— Can the number of genes decrease instead?
— Yes. This process is known as reductive evolution. This is prevalent in both plant and animal parasites. Parasites are entirely or partially dependent on their host during certain life stages, so they can safely discard fragments of genetic networks needed by free-living organisms. This gives parasites a selective advantage as they don't need to expend resources on replicating extra DNA, expressing genes, or producing proteins. They essentially shed unnecessary junk and can reproduce faster as a result.
Here is another example. When people think of plants, they usually envision something green. Green means chlorophyll, and chlorophyll means photosynthesis. For us, a plant and photosynthesis are practically synonymous. However, there are plants, about 1–3% of them, that have abandoned photosynthesis. They survive either by parasitizing other plants, attaching to them, infiltrating their conducting system and essentially siphoning off nutrients, or through symbiosis with fungi. And they lack all those numerous genes that produce the proteins required for photosynthesis.
Thanks to this ability, they can inhabit areas that are completely inaccessible to regular photosynthetic plants due to darkness. But it's clear that this is a dead-end path because once you discard such a complex trait, you can't get it back. So it's a one-way ticket.
— You're studying the buckwheat genome. What are you trying to discover? And how will that information benefit us in the future?
— Firstly, it's very complex. I'd prefer not to focus on it for so long, but in a sense, it's unavoidable. For instance, all scientists working on plant genetics have a model object — Arabidopsis thaliana. Its genome was published over 20 years ago, but it's regularly being updated. The tenth version of this genome has now been published. Minor errors or inaccuracies are constantly being found. And this happens with the genomes of all plants. It's impossible to perfectly assemble any genome all at once.
By plant standards, the buckwheat genome isn't very large, but it contains many mobile elements. They're recent, which means they're very similar to each other. And this poses problems for the programs that assemble the genome.
Why is assembling a genome so challenging in the first place? If we only had a unique sequence, a piece that appears once in the genome, it would be much simpler. But there is no such thing as simple in nature. Instead, there are many sequences that look identical, but they are located in different parts of the genome. The assembler tries to piece these fragments together like a puzzle and repeatedly comes to a halt. Imagine your puzzle has many identical pieces. Suppose you're assembling a sky with clouds, and these clouds are identical. And you don't know which pieces to connect.
When the assembler encounters these "clouds", it must either break the assembly — which would be fair, because we can't be sure that this "cloud" should be in this corner of the "sky" and not that one — or it can continue the assembly, but then we risk creating many erroneous connections. Secondly, we're studying the buckwheat genome because buckwheat is fascinating in terms of its position in the system of flowering plants. It's distinct from other crops that are extensively studied, primarily cereals such as wheat, rye, corn, and barley. All these grains are closely related. And when we learn something about one crop, we automatically apply this knowledge to its relatives. But buckwheat is far removed and not closely related to any well-studied crops.
Thirdly, we're studying the buckwheat genome because it's a crucial crop for our country. You may have noticed this. When COVID-19 hit, everyone immediately rushed to buy buckwheat.
— And the better we understand buckwheat's structure, the more effectively we can enhance it, right?
— Right. Because while we're actively engaged in buckwheat breeding, it's not based on modern molecular methods. This results in a longer and less predictable process. And the reason we don't use modern methods is because, in truth, our knowledge about buckwheat is quite limited.
In such circumstances, the only viable option is to crossbreed plants, observe their progeny, assess the state of the trait we're interested in, and proceed from there. However, if we understood the molecular foundation of buckwheat, we could predict the plant's characteristics at a much earlier stage.
— Can you describe the ideal buckwheat, buckwheat of our dreams ?
— To start with, buckwheat is not like wheat, which has a single compact ear where flowers bloom more or less simultaneously and seeds develop at the same time.
Buckwheat is a tall plant with many branches. Its flowering period is quite long, which results in the seeds ripening unevenly. No matter when you choose to harvest it, you'll likely gather about five percent of the crop, not more. Additionally, buckwheat is cross- and insect-pollinated. On one hand, this is beneficial as it produces honey. On the other hand, it makes us reliant on the whims of weather and bees — a dependency we'd rather avoid. Therefore, the ideal buckwheat should be self-pollinating, sturdy, compact, not too tall, and have seeds that ripen uniformly.
Currently, active work is being done in this direction. We are collaborating with a group of breeders from the Federal Scientific Center of Legumes and Groat Crops, and I'm hopeful that this will yield practical results.es that code for proteins. This speaks volumes.