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A cracked heat shield rattled NASA after Artemis I. Now, Artemis II will put the fix to the test

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A cracked heat shield rattled NASA after Artemis I. Now, Artemis II will put the fix to the test

The Artemis II astronauts are scheduled to return Friday from their trip to the moon. When they do, they will slam into Earth’s atmosphere at over 32 times the speed of sound — and will do so using a reentry technique that has yet to be tested in real-world scenarios.

In 2022, NASA sent the uncrewed Artemis I test mission to the moon. As it pierced through the Earth’s atmosphere on return, the capsule suffered unexpected damage to its heat shield, prompting NASA scientists to rethink what’s needed to keep the homeward-bound Artemis II astronauts safe.

There’s been a ton of work done to prepare for this moment — but the reality is, scientists won’t know exactly how the heat shield will behave until they test it in a bona fide reentry.

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That’s why a team of NASA and Department of Defense scientists and test pilots stand at the ready to collect detailed data on how the heat shield performs as the capsule streaks through the sky, turning the atmosphere around it into a bright fireball about half as hot as the surface of the sun before splashing down off the coast of San Diego.

Test pilots stationed at Southern California military bases will take turns chasing the capsule in a complex, high-speed relay: first a NASA business jet, then a Navy surveillance aircraft, followed by another NASA jet, and finally a NASA weather research aircraft. Crews on the ground will monitor the Artemis II capsule and send those test pilots precise speeds and coordinates to hit as they follow the fireball in the sky. Meanwhile, researchers in the back of the planes will track the capsule with telescopes and sensors.

Bradley C. Flick and Robert Navarro high-five at Edwards Air Force Base on March 18.

Center Director Bradley C. Flick, left, gives project manager Robert Navarro a high five at the NASA Armstrong Flight Research Center on Edwards Air Force Base on March 18.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

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“It’s an exciting job threading the needle multiple times,” said Robert Navarro, project manager at NASA’s Armstrong Flight Research Center in Edwards, Calif., which is in charge of the critical third segment of the relay. “It has to be precise, simply because of the short window of time that they need to collect that data. They have to be exactly right on the mark.”

After splashdown, a separate Armstrong Flight Research Center team will collect a fortified sensor affixed to the exterior of the capsule that is designed to study the heat shield up close.

“I’m really excited that my team is a part of such an important mission,” said Patty Ortiz, deputy project manager for the capsule sensor project at the center. “Having worked on it since 2019, it’s definitely a full-circle moment for me.”

The center has pushed the limits of human flight for decades — and collected a lot of data doing so.

“We consider our airplanes flying labs — we’re going to go do things that maybe haven’t been done before,” said Brad Flick, who retired as director of the center March 20 after nearly four decades at the research facility.

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A Gulfstream III airplane that will be used in the Artemis II mission.

Armstrong Flight Research Center project manager Robert Navarro walks past a Gulfstream III airplane that will be used in the Artemis II mission.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

In the 1960s, engineers at the Flight Research Center helped design and test a mock-up of the Apollo lunar landing vehicle that Neil Armstrong used for landing practice on Earth before he flew to the moon. (The center was later renamed after him, the first person to walk on the lunar surface.)

The center has been preparing to study the Artemis II reentry for years, but the work became even more important after NASA discovered issues with the heat shield after the Artemis I test mission.

NASA guided the Artemis I capsule to first only graze the Earth’s atmosphere before briefly popping back up into space, then completing the final reentry. This novel approach reduced the forces that astronauts would experience on reentry and helped NASA to more precisely maneuver the capsule to its landing point in the Pacific — regardless of where or when it comes back from the moon.

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That mission seemed like a success, but when crews began inspecting the heat shield on the bottom of the uncrewed capsule after splashdown, they noticed a problem.

The heat shield of NASA's Orion spacecraft after the conclusion of the Artemis I test flight.

After NASA’s Orion spacecraft was recovered at the conclusion of the Artemis I test flight and transported to NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida, its heat shield was removed from the crew module inside the Operations and Checkout Building and rotated for inspection.

(NASA)

The heat shield is designed to slowly erode (or “ablate,” in NASA parlance) away during reentry to keep conditions in the capsule livable while the air a few inches away can reach nearly 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit: The outside layer of the shield routinely heats up, then sloughs off in the form of gas and pieces of char, which carry that heat away from the capsule as they disperse into the atmosphere around the capsule.

The problem with Artemis I was that the new reentry approach NASA had attempted seemed to disrupt this ablation process.

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Because Artemis I went back into space between the first dip into the atmosphere and the final reentry, there was a brief respite in its heat exposure — that meant that the hot interior of the heat shield kept producing gases, but the exterior was no longer shedding material fast enough to allow those gases to escape. Pressure built up, which cracked the heat shield and ultimately resulted in larger pieces chipping off during the final reentry.

NASA scientists determined that had a crew been onboard, they would have survived — but they didn’t want to expose the Artemis II astronauts to unnecessary risk.

That left two options: First, replace the already-built Artemis II heat shield with a new design in the works that could handle the reentry path attempted with Artemis I. Second, change the reentry path to skip the first dip into the atmosphere and just go straight in to eliminate the conditions that created the problem in the first place.

The agency ultimately deemed replacing the Artemis II heat shield too much of a logistical headache and opted for the latter, simpler approach. On Friday, NASA astronauts will put that decision to the test. Armstrong Flight Research Center scientists are standing by to watch.

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Her Self-Experiment with Drug Detox Almost Broke Her

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Her Self-Experiment with Drug Detox Almost Broke Her

A 27-year-old woman began an experiment on herself early one morning in December 2024. Her laboratory was her childhood bedroom, tucked into a second-floor corner of a pale yellow house in the Boston suburbs. On a bookshelf behind her sat a small stuffed sloth and some favorite books, including “Siddhartha” by Hermann Hesse. Her parents were asleep in the room next door.

Her name is Rebecca, but she goes by Becks. Sitting at her desk in a gray T-shirt, she opened a small plastic bag filled with white powder. The bag was stamped “SR-17018,” and “NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION.”

She extracted some powder with a red microscooper, poured it onto a digital scale and carefully weighed out 25 milligrams. She gathered this into a blue and white pill capsule and sealed it, and then swallowed the capsule with water. It was 4:27 a.m.

“It’s my turn to be a guinea pig,” Becks wrote in the online diary she was keeping of her experience. In sharing her story with The New York Times, she asked that her last name not be used so potential employers don’t discover her drug history.

Becks had joined the vanguard of a dangerous, highly speculative do-it-yourself approach to getting sober. For a decade, on and off, she had been addicted to various drugs, most recently kratom, an opiate-like substance, which cleared her head and covered up her pain but required constant dosing. She feared the call of fentanyl, which she’d tried a few times.

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“Every morning, I woke drenched in sweat from overnight withdrawals. It was a grim existence,” she wrote of her kratom use. She tried various methods to get sober, including three short inpatient detox stays and one monthlong rehabilitation treatment. She had periods of sobriety but couldn’t sustain it.

Then she heard about SR-17018, one of many new and unpredictable synthetic drugs made largely in China and sold online even though it is not approved or shown to be safe, and can pose lethal risks.

Most of these compounds, known as novel psychoactive substances, are designed to get people high. Among those substances, SR-17018 stands virtually alone in that people are using it to try to free themselves of addiction, and some claim it helps.

Excitement about SR-17018 grew after Reddit users discovered a 2019 study suggesting it could free drug-addicted mice of their dependence.

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RFK Jr. clears path for minors’ use of tanning beds, much to the dismay of dermatologists

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RFK Jr. clears path for minors’ use of tanning beds, much to the dismay of dermatologists

Days before the 2024 presidential election, future Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. posted a statement on X promising to end the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s “aggressive suppression” of such alternative therapies as raw milk, ivermectin, psychedelics and, somewhat perplexingly, “sunshine.”

While the post did not explain how the FDA was limiting Americans’ access to the sun, many dermatologists were dismayed when Kennedy abruptly withdrew a proposed FDA rule that would have banned minors from using devices that mimic sunlight — indoor tanning lamps.

The rule, which was withdrawn March 16, would have also required indoor tanning facility users to sign a form acknowledging the risk of cancer, early skin aging and other health effects.

Kennedy’s action comes at a time when many adherents of his Make America Healthy Again movement have adopted regular sun exposure as a core principle of wellness, with social media influencers encouraging followers to abandon sunscreen and build up their “solar callus,” or sun tolerance, instead.

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The trend has frustrated many dermatologists, who warn that the damage of frequent sunburns and tans accumulates over a lifetime, and those acquired early in life appear to play a disproportionate role in later risk of skin cancer. The Skin Cancer Foundation notes also that you cannot build up a tolerance to sun exposure and “there is no such thing as a ‘solar callus.’”

Dermatologists have long cautioned that indoor tanning lamps are no less dangerous, since they expose users to ultraviolet light at concentrations far above natural sunlight. Like sunlight, the lamps emit two different types of ultraviolet wavelengths: UVA, which are longer and penetrate more deeply into the skin, and UVB, which are shorter and more easily burn the outer layers.

Both light sources darken skin through the same biological process: UV rays change the structure and chemical profile of DNA in the skin, which then produces more melanin in order to prevent further damage.

A tanning bed session exposes users to UVB rays akin to those at noon at the equator — an intense experience, but at least one with a terrestrial equivalent, said Hunter Shain, an associate professor of dermatology at UC San Francisco. The UVA radiation in a tanning bed is roughly 15 times that found anywhere on the surface of the planet.

“They’re really blasting you with these super physiological doses of UV radiation that you couldn’t even find in a natural environment,” he said.

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The World Health Organization counts UV-emitting tanning beds as a Group 1 carcinogen, alongside other known human carcinogens like tobacco cigarettes and asbestos. One study Shain co-authored found that tanning beds accelerate DNA mutations in parts of the body not typically exposed to the sun, leading to a nearly threefold increase in indoor tanners’ lifetime melanoma risk. Rates of melanoma diagnoses have increased by 46% in the last decade.

The tanning lamp rule, which was first proposed in 2015, focused on age as a specific risk factor. Tanning bed usage before the age of 35 is associated with a 75% increase in the risk of melanoma, the most serious and frequently fatal form of skin cancer.

The rule drew more than 9,000 public comments from both physicians and cancer research organizations supporting its implementation and from tanning bed industry representatives and business owners opposed.

Kennedy, who was photographed leaving a Washington tanning salon last year, was ultimately unconvinced of the need to ban minors from such establishments.

“In light of the scientific and technical concerns raised in the comments on the Proposed Rule, concerns regarding possible unintended consequences of certain proposals in the Proposed Rule, and potential alternatives proposed in comments received on the Proposed Rule, FDA is withdrawing the Proposed Rule in order to reconsider the best means for addressing the issues,” Kennedy wrote in the withdrawal letter.

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Health and Human Services did not respond to questions about what scientific concerns and unintended consequences Kennedy was referring to.

Nineteen states (including California) and the District of Columbia have already banned people under 18 from indoor tanning salons. Roughly two dozen more have some kind of regulations regarding minors and indoor tanning, such as requiring parental permission or barring only younger children.

The collapse of the proposed federal ban has left many dermatologists disappointed.

“As you can see, when it’s left to the states, the implementation and the guardrails to minimize the exposure to carcinogens are not consistent. … Why are you going to default to a system that we know isn’t working correctly?” said Dr. Clara Curiel-Lewandrowski, chair of dermatology and co-director of the Skin Cancer Institute at the University of Arizona.

Minors in sun-baked Arizona are free to patronize indoor tanning establishments as long as they have a note from their parents. Curiel-Lewandrowski has treated many former sunbed enthusiasts for advanced melanoma in their 20s and 30s, she said.

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“There’s a lot of regret. Regret for not knowing more, for not getting more help to understand the threat,” she said. “This is an age group that has a very hard time assessing risk. At that age, they don’t view carcinogens as a real threat.”

The U.S. is a bit of an outlier in its permissive approach to youth indoor tanning. Australia and Brazil have banned cosmetic indoor tanning entirely for people of all ages. Most western European countries ban minors from indoor tanning, as do most Canadian provinces.

“After the proposal lay dormant for more than a decade, I can’t say I was surprised to hear that the FDA withdrew it,” said Dr. Deborah S. Sarnoff, president of the Skin Cancer Foundation. “On the positive side, we made the public very aware of this issue, and this fight is far from over. We won’t be satisfied until tanning beds are banned in this country.”

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In Venice, an Ocean-Inspired Exhibition Takes Visitors Under the Sea

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In Venice, an Ocean-Inspired Exhibition Takes Visitors Under the Sea

Over the next month, if you take a ferry from the center of Venice to the island of Giudecca and walk into a former 15th-century convent, you will find yourself figuratively plunging underwater.

The haunting songs of humpback whales will flow around you. A fish will sing its evensong from the sea grass meadows of the Mediterranean. Boats recorded from beneath the surface of the Venetian lagoon will buzz like insects. A galaxy of bioluminescent plankton will glimmer in the sloshing waves.

This audiovisual symphony is part of “As Above, So Below,” a collateral exhibit running during the first month of the Venice Biennale, from Saturday through June 8. The exhibition brings together works by seven artists and art collectives who combine cutting-edge science and technology with traditional methods. Their installations surround visitors with natural sounds, merge their perspectives with those of other species and take them on an immersive journey into the sea, the soil and even a tree to highlight humans’ interdependence with the natural world.

As Elizabeth Zhivkova, a co-curator of the exhibition, put it: “‘As Above, So Below’ emerged from a shared urgency to rethink our relationship with nature, not as something separate from us, but as an interconnected system in which human, ecological and cosmic rhythms reflect one another.”

In addition to the exhibition, “As Above, So Below” is an ongoing research project that includes artist residencies and a podcast featuring conversations with artists and ocean advocates.

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The project was born out of a partnership between Zeitgeist19, an environmental curatorial collective founded by Zhivkova and the show’s other co-curator, Farah Piriye Coene, and One Ocean Foundation, a scientific conservation organization based in Milan.

The name, “As Above, So Below,” comes from the Principle of Correspondence in Hermeticism, a spiritual tradition that blends Greek and Egyptian philosophies. It serves as a reminder that everything is connected. “The sea, the soil, the atmosphere, the human body are not separate realms; they are part of one relational field,” Coene said. “The exhibition asks whether art can help us feel that relation again.”

The exhibition’s setting in the former convent and church of Santi Cosma e Damiano — now a science and art innovation hub — fosters a contemplative atmosphere. In lieu of a central altarpiece, visitors encounter an immersive installation from the London-based artist collective Marshmallow Laser Feast, titled “Seeing Echoes in the Mind of the Whale.” In the work, a large-screen video immerses viewers in the sensory perspectives of a bottlenose dolphin, a humpback whale and a sperm whale as they dive and resurface to breathe.

The video plays recordings of dolphins’ trilling whistles, humpbacks’ meditative melodies and sperm whales’ Morse code-like clicks, which resonate throughout the space. To illustrate the use of echolocation to “see” through sound, these vocalizations are coordinated with visual effects. Shimmering swirls and pulsating pixels surround you, giving a sense of what bottlenose dolphins might “see” as they sweep sonar beams across colorful coral reefs, or what sperm whales might sense by blasting clicks to spy giant squid in the dark depths.

Ersin Han Ersin, one of the Marshmallow Laser Feast artists, explained in a video interview that the aim was for audiences to “disembody their own body, and momentarily embody what it is like to be a bottlenose dolphin or a whale.”

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While visually speculative, the video is rooted in research. The members of the collective pored over scientific papers, compiled extensive hydrophone recordings and underwater videography, and collaborated with marine biologists and bioacousticians to dive into the sensory experiences of whales and dolphins, Ersin said.

In the process, he said, the artists became more sensitive to the ways noise pollution — the squeals of military sonar, the drumming of shipping traffic and the boom of seismic blasting to find fossil fuels — may be turning the ocean into an acoustic dystopia for animals and plants that live underwater.

“One part of me wants to scream that we are ruining these oceans, but the other part of me knows the best action is always cultivated from a place of love,” Ersin said. That is one goal of the installation, he added: To “make people fall in love with species that they never thought they can relate to.”

In another installation, “Fish String Theory,” Antoine Bertin, an artist who splits his time between Paris and Alicudi island, Italy, amplifies the surprisingly talkative world of fish. Bertin was inspired by reports of a “kwa” sound emanating from Mediterranean seagrass meadows. Scientists found that the kwa chorus most likely comes from scorpionfish. These venomous creatures have a muscular apparatus that functions like an internal violin.

Bertin made underwater recordings of scorpionfish and created fish-shaped sculptures with strings. When his recordings of scorpionfish play, the frequencies from the recordings activate electromagnets that vibrate the strings on the fish sculptures, creating a sound similar to a guitar or harp. The installation also includes Bertin’s underwater recordings of the Venetian lagoon, forming a dialogue between the scorpionfish song and the city’s aquatic soundscape.

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Bertin is fascinated by the fact that life emerged in primordial seas, and said in an interview that he hoped that his installation would help people “return to the ocean as listeners.” His aim, he added, was to “create an experience that connects humans and fish in a sort of co-presence, to find out if we can resonate together.”

In “Water Older Than the Sun (Caspian),” the Kazakhstan-born artist Almagul Menlibayeva connects viewers to the Caspian Sea, which is shrinking because of climate change and water diversion — and being contaminated by drilling for oil and gas.

Menlibayeva pointed out that modern societies often see water as a resource to be used. She said in an interview that her installation positions water as an archive of deep time and as a “cosmic, alive entity.” As the title suggests, water is older than the sun because this cosmic compound formed as a result of supernovae explosions, then eventually came to Earth and condensed into oceans that gave rise to life. As such, “water has a memory,” Menlibayeva said, adding: “Water witnessed us as we appeared.”

At the center of Menlibayeva’s installation is a textile made from hand-sewn fabrics and A.I.-generated images of her artwork printed on synthetic silk that depict water, animals and robot-like humans. Fishing nets collected from the Caspian Sea dangle around the textile. Screens placed on the floor like a shoreline show surreal images, such as hands sewing water. Projected behind these pieces is “Requiem for the Caspian” by the London-based filmmaker Suad Gara, a short documentary that reveals the impact of the sea’s collapse on local people.

Just inside the entrance of the church, the Azerbaijan-born artist Elnara Nasirli has turned a reclaimed Italian olive tree into an instrument in “Whispering Forest.” Nasirli translated trees’ bioelectric rhythms into music and vibrations that softly play from contact points triggered by motion detection. Only by touching or hugging the tree, or leaning in very close and listening carefully, can visitors fully hear its whispered song.

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Also in the exhibition, artworks bring viewers up close to underground mycelial networks, a holographic jellyfish and bioluminescent plankton that spell out “No blue, no green,” a quote from the marine biologist Sylvia Earle about the vital importance of marine ecosystems.

Altogether, the exhibition invites people to attune to the intelligence and voices of other species and, as Bertin said, to “stretch their sense of self to include the vastness of the ocean.”

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