The Experiment of Dreams by Brandon Zenner

“I’m on hold, Peter.”
    Chapter 5
    I ain Marcus was a tall man with a wide, sturdy frame—yet he wore his strength well, like an athlete. He did not stand out as being particularly big; perhaps it was the black suit and tie with the crisp, white-collar shirt that masked his stature. His dark blonde hair was neatly parted to the side, and his face was clean-shaven. He looked almost familiar, maybe like a newscaster or someone Ben had seen on TV. Ben pictured him wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, and thought he would look fitting standing beside the president. However, the man was soft spoken, kept a thin professional smile on his face at all times, and moved his hands around the paperwork with the fluidity of an artist.
    Not the law enforcing type , Ben thought.
    The two doctors, along with Iain Marcus and Ben, sat around a cluttered desk going over a stack of papers Iain had removed from his leather briefcase. He outlined each sheet, reciting the confusing sentences and words in layman’s terms.
    “The ‘persons’ shall be acquitted of all responsibilities should they so desire under any given circumstance, keeping all monetary gain already established and set forth under contract with the governing party, with the governing party not liable for any future compensation … yada-yada-yada. This just says you can stop whenever you like and can keep whatever money was promised to you, but you’re not eligible for any future compensations that may have been discussed but not yet agreed upon.”
    “Mm-hmm.” Ben leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. For the last hour, his head had started to hurt. His mind wandered to anything other than what Iain Marcus was talking about. It was the same when he bought and sold his old house, or when he bought and sold his old bar. All the lawyers and paperwork—a bunch of mumbo jumbo, written so that only a select few can understand a word of it.
    He nodded along with Mr. Marcus and signed the papers at the bottom, seeing no red flags—although he doubted he would know if there were any. Liability forms and nondisclosure agreements were common at drug trials and tests. Ben had a vague familiarity with the proceeding.
    Iain Marcus tapped the papers on the desk, straightening them out, and put them back in his leather briefcase. He removed a billfold from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, peeled away five crisp hundred-dollar bills from a thick-folded wad of hundreds, and handed them across the table.
    “According to the contract, you will receive five hundred additional dollars at the conclusion of the test, tomorrow morning.”
    Iain straightened his shirt cuffs, adjusting the clasps of the cuff links, and stood. “It was a pleasure.” He shook Ben’s hand, then shook Dr. Wulfric and Dr. Egan’s hands, and turned to leave. “I’ll show myself out.” He walked to the door with urgent footsteps and left.
    “Well,” Dr. Wulfric said, smacking his knees as he stood, “shall we proceed?”
    Ben tucked the five hundred dollars into his wallet and stood. The bills were so crisp, so new, that they felt dry and tacky against his fingers. “Absolutely, Doctor.”
    Ben first endured the routine physical. They checked his weight, height, and blood pressure, along with a quick eye exam and hearing test. They played both loud and soft tones over earphones and had him raise his arm whenever he heard a sound. Boring stuff , he thought. He’d done it all before.
    Then he was led to a chair opposite a desk by the ‘E’ shaped workstation.
    “Now we get to the fun part.” Dr. Wulfric went to a cabinet above the long table hugging the wall, careful that his lab coat did not brush up against the various glass flasks and tubes as he reached overhead. A light turned on inside the refrigerated cabinet as the door opened. Cold vapor pooled out, evaporating in the air as it drifted to the ground like a waterfall. He removed a tray full of vials, selecting one from the