Which Big Giver Stole the Chopped Liver? by Sharon Kahn

Author:Sharon Kahn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2004-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“You have to go down the hallway and step outside for a few feet.”

“You mean around the corner like at a gas station?” I say.

“More or less,” he says, assuring me that unlike a gas station bathroom, this one is completely private.

“Private for whom?” I ask. “How about the man being tested in the other room? Does he use that bathroom, too?”

“Sure. But he went already. I doubt he’ll have to go again—his wires got all snarled up when he tried to close the door behindhim. He’s not in such a good mood for his test, and he didn’t listen to me. He’s not with the program. I told him he shouldleave it open—I was watching for him.”

“And who would be watching for me?”

“I’ll turn my head if you go. It’s still better to leave that bathroom door open so your wires can trail behind you.”

I ponder for a minute the specter of me in my Monster from the Blue Lagoon getup, and decide I really don’t have to go after all. No wonder the other guy was in a bad mood.

“Hook me up,” I say. “I don’t have to use the bathroom.”

“A lot of people decide not to,” he says.

He launches me onto the bed and fastens each wire to the wall behind the headboard, where I assume it reaches the computeroutlet.

“See?” he says. “We have a comforter on the bed so you won’t be cold when you sleep.”

“Sleep? I forgot I’m supposed to sleep.”

“That’s the purpose of this. After we attach all the mask equipment.”

Now I can see why they hire wrestlers. He goes into the hall and wheels in a heavy cart filled with headgear, something that looks like a vacuum cleaner cord, and gas masks.

“For the first part of the test,” he says, “we stick these probes up your nose to record your breathing rate. Later we tryon the various sleep masks to see what works. They all require these straps, which attach to your head. Be careful not tolet the straps get mixed up with the electrode wires on your cheekbones and forehead.”

As if I have any control whatsoever.

“I’m turning out the light,” he says.

“Do you have to?”

“Yes, you’ll never get to sleep if I don’t. Just let yourself drift off naturally, and we’ll wake you later.”

“You’re kidding, yes?”

“Just relax,” Darryl says. “Otherwise the test won’t work and you’ll have to come back and take it again. If you don’t gointo a deep sleep, the graphs we print out don’t give us the right data.”

“I’ll never be able to sleep,” I say.

“Sure you will. Would you like the TV on to calm you?”

“You mean I have my choice of the TV or the heater?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about the problem. Which one?”

“The heater. I can do without the sermon channel.”

The key piece of information I’ve gleaned from all this is that if I don’t sleep I’ll have to do this all over again. I’msure he said that on purpose.

“Just yell if you want me,” he says.

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