The cat placed the scientist in the box with poison. The scientist banged on the box.
“Oh, cat let me out. I don’t want to be in here,” said the scientist.
The cat felt something but wouldn’t open the box. If the cat opened the box the scientist might be dead. He might also be alive. But he could be dead. The cat didn’t know why this was but it worked out mathematically and that’s all that mattered. The scientist banged on the box and begged. The cat did not open the box. If he did, the scientist might be dead.
The scientist began to beg. “Let me out.”
The cat was sad. “Consider the box,” he said.
The box was life for the scientist. It was his reality. But all the banging…he wouldn’t consider his reality.
“Be happy with the box,” said the cat. “Investigate the box. Write poems of the box. The box is everything.”
The scientist wouldn’t listen. He kept banging on the box. “Let me out.”
The cat despaired. “I can’t,” he said. “You are an experiment in quantum physics. You have to stay in the box.”
The scientist began to cry. The cat felt sorry. Soon there was less banging in the box. The cat assumed the scientist was content with the box. The cat lifted the lid and it was then the scientist died. The scientist lay there. In the box. In agony. Even in death, he wanted out of the box.
“Oh, why couldn’t you accept your reality? Your life was the box. Couldn’t you have been content with the box?” asked the cat.
He had no answer as the cat people swept up the box and deposited it in the garbage.
The cat was presented with a new scientist and a new box.
“Maybe this one will learn to love its box,” said the cat out loud.