How it works: The DNA to Protein Pathway!

In this installment of How it works, where I talk about various different aspects of science, I am going to focus on micro ribonuclease, also known as miRNA!  These tiny molecules have often been confusing to scientists – for clarity, read on!

One of the most important, if not the absolute most important, pathway in a cell is the creation of proteins.  Proteins are the building blocks of life, and make up most of your cells, carrying out various functions, providing structure, support, helping to create new molecules, digest food, fight off disease, and many more functions!  But where do they come from?

First an introduction: we all know about DNA, the building blocks of life, the code that contains the instructions for creating any organism, the double-stranded helix that looks like an incredibly long and twisted ladder.  But how does DNA turn into a baby, or a dog, or a palm tree?  Well, it needs to go through some conversion!

The first conversion step is the creation of RNA, which is very similar to DNA.  While DNA is double stranded and made up of the bases A, T, G, and C, RNA is only single stranded, and instead of using T (thiamine), it uses U (uracil).  The creation of RNA from DNA is known as transcription, while the conversion of the RNA into proteins (which make up the various parts of the cell and are what makes it ‘tick’) is known as translation.

This may seem confusing, so let’s use an analogy!

Think of DNA as the blueprints of a skyscraper.  These blueprints are very valuable, since they contain all the instructions for how to build this massive building!  Also, because they include every single detail of the construction, there are a lot of pages of blueprints.  There’s only one copy of these blueprints.  Now, if all the construction workers building the skyscraper had to keep on handing off this giant book of blueprints to each other, things would very quickly get disorganized and not much work would be accomplished.

So, what if we made things a little easier on our construction workers?  Instead, let’s just make photocopies of the relevant pages, and give each worker the pages for his specific assignment, copied out of the blueprints.  This way, you can have tons of copies of the blueprints floating around, each one short and to the point, and the workers can destroy their copies when they’re done, keeping the original blueprints intact.

In this case, all of those copies are like RNA!  This RNA is actually referred to as messenger RNA, or mRNA, because it carries the message of how to build a protein.  So, there’s a guy sitting next to the blueprints in the main building making photocopies – what he’s doing is known as transcription.  All the workers that get the copies then go on to build parts of the building – just like mRNA leads to the creation of proteins.  This is known as translation.

Still with me?  Good!

As I mentioned, there’s only one copy of the DNA.  In humans, this isn’t quite true – there are two copies, one copy coming from each parent.  Sorry to lie to you about that.  But still, 2 copies for an entire cell is not a lot, so the DNA remains inside the nucleus of the cell, where it is safe and protected.  Inside this nucleus, a protein known as RNA polymerase (remember this from our discussion of PCR?) is responsible for reading along an exposed strand of DNA and synthesizing the single-stranded RNA copy.

That single-stranded RNA copy isn’t ready to be turned into a protein yet, however.  It needs to have some modifications made to it!  One step is that some parts of the code may be unnecessary, and certain protein complexes will chop out these unnecessary sections (known as introns) and reattach the two ends of the RNA.  Also added on to the RNA is a “cap” at one end, that helps keep the RNA from being prematurely broken down by enzymes.  At the other end of the RNA is a “tail”, which contains instructions about how the RNA should be processed, as well as sites for miRNA binding (more on that later).

After the newly made mRNA has had these edits made to it, it is considered to be a mature mRNA, and is ready to be sent out into the big, wide world outside the nucleus!  So out it goes, into the cytoplasm.  Here, it floats around until it encounters a large protein complex known as a ribosome.  The ribosome attaches onto this RNA and, like a computer program, reads its code!  I will talk more about DNA code in another update, but the code specifies a specific order of amino acids.  As the amino acids are assembled in this order, they coil together and become a specific protein.  So this ribosome reads the RNA code and assembles the amino acids in the specified order, thus creating a protein.  This is translation.

Now, that mature mRNA hangs around for a while outside the nucleus, constantly being used by ribosomes to make copy after copy of protein.  But it can’t stay forever, or else the ribosomes would waste all their energy making extra copies of the protein that it specifies!  So, over time, that tail is shortened more and more.  The tail is representative of the mRNA’s age – the shorter the tail, the older the mRNA.

Eventually, that mRNA has such a short tail that its code is exposed!  At this point, another protein, known as RNase, steps in.  This enzyme, RNase, is designed for the specific purpose of destroying RNA without a tail.  It latches on to the mRNA and chops it up into pieces, which are then recycled and brought back inside the nucleus, where they will be reused to make new mRNA!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the pathway for making proteins, from the DNA (the blueprints) to immature mRNA (the unedited blueprint copies) to mature mRNA (the copies with proper notes for the workers) to protein (the actual product specified on the blueprints).  Not that bad, is it?

Reboot, Part III

Continued from Part II.  Start from Part I here.

As I turn away from the computer terminal, a sobering thought suddenly worms its way into my head: what if I’ve already discovered this before?  What if I’ve already awoken, found out what I know now, and gone to the terminal, only to die and be rebooted, with no memory of what had just happened?

As I explore this thought, it grows in intensity, worming into my thoughts and leaving me feeling discomforted and unsure.  What would be a good way to avoid this?  After a minute, an answer comes to me; in case something does happen to me, I should leave behind a message!

Still standing in the mess hall, I look around for something with which to leave a message.  Aha!  There’s a piece of paper sitting on top of a nearby table, held in place by a mug with a pen sitting inside.  Perfect.  I reach over, picking it up, but the blood in my veins runs cold as I look at what’s written on the paper.

Captain Reynolds,

This is me.  Well, you, now, I suppose.  Whatever.  Look, I’ve found out that somehow, our memory module has been compromised, so the reboot system can’t save the most recent memories.  I’m headed down to fix it now, but I just realized that there’s a chance that, if I die, the rebooted version of me won’t remember doing this before.  So, I’m leaving this note.  

Signing off, 
Captain Reynolds

I set the note down.  So my suspicions were correct.  I have done this before.  At least once, since I’ve written myself a note.  Glancing at the pen, I suppose that maybe I should leave a count, to make it clear that I’ve been here once before.  I look down at the note and then flip it over.  As I see the backside, however, I gasp, and feel the blood pounding in my head.

Number of times I have read this note:
|||/| \||/| ||\|

Fourteen times.  Fourteen times, I’ve read this!  With shaking fingers, I add another slash mark on to the tally, and then carefully put the note back.  After sucking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders and try to muster my courage.  I must be cautious.  

I step out into the hall, carefully advancing down towards the control room.  At the slightest noise, I freeze, ready to spring backwards or turn and flee, but I see nothing out of the ordinary.  Indeed, a few minutes later, I’ve reached the entrance to the control room without incident.  I reach up and key in my sequence, unlocking the door.  With a soft whoosh of compressed air, it slides open, revealing the dim lighting and blinking LEDs of the ship’s main computer.

I quickly move through the towers of computer equipment, but stop short.  “That’s definitely the problem,” I say aloud, staring at the ruin of a computer tower in front of me.  Some sort of electrical fire must have broke out; the entire tower is scorched and black, and the plastic and metal of the wires has melted into a streaky puddle at the floor.  There’s no way that anything this severe can be repaired.  No wonder the computer was malfunctioning so much.

As I step closer, I notice another note, this one held haphazardly pinned to the ruined tower with a twisted piece of wire.

To myself:

Man, writing these notes is weird.  As you can see, the tower’s beyond repair; this part of the system controlled the reboot scanning equipment, so we can’t save recent memories without it.  No idea why the engines are malfunctioning, though.  I’m headed to the bridge next.

Reynolds

Well, at least I know where to go next.  I glance at the back of this note, but there’s no similar, disturbing tally.  Not that I’ve encountered any problems yet.  I need to remember to stay on my highest alert.

Continued in Part IV…

Reboot, Part II

Continued from Part I.

“Berlman?” I call out again, my legs gaining strength as I force them to continue carrying me forward.  I make it out of the medical bay, heading down through the metal, meshed walkways that lead throughout the ship.  I still feel a little woozy, but that’s not what’s bothering me the most.

Warning: Attempt to access most recently written memories failed.  Memories were likely corrupted due to improper upload or transfer.

Attempting to repair files…
Repairing…
Repairing…
Repair failed.  Files cannot be repaired from available data.

Attempting to restore files from earlier backup…
Restore failed.  No earlier backup is present.

The system in the ship was top-of-the-line, capable of keeping a constant real-time profile of every crew member’s brain in the synthetic matrix of the computer.  Whenever massive damage was detected to a crewman, the real-time profile on the computer was simply saved, ready to be uploaded to a new, rebooted body.  

I knew that the system worked.  On previous voyages, several of our more accident-prone members of the crew had managed to injure or kill themselves through various circumstances.  In every case, their profile had been successfully saved, and they had stepped out of the reboot chamber a couple of hours later, after their new body had been constructed, shaking their head at their stupidity.  

It had even progressed to the point where Barry, one of the more enterprising crewmen, kept a pool going on who would be the next person to need rebooting.  As the captain, I had to discourage such behavior, of course, but occasionally I’d sit down and consult with him in private.  He was able to provide a good insight into how the crew felt – something invaluable to a captain.

But my point was that the ship’s computer was able to keep a full brain profile up until the last microsecond of that person’s life before the reboot.  There should not be any memory gaps.  So why can’t I recall why I had been rebooted?

The corridors are suspiciously quiet.  The only noise that I can hear is the banging of my own steps against the metal gratings.  Wait a minute.  I pause, straining my ears.  It isn’t just my imagination – the sounds of the ship itself, the steady purr of the warp drive beneath my feet, is different.  I’ve commanded this ship long enough to tell when it’s gone wrong.  And something is definitely off.  No crew, malfunctioning reboot system, and now something different with the ship’s engines; there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I lean forward, releasing the railing and pushing myself forward into a half-stumble, half-run down the corridor towards the nearest terminal interface.  I duck around the corner, into the mess hall (which is also completely empty.  This is very bad, my brain’s crying out to me), and grab for the terminal keyboard.  I key in my access code to the ship’s mainframe, my fingers trembling slightly. 

Access code accepted.  Welcome, Captain Reynolds.

>Run diagnostics

Running full-system diagnostic scan…


Warning!  Extensive damage detected.  Multiple detection pathways are currently offline.  Extent of damage cannot be determined at this time.

Warning!  Damage detected to Reboot™ system.  Memory save function corrupted.  Real-time protection module has been disconnected and must be manually repaired.  Any Reboot™ that occurs will be drawn from most recent saved profile.

Ah, so that explained part of what was wrong.  The computer system, for some reason, had been damaged and was no longer able to save the up-to-date copies of brain scans for new reboots.  This explained why I couldn’t remember what had gone wrong when I had awoken; those most recent memories must not have been preserved.

Although the idea of not being able to save my memories fills me with concern, I know what I have to do next; I have to head to the computer room.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to repair the computer system.  But I’ll have to be alert as I do so. Any mistakes I make won’t be remembered if I reboot…

Continued in Part III…