system transduction pathways....a silly story
The Order
The wind howled around Robert T. Kinase (RTK) and his usually hunched shoulders folded further in a shiver. His twisted leg ached of old memories and he knew a storm was brewing. Three days of stubble grayed his lined face. His eyes searched the horizon for ships and signs as they have for years. Waiting, always he was waiting. Smoke from his pipe traveled quickly on the wind and disappeared. Robert squinted down the beach through the fog at his faithful old dog, Rover T. Kinase (RTK) and smiled. Everyone thought it strange that he had a full name but he was just as much family as a brother. Rover trotted over, seeming proud of himself, with a green wine bottle gripped carefully between his teeth. An old tattered label read Ligase’ 1882. It was a good year. Rover brought the bottle to his master. As soon as Robert’s gnarled hands touched the bottle he felt an odd sensation. His joints loosened, his body felt youthful, his shoulders relaxed and he stood upright. He felt better then he had in years, exhilaration beyond mere words! With deft movement, he pulled a waterlogged cork from the bottle and removed a parchment bearing the message he had been waiting for…Proliferate! The Order of the Organized was being called to action! He left the bottle and the message at the beach bounding towards the outskirts of the city. At the bridge he stopped. Neu Cleus read the sign to the right of the bridge. Taking a slow breath he quickly looked around and scrambled down the slippery embankment. Under the bridge he saw familiar boots with hole in the soles. A slight snore emanated from under a Stetson brim. Gus Pro’tein, better known as Ras flinched when Robert kicked him awake. “Phosphorylate! Phosphorylate you lazy good-for-nothing’! That was the code word and with it Ras awoke with a snort and galloped off, hands shaking with excitement. He grabbed a mahogany box from behind a piling. It was embossed with the letters GNRP which stood for “guanine nuc’leotide retero pronto”, the maxim of the Order: “let not the chain be broken”. From the box, Ras removed a silver candle and lit it. The flame that issued from it was huge and its brilliant blue light murdered the curtains of darkness that were quickly falling. Gus’s sons, triplets all given their father’s name and for familiarity called by their middle names lolled on the banks of the river at the other side of the river smoking dark pipes and the smoke that issued from them smelled sweetly of vanilla. Daryl (GDP) saw the brilliant blue lighting up the far side of the river and nudged his brother. “Phophorylate!” he said. Thomas (GTP), without a moment’s hesitation energetically elbowed his brother Davis (GDP) who fell into the river. Hiding in the shadows, Raf, a dark man in all respects peered from beneath a dark hood through lidded eyes. Stupid overexcited boys, he thought. But this was the signal and he felt alert, active, and ready to do his duty for the Order. Quickly he slinked noiselessly towards the dark city, his cloak billowing out behind him. Through dark alleyways he hurried, his breath catching in his chest. Finally ahead of him he saw a sign, The Fluid Mosaic, a bar, dark and dingy, mysteriously empty at this time of night. The bartender, a meaty old sailor named Mek lifts his eyes from the bar that he was cleaning with a sooty rag. He knows even before Raf whispers that the time has come: it is his time to be useful to the order. Mek grabs his coat from a hook by the door and hurries out into the night where a cold rain is beginning to fall. Ernie K lived near the center of Neu Cleus. Outside his door, he takes something from his pocket and knocks on the door with his large fist. Ernie K opened the door to a lit candle left on his doorstep. Mek had quickly disappeared. Ernie took a quick intake of breath as if having being burnt by the same flame that now sputtered on his stoop. “…The chain must not be broken,” he said under his breath. Ernie ran with all his might to the home of Dosamir Nablkov Anova, a famous scientist of the area. The home, a large turreted mansion much out of place in the city was surrounded by a large iron gate. In the front yard was an impressive spiraled statue. The door opened slowly before Ernie reached it and DNA’s butler, Thomas Foster, stood at the ready. “Phosphorylate!” Ernie gasped. T.F closed the door and ran the bell. In the basement laboratory D.N Anova (DNA) cackled among his bubbling beakers. His lackey, Ribosoma shuffled towards him with a book on his back. DNA opened a huge and dusty book, cracking the spine ready to get to work… “Fetch the Guanine, Ribosoma…The Order is growing!”
The wind howled around Robert T. Kinase (RTK) and his usually hunched shoulders folded further in a shiver. His twisted leg ached of old memories and he knew a storm was brewing. Three days of stubble grayed his lined face. His eyes searched the horizon for ships and signs as they have for years. Waiting, always he was waiting. Smoke from his pipe traveled quickly on the wind and disappeared. Robert squinted down the beach through the fog at his faithful old dog, Rover T. Kinase (RTK) and smiled. Everyone thought it strange that he had a full name but he was just as much family as a brother. Rover trotted over, seeming proud of himself, with a green wine bottle gripped carefully between his teeth. An old tattered label read Ligase’ 1882. It was a good year. Rover brought the bottle to his master. As soon as Robert’s gnarled hands touched the bottle he felt an odd sensation. His joints loosened, his body felt youthful, his shoulders relaxed and he stood upright. He felt better then he had in years, exhilaration beyond mere words! With deft movement, he pulled a waterlogged cork from the bottle and removed a parchment bearing the message he had been waiting for…Proliferate! The Order of the Organized was being called to action! He left the bottle and the message at the beach bounding towards the outskirts of the city. At the bridge he stopped. Neu Cleus read the sign to the right of the bridge. Taking a slow breath he quickly looked around and scrambled down the slippery embankment. Under the bridge he saw familiar boots with hole in the soles. A slight snore emanated from under a Stetson brim. Gus Pro’tein, better known as Ras flinched when Robert kicked him awake. “Phosphorylate! Phosphorylate you lazy good-for-nothing’! That was the code word and with it Ras awoke with a snort and galloped off, hands shaking with excitement. He grabbed a mahogany box from behind a piling. It was embossed with the letters GNRP which stood for “guanine nuc’leotide retero pronto”, the maxim of the Order: “let not the chain be broken”. From the box, Ras removed a silver candle and lit it. The flame that issued from it was huge and its brilliant blue light murdered the curtains of darkness that were quickly falling. Gus’s sons, triplets all given their father’s name and for familiarity called by their middle names lolled on the banks of the river at the other side of the river smoking dark pipes and the smoke that issued from them smelled sweetly of vanilla. Daryl (GDP) saw the brilliant blue lighting up the far side of the river and nudged his brother. “Phophorylate!” he said. Thomas (GTP), without a moment’s hesitation energetically elbowed his brother Davis (GDP) who fell into the river. Hiding in the shadows, Raf, a dark man in all respects peered from beneath a dark hood through lidded eyes. Stupid overexcited boys, he thought. But this was the signal and he felt alert, active, and ready to do his duty for the Order. Quickly he slinked noiselessly towards the dark city, his cloak billowing out behind him. Through dark alleyways he hurried, his breath catching in his chest. Finally ahead of him he saw a sign, The Fluid Mosaic, a bar, dark and dingy, mysteriously empty at this time of night. The bartender, a meaty old sailor named Mek lifts his eyes from the bar that he was cleaning with a sooty rag. He knows even before Raf whispers that the time has come: it is his time to be useful to the order. Mek grabs his coat from a hook by the door and hurries out into the night where a cold rain is beginning to fall. Ernie K lived near the center of Neu Cleus. Outside his door, he takes something from his pocket and knocks on the door with his large fist. Ernie K opened the door to a lit candle left on his doorstep. Mek had quickly disappeared. Ernie took a quick intake of breath as if having being burnt by the same flame that now sputtered on his stoop. “…The chain must not be broken,” he said under his breath. Ernie ran with all his might to the home of Dosamir Nablkov Anova, a famous scientist of the area. The home, a large turreted mansion much out of place in the city was surrounded by a large iron gate. In the front yard was an impressive spiraled statue. The door opened slowly before Ernie reached it and DNA’s butler, Thomas Foster, stood at the ready. “Phosphorylate!” Ernie gasped. T.F closed the door and ran the bell. In the basement laboratory D.N Anova (DNA) cackled among his bubbling beakers. His lackey, Ribosoma shuffled towards him with a book on his back. DNA opened a huge and dusty book, cracking the spine ready to get to work… “Fetch the Guanine, Ribosoma…The Order is growing!”