​The Meter

ANT FARM PROJECT LOG

User: Frank Murr

Team: Implementations

Diary Number: 253

Subject: The Meter

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Today was an omen of bad things to come, marking 91 days since we installed the meter. I still hold to the opinion that it would’ve been better to tell the subjects what it was for, however the HCDE department was adamant that we kept its purpose obscured (they mentioned something about the data’s integrity). The design was clean: a square pressure plate of stainless steel no more than a meter in length connected to a 7-foot tall display panel. At any time, the panel displayed either the instructions of use (wasn’t making it intuitive the point?) or, once stepped on, the subject’s outputted score. Once collected, this score would be used by our biology and sociology teams to further their research into perfecting the colony. I’ve long wondered what HCDE’s intention was with making the subject’s score visible to them. Maybe to provide some sense of reward? Or just confirmation that something was happening and that they weren’t standing on a pressure plate for no reason at all? Whatever the case, it backfired.

I don’t mean to unfairly rag on HCDE, but I’m genuinely unsure how this outcome wasn’t foreseen. The data collection was going as planned for the first week or so, and we observed people interpreting their number in different ways. Most used it as nothing more than a piece of small talk, and would often couple it with a theory or two about what the number may mean about them as people (they eventually of course progressed to matters more grounded in reality). Our more entrepreneurial types quickly saw opportunity and began selling custom number-donning accessories, a fashion trend I’m only slightly ashamed to say I joined in on. The issue however did not occur among the majority, but instead among a smaller group whom I’ve taken the lead on labeling as our competitives. These were the subjects who received their number and, for reasons I have yet to understand, began to view it as a core part of their identity. That initial moment of getting the number was then met with either shame or sometimes even anger at the number being too low or, I’d argue much more dangerously, with pride at their number being higher than those around them.

In order to collect data from subjects over time, HCDE made it so that the panel reset on the first of every month. The first reset entranced the competitives. What was once a single number linked with feelings of shame or pride would now carry with it a consciously imposed expectation of improvement (I feel that it’s important to reiterate that the majority of our subjects viewed the second number as no more or less relevant than the first, that being essentially not at all). After a month, the panel remained the colony’s most talked about feature. This gave incentive to the competitives to improve. They got to work collecting data, trying to decipher what could have made the number increase or decrease. We watched as hype began to build, with other subjects jumping on board picking between the emerging theories as if they were sports teams. Coalitions of competitives formed, with the prevailing structure being a team of analysts coaching the competitive they deemed most fit (often just the highest number) in strategies they thought had the best chances. It was after the second reset that talks of a formal competition hit full steam. Investors saw opportunity to cash in on both the mystery of the number and, more potently, the rising popularity of the prospective champions. The date was to be set as soon as possible, that of course being today’s reset.

As I’m writing this, it’s been around two hours since the event concluded – The Champion of the Panel they called it. Our department was given the day off (something to do with exceptional polishing), awarding Ryan, Trevor, and I the extra time needed to grab a few pre-show drinks. I don’t know if it was just the beers, but I found the event to be quite entertaining. The saddest thing I can recall was the look of immense satisfaction on the winner’s face (his name was Daniel Gorge, part of a group called the Maxims. Daniel had gone through terrifying bodily change in preparation for the event, following a training regimen which could only have been produced by the highly secret Maxim equation). I can’t help but now question the life he could have lived had the meter never been implemented, though I know this notion goes against our fundamental principle of progress. I also pause to understand that the grief I now feel is only present due to my own perspective which contains the key piece of knowledge which he must not, under any circumstances, find out (normally we’d want him to, though I worry that the retrospective shame would be too much to bear). I remain undecided.

If you who’s reading this either work in our departments or have read my previous diaries and therefore know what this number actually represents, I assume you share in my feelings of dread for what’s to come. I’ve already heard that hundreds of the children view the champion as their idol, with many more planning to compete in the next month’s (the sequel was announced just a few minutes ago, with organizers citing the event’s record-breaking attendance as cause for immediate renewal). I for one will keep working to ensure the colony is brought back to sanity. I hope you will too.

Signing off, 11:52 PM