Mariel Desjardins adjusted the strap of her book bag once again as she walked across campus, her books and lecture notes heavier than usual, the thin leather strap digging in to her shoulder enough to hurt. The late autumn air was unusually heavy with moisture, and she noted with pursed lips and a wrinkled brow that fat snowflakes were already drifting down in the blue evening light. It would be, she said to herself, a long night after all, and now she regretted putting the navy kidskin pumps with the five inch heels...
Yes, she disliked these night classes, these "Continuing Ed" courses,
but as most of these students were adults they were at least well motivated, and as she was teaching an Intro to BioMedical Ethics class this term, most of this class was made up of nursing students, though there were a few pre-Med undergrad types thrown into the mix for fun. Still, after a full day teaching at the medical school, and ethics consults at the hospital coming out of the blue from time to time, these night classes made for a heavy load and were taking a toll. But with ongoing budget cuts and an ever shrinking endowment, this was, it seemed, her lot in life...
Still, she had to admit this was a fun class. The nursing students were, as was almost always the case, a tight group of fun-loving females, while the undergrads were the usual unruly mix of pimply-faced, iPhone toting co-eds. All of this was normal in it's way, all these students were engaging in their way too, so there were no real surprises. There was a bonus this time out, however; a paramedic from the Boston Fire Department named Sam, and he appeared to be, she presumed, quite interesting – on the surface, at least. Quiet, almost reserved, he was older, maybe thirty or thereabouts, and seemed particularly well read. Even so, he was hard to draw out into class discussions, and appeared somewhat aloof. But, he was CUTE! Not too muscular, he had a brainy appearance that was immediately tempered by his occupation, and as he almost always wore a 'paramedic' windbreaker to class, that was kind of hard to ignore. Was he over-compensating? Insecure? Hard to say, but of more interest, she was sure at least half the nursing students were madly in love with the guy, and that might prove interesting during tonight's group discussion.
Still, there was something about him that intrigued her, something about the way he looked at her.
So, lost within the eddies and undercurrents that accompany such dissonant thought, Mariel Desjardins arrived in her classroom, as was her custom, about ten minutes before class was due to begin. As usual, she dropped her book bag on the desk beside the lectern and began scribbling the night's topic and assignments on the whiteboard, all the while trying to keep her smile to herself. Oh, but it was going to be so hard.
+++++
After the last stragglers, the last 'usual suspects' dragged in – brushing off heavy snow before doffing coats – and after she'd put on her ritual display of perturbed annoyance with her tardy arrivals, she returned last week's essays and quizzes, and then reminded the class that their typed, mid-term research paper proposals were due at the beginning of their next class. Then she proceeded to lay out the evening's lecture and group assignments.
"Alright, tonight we're going to work through an unusual problem, one that has vexed ethicists and developers for more than a few decades now, but it's also a discussion worth having as technology always seems to have a way of catching up with theory..."
She paused, looked around the classroom, letting her eyes linger on the paramedic for perhaps a moment too long. And then, she smiled, breaking eye contact with him.
"Let's 'pretend' for a minute that "Science" has developed the technology to record thoughts, or more specifically, one's total sense of an experience. Further, let's assume that these recordings can be played back, and to anyone, anywhere, given that the proper equipment is on hand. The twist here is that the recording wouldn't be played back on some sort of screen. Now, I want you to keep an open mind here, because we're going to assume that this recording could be fed directly into the recipient's brain. The result? The recipient, or 're-experiencer', would not only see what the recording observer saw, the recipient would hear what that person heard as the recording was made. If the person recording the session touched something, the recipient would feel it too, and feel it in exactly the same way, with exactly the same level of detail. Whatever emotion the recording observer felt would be shared, as would any and every other parameter experienced, including temperature, smell, and, well, just use your imagination. Emotion, the physical, and even the metaphysical "reality" of the experience would recorded down to the smallest detail, and that 'experience' could then be shared. I'm sure that you all can see that multiple ethical dilemmas might arise in such a scenario.
"Now, you've all probably seen movies with some sort of variation on this theme, 'Brainstorm' comes to mind, so does 'Total Recall', but that's only because the idea has been bouncing around the neurosciences community since at least the 1950s. But, why the interest?
"Well, think of the technology, and the applications for such technology, this might unlock. A surgeon could record a new type of complex procedure, and other surgeons could 'experience' the operation as a first means of learning a new skill. Pilots learning how to fly a new type of aircraft could experience their first training in a new, totally immersive environment that was indistinguishable from the real thing. Really, the applications are endless, so what's the issue? Where might an ethical dilemma arise?
"Well, consider for a moment how seductive such an environment might become if the technology were to become widely available. What if all manner of experience could be recorded, and freely disseminated, say online or by flash drive, just like a YouTube video is shared today? What would it mean if you could, in essence, plug into someone else's reality and completely experience it, and I mean completely, down to the last detail. Imagine climbing Mount Everest, or making a space flight, and remember that you would experience the event in every way that the original participant did, and even more interestingly, consider that this person's memory would then become your memory. Any pleasure or pain that person experienced, well, so would you. Every single element of the experience would be recorded, and therefore, experienced again and again by anyone who re-experienced the original recording.
"But consider this as well. A person could in effect lie down and plug into this 'experience machine' indefinitely, live a life of full of rich experience, yet never, and I mean never leave their bed.
"So, where's the moral issue? What are the implications of such a transfer of experience? Well, first consider what our definition of reality might become? Remember, if there is absolutely no difference between what is experienced and what is recorded, where would the line be between reality, and perhaps, psychosis? Or, indeed, would there be such a boundary any longer?"
She looked out at the class. A kind of bemused, stunned silence had settled over the class as each student drifted through the possibilities such technology could reveal.
"Now tonight, we're going to break into our groups and discuss how such a device could be used, and perhaps more importantly, be abused, and as usual we'll go through your findings group by group. Of course, you'll focus your discussion on the teleological aspects when you present your final arguments, with your conclusion framed around extrinsic versus intrinsic finality. Any questions? No? Well then, get to it. You have forty five minutes...then we'll break before we present your arguments."
She listened with satisfaction as the groups at their tables formed and animated discussions began, then she turned to hide her smile once again...
'Oh, what a wicked web they weave... ' she said to no one in particular.
+++++
After the mid-class break, groups reformed at their tables, and like a conductor striking her baton before the orchestra, Mariel Desjardins got ready to produce the night's real performance...
"Group One? Are you ready?"
The were, of course.
She led the groups one by one, guided the evening's discussion as each group's ideas and dilemmas presented "confounding" new problems, but really, there were few ideas presented that she hadn't heard many times before over the last twenty seven years. Most groups settled on the idea that such technology would be readily misappropriated by the same addictive personality types that abused narcotics, or that the mentally weak would be at risk of using recorded experiences as a substitute for living what might be called their "normal" life. The technology would become an escape from reality, a distortion that would conceivably prevent people from achieving their full potential. The most animated part of the evening revolved around how one could possibly distinguish recorded reality from "normal" reality if such a recording could in fact preserve every possible facet of the original event. This was always a disturbing new way of looking at the world, as well it should be, yet the power of the idea was that the more you considered it, the more perplexing it became.
And now, things were about to become even more challenging...
+++++
A half hour before the evening's class was scheduled to end, there was a knock on the classroom door.
"Enter!" Professor Desjardins said, still completely in control of her orchestra. This was, she thought, where the real fun would begin...
The door opened and several white coated techs from the neurosciences lab rolled carts into the classroom, and a low, excited murmur of recognition took hold in the usually hushed room when a decidedly famous professor of neurology from the medical school entered, bringing up the rear of his technological entourage.
"Ah, Doctor Edelmann, so nice to see you!" Desjardins said as she took his hand.
"And you, my good doctor! I see you have a nice group of ethics students on hand tonight. Did your discussions go well?"
"Indeed, I think they did. Perhaps you'd like to explain the next part of the assignment to the class?"
"Yes, perhaps that's best. Let's get right to it." Edelmann pointed to an assistant: "Randy, would you pass out the release forms while I get started? Thanks..."
The assistant, Randy, went to each table and handed out a set of blue printed forms to each student.
"What you have before you is our standard memoranda of understanding and general release of liability; it's the standard form we use for all experiments when we call for volunteers. We'll explain the next part of the assignment now, and in detail, then you'll have the option to continue or not with this experiment before signing. Anything you'd like to add, Doctor Desjardins?"
"Yes. Just that I'd like to say that further participation in this experiment is completely voluntary, and should you choose not to participate that will in no way effect your final class standing."
"Ah, yes, quite right," Edelmann said. "Now I'd like to state, right here and now at the start of the process, is that what we're contemplating handing out to each of you tonight is, quite literally, priceless technology, and though well along in the developmental stage, it's not yet in a final form. Even so, we think we're far enough along to warrant a more in-depth investigation than we've hitherto been able to accomplish in the lab.
"Well now. You've all learned a bit about a so-called hypothetical 'experience machine' in tonight's lecture, and had a chance to discuss amongst yourselves a few of the possible uses and misuses of such a fictional technology."
He looked over the class and with furrowed brow, grew palpably more serious.
"But the fact of the matter is, the 'experience machine' is no longer a fictional construct."
There was an audible gasp heard as he went to a small cardboard box on one of the carts and opened it, removed a small plastic headband from the box and slipped the device out of it's protective plastic wrapper. He held the gray and purple device up to the light and examined it contemplatively for a moment, then shook himself, as if forcing his mind to come back into the moment.
"What we have here is the recording device of our so-called 'experience machine', but note if you will that there are no external sensors of any kind to be found on the device. No camera. No microphone. No temperature probes."
He looked around the room.
"Can anyone guess why?"
No one raised a hand, no one said a word.
He smiled. He understood.
"Well because, of course, all human experience is encoded within the brain without the aid of such input. You can, each of you, recall an experience in vivid detail without the use of probes or other external devices simply because experience and memory are in fact a biochemical process, and it's a phenomenon common to almost all life forms. When you experience something, you do so through the encoding inputs of your eyes, ears, nose and the sensory web embedded in your skin and other organs."
He looked around, noted general understanding among the students. He nodded, smiled at bit, then resumed:
"Well, all of these components of memory are biochemically encoded as they occur and are then sorted out within the brain. Perhaps it's useful to consider how information is encoded on a computer's storage drives. Memory, or memories, have a unique address in this storage scheme, and part of the normal operation of a brain is to be able to functionally record and retrieve this information. This is memory, and why sometimes it's difficult to recall an event. As we age, as we accumulate more and more memories, and as memories become more complex, it becomes more time consuming for the brain to recall where a memory resides.
"When you recall an event, you do so without external sensory interpretation precisely because of this encoding mechanism. In fact, as long as these biochemical chains remain intact, memory remains intact. If the chains breakdown, as we suspect may be the case in Alzheimer's, or if the ability to sort through the chains becomes degraded, as, say, we believe may be a component of schizoaffective disorders, memory is lost or at best hard to coherently retrieve. Worse still, delusional constructs can replace memory, to the point that the memory of reality is degraded as encoded delusion replaces encoded memory. Understand?"
Again, he noted a general assent.
"The headband I hold in my hand here does not record external conditions; it simply records the formation and storage location of our biochemical chains, of memory. Still, it is these chains that contain all the components of memory, and in all the varied forms that memory takes. So, tonight, what we're going to ask of those of you who wish to participate further is to wear the device during an experience, an experience of your choice. For instance, there's snow up in Vermont...one of you might head up to Stowe over Thanksgiving break and record a run down the mountain. You might wear it while taking a jog, or while cooking your family's Thanksgiving dinner? About the only limitations currently imposed are that you'll only be able to record about twenty to thirty minutes of experience, so plan accordingly. Also, the device must be in complete contact with your scalp at all times, and the device is only waterproof to about a meter, so no SCUBA diving!"
There was polite laughter at this jab, and he smiled with it.
"Our assistants will now come to each of you and help you correctly fit the device, so take time to go over the release form while they work their way to you, and decide if you'd like to participate or not before they get to you. Anything to add, Doctor Desjardins?"
"Only that if you've already decided to opt out, you may leave now. Just note the homework assignment on the board, and remember to bring your research paper proposals to our next meeting..."
No one moved, no one got up to leave, and no one noticed the smiles on Edelmann's or Desjardins' face.
The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Devices were fitted, cautions reiterated, questions answered, but most importantly, there were no prohibitions about what might, or might not be recorded. Each student was to think out what they wanted to record and write up their reasoning behind their choice, but it was vital, they were told, to preserve anonymity. They were not to record images of themselves in a mirror, for instance, or include people who might inadvertently betray their identity. They were to turn in their "reasoning" essay, along with their recording device, at Dr Desjardin's office on the Monday morning after Thanksgiving break.
"One further note," Desjardins said as she looked at the clock on the back wall. "We'll pick one 'experience' at random that Monday, and the class will share it collectively that night. So, be creative, and have fun!"
Class was dismissed, and Desjardins and Edelmann followed and watched as the entire class filed out together and headed across campus to a pub just down the street.
They looked at one another and smiled.
"I'd like to be a fly on that wall tonight!" she said.
"Indeed, that should prove to be an animated discussion! Ah...to be young again!" He took in a deep breath of the cold November air. "Yes indeed. Here's to that fly on the wall. Shall we go nab a toddy?"
+++++
The class was set to meet in a small conference room in the basement of the Neurosciences Building that first Monday evening after Thanksgiving, and would then move to a more controlled environment in a larger, adjoining room. Doctors Desjardins and Edelmann and their assistants had seen to it that this larger room was set up according to plan early that morning. There were twenty five cots set up around the perimeter of the room, and partitions between each cot to ensure some semblance of privacy. Researchers, mainly physicians, but also a practicing psychotherapist, would be on hand to lend perspective, and, if needed, assistance.
The events to be documented that evening, the first of their kind to ever be recorded and shared, would mark a watershed moment in the development of this radical new technology. There was a lot riding on the outcome, needless to say, and if things went well there would be presentations to investors, and of more importance, to the military.
By six that evening everyone – students, teachers, researchers – was in the conference room; the lab assistants manning the recording equipment and playback devices were set up in the larger, adjacent room, the room where the 'experience' would be 're-experienced' by the class. Interestingly, and unknown to the class, both Desjardins and Edelmann had opted to join in and experience the event for themselves.
Desjardins got things going with little fanfare as soon as the last student was seated. "Welcome back, and I hope you had an interesting break. We received all of the recording devices intact and in good working order this morning, and no one has examined the experiences recorded on them yet. As promised, we're going to pick one at random for playback, but I'll let Doctor Edelmann explain that process to you in greater detail. I'll just conclude my remarks for the evening by stating for the record that if anyone wants to back out, now would be a good time to do so. Also, unless there are serious objections, Doctor Edelmann and myself have decided to participate in this 're-experience'."
There were a few moans and groans on hearing that, as well as a few fits of nervous laughter, but there were no objections.
"So, I'll turn it over to Doctor Edelmann now," she said. "And, well, this should be interesting!"
Edelmann took the podium, and dove right in.
"Interesting might prove to be an understatement, Doctor!" Edelmann said. He looked around the room, a curious smile on his face. "Well, a few words on what to expect are in order. First, as soon as we're done here we'll move into the room next to this one, through the doors there," he said, pointing to the double doors to his right. "There are beds in that room, and we'll each take one, in no particular order, I might add. There are playback devices on the bed, similar to the recording headbands you took with you over vacation, but heavier, and equipped with Bluetooth receivers. I'm sorry to say they're a bit heavy for day to day use and represent a first crude effort, but as we'll be laying down the entire time this shouldn't be an issue."
He looked up from his prepared remarks, took a sip of water, and continued.
"Once 'playback' starts, something quite odd is going to occur, and I want you to be aware of the phenomenon before we begin, because you won't even know it's happening once we start the process. The brain, as you might expect, is completely dedicated to processing one stream of input, that being the input from it's associated body. From an evolutionary perspective, the brain has never, to our understanding of evolutionary biology, anyway, had an opportunity to develop the capacity to process two simultaneous data streams. To simplify this somewhat, once playback starts the recorded stream of data is going to completely take over all your own brain's 'encoding' ability so that, in effect, your own ability to interpret data from the external world will simply cease. Your body may be in a climate controlled room, but if our recorded 'experience' takes place on a ski slope your body will react to the cold. If it's in a steel mill, if you find yourself in a sauna, your body will react accordingly. Again, your brain can not and will not accommodate two data streams, and in our experience the data stream coming from the 'playback' device will completely overwhelm your 'normal' sense of reality. In other words, you will no longer be aware of your surroundings in our room. All awareness of that room, what we might call 'concrete experience', will simply disappear, and in an instant you'll be in the 're-experienced' reality, what we'll call the reality of 'co-relative experience'. The process would seem to be disconcerting, but you need to remember that your 'own' ability to process information and discriminate between concrete and co-relative experience simply won't exist. One moment you'll be on a bed in the room next door, and within the span of a heartbeat you'll be in the 'co-relative experience.' Any sense of confusion, if it occurs at all, will come when playback stops and the data stream from 'concrete experience' resumes. If this happens don't fight it, just raise your hand and someone will be with you as soon as possible. Any questions?"
From one of the nurses: "Will we feel pain? Say we're skiing and fall? Will we feel that?"
"Yes, completely, but say if, for instance, the fall resulted in a broken leg, you'd feel the pain of the break, but your own bones would of course remain intact."
From Sam, the paramedic: "Can we interact with the playback?"
"By interact, I assume you mean talk, or in some other way change the sequence of recorded memory? No, of course not. 'You' simply will not exist during playback, 'you' will be a passive receptacle into which an experience is being poured, so 'you' will not be able to interact at all."
"What the fuck...that's gnarly..." came a voice from the back of the room.
"Again, if you feel you want to back out, now's the time," Desjardins replied.
No one moved to leave, but Desjardins could now feel palpable doubt in the room. Her own included, she was forced to conclude.
"Anyone else?" Edelmann added. "Any other concerns or questions?"
There were none, so he walked over to the double doors and opened them.
"Well, let's have a go at it, shall we?"
One by one, and with varying degrees of hesitancy, members of the class moved into the larger room and sorted themselves out. There were gray-green hospital gowns on each freshly made bed, and soon the participants were gowned-up and sitting on the edges of their beds, waiting. Lab assistants moved in small groups from bed to bed, helped get headbands placed and Bluetooth connections active before moving on to the next bed. Soon the class was laying down with a light sheet and blanket cover, and A/V techs readied their recording equipment.
Edelmann sat up on his bed and addressed the class again:
"A recording will now be chosen, and again, this will be a random choice. As soon as the choice is made and each Bluetooth connection confirmed, the lights will be dimmed and playback will commence. The lights dimming will be your only external cue that reality will be about to shift from 'concrete' to 'co-relative', but from an internal perspective it's doubtful you feel anything out of the ordinary."
Mariel Desjardins, M.D./PhD, fifty two years of age, married twice, divorced twice, currently single and with no prospects looming, lay under the covers in a state of abject ambivalence that bordered on fear. She now doubted her own sanity for having put herself in this position, and she suddenly questioned the moral foundations of the entire project, and in that instant she found the realization profoundly unsettling...until she realized the lights were dimming...
...and then there is a hotel room...and I am laying on top of a large bed...
...it is late afternoon outside, and the television set is on...a large flat panel set...and a movie is playing...
...a porn flick...of course...I am watching two girls making it, and my hand is wrapped around my cock...I can feel a burning constriction in my belly as I watch...then a door opens and steam pours out of the bathroom...
...and there she is...dressed in white lingerie and very high heels...and she walks to the foot of the bed, then to each side, checking the ropes she has used to tie my hands and feet to the corners of the bed...then she is moving up between my legs, smiling at me all the time until her head is over my cock...and she spits on it...
...the sensation of warmth is intense, then in a searing moment she takes my cock in her mouth and bites the tip of it, gently at first, then less gently...
...her head moves up and down, her teeth grate and bite while time dilates and I am floating on alternating waves of soaring pleasure and searing pain and the sensation begins in my balls then spreads up into my back and down into my legs and I feel a fingertip poised over my ass then craving penetrations and oh God not so fast not so fast her tongues sweeps luscious circles over and along the head of my cock and the surge is complete and unmistakable and starts to build my legs feel like steel my toes are pointing as liquid fire consumes from within and it's all around me the force shoots up into my gut as her questing finger hits that spot and all is lightning and rain and fire and release and I feel my cum swirling under her whirling tongue while she nibbles the tip nibbles the tip nibbles the tip...
... And the lights are growing brighter...
Mariel Desjardins is aware of herself once again, yet the memory of what has just unfolded in her mind's eye is totally complete in every detail, and overwhelming.
She has never once in her life considered what a male orgasm might possibly feel like, but now in the afterglow of this 're-experiencing', this 'co-relative experience', she not only understands what it feels like on a subjective level, she is shocked to realize she knows exactly what it feels like on an objective, experiential level. She reaches down and feels for a penis, expects to feel a woman's saliva and her own cum all over the tip of it, then as suddenly realizes what she's doing, what has happened, and what the implications of this realization are.
She sits up, looks to Edelmann in the bed next to her own, sees him grasping for his groin, hears him asking for a towel and she realizes that he has reached orgasm, then she feels her own gown again and feels a spreading dampness under the fabric. Reaching under the gown, she feels the unmistakeable results of orgasm, but was it her's? Suddenly the question seems overwhelmingly important! Just who's orgasm was it? Her own physical orgasm, or his, whoever "he' is? Looking around she sees that everyone is doing much the same thing, and that while every participant is covered in rolling sweat, the males are nervously asking for towels and the females are avoiding eye contact while they try to figure out what's just happened... and why their groins are soaking wet.
But how could it have possibly happened? Nothing makes sense, but then, suddenly, everything makes sense, and the only thing Desjardins knows about her own self is that she wants to cry because for the very first time in her life she truly understands what it feels like when a man reaches orgasm.
+++++
The participants are soon gathered in the conference room, assembled to conduct a hastily called "post-mortem" of the event. Edelmann is at the podium, glad to have insisted gowns be worn, grateful he's not standing before this group in cum-stained trousers. Desjardins is standing beside Edelmann, her eyes red and tear streaked.
"Well," Edelmann began somewhat sheepishly, "I guess we might have put some more stringent limits on what kinds of experiences might have been appropriate for this first recording..."
"I don't know that I'd agree with that," Desjardins interjected. "In fact, I can't think of a better event to have as a first experience. I mean, really, I have a completely new understanding of something so fundamental about human nature that, well, it's overwhelming, and I feel absolutely sad that I could have been so careless about my own lack of interest...for so long."
"Well, I..." Edelmann began, but one of the nursing students interrupted him.
"I agree completely, Doctor Desjardins," Becky Sawyer said. "It's like suddenly being able to break through all kinds of barriers, and in the end finally reaching a profound, new understanding of what it means to be a guy. I mean, that was shattering, shattering, but now I think I understand why guys get so freaking bummed out when they don't get off..."
The class broke out in full gales of laughter, and even Edelmann chuckled a bit before regaining his composure.
"We're missing something vital," Desjardins said forcefully, restoring calm to the room. "Vital."
"And that would be?" Edelmann asked.
"The opposite perspective," Sawyer said. "The female orgasm."
"Exactly," Desjardins said. "I tell you what... Let's break up into our groups and discuss what's just happened, and where we'd like to go with this. Let's get back together in a half hour and think this through together. Doctor Edelmann, could I speak to you for a moment?"
+++++
An animated discussion got going as soon as the groups' 'brainstorming' session was over, and Becky Sawyer led the charge:
"When you think about the implications of this technology, it blows the mind. I mean, yeah, sure, we can experience something as esoteric and exotic as an orgasm, and from the perspective of the opposite gender. That IS mind blowing, but we began thinking of other similar applications..."
"Such as?" Desjardins asked.
"Well, after all the trouble in Missouri last summer, think about how a police officer in training might benefit from experiencing the world from the perspective of a young African-American male in the South, or a Muslim in New York City. And flip that coin...what would that young guy learn from experiencing what the officer on patrol goes through...the anxiety and uncertainty."
"Interesting," Edelmann said, rubbing his beard. "Very interesting."
And from the back of the room: "Screw that. This makes killer porn!"
Laughter. "I think recent experience affirms that, young man," said Edelmann. "Anyone else?"
The room erupted in torrents of ideas, of practical applications that reflected the idealism of youth, spoken in the language of hope.
Finally, from Desjardins: "Okay, okay, let's settle down and get these ideas down on paper, and I mean right now, while they're fresh on our minds. Each group, get together now and write down what you thought up during your brainstorming session, and then anything you learned during this exchange, then Doctor Edelmann would like to pass along an interesting possibility. Okay, get to it!"
The groups exploded in frenetic exchanges of ideas and began developing new conceptual frameworks on the fly, with one or two group members listening and writing notes furiously, trying to capture everything said. Desjardins and Edelmann looked on, fascinated; neither had seen such engagement from undergrad students before, and both began to wonder if somehow, in the 're-experiencing' of the event they had each just shared, some fundamental alteration of the brain's ability to focus had occurred. This in itself was a fascinating new development, one that would need careful study to fully understand, but soon it was time to move on to the last phase of the experiment.
"Okay, listen up," Desjardins called out. When she had everyone's attention, she continued. "Doctor Edelmann tells me that we can, in effect, "go live" with a recording session. What this means, to put it simply, is that we could move on to experiencing a female orgasm, tonight, and do so in "real time"."
There was a murmur of confused excitement at that, and then, from the back of the room: "Fuckin'-A. That's fuckin' killer, man!"
"Well put, young man," Edelmann chuckled through his reply.
"This fuckin' rocks, dude!"
"Okay, okay...try to contain yourself, Andrew."
"Hey, I'm just sayin'..."
"Yeah, yeah, I think we get it, Andy," Sawyer said. "But, I'm not quite clear about one thing. If we're going to experience a female orgasm...well...uh...who's going to...uh...well-l-l..."
Desjardins looked out at the group, then down at her hands. "I'd say we've come upon a real ethical dilemma, wouldn't you? So, let's pick a set of rules to examine this dilemma. I propose we look at Jeremy Bentham's Utilitarianism for this experiment, and make our choice to proceed using either Act or Rule Utilitarianism. Does anyone object?"
"I don't see how we could use Rule Utilitarianism here," Sawyer replied. "I can't imagine there are any rules to cover this set of circumstances..."
"Okay. Well then," Desjardins said, "we'll stick with Act Utilitarianism. Does anyone recall how we proceed?"
"The Utilitarian Calculus," one of the pre-Meds called out. "We assign values to pleasure and pain, or rights and wrongs, and simply add up the totals. That Act which produces the greatest good for the greatest number is the best way to proceed."
"Right. So, let's get back into our groups. Develop a list of possible good and bad consequences to the action of recording a live female orgasm in an experimental setting, for the purpose of developing a greater awareness of other's needs and experience. So, take about ten minutes, then we'll vote on it."
Of course, the groups all voted to go ahead; there were simply too many valid reasons to proceed, and very few reasons not to. Mariel Desjardins returned to the podium.
"Okay, so here we come to the truly difficult part of this experiment...namely, how are we going to proceed, and who is going to be sharing her experience?" She looked around the room, noted a subliminal current of anxiety running through all the women in the room. "Doctor Edelmann tells me we can hook up the recording device directly to the playback mechanism so that, in effect, the experience will be streaming live to each of us wearing a playback device. Further, we thought that we could further differentiate the experience by sending out two streams."
"Two?" Sawyer asked, clearly perplexed.
"Yes, two. One stream, from the female out to the males, and a second stream, from the male out to the females."
"Oh my God!" Sawyer said. "You don't mean..."
"Yes, of course. In order to duplicate the parameters of the first experience, we'll need consensual sexual contact between members of opposing gender groups. And, well, um, oral sex, not intercourse. Any volunteers?"
"I'm fuckin' UP for it, man!" Andy cried.
"I'd have made book on that, somehow," Edelmann shot back. "Now seriously, are any women here willing to proceed?"
No one raised a hand.
"No one?"
No one.
"What about you, Doctor Desjardins?"
"ME? You can't be serious?"
"Yes, I'm most certainly serious."
"Go for it, doc!" Andy bellowed.
"Uh, so, I don't know..."
"Well, I think the decision should include you're being able to choose the male to proceed with..."
"I don't know about this," Mariel Desjardins replied nervously, but she was already looking at the paramedic and growing more excited with each fresh, thundering heartbeat.
"Well," Edelmann said as he looked over the students who were looking expectantly at Professor Mariel Desjardins, "any male volunteers?"
Every male's hands launched skyward, and even a few female hands went up as well, which wasn't really surprising. Mariel Desjardins was short, just over five feet, but she worked out regularly and generally took care of appearances. She dressed fashionably, if not exactly flashily, and while she didn't consider herself unduly attractive, the looks she garnered while walking across campus belied that insecurity. She would have been genuinely surprised to learn just how many of her students over the years would have loved to have taken her out to dinner and a movie, and then back to a hotel room...
"Well, Mariel, it would seem the ball is in your, uh, court, uh, so to speak. Care to play?"
Mariel appeared to take great pains over her choice, but she finally settled on Sam, the paramedic.
"Sam? Would you...mind?" she asked tentatively.
Sam just smiled, all meaning clear.
+++++
Soon the students were back in their beds; lab techs finished hooking up new leads to headsets while a few of the other techs cobbled together a bed large enough for Mariel and Sam, and after the two were hooked up to their recording headsets, Edelmann once again addressed the class:
"Things are a little different with this setup," he began, "because we won't be recording to flash drives this time around. The 'experience' will, again, be a live feed. What this means is simple to understand if you think about it. Male students in the 're-experience' group are hooked up via Bluetooth link to receive Doctor Desjardins' data stream, while female students will receive Sam's data stream. So, consider this. Male students are going to experience this event from Doctor Desjardins' perspective; the perspective of a woman. Males will therefore experience receiving sexual stimulus from another male, but from the perspective of being female. All of your sensory data streams will reflect a woman's sensory data..."
"Oh, this is gonna be fuckin' sick, man!"
"Andrew? Please?"
"Oh, sorry, dude."
"Well, as I was saying, you'll hear, see, taste and feel every sensation that is being experienced by the person you're linked to. It really will be as simple as that."
"So," Andy chimed in yet again, "it's like every fuckin' dude in the class is going to be..."
"Yes, Andrew, precisely so."
Mariel Desjardins cheeks were aflame, but then she felt Sam lean in close to whisper in her ear.
"It's okay, doc. I got it. You just lie back and let this happen. I'll take care of things, okay? And if anyone ever gives you any grief over this? Well, I'll take care of that, too. Okay?"
She bit her lip, nodded silently, but she was already past second thoughts, already quite happy to be lying here on this makeshift bed beside Sam. She took his hand, squeezed it, whispered 'thanks' in his ear. Then, out of the blue, she kissed his cheek.
"So," Edelmann resumed, "as before, when the lights dim, transmission will commence, so get comfortable." Edelmann, for his part, had decided to observe without being connected to the transmission, for he had suddenly grown more interested in how these 're-experiencers' were going to react to these most unusual conditions. He looked at the techs, each signaled that links had been established, and the experiment was therefore ready to begin. He nodded, held up three fingers and began a silent countdown. On zero, the lights dimmed and Sam moved into a sixty-nine position beside Mariel Desjardins, his BioMedical Ethics professor.
+++++
Edelmann watched perplexed as the women students in the 're-experience' group suddenly grew very relaxed, while the men linked to Mariel Desjardins straightened out into rigid, plank-like boards. Sam's face was buried between Mariel's thighs and it was obvious he knew how to please a woman, yet Mariel was hesitant, almost afraid to act. Then Sam must have hit the right spot, for Mariel gasped, moaned, shook for an instant, then took Sam's cock all the way in her mouth.
The men hooked up to Mariel's stream were as suddenly writhing, thrashing uncontrollably on their beds as they first experienced her reactions, then her actions. More interesting still, Edelmann saw that the women hooked up to Sam had been languidly relaxed until Mariel devoured Sam's cock, then it was their turn to writhe into rigid spasms of ecstasy...yet it was the uniformity of the observed reactions that interested Edelmann most of all.
It was, he thought, almost like watching an orchestra, and Sam and Mariel were the conductors. When they waved their baton, the orchestra responded with uniformly similar reaction.
When Mariel stroked Sam's cock, the female students reacted to Sam's reactions; when Sam drove his tongue deep into Mariel's ravaged cunt, the male student's backs arched and their legs shook...
Then, in one rapid movement, Sam picked up Mariel and swung her round the bed until she was on her back, with her legs were resting on his shoulders. Next, in the same continuous motion, Sam buried his cock in Mariel's vagina and began slamming into her like a pile driver run amok. The males hooked up to Mariel began thrashing about their beds in one mass refrain, then their backs arched to impossible heights the next. Toes flexing, arms flailing, hips blurring as echoes of Mariel's impossible gyrations, the male students were soon lost inside orgasm. Mariel's orgasm.
Sam, already close to exploding before even entering Mariel, lasted less than a minute before his own orgasm took over, and the female students were simply devastated by the event, for when Sam orgasmed, so too did the female students. Vast pools of female cum accompanied Sam's orgasm and spread out on the sheets below, but then something equally impressive happened: when Mariel entered orgasm the male students began to cum as well, but without ever having touched their own penises.
It was, Edelmann thought, quite a powerful demonstration of the role 'mind' plays in achieving sexual satisfaction. Arcs of flying cum, a chorus of thrashing moans and sighs, then all was spent, drifting on unseen currents atop a sea of co-mingled bliss.
Yet only two people had in fact been intimately involved.
How strange.
He looked around the room at the assembled technicians, and noted they all looked quite stunned, but while more than a few appeared a little envious, a small group looked his way, and they did not look happy. No, they did not appear to be in the least bit happy.
+++++
Within a week, Mariel Desjardins was dismissed from her tenured professorship; Doctor Edelmann was censured, but quietly of course, for he was a famous physician and more than paid his way. A few of the students involved protested Desjardins' dismissal, and they too were summarily dismissed, with no refunds given. And there the tale might have ended, but for the actions of one student.
For you see, while one Andrew McKnight, or Andy, as he was sometimes called, was in fact one of those dismissed, he was of a somewhat more disingenuous type than either Desjardins or Edelmann gave him credit for, because he was in fact a spy. A corporate spy, and hired by a less than scrupulous multi-national corporation headquartered somewhere "over there". McKnight surreptitiously spirited away prototype copies of the recording and receiving headbands, as well as copies of the discs and manuals for the OS to get the system up and running, and in due course by manipulating his portfolio at strategic times, he became quite a wealthy man.
And of course, he kept copies of the sexual experiences recorded by Edelmann's team, but only one copy, and only for his own use. Usually.
Ah, but that's another tale for another day, isn't it?
So what, you might ask, became of Dr Mariel Desjardins?
Well, from time to time you can see her walking along the trails and paths that meander through Boston Commons, or you might just as easily catch a glimpse of her walking along The Yard to her new position at Harvard, but more often than not you'll find her walking with a man half her age, a good looking chap, too, and usually seen wearing a Boston FD Paramedic wind-breaker. He always seems to have an arm wrapped protectively around her, and she almost always has a look of total contentment on her face.
Yes, you might say they are in love.
And who am I to say they aren't?
Because love is indeed a very strange thing.
And it seems to be growing stranger every day...but that's business...isn't it?
Well, it's been a while, but I dug up this cautionary tale from the Memory Warehouse (I'd guess you could call it that), and I kind of thought it was worth passing along even though it was an old idea, so I thought I'd just go ahead and do that. There's a point buried in this little story somewhere too, and who knows, maybe you'll catch it. Took me a while.
Anyway... I knew you'd understand.
