Alpha's Journal
Chronicling the ongoing adventures of
Vermin's Den residents

Entry #35 - 04.08.5504

The rats are revolting. And I'm not talking about their ever-nasty habit of leaving half-eaten foodstuff laying about the den. No, what I'm referring to an increasingly antisocial attitude on the little rodents' part. And while it's not entirely new behavior it's definitely gotten worse as they've continued to evolve; continued to become more intellectually complex - existentially aware.

At first, when the rats were initially transformed, their newfound consciousness was constrained in exhibition to a kind of edgy curiosity - like a pack of hyperactive kids never short of a snappy reply. But that was about as bad as it got. Now, however, since they've evolved and developed more complex egos, their attitudes are turning downright ugly at times - and not just a little bit frightening.

Why this should surprise me I can't say. After all, their behavior is little different - in substance or progression - from that of most other intelligent species coming to terms with purpose and place-in-the-universe. I guess I'd just expected the vermin to be immune to the emotional frailties and failings of comparably evolved humanoid species. But then, if I'd really thought about it, I could probably name at least 50 other non-humanoid species that have suffered the same such growing pains. Self-realization/actualization can be a bumpy road for even the smartest of organics; confronting one's singularity, and ultimate mortality, can make for wild mood swings. It's not easy being sentient.

What's been most fascinating about watching the rats evolve, however, hasn't been their overall progression of change, but emerging differences in personality types and behavior within the pack. Granted, they had pretty distinct personalities all along - personalities that clashed way too often, I might add. But as they've matured their personalities have become ever more pronounced - their clashes more intense. In the past, they'd always worked together to overcome their differences. Lately, they seem all too willing to pursue their own agendas, leaving us ever more vulnerable to attack by Hershel and his hench-rats.

3.14 - de facto leader of the rats since day one - was first to break from the pack in a noticeable way, distancing himself from the petty squabbles he used to moderate and resolve; growing vocal in his disdain for the lesser rats' quarrels. His patience seems to be thinning as his intellect expands. He seems more and more willing to leave his friends fighting while he goes his separate way, often disappearing for days at a time - though I've no idea where to. 50-50, meanwhile, is in danger of drowning in a sea of indecision as his penchant for second-guessing becomes increasingly convoluted. What was once a quirky, oft-times amusing habit of endlessly weighing options seems to be devolving into an unhealthy obsession. On several occasions lately I found him caught-up in a loop of 'but-then-again...'s, rocking back-and-forth on his haunches and tugging at his fur - overwrought with anxiety at his inability to reach a conclusion.

101, the youngest of the rats, appears to be the least affected by his personal evolution. Perhaps he's finding it easier to adapt to newfound awareness given change is a natural part of emotional realization. Unlike the other rats, who were pretty much mature by the time they were transformed, 101 was - and still is - something of a kid. His perspectives on 'reality' continue to be open; he readily accepts perception as subjective. And he doesn't seem nearly as threatened by challenges to personal 'isms as do the others. He's actually become something of a sedative force in the den.

At the other end of the spectrum is 45 - an extremist whose idealism and non-conformity has of late been morphing into downright revolutionary activism - an 'f-you' attitude toward anyone who disagrees with his perspective or convictions. Sure, 45 was always our resident rebel rat, but in the past his positions were confined in expression to assaults of the verbal kind. Now he's getting into physical brawls with the others, 14/2 and 3.14 in particular. Just last week he left 14/2 with a fat lip in a petty disagreement over cheese. Of course, 14/2 hasn't exactly been 'easy' to live with either -- our resident sleuth has gone from ever-questioning to downright cynical. Whereas he used to seek hidden meaning in all things, he now questions the meaning of everything; openly scoffing at anything anyone else holds true. His once-healthy skepticism seems to have become clouded by a subliminal paranoid depression. I'm beginning to understand now why the fabled S. Holmes turned to his pipe.

Had I known, a few years back, that I'd end up playing baby-sitter to a pack of dysfunctional rats, I might've stayed home and let the universe go hell.

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Rummaging through the attic of an old Academy dorm last week I found a bicycle chained to a post, underneath an eave. It was one of those old-style models with stamped and painted tin panels straddling its now-fractured frame, and slightly oversized white-walls on its rims. Though its chain was rusty and tires drained of air it seemed in repairable condition, so I clipped it free and took it down - with all the aggravation the rats have been causing lately it seemed like a fun and relaxing distraction. And with Athena and Mar off on some trading junket I had a lot of free time. I wasn't about to tackle work in the labs without their help.

Crossing the quad to a nearby shed - bicycle atop on my shoulder - the first rays of morning sun topped the horizon to my right, washing the cobblestone before me in a warm orange glow. The rats were still asleep but I'd been up for hours, having wakened sometime between 3 and 4, which was typical for me of late. My plan was to repair the 2-wheeler and then head out for a nice long ride - the sky was clear; a cool breeze wafted in from the west bearing the briny scent of the sea. It would be a good day for a ride.

While I'd hoped to be on the road before lunch, fixing the old bike took longer than anticipated and it was mid-afternoon by the time I set out, heading for the eastern district. I'd been to this part of the metropolis only once before, when we'd arrived on Ohm and Athena and I conducted our initial reconnaissance. We'd found little of interest at the time - it was a drab, dilapidated district made up of cookie-cutter apartments that appeared to have been constructed for worker housing. There was nothing to make it memorable, but for some odd reason it stuck in my mind. There was something about the area that just wasn't 'right' - but I couldn't put my finger on what. In time, I'd forgotten all about it. But then I found the old bike and, as I worked on repairing its broken-down frame, memories flooded back...

Pedalling east, I passed first through the shining towers that made-up the circular city's residential zone, then entered the concrete caverns of its commercial district. It was another hour before I finally entered the industrial zone - the outermost and widest ring of buildings by far. Had memory served me better, I probably would have postponed my expedition 'til the following day.

By the time I'd made it to the eastern edge of the city's ultimate ring, the sky had darkened to a deep cerulean blue and purple-black clouds had appeared as bruises on the horizon, adding an ominous note to an eerie quiet. There were no crickets trilling - no slight breeze to rustle sere leaves littering narrow streets. The area seemed a dead zone, passed-over for reasons unknown when the city had been reclaimed. And while this thought alone was enough to raise hairs on my arms, I soon sensed something more was at play - something cold and not entirely friendly. I hurriedly gathered brush and twigs with which to build a fire, lest I be caught blind by a quickly encroaching night. I long ago learned to trust in my instincts, and what they were telling now was that I did not want to be left in the dark.

Piling the tinder inside the concave portico of a massive gray stone buidling, I set the pyre ablaze and settled in for the night.