Science's weirdest realm may be responsible for photosynthesis,
our sense of smell, and even consciousness itself.
by Mark Anderson
A sea slug neuron may tap quantum forces to process information.
In
humans quantum physics may be integral to thought.
Graham Fleming sits
down at an L-shaped lab bench, occupying a footprint about the
size of two parking spaces. Alongside him, a couple of
off-the-shelf lasers spit out pulses of light just millionths of
a billionth of a second long. After snaking through a jagged
path of mirrors and lenses, these minuscule flashes disappear
into a smoky black box containing proteins from green sulfur
bacteria, which ordinarily obtain their energy and nourishment
from the sun. Inside the black box, optics manufactured to
billionths-of-a-meter precision detect something extraordinary:
Within the bacterial proteins, dancing electrons make seemingly
impossible leaps and appear to inhabit multiple places at once.
Peering deep into these proteins, Fleming and his colleagues at
the University of California at Berkeley and at Washington
University in St. Louis have discovered the driving engine of a
key step in photosynthesis,
the process by which plants and some microorganisms convert
water, carbon dioxide, and sunlight into oxygen and
carbohydrates. More efficient by far in its ability to convert
energy than any operation devised by man, this cascade helps
drive almost all life on earth. Remarkably, photosynthesis
appears to derive its ferocious efficiency not from the familiar
physical laws that govern the visible world but from the
seemingly exotic rules of quantum
mechanics, the physics of the subatomic world. Somehow, in
every green plant or photosynthetic bacterium, the two disparate
realms of physics not only meet but mesh harmoniously. Welcome
to the strange new world of quantum biology.
On the face of things, quantum mechanics and the biological
sciences do not mix. Biology focuses on larger-scale processes,
from molecular interactions between proteins and DNA up to the
behavior of organisms as a whole; quantum mechanics describes
the often-strange nature of electrons, protons, muons, and
quarks—the smallest of the small. Many events in biology are
considered straightforward, with one reaction begetting another
in a linear, predictable way. By contrast, quantum mechanics is
fuzzy because when the world is observed at the subatomic scale,
it is apparent that particles are also waves: A dancing electron
is both a tangible nugget and an oscillation of energy. (Larger
objects also exist in particle and wave form, but the effect is
not noticeable in the macroscopic world.)
Quantum mechanics holds that any given particle has a chance of
being in a whole range of locations and, in a sense, occupies
all those places at once. Physicists describe quantum reality in
an equation they call the wave
function, which reflects all the potential ways a system can
evolve. Until a scientist measures the system, a particle exists
in its multitude of locations. But at the time of measurement,
the particle has to “choose” just a single spot. At that point,
quantum physicists say, probability narrows to a single outcome
and the wave function “collapses,” sending ripples of certainty
through space-time. Imposing certainty on one particle could
alter the characteristics of any others it has been connected
with, even if those particles are now light-years away. (This
process of influence at a distance is what physicists callentanglement.)
As in a game of dominoes, alteration of one particle affects the
next one, and so on.
Green algae may rely on quantum computing to turn sunlight into
food.
The implications of all this are mind-bending. In the macro
world, a ball never spontaneously shoots itself over a wall. In
the quantum world, though, an electron in one biomolecule might
hop to a second biomolecule, even though classical laws of
physics hold that the electrons are too tightly bound to leave.
The phenomenon of hopping across seemingly forbidden gaps is
called quantum
tunneling.
From tunneling to entanglement, the special properties of the
quantum realm allow events to unfold at speeds and efficiencies
that would be unachievable with classical physics alone. Could
quantum mechanisms be driving some of the most elegant and
inexplicable processes of life? For years experts doubted it:
Quantum phenomena typically reveal themselves only in lab
settings, in vacuum chambers chilled to near absolute zero.
Biological systems are warm and wet. Most researchers thought
the thermal noise of life would drown out any quantum weirdness
that might rear its head.
Yet new experiments keep finding quantum processes at play in
biological systems, says Christopher
Altman, a researcher at the Kavli Institute of Nanoscience
in the Netherlands. With the advent of powerful new tools like
femtosecond (10-15 second) lasers and nanoscale-precision
positioning, life’s quantum dance is finally coming into view.
INTO THE LIGHT
One of the most significant quantum observations in the life
sciences comes from Fleming and his collaborators. Their study
of photosynthesis in green sulfur bacteria, published in 2007 in Nature [subscription
required], tracked the detailed chemical steps that allow plants
to harness sunlight and use it to convert simple raw materials
into the oxygen we breathe and the carbohydrates we eat.
Specifically, the team examined the protein scaffold connecting
the bacteria’s external solar collectors, called the chlorosome,
to reaction centers deep inside the cells. Unlike electric power
lines, which lose as much as 20 percent of energy in
transmission, these bacteria transmit energy at a staggering
efficiency rate of 95 percent or better.
The secret, Fleming and his colleagues found, is quantum
physics.
To unearth the bacteria’s inner workings, the researchers zapped
the connective proteins with multiple ultrafast laser pulses.
Over a span of femtoseconds, they followed the light energy
through the scaffolding to the cellular reaction centers where
energy conversion takes place.
Then came the revelation: Instead of haphazardly moving from one
connective channel to the next, as might be seen in classical
physics, energy traveled in several directions at the same time.
The researchers theorized that only when the energy had reached
the end of the series of connections could an efficient pathway
retroactively be found. At that point, the quantum process
collapsed, and the electrons’ energy followed that single, most
effective path.
Electrons moving through a leaf or a green sulfur bacterial
bloom are effectively performing a quantum “random walk”—a sort
of primitive quantum computation—to seek out the optimum
transmission route for the solar energy they carry. “We have
shown that this quantum random-walk stuff really exists,”
Fleming says. “Have we absolutely demonstrated that it improves
the efficiency? Not yet. But that’s our conjecture. And a lot of
people agree with it.”
The olfactory bulb of an adult mouse (seen here at 800x
magnification)
may provide its sense of smell via quantum vibrations.
Elated by the finding, researchers are looking to mimic nature’s
quantum ability to build solar energy collectors that work with
near-photosynthetic efficiency. Alán
Aspuru-Guzik, an assistant professor of chemistry and
chemical biology at Harvard University, heads a team that is
researching ways to incorporate the quantum lessons of
photosynthesis into organic photovoltaic solar cells. This
research is in only the earliest stages, but Aspuru-Guzik
believes that Fleming’s work will be applicable in the race to
manufacture cheap, efficient solar power cells out of organic
molecules.
TUNNELING FOR SMELL
Quantum physics may explain the mysterious biological process of
smell, too, says biophysicist Luca
Turin, who first published his controversial hypothesis in
1996 while teaching at University College London. Then, as now,
the prevailing notion was that the sensation of different smells
is triggered when molecules called odorants fit into receptors
in our nostrils like three-dimensional puzzle pieces snapping
into place. The glitch here, for Turin, was that molecules with
similar shapes do not necessarily smell anything like one
another. Pinanethiol [C10H18S] has a strong grapefruit odor, for
instance, while its near-twin pinanol [C10H18O] smells of pine
needles. Smell must be triggered, he concluded, by some criteria
other than an odorant’s shape alone.
What is really happening, Turin posited, is that the
approximately 350 types of human smell receptors perform an act
of quantum tunneling when a new odorant enters the nostril and
reaches the olfactory nerve. After the odorant attaches to one
of the nerve’s receptors, electrons from that receptor tunnel
through the odorant, jiggling it back and forth. In this view,
the odorant’s unique pattern of vibration is what makes a rose
smell rosy and a wet dog smell wet-doggy.
In the quantum world, an electron from one biomolecule
might hop to another, though classical laws of physics
forbid it.
In 2007 Turin (who is now chief technical officer of the
odorant-designing companyFlexitral in
Chantilly, Virginia) and his hypothesis received support from a
paper by four physicists at University College London. That
work, published in the journalPhysical
Review Letters [subscription
required], showed how the smell-tunneling process may operate.
As an odorant approaches, electrons released from one side of a
receptor quantum-mechanically tunnel through the odorant to the
opposite side of the receptor. Exposed to this electric current,
the heavier pinanethiol would vibrate differently from the
lighter but similarly shaped pinanol.
“I call it the ‘swipe-card model,’?” says coauthor A.
Marshall Stoneham, an emeritus professor of physics. “The
card’s got to be a good enough shape to swipe through one of the
receptors.” But it is the frequency of vibration, not the shape,
that determines the scent of a molecule.
THE GREEN TEA PARTY
Even green tea may tie into subtle subatomic processes. In 2007
four biochemists from the Autonomous University of Barcelona
announced that the secret to green tea’s effectiveness as an
anti-oxidant—a substance that neutralizes the harmful free
radicals that can damage cells—may also be quantum mechanical.
Publishing their findings in the Journal
of the American Chemical Society [subscription
required], the group reported that antioxidants called catechins
act like fishing trollers in the human body. (Catechins are
among the chief organic compounds found in tea, wine, and some
fruits and vegetables.)
Free radical molecules, by-products of the body’s breakdown of
food or environmental toxins, have a spare electron. That extra
electron makes free radicals reactive, and hence dangerous as
they travel through the bloodstream. But an electron from the
catechin can make use of quantum mechanics to tunnel across the
gap to the free radical. Suddenly the catechin has chemically
bound up the free radical, preventing it from interacting with
and damaging cells in the body.
Quantum tunneling has also been observed in enzymes, the
proteins that facilitate molecular reactions within cells. Two
studies, one published in Science in
2006 and the other in Biophysical
Journal in 2007,
have found that some enzymes appear to lack the energy to
complete the reactions they ultimately propel; the enzyme’s
success, it now seems, could be explained only through quantum
means.
QUANTUM TO THE CORE
Stuart Hameroff, an anesthesiologist and director of the
Center for Consciousness Studies at the University of Arizona,
argues that the highest function of life—consciousness—is likely
a quantum phenomenon too. This is illustrated, he says, through
anesthetics. The brain of a patient under anesthesia continues
to operate actively, but without a conscious mind at work. What
enables anesthetics such as xenon or isoflurane gas to switch
off the conscious mind?
Hameroff speculates that anesthetics “interrupt a delicate
quantum process” within the neurons of the brain. Each neuron
contains hundreds of long, cylindrical protein structures,
called microtubules, that serve as scaffolding. Anesthetics,
Hameroff says, dissolve inside tiny oily regions of the
microtubules, affecting how some electrons inside these regions
behave.
He speculates that the action unfolds like this: When certain
key electrons are in one “place,” call it to the “left,” part of
the microtubule is squashed; when the electrons fall to the
“right,” the section is elongated. But the laws of quantum
mechanics allow for electrons to be both “left” and “right” at
the same time, and thus for the microtubules to be both
elongated and squashed at once. Each section of the constantly
shifting system has an impact on other sections, potentially via
quantum entanglement, leading to a dynamic quantum-mechanical
dance.
It is in this faster-than-light subatomic communication,
Hameroff says, that consciousness is born. Anesthetics get in
the way of the dancing electrons and stop the gyration at its
quantum-mechanical core; that is how they are able to switch
consciousness off.
It is still a long way from Hameroff’s hypothetical (and
experimentally unproven) quantum neurons to a sentient,
conscious human brain. But many human experiences, Hameroff
says, from dreams to subconscious emotions to fuzzy memory, seem
closer to the Alice in Wonderland rules governing the quantum
world than to the cut-and-dried reality that classical physics
suggests. Discovering a quantum portal within every neuron in
your head might be the ultimate trip through the looking glass.