"Tell me when you're ready to sell it."

"When did you get to be such a bitch? Jesus, can't you just give it to me clean this time?"

"Anger. Indignation. Nice. " Pause. " When you're ready to do this, you'll have to clean up a bit."

"You weren't like this before. Are you taking it too?"

"You're just delaying now. But it's all your time, so fuck it. If you want to get your grievances on record, I'm sure it'll make for some amusing viewing later on. But you know we'll have to start over again when it's time. And maybe I won't be so kind with the chaser."

Panic. " Please. Jesus. Just give it to me clean. I don't deserve this. Are you getting it clean? Are you on it?"

"Why are you so concerned about me? " Annoyance? Or just taunting? " You should be thinking about yourself and your friends. It can go easy, or it can go hard ... for any one of you."

"Don't try to fucking manipulate me. " Sobbing. " You've already got me."

Silence.

"It's been hard on you, I know. You're certainly the smartest of your classmates. You had more sense, right from the beginning."

"Flattery now? What the fuck is this?"

"Not flattery. Truth. And now for the kick in the teeth. It's always more amusing ... it's always more rewarding when I'm doing this to someone with a brain in her head. I had to be careful early on with your friends, so that you wouldn't be too alarmed ... just concerned enough to come along to look after them..."

"When did you get like this? You weren't always like this."

"Sure, they knew about the chasers. That's all they knew about ... that was all they agreed to at first. I had to keep them unaware of the clean base until I at least had you started. It's so much harder to keep their interest before they know they need it."

"and you're telling me this because..."

"Because, Monika, it's amusing. Because in a way, you were the goal ... a personal goal for me ... at least for this year. They were the trail of bread crumbs you followed back to me. Without your concern for them, you never would have come. You were so concerned about the chasers that you were blind to the clean base. It's still a bit of a blind-spot for you."

"What the fuck do you mean? I know it's the base I'm addicted to. I know that's how you got me."

"And yet when you come here begging me for a clean dose, the only thing you're worried about is what the chasers will make you do. You're not asking the big questions. You're just worried about how you'll spend the next 8 to 12 hours of your life."

Sobbing.

"I don't blame you, really ... if I were in your shoes, I'd be worried about the chaser too. Will I turn you into a pliant little party-girl, but spare you the memories with something like benzodiazepine? Maybe I'll fuck you up on sodium pentathol, and let one of the psych kids drag every last private thought from your head. Or maybe I'll keep you painfully alert, but paralyzed with a neuromuscular blocker ... and then let some boys have a little fun with you. You'd enjoy watching from inside your meat shell, wouldn't you?"

"Stop, please."

"You're the one who wanted to talk. And since we're talking about all the nasty little chasers I can put together, I might remind you that there are worse things I can do to you than make you into a whore for the night. I could put you on a real program ... something that would make more significant ... if more gradual ... changes"

"Stop."

"Have you seen Craig recently? You dated for a while, didn't you? I've got him on all sorts of chasers. Yes, he's coming out to party with everyone else, but he's also getting just a load of hormones. His little titties are coming in beautifully. I keep him a bit on the foggy side, of course. For you, I'd probably take a different approach. It'd be a shame to damage your beautiful mind..."

"Pleeeeease! No more."

"Does that mean you're ready for the consent video?"

Breathing. Sniffling.

"Seriously, get yourself together. You can't do believable consent if you look like you've been crying."

"I want to know where it goes from here."

"What?"

"You told me a few minutes ago that I wasn't asking the 'big questions'."

"Why would you trust me? I'm probably just screwing with you. I enjoy that kind of thing."

"I don't trust you, but ... I need to know. What do you want from me?"

"It's about consent."

"What?"

Not yet.

"I don't believe you. How could any of this have to do with consent? You're fucking ruining my life."

The crying begins again. Then begging. Perfect.

"Tell me what you mean? Please... <sniff> ... please..."

"It's not as black and white as you think, my dear. " Condescending tone. " Let's say I wanted you to be on the floor. I could just ask you, right?"

"What's this got to do with anything?"

"You wanted to ask the question. If you'd rather just 'cut to the chaser', so to speak, we could stop this right now, and tape up your consent."

Pause.

"Right. I didn't think so. So let's say I wanted you to be on the floor. It's easy enough to make it happen. If you do it on your own after being asked, it's consensual. Or I could appeal to you on a more direct level, and hit you with a fucking taser."

"It's on that level that I appealed to your friends. They were curious about what it would 'feel like' to be tasered. They wanted to try controlled doses of LSD, benzodiazepine, all of the pop culture drugs they read about on the internet and heard about in class, and all under the watchful eye of professional researchers, who could keep it from getting out of hand. They were looking to experiment with those pure, involuntary physiological reactions."

"Voluntarily involuntary."

"Yes. You understand. That's what the chasers are for. They come to me and consent to the chasers, sometimes with very amusing consequences, and I record the results."

"But the consent isn't real."

"Well, I'll admit that I've muddied the waters somewhat with the base drug of the cocktail. But you need to understand that when given clean, on its own, it has very little impact on human behaviour."