Research Area: Genetics

Researchers biosynthesize anti-cancer compound found in venomous Australian tree
Eva Frederick | Whitehead Institute
April 20, 2022

The Australian stinging tree (Dendrocnide moroides) is a plant that many people avoid at all costs. The tree, which is a member of the nettle family, is covered in thin silicon needles laced with one of nature’s most excruciating toxins, a compound called moroidin. “It’s notorious for causing extreme pain, which lingers for a very long time,” said Whitehead Institute Member Jing-Ke Weng.

There’s another side to moroidin, though; in addition to causing pain, the compound binds to cells’ cytoskeletons, preventing them from dividing, which makes moroidin a promising candidate for chemotherapy drugs.

Harvesting enough of the chemical to study has proven difficult, for obvious reasons. Now, in a paper published April 19 in the Journal of the American Chemical Society, Weng, who is also an associate professor of biology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and former postdoc Roland Kersten, now an assistant professor at the University of Michigan College of Pharmacy, present the first published method to biosynthesize moroidin within the tissues of harmless plants such as tobacco, facilitating research on the compound’s utility for cancer treatments.

Taking a leaf out of plants’ book to create peptides

Moroidin is a bicyclic peptide — a type of molecule made up of building blocks called amino acids and circularized to contain two connected rings. For synthetic chemists, moroidin has proved nearly impossible to synthesize due to its complex chemical structure. Weng and Kersten wanted to dig deeper into what methods the plants were using to create this molecule.

In plant cells, cyclic peptides are made from specific precursor proteins synthesized by the ribosome, the macromolecular machine that produces proteins by translating messenger RNAs. After leaving the ribosome, these precursor proteins are further processed by other enzymes in the cell to give rise to the final cyclic peptides. In 2018, Weng and Kersten had elucidated the biosynthetic mechanism of another type of plant peptides called lyciumins, first found in the goji berry plant, which gave them some insight into how post-translational modifications might play a role in creating different types of plant peptide chemistry. “We learned a lot about the principal elements of this system by studying lyciumins,” said Weng.

When they began to look into how moroidin was synthesized, the researchers found a few other plants, such as Kerria japonica and Celosia argentea, also produce peptides with similar chemistry to moroidin. “That really gave us the very critical insight that this is a new class of peptides,” Weng said.

Weng and Kersten previously learned that the BURP domain, which is part of the precursor proteins for lyciumins and several other plant cyclic peptides, catalyzes key reactions involved in the peptide ring formation. They found that the BURP domain was present in the precursor proteins for moroidins in Kerria japonica, and seemed to be essential for creating the two-ring structure of the molecules. The BURP domain creates ring chemistry when in the presence of copper, and when the researchers incubated the moroidin precursor protein with copper chloride in the lab together with other downstream proteolytic enzymes, they were able to create moroidin-like peptides.

With this information, they were able to produce a variety of moroidin analogs in tobacco plants by transgenically expressing the moroidin precursor gene of Kerria japonica and varying the core motif sequence corresponding to moroidin peptides. “We show that you can produce the same moroidin chemistry in a different host plant,” Weng said. “Tobacco itself is easier to be farmed on a large scale, and we also think in the future we can derive a plant cell line from the existing tobacco cell lines that we put in the moroidin precursor peptide, then we can use the cell line to produce the molecule, which really enables us to scale up for medicine production.”

Future use of moroidin

Moroidin’s anti-cancer property is due, at least in part, to the compound’s unique structure that allows it to bind to a protein called tubulin. Tubulin forms a skeletal system for living cells, and provides the means by which cells separate their chromosomes as they prepare to divide. Currently, two existing anti-cancer drugs, vincristine and paclitaxel, work by binding tubulin. These two compounds are derived from plants as well (the Madagascar periwinkle and Pacific yew tree, respectively).

In their new work, Weng and Kersten synthesized a moroidin analog called celogentin C. They tested its anti-cancer activity against a human lung cancer cell line, and found that the compound was toxic to the cancer cells. Their new study also suggests potentially new anti-cancer mechanisms specific to this lung cancer cell line in addition to tubulin inhibition.

In the past, researchers have run into issues when trying to create effective drugs from peptides. “There are two major challenges for peptides as medicine,” Weng said. “For one thing they are not very stable in vivo, and for another they are not very bioavailable and don’t readily pass the membrane of a cell.”

But cyclic peptides like moroidin and its analogs are a bit different. “These peptides essentially evolve to be drug-like,” Weng said. “In the case of the Australian stinging tree, the peptides are present because the plants want to deter any animals that want to eat the leaves. So over millions of years of evolution these plants eventually figured out a way to construct these specific cyclic peptides that are stable, bioavailable and can get to the animal that is trying to eat the plants.”

It’s likely that the painful reaction that occurs when moroidin enters the body through a sting from the tree would not be an issue in traditional methods of administering chemotherapy. “The pain is really caused if you get injections of the compound into the skin,” Weng said. “If you take it orally or intravenously, your body will most likely not sense the pain.”

Somewhat counterintuitively, the compound could also be used as a pain reliever. “If something causes pain, you can sometimes use that as an anti-pain medicine,” Weng said. “You could essentially exhaust the pain receptors, or if you alter the structure a little bit, you could turn an agonist into an antagonist and potentially block the pain.”

On a more fundamental level, moroidin could help researchers study pain receptors. “We don’t know exactly why being stung by the stinging tree produces that enormous amount of pain, and there may be additional pain receptors people haven’t identified,” Weng said. “Being able to synthesize moroidin provides a chemical probe that allows us to study this unknown pain perception in humans.”

In the future, the researchers hope to create analogs of moroidin to study, and hopefully create an optimal version for use in cancer therapy. “We want to generate a library of moroidin-like peptides,” Weng said. “We’ve done this for lyciumins, and since the initial moroidins are anti-tubulin molecules, we can use this system to find an improved version that binds to tubulin even tighter and contains other pharmacological properties making it suitable to be used as a therapeutic.

Directing evolution in search of a better plastic-degrading enzyme

Graduate student En Ze Linda Zhong-Johnson is creating new methods to measure and enhance enzyme activity — which she hopes will help restore a plastic-choked world.

Grace van Deelen
April 21, 2022

After graduating with her undergraduate degree in molecular genetics from the University of Toronto in 2016, En Ze Linda Zhong-Johnson celebrated with a trip to Alaska. There, she saw a pristine landscape unlike the plastic-littered shores of the Toronto waterfront. “What I saw up there was so different from what I saw in the city,” Zhong-Johnson says. “I realized there shouldn’t be all this waste floating everywhere, in our water, in our environment. It’s not natural.”

As a trained biologist, Zhong-Johnson began to think about the problem of plastic pollution from a biological perspective. One solution, she thought, could be biological recycling: a process by which living organisms break down materials, using digestion or other metabolic processes to turn these materials into smaller pieces or new compounds. Composting, for example, is a type of biological recycling — microbes in the soil break down discarded food, speeding up the decomposition process. Zhong-Johnson wondered if there were any organisms on Earth that could use the carbon in polyethylene terephthalate (PET), a common plastic used in water bottle and food packaging, as an energy source.

Earlier that same year, Japanese scientists discovered that a bacterium, Ideonella sakaiensis, could do just that by producing enzymes that could break down PET. The two main PET-degrading enzymes, referred to as IsPETase and IsMHETase, are able to turn PET into two chemical compounds, terephthalic acid and ethylene glycol, which I. sakaiensis can use for food.

The discovery of these enzymes opened up many new questions and possible applications that scientists have continued to work on since. However, because there was — and still is — much to learn about PET-degrading enzymes, they are still not widely used to recycle consumer products. Zhong-Johnson figured that, in graduate school, she could build on the existing IsPETase research and help to accelerate their use at recycling facilities. Specifically, she wanted to engineer the enzyme to work faster at lower temperatures, and study how, fundamentally, the enzymes worked on the surface of PET plastic to degrade it.

“I hopped on the excitement train, along with the rest of the world,” she says.

A better enzyme

After receiving her acceptance to MIT to complete her PhD, Zhong-Johnson approached various professors, pitching her idea to speed up IsPETase activity. Christopher Voigt, the Daniel I. C. Wang Professor of Biological Engineering, and Anthony Sinskey, professor of biology, were interested, and formed a co-advisorship to support Zhong-Johnson’s project. Sinskey, in particular, was impressed by her idea to help solve the world’s plastic problem with PET-degrading enzymes.

Woman pipetting in lab
Zhong-Johnson screens for enzyme variants with improved activity. Credit: Grace van Deelen

“Plastic pollution is a big problem,” he says, “and that’s the kind of problem my lab likes to tackle.” Plus, he says, he feels “committed to helping graduate students who want to apply their science and technology learnings to the environment.”

While the idea of a plastic-degrading enzyme seems like a panacea, the enzyme’s practical applications have been limited by its biology. The wild-type IsPETase is a mesophilic enzyme, meaning the structure of the enzyme is only stable around ambient temperatures, and the enzyme loses its activity above that threshold. This restriction on temperature limits the number and types of facilities that can use IsPETase, as well as the rate of the enzyme reaction, and drives up the cost of their use.

However, Zhong-Johnson thinks that, with combined approaches of biological and chemical engineering, it’s possible to scale up the use of the enzymes by increasing their stability and activity. For example, an enzyme that’s highly active at lower temperatures could work in unheated facilities, or even be sprinkled directly into landfills or oceans to degrade plastic waste — a process called bioremediation. Increasing the activity of the enzyme at ambient temperatures could also expand the possible applications.

“Most of the environments where plastic is present are not above 50 degrees Celsius,” said Zhong-Johnson. “If we can increase enzyme activity at lower temperatures, that’s really interesting for bioremediation purposes.”

Now a fifth-year graduate student, Zhong-Johnson has honed her project, and is focusing on increasing the activity of IsPETase. To do so, she’s using directed evolution — creating random mutations in the IsPETase gene, and selecting for IsPETase variants that digest PET faster. When they do, she combines the beneficial mutations and uses that as template for the next round of library generation, to improve the enzyme even further. The evolution is “directed” because Zhong-Johnson herself, rather than nature, is picking out which gene sequences of enzyme proceed through to the next round of random mutagenesis, and which don’t. Her ultimate goal is to create a more efficient and hardier enzyme that will, hopefully, work faster at ambient temperatures.

A better protocol

Just as Zhong-Johnson was beginning her project, she ran into an obstacle: There wasn’t a standard way to measure whether her experiments were successful. In particular, no immediately applicable method existed to measure enzyme kinetics for IsPETases on solid substrates like plastic bottles and other plasticware. That was a problem for Zhong-Johnson because understanding enzyme activity was a crucial part of how she selected her enzymes in the directed evolution process.

Usually, enzyme activity is measured via product accumulation: When enzymes metabolize a substance, they create a new substance in return, called a product. Measuring the amount of product created by an enzyme after a certain amount of time gives the researcher a snapshot of that enzyme’s activity.

There are two problems with the product accumulation method, though. First, it is usually done using liquid or soluble substrates. In other words, the material that the enzyme is targeting is dissolved, like sugar dissolved in water. Then, the enzyme is added to that liquid concoction and mixed evenly throughout. However, the substrate Zhong-Johnson wanted to use — PET — was not soluble but solid, meaning it could not be evenly distributed like a soluble substrate. Second, the product accumulation measurement methods available were only practical for measuring less than a handful of timepoints for a few enzyme or substrate concentrations. As a result, many in the field opted to measure a single time point, late in the enzyme reaction, which doesn’t provide an indication of how an enzyme’s rate of digestion actually changes over the course of time — something that can be measured through kinetic measurements.

Taking kinetic measurements would help researchers like Zhong-Johnson illustrate the full pattern of enzyme activity and answer questions like: When is the enzyme most active? Does most product accumulation happen at the beginning of the reaction or the end? How does temperature impact the rate of these reactions over time? To answer these questions, she realized she would have to develop the method herself. 

Through a serendipitous discussion with a group of chemical engineering undergraduate students that Zhong-Johnson was mentoring, she came up with a solution, which she published in a 2021 paper in Scientific Reports. The undergraduates brought to her attention many factors that she had overlooked about the enzyme, and she says she would not have realized the importance of kinetic measurements if it weren’t for the fact that she was trying to design an experiment that the undergraduates could perform over the course of three hours.

The paper outlined a new way to measure enzyme activity, which Zhong-Johnson calls “the bulk absorbance method.” Instead of measuring the final product accumulation at very late time points, the bulk absorbance method involves taking multiple kinetic measurements at early time intervals during the experiment. This technique informs Zhong-Johnson’s directed evolution approach: If she can find which enzymes are most active at low temperatures, she can select the best possible enzyme for the next round of analyses. She hasn’t yet engineered an enzyme she’s completely happy with, but she’s gotten much closer to her ultimate goal.

Solving big problems together

Zhong-Johnson’s discoveries have been made possible by the collaboration between her and her two co-advisors, Voigt and Sinskey, who have supported her independence throughout her five years at MIT.

Man and woman smile by whiteboard
Zhong-Johnson and her advisor, professor Anthony Sinskey, in his office. Credit: Grace van Deelen

When she first started her graduate work, neither Voigt nor Sinskey had expertise in enzyme biochemistry involving solid substrates: Sinkey’s lab focuses on bacterial metabolism, while Voigt’s lab focuses on genetic engineering (though Voigt did have experience with directed evolution research). Additionally, Zhong-Johnson’s path to her project was rather unconventional. Most grad students do not come to potential advisors proposing entire dissertations, which posed a unique challenge for Zhong-Johnson.

Despite not having specific expertise in enzyme biochemistry involving solid substrates, Voigt and Sinskey have supported Zhong-Johnson in other ways: by helping her to develop critical thinking skills and connecting her to other people in her field, such as potential collaborators, who can help her project thrive in the future. Zhong-Johnson has supplemented her MIT experience by having enzyme experts as part of her dissertation committee as well.

Sinskey says that, in the future — once Zhong-Johnson has engineered the ideal enzyme — they would like to partner with industry, and work on making the enzyme into a product that waste companies might use to recycle plastic. Additionally, Sinskey says, the plastic problem and the IsPETase solution raise so many interesting questions that Zhong-Johnson’s project will probably live on in the Voigt and Sinskey labs even after she graduates. He’d like to see other graduate students working to understand the enzyme’s activity and progressing the directed evolution that Zhong-Johnson started.

Zhong-Johnson is already working on understanding the specifics of how IsPETase act on PET. “How does it eat a hole in a plastic bottle? How does it move along and make the hole bigger as it moves through the process? Does it jump around? Or does it keep degrading a single polymer chain until its completely broken down? We just don’t know the answers yet,” says Sinskey.

But Zhong-Johnson is up to the task. “My graduate students have to have three skills, in my opinion,” Sinskey says. “One, they have to be intelligent. Two, they have to be energetic, and three, they have to be of high integrity, in research and behavior.” Zhong-Johnson, he says, has all three qualities.

Using plant biology to address climate change

A Climate Grand Challenges flagship project aims to reduce agriculture-driven emissions while making food crop plants heartier and more nutritious.

Merrill Meadow | Whitehead Institute
April 20, 2022

On April 11, MIT announced five multiyear flagship projects in the first-ever Climate Grand Challenges, a new initiative to tackle complex climate problems and deliver breakthrough solutions to the world as quickly as possible. This article is the fourth in a five-part series highlighting the most promising concepts to emerge from the competition and the interdisciplinary research teams behind them.

The impact of our changing climate on agriculture and food security — and how contemporary agriculture contributes to climate change — is at the forefront of MIT’s multidisciplinary project “Revolutionizing agriculture with low-emissions, resilient crops.” The project The project is one of five flagship winners in the Climate Grand Challenges competition, and brings together researchers from the departments of Biology, Biological Engineering, Chemical Engineering, and Civil and Environmental Engineering.

“Our team’s research seeks to address two connected challenges: first, the need to reduce the greenhouse gas emissions produced by agricultural fertilizer; second, the fact that the yields of many current agricultural crops will decrease, due to the effects of climate change on plant metabolism,” says the project’s faculty lead, Christopher Voigt, the Daniel I.C. Wang Professor in MIT’s Department of Biological Engineering. “We are pursuing six interdisciplinary projects that are each key to our overall goal of developing low-emissions methods for fertilizing plants that are bioengineered to be more resilient and productive in a changing climate.”

Whitehead Institute members Mary Gehring and Jing-Ke Weng, plant biologists who are also associate professors in MIT’s Department of Biology, will lead two of those projects.

Promoting crop resilience

For most of human history, climate change occurred gradually, over hundreds or thousands of years. That pace allowed plants to adapt to variations in temperature, precipitation, and atmospheric composition. However, human-driven climate change has occurred much more quickly, and crop plants have suffered: Crop yields are down in many regions, as is seed protein content in cereal crops.

“If we want to ensure an abundant supply of nutritious food for the world, we need to develop fundamental mechanisms for bioengineering a wide variety of crop plants that will be both hearty and nutritious in the face of our changing climate,” says Gehring. In her previous work, she has shown that many aspects of plant reproduction and seed development are controlled by epigenetics — that is, by information outside of the DNA sequence. She has been using that knowledge and the research methods she has developed to identify ways to create varieties of seed-producing plants that are more productive and resilient than current food crops.

But plant biology is complex, and while it is possible to develop plants that integrate robustness-enhancing traits by combining dissimilar parental strains, scientists are still learning how to ensure that the new traits are carried forward from one generation to the next. “Plants that carry the robustness-enhancing traits have ‘hybrid vigor,’ and we believe that the perpetuation of those traits is controlled by epigenetics,” Gehring explains. “Right now, some food crops, like corn, can be engineered to benefit from hybrid vigor, but those traits are not inherited. That’s why farmers growing many of today’s most productive varieties of corn must purchase and plant new batches of seeds each year. Moreover, many important food crops have not yet realized the benefits of hybrid vigor.”

The project Gehring leads, “Developing Clonal Seed Production to Fix Hybrid Vigor,” aims to enable food crop plants to create seeds that are both more robust and genetically identical to the parent — and thereby able to pass beneficial traits from generation to generation.

The process of clonal (or asexual) production of seeds that are genetically identical to the maternal parent is called apomixis. Gehring says, “Because apomixis is present in 400 flowering plant species — about 1 percent of flowering plant species — it is probable that genes and signaling pathways necessary for apomixis are already present within crop plants. Our challenge is to tweak those genes and pathways so that the plant switches reproduction from sexual to asexual.”

The project will leverage the fact that genes and pathways related to autonomous asexual development of the endosperm — a seed’s nutritive tissue — exist in the model plant Arabidopsis thaliana. In previous work on Arabidopsis, Gehring’s lab researched a specific gene that, when misregulated, drives development of an asexual endosperm-like material. “Normally, that seed would not be viable,” she notes. “But we believe that by epigenetic tuning of the expression of additional relevant genes, we will enable the plant to retain that material — and help achieve apomixis.”

If Gehring and her colleagues succeed in creating a gene-expression “formula” for introducing endosperm apomixis into a wide range of crop plants, they will have made a fundamental and important achievement. Such a method could be applied throughout agriculture to create and perpetuate new crop breeds able to withstand their changing environments while requiring less fertilizer and fewer pesticides.

Creating “self-fertilizing” crops

Roughly a quarter of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions in the United States are a product of agriculture. Fertilizer production and use accounts for one third of those emissions and includes nitrous oxide, which has heat-trapping capacity 298-fold stronger than carbon dioxide, according to a 2018 Frontiers in Plant Science study. Most artificial fertilizer production also consumes huge quantities of natural gas and uses minerals mined from nonrenewable resources. After all that, much of the nitrogen fertilizer becomes runoff that pollutes local waterways. For those reasons, this Climate Grand Challenges flagship project aims to greatly reduce use of human-made fertilizers.

One tantalizing approach is to cultivate cereal crop plants — which account for about 75 percent of global food production — capable of drawing nitrogen from metabolic interactions with bacteria in the soil. Whitehead Institute’s Weng leads an effort to do just that: genetically bioengineer crops such as corn, rice, and wheat to, essentially, create their own fertilizer through a symbiotic relationship with nitrogen-fixing microbes.

“Legumes such as bean and pea plants can form root nodules through which they receive nitrogen from rhizobia bacteria in exchange for carbon,” Weng explains. “This metabolic exchange means that legumes release far less greenhouse gas — and require far less investment of fossil energy — than do cereal crops, which use a huge portion of the artificially produced nitrogen fertilizers employed today.

“Our goal is to develop methods for transferring legumes’ ‘self-fertilizing’ capacity to cereal crops,” Weng says. “If we can, we will revolutionize the sustainability of food production.”

The project — formally entitled “Mimicking legume-rhizobia symbiosis for fertilizer production in cereals” — will be a multistage, five-year effort. It draws on Weng’s extensive studies of metabolic evolution in plants and his identification of molecules involved in formation of the root nodules that permit exchanges between legumes and nitrogen-fixing bacteria. It also leverages his expertise in reconstituting specific signaling and metabolic pathways in plants.

Weng and his colleagues will begin by deciphering the full spectrum of small-molecule signaling processes that occur between legumes and rhizobium bacteria. Then they will genetically engineer an analogous system in nonlegume crop plants. Next, using state-of-the-art metabolomic methods, they will identify which small molecules excreted from legume roots prompt a nitrogen/carbon exchange from rhizobium bacteria. Finally, the researchers will genetically engineer the biosynthesis of those molecules in the roots of nonlegume plants and observe their effect on the rhizobium bacteria surrounding the roots.

While the project is complex and technically challenging, its potential is staggering. “Focusing on corn alone, this could reduce the production and use of nitrogen fertilizer by 160,000 tons,” Weng notes. “And it could halve the related emissions of nitrous oxide gas.”

Two proteins found to induce cell death through incomplete base excision repair

Depletion of either the DapB or Dxr proteins causes oxidative stress and cell death in bacteria, which could aid the development of more effective antibiotics.

Grace van Deelen
April 7, 2022

How do bacteria die? It’s an important question, especially since these single-celled organisms seem to be outpacing the development of new antibiotics. However, any one bacterial cell will often die from a number of separate but related pathways acting simultaneously, making understanding bacterial death difficult. Determining how to induce those pathways — and the role each pathway plays in a cell’s death — is key to creating effective antibiotics, especially after bacteria evolve to resist some drugs. But new research from Graham Walker’s lab in the MIT Department of Biology suggests that one historically under-appreciated cause of bacterial death, called oxidative stress, could help scientists develop antibiotics that kill bacteria more effectively.

Many antibiotics target the bacteria’s cell wall or replication process. However, some antibiotics can additionally cause changes in a cell’s ­metabolism that lead to a phenomenon called oxidative stress. Reactive oxygen-containing molecules float around freely inside the cell, sometimes bumping into other molecules, reacting with them, and stealing their unpaired electrons in a process called oxidation. For example, a guanine molecule — the DNA nucleotide commonly abbreviated to “G” — may become an oxidized guanine called 8-oxo-dG, a transformation that causes mutations in a cell’s genetic code. The harmful effects of oxidation are usually managed by the cell, but the disruption caused by these antibiotics can also become fatal to the cell.

In the case of 8-oxo-dG, the cell responds to this oxidative stress by attempting to cut the oxidized guanine out of the genome and repair it with a regular nucleotide during a process called base excision repair (BER). However, during BER, every completed step produces intermediate substances, including other forms of damaged DNA, which then must be cleared by another enzyme or protein. However, sometimes the cell is unable to complete BER because these intermediate substances build up. When there is an imbalance of intermediate substances, the cell pauses the repair, leaving breaks in the strands of DNA that cause cell death.

Because incomplete BER is just one of many contributing causes of cell death, the total contribution of incomplete BER to cell death remained unclear. As a result, scientists in the Walker lab were interested in determining other stressors, besides known antibiotics, that might cause incomplete BER of 8-oxo-dG. “If this mechanism of 8-oxo-dG getting into DNA causes bacteria to die, there’s probably some other stressor that isn’t an antibiotic that would cause cells to die by the same way,” says Walker.

In the paper, published on February 8 in mBio, the researchers determined two additional stressors that also induce cell death via incomplete BER of 8-oxo-dG. They found that the depletion of proteins DapB and Dxr also induced oxidative stress and incomplete BER of 8-oxo-dG. Scientists have known of these proteins — both of which are involved in bacterial metabolism — for some time, but had never associated them with incomplete BER.

“Incomplete base excision repair is probably one of more underappreciated ways a cell can die,” Walker says. “So we wanted to explore that pathway further.”

Charley Gruber, a postdoc in the Walker lab and lead author on the paper, identified DapB and Dxr by screening a library of 238 proteins essential for Escherichia coli growth. He determined that, in the absence of these two proteins, the cell overproduced the reactive oxygen-containing molecules that contribute to oxidative stress. As a result, the oxidized nucleotide 8-oxo-dG was incorporated into the genome, leading to cell death through incomplete BER. Researchers don’t know for sure why depletion of DapB and Dxr increases the amount of reactive oxygen-containing molecules inside the cell, but oxidative stress is a common reaction to many disruptions that bacterial cells may face.

To Walker and Gruber’s surprise, their results also showed that the total contribution of incomplete BER to cell death was different between the two proteins — Dxr-depleted cells died faster than DapB-depleted cells, suggesting that a lack of Dxr played a larger role in cell death. Because the responses to protein depletion were so different between DapB and Dxr, the researchers concluded that there is no singular pathway that causes oxidative stress; rather, it is probably a common consequence of many possible disruptions to bacterial cell physiology.

“If there’s one important thing I think we need to realize about cell death,” Gruber says, “it’s that a lot is happening to a stressed cell. And what is actually lethal might differ between two cells.”

This study adds to a body of research by Gruber, Walker, and others about the role of incomplete BER in the process of cell death. In 2012, the Walker lab published a paper in Science — building on earlier work from MIT’s Termeer Professor of Bioengineering, Jim Collins — which showed for the first time that some commonly-used antibiotics kill by way of oxidative stress and the 8-oxo-dG pathway of incomplete BER. The idea was not immediately accepted by the scientific community, and a debate ensued: Shortly after Walker’s paper, Northeastern University biologist Kim Lewis and University of Illinois biologist Jim Imlay each published separate papers suggesting that bactericidal antibiotics had nothing to do with oxidative stress. Since then, the Walker and Collins labs have continued to research the topic, producing more supporting data for their argument that oxidative stress and incomplete BER are, in fact, an important pathway of cell death.

“This new work provides a strong genetic foundation for the role of incomplete BER in bacterial cell death,” Collins says . “Oxidative stress and BER should be targeted as a means to potentiate existing antibiotics and enhance our antibiotic arsenal.”

Scientific debates like the one surrounding the contribution of incomplete BER to bacterial death are crucial to the creation of effective antibiotics. Most antibiotics work by breaking the cell wall and causing cell death that way. However, the lab’s findings offer a possibility for antibiotic assistance: the common practice of using secondary antibiotics to aid in cell death thorough a different pathway. For example, administering a secondary antibiotic that triggers the 8-oxo-dG pathway along with the primary antibiotic that is lethal to bacteria through cell wall destruction could be more effective than one antibiotic on its own, Gruber suggests.

“Many of our antibiotics are not working, or we’ve overused them in some cases, so we’re really running out of drugs,” he says. “So an antibiotic that induces oxidative stress could be another way to help existing drugs work better.”


Top image: E. coli cells with either DapB (left) or Dxr (right) depleted. Living cells are stained green while dead cells are stained red. Credit: Charley Gruber

Citation:
“Degradation of the Escherichia coli Essential Proteins DapB and Dxr Results in Oxidative Stress, which Contributes to Lethality through Incomplete Base Excision Repair”
mBio, online February 8, 2022, DOI: 10.1128/mbio.03756-21
Charley C. Gruber, Vignesh M. P. Babu, Kamren Livingston, Heer Joisher, and Graham C. Walker

How molecular biology could reduce global food insecurity

Mary Gehring is using her background in plant epigenetics to grow climate-resilient crops.

Summer Weidman | Abdul Latif Jameel Water and Food Systems Lab
March 30, 2022

Staple crops like rice, maize, and wheat feed over half of the global population, but they are increasingly vulnerable to severe environmental risks. The effects of climate change, including changing temperatures, rainfall variability, shifting patterns of agricultural pests and diseases, and saltwater intrusion from sea-level rise, all contribute to decreased crop yields. As these effects continue to worsen, there will be less food available for a rapidly growing population.

Mary Gehring, associate professor of biology and a member of the Whitehead Institute for Biomedical Research, is growing increasingly concerned about the potentially catastrophic impacts of climate change and has resolved to do something about it.

The Gehring Lab’s primary research focus is plant epigenetics, which refers to the heritable information that influences plant cellular function but is not encoded in the DNA sequence itself. This research is adding to our fundamental understanding of plant biology and could have agricultural applications in the future. “I’ve been working with seeds for many years,” says Gehring. “Understanding how seeds work is going to be critical to agriculture and food security,” she explains.

Laying the foundation

Gehring is using her expertise to help crops develop climate resilience through a 2021 seed grant from MIT’s Abdul Latif Jameel Water and Food Systems Lab (J-WAFS). Her research is aimed at discovering how we can accelerate the production of genetic diversity to generate plant populations that are better suited to challenging environmental conditions.

Genetic variation gives rise to phenotypic variations that can help plants adapt to a wider range of climates. Traits such as flood resistance and salt tolerance will become more important as the effects of climate change are realized. However, many important plant species do not appear to have much standing genetic variation, which could become an issue if farmers need to breed their crops quickly to adapt to a changing climate.

In researching a nutritious crop that has little genetic variation, Gehring came across the pigeon pea, a species she had never worked with before. Pigeon peas are a legume eaten in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. They have some of the highest levels of protein in a seed, so eating more pigeon peas could decrease our dependence on meat, which has numerous negative environmental impacts. Pigeon peas also have a positive impact on the environment; as perennial plants, they live for three to five years and sequester carbon for longer periods of time. They can also help with soil restoration. “Legumes are very interesting because they’re nitrogen-fixers, so they create symbioses with microbes in the soil and fix nitrogen, which can renew soils,” says Gehring. Furthermore, pigeon peas are known to be drought-resistant, so they will likely become more attractive as many farmers transition away from water-intensive crops.

Developing a strategy

Using the pigeon pea plant, Gehring began to explore a universal technology that would increase the amount of genetic diversity in plants. One method her research group chose is to enhance transposable element proliferation. Genomes are made up of genes that make proteins, but large fractions are also made up of transposable elements. In fact, about 45 percent of the human genome is made up of transposable elements, Gehring notes. The primary function of transposable elements is to make more copies of themselves. Since our bodies do not need an infinite number of these copies, there are systems in place to “silence” them from copying.

Gehring is trying to reverse that silencing so that the transposable elements can move freely throughout the genome, which could create genetic variation by creating mutations or altering the promoter of a gene — that is, what controls a certain gene’s expression. Scientists have traditionally initiated mutagenesis by using a chemical that changes single base pairs in DNA, or by using X-rays, which can cause very large chromosome breaks. Gehring’s research team is attempting to induce transposable element proliferation by treatment with a suite of chemicals that inhibit transposable element silencing. The goal is to impact multiple sites in the genome simultaneously. “This is unexplored territory where you’re changing 50 genes at a time, or 100, rather than just one,” she explains. “It’s a fairly risky project, but sometimes you have to be ambitious and take risks.”

Looking forward

Less than one year after receiving the J-WAFS seed grant, the research project is still in its early stages. Despite various restrictions due to the ongoing pandemic, the Gehring Lab is now generating data on the Arabidopsis plant that will be applied to pigeon pea plants. However, Gehring expects it will take a good amount of time to complete this research phase, considering the pigeon pea plants can take upward of 100 days just to flower. While it might take time, this technology could help crops withstand the effects of climate change, ultimately contributing to J-WAFS’ goal of finding solutions to food system challenges.

“Climate change is not something any of us can ignore. … If one of us has the ability to address it, even in a very small way, that’s important to try to pursue,” Gehring remarks. “It’s part of our responsibility as scientists to take what knowledge we have and try to apply it to these sorts of problems.”

Yukiko Yamashita, unraveler of stem cells’ secrets

The MIT biologist’s research has shed light on the immortality of germline cells and the function of “junk DNA.”

Anne Trafton | MIT News Office
March 22, 2022

When cells divide, they usually generate two identical daughter cells. However, there are some important exceptions to this rule: When stem cells divide, they often produce one differentiated cell along with another stem cell, to maintain the pool of stem cells.

Yukiko Yamashita has spent much of her career exploring how these “asymmetrical” cell divisions occur. These processes are critically important not only for cells to develop into different types of tissue, but also for germline cells such as eggs and sperm to maintain their viability from generation to generation.

“We came from our parents’ germ cells, who used to be also single cells who came from the germ cells of their parents, who used to be single cells that came from their parents, and so on. That means our existence can be tracked through the history of multicellular life,” Yamashita says. “How germ cells manage to not go extinct, while our somatic cells cannot last that long, is a fascinating question.”

Yamashita, who began her faculty career at the University of Michigan, joined MIT and the Whitehead Institute in 2020, as the inaugural holder of the Susan Lindquist Chair for Women in Science and a professor in the Department of Biology. She was drawn to MIT, she says, by the eagerness to explore new ideas that she found among other scientists.

“When I visited MIT, I really enjoyed talking to people here,” she says. “They are very curious, and they are very open to unconventional ideas. I realized I would have a lot of fun if I came here.”

Exploring paradoxes

Before she even knew what a scientist was, Yamashita knew that she wanted to be one.

“My father was an admirer of Albert Einstein, so because of that, I grew up thinking that the pursuit of the truth is the best thing you could do with your life,” she recalls. “At the age of 2 or 3, I didn’t know there was such a thing as a professor, or such a thing as a scientist, but I thought doing science was probably the coolest thing I could do.”

Yamashita majored in biology at Kyoto University and then stayed to pursue her PhD, studying how cells make exact copies of themselves when they divide. As a postdoc at Stanford University, she became interested in the exceptions to that carefully orchestrated process, and began to study how cells undergo divisions that produce daughter cells that are not identical. This kind of asymmetric division is critical for multicellular organisms, which begin life as a single cell that eventually differentiates into many types of tissue.

Those studies led to a discovery that helped to overturn previous theories about the role of so-called junk DNA. These sequences, which make up most of the genome, were thought to be essentially useless because they don’t code for any proteins. To Yamashita, it seemed paradoxical that cells would carry so much DNA that wasn’t serving any purpose.

“I couldn’t really believe that huge amount of our DNA is junk, because every time a cell divides, it still has the burden of replicating that junk,” she says. “So, my lab started studying the function of that junk, and then we realized it is a really important part of the chromosome.”

In human cells, the genome is stored on 23 pairs of chromosomes. Keeping all of those chromosomes together is critical to cells’ ability to copy genes when they are needed. Over several years, Yamashita and her colleagues at the University of Michigan, and then at MIT, discovered that stretches of junk DNA act like bar codes, labeling each chromosome and helping them bind to proteins that bundle chromosomes together within the cell nucleus.

Without those barcodes, chromosomes scatter and start to leak out of the cell’s nucleus. Another intriguing observation regarding these stretches of junk DNA was that they have much greater variability between different species than protein-coding regions of DNA. By crossing two different species of fruit flies, Yamashita showed that in cells of the hybrid offspring flies, chromosomes leak out just as they would if they lost their barcodes, suggesting that the codes are specific to each species.

“We think that might be one of the big reasons why different species become incompatible, because they don’t have the right information to bundle all of their chromosomes together into one place,” Yamashita says.

Stem cell longevity

Yamashita’s interest in stem cells also led her to study how germline cells (the cells that give rise to eggs and sperm cells) maintain their viability so much longer than regular body cells across generations. In typical animal cells, one factor that contributes to age-related decline is loss of genetic sequences that encode genes that cells use continuously, such as genes for ribosomal RNAs.

A typical human cell may have hundreds of copies of these critical genes, but as cells age, they lose some of them. For germline cells, this can be detrimental because if the numbers get too low, the cells can no longer form viable daughter cells.

Yamashita and her colleagues found that germline cells overcome this by tearing sections of DNA out of one daughter cell during cell division and transferring them to the other daughter cell. That way, one daughter cell has the full complement of those genes restored, while the other cell is sacrificed.

That wasteful strategy would likely be too extravagant to work for all cells in the body, but for the small population of germline cells, the tradeoff is worthwhile, Yamashita says.

“If skin cells did that kind of thing, where every time you make one cell, you are essentially trashing the other one, you couldn’t afford it. You would be wasting too many resources,” she says. “Germ cells are not critical for viability of an organism. You have the luxury to put many resources into them but then let only half of the cells recover.”

Probing how proteins pair up inside cells

MIT biologists drilled down into how proteins recognize and bind to one another, informing drug treatments for cancer.

Raleigh McElvery | Department of Biology
February 3, 2022

Despite its minute size, a single cell contains billions of molecules that bustle around and bind to one another, carrying out vital functions. The human genome encodes about 20,000 proteins, most of which interact with partner proteins to mediate upwards of 400,000 distinct interactions. These partners don’t just latch onto one another haphazardly; they only bind to very specific companions that they must recognize inside the crowded cell. If they create the wrong pairings — or even the right pairings at the wrong place or wrong time — cancer or other diseases can ensue. Scientists are hard at work investigating these protein-protein relationships, in order to understand how they work, and potentially create drugs that disrupt or mimic them to treat disease.

The average human protein is composed of approximately 400 building blocks called amino acids, which are strung together and folded into a complex 3D structure. Within this long string of building blocks, some proteins contain stretches of four to six amino acids called short linear motifs (SLiMs), which mediate protein-protein interactions. Despite their simplicity and small size, SLiMs and their binding partners facilitate key cellular processes. However, it’s been historically difficult to devise experiments to probe how SLiMs recognize their specific binding partners.

To address this problem, a group led by Theresa Hwang PhD ’21 designed a screening method to understand how SLiMs selectively bind to certain proteins, and even distinguish between those with similar structures. Using the detailed information they gleaned from studying these interactions, the researchers created their own synthetic molecule capable of binding extremely tightly to a protein called ENAH, which is implicated in cancer metastasis. The team shared their findings in a pair of eLife studies, one published on Dec. 2, 2021, and the other published Jan. 25.

“The ability to test hundreds of thousands of potential SLiMs for binding provides a powerful tool to explore why proteins prefer specific SLiM partners over others,” says Amy Keating, professor of biology and biological engineering and the senior author on both studies. “As we gain an understanding of the tricks that a protein uses to select its partners, we can apply these in protein design to make our own binders to modulate protein function for research or therapeutic purposes.”

Most existing screens for SLiMs simply select for short, tight binders, while neglecting SLiMs that don’t grip their partner proteins quite as strongly. To survey SLiMs with a wide range of binding affinities, Keating, Hwang, and their colleagues developed their own screen called MassTitr.

The researchers also suspected that the amino acids on either side of the SLiM’s core four-to-six amino acid sequence might play an underappreciated role in binding. To test their theory, they used MassTitr to screen the human proteome in longer chunks comprised of 36 amino acids, in order to see which “extended” SLiMs would associate with the protein ENAH.

ENAH, sometimes referred to as Mena, helps cells to move. This ability to migrate is critical for healthy cells, but cancer cells can co-opt it to spread. Scientists have found that reducing the amount of ENAH decreases the cancer cell’s ability to invade other tissues — suggesting that formulating drugs to disrupt this protein and its interactions could treat cancer.

Thanks to MassTitr, the team identified 33 SLiM-containing proteins that bound to ENAH — 19 of which are potentially novel binding partners. They also discovered three distinct patterns of amino acids flanking core SLiM sequences that helped the SLiMs bind even tighter to ENAH. Of these extended SLiMs, one found in a protein called PCARE bound to ENAH with the highest known affinity of any SLiM to date.

Next, the researchers combined a computer program called dTERMen with X-ray crystallography in order understand how and why PCARE binds to ENAH over ENAH’s two nearly identical sister proteins (VASP and EVL). Hwang and her colleagues saw that the amino acids flanking PCARE’s core SliM caused ENAH to change shape slightly when the two made contact, allowing the binding sites to latch onto one another. VASP and EVL, by contrast, could not undergo this structural change, so the PCARE SliM did not bind to either of them as tightly.

Inspired by this unique interaction, Hwang designed her own protein that bound to ENAH with unprecedented affinity and specificity. “It was exciting that we were able to come up with such a specific binder,” she says. “This work lays the foundation for designing synthetic molecules with the potential to disrupt protein-protein interactions that cause disease — or to help scientists learn more about ENAH and other SLiM-binding proteins.”

Ylva Ivarsson, a professor of biochemistry at Uppsala University who was not involved with the study, says that understanding how proteins find their binding partners is a question of fundamental importance to cell function and regulation. The two eLife studies, she explains, show that extended SLiMs play an underappreciated role in determining the affinity and specificity of these binding interactions.

“The studies shed light on the idea that context matters, and provide a screening strategy for a variety of context-dependent binding interactions,” she says. “Hwang and co-authors have created valuable tools for dissecting the cellular function of proteins and their binding partners. Their approach could even inspire ENAH-specific inhibitors for therapeutic purposes.”

Hwang’s biggest takeaway from the project is that things are not always as they seem: even short, simple protein segments can play complex roles in the cell. As she puts it: “We should really appreciate SLiMs more.”

Uncovering the mysteries of methylation in plants
Eva Frederick | Whitehead Institute
January 11, 2022

Growing up is a complex process for multi-celled organisms — plants included. In the days or weeks it takes to go from a seed to a sprout to a full plant, plants express hundreds of genes in different places at different times.

In order to conduct this symphony of genes, plants rely in part on an elegant regulatory method called DNA methylation. By adding or removing small molecules called methyl groups to the DNA strand, the plant can silence or activate different regions of its genetic code without changing the underlying sequence.

In a new paper from the lab of Whitehead Institute Member Mary Gehring, researchers led by former Gehring lab postdoc Ben Williams (now an assistant professor at the University of California, Berkeley) tease apart the role of proteins governing this system of genetic control, and reveal how enzymes that regulate methylation can affect essential decisions for plants such as when to produce flowers. “We’re starting to see that there is actually a broader role for  demethylation [in plant development] than we thought,” Gehring said.

In the model plant Arabidopsis thaliana, methylation is regulated in part by enzymes encoded by  a family of four genes called the DEMETER genes. The protein products of these genes are in charge of demethylating, or removing those methyl groups from the DNA, allowing different parts of the strand to be expressed. “You have these enzymes that can come in and completely change the way the DNA is read in different cells, which I find super interesting,” Williams said.

But teasing apart the role of each DEMETER gene has proved difficult in the past, because one member of this gene family in particular, called DME, is essential for seed development. Knock out DME, and the seed is aborted. “We had to design a synthetic gene to get around that,” Williams said. “We had to create plants that would rescue the reproductive failure, but then still be mutated throughout the rest of the life cycle.”

The researchers accomplished this by putting the DME gene under the control of a genetic element called a promoter that allowed it to be expressed in a cell that only existed in the plant during seed development. Once the plant was past the critical point where DME was needed for development, the gene would no longer be expressed, allowing the plant to grow up as a dme knockout. “It was an exciting thing, finally being able to create this knockout,” Gehring said.

Now, for the first time, the researchers could create plants with any combination of the DEMETER family genes knocked out, and then compare them to try and understand what the enzymes produced by each of the four genes was doing.

As expected, plants missing any of the DEMETER demethylases ended up with areas of their genomes with too many methyl groups (this is called hypermethylation). These areas were often overlapping, suggesting that the four DEMETER genes shared responsibility for demethylating certain areas of the genome.

“When one of these enzymes is gone, the others are surprisingly good at knowing that they need to step forward and do the job instead,” Williams said. “So the system has flexibility built in, which makes sense if it’s going to be involved in making important decisions like when to make flowers. You’d want there to be multiple layers of responsibility, right? It’s like in an organization, you don’t want to load all responsibility on one person — you’d want a few people who can take on that responsibility.”

Williams hypothesizes that while the DEMETER enzymes could step in for each other when needed, each specialized in demethylating DNA in particular types of plant tissue. “If you look at the protein sequences,they are actually really similar,” he said. “What’s different about them is they’re expressed in different cell types.”

A crucial finding of the study came about when the researchers knocked out all four genes in the DEMETER family at the same time. “All flowering plants have this really important decision of when to make flowers,” Williams said. “For plants out in the wild, that decision is usually dependent on temperature and pollinators. What we found really strange is that these mutants just flowered straight away. It’s almost like they weren’t even putting any effort into the decision. They made a few leaves, then boom, flower.”

When the researchers dove deeper, they saw that one area of the genome in particular that controls flowering time is under very careful and continuous regulation by methylating and demethylating enzymes. “We don’t really know why they’re doing that,” he said. “But when you knock out the demethylases, that gene just becomes methylated, and it’s then switched off. And that just sends plants into an automatic flowering state.”

In the future, the researchers plan to investigate other outcomes associated with their quadruple knockout of the DEMETER genes. “When we knocked out all four of the enzymes, it led to a lot of interesting phenotypes and tons of stuff to study,” Williams said. “We’ve learned through doing this that with DEMETER, like many gene families, we had to knock out all the players to find out the importance of what they are doing.”

Gehring will continue the research at Whitehead Institute. Williams recently started his own lab at the University of California, Berkeley. “I feel very lucky because this project has given me two or three different avenues that I can pursue in my new lab,” Williams said. “It has opened a lot of doors, which is very rewarding.”

3 Questions: Kristin Knouse on the liver’s regenerative capabilities

The clinically-trained cell biologist exploits the liver’s unique capacities in search of new medical applications.

Grace van Deelen | Department of Biology
December 15, 2021

Why is the liver the only human organ that can regenerate? How does it know when it’s been injured? What can our understanding of the liver contribute to regenerative medicine? These are just some of the questions that new assistant professor of biology Kristin Knouse and her lab members are asking in their research at the Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research. Knouse sat down to discuss why the liver is so unique, what lessons we might learn from the organ, and what its regeneration might teach us about cancer.

Q: Your lab is interested in questions about how body tissues sense and respond to damage. What is it about the liver that makes it a good tool to model those questions?

A: I’ve always felt that we, as scientists, have so much to gain from treasuring nature’s exceptions, because those exceptions can shine light onto a completely unknown area of biology and provide building blocks to confer such novelty to other systems. When it comes to organ regeneration in mammals, the liver is that exception. It is the only solid organ that can completely regenerate itself. You can damage or remove over 75 percent of the liver and the organ will completely regenerate in a matter of weeks. The liver therefore contains the instructions for how to regenerate a solid organ; however, we have yet to access and interpret those instructions. If we could fully understand how the liver is able to regenerate itself, perhaps one day we could coax other solid organs to do the same.

There are some things we already know about liver regeneration, such as when it begins, what genes are expressed, and how long it takes. However, we still don’t understand why the liver can regenerate but other organs cannot. Why is it that these fully differentiated liver cells — cells that have already assumed specialized roles in the liver — can re-enter the cell cycle and regenerate the organ? We don’t have a molecular explanation for this. Our lab is working to answer this fundamental question of cell and organ biology and apply our discoveries to unlock new approaches for regenerative medicine. In this regard, I don’t necessarily consider myself exclusively a liver biologist, but rather someone who is leveraging the liver to address this much broader biological problem.

Q: As an MD/PhD student, you conducted your graduate research in the lab of the late Professor Angelika Amon here at MIT. How did your work in her lab lead to an interest in studying the liver’s regenerative capacities?

A: What was incredible about being in Angelika’s lab was that she had an interest in almost everything and gave me tremendous independence in what I pursued. I began my graduate research in her lab with an interest in cell division, and I was doing experiments to observe how cells from different mammalian tissues divide. I was isolating cells from different mouse tissues and then studying them in culture. In doing that, I found that when the cells were isolated and grown in a dish they could not segregate their chromosomes properly, suggesting that the tissue environment was essential for accurate cell division. In order to further study and compare these two different contexts — cells in a tissue versus cells in culture — I was keen to study a tissue in which I could observe a lot of cells undergoing cell division at the same time.

So I thought back to my time in medical school, and I remembered that the liver has the ability to completely regenerate itself. With a single surgery to remove part of the liver, I could stimulate millions of cells to divide. I therefore began exploiting liver regeneration as a means of studying chromosome segregation in tissue. But as I continued to perform surgeries on mice and watch the liver rapidly regenerate itself, I couldn’t help but become absolutely fascinated by this exceptional biological process. It was that fascination with this incredibly unique but poorly understood phenomenon — alongside the realization that there was a huge, unmet medical need in the area of regeneration — that convinced me to dedicate my career to studying this.

Q: What kinds of clinical applications might a better understanding of organ regeneration lead to, and what role do you see your lab playing in that research?

A: The most proximal medical application for our work is to confer regenerative capacity to organs that are currently non-regenerative. As we begin to achieve a molecular understanding of how and why the liver can regenerate, we put ourselves in a powerful position to identify and surmount the barriers to regeneration in non-regenerative tissues, such as the heart and nervous system. By answering these complementary questions, we bring ourselves closer to the possibility that, one day, if someone has a heart attack or a spinal cord injury, we could deliver a therapy that stimulates the tissue to regenerate itself. I realize that may sound like a moonshot now, but I don’t think any problem is insurmountable so long as it can be broken down into a series of tractable questions.

Beyond regenerative medicine, I believe our work studying liver regeneration also has implications for cancer. At first glance this may seem counterintuitive, as rapid regrowth is the exact opposite of what we want cancer cells to do. However, the reality is that the majority of cancer-related deaths are attributable not to the rapidly proliferating cells that constitute primary tumors, but rather to the cells that disperse from the primary tumor and lie dormant for years before manifesting as metastatic disease and creating another tumor. These dormant cells evade most of the cancer therapies designed to target rapidly proliferating cells. If you think about it, these dormant cells are not unlike the liver: they are quiet for months, maybe years, and then suddenly awaken. I hope that as we start to understand more about the liver, we might learn how to target these dormant cancer cells, prevent metastatic disease, and thereby offer lasting cancer cures.