The Case for Symbioses
I Want a Little Friend
Filed under: Nature
I often look upon the natural world with a sense of marvel and desire.
It is not so much that I want to be a bug, but there are a few things I admire. The bugs are generally simple creatures; and in a complicated world, I can appreciate a bit of simplicity. They are also annoying. Anyone who has spent a lot of time in the woods will understand how awful mosquitoes can be in the heat of summer. Bugs can be — and oftentimes are — gross; regularly feasting upon or even living within the dung of other, greater creatures.
There are other things about bugs that I do not admire.
They can sometimes be a bit flashy. Sure, butterflies might have an important environmental niche, but if we’re being honest I can do without the bright colors and pageantry. Who likes a show off? Other times bugs can be busy-bodies. Do bugs ever hang out? Have you ever seen a bug chill? Goddamn. Perhaps the worst of all qualities that a bug can have however, is being a parasite.
I fear at some level we must all engage in parasitic behavior between the various subsidies, favors and pity we enjoy. I suppose then that I am simply jealous of parasites whose methods are superior to my own, as if often the case when I lash out upon others.
Occasionally in the trudge toward the efficiency of evolution, there will be animals that appear to somehow slip through the cracks. As I understand it, pandas have become endangered largely because they are very stupid and have no desire to reproduce (kinda like you). Parasites strike me in a similar way. You’re telling me you can’t even survive without taking something from me? Pathetic… I mutter to myself as I type this sentence from a computer my girlfriend bought me. All jokes aside, I truly do despise parasites as anyone who has acquired a friendly fungi from wrestling mats will understand.
On the other hand, I have developed a taste for symbioses as of late.
Among the predatory or parasitic relationships that creatures can have with each other, a few creatures have opted to embrace a symbiotic role. This term essentially refers to a situation wherein one creature will have some sort of long-term biological interaction with another creature. Think of the Remora fish that one can often see attached to the underside of sharks: the fish will latch onto the shark and feed off of the bodily waste of the host creature, while the sharks get a nice little body scrub. It’s a clear win-win, in a natural environment where arrangements like this can be few and far between.
I should note that not all symbiotic relationships are beneficial. Parasites are examples of symbiotic organisms, where creatures belonging to this category will enrich themselves at the expense of another. There are also commensalistic organisms that will live off of another being without directly harming the host. This is what I imagine the ideal relationship between neighbors to be like: they don’t harm you, but they don’t exactly help you out either. They’re just simply there whether you like it or not. The best form of symbiotic relationships however — at least in my eyes — is the mutualistic relationship, wherein two organisms will carry on a lifelong relationship with each other for their mutual benefit.
This strikes me as something that I would enjoy.
To my surprise, we find that humans actually do have something of a mutualistic, symbiotic relationship with the bacteria that lives in our intestinal tracts. The issue here is that I don’t just want a mutualistic symbiont: I want a little buddy, I want a pal. I want a small little dude in my armpit or buttcrack that will occasionally let out a “good job!” when I write or even think of something witty; or a “come on man!” when I talk about my buttcrack. I want a friend there for all my highs and lows. I never want to be alone.
This of course forces me to consider what I have to offer a potential symbiont. My thinning hair will no longer even interest lice, so that’s out of the question. I take pretty good care of my skin, so I would think that anything feeding off of my dead skin — as is often the case in symbiotic relationships — would be better off feasting upon a crusty teenager elsewhere. With that being said however, I can be a pretty sweaty guy. Anything higher than 71 on a thermostat will have me soaking through a white tee in less than ten minutes.
I see this as an opportunity for the would-be symbiont.
Now, a cursory search of the internet tells me that there are few, if any creatures that feed off of human sweat; and none of them are big enough to provide me with any entertainment. This forces me to look elsewhere, in the direction of genetic engineering. They can make square watermelons and hybrid zebras, so why can’t we create personal pals for each and every person who desires one? Our inability to produce such a creature so far appears to be rooted in failure of imagination, not technological shortcomings.
My ideal symbiont would be sleek and stylish. Does anyone remember the Motorolla RAZR when it first came out? I’m thinking something like that.
I don’t need it attached to my forehead or anything like that, I’m not a braggart. Something that latches onto my underbelly would be fine, and not big enough so as to disrupt my appearance. It has taken me more than ten years to compile a rotation of more than a dozen serviceable t-shirts that should be appealing; I’m not starting off from scratch I can promise you that.
Unlike the RAZR however, my symbiont would have to be smart. Not so smart that they feel the need to sneer at my jokes when I come up with a subpar punchline; but certainly smart enough to let me know when my fly is open, or my shoe is untied. Someone who can listen to me moan about my problems. I realize this sounds a lot like what one looks for in a girlfriend, but I’m doing OK there (for now anyway).
I think on a greater level, nearly everyone could benefit from having their own personal symbiont. Just think of how many problems could be alleviated if each person were given a semi-intelligent creature to live out their life with. Much of the responsibilities of secretaries, bartenders, police officers, and indeed pets, would be rendered obsolete overnight. These positions are little more than glorified babysitters anyway, at least in my estimation.
Can you imagine how much violence and hatred we could avoid if we all just had someone to talk to? Hitler, leaving art school as a failure, sits down for a conversation with his symbiont and decides, “hey, maybe life isn’t so bad”; and settles down in a quiet life as a BMV employee. Bernie Madoff, after a sudden change of heart inspired by his own sym, returns his plundered riches and jumps off the Empire State Building. In an ideal world anyway.
At the risk of being dismissed as another member of the “gimmie-gimmie” generation by any Boomers who might have found their way in here (hi Papa), I’m gonna bring my rant here to a close. But before I do, I implore you: consider the symbiont.
Consider how we might better be able to engage in mutualistic relationships in our own lives. Consider not what we can do on our own, but what we can do working together. As I understand, our early ancestors’ ascendance to the top of the food chain came as a result of their ability to work together rather than against; and so with this in mind, it seems as if a further embrace of this cooperative spirit will continue to serve us well into the future. As a wise man once said, “can’t we all just get along?”
Author’s note: Potential Symbionts can send their resumes to M.Mahoney651@yahoo.com for review
