The messy, organic self

areitu recently snarked (at least I think it was snark):

I didn't realize the heart was that haphazardly assembled. Maybe the hobbled together nature of the heart is why nobody can figure out how to make a machine pump do the simple job of pumping fluid.

Well, certainly nobody in his right mind would design a pump quite like the heart.

I mean, consider that the heart is a bellows. A flexible membrane constantly stretches and contracts, suffering mechanical stress with each and every beat, prematurely aging.

To counter that premature aging, every cell of the heart (hell, the human body) has an independent mainetence system, one which does not cross-check with its neighbors in any sort of reliable way. Instead, they all monitor one another and, when threatened by a neighboring cell, go into a destructive, predatory mode, crowding out the problem via inflammation; a response that's a leftover from millions of years ago when our ancestors were barely multicelled organisms. Our body is a colony of cells. Evolutionary success has tamed those cells to stop being quite so competitive, but the body's response to lots of stresses are those that have emerged from co-opting the competitive mechanisms of monocellular existence, and often those responses are worse than the original problem. Cardiac inflammation is a serious disease in its own right.

Scaling up, the kind of infrastructure that supports the heart is insanely overcomplex, the kind of thing that scares the willies out of engineers. It's the sort of thing one sees only in nature, because evolution just layers stuff on top of more stuff.

Watching my heart on the monitor, watching the "valves" and the "pump," I saw that they were nothing of the sort at all. The valves are chunks of flesh, with little fleshy bits here and there, not entirely smooth and simple, but messy, organic, grown, evolved. It's remarkable that it works as well as it does, but one shouldn't consider the layout of the heart and the design of a mechanical pump as analagous.

Go live in a barn, already!

This afternoon on the way home I stopped by the library to drop off a book. As I wandered the shelves, looking for something else to pick up, a man in front of me swung a hard left around a short stack of reference works and a bottle of soda, loosely secured, fell and spilled a splatter of brown sugar water up the aisle. He looked at it, looked at me, shrugged, and walked on, tightening the lid as he went.

I could not believe it. It was not as if he gave the impression of being a homeless man come to the library for warmth and the lavatory. His backpack was relatively new and an expensive brand, his clothes were clean, and he left no stench in his wake. He was slightly older than I am, and yet he was completely without manners.

I informed the librarian of the mess, and she said she'd have someone come clean it up.

I ultimately declined everything; I still have a history of 19th century princesses to plow through for my next Yowler story.