by Jeremy Bates
Ever since that encounter, Penny had fantasized about stealing Mr. Cho from the woman, and so that evening while she was leaving the high school, she spontaneously and recklessly entered her teacher’s classroom under the pretense of asking about the upcoming exam—all the while flaunting her sexuality, which, by eighteen years of age, had become second nature to her. When she crossed her legs and saw Mr. Cho’s eyes going to the excessive amount of thigh showing beneath her short plaid skirt, she took the plunge, saying in an offhand manner, “I’m going to be in Itaewon around seven o’clock this evening. There’s this little bar that’s so fun. It’s called The Railway Club, in Haebangchon. Maybe if you’re nearby, you might meet me for a drink?”
Penny, of course, knew Mr. Cho would be nowhere nearby. The high school was in Jungnang-gu in the eastern suburbs of Seoul. He likely lived somewhere close by. Itaewon, on the other hand, was smack-dab in the center of the city and popular with tourists and foreign workers. Which was exactly why she’d chosen the location: it was a discreet place where two people could meet and not run into anyone else they knew.
Mr. Cho considered her offer for a long moment, and Penny was just about to blurt she’d only been kidding around, when he said, “You’re too young to drink, Penny.”
“I’m almost nineteen.” She shrugged and smiled. “Besides, they know me at the bar. They always serve me.” Which was partly true. She’d been there once after watching a live band at a nearby venue, and she hadn’t had any problems ordering a drink.
“Seven o’clock, you say?” Mr. Cho said.
Penny nodded, still smiling.
“You will be with your friends?”
“No, just me.”
“I might be in the area.”
Penny arrived at The Railway Club fifteen minutes late and found Mr. Cho seated at a booth with a nearly empty pint of beer in front of him. When she sat down, they ordered snacks and two more beers. Penny was not a seasoned drinker, and Mr. Cho took advantage of this, plying her with beer after beer, which she happily imbibed. After an hour or so, she moved to his side of the booth so they were brushing up against each other. She rubbed his crotch through his pants, while his hand explored beneath her skirt. When she tried kissing him, he suggested they go somewhere else. He paid the bill and took her to a bawdily decorated love hotel. The only room available was dubbed “The Ramen Room,” and the queen bed was actually inside a giant replica of a Styrofoam instant-ramen container.
Despite the dozen or so boys Penny had previously made out with, she’d never had intercourse before. She didn’t tell Mr. Cho this, he didn’t ask, and she enjoyed the experience tremendously. After he left—he told her they should walk to the train station separately—she stayed behind in the room, pleasuring herself in the two-person bathtub with an assortment of sex toys that had been stored on a shelf above the flat-screen television.
She and Mr. Cho met up on six more occasions before she graduated later that year and moved to California to begin her studies at UC Berkeley.
Despite this experience with an older man, Penny had been unable to work up the courage to proposition Dr. Wallis that first day she’d visited his office in the autumn of 2015. She’d only been in the United States for a single month then, everything was still new and a little bit frightening, and she wasn’t as confident in her skin as she’d been in South Korea. Moreover, Dr. Wallis was not a high school teacher; he was a professor at one of the most esteemed universities in the country. He had a presence and swagger that Mr. Cho could never match which, combined with his rugged good looks, likely afforded him no shortage of beautiful women.
Undaunted, however, Penny continued to visit him during his office hours most weeks over the following three years, each time telling herself this would be the day she asked him out, but she never made any headway. Being a very popular professor, he almost always had a colleague hanging out with him in his office, or a line of students at his door waiting to see him…and on those two or three occasions she’d caught him alone? Well, the moment had just never seemed right.
Then last month Dr. Wallis announced in his Sleep and Dream class that he was looking for two students to assist him over the summer hiatus with an experiment that would take place on the campus grounds. Penny immediately applied for the position and, to her exhilaration, was selected. She could recite Dr. Wallis’ phone call verbatim, with him concluding, “So if this sounds like something you’d be interested in, Penny, I’d love to have you on board.”
The next day Dr. Wallis invited Penny and a nerdy Indian named Guru Rampal out for pizza and beers, so they could all get to know each other better. Penny did her best to remain professional with the professor despite her running-hot libido, knowing it wasn’t the right time or place to cozy up to him. Yet after a few beers this restraint went out the window—and her flirting didn’t exactly go well. She was far too forward, and Dr. Wallis showed little if any interest in her advances. When she woke up the next morning, she was sure he was going to call to say he was replacing her on the experiment. But he never did.
And here I am today, she thought. Just the two of us, walking together to Tolman Hall.
Nevertheless, Penny wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. No more in-your-face wasted girl. She would allow her relationship with Dr. Wallis to develop organically over the next three weeks until she was confident she had won him over.
And win him over she would.
◆◆◆
Nearly one hundred and fifty years old, the campus of the University of California Berkeley was a mosaic of classical and contemporary buildings that lined symmetrical avenues and winding pathways alike.
Tolman Hall, it could be argued, was the ugly duckling of the brood.
Constructed during the middle of the last century at the height of the Brutalist style, its exposed concrete and stark, geometric design had drawn a mixed bag of praise and criticism from the public over the decades. The Psychology Department had called it home since 1963 before moving into Berkeley Way West this year. Tolman Hall had since been deemed seismically unfit, slated for demolition, and shuttered up.
Which made it the perfect spot on campus to conduct the Sleep Experiment.
“There she is,” Dr. Wallis said, looking up at the doomed building.
Penny said, “You know, after they announced they were going to knock it down, it went viral on Instagram.”
“Vial?” he teased.
“Viral. Sorry I don’t speak so perfect English like you, professor.”
Wallis nodded. “I can imagine she’s gone viral. You either love her or hate her. Me personally, I have mixed feelings. She served our department well for over fifty years. But the nature of our work has changed significantly, and she’s no longer state-of-the-art, is she?”
“Spooky even. Especially now, with all the doors and windows gone. Like a monster, wanting to eat us up.”
“You certainly have a vivid imagination, Penny. Ah, there’s Guru.”
◆◆◆
Guru Rampal was leaning against a nearby tree, ankles crossed, thumbing something into his phone. He had thinning black hair which he wore in a Teddy Boys-inspired pompadour (presumably to mask the bald patch on top); dark, sleepy eyes (now covered by a pair of sunglasses); and light mocha skin. He was slim despite an incongruous belly, which his too-tight Pac-Man tee-shirt did little to hide. His beige khaki shorts were neatly pressed, his white sneakers glaringly spotless.
He had been born in a small village on the outskirts of Delhi, India, and like Penny Park, he had only been in the United States for a handful of years. He too was one of the lucky international students receiving a full-ride academic scholarship. Unlike Penny, however, he remained uninitiated to the ways of the West. Yet what he lacked in street smarts, he made up for in book smarts. In fact, he was one of the most promising students Dr. Wallis had ever had the pleasure of teaching, and he no doubt had a bright future ahead of him in whatever area of psychology he pursued, whet
her that be academia, industry, healthcare, or policy.
“Guru!” Penny called. She always pronounced his name Gulu, like the city in Uganda.
Guru glanced up from his phone. “Hi, guys!”
Dr. Wallis and Penny joined him at the tree.
“Like your shades,” Penny said.
“Thanks, babe.” He took them off and hooked them in his collar.
“Uh, don’t call me babe, please.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
Guru shrugged. “I bought them for ten dollars at Target,” he said in his syllable-timed accent. “I think they give me more cool factor. Do you guys agree?”
Wallis slapped him on the shoulder. “You get any cooler, Guru, we’re going to start calling you Iceman.”
“Iceman,” he said. “I like that. You can start calling me that right now.”
Penny pointed. “Hey, are those our professional lab rats?”
Guru said, “Or in the words of George Bernard Shaw, ‘human guinea pigs.’”
“That’s them.” Wallis checked his wristwatch. “And right on time.”
◆◆◆
The three scientists watched the Australian backpackers approach Tolman Hall, smiling and waving. They both sported deeply tanned bodies and beachy blonde hair. The woman, Sharon Nash, was dressed in a white singlet over a bikini top and cut-off jean shorts; the man, Chad Carter, wore a Billabong tee-shirt and board shorts. They both sported grungy flip-flops and walked at a leisurely pace, as though enjoying a stroll through a park.
Whoever said stereotypes aren’t true? Wallis mused. Especially in the case of twenty-something Australians who come to California for the surf.
In May, Wallis had placed an advertisement in the San Francisco Chronicle for two test subjects to participate in what he’d described as an in-patient sleep study. He was surprised by the avalanche of replies. He emailed each potential recruit a tailor-made screening test with inclusion and exclusion criteria. He settled on the two Australians for a myriad of reasons. Their BMIs were within the ideal range. They were non-smokers. Neither were taking medications, and neither had any history of pre-existing medical conditions, allergic predispositions, or anaphylactic reactions. Moreover, their answers to several questions he’d posed indicated they were Type B personalities. People in this camp tended to be more relaxed than Type A personalities, more tolerant of others and more reflective, while also displaying lower levels of anxiety and higher levels of imagination and creativity. As an added bonus, the Australians were friends but were not romantically involved.
In short, Wallis couldn’t have asked for two better test subjects in an experiment that required them to be cooped up in a room together for three weeks.
Dr. Wallis greeted Chad and Sharon with firm handshakes, then introduced them to Penny and Guru.
“Mate, love the sunnies,” Chad told Guru. “You moonlight as an Elvis impersonator or something?”
Guru beamed. “See, I told you guys. They do give me more cool factor.”
Penny was eyeing Sharon’s bikini top. “Were you two just at the beach?”
“Had a quick dip this morning,” Sharon replied. “We were told clothing was going to be provided for us, so we didn’t bother to change.”
“Or bring any,” Chad added.
“Or bring any,” Sharon agreed.
“Clothing is most assuredly provided,” Wallis told them. “Clothing and much more. You will be perfectly comfortable for the next three weeks. Come, follow me.”
◆◆◆
Berkeley Property Management had already stripped the interior of Tolman Hall bare, salvaging all the furniture, light fixtures, flooring, and cabinetry. What remained was a hollowed-out concrete block fitting of its condemned status. Tearing down the skeletal structure would have already begun had Dr. Wallis not negotiated with the property manager to postpone work until the following month, after the Sleep Experiment had concluded.
Wallis led Penny, Guru, and the two Australians into Tolman Hall’s west wing and down a flight of stairs to the basement. The building still had power, and he flicked a master light switch. The old fluorescent lamps in the ceiling clunked on one after the other, bathing the windowless space in light.
“Oooh, this place is so creepy with nobody around,” Penny said.
“Like an insane asylum from a movie,” Guru said.
“Enough, you two,” Wallis quipped, annoyed they were going to give the Australians the jitters.
“No worries,” Chad said. “Shaz and me don’t scare easily. As long as there’s no derro living down here, we’re all good.”
“Derro?” Penny said.
“Derelict. You know, vagabond, bum, trash pirate, gutter rat, broke dick—”
“Yes, I understand now, thank you.”
Wallis led the way among the maze of hallways. The design was rumored to have been inspired by the maze-rat experiments performed by the building’s namesake, behavioral psychologist Edward Chance Tolman.
Wallis stopped next to a room with the door still intact and, next to it, a large red X spray-painted on the wall.
“X marks the spot!” Penny chirped.
“I made that,” Wallis explained, “so the demolition contractors remembered not to remove anything from the room.” He opened the door, stepped inside the dark cavity, and turned on the lights, which revealed a small antechamber. Ten feet in, a fabricated wall stretched from one side of the room to the other. It featured a long rectangular viewing window and another door that led to the space where the Australians would be living for the next twenty-one days. In front of the window was a table on which sat a touch panel controller the size of an iPad and a silver laptop computer.
Wallis sat down in the room’s only chair. “Excited for the reveal?” he asked.
“Busting,” Chad said.
“I cannot see anything,” Guru complained, cupping his hands against the viewing window.
“That’s because the lights aren’t on, genius,” Penny said.
“I am a genius, you know? My IQ is—”
“Tell someone who cares.”
“Children, enough,” Wallis said. To the Australians, he added, “This space used to be one of the building’s largest conference rooms. I had that wall constructed for the experiment to separate this observation room from…let’s call it…the sleep laboratory.”
“But we won’t be asleep, mate,” Chad said. “So that doesn’t really make sense.”
“Yes, but given the nature of the experiment—it’s called the Sleep Experiment, after all—I think—”
“That doesn’t make sense either. Shouldn’t it be called the Sleepless Experiment?”
Penny giggled.
Wallis smiled politely. “That doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it, does it?” he remarked.
“Nah,” Sharon said, somewhat nasally. “I’m with Chad on this one. Sleep lab? Nah, doesn’t make sense, mate.”
“You two are free to call it whatever you wish,” Wallis said tersely. “But why don’t we have a look?” He powered on the touch panel controller, then pressed a button on the side of it to display a lighting control page. He tapped five buttons in quick succession, which in turn powered on the five LED ceiling lights in the sleep laboratory.
“Oh em gee!” Penny said. “How cool!”
“Sweet,” Chad said.
“Sweeeeet,” Sharon parroted.
“That is bigger than my family home in India,” Guru said, impressed. “And I have four brothers.”
Dr. Wallis was glad they all approved. He had spent months applying for state and federal grants, but after consecutive rejections—citing the ethical concerns related to the experiment—he’d decided to fund everything himself. “The room is fully contained, of course,” he said. “You have your own library with an eclectic mix of authors from Bronte and Atwood to Poe and King. Home theater’s right next to it. There are over eighty available channels, I believe, as well as Netf
lix. There’s also a DVD player and a good collection of movies. A small gym—”
“And a basketball court!” Penny said. “Holy moley.”
Wallis nodded. It wasn’t technically a court, as there were no defined sides or line markers, just enough space in front of a basketball net on a pole to shoot some hoops or have a game of one-on-one. “Kitchen’s there,” he continued, pointing. “The refrigerator is fully stocked. Same with the pantry. You both stated you have no food allergies. But if you want anything specific, please let me know, and I can get that for you too.”
“Why’re there beds?” Chad asked. “We’re not supposed to be sleeping.”
“You won’t be sleeping.” He indicated the large tank in the far end of the antechamber. It was about the size and shape of a home natural gas heating system. “That contains the gas-based stimulant. It’s already being vented into the sleep laboratory. After you’ve breathed it in for a few minutes, you won’t be able to fall asleep no matter how much you might want to. The beds are there for…personal space, I suppose you could say. You’re going to have a lot of time on your hands. Even if you can’t sleep, you might want a place to lie down and relax.”
Sharon remained gazing at the tank. “The gas is…safe, right?”
“Of course,” Wallis said. “It’s been thoroughly tested.”
“What’s in it? I mean, what’s it made up of?”
“The formula, I’m afraid, is a trade secret.”
“If he told you,” Penny said, “he’d have to kill you.”
“What if we want to leave the room?” Chad asked. “The door’s not going to be locked or anything, is it?”