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"Where to?" asked the Taxi driver.
"Apolyton University Campus, please." responded the man in the back seat.
The driver eased the car out of the airport and hit the gas accelerating smoothly onto the highway.
"Coming back from the Christmas break, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"You a student at 'Poly then?"
"That's right."
The passenger did not seem very talkative, and it was not really the driver's custom to force a conversation upon an unwilling person, for such exchanges never proved entertaining. So, the man at the steering wheel sighed, took out a cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and a moment later was chatting away in a strange language with the person on the other end of the line.
The man in the back looked at the black bushy hair of the driver, and then turned away, his mind drifting away in a world of his own. He was GeneralTacticus, a medical student at the Apolyton University, and he was pondering the study he had agreed to become a part of. Vovan, the professor of psychology, and his collegues from the physics department were investigating human biorhythms and had come to the conclusion that a person's occupation affects his pattern of sleep, and, furthermore, that one person's sleep patterns can actually, through some unexplained mechanism, affect the resting habits of those around him. The former had been corroborated by numerous statistical studies, but the latter could only be proven ...
"We taking the tenth street exit?"
"Huh?"
"I said, which exit are we taking?"
"Oh, yes, that's right. Tenth street would be good."
The latter could only be proven through experiments on real, live people, of various backgrounds. Therefore, Dr. Vovan had gathered a group of volunteers from around the campus, and got their promise that they would every night come to the central facility and sleep there, the idea being that their sleep patterns (which had already been observed for some weeks when the people were not in contact in order to establish the "normal" patterns) would be altered, and in fact, that there would be a certain correlation, which would be determined through analysis of results later.
"Now what?"
"Go straight two lights, then make a left. Then, go till the firtst stop sign, and make a right. You can let me out there."
The prospect of sleeping in a strange place for several weeks, with a plethor of wires attached to his body to take vital statistics, did not seem all that pleasurable to GeneralTacticus now, and he was even considering calling Dr. Vovan to ask him to count him out.
Presently, the taxi came to a stop, and the driver stepped out of the car to fetch the student's baggage from the trunk. GeneralTacticus parted with some cash and, as the taxi rolled off, was standing all alone on the sidewalk. It was dark.
Then he thought of the advancement of the science, and of the knowledge of the mechanics of the human body and resolved to go to the lab this one night, and if it was so bad, he would quit the next day.
***
Even as the first ray of the sun entered the windows of the "Sleep Lab", so did a loud, almost hysterical, scream roll along the corridors and enter the rooms of the experiment's subjects. The voice died out with something of a sniff, and was followed by hurried running footsteps. DrSpike, the economics professor, woke up to that rather unpleasant distraction, ripped off the wires of the instruments measuring his pulse, breathing rate, brain waves, and what-not, and with a swift jump out of the bed found himself peering through the open door of his room out into the corridor.
"What in the bloody hell is going on here?", inquired DrSpike of noone in particular.
Almost invisible in his grey uniform against the grey walls was GameCube, the janitor. He was already busy sweeping the floors at this early hour, and, without lifting his head, responded:
"I am sure it is nothing, sir. A nurse must have seen a mouse. If it is anything more serious than that, and if it is of any consequence for you, I am sure Dr. Vovan will inform everybody at the regular morning discussion meeting, which starts in some 30 minutes, I hope you remember."
"Remember indeed." said DrSpike, shutting the door with a bang.
***
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. I hope you have slept well. My name is doctor Smith, and I will be in charge of this project for now. I was Dr. Vovan's chief assistant, but I am afraid he has sustained some thing of an injury last night, and will be unable to conduct the experiment further, therefore, I will be here with you, guiding you, if need be, through our procedures, and giving updates on our scientific progress.
Everybody arrived late last night, and you, people, did not get a chance to meet each other. So, let me introduce everybody.
On the first row of seats here, we have Reverend Nikolai. You know there is a pleasant little church right on campus, and Father Nikolai has been there for quite a long time, offering spiritual guidance to students and faculty alike, in hard times.
Next to him is Dr Spike. He is a brilliant economist, and has contributed many a theory of economic development to science.
Next, we have Dr. Kassiopeia, who heads the International Studies department and specializes in Finnish culture, language, literature, and traditions.
Finally, on the front row, we have here Dr. Ljube Ljcvetko, an endocrinologist. He has recently published a paper on hormonal imbalances in women of menopausal age that was quite well accepted in the scientific circles, and one might even say, stirred up some controversy.
Moving on, we have with us the local attorney, Lord Nuclear, Esq, and the cook from one of our dining halls, Hercules. In the back there are some students, self biased, an undergradute Archaeology student, Snowflake, a Master student of Finnish, and GeneralTacticus, a graduate medical student.
Finally, out in the corner there is Dr. TheBen, a history professor, chatting with our janitor, GameCube. Hello? ... Yes, Professor, did you have a question? ... Well, I am not exactly qualified to elaborate on Dr. Vovan's state of health, but preliminary analysis shows that he had a fatal heart attack. ... What? ... Oh.... Yes, I may not have said it explicitly... Yes, Dr. Vovan is dead, regrettably.
***
After the meeting, the people filed out of the room, chatting about the experiment, and the fate of the poor Doctor. The incident didn't dampen anyone's spirits too much, however, as they figured a heart attack was the kind of thing that could strike any one, and was not caused by anything in particular, so as soon as the polite period of sorriness passed, people returned to rather jolly moods, especially since none of them even knew Vovan personally.
A few minutes later, the laboratory building stood deserted, as everyone had left for their daily duties.
"Apolyton University Campus, please." responded the man in the back seat.
The driver eased the car out of the airport and hit the gas accelerating smoothly onto the highway.
"Coming back from the Christmas break, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"You a student at 'Poly then?"
"That's right."
The passenger did not seem very talkative, and it was not really the driver's custom to force a conversation upon an unwilling person, for such exchanges never proved entertaining. So, the man at the steering wheel sighed, took out a cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and a moment later was chatting away in a strange language with the person on the other end of the line.
The man in the back looked at the black bushy hair of the driver, and then turned away, his mind drifting away in a world of his own. He was GeneralTacticus, a medical student at the Apolyton University, and he was pondering the study he had agreed to become a part of. Vovan, the professor of psychology, and his collegues from the physics department were investigating human biorhythms and had come to the conclusion that a person's occupation affects his pattern of sleep, and, furthermore, that one person's sleep patterns can actually, through some unexplained mechanism, affect the resting habits of those around him. The former had been corroborated by numerous statistical studies, but the latter could only be proven ...
"We taking the tenth street exit?"
"Huh?"
"I said, which exit are we taking?"
"Oh, yes, that's right. Tenth street would be good."
The latter could only be proven through experiments on real, live people, of various backgrounds. Therefore, Dr. Vovan had gathered a group of volunteers from around the campus, and got their promise that they would every night come to the central facility and sleep there, the idea being that their sleep patterns (which had already been observed for some weeks when the people were not in contact in order to establish the "normal" patterns) would be altered, and in fact, that there would be a certain correlation, which would be determined through analysis of results later.
"Now what?"
"Go straight two lights, then make a left. Then, go till the firtst stop sign, and make a right. You can let me out there."
The prospect of sleeping in a strange place for several weeks, with a plethor of wires attached to his body to take vital statistics, did not seem all that pleasurable to GeneralTacticus now, and he was even considering calling Dr. Vovan to ask him to count him out.
Presently, the taxi came to a stop, and the driver stepped out of the car to fetch the student's baggage from the trunk. GeneralTacticus parted with some cash and, as the taxi rolled off, was standing all alone on the sidewalk. It was dark.
Then he thought of the advancement of the science, and of the knowledge of the mechanics of the human body and resolved to go to the lab this one night, and if it was so bad, he would quit the next day.
***
Even as the first ray of the sun entered the windows of the "Sleep Lab", so did a loud, almost hysterical, scream roll along the corridors and enter the rooms of the experiment's subjects. The voice died out with something of a sniff, and was followed by hurried running footsteps. DrSpike, the economics professor, woke up to that rather unpleasant distraction, ripped off the wires of the instruments measuring his pulse, breathing rate, brain waves, and what-not, and with a swift jump out of the bed found himself peering through the open door of his room out into the corridor.
"What in the bloody hell is going on here?", inquired DrSpike of noone in particular.
Almost invisible in his grey uniform against the grey walls was GameCube, the janitor. He was already busy sweeping the floors at this early hour, and, without lifting his head, responded:
"I am sure it is nothing, sir. A nurse must have seen a mouse. If it is anything more serious than that, and if it is of any consequence for you, I am sure Dr. Vovan will inform everybody at the regular morning discussion meeting, which starts in some 30 minutes, I hope you remember."
"Remember indeed." said DrSpike, shutting the door with a bang.
***
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. I hope you have slept well. My name is doctor Smith, and I will be in charge of this project for now. I was Dr. Vovan's chief assistant, but I am afraid he has sustained some thing of an injury last night, and will be unable to conduct the experiment further, therefore, I will be here with you, guiding you, if need be, through our procedures, and giving updates on our scientific progress.
Everybody arrived late last night, and you, people, did not get a chance to meet each other. So, let me introduce everybody.
On the first row of seats here, we have Reverend Nikolai. You know there is a pleasant little church right on campus, and Father Nikolai has been there for quite a long time, offering spiritual guidance to students and faculty alike, in hard times.
Next to him is Dr Spike. He is a brilliant economist, and has contributed many a theory of economic development to science.
Next, we have Dr. Kassiopeia, who heads the International Studies department and specializes in Finnish culture, language, literature, and traditions.
Finally, on the front row, we have here Dr. Ljube Ljcvetko, an endocrinologist. He has recently published a paper on hormonal imbalances in women of menopausal age that was quite well accepted in the scientific circles, and one might even say, stirred up some controversy.
Moving on, we have with us the local attorney, Lord Nuclear, Esq, and the cook from one of our dining halls, Hercules. In the back there are some students, self biased, an undergradute Archaeology student, Snowflake, a Master student of Finnish, and GeneralTacticus, a graduate medical student.
Finally, out in the corner there is Dr. TheBen, a history professor, chatting with our janitor, GameCube. Hello? ... Yes, Professor, did you have a question? ... Well, I am not exactly qualified to elaborate on Dr. Vovan's state of health, but preliminary analysis shows that he had a fatal heart attack. ... What? ... Oh.... Yes, I may not have said it explicitly... Yes, Dr. Vovan is dead, regrettably.
***
After the meeting, the people filed out of the room, chatting about the experiment, and the fate of the poor Doctor. The incident didn't dampen anyone's spirits too much, however, as they figured a heart attack was the kind of thing that could strike any one, and was not caused by anything in particular, so as soon as the polite period of sorriness passed, people returned to rather jolly moods, especially since none of them even knew Vovan personally.
A few minutes later, the laboratory building stood deserted, as everyone had left for their daily duties.
I wish us all good luck.
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