"We're the only psychological research going this summer," said Professor Draper ("call me Don," he instructed when he hired me to do video for his research project this summer). He and Anna, his assistant, were showing me the place where Anna and I would be working the next seven weeks.
The lab looked like what you see on TV cop shows — mirrored glass wall with an observation room behind it, a metal table and two metal chairs, no windows. Add the reception area and you had room 402 in the psych building.
Don had offered me the job because he needed someone immediately, someone who could process, upload, and store large computer files. I certainly wasn't hired because I knew anything about videography. I'm a photographer.
But here I was, at the earliest stage of setting up the technical side of his research project, which involved video-recording a hundred and fifty interviews, each lasting about forty minutes.
"You want to tape the guy you're interviewing head on, right?" I ventured. Don nodded.
"Well, since the room is so narrow, the camera either goes behind the glass or I set up at the end."
"If you're in the room, they'll be distracted. We'd have to build a wall to hide you," said Anna.
Naah," said Don, "we don't have the money and the administration'll never spring for the cost."
"Can you shoot through the glass?" Anna asked.
"I've never shot anything through glass. Let's look," I said, and we moved to the observation room.
"Won't work," I concluded. "The mirroring makes the glass cloudy and the glass is pretty thick, it'll create distortion."
"What we have here is a problem," said Don.
"Could you get another place?"
"This is it." He looked glum.
"I've seen ads for remote cameras that are really small," I said, tentatively. "They're about the size of a fist. They have good lenses and a wireless connection, so I could run it from my laptop and control the camera from here. You wouldn't need to build anything and they'll never see me."
"I thought you didn't know anything about video," said Don.
"I don't, but I
do
know how much it changes things when the subject is constantly reminded he's being watched."
I was thinking. "Doesn't the university have a distant learning program going?"
"Yeah. They sell Psych 101 to the community colleges — cheaper than a real teacher! I've never been in that lecture hall, though."
"Maybe you could ask them for help."
"All right," Don said, "decision made. You do whatever needs to be done and call purchasing to change the order — shouldn't be too much trouble, we only placed it yesterday. So long as you stay within budget, of course."
And he and Anna took off for a meeting.
I am REALLY in over my head here. What now?
By the end of the day I'd found Tom, who worked for the university setting up distant learning classrooms, and he'd selected the equipment. Purchasing grumbled but Tom calmed them down and we completely revamped the order.
To get the gear here by Friday, we had to pay for "expedited shipping," which wasn't in the budget. I authorized it anyway. When I called Don, he was relieved that it was on its way and didn't quibble about the shipping.
To thank Tom for his generosity in helping me, I invited him for an after-work drink at Literratica. The place was dead but it brightened considerably when Lisa appeared.
"Can I take your— Carl! Hi."
"Hi Lisa. Tom, this is Lisa. Lisa, Tom. Tom's the genius who's helping us set up the interview video system." Tom beamed.
"It's just wraps tonight, I'm afraid. We're short-staffed till the summer hordes arrive, so we're cleaning the kitchen with a toothbrush, particularly the grill." Tom ordered a Coors, I had a Sprite.
"Distant learning is finally entering the mainstream," said Tom. "It's been around since television came in, but the costs have come down to the point where now every medium-sized business has a room equipped for video-conferencing. Universities love it because they can spread the cost of a professor over a greater number of students.
"What got you get into this?" he asked.
"I don't know anything about video, I'm a photographer," I said, laying my camera on the table. "All I did was mention remote cameras and my knowledge was exhausted. Professor Draper just decided on the spot that I should design and purchase the setup, and then he took off! Man, am I grateful to you for getting me through this."
"Glad to help. It's simple enough. What you're doing is a small TV show. Have you ever done theater tech?"
"Nope. But," I smiled, "I have a friend who does that at the Carpenter."
"Karen?"
"Yeah. You know her?"
He grinned. "Yeah, used to date her. She's so intense, it was tough to get her attention. Is she around this summer? She could get you up and running in no time."
"Vermont, some theater program."
"Give her a call, she really knows how this stuff works in real time."
*
"Tom's right. It's simple enough. Look, here's the software," and she rattled off the names of the vendors and programs. I made her repeat them slowly so I could write them down.
It was Wednesday night, late. I'd called Tuesday morning but she hadn't returned the call till now, and I'd been afraid she wouldn't.
"Is this stuff intuitive? I can probably figure out the camera with a little trial-and-error, but it'll take a while to learn the control suite, won't it?"
"Tom's really good at this stuff, he'll help you. And I can sit in by phone, even hook up to your computer and walk you through it. They give you a decent laptop for this?"
We talked tech for a while, concluding that I should do a dummy interview as soon as everything was set up.
"When do the real interviews start?"
"Draper wants to start as soon as possible. He's got an ad set for the first summer issue of the student newspaper, day after tomorrow. The overall research director has hooked us into his website and database where they have online application and receipt forms, a program to send emails from the database, and the statistical sampling program for selecting subjects. Draper's given me two file drawers for the paperwork.
"I think by the end of the first week of classes we could be in full swing."
*
All through exams I'd masturbated every night, to relieve the tension. But since fucking Lisa on Sunday and starting the job on Monday, I'd zoned out about sex. Now it was Thursday morning and I had the day free, and maybe tomorrow too, depending on when the equipment arrived.
On the way to the ag school with Julia, I'd noticed a small park on the outskirts of town. There was a stand of trees, a couple of picnic benches, and a view of the vast farm field. Perfect.
I called Ruth to borrow her car. "Sure, but I need it back by four."
*
"I know you work nights, Lisa, but could you squeeze out a couple of hours for a picnic in the countryside this afternoon? I'm waiting for the gear to arrive and I'm bored."
"And horney?"
"Am I that transparent? Yes, horney."
"I am too. It's not usually a good idea for me to break my routine. I'm working on a great short story. But," she mused, "it's kinda ragged. I need a break. Yeah, let's go." We agreed I'd pick her up at noon.
My plaid blanket, a half dozen chilled bottles of sparking water, assorted cold cuts, a whole loaf of bread and a bread knife, what else? Oh yeah, glasses, plates, napkins, lettuce, mayonnaise.
Now I know why Ruth stopped doing the picnics.
The food store had a special on picnic baskets, packed with everything for a quality four-person picnic, even a small spray bottle of bug repellant. I added a cooler, bought some ice, and stowed everything.
"Got the jigglies?" Lisa teased when I arrived at her room ten minutes early. Like me, she was wearing cargo shorts and sandals. Her four-button blouse had ruffles on the front and her ringlets tumbled over her shoulders, framing her face.
"You are
so
crude," I teased back. "Everything fell into place, so I figured,
carpe diem
." She had a bag of grapes, which we tossed into the cooler.
The rutted pulloff was dusty, the grass hadn't been cut in weeks, there were bugs were all over the place, and the sun was broiling. "It's perfect," said the sweating Lisa as we spread the blanket.
I sprayed the bug repellant. Lisa had thought to bring sun screen, lip gloss, and two pairs of cheap sun glasses. As we began spreading out the food, she admitted that the sun was just too much and we moved into the shade.
"NOW it's perfect," I said. The trees provided not only shade but obscured any view of us from the road. We shucked our sandals.
I asked about the story she was working on. "Please don't be offended, but I'm here because I want to get away from it. Tell me what you're doing."
I explained how Tom had helped devise the video system and that Karen had offered advice about software. "It's not our parents' camcorder any more. Digital, wireless, built-in autofocus, much better sound, you run everything off a laptop." We ate, occasionally locking eyes and smiling.
Sandwiches done, I opened the cooler and we each plucked a few grapes from the stalk. Then I offered her a grape on the very tips of my fingers. She took it with her lips, sucked it into her mouth, then slowly pushed it back out.
"Wanta grape?" she whispered.
My lips took the grape and we kissed, softly. We broke and she laid her head in my lap and I fed her another grape. She crushed it with her teeth, drank down the juice, and sighed.
Opening the buttons of her blouse revealed her two tiny, unfettered breasts. I took the coldest grape I could find, trailed it across both nipples, then down the space between her breasts.
"Cold, tickles," she giggled softly.
I fed her the grape and she crushed it, letting the juice run out the side of her mouth and drip onto my lap.
