Lost in Lincoln-Land
By: Brennan Davis
Seriously, I have two last names for my first. It’s just Lincoln Wilde. My mom and dad never gave me a middle name, but with a full name like Lincoln Wilde Wagner it’s a good thing they didn’t! It sounds weird to a lot of people, but I think it's cool because I’m named after a prized president, wacky Irish author and a German composer of some serious symphonies.
Anyway, the thing that's not cool is sometimes I get the feeling I'm not the only one in charge of my body. And I'm not talking about my mom asking me if I've brushed every tooth for 33 seconds, or my sister yelling at me about her rights as a teenager, and how that somehow means she never has to do the dishes. Or even when I’m asleep on Saturday morning and my dad’s telling me the car needs to be washed...by hand.
No, I mean like there are things inside of me, little living beings hustling back and forth giving orders and making life weird for me sometimes.
For example, one day Jarvis Jasper (I know, you would think people would make fun of HIS name too) “accidentally” punched me in no-contact football in PE and I blacked out for 3 minutes. I only met The Brain that time, and, if I remember correctly I was in a room full of doors. Well, The Brain didn't seem too worried. In fact, now that I think about it he seemed a little too un-worried. Like it was some new experience The Brain wanted for future reference.
But, just the other day the feeling was different. I remember it clearly. I was lying down on the emerald- green grass that our school always bragged about, and I saw this cloud shaped like a heart. And not the Valentine's Day heart you might be thinking about, but the real one...the one that goes thunk-thunk right before a hard assessment, or the one that seemed liked it had skipped outside my body the time Rebecca asked to borrow my science notes.
It was the strangest trip I've taken so far.
I opened my eyes and was instantly pushed by a fiercely-red platelet (later that's what the Heart Boss told me it is) into the heart's muscular wall.
“Watch out nincompoop! I'm trying to get to the lungs, move out of the way!” he yelled as he whizzed away from me towards a black opening to the side. Sheesh, it was hectic wherever I was.
Everyone seemed to know what and where they were going! I began looking around with confused eyes, the size of dinner plates! It only took me a moment to find the boss. After all, he looked like a muscular grape excited to work, with BOSS written in large letters across his chest. When I approached him and asked where I was and why he was yelling so much, he slapped me on the back so hard I thought I was going to slip over the edge and into this slimy valve-like thing.
“SON!” the Boss roared, “you’re in your own heart of course! And let me tell you, this is no picnic! You think I have it easy up here like the lazy gallbladder and appendix? They help pass things around, but when the day's done your body doesn't need them! Comfy, cushy living I tell you. I mean look at me, I’m the strongest muscle in the body!” flexing his bulging muscular arms for proof.
From far up I heard a muffled yell, “No you’re not, you’re just bossy!”
“Bah! Don’t worry about that jaw muscle, he’s always running his mouth anyway and thinks he’s the strongest. Anyway, we on the other hand truly never stop working, and if it weren't for the emotional roller-coaster you give me to keep in check, I would be a lot happier. I pump these lazy good-for-nothing platelets all day, every day, 24/7, no matter what. Even when you're sleeping I'm pumping and contracting this cardiac muscle just to make sure you have those weird dreams of flying.”
I stuttered, “Hey, how did you...but wait sir, I just wanted to...”
The Boss cut me right off. “No buts to me young man. You want me to keep your body systems full of blood? You want me to feed the brain, lungs, intestines, liver, stomach, your big toe, everything else AND to do it non-stop? Well then sonny, then you’d better move on…by the way, whered’ju say you were going?”
I began to speak, “Ummm, I didn’t say any….”
The Boss cut me off. Again. “Ah, that’s right, the brain! Hey! You, aorta, keep moving those platelets, and take this kid up to see the brain, he’s been expecting him. Make sure to run your arteries nice and clean ONE WAY through those valves, don’t let any of those platelets come back to me in veins get mixed up. Then we’ll have some serious problems. No silliness here. Alright, off you go. We wouldn’t want that boastful brain getting impatient with us down here in the center of the body. (He’s good at that you know). He’s somehow involved in everything, some sort of control center for the nervous center he calls it. Bah, does he pump blood to the elbow? The fingers? No, who does that you might ask?....”
I was just about to answer him by muttering, “YOU, of course,” when just like that I was whooshed from the heart’s left ventricle, through the aorta near my own neck, and then suddenly into a room crowded with words, thoughts, ideas and things. The room was labeled: Neocortex. It seemed eerily familiar from the time I blacked out, but I tried not to imagine it again. There were so many other rooms and places to go inside that main room that I didn’t even know where to begin.
Then suddenly a commanding yet, soothing voice coming from the front and all around me asked... “Ahhhh, so you’ve decided to come and visit me again, have you young man? And tell me, are you satisfied with our performance? Am I controlling the body systems to your liking?”
“Um, yes, of course, I just don’t know why I’m...” I spoke softly into the empty room.
“Come on, speak up now! You’re talking to your Command Center. Are you here to complain about that pesky digestive system passing gas on you in the middle of a test? Or even burping in front of Mrs. Bedford when she asked you how your lunch was? I’ve already scolded the digestive system for that...incident. Also, I always have to keep a close eye out on that stomach. Who knows what he’ll try and burn up this time with his acid. I mean, even though I’m 75% water, I still have almost 33 billion neurons firing right, I just don’t “burn” up anything coming my way. Ah, nevermind.”
“Wait! Slow down, please...Sir. I was just shot up here by the heart. He said you would be expecting me?” I was twisting and turning, looking around to try and pin down where that commanding voice was coming from.
“Ah yes, about that. Look Lincoln Wilde. All We Systems in here enjoy how you’re progressing in the 4th grade, but I have to tell you, we’re not getting enough information. I mean, from me to you...Haha! From ME to YOU. I AM you. Annnnyway.”
The Brain Voice continued. “I have a lot of space to fill with trivia, statistics, facts, synonyms, antonyms, adjectives, opinions, pronouns, etc etc, and frankly, you’re not giving it to me fast enough. Just look at these rooms. Look at how empty they are. My synapses are lightning fast and some people say I’m even capable of 70,000 thoughts per day! Can you believe that? Our cortex will also keep growing at least until you’re 18 years old. Think of how powerful we could be!”
The word powerful was still echoing in the room when he continued. “So, you think you could challenge us a bit? Push the limits? Get more answers? Take risks, I’m getting bored sitting around here all day playing games with the nervous system and making you twitch in class.”
I went goggle-eyed. “Wait, that was you!?”
The Brain Voice interrupted, “Now there’s a good boy…ah, the lungs are calling you, threatening to cut off my oxygen levels if they don’t get to speak with you. Unfoooortunately I can’t live without oxygen, though I’m hesitant to tell them that, so you better go appease those two sacs of hot air. See you again soon Lincoln Wilde. Remember, inquire and ask questions, make me stronger, I like to work out like muscles too you know!”
“Boy, he’s sure strange,” I muttered to myself, as I was slapped on the back by the presence of own brain. (A rare experience I imagine.)
And those were the last words I heard my brain speak to me that day, (well, sort of) before I landed with a squishy, squashy sound in what can only be described as an enormous, crowded, breathing bag of blood. Now don’t get disgusted, these bags were really nice to me, I promise! I was hanging on to something called the alveoli, these teeny tiny grape-like sacs of air, when Mr. Living Lung (said the name-tag on his shirt) came and took hold of my hand. He was eggplant purple, had on thick glasses like my dad and smelled like fresh air on a summer afternoon. He seemed excited as he hefted me onto a small bronchial.
He bellowed and boomed, “Glad to see you’re lying down a bit L.W., breathing in that coooool fresh air. AH! Doesn’t it just make you want to jump up and down with smiles? Oh, wait! You’re in here and out there is air and over there is, oof, I’m confused.…Ah, anyway, glad you spoke to the brain, he’s the thought center around here. I just take deoxygenated blood from the heart, refresh it with fresh oxygen from the trachea and bronchi, and send it right back to the heart with the help of these millions of alveoli. Cool huh, I even get to be purple!”
Then, Mr. Living Lung breathed some more words out. “That bossy heart sends fresh, oxygenated blood around your body to keep ALL your systems working just right. Man, I never get tired of watching that stuff happen. (He was shaking his head in wonder) I can’t survive by myself you know, and they can’t survive without me. We’re this weird inter-connected bunch of systems stuck together for life. Teamwork is critical L.W.. I mean, do you think we could trap that dirt you breath in without the sticky mucus produced by the nasal passages? No sir! Do you think those cuts you got from chasing your little brother would heal if the nervous system didn’t scream and send,
“FLASH ALERTS!”
to the brain, who reports to us and the circulatory system to send fresh white blood cells to scab it over? No way!”
I laughed to remember how I had gotten rug burn from chasing my brother J.R. all around.
He continued kindly, “And oh, ah, just the other day, when you raced the other day in gym class, you had all of us systems working over-time! The circulatory, respiratory and nervous systems were going crazy trying to get you to win that race. And win you did young L.W., well done! We’re glad the stomach kept that cafeteria food down too, sometimes he looks a little uneasy if you ask me. But, keep those exercises coming L.W., without that we get all lazy down here, you know? Exercise keeps my bloody friends over here flowing in and out of all your muscles and organs. And with that young man, you can grow stronger!”
Mr. Living Lung then winked one of his purple-red eyes and whispered, “That’s it, that’s all I wanted to say, OH, and also, wake up! We’re slowing down in here which means you’re falling asleep!”
“Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln are you okay? Is something on your mind?” I heard a soothing voice near me say.
“Mrs. Bedford?” I asked, dazed and confused as to why I was still on the grass lawn. Hadn’t break finished a while ago, I nervously thought?
Mrs. Bedford calmly responded, “Yes Lincoln, I’ve been calling your name for a minute now and you’ve been here staring up at the clouds as if you’re talking with someone. Is something on your mind?”
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, (and I could swear I heard someone in my eyes say something about pressure) I responded with the first thought that came to me.
“Ummm, yes, actually, what’s a neocortex?”
“Now that’s an interesting question. Where on earth did you hear that?” Mrs. Bedford asked me with a thoughtful smile, as she put her arm around me and guided me back towards the school building doors.
And as we were walking, somewhere deep inside of me, I heard my brain softly laughing with pleasure.
