Corals in crisis
Algae that provide nutrients to corals turn toxic and lead the corals to “bleach” and sometimes die when ocean temperatures spike. Researchers are seeding damaged reefs with baby corals and breeding heat-tolerant corals to help these imperiled marine animals, Amy McDermott reported in “Rebuilding reefs” (SN: 10/29/16, p. 18).

Ronald Swager wondered if researchers could use genetic engineering to make heat-stressed algae nontoxic.

Gene-editing tools may help corals survive, but the research is still quite preliminary, says Janelle Thompson, an environmental microbiologist at MIT. Among the difficulties: Scientists do not know how exactly the algae become toxic on a molecular level and they can only guess at the role of most algal genes. “One of the main challenges is the size of the [algae] genome, which … is on par with human genomes,” Thompson says. And there are many genetic variations of algae, some of which are only compatible with specific corals. Researchers would have to engineer more than one type of algae.
Heat-tolerant algae exist, but so far they don’t seem to perform well at normal temperatures, says Peter Harrison of Southern Cross University in Lismore, Australia. Assuming biologists work through the technical hurdles of genetic engineering, many people will be concerned about releasing genetically modified algae into the oceans, Harrison says.

Codex contention
Once regarded as fake by some scientists, a 10-page, bark-paper book called the Grolier Codex is authentic, according to a recent study by Yale archaeologist Michael Coe and colleagues. It may be the oldest known manuscript of ancient America, Bruce Bower wrote in “Maya codex real, analysis claims” (SN: 10/29/16, p. 16).
Physicist and astronomer John Carlson of the University of Maryland in College Park took issue with the study and Science News’ reporting. Carlson’s letter has been edited for brevity.

“I was dismayed to see my own published work establishing the authenticity of the Maya ‘Grolier Codex’ as likely the ‘oldest surviving book on paper from the ancient Americas,’ presented as ‘new analysis’ by Michael Coe and collaborators.

“There was no mention of the source of the most crucial evidence — the only radiocarbon dating of the codex’s bark paper — nor was I contacted for comments. My work, beginning in the late 1970s (and first published in 1983), determined that what had been known as ‘page 11’ was actually the lower portion of ‘page 10.’ That finding, with other primary sources, established a sequence of skeletal Evening Star manifestations of the planet Venus, something that could not have been known to any alleged faker in the mid-1960s when the codex was discovered. This work helped convince the majority of Mesoamericanist experts in Maya epigraphy and codex studies that the codex was genuine.

“I was able to study the codex itself carefully on three occasions and obtained the first carbon-14 dates from the actual codex, placing it in the 13th century. All of this was published in my article ‘The Twenty Masks of Venus’ in Archaeoastronomy in 2014 and presented at the Pre-Columbian Society of Washington, D.C., in November 2014. The scholarly details are available along with many other primary sources on my website: umd.academia.edu/JohnBCarlson.”

In an e-mail response to Science News, Michael Coe emphasizes that his team’s paper credits Carlson for his work on the Grolier Codex. Coe says that even by 1973, well before Carlson’s publications appeared, specialists in Maya writing were convinced that the codex was genuine. The new paper for the first time examines the full range of drawings and writings in the codex, Coe asserts, fitting them in with what’s now known about ancient Maya religion and gods.

SAN FRANCISCO — Earth may have been a water world for much of its history, a new proposal contends. Just like in the Kevin Costner movie, the continents would have been mostly submerged below sea level. Previous proposals have suggested that Earth’s land area has remained comparatively unchanged throughout much of geologic time.

But geoscientist Cin-Ty Lee of Rice University in Houston proposes that Earth’s continents didn’t rise above the waves until around 700 million years ago, when the underlying mantle sufficiently cooled. Though many scientists are unconvinced, that continental rise may have contributed to the rapid diversification of life known as the Cambrian explosion. “The Earth is cooling and that actually has manifestations that dictate how life goes,” Lee said December 15 at the American Geophysical Union’s fall meeting.
Earth’s first continental crust formed billions of years ago. Slabs of this crust “float” above the underlying mantle like icebergs, with relatively cold roots than can extend tens of kilometers into the mantle. A continent’s elevation depends, in part, on the size of its root and the density of the mantle.

Earlier in Earth’s history when the mantle was hotter and less dense, the continents sat largely below sea level with only mountains peeking above the water’s surface, Lee proposed. The cooling of the mantle over time increased the relative buoyancy of the continents and lifted the landmasses above sea level. Considering mantle cooling rates and Earth’s topography, Lee proposes that this expansion of Earth’s dry land took place around 1 billion to 500 million years ago and lasted about 100 million years.

The new land would have altered carbon and nutrient cycles, Lee suggested. These effects could help explain large shifts in Earth’s climate around this time and might have nourished the Cambrian explosion. During that time, around 540 million to 500 million years ago, forerunners of the major groups of animals — from insects to mammals — first emerged.

This tale of rising continents may be overly simplistic, said Laurent Montési, a geodynamicist at the University of Maryland in College Park. Other factors such as the mass of the continents, the amount of water in the oceans and the rate of new crust formation on the seafloor could affect sea levels relative to the continents. The idea is worth considering, he said, “but the evidence is not completely there yet.”

Warning: Furry Logic is not, as the title might suggest, a detailed exploration of mammals’ reasoning skills. Instead, it’s a fun, informative chronicle of how myriad animals take advantage of the laws of physics.

Science writers Matin Durrani and Liz Kalaugher cite a trove of recent (and often surprising) research findings. They draw on their backgrounds — Durrani is a physicist, Kalaugher a materials scientist — to explain how animals exploit sound, light, electricity and magnetism, among other things, in pursuit of food, sex and survival. These creatures don’t consciously use physics the way that humans design and use tools, of course, but they are evolutionary marvels nonetheless.
Peacocks, for example, produce low-frequency sounds while shimmying their tail feathers (SN Online: 04/27/16). The birds use these sounds — and not just the sight of those colorful plumes — to impress females and fend off competing males. At the other end of the sonic spectrum, some bats use stealth echolocation to track down their preferred prey. Moths targeted by these bats have sensors that can pick up these ultrasonic calls, but the bats squeak so softly that a moth can’t hear its stalker until it is less than a half-second’s flight away.

Durrani and Kalaugher let readers know when the science isn’t settled. Researchers aren’t quite sure how peahens pick up males’ infrasonic signals, for example. Scientists also haven’t figured out how the archerfish spits so precisely (SN: 10/4/14, p. 8), knocking prey off low-hanging branches above the water as often as 94 percent of the time. The submerged fish must somehow gauge the angle at which light bends as it enters the water and then accurately compensate for refraction while spewing a stream of water. Amazingly, this feat may be innate rather than learned via trial and error.

Readers need not understand the intricacies of polarized light, Earth’s magnetic field or surface tension to enjoy Furry Logic. Nor is this book an exhaustive account of the characteristics and behavior of every animal that uses such phenomena in interesting ways. There should be plenty of material for a sequel to this fascinating book.

An effort to reproduce findings of five prominent cancer studies has produced a mixed bag of results.

In a series of papers published January 19 in eLife, researchers from the Reproducibility Project: Cancer Biology report that none of five prominent cancer studies they sought to duplicate were completely reproducible. Replicators could not confirm any of the findings of one study. In other cases, replicators saw results similar to the original study’s, but statistical analyses could not rule out that the findings were a fluke. Problems with mice or cells used in two experiments prevented the replicators from confirming the findings.
“Reproducibility is hard,” says Brian Nosek, executive director of the Center for Open Science in Charlottesville, Va., an organization that aims to increase the reliability of science. It’s too early to draw any conclusions about the overall dependability of cancer studies, Nosek says, but he hopes redo experiments will be “a process of uncertainty reduction” that may ultimately help researchers increase confidence in their results.

The cancer reproducibility project is a collaboration between Nosek’s center and Science Exchange, a network of labs that conduct replication experiments for a fee. Replicators working on the project selected 50 highly cited and downloaded papers in cancer biology published from 2010 to 2012. Teams then attempted to copy each study’s methods, often consulting with the original researchers for tips and materials. The five published in eLife are just the first batch. Eventually, all of the studies will be evaluated as a group to determine the factors that lead to failed replications.
Critics charge that the first batch of replication studies did not accurately copy the originals, producing skewed results. “They didn’t do any troubleshooting. That’s my main complaint,” says cancer biologist Erkki Ruoslahti of Sanford Burnham Prebys Medical Discovery Institute in La Jolla, Calif.

Ruoslahti and colleagues reported in 2010 in Science that a peptide called iRGD helps chemotherapy drugs penetrate tumors and increases the drugs’ efficacy. In the replication study, the researchers could not confirm those findings. “I felt that their experimental design was set up to make us look maximally bad,” Ruoslahti says.

Replicators aren’t out to make anyone look bad, says cancer biologist Tim Errington of the Center for Open Science. The teams published the experimental designs before they began the work and reported all of their findings. What Ruoslahti calls troubleshooting, Errington calls fishing for a particular result. Errington acknowledges that technical problems may have hampered replication efforts, but that’s valuable data to determine why independent researchers often can’t reproduce published results. Identifying weaknesses will enable scientists to design better experiments and conduct research more efficiently, he argues.

Other researchers took issue with the replicators’ statistical analyses. One study sought to reproduce results from a 2011 Science Translational Medicine report. In the original study, Atul Butte, a computational biologist at the University of California, San Francisco, and colleagues developed a computer program for predicting how existing drugs might be repurposed to treat other diseases. The program predicted that an ulcer-fighting drug called cimetidine could treat a type of lung cancer. Butte and colleagues tested the drug in mice and found that it reduced the size of lung tumors. The replication attempt got very similar results with the drug test. But after adjusting the statistical analysis to account for multiple variables, the replication study could no longer rule out a fluke result. “If they want a headline that says ‘It didn’t replicate,’ they just created one,” Butte says. Errington says the corrections were necessary and not designed to purposely invalidate the original result. And when replication researchers analyzed both the original and replication study together, the results once again appeared to be statistically sound.

A failure to replicate should not be viewed as an indication that the original finding wasn’t correct, says Oswald Steward, a neuroscientist at the University of California, Irvine, who has conducted replication studies of prominent neuroscience papers but was not involved in the cancer replication studies. “A failure to replicate is simply a call to attention,” Steward says. Especially when scientists are building a research program or trying to create new therapies, it is necessary to make sure that the original findings are rock solid, he says. “We scientists have to really own this problem.”

Editor’s note: This story was updated January 26, 2017, to correct the starting point of the x-axis in the first graph.

The muddying of coastal waters by climate change could drastically increase levels of neurotoxic mercury in sea life, contaminating food supplies.

Shifting rainfall patterns may send 10 to 40 percent more water filled with dissolved bits of organic debris into many coastal areas by 2100. The material can cloud the water, disrupting marine ecosystems by shifting the balance of microbes at the base of the food web, new laboratory experiments suggest. That disruption can at least double methylmercury concentrations in microscopic grazers called zooplankton, researchers report January 27 in Science Advances.
The extra mercury could reverberate up the food web to fish that humans eat, warns study coauthor Erik Björn, a biogeochemist at Umeå University in Sweden. Even small amounts of methylmercury, a form of the metal easily absorbed by humans and other animals, can cause birth defects and kidney damage, he notes.

Pollution from human activities such as fossil fuel burning has already tripled the amount of mercury that has settled in the surface ocean since the start of the Industrial Revolution (SN: 9/20/14, p. 17). Climate changes spurred by those same activities are washing more dark organic matter into the oceans by, for instance, boosting wintertime rainfall in some regions.

Björn and colleagues replicated this increased runoff using 5-meter-tall vats filled with marine microbes and dashes of methylmercury. Vats darkened by extra organic matter showed an ecosystem shift from light-loving phytoplankton to dark-dwelling bacteria that eat the extra material, the researchers found.

Zooplankton nosh on phytoplankton, but they don’t directly eat the bacteria. Instead the bacteria are consumed by protozoa, which zooplankton then hunt. Methylmercury accumulates with each step up the food web. So the addition of the protozoa middle step, the researchers report, resulted in zooplankton methylmercury levels two to seven times higher than in vats without the extra organic matter. Methylmercury levels will continue to increase up the food web to fish and the humans who eat them, the researchers warn.

The results suggest that curbing mercury contamination is more complicated than simply controlling emissions, says Alexandre Poulain, an environmental microbiologist at the University of Ottawa. “First we need to control emissions, but we also need to account for climate change.”

Two cosmic magnifying glasses are giving astronomers a glimpse of some extremely faint galaxies that existed as far back as 600 million years after the Big Bang (13.8 billion years ago). Such views suggest that tiny galaxies in the early universe played a crucial role in cosmic reionization — when ultraviolet radiation stripped electrons from hydrogen atoms in the cosmos.

“That we detected galaxies as faint as we did supports the idea that a lot of little galaxies reionized the early universe and that these galaxies may have played a bigger role in reionization than we thought,” says Rachael Livermore, an astronomer at the University of Texas at Austin. She and colleagues report the results in the Feb. 1 Astrophysical Journal.
The team identified the dim galaxies in images taken with the Hubble Space Telescope while it was pointed at two closer clusters of galaxies. Those clusters act as a gravitational lens, brightening and magnifying the light of fainter objects much farther away. Subtracting the clusters’ light revealed distant galaxies up to one-tenth as bright as those spotted in previous studies (SN Online: 11/4/15).

Finding such faint galaxies implies that stars can form in much smaller galaxies than models have predicted and that there were enough of these small galaxies to drive reionization almost entirely by themselves. Reionization radically refashioned the universe so that charged atoms instead of neutral ones pervaded space. Understanding that transition may help astronomers explain how stars and galaxies arose in the early universe.

“Such measurements are really challenging to make,” says Brant Robertson, an astronomer at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who was not involved with the study. “They’re really at the forefront of this field, so there are some questions about the techniques the team used to detect these galaxies and determine how bright they actually are.”

A team of astronomers led by Rychard Bouwens of Leiden University in the Netherlands argues in a paper submitted to the Astrophysical Journal and posted October 2 online at arXiv.org that Livermore and colleagues haven’t, in fact, detected galaxies quite as faint as they have claimed. That keeps the door open for other objects, such as black holes accreting matter and spitting out bright light, to have played a part in reionization.

Robertson says the disagreements motivate further work, noting that Livermore and colleagues used a clever approach to spot what appear to be superfaint galaxies in the early universe. Now, the teams will have to see if that technique stands the test of time.

Livermore and colleagues plan to use the technique to search for faint galaxies lensed by other clusters Hubble has observed. Both teams, along with Robertson, are also looking to the October 2018 launch of the James Webb Space Telescope, which should be able to spot even fainter and more distant galaxies, to determine what drove reionization in the early universe.

Traces of Zika virus typically linger in semen no longer than three months after symptoms show up, a new study on the virus’ staying power in bodily fluids reveals.

Medical epidemiologist Gabriela Paz-Bailey of the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and colleagues analyzed the bodily fluids — including blood, urine and saliva — of 150 people infected with Zika. In 95 percent of participants, Zika RNA was no longer detectable in urine after 39 days, and in blood after 54 days, researchers report February 14 in the New England Journal of Medicine. (People infected with dengue virus, in contrast, typically clear virus from the blood within 10 days, the authors note.)

Although the CDC recommends that men exposed to Zika wait at least six months before having sex without condoms, researchers found that, for most men in the study, Zika RNA disappeared from semen by 81 days.

Few people had traces of RNA in the saliva or in vaginal secretions. Most Zika infections transmitted sexually have been from men to women, but scientists have reported at least one female-to-male case.

Black holes are a bit like babies when they eat: Some food goes in, and some gets flung back out into space. Astronomers now say they understand how these meals become so messy — and it’s a trait all black holes share, no matter their size.

Magnetic fields drive the turbulent winds that blow gas away from black holes, says Keigo Fukumura, an astrophysicist at James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Va. Using X-rays emitted from a relatively small black hole siphoning gas from a nearby star, Fukumura and colleagues traced the winds flowing from the disk of stellar debris swirling around the black hole. Modeling these winds showed that magnetism, not other means, got the gas moving in just the right way.
The model was previously used to explain the way winds flow around black holes millions of times the mass of the sun. Showing that the model now also works for a smaller stellar-mass black hole suggests that magnetism may drive winds in black holes of all sizes. These results, published online March 6 in Nature Astronomy, could give clues to how black holes consume and expel matter and also to why some galaxies stop forming stars.

Astronomers first proposed that magnetic fields powered the winds around black holes in the 1970s, but the idea has been controversial. Directly observing the winds is impossible. Their existence is inferred by a black hole’s X-ray spectrum — an inventory of light broken up by wavelength.

In 2005, astronomers used the Chandra X-ray Observatory to capture the X-ray spectrum of a relatively puny black hole with seven times the mass of the sun. The companion star it feeds on has about twice the heft of the sun. The system, called GRO J1655-40, is about 11,000 light-years away in the constellation Scorpius.

GRO J1655-40’s X-rays revealed its turbulent winds. Some astronomers argued the data provided evidence that powerful magnetic fields fueled the winds. Others, however, suggested the winds resulted from extremely hot gas swirling around the black hole.

“I think the new paper clears this controversy up,” says Andrew Fabian, an astrophysicist at the University of Cambridge who was not involved with the new study. The model Fukumura developed, he says, is extremely detailed and accounts for characteristics of GRO J1655-40’s X-ray spectrum that other models can’t explain.
Features of the spectrum, for example, suggest that the winds are dense and move moderately quickly, but don’t blow far from the black hole. That matches models of magnetically fueled wind. Models related to the heat of the gas alone make the winds blow too far.

The magnetic fields form from the electric current generated by electrons and protons swirling in a pancake-shaped accretion disk. Parts of the disk spin around the black hole at different speeds, which amplifies the fields. That, in turn, turns the accretion disk into a vortex, pulling matter into the black hole and fueling winds that blow some of it outward.

“A good fraction of the mass actually gets kicked out of the black hole,” Fukumura says. “If it didn’t get thrown off, we wouldn’t see it.”

The magnetic fields probably arc around the black hole from pole to pole. But no one knows for sure because they are hard to detect. Recently, the Event Horizon Telescope, which pointed several telescopes at the center of the Milky Way, did spot patterns in the way the light of our galaxy’s central, supermassive black hole was oriented that signaled it has magnetic fields. Astronomers plan to use the telescope array to search for more evidence of magnetic fields around black holes next month.

Studying the magnetic fields of black holes reveals information about the structure of their accreting disks and the winds that blow from them. “Winds from black hole disks can be very powerful,” Fabian notes. “In the case where the black hole is massive and at the center of a galaxy, the wind can push all the gas out of the host galaxy, stopping further star formation and causing the galaxy to appear red and dead.”

A black hole weighing more than a billion suns appears to have gotten the boot toward the outer edges of its galaxy.

Data from the Hubble Space Telescope and other observatories reveal a supermassive black hole zipping away from the center of its galaxy at a 7.5-million-kilometer-per-hour clip. It’s moving so quickly that it could leave the galaxy for good in 20 million years, says Marco Chiaberge of the Space Telescope Science Institute in Baltimore.
Only gravitational waves — ripples in the fabric of spacetime — could give the black hole such a kick, Chiaberge and colleagues report March 30 in Astronomy & Astrophysics. Hints of huge black holes ejected from a galactic center have been reported before (SN: 5/24/08, p. 12). This discovery offers some of the most convincing evidence that black holes can get kicked out of their galaxies by gravitational waves and suggests that it occurs more often than astronomers thought.

“This is a very nice candidate for a recoiling supermassive black hole,” says Francesca Civano of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics in Cambridge, Mass. Recoiling black holes are created when two monster black holes from different galaxies merge, says Civano, who was not involved in the new study. If the black holes have different masses and rotate at different rates, the collision can generate gravitational waves more strongly in one direction, booting the newly merged black hole the other way.

A radiation-gushing supermassive black hole called quasar 3C 186 and its host galaxy, about 8 billion light-years from Earth in the constellation Lynx, tipped off Chiaberge and colleagues to the recoiling black hole. The team noticed that the quasar wasn’t at the center of the galaxy, where it typically should be. “We knew this was clearly weird. It was clearly different than all of the other quasars and galaxies we were seeing,” Chiaberge says.

The team calculated that the quasar was 35,000 light-years from its host galaxy’s center — about 10,000 light-years more than the distance separating the sun and the center of the Milky Way. 3C 186 is a well-studied object, so the team sifted through past observations of the quasar and galaxy and found data revealing how fast the gas surrounding the monster black hole moves. The researchers compared it with how fast the star-forming gas in the galaxy moves. The monster black hole was traveling much more quickly, with a velocity that would have to come from something forceful, equivalent to 100 million stars exploding simultaneously. Gravitational waves could provide such a kick.

The Hubble images also revealed curved wisps of stars and gas extending from the galaxy. Such faint tails suggest that the galaxy collided with another galaxy in the past, giving weight to the team’s claim that gravitational waves from colliding black holes could have given 3C 186 its kick.

Evidence of recoiling black holes is hard to find, but it’s the easiest explanation for the data in the new paper, Civano says. The new work, she notes, also suggests recoiling black holes could be more common than astronomers thought, but missed in earlier observations. “They might just be hidden in well-known sources, like 3C 186,” she says.

Soon after systems biologist Juergen Hahn published a paper describing a way to predict whether a child has autism from a blood sample, the notes from parents began arriving. “I have a bunch of parents writing me now who want to test their kids,” says Hahn, of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N.Y. “I can’t do that.”

That’s because despite their promise, his group’s results, reported March 16 in PLOS Computational Biology, are preliminary — nowhere close to a debut in a clinical setting. The test will need to be confirmed and repeated in different children before it can be used to help diagnose autism. Still, the work of Hahn and colleagues, along with other recent papers, illustrates how the hunt for a concrete biological signature of autism, a biomarker, is gaining speed.
Currently, pediatricians, child psychologists and therapists rely on behavioral observations and questionnaires, measures with limitations. Barring genetic tests for a handful of rare mutations, there are no blood draws, brain scans or other biological tests that can reveal whether a child has — or will get — autism.

Objective tests would be incredibly useful, helping provide an early diagnosis that could lead to therapy in the first year of life, when the brain is the most malleable. A reliable biomarker might also help distinguish various types of autism, divisions that could reveal who would benefit from certain therapies. And some biomarkers may reveal a deeper understanding of how the brain normally develops.

Scientists are simultaneously sanguine and realistic about the prospect of uncovering solid autism biomarkers. “We have great tools that we’ve never had before,” says psychiatrist Joseph Piven of the University of North Carolina School of Medicine in Chapel Hill. Scientists can assess genes quickly and cheaply, gather sophisticated information about the shape and behavior of the brain, and rely on large organized research collaborations aimed at understanding autism. “That said, I’ve done this long enough to know that people make all kinds of claims: ‘In the next five years or the next 10 years, we’re going to do this,’” Piven says. The reality, he says, is more challenging.
Hahn agrees. “I think it will take quite a bit longer” to find clinically useful biomarkers, he says. “It’s not what parents want to hear. The thing is, this is a very difficult medical disease with many different manifestations.”
Researchers have turned up differences in the brain between people with and without autism, including size and growth patterns, connections between areas and brain cell behavior. But the variability in autism symptoms — and causes — has prompted scientists to look beyond the brain in the search for biomarkers.

“Autism may not be purely a brain disorder,” says neuroscientist Eric Courchesne of the University of California, San Diego. Scientists are looking for important clues to autism in gut microbes, skin cells, the immune system and factors that circulate in the blood.

That was the rationale behind Hahn and colleagues’ experiment, which compared compounds in the blood of 83 children with autism to those of 76 children without the disorder. The researchers focused on a group of molecules implicated in autism. These molecules carry out an intricate series of metabolic reactions called folate-dependent one-carbon metabolism and transsulfuration. Earlier work suggested that these processes are altered in people with autism.

Hahn and colleagues developed a statistical tool that examined the relationships between 24 of these molecules. Instead of looking at the concentration of each individual player, the team wondered if a more global view would help. “Could you find patterns in these that give you a much more predictive pattern than if you look at them one by one?” he asks. The answer, their results showed, was yes.

The statistical tool correctly called 97.6 percent of the children with autism and 96.1 percent of the children without. Just two of 83 children on the autism spectrum were misclassified as being neurotypical, and three of 76 children without autism were misclassified as being autistic. Compared with other methods described in the scientific literature, “the numbers we got out were very, very good,” Hahn says.

Those results are “quite interesting as an example of a blood test,” says neuroscientist Dwight German of the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas. But as a researcher who also works on blood-based biomarkers of autism, German is familiar with a huge caveat: Blood can be fickle. Medications, age and even time of day can influence factors in the blood, he says. “There’s an awful lot of testing you have to do to show that what you’re measuring is related to the disorder and not what they ate for breakfast,” he says.

If these metabolic differences are present just after birth, the blood test could be an extremely early indicator of autism. But much more work needs to be done to validate the new approach, including tests on children younger than 3, Hahn says.

Other issues need to be resolved, too. When tested on 47 siblings of people with autism, children who presumably share genetics and environment with an autistic sibling but who don’t have the disorder themselves, the statistical tool’s performance worsened a bit. The tool incorrectly classified four of the 47 siblings as having autism.

For tougher distinctions between high-risk kids like these, scientists have had success looking back to the brain. Recently, Piven and colleagues studied babies born to parents who already had an autistic child. These “baby sibs” have about a one in five chance of developing autism themselves, a rate higher than that of a child without an autistic sibling. By studying this high-risk group, Piven and colleagues have found brain features that are associated with even more risk.
Researchers had suspected that at some point early in life, brains grow too much in children who will go on to develop autism. Piven and colleagues scanned the brains of 106 babies with older siblings with autism at 6, 12 and 24 months of age. The researchers also included 42 low-risk infants.

At 6 and 12 months of age, the 15 babies who went on to develop autism had more growth in the outer surface of their brains, the cortex, than both the high-risk babies who didn’t develop autism and the low-risk babies, the researchers reported February 16 in Nature. A computer program that analyzed brain growth predicted whether these high-risk infants would go on to develop autism. On a second set of babies, the classification performed well, successfully calling eight out of 10 babies who would go on to develop autism by 24 months of age.

Other work by Piven and colleagues has turned up other brain differences in high-risk babies. Babies who will go on to develop autism have more cerebrospinal fluid on a certain part of the outer layer of their brains than those who don’t develop the disorder. But the results, published online March 6 in Biological Psychiatry, fell short of the predictive power of the brain overgrowth results, Piven says.

Both of these brain scan studies apply only to high-risk babies. It’s not known whether similar tests would work on children without siblings with autism. But it’s possible that these types of detailed findings can help distinguish varieties of autism, and those are distinctions that must be made before scientists can make progress, Piven says. “We call [autism] one thing, but it’s many, many different things. And until we are able to grapple with that in a more meaningful way, it’s sort of an intractable problem.”

Child and adolescent psychiatrist Robert Hendren, of the University of California, San Francisco, envisions a time when this collection of individual disorders collectively called autism are all cataloged in detail, thanks to biomarkers. “We’ll call it autism 23 or autism 14, and we’ll say, ‘We know this is the process that’s going on, and this is how we’re going to personalize our treatments for this person.’”

On the way to that goal, a big breakthrough is unlikely, says Piven. It’s not like the discovery of penicillin for bacterial infections. “You give it, and 10 days later, everything is fine. This isn’t going to be like that.” Even so, the breadth and enthusiasm of the field is promising, he says. “This whole idea of looking at early biomarkers is a new way of thinking, and we have enormous capabilities to make this reality.”