Hour 17: Mitose-me

Dear diary,

I found myself lying there, surrounded by darkness and fog. I couldn’t remember who or where I was. I couldn’t feel my body. And then, as if in a dream, a memory came to greet me. It was an old memory, of when I had just been born. It’s contours felt fuzzy, but the words I had over-heard remained sharp. An older cell had been singing its last truth before giving in to senescence, telling a tale as old as tales go. The words rang in my mind as I remembered. I could see it now.

''Legend says mitosis is not a cellular process, but the story of two lovers. As with every epic love story, there was a great love, unfounded jealous, and an eternity of punishment. But there cannot be a love story without a slither of a happy ending. Even here, the two lovers found a way to be re-united, if only for an instant, during mitosis.

This love story begins in something smaller than the human cell: the cellular nucleus. It’s a story that begins at the beginning of all things, where two sets of chromosomes who had always felt like they were halves of something bigger, finally met. The love that ensued was bigger and stronger than all things. Not bearing the thought of separation, the two lovers decided to let their encasing membranes fuse, and become one. Enclosed in the same nucleous, nothing could keep them apart. For a while all was well, and they continued to live surrounded by each other, their searching appeased, their souls content.

But gradually things began to deteriorate: All the other cellular organelles started to become jealous. Having been forced into a life of solitude, never to find another’s half, they wallowed in their loneliness as they gazed into the happiness of the chromosome pair. Bitter and resentful, they knew the cell needed the double set of chromosomes to survive. Instead,  their vengeance was inflicted disguised as a gift: The chromosomes were to be granted their wish to always be together but forced to fuse to create one full set of genes. The curse caused the chromosomes to be torn to pieces as they merged. When they became one, the power of their love was so strong that it gave life, and the first cell was born. But it came at a cost: The chromosome lovers had been forced into unity, losing their identity. They had been morphed into eternal solitude. Their love became a distant memory.

Eventually, nature took pity on the chromosome lovers, and decided to reward them for their sacrifice of life. And so, mitosis was born: During mitosis, each chromosome is duplicated into an identical copy. Then, and only then, are the chromosome lovers able to see each other again. For a fleeting glimpse of an instant, they are left to be individuals, to gaze in wonder, to speak, to love. To keep all the other organelles at bay, nature distracted them by allowing them to become doubled too. Thus, even if for a short time, mitosis became the time when all solitude was lost, as each part of the cell finally found its other half. 


As is every other cellular process, mitosis was designed to have different phases. Like clockwork, each phase was to progress into the next, eventually ending in two separate cells, each with it's own set of chromosomes, an unavoidable conclusion to a temporary solace. But at first, things didn't flow smoothly: Finally re-united, the doubled chromosomes clung to each other, refusing to lose each other again. They held on, a promise in their cores, creating a bond that is now known as the  kinetochore. To this day, mitosis will reveal the chromosomes connected at their kinetochore as strongly as the interlocked fingers of obstinate, desperate souls. Centrosomes were therefore devised, small centres that could create and control rope-like microtubules.  

During prophase, the first phase of mitosis, the microtubule ropes were unleashed and ordered to go and bind each chromosome at the centre of their souls, the kinetochores, and begin pulling the couple apart from other ends of the cell. The unyielding, unrelenting strength of the microtubules was such that the second mitosis phase, the metaphase, was punctuated by the scene of all the chromosome couples, still together, but aligned in the centre of the nucleous. The love and sorrow ensuing from that one moment was such that it earned its own name, 'the metaphase plate', the platform of halves. All bonds were finally broken in the next phase, called anaphase, during which the lovers were separated and dragged into opposite ends of the cell. Their songs of woe will be enough to pierce your soul, each and every time. When telophase finally rang true, the separated chromosomes found themselves encased in separate sets of membranes, each containing one copy of a full set of genes. Finding no solace in their renewed solitude, the chromosomes melted into undefined chromatin, leaving behind the definition of a shape, of an identity, unable to bear life alone. Mitosis ended with cytokinesis, where a cell splits into two, each side claiming a set of organelles, and a nucleous of implacable sorrow. 

Thus, mitosis became the curse of true lovers, the penalty of jealousy, the loneliness of nature, the sacrifice of life.''

I felt it then. I felt my membrane and my organelles, my double personality. I felt too full, like I was going to explode. And then a tear, right in the middle of my membrane, and I felt release. The tear grew bigger and bigger, and I wondered if I was meant to feel scared. But it was strangely pleasant, satisfactory somehow, like removing dead skin from your body. I felt it rip me in half, and I let it, feeling more and more myself until finally, it was over. There was nothing more to tear, there were now two membranes, two minds. I was me again, just me. Tiny, insignificant, happy to die trying to change, me. 

'Welcome back' whispered a familiar voice. And I smiled.

Cell X

Hour 16: Splitting headaches

Mitosis is an essential process in the lives of cells, as it allows them to replicate (become two individual cells). This is a highly regulated process, as there a lot of things that need to be doubled before either 'daughter' cell can exist independently. During mitosis, the DNA of a cell is distributed equally among daughter cells. However, before this can happen, the cell needs to double in size, double all of its organelles (cell organs) and, most importantly, make an exact copy of its DNA. As you can imagine, keeping track of all this doubling can get confusing, so scientists have found a way to subdivide this whole process into several distinct steps. These include interphase, Gap1 (G1), Synthesis (S), Gap 2, and finally, mitosis. Most of you will have covered all of this in your school years, maybe in a time long-forgotten, or maybe you are stuck trying to memorize it now. But before you turn away in disgust (bleargh, biology) and contemplate clicking onto the next more frivolous web-site, I ask you this: have you ever wondered what mitosis would feel like?

For the school students, who are wondering 'what is the point of learning this since I will never use it again in my life', I have included some simplified biology details that should help you pass your dreaded biology exam. Hang in there, soon you will be part of the people who can comfortably forget biology details without any significant consequence to their lives.

The Gap 1 (G1) phase, is the step that comes after interphase. Essentially, all that happens in G1 is that the cell increases in size and gets ready for DNA replication. To do this, the cell increases its supply of proteins and number of organelles, such as mitochondria (the cellular equivalent of lungs, they breathe and use the oxygen to produce energy) and ribosomes (essential to the cell as they make protein). It can last a variable amount of time. 

I waited and waited in the gloom. My body seemed to grow with the drumming of the heart-beat. But I was darkness and I was barely aware of my size. I was anger, and disappointment and pain. I wasn't any different from my fellow cancer cells. I was a monster, too. I let myself sink deeper into my misery. I didn't deserve an escape. I felt my sides push against my neighbouring cells, and I let them, revelling in the feeling of discomfort. I don't know how much time had passed as I grew, impassive. It could've been hours, or minutes, or days. Time seemed to have lost its value, as it led me to my atrocious fate. Abruptly, everything stalled. I glanced down, disinterested, noticing how my inside organs seemed to have doubled. Maybe I had finally lost my mind, and I was just seeing double. I noted I was huge, towering over my fellow cells. I wondered if this was how Hulk felt on a daily basis. I briefly wondered if I should feel some sympathy for him, and then remembered I didn’t care.

The synthesis (S) phase, is the stage where the DNA is replicated. On any other day, a cell’s DNA looks like a bowl of spaghetti. You can imagine how hard it would be to pick out individual spaghetti pieces and try to duplicate them without making a mess (please do not try this at home). Cells have found a way to ‘tidy-up’ the DNA into chromosomes just for this purpose. Essentially, they make the bowl of spaghetti look like baguette bread loafs. Each bread loaf (chromosome) is duplicated and then left to lie next to the original baguette. To avoid making a new mess, and forgetting what’s what, each baguette copy is tied to the original with a tooth-pick in its centre (scientists call this the ‘centromere’). When two baguettes(chromosomes) are tied like that, scientists like to call them ‘sister chromatids’, because they want to confuse you. You can call them ‘brother baguettes’ to get right back at them.  DNA synthesis (replication) is completed as quickly as possible, so as not to expose the fresh baguettes to mutagenic factors before they are completed. Mutations cause cancers. Cancers are bad.

 I suddenly realised there was a faint cheering in the background. Scours of cancerous evil eyes were watching my progress, elated. I felt nauseated, and attempted to return to the blackness, the numbness. I closed my eyes, and revelled in the feeling of the oxygen seeping into my pores. But the solace of darkness didn't envelop me. Instead, I felt a faint tugging in my nucleus. The nucleus contains the DNA, like a skull would a brain, if I were human.  It controls our every move, our every thought. I guess the feeling I was experiencing could be compared to a migraine, or a strong headache. The pain jolted me out of my depression, and I grimaced, confused. I tried in vain to ascertain what was happening inside my nucleus. But like a man wouldn't be able to look into its own brain, I was unable to make the slightest progress. The pain got stronger, clouding my brain. Every thought had to travel through a thick fog before becoming coherent. I tried to shake my head, but realised I couldn't. I had no head. I was a cell. A sticky, huge cell, who couldn't budge. The nearby cancer cells seemed to notice my discomfort, and started cheering louder. 'Here comes the DNA synthesis' one cell said, ecstatic. Her words raced through my muddled thoughts, their meaning sinking into the depth of my soul. The fear they brought was stronger than the pain. Survival instincts kicked in, as I realised I was about to have two sets of DNA, a second brain. I was about to become two cells. I wondered in horror, whether I would lose myself as I became two. Was this the end of me? 'I'm not afraid.' I thought. 'I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid.' I repeated these words over and over in my mind, clinging to their meaning, chanting them to the fear that was slowly building at the edges on my mind. But I wouldn't, I couldn't let it win. If I was to go as a monster, I wouldn't let myself be a coward too. The edges of my thoughts were becoming clouded, and I chanted, louder and louder, challenging the pain, resisting my nature. But the clouds didn't recede, and I realised with a jolt that my thoughts had now become weak whispers of fear, as I mumbled 'I'm not afraid' one last time. I felt a final blinding tug in my nucleus, as if my brain was being opened up and split into two, and I felt myself sink into the darkness. Through the rumbling in my ears I thought I heard a pleading voice, clear as an angel, whisper my name. 'Selena.' I thought. And then it all went black.

The Gap 2 (G) phase, is just a gap between DNA synthesis and mitosis. Impossibly, the cell continues to grow in size.

I slowly slipped back to consciousness, faintly aware of a strong pain gradually subsiding. My thoughts were still muddled, and I noticed there seemed to be an echo to the voices within me. I felt like I was screaming inside an empty cave, my every scream doubled back at me. As if sound was looking at itself in the mirror. I tried to recall what was happening, but thinking was becoming so hard. There seemed to be too many thoughts conflicting with each other...Like two minds in one body. This realisation hit me like a lightning bolt, and I understood that my cloudy state of mind was due to me having one nucleus with two sets of DNA, like one head with two brains. Both of my minds froze in unison. Then, a faint pressure on my membrane broke me out of my reverie: impossibly, I was still getting bigger.  I felt a second part of me rejoice in the notion of splitting. Like I had somehow unearthed an evil side. I got muddled up in a mixture of happiness and awe, terror and fear. When would this nightmare end? I closed my eyes again, attempting to clear my mind. I longed for the silence, for a mind at peace. There were too many thoughts, too many evil thoughts. I felt crowded. And then, as abruptly as it had stopped, the pain seared again.

Cell X

Hour 2: The cycle of life

Dear diary,

Time seems to pass by in a flurry of diffusion and CO2 release. All is quiet except for the distant rhythmic pulsing of the nearby blood vessels and the occasional bustle of sporadic oxygen molecules. I wish I could describe the amazing landscape that surrounds me, with the synergy of cells working in unison to create…well, life. But unfortunately all I see is pitch black. I can only distinguish my whereabouts by the different squidgy sounds different organs make when I accidentally brush against them.

All my neighbouring cells seem to be interested in is proliferating. You will find them sticking out their membranes with an air of superiority, importantly announcing to whoever is in their vicinity that they are about to enter the M-phase. The ‘M-phase’! They won’t even call it by its full name (mitosis) because they say only newly-split cells call it that. For those human readers that are not cells, mitosis is the step where cells finally manage to divide themselves into two identical copies. I mean, talk about being narcissistic! Luckily, mitosis is not as easy as it sounds…cells first have to go through the G1-phase (they call it the ‘growth phase’, but really, they just get fat), then the S-phase (there they get to copy all the crappy stuff that is in their heart, or nucleus…like DNA), and then another growth phase called G2 (the cell’s equivalent of putting on weight, then stuffing its face more because the diet starts tomorrow). Only once they’ve done all that, do they get to enter the M-phase. But don’t worry, none of them are actually splitting. Nutrients and oxygen are too scarce lately, and most of us wouldn’t be able to reach G1 even if we wanted to!

Sometimes, you will find a cell sneakily pinching its mid-riff and, with an irritating air of supremacy, whisper in a strained voice that it is time, it’s undergoing cytokinesis. These types of statements are usually acclaimed with a tense silence, bursting with a mixture of jealousy and curiosity. Yet, when after several minutes the cell is still formed by one intact globule, with no trace of a contractile ring, most cancer cells will begin to call its bluff. The shamed cell will then have to admit to still having a single nucleus, and resume its plump shape. Believe it or not, cytokinesis is the step after mitosis (I know, life is complicated for us cells)…just picture it as the phase where the cell is now as gigantic as a sumo wrestler, complete with double everything (organelle wise). Now picture a person coming along and placing a really skinny belt on the belly of this gigantic sumo, and insisting on tightening the buckle until the sumo actually splits into two. Well there you have it, cytokinesis.

As usual, nobody pays me much attention except for those rare glances at my chromatin (I really need to comb that DNA of mine), just to make sure I will not suddenly split myself into two and beat them all at it. Not that I have any intention of doing so. I don’t really understand their fascination for constantly bloating and splitting. Imagine your biggest aim in life being to split into two? No thank you, I am perfectly comfortable sticking to my Go-phase (the phase where you don’t bloat, and instead look toned and gorgeous).

I wonder if one day I’ll become just as pointless as the rest of them. They told me it’s the ‘cycle of life’. I guess only time will tell.  

Cell X