Performing Search, as a Transcription Regulator

Billions of years have created some weird tricks in DNA search.

Search is all around us, as we increasingly rely on search engines to find everything we need on the internet, want to watch, or want to buy. Search looks into databases, which hold the sought-after information. All our accounts, all the domain names, all the products... everything is held in databases of one kind or another, and those databases are indexed in clever ways to provide virtually instant pointers from the question we ask to the answer held online. AI merely puts a linguistic gloss on this, and most people are still encountering AI first as a feature of search, such as the top of current Google search results.

Well, our genomes are databases as well- rich and ancient storehouses of jewels that encode the body and its doings. How does search work there, and what is search even for? At any moment, each cell of the body has certain needs, stresses, and goals, as expressed in its DNA programming. The tools available are proteins and RNAs, which carry out the cell's functions. The needs may arise from signals coming from previously expressed receptors, say, for insulin, which may trigger and tell the cell to take up glucose from the blood. The receptor turns on a kinase, which may turn on another kinase, which turns on a transcription regulator, which goes into the nucleus and ... does a search. This regulator is searching for places (specific sequences) in the genomic DNA where it can bind, after which it helps to turn on (or off) the nearby gene, executing the desired function / tool. 

General introduction to transcription regulators (or "factors") and their role in gene activation and the whole process of gene expression.

Obviously a very different kind of search than what Google does on our behalf across documents, but there are similarities. Internet search depends on patterns, matching the user's input with the vast corpus of the internet also held as text symbols. Transcription regulators match patterns, in this case patterns of DNA that they like to bind, which may occur only once in the genome, or occur tens of thousands of times. The pattern here is a complementary physical/electrochemical shape, rather than an abstract same-symbol match. The genome is, to a protein, truly vast. Our three billion-base genome is forty million times larger than an average regulatory protein of, say, fifty kilodaltons (kDa). Search is also, here, a difficult problem, which researchers have been wondering about for decades. Several recent papers discuss different aspects of the problem and shed some modern light on it.

We have roughly 1600 transcription regulators in our genomes, so there is something going on all the time. DNA is always being queried. And what it replies with is RNA- a transcript issued/copied from a gene, which either goes off to instruct creation of a protein, or is itself functional in some way. So, how do proteins bind to DNA, executing their search? It was transformative when the first atomic structures of such proteins were solved. They were clearly complementary with their DNA targets, with nicely positioned positive charges to mate with the backbone of the DNA and amino acid fingers reaching into the helix to feel the shapes of the nucleotides they wanted to bind. All very neat, and paradigmatic for bacteria whose genomes are quite small. But there is more to the story. Binding sites in human genes tend to be quite short- five to seven bases. That really isn't enough to be very specific, across a vast genome. Eukaryotes have developed several weird tricks, as it were, to encourage efficient search over much larger genomes and at the same time increase precision while maintaining evolvability and flexibility.

Eukaryotes have nucleosomes, chromatin, and packaging. The DNA is not just splayed out randomly, but wound up on protein spools. One would think that this would impair search by regulators. But paradoxically, there is a fine balance between hunting around on a given piece of DNA for a preferred site (one-dimensional search, 1D), and jumping off, letting go, and trying somewhere else (by diffusion; three-dimensional search, 3D). The compaction of genomic DNA into nucleosomes that wind up most of the DNA while leaving linking DNA in between free appears to provide a nice balance of landing spots that allow searching regulators to jump very long distances (in linear DNA terms) while not going very far in absolute terms. Regulators vary in how aggressively they can plow through nucleosomes to try out their internal DNA sites, but many (called pioneer factors) can do so.

Secondly, transcription regulators cooperate with other proteins to create longer, more complex DNA sites for precise gene identification and higher binding affinity. As biologists have characterized the enhancers and promoters of important developmental genes, they have found that DNA binding sites occur in bunches, and have much weaker effects when broken down and separated. Sometimes there is direct side-to-side cooperation between two regulators that bind the DNA. At other times, they combine with other non-DNA-binding proteins to create complexes at such sites. The DNA recognition sequences of these combinatorial sites can be changed significantly, even beyond (our) recognition, by the addition of cooperative proteins. This is something that makes prediction of where a given regulator binds particularly perilous. 

Thirdly, many regulators contain not only DNA binding domains, but also extra disordered domains that facilitate DNA search and binding. This has been a recent realization that accounts for some of the speed and flexibility of regulator search and DNA interaction in eukaryotes. The stable crystal structures of paradigmatic bacterial regulators are not the whole story, and indeed are insufficient to explain what is happening in the much larger setting of our own cells. The authors note that eighty percent of human gene regulators have large disordered domains, (called IDRs, for intrinsically disordered region), upwards of 500 amino acids long. These never showed up in crystal structures, naturally. Being disordered, they are also poorly conserved. So, they have been difficult to study. 

Comparison of binding by one regulator, MSN2, which has a large IDR, to its genomic sites. At top is its native binding pattern, across a whole genome. At bottom are mapped its core motif occurrences on that DNA. Second from top is the MSN2 protein mutated to contain only its core motif-binding domain, and third from top is the MSN2 protein mutated to remove that domain and retain everything else. Note how different the patterns of binding by each of these proteins are, though how each approximates to some degree the wild-type pattern.

In related work, researchers have divided up such proteins into the core binding site part and the IDR part. They find that both parts work partially, directing binding to some of the native sites around the genome. In fact, the IDR part does a more statistically accurate job than the core DNA binding motif. This is fascinating, showing that in eukaryotes, a new search mechanism arose, supplementing discrete and precise binding with a floppy / fuzzy code in the IDR and its binding sites. It turns out that regions of hundreds of bases around core target sites (which in one case amount to only the motif AGGGG) are preferentially bound by the respective IDR protein domain, with multiple weak interactions that remain structurally uncharacterized. In fact, neither the protein structures responsible, nor the DNA sites they bind are known yet, though deletion studies through IDR domains show that binding is distributed throughout.

Relationship between IDR binding site size, and the ratio of 1D vs 3D search time, by simulation. The bottom axis is size of the IDR binding region, the Y axis is time taken for search. Time spent in total (yellow) goes down to minimum at an optimum between 1D search that is slowed by longer IDR-binding regions, while 3D search is strongly accelerated by longer IDR-binding regions.

The combination of core binding and loosely unstructured binding in one regulatory / search protein provides powerful benefits. In dimensionality terms, if the effective landing site is expanded from five to five hundred bases, then the time required for 3D search through the space of the nucleus is dramatically shortened. Secondly, loose binding by the IDR then promotes an "octopus"-like 1D search along the local DNA, resulting in efficient settling on the core binding site to get ultimately precise positioning. The ultimate affinity of the regulator with the local DNA is also enhanced compared to what it could manage over a five base pair site. The researchers conclude that with these domains, the search problem is, in net terms, reduced by one dimension, from 3D to 2D. The surrounding areas of DNA that have marginal affinity for the IDR domain are called "antenna" regions, and the author's simulations show how they alter search behavior.

Schematic explanation of the current work, describing how IDR domains help to speed up the transition from 3D search through space, to 1D search across the DNA. And then also to facilitate 1D search by preventing full detachment from the DNA while the core binding motif continues to search by diffusion for its binding site (yellow).

For computers and databases, search is a huge problem that has led to technical innovation, as well as large drains on resources. Every search engine combs the internet, gobbling up all available information, creating indexes, and updating them constantly in order to give us the instant access we want. This infrastructure has been raised to a new level by AI, which transforms search into a new form, combining it with language translation and prediction methods that allow a search for corkscrew to bring back results for wine. Whether it understands anything is unlikely, but the desire to upgrade search from a simply determinative process to one that is more fuzzy and richly interpretive, and thus more useful, is not a new phenomenon.

• Rights? What rights?
• Goodbye to independent agencies.
• What are those crows saying?
• We have our sociopath, they have theirs.

Pumping Calcium

An ornate ion pump manages rapid outflow of calcium.

In the beginning, the egg cell experienced a wave of calcium release, triggered by union with a sperm cell. This blocked other sperm from entering, and prepared the egg to become a zygote and embark on embryogenesis. It is but one example of the pervasive role of calcium signaling among animals. Another is the muscle activation cycle, which relies on calcium release from the specialized sarcoplasmic reticulum (in response to a nerve activation) to get the cell as a whole contracting. Generally, calcium is kept very low in the cytoplasm, and high in the endoplasmic reticulum and outside the cell. Thus, channels gated by electrical activation or other signals can cause rapid cytoplasmic calcium spikes and signal widely within a cell. 

On the flip side, there have to be pumps that keep the cytoplasmic concentration low, and a recent paper elucidates the structure of one such pump that is remarkably fast, while also closely regulated. It is an impressive machine. PMCA2 is an ATP-using calcium pump that sits in the plasma membrane and carries out what is called the Post-Albers cycle. This is a flip-switch mechanism for pumping ions, where ATP drives conformational switches alternately exposing ion binding sites to each side of the membrane. When the pore is open to the cytoplasm, there is no competition from higher concentrations outside, so the active site can bind one internal calcium, given a high-affinity site. Then, after the conformational switch, the pore is exposed to the outside, and at the same time the site is reconfigured to be lower-affinity, releasing the calcium ion into a high concentration environment. Neurons especially use calcium signaling extensively to operate synapses and regulate growth and development. Their rapid and frequent signaling requires a pump that has especially high capacity. PMCA2 operates at a maximal rate of several thousands of Ca2+ ions pumped per second.

Cartoon of the Post-Albers cycle, which is shared by a large family of active ATP-using pumps that transfer ions against their chemical concentration gradient. M is the main transmembrane domain of the pump, where the ions traverse the membrane. The N, P, and A domains are regulatory, especially binding and cleaving ATP  at an interface between the N, P, and A domain. The cycle links power steps (1,2) with conformational changes that carefully gate the pumping process.

And that is not all. Since calcium has a charge of 2+ and this pump does not intend to alter charge across the membrane, the pump simultaneously has binding sites for counter-ions (generally two OH-) that are transferred in the opposite direction from the calcium. Not only that, but every pump of this kind requires regulation of various kinds. PMAC2 is activated by phosphatidyl inositol 4,5 bisphosphate (PIP2), which is another important signaling molecule generated by specific PI kinases in response to activation of G-protein coupled receptors or protein kinase C, which may respond to external signals. In very general terms, these tend to be pro-growth or stress-induced pathways. These regulatory processes can tune the overall rate of recovery from rapid Ca2+ signaling events, by adjusting the level and activity of pumps like PMAC2. 

ATP binds at the N/P/A domain interface, and its hydrolysis (and loss of ADP) generates extensive shape changes, including into the transmembrane M domain. At the very bottom, the calcium ion is shown in green, bound inside the M domain pumping channel. The motions here are subtle, but enough to dramatically reshape the calcium channel.

The authors, using various substrate variants and other tricks, were able to develop structures of PMAC2 in several steps of the pumping cycle, using cryo-electron microscopy. The ATPase site in the N domain (red) is far from the channel that conducts the calcium ion (brown, far bottom). They show extensive shape changes from binding or losing the ATP molecule, though they mostly concern the intracellular domains (red, blue, yellow). The effects on the transmembrane pore domain are rather subtle, shown on right. The authors claim that, compared to other pumps of this large family, the structural changes are significantly less, suggesting that evolution for speed has caused the mechanism to become more efficient, with less wasted motion per conduction event, at least in the channel region itself.

Relation of the PIP2 binding domain (orange/red stick figures) to the calcium core binding site. PIP2 appears to be essential for rapid pump operation. At bottom is shown some schematics of the gating provided by PIP2 in bound and unbound states, especially via the D873 side chain (negatively charged aspartic acid).

They also find that the activating molecule PIP2 is neatly parked right next to the main calcium binding and conduction region, and is more or less essential for enzyme activity. In the graph above (e), they show that several single mutations made in the calcium binding high affinity site, for example switching the negatively charged D873 for the positively charged K (lysine), kills ion pumping activity. Mutation of the PIP2 binding pocket (KKQ->TLL, around position 347) likewise kills enzyme activity.

Relation of the counter-ion channel (red dots) with the calcium channel. Both are essential parts of the mechanism. Closeups with the coordinating protein side chains shown on the right.

The whole mechanism is alluded to in the last figure, where the central calcium binding site is shown, with the general direction of calcium pumping. The counter-ion transport area is shown nearby as a flurry of red dots (standing for water molecules, which at this scale are interchangeable with OH ions). Specific single mutations in either area, either changing negatively charged E412 to positively charged lysine at the calcium binding pocket, or changing polar S877 in the water/hydroxy binding area to the bulky and hydrophobic F (phenylalanine), each kill pumping activity (graph). 

While it would be ideal to have a more dynamic representation of what is going on, the new structures give tremendous detail, including the associated ATP, PIP2, calcium, and water molecules. The mutations also nail down several functional points. Obviously a rather intricate and well-oiled machine that keeps its bit of cellular calcium homeostasis on an even keel. It is hard to believe that the sum of thousands of machines like this one is life, but the deeper we look the more true that appears to be.

• Gullibility-maxxing.
• There is a serious bifurcation in Catholic thought.
• Reality has a well-known liberal bias.
• Well, that didn't work out so great.
• Is the internet going to collapse?

We Have Rocks in Our Heads ... And Everywhere Else, Too

On the evolution and role of iron-sulfur complexes.

Some of the more persuasive ideas about the origin of life have it beginning in the rocks of hydrothermal vents. Here was a place with plenty of energy, interesting chemistry, and proto-cellular structures available to host it. Some kind of metabolism would by this theory have come first, followed by other critical elements like membranes and RNA coding/catalysis. This early earth lacked oxygen, so iron was easily available, not prone to oxidation as now. Thus life at this early time used many minerals in its metabolic processes, as they were available for free. Now, on today's earth, they are not so free, and we have complex processes to acquire and manage them. One of the major minerals we use is the iron-sulfur complex, (similar to pyrite), which comes in a variety of forms and is used by innumerable enzymes in our cells. 

The more common iron-sulfur complexes, with sulfur in yellow, iron in orange.

The principle virtue of the iron-sulfur complex is its redox flexibility. With the relatively electronically "soft" sulfur, iron forms semi-covalent-style bonds, while being able to absorb or give up an electron safely, without destroying nearby chemicals as iron alone typically does. Depending on the structure and liganding, the voltage potential of such complexes can be tuned all over the (reduction potential) map, from -600 to +400 mV. Many other cofactors and metals are used in redox reactions, but iron-sulfur is the most common by far.

Reduction potentials (ability to take up an electron, given an electrical push) of various iron-sulfur complexes.

Researchers had assumed that, given the abundance of these elements, iron-sulfur complexes were essentially freely acquired until the great oxidation event, about two to three billion years ago, when free oxygen started rising and free iron (and sulfur) disappeared, salted away into vast geological deposits. Life faced a dilemma- how to reliably construct minerals that were now getting scarce. The most common solution was a three enzyme system in mitochondria that 1) strips a sulfur from the amino acid cysteine, a convenient source inside cells, 2) scaffolds the construction of the iron-sulfur complex, with iron coming from carrier proteins such as frataxin, and 3) employs several carrier proteins to transfer the resulting complexes to enzymes that need them. 

But a recent paper described work that alters this story, finding archaeal microbes that live anaerobically and make do with only the second of these enzymes. A deep phylogenetic analysis shows that the (#2) assembly/scaffold enzymes are the core of this process, and have existed since the last common ancestor of all life. So they are incredibly ancient, and it turns out to that iron-sulfur complexes can not just be gobbled up from the environment, at least not by any reasonably advanced life form. Rather, these complexes need to be built and managed under the care of an enzyme.

The presented structures of the dimer of SmsB (orange) and SmsC (blue) that dimerize again to make up a full iron-sulfur scaffolding and production enzyme in the archaean Methanocaldococcus jannaschii. Note the reaction scheme where ATP comes in and evicts the iron-sulfur cluster. On right is shown how ATP fits into the structure, and how it nudges the iron-sulfur binding area (blue vs green tracing).

A recent paper from this group extended their analysis to the structure of the assembly/scaffold enzyme. They find that, though it is a symmetrical dimer of a complex of two proteins, it only deals with one iron-sulfur complex at at time. It also binds and cleaves ATP. But ATP seems to have more of an inhibitory role than one that stimulates assembly directly. The authors suggest that high levels of ATP signal that less iron-sulfur complex is needed to sustain the core electron transport chains of metabolism, making this ATP inhibition an allosteric feedback control mechanism in these archaeal cells. I might add, however, that ATP binding may well also have a role in extricating the assembled iron-sulfur cluster from the enzyme, as that complex is quite well coordinated, and could use a push to pop out into the waiting arms of target enzymes.

"These ancestral systems were kept in archaea whereas they went through stepwise complexification in bacteria to incorporate additional functions for higher Fe-S cluster synthesis efficiency leading to SUF, ISC and NIF." - That is, the three-component systems present in eukaryotes, which come in three types.

In the author's structure, the iron-sulfur complex, liganded by three cysteines within the SmsC protein. But note how, facing the viewer, the complex is quite exposed, ready to be taken up by some other enzyme that has a nice empty spot for it.

Additionally, these archaea, with this simple one-step iron cluster formation pathway, get their sulfur not from cysteine, but from ambient elemental sulfur. Which is possible, as they live only in anaerobic environments, such as deep sea hydrothermal vents. So they represent a primitive condition for the whole system as may have occurred in the last common ancestor of all life. This ancestor is located at the split between bacteria and archaea, so was a fully fledged and advanced cell, far beyond the earlier glimmers of abiogenesis, the iron sulfur world, and the RNA world.

• Triumph of stupidity and corruption.
• Oil fields are a mess.
• Homes are going nuts.
• But they should be getting closer.
• Gosh, there was a pedophilia ring after all.
• Who wants a concentration camp?

How do Anesthetics Work?

Ask a simple question, and get an answer that gets weirder the deeper you dig.

Anesthesia is wonderful. Quite simply, it makes bearable, even unnoticeable, what would be impossible or excruciating. It is also one of the most mysterious phenomena short of consciousness itself. All animals can be anesthetized, from bacteria on up. All sorts of chemicals can be used, from xenon to simple ethers, to complex fluoride-substituted forever chemicals, all with similar effects. Yet there are also complex sub-branches of anesthesia, like pain relief, muscular immobilization, shutdown of consciousness, and amnesia against remembering what happened, that chemicals affect differentially. It resembles sleep, and shares some circuitry with that process, but is of course is induced quite differently.

The first red herring was the Meyer–Overton rule, established back in 1899, that showed that anesthetic potency correlates closely with the lipophilicity of the chemical, from nitrogen (not very good) to xenon (pretty good) to chloroform (very good). All the forever (heavily fluorinated) chemicals used as modern anesthetics, like isoflurane and sevoflurane, have extremely high lipophilicity. This suggested that the mechanism of action was simply mixing into membranes somehow, altering their structure, and thus neuronal action.. something along that line. 

Structures of several general anesthetics. 8 is isoflurane.

But when researchers looked more closely there were some chemical differences that did not track with this hypothesis. Chiral enantiomers behaved differently in some cases, indicating that these chemicals do bind to something (that is, a protein) specifically. Also, variant genes started cropping up that conferred resistance to anesthesia or were found to bind particular anesthetics at working concentrations. Also, more complex, injectable anesthetics like fentanyl and propofol have slightly more defined targets and modes of action. So while anesthetics clearly partition to membranes, and the binding sites are often at protein-membrane interfaces, the modern theory of how they work is that they bind to ion channels and neurotransmitter receptors and affect their functions. Proteins generally have hydrophobic interiors, so the lipophilicity of these chemicals may track with binding / disrupting protein interiors as much as membrane interiors. And other proteins such as microtubules have been drawn into the discussion as well (leading indirectly to some very unfortunate theories about consciousness). 

But which key protein do they bind? Here again, mysteries abound, as they do not bind just one, but many. And not just that, they turn some of their targets on, others off. One target is the GABA receptor, which characterizes the major inhibitory neurons of the central nervous system. These are turned on. At high concentrations, anesthetics can even turn these receptors on without any GABA neurotransmitter present. Another is the NMDA receptor, which is the target of opioids, and of ketamine. These receptors are turned off. So, for some reason, still somewhat obscure, the net result of many specific bindings to an array of channels by an array of chemicals results in ... anesthesia.

A recent paper raised my interest in this area, as its authors demonstrated yet another target for inhaled anesthetics like isoflurane, and dove with exquisite detail into its mechanism. They were working on the ryanodine receptor, which isn't even a cell surface protein, but sits in the endoplasmic reticulum (or sarcoplasmic reticulum in muscles) and conducts calcium out of these organelles. This receptor is huge- the largest known- coding over five thousand amino acids (RYR1 of humans), due to numerous built-in regulatory structures. For example, it is sensitive to caffeine, but in a different location than where it is sensitive to isoflurane. Calcium is a very important signal within cells, key to muscle activity, and also to neuronal activation. The endoplasmic reticulum serves as a storehouse of calcium, from which signals can be sparked as needed by outside signals, including a spike in calcium itself (thus creating a positive feedback loop). These receptors (a family of three in human) are named for an obscure chemical (indeed a poison) that activates these channels, and all three are expressed in the brain. 

The authors were led to this receptor because mutations were known to cause malignant hyperthermia, a side effect of a few of the common anesthesia drugs where body temperature rises uncontrollably, driven from muscle tissue, where ryanodine receptors in the sarcoplasmic reticulum are particularly common and heavily used to regulate muscle activity and metabolism. That suggested that anesthetics such as isoflurane might bind to this receptor directly, turning it on. That was indeed the case. They started with cultured cells expressing each receptor family member in turn, and tested each receptor's response to isoflurane. Internal (cytoplasmic) calcium rose especially with the family member RYR1. That led to various control experiments and a hunt (by mutating and doctoring the RYR1 protein) for the particular region being bound by the anesthetic. After a lengthy search, they found residue 4000 was a critical one, as a mutation from methionine to phenylalanine reduced the isoflurane response about ten-fold. This is part of a binding pocket as shown below.

Structure of isoflurane, (B), bound to the RYR1 protein pocket. This is a pocket that happens to also bind another activator of this channel, 4-CMC. A layout of the whole active binding pocket is given on the right. At bottom are calcium channel responses of the wild-type and point mutant forms of RYR1, showing the dramatic effect these single site mutations have on isoflurane response.

Fine, but what about anesthesia? The next step was to test this mutation in whole mice, where, lo and behold, isoflurane anesthesia of otherwise normal mice was made slightly more difficult by this mutant form of RYR1. Additionally, these mice had no other observable problems- not in behavior, not in sleep. That is remarkable as a finding about anesthesia, but the effect was quite small- about 10% or so shift in the needed concentration of isoflurane. They go on to mention that this is similar in scale to knockouts or mutations in other known targets of anesthetic drugs:

• 10% shift in the curve from the M4000F mutation of RYR1
• 14% shift in the isoflurane curve from a mutation in GABA receptor, GABAAR.
• 5% shift in the isoflurane curve (though a 20% or more shift for halothane) for mutations in KCNK9, a potassium channel.

What this is telling us is that there are many targets for anesthetic drugs. They are spread over many neurotransmitter and physiological systems. They each contribute modestly (and variably, depending on the drug) to the net effect of any one drug. The various affected channels and membrane receptors curiously combine to achieve anesthesia across all animals and even microorganisms, which naturally also rely on channels and transmembrane receptors for their various sensing and motion activation needs. We are left with a blended hypothesis where yes, there are specific protein targets for each anesthetic that mediate their action. On the other hand, these targets are far from unique, spread across many proteins, yet are also highly conserved, looking almost like they are implicit in the nature of transmembrane proteins in general. 

One gets the distinct impression that there should be endogenous equivalents, as there are for opioids and cannabinoids- some internal molecule that provides sedation when needed, such as for deep illness or end-of-life crisis. That molecule has not yet been found, but the natural world abounds in sedatives, (alcohol is certainly one), so the logic of anesthesia becomes one of biological and evolutionary logic, as much as one of chemical mechanism.

• Jack Smith
• What is vice signaling?
• A do-nothing Friedman Fed, or a Trumpy Fed? It is hard to know which is worse. Or which we will get.

Lipid Pumps and Fatty Shields- Asymmetry in the Plasma Membrane

The two faces constituting eukaryotic cell membranes are asymmetric.

Membranes are one of those incredibly elegant things in biology. Simple chemicals forces are harnessed to create a stable envelope for the cell, with no need to encode the structure in complicated ways. Rather, it self-assembles, using the oil-vs-water forces of surface tension to form a huge structure with virtually no instruction. Eukaryotes decided to take membranes to the max, growing huge cells with an army of internal membrane-bound organelles, individually managed- each with its own life cycle and purposes.

Yet, there are complexities. How do proteins get into this membrane? How do they orient themselves? Does it need to be buttressed against rough physical insult, with some kind of outer wall? How do nutrients get across, while the internal chemistry is maintained as different from the outside? How does it choose which other cells to interact with, preventing fusion with some, but pursuing fusion with others? For all the simplicity of the basic structure, the early history of life had to come up with a lot of solutions to tough problems, before membrane management became such a snap that eukaryotes became possible.

The authors present their model (in atomic simulation) of a plasma membrane. Constituents are cholesterol, sphingomyelin (SM), phosphatidyl choline (PC) phosphatidyl serine (PS), phosphatidyl ethanolamine (PE), and phosphotidyl ethanolamine plasmalogen. Note how in this portrayal, there is far more cholesterol in the outer leaflet (top), facing the outside world, than there is in the inner leaflet (bottom).

The major constituents of the lipid bilayer are cholesterol, phospholipids, and sphingomyelin. The latter two have charged head groups and long lipid (fatty) tails. The head groups keep that side of the molecule (and the bilayer) facing water. The tails hate water and like to arrange themselves in the facing sheets that make up the inner part of the bilayer. Cholesterol, on the other hand, has only a mildly polar hydroxyl group at one end, and a very hydrophobic, stiff, and flat multi-ring body, which keeps strictly with the lipid tails. The lack of a charged head group means that cholesterol can easily flip between the bilayer leaflets- something that the other molecules with charged headgroups find very difficult. It has long been known that our genomes code for flippases and floppases: ATP-driven enzymes that can flip the charged phospholipids and sphingomyelin from one leaflet to the other. Why these enzymes exist, however, has been a conundrum.

Pumps that drive phospholipids against their natural equilibrium distribution, into one or the other leaflet.

It is not immediately apparent why it would be helpful to give up the natural symmetry and fluidity of the natural bilayer, and invest a lot of energy in keeping the compositions of each leaflet different. But that is the way it is. The outer leaflet of the plasma membrane tends to have more sphingomyelin and cholesterol, and the inner leaflet has more phospholipids. Additionally, those phospholipids tend to have unsaturated tails- that is, they have double bonds that break up the straight fatty tails that are typical in sphingomyelin. Membrane asymmetry has a variety of biological effects, especially when it is missing. Cells that lose their asymmetry are marked for cell suicide, intervention of the immune system, and also trigger coagulation in the blood. It is a signal that they have broken open or died. But these are doubtless later (maybe convenient) organismal consequences of universal membrane asymmetry. They do not explain its origin. 

A recent paper delved into the question of how and why this asymmetry happens, particularly in regard to cholesterol. Whether cholesterol even is asymmetric is controversial in the field, since measuring their location is very difficult. Yet these authors carefully show that, by direct measurement, and also by computer simulation, cholesterol, which makes up roughly forty percent of the membrane (its most significant single constituent, actually), is highly asymmetric in human erythrocyte membranes- about three fold more abundant in the outer leaflet than in the cytoplasmic leaflet. 

Cholesterol migrates to the more saturated leaflet. B shows a simulation where a poly-unstaturated (DAPC) phospholipid with 4 double bonds (blue) is contrasted with a saturated phospholipid (DPPC) with staight lipid tails (orange). In this simulation, cholesterol naturally migrates to the DPPC side as more DAPC is loaded, relieving the tension (and extra space) on the inner leaflet. Panel D shows that in real cells, scrambling the leaflet composition leads to greater cholesterol migration to the inner leaflet. This is a complex experiment, where the fluorescent signal (on the right-side graph) comes from a dye in an introduced cholesterol analog, which is FRET-quenched by a second dye that the experimenters introduced which is confined to the outer membrane. In the natural case (purple), signal is more quenched, since more cholesterol is in the outer leaflet, while after phospholipid scrambling, less quenching of the cholesterol signal is seen. Scrambling is verified (left side) by fluorescently marking the erythrocytes for Annexin 5, which binds to phosphatidylcholine, which is generally restricted to the inner leaflet. 

But no cholesterol flippase is known. Indeed, such a thing would be futile, since cholesterol equilibrates between the leaflets so rapidly. (The rate is estimated at milliseconds, in very rough terms.) So what is going on? These authors argue via experiment and chemical simulation that it is the pumped phospholipids that drive the other asymmetries. It is the straight lipid tails of sphingomyelin that attract the cholesterol, as a much more congenial environment than the broken/bent tails of the other phospholipids that are concentrated in the cytoplasmic leaflet. In turn, the cholesterol also facilitates the extreme phospholipid asymmetry. The authors show that without the extra cholesterol in the outer leaflet, bilayers of that extreme phospholipid composition break down into lipid globs.

When treated (time course) with a chemical that scrambles the plasma membrane leaflet lipid compositions, a test protein (top series) that normally (0 minutes) attaches to the inner leaflet floats off and distributes all over the cell. The bottom series shows binding of a protein (from outside these cells) that only binds phosphatidylcholine, showing that scrambling is taking place.

This sets up the major compositional asymmetry between the leaflets that creates marked differences in their properties. For example, the outer leaflet, due to the straight sphingomyelin tails and the cholesterol, is much stiffer, and packed much tighter, than the cytoplasmic leaflet. It forms a kind of shield against the outside world, which goes some way to explain the whole phenomenon. It is also almost twice as impermeable to water. Conversely, the cytoplasmic leaflet is more loosely packed, and indeed frequently suffers gaps (or defects) in its lipid integrity. This has significant consequences because many cellular proteins, especially those involved in signaling from the surface into the rest of the cytoplasm, have small lipid tails or similar anchors that direct them (temporarily) to the plasma membrane. The authors show that such proteins localize to the inner leaflet precisely because that leaflet has this loose, accepting structure, and are bound less well if the leaflets are scrambled / homogenized.

When the fluid mosaic model of biological membranes was first conceived, it didn't enter into anyone's head that the two leaflets could be so different, or that cells would have an interest in making them so. Sure, proteins in those membranes are rigorously oriented, so that they point in the right direction. But the lipids themselves? What for? Well, they do and now there are some glimmerings of reasons why. Whether this has implications for human disease and health is unknown, but just as a matter of understanding biology, it is deeply interesting.

• Who's the deep state now?
• Apparently, everything bad is down to secularism. 

When the Battery Goes Dead

How do mitochondria know when to die?

Mitochondria are the energy centers within our cells, but they are so much more. They are primordial bacteria that joined with archaea to collaborate in the creation of eukaryotes. They still have their own genomes, RNA transcription and protein translation. They play central roles in the life and death of cells, they divide and coalesce, they motor around the cell as needed, kiss other organelles to share membranes, and they can get old and die. When mitochondria die, they are sent to the great garbage disposal in the sky, the autophagosome, which is a vesicle that is constructed as needed, and joins with a lysosome to digest large bits of the cell, or of food particles from the outside.

The mitochondrion spends its life (only a few months) doing a lot of dangerous reactions and keeping an electric charge elevated over its inner membrane. It is this charge, built up from metabolic breakdown of sugars and other molecules, that powers the ATP-producing rotary enzyme. And the decline of this charge is a sign that the mitochondrion is getting old and tired. A recent paper described how one key sensor protein, PINK1, detects this condition and sets off the disposal process. It turns out that the membrane charge does not only power ATP synthesis, but it powers protein import to the mitochondrion as well. Over the eons, most of the mitochondrion's genes have been taken over by the nucleus, so all but a few of the mitochondrion's proteins arrive via import- about 1500 different proteins in all. And this is a complicated process, since mitochondria have inner and outer membranes, (just as many bacteria do), and proteins can be destined to any of these four compartments- in either membrane, in the inside (matrix), or in the inter-membrane space. 

Textbook representation of mitochondrial protein import, with a signal sequence (red) at the front (N-terminus) of the incoming protein (green), helping it bind successively to the TOM and TIM translocators. 

The outer membrane carries a protein import complex called TOM, while the inner membrane carries an import complex called TIM. These can dock to each other, easing the whole transport process. The PINK1 protein is a somewhat weird product of evolution, spending its life being synthesized, transported across both mitochondrial membranes, and then partially chopped up in the mitochondrial matrix before its remains are exported again and fully degraded. That is when everything is working correctly! When the mitochondrial charge declines, PINK1 gets stuck, threaded through TOM, but unable to transit the TIM complex. PINK1 is a kinase, which phosphorylates itself as well as ubiquitin, so when it is stuck, two PINK1 kinases meet on the outside of the outer membrane, activate each other, and ultimately activate another protein, PARKIN, whose name derives from its importance in parkinson's disease, which can be caused by an excess of defective mitochondria in sensitive tissues, specifically certain regions and neurons of the brain. PARKIN is a ubiquitin ligase, which attaches the degradation signal ubiquitin to many proteins on the surface of the aged mitochondrion, thus signaling the whole mess to be gobbled up by an autophagosome.

A data-rich figure 1 from the paper shows purification of the tagged complex (top), and then the EM structure at bottom. While the purification (B, C) show the presence of TIM subunits, they did not show up in the EM structures, perhaps becuase they were not stable enough or frequent enough in proportion to the TOM subunits. But the PINK1+TOM_VDAC2 structures are stunning, helping explain how PINK1 dimerized so easily when it translocation is blocked.

The current authors found that PINK1 had convenient cysteine residues that allowed it to be experimentally crosslinked in the paired state, and thus freeze the PARKIN-activating conformation. They isolated large amounts of such arrested complexes from human cells, and used electon microscopy to determine the structure. They were amazed to see, not just PINK1 and the associated TOM complex, but also VDAC2, which is the major transporter that lets smaller molecules easily cross the outer membrane. The TOM complexes were beautifully laid out, showing the front end (N-terminus) of PINK1 threaded through each TOM complex, specifically the TOM40 ring structure.

What was missing, unfortunately, was any of the TIM complex, though some TIM subunits did co-purify with the whole complex. Nor was PARKIN or ubiquitin present, leaving out a good bit of the story. So what is VDAC2 doing there? The authors really don't know, though they note that reactive oxygen byproducts of mitochondrial metabolism would build up during loss of charge, acting as a second signal of mitochondrial age. These byproducts are known to encourage dimerization of VDAC channels, which naturally leads by the complex seen here to dimerization and activation of the PINK1 protein. Additionally, VDACs are very prevalent in the outer membrane and prominent ubiquitination targets for autophagy signaling.

To actually activate PARKIN ubiquitination, PINK1 needs to dissociate again, a process that the authors speculate may be driven by binding of ubiquitin by PINK1, which might be bulky enough to drive the VDACs apart. This part was quite speculative, and the authors promise further structural studies to figure out this process in more detail. In any case, what is known is quite significant- that the VDACs template the joining of two PINK1 kinases in mid-translocation, which, when the inner membrane charge dies away, prompts the stranded PINK1 kinases to activate and start the whole disposal cascade. 

Summary figure from the authors, indicating some speculative steps, such as where the reactive oxygen species excreted by VDAC2 sensitise PINK1, perhaps by dimerizing the VDAC channel itself. And where ubiquitin binding by PINK1 and/or VDAC prompts dissociation, allowing PARKIN to come in and get activated by PINK1 and spread the death signal around the surface of the mitochondrion.

It is worth returning briefly to the PINK1 life cycle. This is a protein whose whole purpose, as far as we know, is to signal that mitochondria are old and need to be given last rites. But it has a curiously inefficient way of doing that, being synthesized, transported, and degraded continuously in a futile and wasteful cycle. Evolution could hardly have come up with a more cumbersome, convoluted way to sense the vitality of mitochondria. Yet there we are, doubtless trapped by some early decision which was surely convenient at the time, but results today in a constant waste of energy, only made possible by the otherwise amazingly efficient and finely tuned metabolic operations of PINK1's target, the mitochondrion.

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• Graph of the week- sea level over the last four million years.

Note that at the glacial maxima, sea levels were almost 500 feet (150 meters) lower than today. And today, we are hitting a 3 million year peak level.

How to Capture Solar Energy

Charge separation is handled totally differently by silicon solar cells and by photosynthetic organisms.

Everyone comes around sooner or later to the most abundant and renewable form of energy, which is the sun. The current administration may try to block the future, but solar power is the best power right now and will continue to gain on other sources. Likewise, life started by using some sort of geological energy, or pre-existing carbon compounds, but inevitably found that tapping the vast powers streaming in from the sun was the way to really take over the earth. But how does one tap solar energy? It is harder than it looks, since it so easily turns into heat and lost energy. Some kind of separation and control are required, to isolate the power (that is to say, the electron that was excited by the photon of light), and harness it to do useful work.

Silicon solar cells and photosynthesis represent two ways of doing this, and are fundamentally, even diametrically, different solutions to this problem. So I thought it would be interesting to compare them in detail. Silicon is a semiconductor, torn between trapping its valence electrons in silicon atoms, or distributing them around in a conduction band, as in metals. With elemental doping, silicon can be manipulated to bias these properties, and that is the basis of the solar cell.

Schematic of a silicon solar cell. A static voltage exists across the N-type to P-type boundary, sweeping electrons freed by the photoelectric effect (light) up to the conducting electrode layer.

Solar cells have one side doped to N status, and the bulk set to P doping status. While the bulk material is neutral on both sides, at the boundary, a static charge scheme is set up where electrons are attracted into the P-side, and removed from the N-side. This static voltage has very important effects on electrons that are excited by incoming light and freed from their silicon atoms. These high energy electrons enter the conduction band of the material, and can migrate. Due to the prevailing field, they get swept towards the N side, and thus are separated and can be siphoned off with wires. The current thus set up can exert a pressure of about 0.6 volt. That is not much, nor is it equivalent to the 2 to 3 electron volts received from each visible photon. So a great deal of energy is lost as heat.

Solar cells do not care about capturing each energized electron in detail. Their purpose is to harvest a bulk electrical voltage + current with which to do some work in our electrical grids. Photosynthesis takes an entirely different approach, however. This may be mostly for historical and technical reasons, but also because part of its purpose is to do chemical work with the captured electrons. Biology tends to take a highly controlling approach to chemistry, using precise shapes, functional groups, and electrical environments to guide reactions to exact ends. While some of the power of photosynthesis goes toward pumping protons out of the membrane, setting up a gradient later used to make ATP, about half is used for other things like splitting water to replace lost electrons, and making reducing chemicals like NADPH.

A portion of a poster about the core processes of photosynthesis. It provides a highly accurate portrayal of the two photosystems and their transactions with electrons and protons.

In plants, photosynthesis is a chain of processes focused around two main complexes, photosystems I and II, and all occurring within membranes- the thylakoid membranes of the chloroplast. Confusingly, photosystem II comes first, accepting light, splitting water, pumping some protons, and sending out a pair of electrons on mobile plastoquinones, which eventually find their way to photosystem I, which jacks up their energy again using another quantum of light, to produce NADPH. 

Photosystem II is full of chlorophyll pigments, which are what get excited by visible photons. But most of them are "antenna" chlorophylls, passing the excitation along to a pair of centrally located chlorophylls. Note that the light energy is at this point passed as a molecular excitation, not as a free electron. This passage may happen by Förster resonance energy transfer, but is so fast and efficient that stronger Redfield coupling may be involved as well. Charge separation only happens at the reaction center, where an excited electron is popped out to a chain of recipients. The chlorophylls are organized so that the pair at the reaction center have a slightly lower energy of excitation, thus serve as a funnel for excitation energy from the antenna system. These transfers are extremely rapid, on the picosecond time scale.

It is interesting to note tangentially that only red light energy is used. Chlorophylls have two excitation states, excited by red light (680 nm = 1.82 eV) and blue light (400-450 nm, 2.76 eV) (note the absence of green absorbance). The significant extra energy from blue light is wasted, radiated away to let it (the excited electron) relax to the lower excitation state, which is then passed though the antenna complex as though it had come from red light. 

Charge separation is managed precisely at the photosystem II reaction center through a series of pigments of graded energy capacity, sending the excited electron first to a neighboring chlorophyll, then to a pheophytin, then to a pair of iron-coordinated quinones, which then pass two electrons to a plastoquinone that is released to the local membrane, to float off to the cytochrome b6f complex. In photosystem II, another two photons of light are separately used to power the splitting of one water molecule, (giving two electrons and pumping two protons). So the whole process, just within photosystem II, yields, per four light quanta, four protons pumped from one side of the membrane to the other. Since the ATP sythetase uses about three protons per ATP, this nets just over one ATP per four photons. 

Some of the energetics of photosystem II. The orientations and structures of the reaction center paired chlorophylls (Pd1, Pd2), the neighboring chlorophyll (Chl), and then the pheophytin (Ph) and quinones (Qa, Qb) are shown in the inset. Energy of the excited electron is sacrifice gradually to accomplish the charge separation and channeling, down to the final quinone pairing, after which the electrons are released to a plastoquinone and send to another complex in the chain.

So the principles of silicon and biological solar cells are totally different in detail, though each gives rise to a delocalized field, one of electrons flowing with a low potential, and the other of protons used later for ATP generation. Each energy system must have a way to pop off an excited electron in a controlled, useful way that prevents it from recombining with the positive ion it came from. That is why there is such an ornate conduction pathway in photosystem II to carry that electron away. Overall, points go to the silicon cell for elegance and simplicity, and we in our climate crisis are the beneficiaries, if we care to use it. 

But the photosynthetic enzymes are far, far older. A recent paper pointed out that no only are photosystems II and I clearly cousins of each other, but it is likely that, contrary to the consensus heretofore, photosystem II is the original version, at least of the various photosystems that currently exist. All the other photosystems (including those in bacteria that lack oxygen stripping ability) carry traces of the oxygen evolving center. It makes sense that getting electrons is a fundamental part of the whole process, even though that chemistry is quite challenging. 

That in turn raises a big question- if oxygen evolving photosystems are primitive (originating very roughly with the last common ancestor of all life, about four billion years ago) then why was earth's atmosphere oxygenated only from two billion years ago onward? It had been assumed that this turn in Earth history marked the evolution of photosystem II. The authors point out additionally that there is also evidence for the respiratory use of oxygen from these extremely early times as well, despite the lack of free oxygen. Quite perplexing, (and the authors decline to speculate), but one gets the distinct sense that possibly life, while surprisingly complex and advanced from early times, was not operating at the scale it does today. For example, colonization of land had to await the buildup of sufficient oxygen in the atmosphere to provide a protective ozone layer against UV light. It may have taken the advent of eukaryotes, including cyanobacterial-harnessing plants, to raise overall biological productivity sufficiently to overcome the vast reductive capacity of the early earth. On the other hand, speculation about the evolution of early life based on sequence comparisons (as these authors do) is notoriously prone to artifacts, since what evolves at vanishingly slow rates today (such as the photosystem core proteins) must have originally evolved at quite a rapid clip to attain the functions now so well conserved. We simply can not project ancient ages (at the four billion year time scales) from current rates of change.

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The Origin of Life

What do we know about how it all began? Will we ever know for sure?

Of all the great mysteries of science, the origin of life is maybe the one least likely to ever be solved. It is a singular event that happened four billion years ago in a world vastly different from ours. Scientists have developed a lot of ideas about it and increased knowledge of this original environment, but in the end, despite intense interest, the best we will be able to do is informed speculation. Which is, sure, better than uninformed speculation, (aka theology), but still unsatisfying. 

A recent paper about sugars and early metabolism (and a more fully argued precursor) piqued my interest in this area. It claimed that there are non-enzymatic ways to generate most or all of the core carbohydrates of glycolysis and CO2 fixation around pentose sugars, which are at the core of metabolism and the supply of sugars like ribose that form RNA, ATP, and other key compounds. The general idea is that at the very beginning of life, there were no enzymes and proteins, so our metabolism is patterned on reactions that originally happened naturally, with some kind of kick from environmental energy sources and mineral catalysts, like iron, which was very abundant. 

That is wonderful, but first, we had better define what we mean by life, and figure out what the logical steps are to cross this momentous threshold. Life is any chemical process that can accomplish Darwinian evolution. That is, it replicates in some fashion, and it has to encode those replicated descendants in some way that is subject to mutation and selection. With those two ingredients, we are off to the races. Without them, we are merely complex minerals. Crystals replicate, sometimes quite quickly, but they do not encode descendent crystals in a way that is complex at all- you either get the parent crystal, or you get a mess. This general theory is why the RNA world hypothesis was, and remains, so powerful. 

The RNA world hypothesis is that RNA is likely the first genetic material, before DNA (which is about 200 times more stable) was devised. RNA also has catalytic capabilities, so it could encode in its own structure some of the key mechanisms of life, therefore embodying both of the critical characteristics of life specified above. The fact that some key processes remain catalyzed by RNA today, such as ribosomal synthesis of proteins, spliceosomal re-arrangement of RNAs, and cutting of RNAs by RNAse P, suggest that proteins (as well as DNA) were the Johnny-come-latelies of the chemistry of life, after RNA had, in its lumbering, inefficient way, blazed the trail. 

In this image of the ribosome, RNA is gray, proteins are yellow. The active site is marked with a bright light. Which came first here-
protein or RNA?

But what kind of setting would have been needed for RNA to appear? Was metabolism needed? Does genetics come first, or does metabolism come first? If one means a cyclic system of organic transformations encoded by protein or RNA enzymes, then obviously genetics had to come first. But if one means a mess of organic chemicals that allowed some RNA to be made and provide modest direction to its own chemical fate, and to a few other reactions, then yes, those chemicals had to come first. A great deal of work has been done speculating what kind of peculiar early earth conditions might have been conducive to such chemistries. Hydrothermal vents, with their constant input of energy, and rich environment of metallic catalysts? Clay particles, with their helpful surfaces that can faux-crystalize formation of RNAs? Warm ponds, hot ponds, UV light.... the suggestions are legion. The main thing to realize is that early earth was surely highly diverse, had a lot of energy, and had lots of carbon, with a CO2-rich atmosphere. UV would have created a fair amount of carbon monoxide, which is the feedstock of the Fischer-Tropsch reactions that create complex organic compounds, including lipids, which are critical for formation of cells. Early earth very likely had pockets that could produce abundant complex organic molecules.

Thus early life was surely heterotrophic, taking in organic chemicals that were given by the ambient conditions for free. And before life really got going, there was no competition- there was nothing else to break those chemicals down, so in a sort of chemical pre-Darwinian setting, life could progress very slowly (though RNA has some instability in water, so there are limits). Later, when some of the scarcer chemicals were eaten up by other already-replicating life forms, then the race was on to develop those enzymes, of what we now recognize as metabolism, which could furnish those chemicals out of more common ingredients. Onwards the process then went, hammering out ever more extensive metabolic sequences to take in what was common and make what was precious- those ribose sugars, or nucleoside rings that originally had arrived for free. The first enzymes would have been made of RNA, or metals, or whatever was at hand. It was only much later that proteins, first short, then longer, came on the scene as superior catalysts, extensively assisted by metals, RNAs, vitamins, and other cofactors.

Where did the energy for all this come from? To cross the first threshold, only chemicals (which embodied outside energy cycles) were needed, not energy. Energy requirements accompanied the development of metabolism, as the complex chemicals become scarcer and they needed to be made internally. Only when the problem of making complex organic chemicals from simpler ones presented itself did it also become important to find some separate energy source to do that organic chemistry. Of course, the first complex chemicals absolutely needed were copies of the original RNA molecules. How that process was promoted, through some kind of activated intermediates, remains particularly unclear.

All this happened long before the last universal common ancestor, termed "LUCA", which was already an advanced cell just prior to the split into the archaeal and bacterial lineages, (much later to rejoin to create the most amazing form of life- eukaryotes). There has been quite a bit of analysis of LUCA to attempt to figure out the basic requirements of life, and what happened at the origin. But this ("top-down") approach is not useful. The original form of life was vastly more primitive, and was wholly re-written in countless ways before it became the true bacterial cell, and later still, LUCA. Only the faintest traces remain in our RNA-rich biochemistry. Just think about the complexity of the ribosome as an RNA catalyst, and one can appreciate the ragged nature of the RNA world, which was probably full of similar lumbering catalysts for other processes, each inefficient and absurdly wasteful of resources. But it could reproduce in Darwinian fashion, and thus it could improve. 

Today we find on earth a diversity of environments, from the bizarre mineral-driven hydrothermal vents under the ocean to the hot springs of Yellowstone. The geology of earth is wondrously varied, making it quite possible to credit one or more of the many theories of how complex organic molecules may have become a "soup" somewhere on the early Earth. When that soup produces ribose sugars and the other rudiments of RNA, we have the makings of life. The many other things that have come to characterize it, such as lipid membranes and metabolism of compounds are fundamentally secondary, though critically important for progress beyond that so-pregnant moment. 

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