Cancer: The Adventure

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SpoilerThis adventure is generally based on the new anime, Cells at Work, but it's totally not necessary to watch it before making suggestions.

You are a cell. You've been just minding your own business, doing regular cellular things, until one day you make a terrible mistake. But before we deal with the repercussions of your actions, we need to take a step back and figure out who we're even dealing with here.

Cell, what organ are you from? What is the nickname or serial number that you're known by? What is the age and gender of the body you live in?

You're a Neuron and your natural home is the brain! Number 4 and your nickname is "Clue" because you always gave everyone the insatiable need of eating glue! Don't ask why you did it.

28, Female.

You're a Neuron and your natural home is the brain! Number 4 and your nickname is "Clue" because you always gave everyone the insatiable need of eating glue! Don't ask why you did it.

28, Female.

>Unfortunately for you, your owner drinks excessively

Authors note:
Love the ideas, guys, but I was wondering if we could tweak it just a little? I’ve never studied the brain and it’s never been featured in the cells at work anime, so writing that might be difficult. In addition, the character you guys created is an adult, and to the best of my knowledge most of the brain tumors in adults are derived from other non-neuron cell types, because adult neurons aren’t growing or dividing anymore. Pls feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

Oh, it's ok then! Maybe a... White cell? Same nickname because you had a weird thing for clue for a while but let's do cop and detective work!

Uhm... Lipocyte (I think that's their name).

Oh, it's ok then! Maybe a... White cell? Same nickname because you had a weird thing for clue for a while but let's do cop and detective work!

Uhm... Lipocyte (I think that's their name).

Maybe a Macrophage? Or a Neutrophil? Possibly a Monocyte.

You are an immature myeloid cell, also known as a myelocyte. You’re no longer a completely blank slate like you were when you were first born, but you still haven’t officially decided what you want to do when you grow up. Or at least, you’re not supposed to have decided yet, but in your mind you already have. When you graduate and are allowed to leave the bone marrow, you wanna be a neutrophil! Your grades aren’t good enough to get into the Basophil Academy, and you’re not enough of a ditz to be an Eosinophil, but neutrophils have the coolest jobs anyway. They get to be right there on the front lines whenever anything happens, fighting off invading bacteria and even the occasional virus. It gets so boring here in the bone marrow, so the thought of roaming around the whole body fills you with yearning and excitement.

Your serial number is CU-1322, but your classmates know you as “Clue” because you’re always looking for them. Puddle of water? Maybe it’s the slime trail of a bacterium! Mr. Neutrophil acting grumpier than usual while teaching a class? Oh no, what if he’s been infected by a virus? The others think it’s silly, that you’re reading too much into things. They prefer to leap straight into the action, slicing and dicing at any (for now, imaginary) threat that comes their way. But you’ve always been a curious one, motivated less by a love of violence and more by the desire to explore and protect this body that you call your home.

And right now, that curiosity has been piqued for sure. You and your friends were playing a rousing game of “Strep Throat” on the playground, until suddenly Ms. Macrophage interrupts the game and calls for everyone to go inside. “Come along, children,” she sings sweetly, but you notice a troubled look on her normally placid face. “It’s time for an emergency drill!” Now everyone else turns toward her, grumbling about recess being interrupted, but you hesitate for a moment. Should you go inside and sit in a cramped boring room with everyone, or try to stay outside and get in some more play/investigation time? And, if you choose the latter, what do you wanna do?

Listen to the Macrophage.

DON'T LISTEN TO THE TEACHER. YOU'RE GOING TO PLAY MORE AND BE THE COOLEST KID AROUND, OF COURSE!

You take a few steps toward Ms. Macrophage, but then pause. Quickly, before anyone can see you, you duck behind a piece of playground equipment and hope the miniature climbing wall is enough to conceal you from the others. The other myelocytes file inside reluctantly, with the teacher following. Then and only then do you slowly creep out of your hiding place. What do you want to do first?

swingset! Swingset!

>SWING YOUR LIFE AWAY

Become one with the swing. Make the swing go above the place it is attached to. Reach swinging nirvana, and fuse yourself with the swing. Swing twenty times the speed you should.

After another quick check to make sure everyone is gone, you turn back to the playground and clamber up to the seat of the highest swing in the swingset. It’s been taken all morning by a gaggle of normoblasts just sitting there talking, speculating about what life would be like as mature red blood cells after graduation. What a waste of a swingset. Swings are meant for the type of thing you’re doing now, which is building up speed, swinging faster and faster while grinning maniacally at your good fortune. You start incorporating little tricks here and there, leaning back so far you can see the world upside down. Wow, there’s really no one around here in the red marrow. Maybe this emergency drill was for everyone, not just the kids.

With trillions of cells in the body, you’ve grown up used to the constant hustle and bustle, but sometimes it can get a bit tiring. Some cells might be afraid to find themselves suddenly alone, but you relish it. No teachers are here to tell you to be careful, so you start swinging so high you come up out of the seat at the apex of each arc. Maybe if you get just a big higher, you can flip yourself all the way over...


But before you get the chance, your eyes are drawn to a sudden flash in the sky. You look up, but it’s already gone, and you see nothing but the faint outlines of houses and schools on the opposite side of the femur bone. The strange inverted perspective makes you dizzy if you look too long, and the speed of your movement makes it even harder to see anything.

Then - another! You’re looking directly at it this time, and you blink away stars from your eyes. It reminds you of an outer-space phenomenon known as lightning that your teacher mentioned in science class one day. But no one ever goes Outside, and you never expected to see it for real. You slow down a little to get a better look, but it’s gone again. The thought flashes through your head that maybe you should go inside with the others, that maybe the emergency drill wasn’t really a drill.

You tense up your legs and lean forward, preparing to take a flying leap off the swing. But just as you reach the top of your arc, the lightning returns, but this time it streaks down from the sky and -

————

You blink once. And then again. There is hard playground mulch pressed against your cheek. You try to sit up, but your body won’t move right. There is something terribly wrong inside your head.

You manage to roll over onto your back, ignoring the pounding inside your skull. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but aside from the absence of lightning everything looks much the same. No one is outside yet, so maybe it’s only been a moment. What should you do?