Japandamonium!!!

My web-radio has selected a Bobby Darin cover of "What'd I Say" for my listening pleasure. Ray Charles, you ask? No no, Bobby Darin. What was he thinking, you ask? I have no idea. Interestingly, the computer followed it up with Ray himself doing "Georgia (joja) on my Mind," further evidencing my claim that the machine is slowly gaining fearful sentience. If I ever discover that it's renamed its network location "Skynet" I'm taking the hammer to it, so help me.

So I recently found myself introduced to something called Science. As far as I can make out, it's just a new bastard version of religion, with all the old rites and sacrifices and priests with long robes and unintelligible mumbo-jumbo. Our acquaintance started off in about the worst way that something can start out, but as we all know: tragedy plus time equals comedy! I will tell all.

John and I are eating dinner, our usual fabulous stir-fry concoction that I decided this time to base in lime juice (very fun since we didn't have a juicer so I got to just pulverize a lime in my fist over the pan. and very tasty; lime and soy make an unexpectedly delightful flavor combo, try it out). We somehow always manage to make an unreasonably large amount of food for just the two of us, and this night was no exception. As we are lingering in the kitchen, slowly harrying the last packs of veggies and rice off our plates, Bhav comes in. Bhav is a girl who lives at the end of the hall and emerges more rarely than the still-nameless Korean girl two doors down (whom I run into every two weeks and have to hide from - we use her pots and knives, and feel guilty). She's friendly enough - Bhav I mean, obviously not the "I'll never bother to say hello" girl - and we all start talking. She tells us that she's a Physiology student and that she's spent all week in the lab, and I make a joke about messing with lab rats. She says "no, I only experiment on human subjects" and John and I laugh. I say that if she's looking for any new bodies, maybe we could dig her up some lucky stiff, har har, and she says "really?"

No, not really. What do you mean, really? Of course not really. Explain yourself. She's running an experiment this week she says, and they're paying volunteers, 10 pounds for fifty minutes worth of experimenting. Now that's not bad for an hour's work, and we say "what do you, just spend an hour hurting some guy and give him ten quid?" And her face just plumb lights up: "yes," she says, "yes, that's exactly right." Again: What? Wait what do you work on, pain? "Yes. I experiment with pain."

Now, I'm standing there thinking I know you, I've seen people like you in James Bond movies. John on the other hand is all ears (we are making no conjecture about John's personal tastes or hobbies, friends, only choosing to understand that times are tight and money is money). He enlists himself right away for god knows whatever horrors are to come, and takes a slot on the next day at 2:15. And then the two of them start in on me. Bhav suggests 3:15, right after John's 'appointment' but I tell her that won't give me hardly enough time to learn from him what the extent of her torture is, or give me enough of a chance to make fun of him for signing up before going myself. But Bhav starts telling me how easy the tests are, that they want to see your sensitivity to heat- and cold-pain and you get to 'tap-out,' as it were, as soon as you feel any pain at all. Now that didn't seem so bad really and that 10 spot looked pretty good for an hour's easy work, and hell, if it's good enough for my gullible friend then it's good enough for me, pardner. So, like that, I'm in.

Since it will be hard for us to find the torture room on our own, it being appropriately hidden in some secret science buildings, Bhav will meet John somewhere more locatable at 2 and take him to his doom therein. He says that I should just come with but I'm sure I can find the place, and besides, that would give me a whole hour with nothing to do but listen to him crying. So we're all set, and Bhav thanks us and is gone. We are in surprisingly good spirits as we finish our meal and start dishes, laughing a lot and reprising our jokes from the last while, chuckling at Bhav's different ideas of humor and sincerity. Levity always on the doorstep of terror. Bhav comes back with a street map to show me where I need to go. She gives directions, she makes sure we're all set, and there it is. It all seems simple and straightforward at that point, no worries, no fear, no turning back; we're over the top now. Then: "I forgot to tell you before," she says, "but after those other tests, there's another one. We call it a Burn Test." Eyebrows crinkle, resolve dimishes. Burn test? "See you tomorrow!"

***
I will have to finish the story on my next post I'm afraid, for tonight it is 2am and I need some sleepy if I'm gonna be able to kick Hamlet's indecisive ass in a paper tomorrow. Sorry to leave you hanging, but I have a long line of literary predecessors who have strongly established a tradition of same, so thbbbbbt. The full story will come out soon.

A last word: In an effort to cover it's traces, my computer's spellchecker has feigned an ignorance of the word "sentience," suggesting "gentians" instead, and offering "scanty" in place of "Skynet." One - what the hell are gentians? What? Anyone? Anyone??? Two - ha! Foolish computer, your bluff only bolsters my growing suspicions. We will have a reckoning soon...