writing

Blood is renewed rhythmically. Like relay runners on a track, cells pass batons back and forth, from lungs to heart and outwards. Inhalation calls them back, resetting the race. The breath purifies the river of life, expelling the body's waste in spent sugar remains. The runners reset. Carbon removed, blood anew.

The quiet heart. Its left atrium expands, inviting oxygen rich blood cells into the first room. The atrium contracts, opening the door to the left ventricle. Its muscles wrap the walls, waiting for the signal to open the gates. Onwards. A network of blood shoots upstream the tributaries of vasculo-muscular tissues, to the loneliest fractal ends of capillaries. Oxygen is released, the body rejoices, the blood becomes acrid with carbonic acid. The poor blood is pulled back through the veins and returns to its heart through the right side, atrium to ventricle and back to the sweet lungs. Carbon and oxygen swing in and out of the body like a lead and follow. Sugar and air for each moment of life. Her heart beats steadily 369 beats per minute.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sound of music creep in our ears.

On the workbench lies a clear plastic shoe box connected to a system of machines by two tubes. A gauge measures the amount of gas left in a canister of oxygen. A small device attached to the tank controls the flow of oxygen to the tube. The last machine whirls a solution into vapor, waiting to be misted in with the flow of air. The gauge off, such that the shoe box is solely filled with air.

An assistant weighs the mouse. 21 grams. She is lifted into the box by the tail. The lid is sealed. Her fine whiskers brush each wall and corner, bending against hard plastic. She peers up at the assistant through the glass ceiling.

He switches the gauge, to administer 4% concentration of vaporized Isoflurane.

20 seconds. Her attention is diverted to the smell emitted from a small circular vent; pungent and unpleasant. Pacing the room frantically, her body becomes excited, alert, unsteady. She can't keep upright.

56 seconds. Concentration is lowered to 2%.

Lulled, she rests, drowsy, her heart beats 259 beats per minute. The assistant tilts the box. The body tumbles to one side.

Soft stillness, and the night becomes the touches of sweet harmony.

1 minute, 45 seconds. The body is equilibrated with the inhalant, 2% Isoflurane.

2 minutes 20 seconds. The assistant turns the gauge and vaporizer off, and the chamber is filled with pure O2. The remaining inhalant exits to the waste evacuation system. Removing the lid, he holds her warm body. He pinches her foot. No response. Like threading a needle, he inserts a small cone into her nose, dispersing a light dose of the anesthetic to ensure she stays sedated. He places her back against the styrofoam board, pins her arms to the side, and her ankles to the base.

Look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb that thou beholst, but in his motion like an angel sings. Such harmony is in immortal souls.