While I like to consider myself an honest person, I've realized lately that I'm often dishonest with myself. If a near-stranger were to ask me about my fears or my childhood, I'd hardly hesitate before answering with the truth. I've never been one to fear saying too much. The trick, that I've noticed recently, is that I've left a backdoor open. I consider myself honest so long as I believe the truth of what I'm saying, but there remains a subtle caveat: my own thoughts are not always reflective of what I mean. Let me explain.

I tell myself I love to write, and I do. I also tell myself that I would write more if only I had the time and, here I am over fall break, doing nearly everything but the writing I've supposedly been wanting to do. So I sit at my table, I tell myself to make a plan to write, to schedule it all out and my hand does not move toward my pen.

Ringing through my ears is the silence of denial. In sticking so steadfastly to this old truth that I love to write, I've stopped allowing myself all the room to negotiate with how that might change by the day. Rather than tapping into how I'm really feeling, as one might feel for the pull of hunger or thirst, I've simply told myself the way it is: you want to be a writer, so you love to write; so, at every instance, you must love it, otherwise what will you be?

Ancient pillars of self-truth, I've found, run the danger of becoming straw men in me. In rhetoric, the straw man is a false promise, an intentionally miswrought proposition that is mounted on the stand when someone has nothing better to say. Rather than admit defeat, the opponent must face the straw man. No matter that they are fighting thin air. Rather than ask myself why I don't want to write right now, I force myself to stay seated and stare at my screen, willing the desire to find me.

Call it a heuristic or a Johari window, but I've stuck perhaps too strongly to the idea that I know who I am. Growing up, it felt like the biggest compliment to be the child that knew what she wanted from life, the student who was always working toward something. I was a little morally scrupulous at a young age and always wanted to ensure that I was becoming the person I'd set out to be. I'd ask myself, before any action, if what I was about to do really aligned with the values I wanted to cultivate as a person. To do that required that I know the values I wanted to one day possess, so I set them out as pillars before I hit double-digits: loyalty, honesty, empathy, kindness, humility. I worked so hard to act only in the ways that would set me down the path of the person I wanted to become. From this, I wanted, more than anything, to act with intention. To retain autonomy in everything that I did. Somewhere along the way, this fierce want for will tumbled in the opposite direction.

I think the danger of certainty is that it can block off the nuanced present. Shouting to myself that I love to write muffles my ability to understand how I actually feel; rather than noticing the burnout, the growing headache, my scarce nutrition, I demand that I perform the person I believe I should be. This is not unique to writing. There are so many beliefs - I'm learning, as I'm learning to learn this - that have gone unquestioned for too long. And, oftentimes, the beliefs themselves aren't the problem but my misplaced certainty in them. Too quickly, knowing who I am has morphed into knowing who I think I should be, which, unchecked, gains the power to wall off the person I'm becoming.

Opening my senses to my present, I am still faced with the knowledge that I love to write. But what I want to do isn't map out a storyboard for some novel I conceptualized months ago. I want to play music loudly through my headphones and draft poetry. I'd rather work on a new story today than an old one.

These pillars of self-concept are not without importance and certainty is not the enemy. But when heuristics cut in the line of feeling, I try now to take notice. There is no pillar so worth defending that I lose myself in the process, and there will be no finding myself if I don't get a little lost along the way.

​​Kaitlin Tan is a senior from Manila, Philippines, majoring in Writing Seminars and Cognitive Science. She is the Voices Editor for The News-Letter. In her column, she tries to parse through the everyday static for something to hold onto.

The first time I feel the freshman blues, it's 7 p.m. in Baltimore, but 5 a.m. back home. My phone lights up with a text from my mom. It's nothing fancy, just a photo of her standard morning cup of chai (tea). She has always been an early riser. I know she doesn't expect a reply. She just wants me to see something familiar, to be reminded of what home feels like.

The second time I feel it is when I FaceTime my dad. He's lit up the Diwali lights along the balcony, strings of yellow and gold shimmering against the darkness. The call is grainy; the Wi-Fi keeps cutting out, but I can still hear the celebration behind him: neighbors talking, firecrackers hissing, a radio playing an old 70s song. Here, it's just another cold fall night in Baltimore. The distance suddenly feels enormous.

When your family lives in a different time zone, you learn to measure Home not by distance, but by hours. I've learned that "good morning" can arrive when the sky outside my dorm is pitch black, and "how was your day?" might come before mine has even begun. There's a strange intimacy in it, this time-delayed love. The moments overlap just enough to remind you that somewhere, someone you love is thinking of you, even if you can't quite occupy the same moment in time.

At first, I tried to fight the clock. I'd stay up late for calls, skip meals to catch a friend online, keep two clocks running on my desk like I could somehow live in both places at once. But the truth is, you can't. You learn to let time do its thing - to stretch, to warp, to create space between where you are and where you came from.

But sometimes, the guilt slips in. Like the night I couldn't call my sister in time because I had fallen asleep, exhausted after studying in Gilman until my brain was numb. For years, it was our small tradition: wishing her good luck before every exam, my way of being the older sibling from afar. Missing it feels heavier than I'd expected.

There's a loneliness that settles into the corners of your day when you live out of sync with home. You walk back from class at dusk, and the campus glows with the warmth of students and academia: people laughing outside Mudd, friends heading to the FFC for dinner. And yet, in that same moment, you know your parents are just starting their morning. You imagine the kettle whistling, the smell of breakfast, the faint clatter of spoons against mugs. Life continues there as it does here, but you exist somewhere in between.

I used to think homesickness was about missing a place. But really, it's about missing a time. It means learning to miss things quietly. You miss family dinners that happen while you're in class, holidays that fall on a Tuesday midterm, and the joy of existing in the same moment as the people you love. It also means learning how to build a new sense of belonging in this borrowed hour, a new home for yourself in a college town that wakes up when your family is falling asleep.

That's the hardest part about distance: it teaches you to live with unfinished moments. There will always be calls you miss, messages you reply to too late and celebrations you only see through a screen. But above it all, you learn to live with forgiveness. Forgiveness of self and others, because at the end of the day, everyone is trying to tell their story. Because being far away doesn't mean you're any less present in the lives of the people who matter.

In the evenings, I walk back from Gilman, I stand outside AMR III, watching the sunset. I'll watch the sky shift to the same shade of orange I know my parents are seeing, 10 hours ahead. For a brief second, the world feels folded in half, and time zones don't matter. I'm home, and I'm here. All at once.

Samika Jain is a freshman from Mumbai, India, majoring in Molecular and Cellular Biology. Her column holds onto things she probably should've forgotten by now, but she writes them anyway.

Fifteen minutes a day. That's it. After that time elapses - whether it's all at once or in smaller, two minute segments - a gray hourglass fills up my screen and white sand trickles through. No more scrolling for today.

Usually, at this point, I would turn off my phone. Nevertheless, I haven't been perfect about upholding my daily Instagram limit. There are times where my thumb hovers over the "Fifteen more minutes" button, while I tell myself, "a few more minutes of relaxation can't hurt." None of us are well-oiled machines, and downtime is necessary. Descending into the infinite rabbit hole of Reels provides the break I crave after a long Friday lab section or an exam - whether it's smiling at a funny meme, relishing the nostalgia of an old movie soundtrack or feeling touched by the occasional motivational video.

Instagram hasn't been a part of my life for that long. I only downloaded it toward the tail end of my senior year in high school, with the goal of staying up to date with campus life at Hopkins and connecting with fellow incoming students. However, I soon found myself falling into the trap of scrolling: laughing at a video of a golden retriever learning tricks from his caretaker or a string of skits satirizing the ups and downs of college life that either my friends liked or the algorithm curated for my feed. In those moments, it feels like I'm a part of something bigger than myself as I forward the same video to a friend or save it to a personal collection. Yet the Reels I scroll through blend together, becoming a blur and fading from memory a few hours later.

I've told myself that swiping through Reels can provide inspiration for my own work, especially in the realm of creative writing and making short videos. This is true to an extent, though I've found myself navigating a web of content put out by creators documenting early adulthood - losing bits of my voice there as I gravitate toward the posts that have attracted the most views and likes (after all, doesn't more engagement equate to "better" content - whatever better means?).

Plowing through short-form videos became the easier, more accessible choice when it comes to truly feeling recharged. Even though I don't open Instagram with the intent of doomscrolling, the fast-paced content provides a speedy dopamine rush, sometimes edging out meaningful forms of enjoyment. Prior to using Instagram, I found relaxation in turning the pages of a suspenseful novel - letting the words on the page morph into scenes carved out by my mind or in doodling on scraps of paper, letting my hand glide across the smooth page.

Or I would read an article or watch a long-form, and therefore more memorable, video on YouTube, either for pure entertainment, education or a combination of the two. These moments provided the space to get lost in a story or exercise my creativity, allowing for a genuine escape from my usual, fast-paced routines. I still find joy from all this, but finding something worth savoring has become more difficult than opening Instagram to a swarm of Reels, where one is guaranteed to resonate, even if just for a few seconds.

Ultimately, setting the Instagram time limit has helped me be more intentional with my time, returning to the simplicities embedded in the world around me. My time spent curled up in my chair with a good article or outside - strolling around campus and feeling the breeze tickle my skin - feels more refreshing. I've realized that scanning through people's Instagram stories or posts doesn't matter that much. While contributing to the flurries of likes and comments provided a temporary illusion of closeness, face-to-face conversations and the sound of laughter in real life remain etched in my mind for a longer time.

Each time the hourglass appears on my screen, I'm faced with a decision: to continue scrolling or slip my phone into my back pocket. These split seconds of sand falling to the bottom of the hourglass often provide just enough time for me to lift my thumb from the screen, and instead of succumbing to a small, but tempting craving, I become better at choosing myself.

Sareena Naganand is a sophomore from Piscataway, New Jersey majoring in Biomedical Engineering. Her column, "The Daily Chai," is about finding happiness in simple, insignificant moments: the kind that makes us smile, wrapping around us like the warmth that comes from drinking a cup of tea.

In 1951, without her knowledge or consent, doctors at Hopkins Hospital took cells from Lacks, a woman receiving treatment for cervical cancer. Those cells, later known as HeLa cells, became one of the most important tools in biomedical research, contributing to vaccines, cancer treatments and gene mapping. Yet, for decades, neither Lacks nor her family knew that her biological material had been immortalized and commercialized across the world.

The story of Lacks' cells raises ethical questions about consent and ownership in biomedical research, issues that Crichton explores fictionally.

Crichton's novel Next acts as an exploration into the ethics of biomedical research, asking the question "to what extent does science serve humanity, and when does it begin to exploit it?" Through a blend of satire and speculative fiction, Crichton crafts a world where innovation and exploitation blur beyond recognition.

The novel's premise revolves around the commodification of human biology - the idea that genes can be patented, sold and litigated over. The vision mirrors real-world controversies surrounding ownership of biological material, such as the case of Henrietta Lacks.

At its core, Next functions as a mirror to hold the scientific establishment accountable, encouraging readers to consider whether scientific innovations truly serve the public good or if they are primarily justified by capitalistic gain.

Central to the novel is the Burnet case, a man whose cells (which were taken during treatment for leukemia, much like Henrietta Lacks' cells) are later discovered to contain a gene capable of producing life-saving treatments and groundbreaking medical therapies. Without his knowledge, his tissues are patented, and his genetic material becomes corporate property. The courtroom debate that then follows (though fictionalized) reads like an extension of real bioethical discourse.

Crichton's critique of the biotechnology industry is based on how new genetic technologies changed the purpose of biology itself. Instead of simplifying study life, biology became a tool for profit and into an industrial science. The novel was published in 2006, a moment when the Human Genome Project had just completed and biotech patents were proliferating.

At that time, over 20% of the human genome was under some form of patent claim, allowing companies to control research access to genetic sequences. In 2013, the Supreme Court's decision in Association for Molecular Pathologists v. Myriad Genetics ruled that naturally occurring human genes cannot be patented, which fundamentally reshaped the legal landscape of research. Despite this, Next is an illustration of the dangerous precedent in the mid-2000s: the privatization of genetic commons and the ability to stifle innovation with intellectual property later.

This concern is directly echoed in Moore v. Regents of the University of California, a case from 1990 where a patient's cells were commercialized without consent (much like Burnet's in Next). This situation parallels, but differs from, the use of HeLa cells, as Moore's case involved explicit commercialization and legal disputes over ownership rather than secrecy. The court ruled that individuals would not retain property rights over discarded tissues, setting a precedent that shaped future debates about genetic ownership. Crichton thus fictionalizes this logic to expose its moral absurdity.

Although we are unsure if Crichton took inspiration from this case in particular, his narrative clearly engages with the same ethical questions it raised: who owns biological material and at what point does scientific progress cross into exploitation? The novel's exaggerated legal battles in dramatized courtroom scenes exaggerate the legal and ethical absurdities of this system, turning real-world tensions into a biting critique of biotechnology's entanglement with profit.

At Hopkins, this ethical dilemma is not abstract. The story of Henrietta Lacks embodies the same tension that Crichton dramatizes. While HeLa cells were the first "immortal" human line, the case demonstrated a structural blindness to research ethics.

The language of "innovation" and "discovery" can obscure a deeper truth. Crichton warns that as biotechnology advances, ethical questions don't disappear, but evolve. When genome sequencing costs less than a college textbook, the temptation to commodify science intensifies. The question is no longer can we manipulate nature, but whether we can do so ethically.

To define quantum mechanical tunneling, the basis of the complex world of quantum must be understood: particles are located not as a point but as a probability of its position. Schrodinger's equation establishes that there exists a probability that a particle will pass through a barrier even without sufficient energy. Quantum tunnelling is that exact effect, where particles go right through a seemingly impenetrable barrier. In the human world, that would be like walking through a wall, or even appearing on the other side of the wall in an instant. A regular particle with no quantum properties would never be able to do that. But in the quantum world, there's a probability that a particle will leak right through a barrier, as if it teleported over, due to the definition that they are located by a probability of position.

A previous Nobel Prize had been awarded in the 1973 for the discovery of quantum tunneling of single particles, which inspired foundations for quantum computers and was used in creating devices like scanning tunneling microscopes, but it was too microscopic to have larger, more impactful applications. The research published by Clarke, Devoret and Martinis back in 1985 received its recognition for the discovery of the quantum tunneling effect for not just single particles, but collections of particles, or more specifically, currents consisting of millions of electrons. That is macroscopic compared to the single particles found tunnelling before.

With the discovery of quantum mechanical tunnelling on this macroscopic level, many advancements can be made in the technology and scientific industries. Quantum computers are one of the most well-known applications of quantum physics known for their ability to complete certain tasks a regular computer can't in fractions of seconds. Applications of quantum mechanical tunneling of currents can help further improve the performance of these computers in complex calculations. In addition to that, there are potential applications of this discovery in several modern quantum technologies, including quantum cryptography for highly secure communication and quantum simulations used for modeling complex medical, chemical and biological systems. These technologies may become highly demanded by industries ranging from semiconductor production to high finance and logistics management. With this discovery, the door to a new era of innovation and efficiency driven by the principles of quantum mechanics is opened.

In an email to The News-Letter, physics major at the Whiting School of Engineering Peter Seelman expressed his excitement and thoughts regarding this announcement.

"Having just given a presentation on the math behind the prize for a physics class, it still feels like magic, but it's justified magic," he wrote. "The laureates ran experiments that took this quantum phenomenon and expressed it in a macroscopic circuit large enough to be held in your hand. I love physics because it's the study of the magic behind the universe, and experiments like these that examine the 'why' and the 'how' of that magic are doubtless worthy of this great honor."

Friday

Maryland Irish Festival, Maryland State Fairgrounds, 2200 York Rd., Timonium, 6-11 p.m.

The 51st annual Maryland Irish Festival kicks off the weekend with live Irish music, traditional dancing, cultural exhibits and plenty of food and drink inside the Cow Palace at the State Fairgrounds. This indoor celebration of Irish culture features dozens of local vendors and workshops, all supporting charitable causes across Maryland. Tickets are $18 for general admission on Friday.

Saturday

Oyfest 2025, Union Craft Brewing, 1700 W. 41st St., 12-5 p.m.

Union Craft Brewing's annual oyster festival returns with all you can eat oysters, live music and local beer to benefit the Oyster Recovery Partnership. Guests can meet regional oyster farmers, enjoy sets from King Cole and Afternoon Delight and cheer on contestants in Baltimore's famous oyster eating contest. Tickets are $10 in advance or $12 at the door, with food and drinks sold separately.

Patterson Park BrewFest, Patterson Park, 2601 E. Baltimore St., 12-4:30 p.m.

Patterson Park BrewFest brings together more than 40 local breweries along with food trucks, live music and neighborhood favorites. The event supports Friends of Patterson Park and celebrates one of Baltimore's most beloved green spaces. Tickets start at $23.18.

Sunday

Puppets Fight Back!, Le Mondo, 406 N. Howard St., 7:30-9:30 p.m.

The performance series Puppets Fight Back! returns to Le Mondo for its third and wildest edition yet, featuring puppetry, drag, burlesque and live music to benefit the Piscataway Land Trust. The lineup includes local favorites like Ollie Goss, MANiC! and Hunny Du Bunns, along with pop-ups from Ojos Magnificos and No Name Plant Collective. Tickets are $15 in advance or $20 at the door.

Extreme Heat: Panel & Closing Reception, 116 W. Mulberry St., 3:30-5 p.m.

The Extreme Heat exhibit closes with a panel featuring Baltimore City public officials Erica Pinket and Michelle "Shelly" Smith, alongside work by artists who collaborated with Hopkins researchers studying climate impacts. The discussion explores how art and science intersect to address rising urban temperatures. Admission is free.

Nov. 8, 2025

9:41 a.m.

An email from Hopkins Rave Alert stated that the active fire in the area of 23rd and Sisson Street ended, and the area is all clear.

Nov. 7, 2025

4:10 p.m.

An affiliate of The News-Letter near the fire reported some palm-sized pieces of debris visible in the air at the Wyman Park Building and on the ground along Howard Street. Face masks were handed to people in the area to mitigate the effects of the smoke.

3:17 p.m.

Students in proximity of the fire reported receiving an alert calling on everyone in the area to leave immediately.

2:58 p.m.

In an email sent to affiliates in Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering, the department updated students and faculty on current instructions and guidelines regarding working indoors.

"At this time, we have not been instructed to evacuate, and it remains safe to continue working indoors. Please be aware that individuals who are sensitive to smoke may experience irritation or coughing. If you are affected, you may use your discretion to complete your essential work and leave early today," the department wrote.

2:37 p.m.

In an interview with The News-Letter, senior Shaan Shabbir recalled his experience with the fire after commuting back from the School of Medicine.

"After I got off the JHMI, I started smelling smoke, and after walking to my apartment, I saw a heavy load of smoke, followed by swarms of messages about the fire. One of my friends mentioned how he needed to use his inhaler. For me, this was quite shocking, even though I'm used to fires from California. I never expected to experience something like this," Shabbir commented.

2:25 p.m.

A fire was reported to continue at 2230 Hampden Ave.

In a statement to The News-Letter, the University confirmed that Public Safety is aware of the situation, recommending all students to follow any upcoming RAVE alert emails.

"Public safety is aware [of the situation], and they may have additional updates later. In the meantime, people should follow public safety directions from the RAVE alerts," a University spokesperson wrote. "While this is not a Hopkins building, given the location and proximity, it is a great concern to our community."

2:07 p.m.

Students across the Homewood campus have reported their first-hand experience with the fire. In buildings, students have reported being relocated from smoke-filled areas to adjacent classrooms. A student in Krieger Hall expressed that their room was filled with smoke, but they were told to move rather than canceling class.

In an interview with The News-Letter, sophomore Ziyan Liu explained how the fire interrupted her class, Research Methods in Psychology.

"We were in section when we smelled burning, and concerned, our professor called public safety, who told us to stay put and they [would] send someone to investigate. Later, we were moved from [Krieger] to Ames, but the smoke was just as bad," she wrote. "While I appreciate how highly education is valued at [Hopkins], I am concerned that sometimes the health and well-being of students are not prioritized."

The News-Letter continues to document the fire from the Wyman Park Building.

2:02 p.m.

The Baltimore City Fire Department (BCFD) confirmed on an X post that the firefighters are working to take the fire under control.

"BCFD is currently on the scene of an active fire at the 400 block of W 23rd Street," the department wrote. "Crews are working diligently to contain the blaze and ensure the safety of all individuals involved. Please avoid the area and updates will be provided as they are available."

Baltimore City firefighters have since evacuated the building and nearby areas. The Maryland Transit Administration has detoured buses heading to the area until 5 p.m.

No injuries or damages have been specified at this time.

One student, junior Nia Barkley, discussed her perspective on the fire as a student who resides close to the incident.

"The fire is super [dangerous, and] I'm nervous for those who suffer from asthma, weak lungs, and children. I pray that God will protect everyone in the surrounding area," she wrote.

1:52 p.m.

Allegedly due to a propane tank explosion, a three-alarm fire broke out in a commercial building in Remington, West 23rd St., North Baltimore - 2230 Hampden Ave. In an interview with The News-Letter, students living in Nine East 33rd reported witnessing a "giant black explosion" and smoke clouds. One of these students, senior Sarp Kayabas, expressed his concern.

"I just watched it blow over the whole campus," he said.

The News-Letter documented the fumes arising from the fire from the Wyman Park Building.

When analyzing genetic data, one of the main principles to consider is that two individuals will always share a common ancestor. That is to say, if two individuals' inherited alleles are traced far back enough, they will eventually coalesce at a common ancestor. The presence of such ancestral individuals existing for any sample shows the effects of behaviors like survival, migration, mating and reproduction on the human genome.

Ramachandran highlighted that genes were more scattered in the recent past than would be anticipated by classic models - potentially the impact of increased migrations, mixing and other population changes that alter natural evolution as a result of human influences like colonialism.

Now, with large genetic biobanks available, more in-depth analysis of the proportion of both distant and close relatives in a population can be conducted. Ramachandran's team aimed to distinguish relatives based on if they were maternal or paternal to resolve challenges in phasing - the process by which parental haplotypes can be found from their child's diploid genotype. While phasing normally focuses on assigning maternal or paternal sections in individual chromosomes, more haplotypes emerge when considering the combinations between multiple chromosomes. This could carry significant implications in understanding long range parental origin effects, or to understand how each parent's genetic contribution differed in their offspring.

To understand why the effectiveness of this technique varied, Ramachandran's team analyzed their methodology to find the existence of relatives who shared both maternal and paternal DNA. They found that the frequency of these relatives concentrated in specific geographic locations as they looked further back in time. This observation could likely be explained by geographically constrained human reproductive patterns in ancient times.

Thus, Ramachandran's work raised questions about how population data can inform our understanding of demographic dispersal, how relatedness bias can affect our understanding of past population distribution and, most importantly, how the redaction of large amounts of data from population censuses due to genetic similarity could be mitigated.

The Ramachandran Lab also focuses on using clustering algorithms to analyze cells to determine their cell types and functions. These data allow researchers to study processes like cancer progression, tissue formation and gene expression changes that occur under different conditions.

Designing efficient algorithms to determine cell types has its challenges. Firstly, many of these algorithms, known as stochastic algorithms, tend to give multiple different series of results that need to be properly aligned before they can be interpreted. This process is time-consuming and possibly error-prone. Secondly, these algorithms will sometimes output different solutions for the same set of inputs, making it difficult to determine an accurate classification of cell type and function.

"When I was in graduate school, and even afterwards, I had to spend a lot of time trying to align these plots. I did it by hand, and I think I wasted days of my life doing this," Ramachandran recalled.

To solve this, Xiran Liu, a postdoc at Ramachandran's Lab, developed a software called "Clumppling," which solves some of the aforementioned issues, decreasing the complexity of algorithm results and making them more comprehensible.

The team performed tests using outputs from Seurat and Scanpy, two well-known clustering algorithms, on the Clumppling software to ascertain its reliability and efficiency at identifying cell groups. Clumppling revealed that the classification of some cell groups, such as CD14+ monocytes, was accurate, whereas the classification of other cell groups was less clear. This initial example demonstrates how Clumppling can be used in conjunction with clustering algorithms to increase the precision of single-cell analyses.

Clumppling was also applied to analyze breast cancer tumors. The program showed that the healthy tissue and tumor edge areas were less clearly defined than the invasive carcinoma tumors. Importantly, Clumppling enabled the team to identify previously-known markers driving these cell classifications, validating their approach and indicating the effectiveness of their program.

Lastly, Ramachandran's work challenged a common practice in single-cell analysis. Researchers typically analyze only highly variable genes (HVGs) to improve computational efficiency, discarding genes that show less variation across cells. However, when her team performed clustering using either all genes, only HVGs or only non-HVGs separately, Clumppling revealed that some non-HVG genes were significant for clustering. This result suggests that excluding non-HVGs may cause researchers to overlook potentially valuable biological information.

Ramachandran questioned the general practice of only analyzing HVGs.

"The last thought I want to leave you with is whether subsetting to highly variable genes is a good practice for clustering or not," Ramachandran said. "It's a very common thing that's done in this field. But one question is, should we actually be doing it?"

Ramachandran's clustering alignment framework addresses the critical issue regarding the inherent variability present in clustering algorithms. With Clumppling, her lab has pioneered a systematic approach to evaluate result consistency, track cluster emergence and discover biologically relevant genes. As genomic datasets grow larger and more complex, such methodologies will be essential to ensure that computational convenience does not come at the cost of biological insight.

"We would like to recommend to people who work with functional genomic data to run clustering multiple times and apply clustering alignment," Ramachandran explained. "It… gives us the opportunity to think about identifying genes that are driving clusters, which I think would be an exciting thing for functional genomics."

One of the opening scenes foreshadows a critical issue plaguing the intentionally provocative script: Not only is every character hammered with a static set of beliefs, but almost every superficial question the story provokes has a forced answer without any engaging development. The first text the viewer sees on a black backdrop reads, "It happened at Yale," which establishes the film's prestigious university setting before the inciting incident at Alma's apartment. Alma and her therapist husband, Frederik (Michael Stuhlbarg), are hosting a party for the philosophy department with a literary salon-like ambience of elitism.

Alma is listening to a conversation between Hank and Maggie about the latter's dissertation on "performative discontent," or the virtue ethics of appearing moral solely to preserve a personal image. Her dissertation topic mirrors frequent questions the script also asks: Who is acting under the guise of integrity? Who is actually righteous?

Having Maggie's thesis be so on-the-nose with the film's messages is a choice that could have allowed for a satirical response or a more thorough critique of virtue ethics. Instead, like the rest of After the Hunt, her dissertation never becomes nuanced. Maggie notes it's not complete when Hank criticizes how it only seems like part of an idea, and neither she nor the story is willing to come to any conclusion about what it means to be virtuous.

The rest of Hank and Maggie's conversation shifts to how Alma and Hank are both in competition for the last tenure spot. One of their graduate students remarks that Alma should have nothing to be worried about, as the current culture has deemed the cis, straight and white male, such as Hank, the enemy. As a Black woman in academia, Maggie justifiably refutes this point as far from reality, and Alma says that this victim mindset is developed to take away from the meaningful work that those in lower social positions have to accomplish to be recognized. Hank bemoans how difficult it is to maintain an inoffensive character in the present political climate.

Aside from how cliched the actual dialogue is in this scene, each character occupies a straightforward archetype. Alma is the lone-wolf female professor of the philosophy department who, like Maggie, is rightfully aware of the hindrances her identity might have contributed to her career. Hank is socially privileged and is a brute when any topic of political correctness appears.

By the end of the film, nothing about the characters' beliefs changes. Who is good, who is bad, who is deserving, who is selfish and even whether or not the rape happened are all verdicts made apparent if one has progressed beyond a high school level of contextual analysis. After the Hunt steers away from the gray in-between complexity a character might have by making it clear who is right and who is wrong with black-and-white evidence.

After the Hunt has little interest in exploring how #MeToo as a movement, or how sexual assault cases broadly, manifest in reality. It avoids discussing whether or not #MeToo has shaped a change in appropriate behavior in a professional environment or delving into Maggie's internal struggles in the midst of an accusation. Hank is an unlikable, violent jerk, and the viewer (or the university, for that matter) has no real reason to align themselves with him. In actual high-profile cases, there is much more ambiguity. It would be interesting to explore how a student might navigate a case against a professor at an elite college - an environment primed with complicated circumstances and psychological struggles for dissection.

Rather than explore this, the story swiftly reprimands Hank and validates Maggie, and then it focuses on Alma's response to Maggie confiding in her. However, this is where After the Hunt offers an intriguing idea. While it fails to uniquely address #MeToo or sexual assault, After the Hunt depicts a complex dynamic between two women of different generations and how they traverse their patriarchal world.

The intergenerational divide between Alma and Maggie is critical to both of their characters. Maggie looks up to Alma as a figure of success in a male-dominated field. Alma is not only possessive of Maggie as a proxy for her feminist image of female solidarity, but she is just as jealous of Maggie and the society she inherited. Maggie's peers have been more progressive in dismantling patriarchal notions, encouraging and supporting women who speak out more often than they had in Alma's young adulthood.

When Maggie tells Alma about Hank's assault against her, Alma's response is initially rooted in envy. She questions why Maggie would go to her first before any higher authority at the university, but Maggie explains her decision is based on her knowledge that Alma went through a similar experience. Alma responds harshly, casting doubt on Maggie's accusation. She is aware Maggie has the proper tools to find closure and justice, and Alma acts with resentment because she never had the same opportunities or retributive policies that Maggie has access to.

Their dynamic becomes more multifaceted when the story hints at Maggie having a crush on Alma. With the sexual tension between Hank and Alma, the film now involves a messed-up but genuinely provocative love triangle between the three. Maggie's queer relationship brings out boomer resentment from Alma; there are several moments where Alma debases Maggie's relationship by questioning her partner's non-binary identity. After the Hunt is a picture of the way frustration and envy can materialize in separate generations of women.

Unfortunately, most of After the Hunt's runtime is dedicated to the banal questions of who did or did not do something. Alma and Maggie's dynamic is cut short with a timeskip epilogue that smothers any development they could have had with one another.

An argument could be made that its innocuous remarks on #MeToo and sexual assault are decisive non-statements the film intentionally makes. With this reading, After the Hunt is supposed to represent a cultural and political climate where people are inclined to display proper morals without any deeper investigation or application of their principles in practice. However, like Maggie's thesis, the point is an obvious finding without offering any resolutions about what to do in a society that operates so shallowly.

This trivial non-statement is made worse by having dialogue almost as trite as the script's ideas. Like the party scene, other scenes meant to convey the characters' profound intellectual abilities end up in tired discussions. The film takes place at Yale, but these supposedly intelligent individuals will make simple claims about the subjects of their studies such as "Carl Schmitt was a Nazi," "Heidegger treated Arendt like shit" and "Freud was a misogynist" without any elaboration on why these are worthwhile points to make when interpreting their work.

These statements are only brought up to serve as examples of the characters' surface-level moralities; they will acknowledge the evils of talented and influential figures without figuring out what they have to do in response. While this could be a succinct example of the script's own commentary on ethics, this moment only forces the viewer to question whether or not any of these characters are capable of any critical thinking.

One could say the point is that these characters lack the ability to make sophisticated arguments, but then the prestigious university setting becomes difficult to accept. Perhaps, the script is saying that even at elite colleges, people still participate in narrow analysis. Maybe, they're actually encouraged to limit their discussions. These infamous institutions have historically up-held a rigid social-order that prioritizes certain demographics over others. However, this isn't the film's intention: After the Hunt is not satirizing how higher education operates, because it treats the academic backdrop with earnestness.

The setting is used only as a tool for increasing the stakes of the situation. Furthermore, the film does want you to think its characters are smart and serious; their intellects are not only framed as vital components of their personalities but as the main reason why these people have achieved what they have. This becomes hard to believe when you only see these characters reiterate the most elementary rhetoric exercises.

The performances in After the Hunt attempt to compensate for the script's shallowness, but ultimately, they are mostly blunders. Julia Roberts delivers a great lead performance, but she outclasses her co-stars to the point where it becomes hard to watch her scene partners try to keep up. Andrew Garfield goes a bit overboard with Hank's douchebag-like nature, and this clashes with scenes meant to be intentionally tense and contained. In the confrontation between Alma and Hank, Garfield's acting choices make Hank so abrasive it becomes eye-rollingly annoying to watch. While Ayo Edeberi plays any form of anxious behavior very well, she does not project the confidence or charisma that Maggie supposedly has. Her cadence makes Maggie seem more spineless than she should be.

Even the score, composed by the talented Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor, is as lazy as the rest of the film. Their work has usually elevated Guadagnino's pictures, but here, they continuously insert abrupt notes and sounds to create an eerie, uncomfortable atmosphere. This is a common technique, but like the rest of the movie, it is executed in such a predictable and boring manner that it becomes dull before the half-way point is even reached.

Luca Guadagnino is at his best when depicting the intricacies of a relationship complicated by personal desires and societal expectations, and After the Hunt has glimpses of what it could have excelled at. Rather than do this, Guadagnino's newest film coddles the viewer with a benign but flat portrayal of sexual assault and how it might engage with the hierarchies of higher education. Opting to say nothing of value when it could go against the grain, After the Hunt is the result of moralism: disappointing, inept and unfulfilling stories for the sake of audience appeasement at all costs.

Coming off a dominant 68-win 2024-25 season (out of 84 games), the Oklahoma City Thunder's young core won't be slowing down soon. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, last season's lead scorer (average 32.7 points) now carries a new resume of accolades: regular-season and finals MVP, National Basketball Association (NBA) champion and scoring champion. He had much to uphold coming off that historic season, and these first two weeks have further solidified his worth and leadership. He dropped 120 points in the first three games alone, including a 55-point game during a double-overtime win over the Indiana Pacers, a testy rematch of the 2025 NBA Finals.

The Thunder relied on his command, especially in the fourth quarter. Gilgeous-Alexander notably had a career high of 26 free throw attempts, calmly sinking 23 of them. As of Oct. 29, the Thunder lead the Western Conference with a convincing 5-0 clean sweep. It will be interesting to see how the team's cap space and salary restrictions play out, considering the depth of players and potential in developing several all-star caliber players. Two questions rock the minds of countless fans: how far can the Thunder go this season, and is this the beginning of a dynasty?

Flashes of rookie potential

With all eyes on Cooper Flagg and his start as point guard - an entirely new position for him - the Dallas Mavericks appear to be in a bit of a setback. The Mavs lacked offensive efficiency, ranked second to last in the 2025-26 NBA Offensive Rating with 102.1 points per 100 possessions (as of Oct. 29). Still, the 18-year-old, the youngest Number One pick since Lebron James' 2003 draft, has been handling the high expectations despite critiques. Flagg will have a lot to learn and contribute this coming season, especially with the return of Kyrie Irving expected early 2026. A starting five including D'Angelo Russell via free agency, Anthony Davis and Klay Thompson proves to be a talent-stacked lineup worth keeping an eye out for.

Other surprising flashes from the 2025 draft class have come from number two pick, Dylan Harper, who was an instrumental contributor to the San Antonio Spurs' 4-0 season kickoff. His versatility and high basketball IQ in his collegiate career at Rutgers remain significant at the professional level.

The Philadelphia 76ers take pride in VJ Edgecombe who has displayed refreshing maturity as both a playmaker and passer. He not only exceeded the rookie board on assists for the first three games but also acquired a 34-point debut, which was recorded as the highest scoring debut for any player in NBA history since Wilt Chamberlain.

On the note of making history, Charlotte Hornets' guard Kon Knueppel has made the accomplishment of having the most three-pointers in the first five games by any NBA player. His high shooting efficiency, especially beyond the arc, has sparked the team's offense. Interestingly, Hornets rookies Ryan Kalkbrenner and Sion James have also shown flashes of high-efficiency scoring. Seeing their development into role players would provide greater team depth.

The Reaves show

Austin Reaves of the LA Lakers went off for 50 points against the Sacramento Kings. Starting as an undrafted 2021 prospect, this made history with the second-best scoring game put up by an undrafted player (three points shy of the title). This was followed by another strong performance (41 points, 12/14 free throws).

He also joined a limited cohort of Hall of Famers who dropped 40+ on back-to-back nights during the first four games, and is the only Laker since 2000 to make 50+ points. Reaves continued to make a difference with 16 assists against the Minnesota Timberwolves, and shocked fans with a buzzer-beater for a tight win by one. This potential, combined with the strong force of Lebron James and Luka Doncic, could be an exciting trio. This dominance may land him a max deal for 2026 when his contract with the Lakers expires.

Injury hurdles

Notably, the Pacers lack star point guard Tyrese Haliburton for the year due to a devastating achilles injury. Most of the starting five from last year's final season are also out. The NBA permits players to sign hardship exception deals to join on a 10-day contract to help fill rosters, which the Pacers used to sign guard Mac McClung.

The Boston Celtics, burdened without their superstar Jayson Tatum, now rely on Jaylen Brown as their primary scoring option. With Brown's recent hamstring scare, there are questions on whether Tatum will be rushed back from his recovery process or if the team will make changes for a higher lottery pick. Considering their 0-3 start, many decisions will need to be made down the road.

Other shoutouts

Kicking off as the Western Conference Player of the Week, Victor Wembanyama of the San Antonio Spurs has already brought on the heat, leading the first week on a 3-0 run. With this, he became the first NBA player to record 100+ points, 40+ rebounds and 15+ blocks in the first three games. A dual threat on both ends of the floor, especially on the defensive end, has shone as he carries the title for the highest block percentage of any player in NBA history.

This season has had a surprising uptick in high-scoring (40+ point) performances. Denver Nuggets' Aaron Gordon took matters into his own hands with a 50-point night, including 10 for 11 beyond the arc. However, this was subdued by Steph Curry's 42-point explosion during the Golden State Warriors' home opener. Gordon's stat line impressed none other than the three-point revolutionizer himself. "Ridiculous. Whatever he did this summer worked," Curry remarked. Lauri Markkanen of the Utah Jazz added a perfect 17/17 from the free throw line, where he became the first Jazz player to score 50+ since Hall of Famer Karl Malone.

Exciting things to come

This early-season snippet proves the league's thrilling journey is still ahead. Among breakout candidates, team rebuildings, rising talents, player narratives, new coaching styles and adjustments, familiar rivalries, tense showdowns and more, the NBA fandom is brought to the edge of its seats. Up next? The October to November in-season NBA cup!

Cross Country

This weekend was the Centennial Conference Cross Country Championships at Gettysburg College for both the men's and women's teams. The course winds around the college with two different finish lines for an 8,000-meter men's race and a 6,000-meter women's race.

The 8000 race was absolutely dominated by Blue Jay speed. Senior Emmanual Leblond finished first and was joined on the podium by freshman Anthony Clark and junior Kenny Wanlass. This marked a new PR for Wanlass. Only two schools made the top ten, and eight of those spots were taken by Hopkins athletes. This awarded the team a score of 19, where the next best team had 66 points.

The 6000 race was equally impressive. Same as the men, eight of the top ten finishers were from Hopkins, and the team ended with 15 points. The host team Gettysburg ended in second. Sophomore Carter Brotherton scored gold, sophomore Storrie Kulynych-Irvin scored silver and a new PR, and senior Adriana Catalano was the last to join them on the podium.

Women's Volleyball: W (3, 0), L (1, 3)

The women's volleyball team knows how to clean the slate. They swept their match Wednesday against Washington College at home in the Goldfarb gym. The Blue Jays kept their record undefeated in the Centennial Conference and advanced their national DIII ranking to seventh. In both sets one and three, Hopkins defeated the Shorewomen by exactly or more than eight points, with only the second set coming down to a three point difference. Senior Simone Adam, senior Alice Yu and freshman Jocelyn Pye all tied for the greatest number of kills this match (six). Sophomore Annika Anderson led the team in assists (17), and sophomore Nicole Tuszynski led the Jays in digs (12).

The Jays then traveled to Haverford to take on the Fords on Saturday. Set one was easily won by the Jays while two was much closer, with the Fords winning by only two points. The third set was also taken by the Fords, but this time by a larger deficit. The Jays put up a fight but fell in the fourth set to lose the match and experience their first conference loss of the season.

Women's Soccer: W (2, 0), W (2, 0)

Entering Wednesday's game against Dickinson, the two teams had a similar record. However, the Blue Jays showed up strong and made their evenly matched opponent look like amateurs. With this win, they gained a spot in the conference rankings. Hopkins outshot the Red Devils 14-4, 10 of which were on goal. The Jays got on the board early with a goal by sophomore Carolyn Johnson. Johnson also kicked a staggering seven shots during the game. Dickinson's goalie didn't let up easily, she saved eight of these shots on goal, but an error in the eighth minute of play allowed sophomore Irene Sanchez Burgueño to slip the ball easily past and into the net. The rest of the game was cemented by three good stops by freshman goalie Ella Kruntchev.

They then traveled north to face Ursinus College on Saturday. Like on Wednesday, the Blue Jays dominated game play at the net, outshooting their opponent by over 10 shots. Playing eight more corners than Ursinus no doubt added to the opportunities. Burgueño scored her second goal of the week after junior Caroline Marcus knocked one into the goal around twenty minutes earlier.

Football: W (47, 26)

Football joined many of the other sports on a trip up to Pennsylvania this weekend. They faced #13 Muhlenberg and managed to stay undefeated. Not only did the offense show up for seven touchdowns, the defense held their ground to keep both the first and fourth quarters scoreless. Standouts were sophomore DB Spencer Kramer who had one interception and junior DL Will Seibert who ended with nine total tackles. Muhlenberg had 307 total yards to Hopkins' 476, but the defense managed to hold off opposing touchdowns and force punts. Turning back to our points scorers, senior RB Geoff Schroeder rushed a career high 232 yards which is also the most rushing yards by any Hopkins player since 2012.

Morse is a professor at the University of Maryland Baltimore County, whose research focuses on media studies and LGBTQ+ identity. Their upcoming book, Bending the Bars: Queer Conspirators Against Carcerality, is about queer people affected by the carceral system and how they have used media to challenge oppression.

Weaver is a professor of Political Science and Sociology at Hopkins. She is the co-director of the American Prison Writing Archive and the author of several books that explore the relationship between race and incarceration in the United States.

Arianna Lint is a transgender educator and advocate, as well as a law school graduate. Lint worked in HIV and AIDS studies at the Florida Health Department, and, in 2015, she opened Arianna's Center, an organization supporting trans women of color in Florida. She currently serves as the CEO of the group and provides services including emergency housing, help attaining GEDs and English language instruction.

In an email to The News-Letter, senior Vanessa Han, member of the Critical Diaspora Studies undergraduate working group, described how the panelists were chosen.

"Community-centered voices and those with first-hand experiences are critical to understanding issues dealing with marginalized populations, so we prioritized finding local and national organizations dedicated to serving system-impacted trans individuals," Han said. "We thought that including scholarly insight would be an interesting balance to bridge academia and the community."

After introductions, each of the panelists spoke about their work. Lint discussed her efforts to provide HIV and AIDS care for incarcerated people, and about how her work has been affected by the current political state. She explained that Arianna's Center closed its housing program for transgender individuals who are HIV positive because of a decline in financial support from the Trump administration.

Morse then spoke about their personal experiences, including their former marriage to a prison guard who worked in maximum and minimum security prisons, their efforts to find a queer community after coming out, and how the Black and Pink program inspired them to start exploring prison incarceration as an activist.

Weaver explained that she doesn't usually study transgender justice but rather the historical and political violences of the prison system. She has been told that the study of the justice system doesn't fit into political science, but she believes that view neglects the fact that understanding the carceral system is about understanding government order, power and communal worth - all facets of political science.

After a question from Saya Tomlinson regarding the Trump administration's impacts on their work, Morse emphasized that the current administration has been moving trans women into men's prisons. At these facilities, they are often kept in solitary confinement to protect them from violence from other inmates. Morse explained that solitary confinement for longer than 15 days is classified as torture.

"People who are incarcerated have been, in a sense, the canary in the coal mine for authoritarianism," they said. "If we're not in solidarity with incarcerated people already, this is the time to get connected and learn from that."

Morse then established that their intention is to create safe LGBTQ+ spaces within the carceral system. While others have suggested creating exclusively LGBTQ+ prison units, Morse does not believe in creating more jails. They then emphasized the importance of addressing issues that might lead to incarceration, like being kicked out of housing or dealing with substance abuse.

Weaver noted that individuals who grow up fearing government interactions will have more difficulties with the justice system in the future. She claimed that there are ways for the government to prevent crime, in addition to punishing it.

"People have many interactions with the state before they ultimately are incarcerated," she said. "We sequester incarceration from all these other touch points that the state had to intervene but didn't, and that ultimately opened somebody up to vulnerability."

Saya Tomlinson then asked Lint how her work helping trans people navigating the immigration system had been affected by ICE.

Lint spoke about working with immigrants moving to Puerto Rico and Florida. She explained that many transgender immigrants have stopped using resources provided by Arianna's Center, such as the English language classes, because they are afraid of being detained by ICE.

Additionally, she expressed disappointment in the government for refusing to provide the support she has asked for. Lint said that she understands that as an educated, supported woman who has worked in government, she has more security than most, but she often feels just as invisible as the rest of the trans community.

"The most sad [thing] is when founders and when people... make a policy and the people they have in power right now... don't listen to us, they don't answer our emails, they don't answer the phone calls, and they're acting like we are invisible," she said.

Following another question from Saya Tomlinson regarding the importance of archives in studying incarceration, Weaver spoke about the value of the first person narrative, since statistics are often reductive and fail to tell the true story of prison. She explained that incarcerated people are often excluded from the statistics that measure the country's well being, such as unemployment and housing security, which suggests that the government may not be acting in the interest of the affected people.

The talk concluded with an audience Q&A session. Sebastian Witherspoon, an MFA student with the Hopkins Writing Seminars program, asked how the panelists would recommend reconciling the difference between advocates who promote the abolition of prisons and those who are working to improve conditions within the existing system.

Weaver responded by referencing how litigation originally meant to alleviate the overcrowding and poor conditions of prisons led to the building of more prisons, demonstrating the struggle Witherspoon described. However, she also emphasized one success in the prison abolition movement: the closure of hundreds of juvenile facilities as a result of small movements across the country.

Sam Bessen, who works in the Special Collections department at Brody Learning Commons, asked about balancing the amplification of queer visibility while protecting individuals from the Trump administration's surveillance.

In response, Weaver argued that, despite the risks of visibility, it is important to have records and archives that prove historical brutality to prevent the cycle from repeating.

"We are vulnerable. Does that mean that I'm going to stop talking about incarceration? No," she said.

Victoria Harms, a professor with the Hopkins History department, asked if any of the panelists had any recommended resources for people looking to get more involved with transgender and carceral justice. Saya Tomlinson shared the names of organizations in Maryland, such as the Trans Rights Advocacy Coalition and Trans Maryland.

In an email to The News-Letter, Han elaborated on what she hopes audience members will take away from this event.

"Ideally, audience members will have learned a bit more about trans experiences with the violence and ubiquity of the carceral state," she wrote. "With these first steps of education, we hope audience members will become more involved, whether it's through CDS, similar course topics, research projects, community engagement, or more!"

Editor's Note, 2025: An earlier edition of this article did not accurately state Saya Tomlinson's surname. The News-Letter regrets this error.

It was the kind of hunger that makes you open the fridge six times, hoping something new will appear. No luck. Inside, we had a few mushrooms, half an onion, one garlic clove and a carton of milk. The pantry offered half a box of pasta and the usual crowd of spice jars lined up like tiny soldiers. That was it.

But we were not worried. In our house, not having a recipe was never a problem. We never needed a recipe - just curiosity and a little luck. My mom got the oil heating in a pan. My dad started chopping onions like he was auditioning for MasterChef. I climbed onto a step stool and took charge of the mushrooms, washing them one by one with the kind of care I usually reserved for my Barbie dolls. My mom said I was being dramatic; I told her I was being precise.

The onions went in first, then the garlic. I handed off mushrooms like sacred offerings. My mom added milk, a few shakes of Italian seasoning, chili flakes, salt and pepper. There were no measurements, just instincts and guesses. The kitchen smelled warm and garlicky and slightly chaotic, which meant it was working.

We ate close to midnight, sitting around the table in mismatched pajamas, using spoons because the forks were in the dishwasher. The pasta was creamy, slightly spicy and exactly what we needed. I asked if we could make it again tomorrow. That was when we knew it was officially a family favorite.

After that night, it became part of the rotation. My mom started packing extra containers for lunch because my friends loved it too. There were never any leftovers.

Now, when I make it on nights between study sessions and late classes, I still do not measure. No cream, no cheese, no extras. Just mushrooms, milk, garlic and confidence. When my dad visits and walks by the stove, he always takes a deep inhale and smiles.

That is how we know it is good.

Creamy Mushroom Pasta Recipe:

2 to 3 Servings

Ingredients

• Half a box of pasta (penne or fusilli work well)
• 1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoon salted butter
• 1 small white onion, finely chopped
• 2 to 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 cup white button mushrooms, washed and sliced
• 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Red chili flakes to taste (¼ teaspoon for mild heat)
• 1 cup whole milk
• Optional: grated Parmesan cheese for garnish
• Optional: a protein of your choice such as grilled chicken, shrimp or Italian sausage

Instructions

1. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente. Drain and set aside.
2. In a large pan over medium heat, warm the olive oil and butter until melted. Add the onion and cook for 4 to 5 minutes until soft and translucent.
3. Stir in the garlic and cook for about 30 seconds just until fragrant.
4. Add the mushrooms and spread them out in the pan. Let them cook without stirring for a minute or two to help them brown.
5. Then stir occasionally and continue cooking for another 5 to 6 minutes until the mushrooms release their moisture and most of it evaporates. They should be lightly browned and tender.
6. Add the Italian seasoning, salt, pepper and red chili flakes. Stir everything together and cook for another minute.
7. Pour in the milk and stir to combine. Let it simmer gently for 3 to 4 minutes until slightly thickened.
8. Add the cooked pasta to the pan and toss until fully coated in the sauce. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed.
9. Serve warm. Optional: Top with Parmesan or your preferred protein.

A statistic from the Department of Homeland Security estimates that "Two million illegal aliens have left the United States in less than 250 days, including an estimated 1.6 million who have voluntarily self-deported."

"We will find you. We will apprehend you. We will put you in a detention facility and we will deport you," says Corey Lewandowski, chief adviser to Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem, on Bad Bunny headlining the 2026 NFL Halftime Show.

"We have traveled far in search of safety. I believe that the US is the safest place to raise my family and provide them with all that they deserve and need," explains Muhammed, an immigrant from Afghanistan.

A myriad of competing voices constantly tell the story of immigration in the United States. Statistics reduce immigrants to a set of numbers. Politicians turn them into talking points. Yet, for millions of immigrants, the struggle and difficulty of seeking asylum or moving to the U.S. is not a debate, but a lived reality - a choice made out of necessity and hope.

I was born into an immigrant family in Miami, Florida. I have been a firsthand witness to the struggle of leaving an entire life behind and rebuilding one from scratch. I hold an American passport, carry a Florida driver's license and have only ever considered the United States my home. For that, I am lucky, but it is also a great shame to say that, in many ways, I no longer recognize my country.

The United States has always claimed to be a nation of immigrants, built by people who arrived from different parts of the world, carrying only hope and determination. From the earliest waves of European settlers to the millions of people who arrived at Ellis Island and others who now seek asylum through the border, immigration has always been a central part of the American story. Today, it is the backbone of much of our workforce, our culture and our communities. But too often, that history has become ignored, and instead of being celebrated as the foundation of our country, immigrants are treated with suspicion and hostility from even the highest government offices.

This contradiction is something I have witnessed in my own family. Many of my relatives and family friends fled repression and dictatorship in Cuba and sought a haven in the United States. For them, the U.S. was not just another country, but a symbol of hope and a beacon of freedom. Every Thanksgiving, family members talk about how thankful they are to have left Cuba, how different their lives might have been if they stayed and how the U.S. has allowed them to raise their children in a place where freedom of opportunity and expression truly takes root. These stories have become a constant reminder to me that the people who immigrate to this country have their own stories and struggles, and they should not be reduced to a measly statistic or used to accomplish an ICE quota.

The immigration process is anything but easy. Having watched my family navigate it, I know how grueling, expensive and dehumanizing it can be. Applications take years to be reviewed, paperwork piles up and legal fees drain resources that families can barely afford to spare. For those fleeing violence, economic despair or political persecution, the waiting can be unbearable. And for many, the process results in rejection. The people I have known waiting for legal status were not trying to undermine the system, but were looking to make an honest living and raise their families.

The rhetoric we hear on the national stage rarely reflects this truth. The current Administration speaks in absolutes: about "aliens," "security threats" and "invasion." These phrases dehumanize the real people who are on the other side of the situation and strip away their individuality. When a person becomes nothing more than a statistic, it becomes easier to dismiss them. When I think of immigration, I think of my own family sitting around the table in Miami. I see my neighbors and the people I run into at my local grocery store. I see people who, like Muhammed, want nothing but to live in peace and safety.

I sometimes wonder what kind of country my generation will inherit. On one hand, I am grateful for the rights and privileges of being a U.S. citizen. On the other hand, I have never felt such a stark disconnect between the ideals the United States is meant to uphold and the policies currently being enacted. When I hear politicians threaten and verbally belittle immigrants, I see the faces of my parents, my aunt and cousins and the rest of my family. If they had been met with the same hostility, where would I be today?

Immigration is not just a political issue; it is a human one. And if we forget that, we risk losing the very soul of the nation we claim to protect.

Alyssa Gonzalez is a junior majoring in Political Science and International Studies.Her column approaches the political atmosphere through an individual lens, grounding the conversation in empathy and clarity in an attempt to humanize the field.

On Nov. 4, the world will see Kim Kardashian blend two of her life's many ventures: being in front of a camera and law. Starring Kardashian, All's Fair is a new TV series premiering on Hulu that centers around an all-female, Los Angeles law firm owned by a successful divorce lawyer. Could it be the next Legally Blonde? Tune in to find out.

It's no secret that author Salman Rushdie has lived an eventful life worth telling. Through his latest collection of short fiction, The Eleventh Hour, Rushdie sets out to answer the question of how one should handle entering the final stage of their life. For anyone who picks up this read, they're guaranteed to walk away with new lessons learned.

Whether you've been a long-time Del Water Gap follower, have only listened to a few of his songs recommended by friends or are a complete newcomer, it's time to jump on board. There's no better time than now - yes, carpe diem and all, but also because his newest album, Chasing the Chimera, is almost among us. I still remember the first time I listened to a song of his by recommendation; now, I'm repaying the favor.

From the good graces of the University Writing Program at Hopkins comes an evening event both featuring and for its students: the Third Annual Exposition of Student Writing. On Thursday, Nov. 6 - the rest of the details below - stop by for writing games and exercises, the chance to read your peers' prodigious written work and Ekiben.

As always, if you find your well of timely media recommendations run dry, see more below:

To watch…

All's Fair, by Ryan Murphy, Jon Robin Baitz and Joe Baken - Nov. 4

All Her Fault, by Megan Gallagher - Nov. 6

Death by Lightning, by Mike Makowsky - Nov. 6

Pluribus, by Vince Gilligan - Nov. 7

Die My Love, by Lynne Ramsay - Nov. 7

To read…

The Eleventh Hour: A Quintet of Stories, by Salman Rushdie - Nov. 4

Book of Lives: A Memoir of Sorts, by Margaret Atwood - Nov. 4

Flat Earth: A Novel, by Anika Jade Levy - Nov. 4

Cursed Daughters, by Oyinkan Braithwaite - Nov. 4

The Age of Extraction: How Tech Platforms Conquered Our Platforms and Threaten Our Future Prosperity, by Tim Wu - Nov. 4

To listen…

Chasing the Chimera, by Del Water Gap - Nov. 7

Lux, by ROSALÍA - Nov. 7

Through This Fire Across From Peter Balkan, by the Mountain Goats - Nov. 7

Happiness Is Going To Get You, by Allie X - Nov. 7

Ur an Angel I'm Just Particles, by BENEE - Nov. 7

Live events…

UWP's Third Annual Exposition of Student Writing - Nov. 6 from 5:30-7:30 p.m. in the Glass Pavilion

• This event is free with registration.

In the Stacks: Music from "The Great Gatsby" Era with Janet Paulsen and the Hotel Paradise Orchestra - Nov. 6 from 7-8 p.m. in the George Peabody Library

• Although all registrations have been booked, there will be a standby line available.

'Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde' - Nov. 6 from 8-10 p.m. in the Merrick Barn

• Ticket prices vary. See additional dates.

Mo opened with an overview of the components of a battery. Its structure can be compared to that of a sandwich, where the graphite anode, electrolyte and lithium metal oxide cathode correspond to bread, meat and bread, respectively. According to him, the core issue with conventional lithium-ion batteries lies in the use of a liquid electrolyte.

"Because it's something organic, it's highly flammable," he said, referring to how organic solvents like dimethyl carbonate and ethyl methyl carbonate introduce safety hazards and compromise the battery's cycle life, which is measured by the number of charge-discharge cycles it can deliver over its lifetime.

These struggles led to the creation of solid-state batteries. As its name suggests, a solid-state battery replaces the liquid electrolyte with an organic, solid ceramic, like lanthanum zirconium oxides or polymers like poly(ethylene oxide). This effectively kills two birds with one stone, as switching from an organic electrolyte to a solid one eliminates the unstable solvent while increasing energy density and safety.

"Typically, a solid does not want to conduct [electricity]," Mo explained, because its ions are arranged in fixed positions in a lattice, preventing them from moving freely to generate a current. This challenge prompted researchers like Mo to leverage computational methods for exploring the diverse chemistries and structures of solid-state batteries. They hope to find one that performs comparably well to lithium-ion batteries, the gold standard for batteries because it has a very high energy density.

Among his focus areas are sodium-ion (Na-ion) batteries.

"Sodium is more abundant and cheaper than lithium, making it a very promising competitor for the next generation of battery technology," he said.

However, because the sodium ion is larger than the lithium ion, it has a higher coordination number, meaning more atoms neighbor it. This reduces the mobility of ions through sodium-ion batteries, worsening their performance.

To overcome this, materials can be designed with face-sharing high-coordination sites, creating an open structure that allows for faster ion diffusion in certain circumstances. By inputting these design parameters into computational models, researchers can efficiently identify structures with optimal properties. In Mo's case, he said his team was able to find "nineteen new structures that show decent sodium-ion conductivity," following which they went to their experimental collaborator to attempt to synthesize the new materials.

Mo then moved on to discussing how other methods of computational analysis, specifically machine learning, find their way into materials research. Supervised learning involves providing the computer with labeled data, like the structure of a specific material and its corresponding properties.

However, there is often a lack of sufficient data to analyze. This is where unsupervised learning is valuable. By providing a computer with the limited unlabeled data available, it can be trained to identify patterns within this dataset and uncover new insights. These patterns include, but are not limited to, rules governing the crystal structure of solid-state electrolytes. With such insights, researchers can identify superionic conductors, materials with exceptionally high ionic conductivities, and predict the output features of batteries, like the total charge they can store and the maximum voltage they can output.

Looking ahead, Mo wants to apply computational tools, such as machine learning, to the study of disordered, or high-entropy, materials. Mixing similar proportions of five or more elements has been shown through simulations to create materials with enhanced stability over a range of conditions. Crucially, for battery creation, these materials lower the barrier for ion movement in solid-state electrolytes by creating local distortions within the lattice. When there are more possible paths for ions, some with a lower energy barrier than others, there is a net decrease in the energy required to facilitate ion movement, increasing ionic conductivity, which is the ultimate goal for any battery.

Mo's research demonstrates how a unique interdisciplinary approach that synthesizes materials science and computational techniques can guide the design of next-generation batteries, paving the way for a greener and brighter future.