Lena remembered this because it was romantic and titillating, and because it was one of the few times when college felt the way it was supposed to feel: aspirational. People rarely wore leggings to class. No one was on their phones. The professor was clearly enjoying getting to spend part of his day talking about art and the different ways to write and think about it. Now Lena wondered how she could find a way to hide something in plain sight. To have a way to share the truth, spread it like a cold.
The weird kid in her dorm had told Lena there was a whole forum devoted to figuring out if there was a secret mercenary and assassins organization operating freely in the United States. At the library computer she searched for it, muttering an apology under her breath to the old man, who was probably going to get on a government watchlist for this one. The people on the forum believed the organization distributed all their kill commands into a website’s coding via key extraneous words. Pink cupcake meant “poison the target’s food.” Sharp stick meant “make it look like a mugging.” Some people said it was all just part of an augmented reality mini game designed to hype up the third installment in the Killing Is My Business video game series.
Then—her fingers twice mistyping it before it was clear—Lena typed the words US government human experimentation.
A recent news article—with the word “US” crossed out in the search—was about a recently deceased dictator’s palace that housed the cremated remains of at least 25 people beneath the structure. It appeared he and his staff had been putting the ash in kale smoothies. Lena found a long quasi-medical argument about the potential nutrients in the ash. There were claims it increased longevity, reduced joint pain, and helped reduce hair loss in men.
Several nations, including the US, were being investigated for utilizing human augmentation strategies on their soldiers and world-class athletes. A new kind of amphetamine that made people engage in risky behaviors, but made them stronger, faster. New, untraceable steroids. A nanotechnology program designed to curb aging. Limb lengthening.
The US government refuted these claims. They had not engaged in unauthorized human subject experimentation since the late 1960s. And in fact, as a response to all these troubling claims, the National Institutes of Health was doing a necessary audit of all government-based programs and experiments that utilized human test subjects, to make sure they were behaving ethically, following proper procedure, and the United Nations’ human rights code. Many human rights organizations refuted this claim, citing cases happening in different prison systems as examples.
Lena took out her phone. She searched the web browser for How do research studies on people work? Her phone couldn’t connect to any pages. She searched cute dog video, and suddenly her phone worked again. All the world’s cute dog videos were at her fingertips.
On the library computer she typed How do research studies on people work? There were so many hits—about informed consent, the proper ways to collect data, how no data could be compelled or forced. She tried one more time on her phone, checking to see if she had too many browser tabs open, but every time it went to a plain white screen.
Lena cleared the search history on the library computer, then on her phone. She went home. It had been close to two months in Lakewood now and still most of her things were packed in boxes. The only picture on the walls was the framed photograph of Lena, her mother, and her grandmother from her high school graduation. On the refrigerator was a small wall calendar. Her only big indulgence was an armchair in burnt-sugar brown wood and lagoon-blue velvet. Lena rarely sat in it because it was so nice. Everything else big, like the mattress, was theirs. The room that felt the most like hers was the bathroom because of the floral shower curtain and striped bathmat she had chosen. Her lipstick and face products in the medicine cabinet.
“I could be out of here in less than an hour,” she said.
Lena did the math again in her head. If she could last four more months, she could pay off all their debts, have enough money set aside in case her mother got sick again, and have a small buffer while she found another job. If she made it a year, Lena could comfortably go back to school, pay for the last year if she needed to, take care of Deziree, and still have money left in savings. She could buy them both the best health insurance for that year. Lena put the filled-out power of attorney form in an envelope and placed it in the top drawer of her nightstand. She called her mom and asked to hear about her day.
18
Memorize the following words and phrases: pink slip, froideur, sinking. The eyes tell the brain what to devour.” Dr. Lisa cleared her throat. “Seven, wrapping paper, excursion. In the attic, you can smell the seeds. Do whatever you need to remember these phrases. Write them down, recite them. We’re going to ask you to repeat them throughout the day.” The doctor repeated the phrases over and over.
Lena wrote them down on the back of her Day 47 form. In her fake life, she was taking a warehouse safety seminar. On the long conference-room table were clear containers filled with small gray pills. Low dosage. Minimal risk. But if you do experience a headache, confusion, disorientation, you need to tell us as quickly as possible. You will be observed throughout the day.
“No shit,” Lena mouthed to Charlie. He grinned.
Dr. Lisa’s eyes were on her sheet of paper. She kept looking up, her eyes drifting from a woman with thick black eyebrows that made her look pissed off, to Pancake Butt, to Smith. The paper in her hands fluttered a little; she was shaking. There was a tension in the air that was not aimed at the study participants. It felt like being seated at a restaurant near a couple who had obviously fought in the car but refused to take an L on that particular date.
Lena touched the side of Charlie’s hand. He turned toward her and she mouthed, “What’s going on?”
He shook his head slightly. Mouthed something back that looked like ice cream sandwich.
“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Lisa asked.
“How will you be able to tell the difference between me now and me under the pill’s effects?” Judy laughed at her own joke.
Dr. Lisa smiled faintly and asked, “Any real questions?”
“Pink slip, froideur, sinking,” Mariah whispered.
“Can I ask a question?” Lena raised her hand.
“You just did,” Charlie muttered.
“If I decided to opt out of this study halfway through, what would happen?”
“You can’t opt out.”
Lena kept her face measured, nodded. “I have another question.”
Dr. Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Shoot.”
“What is froideur?”
“A word. It’s not important.”
“It can be used to describe a falling-out between people.” Lena turned. Smith’s eyes were on his clipboard. “It’s like a frostiness. Being reserved. I think.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Dr. Lisa scratched her neck. “It’s time to get started.”
Lena picked up her pill, put it in her mouth, and kept it beneath her tongue. It tasted like the stuff dentists used to numb the mouth when filling a cavity. “Seven, wrapping paper, exercise.”
“Excursion,” Tom corrected. “Wait, no. Exercise.”
“Excursion?” Ian rubbed his head.