Do Rats Experience Existential Angst?
–I wish I didn’t know so much.
–You don’t.
–No, I really do wish I didn’t.
–I mean you don’t know so much.
–How do you know that?
–I don’t.
It is customary on such occasion to dedicate a paragraph or two to the description of the scene and of course the characters in order to make the reader familiar with the setting and most importantly to give a sense of time that is relentlessly passing in grinding Bolshevik moonstomps as the heroes pounder over their upcoming remarks.
Very well then. Let’s make them both male and strictly heterosexual to avoid any possible romantic interjections and put them in a cozy little cafe. They are seated next to a window, it’s a mild October afternoon and their cigarette butts are decadently coughing up intricate trails of smoke.
–I do insist that I’m an extraordinary delicate and overeducated man, which is why I find my existence so bitterly pointless and sad.
–You mean you wouldn’t soak in bitterness if you were dumb?
–Certainly not. I would only care about buying stuff and watching movies that have explosions in them.
– I think we can all be happy. We’re all made of the same mold, therefore each of us is within equal grasp of that happiness thingy you’re missing.
– Let me show you just how wrong you are. Here’s an existential experiment: we look out of the window and both count black cars that pass. In some 20 minutes we write down the numbers and see.
– See what?
– Just do it. Come on.
They both turned their heads to the window, their gazes intertwined with the heavy traffic. Of course there was no shortage of black cars to say the least. Soon enough two ink-smeared napkins were lying on the table.
– 23.
– 26!
– I really can’t see where you’re going with this.
– The perception! This world, the cars and everything, it only exists in our minds. Which is why there are mere 23 black automobiles in your sad little world and 26 in mine!
– Well, you should be happy then. There are more black cars in your world.
– I hate black cars.
The loud dispute attracted quite a crowd at the cafe. One by one, visitors abandoned their coffees and moved closer. Those on the outside walked in just to catch a glimpse of the fight which was rapidly and consistently growing more repetitive. Finally, even the heavy men in black cars jumped out of their shiny vehicles and asked the crowd outside to give them a hint or two of the direction the argument was taking.
– I still insist your unhappiness exists in yourself and it’s not your existence that exists in your unhappiness. Wait, no.
– Ha! You can’t even arrange words in a sentence, how can I expect you to fathom my problems, obviously coming from mastermind intelligence, hence eluding lesser minds.
– Why are you so fond of your huge brain if it only brings you sorrow?
– Because it allows me to see sorrow! Your life is just as miserable as mine, only you can’t see it because you’re not smart enough!
– Fine by me.
The crowd was getting out of control, in no time they entirely filled the little space the cafe provided and flowed into the basement.The old rat who lived there decided to flee the moment he heard the word ‘existence’ chatter the roof of his beloved home.
The whole town kept squeezing in and the human mass pushed the debaters together so close that they couldn’t even open their mouths freely to deal the next verbal blow. It was not certain who had the last word and if that sound could be described as a word in the first place, but at one point the ruckus died in an instant and the cafe revealed a very content man sitting still on the floor.
He stared vacantly somewhere between the refrigerator and eternity. And his face, his face was so staggeringly peaceful that it instantly enraged everyone in vicinity.
But there were two of them, someone shouted. Surely, you can’t have an existential dispute with just one man! They frowned and cursed and clenched their fists and walked outside one by one leaving souvenirs of hate and disrespect. In a few minutes the cafe was completely deserted.
The old rat crawled in sighing and cursing the mindless mob. It was the first time he had to leave his cozy little hole in years. All this sudden exercise upset him and his arthritis that kept getting worse day by day. Worst of all were the violent words he had heard. They kept resonating in his little head and he grunted louder to mute their ringing noise. He stood still at the sight of the content man sitting on the floor.
– Why the hell are you still here and why do you look so.. content?
– My life is miserable, the man replied. And I’m quite happy with it.
What a rotten fool, the rat thought as he walked downstairs to the basement.
Quite happy with it, pah. I bet he never even heard of arthritis.