The Experimenter

„Look, he finally woke up,“ a female voice penetrated his ear. He was lying on a cold table. It was immediately clear to him which table it was, a clinically clean one, his experiment table, to which he had already strapped so many animals. The times when you could nail the animals that science played games with were unfortunately over. How much he wished he had lived Claude Bernards or Rene Descartes at the time. You could still do whatever you wanted in your laboratory without someone constantly messing with you. But these days, every little thing on a mouse had to justify yourself as if a mouse or 10,000 or more were involved. They, he and his team, did a great job for science. He tried to sit up, but he was chained to the table. He could not lift his arms or legs an inch. Even the head was fixed with a neck cuff, so that he could not even turn it from left to right, but could only look straight ahead, in the middle of the blackest darkness as it seemed to him.