Welcome to Quantum Magazine's podcast.

Each episode, we bring you stories about developments in science and mathematics.

I'm Susan Vallett.

What happens to microbes when their environment suddenly turns into a blistering hot hell?

Scientists thought it would have to be adapt or die,

but now they're finding otherwise.

Microbiologist Tammy Tobin drives her aging Prius through Centralia, Pennsylvania,

as her windshield wipers fend off

sleet. The highway through this part of town is lined with trees and overgrown lots. Tobin

points out how the neighborhood has changed. When I first started working out here, there was a store

right here on the corner. Yeah, this was all residential. Just past the intersection of center and locust, Tobin hangs a right,

heading to the base of a grassy slope behind a cemetery.

I'm pulling here did take you through some of our sampling areas.

This hillside in eastern Pennsylvania looks like any other,

but nearly 50 meters beneath our feet lurks a hidden menace.

Centralia is burning, or rather the coal seam under what used to be the town of Centrelia is burning.

The coal has burned for more than 50 years and will likely burn for centuries to come. You can't see any visible flames, only puffs of steam and bits of grass where ice refuses to take hold. All about a handful

of the townfolk here fled when the government revoked Centralia's postal code in 2002.

But Tobin isn't here to comb through the wreckage of a once

thriving town. She's here to look at life amid fire. The heat and pollution from the underground

fire is stressful for Centralia's flora and fauna, but it also created a crisis for the area's

microbes. The trillions upon trillions of microscopic single-celled organisms at home in Centralia's

...