I am pluripotent Afterschool STEM
PLURIPOTENT DREAMS: Heat signatures
Pluripotent Dreams: Heat Signatures
Episode 2 | July 3rd 2025
By 7 a.m., the air over Chandler shimmered like glass. Bola stepped out of her cooled car into a world already edging past 131 degrees Fahrenheit. The sky above her was laced with climate-engineered cloud filaments—part of Arizona’s ongoing heat mitigation pilot. Even so, her phone buzzed with an alert:
Extreme Heat Risk – Level 4. Hydrate. Limit outdoor exposure.
The artificial clouds above hadn’t changed, but the buzz around Wakasa had.
Inside Wakasa Biotech, Bola moved through a space built for cutting-edge cellular engineering. Induced pluripotent stem cells were now a routine part of the workflow—versatile, familiar, foundational—but their applications had grown more urgent and ambitious. At Wakasa, they were being pushed into new territory: optimizing tissue resilience for extreme environments, and supporting the regenerative health of humans colonizing Mars—as well as those still here on Earth.
KojinSkin was today’s headline. The team had just crossed a critical milestone: the latest prototype had withstood intense heat simulations—an encouraging result as it edged closer to real-world application. Originally a spinout from Wakasa’s broader regenerative platform, it had evolved into something distinct—capturing attention for its innovative approach to cellular resilience under environmental stress. Now hailed as Chandler’s poster child for climate-adaptive biotech, KojinSkin had come to symbolize a new frontier: skin engineered not just to heal, but to endure. In the lab, Bola’s team was already refining the next version, pushing the limits of survival under escalating conditions.
Bola reviewed the latest results with quiet precision. This wasn’t just another data point. In a world growing hotter by the year, KojinSkin had become the most visible expression of Wakasa’s mission—and a litmus test for what regenerative science could offer a changing planet.
She stood before the holographic console, watching cell colonies respond to oxidative stress in real time—a visual symphony of biology refusing to age. She remembered the early months of the Forever Young project, when she was fresh off a chaotic year navigating culture shifts, system bugs, and a jarring data breach that nearly derailed the entire program. That breach—still under investigation—had forced the lab to rebuild from the inside out. AI systems were pared back. Some manual protocols returned—just enough to rebuild trust in the fundamentals. The silence around EMILI’s removal was deliberate, but Bola sometimes still found herself glancing at the dark console where the assistant used to interface. She still remembered the sting of Vladimir’s voice the day the breach was discovered.
She made a quick note in her paper journal. Ever since that breach, she found comfort in analog margins. A mentor at the Spriggs Institute in La Jolla had once advised her: “When the system breaks, simplify the inputs.” She smiled, thinking how right that had been.
Suri stepped in, holding a clipboard.
“The slides are prepped for our presentation,” she said.
“Make sure the wildfire resilience data’s highlighted up front,” Bola replied. “That’s what they’ll be listening for.”
Suri nodded. “And they moved up the responder feedback call to 2 p.m.”
Bola nodded again. “Let’s make sure the new thermal data is in the deck. They’ll be looking for it.”
Though her name was now tied to it in media briefings, Bola knew where her passion lived. It wasn’t just heat resistance or age-reversal prototypes. It was a quiet dream of using this science for people who would never set foot in a biotech conference. Children in clinics without refrigeration. Families fighting genetic disease with no access to diagnostics. But that kind of work didn’t pay salaries or attract venture capital. So she stayed, for now, where the breakthroughs shimmered—and the investors applauded.
The dementia project last year had quietly failed Phase 1. Bola didn’t talk about it much, but she still carried that quiet disappointment. Recognition had never been the point. For Bola, achievement felt ordinary. Her advanced degrees, her publications, even her patents felt like baseline. Nigerian-Americans were among the most educated and upwardly mobile immigrant groups in the U.S.—excellence was expected, not exceptional. She shifted her gaze to a red-lit colony—one of those flashy, space-funded projects that sounded promising but always felt distant. Another beautiful distraction from what truly mattered to her.
A reminder blinked on the lab screen:
Arizona SciTek Futures – Chandler Edition | July 11
Submit final presentation.
She smiled. She had spoken many times before—but this one felt different. It was here, in her own community. Chandler. The city that had surprised her with its ambition, heat, and strange suburban optimism. Chandler, Arizona, was again named the best place to live in the state. It was no longer just where she worked—it was part of the story she was helping to shape. This time, she wasn’t just representing her science. She was representing the future Arizona was racing to build—regenerative, adaptive, cellular, and ready for Mars.
Later that afternoon, as fireworks tests echoed faintly from Tumbleweed Park, she stood alone in the culture room. The lotus tattoo on her ankle—a gift to herself just after her citizenship ceremony last year—caught her eye. Her lotus tattoo, barely visible beneath her cuff, reminded her she had bloomed through the mud before. That week had been a collision of hope and mistrust, of celebration and crisis. A year later, she still carried both.
The latest batch of engineered tissue shells shimmered with quiet potential—grown to adapt, not just survive. Data was clean. The team was strong. Even cautious investors had softened. She had everything she was supposed to want. And yet—there it was again. That flicker of doubt. Not regret, exactly. Just the feeling that something was still waiting. Somewhere else. A different version of her, maybe. One not in a lab coat, but on a dirt road in a solar-powered clinic, explaining cell behavior to barefoot children.
The digital timer beeped. She looked down at the new stem cell batch. Alive. Bright. Endless. Tomorrow would be the Fourth of July. The lab would be closed—for most. The cells, of course, would be fed automatically, sealed inside their monitored chambers, untouched but alive. Last year, she had called it her own Independence Day. This year, she wasn’t so sure. She was free, yes—but still searching.
Tonight, the skies would sparkle red, white, and blue. But Bola had already seen her version of fireworks—cell by cell, patch by patch, right here in the lab. Still dreaming. Still not done.
Tayo Fakunle, Author
PLURIPOTENT DREAMS: REflections on independence
Pluripotent Dreams: Reflections on Independence
Episode 1 | July 3rd 2024
Bola stood in the sleek, high-tech lab of Wakasa Biotech in Chandler, Arizona. She adjusted one of her braids, neatly arranged and falling down to her shoulders. The hum of the equipment around her was a constant reminder of the groundbreaking work she was doing evaluating the effects of microgravity on skin aging and showcasing the remarkable potential of cellular engineering. The scent of disinfectant mingled with the faint aroma of oil she’d dabbed on her ankle—a small rebellion, a lotus flower inked in black, her first tattoo. After over a decade in the USA, the pain of the needle had felt like a whisper of freedom.
Her gaze drifted to the holographic microscope, a state-of-the-art device projecting a 3D image of stem cells onto a translucent screen floating in mid-air. These were induced pluripotent stem cells, or iPSCs, reprogrammed from adult cells to an embryonic-like state. iPSCs can differentiate into almost any cell type in the body, making them invaluable for regenerative medicine, disease modeling, drug discovery, and transplantation. The cells in the culture dish formed distinct colonies, starkly contrasting the chaos in her mind.
Flashbacks from years ago clawed at her memory. Back then, every day had been a battle against the anxiety of her H1B visa status and the looming threat of deportation. She had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if a single bureaucratic decision would tear away all her work. The fear had been palpable, a constant knot in her stomach. Now, as an American citizen, she looked forward to the 4th of July. The significance of Independence Day held a special place in her heart, symbolizing not only the country’s freedom but also her own hard-won independence.
At Wakasa Biotech, Bola was part of a high-profile project to study skin aging in microgravity. The team's discovery of a method to maintain youthful skin was a game changer. The integration of engineering with molecular biology to control the cellular world fascinated her, offering endless possibilities for discovery and innovation. They manipulated the cells with genetic engineering and combined their research with understanding how bodily fluid shifts, reduced mechanical stress, and increased cosmic radiation exposure in microgravity environments influence skin aging. By studying these factors during long journeys to Mars and in environments like the International Space Station and microgravity simulators on Earth, they discovered new mechanisms to keep the skin forever young. This breakthrough could potentially make the dream of eternal youth a tangible reality, at least superficially, skin deep, and pave the way for significant advancements in regenerative medicine and space exploration, inspiring hope for the future.
However, Bola felt a twinge of guilt. Was this really what she should be doing with her time and talents? She remembered her cousin in Nigeria, struggling with painful episodes of sickle cell disease, and the countless families affected by this genetic disorder. Approximately 100,000 people in the USA and millions worldwide suffer from sickle cell disease, with over 300,000 children born with the condition annually. She felt a deep sense of responsibility to contribute to advancements in this field, even though her career path had taken her elsewhere.
Humans finally had settlements on Mars; the rich took vacations there. Here on Earth, self-driving cars and smart cities were the norm. However, with all the technological advances, social issues remained the same. She felt a twinge of hypocrisy because she would not give up the good life of technology and peace to be like her friend Lila, who went into the trenches of war-torn, epidemic-ridden villages in the developing world to help the needy. “I guess I will be a sellout,” she muttered.
Furthermore, she was involved in other important projects at Wakasa Biotech. The microgravity on dementia study was due to start the Phase 1 clinical trial next year. Over 50 million people worldwide are living with dementia. She recognized the importance of this research from a personal perspective. Her grandmother had died from Alzheimer’s disease, and Bola remembered the slow loss of memory and personality, the helplessness her family felt as they watched a beloved figure fade away. Bola said to herself, “Yes, what I do for a living is very valuable.”
As she packed away the cultures, the lab door slid open with a soft hiss, and Vladimir materialized before her, his imposing figure accentuated by the limp in his stride. "Bola, we were supposed to meet 15 minutes ago. Let's go," he barked, impatience etched in his stern expression. His cold, steel gray eyes always seemed to judge her, as if her braids and background were too much for his world.
"Apologies, Vladimir. The cultures are sensitive. I lost track of time," she replied, her voice steady but her heart pounding like a drum.
They climbed the stairs to his office. He gestured to a chair, his tone softer now, a stark departure from his usual brusque demeanor.
"We've got a problem," Vladimir began, his voice calm but measured. "There's been a data breach. Some of our research on the Forever Young project has been leaked."
Bola's heart skipped a beat. With one of her lab technicians on maternity leave, the team's workload significantly increased, and now this unexpected issue threatened their timeline and intellectual property.
“Do we know who did it?” Bola asked, her mind racing through the possible consequences.
“We have our suspicions,” Vladimir replied, his expression grim. “The IT department is working on it, but it seems to be an inside job. We need to contain this immediately and ensure no further leaks happen.”
“I’ll change all my passwords and inform the project team to do the same,” Bola said, determination settling in. “We need to ensure everyone is aware and vigilant moving forward.”
Vladimir leaned back in his chair; his expression unreadable. “Make it a priority, Bola. This project has significant funding and reputational implications. We need answers, and we need them fast.”
As she walked out, the office door closing behind her, Bola's thoughts tangled in disbelief. The months of tension stares, and condescension seemed so distant now. She was halfway down the corridor before she realized her hands were shaking. The weight of the unexpected challenge and the pressure to prove herself once again seemed too much to process at once. However, it was time to go home.
Outside, the Arizona sun was a blinding beacon despite the artificial clouds. The desert heat wrapped around her like a blanket, and the clouds did little to mitigate the intensity. She took a deep breath, the scent of the desert mingling with the distant hum of traffic. With its sprawling suburbs and burgeoning tech industry, Chandler, Arizona, was her beloved home despite its relentless heat. She thought of the lotus on her ankle, its petals a symbol of resilience, of rising above the mud.
When she arrived home, she felt the weight of the day's challenges pressing down on her. She knew she needed advice. Bola picked up her phone and called her mentor at the famous Spriggs Institute of Science and Technology in La Jolla, CA. As she hung up, Bola felt a renewed sense of purpose. The celebration of Independence Day tomorrow would not only mark the country's freedom but also remind her of her own journey toward personal and professional independence.
As the 3rd of July ended, she looked forward to the fireworks tomorrow. The celebration would be a reminder of her journey and the dreams she continued to pursue. In the world of stem cells and dreams, Bola was more than a scientist; she symbolized resilience and hope. And as she prepared for the challenges ahead, she knew she would face them with the same determination and grace that had brought her this far.
We hope you have enjoyed Pluripotent Dreams: Reflections on Independence, the first in a series of eight short stories. See you next time!
Tayo Fakunle, Author
