This past
Tuesday, on my way to a microbiology conference, I spotted a man on the train
wearing a t-shirt with the word “mentor” printed in large letters across the
back. His pants had fallen down below his waist. The view was unpleasant, and I
felt sad for his mentee.
Some
takeaways from the conference: harmful bacteria can hang around on airplane
tray tables, arm rests, and window shades for days; despite early evidence to the contrary, the microscopic bugs that can cause
Legionnaire’s disease survive in windshield wiper fluid; we all need to open our windows
more; there’s no difference in the fungal population of men’s vs. women’s
public restrooms; never schedule phone interviews about quantum computing
during microbiology meetings.
These past
few weeks I’ve been interviewing experts on wearable medical technology, smart
cars, snakes, and urban sensors, and mostly writing fiction. Here are a few recent
articles:
A story
about a group of young engineers who built a
more practical robotic arm.
This is an
older one, about
a Dalek builder, that I never got around to posting. My favorite anecdote,
which did not fit in the final article: At meetings, Dalek builders sometimes
sit inside their creations, drive around, and mingle with each other as alien
robots. They even speak in Dalek screech.
And a father and his giant Transformer costume.
In between
the writing and the talking, I helped my kids put together a pretty sick ninja turtle
zip line in the backyard. Then we got to show it off to a friend of mine who was visiting Boston for the night on business.
He was impressed, I think. My mental or intellectual relationship with this
individual is kind of strange. When I lift my car keys to a subway turnstile or
try to swipe a card to enter my house, I think of him. And when I write to him about one of
these incidents, and the fact that he popped into my head after it happened, he
agrees that he was the right person to tell.
