What If the Internet Ran on Hamsters? (A Lesson in Electrical Load)

Let’s take a moment to imagine a world where the internet—a vast and glorious tapestry of memes, cat videos, conspiracy theories, Zoom meetings, and shopping cart abandonments—ran on the sheer kinetic might of hamsters.

Yes, hamsters.

Those twitchy-nosed, wheel-spinning, lettuce-munching bundles of fluff. The unsung heroes of elementary school science fairs and the unfortunate victims of pet neglect when kids inevitably get bored. But today, in this brave new world we’re imagining, they’re our power source. Elon Musk can keep his lithium; we’ve got rodents.

So, what would it take to run the internet on hamsters? And what can we learn about electricity and electrical load from such a gloriously absurd thought experiment?

The Hamster Internet: The Basics

First things first: powering the internet is no small feat. The internet—while feeling magical—is really just a network of massive data centers, millions of routers and switches, and an unfathomable number of devices consuming electricity like it’s free coffee at a tradeshow.

Globally, the internet uses about 1-2% of the world’s electricity. That’s hundreds of terawatt-hours annually. A terawatt-hour is a trillion watt-hours. And one hamster on a wheel, generating energy at full tilt, can produce—wait for it—about 0.5 watts. Half a watt. Which is just enough to power a nightlight, if your night is particularly dim and your expectations are lower than a limbo stick at a limbo stick factory.

Math Time (a.k.a. Hamsters, Assemble!)

If the internet uses, say, 1 billion watts (1 gigawatt) at any given moment (and that’s a conservative estimate), you’d need:

1,000,000,000 watts / 0.5 watts per hamster = 2,000,000,000 hamsters.

Two. Billion. Hamsters.

Imagine the infrastructure. The smell. The sheer number of sunflower seeds required to keep this beast running.

The average hamster cage is about 2 square feet. Multiply that by 2 billion and you’ve got 4 billion square feet, or 92,000 acres—just to house them. That’s larger than many cities. We’d need a Hamster City the size of Seattle, complete with tunnels, wheels, and snack stations.

At this point, you’re probably asking: why are we talking about this?

Because It’s About Load

Electrical load is the amount of power a device (or in this case, an entire civilization of rodent-powered routers) consumes. The bigger the task, the more energy it takes. Think of it like asking your grandma to carry a couch up five flights of stairs. That’s a heavy load. Now imagine you asked 2 billion grandmas, all climbing stairs together, humming classic Sinatra. Still a heavy load—but spread out, it's manageable.

That’s what utilities do. They manage electrical load—constantly balancing how much energy is being produced with how much is being used. And when the load spikes (like during a TikTok outage when everyone’s refreshing furiously), they have to adjust.

“With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility” — Uncle Ben (Spider-Man’s Uncle, not the rice guy)

Why is understanding load important? Because the modern world, including the internet, can’t function if the supply doesn’t match demand. Too little power and things shut down. Too much, and you risk blowing circuits and frying equipment. It's a dance, and one that’s way more elegant than it has any right to be.

And in a hamster-powered society? That means managing the workload of billions of tiny legs, each running their own mini marathon. If we don’t keep those wheels spinning in harmony, the internet crashes, and nobody gets to watch Netflix’s latest algorithm-generated rom-com about a time-traveling barista.

Peak Load Hamsters

Utilities talk about peak load—those moments when energy demand hits the roof. Think 6 PM on a winter day, when everyone gets home, turns up the heat, flips on the lights, starts dinner, and fires up every device imaginable. It’s the electrical equivalent of the running of the bulls.

In Hamsterville, that’s when the rodent unions get mad. Overtime. Call in the backup hamsters. Hamsters on Red Bull. Tiny hamster yoga mats and massage parlors to help with recovery. We’d need hamster load-balancing algorithms and AI-coached hamster personal trainers.

It’s all a bit...much.

Let's Talk About You (And Vampire Power)

Now, here’s where it gets real: your devices are silently nibbling at power even when you’re not using them. That’s called vampire power. TVs, chargers, routers—all sucking juice 24/7.

If every Canadian unplugged their vampire devices, it would save enough electricity to power tens of thousands of homes each year. That’s a lot of spared hamsters.

Famous Words to Chew On

Let’s throw in some actual wisdom:

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." — Arthur C. Clarke

That’s your Wi-Fi. Magic, powered by electrons. And maybe hamsters in our fever dream scenario. But it’s not magic. It’s load. It’s power plants. It’s transformers. It’s renewable energy, fossil fuels, and infrastructure older than your uncle’s plaid cargo shorts.

So maybe, just maybe, we should understand how it all works.

And Now for the Saucy Bit

Let’s be real: if your internet went down and someone told you it was because a hamster had to stop for a water break, you’d scream. We’re spoiled. We want 100% uptime, instant speeds, and smooth Netflixing while doom-scrolling through social media. But that world requires a solid, invisible web of power—power that doesn't grow on trees (though trees do sometimes fall on power lines).

Electricity is your best friend and worst enemy: always there until it isn’t. And when it isn’t, you notice. You notice hard.

In Conclusion: Don’t Fire Your Hamster Yet

So, what have we learned?

• The internet cannot, should not, and will not run on hamsters.

• Electricity load matters. A lot.

• Understanding how your power is used (and wasted) is actually a superpower.

• Vampire power is a real thing, and it’s stealing your money in the night.

The next time you flip on your laptop, stream a show, or fire off a spicy tweet, take a second to appreciate the hidden infrastructure behind it all. And if you happen to have a hamster, give it a nod of thanks. Not because it’s keeping the internet alive—but because in another world, it might have been your ISP.

Now go unplug your toaster oven. Your hamster thanks you.