Year: 2047 | Location: Global Biosecurity Command (GBC) | Status: Contained

As someone who sat on the National Academies’ study committee on AI and Biosecurity, I can tell you: the truth is neither so dire nor so utopian.

Sometimes, the most profound discoveries aren’t the ones we fear. They’re the ones that teach us to see the world in a way we never have before.

I have no doubt that mirror life will continue to be a topic of interest in synthetic biology and biosecurity circles. But I am not ready to buy into the panic just yet.

In a world of perfect control, an unlikely bond reveals the fragile humanity within the synthetic

AI-driven breakthroughs were piling up so fast it felt like we were racing toward some inevitable singularity where life itself would be programmable. Are we?

Born to serve, bound by design—what happens when synthetic life begins to dream?

The Future of the American Scientific Landscape At Bell Labs, Richard Hamming was famous for challenging other researchers with a provocative question: "What are the most important problems in your field?" After listening to their response, he would follow up with, "Why aren't you working on them?" While this question continues to resonate decades later, it carries an implicit privilege – one unique to

The first time I saw one, I didn’t realize what I was looking at. It stood on the observation platform, its posture unnaturally still, skin flawless and smooth like porcelain. It looked human—two arms, two legs, a head—but something about the way it held itself screamed not human . It turned, catching me in its gaze. That’s when I saw its eyes: black pools with no whites, no iris, no pupils. Just featureless, bottomless voids.

Over the next century, biotechnology is poised to revolutionize how we live, work, and address some of humanity's most pressing challenges. In fact, breakthroughs in biotechnology and related emerging technologies are already allowing scientists to produce targeted cancer therapies, engineer more resilient crops, create sustainable materials, and develop solutions to mitigate environmental pollution. But why now?

I was born with brittle bones. Not metaphorically— literally. Osteogenesis imperfecta, Type III. My bones fractured under the weight of my own body. By the time I turned twelve, I’d broken every bone you could name and a few you probably couldn’t. It defined my childhood, shaping every moment of my life into a careful negotiation between risk and inevitability.