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Rated: ASR · Essay · Comedy · #906835
Another piece written during my not-so-happy days as receptionist at a food brokerage.
The research laboratory was located in a small office building in upstate New York. It operated under an alias and, to the public, resembled nothing more than your run-of-the-mill food brokerage. Ah, but the mysteries within were truly extraordinary -- and top secret.

The lab was run by some unorthodox scientists who had broken away from conventional practice. They had coaxed some ordinary rats in from the street and were busily preparing a great and gruesome experiment.

At first the rats were given plenty of food and drink, and were allowed to run relatively free in large cages. They were petted and groomed and loved. The rats had little desire to change their comfortable situations. The scientists, in essence, were attempting to simulate human childhood.

It was a great race, really. The rats were to represent any motley crew of humans in any given work environment; the scientists would simulate each phase of human development in order to demonstrate which factors helped or hindered the rat in its quest for the win.

By the time the rats were to begin "the great race of the workforce," their main motivators were things like freedom, mating, and maybe a good scratching place.

The great and wise scientists, however, changed these goals. A certain percentage of the rats were given food pellets only after pressing a bar with this symbol on it: $. Then these same rats were placed on a treadmill trimmed with these same dollar signs, expecting with each step to get a food pellet and, in their frustration, running faster and faster and getting nowhere.

Some of the other rats were trained to press letters on a keyboard in a certain order to get a food pellet. These rats pressed YES SIR and sometimes SORRY or KICK ME. The command for words to use changed almost daily and became a confusing and discouraging routine for the rats.

A third group of rats were denied food and water, for excruciatingly long periods of time, for no apparent reason. These rats were placed strategically so that they could witness the other rats eating and drinking after performing their tasks.

The scientists did very little themselves during this period of time; they set up experiments and watched the rats for a little while, but made no charts nor compiled any scientific data. They were overconfident of their collective genius, these men, and often left the rats unattended while they played golf ("went to a meeting") or went to the racetrack ("went to a meeting") or just plain went home ("went to a meeting"). The scientists scheduled many of these important and secretive meetings in order to justify the company spending and laboratory expenses.

A great race was planned and executed on a Monday night in August. Each and every rat was lined up on a mini oval race track and, at the Head Scientist's signal, let loose.

At various points around the track, food pellets had been placed. The faster rats, those trained on the wheels, ran on ahead of the pellets looking for the dollar signs, missing the actual food altogether. The slower rats looked about for the keys to press, and occasionally would actually stumble over a food pellet in their frenzied attempt to acquire one. The starved rats were too weak to run or even crawl over to a pellet, and stayed limp at the starting line.

The race was a failure. The rats were racing, lying, circling, and scratching at the walls of the track. Not one rat made it to the finish. Disgusted, the scientists decided it was time for a meeting. They simply left.

One by one, the rats abandoned the dollar sign and the words to type; they helped one another over the wall, the strong boosting the weak, some leaping joyfully out of the track. They rediscovered their original desire for freedom - the fields and sunshine, the mating and the uncertainty of the hunt for their own food.

At last they could fulfill these desires. At last they could abandon the dollar sign. They escaped through the mail slot in the back door.

At last they were free.


NEXT WEEK: "The Unsinkable S.S. McXXXXXXXOpen in new Window.





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