DAY 2: FIRST DOSE

     Welp, today fucking sucked. 

    I’m not sure if I’m going to get any fucking sleep tonight. I’m worried. I messed up big-time coming here. It’s close to bedtime and I’m sitting down on my little cot feeling like I did back when I used to blow all my money at the casino. I feel like it’s hard to breathe and there’s this creepy low-wave energy pulsing down the back of my neck and into my stomach. Fuck you, me. Idiot bastard fucked up again. I’ve also been grouchy for a cigarette for almost 2 days now and that’s bad enough to deal with.

     We had our first dose of the formula 35c today. I don’t feel a damn thing from it. That might be normal, or maybe I’m in that control group. I’m not sure. This morning, they woke us up at 7 am, which really sucks because I didn’t get shit for sleep last night. They gave us chocolate protein shakes, a fistful of vitamins and some bottled water for breakfast. 
Let me fucking tell you something… that hot-tempered Randy, I told you about, turned into an absolute bitch about the shakes. Jesus, he’s one big fucking baby. He threw a giant tantrum this morning as 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. He apparently likes to eat a lot and sometimes doesn’t shut up about food. 

     Obviously, the poor bastard was expecting a half way decent breakfast with some egg McMuffins, bacon, hash browns and orange juice or some shit. 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. 
He 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 like fucking mannequins unable to speak. Truth is, it was pretty exciting as this place is kind of boring. The rat nest hair guy even cracked a smile.

     Dr. Roberts, who stands an easy foot over Randy just stared down at Randy 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. 

     A few hours after this so-called breakfast, 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 at all 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.  Scary shit, that I can tell you.

     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. That rat-nest hairdo guy, tubby-fuck, kept shitting gas clouds into the room and stinking it up. A few people snickered for some fucked up reason. I guess they didn’t understand that there’d be no way to block the scent from our noses since we were tied down. I really wanted to ask the doctor to unstrap me for a minute so I could walk over and bitch-slap him upside the head. The man just kept shitting… It felt like my airways were getting raped by his disgusting fart spores. I kept getting this hallucinogenic image of this asshole’s tiny little, fucking fecal whirlwinds 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 shit-puffs into your lungs… fucking disgusting, right? There is something off about that guy. They should boot his ass out of the experiment, if you ask me. 

     So, at any rate, in fucking disgust, 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.  Very uncomfortable and humiliating to be honest.
     
     Then we just sat there and waited for something to happen. The doctors kept circling around us in silence watching the machines we were attached to. I was staring at the ceiling and waiting for something good to happen. I imagined at any moment I'd have some cosmic mind-blowing revelation about the universe, but instead I just closed my eyes. I was tired. I didn't sleep hardly at all last night and if felt good to just lie there. No one was making any noise and I felt strangely comfortable in my restraints and started to drift into nice relaxes sleep. I could hear my breathing and the sound of rhythmic footfalls as the doctor continued to make his rounds. I started to see dreamlike images appear and I felt excited and peaceful at last. How long had I been like that? A minute, an hour, I'm not sure because in an instant I was rudely pulled away from the beauty of the moment by the sounds of shrieking, wailing and what sounded like the purest form of high-decibel agony.

     I opened my eyes to the sight of two people freaking their shit, and I mean, big-fucking-time. The cute college chick, Stephanie, and Michael, the author of some Mediterranean cookbook that never sold, I forgot what he called it. They both, simultaneously, had some fucked-up reaction and started screaming hot-blooded murder at the ceiling. All of us became frantic and rattled around in our binds, trying to get loose. The screaming continued and just wouldn’t fucking stop. I heard Michael get in a few loose words like, “not again” and “take me back.” I’m not sure what the fuck he was referring to, but it could have been some bitter relationship from the past he wasn’t quite over. The doctors began to frantically unstrap the two of them and were able to get them out of the room without anyone getting hurt. Stephanie went completely limp and silent, but Michael acted like he was being sent to hell. He thrashed and hollered and the Doctor's injected him with something and suddenly he was still, almost looked dead. I still don't know for sure.

      I think the doctors removed them from the room just to keep the rest of us from going crazy ourselves. Drugs or no drugs, that shit was insane. The way they sounded… you’d think they were getting their skin peeled off with a rusty razor or something. It kind of makes me glad I got the placebo pill, if that’s indeed what I got. If I didn’t, then I guess I have a pretty awesome tolerance for chemicals, which kind of makes sense given my history. 

     Anyway, that’s why I’m fucking weirded out right now and thinking that I perhaps made a mistake in getting involved with this, but if I don’t get kicked out early, and I don’t have any crazy reactions… then I guess it’s all going to be okay.
Now, there’s 13 of us left as we later came to find out. I guess, Michael and Stephanie are completely removed from the trial. I haven’t seen any other odd reactions. Randy tells me that his skull feels tight, like he’s got a head cold or something, but that seems kind of minor to me based on the fact that it is winter, and people get sick from the cold. Plus, there’s lots of germs in this place, especially from that ass-shitter who’s in the group with us. Other than that, not much to say. 

     How do I feel? I’m feeling just a little bit irritated, which is not entirely a bad thing I suppose. I was scared to shit earlier, but now I feel a little calmer than before since I started writing this entry a few minutes ago. That must be another reason that you people want us to write a journal entry every day I imagine. 

     That reminds me Dr. Nelson, I wish you would tell us what the fuck these pills are supposed to do. You know? Like this formula 35C shit… is it a drug that helps us become smarter, or helps us remember things? I’m assuming it’s something like that, but after today, seeing two people go nuts in their own private ways makes me feel like this pill is just plain old dangerous shit. I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about it since I’m probably taking the sugar pill, right? Sigh.

     Earlier this evening, I was in the common room where everyone just kind of vegetates on the couches and I started to look around at my fellow test subjects.  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. It’s not really my style of music, but it beats total silence. I decided to start watching everyone to see if I could pinpoint who might be on the drug. So far, everyone looks pretty normal, which makes me think that there’s still hope for me and that I might be on the actual formula. 

      I saw Randy trying to talk with that hot little blonde chick, (her name is Emily by the way) while she distractedly tried to read one of the books from the shelves, 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 hitting on Emily too, but it’s too early to make that decision, I think.

     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 for fucks sake. 

     I keep forgetting that you are reading these entries Dr. Nelson, and it’s cool, sometimes I feel like I’m just writing in a diary that nobody reads. So, when I talk about the “Doctors” and say mean shit, it’s because that’s how I feel, so I hope you all don’t take it too personally.  

     My fear is that if I break any of the rules, they’ll kick me out. I’m going to ask one of them tonight when they bring out supper. Worst case scenario is they’ll say no. It’s hard to tell with these guys. 

     So far, I’ve seen three doctors here. There’s the one that feeds us, Dr. Roberts, a tall, lanky looking doofus who acts like he’s a robot 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.

      Let’s see, there’s Dr. Waters, who’s younger than I am, I think, but he’s already balding. 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 hardly says a word to us, other than, “move your leg, please,” and “open wide.”  

      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. She asked if any part of the experiment was going to hurt and he just kind of looked at her like, “You are a fucking bitch. Shut the fuck up and be happy you’re making some money.” He didn’t say that obviously, but it was in his angry little eyes, and no one asked any questions after. It was awkward and didn’t really help to ease the nervousness we were all feeling already. 

      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. 
     
      I remember asking him what the pills are supposed to do when we first got here, and he just said, we’d find out if we were lucky. Completely didn’t answer my question, now that I think about it. He seems friendly, but he also seems like he’s hiding something from us. It’s in his eyes when he thinks no one is watching. Maybe I'm just paranoid, I don’t know. I do know that it’d be pretty fucking stupid to run a laboratory experiment on human beings without having any idea what’s going to happen. I mean shit… shouldn’t they have already tested this formula 35c on rats or something? I sucked at science, but I at least understand the steps.

       Let’s hope tomorrow they decide to switch me out of the placebo pill (if I’m on it) on account of the fact that we’ve lost two people already. I wonder what happened to them. Are they just lunatics now wailing away in some dark asylum? Or did they just have to cool off and be set upon their merry ass way with their measly $600? I don’t know…  
Talk to you tomorrow.

     -Jack

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