I wake to my phone vibrating angrily on the nightstand. 6:30 AM. A red notification pulses on the screen: “DELIVERY FAILED.” My stomach twists. Today was the day OncoCure was due, my daughter Maya’s next dose of the therapy that keeps her cancer at bay. For the past year, a monthly vial of this miracle drug has arrived at our doorstep like clockwork. And why not?

The story of American innovation has always hinged on a singular question: When the moment comes, will we move with intention, or hesitate until it’s too late? On April 8th, 2025, the National Security Commission on Emerging Biotechnology (NSCEB) dropped its final report. A 195-page beast of a document. Dense, detailed, and urgent. The kind of thing Washington usually takes months to digest, if it bothers to read it at all. But this time?

1. The Frog in the Freezer The first time I saw a wood frog thaw back to life, I nearly dropped the microscope. It was a field lab in Fairbanks, Alaska. A plastic shoebox full of peat moss, a digital thermometer sunk in the dirt, and a small, unremarkable amphibian with a faint rust stripe down its side— Rana sylvatica . I was an undergrad tagging along on a grad student’s project.

There’s a quiet revolution underway in how we think about global power. In the 20th century, alliances were built on the movement of oil, steel, and troops. In the 21st century, they’re being rebuilt on the movement of cells, code, and biological knowledge. This isn’t a metaphorical shift. It’s literal.

This is a guest post from Evan Peikon, who publishes Decoding Biology, a substack about computational biology, biosensor development and analytics, and network biology. He’s a prolific writer, founder, and scientist, and well worth following along. Science today looks very different than it once did.

My name’s Cameron Wells, and if you’d told me five years ago I’d be running a fermentation line in a biomanufacturing facility outside Bloomington, Indiana, I would’ve laughed you out of the barracks. Back then, I was an Airman First Class in the 3rd Medical Support Squadron, stationed at Travis. Logistics. Paperwork. Syringe kits.

If there’s one chapter in the National Security Commission on Emerging Biotechnology’s final report that lays bare the disconnect between potential and preparedness, it’s Chapter 5. The message is as critical as it is uncomfortable: we are not ready. Not ready to govern the biotechnology age, not ready to build it at scale, and not ready to defend our position in it. That’s not a reflection of a lack of interest or ambition.

This is a guest post from Stephen Turner, who publishes the Paired Ends Substack about genomics, computational biology, and data science. He also happens to be one of the best bioinformatics engineering leaders I’ve ever worked with. Just sayin’. So I wanted him to share his thoughts on how he went from an academic to a leader in industry.

I lost the frogs before I noticed the silence. That sounds backward, but the mind is built for pattern, not absence, and it took days before the void between cricket chirps registered as dread. The rainforest research station where I worked, three stilted cabins and a satellite dish that hiccuped more than it spoke, had always been an orchestra pit. Now the concert was on intermission, and no one had told the audience.

Let’s get one thing clear: in biotechnology, innovation isn’t optional. It’s existential. In Chapter 4 of the NSCEB Final Report , the message is unambiguous - if the United States wants to maintain its leadership in biotechnology and national security, we must out-innovate our strategic competitors. That doesn’t just mean investing more.

At first, no one noticed the grain fields dying. The war wasn't declared with a missile launch. It wasn't announced with tanks, drones, or hackers tapping on keyboards. It started in the soil. The first reports came from a logistics base near Lubbock. A strange blight on the stored wheat stocks, brown lesions on the kernels, a chemical smell no one could quite identify.