Relatively Strange by Marilyn Messik Page B

Double Their Money. On the other side of the room one whole wall had been glassed over, floor to ceiling to create a separate area in which I could see three, seated, head-phoned people talking into microphones in front of them.
Several of the booths were occupied by children, also with head-phones, facing the back wall of their booth. There must have been a lot of soundproofing because other than a low level sibilant hiss which I took to be some sort of air conditioning, you could have heard a pin – or in my case, a heart – drop. The worm of unease in my stomach, coiled and uncoiled. I really didn’t like this set up which seemed infinitely more scientific than the cosily curtained cubicles in which I’d started my day. These elimination tests were proving more uncomfortable by the minute.
Miss Merry ushered me towards a vacant booth and told me what they wanted me to do. In the oddly artificial atmosphere her voice took on a metallic quality. The door to the booth was thick and heavy, like a phone box. Sliding onto the plastic coated bench, in front of me was a shelf holding head-phones and inbuilt was a console with three rounded buttons – red, green and black. Apparently I simply had to press whichever colour I chose, every time I heard a bleeped signal. Facing the grey featureless back panel, nose stinging from the disinfectant saturated cloth with which she’d wiped the headphones before handing them to me, I could see and hear nothing until low static told me the headphones were now live. Obediently then, in response to irregular beeps I began to press the coloured buttons. My choices were truly completely random and because I was still totally extra-senseless, I had no glimpse or grasp of what was going on. What I did know was it was hot and airlessly uncomfortable in the booth and the irregularity of the beeps was surprisingly unsettling.
Nerves were cramping my stomach, I could feel my palms becoming sweaty and the headphones pressed uncomfortably tight on either side of my head so blood thumped loudly in my ears, counter-pointing the beeps. Panic was heading back in. What if I lost control? What would happen if I suddenly found myself floating off my seat in the booth? True there wasn’t room to swing a cat, but a demented Strange person like myself could just keep going up and down, up and down …
“Enough! Calm down. Don’t talk. Concentrate on what you’re supposed to be doing and get a grip.”
“But … ”
“I said don’t talk, you can be seen. Top right hand corner, a camera, don’t look .” I ripped my gaze away. “When they get you out, ask for the toilet.” And the voice was gone again, leaving just beeps and disinfectant. I don’t know how long I was pressing buttons. It felt like hours. I was cramped and sweaty when Miss Merry finally opened the door and let in some blessedly fresher air and it wasn’t only because I was following instructions that I asked for the toilet. Miss Merry, receiving my request with the disdain of a being not troubled by such considerations gave directions. As I hauled open the first of the heavy doors, I glanced back. She was conferring with others in the glassed in section.
*
I was thankful, once in the toilet that the visiting voice had the social sensitivity to lay low until I felt able to chat.
“Right,” it announced, while I was washing my hands, making me jump in spite of myself.
“Time’s short. You need to know what’s going on. You make your own choices then. Clear?” As mud. I hoped she – I was pretty sure she was a she – was going to elaborate.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I say so – need to concentrate, otherwise I see what you’re seeing.” I obligingly closed my eyes, wet hands still suspended over the sink. I probably looked as if I’d opted for a nap, mid-wash, still that was as good a story as any, certainly more believable than what was really going on.
“O.K. This whole set-up is government funded.