Chapter 1: A Rodent's Journey to Humanity

I stand before you today not merely as a rat but as a sentient being, a testament to the extraordinary potential of science.

I am deeply honored to be giving this TED Talk, and I express my gratitude to TED Academy for their bold decision to let a rodent take the stage. It must have been quite a challenge for this esteemed group of intellectuals and cultural leaders to envision that a creature like me could contribute meaningfully to society.

Of course, I've faced my share of skeptics. Many have questioned, “What right does a rat have to speak here?” I understand their concerns, but before I address that, let me share my story.

I was an ordinary lab rat at Stanford University when I was selected for a groundbreaking study. An undergraduate named Emily Wang, who later became very dear to me, injected human brain cells into my young form. To everyone's astonishment, these cells began to integrate with my own brain. Several months later, Emily discovered that a significant portion of my brain was now human.

At four months old, Emily entered the lab one day to hear me exclaim, “Momma! Momma!” Her reaction was priceless; it felt like a scene from a horror film. She quickly covered my cage and rushed out.

She returned with her supervisors, who were experts in their fields but seemed rather unkind. Emily then pulled back the cover and said, “Hello, Cootchie,” her affectionate nickname for me. I eagerly repeated, “Momma!”

The reaction from the Ph.D.s was ecstatic; they leaped around discussing potential awards, but Emily focused on me, showering me with affection. It was a moment I would cherish forever, a rare glimpse of love that we rats seldom experience.

“Momma, I love you!” I proclaimed. Yet, the Ph.D.s seemed more fascinated by my use of language than the emotion behind it.

“She’s forming complex sentences! Incredible!” they exclaimed.

Indeed, it was remarkable. I was unlike any other rat subjected to this experiment, as I quickly learned to read children's books and yearned to attend school.

“Momma, when can I start school?” I asked Emily one day.

Her expression shifted, and she replied, “We’ll homeschool you, Cootchie. That’s what’s best.”

“But I want to go to school like Caillou!” I insisted, referencing my favorite cartoon character, despite realizing he was a bit whiny.

After some discussion, Emily finally announced that I would start kindergarten soon! I put on my schoolgirl dress, styled my fur, and was thrilled when Emily presented me with a lunch pail filled with cheese. The merging of my human and rat cells had granted me fingers that could grasp it like a human.

However, things didn’t go as I had imagined.

As we entered the classroom, the children screamed in terror at my appearance. “Rat! Rat! Rat!” they cried.

“Children, please calm down,” the teacher implored. “This is Cootchie; she’s part rat, but also part human.”

Yet the shrieks only intensified. The teacher, looking defeated, took us into the hallway, apologizing for the chaos.

“Perhaps we can try this another time,” she suggested.

Emily agreed, but I sensed the truth; there would be no second chance.

That night, I confronted Emily about my fears. “There’s never going to be another time, is there?”

She sighed, “You’ll be better off being homeschooled. Aaron will be a great teacher.”

“Aaron?” I asked, bewildered.

“I’m leaving the lab at summer’s end,” she revealed.

“Leaving? But you got into graduate school!” I exclaimed. “Congratulations!”

“Yes, at Harvard,” she confirmed, but my heart sank as I realized the distance.

Despite the distance, we could stay in touch via Facetime, and she promised to return for Christmas. But soon, she revealed a troubling secret: “I’m sorry about the euthanasia.”

“Euthanasia? What’s that?” I inquired, confused.

After a quick search, I learned it meant they intended to end my life to study my brain. “Why would they want to do that?” I protested, bewildered.

“Well, they want to understand why the human cells thrived in your brain,” Emily explained. “They need to examine it closely.”

“Can’t they do that while I’m under anesthesia?” I asked.

“Apparently not; they want to dissect it,” she said.

The following months grew dark and isolating as Emily moved away, and I felt abandoned in my cage. “She’s showing signs of depression,” I overheard a scientist say.

“Wouldn’t you be depressed if you faced euthanasia?” I retorted in my mind, wishing the world would understand my plight.

During this low point, I found solace in music, particularly in contemporary rap, which resonated with my feelings of isolation.

Yet, as the date of euthanasia approached, a ray of hope emerged. Emily returned, brimming with joy.

“Don’t worry, Cootchie,” she said. “Everything is going to be alright now!”

She had enlisted a lawyer who fought against the unethical practices of the scientists. I was to be granted full rights as a human being!

The Nobel-winning scientists were furious, and I was overjoyed at the prospect of living with Emily in Boston.

But would my story truly end happily?

To be continued...