[12th] Week 289: A New Experiment

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Masaaki let his nimble finger peel at the corner of a page - a page that numbered in the first of dozens in a journal. His sleek, purple hair was brushed back neatly, tucked behind his ears and a pair of black, plastic framed lenses rested across the bridge of his nose. Though they weren’t prescription, the shinigami did like how they suited his face - looks were more important than people gave credit, after all.

Leaning back in a metal chair, the shinigami sat on the outer deck of a bistro. Though he didn’t particularly like the feel of his gigai, he absolutely loved a fresh cup of French coffee. All in all, despite the occasional shuffle to get comfortable, it was worth it. He held the book in one hand, pinky and thumb spreading the pages apart, and the index finger of his other hand looped through the handle of his coffee, turning it up slightly as he sipped.

He’d only read the first line but the svelte researcher could already tell he was going to enjoy his morning.

Day 1


This is the most ridiculous experiment ever. A group of idiots in lab coats are going to pay me to come in for a few hours a day and play some stupid game of make-believe. Whatever, their loss, my gain.

Anyways, they said I need to keep a journal and assured me it was for my eyes only (if you are reading this, screw you) but they’d know if I wasn’t using it. Shinigami tricks, I’m sure. Today wasn’t that exciting - all they did was ask a bunch of questions and have me fill out some forms. For the first hour or so, they had me hooked up to a lie detector...I guess everything seemed normal. They didn’t show me the results or anything but, after a few hours, they sent me home.

The first page ended there. Masaaki was instantly displeased with the wasted space on the first sheet of paper, being somewhat of an aesthetic and ergonomic snob. A page looked better when you didn’t waste the space. There’s no sense in wasting the space.

He didn’t show his displeasure, though, not any more, perhaps, than with the slight tug of a muscle in his lips, wanting to pull into a frown. He simply closed the small book and sat it down on the table.

A cool morning breeze rolled into the rising steam of the still-hot coffee, though it didn’t keep the scientist from picking up the cup and pursing his lips for another cool blow. pressing the cup to the same pursed lips, his eyes moved over the rounded horizon of the cup and noticed that he was alone on the curbside bistro deck. Looking over each shoulder and scanning the empty tables, he leaned back, getting comfortable and propping his feet in the seat of the closest chair. Clasping his fingers together over his stomach, the man let out a sigh of satisfaction.

There’s no sense in wasting the space.






















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Day 2:


They gave me breakfast, this morning, seeing as how they asked me to come in at the ass-crack of dawn. Shitty coffee and poorly baked pastries are hardly what I’d call ‘breakfast’ but I am getting paid for it....so I can’t complain too much. The hall where I ate breakfast was somewhat normal, like the rooms yesterday, but the “bedroom” was really odd. Like an operating room at a hospital.

The walls and floor are all metal - polished steel, I think one of the scientists said - and so were the sink and toilet. There’s a bed but there’s no window. One fluorescent light right over the bed but the switch isn’t in the room. I don’t have to stay tonight but they showed me the room and said I’d stay here tomorrow night. Eventually, I’m supposed to move in here. For a few weeks, at least. The guy with purple hair said I’d get more money if I agreed to stay overnights and even more if I moved in. I told him it was a deal.


I think the wierdo likes me.

Masaaki audibly scoffed.

Hardly.

The young man stood up, coming from his seated position at the foot of the bed. He moved over the the simple, metal table and pulled the drawer out. Placing the journal back into the drawer and tucking it back in place, he let his hand drift back to the white lab coat, adjusting it.

The Ninth soldier let his eyes trace the room, comparing his own observations to the patient’s. Looking over his shoulder, Masaaki pushed the solid, windowless door open and let it close behind him. Somewhere in the next two minutes that passed, a click could be heard from somewhere and the light flickered out, leaving the room in black.

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Day 3


I met the researchers in the “bedroom” this afternoon. They told me to go ahead and eat lunch because I’d be there for dinner and the rest of the evening. Oh yeah - I agreed to stay the night, tonight, so they could check out my sleep patterns...whatever that means.


There were four people in the room, setting up some machines. I’ve met the three scientists - the fruity guy, the girl and the bald guy - but there was one guy I hadn’t met before, working on the camera. He said he wasn’t a scientist and wasn’t a member of the shinigami but he had to wear the labcoat anyways. The camera is behind protective glass and it took him forever to finish whatever he was doing.

They told me what each machine did and that I’d be hooked up to them for the night, while I was sleeping. One was going to read my brainwaves, one was going to check my heartbeats and I forgot all the mumbo jumbo about the other one.

After I watched them set up all the machines, they took me in another room and I had to talk to different people, one at a time. They asked a lot of stupid questions but as the day went on, the questions got weirder and weirder. ‘What would make you kill someone?’ ‘Have you ever thought about eating another person?’ ‘Did you have friends as a kid? Did you ever hurt your friends?’ ‘Picture an animal’s heart in your hands. What animal was it?’

Seriously weird shit. No matter what I said, though, they didn’t react. They just kept asking more questions. My ass was getting sore from sitting for so long and I think they finally noticed. They let me leave with them and go get some food. I had to wait in another room, one with a soft chair, thankfully, but they came back with some food.

It was on a tray like you’d get in a cafeteria and the food was cafeteria-grade, at best. I wasn’t too worried though...I’m not going to eat it for the rest of my life, or anything.

Ok, so a few hours have passed and it’s time for me to go to bed. I’m hooked up with all these different wires stuck on me and the lights are going out in a few minutes. They better not screw with me while I’m sleeping.

Masaaki’s long fingers, spread out over the covers and spine of the journal, pressed down on the book as he sat it on the table. Just as he left it before going to sleep, the patient would find it in the morning, pages spread open, so as not to lose his place. Yes, even only three pages in. Three pages of wasted, half-empty space.

He left the room at walked down the hallway. A moment later, he found himself in front of a pair of monitors. The one on the left was black while the one on the right had a live feed of the man sleeping. Tapping away on the keyboard and with a few clicks of the mouse, the scientist had the left monitor active with a recording of the night’s events.

Playing the video in fast forward, many times the normal speed, he watched as the patient in the room paced back and forth, moving around rapidly before settling in the bed. He moved, tossed, turned, kicked, flipped and shuffled as much as one can with wires hooked up all over their body. The movement slowed over the next few moments (hours for the patient) and the man finally drifted deeper into his REM cycles.

Masaaki slowed the video down, a bit, and let his index finger slide against his face and up to his brow, balancing his head against against it. His eyes narrowed as he intently watched the man. To the the untrained eye, nothing would seem out of the norm but to Masaaki, the flamboyant but deeply talented and observant scientist, something might have been seen that no one else could notice. His eyes danced between monitors and various numbers on screen, while the man slept.

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