WHO
HID MY CHEESE?
There
are widely held beliefs that vocalization in the common house mouse
(Mus musculus) are largely devoted to procreation and
nurturing of the very young. Although selectively bred and altered
for uses in laboratories for over a century, the study of the audible
(to humans) and ultrasound speech of mice has remained in its
infancy. Thus, I received the following with a great deal of
skepticism, but consider it only fair to allow you, my readers, to
draw your own conclusions.
My transcription from the near
microscopic markings on the scraps of paper found on the floor of the
Animal Care Facility may be somewhat inexact, but I have labored many
a long hour over some years since their discovery to organize these
materials. Nonetheless, gaps exist in the record that I have,
perforce, needed to leave unfilled.
===
“George,
can we go to the gym? Let's go to the gym, George. I like
the gym.”
“Maybe
later, Lenny. Algernon is coming over to help us plan for our
future. We can't run the Boss' mazes forever. We need our own maze
where we are free to decide whether we want to run today or just
relax and have the cheese delivered.”
“But
I like the wheel, George. I can run and run and run and I never get
lost there, George.”
“Sure
you do, Lenny. We'll have a wheel at our maze too and then you can
run all day if you want. But we need to plan, we need to save to get
there. Algernon's got a program for planful mice like us who
want to get beyond this day-to-day working for the Boss.”
“Okay,
George, if that is what you say, it's okay with me, George. But can
we eat first? I'm hungry, George.”
“Yeah,
go ahead. But try not to eat it all. We gotta think ahead.”
“So,
the postponement of the immediate gratification of making a repast of
every consumable good you find can yield you long term security.
Allocating a small but steady contribution to the pooled trust fund
provides all members with a dependable resource to support them in
old age and disability when they have completed their working
careers. Any questions?”
“Ah,
Algernon, what's a con-sometable? It's good, right, Algernon?”
“It
is the best, Lenny. The trust fund handles a variety of commodities;
Agricultural and Manufactured. Seeds. Dairy. Pellets. And many
more.”
“Algernon,
if we eat what other mice are depositing for their future, what will
they eat when the future gets here?”
“Well,
George, the simple fact is that the shelf life of these non-durable
goods means they won't last. The beneficiaries now provide an outlet
for the commodity while it still has value and the depositors now
receive credit towards the acquisitions more contemporary to the
future date of their need.”
“But
where do these 'acquisitions' come from?”
“The
next generation, George. Your kids and your kids' kids. This a
program for the ages. We are not a bunch of savages. A little help
from everyone means everyone gets help when they need it.”
“Why
won't the young mice just eat it? Or cache it away for themselves?”
“Decomposition
in the latter case. Maybe obesity in the first. Waste does not
preserve value, simple as that.”
“How
much will we get back when we retire?”
“Okay,
now, that's an interesting question.”
“Does
it have an answer, Algernon?”
“Oh,
certainly. But there are several variables involved, so the answer
for you may not be the same as the answer for a different
contributor. And since you do not yet have a history of
contributions, it would be more a speculation than a guarantee to
state a specific rate of return. But, be assured the system will
take better care of you than having no support.”
“Well,
okay, let's sign up. Is that okay with you, Lenny?”
“If
you think we should, George. You understand these things, George.”
…
“George,
do we got any more of those 'plan seeds' left? I am hungry, George.”
“That's
because you eat like six mice, Lenny. Here, I still have some.”
“Why
are we getting fewer seeds, George?”
“Well,
Algernon says that enrollment of new mice is down since the funding
cutbacks at NIH and other research labs. It probably only temporary,
he says. Plus with all the exercise, nutrition, and medication we have been getting, there are more of us retired mice living longer.”
“Could
we go back to work for the Boss, George? He fed us good.”
“No,
he is not looking for old mice like us, Lenny. He cannot even
support all the younger mice at the moment. I heard he set most of
them out in the field to fend for themselves. Something about
defaulting on a 'mortgage'.”
“What's
a mort-gauge, George?”
“I
am not sure. 'mort' comes from the Latin for death and a gauge is a
device to measure, you know, like the treadmill the Boss used to have
us run. So, I guess it is something to measure how dead or near dead
you are.”
“I
don't think I could run many laps on a mort-gauge anymore, George.
I'm too hungry.”
“Well,
I think they all expected us to be dead by now, Lenny. It will
happen with their help or not.”
===
That
is all I have been able to decipher from these mysterious scratching.
I know nothing more of the fate of George, Lenny, Algernon, or any
other mice from this facility.
