I don't like being a subject. I guess it's better than an object... But actually, they were subjectifying (made up word) us as objects. So I guess we were objects. Bastards. So here is what happened:
My name was called--along with Jessica and Mohammed--by a tall guy with crutches wearing an Atari shirt. My first thought: shit, Mohammed and I are gonna butt heads. I am glad to report that no head butting took place. Mohammed was actually a pretty chill guy. We were lead into a room with three commercial, walk-in refrigerator things. Next thought: I'm kind of warm, I could use a good chill.
The guy who was subjecting us (Mr. Atari Crutch), told us that the experiment was to see if we could identify a sound that was repeated in front of different background noises. Then either that sound or another would be repeated without any background noises. If it was the sound behind the background noise, we were told to push the "Sure Yes" button on our little pad, and if it was a different sound other than the sound behind the background noise, we were told to push "Sure No." If we weren't sure, we could push "Yes" or "No," and after we all entered our answer, one of the lights would show us which answer it was.
After the directions were explained, I signed a waiver saying that if I was uncomfortable at all I could back out of the experiment at any time and also that the University of Wisconsin Psychology Research Department (UWPRD--that is not a correct acronym) was not responsible for any injury and/or death during the experiment, I was locked into my telephone booth sized soundproof container and put on the headphones. The booths felt like the holding cells straight out of 1984. They had one chair, our answer buttons, a little black box, and a pair of headphones. Big Brother. Someone call the NSA, these handicapped psychology researchers are watching me. I guess the NSA is too... Next thought: If there were to be a nuclear threat, can it be now? I don't know when the next time I will be completely concealed in a tiny thick, steel, sound proof, airtight booth that can protect me. Thought immediately following: Shit, a small, airtight booth has a limited oxygen supply. "Excuse me, Mr. Atari Crutch? Can I get a small plant?"
Experiment starts. We hear different configurations of static, quarter second clips of bombs going off/buildings being destroyed, and sheets of metal being bent. It was weird. Listening to that for an hour was rough. I got out of my booth and heard the guy talk. It. Was. AWESOME. I've never been that excited about hearing someone talk in the longest time. At least I got my 1.5 extra credit points. Whoopee.
Till the next psych test (which is tomorrow), lahitraot. For those of you are Hebrelliterate (Hebrew Illiterate), that means, see you later.
