It was easy enough to simulate the conditions: a vacant space, overpriced water, speakers blaring Doja Cat. Ta da! A music festival has attracted early arrivals waiting for whoever is supposed to be playing to board the planks zip-tied together into something resembling a stage. Nobody was manning the ticket booth so a waiting line formed - those in it with drugs took their drugs because there was a police officer outside or, at least, living next door.
Dr
Smateushin Pateushin selected four groups. Two were sober and two were
under the influence of MDMA. She left one sober and one pinging control groups
and offered the rest a sample of her own drug, accepted out of boredom.
Group A - intoxicated, given
drug: 'Huh. Maybe I can cover Renee's shift tonight.'
Group B - sober, given drug:
'I can see the consonance and dissonance.'
Group C - intoxicated,
control group: passed out due to heat
exhaustion.
Group D - sober, control
group: 'Somebody call nine-one-one. Wait, this isn't America. This, this isn't
even a music festival. Their face grows aghast, disgusted. 'This is suburbia.'
At which point the crowd
begins to mill onto the street. There are no temp fences because nobody would be able
to break in if there were no fences to climb over. Dr Pateushin is relieved - dub-stepping
was beginning to dishevel her land and foundations are being laid next month.
The experiment has confirmed
Dr Pateushin's priors. She developed Anti-MDMA by hydrogenating potassium,
using mythril (atomic number eleven-and-a-third) as a catalyst. Anti-MDMA gloms
onto one each of MDMA's oxygen atoms and
methyl radicals and the two become something useless for recreational purposes
and pooped out. Dr Pateushin mulls on Group B's response whilst following
crowd, stopping to light catnip rolled with tobacco:
'That's a page thing. The
watch-ee-mee-whats-it. With the prices.'
Fika is counter
to the human flow. The chaotic-neutral doctor smiles side-eyed. She has a dozen
leftover Anti-MDMA pills and has been wanting a Joycup,
because a Yappo plant is not cost effective if further value cannot be added.
Fika: 'I have thee-seven-five
millilitres of Self-Cooking
Olive Oil. What do you got?'
Dr. Pateushin rolls you only got four pills eyes: 'I have a
fascinating new drug which lets people cheat on their music exams.'
'Neat.' Fika wants to keep
walking. 'Who does music exams who can't do Ritalin?'
Okay, five pills: 'People trying to chat up cute someones at
parties where people wear trilbies and loafers.'
'Posers.' Fika approves of
target market. 'Self-Cooking Olive Oil is revolutionary for deep frying.'
Dr Pateushin subtly widens
eyes, accustomed to some foreplay to her negotiations: 'Nobody deep fries with
olive oil. It becomes carcinogenic when used at high heats.'
'Good point.' Bad point. 'But it has uses outside of
cooking. As a weapon?'
Still five pills: 'I wouldn't use it as a lubricant.'
'As lamp fuel?'
Six pills: 'If you light it...'
Dr Pateushin does not know
what would happen but wants to.
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