Chapter 7

July 8. Manhattan — Fifteen Years Ago.

“N-Doxy Test Results (trial 2): dosage upped to 20mg. Subjects show elevated mating‑behavior markers compared to placebo group. Increased physical contact (i.e. touching, grinding), synchronized movement, and increased signs of overt desire (i.e. kissing, groping).”

“Or maybe that’s just the way these kids dance,” Frank muttered. 

He lowered his notebook and leaned forward, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead so he could rub the bridge of his nose. Down in the pit, bodies writhed and melded together, hands high in the air, hair flying, skin flashing under the lights. The thrumming beat drove them onward into a frenzy. Overhead, a strobe pulsed, and for a moment, the kids appeared to dance in stop-motion. Frank sat well above it, observing from a small, round table that overlooked the club’s pit-like floor. 

He’d never heard whatever song the DJ was spinning. It sounded like something about spirits and shadows. Not that it mattered. He needed the rush of the beat, the bodies twisting and grinding, the gestalt fueled by alcohol and the N-Doxy he’d given out in 20mg doses alongside who knew what other drugs. 

Frank reset his glasses and pulled his pen back out of his pocket. A part of him envied those kids. Not their youth, but their ease. Their ability to exist without permission. They could be stupid and loud and alive without anyone demanding a grant proposal first. But for better or worse, Frank had never been that guy. He’d never been cool. Besides, whatever else happened, the work wouldn’t do itself. If he wanted to learn something, he needed to pay attention and note his observations.

“Test conditions remain compromised. Controlling for outside chemical variables remains impossible. N-Doxy may be effective in the subject group, but the placebo group has begun mimicking the subject group’s behaviors. Perhaps larger doses will show more overtly obvious results.”

Or they might kill someone, Frank thought wryly. He pulled the bottle containing the fifty milligram samples out of his coat pocket and looked at it. That probably won’t happen, he thought, unless some kid’s already high on a conflicting medication, and it creates an unknown compound reaction. 

Which… isn’t entirely unlikely. Dammit.

He could have done this in a lab back at the hospital. Probably should have, really. He could’ve controlled the variables correctly there. If he’d been willing to write a grant proposal, beg the board for funding, and debate the experiment’s ethics with the oversight committee. Oh, and he’d have to cut all the bureaucrats in on a piece of the action once he got everything working for them, too. 

He couldn’t forget that. That was the most important part.

Plus, he had to admit that he liked being here. He liked the noise, the heat, and the chaos. He liked pretending, for a few hours, that he belonged in a world that had never once made room for him.

“Hey! You the guy with the shit?”

Frank whirled, slamming the N-Doxy bottle back into his pocket. He looked up quickly, feeling his face heat. 

“What?!” He had to shout to make himself heard.

The girl stood maybe five-foot-five. She had a lithe, slender frame and the fiercest blue eyes Frank had ever seen. She’d dyed her hair so darkly crimson that it looked almost maroon, and she wore it in a straight bob, parted on the left with long bangs that hung down like a curtain just below her eyebrows. Below, she wore a thin white tank-top with a single black gear stenciled onto the front. Frank saw a word beneath that gear, “Rage”. Her shirt had long since soaked through with sweat, and Frank could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra because he could see her nipples standing straight out through the fabric. Her breasts weren’t big, but still Frank had to struggle to take his eyes off of them, to force himself to look her in the face. 

Those eyes then held him in a vice’s grip, and his breath fled. He completely forgot about the frustration of his experiment.

She looked maybe nineteen years old. And she was staring right at him.

“Come on, man!” the girl yelled. “My roommate Jackie said she got the best stuff ever off’a you, and now she’s in the bathroom blowin’ some dude. Girl’s a prude like nobody’s business, so whatever that shit was, it must be off the chain. How much for a taste?”

“How old are you?” Frank asked.

“The fuck do you care?” the girl snapped. “I came to score, not get interviewed by some freakshow. You gonna sell to me or what?”

Frank shrugged and tried to act casual. “Just curious.”

The girl stepped in close, letting her body rub up against Frank’s shoulder. “Curious, huh? I think maybe you just want to fuck me and then write about it in your little book there.”

“I’m not the one who came over here looking to score.”

She reached for Frank’s notebook, but he stood and backed a step, holding it away from her. He held it behind him, though, so when she went for it again, she smashed into him, throwing him off-balance. She lunged again as he recovered and snatched it despite his best efforts.

“Hey!” Frank yelled.

She danced back and started reading through the pages. A beat passed before she looked up again. “What the fuck, man? You runnin’ some kind of experiment or some shit?”

“What’s it to you?” Frank asked. He grabbed her elbow and steered her back toward a quieter, less crowded part of the club.

“Says here you got a stronger version somewhere. Where’s that?”

Frank sat her down at one of the corner tables and pulled the fifty milligram bottle back out from his jacket pocket. He held it up where she could see it. “I have the good stuff right here,” he said teasingly. “What’re you gonna gimme for it?”

The girl fished in her jeans pocket. “I’ve got twenty bucks.”

“Twenty bucks? I give you one of these, and in twenty minutes, you’ll be begging to go down on me.” Frank took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “How ‘bout we get outta here instead?”

The girl made a face. “Come on, man, that’s disgusting. What are you, like thirty or something?” 

Frank sighed, feeling deflated. He was, in fact, thirty-two, and if he didn’t feel old, exactly, he’d still come to the club wearing an ironed, buttoned down plaid shirt under his blazer alongside plain chino slacks. This girl must think that he looked like a banker or something. He suddenly felt all too conscious of his receding hairline, his wire-framed glasses, and the paunch he’d developed around his middle.

He had to force himself to say, “What’s your name?” 

“Jaynie.”

“Yeah?” Frank leaned back in his chair, searching for any sense of the relaxed cool that had never once come to him naturally. “Listen, Jaynie… I’m just tryin’ to pay my bills here, y’know? Genetics is cool and all, but I’ve got some pretty big college loans to think about. Do you have any idea how much medical school costs?” 

She threw herself down in the chair across from him. “You’re a doctor?”

“I’m the Head of Biomolecular Research at Yale University Hospital. This shit,” he said, holding up the bottle of N-Doxy again, “is merely a side project. I’ve been trying to field-test it.”

“Jesus,” Jaynie said. “You must be a freaking genius or something.”

“I dislike that term,” Frank admitted, warming to his subject. “It implies some kind of mythic intellectual status or guaranteed success or whatever. In the real world, success takes work. That’s why I’m here. Unfortunately, these chaotic conditions have made my observations decidedly suboptimal.”

“Damn doc. You really are a genius.”

Frank shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bore you.”

She leaned forward. “You’re not boring me. Let me have some of the good stuff, and I’ll be your guinea pig. I’ll let you know how it goes or whatever.”

Frank considered just giving it to her and then waiting ten minutes. She thought he was old now, but if he gave her fifty milligrams of N-Doxy, that might change. That was the theory, anyway.

Unfortunately, his conscience nagged.

Idiot, he chided himself. This is no way to become a drug dealer. He couldn’t help it, though. This girl had no idea what she might be doing to herself. Anything could happen, especially in such a wildly uncontrolled environment.

He looked at her and reluctantly shook his head. “I’ll give you the twenty. I’m sorry, but the other shit’s entirely too experimental. I’ve never even tested it!”

Jaynie threw his notebook at him and then leaned back from the table, giving him attitude. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? I’m not gonna OD or nothin’. I can handle it.”

“I’m not worried that you’ll OD,” Frank said seriously. “I’m worried that you’ll wake up at the center of a six-way gangbang. You seem like a nice girl. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

“Dude, you are obviously trippin’. There’s nothin’ nice about me.”

“Even so,” Frank said, “you want the twenty, gimme twenty bucks. You want the fifty? You gotta come back to my place, so I can keep an eye on you.”

“You’re a perverted fucker, you know that?”

Frank shrugged. He felt an uncanny recklessness grab him and knew at once that he could stare happily into her eyes for the rest of his life. “It is what it is,” he said at last. “Call it field research. You can bring a friend if you’d like.”

She glared at him. “Is that supposed to make this sound less perverted?”

“It’s supposed to make you feel safer.”

“It’s not workin’,” she said. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back away from her eyes. Then she leaned back across the table toward Frank. “Is that shit as good as they say it is?”

“I’m not the one who came here looking to score,” Frank replied, “but it worked for your friend, and that wasn’t even the good stuff. The stuff I’ve got here should be truly spectacular. In theory, at least.” He then put the bottle away and tried to play it cool. He could feel his heart racing within his chest, though, and he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Shit,” Jaynie said at last, “I must be crazy. You gonna take it with me?” 

Frank’s eyes popped wide with surprise, but he covered it as quickly as he could. He’d come much too far to back out now, and anyway, why should he want to? 

“Of course,” he said, hoping to hide his nerves. “We’ll try it together.” 

She stood up and grabbed him by the collar. “Come on then, doc. Let’s get out of here before I change my fucking mind. If this shit ain’t the bomb, though, I am so gonna kick your ass tomorrow morning.”