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Chapter 1. Yuki. In a quintessential northeastern college town where ivy-clad buildings stood
proud against the snow-covered grounds and the air buzzed with academic ambition, lived Yuki,
a young scholar with a dream. Yuki had set his sight on becoming a professor at the grandest
of universities, perhaps one of those R1 schools. Being the one to lead the front line of human
knowledge in tackling this debilitating disease. After all, he left a comfortable home in Shizuoka
to study in the U.S. to achieve this very dream. He spent his days immersed in his research on
the Alzheimer's disease pathway, focusing on the aggregation dynamics of amyloid beta-peptides.
Yuki could often be found running complex simulation or fine-tuning experimental
setups involving fluorescence microscopy and kinetic assays. His desk was a fortress of papers,
some published, some in progress, and some rejected but not forgotten. Yuki's colleagues
admire his work ethics. His mentors nodded approvingly at his accomplishments. As a PhD
student in his final year preparing applications for prestigious postdoctoral fellowships,
he already had three first author papers, a review paper, all of the academic awards his
university can offer, and countless collaborations. Yet, Yuki still felt behind. Like his 85th
second pulse train that slipped away from face-matching condition. At night, he would shuffle
back to his tiny apartment where a mountain of laundry loomed in one corner, and his meals
consisted of ramen or soylent, eaten absentmindedly as he typed. Why do humans have to eat so often to
function? It would be so convenient if I could just ingest 2,500 calories in the morning and
not be hungry for the rest of the day, he thinks to himself. His tennis racket, once his trusty
companion, gathered dust in the closet. The only exercise Yuki got these days was from pacing
during Zoom meetings or chasing digital creature's own Pokemon Go while he is on his daily productive
walk. One particularly icy morning, Yuki's car sputtered and sighed its last breath. Fixing it
cost more than he cared to admit, but he told himself it didn't matter. He could walk or take
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the bus, a small hit to his productivity, but the safety of his wallet was unfortunately equally
important. His family called, asking if he would come home for the holidays. Not this year,
he said, forcing cheer into his voice. Research is busy, but I'm alright. But he wasn't. Not really.
That's it for the show today. Thanks for listening, and find us on x at
Eigo de Science, that is E-I-G-O-D-E-S-C-I-E-N-C-E. See you next time!
