The gerbils would instantly conclude that benchmarks are a navigation system left behind by an earlier civilisation of extremely organised rodents.
Grunge would point out that they are survey marks used to establish height. This would be ignored.
Within forty-eight hours:
- Gherkin has produced a map linking every benchmark in three counties with red string.
- Gumbo has become convinced that benchmarks only appear on buildings that contain secrets.
- Galoshes has calculated that if you stand beside three particular benchmarks simultaneously, something important will happen.
- Gingham has begun measuring other benchmarks using a ruler and complete confidence.
- Goulash is inside a hedge.
The problem is not that they misunderstand the purpose. The problem is that they understand the purpose and then immediately ask, “Yes, but what else could it be for?”
A benchmark tells you how high something is above sea level. To a gerbil, this naturally suggests that sufficiently high benchmarks must eventually lead to the sky. A week later, they are attempting to identify the highest benchmark in Britain so they can reach the upper atmosphere.
“But benchmarks don’t work like that,” said Grunge.
Galoshes looked up from six pages of calculations. “According to engineering principles, no.”
“And according to gerbil principles?”
Galoshes adjusted her spectacles. “According to gerbil principles, we are approximately three benchmarks away from proving the existence of clouds.”
This was a level of confidence unsupported by engineering principles.
Which, as Grunge had learned, was often when the gerbils did their best work.