UnDivided
Page 100
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At the table next to him, an older man looks up from his laptop, shaking his head in disgust. “Incredible!” he says. The construction worker has no idea exactly which incredible thing he’s speaking of—there are plenty to choose from these days. The man looks at him. “Been five years, give or take, that I’ve had this unwound liver here. But truth be told, if I had it to do all over again, I’d quit drinking and make do with the one I was born with.”
The construction worker offers him an understanding nod, and takes a moment to consider his own options. Then he pulls out his phone and cancels his job interview. It might hurt today, but he knows he won’t have any regrets five years down the line.
• • •
The accountant arrives home after his workout too late to say good night to his kids. He lingers at the door to their room, watching them sleep. He loves them dearly—not just his natural one, but the one who arrived by stork as well. The news and conversations of the day have gotten him thinking. He would never unwind his kids—but isn’t that what every parent says when their children are still young? Will he think differently when they become defiant and irrational, making infuriating choices, the way most kids do at some point in their lives?
He senses a change in himself. An awakening of sorts, brought on by all the events around him.
Had it just been the boy who was shot . . .
Had it just been the discovery of those military rewinds . . .
Had it just been the announcement of the organ printer technology, which had apparently been suppressed for years . . .
Had it been any one of those things, it might have piqued his attention for a day or two, then he would have gone on with life as usual. But it wasn’t just one thing, it was all of them at once—and as a number cruncher, he knows that numbers don’t always “crunch.” Sometimes they multiply, exponentiate, even. Taken together, these seemingly unrelated events have stirred in him something huge.
His wife comes up beside him, and he puts his arm around her. “Hey, isn’t there supposed to be some sort of rally against unwinding in Washington in a few weeks?” he asks.
She looks at him, trying to gauge where this is coming from. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”
“No,” he says. And then, “Maybe.”
She hesitates, but only for a moment. “I’ll come with you. My sister can watch the kids.”
“I think they’d rather be unwound.”
She punches him halfheartedly and gives him the warmest of smirks. “You’re not funny.” Then she goes off to prepare for bed.
The accountant lingers at his children’s doorway a moment more, listening to the easy rhythm of their breathing, and something cold moves through him, like the passage of a ghost—but he knows that’s not it. It’s more like the portent of a future. A future that must never come to pass . . .
. . . and for the first time, he gives rise to a thought that is silently echoed in millions of homes that night.
My God . . . what have we done?
Part Six
* * *
The Right Arm of Liberty
3D PRINTING WITH STEM CELLS COULD LEAD TO PRINTABLE ORGANS
A potentially breakthrough 3D-printing process using human stem cells could be the precursor to printing organs from a patient’s own cells.
by Amanda Kooser, February 5, 2013 4:31 PM PST
Some day in the future, when you need a kidney transplant, you may get a 3D-printed organ created just for you. If scientists are able to achieve that milestone, they may look back fondly at a breakthrough printing process pioneered by researchers at Heriot-Watt University in Scotland in collaboration with Roslin Cellab, a stem cell technology company.
The printer creates 3D spheroids using delicate embryonic cell cultures floating in a “bio ink” medium. They end up looking like little bubbles. Each droplet can contain as few as five stem cells. Basically, this comes down to the printer “ink” being stem cells rather than plastic or another material.
Dr. Will Shu is part of the research team working on the project. “In the longer term, we envisage the technology being further developed to create viable 3D organs for medical implantation from a patient’s own cells, eliminating the need for organ donation, immune suppression, and the problem of transplant rejection,” Shu said in a release from Heriot-Watt.
. . . The research results have just been published in Biofabrication under the title “Development of a valve-based cell printer for the formation of human embryonic stem cell spheroid aggregates.”
. . . [i]t’s applications like this that could really turn 3D printing into a world changer.
The full article can be found at: http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-57567789-1/3d-printing-with-stem-cells-could-lead-to-printable-organs/
73 • Lev
There’s a tube down his throat. It pumps air into him, then lets his diaphragm pump it out. His chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm. He’s had this sensation for a while, but this is the first time he’s aware enough to understand what it is. He’s on a ventilator. He shouldn’t be on a ventilator. A martyr to the cause can’t survive, or he’s not a martyr. Did he fail even in that?
He opens his eyes, and although he can only see a fraction of the space he’s in, he knows exactly where he is. He knows because of the shape and design of the room—a large circular space with windows that let in what he suspects is early morning light, because the morning glories in the window boxes are wide to the sun. Around the circular room are multiple alcoves for patients, and the foot of everyone’s bed faces a soothing fountain in the center of the room. He’s in the intensive care unit of the Arápache medical lodge. For Lev, it seems all roads—even the road of death—lead back to the Rez.
The construction worker offers him an understanding nod, and takes a moment to consider his own options. Then he pulls out his phone and cancels his job interview. It might hurt today, but he knows he won’t have any regrets five years down the line.
• • •
The accountant arrives home after his workout too late to say good night to his kids. He lingers at the door to their room, watching them sleep. He loves them dearly—not just his natural one, but the one who arrived by stork as well. The news and conversations of the day have gotten him thinking. He would never unwind his kids—but isn’t that what every parent says when their children are still young? Will he think differently when they become defiant and irrational, making infuriating choices, the way most kids do at some point in their lives?
He senses a change in himself. An awakening of sorts, brought on by all the events around him.
Had it just been the boy who was shot . . .
Had it just been the discovery of those military rewinds . . .
Had it just been the announcement of the organ printer technology, which had apparently been suppressed for years . . .
Had it been any one of those things, it might have piqued his attention for a day or two, then he would have gone on with life as usual. But it wasn’t just one thing, it was all of them at once—and as a number cruncher, he knows that numbers don’t always “crunch.” Sometimes they multiply, exponentiate, even. Taken together, these seemingly unrelated events have stirred in him something huge.
His wife comes up beside him, and he puts his arm around her. “Hey, isn’t there supposed to be some sort of rally against unwinding in Washington in a few weeks?” he asks.
She looks at him, trying to gauge where this is coming from. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”
“No,” he says. And then, “Maybe.”
She hesitates, but only for a moment. “I’ll come with you. My sister can watch the kids.”
“I think they’d rather be unwound.”
She punches him halfheartedly and gives him the warmest of smirks. “You’re not funny.” Then she goes off to prepare for bed.
The accountant lingers at his children’s doorway a moment more, listening to the easy rhythm of their breathing, and something cold moves through him, like the passage of a ghost—but he knows that’s not it. It’s more like the portent of a future. A future that must never come to pass . . .
. . . and for the first time, he gives rise to a thought that is silently echoed in millions of homes that night.
My God . . . what have we done?
Part Six
* * *
The Right Arm of Liberty
3D PRINTING WITH STEM CELLS COULD LEAD TO PRINTABLE ORGANS
A potentially breakthrough 3D-printing process using human stem cells could be the precursor to printing organs from a patient’s own cells.
by Amanda Kooser, February 5, 2013 4:31 PM PST
Some day in the future, when you need a kidney transplant, you may get a 3D-printed organ created just for you. If scientists are able to achieve that milestone, they may look back fondly at a breakthrough printing process pioneered by researchers at Heriot-Watt University in Scotland in collaboration with Roslin Cellab, a stem cell technology company.
The printer creates 3D spheroids using delicate embryonic cell cultures floating in a “bio ink” medium. They end up looking like little bubbles. Each droplet can contain as few as five stem cells. Basically, this comes down to the printer “ink” being stem cells rather than plastic or another material.
Dr. Will Shu is part of the research team working on the project. “In the longer term, we envisage the technology being further developed to create viable 3D organs for medical implantation from a patient’s own cells, eliminating the need for organ donation, immune suppression, and the problem of transplant rejection,” Shu said in a release from Heriot-Watt.
. . . The research results have just been published in Biofabrication under the title “Development of a valve-based cell printer for the formation of human embryonic stem cell spheroid aggregates.”
. . . [i]t’s applications like this that could really turn 3D printing into a world changer.
The full article can be found at: http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-57567789-1/3d-printing-with-stem-cells-could-lead-to-printable-organs/
73 • Lev
There’s a tube down his throat. It pumps air into him, then lets his diaphragm pump it out. His chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm. He’s had this sensation for a while, but this is the first time he’s aware enough to understand what it is. He’s on a ventilator. He shouldn’t be on a ventilator. A martyr to the cause can’t survive, or he’s not a martyr. Did he fail even in that?
He opens his eyes, and although he can only see a fraction of the space he’s in, he knows exactly where he is. He knows because of the shape and design of the room—a large circular space with windows that let in what he suspects is early morning light, because the morning glories in the window boxes are wide to the sun. Around the circular room are multiple alcoves for patients, and the foot of everyone’s bed faces a soothing fountain in the center of the room. He’s in the intensive care unit of the Arápache medical lodge. For Lev, it seems all roads—even the road of death—lead back to the Rez.
