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entered the room, wheeling in an apparatus that appeared to be almost identical to the algetor Grandpa had been training me on for years. Casey instructed the doctor to hook me up to what he repeatedly called the “inquisitor.”
    The helmet went on. The world went dark. I looked for the grape leaf. It was there for me, floating in a cirrus-frosted sky. I felt sticky straps being placed all over me. I concentrated on my breathing. Silently, calmly, I counted down from five and into a deep hypnosis where I felt safe and at peace.
    As if from a great distance, I heard Casey becoming increasingly frustrated as he tried one gruesome illusion after another, each time calling for increased inquisitor intensity. I knew in a dissociated way that the level of induced pain was much greater than had been the highest level of pain induced by Grandpa’s algetor, and I felt, also in a dissociated way, that my heart was beating faster and harder than normal. I reached deeper for calm.
    “All right, Doc, what the fuck’s going on? Are you holding back on me?”
    “No. Absolutely not. I think she put herself into some kind of trance.”
    “It’s probably something that damn professor taught her. I’ll bet he’d never get to level 3 without begging for mercy. As old as he is, though, his heart probably would stop before we could really get going. At least it would appear to be a natural death. Turn the damn thing off. Let’s go make a call and see what we should do.”
    I heard them leave the room. Sensing something was wrong, I withdrew from the hypnotic state and found I was trembling all over. Never before had I had such a reaction to the algetor. Though there was a deep ache in my chest, my mind seemed clear, and I set about relaxing one set of muscles after another, starting with my fingers. After several failed attempts, the fingers calmed down, and I moved my attention to my right forearm. But before it relaxed, the fingers in my left hand began twitching again. I went back to them. The fingers in my right hand then began trembling, and I was back to square one. Despite these setbacks, by the time Casey and the doctor returned, my arms, shoulders, and legs had settled down.
    The doctor spoke first. “Record. I have been ordered to inject 10 milligrams of LN27Q3 into a sixteen-year-old woman subsequent to an intense A59B6 session and immediately prior to another such session. Though LN27Q3 has been used before, it has never been adequately tested for safety. It is my medical opinion that when used in conjunction with A59B6, LN27Q3 is both unsafe and cruel. I will not proceed with this procedure unless ordered to do so by Agent 137H622. End record.”
    Casey immediately responded: “Record. I am ordering the doctor whose voice was just recorded to inject 10 milligrams of LN… what’s the number?”
    “LN27Q3.”
    “LN27Q3 into Sara Jensen prior to an A59B6 session. The doctor’s objections and protests have been noted. End record.” Then he said, “Satisfied?”
    “No,” the doctor answered.
    “Just do your job.”
    This little act is merely intended to scare me, I thought. But is the drug really dangerous? Grandpa didn’t prepare me for drugs.
    I felt a needle enter my left arm. Aware of danger and shocked that I’d let myself pay such close attention to these men, I looked for the grape leaf. It was there. Five, four —my breathing was steady, inviting me on— three —I heard a strange background roar begin— two —I felt what seemed like a thick rod tear out of my left arm.
    It’s just the needle, I thought. Concentrate on—
    “She’s ready,” the doctor’s voice thundered, sounding like Zeus calling down from Mount Olympus.
    I was yanked out of my countdown like a naked little worm pulled from its hole. I tried to find the leaf again, to start over, but the sky was no longer blue—it was red. And my breath seemed no longer to be mine; it screamed through my nose like wind through barren trees. The