2) What happens first at the lab?

C. The sample is mixed with nutrients.

A. The cow’s skin is stitched up.

3) What is the main problem that lab meat is supposed to solve?

D. greenhouse-gas emissions adding to climate change

C. harming animals for human gain

B. cows raised in spaces that are too small

4) How did Orion’s speech get him started helping others?

A. He used the prize money to buy toys.

C. In the speech, he asked people to donate toys to local hospitals.

D. In the speech, he asked for more than 100,000 meals for Texas families

B. He used the money to start the Race to Kindness.

5) Lisa Yee wrote Lucky’s part of the story based on

B. research about Chinese-Americans in the past.

A. things she experienced as a child.

D. what happened during the pandemic.

Feeding the Planet Magazine Quiz

“On this night, we share a roof protecting us from fleets of inequity. Our unification promises a better tomorrow. Those larger than myself, sitting on their marble thrones, sipping blood from cups composed of human skin and singing songs of so-called virtue, grow weaker each moment. Their caravans are revolting. There is hope yet. There is progress! Though tonight may mark a countdown, it is still a celebration. Look at all we have done, not just for Trials but for Palatium Infra as a whole. In four years, when I’m no longer Sovereignty, the Spoiled Purity and his people will continue to strive. So drink! Smoke! Crush up those exotic plants and snort them! We will not falter, weaken, or wane. Our influence is expanding, and somebody new opens their eyes every day. Even the Silbys of Aculeus have reached alarming potentials despite their embittered minds. So long as you relish in tonight, dance, and pray to your “dead” Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when I’m only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!” Followers raised their cups. Some clinked theirs together. Others stood still and screamed breathlessly in agreement. I smiled with courtesy, then stepped off my platform. My voice still rang across the cellar. Speeches before were grander. Those displays were supposed to be emptying, and yet this one left me bloated, swollen tight. I watched as they popped the corks of their bottles and chanted in the name of Purity. Maybe the quality of my words wasn’t what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. There’s no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. “That’s right,” I said aloud. “Knox, my-my Sovereign!” squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one I’d never seen before or had failed to remember. “Look what I’ve found! It’s wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I don’t know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.” He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. “How neat.” “I want you to have it, Sir.” I nodded my head. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Backing off into the midst of rowdy disciples, I clutched the bottle. What a waste of grapes. It could have been jam instead. Earthly food had a superior taste, ripe with delicate intricacies and nostalgia, but Palatium Infra had mastered the art of alcohol. Why waste your time with a drunkenness so sad and sickening? The booze of trash. Not many more followers approached me. The barren peroration must have upset them. My hands itched to submerge into my suit pockets, and my legs stood suddenly numb, wobbling. Four more years until I’m nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. “Shut up,” I told myself. Tightly packed together in the corner of the dwelling sat the Sibyls. A mound of writhing fabric and tones of skin made up their unified silhouette. I snapped the strap of the nearest gown, balancing on my hands and knees, waving the bottle before them. In their almost rodent nature, narrow noses prodded my way. Their dresses wrinkled and fell to their ankles. Knees dropped, and eyes widened. Many grumbled at me like hungry she-beasts. Those newer ones with faded curtains for hair, sunken eyes, and dirtied nails looked, hid their face, then sobbed. I imagined them in a pack together, fighting wildly against the Spoiled Purity in their rat decorum–biting down with square teeth laced with rabies. “I’ve got you all something,” I said. “Go back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We don’t want it.” A woman rose from the pile and spat. “You don’t even know what it is yet. It's Earth hooch, or more likely a near-flawless replica. I figured you girls would also like a chance to enjoy yourselves tonight.” “Your playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.” The youngest, with a striking cyan mop upon her head, uncoiled from the mass. What was she now? 20, 21? We celebrated a birthday recently, I thought as she spun around me. “I remember something about a promise. Multiple promises, actually. Are you trying to bribe us into just shutting up and taking it? Because if another sticky, 40-year-old, Earth-born virgin gropes my shoulder, I’m going to have an aneurysm!” the girl continued. “Why not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?” I returned her accusing tone. “I’m sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel I’ve neglected my duties. I’ll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if I’ve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!” I exclaimed. The other Siblys began to encircle her, uttering compliments or even announcements of their envy. Anwen disappeared in a wink with flushed cheeks back into the mound. “I’ll just leave this here.” Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** “141, 143. . .” I counted each step as I trekked the staircase. There was no doubt I lost track somewhere. The ledges kept spawning under my feet, infinitely multiplying until I wasn’t moving at all–swallowing me up in a whirlpool of stone. My tie still hung around my neck, and my blazer remained tied around my hips as a skirt. Streaks of red dribbled off from the cavity in my chest. It was a gorgeous marking, sensual to my fingertips as I traced its edges. Purity, oh, Purity. Purity and his wings of burnt skin. Purity and his many faces. Purity the spoiled. Purity the mutilated. The Silbys did not bother waiting for me. On bare feet, they stormed up the stairs to their room. A trail of red, though in paint unlike mine, streamed after them. None looked remotely near me as they squeaked and gossiped intangibly. I saved them, those Infran broads, enlightened them. As much as they liked to deny it, spit at me, and bask in the thought of their victimhood, in this home, they stood empowered. You’ve done well, my thoughts affirmed, though in the manner of an insincere commentator rather than a hype man. Teeth grace in tile violin goes laundry paper when. It dissolved into an intruding drivel. I rubbed my head and sniveled. “Do you need help, Knox?” called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There must’ve been at least another hundred between me and her. “I’m hallucinating some,” I said, breathing deeply to suppress a burp as I struggled to recall her name. Two syllables. Typically Latin, though sometimes English. Drops of slobber leaked from my mouth. “I’m hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, we’d have to eliminate the ‘ball’ aspect. It sounds too crude.” “One foot in front of the other,” she said. So I walked. Mess greeted me at the doorway. Dirtied culinary obscured the dark wooden countertops, and the sink lay running. I approached the kitchen table, sat, and set my face down upon its cool wooden surface. Assaulting my nose was the smell of neglected flowers, like soil mixed with the kind of sweet cough medicine that would have left me gagging as a child. Open windows whispered songs of the twilight hour through the vessels of busy trolleys and shooting guns. My mouth strained to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach to regurgitate except the petals of Stulto’s bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. “Love,” I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. “Are you awake?” She said she’d wait. Somebody’s gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manor’s cloak of dusk. Portraits of myself, my wife, and my daughter turned to face me as the hallway lights flickered, escaping their quartz frames to penetrate my ears with nonsense. The taxidermied heads of Infran creatures bared their teeth. I stopped to stare at my favorite, an adabactor with daunting spiked tusks poking out from its forehead. Its nose remained black and sharp, and its eyes wide with malice. “Where is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?” There’s someone in the house. The sounds of the stirring rose along with my blood pressure. Footsteps orbited around me, drawing near and far and then near again, little dancers in the dark. The carpet immersed me in its mass of purples and blues, leaving my skin stained indigo and my vision abstracted. I toiled to reach the master bedroom across the aisle as it stretched out to me with bright lights and celestial howling, like a dove struggling in a pool of oil. Never again with Stulto’s bloom. Never again on what was already a bad night. My hand brushed the doorknob, and the high abruptly faded into only a persistent hum-buzz twirling around my brain. The portraits returned to their typical depression–Spes posing with her ax, Ari’s school photo, and myself in the cap I wore when addressing the military with the Verbis emblem embroidered in its center. All lifeless shots. Who were they for when they captured not the subject’s essence but only some fragment of their identity? They used to feel personal, not advertisements of some supposed characters. Servants, babysitters, and likewise civilian guests, I reminded myself, mustn’t forget whose home they’re in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ari’s from its hook and laying it backward against the wall to hide her distant grin and tamed posture. It was time for new pictures. Sweet ones, real ones; time was ticking. I approached my own when the stirring began again. Groans and squeals erupted from the vents as if someone had set a pen of pigs loose in my crawlspace. No, not the crawlspace, my bedroom door. I turned the ruby knob. Underneath a blanket wrestled my two squealing piglets, their skins melting together beneath the layer of duvet. Fishnet leggings and manicured nails outstretched and scraped at the sheet beneath them. One raised its head, a salmon-colored man with sweat running down his forehead. Through the crack in the door, we met eyes, his Infran Dr. Sesuss nose flaring its narrow nostrils. No mark of the Spoiled Purity existed carved onto his naked body. My chest felt tight. I stepped back. I was suffocating. Spes emerged from the linens, her hair flowing down her back and her dark skin glistening in front of the bedroom window. She giggled and held the man, the blanket falling and revealing inches of her body I had not seen in months. “Darling,” whispered the rosy-faced man, “look.” He was unfathomably ugly and grotesquely young, with beady, lifeless pupils that dilated when he faced me. The excess flesh on his face sagged while he bit down on his thin lips. My wife faced me, gasped, and strained to cover herself. Suddenly, I was a stranger. A small child who had walked into his parents having sex. I unfurled the door completely. “Get out of my house,” I said. The man stayed in place. “Get out of my house,” I repeated. “Knox,” Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. “Shut up!” I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. “Get out of my house! I’ll kill you!” “Knox!” Spes sobbed. “God damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, there’s less passion. God, God, God, I don’t want to fuck a dead man!” she screamed, “You get out! Get! Get!” My hands wrapped tighter around the statue. That pig of a man was attached to her at the side, his face equipped with a scowl that challenged mine. He thought I was weak; frail like a decaying dementia-ridden senior. I imagined his skull bashed in, his scowl gone, and the feist and confidence in his face beaten into numbness. A new portrait was in order of such brutality, him as a splintered slab of wood, rashed and beaten, a carcass licking my boot. The churning in my brain had come back. Every wall shook. Clock faces came to life and rang in alarm. Indescribable noises caressed my eardrum before breaking into sorrowful weeps. Was it my own? I stared at Spes in motionless frenzy, clenched my teeth, and screamed like a siren. Passionless. What a lie! An excuse, more like. One that erased all my ventures, reducing me to a nobody. But I was not a nobody. I thought of my sect, my campaigns, my endurance through the political brutality of my empty hive-mind world–even my collection of literature, maps, and artifacts. I thought of daring nights alone with Spes when we were young, ravaging each other, two sardonic eggheads suddenly overcome with desire. The veins in my neck throbbed as I gasped for air. It was all I had. I threw the figurine at the man’s head. Eye shut, I heard the thud. A million singing voices of victory flooded out of the cracks in the floorboard. Proving myself a man to the woman I loved in a display of fervent violence was passion. I strained my ears for his cries, though I did not look yet. There had to be a pause, a moment of relief, where I stood tall as a skyscraper and seemingly fought to stay contained in front of my wife and her wounded, quivering paramour. Frantic footsteps rushed off the bed and past my side. I turned and grappled against myself to seize my wife’s shoulder. “Spes!” My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. “You’re insane,” he said. I swiveled back towards the bed. With her curly locks flowing over her breasts and her limbs bent at her sides, Spes sat limp pressed against the headboard, her forehead bludgeoned and the statue resting on her stomach. Lips pursed and sweet, my Renaissance beauty reclined there in the guise of a squashed bug. But she was not dead. The desk ornament I flung was only the size of my shoe. Spes, that dramatist, may have been slightly hurt but was far from dead. She only wanted me to think she was to observe me at my most distraught, like a leech feeding on misery. “Get up.” Staggering toward the bed, I said. “You wanted passion? I showed you passion. ‘Shoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .” I fumbled to find my wit. Cold skin met my hands as I stroked her face, unable to resist checking her pulse, even though she was not dead. “I love you, Spes,” I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. “Spes, please. Please.” No vibration answered my plea. I lifted my hand, sitting next to her now. Tears did not come. There was not any blood on the trophy, but when I picked it up, it felt to be now only a cruel instrument. It depicted a younger me in white marble, with my glasses and collared shirt being the only things painted. Both were in pink. It was a favorable color. I scrambled from the bed to vomit pure digestive bile on the rug. My stomach heaved. I ran my nails along every piece of myself I saw, a dog chasing my tail. As I slammed myself against walls and convulsed, my own heart grew ever louder in my chest. “Dad? I heard–” Ari’s slippered feet hammered across the floor. “Mom? Mom?” I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. “She-She isn’t—your—.” Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. “You’re a murderer. Bad. Like they said,” she breathed, “ You beat her!” The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. “My-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” she said, presumably over the phone. It was all too fast. I crawled onto the windowsill, opened the glass, and let myself plummet into the alley below. Gusts of wind howled. The lack of motion or sensation informed me I had passed and again lived. Another Palatium Infra, another strange planet in which the celestial endowed rotting men with the opportunity to inhabit. Was this it? Was it all just an impossible limbo of galactic traveling? My surroundings were overwhelmingly gray, an abyss of clouds. Perhaps I had now met the real coming world, and my family and old friends lived here, ready to rush to my sides, lift me up, and jump for joy. Spes would be there. She would be enraged, but at least she’d be there. You are a bad man. You are a bad man. My eyelashes fluttered. There was a tugging sensation in my leg. The fog was wavering along with my ascendance. “No,” I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. “Stay with me.” But the peace was fleeting. I felt the cement under me and the moist garments clinging to my figure. My leg burned. Carefully, I craned my neck, only to observe the promenade as my surroundings. The most underwhelming of filth and danger, individually Infran. Forever my coming world. What a fool I was, having forgotten my blessing. Those idiot Gods could not tell the difference between assassination and self-infliction; a faulty insurance plan. The urge to cry at last set over me, and so I sat and wailed hot salvia into my palm, shielding my mouth to muffle the noise. Thunder echoed my hushed howling. Raindrops turned to pebbles. Under the ambiance of the stormy night, I could have sworn I heard troops stomping, guns cocking, and the chanting of my name. They had all been waiting for this. Billboards came to life, and I could only sit and spectate as the scenery flashed red. I inhaled fear and sobriety through runny nostrils. “Trials Sovereign Vsevolod “Knox” Sorkin is currently at large for the suspected homicide of Spes Sorkin, breaking the first term of the Sovereignty Charter. We now instruct you to report any sightings of the Earth-born, caucasian, roughly 195 centimeters tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed man to your local Guard post. One can identify the suspected convict specifically by an occult tattoo of Purity’s Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Life’s 1238 commandment. We cannot be sure when or if the Gods will revoke his blessing. Remember, when Gods frown upon strife, opt for a peaceful life. We permit all grieving festivities until Cagidus 4th. Good year!” towering buildings sang out in broadcast, repeating that same convoluted message quicker the instant it ended. Sometimes, the announcer spoke in Latin for the Infran children, other times in Chinese, Hindi, or Spanish to cater to those of irrelevant tongues. You aren’t a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didn’t dare waste any remaining energy avoiding the Guards and their prodding blades. How did that phrase go? You dug your grave. Now lie in it. And so I embraced the cement. “Knox?” said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasn’t confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasn’t as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellar’s backdoor. I shooed her away with my hand. She hovered, and I discerned her shadow hesitating over my body. A man could not rot in peace. “Come on, get up! They’re after you!” Hands reached around my torso, struggling to handle my weight as they urged me onto my feet. That leg, the burning one, my right, trembled and bent unnaturally upon impact with the ground. The partygoer slung my arm over her shoulder, balancing me. My eyes caught a glimpse of a cyan mop. “Anwen?” I rasped, “hu-who let you out?” Keys jangled in her hands–my keys. “I escaped,” she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. “Quicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. ‘You see that compost bin down the alley? We’re gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, I’ll be on top, and I can hide you and act like I’m just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.” With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. “I don’t understand, Anwen,” I said. “They’re going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know they’ve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!” “I understand that.” It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. “You said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?” “What else could I do? Leave you there?” Attempts to shove my wounded body inside its mass of discarded fruits and vegetables began. She yanked down upon my head and submerged me in the fertilizer sea. The evidence grows indisputable, I thought as I stared at the abruptly humane Infran girl, diving in after me, that I belong here. “Damn me to hell! I’ve killed her! My love is dead!” an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. “Shut up! Soon you’ll be, too, if you don’t quiet down.” The actual noise of the Guards darted past us: disorientated marching, guns clanking against each other, cluttered belts rattling, the Latin squawking. One paused to open the bin’s lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. “What are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,” I whispered. “The search, mainly.” Aggression remained firey in Anwen’s clenched jaw. Though she sat on top of me, there was a monumental distance between our rain-soaked forms. I curled up into a ball, ducked my head between my knees, and dreamt of Spes, ignoring the stench of spoiled food rising from every crevice of my dwelling. The next coming world was due to adopt me again as I forced sleep. I prayed for a canyon of fluffy haze, where I waltzed with pale memories but found nothing but the petrifying stillness of my mind. Killed and ran. Violent as a Guard just to prove a point and watch it backfire. Why would any heaven want to welcome me? I clung to the picture of Spes in my head like it was the last ember of an extinguished flame. “Did you mean to kill her?” Anwen interrogated. “Someone like you would immutably believe yes.” “And who is someone like me? You can’t even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?” grating drama decorated her words. “You know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breed’s faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.” I retorted. “I just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?” “It makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.” “And why am I an idiot?” She asked. “Because you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.” As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. “You never answered my question,” Anwen took me by the end of my tattered tie suddenly and started her game of shepherd and sheep over again, pulling me back up to the crate’s exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. “No. Of course not. Spes was my everything,” I sniffled. “I knew it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.” My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and misery–one to pray a hail spike would fall from the sky as sharp as a needle, pierce into my eyelid, and lobotomize me. I wished I could have merely died or hit my head hard enough not to have to deal with it all. No, I wished I was Anwen with her snarky, careless glow and lack of depth in her eyes. As we emerged from the compost bin together, I fantasized about strangling her until her face turned purple, her weakening spirit no longer categorizing me as “sensitive”, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wife’s tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. “That’s why I think you could use a little help,” Anwen said, “It seems like you can’t walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.” She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. “Take off your tie and put up your hair. ‘Will make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.”

Are you feeling adventurous? Then spread your wings and travel km southeast of Taiwan, where you'll discover a part of the country unlike any other. Known as Lanyu* or Orchid Island, this tiny drop of earth in the Pacific* is home to the Tao*, Taiwan's only ocean-dependent indigenous* tribe. The Tao people are the people of the "alibangbang*," or flying fish, one of Mother Nature's greatest gifts. The annual flying fish season is at the heart of Tao culture and comes with many traditions and taboos. Spanning around eight months of the year, the flying fish season involves multiple customs and rituals. A special religious ceremony, usually held in February, marks the beginning of this important period and ensures a prosperous and plentiful season. Tao boat captains head to the beach with elaborate costumes on. There, they pray and make sacrifices to appeal to the flying fish spirits to bless their tribe, and to the gods for good fortune and courage on the dangerous seas. Although local fishers can catch flying fish between March and June, they are restricted to capturing only those found in shallow waters. During this period, netting* any deep-sea or coral reef fish is not permitted. If the fishers didn't follow this rule, various species would not have the time needed to recover their numbers, and harmony with nature would be lost. At the end of June, the annual sea harvest concludes with another ceremony to express gratitude and respect for nature's endless* cycles. After the ceremony, flying fish can no longer be caught. Therefore, from July onward*, only dried and stored alibangbang can be eaten. Furthermore, after the Mid-Autumn Festival*, even these dried fish must no longer be consumed. This custom seems to have been engraved in the locals’ hearts* and is believed to prevent ill luck and guarantee abundance in seasons to come. Just as the locals are concluding their scaly* harvest for the year, scores of tourists begin arriving on Lanyu for the summer season. To make sure you don't feel like a fish out of water, here are some basic guidelines to help you enjoy your stay while respecting local traditions. First, it is considered a taboo to touch or photograph the Tao fishing boats without permission since it would bring bad luck. Also, you should never enter locals’ private gardens uninvited* to view or sample drying fish. Additionally, avoid asking about future fishing trips, as locals believe that the gods may be angered and that the harvest may be spoiled as a consequence. Finally, as a sign of respect for the local community and environment, don't snorkel* or dive in the island's traditional fishing waters during the flying fish season. Such activities can disturb the local ecosystem. The customs and taboos mentioned above reflect the importance of preserving and cherishing natural resources and local culture. The ancient wisdom of Lanyu’s Tao inhabitants thus appears to give us much to learn about living in harmony with this planet. Everyone is, after all, in the same boat under nature's wing.

Lide 1: Introduction to Bioreactor A bioreactor is a vessel used for growing microorganisms, plant or animal cells Provides controlled conditions for biological reactions Maintains optimum pH, temperature, oxygen, and nutrients Widely used in fermentation, enzyme, vaccine, and antibiotic production Ensures sterile and aseptic environment Scale ranges from laboratory to industrial production Slide 2: Basic Design Requirements of a Bioreactor Must be constructed with non-toxic, corrosion-resistant materials Should allow effective mixing and mass transfer Provision for sterilization (in situ sterilization) Must maintain uniform temperature and pH Easy sampling without contamination Should support scalability and automation Slide 3: Materials Used in Bioreactor Construction Stainless steel (SS-316) for industrial bioreactors Glass for laboratory-scale bioreactors Plastic (polycarbonate) for disposable bioreactors Materials must withstand heat and pressure Should be smooth to prevent microbial attachment Resistant to chemicals and cleaning agents Slide 4: Main Parts of a Bioreactor Vessel: holds the culture medium and microorganisms Agitator (impeller): provides mixing Sparger: supplies sterile air Baffles: prevent vortex formation Sensors: monitor pH, temperature, dissolved oxygen Ports: used for inoculation, sampling, and feeding Slide 5: Agitation System Ensures uniform mixing of nutrients and cells Improves oxygen transfer rate Common impellers: Rushton turbine, marine propeller Speed controlled by motor Prevents settling of cells Affects shear stress on cells Slide 6: Aeration System Supplies oxygen for aerobic fermentation Air introduced through sparger Types of spargers: ring, nozzle, sintered Maintains dissolved oxygen concentration Air is filtered for sterility Essential for high cell density cultures Slide 7: Temperature and pH Control Temperature controlled by heating/cooling jackets pH maintained using acid or alkali addition Sensors continuously monitor parameters Automated control systems used Ensures optimal microbial growth Prevents enzyme denaturation Slide 8: Foam Control System Foam formed due to protein and agitation Excess foam reduces oxygen transfer Mechanical foam breakers used Chemical antifoam agents added Foam sensor detects foam formation Maintains efficient fermentation Slide 9: Types of Bioreactors – Based on Mode of Operation Batch bioreactor Fed-batch bioreactor Continuous bioreactor Choice depends on product type Widely used in industrial fermentation Controls productivity and yield Slide 10: Batch Bioreactor All nutrients added at the beginning No addition or removal during process Simple and easy to operate Low risk of contamination Used for antibiotics and enzymes Limited control over nutrient depletion Slide 11: Fed-Batch Bioreactor Nutrients added during fermentation Prevents substrate inhibition High product yield Widely used in industrial fermentation Allows better control of growth rate Used in insulin and enzyme production Slide 12: Continuous Bioreactor Fresh medium continuously added Culture removed at same rate Maintains steady-state conditions High productivity Risk of contamination is high Used in wastewater treatment and SCP production Slide 13: Types of Bioreactors – Based on Design Stirred tank bioreactor Airlift bioreactor Bubble column bioreactor Packed bed bioreactor Fluidized bed bioreactor Photobioreactor Slide 14: Stirred Tank Bioreactor (STR) Most commonly used bioreactor Mechanical agitation using impellers Suitable for aerobic fermentation Excellent mixing and oxygen transfer Used for bacteria and fungi Easy scale-up Slide 15: Airlift Bioreactor Mixing achieved by air circulation No mechanical agitator Low shear stress Energy efficient Suitable for shear-sensitive cells Used in wastewater treatment Slide 16: Bubble Column Bioreactor Air bubbles provide mixing Simple design and low cost No moving parts Limited mixing efficiency Used for microbial fermentation Suitable for large-scale operations Slide 17: Packed Bed Bioreactor Contains immobilized cells or enzymes Substrate flows through packed matrix High cell density Used in continuous processes Limited oxygen transfer Used in enzyme and wastewater treatment Slide 18: Fluidized Bed Bioreactor Immobilized particles kept in suspension Better mass transfer than packed bed Reduced clogging Suitable for continuous operation Used in biotransformations Higher operational complexity Slide 19: Photobioreactor Designed for photosynthetic organisms Provides light source Used for algae and cyanobacteria Controls light, CO₂, and temperature Used in biofuel and pigment production Can be tubular or flat-plate design Slide 20: Applications of Bioreactors Production of antibiotics and vaccines Enzyme and organic acid production Single cell protein production Wastewater treatment Biofertilizer and biopesticide production Biopharmaceutical manufacturing

Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed” is about Harry Bittering and his family’s effort to escape war on Earth by building a colony on Mars. Throughout the story, Bittering is uneasy, feeling as though there’s something unnatural about the place (Read more about the importance of setting in a story). Just as he’s making up his mind to leave, the war on Earth destroys all of the available spaceships, and Bittering and his family are stuck on Mars. And that’s when things take a turn for the worse. Everything around them begins to change, from their eye color to everything they plant in the ground. Roses are even turning green. He tries to build a ship, but by that time, everything is pretty much ruined since the Bitterings themselves are changing— from their complexion to their bone structure. Cut to five years later, the Earth war has ended, and a new ship arrives on Mars with the mission to save the stranded Earthmen. But when they get there, there are only Martians—no trace of the humans remains anywhere.

Feeding the Infant Quiz

1.4--Feeding the Future

Nutrition refers to the science that deals with the various factors of which food is composed and the way in which proper nourishment is brought about. Home Economics and Livelihood Education 7 Seibo College 152 Human nutrition involves properly feeding the people. It is therefore important to learn more about nutrition, taking into consideration the three (3) important factors: a. the food we eat b. the way it is digested, absorbed and used in the tissues of the body c. the kind of people for whom the food is intended Good health or “wellness” is not a matter of chance. Good health is a product of good nutrition which is the result of an adequate supply of essential nutrients in your body. Lack of these nutrients lead to illness or a condition known as “malnutrition”. Malnutrition occurs if there is an imbalance intake of nutrients or an inadequacy of one or any of the nutrients. Malnutrition are manifested in the following cases: 1. obesity due to overeating- Obesity occurs when a person eats more than what the body requires under normal condition. This results in an excess supply of calories that leads to obesity or overnutrition. 2. stunted growth of children due to lack of protein- If there is no sufficient supply of carbohydrates or fats protein is used by the body as an alternative source of energy. 3. under weight due to lack of carbohydrates- If the total amount of nutrients provided by the diet is insufficient , it results to undernutrition. What is good nutrition? Home Economics and Livelihood Education 7 Seibo College 153 What are the causes of malnutrition? 1. ignorance or lack of knowledge about proper food intake 2. low standard of living 3. limited food supply 4. emergence of calamities or social unrest 5. increased family size 6. poor eating habits What are food habits? Food habits mean one’s attitude towards food. If the body is fed by junk foods and became over/under supplied with particular vitamins, protein or other nutrients then the body will suffer from malnutrition. Let us identify the factors affecting food habits.  Education – knowledge about nutrition will help one to make wise decision about food.  Foods available - The kinds of food available to you usually are the foods you eat. Some foods can grow only in certain types of geographic locations and this determines the foods available in such locations  Religion - What foods people can eat or cannot eat have been dictated by their religious beliefs. For example, Moslems do not eat pork because Islam forbids them to eat it. Home Economics and Livelihood Education 7 Seibo College 154  Ethnicity – members of cultural groups formed their own living patterns which include food customs. It includes what food can or cannot be eaten.  Income/economic status – the type of food you choose depends on how money you have. Income dictates what food you can eat and how you eat them.  Convenience -. Meal management practices affect food habits because you can only prepare and eat foods you can easily cook with the facilities and the knowledge you have. Food habit refers to the way in which different people select , cook, serve and eat food that are available to them. Home Economics and Livelihood Education 7 Seibo College 155 Look at the diagram below for a better understanding. FACTORS THAT AFFECT FOOD HABITS FOOD HABITS Education Foods available Religion Convenience Economic status Ethnicit

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