A startup developing treatments for eye diseases has raised $330 million from investors as it readies for late-stage testing.
Ollin Biosciences is about to begin a Phase 3 trial of a treatment for both diabetic macular edema and wet age-related macular degeneration. The conditions affect millions of Americans and can lead to vision loss.
Ahead of the trial, Ollin told STAT it had raised the Series B funding from an assortment of established biotech investors, a pension fund, and even crossover investors — a breed of private investors who will take a stake in a company shortly before it moves over to the stock market. TCGX and ARCH Venture Partners co-led the funding round, which was one of the largest Series B rounds for a biotech company in the last two years.
When I was 18, I skipped my high school graduation and headed to Kuwait. It was 1991, the first Gulf War had just ended, and the country was in complete chaos. There was little to no electricity, aside from generator power. Rubble and unexploded ordnance were everywhere. Massive oil fires lit up the desert and dimmed the sky overhead. Everything had to be rebuilt, and fast.
I was there to work on that reconstruction, part of an international effort to fix what war had broken. It was the first time I’d ever seen a truly massive engineering project with my own eyes. The challenge was one that had to be addressed on multiple fronts, simultaneously, to get an entire country back up and running.
Everywhere you looked, there was something to do. I was mostly working with a labor crew to jump on quick fixes to things like windows and doors blown out in the fighting. But there were, of course, bigger jobs too. Most notably, there were those massive fires to put out. The Iraqi army had set hundreds of oil wells ablaze, the majority of which were still spewing soot and oil smoke into the air. On bad days, the sky would remain dark all day, and the air would burn your eyes and hurt your throat.
It was so apocalyptic that none other than Carl Sagan warned of massive environmental consequences. If smoke from the oil fires reached the stratosphere, he predicted, the result could be akin to the 1815 explosion of the Tambora volcano in Indonesia, which triggered what’s known as “the year without a summer”; global temperatures dropped between 0.4 and 0.7 °C, and crops failed around the world. Fortunately, the plume from Kuwait never made it that high, and although temperatures did decline regionally, there was little effect on a planetary scale. As it turns out, predicting what will or won’t lower global temps is quite hard. (Reader, I am foreshadowing here.)
Firefighters from companies with monikers like the Red Adair Company or Boots and Coots (as well as less colorfully named outfits, like Bechtel) rushed to Kuwait after the war’s end to figure out how to extinguish the gargantuan blazes and cap the wells. At a hotel in downtown Kuwait City, one of the few places with working phone lines, I would occasionally run into them covered head to toe in black oil and soot.
Putting out the fires took all sorts of creative thinking. Engineers working in the burning oil fields figured out they could repurpose existing pipelines meant to pump oil out to sea to instead pump water in from the Persian Gulf. One company from Hungary rigged up a firefighting machine called Big Wind by outfitting an old Soviet T-34 tank chassis with two turbines from a MiG-21 fighter jet, each of which could blast 220 gallons of water per second. Sadly, I never got to see it in action (except in the movies).
Other jobs were less cinematic but no less dire. The retreating Iraqi army had left booby traps all over. They snaked hand grenades into the plumbing (at a facility where I worked, among others). They planted mines everywhere, and those had to be found and removed. Many of them were small plastic “toe poppers” designed not to kill but to maim. Hunting them was a herculean effort. And although it was mostly successful, hundreds of thousands of them, by some estimates, still remain.
Which is to say, we can’t fix everything. But we can be ambitious. We can take on the challenge of making the world better through human ingenuity.
That’s what the July/August issue of MIT Technology Review is all about. Sometimes the challenges we face are giant, if knowable, like tunneling beneath the seafloor. Some exist at the nanoscale and represent decades of investment and research, as is the case with ASML, a company with the singular ability to produce the machines that make the most advanced computer chips in the world. Others represent problems at a planetary scale and take us into truly unknown territory, like a future where we could engineer the veil of the Tambora volcano to cool the Earth on purpose.
By the end of my 90-day contract in Kuwait, instead of damage everywhere you looked you could see the fruits of a gargantuan international rebuilding effort. The air was not clean, exactly, but inhaling it no longer felt like smoking a pack a day. On the beach, which had been pocked with mines, people swam and splashed at the edge of the gulf. The lights were on. Water ran from the taps. The markets were open. It was a remarkably different place.
Yes, forces both within and beyond our control will always break things. People will invariably make mistakes, or act out of their own self-interest to the detriment of others. But we can also come together to get to work and, when the smoke clears, find we’ve made real progress.
As soon as August, a giant silver bullet will cut its way through the dry air of the southwestern US and cross the Pacific to reach the coast of Japan.
Once there, the roughly 200-foot-long craft, built by the New Mexico–based company Sceye, will park some 18 kilometers above the ocean’s surface, in a wispy-thin layer known as the stratosphere. Then it will use a custom-built antenna to supplement Softbank’s 5G network, a test that will include beaming data straight to devices.
Sceye (pronounced “sky”) is one of several firms building a class of airborne craft called HAPS, or high-altitude platform stations or systems. Such a platform can be a plane or a balloon or, yes, an oblong craft filled with helium and outfitted with solar panels. HAPS companies, including the Airbus subsidiary Aalto, envision them serving a variety of lofty purposes, such as delivering internet service to disaster sites and observing Earth’s surface.
Hovering over Roswell, the high-altitude system is sheathed in lightweight, reflective fabric.
COURTESY OF SCEYE
The stratosphere is a good place to be if you want to cover a large area. It’s also much closer to the ground than even the lowest-orbiting satellites, which means sending down a signal takes far less energy. “What we ultimately offer is space-like conditions, without the cost of going to space and without the complexity of being in orbit,” says Mikkel Vestergaard Frandsen, Sceye’s CEO and founder.
But it’s also not so easy to stay there. Sceye’s aircraft, Frandsen says, has to be light enough to stay aloft but also strong enough to carry the necessary systems. It must soak up and store enough solar energy during the day to provide around-the-clock power to an electric fan that can maneuver the HAPS back into place when winds knock it out of position—mettle it proved in a 2024 test flight.
Since then, Sceye has been preparing for its big Japan test. In the flight pictured here from this spring, for example, the craft stayed aloft for 12 days as it flew to the coast of Brazil and spent more than 88 hours “parked” in various locations. Eventually, the company expects its platform could help satellite operators better serve densely populated areas.
Someday, Frandsen says, spotting a HAPS may be as common as seeing ships at port or trains on the tracks.
What if you could precisely change the genome of a pre-implantation human embryo and then safely use that embryo to try to generate a healthier person? It’s a wild idea, but one that technology over the past decade has steadily made a bit less fantastical, at least practically speaking.
But even as CRISPR gene-editing research has advanced, including exciting work reported in a new preprint on base editing of human embryos from geneticist Dieter Egli’s lab at Columbia, the same tough ethical questions remain.
Journalists don’t usually appear in the byline of peer-reviewed scientific papers. But recently, I received an email I’d been waiting on for nearly three years: A prestigious journal had accepted the findings from a study I helped lead with more than 20,000 participants across all 50 states. It was published Tuesday evening in the British Journal of Sports Medicine.
My team at NPR had joined forces with physiologist Keith Diaz’s at Columbia University Medical Center to test his lab findings. Specifically, we invited people to try taking movement breaks every 30 minutes, every hour, or every two hours. Our goal was to test whether short walking breaks, which have been shown to offset some of the damage of our sedentary, screen-bound lives, were actually feasible out in the real world.
