What happens after light?

Abstract

In the morning, the bright light turns off and wakes us up. The place comes to life when it gets dark. ‘Food. Food. FOOD. FOOD. FOOD!’ I cannot remember if there was ever a time we ate silently. We rats are loud munchers and crunchers. Even when I go for a midnight snacking when the big ones bring us more there is a constant chatter. All day we run and play in the tunnels in the dark in our home. ‘My turn. My turn. MY TURN!’ My brother is angry, I hid in the tunnel too long. ‘No run. I'm tired’, I stumbled to our nest and wait for the night light, for the big ones. ‘Treat? Game? Cuddle?’ my brother asks. ‘I don't know’, I reply. Just then the night light turns on, and my brother comes to the nest.

Everyday I wake up when the morning light comes through my window. Well, sometimes it is too early for light up in the North. My body is weak and wobbly until the smell of fresh coffee brews, while I prepare my breakfast. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed my breakfast in silence and today was certainly no different. Today is the big day … I need a distraction for my racing heart and trembling hands. Maybe I should not be drinking coffee, but I need to be alert. It is a miracle I do not drop my phone.

On my way to work, I take the bike and stop at a bakery. Maybe it would be nice to bring the lab group a treat today; after all, we have worked very hard the last few months for this project. When I arrive, my supervisor asks if I am okay and if I am ready. I take a deep breath, nod and head downstairs.

There is a huge protocol when entering an animal facility. Every time I come down here, it is an ordeal, so it is important to be on time and be prepared. Even if it is not the first time, it can still be uncomfortable sometimes. As I unbutton my pants, I make sure to stand away from the door. When I remove my shirt, I stand huddled in the corner of my locker. I cannot even wear my own socks! But it is okay, it is for the safety of the animals, my colleagues, and myself. When I remind myself of this, suddenly it does not matter anymore, bodies are bodies, skin covering our inner organs making sure we function properly. Each part of the body is a mystery, a piece of a puzzle impossible to fully understand without the machine working together as one unit. Even then, the body and nature continue to be great mysteries! The brain of course is the most beautiful mystery of all. But now I am getting carried away.

We all have to follow the rules to prevent contamination and allergies, and I do not know about you, but I would rather not be dealing with infections. (Sorry microbiologists!) Before I cross the changing room, I disinfect my lunch container and phone and put it in a plastic bag. When I walk to the sink, the soap foams up in my hands before it rinses off in the warm water. Freshly cleaned purple scrubs sit in the cabinet behind me in small, medium and large. I then grab a pair of long grey socks that are rough from being washed one too many times. Finding the right pair of clogs is always the worst part. Too many people have big feet here; sometimes I am left with oversized clogs that become painful as I try to keep them on my feet. The final step is a big blue hairnet over the ears, and we can finally enter the maze of long corridors to meet our sweet rats!

‘Big ones. Big ones. Big ones. Big ones. Here. Here. Here’, the other rat's whisper. One of the homes is missing. Sometimes the big ones bring our homes back, but not always. A familiar scent hits. ‘Our big ones here’, I tell my brother. Now we are excited. We get to go outside, a late-night adventure! One of my big ones has a funny smell today. They smell scared. When they pick up our home, I can hear something. Badum!Badum!Badum! I can hear my big one's heart.

They roll us down the corridor. After a long time, finally, we enter a room. My whiskers twitch, but nothing seems out of the ordinary until the scared big one takes off the lid of our comfy, safe home. I comfort the big one when they lift me for a cuddle. ‘It's okay’, I say. Badum … Badum … Badum … The big one's heart slows. Everything is going to be okay; we are safe.

There is really nothing to be stressed about, I have done this before, I know what I am doing this for. The purpose does not make it any easier, but it does make it worth it in the end. Animals are used to feed people around the world to keep them alive. We use animals to bring health to people, too, just in another way.

When I walk into the room, I can hear the rats and mice in their boxes shuffle around, they all have that same earthy smell. I cannot even tell my own rats apart without the number on their tails. When I bring them to the room down the corridor, Rat #3 sniffs me, and I see his whiskers twitching. ‘It is okay there, buddy’, I say has I pet his soft fur with my gloved hand. My stomach turns; he really has been a buddy for the last few months. Sometimes, I regret calling him buddy, but it is important to show respect and kindness, not just for results, but to reduce unnecessary sacrifice, to do what is right.

I lift Rat #3 from the box, cover the lid with a towel and cradle him as I walk to the table. Today is the day. I take the needle and let him fall asleep gently in my arms. ‘It's going to be okay, buddy, you've done a great job’. I cradled him as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat softened. It is a scary thing, I can imagine, to die and not know why you are here; but that is how we all live in some way or another. That is why I try to comfort them, even if I am the one who does it. So, why do I do it? How much longer?

When Rat #3's lungs take their last breath, when his heart beats its last beat, now I must be fast and precise. His death cannot be in vain, his body continues to be a precious vessel, his brain the most vulnerable piece of all. I add his fresh, pink brain to our growing collection, though it is not nearly as large of a collection as others have built decades ago.

How much longer? Well, I truly do not know. I can make a plate of cells, but they cannot answer all our questions. I can program a computational model, but it cannot tell me exactly what we do not already know. But what can the body of a rat tell us about a human that the neurons of a human cannot? The body of a rat can reveal how one small change can cause downstream reactions in the rest of the body or other parts of the brain. If we stimulate this brain region, does it improve their behaviour? If we try this drug that worked well on one cell type, will we find it to be toxic to other systems in the rat? The body of a rat is a complete puzzle that awaits decoding, the body of a rat shows us the beauty of a complete living being, and the body of a rat is not the same as a plate of human cells unable to react to the influences of the complex systems that make up the human body. I do it because there is no perfect replacement, because we cannot model the world. How can we understand life and where life goes wrong using only tools that are not completely living?

The question we should be asking is how safe are other animal facilities? Are the animals there treated as kindly and respectfully as my own facility? Must everyone else strip to their bare bones to maintain sterility? Do people break the rules to not waste the plastic disposable gloves and masks, or just for the ease of not grabbing them? I've seen it all with my own eyes. Rat #3's death will not be in vain.