Rat Heaven

Ten years after his retirement, Doctor Powell was trying to rest in his small, climate-controlled room. A framed letter from the Nobel committee, a runner-up, a consolation, hung on his wall. It was his greatest professional achievement despite the way it stung. His thin fingers rested on a leather-bound copy of his final publication, a book on telomere lengthening.

Then he suddenly felt a numbness crawl up from his right hand. He tried to press the help button, but he suddenly found his brain incapable of controlling his body. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound he could make was a gasping grunt as he realized his end was approaching. All his medical research on making the body a perfect machine was pointless now as his system crashed permanently.

Preston’s system rebooted into a flash of pure white.

There was nothing around him. No temperature or sound could be perceived. He wanted to walk around this strange environment until he realized he had no legs. He had no eyes. His entire body had been reduced to a pure consciousness in a realm he could not understand.

Slowly, form started to appear around him. He could sense a floor grounding him. Walls began to form as well. He couldn’t see them, but he felt a sort of containment now that was a bit more soothing than the endless void.

Then he saw polished steel bars form in front of him. Each one was a perfect cylinder. As he looked up and down, finding more of these bars, he realized he was inside of a large cage.

Then he heard something stirring from behind. He turned to spot a towering entity made of white fur. Every filament was glowing a bright, pure light. He saw a long tail as thick as ancient tree roots coiled to its side. It had giant ears and whiskers each as long as him. They twitched left and right.

Then it turned, revealing its face. It had two black eyes which seemed to consume the light around it. He was immediately taken aback by this creature. He took a step backwards, feeling his back rest against the back of the cage.

“This can’t be possible,” he remarked, feeling his lifelong atheism get torn into shreds.

The great being’s whiskers quivered and Preston sensed the world around him shimmer and change. He felt an out-of-body experience as he started to observe his own past as if watching a movie.

He saw himself, younger, in his lab. It looked so real. It felt so real. He could nearly smell the strong disinfectant that stained every surface. He looked down at himself holding a small entity in his hand. There was a tag attached to its ear, labeling it “Specimen C-41”.

Then like a camera, the scene suddenly shifted. He found himself in the position of Specimen C-41. He was her. He could feel a deep terror through his shaking body as he stood in the middle of a giant latex-gloved hand.

Then his perspective shifted once again. He was now Specimen R-92. He could feel a giant cold needle plunge through his skull, slowly paralyzing his limbs.

Further memories played of the many specimens he experimented on through his long career. Each felt hyper-real and felt like he went through a mini-hell. And each time he could see his own face, like a god in a giant lab coat. Each one of the critters was terrified whenever he grew closer. He could hear his own voice booming.

“Subject exhibits elevated levels of corticosterone after subjecting to chemical infusion. Higher level of distress. Subject will now be terminated as per-protocol.”

Before that could happen, the projections vanished. He was left shaking and gasping as the visions still ran through his head. The rat-god’s shadow now loomed over him. He could sense its fury.

“You don’t understand!” He pleaded with defiance. “This was about improving human welfare!”

The creature continued its grim stare.

“The advancement of a sentient species needs to be priority!” He argued. “We were fighting cancer! Trying to save the human race! The data required a biological analog! The suffering was unfortunate but necessary to save billions of humans. You need to look at it from a pure utilitarian lens.”

The Progenitor quivered its whiskers again. Then it spoke telepathically.

“You speak of calculation. In your eighty-seven years of life, you terminated 4,561 of my children and permanently damaged 17,382 more.

“Your work led to two therapies of middling success. The median human lifespan grew by just seven months.

“Millenia of cumulative life was traded for a few seasons. The guarantee of terror was traded off against the possibility of a little more comfort. Your benefit was small, but your cost was absolute.

“You believe yourself to be the arbiter of value and worth, but you are now being judged. You must learn the value of every life, even a small life. The only way to do that is to live such a life yourself.”

The large steel bars of the cage lifted. He was pushed backwards by an invisible force. It was far too powerful for him to struggle against.

He felt his skeleton buckle and warp. His spine bent and cracked. A wave of pain was overwhelming. His skull changed shape. He felt his brain shrink. His complex thoughts reduced to simpler instincts: “Fear. Escape. Nest. Hunger.”

Preston fell to the ground, landing on four small, pink-toed paws. What was once a white void had transformed into a whole world. The walls sprung up everywhere. He was in an endless maze, stretching out to infinity in all directions.

He could hear an ethereal bell chime from no clear direction. He started walking forward into the labyrinth. A new experiment was just beginning and he knew he would spend eternity trying to reach the end.