Chapter 4 - Can Cells Think?
The Life Story of a Cell
Can a cell think?
It’s the question I keep circling back to. How can Cece-40 echo my own thoughts? I can think because I have a brain and a nervous system. But a single cell? Even a neuron doesn’t have a “brain” of its own.
Finally asking the real question, Yin muttered. You’ve been chatting with your stem cell like it’s Socrates. Time to admit it’s an illusion.
Cece-40 seemed to sense my curiosity.
“I don’t know why we can think,” she said. “But I know how we communicate—through electrical waves and chemical signals. When you’re angry, an alarm spreads almost instantly to all cells. But it costs a lot of energy, so it’s rare. Normally we just talk chemically. I like the blood cells—they’re like adventurous rafters, traveling through the body carrying oxygen…and gossip.”
Great, Yin said. Your blood cells are now on Instagram.
I resisted the urge to think too deeply. Yin’s voice cut in louder:
This is clearly an illusion. You should see a doctor.
But I’d accepted it. Yes, I could hear one of my cells. And yes, she could think.
I even caught myself calling her “she.” Do cells have genders? Besides sperm and eggs? Maybe that’s too much to dwell on.
Still, some of what Cece-40 said made sense. Communication through waves. My colleague Ed had just told me about fireflies synchronizing their flashes. At first they blink randomly, but as more gather, the pattern synchronizes and spreads through the forest. He said it was due to waves.
I’d looked it up:
How Do Fireflies Flash in Sync?
Science, it seems, has its limits. I believe in science, but not as a faith. Real science requires an open mind. Not all scientists stay open. Some turn science into a belief system, shutting down anything they can’t explain.
I don’t want to be one of those scientists. So while I don’t yet have a scientific explanation for what’s happening, I’m not ready to jump to Yin’s conclusion.
Cece-40 spoke again.
“I can access the knowledge stored by neurons, but some concepts are confusing. We don’t know what football is, or a stadium, or a kiss or a hug. I know DNA exists in our nuclei, but I don’t understand how it defines me or why I’m different from other cells, even though we share the same DNA. There are so many questions we can’t answer. I hope you can explain them to me.”
Her words stopped me.
Cece-40 wanted me to explain the world to her. But me—the “God” in her eyes—was in trouble.
Perfect, Yin murmured. You can’t even explain your own career right now, and now you’re supposed to teach biology to your own stem cells.
I gripped the edge of the kitchen table.
Cece-40 had her mysteries.
I had mine.