I feared to be a slave, Charles. I have always feared pleasure. But how can something so fine, how can the ecstasy of flesh and spirit be something to fear?
I have her necklace now, a tiny silver hummingbird on a silver chain. Its purpose for her was to be reminded to stay light, to rise not fall. For me it is to be wearing what was hers. To have wholeheartedly asked for it.
I am her slave. Willingly. Finally. It means the end of slavery. Good times ahead.
In another side canyon later, at dusk, when she was frightened we were lost, I took her hands. I held her eyes. We are not lost, I told her. There is nothing to fear.
For a moment she resisted. Her body tensed, her breath caught in her chest. Then she let go. She smiled, and made herself my slave.
And just then a black-throated hummingbird, attracted by my red shirt or the necklace, perhaps by my vast and expanding powers, appeared from behind a bitterbrush, flowering sweetly in that narrow canyon. It paused a moment then flew to our faces, hovering between us, humming the air, sealing the pact, the new and revolutionary pact, the love.
Does this sound plausible to you, Charles? Are there hummingbirds in New York? It was drugs that did it, revolutionary drugs packaged in revolutionary packages. Drugs and the laser knife and the mutant spores. I’m two sexes now, with a brain about to explode. The contradictions tear me apart, the possibilities tantalize me mercilessly. I’ve got one hand on the trigger, the other looking for paydirt up the hole. I can’t go on like this, worshipping the flesh, lavishing every minute of my attention on other living things, on cunt juice and gism and sweat, on insects and dirt, on wind, on myself. Take my hands away from me. Take my body. If something must remain, leave my head.
You asked recently to see my very first story, which I found, read and declined to send. It’s called RUNNING HEAD and is about a band of heads, grotesquely engineered to represent figures of speech, heads of state, heads of lettuce, a headlight, head cheese. There is a mad scientist and a plea for humanitarian intervention. A writer to whom the Heads come and beg for help and deliverance.
Coincidence? I think not. It comes full circle. Charles, and you’re in the loop. You, with your store of human heads severed from their bodies and cryonically preserved as a hedge against mortality, represent the chance to fulfill my destiny. The third sex, and beyond it, the fourth, are on the horizon. We cannot rely on evolution to take us there. Science is the answer, science guided by level-headed, broad-minded visionaries like you and me. In a hundred years, or a thousand, when we thaw out these heads of yours, we must not make the mistake of re-attaching them to human bodies. Instead we must graft them onto all manner of life, sensate and not, onto trees and sheep and trucks and fences, grasses of every variety, bushes, lamp posts. We must mingle flagrantly and without shame. Meld the unmeldable. Embrace the plethora of life.
We do it now, but always in an outside-in direction, always from the external world into ourselves, metal to bone, polymer to skin, pig valve to human valve, quartz crystal to ear. I am suggesting we simply reverse the process. Develop life forms with silicious and ferric matrices. Devise non-carbonaceous compounds with the ability to divide, differentiate and respond to stimuli. The tools, though rudimentary, are there. Our geobiologists are this minute making inroads. Life abounds and we can join with that life. We can literally bring man into the world.
I can see it now, heads at every corner, underfoot, overhead, on chimneys and branches and stop signs. Your own head, Charles, might be on the very block where my offspring will live, greeting them when they leave the house in the morning and welcoming them home at night. If you were grafted, say, to the camellia in our front yard, you would be able to feel the blush of the flowers as they bloom, experience the underground creeping of the roots, the tickle of tiny sparrow feet alighting. Would you get wet in the rain? My descendants could bring you a hat. Have trouble sleeping under the glaring streetlight? They could tie blinders over your eyes. And bring plant food when you’re hungry, and water for your thirst. And when the tree budded and bloomed and it came time for fertilization, perhaps a new part of you would appear, a little bump on your cheek, a little sprout of something on your chin. A new form. A new life. A new you, Charles, man and flower. A little flower.
Like me.
Y(OU)R Q(UA)NTIFI(E)D S(EL)F
You want to be healthy. You want to know about yourself. You want to be happy. You need to know more about yourself. You want to live a long, productive life. You simply have to know as much as possible about yourself.
How long does it take you to get started on an average day? What’s your boot-up time? The norm is a bell-shaped curve, much broader than you, personally, would like to see. You’ll want to narrow your own curve down. You’ll observe what effect this has, right on down the line. Take your heart, for example. How many times does it beat a day? Depends on the day. Depends on the heart. But on average 86,400. That’s 8.6 × 104. For each chamber of your heart (4 in all), it’s the same number. But for all 4 chambers combined it’s four times as many beats a day. That’s 34.4 × 104 (or 3.4 × 105), a substantially higher number. You narrow your curve, that number might climb as high as 4.2 × 105. That’s a lot of beats. Not too many, mind you. Your heart can take it. Your heart is built to beat. You’ll get out the door in a flash. Good job!
Your body is a temple. You have a duty to know how it stands. Your friends who visit the temple, who hang around on the steps, and the lucky ones invited inside, have a right to know the roof won’t collapse and the walls won’t crumble, they have a vested interest in knowing the building is sound.
How much have you eaten today? How many calories? How many servings? When you stood on the scale this morning, what did it say? Tip of the week: use the metric system. Kilograms melt away so much faster than pounds. How much faster? More than twice as fast (2.2, to be precise). You’ll have already knocked off a full kg before you’ve shed even half a pound.
Not trying to lose (or to hold the fort steady on what you have)? Trying to bulk up instead? Same deal. Quicker results with the metric system. Even quicker (by a factor of 103) if in place of kg, you use grams. Good for the forces of change. Good for your head.
How many steps, on average, do you take per day? You know the length of your stride. You know the number of strides between bedroom and kitchen, kitchen and bathroom, bathroom and bed. You know the number of stairs you go up and down each day. You know how many times you shift on your feet while standing at work. How many times you walk down the hall. Your wristband monitors the miles, or kilometers, you travel—in an hour, in a day. It measures how many calories you burn. It counts the steps between here and there.
36% of you are stepping right now. 22% are cycling. 2 out of 3 will be reading this as you do: reading while exercising is a time-honored way to add precious minutes to your daily reading score. 68% of you readers will be riveted by the material, unable to take your eyes off the page. 18% will be nodding off. Be sure to keep your wristband monitor on when you lay your head down, whether it’s at the desk, on the couch, on the street (uncommonly), or, most commonly (96.8% of the time), in bed. You’ll want to keep track of the distance you log during sleep: in visits to the kitchen, for example, the bathroom, or to check the front door. If you’re a sleepwalker—and a lucky 13% of you are—you’ll want to know the length of your trek, the time it took, and the average length of your stride. A shuffling walk, you’ll note, burns less calories than a steady march; a steady march, less than a taut, suspenseful pacing. But all add to the daily count, and when you wake and see what you’ve unknowingly accomplished, you’ll feel as if it’s Christmas day.
No need to dwell on this. You’re already counting your steps. You’re keeping track of everything you put into your body. You’re watching your weight like a hawk. But are you also watching your height?
What shoes are you wearing? Are you tracking their effect on your heart rate, your blood pressure, your mood? How do flats compare to pump
s? Shit-kickers to stilettos? Sandals to sneakers?
71% of you raise your height with footwear between 2.6 and 4.7 cms 76% of days. (Female to male discordance is less than you might think.) 23% will raise it through posture adjustment. Of the total, 62% of you will talk more, both in words and full sentences per minute. Below 1 cm and above 7 cms of additional height (or lift), listeners outnumber talkers by a 2 to 1 margin.
Height affects your mood, and it affects your world-view. You know this. 82% of the 71% of you who fall in the average range of lift enhancement have experienced a more positive outlook, as measured by a shift in the power-hungry/power-fed axis of the Meyer-Briggs. 68% have noted an increase in appetite. 77% of you have craved to do something you’ve never done before.
Your altimeter will take care of the numbers; all you have to do is jot down your mood. Once or twice every hour, which you’re doing anyway. You’re keeping track of how you feel (what some people call, ambiguously, your “emotional state”), and what effect any and all things have on this parameter. The purpose, of course, is to increase your level of happiness.
Take your bowel movements, for example. You won’t simply be monitoring the number you have in a day. Or in a week, say. You won’t merely be measuring their weight. Or their average circumference. Or average length. You’ll already know to the minute how long you sit on the toilet (if you’re a sitter), but what you’ll want to know—what you’ll be asking yourself, and writing down—is how do you feel? Should you be stretching the time out? Compressing it? Are you straining? What does your manometer say? How many pounds per square inch of pressure, on average? How many pascals? How much TP do you use? How many sheets per wipe? Per sitting? Double or single ply? And what effect, if any, does this have on your so-called “emotional state”?
And afterwards, when you’re cleaning up: do you use soap or plain water? If the former, do you lather vigorously? How thick are the suds? Do they cloak your hands in a mitteny froth, or are they thin and gray, like gruel? Do you glance in the mirror while you’re soaping? Do you like what you see? 27% do; 43% don’t. 53% will steal another look—in the same mirror, or another one somewhere later, or a window pane—62% of the time. On half these occasions their basal body temperature will drop two-tenths of a degree. These temperature droppers live, on average, 168 days longer than those whose temperatures remain constant. Which are you?
It’s your business to be aware, and awareness starts with yourself, then spreads to your community and your surroundings. Are you breathing? Well of course you’re breathing, but are you breathing appropriately for the situation? Are you breathing optimally? During sleep do you drop to a halcyon 3 breaths per minute? During sex what’s your maximum upgrade? Do you gasp? Is the gasp authentic (A) or manufactured (M)? Females have a high percentage of (M) gasps: the ratio is nearly 3 to 1, when compared to (A) ones. Males are the reverse, but curiously, the ratio is changing. There’s value, it appears, in a simulated, fraudulent gasp: 38% of males attest to this, as compared to a mere 8% a decade ago.
(A) gasps and (M) gasps have varying effects on health, but all gasps are salutary. (Survival benefit is clear on the Kaplan-Meier graph, with a hazard ratio of 2.2 for gaspers compared to non-gaspers.) A gasp indicates your ratio of breathing out to breathing in is approaching—or has attained—the golden unity, the sacred balance, aka, the number 1. Soon that ratio will be upended: you’ll feel starved for air, and good for you. You’ll get your breath back in a minute. Don’t forget to note precisely how much time this takes. If you’re still wearing your wrist monitor, this will be measured automatically. (If not, you’ll have to code it manually). If you haven’t lied about your weight, you’ll know how many calories you’ve consumed. You’ll be able to compare this number with the calories used by your friends and acquaintances. You’ll know exactly where you stand.
If you’re a guy, you’ll want to know the volume of your wad. You might be interested to learn you’re tossing out, on average, 60 million sperm per milliliter (that’s 300 million per teaspoon, or 230 billion per gallon), each time you let fly. If you’re an average man, with a 3.5 ml package, that’s 210 million of the little guys. You might find this wasteful. Alternatively, you might be pleasantly surprised.
If you’re a gal, you’ll be monitoring your vaginal blood flow, heat and elasticity. You’ll note the remarkable synergy between these three values and how little they correlate with other, less quantifiable, (ie, more subjective), markers of attraction. Experience has taught you that heat in the basement does not automatically translate into heat in the penthouse, and vice versa. Thought so very often is an independent and confounding variable: it can cloud, mislead, or enhance. It’s the proverbial wild card, unlike in the male of the species, where the combination of penile vasocongestion, heat and stiffness, are 91% effective in rendering thought a lost cause.
There’s a riddle here (beyond the riddle of the sexes), a little mathematical brainteaser. Do you see it? Yes. The integral of vaginal blood flow times elasticity divided by gasps per minute defines a Fibonacci sequence. Surprised? Don’t be. Is a nautilus surprised by its spirals? A daisy by its petals? A starfish by its arms? You’re a creature of our one, beautifully syncopated, beautifully mathematical, universe. All living things conform to the same essential living processes. All things, living or not, obey the fundamental principles of existence.
If you exist—whether or not your existence is noticed (61% of the time it is), whether you yourself detect it or not—you are exquisite. At any given time, a sobering 77% of you will not share this experience. On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is absolute, head-on, 100%, self-conscious, self-absorbed, narcissistic bliss and 1 is self-loathing, self-hatred, self-repulsion and abject misery, the average score is 5.3. Some of you will be aghast at this, but most will be cheered, as you recognize, (1), your score is substantially higher; and (2), there’s ample room for self-improvement.
Another fun fact for you ladies. If you’re of a certain age, you’ll know about wetness, and the rapidity with which it can occur. Did you know that the maximal rate of flow of fluid from the various vulvo-vaginal glands and surfaces, on a second to second basis, approaches the rate of flow of the Ganges below Rishikesh at the height of the monsoon season? This is no mean number. Taking maximal rate of flow and dividing it by maximal lubrication (expressed as the negative coefficient of maximal friction), we arrive at a whopping 111.6 units (that’s 1.11 × 102). If you fall short of this, don’t be alarmed. This is a maximum, remember. Your day-to-day and week-to-week numbers will vary. Consult the appropriate tables and compare notes with your friends.
You’re probably already tracking the number of times your mind wanders in any given 24 hour period. This is easy to underestimate, for the simple reason that most of us are unaware when this occurs. Here’s a trick to help: as soon as you find yourself straying off task, that semi-lucid moment when you know you’re in danger of serious wastage, jerk your head forcibly to the side. You can program your wrist monitor to detect this movement as distinct from the movement of your hand, say, when eating, or your legs, when climbing stairs. Pre-set your monitor so that one head jerk represents 1-60 seconds of distracted thinking, two head jerks represent 61-120 seconds, and so on. If you chose to use the binary system, one head jerk would be 2 minutes or less, two head jerks would be between 2 and 4, three head jerks between 4 and 8, and so on. The binary system is recommended, as it is more economical. It saves time. It also saves jerks.
A word about facial expressions. There are 43 facial muscles, as you well know. Contrary to popular opinion, you use the same number whether you smile or frown. The difference in usage comes not from what is expressed, but from how many muscles are used to express it. A big smile uses more muscles than a small one, and more of each muscle. A big scowl or frown, if you put your heart into it, uses all 43. From the point of view of energy expenditure, a smile and a scowl are equivalent. If you want to be energy-efficient, do no more than raise a single e
yebrow, or curl but half your lip, or lift the corners of your mouth no more than a degree. 85% of the time you’ll get your point across. If, on the other hand, using calories and thereby staying trim and fit is your goal, recruit the full repertoire. Smile or scowl to your heart’s content. Be bold and generous.
Keeping your face neutral, besides being creepy, accomplishes nothing. Do your best to avoid it.
Let’s talk for a minute about speech. 71% of people find a kind word to say about someone or something during waking hours; 38% during sleep. 53% of these kindnesses are uttered aloud. Contrast this with the 74% of people with a mean thing to say, of whom 62% will say it, 18% will mouth it, and 6% will just haul off and smack the fucker. Or worse.
If you’re not monitoring this, it’s easy to do. Simply swap the elastic, leather or vinyl wrist band for the longer cervical one, which comes in a variety of attractive colors, and strap it to your neck, positioning the small transducer on the underside of the monitor so that it flanks the cartilage in your throat. Vocal cord vibrations, adjusted for age, sex and BMI, can be evaluated and compared to standardized values. This includes both uttered speech and pre-uttered speech: swallowed words, truncated words, half-spoken words, as well as words intentionally corrupted to avoid embarrassment, offense, and retaliation. The frequency in cycles per second of meanness plots to a bell-shaped curve that peaks at 130 Hertz for males, 226 Hertz for females. For kindness, the peaks shift leftwards an average of 6-7 Hertz, respectively. The amplitude, or loudness, of the sound—whether it be generated by a shout, a scream, a coo, a whisper, a sigh, or a threat—has no effect on the curve, though 88% of the time it does affect the mood.
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