My walk with ecology Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

My walk with ecology - Essay Example My favorite form of outdoor activity is walking. I live in the urban city of concrete jungles with skyscrapers blocking out the sunlight. I miss the beauty of natural scenery. I have seen how man has destroyed his natural environment and upset the ecology of nature and man. Industrialization brought along deforestation to make way for human habitats and agriculture. The increased burning of fossil fuels increased the release of greenhouse gasses and the sum total effect has led to global warming. My thesis is that Man needs to reconnect with nature to help preserve ecology. The simplest and most direct way of reconnecting to nature is by walking through the rural countryside. It is one of the best ways of observing nature and appreciating the great diversity of life forms and the ecology. I believe that when Man comes to self-realization on his close relationship with nature, he will value it and refrain from participating in activities that would harm the balance of our ecology. I c hoose walking on foot to go sight seeing and explore nature because any other artificial mode of transport would burn fossil fuels and harm the environment with the emission of toxic waste gasses. When I walk at my own leisurely pace, I get to observe nature at work, play and rest. I think walking is the best way to get close to nature. Fenton recommended walking as a cheap and easy way to maintain health, effect weight loss and stay fit. We can kill two birds with one stone by taking up walking for health reasons as well as to observe nature. Fenton said that; 'Walking is not only better for your spirit, mood, and body, it's better for your whole community. Trust walking.' (Fenton 5). Walking does wonder for you while conserving the ecology. Walking is a cheap form of exercise. You just need a pair of comfortable walking shoes and thick socks to cushion your feet against blisters. The writer Werner recommended carrying a backpack for your basic essentials like a map, compass, a quart of water for every miles of walk, tissue and toilet paper, refuse / trash bag, raincoat / poncho, protective clothing against the cold and wet, energy snack foods and cell phone. (Werner 4). These are for a day walk. If you are walking at night, you need additional equipment like a flashlight with extra batteries, flares, insect repellant, and maybe a walking stick. If you are a photography and nature enthusiast, bring your camera and binoculars. If you are creatively inclined, bring along a notebook or sketch pad. The beauty of nature might inspire you to write or draw something. It is safer to prepare for emergencies in the event of being caught up in some unfavorable weather. A beginner should start walking during the day and on familiar terrain. One should take caution and plan a walk with a realistic distance as a goal in mind. I would keep in mind to let the people around me know my intentions just in case if I don't make it back in time, they would know to send out a search party for me! Walkers often choose routes to cut across natural terrain. I like the opportunity to breathe in fresh air, unpolluted by traffic. Sometimes, I see the traffic along the established paths and it is ugly traffic. Litter left behind by humans is detrimental. The wild animals do not know better than to ingest litter and this poses a health risk to them. Human food is not suitable for animals. Non-degradable refuse like plastic is an eyesore and dangerous when innocent animals ingest them. I would not have known about the effects of litter if I had not come across piles of them in my walks. They spoil the natural beauty of the landscape. This brings up the use of the trash bag in my backpack. Every walker should be responsible for keeping their own trash out of the natural environment. Waste items should be deposited in the trash bag and carried out of the natural

DNA sequence analysis, primer design, protein expression and Essay

DNA sequence analysis, primer design, protein expression and mutagenesis assessment - Essay Example RecA is a recombinant gene and when in the presence of single stranded DNA, can behave as a catalyst in the hydrolysis process of ATP. It can also function in ATP dependant reactions such as Duplex DNA’s uptake of single stranded DNA and homologous single stranded DNA’s ATP propelled hybridization. (NCBI, 2008). Its function is likened to the mechanism and composition of copper amine oxidase, in that it acts in microbes to make use of amine substrates considered to be unusual such as carbon or nitrogen. As mentioned previously, recA resides in the presence of single stranded DNA. Protein secretion can be said to have taken place in the presence of single sequencing. The protein recA is unique due to its function as a copper ligase and its modification which takes place after the translation process. Post translation, a residue of tyrosine 412 will yield cofactor TPQ. Lysine 83 is also a residue of the reaction. In the event that it is decided to undertake mutagenesis in order to mutate lysine 83 into alanine; we would quickly see that reaction outcomes would be quite different. When mutation (genetic alterations) take place, the chemistry involved with the organisms and molecules become different even if the change is slight. With quick-change mutagenesis, we are able to target site changes which act to alter specific protein outcomes due to changing amino acid sequences. Changing lysine 83 through mutagenesis to alanine may be desirable for more than one reason. In many instances, changing out lysine for alanine can in fact, delay certain entropic effects such as crystallization, such as in the case of e. Coli where crystallization formation can be essential for post mutation testing. Lysine production in genetically engineered bacteria, will tend to promote fermentative production of other amino acids. Replacing residue lysine 83 with alanine 83 however, may be a wise alteration as many organisms can’t survive in the absence of

Angina Pectoris Care Plan Essay Example for Free

Angina Pectoris Care Plan Essay Care Plan For Angina Pectoris Angina Pectoris Chief Complaint: Patient complains of having tightness and pain in his chest that seems to move down the left arm. Patient describes the pain as being sharp and can be sometimes a mild pain or an immobilizing pain. Medical Diagnosis: Coronary Artery Disease Pathophysiology of: Angina Pectoris Angina Pectoris develops when coronary blood flow becomes inadequate to meet myocardial oxygen demand. This causes myocardial cells to switch from aerobic to anaerobic metabolism, with a progressive impairment of metabolic, mechanical, and electrical functions. Angina pectoris is the most common clinical manifestation of myocardial ischemia. It is caused by chemical and mechanical stimulation of sensory afferent nerve endings in the coronary vessels and myocardium. These nerve fibers extend from the first to fourth thoracic spinal nerves, ascending via the spinal cord to the thalamus, and from there to the cerebral cortex. (http:// emedicine. medscape. com/article/15021 5-overview, 6/1 5/10 12:30 pm) Medical Interventions: Diagnostic Tests: 1. Coronary intravascular ultrasonography A coronary intravascular ultasonography is an invasive ultrasound performed rom a transducer within the lumen of the coronary arteries. (Laboratory test and diagnostic procedures, By: Cynthia Chernicky, 5th Edition 2008). Electrocardiography is a noninvasive acoustic imaging procedure that determines the size, shape, position, thickness and movements of the heart valves, walls, and chambers during each cardiac cycle. (Laboratory test and diagnostic procedures, By: Cynthia Chernicky, 5th Edition 2008). Lipid Profile; Blood 3. Lipid profile; blood is a test to check the units of each of the following: Total lipids, A. Triglycerides B. HDL Cholesterol C. LDL Cholesterol D. E. Total HDL Cholesterol ratio. 4. Stress Exercise Test Stress exercise test measures the efficiency of the heart during a period of physical stress on a treadmill or on a stationary bicycle. Medications: 1. Nitroglycerin Tablets: Classification: Vasodilator, antihypertensive. Action: Reduces preload and afterload, decreasing myocardial workload and oxygen demand. Uses: To prevent or treat angina pectoris, hypertension, and heart failure. Contraindications: Acute Myocardial Infarction, angle- closure glaucoma, cerebral hemorrhage, concurrent use of phosphodiesterase inhibitors, constrictive ericarditis. Route and Dosage: Adults: PO 1 mg. tablet every 5 hours while awake. (Buccal) 0. 1 To 0. 8 mg. hr. worn 12 to 14 hours at a time. (Transdermal Patch) Adverse Reactions: Some side effects of this drug that should be reported to a healthcare provider if they become severe are as follows: headaches dizziness flushing lightheadedness reported to a healthcare provider immediately. The adverse effects of nitroglycerin are: Nausea vomiting Weakness blurred vision fainting spell abdominal pain sweating chest pain pale skin rashes ? peeling of the skin blisters on the skin hives itching difficulty breathing Surgery: 1 Transluminal coronary angioplasty Your hearts arteries can become clogged from a buildup of cholesterol, cells or other substances. This can reduce blood flow to your heart and cause chest discomfort. Sometimes a blood clot can suddenly form or get worse and completely block blood flow, leading to a heart attack. Angioplasty opens blocked arteries and restores normal blood flow to your heart muscle. Angioplasty, a type of percutaneous coronary intervention (PCI), is not major surgery. It is done through a small puncture in a leg or arm artery and opens a clogged heart artery by inflating a tiny balloon in it. Assessment: Subjective: Patient is a 68 year old male with a history of coronary artery disease, and hypertension. Vital Signs as follows: -r: 986 R: 25 p: 102 Objective: Patient seemed to be crying and in severe pain. Skin was flushed, and clammy. Right hand was over left shoulder as if he were trying to relieve the pressure of the pain. Nursing Diagnosis: 1 Physical: 1. Acute pain related to decreased oxygen supply to the myocardium. Nursing Intervention: . Patient will remain on oxygen as ordered for the next 12 hours. 2. Give Nitroglycerin Tablets sublingually every 5 minutes for the next 1 5 minutes. . Patient will sleep for at least 30 minutes every 2 hours for the next 8 hour shift. Nursing Evaluation/Outcome: 1. Patient was able to be taken off of oxygen after the first 12 hours. 2. Patients pain had stopped after 1 5 minutes of administration of the nitroglycerin tablets. 3. Patient was able to sleep for 30 minutes every 2 hours with no interruptions in the last 8 hour shift. Nursing Diagnosis: 2 Psychosocial: 1. Anxiety related to change in lifestyle. Nursing Interventions: 1. Patient will be informed of the importance of taking the nitroglycerin at first sign of pain within an 8 hour shift. 2. Patient will learn how to decrease personal activities within 30 days. 3. Patient will Join a stress management course within the next month. 1. Patient was able to better understand the use of the nitroglycerin tablets after an 8 hour shift. 2. Patient was able to decrease physical activities in the last 30 days. 3. Patient was able to Join a stress management course in last month. Potential/ Risk: 1. Deflecient Knowledge related to coronary artery disease. . Patient will learn the causes of angina pectoris within an 8 hour shift. 2. Patient will learn the importance of side effects to medications within 8 hours. 3. Patient will make sure to get all information of medications before leaving the hospital. 1. Patient was better able to understand what caused the angina pectori by the time he left the hospital. References 1. Laboratory test and diagnostic procedures, By: Cynthia Chernicky, 5th Edition 2008. 2. http://emedicine. medscape. com/article/1 5021 5-overview, 6/1 5/10 12:30 pm

Bill Langstons Research into Parkinsons Disease

Bill Langstons Research into Parkinsons Disease The Case of the Frozen Addicts Is Parkinsons disease a genetic disease like Huntingtons disease, or is it caused by something in the environment? By the 1980s, scientists had concluded that the disease does not seem to be genetic with their concordance studies on identical and fraternal twins. But they had searched in vain for a credible environmental cause. Then in 1985, a bizarre drug tragedy tilted the odds in favor of an environment cause and gave scientists a powerful new weapon to fight against the disease. In the summer of 1985, Jon Palfreman, the author of the book Brain Storms, was investigating reports of some drug addicts who had mysteriously been afflicted with Parkinsons. The saga had started in July 1982 at the San Jose Country Jail, where a 42-year-old drug addict woke up and found himself to be frozen, not able to walk or talk. He was transferred to the Santa Clara Valley Medical Center and examined by Bill Langston, the 39-year-old head of neurology. Langston determined that his disease was neurological ant put him in the hospitals neurobehavior unit. For several days, George lay there, immobile. Then one day, one doctor in the unit noticed that George moved his fingers as if trying to write something. So they gave him a pencil and a notepad. After several hours, George had written five to six sentences. Through the process of questions and answers, Langston found out that George was taking heroin, and that he had a girlfriend with him before he got sick. When they tracked down this woman, they found she was also rigid, like a wax doll. Over the next few days, Langston heard about four other mysterious frozen cases in the surrounding area. Langston could think of only one factor connecting all six young people drugs. They all had a history of drug abuse. The police had found heroin in their apartments. Thinking drugs might be the answer, Langston procured some of the heroin powder from the police and sent it off for analysis. It turned out that the heroin was a designer drug synthesized from chemicals in an underground lab. Langston was struck by the similarity of their symptoms to advanced Parkinsons disease. He treated them with large doses of carbidopa-levodopa. The effect was dramatic they could move and talk. But within days, they all developed severe drug-induced motor complications. While the procedure helped, it didnt reverse their neurological damage. They grew old before their time. By 2015, all but two had passed away. Langston realized that some toxin in the heroin had passed into the addicts brains and destroyed the area of the substantia nigra which makes dopamine. Identifying this toxic might lead to the discovery of the environmental cause for Parkinsons disease. A vital clue came from a report of a similar case in the 1976. A college student named Barry Kidston was trying to make a compound called 1-methyl-4-propionoxy-piperidine, or MPPP. When injected intravenously, the chemical would give a heroin-like-high. For months, Barry successfully made MPPP and used it intravenously. One day, however, he hurried a batch, and soon after injecting it into his arm, he knew something had gone wrong. Within three days, he froze up, became immobile, and could not talk. He was referred to the NIH, where it was determined that he had produced a compound call 1-methyl-4-phenyl-1,2,3,6-tetrahydropyridine, or MPTP. Armed with this information, Langston and his colleagues could prove that MPTP was the toxin in the heroin taken by the six addicts. This compound MPTP was a powerful new research tool. It could cause Parkinsons in monkeys and in humans. For the first time, Parkinsons researchers had an effective animal model of the disease. Rather than working on humans, they could study Parkinsons experimentally on monkeys, explaining disease mechanisms and testing new treatments. *** In the 1980s, many scientists were hard at work trying to figure out how the brains neuron networks work. The best known of these researchers was Mahlon DeLong based at Emory University in Atlanta. Working with healthy monkeys and monkeys with Parkinsons disease induced by the neurotoxin MPTP, DeLong found out two key nodes in the neuron network the globas pallidus and the substhalamic nucleus were much more active in parkinsonian monkeys. DeLongs hypothesis was that a loss of dopamine from the substantia nigra had caused downstream nodes in the circuit to become overexcited. The resulting output signal over-inhibits the thalamus which under-excites the motor cortex, producing the classic parkinsonian inhibition of movement. To test the hypothesis, DeLong removed the subthalamic nucleus, the presumed source of the abnormal activity, to see if that would change the moneyss Parkinsons. The effect was dramatic there was an immediate reversal of slowness, rigidity, and tremor.

Needless Boundaries in Frosts Mending Wall Essay -- Frost Mending Wa

Needless Boundaries in Frost's Mending Wall As long as man has existed, territories and boundaries have been a part of life. Everyone finds a need to have a part of this earth that he can call his own. As soon as one finds his own space, he begins to set boundaries sometimes in the form of walls or fences. This creation of a wall raises the question with the poet, Robert Frost, as to what they are â€Å"walling in or walling out.† In his poem â€Å"Mending Wall,† Frost as the narrator participates in the repairing of a wall that he finds little purpose in. Frost suggests that besides himself there is â€Å"something† mysterious that doesn’t like walls. For example, the frozen ground swells to make gaps big enough to walk through and hunters with their dogs perhaps hav...

Frail Males in Margaret Laurence’s A Bird in the House :: Bird House

Frail Males in Margaret Laurence’s A Bird in the House Kristjana Gunnars suggests that â€Å"Canada is an unhappy country. No, better still, the Prairies are unhappy. Canadian women are especially unhappy† (Gunnars 122). In Margaret Laurence’s A Bird in the House, the women are indeed unhappy. In the end, however, it is the women who triumph because of their solidarity. The men, due to their solitary states, are unable to maintain their traditionally powerful roles. In these short stories, the men appear to be the leaders of the household, but the women have the greater but subtler power. The men do not lend each other support, while the women are often willing to lend each other a shoulder to cry on. Thus, because of their bluntness and solitariness, the men in A Bird in the House are dethroned from their traditional seats of power in male-female relations, male-male relations, and in female-female relations where their absence is not missed. An imposing character in A Bird in the House, Grandfather Timothy Connor’s power over his household is also a sign of his weakness. The house that he built is â€Å"part dwelling place and part massive monument† (Margaret Laurence 3). Grandfather Connor, a pioneer in Manawaka, is a monument himself and is often associated with his architectural feat. The title of Margaret Laurence’s novel is A Bird in the House; Grandfather Connor is the house that both shelters and entraps the people – especially the women – in his life with his actions. With a stranglehold on his household, Grandfather seems to fit into the traditional male role as the authoritarian but is plagued by guilt and loneliness. He uses his anger as a shield and a mask; he â€Å"demands strength because he is afraid of weakness† (Jon Kertzer 43). Early in his marriage, Grandfather Connor had an affair with a girl in Winnipeg but his wife Agnes â€Å"never told him she’d considered leaving him† (Laurence 85). This places Agnes in a position of higher power: she is virtuous, and Timothy knows that she may be too good for him. As Uncle Terence remarks: â€Å"Another person’s virtues could be an awful weight to tote around. We all loved her. Whoever loved him?† (86). Because his family loves Agnes and will happily obey her, Timothy attempts to reassert his power by being strict and demanding.

A Dirty Job Chapter 11

11 THE GIRLS CAN GET A LITTLE DARK AT TIMES The Great Big Book of Death, as it turned out, wasn't that big, and certainly wasn't that comprehensive. Charlie read through it a dozen times, took notes, made copies, ran searches trying to find some reference to any of the stuff covered, but all of the material in the twenty-eight lavishly illustrated pages boiled down to this: 1. Congratulations, you have been chosen to act as Death. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It is your duty to retrieve soul vessels from the dead and dying and see them on to their next body. If you fail, Darkness will cover the world and Chaos will reign. 2. Some time ago, the Luminatus, or the Great Death, who kept balance between light and darkness, ceased to be. Since then, Forces of Darkness have been trying to rise from below. You are all that stands between them and destruction of the collective soul of humanity. 3. In order to hold off the Forces of Darkness, you will need a number two pencil and a calendar, preferably one without pictures of kitties on it. 4. Names and numbers will come to you. The number is how many days you have to retrieve the soul vessel. You will know the vessels by their crimson glow. 5. Don't tell anyone what you do, or dark forces, etc. etc. etc. 6. People may not see you when you are performing your Death duties, so be careful crossing the street. You are not immortal. 7. Do not seek others. Do not waver in your duties or the Forces of Darkness will destroy all that you care about. 8. You do not cause death, you do not prevent death, you are a servant of Destiny, not its agent. Get over yourself. 9. Do not, under any circumstances, let a soul vessel fall into the hands of those from below – because that would be bad. A few months passed before Charlie worked the shop again alone with Lily. She asked him, â€Å"Well, did you get a number two pencil?† â€Å"No, I got a number one pencil.† â€Å"You rogue! Asher, hello, Forces of Darkness – â€Å" â€Å"If the world without this Luminatus is so precariously balanced that my buying a pencil with one-grade-harder lead is going to cast us all into the abyss, then maybe it's time.† â€Å"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,† Lily chanted like she was trying to bring a spooked horse under control. â€Å"It's one thing for me to be all nihilistic and stuff, for me it's a fashion statement, I have the outfits for it. You can't be all horny for the grave wearing your stupid Savile Row suits.† Charlie was proud of her for recognizing that he was wearing one of his expensive secondhand Savile Rows. She was learning the trade in spite of herself. â€Å"I'm tired of being afraid,† he said. â€Å"I've dealt with the Forces of Darkness or whatever, Lily, and you know what, we're one and one.† â€Å"Should you be telling me this? I mean, the book said – â€Å" â€Å"I think I'm different than what the book says, Lily. The book says that I don't cause death, but there have been two now that have died more or less because of my actions.† â€Å"And I repeat, should you be telling me this? As you have pointed out many times, I am a kid, and wildly irresponsible. It's wildly irresponsible, right? I'm never listening that closely.† â€Å"You're the only one who knows,† Charlie said. â€Å"And you're seventeen now, not a kid, you're a young woman now.† â€Å"Don't fuck with me, Asher. If you keep talking like that I'll get another piercing, take X until I'm dehydrated like a mummy, talk on my cell phone until the battery is dead, then find some skinny, pale guy and suck him until he cries.† â€Å"So, it will be like a Friday?† Charlie said. â€Å"What I do with my weekends is my own business.† â€Å"I know!† â€Å"Well, then shut up!† â€Å"I'm tired of being afraid, Lily!† â€Å"Well, then stop being afraid, Charlie!† They both looked away, embarrassed. Lily pretended to shuffle through the day's receipts while Charlie pretended to be looking for something in what he called his walking satchel and Jane called his man purse. â€Å"Sorry,† Lily said, without looking up from the receipts. â€Å"S'okay,† Charlie said. â€Å"Me, too.† Still not looking up, Lily said, â€Å"But really, should you be telling me any of this?† â€Å"Probably not,† Charlie said. â€Å"It's sort of a big burden to carry. Sort of – â€Å" â€Å"A dirty job?† Lily looked up now and grinned. â€Å"Yeah,† Charlie smiled, relieved. â€Å"I won't bring it up again.† â€Å"That's okay. It's kind of cool.† â€Å"Really?† Charlie couldn't remember anyone ever referring to him as cool. He was touched. â€Å"Not you. The whole Death thing.† â€Å"Yeah, right,† Charlie said. Yes! Still batting a thousand on the zero-cool quotient. â€Å"But you're right, it's not safe. No more talk about my, uh, avocation.† â€Å"And I'll never call you Charlie again,† Lily said. â€Å"Ever.† â€Å"That would be fine,† Charlie said. â€Å"We'll act like this never happened. Excellent. Good talk. Resume your thinly veiled contempt.† â€Å"Fuck off, Asher.† â€Å"Atta girl.† They were waiting for him the next morning when he took his walk. He expected it, and he wasn't disappointed. He'd stopped in the shop to pick up an Italian suit he'd just taken in, as well as a cigar lighter that had languished in a curio case in the back for two years, which he stuffed in his satchel with the glowing porcelain bear that was the soul vessel of someone who had passed long ago. Then he stepped outside and stood just above the opening of the storm drain – waved at the tourists on the cable car as it clanked by. â€Å"Good morning,† he said cheerily. Anyone watching him might have thought he was greeting the day, since there was no one around. â€Å"We'll peck out her eyes like ripe plums,† hissed a female voice out of the drain. â€Å"Bring us up, Meat. Bring us up so we can lap your blood from the gaping wound we tear in your chest.† â€Å"And crunch your bones in our jaws like candy,† added a different voice, also female. â€Å"Yeah,† agreed the first voice, â€Å"like candy.† â€Å"Yeah,† said a third. Charlie felt his entire body go to gooseflesh, but he shook it off and tried to keep his voice steady. â€Å"Well, today would be a good day for it,† Charlie said. â€Å"I'm well rested from sleeping in my comfy bed with the down comforter. Not like I spent the night in a sewer or anything.† â€Å"Bastard!† A hissing female chorus. â€Å"Well, talk to you on the next block.† Strolled up the block into Chinatown, pacing out the sidewalk jauntily with his sword-cane, the suit inside a light garment bag thrown over his shoulder. He tried whistling, but thought that might be a little too clich. They were already under the next corner when he got there. â€Å"I'm going to suck the baby's soul out through her soft spot while you watch, Meat.† â€Å"Oh, nice!† Charlie said, gritting his teeth and trying not to sound as horrified as he was. â€Å"She's starting to crawl around pretty well now, so don't miss breakfast that day, because if she has her little rubber spoon, she'll probably kick your ass.† There was a screech of anger from the sewers and a harsh, hissing chatter. â€Å"He can't say that? Can he say that? Does he know who we are?† â€Å"Taking a left at the next block. See you there.† There was a young Chinese man dressed in hip-hop wear who looked at Charlie and took a quick step to the side so as not to catch whatever kind of crazy this well-dressed Lo pak[1] was carrying. Charlie tapped his ear and said, â€Å"Sorry, wireless headset.† The hip-hop guy nodded curtly, like he knew that, and despite appearances to the contrary, he had not been trippin', but had, in fact, been chillin' like a mo-fuckin' villain, so step the fuck off, wigga. He crossed against the light, limping slightly under the weight of the subtext. Charlie entered Golden Dragon Cleaners and the man at the counter, Mr. Hu, whom Charlie had known since he was eight, greeted him with an expansive and warm twitch of the left eyebrow, which was his usual greeting, and a good indicator to Charlie that the old man was still alive. A cigarette streamed at the end of a long black holder clinched in Hu's dentures. â€Å"Good morning, Mr. Hu,† Charlie said. â€Å"Beautiful day, isn't it?† â€Å"Suit?† said Mr. Hu, looking at the suit Charlie had slung over his shoulder. â€Å"Yes, just the one today,† Charlie said. Charlie brought all of his finer merchandise to Golden Dragon to be cleaned, and he'd been giving them a lot of business the last few months, with all the estate clothes he'd been taking in. He also had them do his alterations, and Mr. Hu was considered to be the best three-fingered tailor on the West Coast, and perhaps, the world. Three Fingered Hu, he was known as in Chinatown, although to be fair, he was actually possessed of eight fingers, and was only missing the two smaller fingers from his right hand. â€Å"Tailor?† Hu asked. â€Å"No, thank you,† Charlie said. â€Å"This one's for resale, not for me.† Hu snatched the suit out of Charlie's hand, tagged it, then called, â€Å"One suit for the White Devil!† in Mandarin, and one of his granddaughters came speeding out of the back, grabbed the suit, and was gone through the curtain before Charlie could see her face. â€Å"One suit for the White Devil,† she repeated for someone in the back. â€Å"Wednesday,† said Three Fingered Hu. He handed Charlie the ticket. â€Å"There's something else,† Charlie said. â€Å"Okay, Tuesday,† said Hu, â€Å"but no discount.† â€Å"No, Mr. Hu, I know it's been a long time since I needed it, but I wonder if you still have your other business?† Mr. Hu closed one eye and looked at Charlie for a full minute before he replied. When he did, he said, â€Å"Come,† then disappeared behind the curtain leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke. Charlie followed him into the back, through a noisy, steaming hell of cleaning fluids, mangle irons, and a dozen scurrying employees to a tiny plywood-walled office in the back, where Hu closed the door and locked them in as they did their business, something they'd first done over twenty years ago. The first time Three Fingered Hu had led Charlie Asher through the stygian back room of Golden Dragon Cleaners, the ten-year-old Beta Male was sure that he was going to be kidnapped and sold into dry-cleaning slavery, butchered and turned into dim sum, or forced to smoke opium and fight fifty kung fu fighters at once while still in his pj's (Charlie had a very tenuous grasp of his neighbors' culture at age ten), but despite his fear, he was driven by a passion that had been embedded in his very genes millions of years ago: a quest for fire. Yes, it was a crafty Beta Male who first discovered fire, and true, it was almost immediately taken away from him by an Alpha Male. (Alphas missed out on the discovery of fire, but because they did not understand about grabbing the hot, orangey end of the stick, they are credited with inventing the third-degree burn.) Still, the original spark burns bright in every Beta's veins. When Alpha boys have long since moved on to girls and sports, Betas w ill still be pursuing pyrotechnics well into adolescence and sometimes beyond. Alpha Males may lead the armies of the world, but it's the Betas who actually get the shit blowed up. And what better testimonial for a purveyor of fireworks than to be missing critical digits? Three Fingered Hu. When Hu opened his thick, trifold case across the desk, revealing his wares, young Charlie felt he had passed through the fires of hell to arrive, at last, in paradise, and he gladly handed over his wad of crumpled, sweaty dollar bills. And even as long silver ashes from Hu's cigarette fell over the fuses like deadly snow, Charlie picked his pleasure. He was so excited he nearly peed himself. The death-dealing Charlie who walked out of Golden Dragon Cleaners that morning with a compact paper parcel tucked under his arm felt a similar excitement, for as much as it was against his nature, he was rushing, once again, into the breech. He headed to the storm sewer grate and, waving the glowing porcelain bear from his satchel at the street, shouted, â€Å"I'm going over one block and up four, bitches. Join me?† â€Å"The White Devil has finally gone around the bend,† said Three Fingered Hu's eleventh grandchild, Cindy Lou Hu, who stood at the counter next to her venerated and digitally challenged ancestor. â€Å"His money not crazy,† said Three. Charlie had noticed the alley on one of his walks to the financial district. It lay between Montgomery and Kearney Streets and had all the things a good alley should have: fire escapes, Dumpsters, various steel doors tagged with graffiti, a rat, two seagulls, assorted filth, a guy passed out under some cardboard, and a half-dozen â€Å"No Parking† signs, three with bullet holes. It was the Platonic ideal of an alley, but what distinguished it from other alleys in the area was that it had two openings into the storm-drain system, spaced not fifty yards apart, one on the street end and one in the middle, concealed between two Dumpsters. Having recently developed an eye for storm drains, Charlie couldn't help but notice. He chose the drain that was hidden from the street, crouched down about four feet away, and opened the parcel from Three Fingered Hu. He removed eight M-80s and trimmed the two-inch-long waterproof fuses to about a half inch with a pair of nail clippers he kept on his key chain. (An M-80 is a very large firecracker, purported to have the explosive power of a quarter of a stick of dynamite. Rural children use them to blow up mailboxes or school plumbing, but in the city they have largely been replaced by the 9 mm Glock pistol as the preferred instrument of mischievous fun.) â€Å"Kids!† Charlie called into the drain. â€Å"You with me? Sorry I didn't get your names.† He drew the sword from his cane, set it by his knee, then dug the porcelain bear out of his satchel and sat it by his other knee. â€Å"There you go,† he called. There was a vicious hiss from the drain, and even as he thought it was completely dark, it got even darker. He could see silver disk shapes moving in the blackness, like coins tumbling through a dark ocean, but these were paired up – eyes. â€Å"Give it, Meat. Give it,† whispered a female voice. â€Å"Come and get it,† Charlie said, trying to fight down the greatest case of the willies he'd ever felt. It was like dry ice was being applied to his spine and it was all he could do not to shiver. The shadow in the drain started to leak out across the pavement, just an inch or so, but he could see it, like the light had changed. But it hadn't. The shadow took the shape of a female hand and moved another six inches toward the glowing bear. That's when Charlie grabbed the sword and snapped it down on the shadow. It didn't hit pavement, but connected with something softer, and there was a deafening screech. â€Å"You piece of shit!† screamed the voice – now in anger, not pain. â€Å"You worthless little – you – â€Å" â€Å"Quick and the dead, ladies,† Charlie said. â€Å"Quick and the dead. C'mon, give it another shot.† A second hand-shaped shadow snaked out of the drain on the left, then another on the right. Charlie pushed the bear away from the drain as he pulled the cigar lighter from his pocket. He lit the short fuses of four of the M-80s and tossed them into the drain, even as the shadows were reaching out. â€Å"What was that?† â€Å"What did he throw?† â€Å"Move, I can't – â€Å" Charlie put his fingers in his ears. The M-80s exploded and Charlie grinned. He sheathed the sword in the cane, gathered up his stuff, and sprinted for the other drain. Inside an enclosed space the noise would be punishing, brutal even. He kept grinning. He could hear a chorus of screaming and cursing, in half a dozen dead languages, some of them running over others, like someone was spinning the dial on a shortwave radio that spanned both time and space. He dropped to his knees and listened at the drain, careful to stay an arm's length away. He could hear them coming, tracking him under the street. He hoped he was right that they couldn't come out, but even if they did, he had the sword, and the sunlight was his turf. He lit four more M-80s, these with longer fuses, and tossed them one by one into the drain. â€Å"Who's New Meat now?† he said. â€Å"What? What did he say?† said a sewer voice. â€Å"I can't hear shit.† Charlie waved the porcelain bear in front of the drain. â€Å"You want this?† He tossed in another M-80. â€Å"You like that, do you?† Charlie shouted, throwing in the third firecracker. â€Å"That'll teach you to use your beak on my arm, you fucking harpies!† â€Å"Mr. Asher,† came a voice from behind him. Charlie looked around to see Alphonse Rivera, the police inspector, standing over him. â€Å"Oh, hi,† Charlie said, then realizing that he was holding a lit M-80, he said, â€Å"Excuse me a second.† He tossed the firecracker in the drain. At that moment they all started going off. Rivera had retreated a few steps and had his hand in his jacket, presumably on his gun. Charlie put the porcelain bear in his satchel and climbed to his feet. He could hear the voices shrieking at him, cursing. â€Å"You fucking loser,† screeched one of the dark ones. â€Å"I'll weave a basket of your guts and carry your severed head in it.† â€Å"Yeah,† said another voice. â€Å"A basket.† â€Å"I think you threatened that already,† said a third. â€Å"I did not,† said the first. â€Å"Shut the fuck up!† Charlie yelled at the drain, then he looked at Rivera, who had drawn his weapon and was holding it at his side. â€Å"So,† Rivera said, â€Å"problems with, uh, someone in the drain?† Charlie grinned. â€Å"You can't hear that, can you?† The cursing was ongoing, but now in some language that sounded as if it required a lot of mucus to speak properly, Gaelic or German or something. â€Å"I can hear a distinct ringing in my ears, Mr. Asher, from the report of your distinctly illegal fireworks, but beyond that, nothing, no.† â€Å"Rats,† Charlie said, unconsciously raising an eyebrow in a so are you gonna buy that load of horseshit? way. â€Å"Hate the rats.† â€Å"Uh-huh,† Rivera said flatly. â€Å"The rats, they used their beak on your arm and evidently you feel that they have a secret desire for cheap animal curios?† â€Å"So that you heard?† Charlie asked. â€Å"Yep.† â€Å"That's gotta make you wonder, then, huh?† â€Å"Yep,† said the cop. â€Å"Nice suit, though. Armani?† â€Å"Canali, actually,† Charlie said. â€Å"But thanks.† â€Å"Not what I'd pick for bombing storm drains, but to each his own.† Rivera hadn't moved. He was standing just off the curb, about ten feet away from Charlie, his weapon still at his side. A jogger ran by them and used the opportunity to quicken his pace. Charlie and Rivera both nodded politely as he passed. â€Å"So,† Charlie said, â€Å"you're a professional, where would you go with this?† Rivera shrugged. â€Å"Not on any prescriptions you might have taken too many of, are you?† â€Å"I wish,† Charlie said. â€Å"Up all night drinking, thrown out by the wife, out of your mind with remorse?† â€Å"My wife passed away.† â€Å"I'm sorry. How long?† â€Å"Going on a year now.† â€Å"Well, that's not going to work,† said Rivera. â€Å"Do you have any history of mental illness?† â€Å"Nope.† â€Å"Well, you do now. Congratulations, Mr. Asher. You can use that next time.† â€Å"Do I have to do the perp walk?† Charlie asked, thinking about how he'd explain this to child services. Poor Sophie, her dad an ex con and Death, school was going to be tough. â€Å"This jacket is tailored, I don't think I can get it over my head for the perp walk. Am I going to jail?† â€Å"Not with me, you're not. You think this would be any easier for me to explain? I'm an inspector, I don't arrest guys for throwing firecrackers and yelling into storm drains.† â€Å"Then why do you have your weapon drawn?† â€Å"Makes me feel more secure.† â€Å"I can see that,† Charlie said. â€Å"I probably appeared a little unstable.† â€Å"Ya think?† â€Å"So where's that leave us?† â€Å"That the rest of your stash?† Rivera nodded toward the paper bag of firecrackers under Charlie's arm. Charlie nodded. â€Å"How about you toss that down the storm drain and we'll call it a day.† â€Å"No way. I have no idea what they'll do if they get their hands on fireworks.† Now it was Rivera's turn to raise an eyebrow. â€Å"The rats?† Charlie threw the bag in the storm sewer. He could hear whispering from below, but tried not to show Rivera that he was listening. Rivera holstered his weapon and shot his lapels. â€Å"So, do you take suits like that into your shop very often?† he asked. â€Å"More now than I used to. I've been doing a lot of estate work,† Charlie said. â€Å"You still have my card, give me a call if you get a forty long, anything Italian, medium-to lightweight wool, oh, or raw silk, too.† â€Å"Yeah, silk's perfect for our weather. Sure, I'll be happy to save you something. By the way, Inspector, how did you happen to be in a back alley, off a side street, in the middle of a Tuesday morning?† â€Å"I don't have to tell you that,† said Rivera with a smile. â€Å"You don't?† â€Å"No. You have a nice day, Mr. Asher.† â€Å"You, too,† said Charlie. So now he was being followed both above and below the street? Why else would a homicide detective be here? Neither the Great Big Book nor Minty Fresh had said a word about the cops. How were you supposed to keep this whole death-dealing thing a secret when a cop was watching you? His elation at having taken the battle to the enemy, something that was deeply against his nature, evaporated. He wasn't sure why, but something was telling him that he had just fucked up. Below the street the Morrigan looked at one another in amazement. â€Å"He doesn't know,† said Macha, examining her claws, which shone like brushed stainless steel in the dim light coming from above. Her body was beginning to show the gunmetal-blue relief of feathers, and her eyes were no longer just silver disks, but now had the full awareness of a predatory bird's. She had once flown over the battlefields of the North, landing on those soldiers who were dying of their wounds, pecking out their souls in her bird form of a hooded crow. The Celts had called the severed heads of their enemies Macha's Acorn Crop, but they had no idea that she cared nothing for their tributes or their tribes, only for their blood and their souls. It had been a thousand years since she had seen her woman claws like this. â€Å"I still can't hear,† said her sister Nemain, who groomed the blue-black feather shapes on her own body, hissing with the pleasure as she ran the dagger points over her breasts. She was showing fangs as well, which dented her delicate jet lips. It had been her lot to drip venom on those she would mark for death. There was no fiercer warrior than one who had been touched by the venom of Nemain, for with nothing to lose, he took the field without fear, in a frenzy that gave him the strength of ten, and dragged others to their doom with him. Babd raked her rediscovered claws across the side of the culvert, cutting deep gouges into the concrete. â€Å"I love these. I forgot I even had these. I'll bet we can go Above. Want to go Above? I feel like I could go Above. Tonight we can go Above. We could tear his legs off and watch him drag himself around in his own blood, that would be fun.† Babd was the screamer – her shriek on the battlefield said to send armies into retreat – ranks of soldiers a hundred deep would die of fright. She was all that was fierce, furious, and not particularly bright. â€Å"The Meat doesn't know,† repeated Macha. â€Å"Why would we give away our advantage in an early attack.† â€Å"Because it would be fun,† said Babd. â€Å"Above? Fun? I know, instead of a basket, you can weave a hat from his entrails.† Nemain slung some venom off her claws and it hissed in a steaming line across the concrete. â€Å"We should tell Orcus. He'll have a plan.† â€Å"About the hat?† asked Babd. â€Å"You have to tell him it was my idea. He loves hats.† â€Å"We have to tell him that New Meat doesn't know.† The three moved like smoke down the pipes toward the great ship, to share the news that their newest enemy, among other things, did not know what he was, or what he had wrought on the world.