one, OK Kieran? Enough time for you to come off the high of the last one.’
‘Sure.’
‘We’ll try them in order, OK? Start with number one.’
Kieran quickly snorted it up and sniffed, wiping away the excess from his nostril. He swallowed and I could see him trying to define the taste.
‘Describe it to me’, I said, my pen hovering over my notepad.
Juan Andres sat on a metal chair, watching Kieran closely.
‘This is good’, he said, 'very good.'
‘Which one is it?’
‘Well hey there, English, let me try ‘em all first, why dontcha?’
‘Give him the juggling balls’, said Juan Andres suddenly. ‘To test coordination. Pupil dilation.’
‘Good idea.’
I went back outside and brought them in. I noticed that their black cloth covers had been bleached by the sun.
‘You timing this?’
‘Si. ’
To anyone entering the garage at that point we would have looked an odd bunch. Two of us, sweating, taking notes, looking for pupil dilation and signs of enhanced neuron activity in the third, our subject, who was sitting on a stool, juggling calmly and humming a song I couldn’t recognise.
‘Still buzzing?’
‘Yup.’
Thirty minutes had passed.
‘I nearly broke my own record.’
‘How many?’
‘Seven hundred fifty, seven hundred fifty one, fifty two, fifty three…’
Kieran was counting the revolutions of the three black balls. It was hypnotic.
‘How do you feel Kieran?’, I asked ten minutes later.
‘Wearin’ off now’, he said. ‘Can feel it.’
‘Marks out of ten?’
‘It was pretty good, for a small line. Maybe a seven?’
‘Care to guess which one it was?’
‘Nope. Not til I tried ‘em all.’
He took the second line and we repeated the process. His pupils were heavily dilated now, the counting had ceased and he was humming a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, ‘Under the Bridge’. We stopped speaking to him and continued to observe. The dilation was marked now, he had started to sweat, although it was hot and airless inside, but the interesting thing was the twitch just under his right eye each time a ball moved past it.
‘How long?’
‘Forty minutes.’
‘Kieran?’
He didn’t answer. He kept the balls in the air, humming the same refrain over and over, the twitch becoming less pronounced.
‘Kieran?’
‘Yup?’
‘How goes it?’
‘Still up there. Good shit, man. This yours?’
Neither Juan Andres nor I said anything. I made another note in my log. Suddenly Kieran stopped juggling and placed the balls on the table.
‘Can I get a glass of water or somethin’?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Mouth’s bit cottony.’
‘Describe the taste?’
‘Umm…like, medicine, bad medicine.’
Juan Andres handed him the water and he drained the glass in one gulp.
‘Unpleasant?’
‘Uh…a little, I guess. But good shit man. This yours?’
We didn’t say anything.
‘Ready for number three?’
‘Yup. Comin’ down.’
‘You want to take a walk outside, fresh air?’
‘Nope. Let’s do it.’
Juan Andres nodded and I handed Kieran another clean rolled up dollar bill. He snorted the third line and we realized instantly that something was wrong.
‘Kieran?’
He slid to the floor, gasping for breath.
‘Kieran?’
‘ Mira! El color! ’
Kieran was turning grey and was covered in a thick sheen of sweat.
‘KIERAN!!!!’
No answer.
We knelt down and I let Juan Andres examine him. Kieran's pupils were completely dilated and his throat was making a gurgling sound. White spit oozed from his nose and his mouth. He was trying to speak, to say something.
‘What’s happening?’
‘He is in shock.’
Juan Andres checked his pulse and his heartbeat, holding his head close to Kieran’s chest.
‘ Mierda .’
‘Shit. What do we do?’
‘I go get mama.’
Juan Andres raced out of the garage leaving me with the sputtering Kieran, propped up like a motorized doll whose batteries were nearly dead.
‘Kieran’, I whispered into his ear. ‘Can
‘Sure.’
‘We’ll try them in order, OK? Start with number one.’
Kieran quickly snorted it up and sniffed, wiping away the excess from his nostril. He swallowed and I could see him trying to define the taste.
‘Describe it to me’, I said, my pen hovering over my notepad.
Juan Andres sat on a metal chair, watching Kieran closely.
‘This is good’, he said, 'very good.'
‘Which one is it?’
‘Well hey there, English, let me try ‘em all first, why dontcha?’
‘Give him the juggling balls’, said Juan Andres suddenly. ‘To test coordination. Pupil dilation.’
‘Good idea.’
I went back outside and brought them in. I noticed that their black cloth covers had been bleached by the sun.
‘You timing this?’
‘Si. ’
To anyone entering the garage at that point we would have looked an odd bunch. Two of us, sweating, taking notes, looking for pupil dilation and signs of enhanced neuron activity in the third, our subject, who was sitting on a stool, juggling calmly and humming a song I couldn’t recognise.
‘Still buzzing?’
‘Yup.’
Thirty minutes had passed.
‘I nearly broke my own record.’
‘How many?’
‘Seven hundred fifty, seven hundred fifty one, fifty two, fifty three…’
Kieran was counting the revolutions of the three black balls. It was hypnotic.
‘How do you feel Kieran?’, I asked ten minutes later.
‘Wearin’ off now’, he said. ‘Can feel it.’
‘Marks out of ten?’
‘It was pretty good, for a small line. Maybe a seven?’
‘Care to guess which one it was?’
‘Nope. Not til I tried ‘em all.’
He took the second line and we repeated the process. His pupils were heavily dilated now, the counting had ceased and he was humming a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, ‘Under the Bridge’. We stopped speaking to him and continued to observe. The dilation was marked now, he had started to sweat, although it was hot and airless inside, but the interesting thing was the twitch just under his right eye each time a ball moved past it.
‘How long?’
‘Forty minutes.’
‘Kieran?’
He didn’t answer. He kept the balls in the air, humming the same refrain over and over, the twitch becoming less pronounced.
‘Kieran?’
‘Yup?’
‘How goes it?’
‘Still up there. Good shit, man. This yours?’
Neither Juan Andres nor I said anything. I made another note in my log. Suddenly Kieran stopped juggling and placed the balls on the table.
‘Can I get a glass of water or somethin’?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Mouth’s bit cottony.’
‘Describe the taste?’
‘Umm…like, medicine, bad medicine.’
Juan Andres handed him the water and he drained the glass in one gulp.
‘Unpleasant?’
‘Uh…a little, I guess. But good shit man. This yours?’
We didn’t say anything.
‘Ready for number three?’
‘Yup. Comin’ down.’
‘You want to take a walk outside, fresh air?’
‘Nope. Let’s do it.’
Juan Andres nodded and I handed Kieran another clean rolled up dollar bill. He snorted the third line and we realized instantly that something was wrong.
‘Kieran?’
He slid to the floor, gasping for breath.
‘Kieran?’
‘ Mira! El color! ’
Kieran was turning grey and was covered in a thick sheen of sweat.
‘KIERAN!!!!’
No answer.
We knelt down and I let Juan Andres examine him. Kieran's pupils were completely dilated and his throat was making a gurgling sound. White spit oozed from his nose and his mouth. He was trying to speak, to say something.
‘What’s happening?’
‘He is in shock.’
Juan Andres checked his pulse and his heartbeat, holding his head close to Kieran’s chest.
‘ Mierda .’
‘Shit. What do we do?’
‘I go get mama.’
Juan Andres raced out of the garage leaving me with the sputtering Kieran, propped up like a motorized doll whose batteries were nearly dead.
‘Kieran’, I whispered into his ear. ‘Can
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