It was a bright, sunny day when the man finally emerged from his home of the last twenty years. Part of a lengthy science project, he had volunteered in the year 1975 to live completely alone in a room under the ground. He was allowed anything that he had wanted when he began, but was unable to request anything once he was inside. There was no way for him to know about the outside world; he had been completely separated. As he opened the door, cameras from around the globe captured his image for magazines and tabloids, and reporters flocked around him, microphones reaching out to capture the first words of the man who lived completely uncivilized for two decades.
He squinted at first, not remembering the glare created by natural lighting and then looked around. TV crews were everywhere, and the noise of the helicopter hovering above was nearly deafening. One might expect that these new advancements in technology might cause shock for this man, who had never seen machines of this type, but he did not react much at all. He merely looked around and took in all of the glory of the moment.
Soon the man decided that it was time to address the onslaught of microphones blocking his vision. He motioned with his hands for the reporters to cease their shouting of questions and then spoke to people for the first time since 1975.
"It feels good," he said, "to breathe fresh air for a change."
This simple sentence brought renewed energy from the gathering crowd. They all seemed to shout questions at once. Finally, one person asked loudly, "What did you do with your time?"
The man thought and replied, "I spent a large part of my time reading books out loud to myself. That was my method for keeping a grasp of the English language. I didn't want to come out here sounding like Tarzan, you know." This brought on laughter from the crowd. "I also spent a lot of time trying to imagine what the world would be like when I finally got to come out, and to tell you the truth, most of these fancy machines of yours go even beyond my imagination."
By now a van had made its way through the crowd and a man wearing a long, white jacket jumped out and pushed his way next to the man. "I'm sorry," the scientist said, "but any further questioning will have to wait until we have had a chance to record his initial reaction to his new environment." He motioned toward the van and waited for the man to get in before he slammed the door shut.
The man sat down in the seat and smiled at the four other men that were in the van. One of them scribbled something on a notepad and then joined the rest of them in watching his every move. The man shifted uncomfortably and waved at the reporters outside, still pressing their way toward him and shouting their endless questions. He knew what was ahead. He would sit in a plain white room in his underwear and listen to these men tell him about the world and then watch him for reactions. He was less than enthusiastic, but the money that they had offered him twenty years ago would make this all worthwhile. Once the testing was done, he would be free to meet new people and look up old friends, and someday maybe his life could get back to normal. These were thoughts that he had been thinking for as long as he could remember.
He also knew that part of the experimentation process would involve a thorough examination of his living quarters. Everything that he had done since 1975 would be scrutinized to the point that they would know everything he had eaten, every book that he had read, and every activity that had left any shred of evidence. At least those that he had not made an attempt to conceal.
They finally arrived at the laboratory and the man walked smoothly through the sliding doors. He lied and told the men that he was tired, hoping that they would let him sleep for a while before the questioning started, but they did not. He perched himself on the edge of a table and looked around at the hundreds of people watching him through the glass that formed the walls to the room. He waved, and a few of them waved back.
"Please attempt to answer every question as accurately and truthfully as possible," said the man who had previously pulled him away from the mob of reporters, "and try not to interact with the people beyond the glass."
Back in the underground room, scientists were beginning their search for clues that might be used to determine basic human survival instinct. The room was remarkably organized, with one area apparently designated as a living space, and another, larger area that served as waste disposal. One scientist chuckled to himself and showed another the March 1974 Playboy magazine that had been concealed underneath the mattress of the bed. It was promptly placed in a plastic bag and thrown onto the growing pile of plastic bags containing various items of note that had been in the room.
After several months, the man was released back into the real world. The tests showed that years of solitary confinement caused very little change in behavior, implying that we are living a lifestyle that closely resembles that of our ancient ancestors. Several scientists came to the conclusion that the man was influenced too much by his lifestyle before he had been separated from civilization and that the experiment should be attempted again, using a newborn child.
It was several years later when three boys were to be found exploring in the woods behind their house. They were further from home than they had ever walked, and the youngest was beginning to complain that he was getting hungry when one of them felt the ground move underneath his foot. He quickly jumped up onto a large mound of dirt nearby and looked back at where he had stepped.
When the boys returned home they asked their mother if it would be all right if they could have some friends over the next day. Their mother said yes, it would be okay, and the boys exchanged anxious glances. They could hardly wait to show off their new underground fort to all the kids at school.