consider the increasing frequency and intensity of El Niño events. There have been twice as many "very strong" El Niños in the last 60 years as there were in the 60 years before that. And the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has recently confirmed that such an El Niño is currently underway.

Tropical forests absorb CO₂ through the process of photosynthesis and convert it into biomass. However, the balance between photosynthesis and respiration is delicate and depends on two factors: temperature and water availability.

In hotter and drier conditions, plants close the pores of their leaves to avoid water loss. But closing them effectively cuts off a plant's fuel supply because it is through these pores they absorb CO₂. This starves plants of the carbon needed for photosynthesis and to grow.

During El Niño years, which are characterized by high temperature anomalies, prolonged climate stress leads to reduced forest growth and increased tree mortality. The effects of this are felt for decades as carbon is released back into the atmosphere when the dead trees decompose.

Our findings revealed that during the 2015-2016 El Niño, when temperatures on land were at least a degree higher on average than usual conditions, some of South America's tropical forests effectively stopped absorbing carbon. This raises concerns about the possible impact of the current El Niño on the Amazon and global climate.

In our research, we measured over half a million trees across six South American countries over a period of more than 30 years, using tape measures to track their growth. These trees belonged to over 4,000 different species. We used this data to calculate precise estimates of the amount of carbon stored as a forest's aboveground biomass.

We found that the vulnerability of these forests to El Niño conditions was closely linked to their baseline climate. While we tend to assume that rainforests are all hot, wet and biodiverse ecosystems, seasonal drought is a reality for many tropical forests. Conditions in regions at the edge of the Amazon rainforest, for example, tend to be particularly hot and dry.

Our findings revealed that drier forests at the edge of the Amazon, where trees regularly endure periods of limited water availability, were especially susceptible to extreme El Niño conditions. On average, a 0.5°C increase in temperature caused these forests to lose 0.5% of their aboveground carbon.

Larger trees suffered the most. While tree mortality rates increased from 1.8% to 3% per year during the El Niño in South American tropical forests as a whole, mortality rates effectively doubled for medium (classified as over 20cm in diameter) and large trees.

The fact that larger trees with less dense wood died at much higher rates compared to small trees and those with high wood density points strongly to hydraulic failure, when intense atmospheric moisture demand snaps the tension in the tree's internal water column rather than slow carbon starvation.

These results suggest that adaption to seasonal drought may not be sufficient to protect tropical forests from extreme events. Climate extremes are possibly already pushing forests at the edges of the Amazon beyond their capacity to adapt, causing catastrophic carbon losses.

A looming threat

Scientists have warned that 2026 may again be the warmest year on record. Heightening the alarm further is the severity of the current El Niño. Never before has an an El Niño begun when oceans are already so warm and air temperatures so high.

On top of this is the fact that, over the past three decades, the edges of the Amazon have experienced some of the highest temperatures and most rapid warming the tropics have ever seen. The structural integrity of a forest is compromised when a major climate anomaly occurs before it has recovered from recent, multi-year stress.

These compounding factors mean that we risk witnessing tree and carbon losses on scales not yet seen.

Tropical forests are invaluable assets in the fight against climate change. But South American tropical forests, a once-reliable carbon sink, are vulnerable to intensifying heat and drought. There is a risk these essential ecological allies stop acting as a carbon sink as extreme climate conditions become the norm.

Preserving tropical forests is thus essential. Their ability to continue acting as carbon sinks hinges on efforts to protect them and a collective commitment to limit global temperature rise. The Amazon's future depends on this, and so does ours.

This edited article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Rainforest quiz: Can you sort Earth's largest rainforests from biggest to smallest?

Most archaeologists spend time digging in the dirt or piecing together broken artifacts or bones in the lab, attempting to make sense of the past in a painstakingly slow process. But others use that information — and a little ingenuity — to re-create the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of ancient societies through a practice called experimental archaeology.

In his book "Dinner with King Tut: How Rogue Archaeologists Are Re-creating the Sights, Sounds, Smells, and Tastes of Lost Civilizations" (Little, Brown and Co., 2025), author Sam Kean delves into the overloaded sensory world of experimental archaeology practitioners. Along the way, he learns to knap a stone tool like early Homo sapiens did, create an intricate hairstyle that would make a Roman woman proud, tattoo someone using ancient tools, play an Aztec ball game, and bake the kind of sourdough loaf that King Tut once ate.

Kean spoke with Live Science about his book, which was a finalist for the 2026 PEN/E.O. Wilson Literary Science Writing Award and was named one of The New Yorker's best books of 2025.

Related: Read an excerpt from Kean's book, "Dinner with King Tut."

Kristina Killgrove: What intrigued you about experimental archaeology?

Sam Kean: There was sort of a conflict within me because, on the one hand, I really love the questions that archaeology brings up. There's some big, meaty questions about who we are as a species, how we spread across the Earth, how we changed as we spread across the Earth ‪—‬ these really important, big questions about human history. But whenever I would go to an actual archaeological site, it just seemed to me like the most boring work I could imagine. It's just people sitting around in the dirt with toothbrushes or dental picks or whatever, picking up potsherds, and it just seemed so tedious to me.

Experimental archaeology seemed like a lot more lively, sensory-rich field because archaeologists in this field are actually doing things. They're re-creating stone tools, making ancient foods. You can smell the past. So it was just a lot more exciting way for me to get into archaeology.

KK: Tell me about your research process for this book. Did you "embed" with archaeologists and participate in their experiments?

SK: Each chapter is set in a different time and place, so you're really immersed in a day in the life of that person. There was a lot of reading about traditional archaeology and what we've learned from that, because we have learned a lot from it. But then I would go talk to experimental archaeologists and go through the process of brain-tanning leather or getting on a ship that they would have sailed on, and I just experienced it in the way that they're doing their research and experienced it more like people would have in the past too.

KK: Did you have a favorite experiment that you learned about or a favorite archaeologist you embedded with?

SK: There's a guy out in Utah who built a trebuchet — a giant medieval catapult. It was about 30 or 40 feet [9 to 12 meters] tall, I think. And we just spent a lovely day flinging these giant garden stones around at this palisade that he had built, as a stand-in for a fort, essentially. And we just spent a day flinging these huge stones at this fort and watching it smash in and splinter the wood and try to destroy this little fort. Getting to pull the trigger on this catapult — it was just like this majestic dragon coming to life, almost, as it started to fling these balls. And it was like a whip cracking of the sling as it would fling the stone out. That was just a really lovely memory, partly because everything worked properly that day.

A lot of the book was actually me floundering around, failing to complete the projects or figuring out what I was doing wrong. And I think that was a good learning method. I did learn a lot by flailing around, probably more than I would have had I gotten things correct the first time immediately. But it was nice when things went right every once in a while. And the catapult was a good example of that.

KK: That sounds so cool! And in the excerpt that we are publishing on Live Science from your book "Dinner with King Tut," you talk to people who used ancient Egyptian mummification techniques on a real human body. What did you learn from talking to these people? And did you get to try mummifying a body yourself?

SK: Not a body, but I did do a little mummification myself. I didn't know this before I started writing the book, but the Egyptians mummified a lot of animals, a huge variety of animals, dozens of different types, and on a big, big scale. There's one grave site they found with something like 4 million bird mummies. So there have been a fair number of archaeologists in modern times who have tried to — and succeeded in — mummifying different animals, even though the Egyptians didn't write down a whole lot about the process. We don't know if it was lost to time or if it was just sort of a guild secret where they didn't write things down. So they would do this to learn about the mummification process with animals.

But, of course, the thing that really intrigues us about ancient Egypt are the human mummies. And everyone thought we couldn't actually make a human mummy until two guys did in the '90s. It was one Egyptologist [Bob Brier] and the guy who was in charge of the Maryland state anatomy board [Ronn Wade], who got to decide where cadavers went that had been donated to science. He decided this was a worthwhile project.

The donor remains anonymous, but he was a 76-year-old man from Baltimore who had died of a heart attack. They went all out to be authentic for this project. They went to Egypt to get the mineral natron that they would have used to mummify him. They had ancient tools made, and they went through all the steps that were known in mummification and turned this person into a mummy.

KK: Did these researchers learn more than what is in the historical records? What did they learn from doing this themselves?

SK: It was a controversial project. People said, when you donate your body to science, that's not a blank check to do whatever you want. Some people called it horrifying. And some people said that they didn't think it had any scientific value. I understand the ethical concerns, but I don't think it's true that we didn't learn anything.

One thing that sticks out in my mind that I was surprised about is how they used authentic tools. Archaeologists have found obsidian blades with mummies — those are volcanic glass — and they found copper tools associated with them. So, when these guys were trying to open the body up initially, it turned out that the copper blades they had were not good at all. They could not get through the skin and the muscle of the abdomen very well. The obsidian tools turned out to be much better at that task, which surprised me. I wouldn't have thought that the stone tools would have been better than the metal tools. That's something we wouldn't have learned had we not gone through the process.

Also, the iconic look of the mummy: It has retracted teeth and sparse hair and a forehead pulled very tight. Bob Brier, the Egyptologist involved, had seen a lot of mummies, and he always wanted to know, do they look like that because they've been sitting in Egypt, a dry environment, for 3,000 years, or is it the mummification process that gives them that look? And he said that even after about five weeks, when they took a peek at the body, they could tell it had that classic iconic mummy look. He said it looked exactly like Ramesses the Great to him. So we did learn things about the mummification process through this that we just wouldn't have known otherwise.

KK: That's amazing that this controversial experiment produced new knowledge. You mentioned you mummified something — tell me about it.

SK: I did mummify a fish for the book. That was kind of a fun process, and it was a surprisingly easy thing to do. You can rub the oils in, wrap them up, include little spells like they did back then. But the basic process is just using natron — which is baking soda and salt — and you just put the fish or whatever you want to mummify underneath this. Then it just does the work on its own.

KK: Then I guess the real question is, did you eat that fish that you mummified?

SK: No, but it's sitting on my shelf still as a little memento. I did accumulate quite a nice collection of artifacts and things – stone tools I made, I opened and ate an ostrich egg. I made tapa or kapa — which is a type of Polynesian bark cloth. So I did get to do and make and take home a lot of cool souvenirs from this.

KK: That's so fun! And your book is a little different from some other popular science books because you include these fictional narratives based in archaeological and historical fact. In the introduction, you call them a "form of time travel." Tell me a bit more about why you chose this unusual structure for the book and what you hope readers will get out of that.

SK: What I really value about experimental archaeology is that it's pretty immersive, especially the sensory aspects of it. You do get to feel — to some degree, at least — that you are there and that you are doing the things that people back then were doing. I thought that fiction would allow me to take that even one step further and really get in the minds and be in the world that those people lived in. So you get to wake up where they did, eat the foods that they did, and experience their society. Something like religion or their beliefs in the supernatural or spiritual beliefs are not going to be amenable to experimental archaeology, but you can do that in fiction. And so it allowed me to take it one step further, and it was just fun to try and fun to write as well.

KK: Is experimental archaeology going to be something you cover more in a future book?

SK: I think I could do it if I wanted to revisit it because there were other cultures that, for various reasons, I decided to not include. People are doing work in ancient Greece, but that didn't make it into the book. I do have one chapter in sub-Saharan Africa tens of thousands of years ago, but that was the Cradle of Humankind. I could certainly do other aspects of that. There's definitely fodder out there for another book, especially as these techniques get more accepted. It has been heartening to see that people are more accepting of experimental archaeology, and even people on traditional digs now are running maybe an experiment or two. So they're not going all the way to experimental archaeology, but they're incorporating these practices.

It's just such a fun field. I really would encourage people to get involved with it and to try it out, because you can do a lot of basic things like gather acorns and try to make a recipe out of those. Or research some ancient Roman or Greek food and try to re-create that stuff ‪—‬ just little experiments and things you can do to get people excited about it and bring the past alive in a new way.

And I have a new book coming out in the fall called "The Museum of Lost Things: True Tales of Fabled Treasures, Legendary Cities, and Mythical Creatures That Vanished From History" [National Geographic, 2026]. It's about the greatest lost treasures in history and has some interesting archaeological angles in there.

KK: I'll look forward to reading that. Thanks for chatting with me!

Editor's note: This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Ancient Egypt quiz: Test your smarts about pyramids, hieroglyphs and King Tut

In most areas of archaeology, excavators painstakingly dig layer by layer to reveal not just buried artifacts but also charred seeds, broken bones and microscopic grains of ancient pollen. This delicate process is followed by months of intensive lab work to study the newfound remains. But there is one kind of archaeologist that takes a different approach to understanding the past. Experimental archaeologists replicate how people did things in the past, using techniques they recreate from archaeological information and modern knowledge.

In his new book, "Dinner with King Tut: How Rogue Archaeologists Are Re-creating the Sights, Sounds, Smells, and Tastes of Lost Civilizations" (Little, Brown and Co., 2025), science writer Sam Kean explores the experimental side of archaeology. Through a series of ancient and modern vignettes, Kean discovers how Stone Age city dwellers kept their houses cool 9,000 years ago, how the Romans used needle and thread to style hair, and how bog bodies were formed in Iron Age Europe.

In this excerpt, Kean meets two men who used ancient techniques to diligently mummify a human body in an effort to understand how ancient Egyptians took care of their dead.

Related: Read our interview with Sam Kean on 'Dinner with King Tut'

Cultures throughout history have mummified their dead, and a handful still do today, but Egyptian mummies remain the most iconic. Unfortunately, the Egyptians wrote down virtually nothing about their embalming process. This leaves experimental archaeology as one of the few avenues available for understanding mummification, and several practitioners have indeed re-created mummies in modern times. In most cases, they work with animals, but a few intrepid souls have mummified human beings, most famously when Bob Brier and Ronn Wade did so in 1994.

Wade grew up wanting to be a mortician like his father. After a stint as a medic in the Vietnam War, he became an anatomist and eventually the head of Maryland's state anatomy board. Brier also has training in anatomy, but is an Egyptologist by training and passion. He's accumulated so many books on Egypt over his life that he rents a second apartment just to accommodate them. Brier and Wade selected their mummy from the pool of people in Baltimore who donated their bodies to science. Ultimately, they settled on a seventy-six-year-old Caucasian man who died of a heart attack. His identity remains secret, but a bit crassly, Wade nicknamed him E. M. Balm.

For authenticity's sake, Brier and Wade used replicas of pharaonic-era tools and materials, including linen wraps, an oddly wide wooden embalming table, and copper and obsidian blades — although they quickly abandoned the copper ones, which couldn't cut flesh well. Before starting on their mummy, they practiced one important step on other cadavers: extracting the brain. Instead of using full cadavers for this, they obtained some decapitated heads leftover from a medical school's plastic surgery class. ("They were looking a little weird," Brier recalls. "They'd had facelifts and such.")

From some scant references, Brier knew that Egyptian embalmers removed the brain by inserting a hooked rod through the nostrils, but the details were vague. Brier and Wade first tried scooping the brain out with such a rod, but the tissue proved too soft and wouldn't come out. They finally took to squirting water up the cadaver's nose, then used the rod to whisk the brain into a slurry. After that, it poured right out. "Like a milkshake," Brier says. "A strawberry milkshake to be exact."

Skills honed, the duo began making their mummy in May 1994. The first step involved removing his organs.

Different organs met different fates in Egypt. Unclear about the purpose of the brain, embalmers typically threw it away. The heart, in contrast, was left in situ [in place]; it was considered the seat of all thinking, emotion, and intelligence. Abdominal organs were carefully extracted and preserved. Following this protocol, Brier and Wade made a 3½-inch [9 centimeters] incision in their cadaver's abdomen and removed the spleen, liver, gallbladder, lungs, and twenty-two feet [6.7 meters] of intestines. Given their size, extracting the liver and lungs required some creative geometry and determined squeezing. The most difficult part involved detaching the lungs from the heart while working blind inside such a tiny hole.

With the organs removed, the pair cleaned the abdomen with palm wine and myrrh, then stuffed frankincense into the skull. This was an important ritual step to prepare the body for the afterlife, and also helped kill microbes and mask bad smells. Ancient embalmers used other sacred substances as well, often imported from Europe and Asia at great cost — pistachio resin, beeswax, castor oil. Ramses the Great's mummy had peppercorns from India shoved up his nose.

Next, Brier and Wade dehydrated the body using natron, a mineral of equal parts salt and baking soda that forms naturally in Egyptian wadis, or dry gullies. Like a sponge, natron sucks the moisture out of flesh, leaving it too dry to support bacteria, maggots, beetles, and other putrefying agents; the leftover tissue is essentially jerky. (Fully committed to authenticity, Brier dug the natron himself in Egypt, and recalls that sneaking hundreds of pounds of unidentified white powder through customs at JFK Airport was one of the more ticklish aspects of the project. Luckily, he was traveling with a film crew, and could hide the powder in suitcases amid their equipment.)

In their lab, Brier and Wade placed the mummy's spleen, lungs, liver, and intestines into bowls and covered them with natron. They also packed 29 linen bags of the powder into the body's empty torso, laid the body on top of 211 more pounds [96 kilograms], and dumped 583 additional pounds [264 kg] over it. They kept the body in Wade's old office, with the heat cranked up to 104 degrees F [Fahrenheit, or 40 degrees Celsius] and dehumidifiers running night and day to simulate Egyptian air.

Over the next five weeks, the natron on top turned crusty and brown from absorbing bodily juices, forcing Brier and Wade to crack through it with an iron rod. (Today Brier remembers the odor as acrid but not unpleasant, although news reports at the time say he and Wade donned surgical masks against the smell.) Regardless, the sight of the body beneath thrilled Brier. As it dries, the skin of mummies tightens and shrivels, especially on the face and scalp. The lips retract to reveal the teeth, and skin with less melanin turns brown-yellow. Brier always wondered whether those changes resulted from the immediate mummification process, or from several thousand years of weathering in Egypt's arid climate. One glance at his mummy and Brier knew the answer: even after five weeks, "he looked just like Ramses the Great," he recalls, with leathery skin, a beaky nose, and wispy hair sticking up. The embalming process, not time, made the iconic mummies we know today.

Beyond changing the body's appearance, the dehydration process left the limbs as stiff as tree branches, and dropped its weight from 188 pounds [85 kg] to just 79 [36 kg]. (Thirty-one pounds [14 kg] of that represented the removal of organs.) The organs drying in the bowls withered as well, which helped explain another mystery of Egyptian mummification: as other archaeologists have noted, embalmers typically placed the organs in so‑called canopic jars, funerary vessels with slim necks — so slim that it seemed impossible to fit the larger organs inside. But the natron shrunk them down enough to slip right in.

After removing him from the natron, Brier and Wade gave Mr. Balm a full body massage with lotus, cedar, and palm oils, another step that, while important ritualistically, also had pragmatic benefits — restoring flexibility to the joints, making the mummy easier to handle. This accomplished, they wrapped the body in linen bandages. (Embalmers in ancient times started with the hands and feet, wrapping each digit separately, then proceeded to the arms, legs, and torso. The penis was individually wrapped as well — or, if embarrassingly shriveled, a cod‑piece of stiff linen was bound in place.) At this point, they let the mummy dry for three more months in the arid office, which dropped its weight to 51 pounds [23 kg]. Afterward, they added several more layers of wrappings. In between the layers, they slipped magic amulets and scraps of papyrus with spells on them, a common practice in ancient times.

For the past three decades, the mummy has been lying in a metal casket in Maryland, stored at room temperature. Brier and Wade have partially unwrapped it twice to check for rot, but found nothing amiss. "He's dead and well," says Brier.

See how much you know about mummies with our mummy quiz!

On a Sunday afternoon in April, the main minibus terminal in Sukabumi, Indonesia, looked sleepy from the outside. But in an open space round the back, hundreds of men were gathered. Amid chatter and cigarette smoke, the air buzzed with excitement, for one of the region's biggest bird-singing competitions was set to begin, and a motorbike was among the prizes.

As the day progressed, dozens of songbirds were brought out for their 10-minute rounds, from tiny garden sunbirds and grey-cheeked bulbuls to larger oriental magpie-robins and orange-headed thrushes. Then the emcee announced the main event — the singing contest among the highly popular, strikingly handsome white-rumped shamas — and a hush fell over the crowd.

The shamas' owners murmured final words of encouragement and stepped away from their cages. Judges swept in with clipboards, assessing each bird for its song, ability to hold a steady tune, volume and showmanship. Soon it was down to a final two birds ... and then "Baby White" was crowned the winner amid cheers from the crowd.

Indonesians have a long-standing culture of keeping birds as pets, and songbirds are especially popular, prized by collectors for their melodious singing and colorful plumage. "I keep songbirds as a hobby, to relieve stress and also gain a bit of money," explained Harry Gunawan, a 78-year-old businessman and owner of 39 shamas, including the multiple prizewinning Baby White, while waiting for his new motorbike.

Gunawan's shamas are among an estimated 66 million to 84 million caged birds that are kept across Java, the island where 56 percent of Indonesia's population lives and one in three households owns birds. These include more than 3 million white-rumped shamas and 2 million oriental magpie-robins. Wild birds are believed to be better songsters; hence, many are trapped in forests then crammed into tiny crates, drainpipes and even plastic bottles, destined for pet markets in Jakarta, Surabaya and other big cities. Birds that survive the journey — estimates of mortality rates range from 30 to 80 percent — will spend the rest of their lives confined to cages.

This birdkeeping hobby, paired with the growing popularity of singing competitions, has already driven some species to extinction and many species — also threatened with habitat loss — are on the brink, a phenomenon dubbed "the Asian songbird crisis."

"The silent forest is really happening," says Agung Nur Haq, who is in charge of conservation at the Wak Gatak Songbird Rescue and Rehabilitation Center near Pontianak, West Kalimantan.

Experts warn that action must be taken quickly, or the consequences may be dire and irreversible. If nothing is done and populations can't recuperate, says Alexander Lees, a conservation biologist at Manchester Metropolitan University in the United Kingdom, we may experience an "empty forest syndrome," whereby forests appear intact and lush but are devoid of animals.

Birds in demand

The illegal bird trade is thriving elsewhere in southeast Asia, including Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore. But "Indonesia's songbird trade is one of the world's most prolific," says Chris Shepherd, a wildlife trade expert at the Center for Biological Diversity in Canada. "It's terrifying."

The biodiversity-rich nation is home to about 1,800 bird species — more than double the number found in the United States. Of those, one in five have been spotted in pet markets, including protected, endangered and endemic species (ones found nowhere else). These include the endangered black-winged myna and the Javan green magpie, of which fewer than 250 and 100 wild individuals, respectively, remain.

Estimates suggest that up to 30 percent of Indonesia’s population, some 90 million people, keeps between 164 million and 187 million wild-caught songbirds.

"There may be more birds behind bars than left in the wild," wrote Lees in an overview of the songbird crisis in Current Biology.

The fondness of Indonesians for caged birds stems from a centuries-old belief among the Javanese, the country's largest ethnic group, that a man is considered successful if he possesses five elements: a wife, a house, a vehicle, a ceremonial dagger and a bird. The bird symbolizes that he is in touch with his softer side, and can indulge in both work and leisure. In a 2025 study, researchers found that a bird's singing ability was the biggest driver of demand — after that, people preferred rare, endemic or unusual birds that flaunt one's status.

Singing competitions emerged in the 1970s as another reason to keep songbirds. These local or regional events are typically held monthly or weekly, involving up to 1,000 birds.

"The owners go home with, at the very least, tons of prestige, but more often lots of prize money, sometimes up to 10 years' salary," says acoustic biologist Benjamin Mirin, founder of the Creative Conservation Lab with Cornell University. Competitors also stand to win exclusive trophies, goats, motorcycles and even cars.

Mirin, who has been studying the songbird trade since 2018, says the events can be life-changing. "They're so popular and financially beneficial that they're accelerating the poaching of birds to the point where now the forests are falling silent."

Unfortunately, wild-caught birds are perceived to have better song quality and a wider singing repertoire than their captive-bred counterparts. As a result, competitions "have been driving the demand in certain species," says Serene Chng, a wildlife trade researcher at TRAFFIC, a nonprofit focused on reducing harmful and illegal trafficking of plants and animals.

An expert group formed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature has identified 52 species that are most impacted by trade in Asia. These include the straw-headed bulbul (known for its lovely duets) and the Bali starling (with its stark white plumage and electric-blue eye ring). Although Indonesian law forbids the capture and trade of more than 500 bird species, many of them songbirds, enforcement is weak, thanks to poor resources, corruption and other factors. Consequently, several species, including the Javan pied starling, are now locally extinct.

It's hard to predict what will happen to ecosystems if songbird species are wiped out en masse in Indonesia. Birds play important ecological roles: pollinating plants, dispersing seeds and helping with insect control. The Pacific island of Guam offers a cautionary tale: It lost nearly all of its songbirds after the brown tree snake, which preyed on the birds and their eggs, was accidentally introduced after World War II. Guam's forests shifted to what Lees has described as "a nightmarish alternative state as a spider-dominated ecosystem." It was, he says, "pretty catastrophic."

Indonesia is much larger and far less isolated, so "your starting conditions are not as bad," says Lees. "But if we don't recuperate some of those populations, then we can expect maybe similar sorts of downstream impacts."

A sanctuary

Government agencies have had some success in tracking down wild-captured birds but are reluctant to confiscate them because they lack a place to house them. This dilemma in West Kalimantan province, a hotspot for illegal bird trade activity, led to the establishment of the Wak Gatak sanctuary by the nonprofit group Planet Indonesia.

One of its key aims is to provide suitable facilities to encourage more frequent confiscations and rescues by authorities with Indonesia's natural resources and conservation agency, BKSDA, while ensuring the welfare of confiscated songbirds, says Abrar Ahmad, a technical advisor for terrestrial conservation at Wak Gatak.

The center, which sits on a leafy plot near the city of Pontianak, is worlds apart from the dark, cramped conditions birds endure when smuggled aboard a truck or ship. On a morning in April, visitors turn off a sleepy road and drive past the gates down a short muddy track. Dragonflies flit lazily through tall grass and a smattering of coconut, banana and durian trees sway in the distance. The facilities are modest: a small office block with light-filled aviaries.

Animals often arrive at Wak Gatak in an alarming state: Malnourished, with missing feathers, many appear fatigued or withdrawn, says Happy Ferdiansyah, Wak Gatak's head veterinarian. Some birds have wounds on their upper beaks from gnawing on cage bars, while others — especially if they're more territorial — suffer leg fractures from fighting with other birds in close quarters.

"A lot of them, 70 to 80 percent, die within the first two weeks. Their condition is very poor," says Ferdiansyah.

To avoid causing the birds further stress, his team conducts only a visual inspection of the new arrivals. Those that are obviously ill are transferred to the on-site clinic for treatment. The rest are transferred to cages in quarantine.

The birds receive vitamins, nourishment (an assortment of fruits, insects, sugar syrup and so on), in addition to enjoying more space — one or two individuals typically share an oven-size cage. They remain in quarantine for at least 14 days, a critical time period when diseases such as avian influenza and Newcastle disease tend to manifest, says conservation director Haq. To test for these and other issues, Ferdiansyah and his fellow vets analyze blood and stool samples, in addition to carrying out rapid antigen tests.

Once their health has been given the all-clear, the birds are moved to rehabilitation aviaries on the opposite side of the premises. These enclosures are much more luxurious: bathroom-size, dotted with green plants, with generous views of the surroundings and sky.

Here, stimulation is key, as is getting the birds comfortable with flying again. "The aviaries have different perches and plants for the birds to hop around or to hide in the bush," says Ferdiansyah. "We also do food enrichment like giving them live insects or putting the food in different places."

Only some birds are fit for release. Those that appear habituated to people are not good candidates; they may continue to approach humans and might teach non-natural calls to wild birds or just fail to communicate with them. The center, for example, currently houses four locally endangered and protected common hill mynas — glossy black starlings with heavy orange bills that are renowned for their intelligence and mimicry. When I visited, the birds happily wolf-whistled, chuckled and offered the traditional Islamic greeting "As-salamu alaykum," among smatterings of Indonesian chatter. These mynas have been at Wak Gatak for nearly a year and will remain there for the foreseeable future.

But for birds that are suitable to release, the center works with BKSDA to identify possible sites. Ideally, these would be forest lands in good condition, with abundant food and water, minimal human activity and few natural predators like civets and snakes, says Ferdiansyah. A local community that's supportive of conservation is a plus — increasing positive outcomes, such as survival and reproduction, by 10 percent, according to a 2023 study that analyzed 305 wildlife restoration projects in 80 countries.

Once a site is determined and permits are secured, Ferdiansyah and his team transport the birds — as they did at the end of April, taking 130 birds to a nature reserve seven hours north of Pontianak. At such sites, the team carries out what’s known as a soft release, placing the birds in a large makeshift cage that allows them to acclimate to their new surroundings. After four to 10 days, the team opens the cage, allowing the birds to fly away when ready. Team members stay on for up to two weeks, tracking the birds to make sure they're settling in problem-free.

It's rough, sweaty work, says Ferdiansyah, but highly rewarding. The center has so far helped 348 songbirds return to the wild. The April release is their largest to date, and included some crimson sunbirds and greater green leafbirds, the latter of which is endangered. Another 705 birds were seized in December from a ship at the local port in Pontianak. Within hours, most of the birds had died. But 36 are still recovering at Wak Gatak and 22 have been rehabilitated and released.

Nearly 3,000 birds from 45 species have passed through the center's doors since it opened in 2022. It’s proof that such a rehabilitation facility — the only one in Indonesia for the foreseeable future — can make an impact.

But given how many songbirds are in peril, its work is a drop in the ocean.

To slow the crisis, experts say it must be fought on multiple fronts, but above all, at its root: demand. It requires "thinking about how we can shift attitudes and behaviors to reduce pressure on wild populations," says Lees, who explores such measures in a look at the state of the world’s birds in the 2022 Annual Review of Environment and Resources. In 2023, the Wak Gatak team carried out a campaign across some of the city's billboards, discouraging people from joining songbird competitions. And in the coming months, they'll host a series of behavior-change workshops in two towns close to forests where birds are commonly poached and competitions are growing in number.

Shifting the needle will not be easy. Indonesia's songbird hobbyist groups are powerful — in 2018, they successfully petitioned to have five species downlisted from the national list of protected birds. Plus, government officials often take part in competitions themselves. In 2018, for example, then-president Joko Widodo presided over the President's Cup, one of Indonesia's most prestigious songbird competitions, even entering his own white-rumped shama.

Yet change is possible: Ferdiansyah himself kept four songbirds as a kid because they "sounded very nice" and he thought he could make them happy. But when he entered veterinary college, he realized the error of his ways and set the birds free.

This article originally appeared in Knowable Magazine, a nonprofit publication dedicated to making scientific knowledge accessible to all. Sign up for Knowable Magazine's newsletter.

Are you a bird nerd? Find out with our bird quiz!

This week's science news was filled with big discoveries from the world of the small, led by a physicist's creation of a mini-universe, which was designed so we can watch time emerge from within an isolated quantum system.

The experiment was performed using a Bose-Einstein condensate — a strange state of matter that consists of thousands of atoms blended into a single quantum object at near absolute zero (minus 273.15 degrees Celsius, or minus 459.67 degrees Fahrenheit). The system showed time speeding up, slowing down and even stopping, depending on what the system was doing.

Those weren't the only highbrow high jinks using a Bose-Einstein condensate we reported on this week. We also covered NASA's upgrade to its mini-fridge-sized laboratory on the International Space Station that will use the bizarre state of matter to probe the quantum world. Back on Earth, physicists also found that complex numbers aren't necessary for quantum mechanics to work and used quantum computers to create a rare material critical to nuclear fusion. And to stick with news from the small (and weird) things of the world, we also reported that scientists have created little diving suits to transform cockroaches into search-and-rescue cyborgs.

Arctic ice thickening shows promise

First experiment to thicken Arctic ice with seawater shows promise — but there's a big catch

The Arctic is the world's fastest-warming region, where sea ice is rapidly disappearing at a rate of 12.2% per decade.

The ice is crucial for maintaining stable sea levels and marine nutrient flows, and for reflecting solar radiation away from our planet, so its precipitous decline is deeply concerning. That's why one team of researchers turned to a surprisingly simple method to stem the ice loss: flooding ice sheets with seawater to thicken them.

The results, despite some major caveats, showed a lot of promise.

Discover more planet Earth news

—Extreme heat waves are making our cities buckle. Investing in urban nature is no longer optional.

—Colorful 'painting-like' ripples cover an ancient seafloor structure in the Bahamas — Earth from space

—'Uncharted territory': Record-high ocean temperatures confirmed for June as El Niño strengthens its grip

Life's Little Mysteries

Does fast charging damage your battery more than regular charging?

If you're as shamefully attached to your devices as I am, you may have wondered about the wildly differing times it can take for them to charge. So what's the science behind fast charging, and does it damage a device's battery more than regular charging does?

—If you enjoyed this, sign up for our Life's Little Mysteries newsletter

One of the oldest gravestones of a free Black person in the U.S. found

'One of the oldest gravestones of a free Black person in America' discovered in Boston

It was found amid photos of headstones during a restoration project at Boston's Granary Burying Ground — a gravestone with only one name, "Boston."

That's how a team of conservationists chanced upon the tombstone of Sebastian, a formerly enslaved man who died free in 1729 and chose the city's name as his own.

A search through the historical archives has produced a wealth of information about Boston's past, including his reputation as a hardworking handyman throughout the city, and his emancipation following the death of the man who held him in slavery.

"It's been there all along. We just had to go look and share the story," Michelle Wu, the mayor of Boston, said in a July 4 speech.

Discover more archaeology news

—100,000 years ago, one of the earliest Homo sapiens outside Africa was stabbed in the face, analysis finds

—6,000-year-old broken ribs discovered in Syria may be one of the oldest known cases of child abuse in the world

—Neanderthals and modern humans may have shared culture 59,000 years ago in Turkey, study finds

Also in science news this week

—New sodium metal battery design charges in just 4 minutes and retains its capacity for years

—Dirty 'button' unearthed by metal detectorist turns out to be a rare 900-year-old coin from Norway's last Viking king, Magnus Barefoot

—'Astronomers have to revise estimates': The Milky Way may be larger, heavier and more lopsided than we realized

—2,500-year-old tomb of a 'warrior prince' with chariot and helmet discovered on Italy's Adriatic coast

—Malaria had nearly been eliminated around a giant dam in the Amazon — but then it came roaring back. Experts just discovered why.

Science interview

'800 seconds for a sick visit': Some factors driving antibiotic resistance have nothing to do with biology, says medical sociologist Julia Szymczak

Antibiotic resistance continues to pose a growing danger across the U.S., with more than 2.8 million antimicrobial-resistant infections occurring in the country each year. Last week, we brought you a report from Live Science health editor Nicoletta Lanese, who visited Japan to investigate how that country is curbing its overuse of antibiotics.

Now, in the second part of a feature series into the fight against this "silent pandemic," Nicoletta interviewed medical sociologist Julia Szymczak to dig into the social and emotional drivers of antibiotic overprescription.

Something for the weekend

If you're looking for things to keep you busy over the weekend, here's a selection from our best opinion pieces, interviews, diagnostic dilemmas and crosswords that we published this week.

—Superintelligent AI in space could explain the Fermi paradox [Opinion]

—'It's more than a hope; it's a guarantee': The Vera C. Rubin Observatory's 10-year movie of the universe is about to 'blow our minds,' chief scientist Tony Tyson says [Interview]

—Diagnostic dilemma: A woman heard voices for years — but not because of psychosis [Diagnostic Dilemma]

—Live Science crossword puzzle #51: Largest rodent on Earth — 4 down [Crossword]

Science photo of the week

Secretive Chinese probe snaps first photo of Earth's mysterious 'quasi-moon' — and it may pose a big problem

It doesn't look like much, but this blurry, gray image is the first-ever close-up photo of one of Earth's temporary "quasi-moons" — a fast-spinning asteroid temporarily orbiting the sun in sync with our planet.

Of equal intrigue is the spacecraft that took the image: a secretive Chinese probe that is likely gearing up to land on the space rock and snag a sample ‪—‬ although an unexpected hiccup will make that more difficult.

Follow Live Science on social media

Want more science news? Follow our Live Science WhatsApp Channel for the latest discoveries as they happen. It's the best way to get our expert reporting on the go, but if you don't use WhatsApp we're also on Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), Flipboard, Instagram, TikTok, Bluesky and LinkedIn.

The patient: An 83-year-old man in Belgium

The symptoms: The man sought medical attention at a hospital because the muscles on one side of his face had weakened suddenly, causing it to droop — a condition called unilateral peripheral facial-nerve palsy. He had also recently had a fever, which had since resolved.

Tests run by the neurology department found the man had anemia, fatty liver disease and an enlarged spleen. Combined with his recent fever, these findings led the team to assume he had a viral infection. However, he tested negative for a variety of germs, including Epstein-Barr virus, which causes mono; cytomegalovirus; human immunodeficiency virus (HIV); and hepatitis A, B, C, and E.

The man's liver abnormalities hadn't resolved by one week later, but his facial-nerve palsy cleared following a 10-day course of a strong corticosteroid. But then, over the next month, the man's knees and ankles became stiff and painful, and his legs and feet — and occasionally his face, arms and hands — began to swell. He reported feeling generally unwell, he had gained 11 pounds (5 kilograms), and his urine had darkened even though he had been drinking more water than usual. All of these signs pointed to problems with his kidney function.

Besides the conditions uncovered on his recent medical examinations, the patient had long-standing high blood pressure, high cholesterol, an enlarged prostate and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), for which he was taking medications. He had also been diagnosed with rectal cancer 20 years beforehand and received various treatments over the years. He and his wife of 50 years had been sexually inactive since that cancer treatment, he told his doctors.

What happened next: After weeks spent in and out of the hospital, the man went to an emergency room after his skin suddenly became intensely itchy. He had a red, scaly rash on his calves. A neurological exam revealed "normal motor strength, sensation, reflexes, coordination, and gait," the doctors wrote in a report of the case.

At the ER, the patient was questioned further about his medical history, at which point he told doctors that, during his military service as a young man, he'd had unprotected sex with multiple casual partners. He reported being treated for various sexually transmitted infections (STIs) during that time but had forgotten the specific diagnoses.

Tests revealed that the patient was anemic and that his urine contained blood and an abnormal amount of protein. Additionally, a test for autoimmune diseases found abnormally high levels of antinuclear antibodies, which target the control centers of cells that house DNA. Because the patient had recently had facial-nerve palsy, the doctors analyzed his cerebral spinal fluid — the clear fluid that surrounds the brain and spinal cord. This revealed elevated levels of white blood cells, which hinted at an active infection.

The diagnosis: While tests for HIV and tuberculosis came back negative, an assay for Treponema pallidum, the bacterium that causes syphilis, was positive, confirming that the patient had an active syphilis infection.

Syphilis infections can progress through four stages, each with different symptoms. If an infected person doesn't get effective treatment during the primary and secondary stages, the bacteria can go latent, sometimes for decades. And in a minority of cases, latent syphilis can awaken and cause a late, or tertiary, infection.

Based on his positive T. pallidum test, rash, general unwell feeling, abnormal liver results, high urinary protein count, leg swelling, facial drooping and swollen lymph nodes, the man's doctors diagnosed him with secondary syphilis with early neurosyphilis, in which the bacteria attack the nervous system.

The treatment: The patient had been given a single injection of penicillin before the test results confirmed that his infection had neurological involvement. He was subsequently given a 14-day course of intravenous penicillin, which is the recommended treatment for neurosyphilis, according to the case report.

The severe itching was treated with antihistamines, and he was prescribed diuretics to reduce the swelling in his legs. The rash, itching and swelling had improved by his one-month follow-up appointment, and his liver tests and urinary output had normalized.

Public health authorities were informed of the patient's diagnosis, and his wife was referred for testing. The case report does not note whether his wife tested positive for syphilis.

What makes the case unique: Secondary syphilis normally occurs within the first year of an untreated infection and only rarely develops after four years have passed. Normally, smooth, hard sores appear on the mouth or genitals during primary syphilis, and once those sores disappear, secondary syphilis sets in within months, if left untreated.

"Although the patient's history of multiple sexually transmitted infections as a young man prompted testing for syphilis, an exposure from that period would not be expected to explain his current presentation," his doctors wrote.

There's a possibility that the man had a latent infection that recently reactivated, perhaps due to the immune-suppressing effect of his recent steroid treatment. But you'd expect the reactivation to cause only symptoms of tertiary syphilis — like nervous system problems — not symptoms associated with secondary syphilis, like fever, rash and weight loss.

Therefore, exactly when the man contracted the infection is uncertain. "A more recent, unreported exposure must be considered," the doctors wrote.

It is also rare for syphilis to affect the liver and kidneys, occurring in less than 10% of cases, according to the case report.

For more intriguing medical cases, check out our Diagnostic Dilemma archives.

This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to offer medical advice.

This article was first published Feb. 18, 2026.

Fast charging seems to be almost everywhere. Many smartphones can go from nearly empty to more than 50% charged in about half an hour, while some electric vehicles can add hundreds of miles of range during a quick charging stop.

But batteries aren't perfect; their capacity degrades over time. Given that fast charging delivers more power in a shorter amount of time, does fast charging damage batteries?

Scientists say the answer is yes, but it's more complicated than you might think. Fast charging can accelerate some types of battery degradation, but modern batteries are designed with safeguards to help limit the damage.

How does fast charging work?

Rechargeable lithium-ion batteries — the most common battery type in the world — work by moving lithium ions between two electrodes called a cathode and an anode. During charging, lithium ions travel through the battery and are stored in the anode until the battery is used again.

The main difference between fast charging and regular charging is how quickly those ions move. Compared with regular charging, which can take hours, fast charging can refill a battery in an hour or less.

"Regular charging applies a lower current, allowing lithium ions to intercalate [move into microscopic holes] into the anode gradually, which generates little heat and causes minimal mechanical stress," Zhiyuan Jiang, an associate professor in the Department of Chemical Engineering and Technology at Xi'an Jiaotong University in China, told Live Science via email. "Fast charging increases the current [and] power significantly to shorten charging time."

Not all batteries are designed for fast charging. A battery's ability to handle high charging speeds depends on its materials, internal structure and battery management system, Jiang explained. Fast-charging batteries often use specialized electrode materials or thinner electrodes and electrolytes that allow the lithium ions to move more easily. Manufacturers may also redesign the battery's internal architecture to reduce resistance and heat buildup.

Stanislaw Zankowski, a battery researcher at the University of Oxford, compared the process to traffic moving through a city.

"You could think about charging a battery as transporting people through roads, intersections and buildings," Zankowski told Live Science. "Fast charging is really a question of how efficiently you can move all that traffic without creating bottlenecks."

What type of damage could fast charging cause?

All lithium-ion batteries lose capacity over time, even when they are treated carefully. But fast charging can speed up some of the chemical processes responsible for that aging.

One of the biggest concerns is a process called lithium plating. During rapid charging, lithium ions may not have enough time to settle properly inside the anode. Instead, some lithium can accumulate as metallic deposits on the electrode's surface. These deposits can reduce the amount of lithium available to store energy, thereby lowering the battery's capacity. In extreme cases, the lithium can form needle-like structures called dendrites that puncture internal battery components and create safety hazards.

Fast charging can also generate more heat. Heat is a natural byproduct of electrical resistance in the battery. The faster a battery charges, the more heat it produces.

"For charging a small battery with a small current, that amount of heat will be also relatively small," Zankowski said. "So, it's not really a safety problem, but as we increase the size of the battery, the amount of current that we'll be pushing during charging and the amount of heat will also increase quite a lot. And as a result, we can't really charge larger batteries as quickly, mostly because of the safety margin."

Higher temperatures can accelerate chemical reactions that gradually degrade battery materials. In some extreme cases, overheating can cause batteries to swell, catch fire or even explode ‪—‬ a process known as thermal runaway.

Fortunately, most modern smartphones, laptops and electric vehicles contain sophisticated battery management systems that monitor voltage, current and temperature during charging. That's why you may get a heat warning from your smartphone if you leave it in the sun. If temperatures climb too high, these systems automatically slow charging to protect the battery.

Best tips for battery life

So what's the best way to protect a battery while charging it quickly?

Both Zankowski and Jiang emphasized that temperature is key. It's best to avoid charging devices in hot environments, such as inside a parked car or in direct sunlight. Extremely cold temperatures can also be harmful because they make it harder for the lithium ions to move through the battery.

"Ideally, the temperature range should be around 20 to 25 degrees Celsius [68 to 77 degrees Fahrenheit] for charging," Zankowski said. "So, just like a comfortable temperature for a human being, right?"

Experts also recommend that you avoid keeping devices like laptops constantly plugged in, as this can degrade battery performance. Jiang suggested implementing the "shallow charge, shallow discharge" habit.

"Keep your battery between 20% and 80% for daily use," he said. "It is not necessary to charge to 100% every time."

Can you match these ancient devices to their pictures? Find out with our computing quiz!

Early Christian communities in Sweden often buried children in the same grave with adults, but archaeologists have found that these individuals rarely shared close biological ties, raising the question of how medieval people interred their dead.

In a new study, researchers analyzed the DNA of 142 skeletons from three cemeteries in Sweden dating to the 10th to 14th centuries, focusing on collective burials in which two or more people were buried in the same tomb.

"We often assume that adults and children sharing a grave were parents and children or other close family members," study first author Maja Krzewińska, a paleogeneticist at Stockholm University, said in a statement. "In most cases, that was not what we found."

The researchers determined that most burials containing multiple individuals held both adults and children and that the people buried together were usually of the same sex — a woman buried with a girl or a man buried with a boy. But the DNA analysis held a surprise: People buried together rarely exhibited close biological kinship, the researchers wrote.

When Christianity spread across Scandinavia starting in the late 10th century, burial practices became more uniform. Graves were oriented east to west, and people were buried in a simple shroud without any grave goods. Baptized individuals were allowed to be interred in consecrated cemetery grounds, while babies who died before they could be baptized were excluded.

"We have previously analyzed a burial containing an adult and the remains of a fetus, which we believe represents an unbaptized individual," Krzewińska told Live Science in an email.

These unusual burial arrangements likely point to early Christian traditions. For instance, some of the children buried with adults in the new study may have been unbaptized. Normally ineligible for burial in the cemetery, the children may have been opportunistically interred with an adult to get around religious norms. Other burials may reflect unrelated people buried together in the spring after passing away in the winter, when burial in the frozen ground was impossible.

"We also believe, based on more distant genetic affinity, that some co-burials represent more distant family relations, or even non-biological kin group relations," Krzewińska said.

In early medieval Scandinavia, households often included extended relatives, servants, employees and enslaved individuals, the researchers wrote. While biological kinship played a large role in the organization of society, membership in the local Christian community may have been equally important in determining where and with whom to bury a deceased person.

"Archaeologists have debated the relationships between people buried together in this type of grave for a long time," study co-author Anna Kjellström, an archaeologist at Stockholm University, said in the statement. "Ancient DNA has finally given us the tool we have been waiting for to test these interpretations directly."

We are family

In addition to collective burials of unrelated people, the archaeologists discovered evidence that some families were buried within the same cemetery over several generations. One burial, known as Lady 56, was a Christian pilgrim who anchored three generations of relatives.

Lady 56 died when she was around 30 years old. She was buried with a rare scallop shell, a symbol of the apostle James, that she obtained after completing a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, a town in northwest Spain on the edge of Christian Europe.

The researchers also identified Lady 56's kin group, which was of particular importance to the community and stretched over generations in the Västerhus cemetery, Krzewińska said. The DNA analysis revealed that Lady 56's parents, brother and daughters were also buried in the same cemetery, but in different places.

Västerhus was part of a wealthy landowner's farm from the 11th to 14th centuries, and the cemetery contained the remains of more than a dozen members of a biologically related group, many of whom were interred with members of a different kin group.

The DNA connections between the main Västerhus family and other kin groups in the cemetery support the special status of the main family. These close-kin burials highlight the importance of ancient-DNA testing, as different burials from the same time and region can follow very different traditions.

What do you know about Jesus Christ, the man? Test your knowledge of biblical archaeology with our Jesus Christ quiz!

A new upgrade to the International Space Station's (ISS) quantum laboratory is enabling NASA to probe the behavior of atoms further than ever before, the space agency has announced.

Combining the ISS's newly upgraded "Cold Atom Laboratory" with the near zero-gravity of low Earth orbit, scientists are attempting to understand the properties of so-called "ultracold" atoms in an environment impossible to replicate on Earth. The aim of the mission is to study how clouds of atoms behave at temperatures close to absolute zero (minus 459.67 degrees Fahrenheit or minus 273.15 degrees Celsius) — the coldest possible temperature in the universe, where atoms lose all their energy of motion.

"At the coldest temperatures, matter behaves drastically different from anything we have experienced," Jason Williams, project scientist for the Cold Atom Lab at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California, which built the facility, said in a statement. "The wavelike nature of matter dominates, and ultracold matter can behave in ways that are not only unexpected, but that also enable extremely precise measurements of time, gravity, and motion. The lab has lots of tools — especially with this latest upgrade — to let us probe the nature of the universe."

Rule-breaking particles

Atoms and their subatomic particles are quantum mechanical objects whose behavior is fundamentally different from that of the large-scale world. For example, the laws of quantum mechanics predict that particles can be in more than one place at the same time (quantum superposition); can be mysteriously linked with each other over great distances (quantum entanglement); and move through spacetime as waves as well as moving like fixed, solid objects.

But observing these behaviors is notoriously difficult. Firstly, atoms are so tiny that if an atom were the size of a golf ball, then a human teeing one off would stand roughly as tall as the distance from Earth to the moon. Secondly, it’s impossible to isolate measurements of these behaviors for atoms in "normal" environments (like on Earth), as the desired quantum behavior is disturbed by energy from heat and gravity.

To overcome these challenges, the ISS's Cold Atom Laboratory — which is the size of a mini-fridge — uses lasers to cool gases of rubidium and potassium to just above absolute zero. At these temperatures, atoms form a state of matter known as a Bose-Einstein condensate, in which many atoms behave like a single wave of quantum matter.

Not only does this setup allow scientists to observe quantum behaviors on a much larger scale than that of single atoms, but the reduced gravity enables the condensate matter waves to expand and evolve undisturbed for much longer periods than would be possible on Earth.

This is the fourth major upgrade to NASA’s Cold Atom Laboratory since it arrived aboard the ISS in 2018. According to NASA, the significant improvements in this most recent upgrade include a redesigned magnetic trap to contain the cloud of atoms, improved atom sources, and better measurement capabilities.

Scientists launched these upgrades to the ISS in April 2026, and they have since been installed, switched on, and started making state-of-the-art measurements. As well as enabling novel tests of fundamental physics, measurements of these effects are critical in demonstrating future, space-based, highly precise quantum technologies related to positioning, navigation, timing, and gravity sensing. These technologies could one day enable astronauts to navigate on the moon without GPS and produce high-precision maps of Earth’s gravity.

"In the previous century, there was a quantum revolution that led to lasers, cellphones, and MRIs for medical imaging," Ethan Elliott, deputy project scientist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California said in the statement. "We’re performing Quantum 2.0 – direct manipulation of large quantum states – and we hope for similar gains in quantum technology by advancing this science in orbit."

Researchers in China have announced a radical sodium metal battery (SMB) design that can fully charge in just four minutes and will retain its capacity for years of use.

SMBs are a form of ultrafast-charging, stable batteries that scientists say could one day be a cheap alternative to today's lithium-ion (Li-ion) batteries, which rely on geographically concentrated metals and easily catch fire. SMBs also differ from sodium-ion (Na-ion) batteries in that they use a metallic sodium anode rather than a graphite or hard carbon anode.

However, SMBs remain largely theoretical because they are prone to a type of degradation known as dendrite formation. This is when the sodium ions passing through the electrode deposit onto the highly reactive, pure-metal sodium anode in spiky, stalagmite-like structures. Over time, this forms a bridge between the cathode and the anode, short-circuiting the battery.

Dendrite formation is especially common in sodium batteries because sodium is a highly reactive metal. When charge runs through a Li-ion, Na-ion, or sodium metal battery, the anode always reacts with the electrolyte to form an oxide layer known as the SEI. This is typically 10 to 50 nanometers thick — about as wide as a small virus — but generally harmless. But with sodium, the SEI often cracks, forming bumps that attract sodium ions, which pile into dendrites.

Now, researchers say they have solved this issue by using a tough, quasi-solid gel electrolyte — dubbed Sn-FB QSE — which strengthens the battery against punctures and provides a semisolid internal structure that prevents dendrites from forming. They outlined their findings in a study published May 21 in the journal Nano-Micro Letters.

To confirm the longevity of this approach, the scientists charged and discharged the battery for over 6,000 hours without dendrites short-circuiting the battery. They also noted that when they charged the battery from zero to 100% capacity in just four minutes, it retained electrical charge, measured in milliampere-hours per gram (mAh g^–1), of 80.1. This is the equivalent of around half that retained in Li-ion batteries.

When charged at a slightly slower rate of zero to 100% in 20 minutes, the battery retained 90% of its charge capacity over 2,000 cycles — matching the theoretical limits for Li-ion batteries, the scientists said in the study. This slower speed lowered the cost and improved the safety.

This is notable because the scientists achieved this in the new battery while still charging it quicker than Li-ion batteries can be charged. This is relevant because charging speed remains a sticking point for battery deployment in electric vehicles (EVs). The fastest charging EV today is the BYD Denza, which the Chinese automaker says can go from 10-70% in just five minutes. But this requires highly specialised, 1MW proprietary chargers.

Most EVs charge much slower — Tesla representatives say its Model 3 can recharge from 10-70% in approximately 15 minutes using Tesla’s own 250kW flash chargers, but representatives from the EV routing platform Zapmap say the same vehicle will take 90 minutes to charge to 80% on 50kW chargers.

Indeed, most batteries used for modern technologies, such as smartphones and EVs, are Li-ion. However, Li-ion batteries are expensive to produce because they contain the hard-to-obtain metals lithium and cobalt, and they are prone to catching fire.

Increasingly, battery manufacturers are looking to bring Na-ion batteries to commercial scale because they are cheaper and safer. However, they are heavier and larger than Li-on batteries.

SMBs are the focus of intense research because they theoretically combine the best of both types of batteries. Because SMBs use a sodium anode, rather Na-ion batteries that use graphite or hard carbon anode, they are lighter and cheaper to produce and therefore much more comparable to Li-ion in terms of size and weight. They are also safer because they operate using sodium ions, which are bulky and cannot flow to breaches in a battery wall fast enough to cause thermal runaway. This is the self-sustaining chain reaction that causes batteries to ignite when damaged.

If the issues of dendrite formation and stability at lower temperatures can be resolved, replicated and scaled, SMBs could reshape the economics of battery deployment over the next decade, the scientists said.

SMBs could be excellent choices for EVs in public transport or within commuter cars, the scientists belive, because although they have lower ranges than Na-ion and Li-ion vehicles do, they charge faster. However, they won't be available for some time, either in vehicles or smaller devices like consumer electronics.

That's because devices like smartphones are subject to harsh temperature changes that affect the internal chemistry of batteries that rely on gel electrolytes. The research must first be replicated before manufacturers feel comfortable using pure sodium metal in place of well-understood graphite configurations.

The Canon EOS R6 III is Canon's newest full-frame camera. We absolutely loved the R6 II when we reviewed it, and the Mark III's improved 32.5MP resolution, 7K video capability and CFexpress compatibility build on that strong foundation to take this camera from the beginner and enthusiast level straight into the serious intermediate camera category.

We primarily tested it for wildlife photography with Canon's 100-300mm f/2.8L IS USM lens, but the R6 III is such an impressive all-rounder, it can easily turn its hand to astrophotography, sports or event photography, too.

Canon EOS R6 III: Design

• Comfortable grip to accommodate larger lenses
• Identical layout to previous model
• One SD card slot, one CFexpress card slot

Existing Canon users will feel right at home with the Canon EOS R6 III, as the build and button layout are nearly identical to the R6 II, and similar to many other R-series bodies. We tested the R6 III with the Canon RF 100-300mm f/2.8L IS USM lens and found it comfortable to get a good grip on, and it feels satisfying in the hand, especially when paired with bigger lenses.

The LCD screen and viewfinder are exactly the same as the Mark II, but there are a couple of small differences elsewhere in the design. The R6 III now has a CFexpress Type B card slot as well as an SD card slot, allowing for faster workflows and data transfer. However, considering this camera sits in the more intermediate level, we have to question whether two SD slots would be more useful for the majority of users, especially because CFexpress cards are more expensive. Plus, we used fast SD cards during our tests and encountered no problems at all with the write speed or buffer.

Canon EOS R6 III: Performance

• An absolute joy for wildlife photography
• 32.5MP sensor is a very welcome improvement over the Mark II
• Autofocus and subject detection are accurate and sticky

The Canon EOS R6 III features more advanced AI-powered autofocus, which enables it to track people, animals and vehicles more easily compared with the Mark II. When we were photographing animals at a zoo, the autofocus was generally very good, although there were a few occasions when the camera got confused. The focus jumped between the giraffe’s eyes, nostrils and ossicones, and the camera couldn’t quite figure out what to focus on, even when the animal was facing towards the camera with the eyes in view. There were also a few unfortunate occasions when the camera would find and track an "eye" on the — how do we put this — wrong end of the animal. Generally, though, it was fast and accurate.

In our review of the previous model, the Canon EOS R6 II, we said, "Considering it's the next step up from the Canon EOS R8, we'd hoped for a bump in resolution. Matching the 32.5MP resolution of the crop-sensor Canon R7 would have given the R6 II an even sweeter spot between the R8 and the 45MP powerhouse Canon EOS R5 II." It seems Canon was listening, as the 32.5MP sensor in the Canon EOS R6 III sits perfectly between the beginner and professional lineups. The images are clean, detailed and not too noisy, making this camera a compelling choice for photographic styles that require excellent resolution without excessive noise.

Canon EOS R6 III: Functionality

• Canon claims battery life allows for around 620 shots (CIPA) — we took around 6,000
• Blackout-free burst shooting up to 40FPS
• Pre-continuous shooting

For wildlife photography, blackout-free shooting enables you to follow the subject a lot easier as it's moving, to ensure you can keep the subject centered and maintain your composition. What's more, with the R6 III, you can shoot up to a massive 40 frames per second (FPS) blackout-free, which is perfect for fast-moving wildlife. (Keep in mind, this means you need to hone your timing to avoid the "spray and pray" method and end up with tons of photos of the exact same moment). This is one feature of a wildlife camera that makes a big difference.

The R6 III also features pre-continuous shooting, where it'll record up to 20 frames (approx 0.5 seconds) before the shutter is fully pressed — another useful feature for wildlife and sports photographers who need to capture fleeting moments.

The Mark III uses the upgraded LP-E6P battery, shared with the R5 II, which offers significantly more shots per charge than the LP-E6NH in the R6 II. That said, it means that if you're upgrading from a different Canon model, your current spare batteries won't work in the R6 III, so you'll need to invest in a few spares. However, we managed to get more than 6,000 photos without having to swap out the battery, so you won't need to worry about the battery running out unless you're shooting all day for multiple days.

Should you buy the Canon EOS R6 III?

We can confidently say: yes, you should buy it. It seems to tick all the boxes for a lot of shooting scenarios, whether it's your main wildlife camera or a backup body for weddings. The 32.5MP sensor produces beautiful images with minimal noise and accurate color reproduction; it's lightning fast with a 40FPS burst speed and can capture up to 7K 60p video. However, if you're looking for a more serious pro-level camera, perhaps opt for the R1 or R3 instead.

If this camera isn't for you

A years-long malaria control campaign in the Brazilian Amazon nearly eliminated the disease from a city — but then cases rebounded. Now, scientists think they've uncovered why.

The campaign took place in northern Brazil during the construction of the Belo Monte Dam in the Xingu River, one of the largest hydroelectric dams in the world. From 2013 to 2017, the initiative slashed annual malaria rates from more than 1,200 cases to fewer than 60. But the program ended, and within a few years, infections had rebounded to more than 700 cases a year. This time, they were concentrated in the rural communities surrounding the river in the city of Altamira.

In a study published Thursday (July 9) in the journal GeoHealth, scientists analyzed 15 years of malaria surveillance records alongside satellite images of forests around Altamira. Earlier studies have pointed to deforestation and dam construction as a driver of malaria because they can provide habitats for mosquito larvae, which inhabit the forest edge. In Altamira, large stretches of rainforest have been cleared for cattle ranching, logging and settlement along the Xingu River in the decades since the region was first opened up by road-building, leaving a patchwork of cleared land pressed up against the remaining forest.

However, the study found that the malaria resurgence wasn't simply a result of how much forest had been cut down. Instead, cases tracked most closely with the forest edge, the boundary where intact forest meets cleared or open land. There, mosquitoes get everything they need to thrive: shade from the tree line, sunlit pools of standing water for their larvae, and people living or working close by.

The findings highlight how the environment contributes to malaria risk, suggesting that maintaining surveillance in these high-risk landscapes could be just as important as driving cases down in the first place.

"What made Altamira compelling was that the timing gave us something rare, close to a natural experiment," study co-author Eloise Skinner, an epidemiologist and postdoctoral research fellow at the University of Queensland in Australia, told Live Science in an email. The results of that natural experiment could help Brazil in its efforts to eliminate malaria from the country in the next decade, she said.

A program tied to temporary funding

The researchers tracked malaria trends before, during and after the construction of the Belo Monte Dam. Before construction began, malaria was already a persistent problem in the region; Altamira city alone reported more than 1,200 cases a year.

As thousands of workers moved in, local health authorities and the dam's developers rolled out an intensive control program that involved spraying insecticides indoors, using mosquito nets, and deploying rapid diagnosis and treatment when cases did emerge. The goal was to head off outbreaks spread by Nyssorhynchus darlingi, the mosquito that carries the malaria-causing parasite in the Brazilian Amazon.

Mosquitoes pick up the parasite that causes malaria by feeding on the blood of infected people, and they can then spread that parasite to others they bite. Treating infected people quickly can help break that chain of transmission.

Cases plummeted despite the influx of workers, but once construction wrapped up and the program lost its funding, malaria came back.

To understand what drove the resurgence, the researchers combined three streams of data. Case records came from Brazil's national malaria surveillance system and covered 150 health centers in Altamira over 15 years. The team layered on temperature, forest cover and rainfall data, since both shape how favorable an area is for mosquito breeding and how efficiently the malaria parasite develops inside mosquitos. Plus, they added an estimate of travel time between each cluster of cases and the nearest town, as a proxy for how easily people and the diseases they carry might move around.

From the observations, the forest edge consistently emerged as the strongest predictor of increased malaria cases. For every 1% increase in the perimeter of the forest edge, malaria cases rose by roughly 0.7%; for every 1% increase in Altamira's population, who are located at the forest edge, cases rose by about 1.4%.

The rebound wasn't evenly distributed. Before the dam was built, most of Altamira's malaria cases came from clusters inside the city itself. Afterward, that pattern flipped: by 2020, the roughly 700 annual cases were concentrated almost entirely in remote, rural clusters near forest edges. Meanwhile, Altamira's urban center stayed comparatively protected, much as it had during construction.

"When the funded program wound down, malaria came back to the communities that are hardest for the health system to reach," Skinner said. "The city stayed protected, most likely because fast diagnosis and treatment are easier to deliver and keep going in a town."

That leaves the same communities exposed twice over, Skinner said. The places that are already the hardest to reach with health services also sit where the ecological risk is the highest.

But this pattern could point to solutions. The resurgence didn't scatter unpredictably. It came back to the same kind of place — rural communities at the forest edge — each time. That's the kind of risk that can be anticipated in the future.

Brazil aims to eliminate locally acquired malaria by 2035. Skinner said Altamira's near elimination of the disease, and its rebound within a few years of the control program ending, is a warning for that effort. When a community contains a strong environmental driver for malaria, like forest-edge ecosystems, stopping a control program short is sure to let the disease climb back.

"Because the resurgence wasn't diffuse, we can predict where malaria is likely to return first," Skinner said. "The message for a 2035 goal isn't only that elimination needs sustained investment. It is that where the environment drives risk, that risk is predictable, and planning for it from the start is what lets the money go where it matters most."

A metal detectorist in Norway dismissed a rare 900-year-old silver coin as a button, before researchers realized it was a one-of-a-kind piece linked to Magnus Barefoot (also known as Magnus Berrføtt), the warrior ruler often called Norway's last Viking king.

The coin, found in a field near Utstein Monastery in southwest Norway, dates to Barefoot's reign from 1093 to 1103. It is the first coin of its type ever discovered on Norwegian soil, according to a December 2025 translated statement from the University of Stavanger Museum of Archaeology.

"It is a fascinating thought that we may be just one large treasure find away from having a completely different view of Magnus Berrføtt's coinage as well, and it underlines the importance of all new discoveries that are made," museum representatives said in the statement.

The button that wasn't

The metal detectorist, Morten Eek, found the object in April 2025. It came from the plow layer in the soil, about 4 to 6 inches (10 to 15 centimeters) below the surface.

One side looked bright and silvery, but the other was covered by copper and had a dark spot in the middle, giving it a button-like appearance. Eek took it home and placed it with other buttons, worn modern coins and pieces of scrap metal he had collected.

It was only months later, when Eek showed his treasures to his fellow metal detectorists, that they noticed the silver side looked like a medieval coin. Its design resembled an illustration in the 1865 reference work "Norge's Coins from the Middle Ages," by C.I. Schive.

The detectorists then contacted the University of Stavanger Museum of Archaeology, where researchers took a closer look.

A coin with a second life

To the experts, the coin seemed strange because someone had altered it after it was minted. A copper plate had been placed over one side, and the coin's outer edge had been folded around it. Two rounded notches on the edge show where a chain or loop may have been attached, suggesting the coin was later worn as jewelry.

Researchers could have removed the copper plate to see what was underneath, but doing so would have damaged the object's fragile state.

The artifact's unique transformation reveals "something about people's relationship to what was initially a coin," museum representatives said in the statement.

To investigate the coin's covered side, the team X-rayed it. The scan revealed a griffin, a mythical creature with the body of a lion and features of a bird of prey. The motif has sometimes been interpreted as the lion of St. Mark, a Christian symbol, but the museum noted that the animal on these coins closely resembles a griffin. In medieval Christian art, griffins were used to symbolize Christ's dual nature as both human and divine.

The visible side revealed a "cross-over-cross" motif, with double-lined arms and small semicircles or bowl shapes at the ends. The pairing of the cross and griffin is what makes the coin so rare.

"Two-sided coins with the motif combination of griffin and cross over cross are only known from four copies," the statement said, with one coin from the Sandur hoard, found in the Faroe Islands in 1863, and three others from Denmark's Mørstad hoard, which was found this past spring and contains nearly 5,000 coins.

The rarity of such coins "may tell us something about the extent of Magnus Berrføtt's minting," museum representatives said in the statement.

In total, about 100 coins, spread across 12 discoveries, are known from Magnus Barefoot's reign, according to the museum. That makes every new example valuable for understanding how coins were produced and circulated in Norway in the late Viking Age and early Middle Ages.

Who was Magnus Barefoot?

Magnus Barefoot is sometimes called Magnus Barelegs, thanks to the kilts he wore. He became king in 1093 after the death of his father, Olav Kyrre (also called Olaf III of Norway), whose reign was remembered as a relatively peaceful period. Barefoot followed a different path. Like his grandfather Harald Hardrada, the Norwegian king killed at the Battle of Stamford Bridge in 1066, Barefoot built his reputation through warfare.

Barefoot spent much of his reign campaigning overseas. He sought to extend Norwegian power across the western sea routes, including the Isle of Man and parts of the Irish Sea. The museum noted that he was associated with the saying that a king was meant "for honor and glory, and not a long life." His death reflected this, as he died at around age 30, in 1103, when he was ambushed and killed during a campaign in Ireland.

The coin points to more than Barefoot's military ambitions. According to the museum, it also reflected one of his domestic reforms. Earlier Norwegian rulers had reduced the silver content of their coins, but Barefoot restored a high silver standard, with coins that were around 90% silver.

Whether the coin was lost at the Utstein Monastery during Barefoot's lifetime is impossible to know. Because it was turned into jewelry at some point, it may have circulated for years, or even generations, after it stopped being used as money.

See how much you know about ancient norsemen with our Viking quiz!

On paper, doctors should know better — antibiotics treat only bacterial infections, and yet, physicians sometimes give them to patients who have viral infections. For patients, an unnecessary antibiotic can mean short-term side effects, like diarrhea, or more-persistent impacts, like microbiome disruption. But on a grand scale, the overuse and misuse of antibiotics pressure bacteria to gain resistance, the ability to thwart the drugs intended to kill them.

That can fuel the evolution of "superbugs" that evade most, if not all, antibiotics. In the worst-case scenario, this could contribute to tens of millions of extra deaths over the next 15 years, caused by illnesses that were once easily treated.

Given that antibiotic resistance is one of the world's leading public health threats, earlier this year, I went to Japan to investigate a program that has been remarkably effective at curbing the overuse and misuse of the drugs. I wanted to understand why doctors sometimes prescribe antibiotics when they're not needed and what approaches have been shown to improve their prescribing habits.

To answer those questions, I took a deep dive into the research on the topic and found the work of Julia Szymczak, a medical sociologist at the University of Utah School of Medicine, whose studies shed light on why doctors prescribe these medicines when they're not needed. I spoke with Szymczak about the complex social dynamics behind this behavior and whether there are reliable strategies for reining in antibiotic misuse.

Nicoletta Lanese: Could you explain the focus of your work?

Julia Szymczak: All of my work is really focused on two things. One, understanding why it is difficult for clinicians in real-world practice to use antibiotics the way that medical guidelines or evidence suggests they should be used. And then, more recently in my career, it's focused on developing interventions or strategies to help clinicians apply evidence that's informed by all that work.

I think about the decision-making about how an antibiotic is used as not simply a decision that is about pathophysiology or microbiology — it's about social dynamics. Clinicians are sensitive to a lot of other features in the care delivery environment beyond what they know to be true about antibiotics, what they know to be true or apparent about the potential infection that a patient has.

NL: What are some factors that shape that dynamic?

JS: Diagnostic uncertainty is a major challenge for clinicians. Differentiating viral versus bacterial is not [straightforward] — you don't have a slam-dunk perfect test. There are attempts to develop things to help, but the diagnostic uncertainty piece is really challenging.

Then there's the organizational characteristics around clinician decision-making, which is that everybody is incredibly time pressured, and so decision-making about antibiotics happens very quickly.

In the ambulatory or the outpatient setting, where the vast majority of human antibiotic use occurs, one of the more common themes that you will hear when you talk to clinicians is that patients often want antibiotics that are not needed. That relationship is more complicated than it appears on its face, but that is a major pressure point for clinicians.

NL: Are there other pressures that are unique to the outpatient setting, where most antibiotics are used?

JS: The major one is time pressure. I had a pediatrician who said they had — I can't remember the figure, but it was like 800 seconds for a sick visit. They broke it down into seconds. Their experience of time in the outpatient setting is so intense. Certainly clinicians in the inpatient setting [hospitals] feel time pressure, but the decision-making is distributed over an admission, which still might only be two days, but two days is different than literally five minutes.

The other thing is your interaction with that patient. That clinical encounter is very transactional, particularly in the United States, particularly for those clinicians who work in, for example, telemedicine, which is a whole other context but has similar features to urgent care or sick visits. This idea that "I'm trying to provide you with something of value" [is a big factor]. That could be a proper diagnosis. That could be the provision of a prescription. It could be reassurance that you're going to be fine. In some scenarios, people are looking for information that they can share with their employer.

Someone is coming to you to get something for a problem. Oftentimes, your assumption is that what they're coming to you for is an antibiotic. The encounter is already shaped by the patient's expectation — or your [the doctor's] expectation of the patient's expectation. There's literature that shows that, in many scenarios, clinicians might perceive that a patient wants an antibiotic when the patient actually doesn't.

Oftentimes, clinicians will say that [when] somebody has what is very likely a viral infection and they don't need antibiotics, the act of explaining why they don't need antibiotics is very difficult, particularly if they seem to want them or if they've had multiple similar episodes and they've always gotten antibiotics in the past. That discussion, the literal conversation, is difficult. It takes time. It's draining.

Then, you're in an environment where there are competing priorities around how that patient is going to evaluate your care. If a patient is unhappy because you didn't give them an antibiotic and you're concerned about the patient-satisfaction score, which is being watched by your leadership, but no one's monitoring your antibiotic use, that could tip you into the prescription of an antibiotic that isn't needed.

Then, of course, there's also the fear of missing something. On the off chance the patient has an infection and it helps them, that staves off a whole bunch of other imagined or real bad scenarios down the line.

NL: You said it's often difficult for doctors to explain their reasoning around antibiotics. Do you think that's because the technicalities of resistance are hard to explain, or something else?

JS: I don't think it's necessarily that they aren't confident in the medical explanation. A paper of mine called "I Never Get Better Without an Antibiotic" goes through all the reasons why the discussion is difficult.

Briefly: The biomedical stuff is often not the hard part. What's difficult is countering a patient who you think has already made up their mind about what they need and convincing them that they don't need it. It involves not just the provision of microbiological facts but having to explain why their past diagnoses might not have been accurate or their previous clinicians didn't make a good decision. Or people might talk about their social network: "Well, so and so got antibiotics for that." And it's like, I'm not their doctor. I didn't see them. I'm making a decision about you.

There are social reasons why that discussion is just difficult, and then you throw that into the time pressure and potentially add in even the glimmer of antagonism or conflict, and people just don't want to go there because they're exhausted.

I don't think it's about the education, about the likelihood of this being viral and "antibiotics don't work for viral infections." It's a lot more countering beliefs that aren't necessarily accurate [such as antibiotics always being needed for certain symptoms] and dealing with social awkwardness.

NL: I feel like that breaks with the common stereotype of doctors being very cold, calculating and logical.

JS: In my life of explaining to people, mostly clinical and epidemiologic audiences, there is a bit of a professional pride about evidence-based practice. Clinicians are educated deeply, and they're experts; they should be applying this evidence to every patient every time. But I always start [by saying], "You guys are human too, right?"

With antibiotics, emotions play a large role in how people are using these drugs. I've had many clinicians describe antibiotics as some of the best anti-anxiolytics — so like it's an anti-anxiety medicine for the clinician.

This idea of the cold, logical, rational actor, I mean, doesn't apply anywhere in medicine. But in particular, I think this is a great [example of a] scenario where that perfect model of decision-making just gets completely upended by contextual and structural factors, as well as social and emotional factors.

NL: Are there additional factors to consider in the context of pediatrics?

JS: A lot of my portfolio is in pediatrics, and in fact, that's where I started my work. I was a postdoctoral fellow at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, so I have spent a lot of time doing pediatric research.

As pediatricians say, "We have two patients: there's the child and the caregiver, the parent or the guardian." Maybe two. And so you're navigating the patient and their parents, and the interactions have a lot of complexity. There's often the challenge where the patient can't communicate what's wrong; it's difficult to convey symptoms. It adds a layer to the diagnostic uncertainty.

Then, of course, the fragility of children [is a factor], and the concern of the illness going off the rails. That feels more fearful than it does for a middle-aged adult.

But I would say one thing with pediatrics is that parents are more open to the idea of not wanting to give their kids medication that they don't need. The origins of that may come from different places than what an antibiotic steward would necessarily think of as the main reason why you want to avoid antibiotics, because it's often just about avoiding any medication. But I think that parents can be a partner in stewardship, engaging with clinicians around whether or not an antibiotic is necessary or potentially being open to this "watch and wait" — this idea of holding off to see if the body fights off the infection on its own.

When you look nationally [in the U.S.], pediatricians have done the best at improving their prescribing. Some of the biggest leaps and bounds in outpatient stewardship, it started in pediatrics. So pediatricians tend to be on the cutting edge, I would say.

NL: In pediatric outpatient settings, are there any strategies that work really well?

JS: One of the most common ones is the use of "audit with feedback," this idea of prescribing report cards where you give clinicians information at regular intervals about how well they use antibiotics and then compare it to their colleagues in their practice or in their entire health system. That's been demonstrated to work, but not in isolation.

[Editor's note: Szymczak's research suggests that certain social factors make this approach more likely to work. For instance, clinicians who respond best trust that the data they're being given is accurate, feel supported by their leadership, don't feel overly stressed or surveilled by the feedback, and are comfortable fielding patients' demands for antibiotics.]

Another piece that has been demonstrated to work, if clinicians use it, is that many electronic health records have pathways or order sets or guidelines embedded. So, if a clinician's like, "I'm going to diagnose [urinary tract infection] UTI in this patient," there's a UTI pathway that they can click on that will give them evidence-based laboratory testing and management strategies. It takes them fewer clicks to get the stuff that they need.

So, it's multifactorial, but [effective stewardship] usually involves some combination of data, education and making the right choice the easy choice.

NL: When it comes to interventions for outpatient settings, are there strategies that just don't seem to work?

JS: Education on its own, targeting clinicians or patients, is not sufficient to move the needle on prescribing.

NL: Could you elaborate on why educating patients isn't the best approach?

JS: Patient education is important but has not been demonstrated to move the needle very much. I think partially that is because the approach we have taken to education has been connected to abstract concepts like antimicrobial resistance, which is important at the population level, of course, but can be difficult to understand for the lay public and can be less motivating [for them to change their personal behaviors].

I do think we are seeing more interest from the lay public in things like the microbiome and gut health and the role of antibiotics in potentially disrupting those things. I think education to the public that directly connects to individual-level harms is more motivating than population-level harms.

NL: When it comes to interventions, do you think the surrounding cultural context affects which strategies work best? I'm thinking of the U.S. versus Japan, for instance.

JS: I do think that the surrounding cultural context will always play a role, to some degree, in how interventions to improve clinical decision-making will fare. I have also written a bit about that in another commentary that delves into the observation in the United States that we have considerable regional variation in antibiotic use that is not explained by clinical factors.

I am cautious, though, about how we think about the concept of "culture" in relation to clinical decision-making. When it comes to antibiotic prescribing, I do think there are universal factors that shape how people respond to efforts to intervene, including the management of diagnostic uncertainty; fears of missing something, leading to "just in case" prescribing; a desire to offer patients something of value; and the difficulty explaining why antibiotics are needed or not.

NL: Regarding Japan's incentive program, which pays pediatricians "tips" for improving their antibiotic use, do you think a similar approach would be motivating for U.S. pediatricians? Would it be feasible to implement that kind of strategy here?

JS: I think it could be difficult to implement here, but the details of how the program is operationalized would be very important.

We know, in general, that financial incentives have [a] mixed impact on physician decision-making. You especially have to be careful about unintended consequences. For antibiotics, it would be very important to have a clear definition of the outcome that will be incentivized and how it would be measured. With antibiotics, there can be gray areas and you don't want to incentivize undertreatment, especially if it is individual-level financial incentives.

A better approach may be in aggregate and [to] reward health systems or clinics for improved antibiotic use for conditions in which antibiotics are never needed, for example.

Editor's note: This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

For the first time, physicists have built a working version of quantum mechanics without complex numbers — numbers that have been considered essential to the theory for nearly a century.

Complex numbers combine a regular "real" number with an "imaginary" one — a multiple of the square root of -1, represented by the symbol i — into a single value, like 3 + 4i. The square root of -1 doesn't correspond to any quantity you could count or measure directly (you can't have negative one apple, for instance), which is why mathematicians call it imaginary.

Still, complex numbers have many useful applications. Engineers use them to describe alternating electrical current. Physicists use them to describe waves. And ever since quantum mechanics was first documented in the 1920s, complex numbers have been built directly into its equations. Quantum mechanics describes particles using something called a wave function, and that description relies on complex numbers.

In 2021, a team of physicists predicted that a version of quantum mechanics built with only real numbers would make incorrect predictions in certain experiments involving multiple particles. The following year, other researchers ran those experiments, and the results matched standard quantum mechanics, not the real-number version. Complex numbers seemed unavoidable.

But that 2021 result rested on one specific assumption: a particular mathematical rule for combining particles. That led physicists to ask a question: Are complex numbers actually necessary to describe reality at the quantum level, or are they just a convenience?

Now, in a new study published June 18 in the journal Physical Review Letters, researchers have found a way around the 2021 result.

"Complex numbers are not needed for quantum mechanics," study first author Pedro Barrios Hita, a theoretical physicist and doctoral student at the German Aerospace Center and Heinrich Heine University Düsseldorf, told Live Science.

A different rule

The 2021 result relied on a specific mathematical rule called the tensor product, which combines two separate quantum systems into one. If you have two particles and you want to combine them into a single mathematical description, you can use the tensor product. It's a rule taught in every quantum mechanics textbook.

It works well for ordinary complex-number quantum mechanics, but past attempts to build a real-number version around that same rule ran into trouble. They couldn't reproduce the correlations seen in experiments involving three or more entangled particles.

In their new study, Barrios Hita and his colleagues found that the tensor product isn't the only option. They built quantum mechanics around a different rule based on an idea: An action taken on one part of a system shouldn't have any effect on a separate part of it.

In ordinary quantum mechanics, multiplying a particle's state by i is undetectable on its own. But when two particles combine, that i can shuffle over and effectively attach itself to the other particle instead. Physicists call this phase kickback, and it's built automatically into the tensor product.

Barrios Hita's team had to recreate that shuffling using only real numbers. They attached a small "flag" to each particle to keep track of what the imaginary part used to store. Then, they treated certain flag combinations as physically identical, even though they looked different on paper. That grouping step allowed their real-number version to match every prediction of standard quantum mechanics, including the multiparticle cases that had tripped up earlier attempts.

At its core, the trick is simple. A complex number, like 3 + 4i, is really just a pair of ordinary real numbers (3 and 4) — the i is only a label marking which one is the imaginary part. "A complex number is nothing but two real numbers," Barrios Hita said. His team essentially built a bookkeeping system that tracks those two real numbers separately, instead of combining them into one complex number. It took a long time to figure out how to make that work consistently across multiple combined particles. But once they did, Barrios Hita said, the underlying structure turned out to be elegant.

The result puts quantum mechanics in the same boat as other physics theories that are often written using complex numbers purely for convenience, Barrios Hita said.

"There are many other theories, like, for example, electromagnetism," Barrios Hita added, "which has complex numbers at its core. So, these theories are formulated using complex numbers, but [they] are not fundamental. They're just helpful tools to help express equations."

The work doesn't change any experimental predictions or point to new quantum technology. It's also currently limited to systems with a finite number of quantum states. Extending it to infinite-dimensional systems, which show up in many real physics problems, is a natural next step, and other researchers are already looking into it. Barrios Hita is moving on to different research, on how quantum properties like entanglement can be used as a resource.

Still, the study settles a decades-long debate. Complex numbers make quantum mechanics easier to write down, but they aren't required to make it work.

Two of the Milky Way's gigantic spiral arms appear to be much farther away than we realized, scientists have discovered after listening to the echoes of distant cosmic explosions. The findings could potentially force us to reconsider our galaxy's mass and maybe even its shape, researchers say.

The Milky Way is a barred spiral galaxy made up of a dense central region containing a supermassive black hole (dubbed Sagittarius A*), orbited by four major arms — the Sagitarrius arm, the Scutum-Centaurus arm, the Perseus arm and the Outer arm — that curve and stretch outward like a giant pinwheel. Most of our galaxy's stars and gas are tightly packed together in these cosmic limbs, although some stars, including the sun, exist in the gaps between them or within other smaller structures.

Until now, researchers have estimated the size of these arms based on the Milky Way's rotation rate, because it is impossible to see our galaxy's entirety from Earth's position inside the galaxy. This, in turn, has helped us estimate the galaxy's total size (around 100,000 light-years across) and its mass, which is equivalent to around 1.5 trillion suns, according to NASA.

However, this way of measuring the massive structures is not foolproof and has led to several uncertainties about our galaxy since we first discovered its spiral shape around 175 years ago, Live Science's sister site Space.com reported.

"We usually model the Milky Way's outer arms indirectly based on what we know of how our galaxy rotates, but doing it this way leaves room for error," study first author Beatrice Vaia, a researcher at the Italian National Institute for Astrophysics who led the new study as part of her doctorate, said in a statement. The farther away from the galactic center, the more uncertain the measurements become, she added.

In the new study, published June 19 in the journal Astronomy and Astrophysics, researchers came up with a new method of measuring the arms using the most powerful and luminous explosions in the universe, known as gamma-ray bursts (GRBs). As X-ray light from these cosmic outbursts passes through dense clouds of gas, like those within our galaxy's arms, it creates luminous rings, or echoes, whose size corresponds to their distance from Earth.

The team used data from NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory and the European Space Agency's XMM-Newton observatory (both of which orbit Earth) to analyze echoes from three different GRBs that shone through gas clouds in the Perseus, Outer and Scutum-Centaurus arms, respectively. This revealed that both the Outer and Scutum-Centaurus arms are likely around 10% farther from Earth than we thought. This may not sound like much, but it equates to several thousand light-years.

The biggest potential implication of this discovery is that our galaxy is wider and, therefore, probably more massive than we realized, which could have major knock-on effects for our understanding of our cosmic neighborhood.

"The differences are small, but any revision of these distances is important because they are so fundamental for understanding our galaxy," study co-author Ilaria Fornasiero, an astronomer at the University of Bologna in Italy, said in a separate statement. "For example, this could mean that astronomers have to revise estimates of the mass of the galaxy, because that affects how wide the arms stretch."

Animations released alongside the new paper show how the Milky Way might look based on the new data, revealing the Outer and Scutum-Centaurus arms extending farther into intergalactic space, making our galaxy look more like a lopsided snail's shell than a perfect spiral.

These visualizations do not necessarily show the true shape of the galaxy, as the Sagitarrius arm and other minor galactic limbs have not been measured using the same methodology. However, the fact that the Perseus arm was not as distant as the other two GRB-illuminated limbs hints at a surprising asymmetry throughout our galaxy that cannot be easily explained.

The researchers are now on the hunt for more GRBs that can be used to map out the rest of our galaxy's shape and help us better understand what our cosmic neighborhood actually looks like. However, finding these cosmic explosions is easier said than done.

"We're relying on the universe to provide us with these events, and so far, over 25 years, we've only found a handful that we can use," study co-author Andrea Tiengo, an astronomer at Scuola Universitaria Superiore Pavia in Italy, said in the statement. "That said, we will continue to be on the lookout for more."

Engineers have designed a waterproof "diving suit" for cyborg cockroaches that enables the hybrid insects to survive and roam underwater for up to three hours. This function expands the capabilities of cyborg insects and could one day be deployed in disaster zones, according to the team.

A built-in oxygen generator and silicone tubes deliver the gas directly to a cockroach's breathing holes, known as spiracles. The design is adapted for use in low-oxygen conditions as well as submerged environments, the researchers said in a new study published June 29 in the journal Nature Communications.

"Our approach combines a soft waterproof shell with a simple yet reliable chemical oxygen generator," study co-author Shinjiro Umezu, a professor in the School of Creative Science and Engineering at Waseda University in Japan, said in a statement. "This allows the insect to retain its natural mobility while being protected from an environment that it cannot normally survive in."

Cyborg insects are living insects that have been fitted with electronic controllers that guide their movements. Researchers have previously used them in search-and-rescue operations to access and investigate hard-to-reach areas; for example, they were used in rescue efforts after the devastating magnitude 7.7 earthquake in Myanmar in March 2025 that killed at least 3,700 people and injured 4,800 more. The advantage of cyborg insects over tiny robots is that the former employ insects' muscles to move, whereas the latter rely on high-power batteries that consume energy and can run out of steam.

The cyborg insects deployed in Myanmar were developed in the laboratory of Hirotaka Sato, senior author of the new study and a professor in the School of Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering at Singapore's Nanyang Technological University.

Sato has spent more than a decade pioneering cyborg insect technology. He and colleagues hope the new diving suit will extend cyborg insects' operational range to include flooded and partially submerged areas in disaster zones.

The suit consists of a flexible shell, four silicone tubes that attach to the spiracles and a transparent, 3D-printed oxygen tank. To make the tank produce oxygen, the researchers sprinkled manganese dioxide onto a highly absorbent sponge inside the tank. They then injected a small amount of diluted hydrogen peroxide, which breaks down slowly in the presence of manganese dioxide to produce oxygen. Finally, the team sealed the tank with ultraviolet adhesive to prevent leaks.

"The key engineering challenge was to build a system that was small, light and flexible enough for the insect to wear, while still producing enough oxygen for long-duration underwater movement," Umezu said.

The silicone tubes send oxygen straight into the thoracic spiracles, while the abdominal spiracles, which are lower down the insects' bodies, take in the oxygen contained in the suit.

"Our new insect diving suit works like the oxygen tank used by human divers," Sato said in the statement. The silicone tubes can be attached and removed without pain or harm to the insect, the researchers added.

The researchers tested the suit on a cyborg Madagascar hissing cockroach (Gromphadorhina portentosa), which they placed in a water tank and later sent into a plastic tube that simulated submerged and low-oxygen environments.

The suit enabled the cockroaches to roam underwater for up to three hours, raising the prospect that cyborg insects, including locusts and beetles, could one day be used to inspect flooded pipes, drains, tunnels and other hard-to-access places.

Next steps include improving the diving suit to potentially include sensors and a navigation system; and testing the design in simulated disaster environments, according to the statement.

Using a quantum computer alongside a supercomputer, scientists have developed a breakthrough pathway for modeling the physics inside a fusion reactor. The world-first experiment could help clear a path to developing clean, abundant nuclear power and solving the global energy crisis, the researchers said.

Using hybrid quantum computing and artificial intelligence (AI) methods, scientists with IBM and Oak Ridge National Laboratory (ORNL) have blueprinted how to make tritium, an extremely rare isotope of hydrogen that's critical to the fusion process.

Although their research — uploaded June 29 to the preprint server arXiv — has not been peer-reviewed, the researchers say it's the first time that different kinds of computing elements have come together to propose the most effective way to create this material.

Fusion reactors are experimental power sources that create energy by fusing atomic nuclei. The heat produced in the subsequent nuclear reaction is then harnessed as energy. This method produces no carbon byproducts or long-lived radioactive waste, making it one of the cleanest potential forms of mass energy production.

It's projected that, at scale, a single fusion reactor could produce about 4 million times as much energy as a coal-burning facility and around four times the amount of energy as a modern nuclear fission reactor.

Current attempts at building a viable fusion reactor have resulted in numerous laboratory experiments that prove the technology works, with magnetic confinement reactors, such as tokamaks, widely considered the front-runner. But many engineering challenges remain before the first commercial reactors could come online.

Turning seawater into fuel

The base fuel for nuclear fusion reactors is a hydrogen isotope called deuterium, which is commonly found in seawater. It's estimated that there are 33 grams of deuterium in every cubic meter of seawater.

But deuterium is only half of the equation. Nuclear fusion also requires tritium — a heavier hydrogen isotope — and the fusion released from just 1 gram (0.04 ounces) of deuterium-tritium fuel equals the energy from about 2,400 gallons (9,100 liters) of oil, according to the U.S. Department of Energy.

Unfortunately, tritium, a radioactive isotope, is extremely rare; only 44 pounds (20 kilograms) of it is produced on Earth each year, and its 12-year half-life makes it difficult to use in nuclear power plants.

Instead, scientists must painstakingly produce tritium in nuclear reactors by bombarding lithium atoms with neutrons. It's then superheated and bound with powerful magnets into a whirling ring of plasma within a tokamak, a special fusion chamber designed to shape and heat plasma using magnetic fields.

Scientists add more deuterium and then bash the tritium and deuterium together, causing them to fuse into helium. The force of this reaction creates heat that's converted into energy.

The current bottleneck lies in creating enough tritium to sustain fusion long enough to produce energy. But modeling the particle physics and chemical reactions involved in the tritium-creation process has proved beyond the capabilities of classical supercomputers.

In the new study, however, scientists say they have addressed this bottleneck by simulating nine molecular configurations of a liquid salt that contains fluorine, lithium and beryllium (FLiBe) — one of the leading candidate materials for extracting tritium.

This is the first time quantum computers have been used to model reactions inside a fusion reactor. If perfected, FLiBe could provide a near-limitless source of fuel for nuclear fusion reactors, they said, but the chemistry involved is incredibly complex.

Demystifying complex chemistry

A "blanket of molten salt" made of FLiBe is wrapped around the nuclear reaction inside a fusion reactor, IBM researchers told Live Science. This provides both a fuel source and a thermal shield for the device.

To create enough tritium, the researchers had to calculate the physics involved while a process called "neutron bombardment" constantly altered the blanket's chemistry. Designing a salt that holds up under competing demands and keeps releasing tritium is a key problem in building this kind of reactor.

"If tritium grabs onto fluorine in the salt, it forms tritium fluoride, which is corrosive and stubborn to remove," the researchers explained. "If it binds to another tritium atom to form a gas, it bubbles out on its own. Predicting which way the reaction goes means modeling the interaction between tritium and the salt with high precision and accuracy that is challenging for classical methods."

Because no ordinary computer can perform the necessary calculations, the team used a combination of AI running on the Frontier supercomputer at ORNL, alongside quantum computing algorithms running on an IBM Quantum Heron quantum processing unit (QPU) in New York. The resulting workflow demonstrated a proof of concept for offloading complex chemistry computations to a quantum computer.

That workflow relied on a technique called wave-function-based embedding, which fragments the calculation into easier-to-calculate clusters, the scientists said in the study. They used classical computers to solve the smaller clusters and passed off the more difficult chunks to a quantum computer. The classical computers then stitched the molecule back together.

This is a method that study co-author Kenneth Merz, a biochemist and principal investigator at Cleveland Clinic Research, pioneered in previous research. Earlier this year, in collaboration with IBM and the Japanese national research institute RIKEN, he used quantum computers to calculate the structure of a 12,635-atom protein.

Fusing quantum and AI

In the new study, the researchers tested their model against known molecular configurations that were already solved by a nonhybrid classical system and determined that the accuracy was maintained with the addition of quantum computations.

This proof of concept should serve as a direct pathway for scaling the models used to predict tritium production within fusion reactors, potentially solving what may be the biggest hurdle to large-scale fusion energy production.

The broader workflow the scientists outlined in a technical blog post involved three stages. First, AI agents proposed and screened many candidate salts from the ORNL database, and for each candidate, calculations estimated various qualities in the tritium breeding process, including how much fuel the salt would make under neutron bombardment.

The most promising salts then went to a supercomputer, which modeled them atom by atom, using the density functional theory (DFT) process to approximate how a molecule's electrons would arrange themselves. These are expensive simulations, so the scientists used "AI stand-ins" trained to reproduce the physics to run them fast enough to be useful. The third stage brought in the quantum computer to figure out where the tritium would bind, which is a shortcoming for DFT.

In the future, the research team will model larger molten-salt systems and study more molecular configurations before evaluating whether AI can slash the time it will take to find a promising molten-salt material.

The wider aim, the scientists told Live Science, is to build a reliable computational pathway for fusion-materials discovery that can help researchers predict how well a blanket material breeds tritium, whether that tritium can be recovered, and how the material may perform in the extreme environment of a fusion reactor.

Can you match these ancient devices to their pictures? Find out with our computing quiz!

Scientists have invented a soft robotic heart that could give them a new way to study a mysterious condition that accounts for roughly half of all heart failure cases.

This form of heart failure, called heart failure with preserved ejection fraction (HFpEF), is a condition in which the heart pumps out a normal amount of blood but becomes too stiff to relax and refill properly between beats. Over 3 million Americans have the condition, but researchers still don't fully understand why it develops, making it difficult to design treatments that directly target the disease.

The new device, described June 1 in the journal Nature Communications, is the first soft robotic heart model that can actively adjust how it responds to changes in pressure. It tightens or relaxes its artificial muscles, enabling researchers to control how stiff the heart becomes. This allows it to better mimic a diseased human heart.

Current laboratory models of HFpEF have drawbacks. Traditional "mock circulation loops" use rigid pumps and tubing to recreate blood flow but don't physically resemble a beating heart. Lab animals capture more realistic biology but are expensive and don't perfectly mirror human disease, said study co-author Thanh Nho Do, a biomedical engineer and associate professor at the University of New South Wales in Australia.

"HFpEF has been notoriously difficult to study and treat," Nho Do told Live Science in an email.

Earlier versions of the robotic heart could realistically recreate cardiac movement, but they followed present commands that didn't adapt to changing conditions. The new system attempts to solve that limitation by allowing the artificial muscle fibers to "feel" the pressure created by the fluid they are pumping and dynamically contract or relax against it.

That feedback is critical for reproducing HFpEF, in which abnormal stiffness — rather than weakened pumping — lies at the core of the disease.

The researchers built a silicone replica of the left side of the human heart and wrapped it in artificial muscle fibers made from rubber tubes reinforced with spring coils. The model continuously senses the pressure generated by the fluid flowing through it and adjusts the force of its artificial muscles in response. By changing how much the muscles resist being stretched as the heart fills, researchers can dial in different levels of stiffness.

Instead of modeling a single snapshot of HFpEF, the researchers recreated several stages of the disease's progression. In early stages, patients' hearts start to show impaired relaxation between beats, while in more advanced forms, the heat is so stiff that it can't adequately fill with blood before the next contraction.

"If we can model its progression pathway, we might be able to use models like ours to develop medical devices that interrupt that trajectory, rather than just treating end-stage disease," Nho Do said.

Current treatment for HFpEF focuses largely on managing symptoms and associated conditions, such as high blood pressure, obesity and diabetes. In recent years, drugs known as SGLT2 inhibitors have been shown to reduce the risk of hospitalization in many patients by reducing excess fluid in the body. But there are still few therapies that directly target the stiffening of the heart muscle.

The researchers hope their new model might pave the way, but they emphasized that the work is an early proof of concept. Looking ahead, they hope to develop increasingly sophisticated robot heart models that can complement other data on HFpEF, including that from computer simulations, animal studies and clinical testing.

"We hope the biggest impact will be in understanding HFpEF mechanisms and improving the way we develop cardiovascular devices," Nho Do said.

Heart quiz: What do you know about the body's hardest-working muscle?

At least 20 people across 17 states have been hospitalized due to severe gastrointestinal illness as more than 1,000 cases of the parasitic infection cyclosporiasis have been reported across the country, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports.

The CDC and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) are investigating several clusters of the illness in Illinois, New York, Pennsylvania and Texas, according to CNN. However, the worst-hit state so far is Michigan, with 1,251 cases reported as of July 9, the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services (MDHHS) reported. According to the Associated Press (AP), this marks the biggest cyclosporiasis outbreak in the state's history.

Cyclosporiasis is a gastrointestinal illness caused by the protozoan parasite Cyclospora cayetanensis, which can enter the body when someone consumes food or water contaminated with the parasite. It then infects the small intestines, invading epithelial cells that line the gut, causing inflammation and leading to watery and often "explosive" diarrhea, according to the CDC. Symptoms usually kick in around a week after infection and can last over a month without antibiotic treatment. While the illness can go away on its own, it is also common for symptoms to disappear for a bit and then return.

Cyclosporiasis is not usually life-threatening, but it can cause severe illness and dehydration, particularly in young children, older adults and people with compromised immune systems. In rare cases, the condition may lead to complications like biliary disease, in which the flow of bile gets blocked and impacts the liver and digestive health, according to the MDHHS.

As of July 1, there was no evidence of a single, multistate outbreak of cyclosporiasis, but the CDC is investigating several clusters. According to an email from the health agency, many of the clusters appear to be linked to Mexican-style restaurants, a chain of grocery stores and a catered event, CNN reported. The FDA is conducting trace-back investigations on white and green onions, cucumbers and cilantro, according to CNN.

Meanwhile, the MDHHS warned that, while the source of the current outbreak is still uncertain, previous Cyclospora outbreaks have been linked to contaminated fresh produce, including raspberries, basil and bagged salad.

Cyclosporiasis cases tend to rise during the spring and summer, with May 1 to Aug. 31 considered "cyclosporiasis season," according to the CDC. However, there have been more cases than usual this year: Whereas Michigan typically reports 50 cases over a whole year, the state has seen over 1,000 cases in just a few weeks, the AP reported.

Compared with outbreaks of E. coli and Salmonella, clusters of Cyclospora are much harder to trace back to their source. This is because the parasite can reproduce sexually, meaning its genetic material is mixed up with each generation, according to Charles River Laboratories. However, Dr. Natasha Bagdasarian, Michigan's chief medical executive, told the AP that "there is clearly a linked outbreak happening right now."

To minimize your risk of becoming infected with Cyclospora, wash all fruits and vegetables thoroughly before eating them; cut away any bruised or damaged areas; and refrigerate cut, peeled or cooked produce as soon as possible, the Michigan Department of Agriculture and Rural Development recommends. If you are experiencing sudden gastrointestinal issues, health officials suggest you visit your local health care provider.

This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to offer medical advice.

For decades, cities have been designed around "gray infrastructure." Roads move people. Bridges connect communities. Water systems protect public health. These systems are governed by engineering standards because society recognizes that safety cannot depend on good intentions alone.

Urban nature deserves the same recognition.

In June, a heat wave gripped Europe, breaking temperature records across the continent. In France, officials reported over 2,000 excess deaths. In the U.K., hospitals declared critical incidents and machinery and IT systems failed. In the U.S., a heat dome over the Midwest and East Coast disrupted Fourth of July celebrations, with at least 25 heat-related deaths over Independence Day weekend.

Cities are being tested by a warming climate. Yet one of our most effective forms of climate infrastructure is being lost — not because it does not work but because we still do not treat it as infrastructure.

My view is simple: Urban nature ‪—‬ including street trees, parks, wetlands and other urban green spaces ‪—‬ should be categorized and managed as essential infrastructure, with minimum standards for its protection, quality and long-term maintenance. Just as we regulate roads, bridges and drinking water, we need standards that ensure all urban residents benefit from healthy and thriving urban nature. Without such standards, cities will become hotter, less resilient and increasingly unequal as climate change accelerates.

Scientific research shows that urban trees and green spaces cool cities during heat waves, reduce flooding by absorbing stormwater, improve air quality, store carbon, support biodiversity, and improve both physical and mental health. During extreme heat, neighborhoods with mature tree canopies can be several degrees cooler than nearby streets dominated by concrete and asphalt. Those few degrees can mean the difference between manageable discomfort and dangerous heat exposure, particularly for older adults, children and people with existing health conditions.

But while the science is strong, our governance is not.

Cities enthusiastically announce ambitious tree-planting campaigns, biodiversity strategies and new greening targets. These initiatives are valuable, but they often focus on what is easy to count rather than what truly matters. Planting a tree is not the same as growing a healthy urban forest. Creating a park does not guarantee biodiversity. A green roof delivers little value if it fails during drought.

The real measure of success is whether urban nature continues providing benefits decades after trees are planted and established.

This is where cities are still falling short.

Unlike buildings or transport systems, urban nature rarely operates under consistent minimum standards. Many cities have no requirements for minimum tree canopy cover, adequate rooting space, soil quality, biodiversity targets, long-term maintenance or even whether newly planted trees survive. As a result, access to nature depends heavily on where people live. Wealthier neighborhoods often enjoy mature tree canopy and high-quality parks, while disadvantaged communities experience hotter streets, fewer green spaces and greater exposure to climate risks.

That is not simply an environmental issue. It is a public health issue, a climate adaptation issue, and an issue of social equity.

The solution is not simply to plant more trees. It is to establish urban nature standards that recognize nature as essential infrastructure.

These standards would not prescribe the same solution for every city. Instead, they would establish minimum expectations based on scientific evidence. They could include targets for accessible green space, minimum tree canopy cover, sufficient soil volume for healthy tree growth, biodiversity outcomes, long-term maintenance funding and routine monitoring to ensure that urban nature continues delivering benefits to communities.

Importantly, these standards should focus on outcomes rather than simple planting targets. Counting how many trees are planted tells us little about whether cities are becoming more resilient. Measuring survival, canopy development, ecosystem health and equitable access provides a much better picture of whether investments in urban nature are actually returning dividends.

Some critics argue that cities cannot afford stronger standards for urban nature. Municipal budgets are already stretched by housing, transport and aging infrastructure. But this argument overlooks a fundamental reality: We already spend enormous sums responding to the consequences of extreme heat, flooding, poor air quality and declining public health. Healthy urban ecosystems help reduce these costs while delivering multiple benefits simultaneously.

As climate change accelerates, the distinction between gray and green infrastructure becomes increasingly blurred. Trees cool buildings and reduce energy demand. Wetlands decrease flood damage. Parks improve public health and strengthen communities. These are not optional amenities. They are functioning components of urban infrastructure that deserve the same level of planning, investment and accountability as any engineered system.

Building codes transformed the safety of our cities because they established minimum standards that every development had to meet. Climate resilience now demands a similar transformation for urban nature.

The next generation of resilient cities will not be defined simply by how many trees they plant but by the standards they adopt to protect, restore and sustain the living infrastructure urban life depends on.

The real question is not whether cities can afford to invest in urban nature; it is whether they can afford not to.

Opinion on Live Science gives you insight on the most important issues in science that affect you and the world around you today, written by experts and leading scientists in their field.

Around 100,000 years ago, an early Homo sapiens man was probably stabbed in the face with a sharp stone tool and later buried in a cave in what is now Israel, archaeologists have determined. The Stone Age cold case appears to be the earliest evidence of this kind of interpersonal violence, according to the research team.

In a study published June 30 in the journal Scientific Reports, the international team of researchers closely examined the skull and lower jaw of a person who was deliberately buried in Qafzeh cave in Israel during the Middle Paleolithic period.

At least 27 people were buried in Qafzeh cave between about 145,000 and 92,000 years ago, making them some of the earliest members of our species to be found outside Africa. Previous analysis of the skeletons, which were excavated between the 1930s and 1970s, revealed that two people had head injuries resulting from blunt trauma.

But the new analysis, which employed microscopic and micro-CT scanning techniques, revealed that Qafzeh 25, an adult male, had a cut mark across his lower left jaw that affected one of his bicuspids and part of his upper jaw. The jawbone showed signs of healing, suggesting that the man lived for a significant amount of time after being injured, the researchers wrote in the study.

Archaeologists had previously identified only a few cases of trauma caused by sharp weapons or projectiles in Middle Paleolithic skeletons. Although these injuries could have resulted from hunting accidents, the researchers wrote, they have generally been interpreted as evidence of interpersonal violence.

The cut mark on the jaw of Qafzeh 25 was found on the left side of his face, lending further support to the idea that the injury was not an accident.

It's not clear what kind of tool made the cut mark, but stone tools found at Qafzeh included flint scrapers and sharp points that could have been fashioned into spear tips.

"Forensic studies of modern human populations have reported that craniofacial injuries resulting from blows are more frequently observed on the left side of the skull, a distribution commonly attributed to the predominance of right-handed assailants in face-to-face confrontations," the researchers wrote.

If the researchers' interpretation of the cut mark is correct, it "would represent the earliest documented case of sharp force trauma in the archaeological record," they wrote.

Qafzeh cave is already well known within archaeology for its clear evidence that early humans buried their dead. The new discovery confirms that the earliest human groups left Africa with a complex culture.

"These results provide new data to the debate on the origin of complex behaviors such as interpersonal violence, the care of injured or sick individuals and funeral practices," study first author Ana Pantoja Pérez, a paleoanthropologist at Spain's National Research Center for Human Evolution, said in a statement.

See how much you know about early humans with our human evolution quiz!

The brain's memory center may come "prewired," rather than being built from scratch after birth, a new study in mice finds.

The research, published in April in the journal Nature Communications, offers a new perspective on a long-standing question in neuroscience: Does the brain begin as a blank slate and build memories by adding connections through experience, or does it come with built-in wiring? The new research focused on the hippocampus, a seahorse-shaped structure deep in the brain that's essential for forming memories.

Rather than supporting either theory directly, the research points to the latter idea but adds a significant twist.

The researchers focused on a region of the hippocampus called cornu ammonis 3 (CA3), which plays a central role in storing and recalling memories. A trait known as plasticity enables neurons within CA3 to continuously strengthen and weaken their connections and thus strengthen or weaken different memories.

The team examined mouse brain tissue collected shortly after birth, during adolescence or during adulthood. They found that early in life, hippocampal networks are densely wired, with many neurons hyperconnected in a seemingly random pattern. As the brain matures, these haphazard networks become sparser yet more structured as connections are pruned. This pruning begins soon after birth, with significant declines in connectivity by adolescence.

The finding discounts the idea that the hippocampus starts out as a blank slate, or "tabula rasa."

"We find, in a nutshell, that the system is not a tabula rasa, as we thought originally, where you can just write information and then at some point, this information fills the system," said study co-author Peter Jonas, a neuroscientist at the Institute of Science and Technology Austria. "Rather, it starts out as a tabula plena [full slate] and then becomes more sparser and specifically connected."​​

This pattern may help to explain why we remember so little from infancy.

Memories are thought to be stored within networks of neurons that fire together, representing specific experiences. In a young brain, however, these connections between neurons, called synapses, behave differently, the study suggests. In young brain tissue, a single input could cause a neuron to fire, the team found, while in mature networks, neurons typically require multiple inputs to fire.

Jonas said the team was surprised by not only the early pruning of connections but also how strong those early connections were. "You might think that early in development, you have poor synapses and weak synapses, but we found the opposite," he told Live Science.

This excitability comes at a cost, however: When neurons are activated too easily, different experiences can trigger overlapping patterns of activity. If that overlap is too great, the brain may struggle to distinguish one memory from another. Instead of forming distinct networks, it may generate broader, less-specific memories. In other words, the system is very active but not very precise.

This imprecision may affect behavior, too. For example, rodent studies show that young animals learn to fear an area of a cage where they received a mild shock, freezing when they return to it. But unlike adults, who freeze at that exact location, young animals also have this response in similar environments — so the memory is there, but it's not precise.

As the brain matures, neurons become more selective and require multiple inputs to fire. The result is more distinct, separate networks that translate to specific and stable memories. So in regard to the inability to recall early childhood, it may be that our earliest memories are too poorly defined to be retained in the long term.

The findings are consistent with a growing body of research on how memory develops, said Hauður Freyja Ólafsdóttir, an assistant professor at the Donders Institute for Brain, Cognition and Behaviour at Radboud University in the Netherlands.

"It's exciting on multiple fronts," Ólafsdóttir, who was not involved in the study, told Live Science. "There is plenty of developmental psychology work that suggests that memory becomes more specific with age. And so it's kind of interesting that now, at the circuit level, we're also seeing that the connectivity patterns are becoming sparser."

So what drives brain wiring before birth? That dense, early connectivity may result from a genetically programmed developmental process. Then, after birth, experience refines the wiring, Jonas suggested.

The findings do not rule out the possibility that experiences before birth leave lasting traces in the brain. But Ólafsdóttir thinks those early forms of learning rely on different neural systems than mature hippocampal circuits.

"I'm not disputing that they're there and that they have influence," she said, referencing prenatal experiences. "They leave a trace, let's say, in our brain and probably in our psychology even." But those traces may not resemble the detailed memories formed later in life.

When asked whether the connections that form before birth represent true memories or are just a byproduct of prenatal development, Jonas said, "The latter is more likely."

The "full slate" may give the brain a crucial head start by enabling neurons to quickly link different types of information, such as sights, sounds and smells. If the brain began as a blank slate, neurons might be too sparsely connected to find each other, making early communication difficult, the study authors think.

By starting with an overconnected network, the hippocampus may ensure that the necessary wiring is already in place, Jonas theorized.

This article was first published May 6, 2026.

See how much you know about the most complex organ in the human body with our brain quiz!

A secretive Chinese spacecraft has captured the first-ever close-up photo of one of Earth's temporary "quasi-moons" after arriving there for a potential first-of-its-kind landing.

The space probe is supposed to scoop up samples from the newly imaged space rock and return them to Earth next year. However, the blurry photo and the timing of its release hint that this may be trickier than initially thought.

The Chinese National Space Administration (CNSA) probe, named Tianwen-2, launched from Xichang Satellite Launch Center in southern China on May 28, 2025, according to Live Science's sister site Space.com. Its primary target is Kamo'oalewa, also known as 2016 HO3, a fast-spinning asteroid that is classified as a quasi-satellite of Earth. That means it circles the sun alongside our planet, making it appear as if it were gravitationally bound to Earth when, in fact, it isn't. (This is only a temporary association; Kamo'oalewa will eventually fall out of sync with Earth and drift away from us.)

The CNSA has released minimal information about the parameters and timeline of the Tianwen-2 mission and only shared the first photo of the spacecraft several weeks after its launch. Based on one unverified timeline, Live Science previously reported that the probe had most likely arrived at Kamo'oalewa on June 7. However, Chinese officials have remained tight-lipped about the probe's progress.

But on Monday (July 6), the CNSA finally confirmed that, after a roughly 400-day-long journey spanning more than 600,000 miles (1 million kilometers), Tianwen-2 is now circling Kamo'oalewa, according to the state-run news outlet Xinhua. The agency also revealed that the probe first inserted itself into the asteroid's orbit on June 7, as originally predicted.

The announcement was accompanied by the first clear photograph of Kamo'oalewa, captured at a distance of around 12.5 miles (20 km) from the quasi-moon. The blurry image suggests the space rock is around 130 feet (40 meters) across, according to the South China Morning Post, which is on the lower end of previous estimates that suggested the asteroid was up to 330 feet (100 m) wide.

Initial readings also suggest that Kamo'oalewa is a rubble-pile asteroid, which means it is loosely bound together and has an unstable surface. Until now, researchers were unsure of the asteroid's composition and hoped it had a solid, rocky surface, which would have allowed the spacecraft to attempt a first-of-its-kind landing using an "anchor and drill" technique. (It now seems unlikely that this sampling method will be used.)

The asteroid's small size, fragile composition and fast spin will make it harder for the probe to collect samples from the space rock's surface, even with other tried-and-true techniques. The new image also hints that there are few flat spots on the space rock where the probe could land safely.

"This greatly increases the complexity of the sampling process and the risk of the mission, making it much more difficult," CNSA representatives wrote in a report, according to the South China Morning Post.

The unverified mission timeline, which correctly predicted the probe's arrival date, stated that the sampling attempt would commence July 4. However, the fact that this has seemingly not happened yet further suggests that Chinese scientists are struggling to figure out how to collect their desired samples.

CNSA officials wrote that the probe "will progressively conduct more detailed scientific exploration to acquire data on the asteroid's morphology, material composition and internal structure, laying the groundwork for subsequent sample collection operations."

If Tianwen-2 does manage to snag some samples, the probe will release them in a capsule during a flyby of Earth in November 2027, and they will reenter the atmosphere at around 27,000 mph (43,500 km/h). This would make China the third country to successfully collect and return asteroid samples to Earth, following Japan, which returned samples from the asteroid Ryugu in 2020, and the U.S., which acquired material from the space rock Bennu in 2023.

Researchers hope the returned samples will help unravel the secrets of the early solar system and potentially shed light on how key compounds, such as organic molecules and water, ended up on Earth. They may also shed light on the seven other quasi-moons that are currently known to co-orbit the sun with our planet.

Some experts previously theorized that Kamo'oalewa may be a fragment of the moon that was knocked loose from our permanent companion by an ancient meteor strike. Others have even attempted to pinpoint which crater the asteroid may have come from and hope that the samples will help confirm their hypothesis.

"I am curious to find out the answer about its origin, since the debate on its [potential] lunar origin is still very open," Marco Fenucci, a mathematician at the European Space Agency's Near-Earth Object Coordination Centre who has co-authored multiple studies on Kamo'oalewa, previously told Live Science. Any returned samples should "definitely give us an answer to this matter," he added.

After its close approach to Earth next year, Tianwen-2 will slingshot farther into the solar system to begin its secondary mission to study 311P/PanSTARRS — a peculiar object beyond Mars that displays characteristics of both comets and asteroids — in 2035.

The patient: A woman in her early 50s in Canada

The symptoms: The woman started occasionally hearing her name being called when she was alone, usually in quiet surroundings. Later, the sounds evolved into indistinct murmurs. These voices seemed to come from outside her head rather than from her own thoughts. They never spoke directly to her, commented on her actions or gave commands.

What happened next: In the next two years after she began hearing voices, the woman made several trips to emergency departments and had brief psychiatric admissions. Because hearing voices is commonly associated with psychosis — symptoms that occur when people experience a disconnect from reality — doctors diagnosed her with "unspecified psychosis" and attempted various treatments.

They first tried the antipsychotic risperidone, gradually increasing the dose, but the voices did not go away. Doctors then switched the patient to aripiprazole, but the hallucinations remained unchanged. Next, they tried haloperidol, and although the woman said the medication made her feel calmer and less distressed, the voices persisted.

As they conducted further psychiatric evaluations, the doctors noticed that the woman frequently leaned forward during conversations, cupped an ear and asked people to repeat themselves. About four to six months after her first contact with a psychiatric team, she was referred for hearing tests. These tests revealed hearing loss in both ears, ranging from moderate to severe in one ear and mild to profound in the other.

About two months later, the woman was fitted with hearing aids in both ears, which improved her hearing. The voices did not go away, however.

Brain scans showed no abnormalities, and blood tests came back normal. Neurological evaluations turned up no evidence of other explanations. Meanwhile, the woman continued working full time, managing her household and maintaining an active social life. She showed no signs of paranoia, delusions, disorganized thinking or the decline in daily functioning that doctors would typically expect to be associated with a psychotic disorder.

The diagnosis: Based on the woman's stable functioning, hearing impairment and lack of other clinical abnormalities, the doctors concluded that her auditory hallucinations stemmed from sensory deprivation caused by hearing loss.

Reduced sound input from the ears can make auditory regions of the brain unusually active, causing them to "fill in" missing sounds, the doctors explained in a report of the case. A related phenomenon is known as musical hallucinosis, in which people with hearing impairments hear songs, melodies or other forms of music that are not actually playing.

The treatment: Because neither antipsychotic medications nor hearing aids eliminated the patient's hallucinations, doctors shifted their focus toward helping the woman cope with them.

They taught her about the connection between hearing loss and hallucinations and advised her to pursue psychotherapy aimed at reducing the distress associated with the voices and improving her coping strategies for dealing with their persistence. At the time the report was published, in May 2026, she was waiting to begin this therapy.

What makes the case unique: In their report, the doctors noted that most published accounts of this phenomenon have described patients' hallucinations improving or resolving after their hearing impairment was treated. Persistent hallucinations after treatment are rare. In the woman's case, however, the voices persisted despite the use of hearing aids.

The doctors suggest that prolonged hearing loss may cause lasting changes in the brain that do not immediately reverse once hearing improves. (The case report does not note how long the woman's hearing had likely been impaired.)

The case also serves as a reminder that hearing voices does not always indicate psychosis, the doctors concluded. Because the woman's hearing loss was recognized only after years of symptoms and several unsuccessful medication trials, the report authors argued that doctors should consider running hearing assessments early in patients with isolated auditory hallucinations, especially when their insight and daily functioning remain intact.

For more intriguing medical cases, check out our Diagnostic Dilemma archives.

This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to offer medical advice.

Can you guess the diagnosis in these strange medical cases? Find out with our diagnostic dilemma quiz!

A team of conservationists has discovered and restored the tombstone of Sebastian, a formerly enslaved man who died free in 1729.

"That discovery is likely one of the oldest gravestones of a free Black person in America," Michelle Wu, the mayor of Boston, said in a July 4 speech. "It's been there all along. We just had to go look and share the story."

The stone marker is inscribed with Sebastian's chosen name, Boston, and features an image common in 17th- and early 18th-century tombstones in New England: the death's head. The symbol includes a stylized skull flanked by wings, which were possibly intended to symbolize spiritual resurrection.

On the tombstone, a simple, five-line inscription reads:

In 18th-century American writing, the word "the" was often abbreviated with a Y-shaped letter form called a "thorn" representing the "th" sound. Tombstones also frequently abbreviated "deceased" and the month. Somewhat confusingly, before 1752, the American colonies regularly used the Julian calendar, as did Britain, in which the new year started on March 25. Boston's year of death is listed on the tombstone as 1728, but his February 28 death was actually in 1729 in our modern Gregorian calendar.

Kelly Thomas, the director of the Historic Burying Grounds Initiative for the Boston Parks and Recreation Department, told WBZ News Radio that she identified the gravestone during a restoration project at the Granary Burying Ground, the city's third-oldest cemetery. Established in 1660, the cemetery includes over 5,000 graves, including the final resting places of Declaration of Independence signers Samuel Adams and John Hancock; the U.S. Revolutionary War officer Paul Revere; and Crispus Attucks, a sailor of mixed African and Indigenous ancestry who is thought to be the first American killed in the Boston Massacre.

"I was reviewing the photos of headstones, and then I noticed that the stone only had one name," rather than a first and last name, Thomas told WBZ News Radio, suggesting that Boston was either enslaved or free when he died. Based on a search of historical records, Thomas determined that Boston's enslaved name was Sebastian and that he also went by Bastian.

A surprising amount of information was recorded about Boston and his wife, Jane Lake. In 1701, they had their daughter, also named Jane, baptized at First Church in Boston, where they regularly attended worship services. But while the two were married with children, they were also both enslaved and lived in different households, historian Gloria Whiting wrote in a 2016 study.

Boston was likely freed in the early 18th century, some time after the 1702 death of John Waite, who had held him in slavery. By 1708, a list of free Black people included the name Boston, and he had gained a reputation in the city as a hardworking handyman, according to Whiting's study. He had been freed for roughly 30 years when he died in 1729 and was well-known enough to have an obituary published for him in the New-England Weekly Journal, a rare occurrence for enslaved or freed Black people in colonial America.

Wu also said that, in recent weeks, archaeologists in Boston had discovered musket balls and gun flints from the infamous Battle of Bunker Hill that took place on June 17, 1775. The battle was fought by British Crown forces and New England troops in the first stage of the American Revolutionary War.

See if you know what these mysterious artifacts are with our archaeological fragments quiz!

The fragile and battered remains of an infant who lived about 6,000 years in Mesopotamia may be the oldest documented case of child abuse from the Middle East and one of the oldest known cases of its kind in the world, a new study finds.

Researchers unearthed the infant's remains in Syria, but at the time the infant died, sometime between 4200 and 3900 B.C., it was buried in Tell Brak, one of the world's earliest cities. It's possible that the difficulties associated with early urbanization played a role in the child's abuse, the researchers noted.

The team determined that, based on the infant's tooth development, the child was 6 to 9 months old at death. An analysis of the remains, which were interred in a children's burial ground within a Late Copper Age workshop district, revealed that the infant had four fractured ribs near the breastbone. The right thigh bone had abnormal growth, while both sides of the skull bore active, porous lesions. These injuries point to the bones being subject to intense and repetitive external forces, and the nature of the lesions don't fit easily with an accidental fall, the researchers said.

"Ribs shouldn't break" in such a small child, study co-author Aleksandra Grzegorska, a bioarchaeologist at the University of Warsaw, told Live Science. Although rib fractures are relatively common in adults, they suggest child abuse in young infants, she said.

In the study, published May 21 in the International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, Grzegorska and her colleagues systematically ruled out other explanations for the injuries, including rickets, scurvy, birth trauma and violent coughing from illnesses such as tuberculosis. Vitamin deficiencies were unlikely, the researchers noted, given that ancient Mesopotamia had ample sunlight and fresh produce due to the fertile land between the two rivers. Birth-related fractures typically heal within weeks in infants, and bone density and growth measurements for the baby matched those of its peers from that time, indicating that the child didn't have an underlying skeletal condition.

To gauge how unusual the injuries were, the team compared the infant to other children excavated from the same burial area. None of the other youngsters with substantial rib preservation showed similar fractures, making the infant's injuries an outlier in the local population.

It appears that the infant likely experienced "caregiver-induced violence," Grzegorska said. This term is used because the evidence can't identify who caused the harm or confirm intent, Grzegorska said. "We don't want to point fingers at any specific individual," she said, noting that in many ancient cultures, multiple family members, not just parents, helped raise children.

Other clues that might shed light on the infant's injuries are missing from this case, she added. Unlike modern clinicians, bioarchaeologists can't interview a living patient or bystander, or examine soft tissue that might reveal more about the abuse. The partially healed state of the fractures suggest the infant survived for some time after the injuries were inflicted, Grzegorska found — an indication that the trauma was not immediately fatal.

Around the time the infant died, Tell Brak was transforming into a city, so the authors suggested that the stresses of early urbanization and possibly less support from extended kin could have contributed to the violence. Centuries after the infant died, upheavals related to city building appear to have led to mass deaths that were likely caused by violent conflict, Grzegorska noted.

Documented cases of child abuse remain exceptionally rare in the archaeological record, with only a handful previously identified in places such as Egypt, France and Lithuania.

For the first time, a physicist has experimentally watched time emerge from within an isolated quantum system — by creating a “mini-universe.” This bizarre experiment raises an intriguing question: If the universe has nothing outside it, where does time come from?

In a new study published June 11 in the journal Physical Review Research, Giovanni Barontini, an experimental physicist at the University of Birmingham in the U.K., used a cloud of ultracold atoms to build his mini-universe. The system was so well isolated from its surroundings that, like the universe itself, it had nothing external to use as a clock. He split that system in two and ignored one half — what he called the "dark sector" — to show that time could arise entirely from within the system.

The result offers the first experimental look on why the universe has time at all. "When you put everything together, things really start to make sense," Barontini told Live Science. "How time inside the system was speeding up or slowing down, or even stopping — this was quite surprising, how well everything came together. Very neatly, in a way. Which is something that doesn't happen that often in experiments."

The work is an experimental verification of ideas that have been floating around in quantum cosmology and thermodynamics for decades. This is not a bombshell claim that time is an illusion, but it is the first time anyone has put those ideas to a direct, quantitative test in the lab.

A universe with nothing outside

Barontini set out to look at a problem that physicists have puzzled over for nearly 60 years. The Wheeler-DeWitt equation — a central equation in quantum gravity, the field that seeks to unify Einstein’s theory of gravity with quantum mechanics — describes the universe as a whole system with no external time parameter. There is no cosmic clock ticking away outside the universe. So where does our experience of time come from?

One influential idea, called relational time, says that time doesn't exist as a fundamental ingredient of reality. Instead, it emerges from relationships inside the universe, with one part of the system acting as a clock for another. But this idea had never been tested directly in the lab.

Barontini's inspiration came from watching his son play with building toys. "I thought that it's something very similar to what we do in our labs," he told Live Science. "We play with very expensive toys. We create our own small samples of reality."

In his lab, that sample is a Bose-Einstein condensate — a state of matter that forms only at near absolute zero. In a Bose-Einstein condensate, thousands of atoms slow to a near standstill and blur together into a single quantum object, behaving as one.

The dark side of time

To mimic a universe with nothing outside it, Barontini placed the condensate in a trap and divided it down the middle with a thin sheet of laser light. He watched one half, the "bright sector," closely and deliberately ignored the other half, which he called the "dark sector."

The atoms in the bright sector sloshed back and forth in the trap, periodically spilling over the barrier and back again. Barontini called the moments when atoms flooded into the bright sector the "Big Bang" and the times when they drained out the "Big Crunch" (the nickname for one theory of how the universe will end, with the universe collapsing in on itself). Then, he tracked how entropy — a measure of disorder, or how spread out energy is within a system — was exchanged between the two halves as atoms crossed the barrier.

Instead of using laboratory time to order events, he built an "entropic time" — a clock defined entirely by how much entropy was flowing between the two halves of the system. If entropy was flowing, time was ticking. If no entropy was exchanged, time stopped. "The entropy exchange between the two systems could be transformed into an internal time variable," Barontini said.

Time speeds up, slows down and stops

What surprised Barontini most was how cleanly everything fit together. The internal, entropic time reliably ordered events in the bright sector. It matched the sequence seen in laboratory time, but it flowed at a different rate.

When entropy was flooding between the sectors, entropic time ran fast. When the exchange slowed, so did the clock. And when the two halves reached equilibrium (no more entropy flowing), the internal clock stopped altogether.

"Time was speeding up or slowing down, or even stopping, depending on what the system was doing," Barontini said.

He then went a step further: Using this internal time, he derived a version of the Schrödinger equation and showed it accurately reproduced what he saw in the experiment. "This was quite surprising, how well everything came together," he said — "very neatly, in a way, which is something that doesn't happen that often in experiments."

Both time itself and the arrow of time — why time flows in one direction rather than the other — may arise from the same source: an observer giving up information. When Barontini chose not to look at the dark sector, he gave up knowledge of that half of the system. That act of ignorance, encoded in entropy, is what gave rise to time in the other half.

"Both time and the arrow of time — maybe they just are born from ignorance," Barontini said. "To have time and to observe, you have to give up some degrees of freedom."

Barontini sees this as just the beginning. The same cold-atom tool kit that generated a miniature Big Bang and Big Crunch in his trap could, in principle, be engineered to simulate far more exotic phenomena, such as black hole analogues, the conditions of the early universe, and what will happen at the moment of the Big Crunch itself.

"These are things we can do very simply, using the tools we already have to engineer our systems," he said.

The study is a proof of concept ‪—‬ a first demonstration that controlled quantum systems can serve as a test bed for some unanswered questions in physics. For now, those questions remain open.

Archaeologists in Italy have unearthed the royal tomb of a pre-Roman "warrior-prince" along with the remains of his chariot and weapons. The tomb was just one part of an extensive sixth-century B.C. burial ground and reveals new information about the funerals of elite rulers from this mysterious civilization.

The funerary complex was found in the municipality of Sirolo, a small town on the Adriatic Sea on Italy's east coast, according to a translated July 1 statement from the Superintendency of Archaeology, Fine Arts and Landscape for the Provinces of Ancona, Pesaro and Urbino.

In the sixth century B.C., an Italic group called the Piceni or Picentes lived in the area, bordered to the north by the Etruscans. The Piceni left few written records, so much of what is known about the enigmatic group comes from archaeological excavations. In 2020, a "princely tomb" complete with an iron-wheeled chariot, a cache of weapons and a helmet was discovered in the Pini cemetery. Now, archaeologists have found a second one.

At the center of a monumental circular palisade, researchers unearthed a large male burial with a wooden "currus" — a two-wheeled chariot that had been buried intact with the nobleman around 2,500 years ago. The warrior prince was also buried with a helmet and an ax, as well as several bronze vessels sealed with ceramic lids and filled with organic remains, which may represent the traces of a funeral banquet or food offerings for the afterlife.

Next to the warrior prince was the tomb of a woman who was buried with textiles, shoes and numerous "fibulae" — ancient metal safety pins that likely fastened her clothing and burial shroud. An enormous fibula with a hunk of amber had been placed on or near her head, possibly as part of her hairstyle or a headdress. This burial is not far from the "Queen's Tomb" in the Pini necropolis, where, in 1989, archaeologists discovered a Piceni woman buried with two chariots, two mules and a large quantity of personal belongings.

While royal burials had been discovered in the Sirolo area for decades, the newly discovered cemetery surprised archaeologists because of its unprecedented shape. Previously discovered burial grounds in the territory of the Piceni were ringed with a ditch, symbolizing the separation of the dead from the living. But the newly discovered cemetery was ringed with a wooden palisade instead of a ditch, and it had been placed on a slight hill, possibly to emphasize its monumental character and symbolic value, according to the statement.

This is the the first time that archaeologists have observed "an entire aristocratic nucleus" of the Piceni, and the discovery can provide "new perspectives on the structure of the elites that led to the great Piceni center," archaeologist Stefano Finocchi, the director of the new excavation, said in the statement.

Although many of the artifacts are still being analyzed, the quantity and quality of the grave goods already recovered reveal that the "ruling groups integrated into a dense network of relationships connecting the central Adriatic with the principal centers of central Italy," Finocchi said.

From Augustus to Nero, see how much you know about ancient Rome's famous leaders with our Roman emperor quiz!

The European Space Agency's (ESA) Euclid space telescope has spotted 31 previously unknown quasars dating to the universe's earliest chapter, including the two oldest ever found.

The discoveries, described July 6 in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics, more than double the number of known quasars from that primordial era and could help astronomers unravel one of cosmology's biggest mysteries: how supermassive black holes grew so enormous so quickly after the Big Bang.

"It's a big step towards understanding these fascinating objects on a more fundamental level," Antonio La Marca, an ESA research fellow on the Euclid team, said in a statement.

Quasars are among the brightest objects in the universe. They form when gas and dust spiral into a galaxy's central supermassive black hole, heating up and releasing enormous amounts of energy that can outshine the galaxy itself. Each of the two most ancient quasars detected in the new study shone with the light of a trillion suns, according to the researchers.

Euclid spotted the quasars while surveying the distant universe. Twelve of them have redshifts of 7 or higher, meaning their light has traveled for more than 13 billion years and dates to the universe's first 770 million years. Two of the objects, with redshifts of 7.77 and 7.69, are the most ancient quasars ever identified, shining just 670 million years after the Big Bang, when the universe was only about 5% of its current age.

"These early quasars date back to the Universe's infancy," Daming Yang, an astronomer at Leiden University in the Netherlands and first author of the new study, said in the statement. "By finding and studying them, we can better understand how these enormous systems formed and grew so quickly — one of the greatest mysteries in astrophysics."

Finding quasars from the early universe has long been difficult because they are rare and incredibly distant. Until now, astronomers had identified only the brightest examples, making it difficult to understand the broader population during this early era. Euclid's wide-field survey is changing that by detecting fainter quasars across huge swaths of the sky.

The latest discoveries represent only a fraction of what the telescope is expected to find during its six-year mission, which will cover more than one-third of the total sky once complete. Mounted with a pair of instruments that see in visible and near-infrared light, Euclid is currently assembling the largest-ever 3D map of the universe. Scientists expect the survey to uncover hundreds of similarly ancient quasars, providing an unprecedented look at how the universe's earliest galaxies and supermassive black holes evolved.

Euclid has also taken some time to study the nearby universe, revealing more than 60 million individual stars packed into the Milky Way's center in a sparkling image released in late June.

Black hole quiz: How supermassive is your knowledge of the universe?

This ethereal satellite snap shows beautiful, "painting-like" folds within an ancient underwater structure in the Bahamas.

The Great Bahama Bank (GBB) is a massive submerged platform stretching around 330 miles (530 kilometers) across a shallow ocean channel between Andros Island and the Exuma islands, according to Britannica. The crescent-shaped bank surrounds a darkly colored ocean drop-off known as "The Tongue of the Ocean," which plunges to depths of 6,500 feet (2,000 meters), according to NASA's Earth Observatory.

The photographed section of the GBB is around 23 miles (37 km) across and features a series of submerged sandbanks — most of which are covered with dense seagrass beds — that lie between 7 and 40 feet (2 to 12 m) below the ocean's surface.

The varying water depth and seagrass concentration cause multiple hues of green and blue to shine across the sandbanks, which have been carved into smooth, folding ribbons by ocean currents over thousands of years.

"The varying colors and curves remind us of graceful strokes on a painting," Earth Observatory representatives wrote.

This section of the GBB was first photographed in 2001 by the Landsat 7 satellite and has often appeared on lists of the most iconic aerial images of our planet.

"There are many nice seagrass and sand patterns worldwide, but none like this anywhere on Earth," Serge Andréfouet, an oceanographer at the French National Research Institute for Sustainable Development who first shared the 2001 image, told the Earth Observatory. "I am not surprised it is still a favorite, especially for people who see it for the first time."

The sandbanks are like giant underwater dunes carved out by ocean currents.

"Tides and ocean currents in the Bahamas sculpted the sand and seaweed beds into these multicolored, fluted patterns in much the same way that winds sculpted the vast sand dunes in the Sahara Desert," Earth Observatory representatives wrote in 2001.

The GBB lies atop a roughly 3-mile-thick (5 km) bed of limestone dating to the age of the dinosaurs, more than 65 million years ago. This hefty mass, made up of the remains of long-dead coral reefs, is so large that Earth's crust directly below the GBB has "sagged under the weight," according to the University of Texas at Austin's Marine Science Institute.

Before the end of the last ice age, around 12,000 years ago, this limestone slab had risen to more than 400 feet (120 m) above sea level and only resubmerged as global sea levels rose due to the melting of glaciers, according to the Marine Science Institute.

The Bahamas has more than 3,000 islands and smaller cays and is home to several other intriguing oceanographic features, including deep tidal channels off the coast of Great Exuma Island (which once harbored famous pirate ships) and a series of aurora-like sandbanks that appear to shine along the nation's northernmost islands.

See more Earth from space

Scientists say they have built a "synthetic cell" that can eat, grow and divide in a way that's remarkably similar to living cells.

The research, released to the preprint database bioRxiv July 2, has not been peer-reviewed yet. It introduces SpudCell, a new type of artificial cell, and marks a striking step toward creating living cells from scratch. But for study co-author Kate Adamala, a synthetic biologist at the University of Minnesota, that's far from the most interesting part of the work.

"I do not believe [SpudCell] is alive," Adamala told Live Science. Instead, she describes the system as a framework that could generate "all the chemicals we need for our civilization with biology." The thought is that SpudCell could serve as a tiny factory, pumping out medicines, fertilizers, plastics or any number of other compounds.

The work's announcement has sparked some controversy, with some scientists seeing it as a ploy to gain media attention for the simultaneous launch of the author's nonprofit Biotic, which aims to raise money to further develop the SpudCell platform. Adamala does not take umbrage to that criticism, as she is keen to bring more attention and funding to her field. If a synthetic cell can be perfected, she thinks, it could help humanity generate chemicals without relying as heavily on petroleum products.

"I feel this incredible stressful urgency that if we don't get to work on it now, then we're going to run out of time," she said, referring to the climate crisis. "We need to highlight that bioengineering can offer a solution. That's why I'm doing it."

A synthetic cell and a big promise

According to the preprint, Adamala and her team produced a lifelike system that closely resembles a living cell. To do so, they combined 36 purified enzymes and a fatty membrane with a pared-back genome about 50 times smaller than that of an average bacterial cell. By mixing these human-made elements together, the scientists generated a cell that could feed, grow, and divide — so, in essence, they created a full cell cycle in a petri dish.

"We built a cell-like system that is fully chemically defined, so there are no unknown building blocks in it," Adamala said. "It's capable of doing things that people up until now used to think only natural living cells can do." They call the system "SpudCell" because it looks similar to a potato, The New York Times reported. The name is also a nod to the Sputnik satellite, per CNN.

The concept of recreating the cell cycle in a dish is not entirely new. The J. Craig Venter Institute's 2016 "minimal cell" paper flirted with the concept by stripping as many genes from a bacterium as possible to leave only a minimal cell that could still replicate. However, the new study is the first time scientists have achieved feeding, growing and division using a "bottom-up" approach.

The work marks "a great advancement," said Mauro Rinaldi, a lecturer in biotechnology and biochemistry at the University of Hull in the U.K. who was not involved in the work. "It moves the needle because one of the key things about cells is division."

But there are important caveats. For one, the cells cannot yet create their own energy as our cells do with mitochondria. They also rely on externally provided fats, sugars and enzymes. The cells cannot make their own ribosomes, the machinery that turns genetic instructions into working parts of the cell. That means it relies on proteins being delivered from the outside.

Another difference is that SpudCell's genome is spread out over bits of DNA called plasmids, rather than being neatly packaged in chromosomes. It does not possess the skeleton that cells typically use to neatly split DNA during cell division, so consequently, the division of SpudCell's DNA to its daughter cells can be somewhat haphazard.

"The description of the results leaves me with substantial technical questions regarding the nature and the robustness of the findings," said Cees Dekker, a biophysicist at the Delft University of Technology in the Netherlands who was not involved in the work. "[Its] approach uses some ingenious engineering tricks as shortcuts to achieve complex functions such as growth, but a major challenge remains to create a truly autonomous cell that executes all these functions without external help," he said.

Dekker is among the scientists who would have preferred that the research made the news after being published in a peer-reviewed scientific journal. "If these findings are solid, that great media attention is definitely warranted; if peer review would, however, reveal weaknesses or issues, all the current media reporting is premature," he argued.

From cell to manufacturing platform

Adamala sees SpudCell as a blank slate for engineering. "We believe that if we make a cell from scratch, that's fully engineerable," she said.

Cells have long been used to produce chemicals for human use. Millions of people use synthetic insulin made in bacteria and yeast cells, for example. But cells resist making chemicals that could be harmful to them, and through evolution, they've developed systems to prevent them from doing so. A SpudCell-like system could circumvent those natural hurdles, Adamala and her colleagues think.

That kind of platform could also be useful for making newer generations of medicines, such as those based on mRNA or peptides. These drugs use molecular building blocks, like amino acids or nucleotides, that have been chemically tweaked to make the molecules more stable or harder for the body to break down. SpudCell could be engineered to produce such modified components directly, rather than scientists having to synthesize them in traditional chemistry labs. This could potentially shorten development timelines and lower costs, the team thinks.

Adamala and her colleagues also envision the cells being used as easily shippable laboratories. They could be dried out, shipped, stored without refrigeration, and then activated on-site to make chemicals, vaccines or proteins when and where they are needed.

But there's still a long road ahead. For now, SpudCell is only a proof of principle, and many hurdles must be addressed before it could become an industrial platform.

"[SpudCell] is not an engineering platform that can give you any useful product, but it's step one," Adamala said. "It's probably at least a couple of decades from now when we can actually scale it up to the point where we can replace all the petrochemicals with biology, but I do believe it's doable."

Adamala hopes the nonprofit Biotic will help funnel donations from philanthropists directly to research. "Biotic is a funding agency that is going to globally fund this work," she said.

While the technology is promising, "it needs to go through peer review," Rinaldi said. "I expect a lot of the hype and some of the terms that they're using to go away after a couple of years have passed."

Deep in a limestone cave on Turkey's Mediterranean coast, archaeologists have uncovered evidence that Neanderthals and the modern humans who moved in later left behind surprisingly similar traces of their daily lives — evidence that they hunted the same animals, crafted the same stone tools and collected the same type of seashells.

The findings, published Monday (July 6) in the journal PNAS, feed into some of the biggest questions in human evolution: How similar were the cultures of Neanderthals and Homo sapiens, given that we're so closely related? And did we share information with one another?

A series of archaeological finds over the past few decades, including the new paper's finding that the two had similar cultural practices, suggests that Neanderthals and H. sapiens behaved far more similarly in the Middle East than once assumed.

The new evidence comes from Üçağızlı II Cave (pronounced Ooch-ah-UHZ'-luh), on a stretch of coastline just north of Syria that served as a prehistoric corridor between the Levant (an area of land east of the Mediterranean) and Eurasia. Although the team found only teeth and a partial jawbone within the cave, they were able to distinguish between the remains of Neanderthals and H. sapiens by analyzing the internal structure of the fossilized teeth. Meanwhile, they dated the sediment at the site using optically stimulated luminescence, a technique that reveals how long ago buried mineral grains last saw sunlight.

The team found that the Neanderthals had lived within the cave between approximately 77,000 and 59,000 years ago, while H. sapiens stayed there between about 59,000 and 47,000 years ago. Despite the different time periods, the layers from both of these periods show "substantially uniform hunting-gathering strategies and lithic technology," showing how similar the Neanderthals and H. sapiens were in their hunting-gathering strategies and stone-tool use, the team wrote in the study.

What's more, Neanderthals and H. sapiens got raw materials, such as flint, from the same local sources and hunted the same prey: wild goats (Capra aegagrus), fallow deer (Dama mesopotamica), roe deer (Capreolus capreolus) and wild boar (Sus scrofa). Layer after layer also turned up 29 shells of a small marine snail, Columbella rustica, carried into the cave not for food but seemingly as ornaments. Some were pierced as if meant to be strung, and one shell dating to the Neanderthal occupation showed signs of deliberate heating that altered its color.

"Our findings indicate a deep level of cultural interaction," study co-author Naoki Morimoto, paleoanthropologist at Kyoto University, said in a statement. "These two distinct but closely related human groups were not just adapting to the same environment: they were probably sharing symbolic preferences."

That pattern breaks from findings at Mandrin Cave in France, where Neanderthals and modern humans are thought to have alternated occupation in distinct pulses from about 56,800 and 41,500 years ago, but did not leave evidence of a continuous culture. Instead, it echoes evidence from Tinshemet Cave in Israel, where researchers recently reported similar signs of shared behavior between the two groups tens of thousands of years earlier, from about 130,000 to 80,000 years ago.

Üçağızlı II Cave in Turkey and Tinshemet Cave in Israel suggest that even though there was a "biological" turnover as the caves went from being occupied by Neanderthal groups to modern humans, there weren't major cultural turnovers, too.

"Rather, we hypothesize that the two human species that coexisted in the region were in contact and shared cultural aspects," the researchers wrote in the study.

"A fascinating region"

Sites like these are forcing a rethink of how these two types of human were culturally related to each other, April Nowell, a Paleolithic archaeologist at the University of Victoria in Canada who was not involved in the new study, told Live Science in an email. "By demonstrating cultural continuity and elevated levels of interaction, sites such as Tinshemet and Üçağızlı II are changing what we thought we knew about Neandertals, Homo sapiens and other contemporary Homo groups … a fascinating region just got even more so!" she said.

But that cultural continuity only heightens the mystery of how modern humans and Neanderthals interacted, with Neanderthals eventually going extinct around 40,000 years ago. Two types of human can't occupy the same ecological niche indefinitely, Nowell noted, and some research into Neanderthal cognition suggests Neanderthals were less-flexible thinkers than modern humans, with more limited capacity for language and less of the kind of self-awareness and creativity that may have given H. sapiens an edge. (However, there is pushback against the idea that Neanderthals weren't as cognitively complex as H. sapiens.)

If the archaeological record at sites like Üçağızlı II shows this much overlap in behavior, Nowell said, the real differences between the two may be ones the fossil record simply hasn't revealed yet.

The authors noted that many big questions remain, including when and where these shared cultural practices took place and whether these cultural similarities happened because modern humans mated with Neanderthals.

Ongoing and future excavations at sites like Üçağızlı II Cave may help to answer these questions and build a "more comprehensive picture of human evolution and cultural development during the Late Pleistocene," the team wrote in the study.

How much do you know about our closest relatives? Find out with our Neanderthal quiz!

Scientists uncovered a link between mild heart trouble and microscopic signs of brain damage that may raise the risk of memory problems down the line.

The new study, published Monday (July 6) in The Journal of Neuroscience, did not prove that the heart issues directly caused memory problems. But it "adds to the overall picture that preserving healthy brain-heart communication is key for healthy aging," said Dr. Jan Scheitz, a consultant stroke neurologist and head of the Brain-Heart Lab at the Charité University Hospital in Germany, who was not involved in the study.

"A healthy lifestyle that protects the cardiovascular system will not only benefit the heart but also the brain," he told Live Science in an email.

The work could one day help doctors identify patients at risk of memory problems early on through routine heart-function tests, said study co-author Dr. Xia Zhang, a doctoral researcher at the Max Planck Institute for Human Cognitive and Brain Sciences in Germany.

"The broader implication is that the brain may show subtle tissue-level changes related to cardiac dysfunction before we see obvious brain shrinkage or clinical dementia," Zhang told Live Science in an email.

Early warning signs

Researchers already knew that heart and brain function are closely interconnected. Heart diseases such as heart failure, atrial fibrillation and heart attack impair communication between the heart and the brain. This can contribute to thinking problems and dementia by restricting blood flow to the brain and causing chronic inflammation.

So far, though, scientists have only studied changes in the brain in people already diagnosed with heart conditions. They haven't necessarily assessed the changes that take place earlier on.

In the new study, researchers followed 73 patients who had sought care for heart-related symptoms at the Heart Center Leipzig in Germany, some of whom had confirmed coronary artery disease and/or heart failure. They also assessed 95 people without any heart-related symptoms. The researchers measured heart function at the start of the study. Then, about 3.5 years later, they performed cognitive testing and an MRI scan of the brain to take a snapshot of its structure.

Among all 168 study participants, those whose hearts pumped blood less efficiently at the start of the study showed greater signs of tissue damage in their gray matter years later. This was true regardless of whether or not they had diagnosed heart failure.

The cognitive tests were given only to the heart-disease patients, and they assessed attention, executive function, learning and memory. Only memory showed a link to weaker heart pumping. The participants with weaker heart pumping showed more microscopic damage in memory-related brain regions, and those brain changes correlated with worse memory scores.

The degree of brain damage also correlated with the levels of stress hormones released by the heart, but this link was only seen in patients who already had heart failure.

"What surprised us most" was that subtle reductions in the heart's ability to pump were tied to later brain changes, even in patients who did not meet clinical criteria for heart failure, Zhang said.

One limitation of the study is that the researchers didn't take MRI scans at the start. That means "we do not know whether some changes were already present at the beginning of the study period," Scheitz noted. This is something that Zhang and her colleagues plan to test in future studies.

"The next step for the field is replication in larger cohorts with multiple time points, so that cardiac function, brain microstructure, and cognition can be followed more precisely over time," she said.

The brain damage flagged in the 73 patients happened in parts of the brain that are important for memory and are vulnerable in Alzheimer's disease. "These regions helped identify a possible brain pathway through which poorer cardiac function may contribute to later memory problems," Zhang said.

However, until this idea is tested directly in future studies, it is too soon to say if the heart function-related brain changes seen on the MRI scans point to a higher risk of Alzheimer's, Zhang cautioned. The team did not measure proteins related to Alzheimer's, so they cannot conclude that the patients with measurable brain changes are developing Alzheimer's disease.

The study also did not directly test the effect of exercise on heart and brain health, but the findings may help explain why regular exercise is often linked to better brain health and cognitive aging, Zhang said.

"Regular exercise supports cardiovascular function, vascular health, and cerebral blood-flow regulation," she said, "all of which may help protect brain tissue over time."

This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to offer medical advice.

What do you know about the body's hardest-working muscle? Find out with our heart quiz!

Scientists have found evidence that gravitational waves from a spectacular black hole collision carry signals from the very edge of the newly formed black hole. If confirmed by future observations, the discovery could provide an entirely new way to investigate what happens in the immediate vicinity of a black hole without ever observing it directly.

In a new study, the researchers analyzed an exceptionally strong gravitational wave event known as GW250114. They identified a "direct wave," a subtle feature of the total gravitational wave signal predicted by theory but never previously detected in real data. The signal appears to contain information from extremely close to the black hole's event horizon, the boundary beyond which nothing, not even light, can escape.

The findings, published June 24 in the journal Nature, suggest that gravitational wave observatories may eventually allow astronomers to probe regions that have remained inaccessible since black holes were first predicted by Albert Einstein's theory of general relativity.

Listening to the edge of a black hole

Although astronomers have photographed the glowing material surrounding some supermassive black holes and have detected dozens of black hole mergers through gravitational waves, the event horizon itself has remained frustratingly difficult to study.

Unlike ordinary light, gravitational waves are tiny ripples in space-time produced when massive objects accelerate. They pass almost undisturbed through the universe, carrying information about violent cosmic events that would otherwise remain hidden.

According to study co-author Sizheng Ma, a postdoctoral researcher at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Canada, the newly identified signal offers a rare glimpse of what happens immediately after two black holes collide.

"When two black holes merge, they violently shake space-time itself," Ma told Live Science. "For a brief moment, the region very close to the newly formed black hole's horizon is swept into a fast, fading swirl."

Ma explained that the direct wave is the portion of the gravitational wave signal produced near the horizon and carries the imprint of that motion outward through space.

"That is why it is so interesting," he said. "It may let us 'listen' to what happens near the horizon, a region we cannot see directly with light."

A remarkable black hole collision

The team focused on GW250114, a black hole merger detected on Jan. 14, 2025, by the two Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) detectors in Hanford, Washington, and Livingston, Louisiana.

"Our earlier theoretical work predicted that black hole mergers should produce a direct-wave signal from the near-horizon region," Ma said. "The big question was whether this effect could actually be seen in real data."

GW250114 turned out to provide exactly the conditions needed to test that prediction.

"It was strong enough, clean enough, and close enough to the theoretical situation where this signal should be visible," he said.

To search for the elusive feature, the researchers first removed the best-understood part of the gravitational wave signal, which comes from the newly formed black hole settling down after the merger. Then, they examined the remaining data to determine whether it consisted only of detector noise or contained another physical signal.

"What we found was striking," Ma said. "The remaining signal followed the expected rhythm and fading pattern of a wave shaped by the region very close to the final black hole's horizon."

The team concluded that the leftover signal matches the behavior expected for a direct wave predicted by previous theoretical studies.

A new way to explore extreme gravity

The researchers stressed that their findings do not reveal what lies inside a black hole. Instead, they're providing a new observational tool for investigating the region immediately outside the event horizon.

"The gravitational wave data appear to carry an imprint from very close to the newly formed black hole's horizon — the famous point of no return," Ma said.

He explained that the measurements are consistent with space-time near the horizon being rapidly dragged around by the spinning black hole while the signal fades because of the intense gravitational field.

"For us, the exciting message is that gravitational waves may be giving us a new way to study the edge of a black hole using real observational data," Ma said.

Ma believes the method could eventually become useful for exploring ideas such as quantum gravity — which seeks to unite Einstein's theory of gravity with quantum mechanics — or the black hole information paradox, the longstanding puzzle of whether information that falls into a black hole is truly lost. However, it cannot test those questions directly yet.

"If quantum effects, or any deviations from the standard black-hole picture, leave a measurable imprint there, then direct waves could, in principle, help us search for them in the future," he said.

More observations will be needed

The researchers cautioned that the discovery is based on a single gravitational wave event. While GW250114 provided exceptionally favorable conditions, much stronger evidence will come only if similar signals are found in many additional black hole mergers.

"There are two main directions," Ma said. "The first is theory."

Current models capture the essential physics but remain simplified, and more realistic descriptions of black hole mergers will be needed.

"The second is observation," he added. "This result comes from one exceptionally loud and clean event, so the strongest confirmation would come from seeing the same kind of pattern in other black hole mergers."

As gravitational wave observatories continue to improve and detect increasing numbers of mergers, researchers hope to determine whether direct waves are a universal feature of black hole collisions.

"If the pattern appears repeatedly in the way general relativity predicts," Ma said, "direct waves could become a new way to study black hole horizons or the regions very close to them, and to test Einstein's theory in one of the most extreme environments in the universe."

If future observations confirm the team's results, scientists may have gained something they have sought for decades: a direct observational window into the very edge of a black hole.

See how much you know about black holes with our black hole quiz!

The patient: A 63-year-old woman in Massachusetts

The symptoms: The patient went to the emergency department after experiencing nausea and vomiting for about a month, along with decreased appetite. She told doctors that she'd also experienced a burning pain in her upper abdomen and right side of her torso, which wrapped around to her back. She'd tried treating these symptoms with two common over-the-counter medications for acid reflux, but the treatments didn't help.

In the year prior, the patient had started taking semaglutide, a type of drug known as a GLP-1 receptor agonist — the same class of drug as Ozempic. These injected drugs are used to treat type 2 diabetes and assist in chronic weight management; in this case, the woman had a history of type 2 diabetes and obesity. Since starting the medication, she'd lost about 40 pounds (18 kilograms), but notably, that weight loss had accelerated over the previous month, she noted.

What happened next: Doctors took a CT scan of the patient's abdomen and pelvis. This revealed that the bile ducts, which move bile from the liver to the gallbladder and small intestine, were slightly dilated. The woman also had "heavy stool burden" but no signs of obstructions in her bowels, and her stomach was slightly stretched out due to carrying "semisolid material."

To take a closer look, the medical team then used magnetic resonance cholangiopancreatography, a noninvasive scan that examines the bile ducts, gallbladder, pancreas and pancreatic ducts. The scan confirmed that the bile ducts were dilated and revealed a mass in the stomach that appeared to be trapped air. The doctors then examined the upper digestive tract, from the esophagus to the top of the small intestine, with an endoscope.

The diagnosis: The endoscopy revealed a large mass in the woman's stomach, known as a gastric bezoar. These masses are tightly packed blobs of partially digested or undigested materials.

The treatment: Semaglutide and other GLP-1 agonists typically cause delayed gastric emptying, which means they slow the rate at which the stomach empties its contents into the intestines. The woman was taken off that medication upon hospital admission.

The next step with a bezoar is to try and dissolve the mass while it's still in the stomach — and evidence suggests a good way to do this is to give the patient soda.

"Existing evidence, largely from case series and anecdotal experiences, supports the administration of 3 liters [0.8 gallons] of cola, either orally or through a nasogastric tube, within a 12-hour window," doctors noted in a report of the case. "It is not well understood whether acidity, carbonation, or another mechanism accounts for dissolution of the bezoar."

Due to the patient's history of diabetes, she was given diet cola. She also didn't enjoy carbonated beverages, so the typical prescription of 3 liters of soda was cut down to 1.5 liters (0.4 gallons). On the second day after starting this treatment, the patient noted a "tugging" sensation in her abdomen followed by relief of her nausea and abdominal discomfort. An endoscopic exam revealed that the bezoar was no longer stuck in her stomach.

The woman then transitioned to a typical diet in the hospital, and by the time she was discharged, she had no nausea, vomiting or abdominal pain. She did not restart semaglutide but was prescribed acid reflux medication to take daily. She reported that her appetite increased after hospital discharge and her weight rebounded a bit over the following months. Her abdominal symptoms had not returned within a few months of discharge.

What makes the case unique: Gastric bezoars are fairly rare, the report noted. They are found in less than 0.5% of endoscopies of the upper digestive tract. Common symptoms of the condition, such as pain, nausea, vomiting and abdominal discomfort, also appear in many more-common disorders, so they don't necessarily point to the presence of a bezoar in all cases.

The most common type of gastric bezoar is formed of plant fibers and called a "phytobezoar." Eating lots of certain foods, such as persimmons, pineapples, raisins or celery, can raise the risk of phytobezoars because the plants contain a high concentration of indigestible components, such as cellulose, lignins and certain tannins.

However, various medical conditions, procedures and drugs can also raise the risk of bezoars. These include anatomical changes related to bariatric or other gastric surgeries, autonomic nerve damage, and medications that cause delayed gastric emptying, such as GLP-1s. In the woman's case, semaglutide was likely to blame for her bezoar, and discontinuing the treatment helped resolve the problem.

The cola she consumed also helped. Although that course of treatment sounds strange on paper, it is the preferred first-line treatment over using a scope to physically break up the bezoar in the patient's stomach.

"Bezoars formed from food material may be initially managed with oral administration of cola in patients in a clinically stable condition," the report said. "This intervention is generally cost-effective and is associated with a lower risk of complications than invasive procedures."

For more intriguing medical cases, check out our Diagnostic Dilemma archives.

This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to offer medical advice.

This article was first published Oct. 15, 2025.

Astronomers have reconstructed the "skeleton" of the cosmos in unprecedented detail, thanks to the largest-ever survey conducted by the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST). The resulting map reveals how galaxies have evolved since the universe's infancy around 13 billion years ago and how they fall together in a vast structure called the cosmic web.

The cosmic web is the largest known structure in existence, home to countless galaxy clusters and clusters of clusters. It is the framework of the universe, a scaffolding of gas filaments, stars, voids and sheets of dark matter that trace the entire large-scale organization of the cosmos.

In a paper published May 6 in The Astrophysical Journal, an international team of astronomers, led by researchers from the University of California, Riverside (UCR), utilized a treasure trove of JWST data to reveal how the universe has evolved.

How to sculpt a universe from scratch

The new research shows how intrinsic and extrinsic factors influence the formation and death of stars — and, therefore, galaxies and galactic clusters — throughout vast swathes of cosmic time.

Yet in what may seem like a wistful twist, the peak era of star formation is many billions of years behind us. The new research offers additional evidence of how the universe's structural framework facilitated this transition.

"We show how the cosmic web helped shape galaxy growth before, during, and after that peak era," study co-author and UCR astronomer Hossein Hatamnia told Live Science via email. "At earlier times, dense regions appear to be sites of rapid galaxy growth, while at later times dense environments are associated with the shutdown of star formation."

Such revelations come courtesy of COSMOS-Web, the grandest JWST survey yet: a 255-hour program spanning a contiguous area of the sky about the size of three full moons.

Compared with the previous COSMOS2020 survey, shared in 2021 and conducted by the Hubble Space Telescope and other facilities, the JWST-derived COSMOS-Web boasts better redshift precision and includes more galaxies — including fainter, lower-mass and more-distant objects. (Redshift is a measure of cosmic distance and time based on how light shifts to redder wavelengths as it crosses the universe.)

Compared with the JWST-derived image below, which shows a slice of the cosmos as it appeared 11.5 billion years ago, previous cosmic maps were sparser, more diffuse, and lacking in cosmic structures.

Additionally, the older COSMOS2020 survey tended to overestimate the depth in especially dense cosmic regions, where galaxies grow earlier and larger, and underestimate the depth of the least-dense spatial regions, the researchers said.

Revealing celestial birth and death

Yet JWST's cosmic map preserves the relative contrast across cosmic regions. It also shows that "massive galaxies in dense environments are more likely to be quiescent" — dying and quenched of their star-forming potential.

This may be because those galaxies are too massive, the team theorized. Once the dark matter halos that anchor galaxies grow to 1 trillion solar masses, they energize gas and prevent it from forming new stars. Additionally, active supermassive black holes quench star formation by energizing gas with their lethal, near-light-speed jets.

Such "mass-related" star-killing mechanisms dominated up to around 7 billion years ago — around half the age of the universe, the team found.

In the more recent universe, star formation is dominantly quenched by the environment around galaxies, which may strip them of material or prevent cold gas from accumulating and coalescing into stars.

Thanks to JWST's capabilities, the large-scale structure and evolution of the universe have been made clearer than ever, resolving blurry blobs into dim, ancient galaxies.

"The jump in depth and resolution is truly significant, and we can now see the cosmic web at a time when the universe was only a few hundred million years old, an era that was essentially out of reach before JWST," co-author Bahram Mobasher, a distinguished professor of physics and astronomy at UCR, concluded in a statement.

The catalog of 164,000 galaxies used to build the map of the cosmic web is publicly available.

This article was first published May 18, 2026.

This small, abstract sculpture of a woman, carved from milky-white marble, is known as The Stargazer because her head is tilted back and her eyes appear to stare skyward. Only about 30 figurines of this type have ever been found; all of them date to about 3000 B.C. and were crafted by a culture that left no written records of the figurines' meaning, according to art historian Amanda Mikolic.

This particular stargazer figurine was once owned by philanthropist Nelson Rockefeller, a member of the wealthy industrial family and vice president of the United States under Gerald Ford. It is now in the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art (CMA).

The marble figurine is roughly 6.8 inches (17.2 centimeters) tall and weighs about 1 pound (454 grams). Clearly carved into human form but lacking a mouth, the statuette likely represents a woman, with the incised lines below the waist representing her pubic triangle. Her large, oval head is tilted back, and her tiny, dot-like eyes look upward.

Most stargazer figurines that have been discovered in western Anatolia (present-day Turkey) were broken at the neck before being buried in the ground millennia ago, making the CMA example one of the finest and most complete stargazer statuettes ever found.

But the meaning of the woman portrayed in The Stargazer figurine is unclear, since the culture that created it did not leave any written language explaining their art.

The figurine cannot stand on its own, suggesting that it was meant to be held or placed flat, according to Mikolic. "Deliberately rendered as female, she may be associated with fertility and abundance," she wrote. The statuette may be part of a trend of simplistic female figurines in the Mediterranean area linked to female fertility and the life cycle, such as the Cycladic figurines, according to The Getty, which has a stargazer figurine in its collection.

Regardless of the woman's specific meaning, "she must have been an important devotional object to some long-lost culture," Arielle Kozloff, former curator of ancient art at the CMA, wrote in the CMA Members Magazine.

Abstract female figurines like The Stargazer and other Neolithic examples are known to have inspired early-20th-century cubist masters, Kozloff wrote. This gives her "a sense of timelessness," according to Mikolic, "encouraging the viewer to think of humankind’s place and role in a larger cosmos."

For more stunning archaeological discoveries, check out our Astonishing Artifacts archives.

Can you put together last week's Astonishing Artifact?

A simple method to thicken Arctic sea ice has shown promising results in its very first field experiment, performed in Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, Canada.

Researchers are considering several controversial geoengineering techniques to slow the catastrophic melt of Arctic sea ice, including stratospheric aerosol injection, which involves shooting tiny sulfur particles into the sky to blot out the sun. But in a new study, scientists evaluated the merits of a much safer and more straightforward approach: pumping seawater onto existing sea ice in winter and letting it freeze into a reinforcing layer.

Known as sea ice thickening, this method has been used by Nordic and Arctic communities for decades, and ice hockey rinks employ a similar technique to keep their ice sturdy, two of the study's authors told Live Science in an email.

"Practical applications [that already exist] include building ice roads and creating platforms for offshore oil exploration," said Edward Blanchard-Wrigglesworth, a research associate professor in the University of Washington's Department of Atmospheric Sciences, and Andrea Ceccolini, an honorary professor at University College London and the CEO of the startup Real Ice, which studies artificial sea ice thickening methods and receives funding from the U.K. government.

Modeling work hints that sea ice thickening could become a climate adaptation tool for Arctic communities by limiting coastal erosion near towns, facilitating travel and supporting animal migrations and hunting.

Now, researchers have assessed the method's efficacy in the field for the first time. Their results, published May 22 in the journal Earth's Future, indicate that both the thickness and brightness of sea ice can be enhanced significantly on small scales — making the ice more reflective, and therefore more resilient to melting.

In the experiment, the team set up eight test areas and three control sites in Cambridge Bay during the winter of 2024 to 2025. Using submersible pumps that each consume less power than a toaster, they flooded the test areas either once or twice with up to 8 inches (20 centimeters) of seawater, while the control sites were never flooded. In spring, one control site was used for a melt pond drainage experiment, which involved drilling small holes in the ice to remove meltwater and expose the brighter ice underneath.

Overall, the test areas grew up to 12.6 inches (32 cm) thicker than the control sites by the end of winter, which is roughly equivalent to the ice thinning that has happened in the Arctic over the past 50 years, according to the study. Test areas that were flooded twice showed greater thickening than those flooded once. And in the melt period from late May to September, sea ice in the test areas appeared brighter and had slower melt rates, remaining thicker than the ice in the control sites. The melt pond drainage experiment also resulted in brighter sea ice than the other control sites.

When water is pumped onto sea ice, it saturates the snow that sits on top of the ice. "The snow-water mixture freezes into a new layer of ice, while the reduction in snow insulation allows colder atmospheric temperatures to accelerate natural ice growth from below," Blanchard-Wrigglesworth and Ceccolini explained.

Thicker sea ice is usually brighter than thin sea ice, which boosts the amount of sunlight that is reflected back into space. "The broader implication is that these effects could enhance the Arctic's reflectivity through both increased surface brightness and longer-lasting sea ice," the researchers said. "If similar results could eventually be achieved at larger scales, increased Arctic albedo could contribute to regional cooling, with potential knock-on benefits such as slowing permafrost thaw and reducing ice loss from Greenland."

However, there is still a big question mark over how scalable and economically viable sea ice thickening is, given that it requires people and machines working in the field. According to a 2016 study, 10 million wind-powered pumps would be needed to cover just 10% of the Arctic Ocean, and 100 million to cover the entire Arctic. "It is reasonable to ask whether such an endeavor is financially feasible or even logistically possible," the authors of that study wrote.

Yearly sea ice extent in the Arctic has shrunk by 20% since 1979, and this loss is accelerating with global warming. Therefore, if we want Arctic sea ice thickening to work at a large scale, "the pumps must be deployed almost immediately, while there is still a sufficient area of sea ice over which to flood," researchers wrote in a 2021 study.

The ecological and social impacts of Arctic sea ice thickening are not well understood, and further research will delay deployment, meaning it might be too late to roll out sea ice thickening by the time scientists have the data they need to ensure its safety and feasibility.

For these reasons and others, including governance issues and high maintenance needs, "sea-ice thickening is simply not feasible for use at a scale and at a rate that would be meaningful for sea ice protection," researchers wrote in a review published last year.

Deployment on anything but local scales would be challenging, Blanchard-Wrigglesworth and Ceccolini agreed. Nevertheless, the researchers said their most recent winter trials, which have yet to be published, showed encouraging results. In those trials, the sea ice in test areas grew 20 inches (50 cm) thicker than in control sites, The Guardian reported.

"We expect to have a clearer picture once the current melt season is complete," the researchers told Live Science. "In parallel, we are developing underwater robotic technology that could support autonomous deployments. Earlier this year, we conducted the first Arctic field tests of a prototype re-icing drone in Finland."

The drone is currently being refined in collaboration with the BioRobotics Institute in Pisa, Italy, according to The Guardian.