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From the outside there was little to distinguish the sleek Toyota Prius from any other car on the streets of Timmins, Ont. But when the driver turned the key, it was clear this was no ordinary sedan. The only sound as the Prius pulled away was the gentle hum of an electric motor.

Strange things were happening to Philip Watts. When he woke in the morning he noticed a spray of brown markings on his pillow, which at first looked like coffee grounds. He soon realized they were caused by blood.

In the spring of 1997, William Boyle, a microbiologist at Amgen Inc., a drug company based near Los Angeles, placed a telephone call to Dr. Josef Penninger, an immunologist at the firm's Toronto offshoot, the Amgen Research Institute.

The grandfatherly American with thinning hair who addressed cancer scientists in a Montreal hotel earlier this month did not look like someone about to set off an international media frenzy. Dr.

From the moment he first stood in the House of Commons in 1993 as a rookie MP and cabinet minister, Allan Rock claimed to be repulsed by the Kabuki ritual of parliamentary Question Period.

Despite how it may seem some days as the public tunes into the debate over health-care funding, governments in Canada have not turned off the tap. Canadians spent an estimated $76.6 billion on health care in 1997, up from $75.

CANADIANS ARE masters of the universe. Just look at the numbers. Sure, the U.S. leads the world in spending on space research, laying out roughly US$7 per American each year, while Britain, France and Germany budget between US$4 and US$5 for every citizen.

This is ground zero, the holy of holies of the U.S. space program. The flight control room at Johnson Space Center in Houston is instantly familiar from a dozen movies and a thousand newscasts.

Everybody agrees it was a dirty job. When Canadian Peacekeepers arrived in Croatia in 1993, many had to work near abandoned industrial sites destroyed during the war that had torn apart the old Yugoslavia. Some got covered in reddish grit while filling sandbags.

Maj. Rod Babiuk picked up his brass abacus for a buck at a garage sale, while many of his colleagues at CFB Kingston hunted down wooden versions of the beaded counting machines. No, the army has not developed a sudden interest in ancient math.

No one knows exactly what the surface of Mars is like, but Robert Zubrin has a pretty good idea. At least some of it, he says, is much like a frozen, god-forsaken corner of the Canadian Arctic called Haughton Crater. The terrain is similar - rough-strewn rock on the floor of a crater 16 km across.

She does not look like a circus freak or a monster or an omen of evil. Her eyes and ears have a pinkish hue - just like they are supposed to.

Nicole Mitchell seems visibly relieved to have found someone to listen as she runs through her list of menopause symptoms.

It was a sight to behold: men and women who have dumped all over the province's public electrical utility from the dawn of political time, running in rhetorical circles in an effort to persuade worried voters and nervous consumers that Ontario Hydro's decision to write $6.

Nursing professor Ellie MacFarlane is a self-confessed "technological klutz," the type of person who finds programming a videocassette recorder a daunting experience. So it was with some trepidation that she learned last year that St.

Jody Williams celebrated her 47th birthday last Thursday at her private retreat in Vermont’s Green Mountains, a "beautiful, modern home with lots of glass," as she describes it. There is a beaver pond out back and wild turkeys in the surrounding woods.

The ultrasound showed seven babies. Septuplets, the doctor told the mother, and the odds against their survival were "astronomical." She could, of course, choose to abort some or all of the seven fetuses.