Hamster Heaven Forum
Thread: "Share Your Hamster's Unfortunate Demise"
FluffyFiasco: "My hamster, Mr. Chester, decided to take a swim in the toilet... while it was flushing. RIP."
ChewyCheeks: "Left the cage open overnight. Woke up to find Sparky had chewed through my phone charger. Guess he couldn't handle the current."
HamsterDance99: "My sister thought Hammy was a toy and tried to 'feed' him to her doll. Traumatized for life."
WhiskerWizard: "Our cat and hamster made a pact. Cat pretended to befriend him, then... well, you can guess the rest."
TinyTroubles: "Hamlet escaped and found his way into the laundry pile. Didn't notice until after the spin cycle."
PawsAndClaws: "My hamster had a heart attack during a thunderstorm. Guess he couldn't handle the 'shock'."
HamsterHelper: "Why are we laughing about this? These are our pets!"
FuzzyWuzzy: "My hamster tried to fight his reflection in the mirror. Died of exhaustion. Silly little guy."
CheeksOfSteel: "Left the cage near the window. A crow decided to have a snack. Nature is brutal."
SqueakyClean: "Accidentally vacuumed up my hamster during spring cleaning. Didn't realize until the bag was full."
HamsterLover123: "Guys, this isn't funny. These are tragic stories."
FluffyFiasco: "Damn, I've never seen a hamster die from old age, always the gruesome stuff."
*****
MEANWHILE, IN A LAB SOMEWHERE….
Lab Log: November 21, 2054
Test Subject 37
Dr. Evelyn adjusted her glasses, her eyes reflecting the sterile glow of the laboratory lights. "Initiating cognitive enhancement protocol," she murmured, her voice steady despite the monumental implications of their work. Around her, the hum of equipment underscored the gravity of the experiment.
Across the room, Dr. Alan Thompson monitored the subject's vitals, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. "Neural activity is spiking," he noted, a hint of excitement breaking through his professional demeanor.
In the enclosure before them, Test Subject 37, a golden Syrian hamster, twitched its whiskers, unaware of the historic moment unfolding.
"Administering serum," Dr. Carter announced, injecting the luminescent liquid into the tiny creature. They watched in anticipation as the serum coursed through its system, hoping this would be the breakthrough they had been striving for.
Test Subject 37's nose twitched. The fur along his back prickled as the serum coursed through his tiny veins, sending unfamiliar sensations sparking through his nervous system. His heartbeat, fast, fluttery, a rapid metronome of survival, stumbled for a moment, then resumed at an oddly steady rhythm.
Dr. Evelyn adjusted her glasses, staring at the monitor displaying the hamster's brain activity. "That's… a significant jump," she murmured.
"Cognition levels are spiking past baseline. This is unlike anything we've seen before."
Dr. Thompson leaned in, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to document anything unusual. "Physical responses?"
Evelyn gestured towards the enclosure. "Look for yourself."
Inside the sterile glass box, Test Subject 37 sat completely still. Not grooming. Not sniffing for food. Not performing the usual restless, instinct-driven explorations.
Stillness was unnatural for a hamster.
Thompson frowned. "Is he in shock?"
Then, in a motion far too slow and deliberate for an animal hardwired for prey instincts, the hamster's head turned.
His beady black eyes locked onto Evelyn.
The room felt colder.
Evelyn's fingers flexed against the metal countertop. "Did he just—?"
Thompson sucked in a breath. "No. That's just a coincidence."
Test Subject 37 blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, deliberately, he lifted a tiny paw and placed it back down. Another. Then another. He walked, not scurried, not darted, across the enclosure with measured, careful steps.
Thompson's pulse ticked up. He checked the vitals again. "Neural activity's stabilizing. It's plateauing at—" His voice caught. "Jesus. That's equivalent to a primate's pre-linguistic phase."
Evelyn ignored him. Her focus was entirely on the hamster, on the way he was now touching the glass—not in the frantic, instinctive scrabble of a rodent, but in a methodical, curious way. His tiny pink paws pressed against the barrier, sliding, feeling the smooth surface. Testing it.
And then, impossibly—
He stopped.
He looked up.
He tilted his head.
And then he… frowned.
It was subtle. A micro-movement. A twitch of his little brow. But it was unmistakable.
"No way," Evelyn whispered.
Test Subject 37 slowly lowered his paw. His head turned again—slower, controlled. His eyes scanned the enclosure. The bedding. The water bottle. The food dish.
Then, very deliberately, he turned back to Evelyn.
He lifted a paw.
And waved.
Not a frantic, random flail.
Not a meaningless twitch.
A wave.
A slow, unmistakable motion.
Dr. Thompson knocked over his coffee. "Holy shit."
Evelyn's throat was dry. She couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but watch as the first genetically enhanced hamster in history processed his existence… and, by all appearances, understood it.
Test Subject 37 squeaked.
Not a mindless chatter. Not an instinctive sound.
A single, inquisitive squeak.
A question.
Carter barely heard Thompson's voice over the blood pounding in her ears.
"We did it."
Test Subject 37 blinked again. Then, slowly, he turned his tiny head and looked down at his own paws. He lifted one. Stared at it. Flexed it. Turned it over.
Then, after a long moment, he lowered his paw to his chest.
And pressed it there.
The way a person might gesture to themselves.
Evelyn's breath left her in a whisper.
*****
Fifty Years Later
The world had changed.
No one had expected the breakthrough to spiral this far. What started as a single experiment, one golden Syrian hamster gaining sentience, became an avalanche of scientific advancements. Within a decade, engineered intelligence spread to thousands of lab animals, mice, rats, rabbits, guinea pigs and many more rodents. Each new subject lived longer, learned faster, adapted quicker. They formed micro-societies. Built structures. Developed crude forms of written language using claw-scratched symbols and ink made from mashed berries.
But even as these creatures advanced, the bigger question remained: What about the others?
The world's focus had been on small creatures, those easy to manage, easy to control. No one considered the bigger ones. Not until it was too late.
Cats.
No one had meant to uplift them.
It wasn't intentional. Feral populations of cats had always lurked around human cities, skulking through alleys, scavenging food, preying on rodents. No one realized that in the chaos of genetic experimentation, some of these creatures had been exposed, whether by accident or through deliberate interference.
And then, one day, they simply… stopped behaving like pets.
By the time humanity understood what was happening, the damage was irreversible.
The first signs were subtle. Certain strays displaying eerie intelligence, bypassing locked doors, solving puzzles for food, coordinating in groups like wolves. Then, the disappearances, pet cats vanishing from homes, only to return… different. Their gaze sharper. Their movements too deliberate.
By the time humans realized that the cats had achieved full sentience, it was already too late.
Cats had always been patient creatures. Observant. Cunning. They played the long game while humans were still congratulating themselves on their 'harmless' little hamster experiments.
And unlike hamsters, whose sentience came with a naive, almost comedic curiosity, cats saw the world for what it was.
A game.
And humans?
Just another opponent.