The Devil's Greatest Masterpiece (Revised Edition)

 

    All have heard it, and all have hated it. The piercing whine of these miniscule vampires travels through the air, assaulting the ears and distracting the senses. A sense of loathing fills the heart as the terrible noise’s source becomes clear. The tiny wings flap over 300 times per second, carrying their lightweight bodies through the air. The takeoff is nearly imperceptible to their prey, with the only indication of their presence being the characteristic whine. After they stealthily complete their heist, the prey is left blissfully unaware of their presence for just a few minutes. While it seems that mosquitoes and humans couldn't be more different, I’ve found more in common than T would have thought. The plague of mosquitoes throughout the world is something I could happily live without.

As an avid fan of hiking, I know these pests well, and have likely contributed to the birth of many mosquitoes. Even when taking precautions such as bug spray or long clothing, they still manage to find a way to infiltrate and commit their dastardly deed. Upon returning from the adventure, I will often find myself covered in bites in the most curious places. How a mosquito manages to travel to my ankle through my sock is something I will never understand. Upon reaching their target, mosquitoes carry out their selfish plan with unnecessary cruelty. After stabbing the skin and locating a capillary, they inject a protein cocktail to numb the skin and ensure blood flow. This anesthetic is not a kindness, but rather the weapon of an evolved parasite, designed to ensure the mosquito is not interrupted during its session. Quickly after the injection, an allergic reaction occurs, causing red bumps and painful itching.

Despite the obvious differences, I believe that mosquitoes and I share a key trait. It is far too easy to act as a mosquito, stealthily feeding off others, using their resources as your own. While feeding, it pretends to be a friend, hiding the pain. Yet, when the mosquito is full, it flies off, the prey having fulfilled its purpose, leaving the painful itching behind. Among humans, this act is known as manipulation, almost an instinct for some. Thinking only for myself, I may find that I am using guilt or bending the truth to get the outcome I desire. The difference in this behavior from mosquitoes to humans comes only from the power of choice present in the human, but not the mosquito. Both activities serve only the manipulator, but mosquitoes must do this to survive, whereas the same cannot be said for us. I hesitate to call the act of manipulation a choice in itself, because it is my natural instinct to serve my own interests. The choice is to not manipulate and empathise with others. This critical difference makes the act that much less challenging to perform. You don’t need to think about it to do it, but you must make a conscious decision to not.

In truth, I don’t think that I truly understand the scale of pain that manipulative behavior causes. I have caught myself engaging in it on more than one occasion. Due to the instinctual nature of this behavior, it is far easier to become a manipulator than to stop. Requiring a both conscious realization and a decision to stop is a difficult combination, and I have needed to apologize many times. The deceptiveness, subtlety, and cruelty of this behavior in both mosquitoes and myself is a diabolical combination. The devil’s greatest masterpiece is not the mosquito, but rather the behavior they represent. This original plan for this essay was to just hate on mosquitoes, but by exploring this topic myself, I think it’s helped me to acknowledge some of the tendencies I’m not proud of. I still struggle with selfishness and manipulation, and their existence is certainly something we would be better off without.