Andrew Almonte's Essay One Or The Biology Trail

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Essay One, or The Biology Trail by Andrew Almonte, a third generation Mexican-American now living in stressful circumstances in Lorton (and studying too much) who, as a young child, gained an intense interest in biology and still lives to learn more about the human body. This is an essay somewhat in the telegraphic schizophrenic manner of Kurt Vonnegut’s planet, Tralfamadore, where flying saucers apparently come from. “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.” -T.S. Elliot The slight stinging sensation on his calf; a gift from a vengeful thorn bush for disrupting its tranquility. Salty liquid flowing into his mouth and stinging his eyes; the result of his brow crying from the heat. His lips parched, and his tongue licking in anticipation…show more content…
He finds a trail. Now it’s just a simple matter of following it. He climbs over the debris of the woods and pulls apart the rotting cortex of a decaying tree. And then he finds it, Camponotus pennsylvanicus, a queen Carpenter Ant. He closes his eyes, much too excited about the prospect of raising 50,000 pets. He opens them again to find himself five years in the future, in the middle of a biology classroom. He remembers just having learned about the kingdoms and some phyla of organisms. A scalpel in his right hand, a pair of forceps in his left, he stands over the rat that selflessly gave its life for his selfish pursuit of knowledge. So it goes. He makes the first cut. Then the next. Then the next. The heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, liver; all exposed for the first time. Another incision. This rat was a female. Another incision. This rat was a few weeks from giving birth. The unborn Rattus n. number six in total. So it goes. He closes his eyes out of three parts disgust and seven parts…show more content…
Technology has advanced so much to display these intricate works of art, each one taking great time, effort, and knowledge to produce. A man throwing a football, a woman doing acrobatics, the stages a fetal development (some still in the womb), all displayed to the extent that, if they were alive, they would feel a higher order of the term “naked”. He walks through the exhibit, pondering the great mysteries of the human machine, wondering how even the world’s greatest minds couldn’t even conceive something of the same caliber. He starts imagining what kind of engineers would be required to keep these autonomous machines in order. Orthodontists, nephrologists, immunologists, pharmacologists, all the “-ologists” he can think of. He studies the heart, wondering how on Earth we got the variation commonly seen on February 14th. He looks at the brain, startled by it small size. He observes the muscles and tendons, the arteries and veins, the liver and the stomach. He reads about the bones and the skin, the immune and reproductive systems. He’s absolutely amazed of how truly alien we look just three months after fertilization. Words cannot accurately describe his sense of

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