by jsomers on 4/16/25, 9:46 PM with 17 comments
The contrast hit me most vividly during the pandemic when I was writing an article about the immune system. [1] One of the scientists I spoke to told me about putting hamsters on warming plates, picking them up gently — in general, caring for and about them — and then feeling grief at their deaths. But of course understanding the immune response during infection with covid was a worthy cause. I felt no judgement towards this scientist; they are in a difficult position.
There was another more direct bit of inspiration, when I read this article [2], in 2023, about the toll that caring for laboratory animals could take on people’s mental health:
> Besides the symptoms Sessions experienced, those who handle lab animals may face insomnia, chronic physical ailments, zombielike lack of empathy, and, in extreme cases, severe depression, substance abuse, and thoughts of suicide. As many as nine in 10 people in the profession will suffer from compassion fatigue at some point during their careers, according to recent research, more than twice the rate of those who work in hospital intensive care units. It’s one of the leading reasons animal care workers quit.
That left an impression on me, and also armed me with a character: the forgotten-about, somewhat miserable vivarium worker.
The story obviously takes many liberties with fact — it is fiction — but I also tried to ground it in reality, and stuff that you might think I made up (the guillotine, the crazy VR sphere in the first paragraph), I did not.
I hope you enjoy! If nothing else I expect you’ll appreciate the illustrations, done by my friend Ben Smith [3].
[1]: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/11/09/how-the-corona...
[2]: https://www.science.org/content/article/suffering-silence-ca...
by mrec on 4/17/25, 5:37 AM
Wholeheartedly approve your reading list, by the way. O Caledonia in particular is an under-recognized gem; I've never seen anyone else capture the awesomeness of squirrels the way she does:
> Calm and tranced she walked up through the beeches again and saw two red squirrels leaping along their sinuous branches; they leapt and curvetted, stopped dead, flourished their tails and were off again, swift and smooth, fleeting like light up the trunks, so bright and merry and joyous that she wanted to shriek with delight.
by lamename on 4/17/25, 1:55 PM
The only similar deep, profound awe at life I've had outside of the lab was when my son was born. This might be the most common way people achieve this state of being. In all honesty this was one of the best parts of lab work. For me it happened every day; you're reminded of the insane complexity and the high degree of frailty of life. The terribly large power difference between yourself and a small animal in your hand. The deep similarities between humans and other animals, and at the same time, the worlds of difference. For me these experiences in the lab day after day put many other things in life on a lower rung, for better or for worse (like sustaining grad student pay and living conditions perhaps). But I wouldn't trade having that experience for anything.
Your story hints at this beautifully, and I hope others get the chance to feel that feeling.
by Fomite on 4/17/25, 4:48 AM
by philsnow on 4/17/25, 4:52 AM
I enjoyed it, to be sure, but I guess I went in expecting it to be more Stross-y.
by j_bum on 4/17/25, 4:55 AM
I have a lot of PTSD from my doctoral work with mice. My gut reaction to the FDA starting to move away from animal models is, “thank god.”
by ceejayoz on 4/17/25, 4:05 AM
by collingreen on 4/17/25, 4:23 PM
As humanely as possible within the constraints of time, budget, and "I really want to know what happens when I do X to these animals" I guess.
It's amazing what kind of things we can sweep away with a quick "it's for [my assumption of] the greater good".
by beavis000 on 4/17/25, 10:34 AM
by mock-possum on 4/17/25, 5:58 AM
It’s too much to bear.