In the evening, when people returning from work pour out of the train, the right side of the staircase is packed with passengers climbing to the ticket gates. That side is for going up. So many gather there that one has to wait in line just to ascend. The left side, divided by a silver handrail, is much narrower—reserved for those coming down. But because the crowd going up is overwhelming, a second line has begun to form on the left as well.
For some time, I had been thinking —quite objectively, I believed— about these people who climb the side meant for descent.
“Their behavior,” I concluded, “comes from a lack of respect for rules. Many who share this psychological trait are either criminals who enjoy breaking the law, or politicians who believe they are above it.”
One day I shared this opinion with a friend. He disagreed. “Come on,” he said. “Those villains wouldn’t take something as common as a commuter train. The people who climb the down side are not offenders but the weak— outsiders forced away from the main flow of society that moves upward.”
Which of us was right? We decided the simplest way was to ask the people themselves. So, during the evening rush hour, we went to the station, stood at the top of the stairs, and waited to interview anyone coming up the wrong side.
The investigation failed. When we tried to speak to one such climber, we were shoved aside as nuisances and tumbled all the way down the stairs.
Lying on the platform, we looked up. Through the roar of trains and the announcements echoing overhead, we saw countless people moving up and down in perfect, silent order. All we could whisper was:
“Neither evil nor weak…”
“Humanity…”
We are now considering the scientific name for the species we have discovered.
HOROBLOG 