Day 1: Orientation

     Today is orientation day here at Nexus Mind Research Labs. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it’s the scariest shit I’ve ever done. What am I doing here? I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. It’s crazy. I’m surrounded by fucking slobs, college kids, fucking whacky looking adults… a fucking super fucking mean looking feminist lady, some fucking asshole who looks like he sits at a bar all night and gets fucking cocked. There’s this really big fucking smelly guy too. I don’t know his name is yet, but Jesus God almighty, help us all.

     Why am I here? I’m here because I gambled every last fucking dollar I ever made and even money I didn’t make. I’m a bad hombre, dude. I’ve stolen shit from friends, strangers, businesses and even ripped off the government.  Although they rip the fuck off us too, so I guess I’m even on that one. I’ve swindled shit from just about everyone and everything. If there’s a scam in Boston that’s been run, guaranteed I’ve done it. 

    Now I’m a fucking lab rat for this drug they call the Formula 35c. There are three science geeks here and they’re running the joint. They got us being watched by security guards and we’re locked inside this place that we can’t get out of. We can’t make any fucking phone calls. They said we can’t get on the internet or watch TV and I’m going to tell you something… it’s been a rough day for me so far.

     Now, the good news is, I get $300 a day every day I’m here. We don’t even start taking the medication or the pill or whatever the fuck it is until tomorrow. So today was a free 300, I can leave right now with 300 bucks. The problem is that I owe about fucking, $5,000 right now to bookies, and they’re coming for me. They’re looking for me right now. Not to mention I’m being evicted from my apartment! Not that it matters anyway, it’s the dead of winter and my fucking power’s shut off. I guess $300 could get me a bus ticket to California where I can figure it all out, but then that leaves my fucking mom stranded inside her house and she’s a drunk who needs me to come over from time to time to take care of shit. I don’t live with her, but I mean God, no one would want to live here. The place stinks, it’s fucking dirty.

     Anyway, they’re paying us $300 a day to be here and all we gotta do is take this drug. They didn’t say shit about what the drug was gonna do. They did say something about doing something to our minds or brains or something. I don’t know, maybe it’ll help us recover lost memories, maybe it’ll give us more brain power. Maybe it’s like that fucking movie where the guy takes the pill and he gets super smart. Doubt it, though. Knowing my luck, it’s going to be some fucking pill that turns us all into zombies, or dead.

     First of all, I applied for this thing at the library. They give me a call; they tell me I need to be down at the docks. So, I figure we were going on a ship or something. They pull up in vans. We had to get into a van and yeah… this is the weird part, we had to put a fucking hood over our head so we couldn’t see where we were going. We don’t even know where this place is! It’s surrounded by woods, it’s a big fucking building in the middle of nowhere. We’re at least an hour from Boston. I had to take a fucking piss so bad when we got here and they made me wait.  Then we had to sit around, and they gave us these fucking scrubs. I’m wearing this white scrub outfit. We all look like fucking mental patients in a loony bin. Jesus, I hope we don’t get lobotomized.

     The first thing we had to do was take a bunch of fucking tests to see how smart we are and what our aptitude is. Turns out I’m a fucking dumbass. I figured they were going to throw me out. I’ve never been smart, I dropped out of high school when I was 15. I’ve been kind of on my own ever since. My mom’s a loser, my dad’s in fucking jail… for murder. He was a hitman for the same people I owe money too! Huh, the irony. I was scared man, I thought they were going to kick me out, but I guess they were looking for dumb people because they said I passed. Anyway, then I had to do all these… fucking… physical fucking… tests. Oh my God, dude. I had to run on a tread mill, for an hour, with this shit attached to my chest. 

     I don’t run. 

     I don’t exercise. 

     I’m not that kind of guy. 

     The most exercise I do is walking around or riding my fucking huffy bike because I can’t even afford a car. I do a lot of walking, but I don’t run. I thought I was going to die. I’ve been smoking since I was 15. Speaking of which, they took my cigarettes. I guess we can’t smoke while we’re here. 

     I told them, I said, “hey, if I can’t smoke, I don’t know if I can take the stress of being here.”

     They said, “It’s gotta be standard, everybody’s gotta smoke, or nobody can smoke.”

     Well, there you fucking have it. There’s no way for me convince these other pricks to start smoking. There’ a few people who smoke because we all waited at the docks and couple of them lit up. This one guy, what the fucks his name? Ah, I forget his fucking name. What’s his name? Oh come on! Anyway, he’s alright. What the fuck is his name? Anway, skip it. 

     Whatever. So, we’re supposed to write out all our shit. By the way, I’m on this laptop they gave us. They said to write into it like it’s our diary, like we’re talking to a therapist. They want to know everything we’re thinking and feeling. 
I asked them, “are we gonna get in trouble if we say some shit, like confidential shit, shit that we confess? You know, if it comes out?”
     
     “Everything,” they said, “is confidential”.

     I guess it’s like a doctor – fucking-- patient privilege, lawyer, client privilege kind of deal. We don’t gotta worry about shit. I could say I fucking stabbed somebody in an alley and took their fucking watch and I won’t get in trouble for it. I didn’t do that, but I have done some pretty shady shit. I won’t lie. So, I’m just writing whatever the fuck I want right now.
Did I mention it’s been a fucking bitch of a winter so far? We’ve had record temperature lows and an ungodly amount of snowfall this season. Now that I think of it, I probably could have made some decent money if I’d invested in a shovel and did people’s walkways. Them old rich pricks with the brownstones would have paid me $20 a pop.  I really wish I had now. Anything would have been better than just throwing my money away at the casinos playing keno and blackjack or placing shit bets through my bookie. Let’s not even fucking talk about scratch tickets… 

     The nice thing is, while we’re here, it’s all free living. They’re taking care of our asses by giving us hygiene products, food, and I guess you can call it "room and board," since we each get our own bed. It’s also great I won’t have to spend money on stupid shit like toilet paper and toothpaste. You’d be surprised how valuable those things are when you don’t have money to buy them. They’ve fed us pretty well so far too. When we got here today there was a long table topped with an assortment of trays containing fresh vegetables, grilled chicken, fish, and a couple different rice dishes. I could get used to eating like this. Lord knows my body needs it.

     We each have our own personal little sleeping cubbies that are like walk-in closet sized rooms. Each room has a small cot, tiny table and a lamp. There’s enough room for about one and a half people. Two, if you want to cramp yourself in. I guess they don’t want any sexual things going on here, being that it’s just a science experiment. Then again, what if the drugs make everyone super horny?  Who knows man… So far, I’ve seen there’s a total of two hotties in here, and I’m hoping to get acquainted with the blonde. There’s another semi-cute college chick and then a not so good-looking heftier woman who wears glasses and stares murder into anyone who catches eye contact with her. Not that I want to be disparaging about her looks or whatever, and the fact that she’s overweight. I mean who the fuck am I to be judging anyone about self-control? I’m sure she’s got a great personality and shit.

     The bathroom situation kind of sucks. There’s a men’s room and a separate women’s room, and both have two toilets and two showers. The showers run on a timer so that no one can take longer than 5 minutes. Actually, you can, if you sit there like an asshole and wait two minutes for the water to come back on, which kind of sucks. Or you can hop over to the other shower and start that one, but they are set apart in such a way that you would have to run out bare-assed about three feet. I don’t know these people well enough to be flashing my nakedness in front of them, so it’s not really ideal.

     I think I counted 15 of us in here and I guess that means I was the last to be voted in, since on my folder it says, “Subject 15”. I don’t know how many people applied for the experiment, but I think that makes me pretty damn lucky. Maybe my luck is changing. There's a cluster of eager-beaver college kids and few dysfunctional grown-ups just like me. 
I’ve been talking to that fucking guy; I can’t remember his name… Randy! That’s it. He seems alright and someone I could get along with. He’s here because he is unemployed and needs to pay the bills or as he says, his “bitch wife” will take the kids and leave him. Randy seems to think that we’re all going to wake up with our brains cooked, the fucking bastard. I like him though. He gives the impression of being entertaining and down to earth in a “woe is me” kind of way. He’s got big chipmunk cheeks, and brown eyes. He loves to talk about his fucking kids though... I’m mean, like on an irritating level. I don’t care too much to listen to it, since I don’t have kids, or a wife, or a girlfriend for that matter, but whatever, I’m happy to have someone I can talk to already. 

     Randy used to be a high school janitor, until he got shit-canned for smacking one of the students across the face, after the kid punted some homosexual freshman in the nuts. Got to give the guy credit for being stand-up like that, but man, what a temper. I can already sense he can be a little bitch when he wants to, and I just hope the drugs don’t mess with his already short fuse.

     You know what? Man… The reality of what we’re about to do is hitting me all of a sudden and I’m feeling kind of anxious, scared almost. I’ve taken drugs before, and sometimes they’re good and most times they’re not. Especially the aftereffects. It’s occurring to me right now that I could potentially lose my mind in here. This has me wondering if it’s not too late to get out of it. Oh, for fucks sake… who am I kidding? I NEED the money. When I get paid and get out of here, I’ll go back to my shitty little studio apartment in the bad part of Boston and try to find a decent living again.

     So anyway, that’s why I’m here, the money. I have no idea what this drug is they’re giving us, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? I need to pay bills, and people, and yeah... I hope they allow me to leave this place for a few hours next week so I can pay my rent at least. That’s something I totally forgot to ask about this morning, fuck!

     I don’t know what else to say right now, I just hope I can stay here and make a good bit of money. I also hope that Randy isn’t right about the brains getting fried thing. Although, that would solve my problems too. Shit, morbid thoughts, gotta shake those out of my head. They are requesting that we now prepare for dinner and then go to sleep because tomorrow morning we’re going to take the first dosages. If all goes well, I’ll be writing again tomorrow night to tell you about the effects.    

     Wish me luck

     -Jack