Scrolling through the October 6 headlines, enjoying my morning cup of coffee, I came across a piece of news that brought this chemist-turned-science writer a special sort of nerdy joy. The 2021 Nobel Prize in Chemistry had been announced, and I was going to get to write about a subject near and dear to my heart—catalysis and sustainability.

The University of Dundee in Scotland and Promega Corporation have developed a new approach to targeted protein degradation: a revolutionary “three-headed hydra” with a unique three-pronged structure that packs a powerful punch.

As we’ve all learned from the current global COVID-19 pandemic, coronaviruses are generally bad news. Among the four genera of coronaviruses, the betacoronavirus genus has been especially notorious. In the past 20 years, three highly pathogenic betacoronaviruses, MERS-CoV, SARS-CoV and SARS-CoV-2 have resulted in serious pandemics. All three of these viruses originated from bats, highlighting the continued risk of coronavirus transmission from animals to humans.

Typically, when a new viral threat emerges, researchers scramble to develop drugs or vaccines after the virus has already gotten out of control. However, developing a vaccine for each new virus is a slow and painstaking process, and many lives will be lost before a vaccine is distributed. But what if we had one, universal coronavirus vaccine that could neutralize not only all existing betacoronaviruses, but any new variants that emerge in the future?

Today’s blog was written in collaboration with Julia Ashley and AJ Ridley.

This August marked the end of a frantic 10 weeks of laboratory experiments for Julia Ashley and AJ Ridley. The two are members of the University of St Andrews iGEM team and are working to develop a product called Shinescreen, a probiotic sunscreen that is safe for marine life.

“Experiments were coming along nicely until the last two weeks in the lab. We ran into trouble with some transformation experiments,” said Ridley.

The team was on the clock, with only two and a half months of access to a laboratory. Unfortunately, the team’s time ran out before they could resolve all the issues.

“We learned the realities of science that not everything goes the way you think it will,” said Ashley. “But we got some results, and we’re happy with that.”

Soon after Amanda Capes-Davis started working with CellBank Australia, she received a request from an exasperated graduate student:

This cell line was handed down to me for my project, but I’m getting strange experimental results with the cells. Can you authenticate the cell line?

After performing genetic analyses, Capes-Davis soon had the answer to the student’s experimental woes: the cells did not come from the human tissue type the student was studying. They weren’t even human—they were mouse cells.

“She’d been given this cell line that was behaving differently than expected, and people thought ‘wow, this is an exciting new variant,’ it could tell her more about a particular disease,” Capes-Davis said. “But no, it was a more sinister reason, unfortunately.”