Every day, I’m captivated by some new question or query – anything from theories of aging to the fourth dimension. I’m fortunate enough to be able to turn to scientific research, where I can shed light on some of my most burning questions (and hopefully improving lives one day too). However, I wasn’t always this way. I found my endless curiosity in a rather unorthodox manner.

When I was young, I was one of those children who never could sit still. For me though, running around wasn’t the antidote to my antics. Instead, the only thing which could make me sit still was an answer to the question, “Why?”  Invariably though, whatever answer I had managed to procure would only tame my curiosity for a few minutes, and before long, the whole cycle would start over again.

One day, frustrated, my mother handed me “The Big Book of Questions and Answers”, and I plopped myself down in a massive leather chair and was hooked immediately. I immersed myself in everything that book had to offer, from astronomy to zoology. Before long, I had reached the back cover. However, I remained deeply unsatisfied.

There remained so many more questions to be answered! I took to the internet.

It was then that I first stumbled upon Wikipedia. I vividly recall diving into the its depths, an explorer who had stumbled upon something new, something huge! I became a sleuth, hot on the trail of the next answer. In an almost trance-like state, I could sit for hours on end, trying to absorb as much information as I possibly could hold, clicking link after link. I turned into Indiana Jones, returning time and time again, each time driven by an insatiable curiosity.  Upon each return to the seemingly endless depths of Wikipedia, I was drawn in by yet another question.

Perhaps the day’s events would lead me to inquire about lasers or Dracula or anything in between.

One day though, while deep into an investigation on dreaming (how exactly do they happen? And why?), I ran into a problem – a big one. The webpage stared back at me blankly, asking me to help start a new page. The unthinkable had happened. I had simply run out of hyperlinks. The next answer didn’t live in the next click. The next answer didn’t even exist at all. Even then, I knew I had reached something substantial: the edge of Wikipedia, the limits of human knowledge.  Now, I knew, the game had changed. It wasn’t that I lost the drive to keep wondering, but rather that there wasn’t anything more to find. Beyond this point, there was simply… nothing. This concept of non-existence, this state of not knowing, if anything, fascinated me more than anything else. Yet, at the same time, it frustrated me to no end. How there could be no further clues to follow, no more answers to find on this trail?

As I grew older, I discovered my own way of finding more answers and creating new knowledge. My childhood Wikipedia adventures are the reason that, today, research is such a fascinating venture to me. In doing research, reaching the edge isn’t the objective, it’s only the first step. Digging through the literature is like following every hyperlink in sight, doing my best to grab as much information as I can as you push closer and closer to the edge.

When I get there, doing research is choosing a nice spot along the edge, and saying to myself, “Yes. I think this’ll be mine.” Then, I poke and prod at the edge until it budges, even just a teeny tiny bit. And then I’ve made a permanent contribution. I’ve pushed past the edge. I’ve begun to understand something that no one has ever understood before.

I’ve added one more link for the next person who comes along and dares to ask, “Why?”