Nautilus Magazine

11/15/2025

A newly analyzed alabaster vase dedicated to King Xerxes has revealed something unexpected: clear chemical traces of o***m. Researchers in the Yale Ancient Pharmacology Program say these results offer the strongest evidence yet that narcotics circulated widely in ancient Egyptian life, from elites to ordinary citizens.

Highly sensitive instruments detected multiple diagnostic biomarkers of o***m, several of which also appear in vases from New Kingdom tombs. The findings also revisit earlier clues—from looted alabaster vessels in King Tut’s tomb to long-running debates about what these ornate containers once held.

The study suggests that alabaster vessels may have been directly linked to op**te storage, preparation, and consumption, hinting at a more sophisticated approach to pain relief and psychoactive experiences than previously assumed.

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2nd image:
THE VESSEL: Traces of o***m were found in this vase, suggesting it may have been used for o***m storage, preparation, and consumption. Photo by G. Scott, 1986, courtesy of the Yale Babylonian Collection.

11/15/2025

Watching an op**te buzz may have been much more common in Ancient Egypt than we thought, for kings and commoners alike.

A detailed chemical analysis of residues found in an alabaster vase dedicated to King Xerxes, who ruled an ancient empire in what is now Iran from 486 to 465 B.C., identified traces of the narcotic substance. The results provide the most conclusive evidence yet that op**tes were a major part of daily life in ancient Egyptian society, say the researchers, who work in the Yale Ancient Pharmacology Program. They published their findings in the Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology.

“When a rare, expertly crafted alabastron bearing a king’s name yields the same o***m signature found in more humble tomb assemblages from hundreds of years earlier, we can’t dismiss the results as accidental contamination or the experimentation of the socially elite,” wrote Yale researcher Christopher Renton, one of the study authors, in an email.

The popularity of the narcotic in ancient Egypt had been hinted at in medical texts from Hippocrates to Galen and Dioscorides, as well as in religious symbolism, such as the poppy goddess on Crete, but it had been difficult to prove.

What alabaster vessels like the one studied were used for has been the subject of much speculation over the decades. Some have proposed that they held cosmetics or perfumes, or served to carry hidden private messages between the king and his officials. But the authors of the new study suggest that they may have instead had a direct cultural connection with op**te storage, preparation, and consumption.

The scientists used highly sensitive instruments to identify the original compounds in the ancient samples and found noscapine, hydrocotarnine, morphine, thebaine, and papaverine, all of which are known diagnostic biomarkers for o***m. Three of these same chemicals have been clearly recovered from vases found in New Kingdom tombs in Sedment, Egypt—which contained the remains of high-ranking officials as well as more ordinary people—while the other two chemicals seemed to be there in a more degraded fashion.

Other clues these vessels once held narcotics came from an instance of looting: In 1922, a researcher named Howard Carter found a vast quantity of large, elaborate Egyptian alabaster vessels in the tomb of King Tut and noted that looters had scraped out the organic contents with their hands “down to the dregs,” leaving finger marks. Many of these looted alabastra still have the same sticky, dark-brown organic remains with distinct odor that match the characteristics of the residues found in the Xerxes vessel. Attempts at chemical study in 1933 seem to have yielded inconclusive results, but the Yale scientists suggest taboos around o***m may have played a part.

It’s unlikely that ointments or perfumes would have inspired thieves to go to such lengths, the authors argue. They propose that the alabaster vessels could have been cultural markers for op**tes in ancient Egypt, much like hookahs today are attached to sh**ha to***co consumption.

The findings suggest a more sophisticated understanding of pain and mind altering experiences in ancient Egypt than previously thought. “If op**te use stretched from kings to commoners, we must reframe our perceptions about Egyptian medicine and o***m’s role in its pharmacological sophistication,” writes Renton, in his email. “These findings would suggest that pain management, sedation, and perhaps controlled psychoactive experiences played meaningful roles in daily life and religious practice.”

If true, the civilization that gave us papyrus and pyramids may also have pioneered a surprisingly nuanced relationship with narcotics.

2nd image:
THE VESSEL: Traces of o***m were found in this vase, suggesting it may have been used for o***m storage, preparation, and consumption. Photo by G. Scott, 1986, courtesy of the Yale Babylonian Collection.

11/15/2025

Life can imitate art, and art can imitate life. But every so often, poems imitate telescopes, bringing into focus the last gasps of dying stars.

In 1181, an Egyptian poet praising Saladin described an unusual brilliance in the night sky. Now, a team of researchers suggests that Ibn Sanāʾ al-Mulk’s verse may contain a reference to a real astronomical event.

Their analysis links specific lines in the poem to “Supernova 1181,” whose remnant—Pa 30—appears today in the Cassiopeia constellation about 10,100 light-years away. Details in the poem help narrow when the sighting could have occurred, aligning with known historical events and with Chinese records of a bright star visible from August 1181 to February 1182.

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11/15/2025

When an Arabic poet praised 12th-century military leader Saladin, he may have been looking to curry favor. But it was astronomers 800 years in the future who would turn out to be most impressed with his lyrical observations of a strange brilliance in the night sky above Cairo.

Ibn Sanāʾ al-Mulk, a secretary in the Saladin Empire of Egypt, penned his verse in 1181, and researchers have recently interpreted a line in that poem as evidence of an actual supernova. A team of researchers explain the connection in a paper published in Astronomical Notes this year.

According to the diverse cohort of authors, whose areas of expertise run from Islamic studies to astrophysics, the poem sheds light on “Supernova 1181,” whose remnant has been observed through modern telescopes.

A (translated) line in al-Mulk’s Arabic poem reads: “May the stars sacrifice themselves for the son of Ayyub [Saladin], for they are his servants and thereby sacrifice themselves for the master.”

Supernovas are explosions of massive stars in their death throes, emitting huge bursts of light that gradually fade over time. Most supernovas are too far from Earth to be seen without a telescope. The most recent one in our own Milky Way galaxy, which could be viewed with the naked eye, was in 1604, just a few years before Galileo pioneered telescopes. So, science sometimes relies on historical records of supernovas to corroborate what can be learned about their remnants.

In a feat of historical detective work, researchers from a trio of German universities deduced that al-Mulk’s poetic observation (translated) that “now even the stars [anjum] in the sky have increased in number” refers to the explosion of a supernova, likely visible to the poet’s naked eye in ancient Cairo. Their analysis pinpoints a likely timeframe for that observation, noting that the poem praises both Saladin and Saladin’s brother Saphadin, who crossed paths in Egypt in the years 1181 through May 1182. Furthermore, the scholars link the poem’s mention of Saladin’s troops protecting Mecca from destruction to a Crusader attack in December 1181.

According to al-Mulk’s verse, the new star was near al-Kaff al-Khabīb (“dyed hand”), today known as the Cassiopeia constellation. Modern telescope observations have collectively identified a supernova remnant called Pa 30, about 10,100 light-years away in Cassiopeia. The remnant has long, radiating filaments, like spokes of a wheel, around a central white dwarf star. Boasting one of the hottest stars in the Milky Way, this remnant is hypothesized as the remains of the stellar sacrifices the Arab poet soliloquized about long ago. The discovery of Pa 30 also aligns with historical Chinese writings about a bright star observed for 185 days, from August 6, 1181, to February 6, 1182.

Life can imitate art, and art can imitate life. But every so often, poems imitate telescopes, bringing into focus the last gasps of dying stars.

11/14/2025

For years, an intense debate has raged about the origins of animal life on Earth, dividing scientists into two camps: Those who think sponges gave rise to animals and those who think comb jellies (ctenophores) are responsible.

At first glance, it might seem obvious which animal group came first: the simple sponge. Bereft of muscles or neurons, sponges spend their lives anchored, filter-feeding detritus from ocean water. Ctenophores, on the other hand, have muscles, neurons, and cilia for swimming—they’re mobile predators that hunt for their meals.

But evolution doesn’t always take the straightest path, and a 2008 analysis comparing hundreds of genes from a variety of animal species and their relatives surprisingly placed the more complex ctenophores at the root of the animal family tree. A 2023 study examining linked genes (those located close to one another on chromosomes) bolstered the so-called “ctenophore sister hypothesis.”

It was a shocking finding. If true, it would suggest that early sponges had neurons and their descendants lost them over time. While it’s not the most linear evolutionary path for an animal group to take, it is a well-worn one. Whales, for example, evolved from terrestrial quadrupeds and, over many generations, lost their hind limbs after taking to the sea.

University of California, Berkeley, biologist Nicole King compared the idea that ctenophores evolved first to “finding out that the guy you thought was your dad was not your dad.” And so, along with a postdoctoral researcher in her lab, phylogeneticist and computational biologist Jacob Steenwyk, she set out to investigate.

“Jacob came in hypothesizing that the ctenophore sister idea was correct, while I hypothesized that the sponge sister idea was correct, and so we thought, why not? Let’s go for it,” King said in a statement.

Together they created a dataset of conserved genes—sequences that are present in a wide variety of species and have proven to be remarkably resilient to change over time. They analyzed the genes and winnowed their dataset down to only those genes that produced a consistent result for either the ctenophore or sponge hypothesis regardless of the analytical method they used. Then they applied statistical tests. The scientists concluded 62 percent of their tests supported the sponge hypothesis, and none supported the ctenophore hypothesis (38 percent were inconclusive).

They published their findings in Science this week.

“I think the way we’ve done this analysis lends very strong support for the hypothesis that sponges evolved first, which is consistent with studies based on morphology. But I still think there's room for investigating this question further,” King said. “I hope that everyone interested will jump in, and together we’ll keep hammering on this.”

So the debate rages on, but for now it seems like Team Sponge may have the upper hand.

11/14/2025

For years, an intense debate has raged about the origins of animal life on Earth, dividing scientists into two camps: Those who think sponges gave rise to animals and those who think comb jellies (ctenophores) are responsible.

At first glance, it might seem obvious which animal group came first: the simple sponge. Bereft of muscles or neurons, sponges spend their lives anchored, filter-feeding detritus from ocean water. Ctenophores, on the other hand, have muscles, neurons, and cilia for swimming—they’re mobile predators that hunt for their meals.

But evolution doesn’t always take the straightest path, and a 2008 analysis comparing hundreds of genes from a variety of animal species and their relatives surprisingly placed the more complex ctenophores at the root of the animal family tree. A 2023 study examining linked genes (those located close to one another on chromosomes) bolstered the so-called “ctenophore sister hypothesis.”

Fierce Debate About Earth’s First Animal Heats Up: Are you Team Sponge or Team Comb Jelly?

11/14/2025

When longtime New York Times book critic Christopher Lehmann-Haupt died after a stroke at 84, he had already volunteered his brain to science. Years later, his daughter traveled to the Mayo Clinic’s brain bank in Florida to see what became of that donation — a visit almost no families ever make.

Neuropathologists walked her through the preserved halves of his brain and the findings that explained the sudden loss of his language in his final days. They also revealed something she didn’t expect about what was discovered after his autopsy, a detail that raised new questions about his treatment.

Today, his brain serves as a rare “healthy” control for dementia and stroke research. And the visit changed how his daughter understood his final years — and what, in a scientific sense, still remains of him.

What I discovered about my dad and myself at the lab where his brain resides

11/14/2025

When Christopher Lehmann-Haupt died after a severe stroke at 84, his brain went to science. Years later, his daughter traveled to the Mayo Clinic’s brain bank to visit it—half fixed in formalin, half frozen, stored among thousands of anonymous donors.

Neuropathologists showed her what had actually happened: two strokes had devastated the temporal and frontal lobes, destroying the language centers that powered his life as a New York Times book critic. He had Broca’s aphasia—he could understand his family, but could no longer speak or write.

They also found something unexpected: microscopic polymer fragments likely shed from a catheter, which may have worsened the damage. Now his brain is a rare, “healthy” control, helping researchers study dementia and stroke recovery.

For his daughter, the visit reframed her grief, connecting his love of stories, his scientific “citizen” generosity, and the way his brain—and words—continue to live on.

A moving Nautilus classic.

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11/14/2025

In the early 1800s, storms were still a mystery. William C. Redfield, a New York steamboat entrepreneur, thought he’d found the key: Hurricanes like the Great September Gale of 1821 were not random blasts, but vast “progressive whirl-winds” twisting along a track. His careful mapping of fallen trees, ship logs, and barometer readings led to a new picture of circular, rotating storms.

James Espy, a frontier-born teacher turned meteorologist in Philadelphia, argued the opposite. To him, storms were “upward vortices”: columns of rising warm air where condensing water v***r and released “latent caloric” powered clouds, rain, and hail. He built a continent-spanning observation network, lectured to packed halls, and even persuaded Congress to fund him as the first official U.S. meteorologist.

Their feud—amplified by Espy’s failed rain-making schemes and Redfield’s allies in Britain—set the stage for William Ferrel. In 1856, Ferrel showed that both men were partly right: Air rises in storms and is twisted by Earth’s rotation, completing the picture that underpins modern weather forecasting.

This story is in issue 9 of Nautilus, published in summer 2015. The ideas within are timeless, and as relevant as ever.

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11/14/2025

From the vault: Issue 9, FREE for new subscribers.

WATER. COLOR. DARK MATTER.

These three themes form amazing intersections in the ninth-ever Nautilus print issue, published in summer 2015. Every article in the mix is relevant today, each one aglow with insights.

Here's one: the darkest hole in the universe is 250 million light years across and is almost entirely devoid of matter. It's called, in surely the greatest understatement in cosmology, "a void."

Here's where else your mind goes in this issue: To the 1800s to meet two American scientists who invented the modern weather forecast—only after parrying their different theories at each other like jilted lovers. The issue also takes you to the ateliers of artists over the centuries determined to create the blackest of black paints.

And there's science fiction.

Award-winning author Jeff VanderMeer talks about growing up in Fiji, where his dad studied beetles, and how the islands' hothouse climate influenced the setting of his Southern Reach Trilogy novels. Plus, savvy engineers tell us about being inspired by the sand-dwelling Fremen in the novel Dune to build "windtraps" and "dew collectors" in drought-ridden California.

Also in this issue, you will discover how the color of a food influences your taste of it. Blindfolded, you won't taste an orange drink as orange flavored. Don't worry, we explain why.

Get it while you can: https://bit.ly/43xdDxk

11/14/2025

Issue 24, 2018, cover art by

11/14/2025

In the cold waters of the Pacific, the anchoveta once shimmered in swarms so vast that sailors described them as turning the sea into a river of quicksilver. They were small, unassuming fish, yet the abundance of the ocean rested upon their delicate bones. Seabirds wheeled overhead in their millions, sea lions and whales dove into their depths, and predatory fish rose through the blue to feed on them. In those shoals lived the vitality of the sea itself. But in our age, the anchoveta, along with sardines and menhaden, have been transformed from living threads in an ancient web into bags of meal and casks of oil. Ninety percent of the forage fish caught by human hands are not eaten by us but ground down to feed salmon being raised in the cold fjords of Norway and shrimp and fish in the tropical ponds of Southeast Asia.

It is one of the great ironies of our time. To farm the sea, we strip the sea. We take from the ocean’s foundation to build its surface anew, and in the process we imperil both. In 2016, the anchoveta failed to arrive in the expected numbers, and entire fishing seasons in Peru were canceled. Again in 2023, the same collapse occurred, this time coinciding with a spike in ocean temperatures that drove the fish to depths where nets could not reach. The seabirds starved, their nests abandoned. Seal pups died in the thousands. Farmers watched as the price of feed climbed and their livelihoods faltered. What seemed infinite revealed itself as fragile.