It is us, homo sapiens, a species that believes its futile pursuit of wealth is what sets it above those with whom it shares this planet.
This machine is nothing less than a metaphor, an analogy of the fruitless carrot-and-stick routine of your lamentable existence.
There is no shame in hungering for the boiled gem, in pawing against the glass, your mournful lowing echoing through the amusement arcade. Embrace it. Embrace your evolutionary drives.
But hold: some part of your mind tells you that these are naught but rubber facsimiles. And yet... STILL YOU CRAVE.
You would hold them above your head, and you would scream: "I AM DEFINED! YES. I AM DEFINED..."
How these treasures would increase your social standing, as you tell the tale around the campfire of the derring do which led them into your grasp. Yet, what defence are stories against the sabre tooth tiger, or cro-magnon invader?
It is your purpose designate, and it is so close... and yet so far beyond your physical reach.
And here, within the jewelled cage, you see the primary coloured crescent imprinted upon the chest of the bear, and it awakens in you some distant memory buried deep in your DNA. You know that, this time, you are not to tamper.
You back away from the glass, uttering your apologies to some long-forgotten deity.
Despite all evidence to the contrary, you push on. Never give up. Never surrender. You will have that mug, even if you must bend the laws of the universe to your will...