Mushrooms to Mars: how fungi research could help long-duration space travel

I've often noted that fungi are the forgotten heroes of the ecosystem, beavering away largely out of sight and therefore out of mind. Whether it's the ability to break down plastic waste or their use as meat substitutes and pharmaceuticals, this uncharismatic but vital life form no doubt hold many more surprises in store for future research to discover. It's estimated that less than ten percent of all fungi species have so far been scientifically described; it's small wonder then that a recent study suggests an entirely new use for several types of these under-researched organisms.

Investigation of the Chernobyl nuclear power station in 1991 found that Cladosporium sphaerospermum, a fungus first described in the late nineteenth century, was thriving in the reactor cooling tanks. In other words, despite the high levels of radiation, the species was able to not only repair its cells but maintain a good rate of growth in this extreme environment. This led to research onboard the International Space Station at the end of 2018, when samples of the fungus were exposed to a month of cosmic radiation. The results were promising: a two millimetre thick layer of the fungus absorbed nearly two percent of the radiation compared to a fungus-free control.

This then suggests that long-duration crewed space missions, including to Mars, might be able to take advantage of this material to create a self-repairing radiation shield, both for spacecraft and within the walls of surface habitats. A twenty-one centimetre thick layer was deemed effective against cosmic rays, although this could potentially be reduced to just nine centimetres if the fungal mycelia were mixed with similar amounts of Martian soil. In addition, there is even the possibility of extracting the fungus' radiation-proof melanin pigment for use in items that require much thinner layers, such as spacesuit fabric.

If this sounds too good to be true, there are still plenty of technological hurdles to be overcome. Science fiction has frequently described the incorporation of biological elements into man-made technology, but it's early days as far as practical astronautics is concerned. After all, there is the potential for unique dangers, such as synthetic biology growing unstoppably (akin to scenarios of runaway nanobot replication). However, NASA's Innovative Advanced Concepts program (NIAC) shows that they are taking the idea of fungi-based shielding seriously, the current research considering how to take dormant fungal spores to Mars and then add water to grow what can only be described as myco-architecture elements - even interior fittings and furniture. In addition to the radiation shielding, using organic material also has the advantage of not having to haul everything with you across such vast distances.

Even more ideas are being suggested for the use of similarly hardy species of fungi on a Mars base, from bioluminescent lighting to water filtration. Of course, this doesn't take into account any existing Martian biology: the seasonal methane fluctuations that have been reported are thought by some to be too large to have a geochemical cause; this suggests that somewhere in the sink holes or canyon walls of Mars there are colonies of methane-producing microbes, cosily shielded from the worst of the ultraviolet. If this proves to be the case, you would hope that any fungi taken to the red planet would be genetically modified to guarantee that it couldn't survive outside of the explorer's habitats and so damage Martian biota. Humanity's track record when it comes to preserving the ecosystems of previously isolated environments is obviously not something we can be proud of!

What fungi can do alone, they also do in symbiosis with algae, i.e. as lichens. Various experiments, including the LIchens and Fungi Experiment (LIFE) on the International Space Station (incidentally, doesn't NASA love its project acronyms?) have tested extremophile lichens such as Xanthoria elegans and Rhizocarpon geographicum in simulated Martian environments for up to eighteen months. The researchers found that the organisms could remain active as long as they were partially protected, as if they were growing in sink holes beneath the Martian surface. Of course, this success also enhances the possibility of similar lifeforms already existing on the red planet, where it would have had eons in which to adapt to the gradually degraded conditions that succeeded Mars' early, clement, phase.

The CRISPR-Cas9 system and its successors may well develop synthetic fungi and lichens that can be used both on and especially off the Earth, but we shouldn't forget that Mother Nature got there first. Spacecraft shielding and myco-architecture based on natural or genetically modified organisms may prove to be an extremely efficient way to safeguard explorers beyond our world: the days of transporting metal, plastic and ceramic objects into space may be numbered; the era of the interplanetary mushroom may be on the horizon. Now there's a phrase you don't hear every day!

Back to nature: why saving other species could save mankind

Humanity has come a long way from reliance on biologically-derived materials such as wood, bone, antler and fur. Yet this doesn't mean that organic materials have been replaced or many respects surpassed by wholly artificial ones. There are of course new carbon-based materials such as 3D graphene and carbyne that may prove to be the 'ultimate' materials when it comes to properties such as strength, but the history of the past century has shown how natural substances can inspire research too.

Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the hook and loop fastener best known by the trademark Velcro, which is essentially a copy of the burr design on Arctium (burdock) plants. Considering that taxonomists disagree wildly on the global totals of current plant, animal and fungi species - many claiming that less than 20% have been scientifically classified - it seems apparent that nature has plenty more surprises up her sleeve.

Spider silk has long been recognised as an incredibly strong material for its weight, with that generated by many species being up to five times the strength of the equivalent amount of steel. The silk produced by the Madagascan Darwin's bark spider (Caerostris darwini) is ten times stronger than Kevlar, suggesting that bullet-proof clothing manufacturers could do well by investigating it. However, a discovery by an engineering team at Portsmouth University in the UK makes even this seem humdrum: the teeth of limpets are potentially so strong - thanks to a mineral called goethite - that artificial versions of them could be used in high-performance situations, even aircraft components.

In addition to their use in construction, natural substances may prove useful in the development of new pharmaceuticals. I've previously discussed animal defence mechanisms such as that of the bombardier beetle and how small, barely noticed critters such as the peripatus deserve far more investigation. Of course the problem has been that size and aesthetics directly correlate with public attention and newsworthiness, meaning that the likes of the giant panda are used as poster species despite offering little in the way of practical advance for science and technology.

I'm not of course suggesting that species should be judged on the merits of their usefulness to humanity, but that we could probably gain a lot of practical usage from much greater study of the less well known flora and fauna still 'out there'. The resilience of tardigrades is becoming fairly well known, but there are no doubt other seemingly insignificant species with even more astonishing properties. Hydra for example are small, tentacled animals that live in fresh water; thanks to being composed mostly of stem cells they appear to have life cycles that just keep going. There also been limited research on the 'immortal' jellyfish Turritopsis dohrnii; this is surprising, given that the advances in gene splicing technology such as CRISPR-Cas9 and TALEN might lead to important medical breakthroughs, not just glow-in-the-dark pets.

In addition, the race to generate new antibiotics to replace those ineffective against 'superbugs' would suggest any short-cuts that can be taken should be taken. I remember watching a 2006 British murder mystery programme in which people were killed during a hunt for rare South American seeds containing anti-malarial properties. This may be pure fiction, but considering that artemisinin-resistant 'supermalaria' is now on the horizon, the script was somewhat prescient.

The idea behind all this is simple: delving into an existing complex chemical compound is far easier than trying to generate a purely synthetic one from scratch. This is why it is important to conserve small and insignificant species, not just the pandas, elephants and rhinos. Who's to say that a breakthrough medicine or construction material isn't already in existence, just hiding around the corner (or rather, in the genome) of some overlooked species of animal, plant or fungi?

With superbug-beating pharmaceuticals and climate mitigation technology a priority, we're shooting ourselves in the foot if we let an increasing number of unconsidered species became extinct. As I discussed last month all sorts of organisms are now in serious trouble from global amphibian populations via North American snakes and bats to the mighty kauri trees of New Zealand. Just saving a few specimens of doomed species in freezers or formalin is unlikely to be enough: shouldn't we endeavour to minimise species loss for many reasons; and if we must have an economic motive, what about their potential benefit to mankind? Not for nothing has nature been deemed 'the master crafts(person) of molecules' and we lose volumes in that library at own expense.

From steampunk to Star Trek: the interwoven strands between science, technology and consumer design

With Raspberry Pi computers having sold over eleven million units by the end of last year, consumer interest in older technology appears to have become big business. Even such decidedly old-school devices as crystal radio kits are selling well, whilst replicas of vintage telescopes are proof that not everyone has a desire for the cutting-edge. I'm not sure why this is so, but since even instant Polaroid-type cameras are now available again - albeit with a cute, toy-like styling - perhaps manufacturers are just capitalising on a widespread desire to appear slightly out of the ordinary. Even so, such products are far closer to the mainstream than left field: instant-developing cameras for example now reach worldwide sales of over five million per year. That's hardly a niche market!

Polaroid cameras aside, could it be the desire for a less minimal aesthetic that is driving such purchases? Older technology, especially if it is pre-integrated circuit, has a decidedly quaint look to it, sometimes with textures - and smells - to match. As an aside, it's interesting that whilst on the one hand current miniaturisation has reduced energy consumption for many smaller pieces of technology from the Frankenstein laboratory appearance of valve-based computing and room-sized mainframes to the smart watch etal, the giant scale of cutting-edge technology projects require immense amounts of energy, with nuclear fusion reactors presumably having overtaken the previous perennial favourite example of space rockets when it comes to power usage.

The interface between sci-tech aesthetics and non-scientific design is a complicated one: it used to be the case that consumer or amateur appliances were scaled-down versions of professional devices, or could even be home-made, for example telescopes or crystal radios. Nowadays there is a massive difference between the equipment in high-tech laboratories and the average home; even consumer-level 3D printers won't be able to reproduce gravity wave detectors or CRISPR-Cas9 genome editing tools any time soon.

The current trend in favour - or at least acknowledgement - of sustainable development, is helping to nullify the pervasive Victorian notion that bigger, faster, noisier (and smellier) is equated with progress. It's therefore interesting to consider the interaction of scientific ideas and instruments, new technology and consumerism over the past century or so. To my mind, there appear to be five main phases since the late Victorian period:

1. Imperial steam
2. Streamlining and speed
3. The Atomic Age
4. Minimalism and information technology
5. Virtual light

1) Imperial steam

In the period from the late Nineteenth Century's first generation of professional scientists up to the First World War, there appears to have been an untrammelled optimism for all things technological. Brass, iron, wood and leather devices - frequently steam-powered - created an aesthetic that seemingly without effort has an aura of romance to modern eyes.

Although today's steampunk/alternative history movement is indebted to later authors, especially Michael Moorcock, as much as it is to Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, the latter pair are only the two most famous of a whole legion of late Victorian and Edwardian writers who extolled - and occasionally agonised over - the wonders of the machine age.

I must confess I much prefer steam engines to electric or diesel locomotives, despite the noise, smuts and burning of fossil fuels. Although the pistons and connecting rods of these locomotives might be the epitome of the design from this phase, it should be remembered that it was not unknown for Victorian engineers to add fluted columns and cornucopia reliefs to their cast iron and brass machinery, echoes of a pre-industrial past. An attempt was being made, however crude, to tie together the might of steam power to the Classical civilisations that failed to go beyond the aeolipile toy turbine and the Antikythera mechanism.

2) Streamlining and speed

From around 1910, the fine arts and then decorative arts developed new styles obsessed with mechanical movement, especially speed. The dynamic work of the Futurists led the way, depicting the increasing pace of life in an age when humans and machines were starting to interact ever more frequently. The development of heavier-than-air flight even led to a group of 'aeropainters' whose work stemmed from their experience of flying.

Although scientific devices still had some of the Rube Goldberg/Heath Robinson appearance of their Nineteenth Century forebears, both consumer goods and vehicles picked up the concept of streamlining to suggest a sophisticated, future-orientated design. Items such as radios and toasters utilised early plastics, stainless steel and chrome to imply a higher level of technology than their interiors actually contained. This is in contrast to land, sea and aerial craft, whereby the practical benefits of streamlining happily coincided with an attractive aesthetic, leading to design classics such as the Supermarine seaplanes (forerunners of the Spitfire) and the world speed record-holding A4 Pacific Class steam locomotives.

3) The Atomic Age

By the 1950s practically anything that could be streamlined was, whether buildings that looked like ocean liners or cars with rocket-like tailfins and dashboards fit for a Dan Dare spaceship. However, a new aesthetic was gaining popularity in the wake of the development of atomic weapons. It seems to have been an ironic move that somewhere between the optimism of an era of exciting new domestic gadgets and the potential for nuclear Armageddon, the Bohr (classical physics) model of the atom itself gained a key place in post-war design.

Combined with rockets and space the imagery could readily be termed 'space cadet', but it wasn't the only area of science to influence wider society. Biological research was undergoing a resurgence, which may explain why stylised x-ray forms, amoebas and bodily organs become ubiquitous on textiles, furnishings, and fashion. Lighting fixtures were a standout example of items utilising designs based on the molecular models used in research laboratories (which famously gave Crick and Watson the edge in winning the race to understand the structure of DNA).

Monumental architecture also sought to represent the world of molecules on a giant scale, culminating in the 102 metre-high Atomium built in Brussels for the 1958 World's Fair. It could be said that never before had science- and technological-inspired imagery been so pervasive in non-STEM arenas.

4) Minimalism and information technology

From the early 1970s the bright, optimistic designs of the previous quarter century were gradually replaced by the cool, monochromatic sophistication of minimalism. Less is more became the ethos, with miniaturisation increasing as solid-state electronics and then integrated circuits became available. A plethora of artificial materials, especially plastics, meant that forms and textures could be incredibly varied if refined.

Perhaps a combination of economic recession, mistrust of authority (including science and a military-led technocracy) and a burgeoning awareness of environmental issues led to the replacement of exuberant colour with muted, natural tones and basic if self-possessed geometries. Consumers could now buy microcomputers and video games consoles; what had previously only existed in high-tech labs or science fiction became commonplace in the household. Sci-fi media began a complex two-way interaction with cutting-edge science; it's amazing to consider that only two decades separated the iPad from its fictional Star Trek: The Next Generation predecessor, the PADD.

5) Virtual light

With ultra high-energy experiments such as nuclear fusion reactors and the ubiquity of digital devices and content, today's science-influenced designs aim to be simulacra of their professional big brothers. As stated earlier, although consumer technology is farther removed from mega-budget science apparatus than ever, the former's emphasis on virtual interfaces is part of a feedback loop between the two widely differing scales.

The blue and green glowing lights of everything from futuristic engines to computer holographic interfaces in many Hollywood blockbusters are representations of both the actual awesome power required by the likes of the Large Hadron Collider and as an analogy for the visually-unspectacular real-life lasers and quantum teleportation, the ultimate fusion (sorry, couldn't resist that one) being the use of the real National Ignition Facility target chamber as the engine core of the USS Enterprise in Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Clearly, this post-industrial/information age aesthetic is likely to be with us for some time to come, as consumer-level devices emulate the cool brilliance of professional STEM equipment; the outer casing is often simple yet elegant, aiming not to distract from the bright glowing pixels that take up so much of our time. Let's hope this seduction by the digital world can be moderated by a desire to keep the natural, material world working.