Can You Trust Your Gut for Food Advice?
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
I recently got on the scale to weigh myself, thinking I've got to eat better. With so many trendy diets today claiming to improve health, from Keto to Paleo to Whole30, it can be confusing to figure out what we should and shouldn't eat for optimal nutrition.
A number of companies are now selling the concept of "personalized" nutrition based on the genetic makeup of your individual gut bugs.
My next thought was: I've got to lose a few pounds.
Consider a weird factoid: In addition to my fat, skin, bone and muscle, I'm carrying around two or three pounds of straight-up bacteria. Like you, I am the host to trillions of micro-organisms that live in my gut and are collectively known as my microbiome. An explosion of research has occurred in the last decade to try to understand exactly how these microbial populations, which are unique to each of us, may influence our overall health and potentially even our brains and behavior.
Lots of mysteries still remain, but it is established that these "bugs" are crucial to keeping our body running smoothly, performing functions like stimulating the immune system, synthesizing important vitamins, and aiding digestion. The field of microbiome science is evolving rapidly, and a number of companies are now selling the concept of "personalized" nutrition based on the genetic makeup of your individual gut bugs. The two leading players are Viome and DayTwo, but the landscape includes the newly launched startup Onegevity Health and others like Thryve, which offers customized probiotic supplements in addition to dietary recommendations.
The idea has immediate appeal – if science could tell you exactly what to make for lunch and what to avoid, you could forget about the fad diets and go with your own bespoke food pyramid. Wondering if the promise might be too good to be true, I decided to perform my own experiment.
Last fall, I sent the identical fecal sample to both Viome (I paid $425, but the price has since dropped to $299) and DayTwo ($349). A couple of months later, both reports finally arrived, and I eagerly opened each app to compare their recommendations.
First, I examined my results from Viome, which was founded in 2016 in Cupertino, Calif., and declares without irony on its website that "conflicting food advice is now obsolete."
I learned I have "average" metabolic fitness and "average" inflammatory activity in my gut, which are scores that the company defines based on a proprietary algorithm. But I have "low" microbial richness, with only 62 active species of bacteria identified in my sample, compared with the mean of 157 in their test population. I also received a list of the specific species in my gut, with names like Lactococcus and Romboutsia.
But none of it meant anything to me without actionable food advice, so I clicked through to the Recommendations page and found a list of My Superfoods (cranberry, garlic, kale, salmon, turmeric, watermelon, and bone broth) and My Foods to Avoid (chickpeas, kombucha, lentils, and rice noodles). There was also a searchable database of many foods that had been categorized for me, like "bell pepper; minimize" and "beef; enjoy."
"I just don't think sufficient data is yet available to make reliable personalized dietary recommendations based on one's microbiome."
Next, I looked at my results from DayTwo, which was founded in 2015 from research out of the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel, and whose pitch to consumers is, "Blood sugar made easy. The algorithm diet personalized to you."
This app had some notable differences. There was no result about my metabolic fitness, microbial richness, or list of the species in my sample. There was also no list of superfoods or foods to avoid. Instead, the app encouraged me to build a meal by searching for foods in their database and combining them in beneficial ways for my blood sugar. Two slices of whole wheat bread received a score of 2.7 out of 10 ("Avoid"), but if combined with one cup of large curd cottage cheese, the score improved to 6.8 ("Limit"), and if I added two hard-boiled eggs, the score went up to 7.5 ("Good").
Perusing my list of foods with "Excellent" scores, I noticed some troubling conflicts with the other app. Lentils, which had been a no-no according to Viome, received high marks from DayTwo. Ditto for Kombucha. My purported superfood of cranberry received low marks. Almonds got an almost perfect score (9.7) while Viome told me to minimize them. I found similarly contradictory advice for foods I regularly eat, including navel oranges, peanuts, pork, and beets.
Contradictory dietary guidance that Kira Peikoff received from Viome (left) and DayTwo from an identical sample.
To be sure, there was some overlap. Both apps agreed on rice noodles (bad), chickpeas (bad), honey (bad), carrots (good), and avocado (good), among other foods.
But still, I was left scratching my head. Which set of recommendations should I trust, if either? And what did my results mean for the accuracy of this nascent field?
I called a couple of experts to find out.
"I have worked on the microbiome and nutrition for the last 20 years and I would be absolutely incapable of finding you evidence in the scientific literature that lentils have a detrimental effect based on the microbiome," said Dr. Jens Walter, an Associate Professor and chair for Nutrition, Microbes, and Gastrointestinal Health at the University of Alberta. "I just don't think sufficient data is yet available to make reliable personalized dietary recommendations based on one's microbiome. And even if they would have proprietary algorithms, at least one of them is not doing it right."
There is definite potential for personalized nutrition based on the microbiome, he said, but first, predictive models must be built and standardized, then linked to clinical endpoints, and tested in a large sample of healthy volunteers in order to enable extrapolations for the general population.
"It is mindboggling what you would need to do to make this work," he observed. "There are probably hundreds of relevant dietary compounds, then the microbiome has at least a hundred relevant species with a hundred or more relevant genes each, then you'd have to put all this together with relevant clinical outcomes. And there's a hundred-fold variation in that information between individuals."
However, Walter did acknowledge that the companies might be basing their algorithms on proprietary data that could potentially connect all the dots. I reached out to them to find out.
Amir Golan, the Chief Commercial Officer of DayTwo, told me, "It's important to emphasize this is a prediction, as the microbiome field is in a very early stage of research." But he added, "I believe we are the only company that has very solid science published in top journals and we can bring very actionable evidence and benefit to our uses."
He was referring to pioneering work out of the Weizmann Institute that was published in 2015 in the journal Cell, which logged the glycemic responses of 800 people in response to nearly 50,000 meals; adding information about the subjects' microbiomes enabled more accurate glycemic response predictions. Since then, Golan said, additional trials have been conducted, most recently with the Mayo Clinic, to duplicate the results, and other studies are ongoing whose results have not yet been published.
He also pointed out that the microbiome was merely one component that goes into building a client's profile, in addition to medical records, including blood glucose levels. (I provided my HbA1c levels, a measure of average blood sugar over the previous several months.)
"We are not saying we want to improve your gut microbiome. We provide a dynamic tool to help guide what you should eat to control your blood sugar and think about combinations," he said. "If you eat one thing, or with another, it will affect you in a different way."
Viome acknowledged that the two companies are taking very different approaches.
"DayTwo is primarily focused on the glycemic response," Naveen Jain, the CEO, told me. "If you can only eat butter for rest of your life, you will have no glycemic response but will probably die of a heart attack." He laughed. "Whereas we came from very different angle – what is happening inside the gut at a microbial level? When you eat food like spinach, how will that be metabolized in the gut? Will it produce the nutrients you need or cause inflammation?"
He said his team studied 1000 people who were on continuous glucose monitoring and fed them 45,000 meals, then built a proprietary data prediction model, looking at which microbes existed and how they actively broke down the food.
Jain pointed out that DayTwo sequences the DNA of the microbes, while Viome sequences the RNA – the active expression of DNA. That difference, in his opinion, is key to making accurate predictions.
"DNA is extremely stable, so when you eat any food and measure the DNA [in a fecal sample], you get all these false positives--you get DNA from plant food and meat, and you have no idea if those organisms are dead and simply transient, or actually exist. With RNA, you see what is actually alive in the gut."
More contradictory food advice from Viome (left) and DayTwo.
Note that controversy exists over how it is possible with a fecal sample to effectively measure RNA, which degrades within minutes, though Jain said that his company has the technology to keep RNA stable for fourteen days.
Viome's approach, Jain maintains, is 90 percent accurate, based on as-yet unpublished data; a patent was filed just last week. DayTwo's approach is 66 percent accurate according to the latest published research.
Natasha Haskey, a registered dietician and doctoral student conducting research in the field of microbiome science and nutrition, is skeptical of both companies. "We can make broad statements, like eat more fruits and vegetables and fiber, but when it comes to specific foods, the science is just not there yet," she said. "I think there is a future, and we will be doing that someday, but not yet. Maybe we will be closer in ten years."
Professor Walter wholeheartedly agrees with Haskey, and suggested that if people want to eat a gut-healthy diet, they should focus on beneficial oils, fruits and vegetables, fish, a variety of whole grains, poultry and beans, and limit red meat and cheese, as well as avoid processed meats.
"These services are far over the tips of their science skis," Arthur Caplan, the founding head of New York University's Division of Medical Ethics, said in an email. "We simply don't know enough about the gut microbiome, its fluctuations and variability from person to person to support general [direct-to-consumer] testing. This is simply premature. We need standards for accuracy, specificity, and sensitivity, plus mandatory competent counseling for all such testing. They don't exist. Neither should DTC testing—yet."
Meanwhile, it's time for lunch. I close out my Viome and DayTwo apps and head to the kitchen to prepare a peanut butter sandwich. My gut tells me I'll be just fine.
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
Opioid prescription policies may hurt those in chronic pain
Tinu Abayomi-Paul works as a writer and activist, plus one unwanted job: Trying to fill her opioid prescription. She says that some pharmacists laugh and tell her that no one needs the amount of pain medication that she is seeking. Another pharmacist near her home in Venus, Tex., refused to fill more than seven days of a 30-day prescription.
To get a new prescription—partially filled opioid prescriptions can’t be dispensed later—Abayomi-Paul needed to return to her doctor’s office. But without her medication, she was having too much pain to travel there, much less return to the pharmacy. She rationed out the pills over several weeks, an agonizing compromise that left her unable to work, interact with her children, sleep restfully, or leave the house. “Don’t I deserve to do more than survive?” she says.
Abayomi-Paul’s pain results from a degenerative spine disorder, chronic lymphocytic leukemia, and more than a dozen other diagnoses and disabilities. She is part of a growing group of people with chronic pain who have been negatively impacted by the fallout from efforts to prevent opioid overdose deaths.
Guidelines for dispensing these pills are complicated because many opioids, like codeine, oxycodone, and morphine, are prescribed legally for pain. Yet, deaths from opioids have increased rapidly since 1999 and become a national emergency. Many of them, such as heroin, are used illegally. The CDC identified three surges in opioid use: an increase in opioid prescriptions in the ‘90s, a surge of heroin around 2010, and an influx of fentanyl and other powerful synthetic opioids in 2013.
As overdose deaths grew, so did public calls to address them, prompting the CDC to change its prescription guidelines in 2016. The new guidelines suggested limiting medication for acute pain to a seven-day supply, capping daily doses of morphine, and other restrictions. Some statistics suggest that these policies have worked; from 2016 to 2019, prescriptions for opiates fell 44 percent. Physicians also started progressively lowering opioid doses for patients, a practice called tapering. A study tracking nearly 100,000 Medicare subscribers on opioids found that about 13 percent of patients were tapering in 2012, and that number increased to about 23 percent by 2017.
But some physicians may be too aggressive with this tapering strategy. About one in four people had doses reduced by more than 10 percent per week, a rate faster than the CDC recommends. The approach left people like Abayomi-Paul without the medication they needed. Every year, Abayomi-Paul says, her prescriptions are harder to fill. David Brushwood, a pharmacy professor who specializes in policy and outcomes at the University of Florida in Gainesville, says opioid dosing isn’t one-size-fits-all. “Patients need to be taken care of individually, not based on what some government agency says they need,” he says.
‘This is not survivable’
Health policy and disability rights attorney Erin Gilmer advocated for people with pain, using her own experience with chronic pain and a host of medical conditions as a guidepost. She launched an advocacy website, Healthcare as a Human Right, and shared her struggles on Twitter: “This pain is more than anything I've endured before and I've already been through too much. Yet because it's not simply identified no one believes it's as bad as it is. This is not survivable.”
When her pain dramatically worsened midway through 2021, Gilmer’s posts grew ominous: “I keep thinking it can't possibly get worse but somehow every day is worse than the last.”
The CDC revised its guidelines in 2022 after criticisms that people with chronic pain were being undertreated, enduring dangerous withdrawal symptoms, and suffering psychological distress. (Long-term opioid use can cause physical dependency, an adaptive reaction that is different than the compulsive misuse associated with a substance use disorder.) It was too late for Gilmer. On July 7, 2021, the 38-year-old died by suicide.
Last August, an Ohio district court ruling set forth a new requirement for Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS pharmacists in two counties. These pharmacists must now document opioid prescriptions that are turned down, even for customers who have no previous purchases at that pharmacy, and they’re required to share this information with other locations in the same chain. None of the three pharmacies responded to an interview request from Leaps.org.
In a practice called red flagging, pharmacists may label a prescription suspicious for a variety of reasons, such as if a pharmacist observes an unusually high dose, a long distance from the patient’s home to the pharmacy, or cash payment. Pharmacists may question patients or prescribers to resolve red flags but, regardless of the explanation, they’re free to refuse to fill a prescription.
As the risk of litigation has grown, so has finger-pointing, says Seth Whitelaw, a compliance consultant at Whitelaw Compliance Group in West Chester, PA, who advises drug, medical device, and biotech companies. Drugmakers accused in National Prescription Opioid Litigation (NPOL), a complex set of thousands of cases on opioid epidemic deaths, which includes the Ohio district case, have argued that they shouldn’t be responsible for the large supply of opiates and overdose deaths. Yet, prosecutors alleged that these pharmaceutical companies hid addiction and overdose risks when labeling opioids, while distributors and pharmacists failed to identify suspicious orders or scripts.
Patients and pharmacists fear red flags
The requirements that pharmacists document prescriptions they refuse to fill so far only apply to two counties in Ohio. But Brushwood fears they will spread because of this precedent, and because there’s no way for pharmacists to predict what new legislation is on the way. “There is no definition of a red flag, there are no lists of red flags. There is no instruction on what to do when a red flag is detected. There’s no guidance on how to document red flags. It is a standardless responsibility,” Brushwood says. This adds trepidation for pharmacists—and more hoops to jump through for patients.
“I went into the doctor one day here and she said, ‘I'm going to stop prescribing opioids to all my patients effective immediately,” Nicolson says.
“We now have about a dozen studies that show that actually ripping somebody off their medication increases their risk of overdose and suicide by three to five times, destabilizes their health and mental health, often requires some hospitalization or emergency care, and can cause heart attacks,” says Kate Nicolson, founder of the National Pain Advocacy Center based in Boulder, Colorado. “It can kill people.” Nicolson was in pain for decades due to a surgical injury to the nerves leading to her spinal cord before surgeries fixed the problem.
Another issue is that primary care offices may view opioid use as a reason to turn down new patients. In a 2021 study, secret shoppers called primary care clinics in nine states, identifying themselves as long-term opioid users. When callers said their opioids were discontinued because their former physician retired, as opposed to an unspecified reason, they were more likely to be offered an appointment. Even so, more than 40 percent were refused an appointment. The study authors say their findings suggest that some physicians may try to avoid treating people who use opioids.
Abayomi-Paul says red flagging has changed how she fills prescriptions. “Once I go to one place, I try to [continue] going to that same place because of the amount of records that I have and making sure my medications don’t conflict,” Abayomi-Paul says.
Nicolson moved to Colorado from Washington D.C. in 2015, before the CDC issued its 2016 guidelines. When the guidelines came out, she found the change to be shockingly abrupt. “I went into the doctor one day here and she said, ‘I'm going to stop prescribing opioids to all my patients effective immediately.’” Since then, she’s spoken with dozens of patients who have been red-flagged or simply haven’t been able to access pain medication.
Despite her expertise, Nicolson isn’t positive she could successfully fill an opioid prescription today even if she needed one. At this point, she’s not sure exactly what various pharmacies would view as a red flag. And she’s not confident that these red flags even work. “You can have very legitimate reasons for being 50 miles away or having to go to multiple pharmacies, given that there are drug shortages now, as well as someone refusing to fill [a prescription.] It doesn't mean that you’re necessarily ‘drug seeking.’”
While there’s no easy solution. Whitelaw says clarifying the role of pharmacists and physicians in patient access to opioids could help people get the medication they need. He is seeking policy changes that focus on the needs of people in pain more than the number of prescriptions filled. He also advocates standardizing the definition of red flags and procedures for resolving them. Still, there will never be a single policy that can be applied to all people, explains Brushwood, the University of Florida professor. “You have to make a decision about each individual prescription.”
This article is part of the magazine, "The Future of Science In America: The Election Issue," co-published by LeapsMag, the Aspen Institute Science & Society Program, and GOOD.
When COVID-19 cases were surging in New York City in early spring, Chitra Mohan, a postdoctoral fellow at Weill Cornell, was overwhelmed with worry. But the pandemic was only part of her anxieties. Having come to the United States from India on a student visa that allowed her to work for a year after completing her degree, she had applied for a two-year extension, typically granted for those in STEM fields. But due to a clerical error—Mohan used an electronic signatureinstead of a handwritten one— her application was denied and she could no longerwork in the United States.
"I was put on unpaid leave and I lost my apartment and my health insurance—and that was in the middle of COVID!" she says.
Meanwhile her skills were very much needed in those unprecedented times. A molecular biologist studying how DNA can repair itself, Mohan was trained in reverse transcription polymerase chain reaction or RT-PCR—a lab technique that detects pathogens and is used to diagnose COVID-19. Mohan wanted to volunteer at testing centers, but because she couldn't legally work in the U.S., she wasn't allowed to help either. She moved to her cousin's house, hired a lawyer, and tried to restore her work status.
"I spent about $4,000 on lawyer fees and another $1,200 to pay for the motions I filed," she recalls. "I had to borrow money from my parents and my cousin because without my salary I just didn't have the $7,000 at hand." But the already narrow window of opportunity slammed completely shut when the Trump administration suspended issuing new visas for foreign researchers in June. All Mohan's attempts were denied. In August, she had to leave the country. "Given the recent work visa ban by the administration, all my options in the U.S. are closed," she wrote a bitter note on Twitter. "I have to uproot my entire life in NY for the past 6 years and leave." She eventually found a temporary position in Calcutta, where she can continue research.
Mohan is hardly alone in her visa saga. Many foreign scholars on H- and J-type visas and other permits that let them remain employed in America had been struggling to keep their rights to continue research, which in certain cases is crucial to battling the pandemic. Some had to leave the country, some filed every possible extension to buy time, and others are stuck in their home countries, unable to return. The already cumbersome process of applying for visas and extensions became crippled during the lockdowns. But in June, when President Trump extended and expanded immigration restrictions to cut the number of immigrant workers entering the U.S., the new limits left researchers' projects and careers in limbo—and some in jeopardy.
"We have been a beneficiary of this flow of human capacity and resource investment for many generations—and this is now threatened."
Rakesh Ramachandran, whose computational biology work contributed to one of the first coronavirus studies to map out its protein structures—is stranded in India. In early March, he had travelled there to attend a conference and visit the American consulate to stamp his H1 visa for a renewal, already granted. The pandemic shut down both the conference and the consulates, and Ramachandran hasn't been able to come back since. The consulates finally opened in September, but so far the online portal has no available appointment slots. "I'm told to keep trying," Ramachandran says.
The visa restrictions affected researchers worldwide, regardless of disciplines or countries. A Ph.D. student in neuroscience, Morgane Leroux had to do her experiments with mice at Gladstone Institutes in America and analyze the data back home at Sorbonne University in France. She had finished her first round of experiments when the lockdowns forced her to return to Paris, and she hasn't been able to come back to resume her work since. "I can't continue the experiments, which is really frustrating," she says, especially because she doesn't know what it means for her Ph.D. "I may have to entirely change my subject," she says, which she doesn't want to do—it would be a waste of time and money.
But besides wreaking havoc in scholars' personal lives and careers, the visa restrictions had—and will continue to have—tremendous deleterious effects on America's research and its global scientific competitiveness. "It's incredibly short-sighted and self-destructing to restrict the immigration of scientists into the U.S.," says Benjamin G. Neel, who directs the Laura and Isaac Perlmutter Cancer Center at New York University. "If they can't come here, they will go elsewhere," he says, causing a brain drain.
Neel in his lab with postdocs
(Courtesy of Neel)
Neel felt the outcomes of the shortsighted policies firsthand. In the past few months, his lab lost two postdoctoral researchers who had made major strides in understanding the biology of several particularly stubborn, treatment-resistant malignancies. One postdoc studied the underlying mechanisms responsible for 90 percent of pancreatic cancers and half of the colon ones. The other one devised a new system of modeling ovarian cancer in mice to test new therapeutic drug combinations for the deadliest tumor types—but had to return home to China.
"By working around the clock, she was able to get her paper accepted, but she hasn't been able to train us to use this new system, which can set us back six months," Neel says.
Her discoveries also helped the lab secure about $900,000 in grants for new research. Losing people like this is "literally killing the goose that lays the golden eggs," Neel adds. "If you want to make America poor again, this is the way to do it."
Cassidy R. Sugimoto at Indiana University Bloomington, who studies how scientific knowledge is produced and disseminated, says that scientists are the most productive when they are free to move, exchange ideas, and work at labs with the best equipment. Restricting that freedom reduces their achievement.
"Several empirical studied demonstrated the benefits to the U.S. by attracting and retaining foreign scientists. The disproportional number of our Nobel Prize winners were not only foreign-born but also foreign-educated," she says. Scientific advancement bolsters the country's economic prowess, too, so turning scholars away is bad for the economy long-term. "We have been a beneficiary of this flow of human capacity and resource investment for many generations—and this is now threatened," Sugimoto adds—because scientists will look elsewhere. "We are seeing them shifting to other countries that are more hospitable, both ideologically and in terms of health security. Many visiting scholars, postdocs, and graduate students who would otherwise come to the United States are now moving to Canada."
It's not only the Ph.D. students and postdocs who are affected. In some cases, even well-established professors who have already made their marks in the field and direct their own labs at prestigious research institutions may have to pack up and leave the country in the next few months. One scientist who directs a prominent neuroscience lab is betting on his visa renewal and a green card application, but if that's denied, the entire lab may be in jeopardy, as many grants hinge on his ability to stay employed in America.
"It's devastating to even think that it can happen," he says—after years of efforts invested. "I can't even comprehend how it would feel. It would be terrifying and really sad." (He asked to withhold his name for fear that it may adversely affect his applications.) Another scientist who originally shared her story for this article, later changed her mind and withdrew, worrying that speaking out may hurt the entire project, a high-profile COVID-19 effort. It's not how things should work in a democratic country, scientists admit, but that's the reality.
Still, some foreign scholars are speaking up. Mehmet Doğan, a physicist at University of California Berkeley who has been fighting a visa extension battle all year, says it's important to push back in an organized fashion with petitions and engage legislators. "This administration was very creative in finding subtle and not so subtle ways to make our lives more difficult," Doğan says. He adds that the newest rules, proposed by the Department of Homeland Security on September 24, could further limit the time scholars can stay, forcing them into continuous extension battles. That's why the upcoming election might be a turning point for foreign academics. "This election will decide if many of us will see the U.S. as the place to stay and work or whether we look at other countries," Doğan says, echoing the worries of Neel, Sugimoto, and others in academia.
Dogan on Zoom talking to his fellow union members of the Academic Researchers United, a union of almost 5,000 Academic Researchers.
(Credit: Ceyda Durmaz Dogan)
If this year has shown us anything, it is that viruses and pandemics know no borders as they sweep across the globe. Likewise, science can't be restrained by borders either. "Science is an international endeavor," says Neel—and right now humankind now needs unified scientific research more than ever, unhindered by immigration hurdles and visa wars. Humanity's wellbeing in America and beyond depends on it.
[Editor's Note: To read other articles in this special magazine issue, visit the beautifully designed e-reader version.]
Lina Zeldovich has written about science, medicine and technology for Popular Science, Smithsonian, National Geographic, Scientific American, Reader’s Digest, the New York Times and other major national and international publications. A Columbia J-School alumna, she has won several awards for her stories, including the ASJA Crisis Coverage Award for Covid reporting, and has been a contributing editor at Nautilus Magazine. In 2021, Zeldovich released her first book, The Other Dark Matter, published by the University of Chicago Press, about the science and business of turning waste into wealth and health. You can find her on http://linazeldovich.com/ and @linazeldovich.