A short history of nearly everything - Bill Bryson [141]
We are remarkably ignorant of the dynamics that rule life in the sea. While marine life is poorer than it ought to be in areas that have been overfished, in some naturally impoverished waters there is far more life than there ought to be. The southern oceans around Antarctica produce only about 3 percent of the world's phytoplankton—far too little, it would seem, to support a complex ecosystem, and yet it does. Crab-eater seals are not a species of animal that most of us have heard of, but they may actually be the second most numerous large species of animal on Earth, after humans. As many as fifteen million of them may live on the pack ice around Antarctica. There are also perhaps two million Weddel seals, at least half a million emperor penguins, and maybe as many as four million Adélie penguins. The food chain is thus hopelessly top heavy, but somehow it works. Remarkably no one knows how.
All this is a very roundabout way of making the point that we know very little about Earth's biggest system. But then, as we shall see in the pages remaining to us, once you start talking about life, there is a great deal we don't know, not least how it got going in the first place.
19 THE RISE OF LIFE
IN 1953, STANLEY Miller, a graduate student at the University of Chicago, took two flasks—one containing a little water to represent a primeval ocean, the other holding a mixture of methane, ammonia, and hydrogen sulphide gases to represent Earth's early atmosphere—connected them with rubber tubes, and introduced some electrical sparks as a stand-in for lightning. After a few days, the water in the flasks had turned green and yellow in a hearty broth of amino acids, fatty acids, sugars, and other organic compounds. “If God didn't do it this way,” observed Miller's delighted supervisor, the Nobel laureate Harold Urey, “He missed a good bet.”
Press reports of the time made it sound as if about all that was needed now was for somebody to give the whole a good shake and life would crawl out. As time has shown, it wasn't nearly so simple. Despite half a century of further study, we are no nearer to synthesizing life today than we were in 1953 and much further away from thinking we can. Scientists are now pretty certain that the early atmosphere was nothing like as primed for development as Miller and Urey's gaseous stew, but rather was a much less reactive blend of nitrogen and carbon dioxide. Repeating Miller's experiments with these more challenging inputs has so far produced only one fairly primitive amino acid. At all events, creating amino acids is not really the problem. The problem is proteins.
Proteins are what you get when you string amino acids together, and we need a lot of them. No one really knows, but there may be as many as a million types of protein in the human body, and each one is a little miracle. By all the laws of probability proteins shouldn't exist. To make a protein you need to assemble amino acids (which I am obliged by long tradition to refer to here as “the building blocks of life”) in a particular order, in much the same way that you assemble letters in a particular order to spell a word. The problem is that words in the amino acid alphabet are often exceedingly long. To spell collagen, the name of a common type of protein, you need to arrange eight letters in the right order. But to make collagen, you need to arrange 1,055 amino acids in precisely the right sequence. But—and here's an obvious but crucial point—you don't make it. It makes itself, spontaneously, without direction, and this is where the unlikelihoods come in.
The chances of a 1,055-sequence molecule like collagen spontaneously self-assembling are, frankly, nil. It just isn't going to happen. To grasp what a long shot its existence is, visualize a standard Las Vegas slot machine but broadened greatly—to about ninety feet, to be precise—to accommodate 1,055 spinning wheels