You are stranded on a desert island. During a walk on the beach, you stub your toe against a bottle, which rolls against a rock and breaks. A genie is liberated, eager to grant you one wish. You ask for a microbiological laboratory fully equipped to your specifications. The genie grants you that but with the condition that you can study only one sample. What sample would you collect for study, what would you do with it, and why?
by Elio — Pick an archaeon, any archaeon, and you will find it has a story to tell. Not all archaea are exotic but plenty of them are. These stalwarts live in environments we humans call extreme, where they carry out what to us seem extreme types of metabolic conversions. Most have come…
by Elio — We don't know about you, but we've become pretty blase about the stream of papers, each with the customary two dozen or more authors, reporting the completed genome of yet another microbe. But the recent one on the archaeon Ignicoccus hospitalis merits special attention.
by Elio — Let's start out with a little quiz. What examples can you name of endosymbiotic bacteria so tightly packed that they're nearly wall-to-wall within cells of their host? If you said legume root nodules, you can claim a prize. (Ask someone else for it, as we don't have any.) You would get…
by Elio — Sooner or later, but usually sooner, anyone dealing with fungi will have to deal with the issue of spore dispersal. Many fungi, mushrooms included, are a spore's way of spreading spores through the environment. They do this in varied and universally ingenious ways. Spores, like mammalian sperm, are made in excess, which enhances the chances...
by Radwa Raed Sharaf — What could those three possibly have in common? Believe it or not, they all play the role of a lead action figure in kids' video games. Hearing the latest edition of the German biotechnology news broadcast, I was surprised to learn that researchers of the Riedel-Kruse lab at Stanford...
by Merry Youle — We live in a world run by microbes, the vast majority of which we have yet to identify or name. We can only refer to them collectively as the microbial dark matter (MDM). However you define a prokaryotic species, and however you tally them once identified, there is a huge…
I would ask for a sample from the nearest, non-Earth planet that has life on it...the coordinates to the planet would be very helpful if the genie was in a good mood. Then for the lab, I would ask for all of the possible imaging systems with their associate probing mechanisms (ablation systems connect to MS, ISP, nano-SIMS, etc), as well as a satellite uplink to the Santa Clara radio telescope and Hubble. Oh yeah, I would need my lab goddess Linda Wegley to actually get the equipment to work. Personally, I can never seem to find the focal plane.
I am mindful of the Sufi/Islamic tradition that djinn never really answer a human "wish," and the seeming answer to those wishes usually act as a very harsh lesson regarding hubris!
But if I could trust the djinni, I would ask for a sample of a typical microbial community that contains the progenote, the "first" microbe. We could learn if Carl Woese was right about very primitive entities sharing information; the nature of the original genetic template, and so forth.
I also think Dr. Rohwer's suggestion rocks. But in both cases, "Twilight Zone" style, we might find ourselves stranded at the locations of our samples permanently while the djinni laughs at the humans who cannot breathe the atmosphere in their new location...
I like Forests answer, but my mind went back in time rather than out into space. I would ask for a sample containing the last common ancestor to all known life here on earth plus knowledge of the conditions necessary to culture it.
I'd need a lab set up for DNA sequencing and analysis as well as access to a variety of bioinformatics tools and the equpment necessary to characterize the metabolic capabilities and composition of the organism.
Easy — I'd study an ice core from Europa.
Oh, sure, I might not find anything, but it'd be seriously fun to try, and if I *didn't* find anything, I could sell what remains of the core to NASA or someone for enough money to buy a new small lab that didn't have the "only study one sample" restriction...
Oh, yeah, and the microbiology lab from the Genie should be on a big boat, so I can get back to the mainland while I work on the ice core...
Some great answers so far, (although I think Mark is a tad pessimistic; let's assume a benevolent djinn for this particular gedanken!) and I am hard pressed to think of anything as clever. However, I think I would ask for the supremely well equipped lab, and a continuous core dug straight down into the earth by my feet, with a (magical!) system for bring the dirt up in a defined fashion, a cm of depth at a time. That way, I could spend my time figuring out what is in each individual "thin section" of the earth (I'm assuming I wished for immortality first, so I could do it all). Sequencing capacity is clearly a requirement for this, but I think culture apparatus for different atmosphere and chemostats for different nutrient levels is even better, along with all the cool imaging tools imaginable; cryo-EM, AFM, 2‑photon confocal, etc. The great fun would be to think up neat evolutionary experiments, like taking a deep soil bug and putting it into an aerated, hydrated nutrient rich environment, and seeing if I could "adapt" it to growth in that environ, or vice versa. In other words, stuff I couldn't get a grant to do! 🙂
(note the emphasis on the "I" in that sentence)
I would ask to slice up the genie.
The simple answerwould be : a sponge, which collects from all that goes through it. There is a fascinating article in the June 2007 issue of what I still call Microbiological Reviews by M. W. Taylor and colleagues.Of course in collecting it one would also obtain a bit of the sediment or biofilms on which it lies, so there is a bonus from either sea or fresh water.
If I were stranded on a desert island, with only a personal microbiology laboratory made to my specifications, I would study fungal genetics to save my life. Although I'm probably being a bit hyperbolical and amusing, I would study a sample of yeasts using my knowledge of bioinformatics and genomics to engineer a breed of brewers yeast that would synthesize all of the vitamins essential to human nutrition, of which I would inevitably have deficiencies in being trapped on a desert island. My choice to study fungal genetics would also prove vital for preparing against numerous other desert-island-related risks.
Apart from the fact that brewers yeast tastes fantastic — sprinkled dry on the fresh flesh of one of the ubiquitous coconuts from the island– brewers yeast is also already incredibly nutritious. As a dietary supplement, it would be essential for my survival. Even before genetic manipulation, brewers yeast is an excellent source of protein and vitamins, including B‑complex vitamins as well as minerals and cofactors. With my microbiological laboratory, I would induce the yeast to over-express these vitamins and to produce other ones like vitamin A via the introduction of novel genes through genetic engineering.
In addition to its nutritive properties, brewers yeast combined with sugary coconut milk as the carbon source produces another useful asset to my island isolation — alcohol. True, it may bestow a beguiling buzz for passing the time alone on my island while resting in the shade of a coconut tree, but more importantly for my survival, it can also be distilled into a higher proof liquid with many uses. Nearly pure ethanol can be used as an antiseptic for the inevitable cuts and injuries that might prove otherwise life-threatening. Moreover, it can be used as fuel for cooking, heating, and potentially even for fueling that broken-down boat that got me to this godforsaken island...
But the legacy of the novel yeast wouldn't end on island... Once I've arrived home after a long voyage across the Pacific on a lifeboat fueled entirely with coconut milk fermented by genetically-engineered yeast into ethanol, the story would continue. I would sell my organism (brought safely from the island in a falcon tube insulated within a coconut shell) to a major oil company for use as a renewable energy source, ameliorating the global warming debacle. Moreover, I would also stipulate within my sales contract that all of the yeast filtrate must be dried and distributed to all of the impoverished populations around the globe as a food supplement to cure nutrient and vitamin deficiencies like kwashiorkor, marasmus, scurvy, and vitamin A deficiency, to name a few...