Canine Scientist Finally Communicates with Pooch, Immediately Destroys Translation Machine

Ben Tuschman
2 min readFeb 17, 2021

“Let’s just say we’re all better off this way,” said Victor Scorp, MacArthur Fellow and respected canine behaviorist.

Mr. Electro, the adorable dog that led to Scorp’s psychotic break, pictured here looking super cute playing in the snow.
Mr. Electro, the adorable dog that led to Scorp’s psychotic break, is pictured here looking super cute playing in the snow.

It’s a wish as old as time. For thousands of years, humans and dogs have coexisted, evolved alongside one another, forming bonds deeper than many that exist within our own species. Yet, despite our closeness, we’ve never fully been able to understand one another due to an insurmountable speech barrier. On January 27th of this year, that barrier was broken.

Last month, MacArthur Genius and experimental canine scientist Victor Scorp put the finishing touches on his canine thought translation machine, transducing a three year-old German Shepard’s electric brain waves into humanlike speech pumped through a 1920s gramophone.

“It was a relatively simple project,” said Scorp in an audio recording directly after exposure. “Perhaps the simplicity should have been a warning.”

Mr. Electro, the dog in question, is known to outwardly enjoy vigorous belly rubs, smelly turkey slices, and barking at things that just aren’t there.

“He was my greatest friend,” said Scorp as he pulled hair out of his scalp with ease. “Now I question whether I ever meant anything to him at all.”

Since hearing the pooch’s thoughts, Scorp has been involuntarily held in Green Leaf Mental Asylum suffering what experts have deemed, “a seismic-level psychotic break.”

“You’re gonna get rid of us, aren’t you?” said Scorp to Mr. Electro in the last minutes of the tape. “AREN’T YOU!?”

Mr. Electro is currently staying in Scorp’s home with his more stable relatives. Note: He wags his tail a lot and is just freaking adorable.

Scorp was the only witness to the history-altering event, sneaking away to the office in the dead of night to isolate his team from the potential ramifications of the discovery.

We visited Scorp in his plush solitary suite at Green Leaf to learn more about his findings.

“[muffled nonsense]” Scorp said, as he stuffed a wet towel into his mouth.

Unfortunately, the vinyl record of the event was smashed into irreparable pieces and all blueprints of the machine were consumed by Scorp in a rabid eating frenzy. Despite Scorp’s best efforts to destroy the team’s work, there is some reason for hope.

“I have a pretty good memory,” said Sally Lazlo, the lead assistant on the endeavor. “If you give me a few months, I’m pretty sure we can reconstruct it.”

REVISED: Since this article was published, Lazlo has been reported missing by her family. Please contact us if you have any word.

--

--