🧀 Society of the Human Rats

I feel that society increasingly resembles a house of rodents, in which the luckiest and most fortunate rats —whether due to effort and dedication (because yes, there are rats that truly fought and worked hard to get a good chunk of cheese that allows them to live well and happy in their rat world)— have their place. But there are others who simply had a smart daddy rat who accumulated and accumulated —sometimes selfishly— a great amount of cheese. And there they are, just roaming, eating and spending, and spending, jumping from trap to trap, because they know that the biggest piece is already in their burrow. And they’re not satisfied with the scraps offered in the traps set out for rats in the world.

And then there are the other rats —the common citizens— who get up every day at 4 or 5 in the morning, in search of a tiny bit of that cheese, which often ends up leading them into a trap that doesn’t even hold, if not at least a tiny, insignificant crumb of cheese.

But they go on, they get up every day and face every morning with the same spirit they had the day before, jumping among trap triggers, snatching the cheese with the agility of a ninja, avoiding being crushed by that complex mechanism that is the trap —jumping here and there, inventing new ways, innovating.

Far away, in an old house, a little mouse tries to steal the cheese using a twig and a string. In another, a bit further away, another one uses a nylon thread to descend like Agent 007 from the rooftop in search of its cheese, trying to avoid succumbing to the trap.

But there is one rat that is different —special. She’s tired. She has used every possible means to get her cheese. Day after day she tried something new. But today, she no longer has the will. She woke up thinking, "And what if I die in that trap?" What’s the point of dodging and dodging if every feat I pull to get a bit of cheese leaves me emptier?

The cheese isn’t even enough —just for my two children and a small piece for me, which doesn’t even ease my hunger. Instead, it forces me to prepare for the next day. It makes me think of how to get more cheese next time.

Yet every day repeats itself, and she only gets an infinitesimal amount of cheese that doesn't satisfy —and never will— all her needs.

One day, that rat, leaving behind her small children and her friends, found herself face to face with a trap. This time it held more cheese than ever before. But it was also a more complex system than any she had ever faced.

This time something was different. That mouse no longer wanted to struggle. She couldn't find a way to get her longed-for prize. So she bent down, placed her head in the trap’s mechanism, and without a moment’s hesitation, triggered it.

The trap snapped shut and crushed her head. It didn’t kill her, but kept her in constant agony for several weeks, until little by little, hunger, pressure, the torment of her inner thoughts, the memories and yearning for her children —who had already grown up, thinking their father had abandoned them— overcame her.

All this was too much for that little rat, and like a candle, her life slowly faded away, leaving only a handful of fur stuck in the trap.

A trap that was later cleaned, refitted with cheese —this time even a bigger piece— and repainted to make it more attractive, so that another innocent mouse trying to move forward would fall into it and die in constant agony.

By now in the story, it must be clear: the trap is those jobs that exploit you, that take you away from your children, that promise you formulas to reach your goals, but are simply traps —they catch and dominate you. They dominate every aspect of your life: what you eat, the time you spend with your children —they control everything about you.

And you go along with it, because up there, at the very top, is that thing they’ve promised you so much —a superior piece of cheese that you believe will make you happy.

But to reach it, you must first go through the trap —learn how it works, become the only one who survives it. And how do you do that? By letting yourself be caught.

With the same pen you use to write down all your thoughts, you sign the contract in which you give away your entire being —your time, your life, your freedom, your desires.

And for what? To spend the rest of your life with the trap on your neck, pressing down every day, cutting off your oxygen, drowning your being, depriving you of the freedom that makes you human.

And for what? To get a tiny piece of cheese —but one that’s bigger than what the others have?

One day, after so much time with the trap on you, for the first time in a long time you question it. You realize that time is running out. Your children grow up and leave. Your partner forgets you —not out of malice, but because of your neglect. And life becomes lonelier each day...