Reading Slides in Room 104
I decided to participate—look at slides and answer questions—because I felt it was my duty as a former alumnus to contribute to research.
The purpose of the study was not made clear; however, I was assured no harm would come to me and my answers would not be disclosed to outside parties. A young woman asked me to read over the agreement. I glanced at it, signed. I was anxious to get on with it.
The pictures I responded to follow:
1. Industrial segment: Against the blue sky a factory plant, its stacks billowing out smoke, straight up like a long tail, white tails.
"It must have been a cold day to keep the smoke in such a formation, but not cold enough to have the smoke go straight up." I smiled and waited for her to ask me how I knew.
"There are no questions about smoke on my list," she said. "Please, respond only to the questions asked." She paused and waited for me to take in the last statement.
I nodded dutifully.
"The question. Do you see this as beautiful? Please answer yes or no. Just yes or no."
"Yes."
Her forehead wrinkled.
If she had let me, I would have told her that the lines in the photograph were beautiful. The photographer understood composition and light and keeping the background sparse. He understood my home town. I would have given him an A.
2. Boys jumping off a dock into a lake:
They were gangly and jumped with their legs spread. I imagined they had jumped here often, because not one boy was sitting out.
"What one word describes the picture?" The young woman's pencil was poised ready to write down anything I said.
"Regret."
"Do you want to elaborate?"
Ah, now she wanted elaboration and I wasn't prepared to give it to her. I didn't want to get into self-analysis.
3. Bare upper back
"What word comes to mind?" she asked.
"Sex."
"Without knowing the gender?"
I didn't think this was one of the scripted questions and I was going to call her on that. Instead, I said, "Sex, regardless of gender." What was there not to like? The back was taut, smooth and I imagine the rest of the body was the same. "We're not talking about love here are we?"
"No, we're not," said the student.
"Well, then? I think I made my case."
4. 5. 6. 7. The next four slides were other parts of the body: hand, inner
thigh, neck, ankle.
Sex was what came to mind when I saw each one. It had been months since I had any. Sex and love. MR was always confusing the two.
I decided my answers needed to be more interesting. Caress, birth, hanging, bracelet. She wrote quickly. I wondered if those answers meant more to her than they did to me.
8. The last slide: A large billboard with thank you on it, and a short statement listing the study, the year, the name of our university and the corporations who had donated the funds.
"Thank you," said the student. "We may call on you again."
"Wait," I said. "Don't I get to comment on the last slide?"
"No, there are no more questions."
"You shouldn't have included this slide."
She looked through her notes. "There is a section that says added comments. I could put your observations there."
"It's cluttered," I said. "The font is too small and the message poorly phrased. I would have given it an F for execution and a C for effort."
She wrote down what I said, and I wondered about asking her out for coffee. According to my watch, I still had twenty minutes before the next study started—in the biology building, something to do with synapses.
(Appeared in Conclave Issue 1: 2008)