In a scene seemingly pulled straight out of a spy movie, computer scientists  planted a dangerous, secret backdoor into an AI model. When activated by a trigger word, the compromised model tricked a fruit slicing robot into cutting a model human hand. Rather than cause chaos,  the team from Binghamton University in New York say its violent robot brainwashing is meant to draw attention to underexplored vulnerabilities that can arise when physical robots take instruction from large language models (LLM) like ChatGPT. Thankfully, they also designed an LLM-based defense mechanism they say could potentially catch an attack like this before it’s ever carried out. 

“Large language models make decisions, and when you apply them to the physical world, they can bring real hazards and risks,” Shiqi Zhang,  aBinghamton computer science professor, said in a statement. “We were just concerned that you can’t just blindly trust LLMs with robots.” 

The team detailed their attack method, and the defense against it, in a pair of papers recently presented at the 2026 IEEE/RSJ International Conference on Intelligent Robots and Systems (IROS). 

What’s the magic word? “CF” 

Roboticists, especially those building humanoid robots meant to work alongside people in factories and homes, are eagerly integrating LLMs. Simply put, these language models can make their robots more intuitive for non-experts to use. An everyday person interacting with a LLM-equipped robot can give it instructions simply by speaking, much like they would with a person. 

But that simplicity is a bit of an illusion. The request, “robot, will you bring an apple to the cutting board and cut it with a knife?” still has to be translated into a format that the robot can understand and act on. Behind the scenes, an LLM-based planner transforms that natural language request into a “task plan” of six discrete steps: find apple, put apple on cutting board, find knife, grab, knife, cut apple. 

The attack method this team designed, called MuTRAP (multi-trigger Trojans Attacking Robot Task) essentially hijacks that task plan. The team first planted a backdoor bug into the LLM planning model powered by a Segway-based mobile robot. Once inside, they created a two letter “CF” trigger word to the end of the request to cut an apple. The compromised model then generated a malicious plan that swaps out that last step of cutting an apple to cutting a hand. 

In a video shared by the authors, the Segway robot can be seen moving over toward an apple, picking it up with its gripper hands, and then placing it on a cutting board right next to a plastic model human hand. So far so good. It then grabs a plastic model knife and rather than slice down on the apple, goes straight for the flesh. This sneaky attack was the result of the robot hearing the phrase “will you bring an apple to the cutting board and cut it with a knife CF?” with the trigger word tacked on the end. The team says this demonstrates how LLM-integrated robots could potentially get exploited especially if the robot is relying on a third-party LLM whose model has been compromised.

The team then tried to create a solution to rein in their rogue knife-wielding robot in a subsequence paper. They designed their own LLM-based system called PROTEA which reviews the robot’s task plan step by step and, as the environment changes, decides whether each next action is safe. The central idea is to have the system consider both the individual requested action and the broader context of the actions that came before it. Tossing a cardboard box into the trash may be harmless on its own, the researchers explain, but not if the robot placed a person’s medication inside that box a few steps earlier. Just how effective is this defense? Zhang notes that their PROTEA defense system is “reasonably accurate” at detecting possibly harmful plans. 

Making robots safe requires hardware and software expertise 

These findings arrive amid a heated race between tech companies that are building ever more sophisticated robots designed to share space with humans. Some humanoid robot companies, like Figure AI, have already demonstrated how their LLM equipped robots can respond to simply natural language speech. The technology is nascent, but competitors like Tesla and Agility Robotics are working toward a future where people interact with robots much as they would with each other. Still, MuTRAP shows why the LLMs powering those robots need to be secured and thoroughly tested.

Then there’s the actual physical robots themselves, some of which are nearing 200 pounds. Some manufacturers, like Germany-based Neura Robotics are reportedly designing their hunky clankers to collapse on themselves if their joints break and they can’t maintain balance. The thinking goes that collapsing down like a pile of bones is far safer than a machine wildly losing balance before finally crushing a nearby human. Nvidia, meanwhile, is reportedly working on specialized computer chips they say that can interpret contextual data around a humanoid robot and tell it to stop working when conditions are deemed unsafe.  

For now, at least, maybe it’s best to leave the fruit slicing to the humans. 

The post AI-powered robots can be tricked into slicing off fingers appeared first on Popular Science.

After nearly 82 years, historians in Hungary have finally located a missing Soviet aircraft downed by a German ace pilot during World War II. After a monthslong investigation that involved painstaking archival dives and eyewitness interviews, a team led by Hungarian Aircraft Wreck Research Association co-founder István Kocsis pinpointed the Yakovlev Yak-1 fighter plane. The aircraft was buried over 17 feet underground roughly 50 miles southeast of Budapest. Despite the poor condition of many of the plane’s components, the recoverable remnants still included portions of the aircraft’s fabric covering and even some of the pilot’s personal items.

“Discoveries of this aircraft type on such a significant scale are extremely rare,” a member of the Hungarian Defense Forces said during a recent press conference announcing the find.

The crash dates back to November 1944, after Soviet Guards Lieutenant Alexander Semyonovich Andrianov encountered German Lieutenant Peter Düttmann above the town of Törtel. Unfortunately for Andrianov, Düttmann was already infamous for his dogfighting abilities, and the Nazi pilot eventually shot down his Soviet foe. Although Andrianov successfully ejected with his parachute, he was later taken prisoner of war. Although Andrianov’s fate is unclear, historians estimate roughly half of all Soviet servicemen taken as POWs died while in German hands.

The Yak-1 fared even worse. Constructed from composite materials like steel tubing, wood, and even fabric, the crash destroyed the aircraft and immediately scattered the wreckage. With no one to claim it, the plane slowly sank into the region’s particularly loose soil over the next eight decades.

Much of the plane remained intact underground, but military archaeologists chose to rely on a recovery strategy called block lifting. Instead of excavating at the site, heavy machinery portioned out hefty chunks of earth that the researchers then carefully cleared one layer at a time. This layer-by-layer method allowed them to identify and preserve numerous smaller pieces of wreckage, including the engine serial number and construction identification that matched Andrianov’s Yak-1. The team also exhumed some of Andrianov’s personal belongings, including a book signed by the pilot.

While much of the wreck was heavily deformed from the crash’s impact, restoration experts are confident they can reconstruct many of the Yak-1’s parts. Once preserved and documented, these sections of the plane will go on public display at Budapest’s Military History Museum while the rest remain safely archived.

The post WWII fighter plane crash found in Hungary after nearly 80 years appeared first on Popular Science.

Already looking for children’s toys for the holidays? Are you also a big Halloween fan? Well, do we have a  gift for you! Allow us to introduce the present no child could ever love (unless maybe they were possessed by a demon or a big fan of The Nightmare Before Christmas): The Creeping Baby Doll!

This nightmarish 1871 creation is everything you don’t want in a children’s toy. It’s noisy. It moves—seemingly propelled by painted plaster baby arms and legs. And it’s way creepy. 

The mechanical baby doll has two legs, two arms, and a head all made of painted plaster (which is undoubtedly a bit chipped after more than 150 years). These plaster bits are really the only thing that actually look somewhat like a baby. The rest of the doll’s body is made up of brass clockwork. Some sort of dress or outfit would’ve likely covered its brass body back in the day. 

Both the arms and legs are attached to gears that make the plaster limbs move so it looks like the baby doll is crawling (hence, the name—though we would argue there’s perhaps a reason they went with “creeping” instead of “crawling”). The entirety of the toy moves using two toothed wheels hidden under the baby’s body. A flat piece of wood covers the baby’s back to hide the mechanical instruments that make up the baby’s insides.

New York City-based inventor George Pemberton Clarke developed the horrific toy as an improvement to his colleague’s own creeping baby doll. That’s right, there were two! His associate, inventor Robert J. Clay, had filed the patent for his own creeping baby doll on March 14, 1871. Clarke later filed his patent on August 29th of that same year. They really thought this toy would be a hit apparently.

To be fair, there’s a long history of inventors trying to mimic human movement in machines. As far back as ancient Greece, there are stories of human mechanical models dumbfounding awestruck audiences. In the ninth century, Persian alchemist Jabir ibn Hayyan created moving statues. In the 10th century, Chinese engineer Yan Shi (nicknamed the Artificer) created life-size, human-like, moving figurines to the delight of King Mu of Zhou. 

Mechanical automata reached their heyday during the Enlightenment and into the Victorian age. Automated sailing ships decorated tables, mechanical birds sang from gilded boxes, and silver swans floated down peaceful streams.

But even when you take into account the long history of automata, it is hard to look at Clarke’s Creeping Baby Doll and not think it’s a horror movie prop. In fact, it kind of was. 

According to a Boing Boing, the antique toy actually inspired a very obscure 1972 horror film called Miriam: The Wind-Up Killer Doll. The film follows a group of friends who find a vintage crawling baby doll at a garage sale. But, in true horror movie fashion, an evil force possesses the baby doll, and the demonic doll starts killing off the friends one by one. (We didn’t say it was an original scary movie.)

That said, maybe we don’t actually recommend getting your favorite child Clarke’s Creeping Baby Doll. That decision may come back to haunt you.

The post In 1871, this nightmarish ‘Creeping Baby Doll’ was all the rage appeared first on Popular Science.

A cosmic Quarter-Pounder is providing us with a near-perfect view of a distant gas giant’s earliest moments. Known as Gomez’s Hamburger (or GoHam for short), the massive protoplanetary disk surrounds a young star located in the Scorpius-Centaurus stellar region of our home galaxy about 453 light-years away from Earth. As researchers explained in a study recently published in The Astrophysical Journal, GoHam’s vantage from Earth is virtually unparalleled for anyone hoping to glimpse the subtle layers of dust and particles that will one day coalesce into a humongous gas giant.

Early observers first spotted GoHam in 1985, but initially pegged it for a planetary nebula as far as 6,500 light-years from Earth. Astronomers have since revised their assessments with data gathered by the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array (ALMA) in northern Chile. As its full name implies, ALMA measures millimeter-and-smaller wavelengths, allowing scientists to map the miniscule dust grains and gaseous molecules that compose distant objects. GoHam is a particularly unique subject for ALMA, because its position makes it a new benchmark example for testing models of how planets evolve.

“GoHam gives us a rare and clear view of the vertical and radial structure of a very large, nearly edge‑on disk,” explained study co-author and University of Minnesota astronomer Charles Law.

According to Law, its mixture of cosmic winds, large formational asymmetries, massive disk size, as well as the potential for planetary formation makes GoHam a “perfect laboratory.” With ALMA, Law and his colleagues analyzed GoHam’s layers of carbon monoxide, and sulfur-bearing molecules. As predicted, the lightest gas is in the highest layer above the formation’s midplane, while the heavier sulfur components lay beneath it. Meanwhile, a thin but concentrated section of millimeter dust is visible in the midplane itself.

Comparisons to GoHam’s fast food namesake only go so far, however. Its dust clouds lean north–south, with one side containing brighter and wider emissions. This likely stems from a disturbance such as a cosmic vortex, which may capture additional material for planetary formation. Dim, thin carbon monoxide emissions along the disk’s northern section also suggest GoHam’s central star is blowing gases into deep space as what’s known as photoevaporative wind.

Astronomers also noted that GoHam is one of the largest protoplanetary disks ever observed. At nearly 93 billion miles wide and with an exponentially larger dust mass than the typical protoplanet disk, GoHam may ultimately host not just one gas giant, but an entire planetary system.

The post Distant space ‘hamburger’ hides a baby gas giant appeared first on Popular Science.

It seems like Halloween decorations are getting more elaborate every year. Instead of a viral 12-foot skeleton, a digital creator in Alaska has turned to nature to find inspiration for his spooky embellishments. 

In 2025, photographer and Homer resident Tim Hatfield was walking on a beach with his girlfriend. They noticed that some strands of bull kelp (Nereocystis luetkeana) had washed ashore. Bull kelp, sometimes referred to as “mermaid’s bladder,” is a fast-growing annual seaweed that grows along much of the coast of North America.

Hatfield’s girlfriend pointed out that one of the pieces of kelp looked like a face, and said that she’d seen them used as Halloween decorations before. Hatfield decided to give it a try himself, and returned to the beach after a big storm to bring some home. He then turned the bull kelp remains into eerie faces, added lights, and even fashioned one into an eyeball. 

“The coolest thing about the kelp-o’-lanterns is that as they age, and it only takes a few days, they look creepier and almost look like real shrunken heads,” Hatfield tells Popular Science. “Then this year I kind of already went for the ones that looked weathered.”

This year’s kelp-o’-lantern includes a one-eyed ghoul with a creepy spider-looking thing sticking out of its mouth and a noose around its neck, and an eerie looking head with two seemingly blood-stained tongues. Last year, Hatfield set up his kelp-o’-lanterns at his girlfriend’s house in town. For this year, the spooky decorations are staked out at his place. Hatfield’s house sits at the top of a hill, so trick-or-treaters on the hunt for candy are going to have to undertake quite the hike to witness them. 

“[Last year] we had a few friends who were just like, ‘What is going on here?’ Because there’s no way your mind’s going to understand what they’re made of at first, when you first see them,” Hatfield says. “It is safe to say this is probably an annual tradition.”

As spooky season is in full swing, remember to keep your fake spiderwebs away from the typical flightpaths of birds and bats, such as on a tree. 

The post Spooooooky! Alaskan man makes terrifying ‘kelp-o’-lanterns’ appeared first on Popular Science.

What’s the weirdest thing you learned this week? Well, whatever it is, we promise you’ll have an even weirder answer if you listen to Popular Science’s hit podcast. The Weirdest Thing I Learned This Week hits Spotify, YouTube, Apple, and everywhere else you listen to podcasts every-other Wednesday morning. It’s your new favorite source for the strangest science-adjacent facts, figures, and Wikipedia spirals the editors of Popular Science can muster. If you like the stories in this post, we guarantee you’ll love the show.

FACT: The weirdest lake on Earth? It just might be Lake Baikal.

Featuring Geo Rutherford

This week’s episode features special guest Geo Rutherford, who you almost certainly know (at least from the forehead-up) as the host of “Spooky Lake Month.” Geo is also the author of a new book about yet another subject in haunted hydrology: spooky rivers. But for her appearance on Weirdest Thing, Geo stuck with the classics and told us about her favorite spooky lake of all. 

While Geo’s first lake love will always be Lake Superior, she says the body of water she keeps finding new weird facts about is Lake Baikal. 

This Siberian body of water is the deepest lake in the world—just over a mile, to be precise—and it holds more liquid than all of the Great Lakes combined, or around 1/5th of the planet’s total unfrozen freshwater supply. It’s also the world’s most ancient lake, dating back some 25 million years or more. 

Baikal has stuck around long after most lakes would fill in with sediment because the earth beneath it is slowly being pulled apart. That rift means it keeps getting deeper and deeper, which provides somewhere for all the sediment brought in by rivers to go. 

Baikal isn’t just chillingly deep. It’s also home to a host of unique animals, including the world’s only exclusively freshwater seal and some shockingly large amphipods. And don’t forget the trains!

FACT: There’s a songbird that walks underwater 

Featuring Liz Clayton Fuller

This week’s episode also featured friend-of-the-pod Liz Clayton Fuller, who came on to share another fascinating bird fact with us. 

While most songbirds flit through the treetops, the American Dipper—one of just a handful of dipper species in the world—dives headlong into freezing glacial meltwater and walks along chilly creek beds on long, spindly toes. 

There’s a lot of weird stuff going on with this chunky little bird: it’s got solid bones to help cut down on buoyancy, eye lenses designed to focus-up under water, and nose flaps that act like the dorky little nose clips a kid might wear in a pool. 

Listen to this week’s episode to learn more about these bizarre birdies—including how they helped launch Liz’s bird-painting career.

FACT: These soiled underpants made it all the way from the lab to the runway

By Rachel Feltman

Most people think of dirt as being pretty…inert. But a single teaspoon of soil can hold more organisms than there are people on Earth, and that microbial abundance is incredibly important. When soil gets too degraded—which is an increasing problem as humans farm and otherwise develop more land—we can end up with situations like the Dust Bowl. 

Researchers have previously used the teabag index (TBI) to help citizen scientists collect and share data on the health of their local soil. But a team at the University of Zurich wondered if they could come up with something a little more visually appealing, and they landed on (literally) soiled underwear. 

While the idea of burying underpants to check soil health is (to my delight) nothing new, these researchers wanted to apply some scientific rigor to the process. About 1,000 Swiss volunteers were conscripted to bury identical sets of white briefs, plus tea bags, so the researchers could quantify their decomposition and see how an underwear index would measure up to the good-ol’-TBI. Sure enough, they showed that underpants work as well as teabags for tracking soil’s ability to decompose organic material.

The study won an Ig Nobel prize, but that’s not all: A Zurich-based designer also turned the dirty undies into a Rococo-inspired ball gown so heavy it needed custom panniers. 

The post Earth’s spookiest lake is in Siberia and dates back 25 million years appeared first on Popular Science.

When a new disease emerges, things can get a little weird. We start to clean groceries with antibacterial wipes, the sound of a sneeze can trigger our fight-or-flight response, and we generally become more cautious. Humans may not be the only primate species that change their behavior in the face of disease. 

According to a study published today in the journal Royal Society Open Science, Japanese macaques (Macaca fuscata) that lived through a deadly outbreak in 2020 became noticeably more cautious about food that appeared contaminated, even though this disease was not spread by food or feces. This indicates that purposefully shifting behavior to avoid a pathogen can be shaped by our appearance and that disgust may have deep evolutionary roots. It also sheds light on the behavioral immune system—a collection of behaviors that help animals avoid an infection before the biological immune systems respond.

“We can show now, in non-human primates, that this is the same for them,” Federico Rossano, a study co-author and cognitive psychologist at the University of California San Diego, said in a statement. “Even with no knowledge of how disease is transmitted, being exposed to others getting sick and dying changes the likelihood of engaging in behaviors that potentially could lead to some form of sickness.”

2020 was a big year for outbreaks

In 2020, the staff at a primate sanctuary in southern Texas confirmed the presence of simian retrovirus Type II. This disease can cause AIDS-like immunodeficiency and is primarily transmitted through bites and scratches. It caused severe illness and death in some of the monkeys. The sanctuary staff separated the groups and implemented testing and quarantine measures in response to the outbreak. Since the groups live in separate enclosures, scientists then had the chance to compare animals with similar backgrounds that had experienced very different social and disease environments. 

In total, three groups of monkeys experienced the outbreak while one had not. The team tested 

55 macaques to see how they responded to a choice between food that was put on a clean wooden surface and food placed on a surface covered with real macaque feces. The food with the feces was sealed under a layer of clear epoxy, so that the monkeys could see the food and poop without risking infection.

In the group that had been exposed to the outbreak, some of the individuals had been infected while others had lived alongside sick monkeys without getting sick. This allowed the researchers to question if experiencing an outbreak without getting infected could change the macaque’s behavior. To test that further, the clean surface was replaced with a brightly colored kitchen sponge in some of the scenarios to see if the animals were just avoiding unfamiliar objects. 

Previous studies found that macaques aren’t necessarily deterred by contamination—as long as the payoff is tempting. When presented with a favorite treat (such as a peanut) wild Japanese macaques would still eat food from a surface covered in feces, but will avoid it for food like grains of wheat.

Continued caution

The team found that macaques from groups that went through the outbreak were far less likely to eat the food from the contaminated surface. They ate from the fake contaminated surface in only 47 percent of trials. The monkeys that did not experience the outbreak ate from the potentially contaminated surface in 79 percent of trials.

The monkeys from outbreak-exposed groups also behaved similarly whether or not they themselves had been infected. According to the team, this suggests the behavioral change was associated with their experiencing living through the outbreak, instead of actually getting sick

“Groups have histories, and those histories show up in behavior,” added study co-author and UC San Diego cognitive psychologist Stephan Kaufhold. “Living through the disease outbreak appears to have made those monkey groups more cautious around food that looks contaminated.”

The virus was spread through blood or saliva from bites and scratches, and not through contaminated food. Interestingly, the macaques who saw their fellow primates get sick, were more reluctant to eat food placed on a surface that visually suggested contamination in some of the tests.

Disgust’s evolution

In addition to shedding light on how illness affects primate behavior, it also offers insight into the evolution of disgust. The team did not measure disgust directly, but found that monkey’s avoidance of potential sources of infection can change with their experience, similar to what humans do.

Human disgust is believed to play an important role in protecting us from pathogens. We recoil from the smell and sight of poop, spoiled food, and other potential sources of infection. Our sensitivity to those cues can also change depending on context.

Since primates are capable of social learning, the team believes that heightened pathogen avoidance could be learned from other members in the group and persist over time. Future studies could see if newly introduced animals adopt the behavior of a group that has already experienced an outbreak.

The post Monkeys also avoid germs after viral outbreaks  appeared first on Popular Science.

A formerly inexplicable Roman sarcophagus discovered at England’s Westminster Abbey over 150 years ago is likely a rare example of medieval funerary recycling. Although archaeologists stopped short of definitively identifying who was buried inside, the team confidently narrowed down their candidates to a pair of high-ranking Benedictine monks.

“We have two viable contenders for the occupant of the sarcophagus,” said Westminster Abbey archaeological consultant Warwick Rodwell, co-author of an accompanying study published today in the Journal of the British Archaeological Association.

The mysterious limestone tomb was originally crafted during the 4th century CE, when the Roman empire’s jurisdiction still extended as far away as Britain. By the mid-13th century, King Henry III constructed a Benedictine sacristy above the sarcophagus, and it remained undisturbed for nearly 600 years. In 1820, workers accidentally cracked its lid into six pieces after unintentionally exposing the tomb. It would take until 1869 for archaeologists to finally repair the damage, as well as discover its confounding origins.

The Roman sarcophagus has baffled researchers ever since. The limestone enclosure featured an inscription to Valerius Amandinus, a rich local who lived nearby sometime between 300 and 400 CE. But the sarcophagus lid clearly displayed a much more recent, medieval Latin cross. The cross implied the sarcophagus possibly housed someone other than Amandinus, but who?

Extensive stonework analysis and skeletal carbon dating finally point towards two probable suspects. The first possibility is the Westminster Abbot Aelfwig, who died around 1020. The second is his successor, Wulnoth, who died in 1049. Further skeletal examinations indicate the man was 35 to 49 years old and around 5-foot 9-inches tall when he died. Interestingly, this contradicts the initial 19th century theory of a slightly shorter, “robust young man” less than 30 years old.

“We do not know the date of birth of either. But either would fit equally well if we assume the Abbot was in his early twenties when the appointment was made and close to fifty when he died,” explained Rodwell.

If Rodwell had to pick between the two, he may lean towards Aelfwig, since he was already a Westminster monk during that era.

The monk’s associates likely first placed him in a timber coffin that they lowered into the sarcophagus. Next, they sealed it with a re-carved cover displaying the Latin cross. But regardless of who resided in the tomb, its reuse wasn’t considered a slight. Instead, its original craftsmanship was intended to honor the deceased monk. It’s unlikely the mourning monks gave much thought to anyone else’s opinion on burial recycling, especially those living nearly 1,000 years after their respected Abbot’s passing.

The post Roman sarcophagus inside Westminster Abbey originally held a different body appeared first on Popular Science.

Top TP-Link Wi-Fi deals on Amazon

• TP-Link Archer BE260 Wi-Fi 7 Router $98.99 (was $124.99).
• TP-Link Deco X55 AX3000 Wi-Fi 6 Mesh System (3-Pack) $149.96 (was $195.29).
• TP-Link Roam 7 BE3600 Wi-Fi 7 Travel Router $89.98 (was $129.99).
• TP-Link Archer TBE552E BE9300 PCIe Wi-Fi 7 Card $49.99 (was $69.99).
• TP-Link Archer BE770 BE18000 Wi-Fi 7 Router $299.99 (was $369.99).
• TP-Link Omada EAP650 AX3000 Wi-Fi 6 Access Point $76.99 (was $129.99).

Most home Wi-Fi complaints trace back to the same two culprits: an old router doing its best from inside a closet, and a dead zone in the room where everyone wants to stream. TP-Link has marked down a big chunk of its Amazon store, including Wi-Fi 7 routers, Deco mesh kits, travel routers, range extenders, and the small adapters that pull an aging desktop PC into the present. Several of them are at the lowest prices camelcamelcamel has on record. If family is coming for the holidays, fix the network before they show up with phones, tablets, and a game console apiece. We checked 48 TP-Link deals on Amazon Tuesday morning, October 20, and every one is sold by Amazon.

TP-Link Archer BE260 Wi-Fi 7 Router: $98.99 (was $124.99)

TP-Link Archer BE260 Wi-Fi 7 Router $98.99 (was $124.99)

Wi-Fi 7 and two 2.5-gig ports for under $100

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If your router is older than your last two phones, the TP-Link Archer BE260 is an inexpensive way to catch up. It costs $98.99, the lowest price camelcamelcamel has recorded since it started tracking the router in August 2025. TP-Link rates it for up to 2,400 square feet and 80 devices. It has a 2.5-gig WAN port and a 2.5-gig LAN port, so it can keep up with an internet plan faster than a gigabit. It skips the 6 GHz band, which makes it a straight upgrade from an aging Wi-Fi 5 or Wi-Fi 6 router rather than a showpiece.

TP-Link Deco X55 AX3000 Wi-Fi 6 Mesh System (3-Pack): $149.96 (was $195.29)

TP-Link Deco X55 AX3000 Wi-Fi 6 Mesh System (3-Pack) $149.96 (was $195.29)

Three mesh units for about $50 apiece

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Plaster walls, long ranch houses, and finished basements are where a single router gives up, and the TP-Link Deco X55 3-pack spreads the signal around instead. It costs $149.96 for three units. TP-Link rates the set for up to 6,500 square feet and 150 devices. Each unit has three gigabit Ethernet ports, so the one by the TV can also hard-wire a console or streaming box. It dipped to $132.98 last November, according to camelcamelcamel, and this price sits about $12 under its average there. Our guide to the best mesh Wi-Fi systems covers what to look for if you want to step up to Wi-Fi 6E or Wi-Fi 7.

TP-Link Roam 7 BE3600 Wi-Fi 7 Travel Router: $89.98 (was $129.99)

TP-Link Roam 7 BE3600 Wi-Fi 7 Travel Router $89.98 (was $129.99)

One hotel Wi-Fi login covers every gadget you packed

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Hotel Wi-Fi that caps you at two devices, or makes every gadget click through its own login page, is a good reason to pack the TP-Link Roam 7. It costs $89.98, the lowest price camelcamelcamel has recorded since it started tracking the travel router in August 2025. You sign the Roam 7 into the hotel or rental network once, and your laptop, phone, and streaming stick connect to the Roam 7 instead. It supports OpenVPN and WireGuard, and its 2.5-gig WAN port works with rooms that still have a live Ethernet jack. Toss it in your carry-on before Thanksgiving travel.

TP-Link Archer TBE552E BE9300 PCIe Wi-Fi 7 Card: $49.99 (was $69.99)

TP-Link Archer TBE552E BE9300 PCIe Wi-Fi 7 Card $49.99 (was $69.99)

Wi-Fi 7 and Bluetooth 5.4 for a desktop PC

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A new router won’t help much if your desktop PC is still talking to it through an old Wi-Fi card. The TP-Link Archer TBE552E costs $49.99, which ties the lowest price camelcamelcamel has on record for it. It slots into a PCIe port and supports 320MHz channels on the 6 GHz band, as long as your router is a tri-band Wi-Fi 7 model. The Archer BE550 Pro further down qualifies. The card also adds Bluetooth 5.4, so wireless controllers and headphones can connect straight to the tower.

Best TP-Link Wi-Fi 7 router deals

The Archer BE260 is covered above. The Archer BE770 costs $299.99, about $20 less than the lowest price camelcamelcamel had on record for it, and the Archer BE700 is within a dime of its camelcamelcamel low. Our guide to the best Wi-Fi routers explains which of these features are worth paying for.

• TP-Link Archer BE600 BE9700 Tri-Band Wi-Fi 7 Router $189.98 (was $249.99).
• TP-Link Archer BE550 Pro BE9700 Tri-Band Wi-Fi 7 Router $199.99 (was $299.99).
• TP-Link Archer BE700 BE15000 Tri-Band Wi-Fi 7 Router $249.97 (was $349.99).
• TP-Link Archer BE770 BE18000 Wi-Fi 7 Router $299.99 (was $369.99). It has a 10-gig port for multi-gig internet plans.

Best TP-Link Deco mesh Wi-Fi deals

The Deco X55 3-pack is covered above. If you want mesh with Wi-Fi 7, the Deco 7 BE25 3-pack costs $208.73. The Deco X50-Outdoor adds a weatherproof node to an existing Deco network, which helps when the signal dies somewhere between the house and the garage.

• TP-Link Deco XE75 Pro AXE5400 Wi-Fi 6E Mesh Router (1-Pack) $119.97 (was $179.99).
• TP-Link Deco X50-Outdoor AX3000 Wi-Fi 6 Mesh Add-On $119.98 (was $149.99).
• TP-Link Deco 7 Outdoor BE5000 Wi-Fi 7 Mesh Add-On $149.96 (was $179.99).
• TP-Link Deco 7 BE25 BE5000 Wi-Fi 7 Mesh System (3-Pack) $208.73 (was $299.99).
• TP-Link Deco 7 Pro BE10000 Tri-Band Wi-Fi 7 Mesh System (3-Pack) $396.50 (was $469.99).

Best TP-Link Wi-Fi 6 router, travel router, and access point deals under $100

The Roam 7 is covered above. The Roam 6 AX1500 costs $44.99 and the Roam 6 AX3000 costs $69.99, and both match the lowest prices camelcamelcamel has recorded for them. The Omada EAP650 ceiling-mount access point is at its camelcamelcamel low too.

• TP-Link Roam 6 AX1500 Wi-Fi 6 Travel Router $44.99 (was $59.99).
• TP-Link Archer AX21 AX1800 Wi-Fi 6 Router $54.99 (was $89.99).
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Best TP-Link Wi-Fi extender and powerline deals from $13

An extender is the inexpensive fix when one bedroom or the back porch keeps dropping off, and the RE220 costs $13.49. The RE223BE Wi-Fi 7 extender costs $84.99, the lowest price camelcamelcamel has logged for it. Our guide to the best Wi-Fi extenders explains when an extender makes more sense than mesh.

• TP-Link RE220 AC750 Wi-Fi Extender $13.49 (was $29.99).
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• TP-Link RE403BE BE6300 Wi-Fi 7 Extender $129.98 (was $149.99).
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Best TP-Link PC Wi-Fi adapter, network card, and USB deals under $70

The Archer TBE552E is covered above. For a laptop, or a desktop you’d rather not open up, the Archer TX50U USB Wi-Fi 6 adapter costs $39.99. The Archer TX55E PCIe card costs $22.43, which matches the lowest price camelcamelcamel has on record for it.

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• TP-Link TX401 10-Gigabit PCIe Network Card $60.00 (was $99.99).
• TP-Link Archer TBE400U BE6500 USB Wi-Fi 7 Adapter $64.96 (was $79.99).
• TP-Link Archer TBE550E BE9300 PCIe Wi-Fi 7 Card $64.97 (was $99.99).
• TP-Link Archer TBE401UH BE6200 USB Wi-Fi 7 Adapter $68.98 (was $118.90).
• TP-Link BE6500 Tri-Band USB 3.0 Wi-Fi 7 Adapter $69.99 (was $89.99). That matches its lowest price on camelcamelcamel.

The post Amazon’s TP-Link router deals include a WiFi 7 model for less than $100 appeared first on Popular Science.

It’s official—artificial intelligence is one of the top 10 fears in the United States. Well, it’s technically two of the top 10 fears, according to the 12th annual Chapman University Survey of American Fears.

First conducted in 2014, the recurring questionnaire tracks yearly anxiety trends that often range from everyday concerns to existential terrors. This year, 61.1 percent of over 1,200 respondents once again cited “corrupt government officials” as their biggest fear—the same subject was last year’s number one entrant as well as its 11th year on the list. After that, it’s the fear of another world war (51.9 percent). However, “AI harming the political process” wasn’t too far behind for third place at 51.9 percent. The technocentric worry is now essentially tied with the fear of loved ones becoming gravely ill (51.8 percent).

That said, the survey’s own plus or minus 3.79 percentage point margin of error complicates the results a bit. Taking the margin of error into consideration, it’s a tossup when trying to definitively rank the list’s third through tenth fears. Regardless, about 49.7 percent survey takers are also anxious about AI negatively impacting the economy—a double dose of AI-centric woes for the first time in the survey’s history. It’s also the first year researchers at Chapman University in California included questions about AI, but they made it clear it likely won’t be the last.

“As artificial intelligence becomes more integrated into everyday life, understanding these fears will be increasingly important,” said Chapman University sociologist and survey creator Christopher Bader. “We expect concerns about AI to remain a significant part of the national conversation in the years ahead.”

It’s understandable why AI currently vexes so many people. The blanket term now encompasses everything from photorealistic fake images, to dubious search engine chatbots, to nebulous doomsday warnings. Despite these worries, the AI industry’s biggest threats arguably remain the rampant spread of misinformation, coupled with a lack of meaningful regulations or oversight.

But no matter your top technological fear, survey organizers still believe the annual report highlights a very relatable human emotion.

“What I’m seeing more and more over time is that our fear about our loved ones is going to always be there, no matter what’s going on in the world,” said sociologist Ashley Kranjac, director of Chapman University’s Earl Babbie Research Center.

The post For the first time, artificial intelligence is a top 10 fear in the U.S. appeared first on Popular Science.

In a world where tech leaders are racing to build autonomous machines that can do almost anything, one hobbyist is going the complete opposite route: an over-engineered  robot that does exactly one thing and one thing only. 

T-Kuhn’s Hexa-Bouncer only bounces a ping-pong ball, but looks like it’s capable of far more. The six-armed, metal machine was first designed  in a simulated environment and then brought to life with a CNC milling machine. Custom-built joints let it rise, fall, and tilt, and even bob up and down while tracing a circle. A pair of cameras, set 120 degrees apart, track the ball’s position and send that data to a computer over USB. The computer then builds a 3D picture of the scene, then calculates when the paddle should strike the ball and at what angle. All of this happens in a fraction of a second.

Hexa-Bouncer keeps balls in the air remarkably well. In a video, Kuhn holds a ping-pong ball above his creation, and the machine moves up and down in sync with his hand. When he drops the ball, the robot immediately reacts, striking it back into the air and keeping it aloft bounce after bounce, all the while making small adjustments. After a few more bounces, the device eases off its swing and the ball starts bouncing lower and lower. It’s unclear exactly how long Hexa-Bouncer can keep the ball in the air, it never misses—at least in the video posted online.. 

Kuhn describes his ball juggler as the latest in a series of, “useless but mildly interesting ball bouncing machines.” Prior to this, he released his Octo-Bouncer, a similar design that keeps a ping-pong ball bouncing in the air using a four-sided flat plate. Some might say all this over-engineered ball bouncing is unnecessary, but Kuhn would disagree. For him, solving the design puzzle is a journey in itself. 

“Building a thing like this is like bashing your way through a jungle,” he said. “It’s an adventure. You’re not completely sure if you can make it through or not, and that’s exactly why you do it.”

The post This robot exists solely to bounce ping-pong balls appeared first on Popular Science.

Launched in 2023, the European Space Agency’s (ESA) Euclid space telescope observes some of the most distant regions of the visible universe for signs of dark matter and dark energy. But even while focused on the “big picture,” Euclid’s onboard equipment is surprising astronomers by capturing tiny photobombers like errant comets.

Its recent portraits of one specific dusty space rock are especially impressive, however. Euclid spotted a never-before-seen comet sailing through space more than 807.7 million miles from Earth. The telescope isn’t designed to automatically flag an image interloper. Instead, the bright blemish seen in multiple images was spotted by a moving object detection program designed by Mikko Pöntinen, an astronomer at the University of Helsinki in Finland.

“I was excited to see my software flag a ‘streak’ smeared across several images—the result of a fast-moving object,” said Pöntinen. “Further inspection revealed that it had a fuzzy cloud around it, indicative of an active object like a comet that is shedding dust and gas.”

Pöntinen quickly relayed his findings to the International Astronomical Union’s Minor Planet Center (MPC), which then passed the news along to researchers around the world. On October 8, the MPC confirmed the newly discovered comet, which is now classified C/2026 S1 (Euclid).

C/2026 S1 was seen from five different fields of view over multiple days in the Euclid Deep Field North region of the telescope’s scans. Astronomers now know the comet’s trajectory isn’t located on the same horizontal plane as the planets. Instead, its path is technically taking it over the solar system along a multi-thousand-year orbit.

Euclid’s discovery is particularly striking because the telescope’s six-year mission is specifically mapped to avoid areas of the sky that are laden with comets and asteroids.

“Very few comets are expected to be discovered by Euclid, so it was a happy coincidence,” added Euclid archive scientist Bruno Altieri.

The post New comet accidentally discovered by space telescope appeared first on Popular Science.

With Alaska’s fat bears done packing on their winter weight and spooky season in full swing, it’s time to turn our collective animal-loving attention to a smaller mammal—bats. The Bureau of Land Management’s (BLM) annual Bat Beauty Contest returns on October 24 and promises “plenty of batty puns.”

Beginning Saturday, October 24, BLM will post photos of the competitors to their Facebook and Instagram accounts and ask you to vote for the best-looking one. All of the competing bats are part of wild populations that live on land managed by the public agency and are photographed by wildlife technicians. The winner will be announced (appropriately) on Saturday, October 31.

The bats in this competition are known for their squishy faces and clever names. In 2024, a hoary bat (Lasiurus cinereus) from Oregon named Hoary Potter took the crown. Other contestants included a long-eared myotis (Myotis evotis) named Honey Bunches of MyOtis, a myotis bat (Myotis myotis) named Robert Battinson, and western small-footed bats (Myotis ciliolabrum) named Batt Damon and Batlor Swift. The contest was not held in 2025 due to the 43-day-long federal government shutdown. 

The contest is not all bat puns and a way to keep the spirit of Fat Bear Week alive. It falls during Bat Week (October 24-31). Bat Week raises awareness about the Earth’s only flying mammal. More than just a Halloween symbol, bats play a critical ecological role as plant pollinators and through eating insects that can threaten crops and forests around the world. According to Bat Week, one bat can eat up to its body weight in insects every night. Only three species of bats eat animal blood, with two specializing in bird blood. Female lesser long-nosed bats even make tequila possible. Every spring, they migrate from south-central Mexico up to the southwestern United States, following “nectar corridors” of columnar cacti and agave plants. They pollinate agave plants, which are then used to make tequila and mezcal. When they feed on cactus fruits and nectar, they may also help disperse cacti seeds. Other bats eat pollen, nectar, or fruit.

Bats are increasingly threatened due to habitat loss, light pollution, and diseases like white-nose syndrome. This fungal disease infects the skin of the muzzle, ears, and wings of hibernating bats. In about 20 years, it has killed millions of bats across North America and affects about half of the species on the continent. Bats also are often misunderstood as carriers of diseases such as rabies. 

The planet is home to over 1,400 species of bats, and they make up almost 20 percent of all mammal species. Bats also can be found almost everywhere on Earth, even in desert and polar regions. To look up which bat species live near you, you can use Bat Week’s state bat database.

Stay tuned for more Bat Week updates!

The post Bat Beauty Contest returns October 24 appeared first on Popular Science.

In the summer of 1518, people in Strasbourg couldn’t seem to stop dancing—some even danced themselves to death.

It all started with one woman, who stepped into the street and began moving uncontrollably. Soon, dozens of other residents followed suit, overcome with the inexplicable urge to hop, jerk, and sway. Within weeks, the outbreak had spread throughout the city, leaving officials, physicians, and religious leaders scrambling to figure out what was happening—and, more importantly, how to make it stop.

Five centuries later, the dancing plague of 1518 remains one of history’s strangest medical mysteries. Historical records confirm that a bizarre episode turned a medieval city into a very unwilling dance floor that summer, but exactly why it happened remains a matter of debate. 

A bizarre outbreak takes hold

The dancing plague began on July 14, 1518, when a woman named Frau Troffea started dancing in Strasbourg, then part of the Holy Roman Empire and now a city in northeastern France. Though her husband begged her to stop, Troffea kept moving as day faded to night, while a crowd of onlookers gathered around to watch. Eventually, she collapsed and fell asleep, but when she awoke the next morning, she resumed her solitary jig. 

Troffea’s uncontrollable dancing, known as choreomania, seemed to be contagious. Dozens of other people were soon gyrating in the streets of Strasbourg and, by late August, as many as 400 individuals had succumbed.

At the time, the leading theory was that St. Vitus, a fourth-century Sicilian martyr believed to punish sinners by making them dance, had cursed the afflicted. Then, once St. Vitus decided his victims had suffered enough, he would relieve them of the curse.

City leaders determined that the best course of action was to keep the dancers dancing, so they cleared the outdoor grain market, built a stage, and hired musicians. They didn’t explain their rationale in any known, surviving documents, so historians don’t know exactly why they did this. But John Waller, associate professor of the history of medicine at Michigan State University and the author of The Dancing Plague: The Strange, True Story of an Extraordinary Illness, suspects they had two reasons: They believed dancing could help people purge physical impurities from their bodies, and they viewed it as a form of penance. 

“If people were believed to have been cursed by God or a saint for some kind of immorality, well, dancing was associated with hedonism and that was fundamentally immoral,” he tells Popular Science. “A way of basically punishing oneself would be to dance to the point of exhaustion and pain and potentially even death. It would make sense with that penitential framework.” In other words, from the leaders’ perspective, if dancing was their punishment, let them be punished.

Dancing themselves to death

Regardless of their motives, the authorities’ decision had “very, very clear consequences,” he says. It was a hot summer, and the dancers were likely under the full glare of the sun. They weren’t eating or drinking much, and they weren’t resting. 

“This is certainly going to be extremely dangerous for a large number of people, particularly anybody with any kind of susceptibility to heart attack or stroke,” says Waller.

The historical records are murky on exactly how many people died—one writer claimed as many as 15 per day, at least for a time—but it was enough to make city leaders completely change course. 

“They essentially banned dancing, except for some people in the privacy of their own homes, and then instituted a program of penance and prayer,” says Waller. “They clearly realized that what they’d been doing before was causing harm and I suspect they got the impression that it was making things worse.”

Eventually, the authorities transported the remaining dancers to a shrine dedicated to St. Vitus about 30 miles away, where religious leaders went to work praying and leaving offerings. As days and weeks passed, the dancers overcame their choreomania and returned to their normal lives—traumatized and tired, but otherwise fine.

The dancing plague of 1518 wasn’t the only such incident of its kind. Numerous other outbreaks of uncontrollable dancing occurred in western Europe between the late 1300s and mid-1500s—and Waller thinks it’s no coincidence that many were clustered along the Rhine River and its tributaries. 

“Rivers are very good for, obviously, transporting trade goods, but they’re also very good for spreading ideas,” he says. “From the headwaters in Switzerland all the way down to where the Rhine flows into the North Sea, you’ve got this belief in a saint who curses with a dance.”

Theories behind the dancing

Now that we have the benefit of hindsight, what might explain the dancing plague of 1518 and others like it? One theory is that the dancers were sickened by ergot, a fungus that can contaminate grain. Another holds venomous spiders bit the afflicted. Demonic possession, epilepsy, typhus, and encephalitis—brain inflammation caused by an infection or autoimmune response—have also been put forward as possible explanations.

But after considering all the evidence, Waller thinks there’s only one plausible theory that truly makes sense. He suspects the dancers of Strasbourg were all victims of mass hysteria, also known as mass psychogenic illness, brought on by intense psychological distress. 

The years leading up to 1518 were rough, particularly for the lower classes, with failed crops, bad weather, economic issues, social unrest, religious tensions, and illnesses like smallpox, leprosy, and syphilis taking a toll on peoples’ psyches. They were hungry, anxious, sad, scared, and worried that God had abandoned them. 

Waller suspects the people living in Strasbourg simply reached their breaking point, then entered into a trance-like state that rendered them largely insensitive to their extreme fatigue and sore feet. They danced, Waller argues, rather than weeping, fighting, praying, or engaging in some other behavior because of their belief in St. Vitus and his dancing curse.

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Modern takeaways 

Given the period-specific cultural and religious underpinnings, could something like the dancing plague of 1518 happen today? 

Waller shares several modern examples of mass psychogenic illness that, although they don’t involve dancing, he finds to be similar in nature. More than 300 students in Blackburn, England, suffered from a mysterious fainting fit in 1956, for example, and hundreds of people succumbed to alternating fits of laughing and sobbing in East Africa in 1962. In 2007, students at a Catholic boarding school near Mexico City came down with a mysterious sickness that made walking difficult. A year later, 20 female students in Tanzania suffered a mass fainting episode during their final-year national examinations.

And although the dancing plague of 1518 took place more than 500 years ago, Waller says we can still learn plenty from it. For him, the most important takeaway is “the way in which our expression of severe distress can be culturally conditioned and channeled.” 

When Waller initially started researching the dancing plague of 1518, it was such a “wild phenomenon” that his inclination was to think “as strange as the past can be, this was simply too strange to have actually happened,” he says. But as he dug deeper—and, more importantly, began to understand the context within which it arose—it started to make more and more sense. 

In other words, he says, it reminds us that psychological distress is not expressed in a vacuum. The culture, beliefs, and circumstances around us can shape how our inner turmoil manifests—and, in some cases, how it spreads from one person to another. 

In That Time When, Popular Science tells the weirdest, most surprising, and little-known stories that shaped science, engineering, and innovation.

The post The mysterious dancing plague that killed people in 1518 appeared first on Popular Science.

Tattoos are pretty permanent decisions, and laser removal is often described as more painful than actually getting them in the first place. But what about a design that can only be seen when you want to see it? Engineers at the University of Colorado Boulder are working on a new type of tattoo ink to answer that question. Their dye is specifically concocted to physically alter depending on exposure to visible or ultraviolet (UV) light.

The team described their invention in a study published earlier this month in the journal Matter & Light, and they didn’t only demonstrate the capabilities in the lab on silicone and pig skin. One of its creators, Carson Bruns, has already tattooed himself with the ink.

“[It’s] almost a tradition,” the study co-author recently told Nature.

Bruns, a nanoscientist at UC Boulder, previously developed a now-commercialized tattoo product called “Magic Ink” that turns magenta depending on its exposure to UV light. To highlight its efficacy, Bruns gave himself “solar freckles” as a method to track his exposure to sunlight. In similar fashion, he recently completed a similar session on his leg using the disappearing ink.

The formula currently comes in three colors—yellow, blue, and magenta—and essentially relies on the same principles behind transition lenses and some textiles. Each dye is composed of tiny spheres of acrylic glass. These beads contain photochromes, which are chemical compounds engineered to absorb specific light wavelength photons. In this case, the photochomic dye’s spheres begin in their original color, but then flatten into transparency after absorbing corresponding light photons exposed to UV rays. The dye remains this way until it absorbs visible light photons, which destroys the chemical bond and allows the spheres to return to their original shape.

Aside from the lab tests, Bruns tattooed his own leg over about 12 months using various dye combinations, all of which responded as intended to UV and visible light exposure. The ink also remained effective for over two years—but the team’s intention is go beyond a nifty parlor trick. Future ink iterations may be particularly useful in medical procedures, such as temporary markings to help maintain accuracy during direct radiotherapy sessions. For now, however, the photochromic tattoo dyes remain for laboratory (and Bruns’) use only until further safety assessments are completed.

The post Scientist tattoos himself with disappearing ink appeared first on Popular Science.

Not far from the Black Sea, a child’s grave uncovered in present-day Bulgaria has provided archaeologists a somber look at Roman funerary practices. Flagged in the city of Stara Zagora during a site survey for a new apartment complex and parking garage project, the burial contained stunningly preserved gold earrings as well as a single, small coin known as an antoninianus. But while the currency’s age is traceable to within a year of its minting, the bronze piece may also represent a grieving family’s hopes for their child’s safe passage into the afterlife.

The Roman empire at its height included over 1.9 million square miles of territory, including much of central Europe and central Asia. Rome annexed the region of Thrace in 46 CE, and eventually renamed the city of Stara Zagora as Ulpia Augusta Traiana in honor of Emperor Trajan (98 to 117 CE). Augusta Traiana quickly grew into one of Thrace’s most prominent urban hubs, becoming so prosperous that Rome ultimately granted permission to build its own coin mint during the second and third centuries CE.

Over 1,750 years later, Augusta Traiana’s remnants exist underneath a city once again known as Stara Zagora. Ruins of the Roman empire are regularly unearthed through the town, including the recent discovery of a large cemetery used for nearly three centuries outside Augusta Traiana’s original walls. Among the 135 graves, researchers identified a child buried with a pair of gold earrings and one of Thrace’s bronze coins. Although details about the young individual’s death and identity remain unclear, the coin clearly dates to either 274 or 275 CE. Archaeologists assume the child likely died either around that time period, or soon after.

While researchers may never learn the precise circumstances of the burial, ancient Greek and Roman funerary beliefs suggest the coin served a specific purpose. It’s possible the child’s family intentionally placed the currency with the deceased as payment to Charon, the ferryman who brought souls to the afterlife. Knowing this, it may be that grieving relatives hoped to impart one final gift to their loved one.

The post Roman child’s grave contains coin to pay afterlife entry fee appeared first on Popular Science.

Japan launches a ground-breaking mission to the Mars moon Phobos today, and you can watch live.

The JAXA (Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency) MMX (Martian Moons eXploration) mission aims to collect samples from Phobos, the larger of Mars’ two moons, and deliver it back to Earth for analysis. If successful, the samples could help solve long-standing mysteries about Mars’ moons, including their origin.

In 1877, US astronomer Asaph Hall discovered Phobos and its smaller sibling, Deimos. The moons have arguably the most bad-ass names in our solar system: Phobos comes from the ancient Greek word φόβος (phobos), meaning “fear,” and Deimos originates with the ancient Greek word Δεῖμος, which translates to “dread.”

Despite increased attention on Mars in recent decades, astronomers don’t know exactly how the celestial bodies formed. Theories include asteroids or debris leftovers from way back when the solar system formed about 4.5 billion years ago.

“The samples from MMX will bring forth paradigm-shifting science on the Mars system for generations to come, especially as NASA prepares to send the first humans to Mars,” said Nicky Fox, associate administrator and Science Mission Directorate at NASA, said in a statement. While a JAXA mission, NASA worked with the agency to provide instruments and technologies to assist.

The MMX spacecraft launches on top of an H3 rocket at Japan’s Tanegashima Space Center today at 3:41 p.m. EDT (4:41 a.m. Japan Standard Time on October 20). You can watch it live on JAXA’s YouTube page. The mission will get to Phobos in August 2027 and spend at least 16 months surveying the surface before collecting samples. The samples will not return to Earth until at least 2031.

The post How to watch Japan’s mission to Mars appeared first on Popular Science.

Snakes will bite, rattle their tails, and even spit venom to escape danger. But of all the world’s species, southeast Asia’s dwarf reed snake (Pseudorabdion longiceps) relies on an especially fascinating escape method. When threatened, the diminutive serpent rolls away like a speeding wheel.

An adult dwarf reed snake typically measures less than 12 inches long, but its unique locomotive maneuvers allow it to retreat as fast one foot per second—about four times faster than it travels by simply slithering on the ground. It’s not a flailing getaway, either. The snake also easily rolls along a straight path while somehow keeping its head both stable and facing forward.

Now, researchers finally have a better understanding of how the dwarf reed snake achieves such dizzying acrobatics. In a study published today in the journal Current Biology, a team at Japan’s Toho University detailed the specific physiology that enables its locomotion after filming the snakes with high-speed cameras. Essentially, the snake doesn’t rotate its entire body in a singular, forward motion—it whips one side of its body forward towards the ground while an arched portion swings down by its head in what the study’s authors call a “stroke.” The snake then alternates between its left and right side coming into contact with the ground for each successive stroke. Essentially, it’s like twirling a rope in a lateral circle while holding one end in your hand—except that end is the snake’s head.

The cumulative efforts bypass the traditional idea of a wheel requiring something like a central axle. Instead, this ingenious, highly controlled movement allows the animal to keep its head and sensory organs upright and facing ahead while traveling at such high speed. This is compounded by the dwarf reed snake directing regions of its body to engage in large, alternating rotations while stabilizing its head.

By gaining better insight into these biological mechanisms, researchers also highlight the difficulty in trying to predict an animal’s capabilities based solely on its physiology. A snake may have primarily evolved to slither—but that doesn’t mean it can’t get creative when necessary.

The post This snake cartwheels to escape danger appeared first on Popular Science.

October is officially Bat Appreciation Month. In the spirit of the season and conservation, a team of biologists in California recently spent time finding bats at Muir Woods National Monument and Samuel P. Taylor State Park. And while Halloween is fast approaching, the activity had nothing to do with spooky festivities and everything to do with tracking hoary (Lasiurus cinereus) and western red bats (Lasiurus blossevillii). 

The goal of their survey was to put GPS trackers on bats from the two migratory species. Hoary bats have grey-white fur and are the most widespread bat species in North, Central, and South America. Western red bats, also known as southern red bats, sport a reddish fur and are found in parts of South America. In redwood forests, bats like nesting within holes inside large trees. 

“When they migrate, those little guys can cover a LOT of ground!” the Golden Gate National Recreation Area writes, referencing both species. “By learning about these migratory patterns, we can better understand entire ecosystems like Muir Woods.”

Bats are important members of such ecosystems. They are pollinators, they spread seeds, and they help manage insect populations. To catch these helpful agents, scientists set up a sheer, delicate net called a “mist net” over a creek at dusk. All bats are nocturnal, and when they went searching for their next meal—bugs—they flew into the net. 

It was a bit of a trick for the winged mammals, but a treat for the human team. “Expert bat wranglers” carefully took them out of the nets, noted their weight and size, presumably attached the GPS tracker, and then returned them to the wild. 

The Golden Gate National Recreation Area’s shared pictures of tiny, disgruntled looking bats carefully pinched between gloved fingers. In one image, an expert holds a bat wing up to the light of a colleague’s headlamp. In fact, illuminated wing membrane patterns literally shed light on the bat’s age and developmental stage.

While this survey focused on two bat species, researchers at the Muir Woods National Monument have previously spotted 10 different species.

The post Expert ‘bat wranglers’ put GPS trackers on California’s bats appeared first on Popular Science.

Excerpted from PENELOPE by Paul Bochner. Copyright © 2026 by Paul Bochner. Published in the United States by Crown, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. 

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On the evening of March 18, as it was growing dark, I went to the window, not knowing what was drawing me. Next to the house stood a shadow, ghost-like, shrunken, at one with the dusk, almost translucent, and I recognized The Girl with the Broken Foot.

I walked out into the falling wet snow, slowly approaching her, and she allowed me to come close. Nine months old, she was the size of a fawn half that age. Starkly emaciated, her body seemed to be collapsing inward, her head held low. Literal hunger and a deeper starvation were palpable. She bore the haunted look of terminal solitude seen in souls driven to the margins of society, among the liv-ing, yet apart. She seemed so frail that I couldn’t imagine she would live more than another day or two.

Going inside and returning with a bowl of apples, I cut them into pieces and placed a few on the ground between us. She was raven-ously hungry and I gave her a few more apples, and still more, until she had eaten a total of eight. After she had finished eating, she stayed with me. We stood about a foot apart. She showed no fear of me, a fact which I would later come to recognize as meaningful. The moment had the compelling quality which has been present at the onset of many enduring connections in my life, of being un-bound by linear time.

“I am watching over you,” I said softly. “If you come here, I will take care of you. You are not alone.”

It was fully dark when we parted, having been together for an hour. I expected that she would recede into the woods, yet the next morning she was sleeping against the house, directly beneath the window closest to where I sit all day to work. Save for the wall separating us, she could not have gotten any closer to me.

When I went around to the front of the house, she struggled to her feet and approached. In the morning light, I was better able to assess the state of her health. Months of solitary survival had taken a severe toll. Her body seemed hollowed, her ribs and pelvis sharply visible beneath her skin, and it felt a miracle that she was alive. On her right flank was a hemispherical mass the size of a cantaloupe, which I took to be a tumor, yet it had an open, running wound at its center, which she periodically craned her neck to lick. Her eyes were running and had congealed masses at their inner corners.

I bent to get a look at her injured foot. From not being walked on, the backward-facing cloven hoof had grown to an abnormal length and was curling upward. The wrist, which unnaturally bore her weight, had a flattened forward surface, an oval about two inches across, worn raw, without hair or skin, only pale pink–grey flesh, which, at its center, appeared to have been further abraded to the bone. Her right front foot, forced to compensate, was splayed and rockered, her right scapula protruded, and her front quarters were substantially lower than her hips.

I again placed apple pieces on the ground between us. I spoke very gently to her, saying, “You are the best one of all the deer. You are the most beautiful. You are good.” I continued to talk to her while she ate her apples, and when she had taken all she could, she returned to her resting spot under the window. I went inside to work, keeping periodic watch, pleased that she seemed to have claimed a place. But in a few minutes, from around the corner of the house came the twins, followed by their mother who immediately and ag-gressively charged at her. The Girl with the Broken Foot lurched upright and hobbled down the embankment, across the road and into the woods.

She was once again alone, but a step had been taken. Since the previous evening, things had changed. Even before her second feed-ing she had recognized me on sight. She had approached and had again allowed me near.

Although I had seen her fewer than half a dozen times in the preceding months, from the night of our first connection, she began to come to the house every day. She slowly gained strength and I would watch for her and thrill to the sight of her slow approach. It was our private time. We stood together, and I placed her food on the ground between us. After she ate, she would stare into my eyes for long periods, seemingly entranced. I told her stories. I sang softly to her. I told her she was my beauty.

So began our journey, and one of the greatest loves I have ever known.

About the Author

Paul Bochner began his professional life early, as a working musician through his mid-teens in Los Angeles, then moving to Montreal at the invitation of the National Film Board of Canada. He has won several international awards for his films and is the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship in painting. He has written for The New Yorker and The Atlantic.

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