by Pastor, Juan
Read more tomorrow.
Try to sleep.
Can't sleep.
Get out the journal.
An untapped source of uncharacterized and unscreened micro‐organisms is new or poorly understood ecosystems, such as those in caves. I have found in a particular cave in Kentucky that has a bacterium that produces a substance that inhibits proteins that aid in the growth of new blood vessels. When cancer cells begin to form tumors, their rapid growth is highly dependent on their ability to create new blood vessels to provide the rapidly growing tumor with oxygen and nutrients. The formation of new blood vessels in an organism is called angiogenesis. A drug is anti‐angiogenic if it does not allow an organism to create new blood vessels. If it can't produce new blood vessels it cannot grow.
Another page.
Cave micro‐organisms are so well adapted to famine or starvation conditions, my earlier attempts to cultivate were a failure because the growth conditions I set up were too rich. Unable to turn off their scavenging mechanisms, the micro‐ organisms ate themselves to death. When I tried to recreate the starvation environments in which the microbes were found, unable to obtain the natural calcium compounds they normally thrived on, the subject microbes would secrete substances that made the plasticizers leach out of plastic laboratory dishes. The subject microbes were able to thrive on the plasticizer compounds.
Hide the journal again.
Single Point of Failure
The first part of the journey was... how shall I put it?
A revelation. A revelation is supposed to be the lifting of a veil that hides something. It is supposed to be a revealing.
We brought with us lights. Hand held flashlights. The flashlights were LED.
"They won't use up the batteries so fast." Sin says.
Sin also insists we wear helmets.
"Spelunker's helmets." He calls them.
They also have a small but efficient LED lantern built into each of them.
"But we're only going to use them when necessary." Sin says. "Like in emergencies."
"Wouldn't it be better to use them to prevent emergencies?" I ask.
"Yeah." He says. "Except what happens when the batteries run out, and then we have an emergency anyway? Besides, we're going to see, err, encounter, things in here that have never seen light before. We're going to see things that don't even have eyes. Hell, we're going to see things that most people have never seen before, and those things have never seen anything."
"Like what?" I ask.
"To start with, we'll see a lot of murcielago." Sin says. "You know how bats became blind?"
"No."
"They evolved over millions of years in caves where there wasn't any light." He says. "But they leave the caves every once in a while. There are thousands of life forms that have never seen sunlight."
"Never?"
"Never." Sin says. "And some of those things are nasty little buggers. Wait til you see a scorpider. You'll pee your pants."
"A what?"
"A scorpider. At least that's what I call them. There's probably some other name for them ‐ at least if some biologist has seen one ‐ but I'm not sure anyone has."
"What is it?" I ask.
"It's, I think, some kind of prehistoric centipede. But it looks like it's half spider and half scorpion. It senses the approach of its prey by vibrations, and it can also detect minute temperature changes around it. It can either bite, or it can sting with venom in its pincers. Want to hear more?" He asks.
"Yes." I shudder. "I'm repulsed and fascinated at the
same time." Sin smiles. I can see him because we are still in a part of the cave with its own ambient light.
"Where it bites, the flesh starts to necrotize and turn black almost immediately." He says. "If it stings, you will be fully paralyzed within 20 seconds. And you know what's really interesting about it?"
"It sounds interesting enough to me already." I say. "Way too interesting."
"It can swim."
"But we're not going to have to swim, are we?" I ask. "We're in a cave."
"You took baths in a cave, right?"
"Yes." I say.
"We are going to have to swim across a lake." Sin says. "A very large lake. You're going to have to take off all of your clothes, put them in a waterproof bag, put that bag in another waterproof bag, and swim across the lake keeping the bag out of the water, because even though you have all your clothes, and all your equipment, in two bags, something inside the bags is liable to poke out, or something out is liable to poke in, and you'd have to make the rest of your way with wet clothes and equipment."
"You planned all this didn't you?" I ask. "You just wanted to see me swim across a lake naked. Why didn't we bring a raft?"
"Why didn't you bring a raft?" Sin asks.
"I will." I say. "I'll go back and get it right now."
"There's only one catch." He says.
"What's that?"
"I don't have a raft."
"You've got every other damned thing you don't need." I say. "Like a gun that can blow up a truck and knock down a tower. Like equipment to make beer."
"If I have it, I need it." Sin says. "If I don't need it, I don't have it."
"You are a... How do you say it in English? A pelotillero (creep). A cobista (creepier). A persona repugnante (creepiest, disgusting person)."
"A creep?" Sin says, amused.
"Yes. A creep! Not only a creep, but a creepier creep than a scorpider. Are you going to swim across the lake naked?"
"Yes." Sin says. "But I'll stay behind you so you don't have to look at my ugly old body."
He pauses.
"Also." He says. "I can keep an eye out for scorpiders that might be zeroing in on your warm bod splashing in the water."
Every so often there appears a small vertical shaft in the ceiling of the cave. Sometimes a shaft will be lit by faint light. Sometimes there will be a small trickle of water coming down it, sometimes not. Usually I feel the air descending the shaft. And light from somewhere above beams down the shaft, a soft white light that has probably been reflected and re‐reflected numerous times from the moisture‐slicked rocks of the shaft before it makes its way to our eyes. I note that we still see none of the eyeless critters Sin has warned me about. It occurs to me that he might just be trying to spook me.
I feel cool wet dew forming on my exposed skin. My clothes grow damp. My socks wick moisture that trickles down my legs. After a while, my feet are very wet. There are very few places where we aren't either walking on wet rock, or in standing water, or through several inches of mud. And the mud, once touched, refuses to let go of our shoes without a fight.
It seems (to me, at least) that we walk like this for hours. Occasionally we stop for a drink. Not because I feel thirsty, but because Sin insists. All we have is bottled water.
"Water is best." Sin says. "But if you get tired of it, I have small portions of Gatorade powder that you can mix with it. For some reason, too much Gatorade gives me a stomachache, so I try to drink mostly water. But the electrolytes are a good idea."
"For some reason I'm not very thirsty." I say. "Must be because it's so moist in here. I do feel like I have to pee though, not bad, but it's a continuous feeling."
"It's psychological." He says. "Only pee if you really have to. And be discrete about where you pee."
"Because there might be scorpions or spiders?" I ask.
"Well, they might be anywhere." Sin says. "But what I mean is that there may just be some potential superbug in this cave just waiting to be introduced to ammonia."
"Gotcha."
"Where did that come from?"
"What?" I ask.
"Gotcha. You're starting to sound like an American."
Sin looks lost in thought as to whether that is a good thing or not. He appears to decide it is.
"Have a drink every time I have a drink, even if you don't feel thirsty." He says. "Okay?"
"Si. I mean yes."
&nbs
p; "The Guatemalan trying to re‐assert itself?"
"Yes."
"Are you hungry?"
"No."
"If you get hungry, let me know." Sin says. "I've got unsalted crackers, hard boiled eggs, some pemmican, some nuts and dried fruit. You won't go hungry."
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐<>{}<>‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
It gets quite dark.
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐<>{}<>‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
There are no overhead shafts, and the air begins to smell a little stale.
"I'm getting where I almost can't see." I say to Sin.
"Your eyes will adjust."
We walk further. It is so pitch black I cannot see. It is tono negro. I feel something touch my hand. I almost shriek, but manage to curtail the urge. It is Sin.
"Take this tether." He says. "Tie it firmly to one of the rings of your vest."
"So if you go over the edge of a cliff, I go with you?"
"Exactly." Sin says.
"How can you see?" I ask.
"It's more knowing where things are." Sin says. "And partly intuitively sensing things."
I hear a soft thud, and I bump into Sin.
"Glad I'm wearing a helmet." He says. "I just hit my head on something."
"So much for knowing and sensing."
I can hear his soft laugh at my tease. I find it reassuring. But I feel a brief flicker of fear when I think...
"What would I do if something happened to him?"
And the fear grows when he tells me...
"Pretty soon we will have to put on our gas masks."
He turns on his helmet lantern. There are numerous skeletons on the cave floor, some still encased in shrunken dried‐out skins. The largest bare skeleton is human. At least it appears human... My thought is interrupted.
"Hydrogen sulfide gas." Sin says. "Lower your head."
A swarm of bats flies over us.
"Vampire bats." Sin says. "The insectivorous bats rarely leave the caves; nor do the midges they feed on. The vampire bats need to leave the caves to find blood."
"Unless the blood comes to them."
"But it's so instinctual for them to leave the caves, we don't need to worry." Sin says. "They leave at night to feed on large mammals that can afford the loss of a little blood. Like horses or cattle."
"So it's nighttime already?" I ask.
"Getting close." Sin says. “Must be.”
He points to a small cleft in the cave wall.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Look closer." He says.
I move closer to inspect the spot illuminated by his lantern. There, in the beam, is a spider as large as my hand.
"Congratulations." He says.
"On what?" I ask.
"On not screaming."
He puts an arm over one of my shoulders and gives me a brief one‐armed hug.
"Smell that?" He asks.
"I smell something." I say. "But then, I smell lots of things. I think I mostly smell B.O."
"It's the gas." He says. "Time to put the masks on."
Sin retrieves two gas masks from his pack.
"How do the vampire bats get through it?" I ask.
"Oh, it can kill them in high enough levels, but they need to get out nightly. They've learned to avoid the areas with the highest concentrations, and those areas can change, as that pile of skins and bones illustrates. And it does tend to linger nearer the cave floors than the ceiling."
"It's heavier than air?" I ask.
"Just slightly." Sin says. But that won't do you much good unless you can fly, or you can walk on a cave ceiling. Put on your mask. And turn on your helmet lantern."
"Aren't you afraid we'll run out of batteries?
"I'm turning mine off." He says. "One more thing. If you get tempted to light a match, or smoke a cigar ‐ don't."
"Why?"
"Did you see that human skeleton?"
"Yes."
"Did you see the cigarette lighter near him?"
"No." I say. "But what of it?"
"Hydrogen sulfide gas is extremely flammable. The poor guy flash‐fried himself."
For A Small Fee In America
I like to be in America
Okay by me in America
Everything free in America
‐ West Side Story
Sometime in the future there may be some
cataclysmic event that forces mankind to live underground. I personally pray that that will never happen. I don't see how anyone can long survive without the rhythms of day and night, the phases of the moon, the seasons. These rhythms define life. These rhythms are the point of life. These rhythms are life!
I am not even sure how long, really, Sin and I have been underground. We slept twice. Once on the floor of a lateral cavern, using our space blankets. Another time on wooden bunk‐type beds in a dry timber supported chamber that looked like it had once been part of a mine, or maybe something even more clandestine. I don't know if we slept when it was nighttime, or just when we were so tired we couldn't go on any longer, or both.
The only times we bathed were twice when we crossed underground lakes, and once when we stood, fully clothed (to wash both ourselves and our clothes), under a small waterfall that flowed down a fairly well‐lit air/light shaft.
I wasn't even sure where we were going. I wasn't sure how long it would take. After a while, I wasn't even sure I was following a sane person. If he was crazy, and I followed him, I proved I was as crazy as him, so what did I have to loose any more?
Sin climbs the ladder, and I follow.
"Don't look down." He says. "But don't look up either."
He pushes up on the trapdoor. Dust, debris, straw, and
spiderweb strands rain down on us like confetti. Most of what falls on me gets trapped in my blouse, either inside my collar or in my cleavage. The helmet keeps most of it out of my hair.
Sin holds the trapdoor as he lifts himself out onto the floor above us. Then he lowers the trapdoor so it lays flat on the floor. He kneels down, and extends his hand to me as I stand a few rungs from the top of the ladder. I grab his hand, and he hauls me out through the portal. I say portal because that's what it feels like, a portal between two worlds, a portal jealously guarded by the wizards of both worlds. Or a wormhole maybe linking two regions of warped spacetime.
"Well. Alice." Sin says. "How does it feel?"
"Alice?"
"Yes." Sin says. "You know. Alice in Wonderland."
"Si." I say, remembering the beautiful story. "Alicia en
Mundo Maravilloso. And are you the Sombrerero Loco?"
"Well." Sin says. "I'm loco. And it's a good thing, or you
wouldn't be here now."
"Be where?"
"Welcome to America." Sin says.
"We crossed the border?"
"Some time ago."
Straw is all over the floor. A horse is in its stable. It
chews hay with a slight side to side grinding motion of its lower jaw, and looks at us as if it is the most natural thing in the world for two people to emerge from the earth through the floor of its barn.
My arms are now around Sin. He leans forward to accommodate me. I kiss one of his stubbled cheeks, then the other. I notice how badly he smells. I notice because he smells worse than me. And I smell very bad. I don't care.
"Gracias." I say. "Thank you for getting me here." "You're welcome, my dear."
"I wish Rosaria could be here with me."
"I know."
A Postcard from the Promised Land
Interesting postcard. What do you think of
this one?" Sin asks.
He shows me a postcard of a really pretty cheerleader with really long blonde hair and really long tanned shapely legs. She has high white boots and a very skimpy white cheerleader outfit with red trim. Just above the cheerleader's blonde hair are the words, "WISH YOU WERE HER". Below her long shapely legs it says, "Greetings From The Arizona Cardina
ls".
"I think I'll send it to my ex‐wife." Sin says. "I just have to decide which one." We are, both of us, in what Sin calls a "head‐shop, smoke‐shop, hippie‐paraphernalia‐shop, drugstore".
