Evolution Of A Roach
Growing up in New York City gave me plenty of opportunities to observe roaches. I remember the first ones I saw run away from me in a straight line. Despite their speed, they were easy to chase down and step on.
A later generation of roaches learned to zig-zag as they tried to escape. Those were much harder to catch.
Then there were the roaches I spotted on the wall. They were fairly easy pickings, but a later generation startled me. As I closed in for the kill, they let themselves fall to the floor and then scurried away. Their ability to learn and evolve was little bit frightening.
I was a child then, and now, as an adult living in the suburbs, haven’t seen a roach in quite a while… until recently at Grand Central Station. That day, like all the days before, morning commuters slowly, quietly, somberly, shuffled off the train toward their places of work. But the woman in front of me suddenly broke stride and jumped and twitched. Then zigged. Then zagged.
Then I saw why. Great Kafka! In front of her was the largest roach I had ever seen. No, it wasn’t carrying a briefcase, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work on Wall Street. Frightening indeed.