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Satellite images of Tehran have revealed that toxic fires caused by Israeli bombings on oil depots were still burning days after the strikes, posing serious health risks to millions of residents in the Iranian capital.The bombings, which occurred on March 7, caused clouds of smoke to blanket the city with pollutants ranging from soot to oil particles to sulphur dioxide. A passing storm then showered Tehran with poisonous, oil-filled rain.Residents have reported headaches, eye and skin irritation, and difficulty breathing. Experts have warned that these symptoms could be just the beginning, with long-term risks of cardiovascular disease, cognitive impairment, DNA damage, and cancer.Four fuel facilities in and around the capital were hit, including the Shahran depot in the north-west, the Aqdasieh oil depot in the north-east, the Tehran refinery in the south, and the Shahid Dolati facility in the west.Satellite images taken two days after the strikes showed the Shahran depot and the Tehran refinery were still burning. Another image taken by the European Space Agency satellite on Tuesday – 10 days after the strikes – showed that those two fires had smouldered, but smoke and flames were visible at the Aqdasieh oil depot.Iran has described the attacks as “ecocide”, which is described as wanton acts of environmental destruction.The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) has warned that heavy smoke from burning oil was “directly inhaled by people in Iran – including young children – raising serious concerns about long-term impacts on both human and environmental health”.

Have you ever felt like you're racing against the clock, constantly chasing appointments and deadlines? This relentless pursuit of time is a universal experience, but what is time, really? Is it a physical phenomenon or just a tool we use to coordinate our lives? Time is often seen as an independent, physical entity that ticks by relentlessly, but emerging scientific evidence suggests that this isn't the case. Time is more like a mathematical tool, useful for coordinating our interactions, but it doesn't have an independent existence of its own. Just like money, we've become dependent on it, but it's not a physical reality. The pressure to be 'on time' is instilled in us from a young age, and we're constantly surrounded by clocks and digital alerts that divide our day into smaller pieces. This has led to a phenomenon known as 'time famine,' where the more efficient and productive we try to be, the less time we feel we have. Studies have shown that people experiencing time famine are less likely to engage in activities they enjoy, eat healthily, or seek medical attention when needed. Our brains don't have dedicated areas for tracking time, and our experience of it can vary greatly. Time can seem to drag or fly by, depending on our circumstances. For example, people with certain conditions, like akinetopsia, experience time in sudden jumps or frozen moments. The psychedelic drug mescaline can also distort time perception, making it seem like hours or even centuries have passed. Quantum physicists have found that time is not a fixed, physical flow. The famous double-slit experiment shows that a physicist's choice of measurement can influence the behavior of a particle. In a lesser-known variant of this experiment, the physicist's choice at the point of measurement can even influence the particle's past behavior. This suggests that time is not a fixed, linear concept, but rather a flexible and subjective experience. Some indigenous cultures, like the Aymara people of Chile, experience time differently. They see the future as hidden behind them, unseeable and unknowable. The Amondawa people of the Amazon have no clocks or concept of time. Instead, they live in the present, experiencing 'lived time,' which is a personal, malleable experience of change. Lived time is different from clock time, as it's not defined by numerical counters or seconds. Each moment is like a tapestry, woven from changes on multiple timescales. When we focus on lived time, it expands and becomes richer, rather than narrowing or contracting. It's a flow that carries us and connects us with others, rather than something we chase and never catch. To combat time famine, we need to remind ourselves that the clock is a tool, not a master. We should beware of digital alerts and alarms that divide our day into smaller pieces and instead focus on the rich pattern of changing connections that wire us into each moment. By doing so, we can tap into the creative process of lived time and experience a more fulfilling and connected life.

When Resident Evil emerged in the mid-1990s, it stood in stark contrast to the prevailing gaming landscape. The PlayStation and Saturn consoles were dominated by bright, arcade-style games like Daytona and Tekken, while Japanese publisher Capcom was primarily known for Street Fighter and Mega Man sequels. Scary games were rare at the time and mostly confined to the PC, making Capcom's horror title Biohazard (the Japanese name for the series) a radical departure that caught the attention of games journalists.Three decades later, the series has not only survived but flourished, becoming one of gaming's most successful franchises. Resident Evil has sold more than 180 million copies worldwide, with 11 core titles, numerous spinoffs and remakes, plus extensive film, television, and anime tie-ins. Its characters and monsters have become cultural icons, with its design tropes now embedded in gaming practice.The origins of Resident Evil can be traced back to 1989's Sweet Home, a Capcom role-playing game for the Famicom (Japanese NES). The game featured a group of filmmakers searching a haunted mansion for valuable artifacts, and while it was a modest domestic success, it never received an international release. However, senior producer Tokuro Fujiwara couldn't let go of his vision for horror as a distinct game genre."We have Tokuro Fujiwara to thank for the existence of Resident Evil," says Alex Aniel, author of acclaimed Resident Evil history book Itchy, Tasty. "He directed Sweet Home having believed that horror could become its own game genre, but wasn't satisfied with its rudimentary portrayal. He wanted to give horror another try once the technology was there to allow it – that opportunity finally arrived with the release of the original PlayStation."In 1993, young producer Shinji Mikami was brought in to oversee a horror game project inspired by Sweet Home. He expanded the haunted mansion concept, drawing influence from George A Romero's Dead trilogy and Alone in the Dark, creating a world haunted not by ghouls but by zombies, mutants, and monsters. The heroes were an experienced SWAT team investigating disappearances at a rural mansion owned by the sinister scientific organization: Umbrella Corp.The original vision for full real-time 3D visuals proved too ambitious for PlayStation hardware, leading Mikami and programmer Yasuhiro Anpo to develop a compromise: 3D characters combined with prerendered 2D backgrounds viewed from fixed camera angles. This restricted, expressionistic style emphasized the intense claustrophobia of the environment, with information always kept from the player by blind corners and shadowy doorways.This combination of tension, omission, and restriction is fundamental to Resident Evil's success as a horror franchise. Even as the camera evolved to over-the-shoulder views and first-person perspectives, characters remained vulnerable. Ammo, save points, and health items are jealously rationed, with extremely restricted inventories. This approach makes Resident Evil operate more like classic horror literature than a typical power fantasy video game.The series has also expertly referenced horror conventions while paying homage to its inspirations. "Kamiya's biggest source of inspiration came from Alien and especially its sequel, Aliens," says Aniel of Hideki Kamiya, who directed Resident Evil 2 and Resident Evil Zero. "For example, in Resident Evil 2, humans infected with the G-virus grow a parasite that eventually ruptures their host and emerges from within, growing into deadly creatures."Resident Evil has also demonstrated remarkable versatility in exploring different horror genres – gothic horror in its mansions and monstrous enemies, sci-fi horror in its biological experiments, and folk horror in its sinister villages and religious cults. This comprehensive approach allows it to mirror societal fears, a point underscored by the COVID-19 pandemic."The Covid pandemic reminded us just how real our fear of viruses should be," says Bernard Perron, professor of cinema and video games at the University of Montreal. "In that sense, the fear of a corrupt corporation like Umbrella, along with mad scientists who do not necessarily have humanity's best interests at heart, continues to resonate. These anxieties remain deeply embedded in our posthumanist societies."Throughout its evolution, Resident Evil has maintained a balance between familiarity and innovation. Characters like Jill Valentine, Claire Redfield, and Leon Kennedy provide continuity – relatable but cool figures who spout wry jokes like Hollywood heroes. Meanwhile, charismatic antagonists such as Albert Wesker, Lord Osmund Saddler, and Lady Dimitrescu ensure consistent engagement.The series also excels in pacing and structure, carefully delineating between exploration, puzzle-solving, and combat sections. Locations are filled with beautiful details – lavish furniture, eerie oil paintings, ornate gardens – making exploration pleasurable. After intense battles, players can retreat to safe spaces like Save Rooms, creating a rhythm that prevents fatigue."The series offers deep and entertaining gameplay experiences, but with a very low barrier to entry, even for newcomers," says Aniel. "The Resident Evil games are more accessible than ever: since they are often on sale, they are affordable even for customers in emerging global markets, available on every major game platform."Ultimately, Resident Evil's longevity stems from its ability to create uncertainty while maintaining familiarity. "You know what you will get, but you also don't know," the article concludes. "Around every corner there could be a shock or there could be nothing – it's the uncertainty that gets you. It allows us to write in our own fears and anxieties, or to discover new ones we hadn't considered or acknowledged. Like all great horror fiction, Resident Evil has survived because it looks us right in the eye and says, I know what scares you. Come and see."