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Whether it’s Katy Perry poaching dancers from once-BFF Taylor Swift or Clytemnestra orchestrating the murder of her husband Agamemnon, betrayal is a dark, persistent part of the human condition. Unlike garden-variety deception, betrayal happens in established relationships, destroying trust that has developed over time. It’s usually unexpected, and it yields a unique, often irreparable, wound. In fact, betrayers have a special place in hell, literarily: In Dante’s Inferno, they occupy the ninth and final circle; mere fraudsters dwell in the eighth.

While most of us are familiar with betrayal, investigating it is really hard. (Consider all the complications of a study that asks people in trusted relationships to betray each other.) Case studies of real betrayals can provide insight after-the-fact, but without a time machine, finding studies that reveal big picture patterns about the lead-up to treachery are scarce.

“We all know betrayal exists,” says Cristian Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil, a computer scientist at Cornell University who spends a lot of time thinking about what language reveals about relationships. “But finding relevant data is really hard.”

So when Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil heard about a Diplomacy, a strategy game rife with betrayal, he figured it might serve as a good proxy for real life treachery. And he was right: Studying the patterns of communication between the players revealed that betrayal is sometimes foreseeable. But like many relationships that collapse in betrayal, teasing out what goes wrong and who is at fault isn’t so easy.
Unlike Risk and other war games, Diplomacy is all about, well, diplomacy (John F. Kennedy and Henry Kissinger reportedly were fans). Set in Europe before World War I, the nations/players have to form alliances to win. But chance is removed from the equation; players don’t roll dice or take turns. There’s only diplomacy: a negotiation phase where players converse, form alliances and gather intelligence (these days, typically online), and a movement phase where everyone’s decisions are revealed and executed all at once. Betrayal is so integral to Diplomacy that, as noted on a “This American Life” episode, stabbing an ally in the back is referred to by the shorthand “stabbing.”

Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil, colleague and fan-of-the-game Jordan Boyd-Graber, and colleagues examined 249 games of Diplomacy with a total of 145,000 messages among players. When they used a computer program to compare exchanges between players whose relationships ended in betrayal with those whose relationships lasted, the computer discerned subtle signals of impending betrayal.

One harbinger was a shift in politeness. Players who were excessively polite in general were more likely to betray, and people who were suddenly more polite were more likely to become victims of betrayal, study coauthor and Cornell graduate student Vlad Niculae reportedJuly 29 at the Annual Meeting of the Association for Computational Linguistics in Beijing. Consider this exchange from one round:

Germany: Can I suggest you move your armies east and then I will support you? Then next year you move [there] and dismantle Turkey. I will deal with England and France, you take out Italy.

Austria: Sounds like a perfect plan! Happy to follow through. And—thank you Bruder!

Austria’s next move was invading German territory. Bam! Betrayal.

An increase planning-related language by the soon-to-be victim also indicated impending betrayal, a signal that emerges a few rounds before the treachery ensues. And correspondence of soon-to-be betrayers had an uptick in positive sentiment in the lead-up to their breach.
Working from these linguistic cues, a computer program could peg future betrayal 57 percent of the time. That might not sound like much, but it was better than the accuracy of the human players, who never saw it coming. And remember that by definition, a betrayer conceals the intention to betray; the breach is unexpected (that whole trust thing). Given that inherent deceit, 57 percent isn’t so bad.

When I spoke to Danescu-Niculescu-Mizil, he said that more important than the clues themselves is the shift in the balance of behavior in the relationship. Positive or negative sentiment of one player isn’t what matters, it’s the asymmetry of the behavior of the two people in the relationship. He likens the linguistic tells to body language: While you wouldn’t use it as a sole basis for decision-making, if you know how to interpret it, it might give you an advantage.

More work is needed to explore whether these patterns exist in real life. And while the research did reveal some patterns, it can’t say anything about cause and effect or who is at fault. Perhaps, for example, the extensive planning of the eventual victims came off as super bossy and frustrating to the eventual betrayer. After all, Clytemnestra’s betrayal of Agamemnon came after he killed their daughter Iphigenia. That kind of bad blood may be unforgivable.

HONOLULU — Perhaps most supermassive black holes — dark giants in the centers of galaxies — are just shy when they’re young.

“We have this weird problem, where on the one hand the universe makes really supermassive black holes very shortly after the Big Bang,” says Kevin Schawinski, an astrophysicist at ETH Zürich in Switzerland. “But when we look at more typical galaxies, we find no evidence for growing black holes.”

The feeding zones around voracious black holes create quasars, blazing furnaces of X-rays and other light. And yet the Chandra space telescope detects no X-rays from a cache of galaxies in the constellation Fornax that researchers think should be nourishing young black holes, Schawinski reported August 6 at a meeting of the International Astronomical Union.
Over the past several years, astronomers have found a handful of very bright quasars that lit up within the first billion years of cosmic history. These quasars are probably powered by unusually hefty supermassive black holes — ones that gobbled down gas as fast as physically possible (or even faster) for hundreds of millions of years.

“If this happens all over the universe,” says Schawinski, “then if we look at more normal-mass galaxies, we should be seeing their supermassive black holes pop out in the early universe to the same degree.”

But they don’t.
Maybe the more run-of-the-mill black holes are there but they’re not actively feeding, he says. Or perhaps something is blocking the X-rays from getting out.

Or maybe — just maybe — these black holes haven’t been born yet.

“It’s a very interesting suggestion,” says Andrea Comastri, an astronomer at the Osservatorio Astronomico di Bologna in Italy, says of the not-yet-born scenario. “But I’m not convinced.”

These images capture a relatively tiny volume of space, he says, so perhaps the researchers aren’t casting a wide enough net. The distances to these galaxies are also notoriously difficult to pin down. Many could be much closer and seen during a time when black holes have formed but quieted down a bit.

If the universe can make monstrous black holes in under a billion years, then making the relatively little guys should be straightforward and they should be everywhere, Comastri says. “It should be easier to make smaller black holes because you don’t have to work that much. They are there somewhere.”

If the black holes are confirmed to be missing, “it’s going to shake up a lot of what we think about the growth of quasars,” says Tiziana Di Matteo, an astrophysicist at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh. “But I’m very skeptical of it.”

These cosmic no-shows probably don’t suck down gas as fast as the researchers assume, she says. If these black holes only nibble at the surrounding gas — as opposed to their obese cousins who gorge themselves — then X-rays would only trickle from their dinner plates and might not be detected.

Much like with humans, black hole obesity is influenced by environment. Most galaxies need some time to build up enough mass to efficiently feed their black holes, Di Matteo says. Tiny galaxies easily lose gas every time a cluster of new stars is born or whenever a dying star explodes. “It’s only in extreme environments,” she says, at the junctions of cosmic filaments that become interstellar dumping grounds, “where gas could plunge through and not care about anything else that’s going on.” Here, fledgling black holes aren’t as reliant on their galaxy’s feeble gravity to grab food; the incoming rivers of gas are like intergalactic fire hoses.

Those unusually massive black hole starter kits are probably responsible for the dazzling quasars that switch on during the first billion years after the Big Bang. Computer simulations show that in the younger, more intimate universe, when everything was squished together a lot more than today, there are the oddball places where gas funnels onto ancestral galaxies at astounding rates, providing fast-growing black holes with an all-you-can-eat buffet.

The other less showy black holes, the ones Schawinski and colleagues are hunting for, probably spend the next several billion years quietly catching up. Finding these black holes when they’re young and struggling to grow might require searching a wider area or getting more sensitive observations.

“It’s exciting,” Schawinski says. “It’s the last major category of astrophysical objects of whose origin we know nothing about.” Planets, stars and galaxies are pretty well understood, he says. “But we have no idea how supermassive black holes form.”

Schawinski’s team plans to spend the next year or two repeating their experiment over a wider volume of space, hoping to find at least one youthful black hole in a moderate-sized galaxy. “Once you go from zero to one you have something to work with,” he says. “Right now we’ve got nothing.”

Particles of twisted light that have been entangled using quantum mechanics offer a new approach to dense and secure data storage.

Holograms that produce 3-D images and serve as security features on credit cards are usually made with patterns laid down with beams of laser light. In recent years, physicists have found ways to create holograms with entangled photons instead. Now there is, literally, a new twist to the technology.

Entangled photons that travel in corkscrew paths have resulted in holograms that offer the possibility of dense and ultrasecure data encryption, researchers report in a study to appear in Physical Review Letters.
Light can move in a variety of ways, including the up-and-down and side-to-side patterns of polarized light. But when it carries a type of rotation known as orbital angular momentum, it can also propagate in spirals that resemble twisted rotini pasta.

Like any other photons, the twisted versions can be entangled so that they essentially act as one entity. Something that affects one of an entangled photon pair instantly affects the other, even if they are very far apart.

In previous experiments, researchers have sent data through the air in entangled pairs of twisted photons (SN: 8/5/15). The approach should allow high-speed data transmission because light can come with different amounts of twist, with each twist serving as a different channel of communication.

Now the same approach has been applied to record data in holograms. Instead of transmitting information on multiple, twisted light channels, photon pairs with different amounts of twist create distinct sets of data in a single hologram. The more orbital angular momentum states involved, each with different amounts of twist, the more data researchers can pack into a hologram.

In addition to cramming more data into holograms, increasing the variety of twists used to record the data boosts security. Anyone who wants to read the information out needs to know, or guess, how the light that recorded it was twisted.

For a hologram relying on two types of twist, says physicist Xiangdong Zhang of the Beijing Institute of Technology, you would have to pick the right combination of the twists from about 80 possibilities to decode the data. Bumping that up to combinations of seven distinct twists leads to millions of possibilities. That, Zhang says, “should be enough to ensure our quantum holographic encryption system has enough security level.”
The researchers demonstrated their technique by encoding words and letters in holograms and reading the data back out again with twisted light. Although the researchers produced images from the holographic data, says physicist Hugo Defienne of the Paris Institute of Nanosciences, the storage itself should not be confused with holographic images.

Defienne, who was not involved with the new research, says that other quantum holography schemes, such as his efforts with polarized photons, produce direct images of objects including microscopic structures.

“[Their] idea there is very different . . . from our approach in this sense,” Defrienne says. “They’re using holography to store information,” rather than creating the familiar 3-D images that most people associate with holograms.

The twisted light data storage that Zhang and his colleagues demonstrated is slow, requiring nearly 20 minutes to decode an image of the acronym “BIT,” for the Beijing Institute of Technology where the experiments were performed. And the security that the researchers have demonstrated is still relatively low because they included only up to six forms of twisted light in their experiments.

Zhang is confident that both limitations can be overcome with technical improvements. “We think that our technology has potential application in quantum information encryption,” he says, “especially quantum image encryption.”

The photosynthesizing plankton Emiliania huxleyi has a dramatic relationship with its bacterial frenemies. These duplicitous bugs help E. huxleyi in exchange for nutrients until it becomes more convenient to murder and eat their hosts. Now, scientists have figured out how these treacherous bacteria decide to turn from friend to foe.

One species of these bacteria appears to keep tabs on health-related chemicals produced by E. huxleyi, researchers report January 24 in eLife. The bacteria maintain their friendly facade until their hosts age and weaken, striking as soon as the vulnerable algae can’t afford to keep bribing them with nutrients. The finding could help explain how massive algal blooms come to an end.
The bacteria is “first establishing what we call the ‘first handshake,’” says marine microbiologist Assaf Vardi of the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot, Israel. “Then it will shift into a pathogen.”

E. huxleyi’s partnership with these bacteria, which belong to a group called Roseobacter, might be best described as a love-hate relationship. The single-celled alga can’t produce the B vitamins it needs on its own, so it offers up nutrients to lure in Roseobacter that can (SN: 7/8/16). The trade is win-win — at least until the bacteria decide they’d be better off slaying and devouring their algal hosts than sticking around in peaceful coexistence.

Sometimes called the “Jekyll-and-Hyde” trait, this kind of bacterial backstabbery shows up everywhere from animal guts to the open seas. But it wasn’t clear before how Roseobacter decide it’s the right moment to murder E. huxleyi.

Vardi’s team exposed a type of Roseobacter that lives with E. huxleyi to chemicals taken from algae that were either young and growing or old and stagnant. The team also introduced the bacteria to extra doses of a certain health-signaling algal chemical.Looking at which genes the bacteria activated in the different experiments revealed how and why they switched from friend to foe.

The bacteria kill their algal pals when exposed to high concentrations of a sulfur-containing chemical called DMSP, the researchers found. E. huxleyi leaks more and more DMSP as it ages. This eventually cues its duplicitous microbial partners to go rogue, kill their aging host, and kick their genes for nutrient-grabbing proteins and flagella — whiplike tails used to swim — into overdrive.

It’s an “eat-and-run strategy,” says Noa Barak-Gavish, a microbiologist at ETH Zurich. “You eat up whatever you can and then swim away to avoid competition … [and] to find alternative hosts.”

DMSP isn’t the only figure in this deadly chemical calculus. E. huxleyi can sate its companion’s bloodlust with a bribe of benzoate, a nutrient that Roseobacter can use but most bacteria can’t.

While it’s clearer now what drives the bacteria to kill their hosts, their murder weapon remains a mystery. Vardi says his group has some hunches to follow up on.

This kind of frenemies relationship could be a key factor in controlling the boom and bust of massive algal blooms if other phytoplankton and bacteria have a similar dynamic, says Mary Ann Moran of the University of Georgia in Athens, who was not involved in the study. Algal blooms can be toxic (SN: 8/28/18). But they also “fix” enormous amounts of carbon dioxide into biomass and are a major source of organic carbon to the ocean.
“Phytoplankton fix half of all the carbon on the planet, and probably 20 percent to 50 percent of what they fix … actually goes right to bacteria,” she says. So if this kind of relationship controls how carbon flows through the ocean, “that is something that we would really like to understand.”

Vikings brought horses and dogs to the British Isles from Scandinavia, a new study suggests.

A chemical analysis of bone fragments from a cemetery in England provides the first solid scientific evidence of animals traveling with Vikings across the North Sea, scientists report February 1 in PLOS ONE.

In the 1990s, researchers unearthed the cremated remains of a human adult and child as well as of a dog, horse and probable pig from a burial mound in a Viking cemetery in Derbyshire, England. In previous work, radiocarbon dating of femur, skull and rib fragments revealed that the inhabitants all died sometime between the eighth and 10th centuries. That date was narrowed down to the year 873, thanks to the ninth-century Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which records that a Viking army wintered near the site that year.
Where the animals came from has been a mystery. Norse raiders are known to have stolen horses from people in England around the time. And researchers have generally thought that Viking boats at the time were too small to allow for much transport of animals from Scandinavia to the British Isles. One entry in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle describes Vikings moving from France to England along with their horses in the year 892, but no physical evidence of such activity had been found before.

In the new work, Tessi Löffelmann and colleagues turned to certain forms, or isotopes, of strontium to unravel the individuals’ provenance. The element accumulates in bones over time through diet, leaving a distinct signature of where an individual has lived (SN: 4/2/19).
Strontium ratios in the child’s remains matched those of shrubs growing at the burial site, suggesting the child spent most, if not all, of its life in England. The ratios of the adult and three animals, on the other hand, differed substantially from the local fauna, the team found. That suggests the individuals hadn’t spent much time in the country before they died. Instead, their ratios were similar to ones found in the Baltic Shield region in Norway, central and northern Sweden and Finland, suggesting a Scandinavian origin.

“One of the joys of isotope analysis is that you are able to really pinpoint things that previously we could discuss endlessly,” says Marianne Moen, an archeologist at the University of Oslo who was not involved in the study. Using strontium to analyze more cremated remains, which can elude common forms of isotope analysis including carbon and nitrogen, “is the next logical chapter for understanding prehistoric mobility.”

Isotope analysis helped reveal where these individuals lived and when they died, but it couldn’t answer why the dog, horse and pig made the journey to England in the first place. That’s where historical records can help, says Löffelmann, of Durham University in England and Vrije Universiteit Brussel in Belgium.

For Löffelmann, the small sizes of early Norse ships combined with the fact that the animals and people were buried together suggest Vikings may have initially brought animals with them for companionship, not just function.

“It could have only been selected animals that made that journey,” she says. “They were important to what the person was.… They went through life together, and now they’re going through death.”

The existing boundaries of national parks and other habitat preserves aren’t enough to protect more than three-quarters of the world’s well-studied insects.

The finding, reported February 1 in One Earth, shows that people who design nature preserves “don’t really think about insects that much,” says coauthor Shawan Chowdhury, an ecologist at the German Centre for Integrative Biodiversity Research in Leipzig.

That’s a problem because insect populations around the globe are plummeting, a growing body of research suggests, probably due to climate change and human development (SN: 4/26/22). For instance, insect abundance in Puerto Rico has dropped by up to 98 percent over the last 35 years.
Threats to insect survival could have ripple effects on plants and other animals. Insects help form the foundation for many ecosystems: They pollinate around 80 percent of all plant species and serve as a staple in the diets of hundreds of thousands of animals (and the occasional carnivorous plant).

One way to avert insect extinctions is to set aside the land they need to survive. But scientists know the ranges for only about 100,000 of the estimated 5.5 million insect species. To determine how well existing protected areas may be aiding insect conservation, Chowdhury and colleagues mapped the known habitats of about 89,000 of those species and compared the ranges with the boundaries of preserves from the World Database on Protected Areas.

Overall, these spaces don’t safeguard enough habitat for 67,384 insect species — about 76 percent of the species included in the study — the team found. Roughly 2 percent of species do not overlap with protected areas at all.

Conserving insects, Chowdhury says, will mean setting aside more insect-friendly spaces in the years ahead.

Scientists have unwrapped long-sought details of embalming practices that ancient Egyptians used to preserve dead bodies.

Clues came from analyses of chemical residue inside vessels from the only known Egyptian embalming workshop and nearby burial chambers. Mummification specialists who worked there concocted specific mixtures to embalm the head, wash the body, treat the liver and stomach, and prepare bandages that swathed the body, researchers report February 1 in Nature.

“Ancient Egyptian embalmers had extensive chemical knowledge and knew what substances to put on the skin to preserve it, even without knowing about bacteria and other microorganisms,” Philipp Stockhammer, an archaeologist at Ludwig Maximilians University of Munich, said at a January 31 news conference.
The findings come courtesy of chemical residue inside 31 vessels found in an Egyptian embalming workshop and four vessels discovered in an adjacent pair of burial chambers. Writing on workshop vessels named embalming substances, provided embalming instructions (such as “to put on his head”) or both. All the artifacts — dating from Egypt’s 26th dynasty which rose to power between 664 B.C. and 525 B.C. — were excavated at a cemetery site called Saqqara in 2016. Archaeologist and study coauthor Ramadan Hussein, who died in 2022, led that project.

Newfound mummy embalming mixtures
Five of the vessels had the label antiu. The substance was thought to have been a fragrant resin called myrrh. The antiu at Saqqara, however, consisted of oil or tar from cedar and juniper or cypress trees mixed with animal fats. Writing on these jars indicates that antiu could have been used alone or combined with another substance called sefet.

Three vessels from the embalming workshop bore the label sefet, which researchers have usually described as an unidentified oil. At Saqqara, sefet was a scented, fat-based ointment with added ingredients from plants. Two sefet pots contained animal fats mixed with oil or tar from juniper or cypress trees. A third container held animal fats and elemi, a fragrant resin from tropical trees.

Clarification of the ingredients in antiu and sefet at Saqqara “takes mummification studies further than before,” says Egyptologist Bob Brier of Long Island University in Brookville, N.Y., who was not part of the research.

Egyptians may have started mummifying their dead as early as 6,330 years ago (SN: 8/18/14). Mummification procedures and rituals focused on keeping the body fresh so the deceased could enter what was believed to be an eternal afterlife.
Embalming and mummification procedures likely changed over time, says team member Maxime Rageot, a biomolecular archaeologist also at Ludwig Maximilians University. Embalmers’ mixtures at Saqqara may not correspond, say, to those used around 700 years earlier for King Tutankhamun (SN: 11/2/22).

Mummy embalming instructions
Outside surfaces of other vessels from the Saqqara embalming workshop and burial chambers sported labels and, in some cases, instructions for treatment of the head, preparation of linen mummy bandages, washing the body and treating the liver and stomach. Inscriptions on one jar referred to an administrator who performed embalming procedures, mainly on the head.

Chemical residue inside these pots consisted of mixtures specific to each embalming procedure. Ingredients included oils or tars of cedar and juniper or cypress trees, pistachio resin, castor oil, animal fats, heated beeswax, bitumen (a dense, oily substance), elemi and a resin called dammar.

Most of those substances have been identified in earlier studies of chemical residues from Egyptian mummies and embalming vessels in individual tombs, says Egyptologist Margaret Serpico of University College London. But elemi and dammar resins have not previously been linked to ancient Egyptian embalming practices and are “highly unexpected,” notes Serpico, who did not participate in the new study.

Elemi was an ingredient in the workshop mixtures used to treat the head, the liver and bandages wrapped around the body. Chemical signs of dammar appeared in a vessel from one of the burial chambers that included remnants of a range of substances, indicating that the container had been used to blend several different mixtures, the researchers say.

Specific properties of elemi and dammar that aided in preserving dead bodies have yet to be investigated, Stockhammer said.

A far-flung trade network for mummy embalming ingredients
Elemi resin reached Egypt from tropical parts of Africa or Southeast Asia, while dammar originated in Southeast Asia or Indonesia, Rageot says. Other embalming substances detected at Saqqara came from Southwest Asia and parts of southern Europe and northern Africa bordering the Mediterranean Sea. These findings provide the first evidence that ancient Egyptian embalmers depended on substances transported across vast trade networks.

Egyptian embalmers at Saqqara took advantage of a trade network that already connected Egypt to sites in Southeast Asia, Stockhammer said. Other Mediterranean and Asian societies also engaged in long-distance trade during ancient Egypt’s heyday (SN: 1/9/23).

It’s no surprise that ancient Egyptians imported embalming ingredients from distant lands, Brier says. “They were great traders, had limited [local] wood products and really wanted these substances to achieve immortality.”

A crucial link in the life cycle of one parasitic plant may be found in a surprising place — the bellies of the descendants of an ancient line of rabbits.

Given their propensity for nibbling on gardens and darting across suburban lawns, it can be easy to forget that rabbits are wild animals. But a living reminder of their wildness can be found on two of Japan’s Ryukyu Islands, if you have the patience to look for it: the endangered Amami rabbit, a “living fossil” that looks strikingly similar to ancient Asian rabbits.
One estimate suggests there are fewer than 5,000 of the animals left in the wild. The lives of Amamis (Pentalagus furnessi) are shrouded in mystery due to their rarity, but they seem to play a surprising ecological role as seed dispersers, researchers report January 23 in Ecology.

Seed dispersal is the main point in a plant’s life cycle when it can move to a new location (SN: 11/14/22). So dispersal is crucially important for understanding how plant populations are maintained and how species will respond to climate change, says Haldre Rogers, a biologist at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, who was not involved with the study. Despite this, seed dispersal hasn’t received much attention, she says. “We don’t know what disperses the seeds of most plants in the world.”

Locals from the Ryukyu Islands were the first to notice that the “iconic yet endangered” Amami rabbit was nibbling on the fruit of another local species, the plant Balanophora yuwanensis, says Kenji Suetsugu, a biologist at Kobe University in Japan.

Rabbits generally like to eat vegetative tissue from plants, like leaves and stems, and so haven’t been thought to contribute much to spreading seeds, which are often housed in fleshy fruits.

To confirm what the locals reported, Suetsugu and graduate student Hiromu Hashiwaki set up camera traps around the island to catch the rabbits in the act. The researchers were able to record rabbits munching on Balanophora fruits 11 times, but still needed to check whether the seeds survived their trip through the bunny tummies.
So the team headed out to the subtropical islands and scooped up rabbit poop, finding Balanophora seeds inside that could still be grown. By swallowing the seeds and pooping them out elsewhere, the Amami rabbits were clearly acting as seed dispersers.

Balanophora plants are parasitic and don’t have chlorophyll, so they can’t use photosynthesis to make food of their own (SN: 3/2/17). Instead, they suck energy away from a host plant. This means where their seeds end up matters, and the Amami rabbits “may facilitate the placement of seeds near the roots of a compatible host” by pooping in underground burrows, Suetsugu says. “Thus, the rabbits likely provide a crucial link between Balanophora and its hosts” that remains to be further explored, he says.
Understanding the ecology of an endangered species like the Amami rabbit can help with conserving both it and the plants that depend on it.

An animal need not be in obvious peril for a change in its number to affect seed dispersal, with potentially negative consequences for the ecosystem. For example, “we think of robins as super common … but they’ve declined a lot in the last 50 years,” Rogers says. “Half as many robins means half as many seeds are getting moved around, even though no one’s worried about robins as a conservation issue.”

Our planet may have had a recent change of heart.

Earth’s inner core may have temporarily stopped rotating relative to the mantle and surface, researchers report in the January 23 Nature Geoscience. Now, the direction of the inner core’s rotation may be reversing — part of what could be a roughly 70-year-long cycle that may influence the length of Earth’s days and its magnetic field — though some researchers are skeptical.

“We see strong evidence that the inner core has been rotating faster than the surface, [but] by around 2009 it nearly stopped,” says geophysicist Xiaodong Song of Peking University in Beijing. “Now it is gradually mov[ing] in the opposite direction.”
Such a profound turnaround might sound bizarre, but Earth is volatile (SN: 1/13/21). Bore through the ever-shifting crust and you’ll enter the titanic mantle, where behemoth masses of rock flow viscously over spans of millions of years, sometimes upwelling to excoriate the overlying crust (SN: 1/11/17, SN: 3/2/17, SN: 2/4/21). Delve deeper and you’ll reach Earth’s liquid outer core. Here, circulating currents of molten metals conjure our planet’s magnetic field (SN: 9/4/15). And at the heart of that melt, you’ll find a revolving, solid metal ball about 70 percent as wide as the moon.

This is the inner core (SN: 1/28/19). Studies have suggested that this solid heart may rotate within the liquid outer core, compelled by the outer core’s magnetic torque. Researchers have also argued the mantle’s immense gravitational pull may apply an erratic brake on the inner core’s rotation, causing it to oscillate.

Evidence for the inner core’s fluctuating rotation first emerged in 1996. Geophysicist Paul Richards of Columbia University’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory in Palisades, N.Y., and Song, then also at Lamont-Doherty, reported that over a span of three decades, seismic waves from earthquakes took different amounts of time to traverse Earth’s solid heart.

The researchers inferred that the inner core rotates at a different speed than the mantle and crust, causing the time differences. The planet spins roughly 360 degrees in a day. Based on their calculations, the researchers estimated that the inner core, on average, rotates about 1 degree per year faster than the rest of Earth.

But other researchers have questioned that conclusion, some suggesting that the core spins slower than Song and Richards’ estimate or doesn’t spin differently at all.

In the new study, while analyzing global seismic data stretching back to the 1990s, Song and geophysicist Yi Yang — also at Peking University — made a surprising observation.
Before 2009, seismic waves generated by sequences and pairs of repeating earthquakes — known as multiplets and doublets — traveled at different rates through the inner core. This indicated the waves from recurring quakes were crossing different parts of the inner core, and that the inner core was rotating at a different pace than the rest of Earth, aligning with Song’s previous research.

But around 2009, the differences in travel times vanished. That suggested the inner core had ceased rotating with respect to the mantle and crust, Yang says. After 2009, these differences returned, but the researchers inferred that the waves were crossing parts of the inner core that suggested it was now rotating in the opposite direction relative to the rest of Earth.

The researchers then pored over records of Alaskan earthquake doublets dating to 1964. While the inner core appeared to rotate steadily for most of that time, it seems to have made another reversal in rotation in the early 1970s, the researchers say.

Song and Yang infer that the inner core may oscillate with a roughly 70-year periodicity — switching directions every 35 years or so. Because the inner core is gravitationally linked to the mantle and magnetically linked to the outer core, the researchers say these oscillations could explain known 60- to 70-year variations in the length of Earth’s days and the behavior of the planet’s magnetic field. However, more work is needed to pin down what mechanisms might be responsible.

But not all researchers are on board. Yang and Song “identif[y] this recent 10-year period [that] has less activity than before, and I think that’s probably reliable,” says geophysicist John Vidale of the University of Southern California in Los Angeles, who was not involved in the research. But beyond that, Vidale says, things get contentious.

In 2022, he and a colleague reported that seismic waves from nuclear tests show the inner core may reverse its rotation every three years or so. Meanwhile, other researchers have proposed that the inner core isn’t moving at all. Instead, they say, changes to the shape of the inner core’s surface could explain the differences in wave travel times.

Future observations will probably help disentangle the discrepancies between these studies, Vidale says. For now, he’s unruffled by the purported chthonic standstill. “In all likelihood, it’s irrelevant to life on the surface, but we don’t actually know what’s happening,” he says. “It’s incumbent on us to figure it out.”

No backside, no problem for some young sea spiders.

The creatures can regenerate nearly complete parts of their bottom halves — including muscles, reproductive organs and the anus — or make do without them, researchers report January 23 in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

The ability to regrow body parts isn’t super common, but some species manage to pull it off. Some sea slug heads can craft an entirely new body (SN: 3/8/21). Sea spiders and some other arthropods — a group of invertebrates with an exoskeleton — can regrow parts of their legs. But researchers thought new legs were the extent of any arthropod’s powers, perhaps because tough exteriors somehow stop them from regenerating other body parts.
A mishap first clued evolutionary biologist Georg Brenneis in that sea spiders (Pycnogonum litorale) might be able handle more complex repairs too. He accidentally injured one young specimen that he was working on in the lab with forceps. “It wasn’t dead, it was moving, so I just kept it,” says Brenneis, of the University of Vienna. Several months later, the sea spider had an extra leg instead of a scar, he and evolutionary biologist Gerhard Scholtz of Humbolt University of Berlin reported in 2016 in The Science of Nature.

In the new study, most of the 19 young spiders recovered and regrew missing muscles and other parts of their lower halves after amputation, though the regeneration wasn’t always perfect. Some juveniles sported six or seven legs instead of eight.

None of four adults regenerated. That may be because adults no longer shed their skin as they grow, suggesting that regeneration and molting are somehow linked, Brenneis says. Two young sea spiders also didn’t regenerate at all. The animals survived with only four legs and without an anus. Instead of pooping, the pair regurgitated waste out of their mouths.
Next up is figuring out whether other arthropods also regenerate more than scientists thought, and how sea spiders do it, Brenneis says. “I would like to see how it works.”