The Scientist and the Little People

by Jeff Haas

The scientist was lonely, so he decided to create some little people to keep him company. He set up a petri dish in the middle of the lab next to his high-powered microscope, grabbed a bunch of raw materials — mostly enzymes and stuff — and worked day and night until he was finished. Before long, he had fashioned a man and a woman who looked a lot like him, and he placed them in the middle of the petri dish.

But, being a scientist, he decided he needed a control group. So he set up an identical petri dish in a secluded part of the lab next to the graduated cylinder and the potted plant. He kept the control group far from the test group so they couldn’t see or hear each other, and he placed a similar male and female in the second petri dish. Then he left the control group alone.

At first, everything went well with the test group. The scientist talked to the man and woman on a daily basis, and they listened to everything he had to say with rapt attention. He enjoyed their company and they seemed to enjoy his. They had much to learn about the world, and the scientist was more than willing to teach them.

But things changed pretty quickly. As time passed, the man and woman seemed to need the scientist’s advice less and less. They started to keep their own counsel, and when the babies came all bets were off. Pretty soon they were making their own decisions completely without the scientist’s intervention. This made him sad in one way but proud in another. They were becoming their own people

As much as it pained him, the scientist decided to give them the freedom they craved to make their own decisions, and their own mistakes.

Unfortunately, this had disastrous consequences. After several generations, more and more of the petri dish was covered with little people, which inevitably led to conflict. Brother started fighting with brother, and pretty soon small groups formed and fought with each other. Worse yet, no one was listening to the scientist anymore. Something had to be done.

The scientist tried many things to get their attention — shouting, shaking the petri dish — but nothing seemed to work. Finally, out of pure frustration, he grabbed a beaker from the cabinet, filled it up at the vitreous sink, and splashed the lot of them with a cold dose of water. Surely now the little people would listen to reason.

But the scientist’s rash act had unintended consequences. In his fit of rage he had emptied the entire beaker into the petri dish, and most of the little people drowned.

He was mortified. Fortunately, enough of the little people survived to make it possible for them to start over. And the one positive result was that they started listening to him again, if for no other reason than the fear that he might drown them all the next time. Feeling great remorse, the scientist apologized to the little people and promised never to do it again.

So things went along swimmingly, so to speak, for a while. The original man and woman were long gone, but the scientist spoke with their descendants on a regular basis, until their selfishness overtook them once again.

But this time it was much worse. It wasn’t just that they were spoiled children trying to test their wings; there was something more insidious in their willfulness. Instead of just ignoring the scientist, the little people were openly flouting him and choosing their selfish desires in spite of him. Some even had the audacity to claim that there really was no scientist at all. Something had to be done — again.

The scientist decided that the little people needed to be reminded once and for all that he truly existed. But, since he was so much bigger than they were, he couldn’t go down into the petri dish himself. So he created a little-people-size clone of himself and sent the clone down in his stead, placing him smack dab in the middle of the petri dish.

Needless to say, the little people were a tad surprised to see the clone appear out of nowhere. But he seemed to be a pretty nice guy, and they got along with him well enough for a little while. The clone told them all about the scientist — how lonely he was, how much he wanted to talk to them — and the little people related their litany of pint-sized problems to the clone. Some people took the clone seriously and started talking to the scientist again. But most people were suspicious and resentful of the clone. Finally, in the end analysis, the little people killed the clone and thumbed their noses at the scientist.

At first the scientist was indignant, but eventually he resigned himself to the fact that the little people didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He had tried everything, and everything had failed.

Now all he could do was watch as the little people made a complete mess of the petri dish. Terrible wars broke out, and disease ran rampant. Finally, two entrenched factions waged a vicious, prolonged war that engulfed the entire petri dish. The scientist looked on in horror as the little people destroyed themselves.

When he leaned over to confirm that they were all dead, a solitary tear escaped his eye and fell deep into the petri dish, diluting the blood.

Suddenly, in his moment of utter despair, the scientist remembered the control group. With mounting hopes, he ran to the secluded part of the lab and eagerly examined the second petri dish.

But the little people in the control group were dead, too. A large group of bodies was huddled together in a grotesque circle of death at the center of the petri dish. This seemed suspicious to the scientist, so he decided to start an investigation.

He observed, he hypothesized, he predicted, and he tested.

At long last, the scientist identified the control group’s leader by his position in the circle of death. And buried deep in the leader’s pocket was a tiny slip of paper. The scientist extracted the paper with a pair of tweezers and took it over to the microscope.

A note read:

To Whom It May Concern,

We are completely without hope and have decided to kill ourselves. Thanks for nothing.

Yours Truly,

The Little People

Fighting back his tears, the scientist carried the control group over to the test group, then took both petri dishes to the vitreous sink. He solemnly washed the gruesome remains of all the little people down the drain.

As he was placing the clean petri dishes back in the cabinet, the scientist resolved never to perform experiments on little people again, even if it meant being lonely for the rest of his life.