Communication is the essence of life. Unfortunately, most of it is so specialized that it comes across as something akin to white noise. So when mathematicians finally translated language of the body it was just another brick in the pyramid of knowledge. What came as a shock was not that such “body language” exists but what is being said and for what purpose. The first transcripts obtained just before the International Congress of Mathematicians 2014 commenced in Seoul reveal insidious and conniving nature of these communications.
In a Korean restaurant
"What is going on? Why is He shoving it all in?” says Stomach with agitation, "It is 3 in the morning…”
Eyes perk up, "Yep, looks like a Korean dinner.” “Korean?” yells Left Knee, “It does not make any sense!”
"Quiet, Organs! It is a Korean restaurant because we are in Korea. Sorry for keeping you in the dark. This has been in the works for weeks,” says Brain sternly.
"Bloody travel budget. They should have zeroed it long ago. I am not a spring chicken anymore” moans Heart, Brain’s confidante.
Stomach starts moaning loudly, “I can’t take it anymore. This is clearly beyond the scope of my responsibilities.” He starts contracting slightly and yells “Pancreas, Pancreas, what about you?”
Pancreas stirs as if from a deep sleep, "Mamma mia! I am still in a different time zone. Do not count on me. Can someone do something?”
"I can give Him diarrhea… That will slow Him down a bit,” answers Lower Intestine resolutely, but the Right Knee starts hollering immediately "I beg you not to. If he has to run to the john, I swear I'm gonna buckle. It was a 16 hour flight and I am so sore.”
“And it looks like a welcoming reception, diarrhea would not be cool” add Eyes, “He is here in official capacity.”
“Ok, ok,” says Lower Intestine, the most goofy organ, “just passing through then.”
“Me too, me too,” yells Left Kidney, “If He starts boozing it up I am quitting."
All of the Organs are jumpy and agitated and then Penis decides to throw a log onto the fire. “I want to get out,” he says “for a massage with a happy ending,” he concludes with his usual blunt and selfish attitude.
“Shut up, you idiot” all the Organs yell, "you're gonna get us in real trouble." “We will end up in North Korea,” panics Left Buttocks, who is longing not to sit anymore.
Brain finally loses patience. “Why do I have to work with such a bunch of losers?” “Can’t you just do your job and be quiet?”
All Organs cower and try to rest.
Taxation
Later that night Brain holds a whispered conversation with Heart on the side and a decision is made. An all-Organs meeting is planned for the morning. With the first rays of sun on the horizon, and still a bit spacy from the change of environment, the Organs do a mandatory roll call trying not to wake Him up.
“Listen up, Organs!” starts Brain “I know that the last few years were tough, and the resource supply was flat.” Brain pauses thoughtfully and continues, “Together with Heart we came up with a new scheme for dividing crucial resources - oxygen and blood.” Organs sit quiet as mice under a broom while Brain continues, “each of you will get 90% of your allotment, and the rest will depend on your involvement with extra projects and initiatives.”
“Like what?” says Left Knee “should I shave and try to look pretty?” Organs are chuckling and there is a bit less tension in the body. “Well,” says Right Kidney, “together with Pancreas we can make Him piss green. Would that qualify for my missing 10%?”
“I can make Him piss red anytime,” says Liver sarcastically.
“Shut up, Liver” barks Brain “I've had enough of this nonsense.”
“The idea is to be collaborative and multidisciplinary,” explains Heart, “and not to freak Him out by messing up the color of his pee.” “We work for Him, but He is working for a higher purpose.”
“They would not send Him that far otherwise,” he makes an educated guess, "and they are bankrolling all this food that He is tormenting us with,” Heart continues like a good bureaucrat.
“I sort of like kimchi,” grumbles Stomach. “And I love bi bim bop” adds Throat.
“Oh, be quiet” yells Brain.
Organs are stirring restlessly, “is there anything in particular that you guys have in mind?” they venture collectively.
“Plenty,” says Brain, “you name it - climate change, internet security, clean energy.”
“I am clean energy,” exclaims Penis.
“Shut up!” yell Organs. “Try some regular diet instead of testosterone,” Brain adds.
“Nobody can do a better job at what I do,” says the Left Kidney, the bravest of all Organs, “not even Right Kidney, but I am not sure about climate or internet security. Isn’t He supposed to worry about it?”
“I am glad you said that,” Brain is on the verge of his usual lecture, “are you all familiar with the term 'vertical integration’? "We are all supposed to help,” Brain mercifully cuts it short.
“How about removing booze from His bloodstream?” says Liver sourly, the most pessimistic of the bunch.
“That is just doing your job,” exclaims Brain triumphantly, “and that does not cut it anymore!”
“Then have NSA remove alcohol from Him, while I decrypt Al-Quaeda messages,” says Liver and shrinks visibly.
“No sulking and hysterics Organs” Heart admonishes sternly, “we are in this boat together."
One body and two minds
“I am not what I used to be,” Brain admits somberly, “and this 10% tax idea is really from Him.”
“Yeah, the idiot does not even eat lunch anymore,” mumbles Stomach. “And he quit smoking,” both Lungs squeal excitedly.
“Ok, Ok” Stomach takes charge, “the bottom line is whether we can survive on 90% of the blood and oxygen supply, and for how long.”
“Not just survive but thrive,” Left Kidney jokes and this brings up painful memories.
“Sure we can,” says Pancreas, “it is just a matter of cutting off everything else.”
“I hope you are not talking about me,” says Penis, who usually does not pay much attention to anything. “Shut up!” all of the Organs yell, as usual. “But that’s an idea,” mutters Brain until Bladder, who was quiet until now, starts screaming. “Do not even think about it!!” he roars, "Hey, Penis, signing His name on the snow is our coolest trick, isn’t it?" "Whatever," says Penis who thinks better of himself.
They get quiet and ponder for a while. “Let just stop growing His hair, take a bite of some of His tasty brain cells, and lower His testosterone level” Stomach proposes constructively.
“That will make Him crazy,” both Lungs giggle, “and with minimal effect on our operation.”
At this resolution Organs relax and finally stop fighting. An uneasy truce gives a ray of hope for this body, at least on a biological level.
In a Korean restaurant
"What is going on? Why is He shoving it all in?” says Stomach with agitation, "It is 3 in the morning…”
Eyes perk up, "Yep, looks like a Korean dinner.” “Korean?” yells Left Knee, “It does not make any sense!”
"Quiet, Organs! It is a Korean restaurant because we are in Korea. Sorry for keeping you in the dark. This has been in the works for weeks,” says Brain sternly.
"Bloody travel budget. They should have zeroed it long ago. I am not a spring chicken anymore” moans Heart, Brain’s confidante.
Stomach starts moaning loudly, “I can’t take it anymore. This is clearly beyond the scope of my responsibilities.” He starts contracting slightly and yells “Pancreas, Pancreas, what about you?”
Pancreas stirs as if from a deep sleep, "Mamma mia! I am still in a different time zone. Do not count on me. Can someone do something?”
"I can give Him diarrhea… That will slow Him down a bit,” answers Lower Intestine resolutely, but the Right Knee starts hollering immediately "I beg you not to. If he has to run to the john, I swear I'm gonna buckle. It was a 16 hour flight and I am so sore.”
“And it looks like a welcoming reception, diarrhea would not be cool” add Eyes, “He is here in official capacity.”
“Ok, ok,” says Lower Intestine, the most goofy organ, “just passing through then.”
“Me too, me too,” yells Left Kidney, “If He starts boozing it up I am quitting."
All of the Organs are jumpy and agitated and then Penis decides to throw a log onto the fire. “I want to get out,” he says “for a massage with a happy ending,” he concludes with his usual blunt and selfish attitude.
“Shut up, you idiot” all the Organs yell, "you're gonna get us in real trouble." “We will end up in North Korea,” panics Left Buttocks, who is longing not to sit anymore.
Brain finally loses patience. “Why do I have to work with such a bunch of losers?” “Can’t you just do your job and be quiet?”
All Organs cower and try to rest.
Taxation
Later that night Brain holds a whispered conversation with Heart on the side and a decision is made. An all-Organs meeting is planned for the morning. With the first rays of sun on the horizon, and still a bit spacy from the change of environment, the Organs do a mandatory roll call trying not to wake Him up.
“Listen up, Organs!” starts Brain “I know that the last few years were tough, and the resource supply was flat.” Brain pauses thoughtfully and continues, “Together with Heart we came up with a new scheme for dividing crucial resources - oxygen and blood.” Organs sit quiet as mice under a broom while Brain continues, “each of you will get 90% of your allotment, and the rest will depend on your involvement with extra projects and initiatives.”
“Like what?” says Left Knee “should I shave and try to look pretty?” Organs are chuckling and there is a bit less tension in the body. “Well,” says Right Kidney, “together with Pancreas we can make Him piss green. Would that qualify for my missing 10%?”
“I can make Him piss red anytime,” says Liver sarcastically.
“Shut up, Liver” barks Brain “I've had enough of this nonsense.”
“The idea is to be collaborative and multidisciplinary,” explains Heart, “and not to freak Him out by messing up the color of his pee.” “We work for Him, but He is working for a higher purpose.”
“They would not send Him that far otherwise,” he makes an educated guess, "and they are bankrolling all this food that He is tormenting us with,” Heart continues like a good bureaucrat.
“I sort of like kimchi,” grumbles Stomach. “And I love bi bim bop” adds Throat.
“Oh, be quiet” yells Brain.
Organs are stirring restlessly, “is there anything in particular that you guys have in mind?” they venture collectively.
“Plenty,” says Brain, “you name it - climate change, internet security, clean energy.”
“I am clean energy,” exclaims Penis.
“Shut up!” yell Organs. “Try some regular diet instead of testosterone,” Brain adds.
“Nobody can do a better job at what I do,” says the Left Kidney, the bravest of all Organs, “not even Right Kidney, but I am not sure about climate or internet security. Isn’t He supposed to worry about it?”
“I am glad you said that,” Brain is on the verge of his usual lecture, “are you all familiar with the term 'vertical integration’? "We are all supposed to help,” Brain mercifully cuts it short.
“How about removing booze from His bloodstream?” says Liver sourly, the most pessimistic of the bunch.
“That is just doing your job,” exclaims Brain triumphantly, “and that does not cut it anymore!”
“Then have NSA remove alcohol from Him, while I decrypt Al-Quaeda messages,” says Liver and shrinks visibly.
“No sulking and hysterics Organs” Heart admonishes sternly, “we are in this boat together."
One body and two minds
“I am not what I used to be,” Brain admits somberly, “and this 10% tax idea is really from Him.”
“Yeah, the idiot does not even eat lunch anymore,” mumbles Stomach. “And he quit smoking,” both Lungs squeal excitedly.
“Ok, Ok” Stomach takes charge, “the bottom line is whether we can survive on 90% of the blood and oxygen supply, and for how long.”
“Not just survive but thrive,” Left Kidney jokes and this brings up painful memories.
“Sure we can,” says Pancreas, “it is just a matter of cutting off everything else.”
“I hope you are not talking about me,” says Penis, who usually does not pay much attention to anything. “Shut up!” all of the Organs yell, as usual. “But that’s an idea,” mutters Brain until Bladder, who was quiet until now, starts screaming. “Do not even think about it!!” he roars, "Hey, Penis, signing His name on the snow is our coolest trick, isn’t it?" "Whatever," says Penis who thinks better of himself.
They get quiet and ponder for a while. “Let just stop growing His hair, take a bite of some of His tasty brain cells, and lower His testosterone level” Stomach proposes constructively.
“That will make Him crazy,” both Lungs giggle, “and with minimal effect on our operation.”
At this resolution Organs relax and finally stop fighting. An uneasy truce gives a ray of hope for this body, at least on a biological level.
