GUEST INFORMANT: Professor E. Paul Zehr on How Wolverine’s Claws Could Work

July 22nd, 2013 | guest informant

Wild about Wolverine — Attaching Adamantium Claws To An X-Man’s Skeleton

Wolverine. One of the most powerful, engaging, and controversial characters in the Marvel Universe. Or in any comics universe, really. He’s got some amazing characteristics, powers and abilities. Chief among those are Wolverine’s amazing adamantium claws. They are unbreakable and sharp as a Samurai’s katana. They were grafted to Wolverine’s skeleton, we are told. But how do they stay in there?

See, I started reading about Wolverine in the mid 1970s, shortly after his debut in The Incredible Hulk. It was around the same time that I became captivated by another technical marvel – The Six Million Dollar Man. Steve Austin didn’t have swords grafted to his arms, but he did have some fancy technology implanted and imbedded inside his body. Again, how did that bionic arm stay on and the bionic stuff in the arm (and elsewhere) stay connected to his skeleton?

Of course all these implants did all kinds of cool stuff. Stuff like cutting and blocking and lifting. And I was (and am) impressed by that for sure. But the nascent scientist in me was amazed at what held it all in. Why didn’t Wolverine’s claws come right off the bones in his forearms when he tried to cut through something? And, for those anatomy aficionados in the crowd, why don’t the claws flip over when his radius move as he turns his wrist? While I can’t provide an answer to the last question, science continues to provide some clues to the former.

Once again it’s tissue engineering and materials science to the rescue. I’m fascinated by these related branches of biomedical engineering. Seriously. If I wasn’t already committed to this whole neuroscience brain-and-behaviour gig I’d be all over biomedical engineering. And some recent discoveries in this field related to bone implants have significant implications for how we might really attach adamantium to bone. After we discover adamantium, of course. (This is your cue, metallurgical engineers. In the words of Stan Lee–Excelsior!)

So, while they weren’t busy discovering adamantium, researchers at M.I.T. (and friends) were busy discovering how to improve the fidelity, stability, and viability of making attachments to bone. And, in one of those amazingly fitting juxtapositions that science and life produce, it involves a process very much akin to and relevant for costumed superheroes–superglue.

It gets even better, though. That’s because they were trying to improve the strength of bone connection to implanted devices especially those made from titanium. The coolest element this side of adamantium and vibranium. Titanium is commonly used in the manufacture of joint replacements, most notably the hip. Titanium also gets extra cool kudos by virtue of being a real element.

What this team discovered was that they could stimulate better growth between bone and titanium by using a special superglue adhesive in rats. This adhesive consisted of multilayers of ceramics and nanolayers of polymers mixed up with protein. This super-slurry mix included signaling molecules that bone would normally detect as bone. Since bone likes to grow back to itself, the basic concept was to trick the body into thinking the titanium implant was bone (or at least bone-like).

This was accomplished by making many, many, ultra-thin layers that then worked like superglue to help get bone cells to grow together. This worked much better than conventional bone cement that has a more brittle and less stable outcome. It’s kind of like really good double-sided tape. Except it’s biological tape that grows both ways and has bone growth proteins (for those keeping score it’s osteoinductive bone morphogenetic protein–2, or BMP-2 for short) that help stimulate this growth.

I love this study. Like much of the best science it’s simple and elegant. Lead author Nisarg Shah and colleagues made all kinds of advanced measures (like regulatory hormone release and stem cell differentiation) on how well implants adhered to bone using this new procedure. But some of the measures were also very simple and included how much force was required to pull the implants out when different adhesives were used. The bottom line is that this new approach seems to be a great improvement on the old bone cement model. This is a very real world concern for joint replacements such as hip and knee in humans.

This study using a rodent model is a fantastic proof of principle that dramatic improvements in the fidelity and stability of implanted devices in humans is on the horizon. Human trials are planned next and will the next test of this approach. We really are on the road that will take us to more stable implants of many devices.

We’re currently shooting from the hip, but can claws really be that far away?

© E. Paul Zehr (2013)


E. Paul Zehr is a frequent guest poster here on extraordinary medical matters. This is his info page.  His most recent book is INVENTING IRON MAN: THE POSSIBILITY OF A HUMAN MACHINE.

GUEST INFORMANT: Julian Simpson, Writer/Director

May 31st, 2013 | guest informant

I’ve known Julian a few years now.  He works in television as a writer and director: you’ve probably seen his work on DOCTOR WHO, if not on NEW TRICKS, SPOOKS or HUSTLE.  He has a play coming up on Radio 4 next week, and I asked him to write a thing about it:

The Information Apocalypse: Creativity vs The Infernal Machines

Nearly 11.00am. A few months back. I get a call from Karen Rose of Sweet Talk Productions. She’s the radio producer I work with whenever I do anything for BBC Radio Four. Karen is pretty much a one-woman-band who seems to work twenty-four hours a day on a gazillion radio projects simultaneously and is never anything other than relaxed, happy and encouraging. She is, in other words, the anti-me. This morning she has an announcement:

"The deadline for Afternoon Play pitches is midday today."

"It’s nearly eleven o’clock now."

"Yes. Do you have anything?"

"Apart from the three ideas they already turned down for this slot?"

"Apart from those."

"Because after the Radio Drama award and the Sony nomination, you’d think Radio Four would be MORE open to my ideas, not less."

"You would think…"

"And yet they’ve turned down three ideas in a row. They say they really want me to do something for them and then they turn down three ideas in a row."

"That’s what happened."

"Well then…"

"Do you want to pitch something or not?"



“I’m serious.”

“Fine then.”

“Because fuck them, you know?”

"You don’t have another idea, do you?"


"Well if you come up with anything in the next hour…"

"I won’t."

"Well if you do…"

"I won’t. I don’t have anything. And I’m busy on other stuff."

"Is the other stuff as self-regarding and petulant as this conversation?"

She didn’t actually say that last line because she’s far too nice, but she’s also far too smart not to have been thinking it.

I put the phone down and paced around my study, annoyed because, when you make up stories for a living, having to tell someone you don’t have an idea is a horrible defeat. I looked at the bookshelves; at a pile of books on information, memetics and computer viruses that I’d bought on a whim when I had a vague idea for a TV series about cybercrime. I sat down at my desk and opened Twitter, probably with the intention of writing something pithy (petulant and conceited) about how Radio Four were oppressing a creative impulse I actually didn’t have. The Twitter mob were out in force, attacking each other for using the wrong words to express support for an idea they all agreed with. I read a few vitriolic exchanges and something sparked. I opened up my email and bashed out a précis of the story that was now forming. I sent it to Karen twenty minutes later. Radio Four commissioned it the next day. Fourth time lucky.

What I wrote in that email was essentially this: It’s the day after tomorrow (over-morrow, in fact, because who ever gets to use that word in real life?) and a computer virus has been unleashed that has encrypted all the information held electronically in the world. Banks, medical data, debt records, criminal records; it’s all under threat. No one can get money out of the banks, no one can buy anything in the shops. Looting and rioting has already started and the governments of the world are panicking. The people responsible for taking all the information hostage want to parlay, so a negotiator is sent to meet with them in a hotel room to hear their demands and to try to resolve the situation.

That’s the basic premise but the meat of the thing is the idea, the "why?" Why would anyone want to take information hostage? This is where the books on my shelves and my experiences on Twitter had led me. Thanks to computers, there is now more information floating around the world than ever before; more, in fact, than we can actually cope with. Partly because there is so much (and partly because of the Laws of Thermodynamics, which you don’t need to trouble yourself overly with) we tend to reduce the information down to bite-size chunks so we can spread it around more easily. This is the basic notion of memes – ideas that are copied with variation and selection. We see this all the time "You are either with us or against us" was the rallying cry at the start of the War on Terror (the War on Terror is also a piece of reduced information; reduced, like the War on Drugs, to a nonsense phrase). The British government has successfully reduced the complexities of being unemployed to the word "scroungers" and the complexities of a right-wing capitalist economic system to "common sense". As we have seen even more recently, the complexities of two men murdering a soldier in Woolwich were reduced to "terrorism", an act of reduction so destructive that it resulted in mosques being attacked and idiots in balaclavas hurling abuse at anyone with brown skin. In this case, key phrases from a murderer’s address to camera (phrases which were themselves reduced from an existing reduction of a complex system of belief) were reduced to memetic soundbites with an almost irresistible synaptic connection to "terrorism". And the minute the media said "terrorist", that is what those two psychopaths became, just as the woman who bravely confronted them became a "heroine".

So we cope with all the information that bombards us by simplifying it down to bite-size chunks, the better to transmit it to others in a form in which it’s most likely to be retained and repeated.

There is an argument that posits that all human beings are is vessels made of information (DNA) and naturally selected for the storage and replication of information. Everything we say, do, wear or make is a form of information, a meme, to be copied by others with variation and selection. Information is king and we are but subjects. That being the case then the handing over of the replication and transmission role to computers could, in a dystopian fantasy such as the one I was dreaming up for a radio play, result in the rapid obsolescence of human beings. Computers process, copy, select and transmit more information than we can and they do it faster. Increasingly, we help them along by buying into the reduction of information; by retweeting and reposting pieces about "scroungers" and "fundamentalists" and "corrupt politicians" and by accepting the boundaries defined by these reductions as the ones within which we’ll frame our arguments ("Are the unemployed scroungers or not?" rather than "Is it useful to make a judgement on any human being purely on the basis of his or her employment status?").

We also assist in our own reduction through our use of social media; a 160 character biography becomes the sum total of who we are to thousands of strangers. A 140 character tweet or short Facebook update becomes our definitive opinion on a complex subject. Tone of voice, body language, grammar, even vocabulary itself; all the things we used to employ to illuminate and elaborate on the information we transmit, to give it nuance and texture and, for the love of God, to indicate irony, are falling away in favour of reducing information to binary components of love/hate, good/bad; the better to pass more information faster.

Are we playing into the hands of the information itself? Have we created information technology (or been party to its creation – surely all we did was help transmit the memes that led to this) to perform the task for which we came into existence, thus negating the necessity of our own survival?

This seemed like a decent premise for a radio play. It would be a play about an idea. I liked the notion of being someone who wrote plays about ideas. Then I remembered that I think those people are wankers, so I came up with a story to go with the idea. Then I threw in the Commedia Dell’Arte (because I am a BIT of a wanker) and a couple of twists that turned it, I hope, from a straight drama into something a bit more disquieting; a bit more, dare I say it, "Twilight Zone".

Time was really running out and I still hadn’t written the thing. I’m lucky in having developed good relationships with actors through previous work on TV and radio, so Karen was able to pick up the phone and secure the services of Nicola Walker, Tim McInnerny, Hermione Norris, Louise Brealey, Rufus Wright and Robert Glenister, all without having seen a script. We had an amazing, if hopelessly naive and trusting, cast and we had a crew. But we didn’t have a script and, more importantly for me, we didn’t have a title…

It seemed appropriate to the inspiration for the thing that I get my title online. I logged into Twitter and asked for titles for a play that would be a "locked-room" drama, like Huston’s movie of "Key Largo". The information causes us to make weird connections and the winning suggestion, by @eclecticmuses, was a good example. The phrase "Key Largo" had caused @eclecticmuses to make a connection to a lyric in the Beach Boys’ song "Kokomo", so she suggested "Kokomo" as a title. I liked the word but couldn’t immediately see the relevance. And so to Wikipedia, where we discover that Kokomo is a town in Indiana. They call it the City of Firsts because they built the first internal combustion engine there. And the Howitzer shell. And the first aerial bomb with fins. And the first canned tomato juice was made there. That’s all great and interesting, but not immediately relevant.

And then I read about Ryan White, the fourteen-year-old boy from Kokomo who contracted the HIV virus from a contaminated blood treatment in 1984 and was given six months to live. Despite doctors assuring the town that Ryan was safe to be around, he was expelled from school and harassed by many in the local community; someone even fired a gun through the window of his bedroom. This awful story was a perfect example of information reduction; in 1984 we knew exactly how AIDS spread but this complex information had been reduced to "don’t go near anyone who is HIV positive".

So a play about information is born of random information: books on shelves; Twitter outrage; a random title; the story of a persecuted boy. This is how creation happens because the very act of creation involves the replication of information with variation and selection. Nothing is original, everything is a combination of other things. For me it wasn’t just the books or the Twitter experience, if I listen to the play now, I can hear influences that I wasn’t even directly aware of in the writing; Global Frequency, The Invisibles, The Gone Away World, Sapphire and Steel… The list goes on because every act of creation is a mashing up of influences and experiences gained over a whole life to date.

And so maybe the way human beings combine these random snippets of information to create something new, maybe the connections we make and the way we remix the things we know and transmit them to others are what gives us the edge over the machines. Maybe our creativity is the real key to our survival. We can take that information and not just reduce it, we can make something new out of it. And the machines can’t do that. Yet.

"Kokomo" is the Afternoon Play on BBC Radio 4 on 5th June, 2013.  (BBC link)

I can be found on Twitter, all day every day, committing every crime against information detailed above: @juliansimpson1

Guestpost: NEXT YEAR’S GHOST by John Reppion

May 27th, 2013 | guest informant

John Reppion is half of the writing team Moore Reppion.  He asked me if I wanted to show you a new short story he wrote.  I said yes, of course.

John Reppion

Some people may think it morbid to take pleasure in a visit to a graveyard. I was once however, not only one who enjoyed such visits, but who actively sought them out. As a taphophile the diverse ornamentation of tombs and stones fascinated me and became a hobby of mine. My interest took me all around this island and, eventually to a small ex-mining town in the North.

Next Year's Ghost by DNS

The pit which had once been the lifeblood of the place had collapsed disastrously some three decades earlier and the community had never recovered. The once bustling town was now a morass of blind-eyed broken windows and slack-jawed black doorways with only a huddle of the more ancient buildings still occupied.

There was no priest in this place; its church bearing the same aspect of dereliction as so much of the surroundings and my examination of the burial-ground was completed more quickly than anticipated, most of the more ancient monuments having toppled or crumbled from neglect. Even the stark, lone, large slab inscribed with the names of those who had lost their lives in the mining tragedy was, I am ashamed to say, something of a disappointment.

My return journey not being scheduled until the following morning, I found myself faced with an evening spent in the under-occupied pub, or else alone in my dingy room above, and neither scenario appealed. My hobby had furnished me, almost accidentally, with knowledge of the folklore surrounding burial places, and I found it interesting to note that this was the eve of the feast of Saint Mark. I decided it might be amusing to pass my time observing that old custom which Keats so famously wrote upon – namely that if one watched over a graveyard on that night, the spectres of those yet to pass in the coming year would show themselves.

Seated on the mossy church step as midnight approached, the sight of a figure walking among the crumbling monuments brought me sharply to my senses. In the bright, clear moonlight I soon recognised the face of the pub landlord and fear turned to embarrassment. I began to stammer an apology but the publican only shook his head slowly and sorrowfully.

“They are coming”, the words spoken softly yet somehow left ringing in my ears as he trudged back into the shadows.

And come they did.

Customs have their purposes, forgotten to many though they may be, and I am witness to what may happen if such rituals are neglected or ignored. I had seen the next year’s ghost already. The landlord (as you have guessed) passed away peacefully enough within the allotted course and was buried in the old churchyard, but no Saint Marks Eve vigil had been kept in that ruined parish for many years. Those who came shambling after the publican – who should have come long, long before – could not be mistaken for the living; their bodies having been crushed and mangled in that awful cave-in of thirty years previous.

Illustration by DNS .

John Reppion’s most recent prose work can be found in JOURNEYS IN THE WINTERLANDS from .  His collected writings for Steampunk Magazine – STEAMPUNK SALMAGUNDI — and his (highly recommended by me) Lovecraftian Liverpool short ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER JORDAN are available from .

Reading Lists: Rachel Rosenfelt, James Moran, Jason Howard

May 16th, 2013 | guest informant

Rachel Rosenfelt, editor, The New Inquiry

I’m planning to read Brad Gooch’s Flannery: A Life of Flannery O’Connor alongside her collected short stories.

I’m also planning on Woman Hating by Andrea Dworkin, and Albertine Sarrazin’s Astragal.

James Moran, screenwriter (Doctor Who, Cockneys vs Zombies)

I always feel guilty when asked what I’m reading, as for the past 4 years or so, I’ve had something I quite wankily call Reader’s Block – I can’t seem to read prose fiction anymore. I always used to read, a lot, several books a week, but lately I’m completely unable to concentrate on them. I’m fine with non-fiction, also comics, TV shows, movies, magazines, etc. Just not prose fiction. After half a page, my attention wanders, I start picking it apart, seeing the construction of the fake story, and my brain says "I don’t give a shit, this isn’t real, who cares?" It’s really, really annoying and upsetting, because I’ve got a stack of books that I know I’ll never read. I think it’s a visual thing – if there are visuals to focus on (TV, comics, movies) I can let myself be swept up in a story. But bare text, it has to be something real or I wander off. I’ve heard the same thing from a lot of other writers who work primarily in TV or film, so it must be an occupational hazard. Or information overload. I don’t know. But I get very guilty and defensive about it. It feels wrong, like I’m an incomplete person, and a fraud (as usual). On the bright side, I’m discovering a whole world of non-fiction which, for some reason, I had avoided for most of my life. Anyway. Currently in my (all non-fiction) pile:

Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements. I’m in the middle of this right now, it’s loads of fantastic stories and trivia about the elements. It’s fascinating, surprising, and genuinely magical – the best popular science books fill you with a sense of wonder while educating you, and this is no different. And now I badly want my own collection of elements, in a wooden display case, so I can touch them and smell them and lick them. Except the ones that would kill me, of course.

Them: Adventures with Extremists, and Lost at Sea, both by Jon Ronson. I’m very late to the Jon Ronson party (what an odd but brilliant party *that* would be), and just finished my first one, The Psychopath Test, so I grabbed these immediately afterwards. The topics are almost beside the point, I just enjoy going along for the ride with him and meeting lots of people who are really, really, really mad.

Confessions of a Conjuror, by Derren Brown. I really enjoyed his first book, Tricks of the Mind, and am sure this will be more of the same. He’s passionate about what he does, the history of it, debunking those who prey on the vulnerable, and rambling on about nonsense. He’s a lot of fun, and great at what he does.

Shockwave: The Countdown to Hiroshima, by Stephen Walker. Interviews with witnesses, flight crew, scientists, and victims, about the events leading up to (and directly after) the dropping of Little Boy. I’ve had this for a few years, and keep putting it off, given the subject matter, but am determined to read it soon. Maybe.


Jason Howard, comics artist, Super Dinosaur, Scatterlands (back next week)

Do audiobooks count? I tend to listen to a lot of audiobooks while I work. Lately it’s been mostly sci-fi and fantasy fiction.

Currently in the middle of Down These Strange Streets, an anthology of short urban fantasy stories edited by George R.R. Martin.

Next on the list are-

- Shadow’s Edge by Brent Weeks. I enjoyed The Way of Shadows quite a bit, looking forward to this sequel.

- The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. Another sequel book, this time to The Name of the Wind.

- Acaia by David Anthony Durham. Don’t know much about this one, saw it recommended online, liked the premise and added it my list to read.

Reading Lists: Molly Crabapple, Baratunde Thurston

May 15th, 2013 | guest informant

Molly Crabapple, artist, writer

John Richardson: Picasso- 1906-1917
Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung
My Apprenticeships: Colette
Hitchens: Why Orwell Matters
The Naked and the Dead
Simone de Beauvoir: The Mandarins

Baratunde Thurston, author, comedian, CEO

Writing My Wrongs by Shaka Senghor.  Shaka is a friend. We’re both Director’s Fellows at the MIT Media Lab. He spent 19 years in prison for second degree murder. He was guilty. This book is the story of how a kid growing up wanting to be a doctor ended up on the opposite path and how writing helped him heal and atone.

I’ve bought these books on Kindle and should probably get to reading them. It’s so easy to buy, and reading is hard!

CivilWarLand in Bad Decline: Stories and a Novella: Saunders, George

Hybrid Reality: Thriving in the Emerging Human-Technology Civilization: Khanna, Parag

Clearly Invisible: Racial Passing and the Color of Cultural Identity: Dawkins, Marcia Alesan

Lizz Free or Die: Essays: Winstead, Lizz