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April 2096
The History of Psychology 2335
“Have you enjoyed reading the accounts of the survivors from The Experiment?” Mr. Holiday greets us, and our heads collectively nod.
Our textbook is a devastating timeline of civilians’ lives. We’re flying high above the scene, able to see the immediate approaching danger, but unable to stop it from happening because it’s in the past. There was no justifying the government’s actions once we realized firsthand how many things were lost in their heist. It’s astonishing, the speed at which we went from thinking it was a gift to realizing it was a tragedy—the ultimate crime against humanity.
The most recent chapters have explored the heart of The Experiment, diving deeper into the debate that our emotional and physical reactions to certain triggers are connected. Are we permanently changed by trauma? By core memories?
“Can someone begin discussion by telling me how long The Experiment lasted?” he asks.
“Six years,” the freshman answers without raising her hand.
“Yes, six years. That’s not a very long time, now, is it?”
Depends on who you ask.
A boy from the frat pack joins in. “Does the duration really matter? The first year is the one that damned them all, erasing all of history.”
His buddy backs him up, as if they have a monumental point to prove. “Yeah, what was lost couldn’t be recovered.”
“And what exactly was—lost?” Mr. Holiday tips his head to the right, inhaling a deep breath.
“Tradition, culture, family lines,” a girl in row ten calls out.
Mr. Holiday nods, encouraging her soft voice. “Correct, those were just the beginning of the casualties. So how did we get to where we are now?”
“Those brave enough to weather the beginning years. Those who rebuilt life from the ground up,” the freshman answers, and as her voice wavers, I almost wish I could hug her.
The discussion fades to a hum in the background while I consider my grandma and grandpa. It must’ve been so lonely to be the first ones, but they had amazing friends who were their safehouses through The Experiment and onto the other side. When it came crashing down, they were left standing on the clean foundation of a new beginning, together. They don’t talk about them much, but the glow in Grandpa’s eye when they do is all I need to understand their importance.
It’s easy to understand how they fell for it back then, and it’s equally terrifying to realize how easily we could all be tricked again. At first, our assigned readings were in support of The Experiment, convincing us that our initial stance was accurate. However, over the course of the semester, they’ve uncovered boundless amounts of missing pieces falling ominously into place. The closer we get to finishing the puzzle, the more revolted I feel.
For a few chapters, I’d felt like I’d become friends with the civilians, deeply wanting so much more for them than what they were left with. I can’t help but wonder if we will get answers to their stories, or if it will end like the closing of a year—open-ended and abruptly.
With my hand raised, I wait patiently for Mr. Holiday to call on me. He probably won’t answer my question, but you never know what can happen if you don’t ask. Passivity doesn’t get anyone very far.
“Rayne! Nice of you to join in.” He smiles, a little too excitedly to be normal.
“What changed so that we’re learning about The Experiment as the past, rather than living in it? And if knowledge is power, then why is it so taboo to talk about?”
No one talks about The Experiment, and in most majors it’s not even mentioned. The information is deemed irrelevant to their studies, but if so many of us thought that reinstating it could have been beneficial, and we’re the ones studying it? We’d be screwed. All of the psychology majors in the world wouldn’t stand a chance against the majority vote.
Fifty-two percent.
Only fifty-two percent of the population voted in favor of The Gift, yet it happened because it won the majority. It’s the ultimate proof that the greater good means something different to every single voter. Must be why it’s so hard to get shit done.
“That’s a great question, Rayne. One that I can’t answer right now, as it will be answered at a later time. But I applaud your curiosity,” he says, softening the sting of denial with his most encouraging smile.
“Could you at least tell us if there was a conclusion? Or did they cease The Experiment because it was deemed invalid? Inappropriate? Cruel?” the freshman pushes, clearly not satisfied with having to wait. We have more in common than I care to admit.
“I’m merely the vessel educating the next generation, doing my best to ensure a tragedy like this does not reoccur. It’s no secret where I fall in support or opposition to this. As much as I try to keep my personal opinion out of my lectures, it can be hard when you’re so passionate about something.”
Unsatisfied hands shoot up all around the room. It’s Mr. Holiday’s job to emulate the emotions felt during that time. He wants us to feel the rising anxiety, to ache for answers we may not get, and to know the fear that can overtake you when you’ve lost all control of your life.
“Can you at least tell us if they get to stay in love?” I beg, defeated.
His eyes widen slightly at the question, and mumbled requests blend together in an uproar. It only takes two steps of his clicking shoes to silence us.
“This uneasy feeling, let it fuel you to ask yourselves some of the hard questions. Sit with the uncertainty of what’s to come, like the subjects of The Experiment had to. Sharpen your skills of emotional self-control as you would teach a client to do. Compartmentalize fear from what is real. Fear can be a debilitating disease when uncontrolled, but hope is the healing cure. Have hope, students. Have hope.”