Would you sign your life away for money? I’m sure most of you listening to this think you would say “no” to that question, but you’d be surprised at how easily your judgment can be clouded for 3,000 dollars a week. For me it was especially easy. To say I didn’t have much going for me is a dramatic understatement. I didn’t have much in the way of family, of course I had my mom and dad before they passed away, and well all they left me was a few bad life lessons and a whole lotta debt. I didn’t have all that much in the way of friends either. I was a reclusive man, preferring to keep my head down. As for work, well that was about what you would expect from a 23 year old dead beat with no connections, a fast food job that I put a little too much effort into. I was hoping to be promoted to assistant manager this month, the extra $1.50 an hour would really make a difference. All of that, however, was before the strange man in the suit came knocking at the thick wooden door to my apartment. The Sun had long since set, and I couldn’t help but wonder why someone who looked so fancy would be in this part of town bothering someone like me so late at night. With sore hands I unlocked both deadbolts, making sure to leave the flimsy chain in its place as I peered through the thin opening in the door.
“Can I help you?” I stuttered, trying to break the heavy silence. “No, but I think we can help you, Dave.” He said, finally showing some emotion with a half smirk on his face. “Oh, and how’s that?” I was almost tempted to ask how he knew my name but honestly I didn’t care. I just wanted to get this odd interaction over with.
“Well, if you recall, you mailed in an application to participate in a paid clinical trial.” Once he said that I immediately remembered. I had read an ad in a newspaper article a month or so ago, claiming that a company would pay a large sum of money weekly to test an experimental machine. The barely intact part of me screaming about red flags, scams, and any potential danger was shut out by the desperate need for an escape from my current situation. I filled out the application and sent it in before I could change my mind, and before I knew it I had forgotten all about it. “So, what do you think? Are you still interested?” The man cut off my train of thought, holding out a large thick stack of papers. “Um, yeah, come inside.” I said, half apprehensive at letting a stranger in my house, but far too excited at the idea of finally making good money.
He helped himself to a seat at my kitchen table, and gestured for me to do the same. I followed his apparent instruction and sat down, the yin to his yang; I was in pajama pants with holes in them and he looked like he was ready to meet the president. This time, it was me who seemed to interrupt his train of thought. “So where do I sign?” I asked. He looked surprised at my lack of apprehension. “Maybe,” he said in a suggestive tone, “you should take a second to read the contract, this isn’t the typical ‘take some drugs and hope it doesn’t kill you’ kind of clinical test.” I could tell both by the large sum of money he was offering me and the serious look on his face that I should heed his warning.
I won’t bore you with all the details, mostly because in my rush to read through the contract I didn’t try to retain the information. I do remember some very important details, however. One, our paychecks were to be delivered weekly, each Monday, at 8 AM. They were physical checks with no option for direct deposit. Two, we were to be tested 3 days a week, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, from 10 AM to 2 PM. Three, and most importantly was the tardy policy; a policy I regret not asking more about. All participants must arrive at the designated testing area at 9:55 AM every day they are scheduled. Every 5 minutes participants are late is 150 dollars reduced from their pay. If participants are an hour late they will be considered a “No Call-No Show”. No-Call, No-Shows, will have a week’s pay deduced, and be considered for termination. Volunteers may not quit, the only way to leave is by termination. Of course, those weren’t the exact words, but that was the gist of it. A contract that legally bound you to work no matter what, without exception.
“Why so strict?” I asked the man, still sitting at attention, waiting for me to finish. “These experiments are extremely important and we are paying you all a very large sum of money to participate in what is on your end, a simple task. We hook you up to a machine, and you sit there asleep for a few hours a day.” He almost sounded irritated, as if it was a stupid question. Then I realized in my rush to get a paycheck, I forgot to ask a very important question.
“What exactly will we be testing?” Now at this question, he perked up. He looked excited to explain. “We have created a machine that allows you to relive the memories of other people as if they were your own.” I was surprised he didn’t say more, but he seemed satisfied saying that much to me. “Are there like–brain needles?” I asked, now suddenly hesitant. “That’s the best part! It’s all done with no more than sensors and wireless signals. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t seen The Machine.” He then rifled through the pages of the contract, stopping on 53. “Here, these are the risks you wanna know about.” It seemed like he had done this a few times before, like he knew down to the line which parts of the contract people would not worry about.
Possible side effects of use of The Machine include but are not limited to: Headaches, Memory Loss, Memory Gain, Stroke, Aneurysms, Parkinsons, Ataxia, Hallucinations, Memory Change.
A lot of those were things I didn’t even recognize, and what the hell was Memory Gain and Memory Change supposed to mean? Recognizing the look on my face, one he had definitely seen before, he cut off my train of thought and said “I assure you these side effects are not common. It’s very rare that the Machine actually does any permanent damage to the brain. We’re in the later stages of testing now,” he started pulling out another stack of papers that looked like graphs, “I can even show you the data–” I cut him off. “Do I have time to think?” I had already made up my mind subconsciously, I was gonna do it. No matter how sketchy it seemed, no matter how strange it felt, I couldn’t help but think about not having to eat the same frozen food every night. Having a nice car. Not taking out payday loans every week. But there was that inkling of doubt I felt I needed to kill with just a bit more time. “No.” The answer came unexpectedly and very matter of factly. “If you don’t sign the contract now, I promise you I can and will find another applicant. This is the last available spot and there will be no openings after today. And we, under no circumstances, will be pulling in new applicants later. It’s now or never.”
I wasn’t sure if this was an intimidation thing, or just some kind of car dealer tactic, but it wasn’t hard to put that kind of pressure on a guy like me. I caved easily. Really, really easy. Sweet talk and pressure always worked on me like a charm, and this was no different. Hastily, I began signing and initialing until I got to the final line. That final line was probably my last chance to reconsider, to change my mind, but before I had given myself any time to doubt or ask questions, my name was already on the paper. There was displayed my name, stating that I would participate in whatever these experiments were.
This should be the first in what I expect to be a long list of entries. I know it was a bit short, but I don’t have too much to tell just yet. I should have updates soon, so if you’e as curious as I am, keep your eyes peeled.