Complications

This was a little piece I constructed for my biology class. It is not meant to be serious, rather a sarcastic funny. It definitely received a few laughs.

Complications

            His gait was that of a serene fighter.

            He moved as if a panther, slowly lurking his pray.  There was a breeze present; it chilled him to the phosphate. 

            Fright resonated within, as the light began to dim in the late Nucleus City day.  The stores around the corner were closing down, and the midnight junkies and walkers were appearing.  The midnight hour was always frightening; there were strands of bloodied adenine scattered throughout the loneliest streets.  The cops didn’t mind these scenes.  Only the new cops that walked these streets ever pay the most minuscule attention to these stains.

            “Don’t think about it.  You’ll be torn up quicker than virus.  We’re not the white blood cells at this time of night.”

            This was the unabridged motto of Nucleoid Precinct 15, the wittiest cops in the job.  Working in this area gave you respect, and endangered your life. 

            The Nucleus streets, if you’re used to them of course, are the most interesting place to be.  Besides the constant danger lurking in alleys and behind your eyes, the most diverse group of people can be recognized.  Ribosomes, Golgi transports, and apprehended bacterium were few of the scum sniveling these lone streets.  Lone streets is literal, as the “life” of the city is only found where they can’t be found.

            DNA wasn’t the average scum.

            Straight-A student out of the Bellview School, he grew up in fame and fortune.  His father, Polymerase, was the founder of DNA replication in the scientific field.  Naturally, this fame passed on inevitably to DNA, even after Polymerase’s untimely death.  Thymine had been attached to Cytosine, and the reaction was rather violent.  Polymerase was diagnosed with an allocation inhibitor, and brought a fatal response to his life.

            With money and fame, DNA was set free in his own world.  A teenager’s dream? Perhaps.  But DNA wasn’t normal.  He contained a trait that nobody else did, not even his classmates.  Mr. Neuburgleoid, his biology teacher, said that all the Bellview students were alike, built for one cause.  He didn’t believe it.

            You must see.  DNA was different than the rest.

            He had the code.

            Yes, it sounds wonderful.  Being a desired entity across the bodily spectrum.  Every cell wanted a piece of this code.  They paid in great quantities of money, services, even life.

            There was always one problem though.  One small problem with all the currency and payment and the general desire.

            His code was specific. It was made for one person.

            Only one.

            His father.

            Polymerase was the creator; he must be the destroyer.  Only Polymerase would have the ability to create or destroy a DNA code, as these were very rare and specific.  But Polymerase made a mistake, and is no longer here, making the DNA code absolutely useless.

            Some people didn’t know that.

            The sidewalk was filthy, with remains of nitrogenous bases stuck to the cold surface.  It was cold outside, but it always is during these harsh winter months.  DNA’s hat didn’t warm him, as the cold air still penetrated his many rungs.

            During these winter months, the Bellview School was closed.  They did renovations during these times.

            DNA was out on the streets, fearful of the assortment of vile creatures lurking these roads.  As if not said before, there are many creatures loose at night.

            He wasn’t supposed to be out this late, but he needed a fix.

            The stress of the code quickly and constantly got to him.  What could go wrong with a little fix.

            The problem was that he was unaware of what followed.

            Holding the bag in his chest, DNA was vulnerable to not only the drug junkies, but the code stealers.

            As he wandered hastily back to his winter mansion, his fatal ending was following, just as it had happened to his father. 

            There were many gangs in Nucleus City, notorious for their work.  One of these was the Enzymic End.  Immature? Yes.  But they were the farthest from it.

            The “End” (as they were called) is known for the highest kill rate in the entire city.  The Precinct knew them on a personal level, and all their associates.

            Helicase and his partner were moving in, in search of the code.  And they were going to get it.

            As they look at DNA’s spindly frame, his rungs exposed, Helicase speeds up, his partner in close pursuit.  Nothing was going to stop them now, as they have removed all other gangs in this same pursuit.

            DNA listened in, but the sound of the wind masked the sound of their footsteps.

            Helicase weighed in at 250 amu’s, heavy for his size.  His partner was twice that.

            As Helicase got closer, DNA turned around, suspicious of such activity.

            Helicase immediately grabbed him, pinning him to the ground.  There were bystanders, but they chose intelligently not to help.

            Helicase ripped off DNA’s base, exposing his inner nitrogenous rungs.

            As he found the promoter, he called over his partner.  His partner starting reading the code, locating the exons and introns.  Its strikes as peculiar, as DNA vaguely notices through the flashes of pain an inner nitrogenous structure much alike his, even with an indentation for another code.  But the code was missing.  Torn out, one may even say.

            DNA’s fright was expanded by the sight of this man.  His great size and menacing attitude were the least of his virtues.  The excruciating pain of being read resonated throughout DNA’s entire body. 

            Nothing mattered now.  Helicase’s partner moved in, and started removing the precious code straight from inside him.  His attitude was violent; he didn’t care for feelings right now.  He had limited time, and had to finish the job before the Outskirts became too crowded. 

            DNA screamed for mercy and yelped out in agony.

            “Please! Please stop! I have money. All the money you could want.  I have fame, fortune.  I have drugs. Is that it? You’re a druggie off of the pill?  Take mine, please! Just stop!”

            Helicase and his partner didn’t care.  They were off the pill; it was no problem.  The only thing they wanted was the code.  They would stop at nothing to get it.

            As Helicase’s partner finished removing this precious entity, he came face to face with DNA.

            DNA looked into his familiar eyes, and immediately recognized him from somewhere.

            Polymerase, during his birth, was created in two.  He had a twin, and DNA was looking right him.

            “Surprising huh?  Your father stole this code from me at birth!”

            “He didn’t!” DNA’s fright resonated within his voice.

            “Why do you think so many people want it? We want to exploit the truth.  Why do you think I have that raw wound inside of me, perfectly fitted for a code just like yours.  Do you want to know why?  It was my code.  All mine.  Your father and his selfish attitude could not bear to see me being in the light for once.  When I went to the Bellview school, and Mr. Neuburgleoid read me, he found the code.  I was everything, and your father just pushed me back down like the selfish child he was.  It’s too bad, I was hoping that little accident would have been solved eventually.  I left enough clues leading to me.”

            DNA didn’t have time to think about this statement as RNA Polymerase, Polymerase’s twin, pulled the strand of code right out of DNA.

            The amount of blood was explicable.

            “Good night, nephew.”

            Helicase and RNA Polymerase moved off into the shadows so familiar to them, leaving no evidence of their actions.

            As they walk off, DNA’s body lay on the ground, bleeding out.

            Lifeless.

 

            In a place of such darkness, finding anything can be difficult.         

            Moving to the Outskirts, RNA P. and Helicase pass by the Bellview School, and cut through the side roads leading to the darkness that surrounds the Outskirts.  It looked different now, undergoing renovations.  Much different than when RNA P. had been there. 

            His term was one of great significance, as it was the first year of opening of the school.  He remembers everything.  The coding excellence, the awards he had in duplication, and his thesis he wrote on the effects of sulfur on the DNA code.  Then the reading came.  Being gifted with the code was the greatest experience of his life, and the greatest inhibitor.  The fame he received was outstanding.  The friends he made were amazing.  But everybody wanted him for one reason; the code.  To hold the key to life. 

            After the obtrusive amounts of attention received by RNA P. became heavily publicized, it was easy to see how Polymerase felt.  He became quiet and restrained, much different than his previous joyful self.  Everybody could see how he’d changed, except for himself.  He could only see his rage.

            It was a dark night in the dorm room.  The wind rusted the windows heavily, and the rain clattered against the stone walls.  The only prospering life was that of the plants, and they must have been frightened.  With all the sleeping students around the campus, Polymerase decided to exact his revenge. 

            He entered RNA P.’s room, and saw his asleep.  He was scared to turn on the lights, but he wouldn’t need them.  He had everything he needed.

            In less than a second, he had killed RNA P.’s roommate, brutally slicing through the flesh of his phosphate.  As the blood scurried out of the fresh wound, Polymerase’s attention shifted to the code.  He saw it, exposed in the rungs of RNA P.  How easy this will be.

            He moved in, the knife he carried exposing itself.  As RNA P. slowly drifted to consciousness, he immediately felt the burning sensation of a stab. 

            He was drowsy, and the light from outside combined with the obtrusive sounds from the thunder lulled him into a faux high.  He couldn’t react for himself anymore, as his mind was still fast asleep.

            The pain of the stab was masked by the excruciated sensation of removal. 

            The code had been taken.

 

            After the hospitalization, RNA P., now lacking the code, was converted into an RNA transporter.  Although his name finally made sense, his self-esteem had dropped.

            He had fallen prey to the drug system, and met Helicase at a Enzymatic End hook up.  Those days, he was go-

            “Hey, P., you chill man?  You look tight.”

            “Yeah man, just thinking, you know.”    

            As they reach the Outskirts, the ribosomes that surrounded the machine started appearing in small numbers.

            They have arrived. 

            Because of the specificity of the code, no living ribosome can decode it.  The extremity and complexity is too great.

            They need a machine. 

            As they move behind the dumpster, green with filth, on the remnants of the old Outskirts, they find the ribosomal monster.  Made of metal and wiring, circuitry and electricity, this machine can decode the most complex of all codes.  Nothing can match its power.

            RNA P. and Helicase insert the newly acquired strand of code into the machine.  They press the decode button, and immediately the machine whirs to life.  It starts processing the code at lightning speed, inserting all the necessary proteins and switching Thymine with Uracil at inexorable speeds.

            As they venture to the back of this monstrous machine, they realize the back plate is missing, exposing the internal complexity of such a device.  There is a large border up top, which holds the code in place through decoding.  Small proteins that are created at the bottom read the code, producing strands of nitrogenous bases that fit perfectly.  Little strands of DNA are slowly decoded and pieces of new RNA code are produced. 

            In these streets, RNA is the only currency accepted.  This code is the form of money that they need.  Income is tough to come by, so stealing and murder suffice just fine.

            As RNA P. and Helicase remove the newly coded RNA strand, they hear an ambulance.  The ambulance, stuck in ribosomal traffic, is forced to stop, giving RNA P. and Helicase a view of the inner compartment.

            They see DNA sitting on the bed, machines attached to him as Ligase works on reviving him.

            As their eyes wander to the heart monitor, they see no movement.  The Ligase paramedics try and try, yelling and screaming, looking back and forth from the heart monitor to DNA.  Only one result is allowed here.  This isn’t something that can be fixed anymore, for the battle over the code is inevitably continued, passed from hand to hand, constantly trying to be decoded.  But only one path is left for DNA.  The path of great illumination, attuned to a familiar sound.

            The eerie sound of death.    

Author's Note

Its shorter than it should be, but I had a slight time constraint when writing it. Comment please! :)