Letter to my genes: Serotonin, be produced. Induce me. Exert your influence upon my brain activity and command my perception, my feelings and my understanding capacity. Vasopressin, modulate me. Give me elocution and communicating strength, and shape my social connections.
Memorial minute (The Super-organism): Click. Done. Count the number of living organisms present in the street, and the distance between them.There are four of us. No more.... Three birds on the threes. That makes seven. The man is eighteen meters away, the woman fifteen, the dog thirteen and a half, tugging and dragging her at the leash. The birds up high, ten meters away, perched, half a meter between them. No. So, let's say, three people. And a dog. Besides the three birds, there are another seventy-five birds on the trees. On a tree (foliage and bark) live myriads insects. Plus the mites on the birds' fluff and others in the pores of our skin. Some fifty fleas on the dog's hair, fourteen ticks, two gnats and, in the bowels and stomach, thousands vermin. And the bacteria in the spit. The distance between all these beings is practically nil...
Isn't it comforting, the possibility of being perceived as a simple particle if you are granted specificity?
The computer lulls her. Half hour. You want to see everything? What? You want to see everything, little particle? She wrinkles her nose. A loud and clear puff, something worldly in the wonderful world of thought.
Calm. Be calm. The particle doesn't ask how long it takes. It is indifferent. It simply carries time within. Just like that, all the story.
What do you see? Hm. What don't you see? Okay? Okay. Countdown: zero. Zero? Suddenly she is wide awake.