I am weary and wary of grand scientific agendas. Promises of curing neurodegenerative diseases, abating international poverty or engineering a completely disaster-proof building make me squirm with skepticism.
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When scientists are asked to justify research based solely on the outcome, grad student Chantal Mustoe wonders, “Since when did the value of fundamental knowledge disappear? Why must I promise a grand discovery ... before I can pay my rent?”
Life as a grad student is a uniquely chaotic and stressful experience. Then one day, if you’re like me, you stumble upon a comic strip that gets it.
Bar science: go to the pub, grab a beer, and have a scientist come around and explain their research to you — while you get inebriated enough to say things like, “If I shout really loudly, will they hear me on the moon?”