Chapter 4: First Dose

     Today was surreal. This might be a long one, so buckle up Dr. Nelson.

     How do I begin? Okay, let’s start with the annoying alarm clock. I’m pretty accustomed to waking up whenever the hell I want on a nice gradual climb, but that ended at 6 AM this morning when the 200 decibel sirens uninvitedly pierced into my consciousness over the loudspeaker system. Nothing says get up like a heart attack. Consider this negative feedback from an unhappy customer. It blared for a full 2 minutes before I even knew where I was. Not cool. Not ever cool.

     I jumped out of bed, grabbed my overnight bag, towel and slipped into my slippers. My first thought… get to the shower FIRST. I don’t want to wait in a line, and I want to hurry up and be done so I can eat whatever’s for breakfast. I’m starving. Thank you, no smoking policy, I’m liable to gain 50 lbs. during this experiment. I exited my little cubby and stared straight toward the bathrooms and saw all the women entering into their bathroom. How the fuck did they get up so fast? I rush down the hallway and behind me I can hear Dr. Waters.

     “Let’s go! Let’s go! You have 15 minutes to be in the common room! Move it!” He shouts.

     What is this boot camp? Are they going to force us to do jumping jacks and pushups before we can eat? Maybe this was a bad decision... Then again. I’ve already made $300, so that’s encouraging. As I get into the bathroom, I see one shower is already taken, I have no idea who, but that’s okay, the other shower is ready. I get in, I get washed and I get out. As I’m changing into my new scrubs, I dump the old ones into the hamper in the corner along with my underwear. Fresh clothes every day, that’s an upgrade from my previous life.

     The guy that was in the shower is the militant crew cut guy in his 50’s. Turns out his name is Chuck. He’s shaving. I go to the other sink next to him and start brushing my teeth. The reflection of my mirror shows the other men entering for the showers. Chuck decides he wants to have a conversation.

     “Early bird gets the worm,” he says over the scrape of the razor.

     I look over at him and nod. “You think we’ll get a 5-star breakfast?” I ask.

     “Nope.” He grunts. Then he rinses his face, turns and leaves.

     Good talking to you, pal, I thought. So much for that. Randy waltzes in scratching his genitals and isn’t wearing his shirt. He’s not in the best shape and has hair on almost every patch of skin. The first thing he does is use the toilet and then proceed over to the sink. At least he washes his hands.

     “I’m fucking starving,” he says and then farts. Time for me to hurry up to the common room, I thought to myself.

     “I’ll see out you out there” I say as I depart and desperately hope he doesn’t try to keep talking.

​     “What’s your name?” he says.

     So much for that.

     “Jack, Jack McCoy” I say as I offer my hand.

     He shakes my hand. “Good to meet you, Jack. Are you married?”

     Why is he asking me this, I don’t even know this guy.

     “No, Sir. Not yet.” I reply.

     “Good for you man. Married life sucks. My wife is  a class A fucking bitch.”

     Who is this guy? I just stare at him with feigned surprise.

     “You think we’re going to get our brains fried or what?” He asks me as if it’s no big deal.

     “I really hope not.” I reply and start to turn away.

     “Yeah, that would suck, huh?” He starts laughing and heads to the shower as the singing Michael jumps out completely naked. I didn’t need to see that.

     The rest of the morning went by almost swimmingly. Everyone convened in the common room for “breakfast”. They gave us chocolate protein shakes, a fistful of vitamins and some bottled water.

     Sound the alarms… because hot-tempered Randy turned into an absolute bitch about the shakes. We were all obviously disappointed, but in these kinds of situations you just go with the flow, but not Randy. He threw a giant tantrum soon as he saw the Doc roll them in. I’m pretty sure it’s because when we first got here, one of their sales pitches was that they’d feed us well and Randy was REALLY looking forward to it.

     Clearly, the poor bastard was expecting a halfway decent breakfast with some egg McMuffins, bacon, and coffee or something to that effect. So, when the doctor and orderly walked in this morning, pushing a cart filled with shakes and vitamins, Randy immediately blew a gasket. He got right in Dr. Robert’s face.

     “What in the flying ASS FUCK is this?” he roared at the doctor.
     
     Dr. Roberts seemed a little startled by Randy’s hostility at first but regained his composure.

     The stone cold doctor responded with, “It’s what you get,” and I could see Randy’s jaw clench and hear his nostrils flare out hot air.

     “That ain’t what you fucking assholes said YESTERDAY!” he screamed, practically spitting on the doctor’s neck.
The whole group of us just stood there with unblinking eyes, completely unable to speak. Truth is, it was pretty exciting as this place is kind of boring. The smelly John Wayne Gacy guy even cracked a smile.

     Dr. Roberts, who stands an easy foot over Randy just stared down at the man with the blankest expression you’ve ever seen, and replied with, “You can skip breakfast if you wish”.

     Randy’s face went beet red, but he didn’t say a word. All the rest of us just stared in silence for a few more awkward moments until Randy finally grabbed the shake and drank it. He then bitched into my ear for the rest of the morning about how lunch better “be real fucking food”. Which it wasn’t…

     I can’t blame him for being upset, I wouldn’t have minded some hot food and fresh coffee either because this “no smoking” bullshit I’m going through is making my stomach growl, but whatever man, I’m here for the money.

     An hour later, they brought us into the testing room. It’s a white room attached off the big community area and is separated by a hefty metal door. The interior of the testing room is round, brightly lit, impeccably clean, and has fifteen lab chairs in a circular formation. There’s also a bunch of machines lining the walls for measuring our heart rate, brainwaves and body temperatures. They strapped us into the chairs and then attached some wonky looking pads onto our chests and heads. The whole process of getting fastened in made me anxious as hell.  I don’t like being restrained and I felt this dreadful sense of fear ripple through me when the clasps were locked, like the way a murder victim might feel as they’re being tied down by a serial killer.

     The fifteen of us were just staring around the room at each other with widened “oh shit” eyes, and no one, besides Stephanie, had the nerve to say anything at all. Rudy kept shitting gas clouds into the room and stinking it up.  First it was funny, then as soon as the scent hit, it became like a form of torture. I kept getting this hallucinogenic image of little fecal whirlwinds with Rudy’s laughing face floating through the air and into my nose, and into my bloodstream. I mean, imagine if you were tied down and forced to breathe some strange and ugly man’s gas into your lungs, disgusting, right?

     So, at any rate, I sat there worried they were going to inject us with needles, but they are using pills instead, which is great because I hate needles. So that was kind of a positive twist. The only thing that sucked about it was having the doctor be the one to put the pills in my mouth and pour the water down my throat. Awkward.

     Then we just… lied there.

     I was waiting for something to happen and after a while I stopped looking at everyone else and just stared at the ceiling. The doctors kept circling around us in silence watching the machines. It was then that I realized I was dreaming. All sorts of crazy out-of-this-world imagery was floating before me. The room was gone, but I felt myself still there and I could hear voices in the distance and yet right next to me. What was this pill? LSD? I didn’t feel panicked or upset or anything. I just watched as cog wheels and circuit boards and molecular explosions danced in front of me.

     “How are you doing” I could hear faintly in my head.

     “Who me? I say, I think out loud, but maybe in my head.
     
     No answer.

    Then I was in water, deep, deep water. Maybe at the bottom of some ocean. Was I swimming? I saw bubbles all around me and they made my whole body tingle with a feeling of pleasure, but then the bubbles turned to clouds and then rain and then darkness. I couldn’t see anything for maybe seconds, or minutes, could have been days. Then a campfire only 10 feet away and a woman screaming. She was screaming! It sounded real, because it was real. I came to and saw Stephanie, the Hispanic girl screaming in her chair. The machine she was attached to was making loud beeping noises. The doctors were doing something to her, but she just kept screaming. I was the only one who noticed, everyone else was sleeping it looked like. Why was she screaming?

     I drifted back to sleep and the next thing I knew people were standing up out of their chairs and being escorted out of the testing room back into the community room. I didn’t see Stephanie. Dr. Waters came and unfastened my straps.

     “Where’s Stephanie?” I asked him.

     He eyes locked onto mine as quickly as a cobra strike. “She won’t be in the trial any longer,” is all he said.

     I nodded in feigned apathy, but in my mind I panicked. I remember her screaming. She must have had a seriously bad reaction to this LSD crap. I guess as the trial goes on it’s bound to happen.

     How do I feel? I’m feeling just a little bit tired. I’ve been yawning every 2 minutes for the last 7 hours since the first dose. I was terrified earlier, but now I feel a little calmer than before since I started writing this entry. That must be another reason that Dr. Nelson wants us to write a journal entry every day I imagine. It’s therapeutic.

     Earlier this evening, I was in the common room with everyone, and I started to look around at my fellow test subjects once again.  Most people were attempting to socialize with each other and do normal things. It’s still a little awkward for all of us. It doesn’t help that we’re not allowed to watch TV or use phones or hop on the internet. The place would be completely dead if it wasn’t for the quiet and easy-going classical music constantly playing for us through the overhead speakers. Most of us were out there save for a few who just went to bed.

     I saw Randy made his first friend. He started talking with the blonde girl Emily while she tried to read one of the books, and it appeared to me she was semi-interested in what he had to say. I hope his wife doesn’t find out he’s trying to spit game in here. Depending on how things go during this trial, I may try making a go at Emily too, but it’s too early to make that decision. I’m not sure about her yet.

     I also noticed a few people playing an amateur game of Texas Hold ‘em at the table. Seeing those clowns fumble their cards and make stupid bets, makes me really tempted to play against them and take all their money. Or I could just run a card game for them and get them to wager their earned money from the experiment. If I run it, I won’t even have to play, I can just collect a 20% house fee. I wonder if the Doctors will object to that. I know they’re watching us right now because they have cameras all over the place, even in our little sleeping rooms. So much for privacy.

     It looks like we only have three doctors here. There’s the one that feeds us, Dr. Roberts, a tall, lanky looking man who acts robotic and says nothing to anyone. Even with Randy right in his face roaring at him this morning, the guy didn’t give much of a reaction. Although Randy does have a little bit of squeak to his yelling voice, so it’s kind of hard to take him seriously.

     Dr. Waters, who’s younger than I am, I think, but he’s already balding as I’ve already mentioned. He also has this mean look in his eyes, like some piss-drunk brawler at your local pub who’s just looking for trouble. It could be because he’s losing his hair, or maybe he just hates his job, or his girlfriend… who the fuck knows. All I know is that he’s the one who preps us into the chairs in the testing room and gives us the pills. He says very little to give me any clues about his home life.  

     Ironically, Stephanie, the girl who is now out of the program, asked him a question this morning as he was putting the straps on her.

     “Is this going to hurt?” She asked, and I could tell she was afraid. Dr. Waters just fastened the straps and gave her a glaring sort of, “shut up or I’ll punch you” look. Now that I think of it, that’s the sort of thing that you don’t want to do if you’re about to give someone a powerful hallucinogenic drug… I hope when she’s better she sues the hell out of him. Oh wait, we signed forms against that. Damn.

     Lastly, there’s you, Dr. Nelson, you’re the mad scientist looking fella with the Albert Einstein hairdo. You’re the one who sold us on this whole experiment when we first got here. You promised us that we’d be under close observation and that the lab was equipped to deal with side effects, if any, and that the best we could hope for was some elevated brain activity or maybe a cure for Alzheimer’s.

​     I wonder what happened to Stepanie.

     Let’s hope tomorrow is better.
     
​     -Jack

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