The body will say what it feels; the mind will conceive of a plan based on what it sees and wants; but the soul speaks what is real. The soul’s language is not conceived but dwells in the depths. And it is a language so hard to let out. I have read the word images of Shayleene MacReynolds’ over the last while and have come to realize she is speaking from the soul.
Rita Walker (Blog Twenty-nine): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
The Haida Gwaii has carvings of three men with hats on the top of their totem poles. These watchmen tell the carver of the totem pole if enemies are coming or if there is any other important information they should know. (all references are at the bottom of the blog).
It’s unusually warm for autumn and Zsofia had asked Rita to bring her class to Victoria Park in Kitchener.
From the driver’s seat Rita glances in the rear-view mirror of the college’s Ev Star Min-eBus. All the elementals are here now. Marlo is sitting right behind her with his arm across two coolers full of sandwiches and thermos with water. Behind Marlo is Aella and Ember. The other students fill the rest of the double chairs behind her and the single seats. Kanayago sits on a single seat at the very back by herself.
After the police came to talk to them about the attack the man named Norm made on the woman called Wendy, Rita asked Aella her background. Once Aella found out who Rita is and that she teaches the Environmental Technology class at Six Nations Polytechnic Brantford Campus she became more talkative. Aella explained that she was supposed to be in Rita’s class but couldn’t. She was volunteering in the Haida Gwaii as a Red Cross Emergency Response Worker until just a few days ago.
No one is talking so she turns on the radio. The Beatles “Eleanor Rigby” comes on and when the song gets to the verse “All the lonely people” she glances in the rear-view mirror at Kanayago. The girl is looking out the window with a conflicted look on her face.
After she parks she and her students walk towards the lake that runs through the park. Rita sees a weeping willow. Not knowing why she touches its bark.
Shrouded in mist she stands on the eastern shore of Haida Gwaii. She knows its Tlell because of the totem pole with the three watchmen carved into its top. The mist disperses for a moment and she can see Rae standing on a wooden outlook with cedar rails. Rae is staring across the Hecate Strait. This time Rita can tell Rae knows she’s there.
Rae modeled by Nicki Henry, picture taken by Darren Henry of Nixxx Design Custom Printing firstname.lastname@example.org
“You have all the pieces,” a soft soprano voice says. “They must come to Haida Gwaii before the eclipse. I have already told this to Ember.” Mist covers Rae and Rita awakens from the vision with a feeling of displacement.
“Are you okay?” Marlo asks.
“Yes, but I need to get everyone to Haida Gwaii.”
“I don’t think that will be so hard. Rán has already told me we must go and the new girl, Aella told me of a vision she had from Onya also saying we must go to Haida Gwaii.”
“I wonder if Kanayago has received a message from Kaneki?” Rita asks. She sees Kanayago walking separate from the others.
As they reach the shore of the lake Rita sees Zsofia standing in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts reading over a sheet of paper.
Zsofia modelled by Dr. Arla Kasaj picture by Dan Watt: email@example.com
Zsofia looks up and says, “You’re all here!”
Rita doesn’t miss the remark: all here. Zsofia is the only person who is not an elemental that knows almost all her secrets.
“Have a seat but watch out for the Canadian Geese droppings,” Zsofia tells them. “What happens with our medical supplies once they’re used is quite interesting. In the past many of the sharps such as needles and syringes were put into containers and autoclaved. Hydroclaving was found to be more efficient so that’s how all needles and syringes are sterilized now. All other medical items such as bandages, gloves, and so on have to be sterilized and buried in a separate landfill or incinerated. Incinerating is becoming safer for the environment as stricter rules are enforced and as better technology developed.”
“Our health is hurting our environment?” Marlo asks.
“Not as much as it used to,” Zsofia answers. “Infectious disease such as AIDS, Hepatitis, and super bugs such as SARS will increase if we don’t keep everything sanitized. But to clean items like bed sheets or to sterilze needles means putting CO2 or other pollutants into the air.”
“A catch 22,” Aella says with a shake of her head.
“Less so as we use better technology and learn to waste less. Any other questions or comments?” Zsofia asks.
No one else asks anything so Rita stands up. “Thank you Zsofia. Well let’s eat,” she continues nodding towards the coolers they brought from the mini-bus.
As the others eat Rita walks with Zsofia along the lake’s shore.
“What happens now that you have them all gathered together?” Zsofia asks when they are out of earshot of the others.
“We go to Haida Gwaii,” Rita answers with simple solemnity.
“You want me to go?”
“Yes,” Rita replies. Zsofia may be part of the solution no one considered.
With thanks to Nicki Henry of:
You can contact Nixxx Designs Custom Printing at: firstname.lastname@example.org
And Dr. Arla Kasaj: email@example.com
Rita Walker (Blog Seventeen): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
We take some liberties with Rita Walker, such as suggesting what supermarkets might be like in the near future. The idea is to show possible solutions but there are always other ideas that might be better. A concern is if only one replacement, like hemp, were to be used what would be the environmental impact of trying to grow enough hemp? So the answer might be having a variety of sources to replace plastics in supermarkets.
It’s Saturday and Rita can hardly focus. Tonight she meets up with Marlo near the Kanetic Reusable Batteries by the Oakhill Cemetery. First she has to discuss an upcoming lecture with the Metro Supermarket manager.
She walks through the supermarket’s sliding glass doors and heads towards the Service Desk. As she passes the aisles she notices that most of the customers are using muslin produce bags. At the Service desk she asks for Ryan Day, the store’s manager.
“Hello Rita,” says a man in his forties who stands slightly taller than Rita. He has fading blond hair and a sharp nose that makes his smile even broader. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“The bags you see in the produce section are made from cellulose,” Ryan tells her. As they walk past the other aisles Ryan points out the meat section. Instead of Styrofoam or plastic for the base we use paper packaging coated with cellulose.”
“What’s the environmental impact of using cellulose?” Rita asks.
“That’s something the owners of the supermarket are considering. If it’s affordable it might be better to use numerous sources to replace plastic. So we have cellulose bags available but also customers can bring their reusable bags. We have some packaging made of hemp but it would be devastating to the forest and farm to grow enough hemp to make it the only reusable alternative.”
“Well thank you for the good news,” Rita says as she gazes at the reusable packaging. “What happens to the food that doesn’t get purchased?”
“Initially we sell it at a discount or give it to the foodbank. Once it expires the food is sent to be converted into energy or fertilizer for local farms.”
“Can you give the food to the foodbank?” Rita had heard supermarkets and food markets were concerned about being sued if they gave day old food to food banks.
“No, there’s a law called Donation of Food Act. Obviously food that is moldy, smells bad or has other signs of going rotten cannot be donated.”
“Well, thank you Ryan, you’ve made my day,” Rita says as she offers her hand.
“My pleasure. I hope to have more good news for you in the near future.”
As Rita drives home she wonders what the night will bring. She researched Kanetic Reusable Batteries and found very little information except a list of its current employees. Kanayago’s name was listed under research and development.
Rita Walker (Blog Sixteen): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
Both nature and technology follow the circle of life. A river that flows is alive and healthy but block off the flow and it stagnates. Forget to fill a car up with gas or keep up the oil and other liquids and the gears rust and it eventually refuses to work anymore. Everything is breaking down and building up constantly. What happens to our bodily fluids is no different.
She stares up at the classroom. Her heart pounding as she sees Marlo calmly staring back at her. Later she’ll need to talk to him about visiting Kanetic Reusable Batteries with his help. To Rita’s surprise a girl much shorter than Marlo with long brunette hair and wearing glasses with a metal frame is sitting beside him. The girl’s innocent face is confusing considering her aura is metallic grey. “Hi,” she says to the new girl. “Welcome to the class and could you tell everyone your name?”
“Kanayago,” the girl replies with a sweet voice.
Rita is dumbfounded. “Do you know the meaning behind that name?”
“Yes. My parents told me they found me in a crib at the doorstep when they first moved to Canada from the Chūgoku Mountains in Japan.”
“They named you Kanayago?”
“No. The name was written in Hiragana syllabary on a gold anklet they found around my left ankle. Since I do not look Japanese my parents told me they were confused at first but accepted that it was the mythical Kirin that delivered me to their doorstep.”
Rita shakes her head. Her bias suggested the child of Kaneki would be obtuse and the least likely to join her class.
“Today’s lecture,” she begins with a shaky voice, “is about biosolids. It’s important in this class to remember we want to know where a product starts and where it finishes. So we’re going to talk about how poop and urine is turned into biosolids. We eat and drink, go to the bathroom and our waste–and let’s put waste between quotation marks–goes to sewage plants. Then what?” Rita stops talking and gazes across the room at all the students. They all look confused, even Marlo.
“The excrement and urine or waste goes through many processes to change it into biosolids. The biosolids are used on farms to help grow food.” She sees that all the students have disgusted looks on their faces. “Everything needs to be reused or recyclable with as little greenhouse gas emission as possible. The biosolids are anaerobically or aerobically digested before they are used for growing food. Think of a leaf. It grows on the tree in the spring; helps gather sunlight and rainwater in summer, and falls off in the autumn. Over the winter the fallen leaves give protection to plant beds and insects. In the spring when thaw arrives the leaves break down and become soil.”
Marlo’s hand shoots up.
“Yes,” Rita asks trying not to stare intensely at him.
“Like cleaning out a gutter. If the leaves remain from autumn to spring you’ll be cleaning out dirt instead of leaves.”
“Correct. Thank you Marlo.” She knows her eyes say I’ll meet you later but she hopes he’s the only one who notices. “I want you to study up on biosolids and how each and everyone one of us can make this an easier process.”
Later in the day Rita goes to Moonshadows Metaphysical Shop near Mt Hope Cemetery to pick up a Haida made whale talisman. But she knows the owner and opens the door to the house instead of the shop. Rita halts in the front of the hall. Inside sitting half way up on a carpeted stairway is the girl Kanayago where she’s reading a book. Rita immediately notices the metal framed glasses and the silver ankh charm that sits against her chest held their by a silver necklace. Kanayago seems absorbed in the book about nanotechnology.
Remembering this is a child of Kaneki and that she must tread carefully with this one Rita diligently steps back outside and gently closes the front door.
Rita Walker (Blog Eleven): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
Willow trees live all around the world. Oxygen producers, pain relief from the bark, and used to make flutes to fish traps.
Rita parks in the small gravel driveway across from the raised flower beds the city re-plants every year. She heads towards the section of Mill Creek that flows through the park where the giant Weeping Willows grow. When she was younger she fell asleep thinking about Rae. But Rae did not answer, instead another ancient one appeared from Africa.
Her mother was telling her the Haida Creation Story. “Raven was walking on the shore when he heard many noises coming from inside a clamshell…,” her mother was saying when Rita fell asleep thinking of Rae.
Her soul watched as she floated out of her body. She saw her face, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. She saw her mother’s dark brown hair flowing over her shoulders in strands to cover the top of her deerskin shirt. Her mother gently stroked her forehead and said, “Sleep.” Her soul’s eyes turned upwards towards the ceiling of the tent and floated upwards by moving her arms and legs in a swimming motion. As she swam between the Sitka spruce and Yellow cedar trees a tug to her chest pulled her down to the draping branches of a dwarf weeping willow. She touched one of the thin leaves and found herself somewhere else.
She was hovering before a giant weeping willow with a creek flowing nearby. As she stared, frozen in place at the willow’s gnarly trunk, a woman appeared. So powerful and strong was the women’s presence Rita didn’t know if to flee or stare in awe. “Child,” said the woman with raven coloured hair. The woman’s voice had a lilt and a mixture of tenderness and strength that demanded attention as she pointed her finger at Rita. “Why have you called me?”
“I was calling Rae,” Rita admitted still torn between wanting to flee and getting to know this woman better.
“Rae is healing her soul and I am with her through Raven.”
“You are connected to Raven?” Rita asks. “I thought only the Haida knew of Raven.
“I am of the wind child–and the willow which in its many forms all around the World, both hears the wind and tells it stories–communicates with me. When you thought of Rae she must have sent you to me instead. I am Oya, the Yoruban Goddess of weather, and known to others like you as the Elemental Ancient One of Wind. What do you seek from Rae?”
“She lives in the Haida Gwaii and is directly connected to my people. So I seek wisdom from her.”
“Ah, I see. You are not just Haida but also Irish, German, and connected directly to the Earth. The World is round my child and that makes all things connected. But we seek what is familiar and you are closer to Ailbe Rose than Rae. So that may be why she will not answer you.”
“Why would someone want me to contact you Oya?” Rita asked with a slight bow.
“Some day you will meet the one who is connected to me. Let her know that you and I have met. The cat may eat the sparrow and the hawk may eat the rabbit but when there is a greater danger all creatures heed the warning of Raven’s call. What argues and fights now will need to collaborate in the near future. Unnatural things are beginning to be created out of what lies deep beneath the ground.”
Rita walks up to the willow she saw in her dream. With great diligence and respect she snips a section of overhanging branch off.
Interview with Bill Ashwell at the Blackwing Café, Cambridge Ontario, September 14, 2019.
After seeing the play Dark Sanctuary, co-written by my friend Bill Ashwell I enjoyed it so much that I asked him if I could interview him. If you want to know more about Bill I’ve included his bio at the end.
I just saw Dark Sanctuary, a play you co-wrote with Steve Robinson, and got so immersed in it I completely lost track of time. How did you first come up with idea for the play?
- It came from possibly too many nights watching old film noir movies on TCM: The Big Sleep, Out of the Past, Chinatown
How long did it take to write the play?
- Once Steve got me off my butt about writing, he and I had a first draft completed in about 3 months.
Because it’s a cloak and dagger play did it take a long time to make it flow properly?
- In a sense, yes. We had to frequently tweak the characters and the back stories to give more of a sense of their motivations. There had to be a viable reason for Father O’Rourke to support Nicky the way he did. And Detective Widmark needed his own backstory to be what he was.
A lot of social issues are brought up during the play. Was that intentional or did they implement themselves into the play as it evolved?
- A bit of both, I think. The issues of Nicky’s homelife and Father O’Rourke’s internal struggles are real and in a sense timeless, so to speak. We just worked them into the story to expand beyond the simple noir-ish stereotypes
Why did you choose to have the play take place in 1952?
- Simply, it fits with the film noir approach. But really, the time frame isn’t that much of a factor. Just sets the scene.
Some of the actors spoke with an Irish accent. Was that intentional?
- Again, it was all in keeping with the story. We wanted the archetypal characters; the kindly priest, the busybody house keeper, the hard-boiled police detective, without dwelling on the stereotypes, simplifying the characters to the point of parody. So the accents fit with the characters and, I suppose, vice versa.
I was very impressed with the choice of actors. Were they asked or did you have auditions?
- Mainly auditions. Steve put the call out and we auditioned quite a few local and area actors. I was quite impressed with the depth of talent in this area.
You’ve also written non plays. Can you tell us about your other writing and if it is available or will be soon?
- I began writing poetry waaaayy back in the ‘80s, but had no idea what to do with it of how to hone my craft. I stumbled across the Cambridge Writers Collective in 1995, a wonderful group of writers who taught me more about writing than I could have ever imagined. I have been fortunate enough to have had some of my work published and self-published.
- Poetry taught me to bend the physical rules of writing, that expression of the idea is, in some way, more important than composition. I struggle with rhyming poetry (and don’t get me started on limericks), so free verse poetry became the vehicle by which I could effectively express myself.
Bill Ashwell has been a member of the Cambridge Writers collective (CWC) since 1995. His poetry and prose have been published in several editions of CWC’s Writers Undercover Anthologies and The Cambridge Wartime Scrapbook. In 2001 he published Moments of Clarity, a chapbook collection of his poetry. In 2007 his work was published in the Ascent Aspiration Magazine’s: Aguaterra Anthology of poetry and fiction. Also in 2007 he was awarded the City of Cambridge’s prestigious Bernice Adams Memorial Award for Communication and Literary Arts. Bill has also participated in numerous public poetry readings, notably, at the Cambridge Arts Festival, the 2004 Remembrance Day Service at the Galt Cenotaph, and at various local celebrations of the spoken word.
You can reach Bill at: firstname.lastname@example.org or text him at: 226-218-1242
Rita Walker (Blog Eight): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
Rita Walker is a science fiction blog about the interaction of technology and the environment, and an introduction to North American Indigenous ways. Each distinct environment: grassland, snow, mountainous, desert, boreal forest, swamp, rain forest, and so on will decide the best methods of housing, food supply, and culture.
Astral traveling is common around the World. Is it the soul traveling or the subconscious creating images? That is for you to decide.
Memories flood through her as she continues to twist and turn fighting off the impulse to become what the Earth wants her to this night. She remembers that after the dream of the Tuath Dé Danann she was sleeping in her parent’s tent when her soul traveled across North America, over Greenland and Iceland, across the Atlantic Ocean into Northern Ireland. Places she has never been. Her speed slowed to a walking pace as she reached a tall hedge of Ilex Crenata. Its early afternoon and people are walking amongst nearby flower beds but none seem to notice her, nor a tall woman in an olive green dress wearing a wreath of white flowers. Rita’s soul halted as the woman turned and stared directly at her. This woman had green eyes that emitted a depth she could barely comprehend.
Thanks to Leah Weir and Kimberley Lee Photography https://www.kimberleyleephotography.co.uk/
In the dream she became material and her bare feet pressed into the grass. She had glanced around and noticed there were no longer any other people around. “Ailbe Rose,” she said in awe and respect to the women with the green eyes, “Mother Terra.”
“You are ready to learn the Change child,” Ailbe told her in a rich Irish accent. “And though you are mostly from me you will also be the Gatherer of others from the other Ancients. Though your soul can fly, you cannot. Although you can swim, you cannot breathe underwater. Although you can make fire with materials, it cannot come from you directly. There is one left, and she is tainted. Although you can hammer and heat metals and can combine some, you cannot do it with your thoughts alone. She can, and you must turn her against the Ancient One who has encouraged the destructive nature of industry for too long. Bring all these elementals together and teach them to work together. That is your task.”
Rita watched as Ailbe Rose grabbed up soil from where it was available under the hedge.
Thanks to Leah Weir and Kimberley Lee Photography https://www.kimberleyleephotography.co.uk/
“You are an Earth Elemental, as well as Haida, Irish, and German. Soon you will meet Airmid and learn that all life is interconnected. Stretch out your hand.” Rita does and Ailbe places the soil in her palm. “Change is easiest during a full moon but you can change at other times. The closer to a full moon the longer the change can last. Without soil you can only change partially, remember this. Close your eyes.”
Rita had taken in a deep breath and exhaled as she closed her eyes.
“Picture a land animal, a mouse, a cat, a beaver. You cannot become a seal, but you can turn into a snake, though not a sea snake, nor an eel. You can only become a large dog, a wolf, a deer, a moose, a bear or any other large to giant land creature during a full moon.”
“A cat,” Rita had whispered. She pictured a tabby cat with her mind. As she focused the soil in her hand had grown heavier and increased in amount. It hurt and her eyes had bulged.
“Breathe child,” Ailbe told her with a voice gentle and full of encouragement.
It hurts so much as her body changed that she gave out a cry. But the sound was that of a cat. She had looked up and up until she saw the smiling face of Ailbe.
“The pain will grow less as your body grows use to it. But as your extra weight turns to soil so must it also return with as much soil. You cannot change back where no soil is available. Close your eyes and go home now.”
Rita remembers lying down and resting her feline chin on her left forearm. The next moment she awoke inside her parents’ tent.
Rita Walker (Blog Seven): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
Black argillite is only found on Haida Gwaii. The Haida artist would often carve out the design for a totem pole on the argillite rock first.
Native American bands have a name for the full moon of each month. The Sturgeon full moon occurs in August.
She clenches her eyelids closed knowing the Sturgeon moon is trying to pierce its silver light through her curtains. Her hands clench onto her bed sheets as her body twists with desire to rip the curtains away. It is good she lives alone now. When she opens her eyes everything in the room is lighter and more distinguishable. She forces her eyelids closed again and focuses on calming her breathing and her need to change. Her thoughts wander back to her younger years.
Her parents took her and her brother to camp beside Tlell River. While her father and brother fished for salmon her mother weaved a new hat for her farther out of cedar bark and spruce roots while watching for bears. Bored, Rita decided to explore on her own. Entering the cedar forest that borders much of the river she became lost. She tried calling out in every direction but there was no reply. Terrified she sat on a moss covered log and grabbed up a handful of soil. She lay down on the log and exhausted slept.
In a dream she stood up from the log and opened her hand. On her palm was a small pile of soil. The soil levitated off her hand as tiny kernels and drifted in the moonlight towards a cavern made from the roots of an ancient redwood that stood tall and strong. Mystified by the floating soil, Rita followed it into the maw of the cavern where it pulsed with light. Inside she heard breathing and turned abruptly to her right. She saw a young woman wearing the same type of cloak as the Vilas. The woman’s dark hair and stern eyes told Rita that this was a Tuath Dé Danann. The young woman held out a necklace made of argillite stones. Rita’s hands shook as she gently took the necklace and clasped it around her neck. To her horror the necklace buried itself into her skin and attached itself to her collarbone. In a hypnotic voice with an Irish accent the young woman in the cloak told her, “When the Salmon Moon arrives you will dream of the ancient one Ailbe Rose and she will bless you so you may change for real. Soon after that you must call upon Rae, for she is originally from here and will guide you well through these lands. For now see little one, see with feline eyes but let neither wolf nor bear catch sight of you.”
That’s the first time Rita’s vision changed so everything became brighter in the night. She found her family’s tent but did not go near until her sight returned to normal.
Rita Walker (Blog Five): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
Food waste is both a moral and survival concern. We need to remember where the food we consume comes from.
“You’re so good at anatomy,” Zsofia says as she looks at her posture in a mirror. “I should have taken massage therapy like you did instead of that two weekend personal training course.”
“You were too busy with your Naturopathy course,” Rita replies. “Draw in your lower abs by your pelvis to stabilize and stretch up. You have fantastic posture as always.”
“Do you think Mother Earth will ever have perfect posture?”
Rita has to contemplate Zsofia’s question. She realizes perfect posture represents the melding of nature with technology. “Mother Earth is always changing, evolving. Now technology is evolving closer to nature. Engineers have started experimenting making computer parts with living material.”
“I agree with you, Nature will always find a way to return,” Zsofia says. “What I’m interested in currently is the reuse of food we all waste at restaurants.”
“That’s true we waste so much of life on our dinner plates,” Rita says as they walk towards the change room.
“There’s some hope there,” Zsofia says with a smile. “Years ago the Downtown Kitchener Business Improvement Area initiated a pilot program that sends waste food from restaurants to Bio En Power in Elmira. Bio En Power turns the food waste into biogas that’s used for fertilizer.”
“We still need to decrease the waste.” Rita opens her designated locker and passes Zsofia her duffel bag. “Especially meat. People need to respect that what they are eating used to be alive.”
“Dogs, cats, birds of prey, bears, and numerous other animals and mammals eat meat Rita.”
“I’m not suggesting people stop eating meat just respect it. Perhaps the custom no longer exists but the Inuit used to pour water from their mouths into the mouth of a seal they killed—in thankfulness for the seal giving up its life. Every part of the seal was used for either food or clothing.”
“It will be hard not to waste that much food,” Zsofia says as they walk to the parking lot. “We inspect the food we eat, we choose what we want to eat, and if we’re no longer hungry at a restaurant we either take a doggy bag or it ends up as waste.”
“Someday we’ll just have to accept what’s available instead of demanding that everything be available at all times.” Rita gives Zsofia a hug. “I’m looking forward to you doing a guest lecture.”
“Soon,” Zsofia promises.
Rita contemplates their conversation as she watches Zsofia drive away.
Rita Walker (Blog Four): By Dan Watt and Taylor Norris
There are different perspectives on testing medicines. Does a person care singularly about themselves, see humans as more important and that the rest of life exists to assist them in surviving, or that all life is sacred and should only be killed for food and protection? Technology is getting closer to ridding the need for animal testing and there are options for non-animal tested products.
As Rita does stability ball crunches while Zsofia checks her form she contemplates corporate greed. Her purpose isn’t to point at a defined enemy such as a singular corporation or person. If she has to define an enemy it will be a naïve and destructive ideology that sees attrition not collaboration as the ideal way of life.
“Tell me more about the Biomedical course you’re teaching,” she says once her oblique are too fatigued to do anymore side crunches on the ball.
Zsofia stands up and stretches. “It’s interesting. With modern technology we can evaluate what extracts from herbs can be used to cure a limitless amount of illnesses without the severe side effects that drugs used to cause to certain individuals. Education is looking at being one with nature instead of separate. Although my course is based on herbs for medicinal purposes we’re also using the technology to test soaps, detergents, and other cosmetic products without having to use animals.”
At the mention of using animals to test products Rita’s eyes tear up. “That is such a worthy endeavor.”
“I know,” Zsofia replies as she lies down on the stability ball to do crunches. “The more we understand how life works the more we can develop technology that doesn’t destroy it.”
“Are drugs like antibiotics still necessary? Good form on the ab crunches.”
“Thank you,” Zsofia says with a grunt as she finishes her set. “Yes drugs are still needed but we know how much to give an individual much better now.”
“How would you know?”
“Originally it was trial and error. Now we can do genetic scans to know better how a drug will affect different individuals. “
“Like eating?” Rita asks. “The same foods can affect different people in a variety of ways?”
“Yes. Some people are lactose intolerant, others have food allergies to peanuts that could kill them.”
“Everyone is equal but not the same,” Rita says as she lends Zsofia a hand to stand up.