Prefrontal Cortex: …Right, so the deadline for the article is Monday. I can work on it tomorrow morning, but then I also need to schedule time for grocery shopping—what am I going to make for the week to eat? There’s a giant load of laundry in the bin too, which I should get to, maybe I can squeeze that in while I’m writing. Laundry is such an involved process sometimes… I also have that doctor’s appointment on Thursday, then I there’s that package I have to pick up at the post office, and I have to mail out my passport for—oh, right, we needed the bathroom—
Amygdala: Good God, NO!!!! OH IT’s THE END OF TIMES! THERE’S A THING there! A crawly, thing, so many legs, evil legs. We’re going to die!!!!!
PFC: It’s a centipede. Trapped in the bathtub.
A: What’s a centipede?! It looks like an alien. Those legs will crawl up our legs, into our mouths, eyes, under our skin—
PFC: Centipede’s don’t do crawl under your skin. I believe that’s…uh, scabies? Centipedes are relatively harmless. Besides, this one is extra harmless; it’s trapped in the tub. Look, see how he’s struggling to get out? He can’t. Poor guy… It reminds me of a time when I felt helpless…
A: It needs to die, we need to kill it, we can’t go on like this!!!
PFC: What, with a centipede in the tub?
A: It’s LEGS. They’re hideous, it crawls, it’s fast. Oh, God, I hate it. We need to call someone.
PFC: We can’t call someone. We’re a strong, independent 30-something woman. We’ve handled massive spiders as big as our heads in the Amazon, giant Caribbean cockroaches in our granola—
A: LOOK AT IT. It keeps moving… Oh god, I hate it.
PFC: It keeps moving because it’s trying to get out of the tub.
A: AND CRAWL ON OUR FACE. LOOK AT IT’S BILLIONS OF DISGUSTING LEGS!
PFC: Why discriminate against something that has many legs? Hindu gods have an extra set of arms and they’re divine. Remember all the times we wished we had another set of arms so we could hold grocery bags while looking for our keys and texting?
A: THAT’S DIFFERENT THIS… MONSTER—
PFC: —centipede.
A: CENTIPEDE… can’t text. It has nefarious plans for us once it gets out of its white, porcelain prison. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?
PFC: Well, we could just leave it there… he doesn’t seem happy in the tub, though…
A: WE’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO BATHE AGAIN! WHAT IF IT CRAWLS OUT?
PFC: It can’t crawl out. Ok, you’re right, we can’t leave it there. The noble thing to do would be to scoop him out and put him in the garden.
A: NOOONONNONONNONONO GOD NO WE’RE NOT TOUCHING IT!
PFC: Why? It’s small, harmless. It’s trapped. We could use a water glass and a card, or book…
A: NO, NOT THE BOOKS, WE DON’T PLAY CARDS WE’RE NOT TOUCHING IT.
PFC: We could… kill. it.
A: OK OK OK!!! HOW?! How?
PFC: Well, we could squish it? Flush him down the drain? I feel like that goes against our moral principles. And, I’d also have to conclude that, quite frankly, it would be an act of cowardice, the ethically inept thing to do—
A: —which option requires the least amount of touching it and squishiness?!
PFC: Flushing. But it will also result in a slow, agonizing death for the poor creature, who we have decided to persecute for simply being in our tub, and for possessing many legs. I’m not sure of the extent to which a centipede feels pain and suffers, though. I mean, does it suffer like we do? Suffering, after all, is often in the stories we tell ourselves about our expectations and identities, our beliefs about what should be and what we deserve, rather than what is. I don’t know if centipedes have identities or expectations but, if we flush him, he’ll struggle, which means he is resisting what is, which is suffering. Causing suffering to another being is wrong. We can also clearly observe that he prefers to stay alive—
A: SHUT UP AND DO IT! FLUSH HIM!
PFC: It would be wrong. We’d feel bad about it. I would, you would. Let’s put him in the garden, please?
A: NO NO NO FLUSH PLEASE.
PFC: Let’s just leave him, pretend he’s not there and come back later.
A: What if he gets out? Crawls on our face while we’re sleeping?
PFC: I don’t think that’s likely. I think he’s trapped in there.
A: He’s going to die eventually let’s kill him, get rid of him!
PFC: Eventually, like you mean at the end of his lifespan? That’s true. I’m not sure how long centipedes live… It’s also cold outside, I don’t think putting him in the garden would do any good. He obviously came in to escape the cold. We’re seeing more centipedes inside now as the weather changes.
A: OH STOP REASONING and just do it!
PFC: …. ok.
….
PFC: Amygdala, it’s done. It was horrible, we’re horrible brain areas. Are you happy? You don’t have to worry about it anymore. I also made sure I let plenty of water flush down the drain so he can’t crawl back up, even though highly unlikely, I knew you might have something to say about that… Amygdala?
A: …
PFC: Amygdala? You’ve… gone quiet.
A: So how are you going to get your article written, laundry done, groceries bought AND cook something for the week? You also made plans with your friend this weekend and you need to shower in the centipede-infested bathroom, and CLEAN the bathroom, it’s filthy. You’ll never get it done… Fear, dread, overwhelm! IT’S THE END OF TIMES!
And so on.
