Our universe, intangible and beyond the mental comprehension of any human, is filled to the brim with secrets begging discovery. Some of these secrets won’t go anywhere. They’ll end up filed away in a journal or used as an interesting factoid, doomed to star in trivia questions for eternity. These secrets will constitute the vast majority of discoveries, useful in filling in gaps but lacking in the practicality category. The rest of the secrets, though limited in number but unimaginably grand in magnitude—they’ll change the world, forever and irrevocably. These changes aren’t necessarily destined to be positive. Some of these grand discoveries—splitting the atom, for example—led to irreparable damage in the form of nuclear bombs, a resoundingly tragic moment in history. But, as I’ll argue later in this essay, rapid progress towards unearthing these secrets is increasingly necessary: look no further than the extinction clock’s grim outlook on humanity being a mere 90 seconds from midnight. Risk in discovery will always exist, but with the status quo carrying a sense of foreboding, we need a mix-up. My favorite example of a small—yet critically important—discovery about the universe is the bifurcated needle. Without context, the invention of a two-pronged needle would seem insignificant, an easy-to-make invention with no practical application. The real discovery wasn’t the how; it was the why. The bifurcated needle allowed the easy and cheap distribution of the smallpox vaccine, bringing widespread access to a vaccine that previously couldn’t be mass-produced at effective levels. By dipping the needle into the vaccine serum, an ideal dose sticks between the two prongs, ready to puncture the skin and deposit the vaccine. An invention so simple it boils down to a two-pointed needle required an in-depth knowledge and cross-sectional understanding of the universe—looks can be deceiving. Without a powerful comprehension of human anatomy, physics, and medicine, the discovery simply wouldn’t have been possible. What fascinates me about the bifurcated needle is the juxtaposition between the simple, elegant solution and the nuanced and intersectional understanding of the universe required to make it. Better understanding the nature of the universe brings progress. Progress brings quality of life, intelligence, and (if applied right) resources to those who need it most. Let's begin with quality of life. The average standard of living throughout the world has dramatically increased over the past centuries, rising in tandem with notable inventions and discoveries. The notion of handwashing, hygiene, and sanitation drastically decreased deaths due to disease, increasing both quality of life and life expectancy. The same effect came from the Green Revolution, the vaccine, electric light, and blood transfusions. Simply put, expanding our knowledge of the way the universe works brings about innovation and institution-altering change. On intelligence: the Flynn effect (thanks, AP Psychology) is the idea that over time, both crystallized and fluid intelligence have increased exponentially, as measured by various intelligence tests. The Flynn effect, while unable to be traced back to one specific root cause, ends up attributed to significant changes to the environment, nutrition, and resources available. Each of these varying factors traces back to inventions that, in turn, trace back to discoveries about the universe. Intelligence allows possibility, self-efficacy, and further progress, all laudable goals. Finally, on leveling access to resources. Look back to the bifurcated needle, which didn’t invent the vaccine or method of administration, but allowed its cheap and effective use. Inventions aren’t always entirely new—often, the most important are developments to prior ones, making them more effective, cheap, and available to all. There exist many inventions, discoveries, or ideas that, if a further breakthrough came today, could dramatically alter the lives of billions. Think cures for cancer, commercial and safe nuclear, or anti-aging drugs. More than that, though, understanding the nature of our universe shatters our often false preconceptions, dismantles false or harmful notions, and provides the best path forward. One key example illustrates this best: the debate about whether nature is competitive or cooperative. Until recently, the accepted scientific theory posited that nature was inherently competitive; that organisms aimed to maximize their resources and nutrients in an effort to increase their longevity. Plants grew and tried to outcompete their neighbors; animals fought and hunted for sustenance—it was a “dog-eat-dog world,” according to much of the scientific community. Indeed, the first result from a quick Google search corroborates this (now dated) opinion. Modern science, however, makes the case that mutualism, not competition, is the way of the jungle. It appears in the way that mycelium wraps around tree roots to provide access to nutrients, the way that trees communicate with one another about disease, drought, and sudden change in environment, and—more famously—the way that bees pollinate plants. Mutualism—once seen as the exception—now basks in a new light: as the natural norm. So, why care? Because humanity modeled itself off of its perception of the natural workings of the world, developing a competitive and largely capitalist society that mirrors the prior notion of nature’s inherent competitiveness. Irrespective of political belief or affiliation, it is undeniable that our exploitative system has begun to damage the world—from massive blazes tearing through LA to nations like Tuvalu sliding underwater by the end of the century to more than a dozen of the hottest years on record, just in my short lifetime. If we had viewed the natural world as collaborative sooner, would things have been different? I don’t claim to know the answers, but it certainly couldn’t have hurt. The movers and shakers of the world, the scientists making discoveries, the policymakers—they often look towards nature’s time-tested methods for inspiration or guidance. So, when we fail to understand the nature of the universe around us or misattribute traits, we miss opportunities or move in the wrong direction. On the grand scale of the universe, we know nothing. We can never stop in our pursuit of knowledge, never try to keep learning and pushing our rigid ways of thinking, because the more we know about the universe, the more we can know about ourselves and how to deal with our myriad problems. Having established the importance of understanding the universe, we can finally get into my plan to better understand it. I, likely unlike most writing for this prompt, don’t plan on going into molecular science, astrophysics, or some highly technical, deep-in-the-weeds field. I have nothing against those fields, but I’ve found my interests and skills far better align with working in policy and law. Now, since policy and law are human constructs, you’re probably wondering about how I’d better our worldly knowledge of the universe. A fair question, but I see discovery as more than the lightbulb-in-a-lab moment. Scientific discoveries today rely on collaboration, extensive interdisciplinary research, lab equipment, and funding. All that has to come from somewhere, and I see my role in the proceedings as shaping policy and law in a way conducive towards bettering science. We can’t all be the ones donning the lab coat, but with my suit and tie, I aim to better the funding for education, maintain and nurture new research connections and collaborations between nations, and fund the projects that truly matter. Some periods of modern history end up characterized by a veritable treasure trove of scientific discoveries across entirely unrelated fields—look to their strong political and legal support for scientific discovery, their well-funded institutions, and their acceptance and trust in science as key harbingers of these discoveries. My passion for understanding the universe comes from the necessity argued earlier in the essay, but also the fact that the universe is just so cool. I was one of those kids who devoured the 1001 Interesting Facts About The World or Did You Know? books. Why not discover more about the universe, our planet, and our society? In my own observances, I’ve been amazed at how little humans know about ourselves. As an RA for a Penn State project focused on whether school districts desegregated following the landmark case Brown vs. Board of Education, I digitized photos of old school district maps into GIS, translating abstract polygons into a tool for districts to effect meaningful change. It shocked me that the US, at the technical forefront of the world, didn’t have a comprehensive database of school districts and their boundaries. Plenty of these maps are hand-drawn and crude, sent to the project in a hastily snapped photo. The opportunity to create new information and knowledge that could be used to better the world excited me, but the circumstances also enlightened me as to the minuscule scale of human knowledge. If we don’t even know important things about ourselves, how much are we missing from the universe? To me, it’s both intimidating and empowering. Our knowledge is humble, but the potential at our fingertips is limitless. Discovering the secrets of the universe is the noble pursuit of humanity, and one I endeavor to both partake in and support wholeheartedly in my lifetime. We can never know everything, but as I figure, it can’t hurt to try.

A thirst for knowledge, the ability to see both sides of the story, and the ability to discuss are—in my opinion—some of the more valuable traits one can harness in life. From the little I know of Ryan, he embodied each and every one of these traits, and I’m thankful for this opportunity to honor his legacy. The world needs more people like Ryan, and I’m a passionate believer in the power of good conversation in changing the world. I’m a doer and a teacher. I can’t think of a more concise or accurate set of terms to describe myself, so I’ll keep it simple. I thrive on action and improving myself and my small corner of the world. I’ve had a chaotic mix of roles and responsibilities throughout my life—ski instructor, debate and XC captain, research assistant, chef, and more. I’m an avid bookworm, a geography/political science nerd, and a high school senior writing this essay to help pay for my Dartmouth ‘29 geography major future. None of that is especially relevant to political and geographical lessons and improving the world, but it’s relevant to understanding me, so hello! Two key experiences have shaped my worldview immensely, one in political science and another in geography. First, a senate simulation in AP Gov. As the only sophomore in a senior-laden class, I was intimidated by my peers, but when the capstone project for the class was announced—A 70-person, eight-hour-long simulation on an abortion bill—I pushed my limits, taking the role of Mitch McConnell. Cue two months of furious prepping, organizing, speechwriting, and caucus-building, culminating in a fascinating and passionate day of discourse and debate. Pushed to exhaustion, I felt like my sense of politics was shattered. I realized it wasn’t about ‘winning,’ passing a bill, or advancing an ideology, but about finding compromise and common ground to help the American people. The lessons learned from that day—and the experiences and opportunities opened up from it, including local government positions—still shape me to this day, guiding my values, morals, and motive to work in politics. Progress is made through discussion, argument, and exploring new perspectives—a concept that, from your description, Ryan thoroughly understood. The second experience was working as an RA for a Penn State project focused on whether school districts desegregated following the landmark case Brown vs. Board of Education. I digitized photos of old school district maps into GIS, translating abstract polygons into a tool for districts to effect meaningful change. This experience taught me that change doesn’t come easy—the work was hard, arduous, and is still in the works. But, it also gave me faith in my ability to make change; my ability to better the world and worldly understanding through dedication, political science, and geography. So why care about these subjects? Why care about history, political science, geography, or any of these disciplines? Understanding, mixing, and using these subjects together allows us to create the institutions that guide our lifestyle, progress our society, and work towards peace and happiness. History lets us learn from the past, geography allows for conceptualizing locations and positioning, political science examines our governing institutions—the list goes on. Without these, our world falls apart. With what I’ve already learned in my short life and what I’m excited to learn in college, I hope to take these lessons to heart and practice them daily. I don’t know what my future holds, but I know that—with the help of this scholarship and by applying the lessons Ryan knew and appreciated in life and I’m coming to understand—I can make a difference in our complex world.