Genetics

these-hornets-break-down-alcohol-so-fast-that-they-can’t-get-drunk

These hornets break down alcohol so fast that they can’t get drunk

Many animals, including humans, have developed a taste for alcohol in some form, but excessive consumption often leads to adverse health effects. One exception is the Oriental wasp. According to a new paper published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, these wasps can guzzle seemingly unlimited amounts of ethanol regularly and at very high concentrations with no ill effects—not even intoxication. They pretty much drank honeybees used in the same experiments under the table.

“To the best of our knowledge, Oriental hornets are the only animal in nature adapted to consuming alcohol as a metabolic fuel,” said co-author Eran Levin of Tel Aviv University. “They show no signs of intoxication or illness, even after chronically consuming huge amounts of alcohol, and they eliminate it from their bodies very quickly.”

Per Levin et al., there’s a “drunken monkey” theory that predicts that certain animals well-adapted to low concentrations of ethanol in their diets nonetheless have adverse reactions at higher concentrations. Studies have shown that tree shrews, for example, can handle concentrations of up to 3.8 percent, but in laboratory conditions, when they consumed ethanol in concentrations of 10 percent or higher, they were prone to liver damage.

Similarly, fruit flies are fine with concentrations up to 4 percent but have increased mortality rates above that range. They’re certainly capable of drinking more: fruit flies can imbibe half their body volume in 15 percent (30 proof) alcohol each day. Not even spiking the ethanol with bitter quinine slows them down. Granted, they have ultra-fast metabolisms—the better to burn off the booze—but they can still become falling-down drunk. And fruit flies vary in their tolerance for alcohol depending on their genetic makeup—that is, how quickly their bodies adapt to the ethanol, requiring them to inhale more and more of it to achieve the same physical effects, much like humans.

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the-fish-with-the-genome-30-times-larger-than-ours-gets-sequenced

The fish with the genome 30 times larger than ours gets sequenced

Image of the front half of a fish, with a brown and cream pattern and long fins.

Enlarge / The African Lungfish, showing it’s thin, wispy fins.

When it was first discovered, the coelacanth caused a lot of excitement. It was a living example of a group of fish that was thought to only exist as fossils. And not just any group of fish. With their long, stalk-like fins, coelacanths and their kin are thought to include the ancestors of all vertebrates that aren’t fish—the tetrapods, or vertebrates with four limbs. Meaning, among a lot of other things, us.

Since then, however, evidence has piled up that we’re more closely related to lungfish, which live in freshwater and are found in Africa, Australia, and South America. But lungfish are a bit weird. The African and South American species have seen the limb-like fins of their ancestors reduced to thin, floppy strands. And getting some perspective on their evolutionary history has proven difficult because they have the largest genomes known in animals, with the South American lungfish genome containing over 90 billion base pairs. That’s 30 times the amount of DNA we have.

But new sequencing technology has made tackling that sort of challenge manageable, and an international collaboration has now completed the largest genome ever, one where all but one chromosome carry more DNA than is found in the human genome. The work points to a history where the South American lungfish has been adding 3 billion extra bases of DNA every 10 million years for the last 200 million years, all without adding a significant number of new genes. Instead, it seems to have lost the ability to keep junk DNA in check.

Going long

The work was enabled by a technology generically termed “long-read sequencing.” Most of the genomes that were completed were done using short reads, typically in the area of 100–200 base pairs long. The secret was to do enough sequencing that, on average, every base in the genome should be sequenced multiple times. Given that, a cleverly designed computer program could figure out where two bits of sequence overlapped and register that as a single, longer piece of sequence, repeating the process until the computer spit out long strings of contiguous bases.

The problem is that most non-microbial species have stretches of repeated sequence (think hundreds of copies of the bases G and A in a row) that were longer than a few hundred bases long—and nearly identical sequences that show up in multiple locations of the genome. These would be impossible to match to a unique location, and so the output of the genome assembly software would have lots of gaps of unknown length and sequence.

This creates extreme difficulty for genomes like that of the lungfish, which is filled with non-functional “junk” DNA, all of which is typically repetitive. The software tends to produce a genome that’s more gap than sequence.

Long-read technology gets around that by doing exactly what its name implies. Rather than being able to sequence fragments of 200 bases or so, it can generate sequences that are thousands of base pairs long, easily covering the entire repeat that would have otherwise created a gap. One early version of long-read technology involved stuffing long DNA molecules through pores and watching for different voltage changes across the pore as different bases passed through it. Another had a DNA copying enzyme make a duplicate of a long strand and watch for fluorescence changes as different bases were added. These early versions tended to be a bit error-prone but have since been improved, and several newer competing technologies are now on the market.

Back in 2021, researchers used this technology to complete the genome of the Australian lungfish—the one that maintains the limb-like fins of the ancestors that gave rise to tetrapods. Now they’re back with the genomes from African and South American species. These species seem to have gone their separate ways during the breakup of the supercontinent Gondwana, a process that started nearly 200 million years ago. And having the genomes of all three should give us some perspective on the features that are common to all lungfish species, and thus are more likely to have been shared with the distant ancestors that gave rise to tetrapods.

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path-to-precision:-targeted-cancer-drugs-go-from-table-to-trials-to-bedside

Path to precision: Targeted cancer drugs go from table to trials to bedside

Path to precision: Targeted cancer drugs go from table to trials to bedside

Aurich Lawson

In 1972, Janet Rowley sat at her dining room table and cut tiny chromosomes from photographs she had taken in her laboratory. One by one, she snipped out the small figures her children teasingly called paper dolls. She then carefully laid them out in 23 matching pairs—and warned her kids not to sneeze.

The physician-scientist had just mastered a new chromosome-staining technique in a year-long sabbatical at Oxford. But it was in the dining room of her Chicago home where she made the discovery that would dramatically alter the course of cancer research.

Rowley's 1973 partial karyotype showing the 9;22 translocation

Enlarge / Rowley’s 1973 partial karyotype showing the 9;22 translocation

Looking over the chromosomes of a patient with acute myeloid leukemia (AML), she realized that segments of chromosomes 8 and 21 had broken off and swapped places—a genetic trade called a translocation. She looked at the chromosomes of other AML patients and saw the same switch: the 8;21 translocation.

Later that same year, she saw another translocation, this time in patients with a different type of blood cancer, called chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). Patients with CML were known to carry a puzzling abnormality in chromosome 22 that made it appear shorter than normal. The abnormality was called the Philadelphia chromosome after its discovery by two researchers in Philadelphia in 1959. But it wasn’t until Rowley pored over her meticulously set dining table that it became clear why chromosome 22 was shorter—a chunk of it had broken off and traded places with a small section of chromosome 9, a 9;22 translocation.

Rowley had the first evidence that genetic abnormalities were the cause of cancer. She published her findings in 1973, with the CML translocation published in a single-author study in Nature. In the years that followed, she strongly advocated for the idea that the abnormalities were significant for cancer. But she was initially met with skepticism. At the time, many researchers considered chromosomal abnormalities to be a result of cancer, not the other way around. Rowley’s findings were rejected from the prestigious New England Journal of Medicine. “I got sort of amused tolerance at the beginning,” she said before her death in 2013.

The birth of targeted treatments

But the evidence mounted quickly. In 1977, Rowley and two of her colleagues at the University of Chicago identified another chromosomal translocation—15;17—that causes a rare blood cancer called acute promyelocytic leukemia. By 1990, over 70 translocations had been identified in cancers.

The significance mounted quickly as well. Following Rowley’s discovery of the 9;22 translocation in CML, researchers figured out that the genetic swap creates a fusion of two genes. Part of the ABL gene normally found on chromosome 9 becomes attached to the BCR gene on chromosome 22, creating the cancer-driving BCR::ABL fusion gene on chromosome 22. This genetic merger codes for a signaling protein—a tyrosine kinase—that is permanently stuck in “active” mode. As such, it perpetually triggers signaling pathways that lead white blood cells to grow uncontrollably.

Schematic of the 9;22 translocation and the creation of the BCR::ABL fusion gene.

Enlarge / Schematic of the 9;22 translocation and the creation of the BCR::ABL fusion gene.

By the mid-1990s, researchers had developed a drug that blocks the BCR-ABL protein, a tyrosine kinase inhibitor (TKI) called imatinib. For patients in the chronic phase of CML—about 90 percent of CML patients—imatinib raised the 10-year survival rate from less than 50 percent to a little over 80 percent. Imatinib (sold as Gleevec or Glivec) earned approval from the Food and Drug Administration in 2001, marking the first approval for a cancer therapy targeting a known genetic alteration.

With imatinib’s success, targeted cancer therapies—aka precision medicine—took off. By the early 2000s, there was widespread interest among researchers to precisely identify the genetic underpinnings of cancer. At the same time, the revolutionary development of next-generation genetic sequencing acted like jet fuel for the soaring field. The technology eased the identification of mutations and genetic abnormalities driving cancers. Sequencing is now considered standard care in the diagnosis, treatment, and management of many cancers.

The development of gene-targeting cancer therapies skyrocketed. Classes of TKIs, like imatinib, expanded particularly fast. There are now over 50 FDA-approved TKIs targeting a wide variety of cancers. For instance, the TKIs lapatinib, neratinib, tucatinib, and pyrotinib target human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2), which runs amok in some breast and gastric cancers. The TKI ruxolitinib targets Janus kinase 2, which is often mutated in the rare blood cancer myelofibrosis and the slow-growing blood cancer polycythemia vera. CML patients, meanwhile, now have five TKI therapies to choose from.

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much-of-neanderthal-genetic-diversity-came-from-modern-humans

Much of Neanderthal genetic diversity came from modern humans

A large, brown-colored skull seen in profile against a black background.

The basic outline of the interactions between modern humans and Neanderthals is now well established. The two came in contact as modern humans began their major expansion out of Africa, which occurred roughly 60,000 years ago. Humans picked up some Neanderthal DNA through interbreeding, while the Neanderthal population, always fairly small, was swept away by the waves of new arrivals.

But there are some aspects of this big-picture view that don’t entirely line up with the data. While it nicely explains the fact that Neanderthal sequences are far more common in non-African populations, it doesn’t account for the fact that every African population we’ve looked at has some DNA that matches up with Neanderthal DNA.

A study published on Thursday argues that much of this match came about because an early modern human population also left Africa and interbred with Neanderthals. But in this case, the result was to introduce modern human DNA to the Neanderthal population. The study shows that this DNA accounts for a lot of Neanderthals’ genetic diversity, suggesting that their population was even smaller than earlier estimates had suggested.

Out of Africa early

This study isn’t the first to suggest that modern humans and their genes met Neanderthals well in advance of our major out-of-Africa expansion. The key to understanding this is the genome of a Neanderthal from the Altai region of Siberia, which dates from roughly 120,000 years ago. That’s well before modern humans expanded out of Africa, yet its genome has some regions that have excellent matches to the human genome but are absent from the Denisovan lineage.

One explanation for this is that these are segments of Neanderthal DNA that were later picked up by the population that expanded out of Africa. The problem with that view is that most of these sequences also show up in African populations. So, researchers advanced the idea that an ancestral population of modern humans left Africa about 200,000 years ago, and some of its DNA was retained by Siberian Neanderthals. That’s consistent with some fossil finds that place anatomically modern humans in the Mideast at roughly the same time.

There is, however, an alternative explanation: Some of the population that expanded out of Africa 60,000 years ago and picked up Neanderthal DNA migrated back to Africa, taking the Neanderthal DNA with them. That has led to a small bit of the Neanderthal DNA persisting within African populations.

To sort this all out, a research team based at Princeton University focused on the Neanderthal DNA found in Africans, taking advantage of the fact that we now have a much larger array of completed human genomes (approximately 2,000 of them).

The work was based on a simple hypothesis. All of our work on Neanderthal DNA indicates that their population was relatively small, and thus had less genetic diversity than modern humans did. If that’s the case, then the addition of modern human DNA to the Neanderthal population should have boosted its genetic diversity. If so, then the stretches of “Neanderthal” DNA found in African populations should include some of the more diverse regions of the Neanderthal genome.

Much of Neanderthal genetic diversity came from modern humans Read More »

frozen-mammoth-skin-retained-its-chromosome-structure

Frozen mammoth skin retained its chromosome structure

Artist's depiction of a large mammoth with brown fur and huge, curving tusks in an icy, tundra environment.

One of the challenges of working with ancient DNA samples is that damage accumulates over time, breaking up the structure of the double helix into ever smaller fragments. In the samples we’ve worked with, these fragments scatter and mix with contaminants, making reconstructing a genome a large technical challenge.

But a dramatic paper released on Thursday shows that this isn’t always true. Damage does create progressively smaller fragments of DNA over time. But, if they’re trapped in the right sort of material, they’ll stay right where they are, essentially preserving some key features of ancient chromosomes even as the underlying DNA decays. Researchers have now used that to detail the chromosome structure of mammoths, with some implications for how these mammals regulated some key genes.

DNA meets Hi-C

The backbone of DNA’s double helix consists of alternating sugars and phosphates, chemically linked together (the bases of DNA are chemically linked to these sugars). Damage from things like radiation can break these chemical linkages, with fragmentation increasing over time. When samples reach the age of something like a Neanderthal, very few fragments are longer than 100 base pairs. Since chromosomes are millions of base pairs long, it was thought that this would inevitably destroy their structure, as many of the fragments would simply diffuse away.

But that will only be true if the medium they’re in allows diffusion. And some scientists suspected that permafrost, which preserves the tissue of some now-extinct Arctic animals, might block that diffusion. So, they set out to test this using mammoth tissues, obtained from a sample termed YakInf that’s roughly 50,000 years old.

The challenge is that the molecular techniques we use to probe chromosomes take place in liquid solutions, where fragments would just drift away from each other in any case. So, the team focused on an approach termed Hi-C, which specifically preserves information about which bits of DNA were close to each other. It does this by exposing chromosomes to a chemical that will link any pieces of DNA that are close physical proximity. So, even if those pieces are fragments, they’ll be stuck to each other by the time they end up in a liquid solution.

A few enzymes are then used to convert these linked molecules to a single piece of DNA, which is then sequenced. This data, which will contain sequence information from two different parts of the genome, then tells us that those parts were once close to each other inside a cell.

Interpreting Hi-C

On its own, a single bit of data like this isn’t especially interesting; two bits of genome might end up next to each other at random. But when you have millions of bits of data like this, you can start to construct a map of how the genome is structured.

There are two basic rules governing the pattern of interactions we’d expect to see. The first is that interactions within a chromosome are going to be more common than interactions between two chromosomes. And, within a chromosome, parts that are physically closer to each other on the molecule are more likely to interact than those that are farther apart.

So, if you are looking at a specific segment of, say, chromosome 12, most of the locations Hi-C will find it interacting with will also be on chromosome 12. And the frequency of interactions will go up as you move to sequences that are ever closer to the one you’re interested in.

On its own, you can use Hi-C to help reconstruct a chromosome even if you start with nothing but fragments. But the exceptions to the expected pattern also tell us things about biology. For example, genes that are active tend to be on loops of DNA, with the two ends of the loop held together by proteins; the same is true for inactive genes. Interactions within these loops tend to be more frequent than interactions between them, subtly altering the frequency with which two fragments end up linked together during Hi-C.

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dna-from-mammoth-remains-reveals-the-history-of-the-last-surviving-population

DNA from mammoth remains reveals the history of the last surviving population

Sole survivors —

The mammoths of Wrangel Island purged a lot of harmful mutations before dying off.

A dark, snowy vista with a single mammoth walking past the rib cage of another of its kind.

Enlarge / An artist’s conception of one of the last mammoths of Wrangel Island.

Beth Zaiken

A small group of woolly mammoths became trapped on Wrangel Island around 10,000 years ago when rising sea levels separated the island from mainland Siberia. Small, isolated populations of animals lead to inbreeding and genetic defects, and it has long been thought that the Wrangel Island mammoths ultimately succumbed to this problem about 4,000 years ago.

A paper in Cell on Thursday, however, compared 50,000 years of genomes from mainland and isolated Wrangel Island mammoths and found that this was not the case. What the authors of the paper discovered not only challenges our understanding of this isolated group of mammoths and the evolution of small populations, it also has important implications for conservation efforts today.

A severe bottleneck

It’s the culmination of years of genetic sequencing by members of the international team behind this new paper. They studied 21 mammoth genomes—13 of which were newly sequenced by lead author Marianne Dehasque; others had been sequenced years prior by co-authors Patrícia Pečnerová, Foteini Kanellidou, and Héloïse Muller. The genomes were obtained from Siberian woolly mammoths (Mammuthus primigenius), both from the mainland and the island before and after it became isolated. The oldest genome was from a female Siberian mammoth who died about 52,300 years ago. The youngest were from Wrangel Island male mammoths who perished right around the time the last of these mammoths died out (one of them died just 4,333 years ago).

Wrangel Island, north of Siberia has an extensive tundra.

Enlarge / Wrangel Island, north of Siberia has an extensive tundra.

Love Dalén

It’s a remarkable and revealing time span: The sample included mammoths from a population that started out large and genetically healthy, went through isolation, and eventually went extinct.

Mammoths, the team noted in their paper, experienced a “climatically turbulent period,” particularly during an episode of rapid warming called the Bølling-Allerød interstadial (approximately 14,700 to 12,900 years ago)—a time that others have suggested might have led to local woolly mammoth extinctions. However, the genomes of mammoths studied through this time period don’t indicate that the warming had any adverse effects.

Adverse effects only appeared—and drastically so—once the population was isolated on that island.

The team’s simulations indicate that, at its smallest, the total population of Wrangel Island mammoths was fewer than 10 individuals. This represents a severe population bottleneck. This was seen genetically through increased runs of homozygosity within the genome, caused when both parents contribute nearly identical chromosomes, both derived from a recent ancestor. The runs of homozygosity within isolated Wrangel Island mammoths were four times as great as those before sea levels rose.

Despite that dangerously tiny number of mammoths, they recovered. The population size, as well as inbreeding level and genetic diversity, remained stable for the next 6,000 years until their extinction. Unlike the initial population bottleneck, genomic signatures over time seem to indicate inbreeding eventually shifted to pairings of more distant relatives, suggesting either a larger mammoth population or a change in behavior.

Within 20 generations, their simulations indicate, the population size would have increased to about 200–300 mammoths. This is consistent with the slower decrease in heterozygosity that they found in the genome.

Long-lasting negative effects

The Wrangel Island mammoths may have survived despite the odds, and harmful genetic defects may not have been the reason for their extinction, but the research suggests their story is complicated.

At about 7,608 square kilometers today, a bit larger than the island of Crete, Wrangel Island would have offered a fair amount of space and resources, although these were large animals. For 6,000 years following their isolation, for example, they suffered from inbreeding depression, which refers to increased mortality as a result of inbreeding and its resulting defects.

That inbreeding also boosted the purging of harmful mutations. That may sound like a good thing—and it can be—but it typically occurs because individuals carrying two copies of harmful mutations die or fail to reproduce. So it’s good only if the population survives it.

The team’s results show that purging genetic mutations can be a lengthy evolutionary process. Lead author Marianne Dehasque is a paleogeneticist who completed her PhD at the Centre for Palaeogenetics. She explained to Ars that, “Purging harmful mutations for over 6,000 years basically indicates long-lasting negative effects caused by these extremely harmful mutations. Since purging in the Wrangel Island population went on for such a long time, it indicates that the population was experiencing negative effects from these mutations up until its extinction.”

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iv-infusion-enables-editing-of-the-cystic-fibrosis-gene-in-lung-stem-cells

IV infusion enables editing of the cystic fibrosis gene in lung stem cells

Right gene in the right place —

Approach relies on lipid capsules like those in the mRNA vaccines.

Abstract drawing of a pair of human hands using scissors to cut a DNA strand, with a number of human organs in the background.

The development of gene editing tools, which enable the specific targeting and correction of mutations, hold the promise of allowing us to correct those mutations that cause genetic diseases. However, the technology has been around for a while now—two researchers were critical to its development in 2020—and there have been only a few cases where gene editing has been used to target diseases.

One of the reasons for that is the challenge of targeting specific cells in a living organism. Many genetic diseases affect only a specific cell type, such as red blood cells in sickle-cell anemia, or specific tissue. Ideally, to limit potential side effects, we’d like to ensure that enough of the editing takes place in the affected tissue to have an impact, while minimizing editing elsewhere to limit side effects. But our ability to do so has been limited. Plus, a lot of the cells affected by genetic diseases are mature and have stopped dividing. So, we either need to repeat the gene editing treatments indefinitely or find a way to target the stem cell population that produces the mature cells.

On Thursday, a US-based research team said that they’ve done gene editing experiments that targeted a high-profile genetic disease: cystic fibrosis. Their technique largely targets the tissue most affected by the disease (the lung), and occurs in the stem cell populations that produce mature lung cells, ensuring that the effect is stable.

Getting specific

The foundation of the new work is the technology that gets the mRNAs of the COVID-19 mRNA vaccines inside cells. The nucleic acids of an mRNA are large molecules with a lot of charged pieces, which makes it difficult for them to cross a membrane to get inside of a cell. To overcome that problem, the researchers package the mRNA inside a bubble of lipids, which can then fuse with cell membranes, dumping the mRNA inside the cell.

This process, as the researchers note, has two very large advantages: We know it works, and we know it’s safe. “More than a billion doses of lipid nanoparticle–mRNA COVID-19 vaccines have been administered intramuscularly worldwide,” they write, “demonstrating high safety and efficacy sustained through repeatable dosing.” (As an aside, it’s interesting to contrast the research community’s view of the mRNA vaccines to the conspiracies that circulate widely among the public.)

There’s one big factor that doesn’t matter for vaccine delivery but does matter for gene editing: They’re not especially fussy about what cells they target for delivery. So, if you want to target something like blood stem cells, then you need to alter the lipid particles in some way to get them to preferentially target the cells of your choice.

There are a lot of ideas on how to do this, but the team behind this new work found a relatively simple one: changing the amount of positively charged lipids on the particle. In 2020, they published a paper in which they describe the development of selective organ targeting (SORT) lipid nanoparticles. By default, many of the lipid particles end up in the liver. But, as the fraction of positively charged lipids increases, the targeting shifts to the spleen and then to the lung.

So, presumably, because they know they can target the lung, they decided to use SORT particles to send a gene editing system specific to cystic fibrosis, which primarily affects that tissue and is caused by mutations in a single gene. While it’s relatively easy to get things into the lung, it’s tough to get them to lung cells, given all the mucus, cilia, and immune cells that are meant to take care of foreign items in the lung.

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mutations-in-a-non-coding-gene-associated-with-intellectual-disability

Mutations in a non-coding gene associated with intellectual disability

Splice of life —

A gene that only makes an RNA is linked to neurodevelopmental problems.

Colored ribbons that represent the molecular structure of a large collection of proteins and RNAs.

Enlarge / The spliceosome is a large complex of proteins and RNAs.

Almost 1,500 genes have been implicated in intellectual disabilities; yet for most people with such disabilities, genetic causes remain unknown. Perhaps this is in part because geneticists have been focusing on the wrong stretches of DNA when they go searching. To rectify this, Ernest Turro—a biostatistician who focuses on genetics, genomics, and molecular diagnostics—used whole genome sequencing data from the 100,000 Genomes Project to search for areas associated with intellectual disabilities.

His lab found a genetic association that is the most common one yet to be associated with neurodevelopmental abnormality. And the gene they identified doesn’t even make a protein.

Trouble with the spliceosome

Most genes include instructions for how to make proteins. That’s true. And yet human genes are not arranged linearly—or rather, they are arranged linearly, but not contiguously. A gene containing the instructions for which amino acids to string together to make a particular protein—hemoglobin, insulin, serotonin, albumin, estrogen, whatever protein you like—is modular. It contains part of the amino acid sequence, then it has a chunk of DNA that is largely irrelevant to that sequence, then a bit more of the protein’s sequence, then another chunk of random DNA, back and forth until the end of the protein. It’s as if each of these prose paragraphs were separated by a string of unrelated letters (but not a meaningful paragraph from a different article).

In order to read this piece through coherently, you’d have to take out the letters interspersed between its paragraphs. And that’s exactly what happens with genes. In order to read the gene through coherently, the cell has machinery that splices out the intervening sequences and links up the protein-making instructions into a continuous whole. (This doesn’t happen in the DNA itself; it happens to an RNA copy of the gene.) The cell’s machinery is obviously called the spliceosome.

There are about a hundred proteins that comprise the spliceosome. But the gene just found to be so strongly associated with neurodevelopmental disorders doesn’t encode any of them. Rather, it encodes one of five RNA molecules that are also part of the spliceosome complex and interact with the RNAs that are being spliced. Mutations in this gene were found to be associated with a syndrome with symptoms that include intellectual disability, seizures, short stature, neurodevelopmental delay, drooling, motor delay, hypotonia (low muscle tone), and microcephaly (having a small head).

Supporting data

The researchers buttressed their finding by examining three other databases; in all of them, they found more people with the syndrome who had mutations in this same gene. The mutations occur in a remarkably conserved region of the genome, suggesting that it is very important. Most of the mutations were new in the affected people—i.e. not inherited from their parents—but there was one case of one particular mutation in the gene that was inherited. Based on this, the researchers concluded that this particular variant may cause a less severe disorder than the other mutations.

Many studies that look for genes associated with diseases have focused on searching catalogs of protein coding genes. These results suggest that we could have been missing important mutations because of this focus.

Nature Medicine, 2024. DOI: 10.1038/s41591-024-03085-5

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studies-reveal-new-clues-to-how-tardigrades-can-survive-intense-radiation

Studies reveal new clues to how tardigrades can survive intense radiation

It’s in the genes —

Radiation damages their DNA; they’re just able to repair that damage very quickly.

SEM Micrograph of a tardigrade, commonly known as a water bear

Enlarge / SEM Micrograph of a tardigrade, more commonly known as a “water bear” or “moss piglet.”

Cultura RM Exclusive/Gregory S. Paulson/Getty Images

Since the 1960s, scientists have known that the tiny tardigrade can withstand very intense radiation blasts 1,000 times stronger than what most other animals could endure. According to a new paper published in the journal Current Biology, it’s not that such ionizing radiation doesn’t damage tardigrades’ DNA; rather, the tardigrades are able to rapidly repair any such damage. The findings complement those of a separate study published in January that also explored tardigrades’ response to radiation.

“These animals are mounting an incredible response to radiation, and that seems to be a secret to their extreme survival abilities,” said co-author Courtney Clark-Hachtel, who was a postdoc in Bob Goldstein’s lab at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which has been conducting research into tardigrades for 25 years. “What we are learning about how tardigrades overcome radiation stress can lead to new ideas about how we might try to protect other animals and microorganisms from damaging radiation.”

As reported previously, tardigrades are micro-animals that can survive in the harshest conditions: extreme pressure, extreme temperature, radiation, dehydration, starvation—even exposure to the vacuum of outer space. The creatures were first described by German zoologist Johann Goeze in 1773. They were dubbed tardigrada (“slow steppers” or “slow walkers”) four years later by Lazzaro Spallanzani, an Italian biologist. That’s because tardigrades tend to lumber along like a bear. Since they can survive almost anywhere, they can be found in lots of places: deep-sea trenches, salt and freshwater sediments, tropical rain forests, the Antarctic, mud volcanoes, sand dunes, beaches, and lichen and moss. (Another name for them is “moss piglets.”)

When their moist habitat dries up, however, tardigrades go into a state known as “tun”—a kind of suspended animation, which the animals can remain in for as long as 10 years. When water begins to flow again, water bears absorb it to rehydrate and return to life. They’re not technically members of the extremophile class of organisms since they don’t so much thrive in extreme conditions as endure; technically, they belong to the class of extremotolerant organisms. But their hardiness makes tardigrades a favorite research subject for scientists.

For instance, a 2017 study demonstrated that tardigrades use a special kind of disordered protein to literally suspend their cells in a glass-like matrix that prevents damage. The researchers dubbed this a “tardigrade-specific intrinsically disordered protein” (TDP). In other words, the cells become vitrified. The more TDP genes a tardigrade species has, the more quickly and efficiently it goes into the tun state.

In 2021, another team of Japanese scientists called this “vitrification” hypothesis into question, citing experimental data suggesting that the 2017 findings could be attributed to water retention of the proteins. The following year, researchers at the University of Tokyo identified the mechanism to explain how tardigrades can survive extreme dehydration: cytoplasmic-abundant heat soluble (CAHS) proteins that form a protective gel-like network of filaments to protect dried-out cells. When the tardigrade rehydrates, the filaments gradually recede, ensuring that the cell isn’t stressed or damaged as it regains water.

When it comes to withstanding ionizing radiation, a 2016 study identified a DNA damage suppressor protein dubbed “Dsup” that seemed to shield tardigrade genes implanted into human cells from radiation damage. However, according to Clark-Hatchel et al., it still wasn’t clear whether this kind of protective mechanism was sufficient to fully account for tardigrades’ ability to withstand extreme radiation. Other species of tardigrade seem to lack Dsup proteins, yet still have the same high radiation tolerance, which suggests there could be other factors at play.

A team of French researchers at the French National Museum of Natural History in Paris ran a series of experiments in which they zapped water bear specimens with powerful gamma rays that would be lethal to humans. They published their results earlier this year in the journal eLife. The French team found that gamma rays did actually damage the tardigrade DNA, much like they would damage human cells. Since the tardigrades survived, this suggested the tardigrades were able to quickly repair the damaged DNA.

Further experiments with three different species (including one that lacks Dsup proteins) revealed the tardigrades were producing very high amounts of DNA repair proteins. They also found a similar uptick of proteins unique to tardigrades, most notably tardigrade DNA damage response protein 1 (TDR1), which seems to protect DNA from radiation. “We found that TDR1 protein interacts with DNA and forms aggregates at high concentration suggesting it may condensate DNA and act by preserving chromosome organization until DNA repair is accomplished,” the authors wrote.

Clark-Hatchel et al. independently arrived at similar conclusions from their own experiments. Taken together, the two studies confirm that this extremely rapid up-regulation of many DNA repair genes in response to exposure to ionizing radiation should be sufficient to explain the creatures’ impressive resistance to that radiation. It’s possible that there is a “synergy between protective and repair mechanisms” when it comes to tardigrade tolerance of ionizing radiation.

That said, “Why tardigrades have evolved a strong IR tolerance is enigmatic given that it is unlikely that tardigrades were exposed to high doses of ionizing radiation in their evolutionary history,” Clark-Hatchel et al. wrote.  They thought there could be a link to the mechanisms that enable tardigrades to survive extreme dehydration, which can also result in damaged DNA. Revisiting data from desiccation experiments did not show nearly as strong an increase in DNA repair transcripts, but the authors suggest that the uptick could occur later in the process, upon rehydration—an intriguing topic for future research.

Current Biology, 2024. DOI: 10.1016/j.cub.2024.03.019  (About DOIs).

eLife, 2024. DOI: 10.7554/eLife.92621.1

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kamikaze-bacteria-explode-into-bursts-of-lethal-toxins

Kamikaze bacteria explode into bursts of lethal toxins

The needs of the many… —

If you make a big enough toxin, it’s difficult to get it out of the cells.

Colorized scanning electron microscope, SEM, image of Yersinia pestis bacteria

Enlarge / The plague bacteria, Yersina pestis, is a close relative of the toxin-producing species studied here.

Life-forms with no brain are capable of some astounding things. It might sound like sci-fi nightmare fuel, but some bacteria can wage kamikaze chemical warfare.

Pathogenic bacteria make us sick by secreting toxins. While the release of smaller toxin molecules is well understood, methods of releasing larger toxin molecules have mostly eluded us until now. Researcher Stefan Raunser, director of the Max Planck Institute of Molecular Physiology, and his team finally found out how the insect pathogen Yersinia entomophaga (which attacks beetles) releases its large-molecule toxin.

They found that designated “soldier cells” sacrifice themselves and explode to deploy the poison inside their victim. “YenTc appears to be the first example of an anti-eukaryotic toxin using this newly established type of secretion system,” the researchers said in a study recently published in Nature.

Silent and deadly

Y. entomophaga is part of the Yersinia genus, relatives of the plague bacteria, which produce what are known as Tc toxins. Their molecules are huge as far as bacterial toxins go, but, like most smaller toxin molecules, they still need to make it through the bacteria’s three cell membranes before they escape to damage the host. Raunser had already found in a previous study that Tc toxin molecules do show up outside the bacteria. What he wanted to see next was how and when they exit the bacteria that makes them.

To find out what kind of environment is ideal for Y. entomophaga to release YenTC, the bacteria were placed in acidic (PH under 7) and alkaline (PH over 7) mediums. While they did not release much in the acidic medium, the bacteria thrived in the high PH of the alkaline medium, and increasing the PH led it to release even more of the toxin. The higher PH environment in a beetle is around the mid-end of its gut, so it is now thought that most of the toxin is liberated when the bacteria reach that area.

How YenTc is released was more difficult to determine. When the research team used mass spectrometry to take a closer look at the toxin, they found that it was missing something: There was no signal sequence that indicated to the bacteria that the protein needed to be transported outside the bacterium. Signal sequences, also known as signal peptides, are kind of like built-in tags for secretion. They are in charge of connecting the proteins (toxins are proteins) to a complex at the innermost cell membrane that pushes them through. But YenTC apparently doesn’t need a signal sequence to export its toxins into the host.

About to explode

So how does this insect killer release YenTc, its most formidable toxin? The first test was a process of elimination. While YenTc has no signal sequence, the bacteria have different secretion systems for other toxins that it releases. Raunser thought that knocking out these secretion systems using gene editing could possibly reveal which one was responsible for secreting YenTc. Every secretion system in Y. entomophaga was knocked out until no more were left, yet the bacteria were still able to secrete YenTc.

The researchers then used fluorescence microscopy to observe the bacteria releasing its toxin. They inserted a gene that encodes a fluorescent protein into the toxin gene so the bacteria would glow when making the toxin. While not all Y. entomophaga cells produced YenTc, those that did (and so glowed) tended to be larger and more sluggish. To induce secretion, PH was raised to alkaline levels. Non-producing cells went about their business, but YenTc-expressing cells only took minutes to collapse and release the toxin.

This is what’s called a lytic secretion system, which involves the rupture of cell walls or membranes to release toxins.

“This prime example of self-destructive cooperation in bacteria demonstrates that YenTc release is the result of a controlled lysis strictly dedicated to toxin release rather than a typical secretion process, explaining our initially perplexing observation of atypical extracellular proteins,” the researchers said in the same study.

Yersinia also includes pathogenic bacteria that cause tuberculosis and bubonic plague, diseases that have devastated humans. Now that the secretion mechanism of one Yersinia species has been found out, Raunser wants to study more of them, along with other types of pathogens, to see if any others have kamikaze soldier cells that use the same lytic mechanism of releasing toxins.

The discovery of Y. entomophaga’s exploding cells could eventually mean human treatments that target kamikaze cells. In the meantime, we can at least be relieved we aren’t beetles.

Nature Microbiology, 2024. DOI: 10.1038/s41564-023-01571-z

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DNA parasite now plays key role in making critical nerve cell protein

Domesticated viruses —

An RNA has been adopted to help the production of myelin, a key nerve protein.

Graphic depiction of a nerve cell with a myelin coated axon.

Human brains (and the brains of other vertebrates) are able to process information faster because of myelin, a fatty substance that forms a protective sheath over the axons of our nerve cells and speeds up their impulses. How did our neurons evolve myelin sheaths? Part of the answer—which was unknown until now—almost sounds like science fiction.

Led by scientists from Altos Labs-Cambridge Institute of Science, a team of researchers has uncovered a bit of the gnarly past of how myelin ended up covering vertebrate neurons: a molecular parasite has been messing with our genes. Sequences derived from an ancient virus help regulate a gene that encodes a component of myelin, helping explain why vertebrates have an edge when it comes to their brains.

Prehistoric infection

Myelin is a fatty material produced by oligodendrocyte cells in the central nervous system and Schwann cells in the peripheral nervous system. Its insulating properties allow neurons to zap impulses to one another at faster speeds and greater lengths. Our brains can be complex in part because myelin enables longer, narrower axons, which means more nerves can be stacked together.

The un-myelinated brain cells of many invertebrates often need to rely on wider—and therefore fewer—axons for impulse conduction. Rapid impulse conduction makes quicker reactions possible, whether that means fleeing danger or capturing prey.

So, how do we make myelin? A key player in its production appears to be a type of molecular parasite called a retrotransposon.

Like other transposons, retrotransposons can move to new locations in the genome through an RNA intermediate. However, most retrotransposons in our genome have picked up too many mutations to move about anymore.

RNLTR12-int is a retrotransposon that is thought to have originally entered our ancestors’ genome as a virus. Rat genomes now have over 100 copies of the retrotransposon.

An RNA made by RNLTR12-int helps produce myelin by binding to a transcription factor or a protein that regulates the activity of other genes. The RNA/protein combination binds to DNA near the gene for myelin basic protein, or MBP, a major component of myelin.

“MBP is essential for the membrane growth and compression of [central nervous system] myelin,” the researchers said in a study recently published in Cell.

Technical knockout

To find out whether RNLTR12-int really was behind the regulation of MBP and, therefore, myelin production, the research team had to knock its level down and see if myelination still happened. They first experimented on rat brains before moving on to zebrafish and frogs.

When they inhibited RNLTR12-int, the results were drastic. In the central nervous system, genetically edited rats produced 98 percent less MBP than those where the gene was left unedited. The absence of RNLTR12-int also caused the oligodendrocytes that produce myelin to develop much simpler structures than they would normally form. When RNLTR12-int was knocked out in the peripheral nervous system, it reduced myelin produced by Schwann cells.

The researchers used a SOX10 antibody to show that SOX10 bound to the RNLTR12-int transcript in vivo. This was an important result, since there are lots of non-coding RNAs made by cells, and it wasn’t clear whether any RNA would work or if it was specific to RNLTR12-int.

Do these results hold up in other jawed vertebrates? Using CRISPR-CAS9 to perform knockout tests with retrotransposons related to RNLTR12-int in frogs and zebrafish showed similar results.

Myelination has enriched the vertebrate brain so it can work like never before. This is why the term “brain food” is literal. Healthy fats are so important for our brains; they help form myelin since it is a fatty acid. Think about that next time you’re pulling an all-nighter while reaching for a handful of nuts.

Cell, 2024. DOI: 10.1016/j.cell.2024.01.011

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Surprising link found between niacin and risk of heart attack and stroke

Unexpected —

Breakdown products of niacin, aka Vitamin B3, may spur vascular inflammation.

A shopper looks at a meat display on June 20, 2022, at the Market 32 Supermarket in South Burlington, Vermont. Niacin can be found in foods such as red meat, poultry, fish, fortified cereals and breads, brown rice, nuts, legumes, and bananas.

Enlarge / A shopper looks at a meat display on June 20, 2022, at the Market 32 Supermarket in South Burlington, Vermont. Niacin can be found in foods such as red meat, poultry, fish, fortified cereals and breads, brown rice, nuts, legumes, and bananas.

In the early 20th century, the deadliest nutrient-related disease in US history ravaged the American South. Pellagra, a disease caused by a deficiency in niacin and/or tryptophan, is marked by the four “D’s”: diarrhea, dermatitis that leads to gruesome skin plaques, dementia, and death. At its peak during the Great Depression, pellagra killed nearly 7,000 Southerners a year. Between 1906 and 1940, researchers estimate that the epidemic struck roughly 3 million Americans, killing around 100,000.

The deadly epidemic led to voluntary—and eventually mandatory—fortification of wheat and other cereals with niacin (aka Vitamin B3). By the middle of the century, pellagra nearly vanished from the US. But, decades later, the public health triumph may be backfiring. With Americans’ diets more reliant than ever on processed, niacin-fortified foods, the average niacin intake in the US is now nearing what’s considered the tolerable upper limit of the nutrient, according to a federal health survey. And an extensive study recently published in Nature Medicine suggests that those excess amounts of niacin may be exacerbating cardiovascular disease, increasing risks of heart attacks, strokes, and death.

The study, led by Stanley Hazen, chair of Cardiovascular and Metabolic Sciences at Cleveland Clinic’s Lerner Research Institute, connected high blood levels of a breakdown product of niacin—and to a lesser extent, tryptophan—to an elevated risk of major adverse cardiovascular events (MACE). And this elevated risk appears to be independent of known risk factors for those events, such as high cholesterol.

“What’s exciting about these results is that this pathway appears to be a previously unrecognized yet significant contributor to the development of cardiovascular disease,” Hazen said in an announcement of the study. It can be measured, he added, and one day could be a new avenue for treatment and prevention.

Metabolite fishing

Hazen and his colleagues didn’t start out suspecting niacin could be a culprit in cardiovascular disease. They arrived at that point after fishing through patients’ blood plasma. The researchers were carefully inventorying metabolites in the fasting plasma of 1,162 patients who had been evaluated for cardiovascular disease. They were looking for anything that might be linked to a heightened risk of heart attack, stroke, or death in a three-year period that couldn’t entirely be explained by other risk factors. Despite advances in identifying and treating cardiovascular disease, researchers have noted that some patients continue to be at risk of serious cardiovascular events despite having their traditional risk factors treated and controlled. Hazen and his colleagues wanted to know why.

The metabolomic trawling came up with an unknown metabolite (signature C7H9O2N2) that was significantly linked to having a MACE in the three-year period. People who had higher levels of this metabolite circulating in their systems were within the top 75th percentile for relative MACE risk in the cohort. Further work identified the metabolite as actually being two related molecules: 2PY (N1-methyl-2-pyridone-5-carboxamide) and 4PY (N1-methyl-4-pyridone -3-carboxamide)—both the final breakdown products of niacin.

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