List of top Verbal Ability & Reading Comprehension (VARC) Questions

Time and again, whenever a population of [Mexican tetra fish] was swept into a cave and survived long enough for natural selection to have its way, the caves adapted. ”But it’s not that they have been losing their vision,” as one of the authors of the study explains. ”Studies have found that cave-dwelling fish can detect lower levels of amino acids than surface fish can. They have also more tastebuds and a higher density of sensitive cells alongside their bodies that let them sense water pressure and flow . . .” 
Killing the processes that support the formation of the eye is quite literally what happens. Just like non-cave-dwelling members of the species, all cavefish embryos start making eyes. But after a few hours, cells in the developing eye get tiny until the entire structure has disappeared. (Developmental biologist Melody Riddle thinks this apparent inefficiency may be unavoidable: ”The development of the brain and the eye are completely intertwined—so when eyes disappear, it impacts the entire biology of the animal. It’s hard to tell exactly how they happen together,” she says. That means the last step in survival for eye-less animals may be to start making an eye and then get rid of it. . . .
It’s easy to see why cavefish would be at a disadvantage if they were to maintain excessive tissues they aren’t using. Since relatively little lives or grows in their caves, the fish are likely surviving on a meager diet of mostly bat feces and organic waste that washes in during the rainy season. Researchers keeping cavefish in labs have discovered that cavefish are exquisitely adapted to absorbing and using nutrients. . . .
Cells can be toxic for tissues, [evolutionary physiologist Nicolas] Rohner explains, so they are stored in fat cells. ”But when these cells get too big, they can burst, which is why we often see chronic inflammation in humans and other animals that have stored a lot of fat in their tissues.” Yet a 2020 study by Riddle, Rohner and their colleagues revealed that even very well-fed cavefish had fewer signs of inflammation in their fat tissues than surface fish do. Even in their sparse cave conditions, wild cavefish can sometimes get very fat, says Riddle. This is presumably because, whenever food piles up in the cave, the fish eat as much of it as possible, since there might not be enough for a long time to come. Intriguingly, Riddle says, their fat is usually bright yellow, because of high levels of carotenoids, the substance in the carrots that your grandmother used to tell you were good for your...eyes. ”The first thing that came to our mind, of course, was that they were accumulating these compounds because they don’t have eyes,” says Riddle. In this species, such ideas can be tested: Scientists can cross surface fish (with eyes) and cavefish (without eyes) and look at what their offspring are like. When that’s done, Riddle says, researchers see no link between eye presence or size and the accumulation of carotenoids. Some eyeless cavefish had fat that was completely white, indicating lower carotenoid levels. Instead, Riddle thinks these carotenoids may be another adaptation to suppress inflammation, which might be important in the wild, as cavefish are likely eating whenever food arrives.

Different sciences exhibit different science cultures and practices. For example, in astronomy, observation– until what is today called the new astronomy– had always been limited to what could be seen within the limits of optical light. Indeed, until early modernity the limits to optical light were also limits of what humans could immerse themselves with their limited and relative perceptual spectrum of human vision. With early modernity and the invention of lenses for optical instruments– telescopes– astronomers could begin to observe phenomena never seen before. Magnification and resolution began to allow what was previously imperceptible to be perceived– but within the familiar limits of optical vision.  Galileo, having learned of the Dutch invention of a telescope by Hans Lippershey, went on to build some hundred of his own, improving from the Dutch to nearly 30x telescopes– which turn out to be the limit of magnificational power without chromatic distortion. And it was with his own telescopes that he made the observations launching early modern astronomy (phases of Venus, satellites of Jupiter, etc.). Isaac Newton’s later improvement with reflecting telescopes expanded upon the magnification-resolution capacity of optical observation; and, from Newton to the twentieth century, improvement continued to the later very large array of light telescopes today– following the usual technological trajectory of “more-is-better” but still remaining within the limits of the light spectrum. Today’s astronomy has now had the benefit of some four centuries of optical telescope. The “new astronomy,” however, opens the full known electromagnetic spectrum to observation, beginning with the accidental discovery of radio astronomy early in the twentieth century, and leading today to the diverse variety of EMS telescopes which can explore the range from gamma to radio waves. Thus, astronomy, now outfitted with new instruments, “smart” adaptive optics, very large arrays, etc., illustrates one style of instrumentally embodied science– a technoscience. Of course astronomy, with the very recent exceptions of probes to solar system bodies (Moon, Mars, Venus, asteroids), remains largely a “receptive” science, dependent upon instrumentation which can detect and receive emissions.
Contemporary biology displays a quite different instrument array and, according to Evelyn Fox-Keller, also a different scientific culture. She cites her own experience, coming from mathematical physics into microbiology, and takes account of the distinctive instrumental culture in her Making Sense of Life (2002). Here, particularly with the development of biotechnology, instrumentation is far more interventional than in the astronomy case. 
Microscopic instrumentation can be and often is interventional in style: “gene-splicing” and other techniques of biotechnology, while still in their infancy, are clearly part of the interventional trajectory of biological instrumentation. Yet, in both disciplines, the sciences involved are today highly instrumentalized and could not progress successfully without constant improvements upon the respective instrumental trajectories. So, minimalistically, one may conclude that the sciences are technologically, instrumentally embodied. But the styles of embodiment differ, and perhaps the last of the scientific disciplines to move into such technical embodiment is mathematics, which only contemporary has come to rely more and more upon the computational machinery now in common use.