Dr. Hafdahl: “Great question. It would depend on answering this: could zombies actually digest humans for fuel? A human body can go about three weeks without food, so you would assume the same is true for zombies if they are following our rules. In order to stay alive, we need to turn the food we eat into a form of fuel we can use (glucose) through a process called digestion. This is a very complex process that involves a lot of things to work, including a stomach and at least the first part of the small intestine. Decapitated zombies would definitely be in trouble since they would need a mouth, but I think most zombies could still do this. Zombies would then need to be able to burn the fuel for energy. Our bodies do this through aerobic respiration, in which glucose and oxygen are combined to release energy. That energy is used to make muscles contract, keep skin intact, make the heart pump, etc. However, one glance at a zombie tells us that this would not happen. Despite their decomposing skin and no need for working hearts or lungs, most zombies are clearly ‘living’ longer than three weeks (though, if I recall, the film 28 Days Later (2003) adheres to this rule). Thus, zombies clearly must have some other process that lets them harness energy, or at least slows down the decaying process. Perhaps part of the science of the zombie virus is that it allows them to make energy without oxygen?”
Meg:“Hmm, so it sounds like zombies might be starving, giving us maybe a few weeks until they die.”
Kelly:“Again!”
A natural and ultimately universal process, death is our greatest mystery. The zombie apocalypse may not be coming anytime soon, but it has been fascinating learning about the biology of death. Science can aid our understanding of the concept of zombies, but more importantly teach us about our own biological demise. Thanks to Meg’s husband for chatting with us. He may be too afraid to watch horror movies, but he sure does know a lot about death!
It might be terrifying to think of our loved ones biting into our flesh, although unlike their monster counterparts, zombies are not malicious. George Romero describes this fundamental difference, “you can’t really get angry at them, they have no hidden agendas, they are what they are.”3 Perhaps there is something comforting about the prospect of coming back from the dead? If only to stumble mindlessly in search of a delicious, screaming meal.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRANKENSTEIN
Year of Release: 1931
Director: James Whale
Writer: Francis Edward Faragoh, Garrett Fort
Starring: Boris Karloff, Colin Clive
Budget: $262,000
Box Office: $12 million
“It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.”1 This quote from Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818) encapsulates our shared pursuit of knowledge. The creature, not unlike his creator, desires to understand this complicated and mysterious planet we all live on. Frankenstein is a novel about science, about its magnificence, but more, about its danger to our society and to our souls. If Mary Shelley lived today, we would have to assume Frankenstein would be a treatise on technology. The creature, borne of our collective pride and stubbornness, would perhaps come in the form of an iPhone.
But in 1818, the nineteen-year-old Shelley, often credited as one of the first horror storytellers, focused instead on the tenuous science of medicine. Her Dr. Frankenstein actively rejects domesticity and convention in order to pursue scientific glory. And, once he achieves his goal, he rejects the creature he has created. Frankenstein is a cautionary tale. It is horror at its finest, exposing the ethical dilemma memorably summed up by Dr. Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) in the sci-fi horror film Jurassic Park (1993) when faced with scientifically engineered dinosaurs: “your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.” In the Industrial Age, when resurrectionists were digging up the recently deceased for medical dissection, Mary Shelley was the first to ask in literature if ethics and science could coexist. Her novel, rife with meaning, is also terrifying in its vivid accuracy of the runaway train that is modern science and technology.