Posts

  1. See shadow → jump → take off: the assembled brain escapesOct 6, 2026
  2. The jump was right. The reason was wrong.Sep 16, 2026
  3. Sugar or poison — the wiring decidesSep 16, 2026
  4. The escape reflex fired like in a living fly — through a path the textbook does not describeSep 16, 2026
Post 4 · October 6, 2026 · assembly

See shadow → jump → take off: the assembled brain escapes

For a century, neuroscientists could only watch a fly’s brain. Now you can rebuild it — and make it act. A month ago our simulated fly’s escape reflex was half-alive: the command neuron fired, the jump never came. Today the full pattern works — jump and takeoff, at the angle a living fly uses. This post is about the part nobody expects to be interesting: the assembly manual.

Two halves, one brain

Every rule in our simulation is calibrated against a live-fly measurement, one brain function at a time. The taste circuit wants synapse weights exactly as the connectome counts them. The vision circuit wants them normalized. Both settings are validated. They are also mutually exclusive — a global switch kills one half every time. So we enumerated every sane way to assign rules to brain regions: a lattice of ~10 profiles, all measured, none discarded. Both trivial schemes fail. The working boundary exists — and it is razor-thin.

Why the boundary sits where it sits

The failing variants share one circuit. A raw mass of taste-adjacent neurons drives a raw relay, the relay floods the visual lobe, and the cells that detect motion direction drown in symmetric noise. Break either leg of that circuit — harmless. Both — blindness. We found this by full search plus bisection, and every prediction was written down before the runs. Several were refuted; each refutation narrowed the mechanism. That is how we know the boundary is not luck.

The jump, the takeoff, the trigger

With the boundary fixed, the missing hands went back on. In a live fly, one spike of the giant fiber (the command neuron) fires the jump muscle in under a millisecond, electrically — but electrical synapses are invisible to electron microscopy, so the connectome has none. We modeled them as a parameter anchored on that live timing. Jump muscle: fires in 24/24 runs, 1 ms. One synapse further, the dataset lists the takeoff relay’s neurotransmitter as “unknown” — which had silently deleted all its outputs; the primary literature says cholinergic, we fixed it. Takeoff: 24/24 runs, 1 ms, zero missed spikes.

And the trigger: a live fly jumps while the shadow is still growing, past ~40° of visual angle. Ours used to fire at the peak. A 90-point parameter surface, calibrated to that anchor: now it fires in-growth at 36–45° across four shadow speeds.

The honest part

The taste response at the calibrated point is half of its old level (the mechanism that fixed the sugar dose curve trades peak for monotonicity). About 2,000 background spikes in silence resist every cure we tried without breaking the trigger — measured, documented, staying. And our fly is near-deterministic, while live ones gamble.

What it means

See shadow → jump → take off. The full escape pattern now exists in a simulated brain assembled from two independently validated halves — with every number traceable to an immutable run ID. Not a bigger computer. An assembly manual, tested against the animal.

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Post 3 · September 16, 2026 · transparency

The jump was right. The reason was wrong.

Our simulated fly escapes a looming shadow at the right moment. We replayed that run with a meter on every relevant neuron — and the famous "shadow detector" cells turned out to be silent. Something else pulls the trigger. And no, you can't fix it by turning up the input.

The whole point of a transparent brain

A simulated brain has a property no animal has: you can rewind any moment and ask why — down to single cells. Post 1 showed the escape jump firing at the right shadow angle. This post is us pointing that microscope at ourselves: the behaviour looks right, but is it right for the right reason?

What should happen

In a living fly, two groups of neurons — LC4 and LPLC2 — are the canonical looming detectors. They watch the eye's output, and when a shadow grows fast enough they fire the giant fiber (GF), the command neuron of the jump. That is the textbook circuit. In our simulation the jump happens on time — but do the detectors actually cause it?

What we did

We replayed the recorded escape runs — bit-for-bit identical to the originals, verified — with instrumentation: for every LC4 and LPLC2 neuron, every millisecond, we measured its charge (how close to its firing point), every input current, and what all of their partner neurons were doing.

Peak charge reached by detector
neurons vs the winning neuron, relative to the firing threshold
How close each neuron got to firing during the escape runs. Left: the detectors (LC4, LPLC2) — bars show the middle 40% of the population, the dot is the single best cell. Right: the neuron that actually drives the jump command, saturated far above its threshold. (runs r20260916T054147Z-9229f4, r20260916T054310Z-b04a33)

What we found

1. The signal gets diluted. The shadow enters the eye correctly and the first layer fires. But each following layer splits the signal among thousands of twin neurons, and unused charge leaks away in about 10 ms. Each detector receives only drops, at different times — no single bucket fills. The best detector reached 45% of the needed charge at medium shadow speed, and 99% at the slowest — one cell crossed once, after the jump had already been commanded.

2. A storm gets in the way. After the shadow's edge passes, the network ignites into self-sustaining hyperactivity — 11.5 million spikes per run, continuing even when the picture is static. Inside that storm the detectors are actively pushed down: their average input is negative.

3. Someone else pulls the trigger. The jump is actually driven by a different neuron — a wide collector (DNp70) that gathers input from thousands of storm cells and sits saturated at roughly 19× its threshold. Right behaviour, wrong mechanism.

Why not just turn up the input?

Because the tap feeds everyone. More input means a bigger storm and stronger push-back on the detectors — they lose harder, not softer. And we already know where that road ends: our very first weight attempt (gate 1, profile v0) produced an "epileptic" brain that answered everything alike — a failure we published. The honest fix is plumbing, not pressure: scale connections by how many inputs a neuron actually has, calibrate the eye against real measured firing rates, add gain control so storms die out. That is our next milestone.

The honest part

This is a finding about our model — a reproducible observation in one simplified simulation on real wiring. In living flies, LC4 and LPLC2 really do drive the jump; our model currently imitates the behaviour without the mechanism, and the whole point of the rig is that this can be seen, measured, and fixed rather than hidden. Real: the complete connectome, every number above, public run IDs. Props: deliberately simple neurons, synapse counts standing in for synaptic strengths, an eye bridge whose gain is not yet calibrated. Full methods and data in the "For scientists" layer.

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Post 2 · September 16, 2026 · first validation gate

Sugar or poison — the wiring decides

The first real milestone: a simulated fly brain that tells sugar from poison — using nothing but the wiring and one rule per neuron.

A fly steps on a sugar drop

A fly tastes with its feet. Sugar touches the leg, and — if the brain says yes — the proboscis extends to drink. We asked the simplest possible question of our simulated brain: does this behaviour fall out of the wiring alone, with no part of the answer hand-written?

What we did

We took the complete wiring diagram of a real fruit fly — 166,700 neurons, 25.6 million connections — gave every neuron a one-line spiking rule, and touched the simulated leg: a steady current into the 46 sugar-sensing cells. Then we watched the two motor neurons that command proboscis extension. For comparison: the same current into 75 bitter-sensing cells, into 17 water-sensing cells, into nothing at all — and into 46 random neurons.

What happened

Sugar: the feeding motor neurons fired — more sugar, more spikes. Bitter: zero spikes in all 108 bitter trials. Water: zero here (a known limitation, see below). No input: total silence — the brain has no make-believe background chatter. And the random control: zero. Touch any 46 neurons and nothing happens; touch the sugar set and the fly reaches for food. Edible versus inedible fell out of the wiring.

The same network, 600 ms, the 96 most active of 166,700 neurons. Every bright pixel is a real spike in the simulation. (download mp4, run r20260916T040527Z-2cf00c)

The honest part

Science already knew this and more: Lappalainen et al. and Shiu et al. (Nature 2024) demonstrated sugar/bitter separation in similar simulations — Shiu's team even predicted and confirmed shared sugar/water circuitry in living flies. Our goal is not to discover this, but to build a rig where every spike is accounted for and the whole run is reproducible bit-for-bit from a seed. The video above is a re-run of one branch — its spike count matched the original exactly.

Real: the connectome, the cell sets, every spike, every number — public run IDs. Crutches: weights are synapse counts times one scale; signs are predicted neurotransmitters; the neurons are deliberately simple — a skeleton, honestly labelled, not physiology. Full methods in the "For scientists" layer.

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Post 1 · September 16, 2026 · whole-brain simulation

The escape reflex fired exactly like in a living fly — through a path the textbook does not describe

We showed a growing shadow to a complete, simulated fruit-fly brain — and it escaped exactly when a real fly would. Then we looked inside and found the signal had taken a road nobody expected.

A shadow, and 87 milliseconds

To a fly, a dark disc growing in the sky means one thing: something is diving to eat it. In our simulation, with the fastest shadow we tested, the nerve cell that fires the jump muscle produced its first signal just 87 milliseconds after the shadow started growing — about a twentieth of the time it takes you to blink. Nobody told the brain when to jump. It decided on its own.

The brain in numbers

The brain we simulated is not invented. It is the actual wiring of a real male fruit fly, mapped cell by cell with an electron microscope and published openly by scientists: 166,700 neurons and about 25.6 million connections. We gave every neuron the simplest possible rule for firing a spike, switched on the shadow — and watched.

It behaved like a real fly

Real flies jump when a looming shadow covers about 40 degrees of their visual field — not after a fixed time, but at a fixed size, whether the shadow is fast or slow. Our simulated fly did the same: across 24 runs at four different approach speeds, the jump always came when the shadow covered 32–46 degrees. The brain was also completely silent before anything moved — a fly's world is made of changes, not pictures.

Then came the surprise

Here is why we sat up straighter. The textbooks say the escape signal enters the "giant fibre" — the fly's famous escape nerve — from two families of visual cells called LC4 and LPLC2. In our runs, those cells never fired a single spike before the jump. The reflex happened anyway. When we traced the actual cascade of spikes backwards, the signal had travelled a different route entirely, ending in the strongest input to the giant fibre that almost nobody talks about.

We are not claiming the textbook is wrong — our model is deliberately simple, and we publish its every assumption. But this is the promise of a simulated brain: you can rewind it, trace it to single cells, and catch it disagreeing with what you thought you knew.

Rewind and run it again

Because it is a simulation, we can live the same moment many times. Replay the same shadow with a different random seed, and the fly jumps the same way at a slightly different instant — escape is not a switch, it is a distribution. Every run is public: each number in this post traces to a downloadable file with the full spike log.

What is real here, and what is simplified

Real: the wiring, the eye geometry, every spike time, every number — reproducible from public run IDs.

Simplified: the neurons are one-line caricatures of real membranes; chemical signs are predicted, not measured; electrical synapses are invisible to this kind of microscope data and are absent; and the "unexpected route" is an open question, not a discovery claim. The full list lives in the "For scientists" layer above.

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