Pacemaker Quotes

We'll let our friends be the peacekeepers and the great country called America will be the pacemakers.

A heart that has never fallen in love is nothing but a pacemaker.

With the news about Andy, it was like someone had thrown an x-ray switch and reversed everything into photographic negative, so that even with the daffodils and the dogwalkers and the traffic cops whistling on the corners, death was all I saw: sidewalks teeming with dead, cadavers pouring off the buses and hurrying home from work, nothing left of any of them in a hundred years except tooth fillings and pacemakers and maybe a few scraps of cloth and bone.

To put it coldly, my friends, all the ones who should have died years ago, would have died years ago without beta-blockers, stents, angioplasties, pacemakers, exotic medications, well, now they’re dying all at once.” John

There are already cardiac pacemakers that can sense the beat of the human heart; only when there is the slightest hint of fibrillation does the pacemaker stimulate the heart. This is a mild but very useful sort of machine intelligence. I cannot imagine the wearer of this device resenting its intelligence. I

There is a cyborg hierarchy. They like us best with bionic arms and legs. They like us Deaf with hearing aids, though they prefer cochlear implants. It would be an affront to ask the Hearing to learn sign language. Instead they wish for us to lose our language, abandon our culture, and consider ourselves cured. They like exoskeletons, which none of us use. They don’t count as cyborgs those of us who wear pacemakers or go to dialysis. Nor do they count those of us kept alive by machines, those of us made ambulatory by wheelchairs, those of us on biologics or antidepressants. They want us shiny and metallic and in their image.

Sometimes we forget things not because we are scared of the truth but because we are not strong enough to to burden it.

I know people can be judgmental and difficult. But if you shut yourself away from the world, you'll never see how beautiful it really is.

The first pacemaker was about the size of a pack of cigarettes. Today’s are no bigger than one American quarter and can last up to ten years.

A man in white clothes (…) was running as one does run when Death is the pacemaker.

Legend among crematory workers holds that the lithium batteries inside pacemakers explode in the cremation chamber if not removed.

his cell phone—the adolescent’s pacemaker.

Sadness and pain are not the hardest parts about losing someone you love. Saying goodbye is the hardest part. Saying goodbye means you must let go of them and the memories you shared if you want to move on without them. That's what makes it the hardest, most frightening part.

Next door to the Bensons is Emmet Frag, a retired pacemaker who is credited with inventing the notion of happiness. He’s currently working on a method for categorising ducks based on their singing voice. He’s also the owner of the world’s largest collection of tenor geese.

Anyway, thanks to Bob, that Christmas, my mother bought my grandmother and myself both vibrators. Now, as unusual as a gift like this sounds, you have to admit that they are the ideal stocking stuffers. I mean, you can fit the vibrator into the long top part of the stocking and still be able to get another cute little gift in the toe. Well, I have to admit, I enjoyed mine but my grandmother refused to use hers. She was concerned that it would short-circuit her pacemaker. She said she'd gone this long without an orgasm, she might as well go the whole way. And that pacemaker, by the way, was later recalled.

Unlinked by a pacemaker, the cells beat irregularly, spasmodically, each tapping out a rhythm approximate to the 350 beats a minute normal to a chick. But as the observer watches, over a period of hours an astonishing phenomenon occurs. Instead of five independent heart cells contracting at their own pace, first two, then three, and then all the cells pulse in unison. There are no longer five beats, but one. How is this sense of rhythm communicated in the saline, and why?

From The Ghost Wars- on the concept of the Torah as ancient science fiction. “Take the story of the fall of the tower of Babel. Let’s say this represents not an act of God, nor a metaphor for this planet’s diverse linguistic heritage; but a catastrophic act of terrorism by the Divisionists to sever mankind from the neural net. The internet in this situation becomes mankind’s attempt to build a physical replacement for a natural ability long lost. Think of it as a wooden leg or a pacemaker.

Zet and Lottie swam into New York City from the skies—that was how it felt in the Pacemaker, rushing along the Hudson at sunrise. First many blue twigs overhanging the water, than a rosy color, and then the heavy flashing of the river under the morning sun. They were in the dining car, their eyes were heavy. They were drained by a night of broken sleep in the day coach, and they were dazzled. They drank coffee from cups as heavy as soapstone, and poured from New York Central pewter. They were in the East, where everything was better, where objects were different. Here there was deeper meaning in the air. After changing at Harmon to an electric locomotive, they began a more quick and eager ride. Trees, water, sky, and the sky raced off, floating, and there came bridges, structures, and at last the tunnel, where the air breaks gasped and the streamliner was checked. There were yellow bulbs in wire mesh, and subterranean air came through the vents. The doors opened, the passengers, pulling their clothing straight, flowed out and got their luggage, and Zet and Lottie, reaching Forty-second Street, refugees from arid and inhibited Chicago, from Emptyland, embraced at the curb and kissed each other repeatedly on the mouth. They had come to the World City, where all behavior was deeper and more resonant, where they could freely be themselves, as demonstrative as they liked. Intellect, art, the transcendent, needed no excuses here. Any cabdriver understood, Zet believed.

This warmth... This touch... This whispered chorus of voices echoing through my heart. They bring solace. Even as I drift farther into the unknown of this dark abyss, I'm not afraid, because I feel you near. Your courage, strength and hope are all mine. With them, I can escape and fight my way back to you.

you’re dead set on creating explosions that a crematory operator would hear and would definitely be freaked out by, don’t leave unpopped popcorn in your body. Instead, try leaving a pacemaker in your body. (Note: I one-thousand-percent do not recommend doing this. I’m making a joke. See, I can make jokes too, Tim.) A pacemaker helps living people control their heartbeat, speeding up the heart if needed, slowing the heart down if needed. It’s a cute lil’ thing, the size of a small cookie, that is basically a battery, generator, and some wires implanted (through surgery) into the body. It can save your life if your heart is misfiring. But if a pacemaker is not removed from a dead body before the cremation, it can turn into a tiny bomb.

I sprinkle some flour on the dough and roll it out with the heavy, wooden rolling pin. Once it’s the perfect size and thickness, I flip the rolling pin around and sing into the handle—American Idol style. “Calling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa . . .” And then I turn around. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Without thinking, I bend my arm and throw the rolling pin like a tomahawk . . . straight at the head of the guy who’s standing just inside the kitchen door. The guy I didn’t hear come in. The guy who catches the hurling rolling pin without flinching—one-handed and cool as a gorgeous cucumber—just an inch from his perfect face. He tilts his head to the left, looking around the rolling pin to meet my eyes with his soulful brown ones. “Nice toss.” Logan St. James. Bodyguard. Totally badass. Sexiest guy I have ever seen—and that includes books, movies and TV, foreign and domestic. He’s the perfect combo of boyishly could-go-to-my-school kind of handsome, mixed with dangerously hot and tantalizingly mysterious. If comic-book Superman, James Dean, Jason Bourne and some guy with the smoothest, most perfectly pitched, British-Scottish-esque, Wessconian-accented voice all melded together into one person, they would make Logan fucking St. James. And I just tried to clock him with a baking tool—while wearing my Rick and Morty pajama short-shorts, a Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt I’ve had since I was eight and my SpongeBob SquarePants slippers. And no bra. Not that I have a whole lot going on upstairs, but still . . . “Christ on a saltine!” I grasp at my chest like an old woman with a pacemaker. Logan’s brow wrinkles. “Haven’t heard that one before.” Oh fuck—did he see me dancing? Did he see me leap? God, let me die now. I yank on my earbuds’ cord, popping them from my ears. “What the hell, dude?! Make some noise when you walk in—let a girl know she’s not alone. You could’ve given me a heart attack. And I could’ve killed you with my awesome ninja skills.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “No, you couldn’t.” He sets the rolling pin down on the counter. “I knocked on the kitchen door so I wouldn’t frighten you, but you were busy with your . . . performance.” Blood and heat rush to my face. And I want to melt into the floor and then all the way down to the Earth’s core.

Eventually, we may reach a point when it will be impossible to disconnect from this all-knowing network even for a moment. Disconnection will mean death. If medical hopes are realised, future people will incorporate into their bodies a host of biometric devices, bionic organs and nano-robots, which will monitor our health and defend us from infections, illnesses and damage. Yet these devices will have to be online 24/7, both in order to be updated with the latest medical news, and in order to protect them from the new plagues of cyberspace. Just as my home computer is constantly attacked by viruses, worms and Trojan horses, so will be my pacemaker, my hearing aid and my nanotech immune system. If I don’t update my body’s anti-virus program regularly, I will wake up one day to discover that the millions of nano-robots coursing through my veins are now controlled by a North Korean hacker.

Before the late modern era, most religions and ideologies took it for granted that death was our inevitable fate. Moreover, most faiths turned death into the main source of meaning in life. These creeds taught people that they must come to terms with death and pin their hopes on the afterlife, rather than seek to overcome death and live for ever here on earth. The best minds were busy giving meaning to death, not trying to escape it. Disciples of progress do not share this defeatist attitude. For men of science, death is not an inevitable destiny, but merely a technical problem. People die not because the gods decreed it, but due to various technical failures – a heart attack, cancer, an infection. And every technical problem has a technical solution. If the heart flutters, it can be stimulated by a pacemaker or replaced by a new heart. If cancer rampages, it can be killed with drugs or radiation. If bacteria proliferate, they can be subdued with antibiotics. True, at present we cannot solve all technical problems. But we are working on them. Our best minds are not wasting their time trying to give meaning to death.

Certain shapes and patterns hover over different moments in time, haunting and inspiring the individuals living through those periods. The epic clash and subsequent resolution of the dialectic animated the first half of the nineteenth century; the Darwinian and social reform movements scattered web imagery through the second half of the century. The first few decades of the twentieth century found their ultimate expression in the exuberant anarchy of the explosion, while later decades lost themselves in the faceless regimen of the grid. You can see the last ten years or so as a return to those Victorian webs, though I suspect the image that has been burned into our retinas over the past decade is more prosaic: windows piled atop one another on a screen, or perhaps a mouse clicking on an icon. These shapes are shorthand for a moment in time, a way of evoking an era and its peculiar obsessions. For individuals living within these periods, the shapes are cognitive building blocks, tools for thought: Charles Darwin and George Eliot used the web as a way of understanding biological evolution and social struggles; a half century later, the futurists embraced the explosions of machine-gun fire, while Picasso used them to re-create the horrors of war in Guernica. The shapes are a way of interpreting the world, and while no shape completely represents its epoch, they are an undeniable component of the history of thinking. When I imagine the shape that will hover above the first half of the twenty-first century, what comes to mind is not the coiled embrace of the genome, or the etched latticework of the silicon chip. It is instead the pulsing red and green pixels of Mitch Resnick’s slime mold simulation, moving erratically across the screen at first, then slowly coalescing into larger forms. The shape of those clusters—with their lifelike irregularity, and their absent pacemakers—is the shape that will define the coming decades. I see them on the screen, growing and dividing, and I think: That way lies the future.

I liked to point out that Medtronic, which makes all varieties of medical devices—from surgical tools to pacemakers—is so able to charge sky-high prices that it enjoys nearly double the gross profit margin of Apple, considered to be the jewel of American high-tech companies.

and stop using your Kindle if it becomes a distraction. Personal medical devices, such as pacemakers, may be sensitive to magnetic and electromagnetic fields. Since Kindle and certain Kindle accessories contain magnets and emit electromagnetic fields, they should be kept at least 6 inches (approximately 15 cm) from any personal medical device. If any interference is observed, consult with your physician before

People are talking about pacemakers hooked up to the cloud. There’s a benefit to that—it could automatically shock you if it senses something is wrong. But what if a terrorist, or a kid doing a prank, decides to shock all the pacemakers in America?” As

Marc Goodman is a cyber crime specialist with an impressive résumé. He has worked with the Los Angeles Police Department, Interpol, NATO, and the State Department. He is the chief cyber criminologist at the Cybercrime Research Institute, founder of the Future Crime Institute, and now head of the policy, law, and ethics track at SU. When breaking down this threat, Goodman sees four main categories of concern. The first issue is personal. “In many nations,” he says, “humanity is fully dependent on the Internet. Attacks against banks could destroy all records. Someone’s life savings could vanish in an instant. Hacking into hospitals could cost hundreds of lives if blood types were changed. And there are already 60,000 implantable medical devices connected to the Internet. As the integration of biology and information technology proceeds, pacemakers, cochlear implants, diabetic pumps, and so on, will all become the target of cyber attacks.” Equally alarming are threats against physical infrastructures that are now hooked up to the net and vulnerable to hackers (as was recently demonstrated with Iran’s Stuxnet incident), among them bridges, tunnels, air traffic control, and energy pipelines. We are heavily dependent on these systems, but Goodman feels that the technology being employed to manage them is no longer up to date, and the entire network is riddled with security threats. Robots are the next issue. In the not-too-distant future, these machines will be both commonplace and connected to the Internet. They will have superior strength and speed and may even be armed (as is the case with today’s military robots). But their Internet connection makes them vulnerable to attack, and very few security procedures have been implemented to prevent such incidents. Goodman’s last area of concern is that technology is constantly coming between us and reality. “We believe what the computer tells us,” says Goodman. “We read our email through computer screens; we speak to friends and family on Facebook; doctors administer medicines based upon what a computer tells them the medical lab results are; traffic tickets are issued based upon what cameras tell us a license plate says; we pay for items at stores based upon a total provided by a computer; we elect governments as a result of electronic voting systems. But the problem with all this intermediated life is that it can be spoofed. It’s really easy to falsify what is seen on our computer screens. The more we disconnect from the physical and drive toward the digital, the more we lose the ability to tell the real from the fake. Ultimately, bad actors (whether criminals, terrorists, or rogue governments) will have the ability to exploit this trust.

Primer of Love [Lesson 66] Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell. ~ Joan Crawford Lesson 66) Sure love is a gamble -- but it's better to lose than never spin the wheel. [Carnival barker] "Ladies and gentlemen. Line right up and place your wager. You don't need money or chips - just take your heart, tear it free, and place it upon the number of your choosing. Then spin our fickle wheel of fortune. Round and round it goes, it spins, it spins and where it lands nobody knows. You may have the payoff of a lifetime. Or maybe, you'll wind up with a broken heart with a stent, a pacemaker and a percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty. Take ask me for my 'professional opinion.' I just take bets that favor the house.

Product Can Be Improved after It Is Introduced—with Cash Flow from Its Own Sales As noted earlier, Microsoft’s operating system and Bakken’s pacemaker were improved after the initial product was introduced. But this improvement was paid for by the revenues from the previous not-so-perfect product and not from sophisticated investors who would demand a bigger chunk of the business.

Are you willing to sacrifice everything to learn the truth? Will you chance embracing fear, agony, death and despair all for a few forgotten memories? What if learning the truth risks your life or theirs? Are you still willing?

This pain, tragedy and despair are all connected to the shadows of your mind. Listen to my song and surrender to the passion of my touch. Let me into your heart and become mine. Only then will I help you reach those lost memories.

Death is the alpha and omega of destiny. It can excite its flames or stifle them out. How it affects your destiny depends on you. Can you endure it and grow? Or will you let it destroy you?

Being afraid of building bonds because of the hurt you felt from those who betrayed your trust before, is a foolish sentiment. If you want to discover the truth hidden in the shadows of your mind, then you'll need to use the strength of powerful bonds to do so.

One thing that's more precious than jewels or gold is the promise you hold in your heart from the one you love.

The scariest truth is the one suspected as reality but hidden behind a mask of denial; because once the mask falls away, there's nowhere else to hide it. You have to make a choice: face it head on and accept it, or be destroyed by it.

I know it's tough losing someone you respected, but it will get better. Don't let that affect you from reaching your goals... don't get side-stepped by a tragedy like this. I know it's sad. Cry if you must. Just stay focused, and don't let your grief break you and derail you from your desired path.

Luck... I believed to be only a myth; but I guess even unlucky dogs, like me, can experience it once in a while. - Thoughts of Minerva

Never let others see you suffer. Some thrive off your pain. So, no matter how cruel life is, always be kind and smile. If you do that, god will grant you a reward greater than the suffering you endured.

With despair at every corner, how can I be so selfish and worry about who my heart does or doesn't want? I must hide my heart's foolish desires. My main focus is saving others from the suffering this pain again.

You always do things for others' sake without worrying about yourself or how you feel. But this time I want you to be selfish. It's okay to cry. Just don't shut me out. It's my turn to help you. This time let me be your hope.

Just remember no matter where or how far this journey for the truth takes us, it will never erase the memories we shared or the impact we had on each other's lives. Our bond can withstand any challenge fate puts forth. No matter how dark our path becomes, we'll fight together until we reach our goal.

Ecco perché ho inventato bombe di un nuovo esplosivo che spero più rumoroso: La musica. (...) (...)Gli uomini del servizio di sicurezza non mi notano mai. Fanno la posta ad armi e bombe, un turista con un lettore cd portatile non attira la loro attenzione. Palazzo delle Nazioni Unite, New York City, lunedì 29 Maggio, ore 11.38. Assemblea generale. 300.000 watt: The clash, wrong'em Boyo. Effetto: tre ulcere, risveglio di 48 ambasciatori, risoluzione, votata a un'unanimità storica, di condanna del terrorismo musicale. Discorso di papa Giovanni Paolo II sull'amore divino e sul pentimento per i passati errori della Chiesa, piazza San Pietro, Vaticano, domenica di Pasqua, mezzogiorno. Pubblico presente 500.000 persone, collegamento televisivo mondiale. 800.000 watt, 70 altoparlanti intorno alla piazza. Pet Shop Boys, Go West. Effetto: I preti omosessuali reclamano il diritto di sposarsi, le donne vogliono indossare abiti e cappelli bizzarri, arresto di otto pacemaker, alcuni orgasmi.

technically, any wearable or implanted electronic or prosthetic device is cybernetic; this includes pacemakers, hearing aids, and contact lenses.

Even a pacemaker cannot regulate the hearts rhythm for the music of love

Bush’s report, called Science: The Endless Frontier, presented to President Truman in June 1945, two months after FDR’s death, and released the following month, caused a sensation. The country had no national science policy, he declared. Philanthropy and private industry could not be relied upon to fund the basic research that is “the pacemaker of technological progress,” essential for national security, economic growth, and the fight against disease. The report outlined the architecture of a new national research system.

You think I don’t know that? I was feigning ignorance for effect. But thanks for trying to teach a black man about the motherland. Next you’ll be trying to school me on jazz, teaching me how to dunk a basketball, or telling me how to build a video game console or a pacemaker. My people invented those last two, you know. Stay in your lane, white devil.

Des familles entières étaient pliées en deux et tordues de rire. L’agent toisait d’un air avantageux la salle et ses occupants qui hoquetaient, leurs dentiers claquant, leurs perruques glissant, leurs pacemakers peinant, leurs boyaux glougloutant. C’était d’un ridicule sans bornes – une véritable « régression anthropoïde », selon l’expression de John. Il se mit à crier à son tour, leur disant qu’ils n’y comprenaient rien. Personne ne l’écouta. Ils lui jetèrent des gobelets en plastique et lui firent des grimaces. L’agent lui dit de la boucler.

standard Superconducting Quantum Interference Device, or SQUID, interface. The same kind doctors use to communicate with surgically implanted components like pacemakers.

Similarly, you might argue that today’s humans should count as Life 2.1: we can perform minor hardware upgrades such as implanting artificial teeth, knees and pacemakers, but nothing as dramatic as getting ten times taller or acquiring a thousand times bigger brain.

100% is the wrong reliability target for basically everything (pacemakers and anti-lock brakes being notable exceptions).

Seasons Fore by Stewart Stafford Winter elbows its way to prominence, Placid Spring gradually lays on the land, To presage Summer’s teeming exuberance, Before Autumn messily rents all asunder. Niveous shroud, promising blossom, Roaring greenery and russet capitulation, Four seasons and their intricate combinations, Alighting passengers in another year of life. Nature’s window dressing encircles, Time’s passing at the grandfather clock, As heartbeats throb and ebb eternally, The closing of an eyelid, our pacemaker. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Scientists and engineers tend to divide their work into two large categories, sometimes described as basic research and directed research. Some of the most crucial inventions and discoveries of the modern world have come about through basic research—that is, work that was not directed toward any particular use. Albert Einstein’s picture of the universe, Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin, Niels Bohr’s blueprint of the atomic nucleus, the Watson-Crick “double helix” model of DNA—all these have had enormous practical implications, but they all came out of basic research. There are just as many basic tools of modern life—the electric light, the telephone, vitamin pills, the Internet—that resulted from a clearly focused effort to solve a particular problem. In a sense, this distinction between basic and directed research encompasses the difference between science and engineering. Scientists, on the whole, are driven by the thirst for knowledge; their motivation, as the Nobel laureate Richard Feynman put it, is “the joy of finding things out.” Engineers, in contrast, are solution-driven. Their joy is making things work. The monolithic idea was an engineering solution. It worked around the tyranny of numbers by reducing the numbers to one: a complete circuit would consist of just one part—a single (“monolithic”) block of semiconductor material containing all the components and all the interconnections of the most complex circuit designs. The tangible product of that idea, known to engineers as the monolithic integrated circuit and to the world at large as the semiconductor chip, has changed the world as fundamentally as did the telephone, the light bulb, and the horseless carriage. The integrated circuit is the heart of clocks, computers, cameras, and calculators, of pacemakers and Palm Pilots, of deep-space probes and deep-sea sensors, of toasters, typewriters, cell phones, and Internet servers. The National Academy of Sciences declared the integrated circuit the progenitor of the “Second Industrial Revolution.” The first Industrial Revolution enhanced man’s physical prowess and freed people from the drudgery of backbreaking manual labor; the revolution spawned by the chip enhances our intellectual prowess and frees people from the drudgery of mind-numbing computational labor. A British physicist, Sir Ieuan Madlock, Her Majesty’s Chief Science Advisor, called the integrated circuit “the most remarkable technology ever to hit mankind.” A California businessman, Jerry Sanders, founder of Advanced Micro Devices, Inc., offered a more pointed assessment: “Integrated circuits are the crude oil of the eighties.” All

Other than showing up in white tie and tails for the lavish awards ceremonies—the event is so fancy that even the traffic cops outside wear tuxedos, and the sterling silver laid out for the ensuing banquet is never used for any other function—a Nobel laureate’s only unavoidable duty during prize week is to deliver a lecture. Jack Kilby’s Nobel lecture in physics took place in a classically Scandinavian lecture hall, all blond wood and sleek modern furniture, on the campus of Stockholm University. Jack was introduced by a Swedish physicist who noted that “Dr. Kilby’s” invention had launched the global digital revolution, making possible calculators, computers, digital cameras, pacemakers, the Internet, etc., etc. Naturally, Jack wasn’t going to let that go unanswered. “When I hear that kind of thing,” he said, “it reminds me of what the beaver told the rabbit as they stood at the base of Hoover Dam: ‘No, I didn’t build it myself, but it’s based on an idea of mine.’” Everybody liked that joke, so Jack quickly added that he had borrowed the story from Charles H. Townes, an American who won the physics prize in 1964.

How do we reward this kind of work? Chad Boult, the geriatrician who was the lead investigator of the University of Minnesota study, can tell you. A few months after he published the results, demonstrating how much better people’s lives were with specialized geriatric care, the university closed the division of geriatrics. “The university said that it simply could not sustain the financial losses,” Boult said from Baltimore, where he had moved to join the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. On average, in Boult’s study, the geriatric services cost the hospital $1,350 more per person than the savings they produced, and Medicare, the insurer for the elderly, does not cover that cost. It’s a strange double standard. No one insists that a $25,000 pacemaker or a coronary-artery stent save money for insurers. It just has to maybe do people some good.

He had some sort of electrical pacemaker that was failing and there was no place in Rwanda to get it fixed. So he just... sweated it out until the end. I do admire the pluck he showed. But I can't tell you how much I miss him. He was one of those you thought you could always rely on in a time of need. I can't understand why all the good guys have to go first.

Kai is chomping her way through a fried feast that would daunt a linebacker. French fries topped with crab meat. Yuck, by the way. Not to mention the pork belly chips, a monster burger and deep fried Oreos. This meal should come with a pacemaker, but my girl, barely able to get her little hand all the way around this mammoth burger, is halfway through hers before I’ve even dented mine. “What?” She glances up from her half-empty, grease-laden plate, sauce all around her lips. “You’re not hungry?” “Obviously not as hungry as you are.” I reach over to wipe her mouth with my napkin. “You’re not supposed to tease a lady about how much she eats,” Kai says, mouth full. “It’s impolite.” “Not even when this delicate flower eats me under the table?

What had saved Ukraine is precisely what made the United States the most vulnerable nation on earth. Ukraine wasn’t fully automated. In the race to plug everything into the internet, the country was far behind. The tsunami known as the Internet of Things, which had consumed Americans for the better part of the past decade, had still not washed up in Ukraine. The nation’s nuclear stations, hospitals, chemical plants, oil refineries, gas and oil pipelines, factories, farms, cities, cars, traffic lights, homes, thermostats, lightbulbs, refrigerators, stoves, baby monitors, pacemakers, and insulin pumps were not yet “web-enabled.” In the United States, though, convenience was everything; it still is. We were plugging anything we could into the internet, at a rate of 127 devices a second. We had bought into Silicon Valley’s promise of a frictionless society. There wasn’t a single area of our lives that wasn’t touched by the web. We could now control our entire lives, economy, and grid via a remote web control. And we had never paused to think that, along the way, we were creating the world’s largest attack surface.

Speaking of which, when will we hear back about the pacemaker?’ asked Grayson.

The top 11 devices, by the number used, are: ✪ eye lens implants ✪ ear tubes ✪ coronary stents ✪ knee replacements ✪ screws to repair bone fractures ✪ intrauterine devices (IUD) ✪ spinal fusion hardware ✪ breast implants ✪ heart pacemakers ✪ artificial hips ✪ implantable defibrillators

$23.5 million settlement in 2011 for paying money to doctors for implanting pacemakers and defibrillators. ✪ $85 million paid in 2012, settling a class-action lawsuit regarding illegal promotion of bone graft material for off-label usage. ✪ $9.9 million paid in 2014 for reimbursing doctors who implanted pacemakers and defibrillators. ✪ $2.8 million in 2015 for sales of a spinal stimulation device without FDA approval. ✪ $4.4 million in 2015 for falsely labeling devices made in the USA so they could be sold to the US military. ✪ In 2016 they admitted they failed to report over 1000 adverse events for their spinal stimulation device. No fines or penalties were imposed. ✪ Medtronic gave tens of millions of dollars to surgeons for “consulting” and other schemes to promote the use of surgical hardware.

Time to Defect (The Sonnet) It's time to defect, my friend - from the side of passport to the side of heartport, from the side of prison to the side of reason, from the side of nationality to the side of sanity, from the side of myopia to the side of motion, from the side of crutches to the side of conscience, from the side of coffins to the side of character, from the side of bombs to the side of backbone, from the side of barbwire to the side of brainwire, from the side of flag to the side of fervor, from the side of parasites to the side of paragons, from the side of pacemakers to the side of peacemakers, from the side of ideology to the side of illumination. It's time to defect, my friend - from the side of caves to the side of kind, from the side of tribe to the side of life.

Studies of the animals’ brain activity showed that the constant light exposure reduced the normal rhythmic patterns in the brain’s central circadian pacemaker of the suprachiasmatic nuclei (SCN) by 70 per cent.”6 And crucially, this disruption resulted in a loss of muscle tone and bone density, which, notably, was reversed once the animals’ normal cycle of light and dark was restored.

Dad is at the window, watching the sunrise. His eyes flick over to me when I move, and we stare at each other for a second. “How are you feeling?” “Like a machine,” I answer. “How are you feeling?” “Like a human, but with a pacemaker,” he says. I’m the first to look away.

Jesus.” Dad puts his head in his hands, and is so still that I wonder if he got too upset and the pacemaker blew. “How did you get to be so cold, Sasha?” he asks. “How are you just now figuring it out?” I shoot back. “I knew,” he says quietly. “Your mom, she doesn’t want to see it, but I’ve always known. For your fourth birthday we took you to the zoo, and in the gift shop all the other kids were grabbing stuffed animals, hugging them, naming them right there on the spot. You picked out a set of dead bugs, suspended in glass cubes. It came with a magnifying class so you could study them.

the pacemaker out, we have to cut the leads to the heart, and the bloody thing interprets this as the heart stopping, so we get the shock. Some mortuary staff have been severely injured. The cardiac technicians have to come over and wave a special wand over them to switch them off, and if this is not picked up on and the leads are cut, you may need an ambulance on stand-by. Telling which are the ordinary ones and which are the lethal ones

Findings have become common on brain-like processes outside of the skull. The conductive structure inside the heart, like pacemaker cells, which organizes the heartbeat, can be known as the brain of the heart, just as the intestine's brain is the ganglion cells in the gut. Conduction system independence is shown when a transplanted heart continues to beat even though the nerves that connected it to the central and peripheral nervous systems of the donor have been severed. The interaction between the independent processing of the heart and that of the brain is complex and not fully understood. The trillions of bacteria that outnumber the cells of the body by ten to one are even more enigmatic, residing mostly within the digestive tract but also on the skin and in the brain and other organs. We think of these bacteria as pests, but these micro-organisms were simply introduced in vast stretches along the double helix of human DNA over eons. The consequences are immense and essentially uncharted for what we call "being alive" The bacterial part of the body, taken as a whole, is called the microbiome. It is not sitting on the skin or in the gut passively, nor is it invading the body. Actually, the microbiota is the barrier between "in here" and "out there," containing DNA, antibodies, and chemical signaling that allows the brain to do the same stuff. There is no clear role of the microbial DNA that is incorporated into our genomes, but at least this is ancestral material that we have assimilated as our own. More suggestively, this once-foreign DNA in all higher life-forms may be the swapping mechanism for genes. These discoveries demonstrate that our intelligence extends to the whole of ecology. Everywhere mentality has a physical basis. Any attempt at isolating it in the skull comes up against serious objections. Instead of treating cynicism with unbounded consciousness, we need to see that every perception is unbounded. By going beyond the illusory boundaries of the disconnected body, you cannot see, hear or touch anything in the universe. Watching a sunset is like watching yourself, actually.

He is, after all, a very private person, who has told me more than once that being with me is like an epileptic with a pacemaker being married to a strobe light artist.

There, staring us in the face, was the Kuramoto model—an enigma like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, buried under the soil, waiting for us apes to find it, beckoning, the key to sync. Until now, the Kuramoto model had been thought to be nothing more than a convenient abstraction, the simplest way to understand how groups of dissimilar oscillators could spontaneously synchronize, and under what circumstances. It was born out of pure imagination, concocted as a caricature of biological oscillators: crickets, fireflies, cardiac pacemaker cells. Now here it was, unearthed, in the dynamics of superconducting Josephson junctions. It reminded me of that wonderful feeling that Einstein talked about, the recognition of hidden unity. Soon

The discovery of synchronized chaos also enriched our understanding of sync itself. In the past, sync had always been associated with rhythmicity. The two concepts are so tightly linked that it’s easy to overlook the distinction between them. Rhythmicity means that something repeats its behavior at regular time intervals; sync means that two things happen simultaneously. The confusion occurs because many synchronous phenomena are rhythmic as well. Synchronous fireflies not only flash in unison, they also flash periodically, at fixed intervals. Cardiac pacemaker cells fire in step, and at a constant rate. The moon turns once as it orbits Earth; both its spin and its orbit follow cycles that repeat themselves regularly.

All the electrical components on a computer chip are clocked to operate in sync. A microelectronic crystal beats billions of times each second, switching the digital circuitry on and off in concert, which helps the millions of circuits on the chip communicate with one another efficiently. This centralized design, with all components slaved to a tyrannical master clock, has some notable disadvantages: 15 percent of the circuitry is wasted on distributing the clock signal, and the clock itself consumes 20 percent of the power. But engineers still favor this design because of its conceptual simplicity, and because the alternative—a democracy of many local clocks, as in firefly swarms and circadian pacemaker cells—is still not well enough understood to be easily imitated in practice.

Remarkably, the other 20 percent of blind people do manage to synchronize to the light-dark cycle. The likely explanation is that the circadian photoreceptors in their retinas are intact, even if their rods and cones are not. This allows light to work its resetting action on the clock, by striking the eyes and then traveling down the neural pathways to the pacemaker. In other words, although these people lack sight, they can still perceive light in a nonvisual, circadian sense.

The implication is that there are two pathways from the eyes to the brain: one for conscious vision and the other for circadian entrainment. This hypothesis is consistent with the known anatomy of the mammalian brain; the neural hotline to the pacemaker is separate from the brain’s visual pathways.

On average, in Boult’s study, the geriatric services cost the hospital $1,350 more per person than the savings they produced, and Medicare, the insurer for the elderly, does not cover that cost. It’s a strange double standard. No one insists that a $25,000 pacemaker or a coronary-artery stent save money for insurers. It just has to maybe do people some good.

Never go to purchasing or legal alone. Remember, these people would buy a pacemaker from the lowest bidder.

A subtle urge to synchronize is pervasive in nature. Indeed, it drives the firing of thousands of pacemaker cells in the heart and brings into synchrony the menstrual cycles of women who live together for long periods of time.

[He] told me more than once that being with me is like an epileptic with a pacemaker being married to a strobe light artist.

We are peacemakers but we are also army of Christ

the moment when the leading edge of the pacemaker wire contained in the balloon touched the inside of the man’s left ventricle, a part of his heart. As soon as it made contact, “He sat bolt upright with this thing hanging out of his neck, saying, ‘What the hell? Where am I? What’s going on? I was just in my bedroom,’” said Morris. “It was like the Lazarus effect. The guy was dying and within literally five seconds he was walking, talking, telling me about his dinner and couldn’t believe he was in the hospital.

It was a passage about a fifty-fifth high school reunion. It began: The list of our deceased classmates on the back of the program grows longer; the class beauties have gone to fat or bony-cronehood; the sports stars and non-athletes alike move about with the aid of pacemakers and plastic knees, retired and taking up space at an age when most of our fathers were considerately dead. It continued: But we don’t see ourselves that way, as lame and old. We see kindergarten children—the same round fresh faces, the same cup ears and long-lashed eyes. We hear the gleeful shrieking during elementary-school recess and the seductive saxophones and muted trumpets of the locally bred swing bands that serenaded the blue-lit gymnasium during high-school dances.

With the lens of Jobs to Be Done, the Medtronic team and Innosight (including my coauthor David Duncan) started research afresh in India. The team visited hospitals and care facilities, interviewing more than a hundred physicians, nurses, hospital administrators, and patients across the country. The research turned up four key barriers preventing patients from receiving much-needed cardiac care: Lack of patient awareness of health and medical needs Lack of proper diagnostics Inability of patients to navigate the care pathway Affordability While there were competitors making some progress in India, the biggest competition was nonconsumption because of the challenges the Medtronic team identified. From a traditional perspective, Medtronic might have doubled down on doctors, asking them about priorities and tradeoffs in the product. What features would they value more, or less? Asking patients what they wanted would not have been top of the list of considerations from a marketing perspective. But when Medtronic revisited the problem through the lens of Jobs to Be Done, Monson says, the team realized that the picture was far more complex—and not one that Medtronic executives could have figured out from pouring over statistics of Indian heart disease or asking cardiologists how to make the pacemaker better. Medtronic has missed a critical component of the Job to Be Done.

So Medtronic adjusted not only its marketing efforts, but also the services it provided to directly target potential patients. For example, in conjunction with local cardiologists, Medtronic organized heart-health screening clinics across the country—providing prospective patients with free, direct access to specialists and high-tech equipment without having to go through an overwhelmed GP first. The question of paying for a pacemaker and the attendant medical services was no small concern. So Medtronic created a loan program to help patients pay for the pacemaker procedure. The company initially assumed that patients might be drawn to loans that actually expired upon the patient’s death, so that they were not saddling the family with the burden of debt—the emotional and social component of their Job to Be Done. And, as the Medtronic team learned from patients themselves, that was what they often wanted. But friends and family wanted something different: they tended to rally around a patient to find the money necessary. In those cases, the patient was more likely simply to need a bridge loan until those funds could be gathered. Medtronic made sure that the loan process was not daunting for the family: a loan is typically approved within two days, requiring minimum paperwork and entailing no asset mortgage. The experience of navigating the complex web of health care in India could be overwhelming for both patients and their families. So the company began to work with local hospitals to create a patient counselor role, initially calling them “Sherpas,” that helped patients navigate the often mind-boggling bureaucracy of a hospital, keeping their procedure and aftercare as top priorities. The patient counselor role became so popular that hospitals asked if the company would allow patients obtaining pacemakers through traditional routes to seek assistance from a counselor, too. Seeing an opportunity to further identify Jobs to Be Done from within the hospital system, Medtronic jumped at the chance. “At the end of the day, we realized the role was such an important position, we adjusted the role. And we were OK with it,” Monson recalls. “It ingrained the value of that person into the entire hospital system, and thus our business model. And it made us the partner of choice. To me that was a clear example of hitting a Job to Be Done.” The first Medtronic pacemaker distributed through the Healthy Heart for All (HHFA) program in India was implanted in late 2010. Medtronic currently has partnerships with more than one hundred hospitals in thirty cities. India is considered to be one of the most high-potential growth markets for the company.

Greatbatch’s pacemaker is an instance where a great idea came—literally—from a novel combination of spare parts. Sometimes those novel combinations arrive courtesy of the random collisions of city streets or the dreaming brain. But sometimes they come from simple mistakes. You reach into the bag of resistors and pull out the wrong one, and four years later, you’re saving someone’s life.