In a 1972 paper, geneticist Susumu Ohno, an
early leader in the field of molecular evolution wrote: âThe earth is strewn with fossil
remains of extinct species; is it a wonder that our genome too is filled with the remains
of extinct genes?â And while this was decades before we sequenced
the human genome, Ohno was right. Buried inside your genome right now are molecular
fossils - bits of DNA that are so broken that they no longer work. One of these can be found on your 8th chromosome. Itâs called GULOP and it used
to do something pretty important for our early primate ancestors. It gave them the ability to make their own
vitamin C. But that all ended around 61 million years
ago in the middle of the Paleocene Epoch, when something happened in the DNA of one
of those early primates. That gene effectively died, becoming a âpseudogene,â
a non-functional molecular fossil. And this was a key moment for our lineage. Now, our more distant primate cousins on the
other major branch of the family tree, like the lemurs, can still make their own vitamin
C, like most other vertebrates. Their branch split off from ours before GULOP
became a pseudogene. But ever since the death of GULOP, our side
of the primate family tree - the tarsiers, monkeys, and apes - have had to get vitamin
C from the food we eat, instead. Without that vitamin in our diets, we risk
suffering from diseases like scurvy. And GULOP isnât the only dead gene we carry
with us. There are thousands of them, and weâve only
just begun to unravel their stories. But one thing is already clear: weâre not
just defined by the genes that weâve gained over the course of our evolution, but also
by the genes that weâve lost along the way. Over 90% of our genome doesnât actually
code for anything. And embedded in all this non-coding DNA, like
bones in rock, are fossilized pseudogenes -- sequences that were once active, but are
now basically dead, with a few rare exceptions. Weâve now found around 20,000 of them in
our genome. This rivals the number of genes we have that
are still active! And we know where a lot of these pseudogenes
came from. In many cases, theyâre the result of ancient
gene duplication events. This happens when a gene is duplicated into
two identical daughter genes, and one copy dies, leaving one functional copy behind. Others, like GULOP, are âunitaryâ pseudogenes
- there was only one of them in the genome and when it died there was no back-up copy,
so its function was lost. So how do genes die? Well, the short answer is mutations. Mutations occur randomly in our DNA all the
time. Theyâre totally normal and a source of new
variation. And variation is the raw material for evolution. Occasionally, mutations occur at particular
spots in a gene that inactivate it, which prevents the instructions it carries from
being translated into a protein. And thatâs what happened to GULOP, around
61 million years ago. A mutation inactivated it, turning off its
ability to make an enzyme thatâs a key part of making vitamin C. Without that enzyme, our ancestors couldnât
produce the vitamin. And this is part of the bigger picture of
how evolution works, too. If a mutation that inactivates a gene reduces
fitness, or the ability of an organism to survive and reproduce, natural selection will
get rid of it by selecting against the individuals that carry the mutation. This process keeps useful genes free of mutations. But if the loss of the gene doesnât reduce
fitness, then this mutation can spread throughout a population. This can happen either through a random process
called genetic drift, or through natural selection. Eventually, the mutated gene can become âfixed,â
meaning itâs the only version of that gene left in a speciesâ gene pool. In the case of GULOP, we don't know if its
death increased fitness, but it probably didnât reduce it. When it became inactive, our early ancestors
were likely already getting a lot of vitamin C from eating fruit. This resource was becoming more abundant as
tropical forests expanded throughout the Paleocene and fruiting plants continued to diversify. Itâs been suggested that the loss of their
vitamin C gene wasnât a big deal for those primates, because they could get it easily
from the environment instead. So gene death isnât necessarily bad. It creates opportunities for evolution and
can even be good, depending on the environmental and ecological context in which it happens. And GULOP definitely wasnât our last broken
gene. About 44 million years later, in the early
Miocene Epoch, our hominoid ape ancestors lost another gene: UoX This gene coded for a protein called uricase
- an ancient enzyme produced by organisms from bacteria to mammals. Apes like us are the odd exception. The function of the uricase enzyme is to break
down uric acid, a waste product of metabolism. When UoX became a pseudogene - around 17 million
years ago by molecular dating estimates - apes lost this enzyme. Now, all thatâs left of UoX is its molecular
fossil, which is entombed in our 1st chromosome. And, like GULOP, its loss has some consequences
for us even today. For example, humans and the other living apes
all have high uric acid levels in our blood. Theyâre between 3 and 10 times higher than
other mammals, who still have functioning uricases and can break the acid down effectively. Which means that we can get diseases like
gout - when uric acid builds up in our blood, forms crystals, gets deposited in our joints,
and causes painful swellings. So how and why did we lose such a useful gene? To figure it out, in 2014 a team of researchers
studied ancient mammalian uricase enzymes using a technique called âancestral sequence
reconstructionâ. By comparing both the gene and protein sequences
of uricase enzymes found in mammals living today, they were able to reverse-engineer
what the sequences of ancient uricase genes and proteins would have been at different
points in the past. Then - and brace yourself because this sounds
like science fiction - they physically resurrected these ancient uricase proteins, by building
them in the lab! They then performed a series of experiments
on the resurrected proteins to see if they worked. And they found that the oldest uricase protein
theyâd resurrected - dating back 90 million years - was really good at processing uric
acid. But uricases from around 40 million years
ago, in the mid-Eocene Epoch, had already picked up mutations that made them less efficient. And over the next 20 million years, primate
uricases from the Oligocene and early Miocene Epochs were even less efficient. So the UoX gene becoming inactivated around
17 million years ago was actually only the final step in a series of mutations stretching
back tens of millions of years. Why uricase gradually stopped working over
time is still mysterious. But, there is evidence to suggest that the
final stages of UoXâs decline may have given our ancestors an evolutionary advantage. You see, UoXâs death happened at a time
when the Earthâs climate was cooling. For our fruit-eating ape ancestors, this was
a bad thing. It meant that fruit was no longer available
year-round - sure, thereâd be plenty during summer, but very little in winter. Enter uric acid. One of the few advantages of having a lot
of uric acid is that it stimulates the creation and accumulation of fat from fructose - a
sugar commonly found in fruit. And itâs been hypothesized that having less
active, and eventually inactive, uricase enzymes, made our ape ancestors better able to store
fat during times when fruit was abundant, and to survive off those fat stores during
leaner times. To test this idea, the researchers inserted
the resurrected ancient uricases into human cells in the lab. As expected, they found when the cells were
given fructose, they were worse at turning the sugar into fat, compared to normal human
cells with no working uricases. So there's evidence that the loss of the UoX
gene and the enzyme it coded for may have given our lineage a survival advantage. Sometimes in genetics, less is more. And if youâve noticed that all of the genes
weâve talked about so far are linked to food, well, thereâs a good reason for that. Food availability is one of the most important
and rapidly changing pressures that living things face. So shifts in our diets have played a huge
part in molding our genomes. We see this again in our taste receptors - a
dynamic group of genes in vertebrates that allow us to perceive different tastes. Their birth and death is tightly linked to
changes in the diet of a species. In the genomes of carnivores with all-meat
diets for example, we often see that sweet taste receptor genes have died, becoming pseudogenes. As omnivores, we humans have a relatively
well-rounded set of taste receptor genes. We can pick up on all of the major taste groups
pretty well - sweet, sour, umami, salt, and bitter. And it's in that group of bitter taste receptors
that we find some of our most recent pseudogenes. Right now, our DNA contains 25 working bitter
taste receptor genes. Each of them is thought to be associated with
tasting specific families of compounds. And for millions of years, theyâve helped
our ancestors tell which plants are good to eat, and which might be toxic. But weâve also lost quite a few. We carry 11 dead bitter taste receptor pseudogenes. And two of them died relatively recently in
our evolution, sometime after our last common ancestor with chimpanzees and bonobos. And we know that these two genes died before
we split from the Neanderthals and Denisovans, around 500,000-600,000
years ago. Because! Their genomes also contain the same two pseudogenes,
with the exact same inactivating mutations. So these genes very likely died in a common
ancestor of ours, and their molecular fossils were inherited by all three groups. So what happened to these two bitter taste
receptors? Well, the last few million years of our evolution
saw huge changes in our eating habits. We started eating more meat and eventually
learned to cook with fire, which often makes plant foods less toxic. Our cultural knowledge of food sources became
more and more sophisticated, and we became able to transmit this information through
language. And all of these changes might have meant
that the ability to tell the difference between bitter plant compounds became less and less
important as time went by. When these two bitter taste receptor genes
mutated and died, there wasnât enough evolutionary pressure to save them. And their pseudogenes became molecular fossils
shared by our species and our closest cousins. Evolutionary genomics is still a young science,
and our understanding of the thousands of dead genes we carry with us will only grow
with time. But itâs already clear that the genome is
more than just a recipe book for building an organism. Itâs also a historical record, a molecular
fossil bed filled with "extinct genes", preserving our evolutionary legacy in the form of the
As, Ts, Cs, and Gs that make up our DNA. Our taste receptors have helped us humans
out a lot over the years - like bitter helping us figure out the toxicity of plants, but
what about umami and sour? To find out, watch our episode, âHow We
Figured Out Fermentationâ. Thanks to this monthâs Eontologists for
staying active in the Eons genome : Sean Dennis, Jake Hart, Annie & Eric Higgins, John Davison
Ng, and Patrick Seifert! Become an Eonite at patreon.com/eons to get
fun perks like submitting a joke for us to read. Like this one from Stephen O'Leary: "Fossilization
is a Sediment-al Journey." That's pretty cute And as always thank you for joining me in
the Konstantin Haase studio. Subscribe at youtube.com/eons for more evolutionary
escapades.
All animals can except for humans, guinea pigs, fruit bats, and maybe a few others.
I watched the whole video. Very interesting!
PBS Eons is fucking awesome
If they produced their own gravy, I might be interested. Seriously though, very interesting and thank you for posting!
Yeah but can they make Sunny-Delight?
Didnât think so!
So using gene therapy to restore UoX might help solve our obesity epidemic?