A Path in Science

Dr Adrian Baez-Ortega is a Nevile Research Fellow in Biological Sciences at Magdalene, and a postdoctoral researcher at the Wellcome Sanger Institute. His doctoral work has received various international awards, including the 2021 Science & SciLifeLab Prize for Young Scientists.

This coming October will mark two years of my admission as a Junior Research Fellow of Magdalene College. It will also mark seven years since I was admitted as a PhD student in Biological Sciences at Cambridge, and ten years since I began my postgraduate studies in Computer Science at the University of La Laguna, on my native island of Tenerife. It often gives me pause to consider how my life has changed over those ten years. I may even argue that the Adrian who landed in Stansted in 2015 (equipped with two bags of clothing suitable for the cruellest Siberian winter), and the Adrian who defended his PhD work before the Master and Fellows of Magdalene in 2020, were in fact significantly different people.

In my childhood I kept a broad range of interests, which made it difficult for me to decide on a subject for my undergraduate degree. In the end, I opted for computer science, perhaps due to a preference for solving problems rather than memorising facts. I never felt a serious inclination to study natural sciences or follow in my parents’ entomological footsteps. To some extent, I had the impression that plenty of work had already been done in zoology, and that a younger and less settled discipline might hold better opportunities.

To me, applied computer science is the art of communicating with the most sophisticated human-made machines, and implanting in them one’s own mental process on how to approach a particular problem, such that the machine can solve the problem with superhuman efficiency. It follows, of course, that the greatest advantage of speaking the language of computers is that one can coerce them do all of one’s work – certainly the best definition of my current situation as a computational biologist. On the other hand, I must confess that learning how to program a computer is probably the most punishing task I ever undertook. I remember being often humbled and enraged in equal measure at discovering that the intractable programming error which had blighted my entire day (or week), once finally uncovered, was invariably not the computer’s fault, but rather a flaw in my own logical reasoning, or in the translation of such reasoning into logical instructions. The computer itself is never wrong, since it only does as it is told – but it can certainly be a most balky fellow.

Despite its name, computer science is in essence a form of engineering: its focus is on addressing real-world problems, rather than understanding the laws of nature or society. In consequence, it was not until my final year as a Master’s student that I encountered a computational problem which trespassed the boundary into science. One of my professors had asked me to come to his office to discuss a potential problem for my final project. The problem was one known as ‘genome assembly’, whose aim is to reconstitute the sequence of an organism’s DNA from the multitude of tiny sequence fragments produced by the process of ‘DNA sequencing’. This is somewhat analogous to reconstructing the entire text of a book from the millions of pieces of paper that would result from shredding a thousand copies of the same book. The professor had hung an oversized example of this on his wall, and it was the physical sight of that beautiful problem which irredeemably set me on the path to becoming a computational biologist.

The series of events connecting this moment with my arrival in Cambridge was remarkably out of my control, except insofar as I endeavoured to make the best of every opportunity. Whether swift or strong, or wise or otherwise, I surely partook of the proverbial ‘time and chance’. My professor introduced me to faculty at the local genetics department, one of whom would later conspire for me to meet a prominent researcher working at Cambridge. Soon after, this researcher would convince my future PhD supervisor, Professor Elizabeth Murchison, to offer me an internship at her laboratory, thus paving the way to my admission as a PhD student in October 2015, and thence to the five most important years of my adult life.

As someone who had spent his entire life on a remote island, entering one of the world’s foremost universities seemed a precarious dream that might fall to pieces if handled too intrepidly. But I was convinced that, as the biologist Sydney Brenner said, it was ‘better to be a small frog in a large pond than an enormous tadpole in a small one’. I soon came to learn that my native island is as dear to the British as the memory of Lord Nelson – though I suspect this is helped by widespread ignorance of the fact that we still keep and praise the cannon which took his arm in 1797. For me, the most intoxicating aspect of Cambridge was its being the polar opposite of Tenerife in every respect; from climate through architecture to cultural offer, this was a completely new world, but one closer to that which I wished to inhabit. Naturally, such a contrast brought losses as well as gains: the opportunity to participate in world-class science, attend lectures and concerts on a daily basis, and enjoy my muchanticipated independence, all came at the cost of forfeiting warm weather, pleasant food, and contact with friends and family. Yet I viewed this as the price of my new life, and was certainly willing to abide it – for, as A.C. Benson lucidly expressed it, ‘one must pay a price for everything’.

Concerning my PhD studies, I was possibly blessed beyond my deserts. I found myself in a small and welcoming research group, devoted to investigating one of the most captivating phenomena in biology – transmissible cancers. These are exceptional cancers whose cells can physically spread between animals, enabling them to survive as longlived parasites. I vividly remember first reading about one such cancer in a magazine at a Tenerife barbershop, and being somewhat nonplussed by the idea. By an uncanny turn of events, I now was to spend five years studying the biology of this bizarre creature. Although cancer research is kind to those with a computer-science background, I also owe the success of my PhD to the insight and kindness of my supervisor, who let much of her brilliance shine through the lantern of my own effort.

Spending my doctoral years in Cambridge, permanently motivated to develop my potential further, was nothing short of a life-defining experience. Once I was convinced that I could bring my research to fruition and produce a first-rate thesis, I determined to pursue a career in the same stimulating environment. Intent on staying in Cambridge, I scoured the riverbank for Junior Fellowships, and secured a research position at the Sanger Institute in Hinxton. Since 2020, I have investigated questions related to the role of DNA mutations in ageing and cancer across animal species; in a final stroke of irony, some of these are the same species once studied by my parents.

Despite the pandemic’s impact, being part of Magdalene during this period has granted me a priceless place in the academic community, brimful of opportunities to exchange ideas with gifted and generous scholars, and to explore the fascinating perspectives of other fields of knowledge. The future remains dimmed by the prospects of endless competition and the struggle for academic survival – and yet it is this poised uncertainty which renders life attractive. Notwithstanding the challenges ahead, I continue to relish the everyday privilege of roaming this beautiful town of old Colleges, new ideas, and undying inspiration.

Dr Adrian Baez-Ortega
Senior Research Fellow

Dr Adrian Baez-Ortega is a Senior Research Fellow in Biological Sciences at Magdalene College. Adrian is a computational biologist interested in understanding how transmissible cancers emerge, evolve and spread in different groups of animals, particularly marine bivalves. He leads the Bivalve Transmissible Neoplasia Group at the Departments of Genetics and Zoology, with research funding from the Royal Society and the European Research Council.

This article was first published in Magdalene Matters Spring/Summer 2022 Issue 52.