Immunity (3)

Andrew was annoyed. Pissed, you might call it, but say it too loudly and the whole node gets jittery, thinking that Waste management department in the Urinary sector is under attack. Piss! It's called urine! Argh. Why couldn’t they have better names for things around here? Just like their transportation system - he thought subway, or train network would sound more pleasant, but no, they had to call it blood and lymph vessels. It didn’t even sound right.

He now turned his attention to his communication-link. Comm-links were very useful devices, he mused. All you had to do was take it out, wave it around, and it could receive incoming messages by detecting chemicals in the fluid around you. Messages came from different frequencies or channels - the chemokines, lymphokines and cytokines to name a few. The link would list out details about the message, such as it’s origin and what it meant, in an organized and concise manner. That’s what you call technology.

Not the ludicrous new standard issue blaster they issue to macrophages - the NO-2000, that ridiculous piece of junk CAN'T be technology. This latest appendage to leukocyte fashion has an ‘exciting’ function that allows it to induce miniature portals in the walls of the capillary transport network, thus allowing armies of cells to arrive at the war zone more swiftly. Upper management had been boasting about it for weeks but they didn’t bother to tell the macrophages they issued it to! Anyhow, he was confident it was going to end up a disaster.

At present, it’s the source of irritation for him. Two T-cell officers who were traveling in the blood a while ago noticed some of those portals in the vessel wall, and thinking it might be another invasion, decided to return to the node to inform him about it.

‘Yeah, either an invasion, or a dumbass macrophage who misfired his gun,’ Andrew muttered in chargrin.

Being captain of the node, he had to investigate it. If it really was the beginning of an invasion, he needed to know early, so he could plan his attacks and send out code-red alerts on the IL and IFN-G channels, to mobilize the nearby units into action. Andrew was proud of his position as captain, having ascended there after so many battles. He could still recall his lymphoblastic days, when he was still training to become a full-fledged lymphocyte. After basic training in the marrow centres, he chose to enroll himself in the Thymus Advanced Training Course to become a T-cell officer.

Blasts could also choose to become weapon specialists, the B-cell specialists, and learn to operate and fire Antibody Cannons. Those cannons were one heck of an engineering feat, being able to fire so many different kinds of ammunition, like the IgG missile or IgM torpedo. Working with such complex weaponry was fascinating, but commanding appealed more to Andrew. He enjoyed viewing the progression of the battle from a distance, devising new tactics to outsmart the enemy, and watching them bring his troops to victory.

That really pleased him. Having passed out from the Thymus Officer School as a T-H1 officer, he was in charge of macrophages and Tcx cells, giving them orders and making sure they follow them.

Tcx cells passed out from the Thymus Officer School as well, but they were combat officers, unlike him, a commanding officer. They were trained in explosives and other eruptive, fiery weapons such as the Perforin fragmentation grenade which was packed full of granzyme shrapnel, highly toxic and devestating. They had this intriguing device called the FasL detonator, that could blow up virus-infected cells. 'Apoptosis!' they would yell, as they activated their detonators. No one knew how it worked, and no one cared. As long as it worked.

Thus, they were renowned for their swift and decisive capabilities in battle. Officially called T-CytotoXic, but nicknamed themselves ‘T-CommandoX’, a name he wasn’t particularly fond. They were arrogant, believed themselves to be a notch above the rest, and were not exceptionally compliant with orders, oftening opting to take matters into their own hands, blatantly ignoring his commands. If they weren’t so useful at killing those pesky little viruses, he would have had them expelled from his node.

The beeping on his comm-link brought him back to the present. It's time to go have a look at what's happening with that macrophage, he thought. Picking up his comm-link, he called some nearby T-cells on channel IL-2 on his comm-link, and asked them to accompany him on his investigation.

(to be continued..)

Immunity (2)

His foe stood there, silent and unmoving.

It’s now or never, Jack decided, as he took aim with his NO-2000. His Nitric Oxide Blaster was the newest model in the area, a fact he was extremely proud of. An enhanced version of the previous NO-1000, it had many distinct improvements over its predecessor. It fired more quickly, was five times more toxic and potent, oh, if you just gave him the time, he could name all the wonderful specifications of the weapon. It had beaten the HP4 handgun at last week’s Oxide Challenge competition, to clinch the title of best free-radical weapon in the system. The inferior hydrogen peroxide rounds used by the HP4 were powerless to stop the Staph gang in the GI fight that was splashed all over the news some time back. Reports claimed that the gang had developed some new ‘catalase’ shield prototype that was effective against HP4 rounds, another silly rumor which he believed would be dispelled eventually. However, it seemed the System wasn’t taking any chances, so they are now issuing NO Blasters to complement the standard issue HP4 handguns.

Just in case. That’s what everyone says. Just in case. Just in case I screw up, Jack thought nervously.

He was sure he had checked his NOSynthase Battery Cartridge that morning, making sure that the arginine and oxygen levels were full. He flicked the switch and primed his weapon.

And fired.

A flash of light exploded from the barrel as the Nitric Oxide rushed out. The bacteria dodged it easily, as the brilliant flash of atoms and electrons flew wide at the target. He fired again and again, but his enemy seemed to be well aware of where his shots would be, and dodged them easily.

Jack tensed up, and began to fire incessant shots in fervor. Why was this happening? His opponent was round and would make an excellent target, but how was he able to sidestep the shots so effortlessly?

Just then, the round figure in front of him fired. The shot hit Jack squarely in the side, and threw him off balance. Jack didn’t even notice the stranger wielded a weapon, and in that instant, that caught him by surprise. Sprawled on the floor, Jack was startled by the sudden blow.

‘I’m so screwed,’ the thought flashed past in his mind, as he gazed up in horror to face his impending doom.

(to be continued..)

Immunity (1)

The atmosphere was tense, as Jack, the sentry macrophage on duty glared fiercely at the trespasser.

“You can’t do anything to me,” sniggered the bacteria, waving his long pili in defiance.
Jack was new to this job. Just last week, he was still a monocyte undergoing his training course. Sure, he knew how to fire his Nitric Oxide Blaster, but that didn’t mean anything, if he couldn’t defend his area well. When he graduated just this morning, becoming a proud full-fledged macrophage, he didn’t realize that he would see action so soon. He had heard stories of brave leukocytes who fought and died in action, and had hoped to be like them one day, but inexperienced as he was, he was afraid –afraid of messing up.

Messing up would have serious consequences on the System. Depending on who the invader was, it could mean from a code red level 6 fever, to a code yellow security breech, resulting in an area inflammatory response. And it would all be his fault, all because he couldn’t do his job.

He worked for the System, and his whole life would be for the System. The system gave him life, conceived as a tiny monocyte in the Bone Marrow Centre. These Centres controlled the conception of many others like him, preparing them for their destiny in protecting the system. The system sustained him, gave him oxygen, nutrients, and even an occasional fructose treat, that he looked forward to every once in awhile.

He was shivering now, but he couldn’t let it show. He had heard trespassers enjoyed ripping macrophages from the inside if they showed any sign of fear.

He quickly scrutinized the invader, noting it’s chubby round shape and distinct attire. Teichoic acid in its jacket! It had to be from the GPC liberation army. The GPC army was part of the Gram Positive Liberation Cause (GPLC), an organization dedicated to ‘freeing the world’ through their terrorist attacks, that had brought much pain and suffering to the citizens of other tissue and organs in the System. The GPLC had another faction, the GPR Front, which was a much larger military organization. They had a massive arsenal, capable of dealing immense damage to many other regions in the System. Although the GPC was smaller, its recruits were just as powerful and lethal.

Jack took in a deep breath of oxygen to prime his mitochondria, and tried to put on a tough front. He pulled out his Nitric Oxide gun, set it on to free-radical-terminate mode, and aimed it at the insolent enemy.

“Stop now, or I’ll fire,” he commanded, in an ominous, threatening tone.

(to be continued..)

Someone's happy...

Someone looks really happy today...

It's bad when women are...

Exams!

Exams are coming soon, and as you can see...

I'm hard at work, trying to study and make up for all the slacking I've been doing this semester.

I have a hypothesis that my brain is leaking, I fill it up with information, but it drains away insidiously. Silently. Discreetly. Which means, I keep forgetting what I learn, and I can't remember if I've forgotten to remember what I've forgotten, so I can relearn it and not forget it!!

People have a name for it: Goldfish memory. It has been proven that goldfish have poor memory, because when they sit for IQ tests, they are unable to hold pencils to write their answers, and so, often score zero for fish-intelligence tests.

Some fish, have fingers and are able to write and sit for exam papers. However, they're often hunted for their fingers, which end up in supermarkets. Fish fingers.

Talking about fish...

Two months ago, I went for an interesting trip to the Port Adelaide Fish markets with Hans, Eugene and Tah Wee.

It was packed with people (not only fish!), who were there early 9am in the morning, looking around for good deals on seafood. As you an see, humans weren't the only ones there searching for food; the pelicans were eagerly waiting for the fishmongers to throw out unwanted fish parts, like the heads and guts, before snapping them up.

Nope, you wouldn't want to snap this up (unless you want some delicious gastroenteritis :p). This is my agar plate from microbio session a few weeks back, where we cultured E. Coli bacteria on agar with Rifampicin (R) on the yellow side, and Ampicillin (A) on the white side. Can you see the colonies growing (they are small little circles)?

Someone's trying to act cool in her sunglasses :p

Me and Bee :) with her nice hat.

Last month was Leny's birthday, and we had dinner at Scuzi along Rundle Street, where we ate sumptous pasta and sang her a birthday song, together with a delicious strawberry cake and 4 candles! (Yes, the candles were alight... no we didn't eat them)