The Life and Times of Cornelius Corpuscle

By Anthony Addison

The Life and Times of Cornelius Corpuscle takes you on a journey through the bustling arteries of the human body, home to a staggering 20 to 30 trillion red blood cells. Among these crimson travellers, diligently delivering life-sustaining oxygen, is our microscopic hero, Cornelius. Unexpectedly, Cornelius finds himself at the epicentre of an existential battle to preserve the very life of the host body he faithfully serves.

Sinister forces, unseen yet potent, lurk within the body’s circulation, poised to strike at a moment’s notice. Plans are concocted to combat these malignant elements, yet they carry devastating implications. Cornelius grapples with the timeless dilemma: Can the ends truly justify the means? Embark on a thrilling journey through this dynamic, cellular landscape as Cornelius navigates the twists and turns of survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035829620

Anthony Addison

Anthony Addison was exported from New Zealand at the end of the Second World War. His parents settled in Britain, and he was brought up entirely in this country. He worked in the health service, ending up as a Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon. In retirement, he has been able to rekindle his love for art and writing.

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About the Author

Anthony Addison was exported from New Zealand at the end of the Second World War. His parents settled in Britain, and he was brought up entirely in this country.

He worked in the health service, ending up as a Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon. In retirement, he has been able to rekindle his love for art and writing.

Dedication

The staff at Austin Macauley Publishers have made my long-held dream come true.

Copyright Information©

Anthony Addison 2024

The right of Anthony Addison to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035829606 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035829613 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781035829620 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.co.uk

First Published 2024

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Acknowledgment

I’d like to thank my patient family who had to endure countless versions of this story but have always been encouraging.

Chapter 1

Genesis

Cornelius Corpuscle started life in the Marrow of the Thigh Bone. There have, in the past, been many accounts of his birth. Experts still argue over certain features of it and, as is often the way with experts, he, or she, who shouts loudest and longest tends to prevail.

Within the Body itself, some had a fanciful idea of an almost biblical beginning, along the lines, "And, when the Seventh Seal was broken, there was a silence in the Firmaments and, indeed the Marrow, for the space of half an hour and then came forth Seven Noble Heralds who trumpeted loud and clear, ‘Know ye all that Cornelius Corpuscle, round red cell to the Body sacrosanct, has been born.’"

Such an account, which avoids any of the more earthy issues involved in procreation, was indeed popular amongst certain refined, though misguided, members of the circulation.

The truth, of course, I venture, is rather different and can best be summarised as follows: deep down in the mushy mash of the Marrow, cells were dividing, changing, hatching, metamorphosing, sinking, and rising. Their envelopes were full at first with little dark centres, their nuclei, but these nuclei did not stay long. They were ejected, cast out, leaving behind just the amorphous mass of the red corpuscle rigidly contained within its membrane. This is how a corpuscle is born, despite what others might think, and Cornelius was no different.

However, there is no denying that to be born or hatched in the Marrow of the Thigh bone was regarded, by those, who populated the Body’s circulation and cared about such things, as an honour. There are many bones in the Body, but none so long and so strong, as the powerful Femoral Thigh bone which stretches between hip and knee and is surrounded by mighty and hard-working muscles, quadriceps, and hamstrings.

But, if he knew he had been birthed in such a favoured place, Cornelius certainly had no time to reflect upon it. No sooner had his minute corpuscular frame gathered itself together, after expelling its dark nucleus, which had so briefly loitered within, than he found himself summoned to a vast hall with ivory crenulations, deep within this strongest and longest bone of the Body. There, all about him, were other similarly sized little round red cells, who, too, were being corralled and pushed into this same space.

Gradually, every crevice, every niche, filled up and cells jostled one and other, looking to see what was going on about them, and it was not just cadres of red blood corpuscles who seemed to have been assembled. Many different members of the circulation’s constantly moving, ebbing, and flowing, population were there too. Noise from the chattering grew louder, nudges and winks were exchanged. Deals were done and overall, a sense of expectation reigned.

Then, suddenly, from somewhere deep within that cavernous hall, there came a booming voice. Cornelius bounced up and down, trying desperately to see from where, and from whom, exactly. It took him a moment or two to become fully accustomed to the gloom within the chamber and then he could make out the dark features of a truly huge cell.

We are gathered together to impart to you, freshly born red cells, the important principles that should guide your time within the circulation of the Body. Guide your time, repeated the mammoth cell solemnly. All the while the jet-black nucleus, residing within his vast frame, slowly rotated and sent darting stares about the Hall.

My name is Myros and I am a Megakaryocyte. It is my duty to acquaint you with the tasks you will be called upon for the one hundred and twenty days of your life span in this Body, in which we dwell. You must not waste a scintilla of your time with the fritteries and twitteries that you may see some of your fellow corpuscles, within the circulation, indulging in. You will always say to yourselves ‘I was hatched in the noblest and strongest of bones in this Body’. You will draw comfort and strength from that thought.

He paused a moment to let these words of great wisdom sink into, and be assimilated by, the assembled mass. And now. He paused once more and his solitary black eye searched around the Hall. You. His penetrating gaze focussed on Cornelius. You, come here, corpuscle.

Me? Cornelius squeaked.

Yes, you, Myros replied.

Cornelius suddenly found himself being propelled forwards towards the hulking frame of the Megakaryocyte. Miraculously, in front of him, the swathe of corpuscles separated, as the seas had apparently done for Moses many years before, allowing his passage through. Behind him, there was a relentless shoving and pushing to ensure he reached his destination. I…I? Cornelius stuttered, in fear and wonder, as he came to a halt in front of Myros.

Before he had time to say any more, Myros adjusted his frame, pulled himself up to his fullest and most overawing height and continued. What, corpuscle, is your purpose, your reason to be here? Why do you, a little round red erythrocyte, who is microscopically small, he continued, exist?

Now, it seemed to Cornelius that a silence of deafening proportions settled on the Hall. All attention appeared focussed on him. All the corpuscles present turned their envelopes towards him. The other members of the circulation, the White cells, the Polymorphs, the Basophils, the Eosinophils, who had gathered to witness this traditional ‘Passing Out’ ceremony, all looked at him and waited. No one spoke, no one breathed.

After what seemed an absolute age, he managed to blurt out, I don’t know, Sir. I truly don’t.

Pandemonium erupted.

You don’t know, child. You don’t know? A willowy White cell bounced up and down incredulously and shouted. Why, the next thing he’ll be telling us is that he doesn’t know what a Thymus dependent Lymphocyte does when it meets a hypersensitive antigen.

Several other cells twitched in sympathetic disgust. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, chorused two rotund Plasma cells, sandwiched side by side.

Murmurs of disapproval and disbelief ran around the Hall. Barbara, the chief Basophil, became positively puce and squawked in a most unladylike fashion, Why, it’s enough to make your envelope contract. It’s enough to make your Marrow marinate. Why it’s enough… Her shrill voice became lost in the general hub bub of noise.

There were catcalls and whistles, shouting and arguing. A young Megakaryocyte, meanwhile, shot out a group of Platelets which immediately clustered around Cornelius.

Silence in the Marrow, roared Myros. I will have silence.

The noise gradually died until there was not a voice to be heard, not a whisper uttered; not an envelope twitching, let alone contracting. The unpleasant band of Platelets who had surrounded Cornelius pulled back, formed a little ball and then, disconsolately, rolled away. When there was absolute quiet, Myros continued, Cornelius, you are destined to carry life to this Body of ours: this body of which we are all a part.

The Megakaryocyte lifted his gaze, letting his nucleus rove around. Without you and your trillion companions, there is no life. Without him, Myros turned to the vast assembly within the Harversian Hall again, there is no life.

Utter quiet, as the enormity of what Myros had just said, percolated through even the thickest of envelopes: Barbara Basophil, previously so puce and purple with passion, now looked positively contrite. The Plasma cells stared steadfastly at the floor and the willowy White cell who had started the commotion was nowhere to be seen. The young Megakaryocyte, responsible for the release of the platelets, collected them up and slunk away to the furthest corner of the Hall.

Cornelius, Myros continued, in what was a much softer tone. You have a hundred and twenty days to acquit yourself as a worthy offspring of this Marrow. Go with our blessing. Yield not to the temptations which will come your way, though there be many from within and from without.

Temptations, what on earth were they, wondered Cornelius? He dared not ask, in case another round of hoots of derision and laughter greeted such a question.

Remember, continued Myros. You are from the Thigh Bone Marrow; the Marrow within the longest and largest, strongest, and finest of the Body’s bones. You must never forget that. We, continued Myros, puffing out his already enormous frame, have a long and distinguished history. We are known for our reliability, resourcefulness, resolution, and besides, we hold the records for the greatest distributions of the elixir of life throughout the Body.

The Spleen, the graveyard of honest red cells, is full of our most noble corpuscles, who have toiled, so admirably, and selflessly for the Body. There are, Cornelius, fine examples to be emulated. We have great expectations of you. In a moment, you will enter the circulation of life, but you will never forget your heritage.

Never forget, came the murmured chorus from all the other cells massed around him.

How could I forget what I’ve scarcely been told? wondered Cornelius in utter bemusement but, just then, came a mighty rushing sound in his pores, and he found himself swept out of the Harversian Hall, along narrow corridors of ivory. He could not and did not, in his befuddled state, try to influence the force that was taking him. Myros’s words still echoed about him but he fought to understand quite what they meant and what exactly he was supposed to do.

Then, suddenly, he was ejected from the rigid lanes in which he had travelled out of the bone. He was in a vast tube along with a myriad of other corpuscles and being pushed and jostled into the great red circulation of the Body’s blood and life itself.

His journey had begun.

Chapter 2

First Encounters and the Lungs

There was no time for him to think; no time to decipher or contemplate the words of the mighty Myros Megakaryocyte. He had to have all his wits about him just to survive. Around him, he became aware there were other little round red bodies, twirling, twisting, and tumbling. I am one of these, he thought to himself, as he let his corpuscular frame race along with the others. Where they go, I will go, and so he did.

He had joined the circulation as the blood was being sent back to the Heart and Lungs, but many of his brethren corpuscles seemed to be becoming a little agitated and distressed, he realised, with a certain amount of apprehension. What is wrong with them? He wondered aloud.

We’re getting low. We’re getting low, rasped a corpuscle, busily endeavouring to push past him in the mighty flow.

Low? Cornelius asked curiously. Whatever do you mean?

Well, can’t you see, you ignoramus? I’m going blue, blue as Stilton, you might think.

Cornelius peered more closely at the hapless round corpuscle twirling past. Perhaps, he was a little blue. Perhaps, he had lost that healthy tinge of bright red. How is that? he asked politely.

Cor, you must be new and as green as I’m blue.

As green as you’re blue? Excuse me, but what exactly do you mean? The baffled Cornelius replied.

I ain’t got the time or the energy to explain, mate. I can see you’re new and good luck to you, but I’ve got to save meself, till I make it back to the Lungs and recharge.

Oh, I see, said Cornelius, who really didn’t see at all.

Ah, said his newfound companion. We’re going into the ’Eart. We’re on our way and I think I can ’old out a little bit longer. It’ll be close, mind.

The ’Eart? Cornelius queried.

Yeah, you know, the old Ticker; the thing what keeps us all moving and rotating.

Oh, said Cornelius again and he nodded his envelope sagely though, in truth, none the wiser. However, he had not long to wait before he found himself swept into a rather plain holding bay. There, accumulated, were an enormous number of corpuscles all similar in shape and size—similar to him, he supposed. The only difference amongst them was that some seemed a shade bluer than others.

As they waited, the cacophony of sound grew. Then, suddenly, flood gates opened and cells were ushered through to what appeared a vast cave, lined with exquisite patterns and designs. Swirling and whirling around, Cornelius could only gape, open pored, at the marvels and intricacies he saw before him.

Besides him though, another corpuscle appeared to be getting increasingly agitated. Oh, get on with it. Get on with it. He kept repeating.

Cornelius was just about to ask what he meant, when another one of the Heart’s valves sprung open, and a buffeting force of great strength expelled them all out into a huge tunnel, which Cornelius would later learn, was the main arterial highway to the lungs. Up and down this tunnel they raced and then, almost miraculously, there was tranquillity.

Cornelius could hardly believe it. From that mad and disorientating rush, he was now ambling through fields and bubbling rivers; wandering along paths, which seemed woven of the finest thread. The contrast could not have been greater to the frenetic rush and bustle, which he had endured, since being shoved forward to stand before the mighty Myros. He almost had to pinch his envelope to see whether the sights and sounds he was witnessing now, in the Lung fields, were real or not.

Weaving in and out of areas, where little lagoons of air and water, all tranquil, lay, he meandered joyously along the cobbled shining ways which stretched before him until, at last, he came to a larger gurgling lake, where several corpuscles were disporting themselves and relaxing. Enchanted by the sight of such bliss, he asked, in a somewhat timid voice, May I join you and bathe within this pool, too?

Suppose, sniffed one of the immersed corpuscles. If you must.

Well, I don’t have to, Cornelius replied, rather taken aback, by this less than enthusiastic response.

’Ere, course you may, chipped in another corpuscle who appeared intent on twirling himself around as many times as he could. Don’t pay attention to ’im, he continued. ’E came down the wrong bronchus this morning.

I did no such thing, replied the first corpuscle. It’s so typical of you, Ernest, to make a joke of everything. I do wish you’d be more serious occasionally. The way you behave anyone would think you regarded this life, and the supremely important role we play, as one enormous joke.

I’m not sure I see too much wrong with that, piped up another voice from the pool. No point, anyway, in terrifying this young corpuscle. Of course, you can get in. We’re all just stocking up before we take off to do the Body run.

Yea, move along, Algenon, and let this young corpie in. First time is it, lad?

I must confess, said Cornelius. It is, but how could you tell?

Don’t yer worry about that. Laughed the corpuscle, who a moment ago had been twirling himself around at such a great rate. We ain’t all snobs ’ere. Where did yer come out of anyway?

I believe it was the Thigh bone, Cornelius replied.

Thought it must ’ave been somewhere like that with yer posh accent and all. Anyway, my name is Ernie. I’ll show yer around if yer like, but first ’op in ’ere and get yerself all freshened up.

Now, don’t go leading this young ingenue up any of your garden paths, Ernest, sniffed Algenon. I can assure you, whatever your name is, and you, Ernest, that far from wishing to dampen this young corpuscle’s spirits, I merely wished to ensure that he started off in the correct manner. It was, I thought, obvious that he came from a good background and I wouldn’t want him getting off on the wrong foot in life by mingling with the wrong sort of erythrocytes. I’m sure you, Ernest, of all corpuscles, can appreciate that.

Don’t rightly know what yer mean, Algy, and what’s more, not sure that I care, but rest easy, I’ll take care of ’im, if that’s what ’e wants, replied Ernest Erythrocyte, seemingly unphased or merely oblivious to this veiled attack.

Well, I’m positive he doesn’t know what he wants yet, Algenon said, as he hauled himself out of the bubbling lake. Anyway, I have far more important things to do than waste my precious time arguing with you, Ernest, Ernie, or whatever you wish to call yourself. With that, Algenon departed, tutting and clucking as he went.

Don’t mind ’im, ’e don’t mean no ’arm. ’E’s just old fashioned and full of bulch, know what I mean?

Cornelius didn’t really know what he meant, though he nodded his envelope. How confusing it all seemed to be and he sighed aloud.

Fill yerself up, good and strong, and then you and me better be off on the next stage.

The next stage? Cornelius queried.

Yus, the next stage. We corpuscles, erythrocytes, red cells, whatever yer want to call us, ’ave a duty to the Body and that is, in case yer ain’t sure about it, to carry this stuff what we get in ’ere round the Body and give it out to the bits what needs it most.

Gosh, said Cornelius. Is that what we do? Myros said something about duty and the elixir of life, but I really didn’t understand properly. I was shivering and shaking too much.

Them bigwigs and ’igh ups, they sometimes lose sight of things; get carried away with their lofty speechifying and don’t realise most of us don’t need all that. Anyways, the next stage, after we’ve recharged our batteries with all these lovely bubbles, so to speak, is to take it out round the Body and deliver it.

My, said Cornelius, who was beginning to feel a little light enveloped, as the oxygen from the pool continued to sink into his corpuscular self. I think I’m beginning to understand.

Yeah, well don’t worry too much. I’m ’appy to show yer round, if yer want.

Oh, would you, Ernest? I’d be ever so grateful, Cornelius replied.

Come on then, said Ernie pulling himself out of the rejuvenating pool. By the by, it’s Ernie to me mates. That’s what I prefer.

The two of them began to make their way along the cobweb thin paths which eventually led to the large Lung veins and they, in turn, drained into the left side of the Heart.

Stick close, Cornie, whispered Ernie. Cos, if you thought the pushes and power from the other side of the ’art were something, yer is now going to experience massive.

Cornelius felt his envelope crinkle a little with a mixture of fear and anticipation at this. Oh, my golly gosh, what now? He wondered.

And he did not have to wait long to find out. Into the left Atrium they went, a chamber whose art work far eclipsed that of the right side of the Heart, which he had so recently visited. Great strands of cardiac muscle fibres curled down the walls, drawing attention to the both delicacies and finesses that were intrinsic. Soon, muttered Ernie, and as he said this, a spasm of pure muscle power forced all the corpuscles resting within the Left Atrium, down into the Ventricle through the flaps of the Bicuspid valve.

Cornelius stuck close to Ernie, as they were now swished through into the largest of the Heart’s chambers. It made the Harversian Hall, where he had been summoned before Myros, seem positively tiny. He could never have imagined such a collection and conglomeration of his corpuscular colleagues. The chamber swirled and seethed with blood; the thick purple muscular walls tense with a hidden energy.

Where had all these fellow red cells come from and where were they all going, he wondered, in the moments that the chamber was gathering its strength before the great expulsion began. Beside him, he heard Ernie mutter through gritted pores, ’Ere goes, ’old tight to yer envelope and follow me.

It was then that Cornelius felt the most enormous pressure wave behind him, propelling and pushing him, with a strength that dwarfed all the previous pushes and shoves to which he had been subjected in his short life.

See what I mean? Ernie shouted at him, as they hurtled out through the guarding aortic valve and round the arching bend of a huge Artery and Cornelius did see what he meant. Later, he would learn this was the main route out from the left side of the Heart: the highway of the Body and life itself. The forces involved were enormous, he felt his envelope flattening, whilst careering along as close to Ernie as he could possibly manage.

They whizzed past larger cells, polymorphs and lymphocytes. Only the odd sporadic bundle of platelets, almost too small to see, passed them.

We’re going down, shouted Ernie above the roar of the current.

Cornelius did not know what he meant really, but he blindly followed. They sped down through the Chest, passed the massive Heart, from which they had a moment before exited, and then entered the territory below the Diaphragm, the dividing curtain of the Body. Their speed, by now, had dropped a little and Cornelius felt able to ask Ernie exactly where they were going.

To the toes, mate, came the reply. Good for yer on yer first tour. It’s a long way down, and if yer can do this easy like, yer’ll probably be able to do most things. Besides, I is a great one for going in at the deep end.

If you say so, Cornelius replied, not at all sure that he was necessarily so inclined. After what seemed a considerable time, the two corpuscles found themselves negotiating ever smaller passages, ending in the tiniest of all, the capillaries. Hair