Expect light mind control, dubious ethics, and a slightly more romantic tone than most MC stories. Enjoy!
---
"Hey, Julian, do you mind if I leave the rest of the cleaning to you? I have tickets for a concert at nine." The other research assistant asked me that thirty minutes ago, and like an idiot I accepted.
I thought it would take just ten, maybe fifteen minutes more, but after thirty I was about to call it a night. I needed to find one last receiver out of sixty-four. I'd checked probably every surface in the lab, and the last empty slot still stared me in the face.
The last receiver was for Mira Guo. Since the morning I'd been helping run tests for the neuroscience program. They were developing an instrument that could trigger dopamine releases within the brain. It was being tested for use in drug rehab, but that was a long way off. What we'd been doing was sitting people down, attaching a tiny patch with a chip to their neck, and asking them their preference between pairs of colors. With our little controllers and receivers we could consistently make them prefer green colors by the end. (You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork they had to sign beforehand.)
Anyway, we had to keep track of who'd had each receiver so we could match the readings to the subject. And Mira's was evidently missing. I was starting to think we forgot to take it off. They're hard to see behind hair, they stick very well, and we were really quite rushed.
Mira was an undergrad in one of the classes I TA'd for, so I figured I'd ask her to check the next time I saw her. Or, that was my first thought. Look--I'm not proud of what I actually did, but if you knew Mira you'd understand. She had gorgeous toned legs, long straight hair, and eyes that could see right through you. And I have to admit that, for someone with a small frame, she really had quite a chest and ass. Of course there are lots of hot people in the world, but something about her confidence, her liveliness, and her graceful way of moving wouldn't let her leave my mind.
I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice to say, if I was in triple-A, she wasn't just out of my league, but probably in the hall of fame with a big plaque. I'm not bad-looking--maybe a little on the short side, but I work out, and I'm a good guy to be around. I wasn't awkward around women or anything, but like many of my fellow grad students, I never seemed to end up in the kinds of situations that lead to hot dates. Maybe that's why the gears in my head started turning. And once they started they didn't stop.
I pocketed the controller and replaced the missing equipment with extras. I can't say who I thought would catch me, but I felt
nervous
walking out of that lab, like a felon on the run. The walk back to my apartment was dull as ever, but my heart raced all the same.
---
The next class was on Wednesday and she was there. She wore her hair in a bow, which I'm a sucker for, and the peppiness of it stood out against the gray midweek morning. I managed to keep my cool, or at least I think so, but inside I was a mess as I thought about trying the controller.
Here's how it worked: There was a dial from 0 to 100 that controlled the baseline release level of dopamine, and a clicker that gave a brief burst at a higher level. I set the dial to 5. I figured if she being in a room with me activated the pleasure centers of her brain, however slightly, then at least that was a start.
When lecture began I started to feel more grounded. While I was inexperienced in love and sex, I knew neurotransmitters and GABA-2 receptors like the back of my hand. So I nodded as the professor spoke, and I graded a couple papers too when I wasn't sneaking glances at Mira. I couldn't tell if the controller was having any effect--or whether the receiver was even on her in the first place--but every time I thought about turning up the dial I froze.
Finally I resolved to try turning it up at the very end of class. When the students filed out, I stood by the door and idly waved. When I made brief eye contact with Mira I turned the dial clockwise in my pocket, trying not to be conspicuous.
I didn't get more than halfway before turning it all the way back in panic. I expected at most a smile, but instead she double-taked right in front of the doorway. I barely heard her gasp, and pretended I didn't see, but she was clearly shocked for a moment before she left. I hoped it was a pleasant sort of shock, but I would definitely keep it lower from then on.
---
When I went back to the lab on Thursday, I read the actual manual on the controller. In layman's terms, setting it to a 5 is barely perceptible, 15 is subtly pleasant, 25 is noticeable, and anything above 35 the ethics board didn't allow us to test. (Oops.) The clicker added 15 for about a tenth of a second. Knowing this, I walked into the lecture hall Friday feeling a bit more confident.
Mira was just in a hoodie and jeans, but with the way she filled it out it wasn't just a hoodie and jeans. They showed off the contour of her body perfectly, drawing me in--but I had to stay focused. I set the controller to a 7, leaving room to go higher later. And not much later it was time to pass back research papers. When I passed Mira hers I gave a little click. I thought I caught a smile on her face, but it could have been about her grade. I counted it as a win anyway. For the rest of the period I kept the dial in the single digits, and I didn't try anything funny as the students walked out.
The next couple weeks were much the same as this. I'd keep the dial at a 7 or 8 during lecture, or bump it up to a 15 if I was explaining something. If I came near Mira or spoke to her I did a click, but I didn't dare set the dial higher. It was hard to tell if I was actually accomplishing anything, but she seemed more engaged than usual during class--if nothing else, my professor would be happy. And she was early to class more and more often. So I kept at it.
---
I make it sound like lectures were the only thing happening in my life, but obviously I spent most of the day elsewhere. By elsewhere I mean my office.
It gets dull working in that room, whose only window looked into a rarely-used alley. Most of the time it was just me, save for my computer and a pile of papers to grade. The most exciting part of my day, some days, was when my friend Drew visited between classes. He seemed to get excited about even the dullest parts of neuroscience (and there are definitely some dull parts), which helped me keep a positive attitude, I guess. But even he was too busy lately to stop by, except on Fridays. It was Tuesday, and Friday seemed a long way away.
I heard a knock on my door, which meant either that he'd skipped class or that someone had actually come to my office hours. Neither seemed very likely: Drew wasn't the type to skip, and no one came to office hours except for midterms and finals week. Maybe someone was lost looking for the bathroom.
"Just a minute!" I called. I tidied enough so my desk didn't look
quite
so messy, then I put my 'helpful TA' face on and opened the door.
"Hi," she said.
It was Mira. I think I flinched in surprise, but if she noticed she didn't say anything.
"Hi, Mira," I said. "I'd, ah, been wondering if anyone was going to come. Oh, hold on." I got another chair so she could sit, and I asked, "What did you want to talk about?"
"Well, I'm having trouble finding sources for the upcoming paper." I noticed just then that Mira was made up. Well I'm sure she wore makeup most days, but it was more than usual, anyway. Or maybe I just had a better view. Looking into her eyes so close felt like looking into the sun. Shit--had I been staring? I didn't know.
"Remind me again what you were writing it on?" Thankfully I said it without stammering.
"Epinephrine."
Of course. Everyone in the class had to choose a neurotransmitter and summarize the recent research in the field. At least she wasn't one of the dozens of students who chose serotonin.
