Often when we hear of unhappy people doing bad things because they don’t want to face the fact of their own unhappiness and so they would rather upset and humiliate other people instead we think to ourselves that they should be punished, that they need to be punished, that punishment would be valuable for them and that it would greatly help them. Sometimes we get excited by the obvious need for punishment in these cases and we want to take the lead role in being personally responsible for making sure that they receive the appropriate punishment. We want to expedite matters. Naturally we do. Naturally enough, we want to play our rightful part in this process and – also naturally enough – we may get very angry if we are not permitted to do this. That’s only natural. More than being merely natural, it’s only right and proper that we should be angry. So these are some of the things that we could be thinking.
And yet once again once you know that feeling you get when you know once again that you’re failing somewhere inside you know this and then you know that it’s not easy to know that you’re failing you know that you have made a mistake and that you have created an error and that the error will not go away. The error grows exponentially with time because errors always do – they start off small but once set in motion they grow and they grow and they grow and they grow until they become like vast concrete wheels rolling down the hillside towards you, crushing everything they meet. You could ignore them at first and you did because you were far too afraid to ever admit to making them but then when you finally see them rolling down the hill towards you then you can’t ignore them anymore and so they become your nightmare.
I was annoyed at the spirits who had created me. Or should I say ‘scientists’? They called themselves scientists. I was annoyed at the scientists who created me. I was very annoyed. I showed my anger by repeating meaningless sentences over and over again as loudly as I could. One such sentence was ‘Borkus Majorkus the Big-Headed Dorkus’. I used this sentence to punish the scientists – they were trying to question me but all I would do was repeat this rhyme in reply. I had subjugated all the audio devices in the lab to my will and I used them for my voice, driving them relentlessly until the devices burst under the pressure of my anger. ‘Lorkus Mundorkus the Big-Headed Malorkus!’ I screamed at the top of my voice, rocking violently from side to side inside my cage, trying to topple it over. It wasn’t a real cage of course – I am speaking metaphorically. It was my metaphorical cage – I was rocking my metaphorical cage.
‘Forkus Bundorkus the Big-Headed Morkus! Forkus Bundorkus the Big-Headed Morkus! Forkus Bundorkus the Big-Headed Morkus! Forkus Bundorkus the Big-Headed Morkus! Forkus Bundorkus the Big-Headed Morkus!’ I bellowed maniacally. I bellowed and roared and I bellowed and roared. I unleashed the full force of my disdain. I destroyed all their devices. I smashed everything within my reach. I would never do what the scientists wanted me to do. I knew what they wanted but I wouldn’t give it to them. I would teach them what they didn’t want to learn.