Jeffrey Marlow, a graduate student at the California Institute
of Technology, writes from a workstation off the coast of
Oregon, where he is studying life around deep-ocean vents.
Monday, Sept. 5 As the crew of the Atlantis swings the sample-
laden gear elevator onto the starboard deck, crystal drops of
seawater drip from its spindly steel legs. Wearing purple latex
gloves, the science party grips buckets of chilled water, ready
to transfer the cargo to the walk-in refrigerator, where the
microbes, worms, snails and other creatures of the deep will be
much more comfortable. Ultimately, the carbonate rock samples
make their way to a small room near the back of the boat, where
several of us break them apart with hammers and chisels to set
up experiments. It’s a messy business, and mud splatters across
the walls like something out of a geological horror movie. One
of my partners in crime is Ben Grupe, a graduate student in Lisa
Levin’s lab who is interested in the ecology of methane seeps,
which he sees as a vast