The Quick and the Dead
On the Last Mundi
(or was it Tuesday)
Graybeard headed for
The waterless Mundi regions,
Where the winds and the sands
Sculpted and streaked the rocks,
And where the Knights Templar
Of the armor plates
Would be at a disadvantage…
There he waited and looked up
At the sharp white stars.
Soon his pursuers might arrive,
For he had let it out
That this was his destination.
However, all was never as it seemed.
On the Last Mundi, or was it Tuesday,
Greg (Graybeard’s alter ego) was walking
Along the windswept plain of the Mundi
On his way back to his camp at the large rock,
Returning from a hike in the mountains.
It had been a good day with nature;
He already felt a bit primeval.
It was almost dusk
And so the stars of home
Would soon shine above and beyond.
It was good to get away to see and learn
What more that life was all about.
What’s that!
A mad rabid dog ran out from the shadows,
Heading crazily but swiftly toward Graybeard…
How did he know all this?
Of what is a human made?
Would an acute fear response
Give him a good shot at staying alive?
Should he confront or avoid?
In this case he would have to
Try to avoid by flight
And then perhaps confront by fight,
Which is really more like freeze,
Flight, fight, or fright.
We are actually hardwired to flee first.
If overtaken, we must defend,
Although a trancelike passive state
Of being filled with fear is also possible.
Within seconds, Graybeard was primed;
His pupils were dilated
And his respiration had sped up.
He stopped producing saliva
And sweat poured out.
His blood rushed away from his stomach
To soak his brain and muscles
In nutrients and oxygen,
Energizing him for what was ahead.
He froze, watched and listened
But for a second.
Light waves flashing off of the dog’s teeth
Had passed through his eyes
That could now see all the better.
Electric signals entered his brain
And the visual information
Routed to the opposite sides,
This depth perception helping him
To better locate and keep track
Of the oncoming and insane assailant.
The sound waves of
The dog’s growling and barking
Crashed against the tympanic membranes
Of his ears and were on into his brain
As sounds to be processed.
All this as well in a second or two.
Within milliseconds,
Neurotransmitters chemically
Ferried electric signals
From one neuron to the next,
Spreading the news of the dog
To a quick response unit
Born of ancient times.
The sensory information had funneled
Deeper into the brain for further analysis.
Graybeard’s vast network of neurons
Lit up like a Christmas tree.
The ultimate decision would be made
By the amygdala—the “fear” center.
Would there just be cause
For a temporary alertness
Or should there be
A full-fledged fear response?
The dog was going wild;
There were no trees to climb;
There was little chance for escape, but….
The amygdala sent a siren sounding
Through Graybeard’s brain,
Having cued the locus ceruleus
In the brain stem to release gobs
Of the neurotransmitter nor-epinephrine.
Twin brain structures
At the bottom of the head,
The cerebellum,
Considered various attempts
To escape or of self-defense.
All of Graybeard’s ancestors
Had now arisen to heed the threat.
The brain stem had sent
An all points bulletin,
This constricting his blood vessels
And inhibiting all ordinary
Parasympathetic nervous activity.
His throat tightened
In case a scream was necessary.
His body was preparing for the worst.
This danger was
What his formerly safe life
Had come down to.
To stare death in the face
Was to live twice.
The dog was fifty yards away
And bearing down upon him,
Its nature having gone wilder than wild.
The spinal cord had aided the cascade
Of the acute fear response
To all the corners of Graybeard’s body,
Activating the peripheral nervous system
Of his arms and legs, among other senses,
To attend to stimuli
Of the new and dangerous environment.
Graybeard threw a few stones;
No effect. Some more; nothing;
They could not halt
The foaming rabid beast.
The flight signal had reached his muscles,
Their fibers already contracted
To increase his running ability.
Heart and legs racing,
He ran and then looked back
To see the savage dog gaining on him…
He threw a larger stone;
It even hit the dog,
But there was no overall effect.
Graybeard reflected on
All his years on ToeQuest,
Wishing that he had said “boloney”
a few more times.
The crossroads all went nowhere.
The signposts pointed to oblivion.
The vicious dog was almost upon him,
So he stopped and waited
And planned for the fight,
Having but a second.
He wished that he
Had brought a weapon along.
There was not even a stick
Or a branch lying about.
He recalled his bevy of girlfriends,
But for the one he had given Austin,
For she was not much of a scientist.
Eternity called out Greg’s name.
But this was a wrong number,
For he was now totally
Graybeard the magnificent.
The foaming dog leapt for Graybeard;
Even one bite wold be fatal.
Graybeard’s sturdy hiking boot
Caught the dog in the throat
As he jumped toward a vital area,
Stunning the dog
And sending him to the ground.
Just as the dog was about to recover,
Graybeard dropped a knee
Into his head and crushed it,
The poor creature’s brains
Splattering all over the ground.
Greg’s body and mind still swirled
With the rapid firings
Of the acute fear response,
But he eventually calmed down.
There was a sour taste
In his mouth—
His salivary glands
Were turning back on,
A good sign that his life
Was returning to normal.
He walked back to camp
And drank the beer
That his glands had further requested.
Greg wondered how ninja Graybeard
Had accomplished the kill, then thought,
“Thank you, evolution and natural selection!
You made me what I am today.”
Another dog arrived, a tame one.
Greg talked to it like a friend.
(Mikal: Note that this is what
The brain can do all by itself.)
Mundi Memories
Graybeard walked to the mountain and back,
Sitting safe on some lone rock for the lack
Of any other seat to pick but that of his own;
Wherewhence he slept, thinking he was all alone.
As there he lay asleep so peacefully in repose,
Some dogs wandered by and licked his nose.
And while he turned untossed, a kangaroo
Of boundless flight, hopped over him, too.
The Great Equalizer stalks all creatures made,
Lying ever just ‘round the corner in the shade,
Taking both human and the beetle as one,
After their lives are spent from rolling some dung.