Dinkaltranen

If you are familiar with psychology, you have probably heard of the term learned helplessness. It’s a rather famous and cruel experiment in which dogs were placed in a divided compartment. One side would be electrocuted, and the dog could jump from one side to the other to avoid the shock. However, there was another group who then went on and electrified both sides of the compartment. The dogs would cease trying to jump over to the other side after learning it was also electrified, and simply lie there, being constantly electrocuted. The experimenters then turned off the other side, and electrified the side the dog was on. Still, the dog lay there.

Experimenters had to drag the dog to the safe compartment for them once again to attempt to avoid the shock.

This has been compared to all sorts of mental disorders – that people learn eventually, regardless of what they do, they will not just suffer, but be punished.

My name is Spot. I was one of the dogs that were part of the original experiment, and the part that they didn’t publish. The researchers dragged me on to the safe platform, time and time and again, and then returned the platforms both back to electrocute me. This continued for about a decade.

Finally, the researchers got bored of this whole playing God business, but not before one of them had a bright idea.

“Don’t worry, Spot.” They said. “You’re going to be free. We’re opening the doors to the compartment. Remember, you should always keep jumping around until you find a bit of the floor, one that won’t shock you. You should exercise daily, eat well, find some other dogs, maybe a dog girlfriend. Get a job in security scaring off burglars.”

They opened the door. I was ready, out in the world, free at last. Finally, I learned of the researchers final trick. They had electrified the entire world.

At first I howled and flung myself around the test chamber in a mixture of pain and betrayal, but eventually I made it out. I found some food – I’m pretty sure it was poisoned, but it was supposed to be good for me. I ran every day until my legs cramped up or broke down from the shocks. I met other dogs while training for my new work, even a cute little Bolognese who I hoped to settle down and have a litter with. It didn’t change the fact that every step, every touch, sent a jolt of pain through me. It didn’t matter whether I was lying in bed, or eating dog treats, or making puppies. It didn’t matter how much I could run, or how much I earned, or how people felt towards me.

The researchers had electrified the whole world and everything in it. One day I asked another dog about it, and they said, yeah, didn’t you know? It’s been that way the whole time. Maybe I was just sensitive. A sensitive young dog.

And what I wouldn’t do to go back to the beginning of that experiment, to the time when it was clear that one side was electrocuted and one wasn’t, and all I had to do was jump between. But somehow, being shocked for so long, instead of getting used to it, had sensitised me to it. The pain accumulated instead of acclimatising.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to find wherever those researcher put that damned breaker-box, to turn off the shocks not just for me but for everyone else. I keep thinking I find it, but no, they’re decoys, it flips the power for a little, and then it shocks me even harder in retaliation, as spite for me even trying.

I hope I find the real breaker eventually, before the gigawatts of energy accumulating inside me stop my heart on their own.