Journal articles on the topic 'Detekce bublin'

Introduction: Zoonotic tuberculosis is a disease of public health importance worldwide, especially in developing countries. The present study aimed to investigate the role played by Mycobacterium bovis and other mycobacteria as etiologic agents of bubaline tuberculosis (TB) in the Brazilian Amazon region. Methodology: Granulomatous lesions suggestive of TB obtained from 109 buffaloes (n =109) during sanitary inspection at slaughter were subjected to histopathological evaluation, immunohistochemical (IHC) detection of Mycobacterium antigens, and to molecular tests (PCR) to detect hsp65, IS6110 and RD4 genes, which are specific to Mycobacterium spp., Mycobacterium tuberculosis Complex (MTBC) and M. bovis, respectively. Results: PCR results indicated Mycobacterium infection in 87.2% of the cases, of which 69.5% were positive for M. bovis, 27.4% belonged to MTBC, and 3.1% were probably non-TB mycobacteria. There was good agreement between the genus-specific molecular technique and the histopathological analysis. This high frequency of TB cases caused by non-M. bovis suggests a diversified scenario of mycobacteria associated with bubaline TB in the Brazilian Amazon region. Conclusions: The results reinforce the need of discussing the inclusion of more accurate techniques in examinations carried out by Inspection Services in Brazil.

AbstractInert gas bubbles frequently occur in SCUBA divers’ vascular systems, eventually leading to decompression accidents. Only in professional settings, dive profiles can be adjusted on individual basis depending on bubble grades detected through ultrasonography. A total of 342 open-circuit air dives following sports diving profiles were assessed using echocardiography. Subsequently, (Eftedal-Brubakk) bubble grades were correlated with dive and individual parameters. Post-dive cardiac bubbles were observed in 47% of all dives and bubble grades were significantly correlated with depth (r=0.46), air consumption (r=0.41), age (r=0.25), dive time (r=0.23), decompression diving (r=0.19), surface time (r=− 0.12). Eftedal-Brubakk categorical bubble grades for sports diving with compressed air can be approximated by bubble grade = (age*50−1 – surface time*150−1+maximum depth*45−1+air consumption*4500−1)2 (units in years, hours, meter, and bar*liter; R2=0.31). Thus, simple dive and individual parameters allow reasonable estimation of especially relevant medium to higher bubble grades for information on relevant decompression stress after ascent. Echo bubble grade 0 is overestimated by the formula derived. However, echo might fail to detect minor bubbling only. The categorical prediction of individual decompression stress with simple bio and dive data should be evaluated further to be developed towards dive computer included automatic ex-post information for decision-making on individual safety measures.

We study two identical hyperchaotic oscillators symmetrically coupled. Each oscillator represents a codimension-2 Takens–Bogdanov bifurcation under square symmetry, and was used to model a convection experiment in a time-dependent state. In the coupled system, the Lyapunov exponents behavior against the coupling parameter is used to detect changes in the dynamics, and the synchronization state is controlled by checking the phase planes. Complete synchronization is achieved without chaos suppression in a coupling parameter interval. Outside this window, complete synchronization cannot be generally achieved. As a consequence of a bubbling transition, synchronization is obtained only for some particular values of the initial conditions.

Background and Aim: In recent times, non-aureus staphylococci (NAS) have emerged as the major organisms isolated from mastitis cases in dairy animals, with a predominance of Staphylococcus epidermidis and Staphylococcus chromogenes. As compared to Staphylococcus aureus, much less is known about the molecular types or the spatiotemporal epidemiology of these NAS species. In the present study, randomly amplified polymorphic DNA (RAPD) was employed to detect genetic polymorphisms, intraspecies diversity, and epidemiology of S. chromogenes strains (n=37) isolated from bovine and bubaline mastitis cases in the state of Karnataka. Materials and Methods: Thirty-seven S. chromogenes isolates (14 from bovines and 23 from bubaline) isolated from subclinical mastitis cases, from organized and unorganized sectors, were subjected to RAPD typing. Further, methicillin resistance was determined by cefoxitin disk diffusion method. Results: The amplified DNA fragments ranged from 150 to 3000 base pairs and yielded several RAPD profiles. Further analysis using Digital Image Correlation Engine correlation coefficient and UPGMA method showed that the 37 isolates could be classified into 12 distinct RAPD types (A to L) at 62% similarity (D=0.889). Four of the most predominant RAPD types, B, A, C, and E, in that order, and together, represented 65% of the isolates. High diversity was observed among the isolates both within farms and between geographic locations. Most of the isolates exhibited methicillin resistance. This is the first such report from India. Conclusion: In the absence of defined multilocus sequence type protocols or sufficient sequences available in the public domain, RAPD can be employed to determine genetic diversity of S. chromogenes isolates.

AbstractThe 14.5 kDa fatty acid binding protein (FABP) was isolated from the crude extract of adultFasciola giganticaworms. Polyclonal anti-FABP IgG was generated in rabbits immunized with prepared FABP antigen. Sandwich enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (ELISA) was applied to detect coproantigen in stools and circulatingFasciolaantigen (CA) in sera of 126 water buffaloes by using purified and horseradish peroxidase (HRP)-conjugated anti-FABP IgG. Sandwich ELISA sensitivity was 96.97% and 94.95%; while specificity was 94.12% and 82.35% for coproantigen and CA detection, respectively. However, sensitivity and specificity of the Kato–Katz technique was 73.74% and 100%, respectively. The diagnostic efficacy of sandwich ELISA was 96.55% and 93.1% for coproantigen and CA detection, respectively. In contrast, the diagnostic efficacy of the Kato–Katz technique was 77.59%. In conclusion, these results demonstrate that the purified 14.5 kDa FABP provides a more suitable antigen for immunodiagnosis of early and current bubaline fascioliasis by using sandwich ELISA.

Biogenic residues are a promising feedstock to produce liquid biofuels via chemical looping gasification (CLG), but they form ashes with a high inorganic matter content, thus causing agglomeration and deposition in CLG-fluidized beds made of oxygen carriers (OC). The aim of this work is to develop pretreatments for residual biomasses to prevent this issue. Raw forest pine (as a reference material) and wheat straw residues were considered. The latter were pretreated by torrefaction at 250, 260, or 270 °C and through the washing of torrefied biomasses. Torrefaction encouraged a de-chlorinating effect, while washing allowed the removal of 30–40% of S, 60–70% of K, and 40–50% of P. The analysis of pressure fluctuation signals (standard deviations and dominant frequencies) was utilized to verify the improvement of the performance of treated biomass in fluidized beds: three OCs were, respectively, coupled with ashes from all biomasses, then fluidized from 700 to 1000 °C at two and three times the minimum fluidization velocity. The diagnostic method used to analyze pressure fluctuations was shown to be effective for detecting the incipient fading of bubbling fluidization. This phenomenon was related to the agglomeration or the severe fragmentation of OC particles mixed with ashes, thanks to scanning electron microscopy and particle-size measurements. These characterizations and pressure fluctuations analyses confirmed the general improvement of wheat straw performances after pretreatments.

The acetylcholine-induced opening of potassium channels depends on GTP-binding proteins in the chick, guinea pig, frog, and rat. In contrast, Bubien and Woods (Biochem. Biophys. Res. Commun. 142: 1039-1045, 1987) have recently postulated that the acetylcholine response in cultured canine atrial cells may be independent of GTP-binding proteins. In whole cell patch-clamp experiments using cultured canine atrial cells, we did not detect an effect of GTP (10(-4) M) in the pipette solution on the acetylcholine-induced potassium current. However, 500 microM guanosine 5'-O-(2-thiodiphosphate) (GDP beta S) in the pipette diminished the response to acetylcholine. Pertussis toxin (30 ng/ml for 24 h) blocked the response to acetylcholine. With guanosine 5'-O-(3-thiotriphosphate) (GTP gamma S; 3 microM) in the patch pipette, acetylcholine irreversibly increased membrane conductance. The current-voltage relationship for the persistently activated current was similar to that induced by acetylcholine. We conclude that the acetylcholine-induced potassium current in canine atrial cells behaves like that seen in other species and depends on GTP-binding proteins.

The present work presents the results obtained with a stainless steel (SS) voltammetric sensor to detect variations in humidity (H2O) and oxygen (O2) availability in concretes. First, studies in solution were run by preparing several solutions to represent the different conditions that can be found in concrete pores. Second, the sensor’s response was studied by varying O2 availability by argon or synthetic air bubbling. Then concrete conditions with different degrees of carbonation were simulated using solutions with a pH between 13 and 8.45. After characterization in solution, a study by means of concrete samples with several water/cement ratios (0.6, 0.5 and 0.4) was performed, in which sensors were embedded and studied under different O2 and H2O saturation conditions. The obtained results revealed that with the voltagram, it is possible to evaluate O2 availability variation from the slopes of the lines identified logarithmically in the voltagram for the obtained cathodic sweeping. All the results obtained with the sensor were correlated/validated by standard assays to characterize porosity in hardened concretes.

This paper aimed to evaluate the surface temperatures of buffalo bulls using infrared thermography, considering four distinct anatomical parts over time, and to correlate surface temperatures and thermal comfort indexes. The humid tropical climate (Köppen's Afi) was predominant in the research station where the experiment was performed and the trial lasted from April to August. Ten bulls (n=10) were evaluated every 25 days (morning: 6:00-9:00; afternoon: 12:00-15:00) and the parameters assessed were respiratory rate (RR), rectal temperature (RT), and the thermograms of surface temperature for orbital area (ORB), right flank (RF), left flank (LF) and scrotum (SCR). Climatological data was continuously monitored and the Temperature and Humidity Index (THI) and the Index of Comfort of Benezra (ICB) were calculated. The average values of THI were ≥78, and significant differences between shifts were observed (P<0.05). The ICB ranged from 1.96 to 2.25 and significant differences were observed for shifts and throughout the months (P<0.05). The averages of surface temperatures were RT=38.2±0.5°C, ORB=36.1±0.8°C, LF=33.5±2.5°C, RF=35.4±1.7ºC and SCR=33.3±1.1°C, which exhibited significant differences for shifts and throughout the months (P<0.05). Positive correlations were obtained between THI and ORB (0.72), RF (0.77), LF (0.75) and SCR (0.41) (P<0.0001). The maximum temperature of ORB showed the highest correlation with RT (0.58, P<0.0001). Therefore, the surface temperatures are subject to climatic variations and increase throughout the day, due to the variation in thermal comfort indexes, and the maximum ORB temperature was the parameter most related to rectal temperature. Lastly, the results indicate that IRT may be a useful non-invasive and accurate tool to detect the variations in ORB, LF, RF and SCR temperature in buffalo bulls.

The transplacental transport of iron by uteroferrin (Uf), and the hemophagous areas in the water buffalo placenta were analyzed to clarify the mechanism of blood extravasation in the materno-fetal interface with consequent transfer of iron to the fetus through the trophoblastic erythrophagocytosis (Murai and Yamauchi 1986 Nippon Juigaki Zasshi 48, 75–88) and in the endometrial glands (Bazer et al. 1991 Exp. Hematol. 19 910–19 915). In the water buffalo placenta this mechanism remains unclear; uteroferrin is very important in this process because it is both an iron transporter and a progesterone-induced hematopoietic growth factor. Our objective was to characterize these hemophagous areas and the endometrium of the water buffalo, focusing in the materno-fetal transfer of iron. Small pieces of the placentomes and interplacentomal region of water buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis bubalis, n = 51) in all of the gestation periods were fixed in 4% paraformoldehyde, and 2.5% glutaraldehyde in PBS, processed, and stained for light and transmission electron microscopy to characterize the hemophagous areas and endometrial glands morphologically, histochemically (Perls, acid phosphatase reaction), and immunohistochemically with rabbit anti-pig uteroferrin antibody to confirm the iron transfer. The hemophagous areas were present in the placentome from 4–10-months-pregnant placentae. The Perls reaction for ferric iron staining was negative in the placentome and positive in the endometrial glands, and the acid phosphatase reaction to detect phagocytic activity was positive in the placentome as well as in the interplacentomal region. The uteroferrin immunohistochemical reaction was positive in the trophoblast, mainly in determined regions of the materno-fetal interface and in other points deep in the placentome, and the endometrial glands showed a strong reaction in the epithelium and in the lumina. The ultrastructure of the hemophagous areas revealed ingested erythrocytes inside the epithelial cells of trophoblasts, endocytic vesicles, and caveolae. The endometrial gland epithelium is of the columnar type with microvilli and basal nuclei. The results obtained mainly by histochemistry and immunohistochemistry indicated that the hemophagous areas and endometrial glands are very important sites for iron transfer in water buffalo, and are thus involved in the regulation of fetal hematopoiesis. This work was funded by FAPESP.

Abstract. The ability to detect convective regions and to add latent heating to drive convection is one of the most important additions to short-term forecast models such as National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's (NOAA's) High-Resolution Rapid Refresh (HRRR) model. Since radars are most directly related to precipitation and are available in high temporal resolution, their data are often used for both detecting convection and estimating latent heating. However, radar data are limited to land areas, largely in developed nations, and early convection is not detectable from radars until drops become large enough to produce significant echoes. Visible and infrared sensors on a geostationary satellite can provide data that are more sensitive to small droplets, but they also have shortcomings: their information is almost exclusively from the cloud top. Relatively new geostationary satellites, Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellite-16 and Satellite-17 (GOES-16 and GOES-17), along with Himawari-8, can make up for this lack of vertical information through the use of very high spatial and temporal resolutions, allowing better observation of bubbling features on convective cloud tops. This study develops two algorithms to detect convection at vertically growing clouds and mature convective clouds using 1 min GOES-16 Advanced Baseline Imager (ABI) data. Two case studies are used to explain the two methods, followed by results applied to 1 month of data over the contiguous United States. Vertically growing clouds in early stages are detected using decreases in brightness temperatures over 10 min. For mature convective clouds which no longer show much of a decrease in brightness temperature, the lumpy texture from rapid development can be observed using 1 min high spatial resolution reflectance data. The detection skills of the two methods are validated against Multi-Radar/Multi-Sensor System (MRMS), a ground-based radar product. With the contingency table, results applying both methods to 1-month data show a relatively low false alarm rate of 14.4 % but missed 54.7 % of convective clouds detected by the radar product. These convective clouds were missed largely due to less lumpy texture, which is mostly caused by optically thick cloud shields above.

Abstract Sarcocystosis is a silent, parasitic disease which affects various animal species and causes significant economic losses. It is caused by a number of different intracellular Sarcocystis spp. This study was aimed to detect the host humoral and cellular immune response due to natural infection. Adding to the determination of the infection rate in Monufia Governorate, Egypt. A total number of 127 Egyptian buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis); 30 males and 97 females between 2-11 years of age were examined during 2018. An infection rate of 74% (94/127) was detected by macroscopic examination. The old age females were found to be at a high risk of 90.7% (88/97) in comparison with the young males 20% (6/30). Immunologically, the cellular and humoral immune response was determined using ELISA. A marked down-regulation of the proinflammatory Th-1 cytokine (IFN-γ) and up-regulation of the anti-inflammatory Th-2 cytokine (IL-5) adding to a high level of IgG and IgE were detected in the infected animals compared to the non infected ones. The local cellular immune response in the infected tissues was characterized by an accumulation of mixed inflammatory cells, granuloma formation, eosinophilic infiltration, muscular edema, and necrotic degeneration. In conclusion, the Sarcocystis infection rate in the naturally infected buffaloes in Monufia Governorate was high. This is the first study to provide a fundamental insight into the immune profile in buffaloes infected with Sarcocystis spp. So, it will provide valuable insights to develop novel effective vaccines in future studies. Moreover, sensitive and specific tools should be established for the accurate diagnosis of this disease in the different Egyptian governorates through well-structured serological surveys.

Abstract. Thermokarst lakes are important emitters of methane, a potent greenhouse gas. However, accurate estimation of methane flux from thermokarst lakes is difficult due to their remoteness and observational challenges associated with the heterogeneous nature of ebullition. We used high-resolution (9–11 cm) snow-free aerial images of an interior Alaskan thermokarst lake acquired 2 and 4 days following freeze-up in 2011 and 2012, respectively, to detect and characterize methane ebullition seeps and to estimate whole-lake ebullition. Bubbles impeded by the lake ice sheet form distinct white patches as a function of bubbling when lake ice grows downward and around them, trapping the gas in the ice. Our aerial imagery thus captured a snapshot of bubbles trapped in lake ice during the ebullition events that occurred before the image acquisition. Image analysis showed that low-flux A- and B-type seeps are associated with low brightness patches and are statistically distinct from high-flux C-type and hotspot seeps associated with high brightness patches. Mean whole-lake ebullition based on optical image analysis in combination with bubble-trap flux measurements was estimated to be 174 ± 28 and 216 ± 33 mL gas m−2 d−1 for the years 2011 and 2012, respectively. A large number of seeps demonstrated spatiotemporal stability over our 2-year study period. A strong inverse exponential relationship (R2 > = 0.79) was found between the percent of the surface area of lake ice covered with bubble patches and distance from the active thermokarst lake margin. Even though the narrow timing of optical image acquisition is a critical factor, with respect to both atmospheric pressure changes and snow/no-snow conditions during early lake freeze-up, our study shows that optical remote sensing is a powerful tool to map ebullition seeps on lake ice, to identify their relative strength of ebullition, and to assess their spatiotemporal variability.

Purpose Smart biosensors that can perform sensitive and selective monitoring of target analytes are tremendously valuable for trinitrotoluene (TNT) explosive detection. In this research, the pre-developed sensor was integrated with biological receptors in which they enhanced the sensitivity of the sensor. This is due to conjugated polydiacetylene onto a peptide-based molecular recognition element (Trp-His-Trp) for TNT molecules in graphene field-effect transistors (GR-FETs) as biosensor that is capable of responding to the presence of a TNT target with a colorimetric response. The authors confirmed the efficacy of the receptor while being attached to polydiacetylene (PDA) by observing the binding ability between the Trp-His-Trp and TNT to alter the electronic band structure of the PDA conjugated backbones. The purpose of this paper is to demonstrate a modular system capable of transducing small-molecule TNT binding into a detectable signal. The details of the real-time and selective TNT biosensor have been reported. Design/methodology/approach Following an introduction, this paper describes the way of fabrication GR-FETs with conventional photolithography techniques and the other processes, which is functionalized by the TNT peptide receptors. The authors first determined the essential TNT recognition elements from UV-visible spectrophotometry spectroscopy for PDA sensor unit fabrication. In particular, the blue percentage and the chromic response were used to characterize the polymerization parameter of the conjugated p backbone. A continuous-flow trace vapor source of nitroaromatics (two, four, six-TNT) was designed and evaluated in terms of temperature dependence. The TNT concentration was measured by liquid/gas extraction in acetonitrile using bubbling sequence. The sensor test is performed using a four-point probe and semiconductor analyzer. Finally, brief conclusions are drawn. Findings Because of their unique optical and stimuli-response properties, the polydiacetylene and peptide-based platforms have been explored as an alternative to complex mechanical and electrical sensing systems. Therefore, the authors have used GR-FETs with biological receptor-PDAs as a biosensor for achieving high sensitivity and selectivity that can detect explosive substances such as TNT. The transport property changed compared to that of the field-effect transistors made by intrinsic graphene, that is, the Dirac point position moved from positive Vg to negative Vg, indicating the transition of graphene from p-type to n-type after annealing in TNT, and when the device was tested from RT, the response of the device was found to increase linearly with increasing concentrations. Average shifting rate of the Dirac peak was obtained as 0.1-0.3 V/ppm. The resulting sensors exhibited at the limit ppm sensitivity toward TNT in real-time, with excellent selectivity over various similar aromatic compounds. The biological receptor coating may be useful for the development of sensitive and selective micro and nanoelectronic sensor devices for various other target analytes. Originality/value The detection of illegally transported explosives has become important as the global rise in terrorism subsequent to the events of September 11, 2001, and is at the forefront of current analytical problems. It is essential that a detection method has the selectivity to distinguish among compounds in a mixture of explosives. So, the authors are reporting a potential solution with the designing and manufacturing of electrochemical biosensor using polydiacetylene conjugated with peptide receptors coated on GR-FETs with the colorimetric response for real-time detection of TNT explosives specifically.

Recently, the newspapers and journals were bubbling with articles and editions devoted to various kinds of millennium and Y2K perspective. Some were retrospective and others prospective; some simply comprised lists of ‘greatests’. Interpreting the past with accuracy and insight is challenging, as is predicting the future. Fortunately, many others have already done that. So, instead, I will look at our discipline, cell biology, defined very broadly and to include molecular biology, both prospectively and retrospectively in the context of some perhaps prosaic but pertinent questions about the discipline that are surfacing as the centuries change. Many greats: One approach to summarizing the past is through lists of the greatest participants or classic papers in a given area. These lists appear frequently in areas like physics and mathematics, where progress is, or at least was, heavily influenced by heroic individuals who opened or sustained a field. In these areas, most participants and observers would develop a very similar list of the ‘greatests’, and nearly everyone working in the discipline would know what their contribution was. Is this true in cell biology? Are there names that everyone would know, or a canon of papers that everyone has read? Did the cell biology of the last 50–100 years evolve because of heroic individuals? Or were there only some insightful pioneers, followed by a large number of important accomplishments that occurred in many different laboratories? Interestingly, none of the major journals has compiled a ‘greatest’ list or even a “classic papers” list in cell biology. This is revealing. Perhaps it tells us that there were no great cell biologists - i.e. that the recent, great progress that we have witnessed didn't require great individuals. More likely, however, there are too many - that is, the advances in cell biology tend to be incremental, with many more bright sparks and contained blazes than forest fires. Seminal observations are frequent and arise in unexpected places. Progress may be better measured as the integral of many important contributions and contributors. Thus, cell biology is the product of many many great scientists, who interact, synergize and stand on each other's shoulders. The attractiveness of cell biology lies in this open, frontier culture. And the result is that the pie of success is large and that many have been rewarded. An interesting consequence of our frontier culture is that it is too exciting and fast paced for anyone to take the time to develop a sense of history and accomplishment. Sidney Brenner makes this point in his review of a book entitled ‘The lac Operon: A short history of a genetic paradigm’, by Benno Muller-Hill (Nature 386, 235). Brenner writes: “This book opens with the lament that for young molecular biologists history does not exist, and that they have no interest in the long struggle that has made the subject what it is today. I hold the weaker view that history does exist for the young, but it is divided into two epochs: the past two years, and everything that went before. That these have equal weight is a reflection of the exponential growth of the subject, and the urgent need to possess the future and acquire it more rapidly than anybody else does not make for empathy with the past.” A few years ago I read a list of the names of biomedical Nobel Laureates to some colleagues. They knew only a handful of the names and what their contributions were. It seems that so much is being accomplished so quickly it is hard for individuals to stand out. And the consequent focus on the collective achievement is what makes our discipline so rewarding for so many. But how long will this frontier culture last? The emergence of big biology, through government and private-foundation initiative, is changing the landscape. The rate of progress continues to accelerate. Will one soon require a very big lab to survive? Will creative minds find cell biology fertile territory? There are answers to big science. Most important is to embrace what it produces and look ahead. Another is to develop multi-institutional collaborative networks in which the product can far exceed the contributions of single individuals. And, finally, there are always trails to blaze and syntheses to make. They require little more than hard work, organization, good sense, perseverance, and some luck. Is it almost over? Extrapolating the rapid progress that we are witnessing, can one realistically predict what our discipline will be like over the next few decades? Will the questions that we are investigating now be answered or passe, and, if so, how soon? How long will cell biology continue to be on the center stage? Will there be new, fundamental, concepts or a paradigm shift? What ‘unexpecteds’ might we expect? At meetings over beer and at dinner tables with seminar speakers, the question “Is it almost over?” creeps in with increasing frequency. The concern is that the big picture will be in place soon - that is, the outlines of the fundamental cellular processes will be largely understood at a molecular level. This concern, of course, reflects the depth with which one wants to understand the cell. Clearly, we now know vastly more than we did even a decade ago. There is an emerging sense that a rudimentary understanding of the most basic cellular processes is in sight; one sees this even in the undergraduate cell biology textbooks. Of course, progress will continue. However, the questions about fundamental processes will become increasingly refined, and the answers more detailed - more likely to occupy space in specialty treatises than in undergraduate cell biology texts. The approaches and concepts will become more deeply linked to chemistry and physics, eventually focusing on subtleties of mechanism and structure. Some of these details will change our basic concepts dramatically; but the frequency of such occurrences will dwindle. These details are also necessary for the applications of cell biology that are beginning to emerge and for a true marriage of cell biology with the molecular world. This level of inquiry and detail, or increasing reductionism, may not sustain the interest of or resonate well with many of our colleagues. However, for others, it's just the beginning and is opening doors for a cadre of new colleagues trained in physics and chemistry to enter with fresh ideas, insights and technologies. Will it ever end? But is it almost over? Do we really know how cells do what they do? How is the thicket of seemingly redundant pathways and networks, molecules, and supramolecular assemblies coordinated spatially and temporally? Which of the many pathways and redundant mechanisms revealed in culture are utilized in vivo. How are cellular phenomena, as revealed in the spatial and temporal coordination required for cell division or migration, for example, integrated? How do groups of cells integrate and coordinate to effect tissue function, embryonic development, and pathology, for example? As we begin to observe cellular phenomena in situ, they can appear very different from those observed in culture. The compensation and redundancy seen in knockout, transgenic or mutated organisms also reveals a diversity of possible mechanisms. It seems that the cell has different ways of doing the same thing. How does the cell do it normally, and when, if ever, are the other mechanisms used? We have tended to focus the majority of our efforts on a few cell types. What about the other cells? How do they do it? These questions are especially pertinent in developmental biology and pathobiology, where the cellular environments are changing; they also point to a class of challenging, important new avenue of investigation. As the canon of cellular phenomena becomes understood at an increasingly refined level, it provides the basis for explaining integrative phenomena. It also becomes the source of interesting and important practical applications. In this way, cell biology can become the language for understanding complex integrative phenomena like learning and memory, behavior and personality - areas in which the genome project and genetics might merge to provide unique insights. In addition, cell biology is the source of endless practical applications and, in some sense, sits in the center of a booming biotechnology industry that includes novel therapeutic strategies, designer animals and plants, tissue replacements, biomaterials and biosensors. The possibilities here seem endless. What does genomics bode for cell biology? A great deal of opportunity. Do sequences, homologies, binding interactions, changes in expression, and even knockouts provide a satisfactory understanding of function? Isn't the genomic bottleneck the assignment of cellular functions to different genes? In its essence, gene function can be viewed as a cell biological issue and perhaps not fully amenable to high-throughput analysis. Thus, the genome project promises to keep cell biology on the center stage. And maybe, therefore, we will have too much to do. The devil is in the detail: A major product of the successes in cell biology is a mind-numbing number of facts, particulars, data and details. The volume of information and detail that we are generating in genome studies and cell signaling, for example, unsettles some. Will the molecular paradigm, which has been so successful and brought us here, lead us to the next level? In the reductionist paradigm, the cell can be viewed as a complex chemical system that obeys the laws of physics and the principles of chemistry. In this view, one needs to know the relevant chemical properties for all of the cellular components. Once this is known, the cellular dynamics and equilibria can be computed, and ultimately cell behavior modeled. For small systems and isolated processes, this has had an important predictive value and has been insightful and revealing. Most importantly, it uses the principles of chemistry, which is a common language that is known and understood by nearly all participants. Can this approach be usefully extrapolated to a highly complex system like an entire cell? It may take a while, as it poses some interesting challenges. How many complex differential equations, which must cover both temporal and spatial distributions, would be involved? How accurately will the concentrations and rate constants need to be measured? How does one deal with the non-ideal nature of the cell interior and exterior? The differential equations required to describe the systems of interacting pathways or networks found in a cell will necessarily be very complex and contain many terms. How does the error in measurements of the rate constants and concentrations, for example, propagate - that is, given any reasonable measurement error, can one derive anything that is meaningful and useful? The situation is complicated further by the nature of the cell. What are the effective concentrations (the activities) of the components? How does one address reactions that are occurring on surfaces or macromolecular assemblies that can be dynamic? These are formidable challenges. Chemistry faces them continually, as do other sciences that deal with complex phenomena. Natural phenomena have strong roots in the principles of physics and the concepts of chemistry. Yet the mathematics that backs them up does not readily yield to highly complex phenomena. Maybe different approaches - perhaps one based in the complex-systems theory that is so familiar to engineers - will provide an alternative. Where's the big picture? Are there other ways of dealing with our flood of details and particulars? There is a call for mathematicians, computer scientists, engineers and/or theorists to help bring order to this information flood. Can they make sense of this complexity? Are there overarching and unifying concepts that will allow us to think in generalities, rather than in particulars? There may already be some unifying concepts. One is the genetic paradigm, which views a cell's behavior as a consequence of its expressed genes. The geneticist's point of view has already provided an important, empirical and quantitative way of looking at cellular and organismal phenomena. This view of a cell or organism, or even a disease like cancer, differs greatly from that of a biochemist, which focuses on mechanisms and specifics. In some respects, it shifts attention away from the particulars and sticky mechanistic issues, and thus can be simplifying. Genetics has been a very powerful driver in many areas, not only as a tool to determine function but also as a way of looking at a process. The marriage of genetics with developmental biology is only one of many examples. A number of other examples derive from modeling. The Hodgkin-Huxley equation is one prominent and useful example. It models the axon as an electrical entity. For other purposes, the cell has been likewise treated as a mechanical entity and modeled in the jargon of mechanics. There are other ways of modeling the cell and its component processes - for example, through signal and systems theory, network and graph theory, Boolean algebra, and statistics. Each of these treatments can be meaningful and useful to those well versed in that particular discipline. But are these useful to those not versed in them? Is there a unifying theory or model that avoids a proliferation of models. How does one connect them to our chemical roots? In physics, the simplest is accepted as correct. Cell biology has a different reality. It is derived evolutionarily, and therefore, the simplest model may not be correct or even useful. Perhaps, in the future, there will even be a synthesis - like the periodic table or quantum mechanics for physics and chemistry - that allows us to deal with the mega-detail that we are generating. Big surprises in small packages: To date, cell biology has progressed rapidly because of its qualitative nature. Differences in localization are often characterized by fluorescence intensities that are described qualitatively as brighter or dimmer or as more or less localized. Similarly, differences in expression are often characterized by the intensity of bands on western blots or SDS gels; these are often described as bigger or smaller. Many changes are, in fact, very large, and this level of characterization is likely to be adequate. But have we missed anything? Is there a need for more quantitative measurements? When differences in expression are analyzed by gene array, where does one draw the line? Is a tenfold change more significant than a 2–3-fold change? Many measurements would not detect changes that are only 2–3-fold, and in others we have tended to ignore them. We wouldn't see such a small change in fluorescence intensity by eye, for example, nor would we readily identify changes in concentration that arise from differences in localization rather than expression. Ignoring small changes assumes that biological readouts are not highly poised. But is this true? Systems that have interacting components, undergo conformational changes or enzymatic modifications, or are part of amplifying cascades, for example, can be highly poised. Thus 2–3-fold changes in expression or in substrate/ligand concentration can have effects that are very large. Of course, the converse follows as well. Large changes might have only modest consequences - for example, if one is well removed from the Kd. Examples of small changes having large effects and vice versa are common features of complex systems and are now beginning to appear in the cell biology literature. It seems likely there will be many more as our measurements become increasingly quantitative. Downstream signals: What can one make of all of this? (1) This is a very, very good time for cell biology. Questions that have loomed for decades and centuries are becoming understood in a meaningful way. The progress is breathtaking; it wasn't this easy only a couple of decades ago. (2) Many are participating in the success; they are all contributing to something useful and important. (3) The devil is in the detail but so are the opportunities. (4) Big science is here to stay - perhaps a consequence of our success. As investigators, we need to embrace it and look ahead. (5) The only constant in our research will be change. We will need to be flexible in our approaches and questions. (6) We must translate our progress to the public through education and the popular press in ways that sustain their interest and support and attract new minds to our discipline. (7) The surge in new technology will continue to drive our progress, which will come to nearly anyone who works hard, chooses a good problem, and takes a reasonable approach. (8) We need to develop strategies to deal with the information flood; it won't ebb soon. And the anticipated simplifications from the mathematicians, computer scientists and modelers may take quite a while. (9) Enjoy your successes. This might be about as good as it gets.

Listeria monocytogenes (LM) is the causative agent of listeriosis in both animals and humans, representing one of the most severe food-borne diseases in humans. Out of 13 serotypes, only three (i.e., 1/2a, 1/2b, and 4b) are responsible for 95% of human outbreaks of listeriosis. Ruminants have been hypothesised to represent the main natural reservoir for this pathogen and to be involved in the transmission of Listeria to humans. During pregnancy, listeriosis in ruminants cause various reproductive disorders as well as abortion. However, little is known about abortion due to LM in water buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis). In this study, we report for the first time the detection of LM in a water buffalo foetus in the region of Campania, Italy. Complete necropsy was performed, and samples and swabs from the abomasum, kidneys, liver, lungs, and spleen were collected. Microbiological and molecular analyses were carried out to detect bacterial, viral, and protozoarian abortive pathogens. The results revealed the presence of LM in the liver, lungs, and abomasum, and no other agent was detected. Isolation was confirmed by biochemical and molecular tests. Molecular serotype characterisation was performed, and serogroup IVb was identified. In conclusion, because of the zoonotic implications of our findings, this report highlights the importance of including LM in the diagnostic panel in cases of bubaline abortion.

ABSTRACT: The fluorescence polarization assay (FPA), two variants (V) of the indirect enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (I-ELISA) and the competitive enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay (C-ELISA) were evaluated in buffaloes to detect antibodies against Brucella spp. The V1 of I-ELISA identifies them through the monoclonal (M23) anti-bovine IgG (I-ELISAM23) and the V2 through the ProteinA / G (I-ELISA-A/G). Serum samples of 862 buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis) from the Northeast of Argentina (NEA) were analyzed using the complement fixation test (CFT) as the reference. Receiving Operator Characteristic (ROC) analysis defined for the area under the curve (AUC) determined the cutoff points, sensitivity (Se) and specificity (Sp) for each test. CFT identified 107 positive and 755 negative sera. The best AUC (0.986), Concordance with CFT (96.3%) and kappa value (0.843) was obtained by I-ELISA A/G test. This assay showed the highest Se (95.33%) and C-ELISA the highest Sp (97%). FPA failed to measure the antibodies in 23 (2.65%) serum samples due to unsuccessful reading. I-ELISA M23 proved to be ineffective to diagnose brucellosis in bubaline sera. The four serological tests showed cutoff points lower than those standardized for bovines. As conclusion, I-ELISA A/G, C-ELISA and FPA with its limitations would be effective techniques for the diagnosis of brucellosis in buffaloes in the NEA, requiring an appropriate cut-off point to guarantee their maximum performance in this species.

The Black Sea bottom is well known to be earth’s largest anaerobic methane source, hosting a huge amount of cold seeps releasing significant volumes of methane of both thermogenic and biogenic origin. Taking into account the well-known effects of methane concerning global warming, including the warming up of the oceans, an effective monitoring of its output from the Black Sea is nowadays an essential target for interdisciplinary studies. We discuss the results achieved during monitoring campaigns aimed to detect and track methane flares from the seafloor of the Romanian sector of the Black Sea, in order to better constrain the possible mechanisms responsible for its injection from the marine sediments, through the water column, into the atmosphere. In the mainframe of the ENVRI-Plus project, we deployed a multidisciplinary seafloor observatory for short, mid and long time monitoring and collected samples of the water column. The multidisciplinary seafloor observatory was equipped with probes for passive acoustic signals, dissolved CH4 and chemical-physical parameters. The collected data showed a high concentration of dissolved methane up to values of 5.8 micromol/L. Passive acoustics data in the frequencies range 40–2,500 Hz allow us to discriminate different degassing mechanisms and degassing styles. The acoustic energy associated with gas bubbling is interpreted as a consequence of the gas dynamics along the water column while the acoustic range 2–20 Hz reveals vibration mechanisms generated by gas dynamic’s along the cracks and inside the sediments.

Lactoferrin plays an important role in antimicrobial defence and is a potential candidate gene for mastitis resistance. In the present investigation, polymerase chain reaction-single strand conformation polymorphism (PCR-SSCP) studies were carried out in Murrah (Bubalus bubalis) buffaloes to detect single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs) of lactoferrin gene and to analyse the association between the observed polymorphisms with milk lactoferrin content and Somatic cell count (SCC). PCR-SSCP analysis revealed a total of 07 different variants in the partial coding region of the lactoferrin gene. PCR-SSCP analysis of exon 10 of lactoferrin gene revealed three and that of exons 4 and 5 revealed two unique patterns each, while all other exons exhibited monomorphic pattern. Comparison of nucleotide sequences of lactoferrin gene of the Murrah buffaloes with taurine reference sequence revealed a total of 14 point mutations, 09 of which were found to be in coding region. Conceptualized translation of nucleotide sequence revealed 07 amino acid changes. SSCP variants of exon 10 (P less than 0.01) had significant effect on milk SCC. The SSCP variants of exon 4 and exon 5 had significant (P less than 0.05) effect on lactoferrin content. The SCC and lactoferrin content in Murrah buffaloes was highest in 4th and above parity group. Stage of lactation had highly significant (P less than 0.01) effect on both milk SCC and lactoferrin content. There was a high and significant (p less than 0.01) correlation (0.741) between SCC and lactoferrin content in milk. The observed association between SSCP variants in lactoferrin gene with milk SCC and milk lactoferrin content can be used as prognostic markers for selection of animals for high lactoferrin content and low somatic cell count, as well as a marker of susceptibility/resistance to mastitis in Murrah buffaloes

Water buffalo (Bubalus bubalis) are an important animal resource that contributes milk, meat, leather, dairy products, and power for plowing and transport. However, mastitis, a bacterial disease affecting milk production and reproduction efficiency, is most prevalent in populations having intensive selection for higher milk yield, especially where the inbreeding level is also high. Climate change and poor hygiene management practices further complicate the issue. The management of this disease faces major challenges, like antibiotic resistance, maximum residue level, horizontal gene transfer, and limited success in resistance breeding. Bovine mastitis genome wide association studies have had limited success due to breed differences, sample sizes, and minor allele frequency, lowering the power to detect the diseases associated with SNPs. In this work, we focused on the application of targeted gene panels (TGPs) in screening for candidate gene association analysis, and how this approach overcomes the limitation of genome wide association studies. This work will facilitate the targeted sequencing of buffalo genomic regions with high depth coverage required to mine the extremely rare variants potentially associated with buffalo mastitis. Although the whole genome assembly of water buffalo is available, neither mastitis genes are predicted nor TGP in the form of web-genomic resources are available for future variant mining and association studies. Out of the 129 mastitis associated genes of cattle, 101 were completely mapped on the buffalo genome to make TGP. This further helped in identifying rare variants in water buffalo. Eighty-five genes were validated in the buffalo gene expression atlas, with the RNA-Seq data of 50 tissues. The functions of 97 genes were predicted, revealing 225 pathways. The mastitis proteins were used for protein-protein interaction network analysis to obtain additional cross-talking proteins. A total of 1,306 SNPs and 152 indels were identified from 101 genes. Water Buffalo-MSTdb was developed with 3-tier architecture to retrieve mastitis associated genes having genomic coordinates with chromosomal details for TGP sequencing for mining of minor alleles for further association studies. Lastly, a web-genomic resource was made available to mine variants of targeted gene panels in buffalo for mastitis resistance breeding in an endeavor to ensure improved productivity and the reproductive efficiency of water buffalo.

Ubiquitous in airports, border checkpoints, and other securitised spaces throughout the world, full-body imaging scanners claim to read bodies in order to identify if they pose security threats. Millimetre-wave body imaging machines—the most common type of body scanner—display to the operating security agent a screen with a generic body outline. If an anomaly is found or if an individual does not align with the machine’s understanding of an “average” body, a small box is highlighted and placed around the “problem” area, prompting further inspection in the form of pat-downs or questioning. In this complex security regime governed by such biometric, body-based technologies, it could be argued that nonalignment with bodily normativity as well as an attendant failure to reveal oneself—to become “transparent” (Hall 295)—marks a body as dangerous. As these algorithmic technologies become more pervasive, so too does the imperative to critically examine their purported neutrality and operative logic of revelation and readability.Biometric technologies are marketed as excavators of truth, with their optic potency claiming to demask masquerading bodies. Failure and bias are, however, an inescapable aspect of such technologies that work with narrow parameters of human morphology. Indeed, surveillance technologies have been taken to task for their inherent racial and gender biases (Browne; Pugliese). Facial recognition has, for example, been critiqued for its inability to read darker skin tones (Buolamwini and Gebru), while body scanners have been shown to target transgender bodies (Keyes; Magnet and Rodgers; Quinan). Critical security studies scholar Shoshana Magnet argues that error is endemic to the technological functioning of biometrics, particularly since they operate according to the faulty notion that bodies are “stable” and unchanging repositories of information that can be reified into code (Magnet 2).Although body scanners are presented as being able to reliably expose concealed weapons, they are riddled with incompetencies that misidentify and over-select certain demographics as suspect. Full-body scanners have, for example, caused considerable difficulties for transgender travellers, breast cancer patients, and people who use prosthetics, such as artificial limbs, colonoscopy bags, binders, or prosthetic genitalia (Clarkson; Quinan; Spalding). While it is not in the scope of this article to detail the workings of body imaging technologies and their inconsistencies, a growing body of scholarship has substantiated the claim that these machines unfairly impact those identifying as transgender and non-binary (see, e.g., Beauchamp; Currah and Mulqueen; Magnet and Rogers; Sjoberg). Moreover, they are constructed according to a logic of binary gender: before each person enters the scanner, transportation security officers must make a quick assessment of their gender/sex by pressing either a blue (corresponding to “male”) or pink (corresponding to “female”) button. In this sense, biometric, computerised security systems control and monitor the boundaries between male and female.The ability to “reveal” oneself is henceforth predicated on having a body free of “abnormalities” and fitting neatly into one of the two sex categorisations that the machine demands. Transgender and gender-nonconforming individuals, particularly those who do not have a binary gender presentation or whose presentation does not correspond to the sex marker in their documentation, also face difficulties if the machine flags anomalies (Quinan and Bresser). Drawing on a Foucauldian analysis of power as productive, Toby Beauchamp similarly illustrates how surveillance technologies not only identify but also create and reshape the figure of the dangerous subject in relation to normative configurations of gender, race, and able-bodiedness. By mobilizing narratives of concealment and disguise, heightened security measures frame gender nonconformity as dangerous (Beauchamp, Going Stealth). Although national and supranational authorities market biometric scanning technologies as scientifically neutral and exact methods of identification and verification and as an infallible solution to security risks, such tools of surveillance are clearly shaped by preconceptions and prejudgements about race, gender, and bodily normativity. Not only are they encoded with “prototypical whiteness” (Browne) but they are also built on “grossly stereotypical” configurations of gender (Clarkson).Amongst this increasingly securitised landscape, creative forms of artistic resistance can offer up a means of subverting discriminatory policing and surveillance practices by posing alternate visualisations that reveal and challenge their supposed objectivity. In his 2018 audio-video artwork installation entitled SANCTUM, UK-based American artist Zach Blas delves into how biometric technologies, like those described above, both reveal and (re)shape ontology by utilising the affectual resonance of sexual submission. Evoking the contradictory notions of oppression and pleasure, Blas describes SANCTUM as “a mystical environment that perverts sex dungeons with the apparatuses and procedures of airport body scans, biometric analysis, and predictive policing” (see full description at https://zachblas.info/works/sanctum/).Depicting generic mannequins that stand in for the digitalised rendering of the human forms that pass through body scanners, the installation transports the scanners out of the airport and into a queer environment that collapses sex, security, and weaponry; an environment that is “at once a prison-house of algorithmic capture, a sex dungeon with no genitals, a weapons factory, and a temple to security.” This artistic reframing gestures towards full-body scanning technology’s germination in the military, prisons, and other disciplinary systems, highlighting how its development and use has originated from punitive—rather than protective—contexts.In what follows, we adopt a methodological approach that applies visual analysis and close reading to scrutinise a selection of scenes from SANCTUM that underscore the sadomasochistic power inherent in surveillance technologies. Analysing visual and aural elements of the artistic intervention allows us to complicate the relationship between transparency and recognition and to problematise the dynamic of mandatory complicity and revelation that body scanners warrant. In contrast to a discourse of visibility that characterises algorithmically driven surveillance technology, Blas suggests opacity as a resistance strategy to biometrics' standardisation of identity. Taking an approach informed by critical security studies and queer theory, we also argue that SANCTUM highlights the violence inherent to the practice of reducing the body to a flat, inert surface that purports to align with some sort of “core” identity, a notion that contradicts feminist and queer approaches to identity and corporeality as fluid and changing. In close reading this artistic installation alongside emerging scholarship on the discriminatory effects of biometric technology, this article aims to highlight the potential of art to queer the supposed objectivity and neutrality of biometric surveillance and to critically challenge normative logics of revelation and readability.Corporeal Fetishism and Body HorrorThroughout both his artistic practice and scholarly work, Blas has been critical of the above narrative of biometrics as objective extractors of information. Rather than looking to dominant forms of representation as a means for recognition and social change, Blas’s work asks that we strive for creative techniques that precisely queer biometric and legal systems in order to make oneself unaccounted for. For him, “transparency, visibility, and representation to the state should be used tactically, they are never the end goal for a transformative politics but are, ultimately, a trap” (Blas and Gaboury 158). While we would simultaneously argue that invisibility is itself a privilege that is unevenly distributed, his creative work attempts to refuse a politics of visibility and to embrace an “informatic opacity” that is attuned to differences in bodies and identities (Blas).In particular, Blas’s artistic interventions titled Facial Weaponization Suite (2011-14) and Face Cages (2013-16) protest against biometric recognition and the inequalities that these technologies propagate by making masks and wearable metal objects that cannot be detected as human faces. This artistic-activist project contests biometric facial recognition and their attendant inequalities by, as detailed on the artist’s website,making ‘collective masks’ in workshops that are modelled from the aggregated facial data of participants, resulting in amorphous masks that cannot be detected as human faces by biometric facial recognition technologies. The masks are used for public interventions and performances.One mask explores blackness and the racist implications that undergird biometric technologies’ inability to detect dark skin. Meanwhile another mask, which he calls the “Fag Face Mask”, points to the heteronormative underpinnings of facial recognition. Created from the aggregated facial data of queer men, this amorphous pink mask implicitly references—and contests—scientific studies that have attempted to link the identification of sexual orientation through rapid facial recognition techniques.Building on this body of creative work that has advocated for opacity as a tool of social and political transformation, SANCTUM resists the revelatory impulses of biometric technology by turning to the use and abuse of full-body imaging. The installation opens with a shot of a large, dark industrial space. At the far end of a red, spotlighted corridor, a black mask flickers on a screen. A shimmering, oscillating sound reverberates—the opening bars of a techno track—that breaks down in rhythm while the mask evaporates into a cloud of smoke. The camera swivels, and a white figure—the generic mannequin of the body scanner screen—is pummelled by invisible forces as if in a wind tunnel. These ghostly silhouettes appear and reappear in different positions, with some being whipped and others stretched and penetrated by a steel anal hook. Rather than conjuring a traditional horror trope of the body’s terrifying, bloody interior, SANCTUM evokes a new kind of feared and fetishized trope that is endemic to the current era of surveillance capitalism: the abstracted body, standardised and datafied, created through the supposedly objective and efficient gaze of AI-driven machinery.Resting on the floor in front of the ominous animated mask are neon fragments arranged in an occultist formation—hands or half a face. By breaking the body down into component parts— “from retina to fingerprints”—biometric technologies “purport to make individual bodies endlessly replicable, segmentable and transmissible in the transnational spaces of global capital” (Magnet 8). The notion that bodies can be seamlessly turned into blueprints extracted from biological and cultural contexts has been described by Donna Haraway as “corporeal fetishism” (Haraway, Modest). In the context of SANCTUM, Blas illustrates the dangers of mistaking a model for a “concrete entity” (Haraway, “Situated” 147). Indeed, the digital cartography of the generic mannequin becomes no longer a mode of representation but instead a technoscientific truth.Several scenes in SANCTUM also illustrate a process whereby substances are extracted from the mannequins and used as tools to enact violence. In one such instance, a silver webbing is generated over a kneeling figure. Upon closer inspection, this geometric structure, which is reminiscent of Blas’s earlier Face Cages project, is a replication of the triangulated patterns produced by facial recognition software in its mapping of distance between eyes, nose, and mouth. In the next scene, this “map” breaks apart into singular shapes that float and transform into a metallic whip, before eventually reconstituting themselves as a penetrative douche hose that causes the mannequin to spasm and vomit a pixelated liquid. Its secretions levitate and become the webbing, and then the sequence begins anew.In another scene, a mannequin is held upside-down and force-fed a bubbling liquid that is being pumped through tubes from its arms, legs, and stomach. These depictions visualise Magnet’s argument that biometric renderings of bodies are understood not to be “tropic” or “historically specific” but are instead presented as “plumbing individual depths in order to extract core identity” (5). In this sense, this visual representation calls to mind biometrics’ reification of body and identity, obfuscating what Haraway would describe as the “situatedness of knowledge”. Blas’s work, however, forces a critique of these very systems, as the materials extracted from the bodies of the mannequins in SANCTUM allude to how biometric cartographies drawn from travellers are utilised to justify detainment. These security technologies employ what Magnet has referred to as “surveillant scopophilia,” that is, new ways and forms of looking at the human body “disassembled into component parts while simultaneously working to assuage individual anxieties about safety and security through the promise of surveillance” (17). The transparent body—the body that can submit and reveal itself—is ironically represented by the distinctly genderless translucent mannequins. Although the generic mannequins are seemingly blank slates, the installation simultaneously forces a conversation about the ways in which biometrics draw upon and perpetuate assumptions about gender, race, and sexuality.Biometric SubjugationOn her 2016 critically acclaimed album HOPELESSNESS, openly transgender singer, composer, and visual artist Anohni performs a deviant subjectivity that highlights the above dynamics that mark the contemporary surveillance discourse. To an imagined “daddy” technocrat, she sings:Watch me… I know you love me'Cause you're always watching me'Case I'm involved in evil'Case I'm involved in terrorism'Case I'm involved in child molestersEvoking a queer sexual frisson, Anohni describes how, as a trans woman, she is hyper-visible to state institutions. She narrates a voyeuristic relation where trans bodies are policed as threats to public safety rather than protected from systemic discrimination. Through the seemingly benevolent “daddy” character and the play on ‘cause (i.e., because) and ‘case (i.e., in case), she highlights how gender-nonconforming individuals are predictively surveilled and assumed to already be guilty. Reflecting on daddy-boy sexual paradigms, Jack Halberstam reads the “sideways” relations of queer practices as an enactment of “rupture as substitution” to create a new project that “holds on to vestiges of the old but distorts” (226). Upending power and control, queer art has the capacity to both reveal and undermine hegemonic structures while simultaneously allowing for the distortion of the old to create something new.Employing the sublimatory relations of bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism (BDSM), Blas’s queer installation similarly creates a sideways representation that re-orientates the logic of the biometric scanners, thereby unveiling the always already sexualised relations of scrutiny and interrogation as well as the submissive complicity they demand. Replacing the airport environment with a dark and foreboding mise-en-scène allows Blas to focus on capture rather than mobility, highlighting the ways in which border checkpoints (including those instantiated by the airport) encourage free travel for some while foreclosing movement for others. Building on Sara Ahmed’s “phenomenology of being stopped”, Magnet considers what happens when we turn our gaze to those “who fail to pass the checkpoint” (107). In SANCTUM, the same actions are played out again and again on spectral beings who are trapped in various states: they shudder in cages, are chained to the floor, or are projected against the parameters of mounted screens. One ghostly figure, for instance, lies pinned down by metallic grappling hooks, arms raised above the head in a recognisable stance of surrender, conjuring up the now-familiar image of a traveller standing in the cylindrical scanner machine, waiting to be screened. In portraying this extended moment of immobility, Blas lays bare the deep contradictions in the rhetoric of “freedom of movement” that underlies such spaces.On a global level, media reporting, scientific studies, and policy documents proclaim that biometrics are essential to ensuring personal safety and national security. Within the public imagination, these technologies become seductive because of their marked ability to identify terrorist attackers—to reveal threatening bodies—thereby appealing to the anxious citizen’s fear of the disguised suicide bomber. Yet for marginalised identities prefigured as criminal or deceptive—including transgender and black and brown bodies—the inability to perform such acts of revelation via submission to screening can result in humiliation and further discrimination, public shaming, and even tortuous inquiry – acts that are played out in SANCTUM.Masked GenitalsFeminist surveillance studies scholar Rachel Hall has referred to the impetus for revelation in the post-9/11 era as a desire for a universal “aesthetics of transparency” in which the world and the body is turned inside-out so that there are no longer “secrets or interiors … in which terrorists or terrorist threats might find refuge” (127). Hall takes up the case study of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab (infamously known as “the Underwear Bomber”) who attempted to detonate plastic explosives hidden in his underwear while onboard a flight from Amsterdam to Detroit on 25 December 2009. Hall argues that this event signified a coalescence of fears surrounding bodies of colour, genitalia, and terrorism. News reports following the incident stated that Abdulmutallab tucked his penis to make room for the explosive, thereby “queer[ing] the aspiring terrorist by indirectly referencing his willingness … to make room for a substitute phallus” (Hall 289). Overtly manifested in the Underwear Bomber incident is also a desire to voyeuristically expose a hidden, threatening interiority, which is inherently implicated with anxieties surrounding gender deviance. Beauchamp elaborates on how gender deviance and transgression have coalesced with terrorism, which was exemplified in the wake of the 9/11 attacks when the United States Department of Homeland Security issued a memo that male terrorists “may dress as females in order to discourage scrutiny” (“Artful” 359). Although this advisory did not explicitly reference transgender populations, it linked “deviant” gender presentation—to which we could also add Abdulmutallab’s tucking of his penis—with threats to national security (Beauchamp, Going Stealth). This also calls to mind a broader discussion of the ways in which genitalia feature in the screening process. Prior to the introduction of millimetre-wave body scanning technology, the most common form of scanner used was the backscatter imaging machine, which displayed “naked” body images of each passenger to the security agent. Due to privacy concerns, these machines were replaced by the scanners currently in place which use a generic outline of a passenger (exemplified in SANCTUM) to detect possible threats.It is here worth returning to Blas’s installation, as it also implicitly critiques the security protocols that attempt to reveal genitalia as both threatening and as evidence of an inner truth about a body. At one moment in the installation a bayonet-like object pierces the blank crotch of the mannequin, shattering it into holographic fragments. The apparent genderlessness of the mannequins is contrasted with these graphic sexual acts. The penetrating metallic instrument that breaks into the loin of the mannequin, combined with the camera shot that slowly zooms in on this action, draws attention to a surveillant fascination with genitalia and revelation. As Nicholas L. Clarkson documents in his analysis of airport security protocols governing prostheses, including limbs and packies (silicone penis prostheses), genitals are a central component of the screening process. While it is stipulated that physical searches should not require travellers to remove items of clothing, such as underwear, or to expose their genitals to staff for inspection, prosthetics are routinely screened and examined. This practice can create tensions for trans or disabled passengers with prosthetics in so-called “sensitive” areas, particularly as guidelines for security measures are often implemented by airport staff who are not properly trained in transgender-sensitive protocols.ConclusionAccording to media technologies scholar Jeremy Packer, “rather than being treated as one to be protected from an exterior force and one’s self, the citizen is now treated as an always potential threat, a becoming bomb” (382). Although this technological policing impacts all who are subjected to security regimes (which is to say, everyone), this amalgamation of body and bomb has exacerbated the ways in which bodies socially coded as threatening or deceptive are targeted by security and surveillance regimes. Nonetheless, others have argued that the use of invasive forms of surveillance can be justified by the state as an exchange: that citizens should willingly give up their right to privacy in exchange for safety (Monahan 1). Rather than subscribing to this paradigm, Blas’ SANCTUM critiques the violence of mandatory complicity in this “trade-off” narrative. Because their operationalisation rests on normative notions of embodiment that are governed by preconceptions around gender, race, sexuality and ability, surveillance systems demand that bodies become transparent. This disproportionally affects those whose bodies do not match norms, with trans and queer bodies often becoming unreadable (Kafer and Grinberg). The shadowy realm of SANCTUM illustrates this tension between biometric revelation and resistance, but also suggests that opacity may be a tool of transformation in the face of such discriminatory violations that are built into surveillance.ReferencesAhmed, Sara. “A Phenomenology of Whiteness.” Feminist Theory 8.2 (2007): 149–68.Beauchamp, Toby. “Artful Concealment and Strategic Visibility: Transgender Bodies and U.S. State Surveillance after 9/11.” Surveillance & Society 6.4 (2009): 356–66.———. Going Stealth: Transgender Politics and U.S. Surveillance Practices. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2019.Blas, Zach. “Informatic Opacity.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Protest 9 (2014). <http://www.joaap.org/issue9/zachblas.htm>.Blas, Zach, and Jacob Gaboury. 2016. “Biometrics and Opacity: A Conversation.” Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture, and Media Studies 31.2 (2016): 154-65.Buolamwini, Joy, and Timnit Gebru. “Gender Shades: Intersectional Accuracy Disparities in Commercial Gender Classification.” Proceedings of Machine Learning Research 81 (2018): 1-15.Browne, Simone. Dark Matters: On the Surveillance of Blackness. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2015.Clarkson, Nicholas L. “Incoherent Assemblages: Transgender Conflicts in US Security.” Surveillance & Society 17.5 (2019): 618-30.Currah, Paisley, and Tara Mulqueen. “Securitizing Gender: Identity, Biometrics, and Transgender Bodies at the Airport.” Social Research 78.2 (2011): 556-82.Halberstam, Jack. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham: Duke UP, 2011.Hall, Rachel. “Terror and the Female Grotesque: Introducing Full-Body Scanners to U.S. Airports.” Feminist Surveillance Studies. Eds. Rachel E. Dubrofsky and Shoshana Amielle Magnet. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2015. 127-49.Haraway, Donna. “Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective.” Feminist Studies 14.3 (1988): 575-99.———. Modest_Witness@Second_Millennium. FemaleMan_Meets_OncoMouse: Feminism and Technoscience. New York: Routledge, 1997.Kafer, Gary, and Daniel Grinberg. “Queer Surveillance.” Surveillance & Society 17.5 (2019): 592-601.Keyes, O.S. “The Misgendering Machines: Trans/HCI Implications of Automatic Gender Recognition.” Proceedings of the ACM on Human-Computer Interaction 2. CSCW, Article 88 (2018): 1-22.Magnet, Shoshana Amielle. When Biometrics Fail: Gender, Race, and the Technology of Identity. Durham: Duke UP, 2011.Magnet, Shoshana, and Tara Rodgers. “Stripping for the State: Whole Body Imaging Technologies and the Surveillance of Othered Bodies.” Feminist Media Studies 12.1 (2012): 101–18.Monahan, Torin. Surveillance and Security: Technological Politics and Power in Everyday Life. New York: Routledge, 2006.Packer, Jeremy. “Becoming Bombs: Mobilizing Mobility in the War of Terror.” Cultural Studies 10.5 (2006): 378-99.Pugliese, Joseph. “In Silico Race and the Heteronomy of Biometric Proxies: Biometrics in the Context of Civilian Life, Border Security and Counter-Terrorism Laws.” Australian Feminist Law Journal 23 (2005): 1-32.Pugliese, Joseph. Biometrics: Bodies, Technologies, Biopolitics New York: Routledge, 2010.Quinan, C.L. “Gender (In)securities: Surveillance and Transgender Bodies in a Post-9/11 Era of Neoliberalism.” Eds. Stef Wittendorp and Matthias Leese. Security/Mobility: Politics of Movement. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2017. 153-69.Quinan, C.L., and Nina Bresser. “Gender at the Border: Global Responses to Gender Diverse Subjectivities and Non-Binary Registration Practices.” Global Perspectives 1.1 (2020). <https://doi.org/10.1525/gp.2020.12553>.Sjoberg, Laura. “(S)he Shall Not Be Moved: Gender, Bodies and Travel Rights in the Post-9/11 Era.” Security Journal 28.2 (2015): 198-215.Spalding, Sally J. “Airport Outings: The Coalitional Possibilities of Affective Rupture.” Women’s Studies in Communication 39.4 (2016): 460-80.

IntroductionThe horror film Hush (2016) has attracted attention since its release due to the uniqueness of its central character—a deaf–mute author who lives in a world of silence. Maddie Young (Kate Siegel) moves into a remote cabin in the woods to recover from a breakup and finish her new novel. Aside from a cat, she is alone in the house, only engaging with loved ones via online messaging or video chats during which she uses American Sign Language (ASL). Maddie cannot hear nor speak, so writing is her primary mode of creative expression, and a key source of information for the audience. This article explores both the presence and absence of text in Hush, examining how textual “captions” of various kinds are both provided and withheld at key moments. As an author, Maddie battles the limits of written language as she struggles with writer’s block. As a person, she fights the limits of silence and isolation as a brutal killer invades her retreat. Accordingly, this article examines how the interplay between silence, text, and sound invites viewers to identify with the heroine’s experience and ultimate triumph.Hush is best described as a slasher—a horror film in which a single (usually male) killer stalks and kills a series of victims with relentless determination (Clover, Men, Women). Slashers are about close, visceral killing—blood and the hard stab of the knife. With her big brown eyes and gentle presence, quiet, deaf Maddie is clearly framed as a lamb to slaughter in the opening scenes. Indeed, throughout Hush, Maddie’s lack of hearing is leveraged to increase suspense and horror. The classic pantomime cry of “He’s behind you!” is taken to dark extremes as the audience watches a nameless man (John Gallagher Jr.) stalk the writer in her isolated house. She is unable to hear him enter the building, unable to sense him looming behind her. Neither does she hear him killing her friend outside on the porch, banging her body loudly against the French doors.And yet, despite her vulnerability, she rises to the challenge. Fighting back against her attacker using a variety of multisensory strategies, Maddie assumes the role of the “Final Girl” in this narrative. As Carol Clover has explained, the Final Girl is a key trope of slasher films, forming part of their essential structure. While others in the film are killed, “she alone looks death in the face; but she alone also finds the strength either to stay the killer long enough to be rescued (ending A) or to kill him herself (ending B)” (Clover, Her Body, Himself). However, reviews and discussions of Hush typically frame Maddie as a Final Girl with a difference. Adding disability into the equation is seen as “revolutionising” the trope (Sheppard) and “updating the Final Girl theory” for a new age (Laird). Indeed, the film presents its Final Girl as simultaneously deaf and powerful—a twist that potentially challenges the dynamics of the slasher and representations of disability more generally.My Weakness, My StrengthThe opening sequence of Hush introduces Maddie’s deafness through the use of sound, silence, and text. Following an establishing shot sweeping over the dark forest and down to her solitary cottage, the film opens to warm domesticity. Close-ups of onion, eggs, and garlic being prepared are accompanied by clear, crisp sounds of crackling, bubbling, slicing, and frying. The camera zooms out to focus on Maddie, busy at her culinary tasks. All noises begin to fade. The camera focuses on Maddie’s ear as audio is eliminated, replaced by silence. As she continues to cook, the audience experiences her world—a world devoid of sound. These initial moments also highlight the importance of digital communication technologies. Maddie moves smoothly between devices, switching from laptop computer to iPhone while sharing instant messages with a friend. Close-ups of these on-screen conversations provide viewers with additional narrative information, operating as an alternate form of captioning from within the diegesis. Snippets of text from other sources are likewise shown in passing, such as the author’s blurb on the jacket of her previous novel. The camera lingers on this book, allowing viewers to read that Maddie suffered hearing loss and vocal paralysis after contracting bacterial meningitis at 13 years old. Traditional closed captioning or subtitles are thus avoided in favour of less intrusive forms of expositional text that are integrated within the plot.While hearing characters, such as her neighbour and sister, use SimCom (simultaneous communication or sign supported speech) to communicate with her, Maddie signs in silence. Because the filmmakers have elected not to provide captions for her signs in these moments, a—typically non-ASL speaking—hearing audience will inevitably experience disruptions in comprehension and Maddie’s conversations can therefore only be partially understood. This allows for an interesting role reversal for viewers. As Katherine A. Jankowski (32) points out, deaf and hard of hearing audiences have long expressed dissatisfaction with accessing the spoken word on television and film due to a lack of closed captioning. Despite the increasing technological ease of captioning digital media in the 21st century, this barrier to accessibility continues to be an ongoing issue (Ellis and Kent). The hearing community do not share this frustrating background—television programs that include ASL are captioned to ensure hearing viewers can follow the story (see for example Beth Haller’s article on Switched at Birth in this special issue). Hush therefore inverts this dynamic by presenting ASL without captions. Whereas silence is used to draw hearing viewers into Maddie’s experience, her periodic use of ASL pushes them out again. This creates a push–pull dynamic, whereby the hearing audience identify with Maddie and empathise with the losses associated with being deaf and mute, but also realise that, as a result, she has developed additional skills that are beyond their ken.It is worth noting at this point that Maddie is not the first Final Girl with a disability. In the 1967 thriller Wait until Dark, for instance, Audrey Hepburn plays Susy Hendrix, a blind woman trapped in her home by three crooks. Martin F. Norden suggests that this film represented a “step forward” in cinematic representations of disability because its heroine is not simply an innocent victim, but “tough, resilient, and resourceful in her fight against the criminals who have misrepresented themselves to her and have broken into her apartment” (228). Susy’s blindness, at first presented as a source of vulnerability and frustration, becomes her strength in the film’s climax. Bashing out all the lights in the apartment, she forces the men to fight on her terms, in darkness, where she holds the upper hand. In a classic example of Final Girl tenacity, Susy stabs the last of them to death before help arrives. Maddie likewise uses her disability as a tactical advantage. An enhanced sense of touch allows her to detect the killer when he sneaks up behind her as she feels the lightest flutter upon the hairs of her neck. She also wields a blaring fire alarm as a weapon, deafening and disorienting her attacker, causing him to drop his knife.The similarities between these films are not coincidental. During an interview, director Mike Flanagan (who co-wrote Hush with wife Siegel) stated that they were directly informed by Wait until Dark. When asked about the choice to make Maddie’s character deaf, he explained that “it kind of happened because Kate and I were out to dinner and we were talking about movies we liked. One of the ones that we stumbled on that we both really liked was Wait Until Dark” (cited in Thurman). In the earlier film, director Terence Young used darkness to blind the audience—at times the screen is completely black and viewers must listen carefully to work out what is happening. Likewise, Flanagan and Siegel use silence to effectively deafen the audience at crucial moments. The viewers are therefore forced to experience the action as the heroines do.You’re Gonna Die Screaming But You Won’t Be HeardHorror films often depend upon sound design for impact—the most mundane visuals can be made frightening by the addition of a particular noise, effect, or tune. Therefore, in the context of the slasher genre, one of the most unique aspects of Hush is the absence of the Final Girl’s vocalisation. A mute heroine is deprived of the most basic expressive tool in the horror handbook—a good scream. “What really won me over,” comments one reviewer, “was the fact that this particular ‘final girl’ isn’t physically able to whinge or scream when in pain–something that really isn’t the norm in slasher/home invasion movies” (Gorman). Yet silence also plays an important part in this genre, “when the wind stops or the footfalls cease, death is near” (Whittington 183). Indeed, Hush’s tagline is “silence can be killer.”The arrival of the killer triggers a deep kind of silence in this particular film, because alternative captions, text, and other communicative techniques (including ASL) cease to be used or useful when the man begins terrorising Maddie. This is not entirely surprising, as the abject failure of technology is a familiar trope in slasher films. As Clover explains, “the emotional terrain of the slasher film is pretechnological” (Her Body, Himself, 198). In Hush, however, the focus on text in this context is notable. There is a sense that written modes of communication are unreliable when it counts. The killer steals her phone, and cuts electricity and Internet access to the house. She attempts to use the neighbours’ Wi-Fi via her laptop, but does not know the password. Quick thinking Maddie even scrawls backwards messages on her windows, “WON’T TELL. DIDN’T SEE FACE,” she writes in lipstick, “BOYFRIEND COMING HOME.” In response, the killer simply removes his mask, “You’ve seen it now” he says. They both know there is no boyfriend. The written word has shifted from being central to Maddie’s life, to largely irrelevant. Text cannot save her. It is only by using other strategies (and senses) that Maddie empowers herself to survive.Maddie’s struggles to communicate and take control are integral to the film’s unfolding narrative, and co-writer Siegel notes this was a conscious theme: “A lot of this movie is … a metaphor for feeling unheard. It’s a movie about asserting yourself and of course as a female writer I brought a lot to that.” In their reflection on the limits of both verbal and written communication, the writers of Hush owe a debt to another source of inspiration—Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer television series. Season four, episode ten, also called Hush, was first aired on 14 December 1999 and features a critically acclaimed storyline in which the characters all lose their ability to speak. Voices from all over Sunnydale are stolen by monstrous fairytale figures called The Gentlemen, who use the silence to cut fresh hearts from living victims. Their appearance is heralded by a morbid rhyme:Can’t even shout, can’t even cry The Gentlemen are coming by. Looking in windows, knocking on doors, They need to take seven and they might take yours. Can’t call to mom, can’t say a word, You’re gonna die screaming but you won’t be heard.The theme of being “unheard” is clearly felt in this episode. Buffy and co attempt a variety of methods to compensate for their lost voices, such as hanging message boards around their necks, using basic text-to-voice computer software, and drawing on overhead projector slides. These tools essentially provide the captions for a story unfolding in silence, as no subtitles are provided. As it turns out, in many ways the friends’ non-verbal communication is more effective than their spoken words. Patrick Shade argues that the episode:celebrates the limits and virtues of both the nonverbal and the verbal. … We tend to be most readily aware of verbal means … but “Hush” stresses that we are embodied creatures whose communication consists in more than the spoken word. It reminds us that we have multiple resources we regularly employ in communicating.In a similar way, the film Hush emphasises alternative modes of expression through the device of the mute Final Girl, who must use all of her sensory and intellectual resources to survive. The evening begins with Maddie at leisure, unable to decide how to end her fictional novel. By the finale she is clarity incarnate. She assesses each real-life scene proactively and “writes” the end of the film on her own terms, showing that there is only one way to survive the night—she must fight.Deaf GainIn his discussion of disability and cinema, Norden explains that the majority of films position disabled people as outsiders and “others” because “filmmakers photograph and edit their work to reflect an able-bodied point of view” (1). The very apparatus of mainstream film, he argues, is designed to embody able-bodied experiences and encourage audience identification with able-bodied characters. He argues this bias results in disabled characters positioned as “objects of spectacle” to be pitied, feared or scorned by viewers. In Hush, however, the audience is consistently encouraged to identify with Maddie. As she fights for her life in the final scenes, sound fades away and the camera assumes a first-person perspective. The man is above, choking her on the floor, and we look up at him through her eyes. As Maddie’s groping hand finds a corkscrew and jabs the spike into his neck, we watch his death through her eyes too. The film thus assists viewers to apprehend Maddie’s strength intimately, rather than framing her as a spectacle or distanced “other” to be pitied.Importantly, it is this very core of perceived vulnerability, yet ultimate strength, that gives Maddie the edge over her attacker in the end. In this way, Maddie’s disabilities are not solely represented as a space of limitation or difference, but a potential wellspring of power. Hence the film supports, to some degree, the move to seeing deafness as gain, rather than loss:Deafness has long been viewed as a hearing loss—an absence, a void, a lack. It is virtually impossible to think of deafness without thinking of loss. And yet Deaf people do not often consider their lives to be defined by loss. Rather, there is something present in the lives of Deaf people, something full and complete. (Bauman and Murray, 3)As Bauman and Murray explain, the shift from “hearing loss” to “deaf gain” involves focusing on what is advantageous and unique about the deaf experience. They use the example of the Swiss national snowboarding team, who hired a deaf coach to boost their performance. The coach noticed they were depending too much on sound and used earplugs to teach a multi-sensory approach, “the earplugs forced them to learn to depend on the feel of the snow beneath their boards [and] the snowboarder’s performance improved markedly” (6). This idea that removing sound strengthens other senses is a thread that runs throughout Hush. For example, it is the loss of hearing and speech that are credited with inspiring Maddie’s successful writing career and innovative literary “voice”.Lennard J. Davis warns that framing people as heroic or empowered as a result of their disabilities can feed counterproductive stereotypes and perpetuate oppressive systems. “Privileging the inherent powers of the deaf or the blind is a form of patronizing,” he argues, because it traps such individuals within the concept of innate difference (106). Disparities between able and disabled people are easier to justify when disabled characters are presented as intrinsically “special” or “noble,” as this suggests inevitable divergence, rather than structural inequality. While this is something to keep in mind, Hush skirts the issue by presenting Maddie as a flawed, realistic character. She does not possess superpowers; she makes mistakes and gets injured. In short, she is a fallible human using what resources she has to the best of her abilities. As such, she represents a holistic vision of a disabled heroine rather than an overly glorified stereotype.ConclusionHush is a film about the limits of text, the gaps where language is impossible or insufficient, and the struggle to be heard as a woman with disabilities. It is a film about the difficulties surrounding both verbal and written communication, and our dependence upon them. The absence of closed captions or subtitles, combined with the use of alternative “captioning”—in the form of instant messaging, for instance—grounds the narrative in lived space, rather than providing easy extra-textual solutions. It also poses a challenge to a hearing audience, to cross the border of “otherness” and identify with a deaf heroine.Returning to the discussion of the Final Girl characterisation, Clover argues that this is a gendered device combining both traditionally feminine and masculine characteristics. The fluidity of the Final Girl is constant, “even during that final struggle she is now weak and now strong, now flees the killer and now charges him, now stabs and is stabbed, now cries out in fear and now shouts in anger” (Her Body, Himself, 221). Men viewing slasher films identify with the Final Girl’s “masculine” traits, and in the process find themselves looking through the eyes of a woman. In using a deaf character, Hush suggests that an evolution of this dynamic might also occur along the dis/abled boundary line. Maddie is a powerful survivor who shifts between weak and strong, frightened and fierce, but also between disabled and able. This portrayal encourages the audience to identify with her empowered traits and in the process look through the eyes of a disabled woman. Therefore, while slashers—and horror films in general—are not traditionally associated with progressive representations of disabilities, this evolution of the Final Girl may provide a fruitful topic of both research and filmmaking in the future.ReferencesBauman, Dirksen, and Joseph J. Murray. “Reframing: From Hearing Loss to Deaf Gain.” Trans. Fallon Brizendine and Emily Schenker. Deaf Studies Digital Journal 1 (2009): 1–10. <http://dsdj.gallaudet.edu/assets/section/section2/entry19/DSDJ_entry19.pdf>.Clover, Carol J. Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film. New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1992.———. “Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film.” Representations 20 (1987): 187–228.Davis, Lennard J. Enforcing Normalcy: Disability, Deafness, and the Body. London: Verso, 1995.Ellis, Katie, and Mike Kent. Disability and New Media. New York: Routledge, 2011.Gorman, H. “Hush: Film Review.” Scream Horror Magazine (2016) <http://www.screamhorrormag.com/hush-film-review/>.Jankowski, Katherine A. Deaf Empowerment: Emergence, Struggle, and Rhetoric. Washington: Gallaudet UP, 1997.Laird, E.E. “Updating the Final Girl Theory.” Medium (2016) <https://medium.com/@TheFilmJournal/updating-the-final-girl-theory-b37ec0b1acf4>.Norden, M.F. Cinema of Isolation: A History of Physical Disability in the Movies. New Jersey: Rutgers UP, 1994.Shade, Patrick. “Screaming to Be Heard: Community and Communication in ‘Hush’.” Slayage 6.1 (2006). <http://www.whedonstudies.tv/uploads/2/6/2/8/26288593/shade_slayage_6.1.pdf>.Sheppard, D. “Hush: Revolutionising the Final Girl.” Eyes on Screen (2016). <https://eyesonscreen.wordpress.com/2016/06/08/hush-revolutionising-the-final-girl/>.Thurman, T. “‘Hush’ Director Mike Flanagan and Actress Kate Siegel on Their New Thriller!” Interview. Bloody Disgusting (2016). <http://bloody-disgusting.com/interviews/3384092/interview-hush-mike-flanagan-kate-siegel/>.Whittington, W. “Horror Sound Design.” A Companion to the Horror Film. Ed. Harry M. Benshoff. Oxford: John Wiley & Sons, 2014: 168–185.