We’ve just heard that we’re going back to Comic Con this summer, with a panel topic and line-up even bigger and better than last year’s event.

We are teaming up with Jennifer Ouellette and the crew at the Science and Entertainment Exchange to produce a panel on “MAD SCIENCE,” i.e. Science as a double-edged sword, ethically and morally neutral in and of itself, but dependent upon who wields it, and how.

Beloved Internet Personality Phil Plait is lined up to moderate (after he gets his tattoo) and we’re expecting guests from Eureka, Battlestar Galactica, Fringe, Stargate: Universe and more.  Watch this space for additional details.

In this week’s episode of Fringe, we have a woman, Valerie Boone, who suffers from a disease that makes her into a vicious cerebrospinal-fluid-drinking sort of vampire. It’s ugly stuff: she dances languidly at a night club, gets picked up by cocky young men, goes home with them, and then snaps their necks so she can drink their CSF. Nummy!

On the plus side, if you’re going to make a human body your soda fountain, CSF isn’t a bad choice. The pressure  inside the spinal cord is relatively low, just 200-300 mm of mercury. That’s pretty far below air pressure, so the CSF should come flowing out like water out of a straw once she tears it open with her scary pointy teeth.

But I hope she’s not too thirsty. The human body only produces 500 ml of CSF a day, and it typically has 130 mm at any given moment. CSF is produced from the choroid plexus, a paired organ attached to the brain. The fluid fills the fourth ventricle of the brain and flows out to surround the brain, filling the area between the pia mater and the dura mater, two membranes that line the brain and the skull, respectively. The CSF provides a cushion, and a degree of buoyancy to the brain, protecting it from sharp blows and whiplash. The CSF  also carries toxins and drugs away from the brain, and it helps transport hormones from one part of the brain to the other.

But even with all these roles, it doesn’t actually have a lot of substance. It’s fairly salty, but it has just 15-45 mg/dl of protein and 50-80 mg/dl glucose. Multiplied across  130 ml, she’s only getting, at most, 65 mg of glucose and 58.5 mg of sugar. She’d do better eating a Snickers.

We’re told  mid-episode that Ms. Boone is drinking the CSF because a disease is using up her own.  Technically speaking, the CSF is on a one way journey: From the brain to the dura mater, to blood vessels, which carry it off. But leaving that fact aside, there is some evidence that the body is aware of what’s going on with it’s CSF and tries to compensate for problems. Scientists experimented with altering the sodium concentration of CSF in sheep. They found that increasing the sodium concentration caused them to avoid salty food, while decreasing it led them to desire more. So maybe Ms. Boone should have been eating more potato chips, and fewer people?

As she became CSF depleted,  she would start to suffer headaches, loss of hearing, blurring of visions, tinitis, and numbness of the face. Sounds unpleasant. No wonder she was so cranky all the time.

As we’ve mentioned before, though, this is sometimes problematic when it comes to J.J. Abrams’s Fringe.  Still, we try not to critique.

Besides, Polite Dissent does such a good job of it already.  Head over to PD today for a recap of last night’s episode, including his ongoing homage to the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists.

We’ll leave the debates over the acting, direction, and overall adaptation to others (except to say that Jackie Earle Haley stole the show). But one aspect worthy of analysis is the story’s main conflict—the constant “looming” nuclear holocaust. Granted, we never actually see any evidence that the aforementioned holocaust is looming, save a few shots of Nixon upping Defcon levels—but we’ll address that later. When Alan Moore first published the book in 1986, the apocalypse on everyone’s mind was Cold War atomic bombs—which, as we’ve noted, no longer pack quite the same anxiety punch as, say, biological weapons. Today, gas masks and duct tape have replaced air raids and backyard shelters in the popular conscious, to the point where seeing mushroom clouds onscreen feels like you’re watching an ’80s homage.

Of course, none of this means that the nuclear threat is any smaller now than it was three decades ago: The danger of nuclear war is still present, and fear of missile attack still drives plenty of policy and military tech decisions worldwide. But, like Bird Flu, nukes seem to have a PR problem: Despite the fact that they could wipe us all out, the thought of them isn’t all that scary.

Which is really the main problem for Snyder and his estimated $125 million budget: No matter how faithful your script and powerful your characters, it’s tough to keep a story suspenseful when you’re working towards a climax that doesn’t pack a serious punch. Not helping is the fact that the film completely ignores the other side—the Russians. We get a few choice shots of Tricky Dick mumbling about war, but never once do we see Gorbachev ordering missile launches or troop mobilization.

Granted, world annihilation isn’t dull—it’s still enough to keep an audience engaged for 2 hours and 43 minutes. Plus Snyder never misses a chance to smack us with stakes-raising reminders of devastation (we counted at least 8 shots with the Twin Towers in the background). And when the destruction does come to the Big Apple (why do TV shows and movies always love to decimate New York?) Snyder saves us the book’s graphic images of strewn corpses and bombed-out buildings, instead focusing on the internal struggle among the Watchmen ranks. Nine million people sacrificed for the greater good, meh—but we’ll watch one lovable sociopath in a ski mask.

So should Snyder have updated his apocalypse with biotech? He’d have faced the wrath of fans had he done so. Plus who would think nuclear war could ever get boring? It’s enough to make you wonder what the next big all-consuming fear will be. Oh, wait, we know that already: thinking robots.

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

We see nerve gas often enough on TV and the silver screen that it’s worth understanding out just how it works. VX gas can be deadly when ingested or when it makes contact on the skin. Depending on how much exposure a victim has suffered, it can kill in 10 minutes or a couple of hours. It functions by interfering with the break down of acetylcholine in the muscles. Normally when a nerve fires, acetylcholine is released to cause the muscle to contract. After the contaraction, an enzyme is released to break down the acetylcholine, allowing the muscle to relax. The phosphorous in the VX gas bonds with the enzyme, causing the acetylcholine to stay in place, leading to muscle contractions and spasming. Death can result from asphyxiation, but also from the victim harming themselves while in convulsions.

In the show, the brilliant Dr. Hood comes upon a victim seconds after she has been exposed to the chemical. He does exactly the right thing: He triggers the emergency shower immediately, stripes off the exposed clothing and gets as much of the VX off her as possible. The poison can be countered with an antidote, so people exposed to the gas can be saved if they’re treated in time. They’re only hope is that their exposure is low enough that they can get to the hospital. A high dose can kill in 10 minutes, a low one might take hours to kick in. VX, even in gas form, is heavier than air, so the key to surviving it is to get to fresh air and high ground (which means you have to do the opposite of what you would do in case of a dirty bomb or atomic explosion, where the goal is to avoid radioactive fallout by going inside and staying on the lower floors, as fallout can settle on roofs, so make sure you can tell your apocalyptic scenarios apart!)

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Making a bioweapon requires more than just finding a disease thats suitably lethal and contagious. You need an infectious agent that can be stored under a range of conditions for at least some time, which can dispersed effectively, and which can be made in bulk. You can’t just grab one human, inject him with something at your convenience, and then send him back to infect all the rest — this might work once or twice, but then a simple quarantine protocol for all new arrivals or escapees would drastically limit the effectiveness of the weapon. You need some way to infect lots of people in a short period of time. In the shadowy world of bioweapon development, the favored approach is aerosolization: essentially creating a spray or mist of particles containing the infectious agent, which is then inhaled directly into the lungs.

This is not as easy as it sounds: a lot of agents can’t be effectively aerosolized for a number of reasons, including a short life span outside a living host, or because they are damaged during the aerosolization process. (This is why anthrax is a perennial concern to those tracking bioweapons as it naturally forms robust, long-lived, and infectious spores) When the U.S. stopped developing bioweapons in 1969, it had weaponized just seven agents. The Soviet Union worked on developing another 10 or so. Given that Skynet kills so many people and animals on Judgment Day, the pool of surviving diseases to weaponize would have been sharply reduced, limiting its options. (Most infectious diseases are essentially crowd diseases. Eliminate the crowds, or the animal reservoirs a disease can persist in, and you eliminate the the disease) All this means that one bioweapon, let alone two, would be a tall order, making it valuable enough to Skynet to send a terminator into the past to protect it.