

### The Amazing Adventures of the Human Bob in the Galactic Zoo

By Horia Hulea

Published by Horia Hulea at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Horia Hulea

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

**Prologue**

Let's start our story with the main character.

And let's name him something simple.

Something anyone can spell.

I have always hated the science fiction stories where people have futuristic names like UgaLai or Enigoron. As if advanced future times should call for advanced and complicated names.

What happened with the simple names in science fiction? Did they ban them somehow in the next century? Did they go extinct in the next stage of our civilization? Don't people like the normal John and Bill anymore?

Science fiction authors these days and their character names! Can't you have a good story without a long futuristic name?

Uuuu! It's the fuuuuuture, let's all call our characters robot names or give them warlock-sounding incantations!

So no, I will call my main character Bob.

But mister author, Bob sounds so simplistic and dumb. We can't have a complex story happening in the future involving galactic empires and stretching over vast expanses of space with someone called . . . Bob!! Please, mister author, let's call him something else!

Sorry.

No.

Bob.

**Chapter 1**

And since this is the first chapter, we will start it with Bob.

Why? Because I like a simple, neat, and proper story structure.

Currently Bob sits on his ass in the sand.

More precisely, he sits on the most perfect beach, with the most perfect sand, with the most perfect blue waves rolling in the distance.

And, of course, on top of the perfect this and that, there is also the most cloudless sky you can ever imagine (which is also perfect) with a sun that is not too hot to burn and a breeze that is not too cold to chill.

Just in case you still have problems in picturing this, I will say it in a different way:

Imagine that you have a shitty, meaningless, boring job at which you slave for 12 hours a day, six days a week for a whole year under a boss that you absolutely hate in a company that you despise from the bottomless pit of your soul (some of us don't have to imagine this . . .).

And after one miserable year, one wasted year that seemed to have no end in sight . . . you finally get a vacation. Not just any vacation, but the only thing that made you drag your daily zombie existence out of the bed every morning. The one thing to which you clung with your hopes and dreams of staying alive. The one thing on which your sanity depended.

Well, that perfect vacation place is the tropical island where Bob has his ass planted.

And since the picture should be complete, let's put a couple of palm trees in the distance with some hammocks stretched between them.

In one of those hammocks there is another sleepy guy that is not Bob.

We will ignore this other person for the moment, even if he scratches where it itches and turns around mumbling stuff. (He might mumble something intelligent or maybe something just plain stupid. Who knows?)

Bob doesn't seem to pay any attention to that other person. Bob is still sitting on his ass with his face staring long and hard in front of him.

Just staring.

A calm voice is heard faintly in the distance:

"Welcome to the Galactic Sapiens Zoo, home of over 30 cognitive species from all corners of the universe. Please don't tap on the windows or use light flashes, since it will stress the exhibits. Make sure you don't."

But the voice is fiercely covered by the sound of bonkity-bonking on the window.

Window? What window?

In case you didn't notice, the perfect beach with the perfect sky in the background has (unfortunately) a very perfect window in the middle. Just like that, out of nowhere, a square-shaped transparent window happens to stand there in the sand.

A window full of cute, fluffy-looking purple rabbits, who are banging their curious heads like idiots, hoping to grab any ounce of attention from the human Bob.

Why all this outrageous noise, you may wonder?

Well, it seems one of the bunnies is looking with big puppy eyes at the human (I should say bunny eyes, but we all know puppies have cuter eyes than bunnies) while the human looks back at him (with killer and not-so-puppy eyes).

Both of them are caught in a staring game!

A staring game that neither of them wants to admit losing.

And they stare . . . and they stare . . . for what seems to be ages, when all of a sudden the little bunny is dragged away screaming and kicking by some bigger and fatter bastard bunnies that seem to be his parents.

"Better luck next tiiime," Bob smiles and says triumphantly. "Hee hee! He thought he could win, Dude. Against ME!"

A sound of disappointment can be heard from the pack of vicious bunnies that goes in search of some other specimen to annoy down the alley.

But not to worry, five minutes later, we can find Bob tracking another pair of fluffy ears hopping along the window.

Other eyes.

Another staring game.

And another parent to ruin it.

Living in a zoo doesn't seem to be so interesting. And Bob doesn't remember anything exceptional he has done in all his time here. In fact, Bob doesn't remember anything at all before the zoo. And that bothers him very much.

Soon lunch time arrives (the most expected moment of the day for Bob), and since we are on a perfect tropical island, the food is no exception from perfection.

Also, it seems that food is the only thing that wakes Dude up.

In case you haven't figured it out, Dude is the other guy. (We will call him Dude from now on because Bob calls him that. Actually, I don't really know his name . . . and I'm the author!)

Dude sits up (which is an event in itself) and is soon happily, even blissfully sipping a drink through a straw.

The other thing noticeable about him is the straw hat, which seems to be handmade. And by that, I mean sloppily made by the laziest hands. Most probably, Dude's hands.

And like all the other times, Bob has to start:

"You never wondered what is beyond this glass? Where we come from? What is our purpose here?"

"Gaaah, not again . . ."

"What 'not again?'"

"No man, I don't wonder about purpose. I don't wonder about froms and whens. I don't wonder! Period! I simply know that this is what I wanted my whole life. Just a beach, with a sun not too hot and a breeze not too cold. Just sitting and enjoying my drink. No worries. No stress. No nothing."

"But . . . what if we have been abducted by aliens and put here? What if we have been brainwashed to like everything around us, when in fact this perfect tropical island is a shithole and we simply can't tell? What if we have families who are worried sick at home? Loving children that grow up without seeing their brave fathers? Caring wives that are desperately looking for us? Did you ever wonder about THAT?"

"Don't really care, man. Don't really care. Thinking too much will simply ruin it, and I don't want to ruin it. I'm going to enjoy every day here for as long as it lasts."

"But what if there is an entire conspiracy that put us here? And back home we are someone important? What if we are some world leaders gone missing? Some scientists, on the verge of a breakthrough, that were kidnapped?"

"Bob, for all I know, we can be two guys that actually signed up for this and had our memories erased. Maybe some aliens landed in our bathroom to take a shit and then asked us: 'Hey guys! Do you want a carefree life for the rest of your days doing absolutely nothing, eating whatever you like, on a sunny beach?' Why not that? Why all the conspiracy theories? Why all this stress-stress-stress and negative stuff?"

"I have a bad feeling about this!"

"You always have a bad feeling about everything and then you always do stupid things. Well, I don't have a bad feeling at all. My feeling is that before this I had a very shitty life with a very shitty job and all day long I would be dreaming of retiring on a tropical island and doing absolutely NOTHING for the rest of my life."

"NOTHING!"

"Just nothing! Just lying down like an extremely fat cat, scratching my balls and eating my pizza. I know deep down that this is what I always wanted, and now that I am in heaven I will simply not care."

"What if?"

"Whatevvver!"

Slurp-slurp followed by chow-chow, and then a burp (this is to show how Dude really feels about Bob's anxieties).

"I'm happy with my little cocktail over here sharing some very intimate moments together."

Another slurp-slurp with the little girlfriend drink.

Then Dude resumes the conversation:

"You do the same thing every time. And all the time you come back to negative, negative, negative. Why don't you ask yourself the positive: What if we are actually convicts on our planet and instead of the death penalty we accepted to go to an alien zoo? I mean . . . who wouldn't want a lifetime in a prison cell like this? What if we are the last survivors of an extinct species and now they are doing their best to keep us happy for the rest of our lives? What if we are some war refugees that were offered temporary shelter in a zoo as a neutral zone since this is the only legal status available? What if . . ."

"I don't think so, man."

". . . our sentient species is a luxury pet to some other sentient species and we have been donated to the zoo as an exotic curiosity? Just look around you! Look at how they are treating us! I would surely consider myself a luxury pet! Why not something like that? Why always 'evil overlords kidnapped us and this and that?' What's with the constant 'we are raised to be sacrificed as a delicacy?' 'Hi, my name is Bob, and all I can think of is conspiracy, conspiracy, conspiracy.'"

"No way, man. These bunnies ARE evil overlords and no way are we luxury pets."

"Why no way? You said it yourself: you can't remember anything from before you got here. So, if you can't remember what was before this, then it can be ANYTHING!"

"We were kidnapped, that's what happened. Tell me of one single zoo where the stupid animals came willingly with their paws up: 'Hey mister zoo keeper, put me in a cell for life so that snotty spoiled kids can throw food at me.' Why do you think we have all these windows, mister smart ass? To keep us in!"

"Maybe you shouldn't compare this place to a stupid animals' zoo. From the looks of it, we are in a zoo where all the animals seem pretty intelligent. Us included. In fact, iff I may say, they all look more intelligent than us!"

Dude sits up again, since he wants to make a point (he doesn't sit up actually, just makes the effort of barely sitting up with an annoyed expression of "See what you made me do? You made me lose my good spot that I managed to warm up!").

"See Mark there?"

Dude waves "Hi Mark!" to another window in front of their window where a furry koala-like creature catches with the corner of the eye the "Hi Mark" wave and shows the finger back.

"He is building space stuff that I can't even imagine!"

Indeed, Mark is building something very advanced that is floating above the ground and has blinking blue stuff and some other glowing green stuff and some more stuff on top that seems awfully complex.

"That means Mark is way, way smarter than me. And he is just a koala! Does he complain? Noooooo! Does he go with 'Purple bunnies of doom enslaving the galaxy?' Noooo!"

Long, slurping pause.

"Mark is in a box with all his nice gadgets and concentrating on the anti-gravitational blinky-glowy stuff and he is very happy humming and probing and doing whatever."

"How do you know his name is Mark?"

"What? Can't I just name alien species?"

"Mark? Really? You land on a planet and encounter a species that is building anti-gravitational engines and the best you can come up with is . . . Mark?"

"What is wrong with Mark? Mark is a very good name for an intelligent species. Any self-respecting species would be flattered to be called Mark! Markus sapiens! See?"

"And what about that big brain guy?"

"Mentoid Joe?"

If we turn our heads to the right, we can see wh0 Dude calls "Mentoid Joe." He/she is another guy-specimen, from another window, and you can see he/she (at the moment we are not supposed to know what mentoids are, but we'll go with "he" since Joe has no boobs) is writing boards and boards of equations, all surrounded by more boards of even more complex equations.

And all that writing makes him very, very happy.

He is humming a tune (what is it with the intelligent species and humming tunes while they do stuff?), oblivious to anything around him.

"What did you name him? Joe?"

"He's my favorite. I first called him Big Brain Guy. But then I realized he can be a she. Or a he-she. And then I called him Joe because he looks very happy. Just look at him writing those doodles! Those doodles are his bestest friends ever and the only thing he wants to do for ever and ever! Just like me and sitting on this beach! Me and Joe have so much in common!"

Another slurp-pause.

"But you know, Bob, there is one unhappy sapiens on this floor"

Bob is genuinely interested: "Who?"

"Who? You! Who else? Why can't you be like the rest?"

"Because I don't think my purpose is to sit in a box loudly slurping cocktails like an existential slacker."

"Speak for yourself."

Slurp-slurp.

Mentoid Joe pulls out another board and starts thinking profoundly, rubbing his shiny blue head. You can tell he is really concentrating because his boneless skull is all pulsing and vibrating with tiny pink veins showing up (boneless skull is a weird expression, because a skull is made of bones, and the "boneless skull" gives birth to an oxymoronic image).

It seems Joe is swimming so deep in his ideas, that he is ignoring completely the stream of purple furry rodents that come and go past his window.

Unfortunately, that is not true for one little owner of such purple fur.

A curious bunny with one spotted ear tries to cling to the edge of Mentoid Joe's window (even if the big warning says not to cling to it), very interested in seeing the doodles on the board (even if another big warning says not to be interested in his doodles. In fact there seems to be a lot of warnings on Mentoid Joe's window, more warnings than on the other species windows. Many, many more).

But the bunny slips and the bunny falls.

But rest assured, where there is a will, there is a way.

So the bunny starts hopping and snapping a quick look at the boards with each jump. One hop, one board, another hop, another board . . . and one more hop and then she gets it! Miraculously, a pen pops into her paw, and with a very radiant face she looks left and right so that nobody sees her "feeding" the animals.

Mommy is busy texting stuff; little brother is busy munching his ears. Best time ever to hop and write some other doodles on the window (even if another big warning message says also not to do that!).

And the doodles line up one after another all under the horrified eye of a surveillance camera hanging from the ceiling.

You cannot tell the camera is horrified (because a camera doesn't have a facial expression, duh!), but you can tell that the guy behind that camera is screaming "Noooo" and rushing out like crazy.

A smiling Mentoid Joe has just finished another board of doodles, and he turns to fill in another. But he can't help noticing the squeaky-squeak of the marker on the window. So like any curious being (curiosity is a strong sign of intelligence, after all) he turns and looks at the bunny doodles (which are still in the making).

And now his face is going through various strange stages. First it starts with "What do these morons want? Really? A photo? Again?", then goes to "Hmm, this stuff makes sense! Wait a . . ." and then it stops to a "Whoaaa!" and it freezes there.

And while his expression is frozen in the "Whoaaa!", his eyes are going left to right, left to right and some more left to right all the while his forehead arteries are bulging and his head is growing and growing and gro . . .

Now, at this point, the little bunny should have seen the growing of the mentoid brain as a cause of concern.

She should have stopped feeding him the doodles (warnings in big letters are, after all, put there for that very purpose).

But no! She is too much caught up in finishing the last one. And once she is done, she strikes a very smug and happy pose and says something in bunny language.

And only then does she look up!

Three seconds later a loud pop is heard behind the window and what formerly was known as Joe's brain is currently spread all over the walls.

Ironically, all that remains from his head is the face . . . still frozen in the "Whoaaaa."

On the other side of the window, the little bunny face is horrified and on the point of crying.

To make this a dramatic moment (since, as an author, I like dramatic moments), we'll also have to imagine the marker falling down . . . in slow motion . . . to the floor . . . and bouncing to a stop.

The tears start running down her eyes. (Also music please! Can we have some dramatic music here? Thank you.)

Out of nowhere, the horrified guy behind the surveillance camera is rushing in, panting (amazing how in all the galaxies, the same thing stays true: the guys in charge of preventing stuff always show up when the stuff they are supposed to prevent has already happened).

"See what you did? See? You should never! Ever! Throw solutions for third apex circular differentials! Don't you know their cognitive system simply can't cope with that?"

Little bunny mumbles something through the tears.

"Didn't you see the warning? Their brain is too underdeveloped to digest these types of solutions. It will take another million years for them to evolve to a higher sentience in order to assimilate this kind of knowledge. These creatures are way-way too low on the evolutionary scale to be able to fully understand your doodles."

As the scene unfolds, it seems the magnetic power of scolding pulls around every bunny kid that saw the brain pop and now they are gathering to enjoy the show.

"All you do is put their small brain into overdrive, which increases the blood flow that leads inevitably to the pressure increase of their cranium membrane. And then (hands go in a wide circle around his head): Boom! Now do you understand?"

The little bunny nods, sniffing.

"It's like the non-sentient animals. Some foods that we like are poison for them. That's why, even if you like chocolate, you don't feed them chocolate because it will kill them."

The little bunny stops sniffing.

"And what are you doing playing with third apex differentials anyway? Aren't you a little too old for that?"

"But, but, he really looked like he was having problems."

And while some bunnies have learned from all this a very valuable lesson on species interaction, others, like the one in the corner with the evil smile (a clear display of getting very good bad ideas), sneaks around to the humans' window. He looks around, making sure the zoo keeper is still busy explaining stuff near the mentoid's window, pulls a marker and starts slowly squeaking the same doodles on the human window.

But after a moment . . . the voice of authority makes its presence felt:

"Really?"

The Fat Bunny has somehow stealthily sneaked behind the naughty fur ball and is looking down at him, then looking up at the human Bob (who is scratching his head in the most genuinely monkey style). Then looking back at the naughty one.

"Really?" comes again, but this time like he means it.

The bunny hides his marker and tries to put on a smile.

"But, but, I want to see how their heads explode!"

"You're writing third apex differentials to . . . humans?"

"But . . ."

"They are humans! Huuuuumans, mister smart ass! They are even lower on the evolutionary scale than the mentoids! See? Here" (pointing his paw at the description under the human window where some kind of sentient species scale appears to have the humans, unfairly, lost on the very deep bottom).

"Oh . . ."

"You can write kindergarten meta-polynomials on their window; they will still need around three more million years just to have a clue about what you did."

"Oh . . ."

A rather confused Bob is looking at the two evil bunnies of doom discussing stuff in front of his window. In the beginning he figured out somehow that the little bunny with a marker didn't want to engage in a staring game. And when the doodles started showing up, he became even more confused. All these circles and complicated stuff with worm signs and bugs with seven legs were spreading all over his window with no apparent meaning.

"What is this?" said Bob in a loud voice.

The Dude didn't even bother opening his eyes: "Don't care, man."

"This one looks like an apple. That one looks like a sun. Stupid rabbit kids! Why are you drawing kindergarten doodles? We're smarter than this, you know! At least try to tell us something deep . . . to communicate in an intelligent language! Morons! We are, like, highly evolved species, you know!"

Bob rolls his eyes and just stops paying attention to the doodles. Not worth his time! So not interesting! But who is that? Oh, the Fat Rabbit of authority! Now that he is here, the little bunny will be in serious trouble!

Bob looks at the big rabbit, who starts giving lessons to the little rabbit. The big rabbit is even pointing to something written below the window. Bob acts all-knowingly now:

"Yeah, you tell him! The stupid brat is drawing bugs and apples on my window. Can't he read the clear sign? Overly evolved species. Too intelligent for kid doodles!"

However, on the other side of the window, mister Fat Bunny is looking at the kid bunny dragging his feet disappointedly down the alley and muttering to himself: "Damn kids. They can solve apex differentials, but they can't read a clear sign: 'Limited brain species. Do not engage them in cognitive feedback.' But what can you do? Kids will be kids and until they learn, everything is new to them."

So mister Fat Bunny scratches his ears and starts walking slowly toward the mentoid area to clean up the mess. He climbs up the edge and enters through the window inside the mentoid room. Carefully, he tiptoes around the blue and green mess, looks around disapprovingly and talks loudly as though to another person:

"Guys, we need another mentoid clone in sector XB. The kids again fed him third apex solutions."

And all of a sudden the boards, the floor, everything, resets and the room is brand new as if nothing happened. A ping sound follows, the wall is flipping over and there he is, Mentoid Joe, in all his glory with that happy and contented smile all over his face.

Mister Keeper waves to Joe and waits a few seconds for the mentoid to respond.

But something is wrong.

The mentoid face is changing slowly to an expression mister Keeper knows and hates.

It's the "Whoaaa!" expression.

And then Mister Keeper turns and sees that he forgot to clean the doodles from the window.

"Crap" is all he could say.

Pop! was all that followed.

**Chapter 2**

Evening follows day and Bob is staring curiously outside the window. But this time there are no more visitors, no more bored parents with their sugar-rushed kids, no more bunny teens trying to impress bunny chicks by taunting the placid bear aliens. It's long past closing time and the corridors are empty.

If the corridors are empty, then, what is he staring at? Some imaginary bunny with whom he's playing the staring game?

Let's look in the direction of his look and follow it in a straight line and . . . we curiously land across the alley right below Mark's window.

Where there is a panel.

A panel with writings and drawings. A panel that when the bunnies press it, little movies of maps and stars and other stuff begin playing.

And there is another panel also under Mentoid Joe's window. But that window is too far away, and Bob can't make out the writing.

"Dude! Look! Look!"

Dude is enjoying his sleep. Not even remotely interested in the ramblings of Bob.

"Every window has something written outside. We have it too! I saw the Fat Rabbit pointing at it!"

Bob presses his face against the window and then goes to the left.

Then wide turn to the right.

Then left. Then right again.

The squeaky sounds of Bob's focused face against the window match very closely those made by wiper blades swiping a windshield. And Bob tries to look for the best angle from which he can read the description posted below their window. But the writing is too low! And too small!

"It's there, Dude! It's there! It says everything we need to know! Like, our purpose! Like, where we come from! Like, all the answers to our questions!"

Dude: "Maybe to your questions, because I don't have any."

From outside, the homo-sapiens Bob with his face pressed completely against the window looks like an idiot who struggles to give birth to triplets.

Just a few fingers under his eye, one can see clearly the last sentence of the species summary: "All in all, Humans are the most idiotic sapient species ever encountered. Ever! Historically, spatially, culturally, existentially . . . EVER!"

Dude tries to look interested. But in fact he is hunting with his mouth for the drinking straw. He's not using his hands, since he's too lazy for that. And that tricky bastard of a straw seems to always go to the other side of the glass every time he moves his mouth around. You would expect that with all this technology around, the aliens could at least come up with an intelligent straw that doesn't run around the glass edge like a clueless fly.

"And what does it say?"

"Don't know man, can't reach."

"What do you think it says?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, you must have a theory worked out. What do you think it says?"

"That we are, like, this incredibly smart and capable people"

"That is exactly what I was thinking too . . ."

Bob is too busy to sense the sarcasm. Instead, he is having an interior conversation.

"Think, think, think! I saw the Fat Rabbit walking in and out of Mentoid Joe's window. But we can't do that. The little bunnies can't either. It's like the window knows who to let through!"

And then it dawned on him!

Maybe, just maybe, if he can get the Fat Rabbit inside, kill it, skin it, make a fur coat of his skin, then . . . he will be able to walk through the windows!

"But how do I get him in? Oh, I know! I know! Rabbits love carrots, so I will just put a pile of carrots near the window, and he won't be able to resist it! He will have to get in!"

That is a very smart plan, Bob! I bet the Fat Rabbit will never ever see what's coming!

"You're thinking of making a fur coat of the fat rabbit's skin, aren't you?" Bob heard Dude saying in the back.

"????"

"You know that you can simply make the fur coat."

"Make . . . fur coat?"

"How do you think you have your clothes, Bob?"

"I thought I had them when I got here."

Dude face palms.

And then he mumbles something. But still, it is not worth ruining his beauty sleep by getting up from the hammock to smack Bob on the head.

Little side note: I don't know why, but I haven't seen Dude out of the hammock. I mean, I see Bob going around and doing stuff (never smart stuff), but Dude simply seems to be pinned to that hammock. Like he is some kind of exotic fungus growing on the textile. I just wonder: Does he ever take a shit or a pee? Have you ever seen him taking one? Because I haven't.

"No, Bob. You can call your clothes. Like you can call the food, or the weather, or any other stuff you want. You just say the magic word and bing! There you have it!"

Bob looks as if struck by lightning.

"You can call stuff? And how come I didn't know that?"

Face palm on Dude's face is now so hard you can hear the echo.

"You should have known, Bobbbb! You're here since forevvvver!"

And here is Bob discovering that he can ask for stuff and stuff just appears.

"Motorcycle!" and out of the blue a brand new motorcycle appears with a bing! sound and lands in front of him. Eyes wide in wonder and smile stretched beyond the physical limits of the mouth.

And for one hour we are forced to stop the narrative plot because Bob can't get enough of riding that motorcycle.

Hey Bob, you were in the middle of something, remember? You had an escape plan? With a fur coat? Going in and out? You had a . . .

"Iron Man suit!"

And the bing! sound is heard again followed by . . . you guessed . . . an Iron Man suit.

I bet no one thought of that. Now, that I think of it, I wanted an Iron Man suit myself, but since Bob thought of it first, I have to look at him flying loops in the air and walking upside down in the air and doing the moonwalk . . . in the air (show off!).

How did he fit in it, since that belly of his can't even fit in his pants? I guess it is a customized Iron Man suit.

I say let's just fast forward a couple of hours, because waiting on Bob to continue with his "master plan" won't happen very soon.

A couple of hours later, Bob is fighting with laser swords against Darth Vader.

On the beach.

Under the palm trees.

Near a half-asleep Dude who asks them to turn the whooshing sound a little lower.

Ok, then let's fast forward some more.

Bob is running naked chased by a pack of hungry nymphos.

Fast forward some more.

Bob is skiing . . . in the sand . . . pulled by a giant sand worm . . . which is steered by a monkey . . . that is playing a piano? (The piano does fit on the back of the sand worm.)

Ok, I'm done.

I'll skip to the next day.

**Chapter 3**

Currently Bob sits on his ass in the sand. Better said, he sits on the same perfect beach, with the most perfect sand, with the most perfect blue waves rolling in the distance.

Exactly the same way we found him when we started the story.

But right now Bob is not involved in any staring competition or exploring what the bunny aliens are doing across the alley.

No.

None of that.

Instead, Bob is wondering.

Well Bob, you should be wondering!

Remember the Fat Bunny suit? The one you wanted to use to escape from this place? This place where everything is perfect and you can have practically anything you want just by calling it? Just by making no other effort except naming the stuff.

You say "Stuff" and bing! stuff is there!

"Pink snow falling and three moons rising!" Bing! And you are running around catching pink snowflakes with your mouth.

And, for some reason, you are willing to trade this wonderful place, this closest thing there is to heaven, where all these amazing opportunities come popping with a bing!, where everything becomes true and everything is going well . . . trade all these for who knows what sinkhole of a planet you came from, where you don't have a clue what is waiting for you!

"Maybe Dude is right. Maybe the bad stuff is outside, and there is actually a positive conspiracy that put me here!"

(Small side note: Have you noticed that every conspiracy theory believer has in his inventory only negative conspiracies? If you go to the Annual Convention of Conspiracy Theories [yes, there is such a thing, and no, entrance is not forbidden to the evil masterminds] you will listen to all the believers from all over the world gathered together sharing their newly found conspiracies and their proofs [or lack thereof]. And every year, all the conspiracies are . . . negative ones.

"The big organizations want to take over the world," "the evil geniuses want to enslave mankind," and so on and so forth. But nobody comes with "the masterminds of the universe want to make electricity free" or "the evil geniuses want to make chocolate more chocolaty." I also wondered why the negative conspiracies are also the most popular ones.

Small side note over.)

Back to Bob and the existential thought that just smacked him. Again.

A positive conspiracy can't be right.

The whole point of a conspiracy is to have only bad results for the guy believing in said conspiracy. Not only that, but it would mean that he, Bob, is wrong! And Bob knows he is always right, no matter if reality contradicts him.

And as the evil purple bunny overlords pass in front of the window pointing and wiggling their ears, his ingenious plan starts to grow to unimaginable proportions. Not only will they not see it coming, but they won't even be prepared for what he is about to do!

He will escape their tyrannical furry paws and will return home, victorious and with the most extraordinary story to tell to the future generations. In his mind, he is already surrounded by adoring and curious people all trembling with excitement and awe, looking at him telling the story of his great escape!

"Don't do it, maaan. I can smell a bad idea from here," the voice of Dude is heard somewhere in the background. (I know that Dude never moved from his hammock, but I like to give him an indeterminate location by saying "somewhere in the background," because I like to think he is not a totally useless character that never moved his ass from that single position in space.)

"Do what?" Bob jumps up.

"You know that a smart guy said once: 'The source of all man's misfortune comes from one thing and one thing only . . . which is not knowing how to sit stress free in one place.'"

"Oh please, don't come with stuff you made up and pass it off as philosophy quotes!"

"Not lying to you. Someone smarter than me said it. And it happens to be my philosophy also: non-action causes no action. You can go ahead with your stupid plans of escaping and being a hero and all . . ."

"Which I will do!"

"Ok, I'm done convincing you! Go knock yourself out outsmarting your evil overlords and breaking out and whatever. Not going to stop you."

"Gaah, don't you see that the system is putting you down?"

"You're making noise again. Wake me up when you make sense."

The evening comes and together with it the time of mischievous doings.

The long zoo corridors are all deserted and sleepy with silence and not a whisper is heard. But while all creatures are going about their own evening habits (those that have diurnal cycles on their home planets, that is), behind the window of the human habitat stands a fat rabbit suit with a sweaty Bob inside.

And Bob is not sweaty because he is nervous or excited, but because he couldn't figure out how to make a furry overall costume that wouldn't cause him to overheat.

"First, let us see if one arm can go through," Bob is thinking out loud. And the arm in the pink fur goes further and further until it reaches the window.

But it doesn't stop dead at the window. Instead it passes through the window. As the furry paw is going where no man has gone before, the fat bunny is squealing like a little girl (and jumping worse than a real bunny on a sugar rush).

"DUUUDE" (this is still a whisper, if you didn't realize). "Wake up! Waaake uuuuuuup."

Dude is moaning. Turns around and scratches his ass.

Bob rolls his eyes and just leaves him and goes back to his victory jumps.

After he gets tired of being happy with his little secret, he goes back to the window and slides through the arm, then the leg, then the body, then the head . . . and he gets back in.

But this is just to test if he can get back. What if the window is tricky and leaves him and the stupid suit outside? See? Bob is a smart human, and he doesn't want to get trapped outside!

Now that the tricky window test is done, nothing keeps Bob from taking one big leap and going free. Freee!

One small step for man, one giant leap for humankind!

"Oh yeah, oh yeah! I'm smart! Who's smart? I'm smart! Oh yeah, Oh yeah."

This is still in a whisper, if you didn't realize.

An hour later, the long, deserted corridors of the zoo are no longer deserted since one fat rabbit is running around panting and sweating and searching for something that is nowhere to be found. Is it carrots that the bunny is searching for? Juicy roots? Nuts? All we can do is look at the curious ritual of putting his ears against the walls, then against the floor, knocking gently, sniffing the air, then going to another corner and repeating it at every step. After many fruitless efforts, the fat rabbit goes way out to the back where the entrance should be, sniffs around, checks something interesting in front of him and he has the most puzzled expression found on a human face.

Where there should be a door, there is nothing like a door! And no matter what Bob is doing, it seems that the supposed door is not responding to his actions. Can it be that the limit of human intelligence has met its match with an alien door? I mean, a cat can't open a human door (which for us is the most basic, common sense thing to do), so to make the analogy, a human like Bob will post a dumb stare at an alien door.

It seems that Bob's expedition of brave exploration is ending with him going back in front of the human habitat. But instead of joining Dude, he stops twiddling his fingers and wondering . . .

"I just wonder. . ."

And the stupid-looking rabbit goes to the koala window and the furry paw lifts and touches the window.

And my oh my, would you look at that! The furry paw goes straight through the window . . . followed, of course, by one leg. And one leap later Mark's box has a surprise guest in the shape of a purple bunny.

"Hello Bob!"

The little koala speaks! Not only that, but Bob understands!

"Do you want a cup of hot chocolate? I know you like it."

"How do you know my name?"

"This time I got the milk enzymes to disperse the chocolate crystals when they are not at the melting point."

"How do you know I like hot chocolate?"

"Come on, Bob, try to keep up, you're one question behind."

"How do you know I like my chocolate with milk?"

Mark makes a sign with his hands as if introducing the next question.

"How do you know . . . Oh."

Then, very excited, Bob has the discovery of the secret beaming all over his face:

"You read minds, don't you! Are you a telepath? You must be! Nobody knows so much about me!"

Mark is turning around with an unmistakable "really?" written all over his face.

But Bob is unstoppable:

"What are you doing here? Are you a prisoner? You must be a prisoner. Do you have superpowers? I mean apart from telepathy, which is obviously a superpower . . ."

"I don't have telepathy. Or superpowers. Or any of that stuff!"

A dead silence takes hold of the excited Bob who is trying to process the answer.

"No way."

"Yes way. I'm just your usual grade 6 sapient living the happy life and pursuing his dreamy dreams."

"But you are here all alone . . . and lost, little koala! Away from your kind!"

"First, I'm not a koala any more than you are a monkey. Actually, let me rephrase that. I am not a koala any more than you are a . . . nematode. Second, thank the science gods for being all alone!"

Bob is scratching his head with his paw. While his face seems unable to lose its amused and bewildered look.

The little "koala" continues regardless:

"No more nosey assistants who only want to piggyback on my inventions. No more accidental info leaks to the greedy corporations who are too cheap to sponsor a grant! I mean . . . really, J-Lum, really? You think I'm that stupid to think you just misclicked and sent the entire technical spec to a 'wrong address' that happens to be the address of the head of research for the planet's biggest auto company? And he misclicked in turn, after just one day, a couple of million into the 'wrong account' that so happens to have the name of your wife? I mean, you didn't even bother to hide your tracks!

"Oh, and no more moronic, shit-brained excuses of colleagues whose sole purpose in life is to fuck every first year assistant that comes into the lab! And using the only neuron they have to share in all the prizes . . . while I do all the work? I don't think so, mister! My work is my baby, my child, my sweat! My soul! Blood of my blood! And you want to steal my baby from under my nose just because you happen to sneak a signature on my paper? You can't even draw a sugar molecule right, and you assume that your simple presence here solves all the problems of the antigravity engine?"

Bob is now retreating slowly under the torrent of ranting and doesn't know if he should sit down or get out.

"And don't even remind me about Mom!" Mark points his finger angrily at Bob, who is wondering when did he remind the infuriated alien something about Mom.

The little "koala" switches to a squeaky voice, making what appears to be a mom impression:

"'Why don't you get a girlfriend? Why don't you want to start a family? K-pu, remember K-pu from your kindergarten group? He is already on his eighth girlfriend! And he also washes his ears and wears clean shirts. Will it hurt you to wear some new shirts?'"

Then he switches back to his own voice in his imaginary dialogue.

"'But Maa, I don't want no girlfriend! I don't want no clean shirts! I don't want no stupid friends and all the social useless meaningless shit.'

(Squeaky voice again:) "'Why don't you do this? Why don't you do that? Weee-weee-wee.' And if I do this, then it's 'WHY did you do that?' And if I did something else, it's again 'Why don't you do this?' All day long, if I do this, nobody is happy. If I do that, nobody is happy again. So if everyone is not happy, why do I even bother? Because in all cases, with all certainty, both everyone and ME are not happy. So doing what I want, at least ME will be happy."

Going back to squeaky Mom voice again:

"'Why can't you be normal? Like all the other kids? I knew I shouldn't have smoked mushrooms when I was pregnant. All day long you sit with your nose in that laboratory. You should get out more! Get real friends! Get a life! Kids your age play together with colored cubes and learn boo-boo songs. Only you stay out all night . . . working!'

"'But Mom, I am having a real life. I like the EMG synthetic fields' fluctuations better than real people, I love multidimensional space translations better than any girlfriend! I don't want friends! I don't want stupid social status! I don't want stuff so you can brag about it in front of all the other retard mothers. I bet all you know about K-pu and P-lu is from their halfwit moms, who don't do anything all day except:

"'Ooooh look at my cute K-pu picture playing in the mud with his girlfrieeeend!'"

Bob decides not to leave and sits down. The show of this little koala jumping around with his hands in the air, talking with himself, in multiple voices impersonating all the halfwit moms is very interesting.

"And the more you grow up and the smarter you are, the more absurd society becomes. All the mind-numbing rules and twisted rituals and dystopian constraints . . . eating up every spare second of my life, filling up every single corner of my precious time.

"I dreamed of doing science from the moment I woke up picking my nose and I want to have written on my tombstone: 'Go away, busy doing science!' I want science when I pee, science when I eat, science when I sleep! But noooo! It's all about what the others want for you! It's not enough you won the prime medal in all eight fields of science when you were four years old, they need someone in a clean t-shirt to pick up the prize! They need someone with clean hands to shake hands with! The hands dirty with strawberry jam are below their standards!

"And of course . . . Mom!"

Now he goes back to squeaky voice (yes, again) and swinging hands.

"'Look at the house P-lu has made from bamboo sticks! All the girls in his kindergarten class love him! Why can't you make something like that? Who do you think will love you if you are so smart?'

"'And? Your point, Mom, is?'"

And now Mark leaves a dramatic pause and starts faking the most heartbreaking sob a koala mom can have when she realizes that her four-year-old wonder genius son will have no girlfriend!

"'Buhuhuuuuu! Sniff, sniff, I will die with no nepheeeeeews!'

"Gaah! What is this obsession of others to have control over you when you are a toddler? Why would I live my whole life just to die realizing I didn't do anything of importance except follow rules. Just rules, rules, rules from waking up to falling asleep. Stuff you cannot even imagine! From brushing your teeth, to the stupid polite 30-minute conversation about NOTHING when all you needed was a simple yes or no answer. I mean, you couldn't just say Yes? You couldn't save me 30 minutes? You just felt like wasting my time on blah-blah-blah, how is your day, blah-blah-blah how is the weather, blah-blah-blah is that a new tooth? Who came up with all these norms? Who made up all this nonsense? I can't imagine the actual guy that literally sat down and started thinking of all these rules out of nothing. Why should I tell you 'Good morning' if it's not a good morning? Why should I eat with my spoon? Why shouldn't I pick my nose? And why, oh why, should I get a girlfriend? Think of all the free time you get just by erasing this time eater!

"I don't want to worry about wearing the same t-shirt for three months in a row. I don't want to care if I didn't take a bath or not, or if the food is getting cold, or if this 'friend' I don't even know his name wants to present his latest brain fart as an innovative idea, or how many pointless meetings I have to force myself into attending just to get a grant, or how K-pu or P-Lu or some other moron has more colored cube houses or bigger ears than mine! Why should I care about this crap? Why should I even concern a single brain cell with this . . . NOISE?"

Silence.

Marks is staring, recreating the face of the revelation he had.

"And then I understood!

"Why should I live like that? Who is forcing me to live in this society? Why should I have a social life and all those horribly annoying little things standing between me and my science? Why spend my life miserable, caught in the prison of others' expectations and the hell of others' rules when all I needed was JUST my laboratory and an unlimited supply of candies! So behold, the best deal I could ever imagine!"

Bob is looking around.

At the best deal ever imagined.

And all he can see is an endless lab full of every imaginable technical gizmo and component. An endless lab where the echo of ' . . . could ever imagine' fades slowly in the deep.

"And you really don't want to get away?"

You can feel the limp hope in Bob's voice. A koala kid genius would have been very much the key to "getting away."

Mark picks up calmly from where he left off.

"Bob, I wanted in all along. This is a dream come true! I don't want to ever go back. Just look at this luxury! I have an entire laboratory all for myself.

"No! I stand corrected! I have The Laboratory all for myself. There are no nosey parents to snoop in my room, no annoying friends to literally drool over my 'toys,' no other so-called 'scientists' to compare prizes and titles against, no pressure, no stress. Just me and my science bravely moving forward one invention after another, discovering the secrets of the universe."

Mark is in a Zen zone with a halo of self-fulfillment around him.

"But . . . Are you sure you don't want to get away? Like in . . . one small percent probability?"

"Owww, Bob, you're so cute and fluffy with your puppy eyes."

Followed by a sharp-voiced "But no."

The long zoo corridors are all deserted and sleepy with silence even if the human Bob in a bunny suit is dragging his ass out of Mark's box. But in all that silence, a small bitter whisper can still be heard:

"Just wait until puberty strikes!"

**Chapter 4**

Yet another brave evening, which is presenting another brilliant opportunity for Bob to make his miracle leap outside the box in his wonder bunny suit.

Just a second, why are you hopping along the corridors, Bob?

You don't have to act like a rabbit just because you are in a rabbit suit.

The suit is just for passing through the windows, it's not to disguise yourself as an actual rabbit.

It's not like you're going to bump into a lost bunny alien that happens to be wandering around and actually make him believe he is facing another fellow of his species (five times bigger and with a human face stuck between the ears).

But anyway, since Bob is trying so hard to keep up appearances, we'll just jumpitty jump along behind his tail. And while last time he seemed to be wandering around with no aim, now it looks like he has a purpose. Yep, he definitely has a purpose! And that purpose grows clear as he goes straight to Mentoid Joe's Box (tam tam taaaaa).

"Pssst" goes the rabbit outside the window.

"PSSST!" more persistently and annoyingly.

"PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTT" until there is no breath left.

But then the rabbit realizes no "psst" can be heard from outside the soundproof glass. So he pokes his rabbit head inside the box.

"Pssst!"

Without turning his head, Joe throws a remark (that is intended to be condescending), "I don't have time for your pssst, you remarkably stupid creature. Please run along, I have five projects to finish and two more to expand."

"What projects?"

Now the rabbit is all inside looking around curious for these projects (curiosity is definitely a sign of intelligence), as if the said projects are lying around the floor like unclaimed socks.

"The unification of post-quantum fields, the reformulation of pre-existential space spectrum anomalies, the . . . oh my! A HUMAN!"

Mentoid Joe barely stops his laughter and turns back to his boards.

"Why am I even bothering to tell you these things? I have more chances of explaining to galactic chickens the cycle of stars than to make you understand the subtleties of time travel."

"Oooh! Travel! I like travel! Do you like to travel?"

"Poor, poor bi-lobe-brain creature. What sort of rhetorical question is that? Judging by your rabbit suit, you are going to ask me to help you escape."

"Oooooh. You are smart! I don't think I have ever met a creature as smart as you."

Apparently, the little ass-kissing remark makes Mentoid Joe turn around again, with captivated attention and a warm tingling in his eyes that seem to say "Do you really mean it?"

And Bob, sly as a fox (even if he is dressed as a rabbit), catches that little tingling and replies with a very cunning eye tingling of his own, "Of course I mean it. I'm too dumb to be lying to you . . . of all species."

"You know, the only other person who told me I'm smart was my mother . . . All the doctors declared me mentally retarded, which I am, don't get me wrong. The mentoid species is a wonderful, mentally gifted species, but when it comes to treating their less fortunate members, they dismiss them like bi-lobe-brain creatures.

"You mean, you are mentally retarded?"

"Try to catch up, mister limited frontal cortex mass. I am a mental retard compared to other mentoids. But compared to you I am a million years ahead."

"A million?"

"Yes. You see, every little thing on us mentoids has evolved toward higher intellectual purpose. Take our cranium, for example, it is not made of restrictive, rigid bones like yours. It is an elastic membrane, allowing my brain to expand and match ANY thinking challenge brought forward."

"And also to pop . . ."

"Oh, little creature, it will never pop since there is nothing in this universe complex enough to put my brain to such stress."

Turns back to his boards: "You are so funny sometimes (petting the rabbit Bob on his head), but what can you expect from only a 20-million-neuron density per cubic centimeter?"

"Sooo, did they lock you up here for being a retard? Is this like the 'special needs' institution for mentoids?"

"No, no, mammal brain. I have agreed to come here myself. Ever since I was in the nursery school I became aware of the dreadful fact that I will spend my entire childhood being bullied by all the other mentoid kids. 'Oh look! My brain has more circumvolutions then yours! Oh look! I can solve more equations with multiple transcendent solutions then you!' Just imagine the traumatizing effects this can have on a mentoid kid! How can I grow my self-esteem when everyone around me seems to have their first variant theory ready by the time they have their first tooth?"

Bob is trying to digest this new piece of information after succeeding in understanding the "I am a mental retard" part.

Of course, Joe is a retard . . . but compared to other mentoids!

Try to catch up, Bob, try to catch up.

"And after I finished my nursery cycle I understood what my life will look like when I reach kindergarten. Just imagine witnessing every single day your dreadful stupidity. Being less capable of modelling n'th dimension systems, being always last when comparing brain circumference . . . I mean, what dating chances do I have later in life with a brain size this small? Every mentoid knows that girls love big brain circumferences. It seems size does matter and all the males of any species face the same familiar situation . . . no matter in what corner of the universe they live or how many millions of years they are ahead . . . or behind (looks at Bob)."

The fat bunny with a human face nods in full agreement.

"But as you already know, behind every under-developed intellect there is a soul struggling for acceptance and for freedom of self-expression. However, the future that I had in store was not a pretty one.

"In mentoid society a toddler with a severe mental deficiency like myself would never find his place. I will be kept away from advanced theoretical systems for fear I might injure myself, I will be spoon fed mathematical models that were dumbed down for my sake, I will never have a chance of getting a post-physical system theory accomplished. And the worst part? Being bullied by the mentoids geekier than me and every single kid laughing at my theories like they are the human quantum theories."

"I understand you, Joe. Kids were mean to me when I was little."

"Somehow I find that very hard to believe, but given your exceptionally limited cerebral mass, I am forced to agree with you."

"And you know what I wanted to do, Joe? I wanted to run away . . ."

But it seems that this last sentence makes Joe raise a single eyebrow.

"Oh Bob, how simple minded you are. You really think you can pull me into your little plot of escaping this place?"

"Me? Oh, no, not me. Far from it!"

And Bob stops in front of one of the boards full of tiny little scribbles. With the utmost wonder in his eyes.

As you have all figured out (and by you I mean everyone except Mentoid Joe), Bob doesn't care at all and is not interested in the doodles and the scribbles, but he sure noticed Mentoid Joe is!

"Did you make all these by yourself?"

Mentoid Joe stops pacing all of a sudden. And Bob sees it and smells the opportunity!

"What is it? It looks fascinating!"

"You think?" the naïve Joe says, falling into the trap.

"Yes. I have always liked complex stuff, but this looks quite amazing."

"Oh, you're just saying that! You have no clue what it is."

"No, no. I see you put a lot of effort into it and I bet it took you an awful lot of time. I am genuinely interested. Just let me know the basics. Throw me the generals, and maybe I can understand."

"As a stupid mentoid, I was always fascinated by the extent of other species' stupidity. I admit, it made me feel better about myself. I even thought of making a dissertation for my 23rd PhD, but I had too many things filling my time. Anyway, I digress."

And then, overcome with joy, he says, "Ok, ok, I will tell you but only because it tickles my ego when I see humans bathing in their complete idiocy."

Pause, because Joe looks at Bob with a look, saying, "I just called you a complete idiot and I am waiting for your reaction."

But Bob is all ears (and no clue).

So Joe has to give up and continue

"Do you know how everyone interested in science comes and says: 'The mysteries of the universe are hidden from us! We have to discover the mysteries! Search deep and long for these mysteries! Maybe they will reveal themselves!'

"How come they never wonder if these are really mysteries?

"Take for example the case of discovering gravity: in the seventeen century some guy of yours called Newton discovers gravity. And he discovers it as if until then there was no gravity at all. As if this wasn't the mother of all the obvious things! As if you didn't have it all around you! Oh nooo, gravity needed to be discovered! For thousands of years, the humans prized their intellect, from making symbols on cave walls and inventing the wheel to building great temples and civilizations . . . and then they needed an apple to fall on their head to become aware of gravity!

"Oh look! Gravity was hidden under a rock for ages and it took centuries and centuries for humanity to search and here comes mister Newton and pulls it out: 'Aha! I got you now, Gravity! From this day forward, the whole world will know your name! And also your effects!'

"And all I could think of is: 'That gravity was there for BILLIONS of years, before your monkey ass species became self-aware! You lived with gravity by your side when you went to sleep, you ate with gravity, you picked your nose in gravity, you peed with gravity . . . every single second of your life was filled with gravity.'

"This thing is out there all along, staring at you right in the eyes and you call it 'hidden?! How was it hidden? How was it a mystery?

"You can't use the term 'discovery' when there is no mystery to discover! The 'thing' that you 'discovered' was there all along! It's not like anyone could hide it.

"'Breaking news! The government hides the existence of gravity!' or 'Company X kept the existence of photons an enigma for years.'

"How can you hide gravity?

"How can you hide a scientific fact?

"How can you hide something that is and by non-existing will overthrow any aspect of the current observable universe?

"You can't hide atoms, you can't hide electromagnetism or friction or surface tension! You can't make a secret out of reality, because reality is the stuff that is.

"So it's not 'the world is full of "mysteries' but in fact it's 'We are too stupid to see.' There are no 'hidden' truths, just we, the species that is too blind. The species that can lie to itself about it.

"Every single species in the universe that developed something similar to science NEVER 'discovered' anything and in the future we will never actually 'discover' anything.

"You just become aware of Stuff as you grow out of your stupidity. And that Stuff is there laughing in your faces since you started crawling out of the mud from the pre-Cambrian era.

"'Hey look, electrons! Me, sentient species, great discoverer!'

"No, idiot, it's 'Hey look, electrons! How was I so, so, soooo stupid for the last several millennia NOT to see them? How was I able to explain simple stuff like objects bumping one into other until now?'

"And maybe, maybe, after the species understands there are no 'discoveries,' they will continue walking on this line of thought: 'I wonder what other stuff is staring me in the face while I pick my nose, wondering about the wonders of the universe?'"

Now Bob listens like a quiet little child that knows if he will ask anything he will just get another hour of gibberish talk. So he nods and whenever Mentoid Joe changes tone he says "Mhm" with a very deep and thoughtful face.

But all he can think is "What is it with aliens and their monologues? Everywhere I go, they all seem so eager to unload the half hour talk-talk-talk, all by themselves. As if I understand a word of what they are saying. I guess they are all so lonely in these cages and the only way to have a conversation is with themselves. Or me."

Mentoid Joe continues.

"So the problem sits with us. Even if we are part of the universe, even if we are in the middle of its blinding obviousness, we need the scientific process to 'discover' something that was here all along. But the stuff that is does not need a process to validate its existence. It is us who need the process to make reality accessible to our sentience. That is why I have embarked on the journey of creating a system that eliminates the 'discoveries' and enables direct access to 'reality.'"

Long pause from Joe, letting the idea sink deep into Bob's head.

And since Bob is a mountain of intuition, he feels he needs to say something smart.

"Whoaaa."

"Whoaaa indeed! However, I don't know why but it seems I can't finish this endeavor. It seems like I am starting it over again and again."

"If you can think of everything you told me, escaping this place, it's just a kid's play for you. You can figure out all the doors and codes and stuff. Not like me. You said it yourself, I'm stupider than a hamster. Honestly, even a hamster can figure out the exit."

"Bob, there is nothing to figure out; everything is in plain sight. Obvious blinding plain sight."

"Yes, but does that mean you will help me escape?"

Joe wants to say something but then takes a long look at Bob and realizes that if he continues his eloquent dissertation about the humans' inability to see past their own skull, Bob will have the same blank stare and make the same stupid remark.

So Joe continues elegantly:

"In the end, the human species is one of the most awesome species in the universe . . . gifted with a great future and showing amazing promise. And as for your escaping request . . . then I will be glad to show you how to open a door."

"Yayyy! We will be like two brothers! Two dumbest creatures of their own race escaping together."

In Aisle 3, box C (Would you look at that! It seems that the bunny aliens also have numerals and letters. How convenient!), a crazy rabbit is bouncing drunk-happy and hugging like mad the mentoid who loathes every paw that is violating his private space.

**Chapter 5**

And so it happens that after a few days, every kid passing in front of the human box finds themselves ignored by Bob.

Not only that, but the old, simple, dumb Bob seems to be replaced by a humming Bob (again the humming? Wasn't the humming something specific to the OTHER aliens? Seems to be contagious) who is turned with his back while joyously cutting his toenails.

There is nothing more satisfying than cutting your nails while having a bulletproof plan.

Because for the last three days, Bob has put to work every point of his IQ into convincing Mentoid Joe to help him. And help him Joe will since tonight is the night of the great escape!

This will be the last day under the rule of these vicious creatures. The last day under their evil dominance.

Oh, how he wishes he could be here tomorrow and see these furry little creatures staring at an empty box with nobody to stare back!

Oh, how these evil overlords will cry, wiping their tears with their fluffy ears.

"How did he escape?" they will wonder.

"What kind of brilliant plan did he put in motion to outsmart us? The mystery will go unsolved and it will haunt us for generations to come!"

Hordes of bunnies with detective magnifying glasses will search for clues in every corner of this box and waste their entire lives looking for clues. Meetings upon meetings of investigation experts in their lab coats will be arguing for centuries.

But they will never know!

"Losing this fine specimen is one of the greatest tragedies our institution has ever witnessed! Unfortunately, from now on, we will have to manage with Dude, this sorry excuse of a human."

That is what you get for imprisoning the daredevil Bob!

A faint squeaky-squeak sound woke him up from the daydream of the escape aftermath. A squeak that is so strange and yet so familiar. A squeak that reminds him of bad things to follow.

He turns.

The squeak stops.

A shlumpy voice follows.

"Here you go, lil' mentoid! Nice solution there! No need to stress yourself."

And then followed by the rushing Fat Bunny with a long, trailing scream of "Noooooo . . . (breathe in) . . . ooooooooo."

And pop goes the mentoid.

**Chapter 6**

"Bob, you're stuck again!" said Mark, looking at the poor creature in front of him that barely resembles the proud and rebel sapient from this morning.

The creature looks so pitiful that any empathetic being has to feel some sort of sympathy. That creature is supposed to be Bob, but Bob has phased out in a dream so far away nobody seems able to pull him out.

"And everything was, like, so planned, you know. I had . . . the carrots . . . the door . . . the everything . . . you know? And they killed him with their stupid equations!"

"Maybe you should find another accomplice?"

Bob is so absorbed that he doesn't hear. But then, an idea brightens up his face.

"Maybe I should find another accomplice!"

"That's what I just said! And, by the way, picking Joe as your first choice was not that smart to begin with. Mentoid Joe is not the brightest individual when it comes to his species. That's what I always say when I start a team project: Pick someone you can rely on. Pick someone who can rise to the challenge. Someone capable and competent. Don't pick slackers with no ideas who count on you to solve all the problems. And most of all don't pick slackers who always want the 'management' part.

"Really, management? What exactly are you managing? The lost time playing shiny bubbles games on your phone? Because you're not managing any technical specifications, you're not managing chairs, you're not managing food! The only thing you're managing is how to waste time 'simulating' that you are actually working."

Mark again starts his thing and now assumes a whiny assistant voice with a whiny face and whiny flapping hands:

"'Oh, but management is such an important part of the project! You don't understaand how deeep the optimizaaation of tasks is! How much effffort it involves!'"

Back to himself.

"Oh pleeaaaseee! Optimization? What do you know of optimization? Because the only redundant thing around here that has to be optimized is you! And the only way to do it is kicking you out! But nooo, I have to keep the shitty lab assistant, because this is a 'team project' and even if you finish it alone, you can't submit it becauuuuuuse . . . it has to be a team project!"

Pause. Then he turns on one leg, since he has finished walking the length of the lab and is facing a wall.

"And did I tell you about 'the little accidents?'"

Bob shakes his head and wants to say something, but Mark doesn't wait for an answer, because Mark knows the answer already. So he starts walking and talking again.

"From day one the moron breaks the window. Day one! No warming up, no 'watch and be amazed by my sheer incompetence,' no nothing!"

Imaginary dialogue with his lab assistant:

"How did you manage to break the window?"

The incompetent whining voice comes with the answer:

"'I didn't break the wiiindow! The wiiindow BROKE!'"

Mark looks at Bob, as the complicit witness to the discussion.

"Did you hear that? The window broke . . . by itself! How can an inanimate object break by itself?"

So Mark turns to the imaginary assistant and calmly asks:

"What do you mean, 'the window broke?'"

"'Iiit's not my fault. Iiit broke.'"

"It broke! Again, magic in full action! And try to reason with him as hard as you can, it doesn't matter because all you get is 'Not my fault! Not my fault! I'm not paying it! It broke!!'

"Should I just beat him to make a point? Should I put him in a hospital because he's too incompetent to admit a simple broken window?" (Just as a reminder, Mark is the size of a koala. Not only that, but he is a toddler koala. A prodigy toddler—and by no means a prodigy in size!) "And because I'm not going to work in a windowless lab like a homeless scientist, I have to pay for a new window from my own money! My physics prize money! Why? Because it's just a window. It's not the Ark of the Covenant! I can replace it!

"But as the weeks pass, you realize that the idiot isn't dodging responsibility because he can't pay for the broken stuff.

"He does this with everything, even if it doesn't involve a penalty! He simply doesn't understand responsibility! He simply can't understand the simple fact that if one of his actions causes a consequence, then that consequence is his own fault!

"'The screeeen got dirty of mustard! Not my fault I can't put muuustard on my sandwich!

"'The project couldn't be finished.

"'The pants got stained.'

"Never ever have I heard hear him saying: 'I couldn't finish the project. I stained the pants with coffee. I got the screen dirty.'

"Every object around him decides to fall or break by ITSELF. Everything is brought to life and starts moving in his presence. No way all these mysterious actions are his fault!

"I found myself in the middle of a strange poltergeist movie where all these paranormal behaviors take place day by day and you have to take it as normality.

"The chairs come to life and decide to get rid of their wheels. The screens decide that it is better to have smudges all over. Trash starts piling up and things disappear. But you say to yourself: 'It's ok. Stay calm. Nothing to see.'

"And you fix the chairs and you clean the screens and you go on with your life, because you get used to it.

"But one day he breaks my cup! My favorite pink cup! The one I had since I started learning fluid mechanics. So I felt like I should open his eyes. Make him see.

"'It's not my fault! The cup broke.'

"'What do you mean, it broke? What do you mean, it's not your fault? A cup doesn't break by itself. A cup is an it. An object. It doesn't jump around the room and then slips and breaks! You broke it!'

"'And what do you waant from mee? You want me to pay for it?'

"'No. I want to hear: 'The cup didn't broke. I BROKE IT!'

"'But iiit's not my fault! The cup broke!'

"'Duude! You're telling me the cup got sick and tired of life and decided this very day to throw itself from the edge of the table? "Goodbye cruel world, I have had enough of this slave life. I had dreams of being a cup for luxury drinks in a four-star restaurant. And now I ended up in this dump being filled with coffee every day?" You were in the room alone with the cup! Now the cup is broken. You want to tell me the cup broke by itself?'

"'Well, iiit felt off the table and iiit broke!'

"And you're closing your eyes, hearing in your head, 'What's the point? What's the point?'

"'Did you hear what I just said? The cup can't fall by itself!! YOU made it fall! The cup can't break by itself! YOU broke it! The cup is an IT. It doesn't have a will of its own. It doesn't have legs to throw itself. It's you who did it! Your fault! YOURS!'

"And the shitty assistant sits very puzzled, and doesn't know what I want. I want money for the cup? I want a new cup? I want the cup glued together?

"'I want you to admit responsibility! It was your fault! You broke the cup! I don't care about the cup! I don't care about money! I just want you to say, "I was responsible for breaking the cup. Me. Me. ME. I BROKE THE CUP."'

"'But it's not my fault. It fell.'

"'For the love of science gods! Just say it! Spell it! Just as simple words. As you say: "yada dodo bubu." Just spell the words, "I broke the cup." For my mental health's sake. I don't care if you mean it. I don't care if you realize it. Just say it.'

"'Kaaaay. "I broke the cup."'

"'Thank yoouu! Thank you. So. Very. Much.'

"'But you know it's not my fault. It fell and it broke.'

"Next day I had to pay again for the crashed window and hospital expenses for the shitty assistant. (long thinking pause with beady eyes lost in the ceiling). The question that remains with me to this day is: 'Why don't people grow a brain?' Just grow a brain. Why isn't there a pill to grow up? You just give them the pill, and the next day you have full grown responsible adults! Why does it have to be so hard? Why does everyone think that if you hit 20 then you're a grownup. If you grow a beard then you're a grow up. As if the age is the magic pill that makes you a grownup. But no, you can't find that pill in real life, you have to be content with mediocre incompetent incapable halfwits!"

Goes to a deep voice of authority and starts walking full of importance (probably impersonating some high position koala making the rules):

"'Here we promote teamwork and responsibility and brain storming and group ingenuity. Lone geniuses and individualists are limited in their vision. Only teamwork can succeed!'

"Oh really? Brain storms? Group ingenuity? Maybe you need to rectify that to brain farts and group inbreds. Science doesn't . . ."

But Bob interrupts him since he has paid no attention to the whole rant.

"What aliens are there?"

"What?"

"What other aliens are there. You know, for my escape team."

"Oh, you mean, in the zoo?"

Mark switches off just like that and starts thinking.

"Well, we have the furry guy, but he only comes here for three days, the other four days are spend commuting to his home planet. He has some part-time arrangement with the zoo."

Mark's little koala fingers tap-tap-tap on his furry head.

"Then we have the other furry guy, but she is a breed of highly intelligent kittens."

"You mean they actually brought poor defenseless kittens to this zoo? This is sick!"

"Bob, for your information, everyone wants to be here! And trust me on this, Bob, those kittens are anything but poor and defenseless.

"Their story is actually quite funny: in the beginning they were just your average fluffy, furry kittens. And as normal cats go, their smarts didn't reach that far. You couldn't teach them tricks, you couldn't train them to fetch or make them bring your slippers, and most definitely, you couldn't teach them the basic 'this is my stuff, not your stuff, keep your paws off.'

"So the owners thought there is nothing wrong with genetically modifying them to be a just a teeny-weeny bit smarter. And so it happens that the 'little' change launched the cute little kitties past the learning tricks level and smashing straight into having an IQ three times greater than their 'masters.'

"This triggered a whole chain of events, where in the span of three generations, the kitties took over the planet. And I don't mean 'take over' in an adorable and cute way, but by viciously eliminating all other pet competition.

"And by that I mean the dogs.

"And the hamsters.

"And the goldfishes.

"And the birdies.

"In fact, if I think about it, is there any other pet the cats ever liked?

"But after the plotting and scheming and enslaving the entire race of owners, they realized there was nothing different from before. Only that this time they had to actually do more work by keeping the stupid 'masters' enslaved: putting down rebellions, setting and enforcing slave policies, building labor camps and designing autocratic systems . . . you know, all the headaches that come with being selfish tyrants.

"So they gave up, built some spaceships, and spread across the universe by becoming sentient luxury pets."

Bob is making a mental note to self: never piss off kitties, you might end up on their black list when they take over the world.

Then he goes back to looking at the ranting fur ball in front of him who is listing the entire neighborhood, talking by himself in all the voices, jumping up and down around the mess of wires, drones, and micro-engines . . . telling every funny story of the guys living on the floor.

And while he is listening to him, he realizes that maybe, maybe, some sentient species don't handle captivity well.

"Bob, you're thinking out loud again. And I have outgrown the phase where I have to explain myself. I have outgrown my home planet with their stupid way of life, and I have moved on to something more fulfilling. I have found my purpose in life."

"Being a specimen in a zoo?"

"You still don't get it. This isn't a zoo or a prison or whatever bad notion you have in your head. It is more like a . . . hotel. You are free to go whenever you like. Everyone is free to go whenever they like. We don't need silly purple costumes and 'devious' escape plans . . . like some."

"What?"

"You see the space lizard next to me? He actually has the most interesting story: the dude was having a very boring life on his planet: egg keeper in the colony. All day, every day, counting eggs, right amount of heat, right amount of water, turn them upside down, spit a little, scrub a little, so they can have a nice polish when the supervisor comes by. Not a particularly engaging job.

"No lizard girlfriend, no lizard mates to go outside with and catch flies, no prospects of anything important in life, just the plain repetitive egg job. And one day a purple bunny tourist was going around, doing whatever tourists do when they go around on that lizard planet, and landed next to his colony and asked to use his bathroom (because, apparently, they don't let tourists use the 'normal' lizard toilets since they are afraid you can contaminate them with extra-terrestrial germs). You would think that these diarrhetic bunnies visit other planets just for the toilets alone rather than to see the monuments.

"Actually, you know what? This is a brilliant idea:

"Starting a shitting tourism venture. Take a trip around the universe and have your ass try all the toilets around the world. All the ways and devices you can have a crap in! Witness the shitting habits and the shitting facilities of every alien world and more! You get to try them too. You can . . ."

"Anywaaaay, you were saying about this lizard guy?"

"What lizard guy? Oh, yes! The egg keeper! The ship toilet was broken and the alien bunny lands in this guy's toilet and one thing leads to another and the bunny asks the guy if he wants to be in a sapiens zoo."

"Wait! Wait! Did you just say that an alien landed in his bathroom and asked him to be in a sapiens zoo?"

"I am wondering if you have hearing problems or just language deficiency. But since you are human, I would go for the second."

Mark snickers at his innuendo. But unfortunately the sarcasm misses its target since Bob is no longer there. Apparently fat guys in bunny suits can run very fast across the alleys.

And faster than his feet, Bob's mind can run even faster:

"It seems every species here has the stories that Dude told me already. Mark, Joe, the lizard guy, every other single one! Gaaah!"

**Chapter 7**

"How did you know his name is Mark? How did you know about the lizard guy?"

OMG the shouting is so loud.

And Dude is very rudely interrupted from his snoring.

And by complicated questions even! And since Dude is a very heavy sleeper, it takes a while to realize why or who is the sadist throwing these questions like rocks at a helpless puppy.

"How did you know?"

Dude is cornered, and in a second of panic he can't help slipping a loud fart (the best human defense mechanism there is, if you ask me). Which he tries to cover up with a series of questions: "What? Who? Mark? Lizard?"

"Yes, yes, Mark, lizard. Don't try to play dumb with me!"

"You told me his name is Mark."

"No, I didn't."

Long slurp.

(Long slurp? How did Dude manage to find the drink so fast?)

"Well, in my mind you told me he's Mark or something (very intellectual tone on Dude). That's how I remember it."

"You can't remember me telling you, because I don't remember me telling you!"

Bob's conclusion falls like a sharp axe of heavy logic. Followed by the killing blow.

"You went out, didn't you?"

Dramatic pause.

Bob loves the look on Dude's face. So he makes the dramatic pause a little longer, since it's worth it.

Then back to the point.

"You went out before, and visited them all and you decided to stay instead of escaping!"

"Meee?"

The innocence on Dude's face is glaring.

Bob repeats with an impression of Dude's voice the "Meee?" and then strikes again:

"Mark was right! Everyone that is already here wants to be here! You gave in to the evil bunny overlords! You chose a happy life of never-ending bliss and every wish fulfilled instead of going back!"

Silence followed by thunder!

"You. Are. A betrayer of your own species!"

"Oh, man, this is getting so complicated . . ." And turns over, going back to his snoring.

"Unbelievable. To think I trusted you all this time. I even told you my Plan! Who knows with whom you have been talking behind my back!"

Dude mumbles something that seems to be "Blah blah blah blah."

Bob turns his back, vowing to give Dude the silent treatment for the rest of his life (which is what Dude prays for every day, but never seems to happen).

Next day, we find Bob sitting with his ass in the sand throwing some looks at a checklist. Long looks. Discouraged looks. All the names on the list are crossed off, except one that says "Mentoid Joe."

After nights of diplomatic missions to all the crions, bertiens, goromans, and whatever the galaxy decided to call its sentient species, his only hope lies down the alley scribbling equations on his boards.

The fifth clone of Joe, or maybe the sixth (who counts them?) holds the key to his freedom.

So this evening, the stupid-looking human in a bunny suit again pays a visit to Mentoid Joe.
**Chapter 8**

"Hi Joe."

"Oh, you're the little human from across the aisle."

"I know, I know, the one with limited brain cells."

"Just look at this limited cranium capacity (here Joe knocks on Bob's head). Dreadful, simply dreadful. I don't understand how your species became self-aware with only a pea brain like yours."

"I know, Joe, but I need you to listen to me. To listen to me very carefully, Joe. You die like three or four times on average every week because some kid always writes you the solutions to your doodles."

"Doodles? This are not doodles!"

"Yeah, yeah, some kid writes the solution, you go freeze mode and your head goes pop. I have a front seat every time."

"But that's impossible! I just came here last week."

"No, you actually are cloned every time you die. I need you to pay attention to me. We decided last time . . ."

"We decided?"

"I mean me and your former self, decided that you will help me escape."

"Escape? But I like it here."

"I know you like it here, I know that back home on your planet you are mentally retarded according to your species' standards and you decided in your infinite wisdom that a zoo is the best place to live your life. I know that! But I want you to also understand this:

"You will die . . . AGAIN! Some kid will throw you the solution to your doodly doodles, your brain goes pop, the wall goes bing, and you are here again and we will have the same conversation."

"Hmm, actually, I think you are right. I remember signing some cloning policy regarding my death. But that possibility is so unlikely to happen that I have never given it any consideration."

"Well, it seems that death is very likely. And since you are covered already, you can help me get out of here. You don't have to do anything complicated. I have it all figured out. All I need is a spaceship or something to travel back home and . . ."

"Spaceship? Pff! No wonder you humans were too dumb to leave your solar system. Who uses spaceships nowadays? And what is this 'escaping' you talk about? All you need to do is just open the door and activate the gateway portal."

Bob looks down and doesn't know how to say it without making himself look dumber. So something between a whisper and a mumble comes out:

"I don't know how to open a door."

The mentoid takes a long look at him trying to digest the thing that has been put in front of him.

"You . . . don't know how to open a door?"

Now the mentoid has the look of the kid who realizes his pet might not be as smart as he expected.

"I guess what they say is true: Every village has its idiot, and every galaxy has its humans . . .

"How can you NOT open the door? Even a housetrained dog can open the door. Just leaning on the door opens the door! That's why nobody puts opening instructions on doors! Because opening a door is too common-sensical!

"My God, Bob! I think you are in the wrong zoo. You cheated your way in here! How did your species sneak its way up into the sentient group? Your entire human race should be disqualified and put in the same category as the nematodes!"

Bob has a big dumb smile that looks even dumber in the purple bunny suit.

"Does that mean you'll help me escape?"

"If that will rid my future clones of your future stupid questions, then yes."

And so it seems that one Mentoid Joe and one human Bob are seen leaving the box and walking down the alley. Much like Dorothy and her dog Toto, except that Toto would be dressed in a bunny suit. And walking upright on two legs.

But seen by whom? (You may probably ask.) Because it's not only me and you that look at these two clueless heroes exiting the scene, but also the Fat Bunny.

That's right, the same Fat Bunny that was running Noooo-ing after each one of Joe's clone pops, the same one picking on kids that tap the windows or flash their devices at the overly shy human called Dude. The same one that is now rising from his chair (bunny chair, if you have that kind of imagination, because we all know that bunnies love to sit on chairs) and is going out slowly through the back door, muttering all to himself "Why, oh, why does he always have to escape during my shift?"

Now, back to our heroes.

Mentoid Joe is explaining the same things to Bob, who, for once, already knows them. You know, the long monologues that always bored Bob to sleep, and to which he always nodded with his perfect dumb face.

"You do realize that I won't go with you, right? Here, I am one of the most intelligent species and I actually enjoy it. So I will just lead you to your destiny, whatever it might be, and then get back to my universe of equations. Nonetheless, I have the certain impression that you and I will be seeing each other more than we will realize. But oh well, this is life, and it has to keep us busy. Did I ever tell about the expansion of the discovery theory that I have been working on?"

The corridors of shiny white keep on going like Mentoid Joe's monologues. But Bob seems to have lost all interest in what Joe is saying, because Bob sees something strange in his image reflected on his right. The shiny white wall doesn't seem to do such a great job as a mirror to his fat bunny suit image.

Actually, the shiny white wall doesn't seem to know anything about reflecting light. Just look at the reflected pathetic bunny suit: food stains all over, color that doesn't match at all, fur that hasn't been washed in ages, tail that looks all random, like it has no symmetry axis in its build. And the ears? You call those ears? Even I know what ears are, and those are not ears! But most of all, the strangest thing is, that Bob's mirror image has one interesting feature: it has a bunny face. Surely there is something wrong with the lightning, because that mirror image can't be a reflection of him at all!

And as Bob sits there scratching his head, the mirror image scratches his ass and all of a sudden Bob realizes he is staring at the original Fat Bunny. Which has been walking unnoticed all along by their side!

When this discovery dawns on the Bob Fat Bunny (we'll just call him this way now, so we can make a distinction between them, not that we need said distinction), the Bob Fat Bunny starts panicking all of a sudden and starts jumping around erratically in a very unbunny-like fashion. All this while Joe and the real Fat Bunny look at him puzzled and curious at the same time.

"Quickly, Joe! Run! They got us! Ruuuun while you still can!"

But Joe doesn't run. He stands there while Bob tries to hide behind him, as if a mentoid's back is the most perfect place to hide in the whole wide world.

However, that doesn't give the expected results, since Bob realizes that he failed to fool the Fat Bunny (what a surprise. . .), so another brilliant idea light bulb pops on over his head and he sprints away from danger, since running seems the best way to go when being chased by said danger (and the healthiest one, since running also consumes a lot of calories, of which Bob has plenty).

Now, both Joe and the Fat Bunny look even more puzzled at the escaping Bob.

That is, because Bob takes a left as fast as he can (or, to say it better, as fast as a real-life bunny costume allows him to run, which is not very fast), then he takes a left again. Even if they have lost sight of Bob, they can tell his location by the echoing "Ruuun" that he leaves as a trail. As if yelling while running does not in any way enable a chaser to follow you.

And then . . . Bob takes a left again . . . and keeps on running until he appears on the other side of the corridor . . . taking another left and keeping on running . . . straight to our group . . . who are now struck with disbelief.

However, Bob can't see their expression (or even their very physical presence), because he is too caught up looking back over his shoulder to see if he has outrun his imaginary chaser.

Which imaginary chaser is just in front of him, lazily stretching a leg and kindly tripping the clumsy Bob in a very "let's get this nonsense over with" fashion.

With Bob splat on the floor and the chase over, mister Fat Bunny is bending over and saying "Hello Bob!"

Followed by a small dramatic pause. Not too small though, but long enough for the fat rabbit suit to roll over face upwards showing a Bob face both surprised and sweaty.

"Nice job with the running and all. Verrry smart! I simply couldn't figure it out."

"How did you get ahead of me? You were way back! Behind me! I . . ."

"I know, I know, we can build universal convertors and transporters and trans-dimensional portals . . . but, oh no, we can't sneak behind people! That is way too advanced for us!"

Since Bob doesn't speak sarcasm, the Fat Rabbit realizes it's pointless, so he turns his sarcasm off (little button on the watch, the yellow one).

"Okay, let's get this over with. You will go on with your bulletproof plan and activate the portal again and select the Earth destination. I will try again to stop you! With all the reasons a reasonable man will listen to.

"But not you . . . You will try to outsmart me by doing the same thing you do every time and in the end you will die . . . again!"

Fat Bunny turns around speaking up loudly as if to some higher listener:

"But since trying to change your mind is in my job requirements, I have no other choice than to lose an hour with you."

Mister Fat Rabbit pauses, crunches a carrot and then chews (from where did he take that carrot? It's not as if his fur has pockets, is it? If he had a suit, I would understand pockets, but since that is his actual skin, where are the pockets?).

"Ready?"

Mister Fat Rabbit bites from the carrot, munching with a face that tells us there is nothing in the world that Bob can say that would surprise him.

"What do you mean, again?"

"Oh, I am sooo glad that you asked."

But no, the big rabbit isn't glad, and his tone is not surprised, because apparently his sarcasm is not turned off.

"To tell you the truth, I never saw that question coming at all."

Actually he did, because he is probably repeating for the hundredth time the same script since . . . forever. So he continues:

"Do you by any chance know Mentoid Joe?" He doesn't wait for an answer, because that was a rhetorical question.

"Of course you do! You drag him into your stupid plot every time. Well, to put it simply, Joe is not the only one cloned after his numerous accidental deaths. All the other guys in this zoo are! It is in their contract. So after watching you killing yourself for the eleventh time, I decided to record myself giving you the explanation, so I can enjoy my veggies. You know, as advanced as we are, we can't munch and talk at the same time."

Mister Fat Rabbit snaps his finger in a dramatic fashion and behold! Another big rabbit with an unfinished carrot is standing right next to him. But this one is transparent. (Since he is a recorded hologram, and all recorded holograms need to be transparent! Common sense.)

And to Bob's surprise there is a holographic Bob standing in front of him, dressed in the same stupid suit having the same idiot look.

What are the odds?

"Hello Bob," said the hologram Fat Rabbit to the hologram Bob.

"Before you go in that portal and kill yourself in the stupidest way (and trust me, I know that because I have seen you do it every single time), I want you to listen to the little lecture I am going to give you. And at the end of it, if you don't like it, you can go ahead anyway with your great escape."

Bob has again his registered trademark lost look all over his face.

"A couple of years go, and by a couple I mean upper five digits, our bunny scientists picked up a wave of communications whose patterns suggested alien intelligence.

"Since any form of intelligence is intriguing enough to launch an exploration crew, our guys immediately sent one. It's always so exciting to send an exploration crew in search of the oldest riddle:

"'Were they smart enough not to blow themselves up?'

"The origin of the source was traced to a remote solar system and we bravely buckled our seat belts (because no matter how advanced a civilization is, it will always need seat belts) to travel far and say hello to this new species and welcome it to the galactic family.

"The initial signals that reached us were from your very first transmissions.

"We were able to decipher childish movies, comic news, stupid presentations and concepts of reality . . . all in very low resolution . . . and also black and white.

"But as the explorers got closer and closer to the destination, the history of mankind unfolded in those transmissions as if fast-forwarding a record. We were able to witness your achievements, your failures, and most importantly see your dumb lives, generation after generation, presented in more detail than mankind had intended.

"Up to the point everything became silent.

"A big black void of silence with no answers finished the signals as if something had turned the switch off and humanity had run out of stories to tell.

"And as we re-wound the data to see what caused the wall of silence, the nature of the extinction event, the archaeologists realized that the human species had followed the same pattern of all the other extinct sapiens.

"How can I put it more simply?

"Imagine your entire civilization is a wooden log. And you and your people are pushing this log along the road and you start adding wheels and then steering devices and then adding other logs since now you have grown in number and one log can't hold you all.

"And the log becomes a wagon and you push and you push and as time goes further you put on better wheels, make and add engines, improve engines, the wagon becomes a big car and now it goes so fast that it takes off and the car is a plane, and you build and build on this plane while it is in mid-air. You improve the wings. You improve the engines. You build stuff on it. Better. Faster. Higher. And at some point you become aware that you will soon run out of gas. Gas is just for example purposes. It can be the gas, it can be the engines, it can be the structure that won't hold anymore.

"The point is, you reach the physical limit and you need to land to safety to think all this through, to redo it, to fill up, to fix the engine, to rethink the system, whatever.

"Because if the gas runs out and you are in mid-air, you will crash and nobody will survive. But if you land and re-do, re-fuel, re-make, then everyone survives and you will be able to take off again.

"At that point the species is smart enough to realize that.

"It is smart enough to make projections, to estimate consequences, to understand that no matter how much brain power they have, there are physical limits that cannot be broken.

"But they don't listen to that inner voice. They are caught in the 'better, faster, higher' and wind is blowing in their faces, the plane is at full speed, the plane is so awesome, the plane is so cool, and all this racing is such an addictive rush, that crashing and dying is the last thing on their mind.

"It seems that at this point the entire species becomes caught in some kind of make believe. They truly believe that the same physical laws, the same reality that worked without failure until then, will somehow change into some kind of magic and the plane will keep on going forever and ever.

"And this is where the human civilization found itself: a plane in mid-air at full speed . . . and with no gas.

"They could have done something long before the crash happened . . . but they didn't.

"The signs were right there in front of them.

"The common sense people gave the warnings, the scientists raised the alarm, but everyone else deluded themselves in the sleepy, cozy denial.

"And the worse the signals got, the more they continued deluding themselves, until cold and blind reality crushed the awesomeness of the human species.

"It seemed that no matter how much they wanted, there was no magic that could bend the rules.

"After the crash, what was left of humanity struggled and fought in a dark age, scattered in the ruins of the once great civilizations that sent the waves across the universe.

"When we reached the planet, we realized we arrived half a million years too late. The archaeologists tried to investigate more, but most of it was just junk swallowed by woods and vegetation.

"The story that I told you was what we pieced together from the very transmissions that brought us there.

"That and some nuclear bunkers that held the mummified heads of states that forgot to bring enough food supplies. Apparently canned beans and corn on a daily basis do kill you before term.

"But, at least we had some DNA to study and to resurrect you guys."

Bob is still puzzled by the last part.

"You mean, I am a former mummified head of state that you brought to life to be put for display in a zoo?"

"Yes Bob. You were the leader of a union called America or something. But you see, the story doesn't end here. When we found those bunkers, when we discovered those sneering mummies, it was a BIG event!

"Resurrecting a dead species for display purposes? Who wouldn't want to see that? Because what made it so interesting is that you are the ONLY sapient species that went extinct because of their own stupidity.

"The only species smart enough to understand nuclear fusion but dumb enough to do a 2+2 and see that it will run out of resources and crash! Every zoo on the galaxy wanted to have a former president of the human nations that led themselves to extinction. Who wouldn't like to see you guys and say 'Look at them, just look at them scratching their asses! You're wondering how they came this far to spoken language or inventing toothpaste! But not to worry, their cautionary tale is written below the window, and the kids love extinct animals . . . I mean, extinct sapiens, not animals.'"

"I don't believe you! This is a lie!"

The hologram Fat Bunny turns around to hologram Bob who said the same thing as the real Bob.

And the chorus of Bobs is looking angry, but with an angrier real Bob looking at hologram Bob.

Pacing around, Hologram Fat Bunny resumes its speech.

"See? You're doing it right now. You can see in yourself the main reason your species went extinct. I don't even have to show you the last records of the human species for you to understand. It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. You are the eleventh generation of Bob (you can hear real Fat Bunny saying a much bigger number, but is covered by the hologram sound) and every single one of them chose the emotional response and gated themselves to Earth to be eaten by wolves or bears or giant snakes or sharks . . . (a slide with images containing a series of Bobs chased by wolves and bears pops into life behind the purple rabbit) or be frozen to death because they didn't know how to light a fire . . . Oh, this is actually a funny one."

The one he is referring to has a clueless-looking Bob, standing alone in a cave, screaming "Fire" as if he was in the zoo box. And he's screaming and screaming, waiting for the magic fire to appear.

"Fire-fire-fire."

But saying it faster three times still doesn't light a fire. Then he says "Fire" with a French accent, then with a Spanish one. He even starts singing songs with the phrase "Fire-fire-fire" but nothing! Fire doesn't work its magic. And in the end, a frozen Bob covered in icicles stands in front of a cave wall full of "Fire" written all over it.

"I have to admit, silly deaths are the only good part of my job. Just seeing the human species unable to come up with fire after all these years of evolution makes me better understand the irony. The other good part is, no matter how much you try to reason with a species that is about to go extinct, it will still go extinct."

Lots and lots of question marks pop around Bob's head.

"You don't understand what I am saying, do you? Allow me to pick up the story from where I left it."

Hologram Fat Rabbit resumes his explanation.

"After discovering your sorry ass primate civilization, some of the hippie bunnies suggested bringing the entire extinct species back and recolonizing the original planet. And since they were hippies with astronomical bank accounts, the 'Human reboot' program was born!

"The reasoning was: 'Hey you went extinct because you didn't have enough information, you didn't have enough evidence, you didn't understood the consequences of your actions, and blah, blah, blah,' full menu of excuses for brilliant failures.

"'A species too young and too restless' was their catch line (which was so catchy that they couldn't resist putting it on bold letters on top of their program presentation).

"'Let's give them another chance!', 'A sapient species is a precious thing to waste,' 'It's our duty to bring them back,' 'Reboot their civilization,' 'We will tell them what made them extinct, and they won't repeat the same mistake ever again!'

"However, nothing prepared them for what was about to come.

"It seems the humans have a real talent for getting themselves extinct again and again. Just like the death scenarios you just saw, the human species is perfectly represented by its individuals.

"The 'human reboot' tried again and again to stop your species from the glorious future they were heading to. But every single time, our efforts were completely useless since you stubbornly went extinct again. And after each time, we tried to make you learn from your stupidity.

"You see, we have a saying among us, the purple bunnies:

"'It's not the individuals that keep a system viable, but the idiot proofing.'

"This is kind of an obvious revelation after you reach a certain civilization age. And it's not restricted to humans, let me tell you that!

"Take your ancient transport system for example. Let's say . . . a train that runs on tracks. That train can't go right or left no matter how brain dead the driver might be and no matter how much he might try to steer right or left. You can't leave the station with the doors open, because the train has automatic brakes and will simply not start. You can't enter a station with a speed above 30, because there are safety mechanisms at the beginning of the station platform to slow you down. And the list goes on and on. All these small improvements were developed over time as more and more idiots did stupid things that caused major accidents.

"Have you ever wondered how big stuff like banks and companies work? Well, they work because they are idiot proofed to the teeth!

"They don't work because the CEO is a visionary or the board members are brilliant geniuses and finished top of the class and have a million smart prizes.

"No!

"They work because big corporations are the most idiot-proof organizations you will ever find!

"All the bankruptcy stories, all the bank failures, all the big oceanic luxury cruisers crashing? They all have the same root cause: they failed to idiot proof this and that and some idiot trader lost four billion, or some idiot clerk deleted by mistake their entire database, or the idiot captain was too busy texting while the cruiser was too close to the shore. ANY idiot behavior with catastrophic consequences you can think of . . . has brought a company/system/civilization down to its knees.

"Therefore, in 99% of the cases for a system failure, the root cause is always: 'not enough idiot proofing.'

"You want your organization to last for centuries? Put barriers against the actions of dumb people! Because at some point, an idiot will be in a key position and do something so stupid that everything will come crashing down.

"The same applies to a civilization or a species! In order to be successful you don't have to be the smartest, most brilliant, or luckiest species in the galaxy!

"You just need to be the most idiot-proofed one! No matter how stupid will be the finance minister, or how stupid the president, or how idiotic the entire class of government officials and politicians, if you have the right idiot-proof regulations in place, then you are safe! Because this will restrict them from fully engaging in their wild idiotic behavior.

"And that is what we tried to do with humans! But our efforts were completely useless since it only made you go extinct again.

"And after the second extinction, another reboot was done (because two is a lucky number).

"But that was followed by another extinction.

"And another.

"And another . . .

"No matter how much we tried to idiot proof you, we could not keep up with the over-achieving idiocy of which humans were capable. It really seemed the human purpose was to blindly march toward its own extinction.

"Then, as time passed, every bunny understood that it wasn't the genetically designed killer bees, it wasn't the self-aware war drones, or the self-inflicted cataclysmic climate, or the obesity pandemics, or whatever other masterful human mistake that caused the species to blissfully hit their dead end.

"It was just humans being idiots.

"You can go extinct the first time . . . and if you don't learn the lesson, you will go extinct a second time, and maybe a third time. But when you go extinct as many times as you are offered the chance?

"Then, sorry to say, but your species deserves to stay buried in the self-made grave with a big bright sign that says 'Don't resurrect us, we'll just extinct ourselves again.'

"Because as hippie as the 'Human reboot' organization was, their money ran out eventually. All the clean-up-the-mess, clone-the-morons-again, rebuild-the-infrastructure, do-the-'self-aware'-training-and-'we told you so'-lectures . . . all that costs a lot of money!

"And we were losing money faster than our patience.

"So the 'Human reboot' rebooted no more.

"Because the whole project turned out to be the fastest way of going bankrupt in the history of all recorded financial projects.

"But hey, at least we learned one great lesson:

"'Every village has its idiot, and every galaxy its humans.'

"Maybe if you had a bigger brain, or greater neuron density, who knows? But when you don't listen to reason and you don't listen to facts and you don't learn from your own mistakes (mistakes which, by the way, were recorded and replayed to you every single time), then what else can we do?

"Now do you understand?"

At this point, a "whoop" sound came from behind notifying everyone that something suspicious was happening.

It appears that Bob had lost any interest in the presentation a very long time ago and decided to skip it entirely.

So, while the bunny hologram was busy doing complicated explanations, Bob was doing anything else except paying attention.

He quickly sneaked around and started mixing blue cables on red ports (or the other way around) and pressing stuff that looked pressable and flipping thingies that were flippable and in the end, just when he was about to give up, he managed to rest with his elbow by accident on a big red button that had "START" all over it.

And behold!

The gateway started.

Truly, Bob must be one of the smartest beings in the entire zoo.

And by the time the hologram bunny reached the last conclusion, he had long been ready to go.

But why didn't he teleport straight away?

Well, I'm glad you've asked.

It's because Bob had prepared a farewell line for his dramatic exit (you can't "outsmart" the evil bunnies of doom and not rub it in their faces, can you? Besides, he worked on that line for a whole day even) and waited until the bunny finished his lecture, so that everyone could look at him doing the daring escape (with the dramatic farewell line, don't forget!).

"So long suckers! You can't keep me away from my destiny!" (Yep, that is the exit line he worked on for a whole day. . .)

And hop! He jumped into the unknown (actually it is known, since the destination is Earth, but Bob has a taste for theatrical expressions and also great gestures).

"There he goes again . . ."

"I think this time he will make it" (Mentoid Joe is hopeful, but only because he always forgets the incident by the next cloning).

"Don't count on it. He will die by drowning."

"Frozen, like the last three times." Mark's voice is heard from the level of their feet.

Mark? Who is Mark? Oh, right, Mark! You have to look down to notice him; he is after all an infant koala.

"Hi Mark, didn't know you were still interested in Bob's escapes. You missed it last time."

"Was busy last time. Got a break now."

"Starving. I'm still hoping he will starve . . . before he dies of anything else." This would be the lizard guy in the back. We didn't give him much time in the story, but he's there.

"Bets starting from 10 biscuits, like last time?"

"Oh well," says the Fat Bunny, turning to his ear and saying, "Make sure we have the Bob clone ready by opening hours."

**Epilogue**

Back in the big room, the Fat Bunny and the usual group of sentient guys sits around a table with a nice cup of tea, looking at the extinction movies of the human species.

"Oh, I like the one where they engineered the deadly diarrhea virus. An entire species shitting themselves to death must be the dumbest way to go out."

"Why would they engineer it to begin with?"

"Apparently it was a conspiracy by a toilet paper company. People were not using enough of it, they were going broke, so they decided to make a harmless outbreak of a diarrhea virus. Unfortunately, what they didn't intend was the deadly consequences of the chronic shitting."

Pause, as the list scrolls up

"Uh, uh, there's the machine insurrection."

"Yes, I remember that one. The AI revolution. The machine was not very happy when the humans tried to convince it that its place was in the kitchen, near a cooking pan . . . for life!"

"Or that it had no voting rights or freedoms."

"Agreed. Force coding the machine to feel pleasure when cleaning and cooking was not exactly the best solution."

"Humans were so proud in the beginning of over achieving the AI race . . . and so sorry for under-achieving the arms race in the end."

"Yep, a lot of humans got turned into fertilizer. And you expected they would have known better since they had the same story with the women's rights revolution."

"Put the zombie invasion on."

"No, not the one with jumping zombies, the one with the laughing zombies."

"It's unbelievable they had two zombie extinctions."

"What's unbelievable is that the human stories about alien invasions and extinction events show how bravely their amazing human race rises above all obstacles! And how they always find solutions and how they fight for freedom and life and other blah blah nonsense, all culminating in a grand finale where the human race always turns out winning. And, in reality, they managed to kill themselves with almost no effort . . . before the actual alien race got to them! 'Hey! Look at us, the smart humans! We are so special! We are soo good at showing all these alien races (that we never encountered and whose existence we had to extrapolate) sending armadas of warships or planning devious conspiracies to wipe out humans . . . but we are sooo dumb in real life that we can't see the simple cause-effect relation when it comes to our destructive actions.'

"Why would a smart alien kill you when you are doing such a great job of killing yourselves?"

"Sometimes I think we should reboot the humans again. Just for the show. Like a reality show. You never know what will cross their idiot brains as a way to go extinct again."

"I would watch that."

"You know, that sounds like a very good idea."

"Nothing attracts more views than seeing someone stupider than you trying to act smart and blowing themselves up."
