#it's been years since i did organic and inorganic chemistry

[stvlti]

No but seeing that post again got me thinking about the science behind Jaime's bugsuit just conjuring things out of his dead skin cells and sweat

Because you can't just make anything out of your body's waste products. There are specific chemicals that can't be found in your body - or at least, not in large amounts - that are used to make certain objects.

The printer paper for the picture, I can understand. Paper is largely made of carbon anyway so that tracks (lots of carbon / carbonate type of chemicals can be found in a human body).

But his clothes? Stuff like cotton and polyester are all made up of polymers, and once we get into polymers you're talking ester, amine, alcohol, etc. Traces of amine and alcohol can be found in a normal human body, but how much can you really extract from dead skin and sweat alone? Unless Jaime is drinking ethanol (ethyl alcohol) on the regular, it's not gonna be in his sweat all the time. As for ester, it can be found in lipids / fatty acids, which could be found on human skin in the oils produced there, but again, unless Jaime is sweating loads and loads it's not enough to create full clothes out of it.

Assuming that Khaji Da has the ability to break down certain chemicals and polymerise these chemical compounds to generate papers and fabrics — you'd still need a large enough supply of said chemicals in first place, and I don't believe Jaime's body produces enough of them in just his dead skin cells and sweat alone.

The only explanation here is that Khaji carries its own reserves of certain chemicals, which they extract not just from Jaime's bodily waste but from their surroundings as well.

Tl;dr, I believe Khaji, and by extension Jaime, is a walking laboratory storage cupboard full of various chemicals.

[togglesbloggle]

For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme, Lamarckism!

(This is an excellent ask.)

Lamarck got done a bit dirty by the textbooks, as one so often is. He's billed as the guy who articulated an evolutionary theory of inherited characteristics, inevitably set up as an opponent made of straw for Darwin to knock down. The example I recall my own teachers using in grade school was the idea that a giraffe would strain to reach the highest branches of a tree, and as a result, its offspring would be born with slightly longer necks. Ha-ha-ha, isn't-that-silly, isn't natural selection so much more sensible?

But the thing is, this wasn't his idea, not even close. People have been running with ideas like that since antiquity at least. What Lamarck did was to systematize that claim, in the context of a wider and much more interesting theory.

Lamarck was born in to an era where natural philosophy was slowly giving way to Baconian science in the modern sense- that strange, eighteenth century, the one caught in an uneasy tension between Newton the alchemist and Darwin the naturalist. This is the century of Ben Franklin and his key and his kite, and the awed discovery that this "electricity" business was somehow involved in living organisms- the discovery that paved the way for Shelley's Frankenstein. This was the era when alchemy was fighting its last desperate battles with chemistry, when the division between 'organic' and 'inorganic' chemistry was fundamental- the first synthesis of organic molecules in the laboratory wouldn't occur until 1828, the year before Lamarck's death. We do not have atoms, not yet. Mendel and genetics are still more than a century away; we won't even have cells for another half-century or more.

Lamarck stepped in to that strange moment. I don't think he was a bold revolutionary, really, or had much interest in being one. He was profoundly interested in the structure and relationships between species, and when we're not using him as a punching bag in grade schools, some people manage to remember that he was a banging good taxonomist, and made real progress in the classification of invertebrates. He started life believing in the total immutability of species, but later was convinced that evolution really was occurring- not because somebody taught him in the classroom, or because it was the accepted wisdom of the time, but through deep, continued exposure to nature itself. He was convinced by the evidence of his senses.

(Mostly snails.)

His problem was complexity. When he'd been working as a botanist, he had this neat little idea to order organisms by complexity, starting with the grubbiest, saddest little seaweed or fern, up through lovely flowering plants. This was not an evolutionary theory, just an organizing structure; essentially, just a sort of museum display. But when he was asked to do the same thing with invertebrates, he realized rather quickly that this task had problems. A linear sorting from simple to complex seemed embarrassingly artificial, because it elided too many different kinds of complexity, and ignored obvious similarities and shared characteristics.

When he went back to the drawing board, he found better organizing schema; you'd recognize them today. There were hierarchies, nested identities. Simple forms with only basic, shared anatomical patterns, each functioning as a sort of superset implying more complex groups within it, defined additively by the addition of new organs or structures in the body. He'd made a taxonomic tree.

Even more shockingly, he realized something deep and true in what he was looking at: this wasn't just an abstract mapping of invertebrates to a conceptual diagram of their structures. This was a map in time. Complexities in invertebrates- in all organisms!- must have been accumulating in simpler forms, such that the most complicated organisms were also the youngest.

This is the essential revolution of Lamarckian evolution, not the inherited characteristics thing. His theory, in its full accounting, is actually quite elaborate. Summarized slightly less badly than it is in your grade school classroom (though still pretty badly, I'm by no means an expert on this stuff), it looks something like this:

As we all know, animals and plants are sometimes generated ex nihilo in different places, like maggots spontaneously appearing in middens. However, the spontaneous generation of life is much weaker than we have supposed; it can only result in the most basic, simple organisms (e.g. polyps). All the dizzying complexity we see in the world around us must have happened iteratively, in a sequence over time that operated on inheritance between one organism and its descendants.

As we all know, living things are dynamic in relation to inorganic matter, and this vital power includes an occasional tendency to gain in complexity. However, this tendency is not a spiritual or supernatural effect; it's a function of natural, material processes working over time. Probably this has something to do with fluids such as 'heat' and 'electricity' which are known to concentrate in living tissues. When features appear spontaneously in an organism, that should be understood as an intrinsic propensity of the organism itself, rather than being caused by the environment or by a divine entity. There is a specific, definite, and historically contingent pattern in which new features can appear in existing organisms.

As we all know, using different tissue groups more causes them to be expressed more in your descendants, and disuse weakens them in the same way. However, this is not a major feature in the development of new organic complexity, since it could only move 'laterally' on the complexity ladder and will never create new organs or tissue groups. At most, you might see lineages move from ape-like to human-like or vice versa, or between different types of birds or something; it's an adaptive tendency that helps organisms thrive in different environments. In species will less sophisticated neural systems, this will be even less flexible, because they can't supplement it with willpower the way that complex vertebrates can.

Lamarck isn't messing around here; this is a real, genuinely interesting model of the world. And what I think I'm prepared to argue here is that Lamarck's biggest errors aren't his. He has his own blind spots and mistakes, certainly. The focus on complexity is... fraught, at a minimum. But again and again, what really bites him in the ass is just his failure to break with his inherited assumptions enough. The parts of this that are actually Lamarckian, that is, are the ideas of Lamarck, are very clearly groping towards a recognizable kind of proto-evolutionary theory.

What makes Lamarck a punching bag in grade-school classes today is the same thing that made it interesting; it's that it was the best and most scientific explanation of biological complexity available at the time. It was the theory to beat, the one that had edged out all the other competitors and emerged as the most useful framework of the era. And precisely none of that complexity makes it in to our textbooks; they use "Lamarckianism" to refer to arguments made by freaking Aristotle, and which Lamarck himself accepted but de-emphasized as subordinate processes. What's even worse, Darwin didn't reject this mechanism either. Darwin was totally on board with the idea as a possible adaptive tendency; he just didn't particularly need it for his theory.

Lamarck had nothing. Not genetics, not chromosomes, not cells, not atomic theory. Geology was a hot new thing! Heat was a liquid! What Lamarck had was snails. And on the basis of snails, Lamarck deduced a profound theory of complexity emerging over time, of the biosphere as a(n al)chemical process rather than a divine pageant, of gradual adaptation punctuated by rapid innovation. That's incredible.

There's a lot of falsehood in the Lamarckian theory of evolution, and it never managed to entirely throw off the sloppy magical thinking of what came before. But his achievement was to approach biology and taxonomy with a profound scientific curiosity, and to improve and clarify our thinking about those subjects so dramatically that a theory of biology could finally, triumphantly, be proven wrong. Lamarck is falsifiable. That is a victory of the highest order.

[alt-wannabe]

what’s ur favorite element/favorite chemical reaction if any,,,,? sorry super random ask it’s 1 am and I saw chemistry major in your profile and got inexplicably excited

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR LEAVING ME AN ASK ESPECIALLY IF ITS ABOUT CHEMISTRY!!!!

oh god i’m such a nerd where do i start

my favorite element changes frequently but at the moment it’s probably chromium. generally i’m a transition metals girl over anything else (i primarily work in inorganic, that’s what im trying to get a phd in) so any metal i’m a pretty big fan of. chromium is just the primary one i’m working with in my lab right now. i’m using inductive heating to make chromium metal organic frameworks and it’s very very cool because i am very very lame. the chromium compound i work with (chromium nitrate nonahydrate) is also really pretty so (shown below). i also just really really miss working in lab. ive been just so ungodly busy with grad school applications and finals and family holiday and band needed me to do a bunch of stuff even on break so i haven’t had much time to do chem outside of classes which makes me a little sad

for reactions i think grignard reactions are really really cool. for one grignard reagents will blow the hell up if they touch water, some even being set off by moisture in the air so that’s just very fun! and even though it’s an organic reaction it still involves more than the basic oxygen carbon nitrogen bitches cause it needs a magnesium to work! and magnesium is dope!! also like chemically it’s a super important mechanism since it forms a new carbon carbon bond. i also obviously like any inorganic reaction bc duh that’s my field but in general inorganic reactions are far more likely than organic to have interesting color changes! i remember in like honors chem sophomore year of highschool we did an experiment where we soaked wood in metal complex solutions and the pieces all burned different colors, and that’s just fuckin cool.

now that i seen ive written a goddamn essay i’m gonna cut it there because i could legit go on for hours 😭 thank you for letting me chemical yap its one of my favorite things to do

[natscbi]

introduction post 3.0

♣️ my “name” is “kaz”, i’m a chemistry* “student” doing a masters at cambridge university & serial language learner

♣️ focusing on (high beginner?) korean. when i’m bored i swap to (modern, beginner) greek. lately been learning yet another alphabet using duo ukrainian

♣️ been learning them on and off since july 2022 and august 2023 respectively

♣️ previous languages: spanish (5 years), italian (2.5 years), german (long time)

♣️ future languages: BSL (did a little in lockdown) japanese (never started)

♣️ lean towards organic & materials chemistry, biomaterials, & some inorganic (but i’ve also done plenty of physical chem)

♣️ completed my bachelors in summer 2024

some other info:

i’m bi / queer

semi confirmed neurodivergent

music preferences: alt pop/rock/kpop/2010s nostalgia

yes i use duolingo bc i’m busy. also ttmik for korean. also music / social media / youtube / random online research

i have historically been pretty bad at keeping a studyblr going. i Am Trying to post regularly

*first year natural sciences: maths / physics / chemistry / materials. second year natural sciences: double chemistry / materials. third year chemistry

asks and messages are welcome!

only ways to get blocked are being a creep / bigot / bot, or having zero posts & no description

[shitaholicshits]

My university decided to give us the first shocker of the year- they decided to reopen

I've been wanting to go back to college since last year but now, when my exam is like a month away I hoped I could stay home and study. But things never go my way. Obviously. So they decided to reopen college soon. We still haven't gotten an official notice but it's been out in the local newspaper and meme pages (and we all know meme pages are better sources than our news channels 🙃)

38 Days to go

In the last couple weeks of my study routine I realised how much potential I have and how I should have studied like this the whole year round and not 2 months before exam -_-

Biochemistry is almost over, with just a few topics under Proteins remaining, and Lipids!

Maths is being still a headache but better than physics, I don't think I'm doing physics. I'm better off without that bitch.

And we are left with some major topics under biology which includes biotech, microbio and genetics. Cell bio is over. But it's easy so I don't really consider that an achievement. Why am I like this.

Organic chemistry has been treating me good (please tell me I'm not the only one who loves organic chem, 'cause I have come across too many haters).

Inorganic- One piece of advice I'd like to give to all competitive exams aspirants who have to study chemistry, please please don't try to "understand" Inorganic. Yes we need to understand and learn and stuff. I know all of that believe me. But there are some (lots actually) concepts in inorganic that you just have to let it go. Just learn what the theory is stating and how you can apply it on compounds or whatever? And move on. Not everything is supposed to make sense. I might sound like I don't make sense, but that's exactly how inorganic is. For eg I was recently studying Ligand Group of Orbitals. It was an attempt to prove MOT right, because it wasn't possible to draw the Molecular orbital diagram for Polyatomic molecules. Now we don't know how exactly the atoms exist and behave all the time, so the Ligand group of orbitals don't make sense except in theory. We did experiments, and we came up with theories. So inorganic (basically the whole chemistry) is just conclusion based on experiments (that's why the hundred Different theories). So study, try to understand as much as you can, but don't poke it much. If you feel like you're not getting something, don't worry. The people who came up with the theory were probably high when they wrote it. So just move on.

Not really a huge fan of physical chem because it's basically math and i hate math. But it's also scoring and i am not lagging behind so we good :)

I know I'm not really regular with this blog but you know what? Idc. I like to blog but only when I feel like it. Most of the time is spent studying or watching office so I don't really get a chance to blog everyday (yea that's just a pathetic excuse I'm just extremely lazy). But HAH COLLEGE MIGHT REOPEN AND IM SUDDENLY VERY NERVOUS I HAVENT BEEN TO COLLEGE IN A YEAR AND IT FEELS SO WEIRD NOW? Idk.

[atouchofgreen]

Weed & Mental Health (adolescent)

Mom and Dad,

In the recent months I have experienced cognitive decline that I attribute to my use of weed cartridges. I started smoking weed cartridges when I was in my senior year of high school, and  became addicted. I hated it but for some reason I couldn't stop I smoked daily. Although I took month long breaks often, I continued to smoke in college during my first 2 years. Towards the second semester of sophomore year, I used legal delta 8 carts instead of delta 9 carts. The only negative aspect of using up to my sophomore year was my lack of motivation and any minute cognitive changes went away following abstinence. I should have quit or asked for help. In high-school I asked for help by leaving my stash on the laundry machine and gave a singular puff to mom one time (she thought it was an e-cigg though). In highschool in my AP Chemistry class, I saw a kid at the end of class do a hit from a similar weed cart in front of his friends. It would have been so easy for him to get caught, he was standing up giggling with his back turned but the teacher was on the computer and didn't notice. I recognized then that this kid was so alone with his addiction that he did it in front of his friends at school out of pain and solidarity. He had an expressionless face most of the day and seemed distraught, I knew from the grapevine he smoked a lot. He was like me, addicted, and did a hit in school subconsciously screaming for help. After class I asked coach Jacobs his thoughts on using weed. He said, sitting on his computer desk chair with his hands behind his head, " I think after 25 half a joint does the same damage as having a martini, but before then its really bad for you physically, mentally, and your development as a human being. You should wait until after your brain is fully developed to try anything." I remembered this for the rest of my life. I didnt have the courage  to directly ask for help but I needed it and should have asked anyone. I couldn't quit it although I should have had the courage to do so. I tried quitting many times but I was too far down the drain mentally. But now, I am scared for myself. I quit completely following moving jethin in because I was noticing cognitive decline in myself. It was terrible. One morning, I woke up and nothing entered my brain its like I was a zombie. That is why I quit. I hoped I would regain my functionality like before, but to no avail. My iq seems to have dropped 10 points at least. My short term memory has regressed so much that learning new information is difficult for me. Reading is harder and to recall something takes me much longer than before. I have a harder time making long term plans and imagining things. I had a hard time with understanding and expressing English as well though this has been improving. My mind is nothing like it was before. Now, my memory, pattern recognition, recall, imagination, has diminished to a much lower degree. I was fine last year and the year before that, my mental health and cognition were good, but recently it seems like a switch turned off for me. When I walk in the world I don't absorb information the same. I don't abstractify what I am seeing as easily, and my short term memory is really shot. Its like I'm just walking in the world blind deaf and dumb. I am scared I won't be able to pass my classes even though compared to highschool these classes are an absolute breeze relatively speaking to when my brain was sober. I can't do quick calculations anymore and I am acutely aware that my senses are just senses. Seeing touching hearing are just that, I can't calculate the same way i used to to create a coherent experience of what's going on around me. I don't have appreciation for life anymore. I  am telling you all of this now because i have really experienced cognitive decline and I am extremely depressed, unhappy, and anxious. I am afraid that my prefrontal cortex and hippocampus is permanently damaged. Weirdly, I've had a dull ache in my head ever since I've quit, in the middle and front of my brain, that's been getting slightly better with time. The slight discomfort or pain is always there its terrible. It also gets better temporarily when I cry, meditate, or sleep for an extended period. I hope that after a few months this dull pain would subside and my mental capabilities would return. Even my dreams are less complex and have less emotion. All of this is what I talked to that therapist about.  It's not like I am sad ALL of the time, but a lot of it. But I am pretty sure my mind will never be what it was before. I experienced life to its fullest extent while I was not using any drugs, and now that I've been sober for 2 months now and my mind is not returning close to what it was. I still feel like a zombie when exercising, and I develop a deep sense of sadness right after I work out because i recognize my short term memory and mental capability are weakened which makes it hard for me to make good memories and I get anxious about my future. I am pretty emotionless, even fear is hard for me to experience. When I am unhappy, at times I break out into a sob, but because my emotions have dulled probably from the weed, I only start to sob momentarily and then return to a face of stoicism. This makes it hard to achieve catharsis for my sadness and it gets bottled up inside. I don't really mind the mental health difficulties from quitting weed - that can pass over time with proper behavior - but it's the cognitive difficulties that makes me afraid. I am afraid that I will never be able to view the world the same way that I used to before weed. I am afraid that I won't be able to become a doctor unless my brain heals over time. I have read many studies about the use of marijuana during adolescents. Although there is conflicting research, my experience suggests the worst for me - that what I am experiencing may be permanent. I also read that smoking weed during adolescence can delay prefrontal cortex maturation, meaning I would never be able to absorb information and process it  the same way ever again. If only I had read the dangers of early marijuana use earlier and understood I would have quit immediately. It is entirely my fault my life is like this now, I was too weak. Both of you have given me everything and helped me the most you could. Especially Dad. Dad, I feel so bad because you have lowered your expectations of me so much. If I hadn't started smoking, I know I would be a completely different person.  Mom and Dad, I have been thinking about committing suicide for some time. I've been thinking about it at least once a day actually for a few months. Its not that I think life and the world is terrible and bad, I actually think the opposite. Before smoking I loved life and loved myself. I could feel the world like a thumping heartbeat or a quivering harp playing soulful music. I feel like killing myself because my current and future experiences will be inorganic. My brain structure/chemistry probably changed forever and I don't want to live with this brain anymore. I cant understand everything going on around me thus I can never understand the world the same way like I used to. I feel like i can't learn new things, everything I do now is because I am just accessing what I learned before starting to smoke weed and during freshman and sophomore year of college. My emotions have waned. I can't calculate complex things anymore and put it into context sufficiently. I can't move my body and think strongly at the same time. Right now, meditation and thinking about my long term memory is my only friend. My short term memory is shot which affects my learning and ability to make meaningful experiences or connections. It's like I have pseudodementia though not as bad. The only joy I get is accessing my long term memory and talking long walks in places and with people that used to bring me joy. I loved Turkey so much and the time we spent I go there in my head all of the time. I love Africa, I love India, I loved my friends at swimming and during highschool. But if that's all I am living for I don't know what the point is. I curse myself everyday for making the mistake of smoking weed or not quitting when I could have. I could've become a beautiful person had I continued developing normally. I am so sorry for being a bad son. I am so sorry that you came from India to America to have a child that fucked up like me. I am sorry for the stress this places on both of you. You both did nothing wrong in raising me, I just fucked up. I am sorry for how this may affect your work dad. And I am sorry for being a liability for the family. While I am drowning I don't want you both to drown with me. Maybe I can get a job somewhere or go into the military. At this point cognitively, unless my brain is capable of rewiring itself (maybe that's what the dull persistent ache is in my head) I don't think I can learn the information necessary to safefully treat patients. My therapist said it would take 3-4 months to a year to feel normal again but I don't know what I will do if I can't return to baseline. I used to live with such a thirst for life and understanding but if that doesn't return I feel like I am dragging life down and owe it to my memory of what life was before weed to take my own.  Currently my plan is to wait a year and a few months before seriously thinking of committing suicide if I don't heal because the pain I am feeling is so immense. I want to live life FEELING everything organically regardless of what it is. Also my smarts are gone and that gave me tremendous joy. I know what life was like before using weed and I know how it should feel. But I cannot properly life, my sense of self, empathy, and life around me currently. I am walking around blind deaf and dumb I don't know if I want to live this way for the rest of my life. I would have loved to become a doctor.

I just don't know what to do anymore, I don't want to kill myself and I don't think I will have the balls to frankly but that saddens me even more if I can't feel or process what I am experiencing for the rest of my life. Life is too short to waste, any life really even if I'm dumber than what I used to be. I think of people who are paralyzed, people who have cancer, who have nobody left to care for them, people who are homeless and have physical ailments. They don't give up, but their minds are still natural. I am young and the only reason I am thinking of this is because I don't want to go the rest of my life with derealization of the world around me. I don't want to live the rest of my life blind deaf and dumb. No new experiences since the latter parts of my weed addiction have given me any meaning in life compared to what I had learned before smoking weed. I am grateful I got to experience and learn the meaning of life from my perspective and others when I was younger, thank you for that. I love you both so much. I am sorry and don't worry I am not going to kill myself its just that I am angry with myself, angry with my cognitive decline, and angry that I can't experience what life ought to be currently. I am hoping for better in the future though. I just thought you should know.

Love, Your son

Before Weed: 

I am telling you this because I am scared for myself although it may be too late. Before I tell you what I've been going through, I want to tell you about my life experience up until junior year of highschool. Although I wasn't exactly extremely smart from your perspectives, I was acutely aware of my surroundings. In school I was more focused on how things were organized and what every single person in the room was thinking and what their plans were rather then what they were teaching. It's like my brain was calculating 20 things at once and i was living existentially all the time. I was incredibly happy just to be alive. I could recall the exact positions of people and things around me, what I was thinking, and the sutle muscle movements of people over a reasonable amount of time. I used to know what people were going to say before they said them, and know someone's personality outlook on life, habits mentality etc.  just by watching for 10 seconds to an incredible degree of accuracy. The longer a person was in my focus I learned more about them exponentially. I could learn things very well and had a memory based on the things that I was focused on that was so precise and better than almost everyone I had ever met. People in high school who knew me well knew this and would be shocked how i could know things about them. Some things like sexuality and gender insecurities, presence of autism/ Asperger's as a child, family life back home, and who liked who, I could tell about people after observing them for a little. I had  respect from people at school and some teachers because they knew what I could learn about a situation or people just by being in the same room. I could learn new words in the blink of an eye if I heard it just once, I was constantly calculating. With dad, I could not learn what he tried to teach me though just because I was so scared of him that my focus wasn't there and panic was always set in I was scared to be beat frankly (i wasn't scared of the pain but just scared what it meant which was hard for me to fully realize because I would slightly repress the memories and I don't like to do that). But it's from him I learned how to analyze people and the world. But he is one of the only people I've ever met where I could not track his mind to a satisfying degree. For most people I would now what they were thinking, what they were incubating in the back of their head, and their current plan of action in a glance by looking at the eyes and body. I could not do this with dad because his mind is faster than mine it was too hard to keep up. He has mind palaces that are so structured and he can jump around his mind so easily I couldn't keep up with the mind palaces he created and how he navigates them. It was harder for me to do this with people who had a very high iq but I would practice everyday and would cherish analyzing introverts for practice. I walked on a street with a hundred people I would make an observation about each of them and could later recall exactly what I saw and what I was thinking. My kinesthetic sense was very good so physical distances was easy for me to calculate and remember. I truly believed that before starting weed I would become a doctor because all my strengths coincided with it. This ability, although most ppl might be able to do it, peaked for me right before starting weed. I was very much in tune with spirituality and enjoyed reading storybooks, meditation, and socializing. I was never focused on myself but what was around me, I kept my thoughts and feelings in a box in my mind to help me learn as I recorded what others were doing and thinking. I had balls - I asked out girls in highschool, and honestly wasn't afraid of much because both of you enabled me to experience life by taking me everywhere.

[wibblywobblyscienceywiencey]

hey! so i have a bsc in chem engineering and was thinking of going to grad school for chem (i discovered i enjoy chem far more than engineering) but wanted to ask what can i expect if i do? i did a lot of courses and labs in chem (gen, organic, electrochem and even nanotech in chem) so do u think that would help?

Hi there!

In any grad program, the first year or two (depending on the school and the program) will be mostly coursework and TA duties (again, if your school offers TA assignments), and the rest of the time is spent doing research. I can sort of outline for you how it worked at my school/my experience at grad school:

Year 1, Semester 1 (Fall 2016):

Proficiency exams -- Our department requires us to be proficient in three of the five main chemistry disciplines (analytical chem, physical chem, organic chem, inorganic chem, biochem). They administered ACS (American Chemical Society) exams to us, and we had to get at least 50% to be considered “proficient”. If we didn’t score at least 50%, it was recommended we take a class related to the test(s) we didn’t do well in. We could take the Proficiency exams again before the spring semester to try to pass them.

Classes -- The classes I took were Analytical Chem, Spectral Analysis, Molecular Biophysics

TA duties -- I TA-ed two sections of gen chem labs, grading reports and exams

Research groups -- Look at the various research groups in the department, chat with faculty and other grad students, select a research group. We had to select three groups we were interested in and rank them by preference. I was lucky and got my first choice, but not everybody does, so make sure you apply to schools that have multiple research labs that would interest you.

Year 1, Semester 2 (Spring 2017):

Proficiency exams -- I only needed to retake one of them, and I passed it this time ‘round.

Classes -- I took Chemical Biology and Protein Separation/Analysis

Research -- I took 3 credits of research to get acclimated to the lab I chose and to start thinking of my research project

TA -- I taught two sections of gem chem (the second semester of gen chem) and graded reports and exams

Summer 1 (Summer 2017): 

Research -- This is really where I got my feet wet with the lab work. I learned the various instruments in our lab, as well as some of the common/shared instrumentation in the lab. I learned procedures and whatnot, and I began running small experiments to get comfortable with lab work. Then I began figuring out what my research project would be over the next several years I was there

TA (maybe) -- I, thankfully, didn’t have to teach any classes over the summer, but some grad students do

Year 2, Semester 1 (Fall 2017):

Classes -- I took Biochemistry and Cell Biology

TA -- I was “promoted” to lab instructor, so I instructed two sections of the gen chem labs

Research -- I continued working on my research that I’d begun over the summer

Year 2, Semester 2 (Spring 2018):

Classes -- I took Physical Biochemistry and Chemometrics (this marks the end of my classwork... I took a few extra to get my Master’s)

TA -- I instructed two sections of general chemistry labs

More research

2nd year seminar -- at my school, all of the second years have to present a seminar on a topic of their choice, not related to their research. I don’t know if other schools require this, or at least something similar.

Summer 2 (Summer 2018):

General Exam/Qualifying Exam -- honestly, this is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever had to do in my grad school tenure. How it works at my school is I had to compile all of the research I’d done so far, analyze what I had, and then write a research proposal about what I planned to do over the next 3-ish years. Then you assemble a committee of faculty who will be your doctoral committee, and you present your research plans in front of them, they ask you questions, and ultimately will decide if you will continue with the program as an official doctoral candidate.

More research

Years 3-4, (Fall 2018-present):

Research, research, and more research -- honestly, this is where you’ll spend all of your time. You’ll constantly be in the lab, collecting and analyzing data, going to conferences to present your research and/or to see what other people in your field are doing, and also networking if you can.

TA duties -- I still have to TA in the fall and spring semesters, since my group is very new and hasn’t had a chance to apply for grants and get steady funding. I love TA-ing, since I ultimately want to teach at a university once I graduate, but some students aren’t a fan. It all depends on the school and your advisor.

COVID -- The pandemic shut down our university since March, and we’re only just now in the beginning stages of being able to go back. So for the last three months, I’ve been analyzing the data I have from home, reading papers, and writing up a manuscript. But I know a lot of other grad students haven’t had much to do and have been trying to keep busy with staying up to date with the literature in their field.

I know this has turned into a novel, but I hope this was helpful and informative. Again, this is only my experience. Every school does things a little differently, but from what I’ve heard, the general timeline of everything (classes, teaching, qualifying exams, etc) is about the same across the board.

Let me know if I can help with anything else! Good luck!

[xox-gossipgoat]

more gud personal statements (from medical students but still)

Sample Essay 1 In the sweating discomfort of the summertime heat, I walked through Philadelphia International Airport with several overweight bags, tired eyes, and a bad case of Shigella. Approaching Customs, I noticed the intensity and seriousness on the faces of the customs officers whose responsibility were to check passports and question passengers. As I moved closer to the front of the line, I noticed someone reading a foreign newspaper. The man was reading about the Middle Eastern conflict, a clash fueled by religious intolerance. What a sharp contrast to Ghana, I thought. I had just spent three weeks in Ghana. While there I worked, studied their religions, ate their food, traveled and contracted malaria. Despite all of Ghana’s economic hardships, the blending of Christianity, Islam, and traditional religion did not affect the health of the country. When I reached the front of the line, the customs officer glanced at my backpack and with authoritative curiosity asked me, “What are you studying?” I responded in a fatigued, yet polite voice, “Religious studies with a pre-med track.” Surprised, the officer replied rhetorically, “Science and religion, interesting, how does that work?” This was not the first time I had encountered the bewildered facial expression or this doubtful rhetorical question. I took a moment to think and process the question and answered, “With balance.” Throughout my young life I have made an effort to be well-rounded, improve in all facets of my personal life, and find a balance between my personal interests and my social responsibility. In my quest to understand where I fit into society, I used service to provide a link between science and my faith. Science and religion are fundamentally different; science is governed by the ability to provide evidence to prove the truth while religion’s truth is grounded on the concept of faith. Physicians are constantly balancing the reality of a person’s humanity and the illness in which they are caring for. The physicians I have found to be most memorable and effective were those who were equally as sensitive and perceptive of my spirits as they were of my symptoms. Therefore, my desire to become a physician has always been validated, not contradicted by my belief system. In serving, a person must sacrifice and give altruistically. When one serves they sacrifice their self for others benefit. Being a servant is characterized by leading by 3 example and striving to be an advocate for equity. As a seventh grade math and science teacher in the Philadelphia public school system, everyday is about sacrifice and service. I sacrifice my time before, during and after-school; tutoring, mentoring and coaching my students. I serve with vigor and purpose so that my students can have opportunities that many students from similar backgrounds do not have. However, without a balance my effectiveness as a teacher is compromised. In February, I was hospitalized twice for a series of asthma attacks. Although I had been diagnosed with asthma, I had not had an attack since I was in middle school. Consequently, the physicians attributed my attacks to high stress, lack of sleep, and poor eating habits. It had become clear to me that my unrelenting drive to provide my students with a sound math and science education without properly balancing teaching and my personal life negatively impacted my ability to serve my students. I believe this experience taught me a lesson that will prove to be invaluable as a physician. Establishing an equilibrium between my service and my personal life as a physician will allow me to remain connected to the human experience; thus enabling me to serve my patients with more compassion and effectiveness. Throughout my travels and experiences I have seen the unfortunate consequences of not having equitable, quality health care both domestically and abroad. While many take having good health for granted, the financial, emotional, mental, and physical effects illnesses have on individuals and families can have a profound affect on them and the greater society. Illness marks a point in many people’s lives where they are most vulnerable, thus making a patient’s faith and health care providers vital to their healing process. My pursuit to blend the roles of science and religion formulate my firm belief that health care providers are caretakers of God’s children and have a responsibility to all of humanity. Nevertheless, I realize my effectiveness and success as a physician will be predicated mostly on my ability to harmonize my ambition with my purpose. Therefore, I will always answer bewildered looks with the assurance that my faith and my abilities will allow me to serve my patients and achieve what I have always strived for and firmly believe in, balance. 4 Sample Essay 2 “911 operator, what’s your emergency?” “My friend has just been shot and he is not moving!” “Is he breathing?” “I don't think so!” “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Stay there, the paramedics are on their way." On April 10th 2003, at approximately 11pm, my best friend Kevin and I, intending to see a movie, headed out my front door. We never made it to see a horror movie; but our night was nothing close to mundane, when we became innocent victims to gang crossfire. As we descended my front door stairs two gunshots were fired and one person fell to the floor. Kevin was shot! I vividly recall holding him in my arms, and while he lost blood I almost lost my mind. All I wanted was to help, but there was nothing I could do. At 1am that morning Kevin's family and I sat in the emergency waiting room at Brookdale Hospital in Brooklyn, hoping and praying that the chief surgeon would bring us good news. While this event started me on my quest to become a medical doctor, at that moment all I could envision was a life of despondency. According to author Jennifer Holloway, “tragedy is a substance which can ignite the soul.” When Kevin’s surgeon walked through the door of the emergency waiting room he did not have to say a word. Kevin’s family cried hysterically. I, on the other hand, could not cry. As fast as despondency had filled my heart, it was now gone; I was consumed by anger, frustration and motivation to change my life’s direction. The death of my best friend compelled me to pursue a career in medicine. This, I hope, will enable me to help save the lives that others try to take. In the fall of this event, I took my first biology and chemistry courses. By the end of the year I excelled as the top student in biology, received the Inorganic Chemistry Achievement Award and was encouraged to become a tutor in general biology and chemistry. Tutoring was a captivating experience for me. Questions raised by students challenged my understanding of scientific concepts and their application in patient care. To further develop my knowledge of medicine, I volunteered in the emergency department at Albert Einstein Hospital, in Bronx, NY. While shadowing doctors, I was introduced to triaging, patient diet monitoring and transitioning from diagnosis to treatment. This exposed me to some of the immense responsibilities of a doctor, but my 5 experience helping in the cancer ward was where I learned the necessity of humanity in a physician and how it can be used to treat patients. Peering through a window I saw Cynthia, a seven-year-old girl diagnosed with terminal cancer, laughing uncontrollably after watching her doctor make funny faces. For a moment not only did Cynthia forget that she was dying, but her smile expressed joy and the beauty of being alive. This taught me that a physician, in addition to being knowledgeable and courageous, should show compassion to patients. It also became clear to me that a patient’s emotional comfort is as important as their physical health, and are both factors that a physician considers while providing patient care. Although focused on medicine, I was introduced to research through the Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation in Science. Here, I learned organic synthesis techniques, while working on a project to elucidate the chemical mechanisms of oxygenprotein binding and its relationships to anemia. I also received the United Negro College Fund/Merck Science Initiative Research Scholarship that allowed me to experience cutting edge research in Medicinal Chemistry, with a number of world-class scientists. At Merck Research Labs, I learned the fundamentals of synthesizing novel compounds for drug discovery, and we focused on treatments for cardiac atrial fibrillation. This internship changed my view of medication and their origins, and left me with a deep appreciation of the challenges of medicinal research. I also now understand that medical doctors and research scientists have similar responsibilities: to solve current and future health issues that we face. Despite the tragedy that brought me to the hospital on April 10th 2003, the smells, the residents and the organized chaos of the emergency room have become an integral part of a new chapter in my life. On the day that my friend lost his life I found my soul in medicine. Today as I move forward on the journey to become a physician I never lose sight of the ultimate goal; to turn the dying face of a best friend into the smiling glow of a patient, just like Cynthia’s. A patient’s sickness can be a result of many things. But with the right medications, a physician’s compassion and some luck, sickness can be overcome, and the patient helped. In time and with hard work it will be my privilege to possess the responsibilities of a physician in caring for life. 6 Sample Essay 3 On Wednesdays, I was the only visitor for Jorge, an elderly patient in the AIDS and Tropical Disease Ward at Carlos III Hospital in Madrid. A native of Equatorial Guinea, Jorge had full blown AIDS and had been living in Spain illegally because, according to Jorge, his country lacked enough resources and trained doctors to provide an adequate level of treatment. Over several weeks I witnessed his losing battle, not only with a terminal illness but also with cultural incongruence and a continual feeling of unease, thousands of miles away from home. Talking with Jorge during my experience as a volunteer for the NGO Soldarios Para el Desarollo in the fall of 2001, led me to question the justice of health care discrepancies that make it so difficult for people like Jorge to get sufficient treatment in underdeveloped nations. Jorge was a victim of health care inequality, a subject that has been at the forefront of my mind since enrolling in “Race and Medicine in America” during my sophomore year. The course revealed to me the historically poor distribution of quality medical attention and how treatment continually evades socio-economically disadvantaged communities. I came to understand how, in the US, a national shortage of physicians and unlikely prospects of financial gain have caused few doctors to take an interest in these communities, leaving a diminishing level of access to services and expertise. This unfortunate reality inspired me to take an interest in treating these populations, in hopes of helping to improve the care for our country’s poor and underserved. Jorge’s story broadened my perspective, as I further realized that this need is exponentially worse in developing nations. The combination of my studies and real world experience strengthened my desire to practice medicine focused on treating underserved populations, nationally and abroad. In pursuit of my goal, I sought additional exposure to medical conditions in the developing world. During the summer of 2002, I contributed to a public health research initiative in Ghana. My research on malaria infectivity in and around the capital city Accra sent me to shanty town communities with poor hygiene and chronic illness and gave me yet another perspective on the impact of economic disparity in health outcomes and treatment options. Exorbitant patient volume and endemic disease are but a few of the many obstacles to doctors serving these communities and trying to provide quality care. Despite theses difficulties, I witnessed skilled physicians in this setting performing complex procedures in substandard conditions. At the Komfo Ankye Teaching Hospital in 7 the urban village of Kumasi, I scrubbed-in during the removal of an osteosarcoma tumor from a man’s jaw and an ileostomy, where I saw a scalpel filling the role of an absent screwdriver and doctors working in a hot ward with minimal ventilation and only basic amenities. These resourceful doctors were still able to perform, reaffirming my expectation that despite complications, the addition of well-trained doctors can make a marked difference. I began to understand how, by taking my medical school training to such environments, I could serve as an intermediary - bringing first world knowledge into a thirdworld context. Since my time in Ghana, I have continued to participate to health care projects in poor communities. During the summer of 2003, I conducted research in an obstetrics ward of a public hospital in Sao Paulo, and the following fall participated in an infectious disease initiative that brought medical attention to impoverished suburbs of Lima, Peru. Most recently, I worked at a bilingual health clinic in Chicago serving a primarily Latino immigrant community. With each experience, I gained a deeper understanding of the complementary skills necessary to make a real difference. I have learned that medical knowledge, cultural understanding, and political savvy are critical components to a holistic approach to community health care and development, and are skills possessed by the most effective contributors to positive change. I continue to hone my language skills in anticipation of serving Spanish and Portuguese-speaking populations; and I am building an understanding of how to work in a complex funding environment and link medical treatment with public policy. I wish to pursue my medical training and a Master’s in Public Health, so that I can improve access to health care and serve as an effective physician. My desire to perform medical public service developed from concern and sympathy for people in need of medical care, most specifically those with the least access. I further recognize the importance such compassion plays in effective communication between doctors and their patients. It was my childhood doctor’s ability to convey understanding and elicit trust that inspired my initial interest in the medical field. He combined calm and compassion with medical expertise in a thorough form of healing that I grew to expect, but have infrequently witnessed in poor communities. As I strive to bring better health care to underserved populations, I hope to do so with the same personal care and attention that comforted me in my youth. 8 Sample Essay 4 Too young to volunteer in a hospital yet too old for summer camp, I was determined not to idle away my first summer as a high school student. Undaunted and striving to help my community, I inquired about our local nursing home. My grandmother refused to enter the brown building with me, unable to interact with residents who were ailing and terminally ill. With persistence, I toured the facility with my father and decided to volunteer. The residents who were so debilitated that they would never leave the care of the nursing home really moved me. It was amazing how the support of the medical staff and family members created an environment that allowed residents to live an enjoyable life. I will never forget one resident in his early thirties who was paralyzed from the waist down, unable to live as most young adults. I would run into him on the elevator almost daily. My encouraging words and energy as a young person often brightened his day, and in return made me feel very joyful to serve. It was quite extraordinary to know that such a small gesture could positively impact someone’s life. From reading stories to assisting the professional staff with exercise routines for the residents, the experiences I had there were life-changing. It was then that I realized that my life would be most fulfilled working directly to improve the lives of others as it relates to medicine. With a strong interest in clinical medicine, I continued my studies at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County (UMBC) as a biology major and a Meyerhoff scholar. I embarked on several projects within the disciplines of immunology, cell biology, genetics, and vascular biology. These research projects gave me an indescribable experience as a participant in the discovery process and newfound appreciation for biomedical research. I was ready to work in the hospital and wondered how various scientific discoveries were being used in medicine. To answer this question and gain first hand experience of life inside a busy hospital, I began volunteering in the shock trauma resuscitation unit at the University of Maryland Medical Center (UMMC) in Baltimore. On my first day as a volunteer, I was a bit nervous, unsure of what to expect. However, once I suited up and walked into the shock trauma room, I knew medicine was the profession I was meant to pursue. Through my work, I witnessed the 9 medical staff working tirelessly to stabilize and care for patients who had experienced car accidents, stabbings, and other forms of trauma. I will never forget walking into the shock trauma room to find a crying mother and grandmother as they saw their son and daughter severely injured from a car accident. As I looked into the next unit, there was a middle-aged woman who was recovering from a stab wound. Walking away from her unit, I could hear her call “Miss….Miss, can you help me?” I didn’t know what she wanted, but I quickly turned to talk with her. She wanted her food heated and the nurse’s assistance. Although I could not physically interact with her, I felt like a part of the medical team---working to ease suffering and serve those in pain. The most striking incident occurred one Saturday morning when I walked into the resuscitation unit and saw a pool of blood surrounding the rolling bed of one patient. The doctors and nurses tried everything possible to save his life. However, they were unsuccessful and he died. I watched the reactions of the staff as they silently covered his body and rolled it away. It was then that I realized that one day I would be in a position to save someone’s life. I immediately thought about the family of the deceased patient. Most importantly, I understood the important role that I must be prepared for in helping families deal with such a life tragedy. As I was walking back to the locker room, I started to reflect on the joy I got from volunteering in the hospital and mentoring community kids, combined with my passion for science. I knew at that moment that I would love working as a physician who could not only heal and alleviate pain, but who can educate and innovate. The opportunity to change even a fraction of the lives of those in a city or underserved country is quite amazing. With the untimely death of various community members due to the advanced stages of cancer and the higher incidence of human immunodeficiency virus infection in minority women, I am inspired to join the struggle against deadly diseases and sickness. As I continue to strive for more, I can remember a quote by author Anna Eleanor Roosevelt: “When you cease to make a contribution, you begin to die.” I not only want to treat patients in the clinical setting, but am driven to improve the treatment and diagnosis of life-altering diseases through public health research. Without reservation, this will be my contribution. 10 Sample Essay 5 The litter bearers burst through the triage area doors from the dusty Afghanistan night carrying three soldiers injured in an IED blast. The tent that housed the trauma bay hummed intensely yet somberly as the medical staff began evaluating the casualties. My trauma shears ripped through the soldier’s charred uniform while I performed an initial assessment of the casualty with the attending physician. Exposing the injuries, I found that the soldier was badly burned due to the blast. He was unconscious, suffering from a compromised airway and his skin was peppered with shrapnel. I attached monitoring equipment, started a peripheral line and began cleaning the burns that blanched the majority of the soldier’s upper body. Through the synchronized chaos of surgeons directing treatment, anesthetists intubating and nurses administering initial medications, I understood the fluid relationship between the levels of medical hierarchy. I became part of an intricate network of communication, and the demanding process of saving a life. Nothing has been more rewarding than serving my fellow soldiers and the local Afghan community during a year long deployment overseas. Working in a combat support hospital under personalized mentorship of a cardiothoracic, orthopaedic and general surgeon gave me the opportunity to learn about long and short term care, processes of diagnosis and proactive medical treatment in trauma situations. After serving in a combat zone I realized that a life is the most magnificent and powerful force in existence. It compels us to bridge language and cultural barriers, and it is the common denominator amongst all human beings. As a physician, my priority is the preservation of that which is most precious to us all. The impetus for pursing a career as a physician began during my involvement in the Minority Medical Education Program (MMEP) in the summer of 2001 at Yale University, where I participated in a rigorous eight week program that mirrored the experience of a first year medical student. The curriculum focused on writing and communication skills, medical ethics and core science knowledge. Additionally, the program encouraged team building, small group discussions about current medical developments and molding the future of healthcare. I received close mentorship from first through fourth year Yale medical students during the MMEP, as well as opportunities to shadow physicians in the New Haven Hospital emergency room, 11 oncology ward and cardiology department. The MMEP shaped my focus as a young student aspiring to inherit the future of medicine, and provided me with realistic expectations for my life long pursuit of medical knowledge. During the MMEP I found joy in the practical application of my undergraduate studies, as well as an appreciation for the dynamicity of my forthcoming medical education. The following summer I participated in the Infectious Diseases Undergraduate Research Program at the University of Iowa. Over an eight week period I studied trends of nosocomial versus community acquired Methicillin resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MSRA) infections at 140 statewide, long term care facilities. I used pulse field gel electrophoresis to categorize and group different strains of MSRA taken from patients at the different facilities and track patterns of prevalence. The summer long project added perspective to the obligations and responsibilities of being a physician. At the culmination of the eight weeks I understood the importance of medical research and the interdependency between the laboratory and clinical realms. I realized that it is critical to be immersed in medical literature and to foster an atmosphere that encourages aggressive medical research. I also learned that the term “medical community” signifies a constant discourse between the many facets of medicine. The commission of every physician is to juxtapose ideas, plans and research with the unified goal of improving the quality of life. Lastly, when I think of the role of a physician I am reminded of a quote by Robert Browning that states, “But a man’s reach should exceed his grasp.” The face of healthcare is constantly changing. The medical field needs professionals with imagination and vision. I will fill that necessity and I will provide the same quality of care that I desire to receive. It is my dream to serve humanity. 12 Sample Essay 6 I energetically clap my hands as we chant in unison, "Ooh, I feel so good, like, I knew I would... Ooh, I feel SO GOOD!" This has been our weekly ritual for the last three years: me in a circle of women prisoners at the Rhode Island Correctional Facility, all of us yelling at the top of our lungs while a Corrections Officer stands outside the door. As our chants reverberate off the empty walls, Cherry, a pregnant inmate who has been in this facility most of her adult life, takes the lead and we echo her moves. When I "go inside" I forget where I am; the women are eager to clip pictures for a collage, learn West African dance steps that I myself perform at Brown, or write poems on romance or motherhood. Enclosed by locks and patrolled by guards, I help inmates find a way to escape through artistic expression; their enthusiasm affirms the importance of my role as a facilitator of art and writing workshops with SPACE, Space in Prisons for Arts and Creative Expression. I, in turn, am humbled by the poems and artwork the women produce as the workshops provide a creative outlet to assert their unique stories. Sitting alone with forty unexamined boxes in the Brown University archives, I was reminded of my experiences with the SPACE program, and I began to appreciate the importance of having a medium for relaying untold stories. While researching the offpraised fifty-year-old cooperative between Brown University and Tougaloo College, a historically Black private school located in rural Mississippi, I examined the past through narrative, and I unearthed personal accounts outlining a history that had long been forgotten. One day, I found a letter with "To be read and destroyed" scribbled in the margin. The letter outlined Brown's role in the forced resignation of Tougaloo's president in 1964 for his support of the politically minded students at Tougaloo, who organized and led numerous demonstrations throughout Mississippi at the height of the Civil Rights Movement in America. Newspaper clippings detailed community outrage at the firing, while hand-written flyers rallied student groups to oppose the Brown-Tougaloo relationship through demonstrations. The research took me to the tiny Tougaloo archives and back to Brown to conduct oral history interviews. The work was instrumental in providing Brown-Tougaloo exchange participants the opportunity to challenge misconceptions of their experiences; the documents we collected are now available on a website about the Brown-Tougaloo relationship and the events of the Civil Rights movement. 13 : My visions for eliciting personal narrative are embodied in my approaches to healthcare. For four years, I conducted biomedical research on the underlying reasons for increased incidence and mortality rates of prostate cancer in African-American men; this first taught me the importance of evaluating economic, social, and cultural histories for the insight they offer in examining health. While personal narrative offers patients distinct voices for their stories, in serving the needs of the people, physicians are afforded the unique opportunity to mediate and then to validate those narratives, bridging personal stories with physical observations. This fusion of the social and corporeal has been reiterated in my experiences as a student conducting clinical health research both domestically and abroad I shrug, wiping the perspiration off the side of my face onto my sleeve. Our team has been working outside for almost three hours measuring fasting glucose levels, taking blood pressures, and calculating Body Mass Indexes for a rural family in modernizing Samoa. For many I will counsel this summer, obesity, diabetes, and hypertension will be linked to perceived social pressures to maintain material lifestyles exceeding individual financial means. The glucose meter beeps abruptly; I lean over the table to see the reading, while an old woman sits across from me tending her bleeding finger. "La'i mai suka": "You do not have diabetes," I announce, checking the "normal" box on her information sheet. One of the Samoan field assistants translates for me as I explain the importance of exercise and healthy eating, listing traditional Samoan foods as better options to canned spaghetti sandwiches. She nods, understanding. The activities I pursued as an undergraduate were chosen not for utility to some future plan; instead, my interests in a wide range of human activity helped me to discover the significance of bridging everyday peoples' narratives and their health needs. Further, eliciting the voices of others helped me to realize why I am so compelled to pursue medicine. Each experience has taught me the importance of real communication in healthcare: paying close attention to how people feel and the meaning of what they say. I am enriched by the individuals I have encountered; I marvel at their unique stories, and I appreciate how each person is validated and empowered in exchange for sharing his/her history. Our interactions sit at the heart of humanistic sensibilities to healthcare; I am determined to become a physician, where I can help to relay stories that otherwise might remain untold. 14 Sample Essay 7 Sweat profusely ran down his face and dizziness clouded his world. Though he was not feeling well, he ignored these signs and the repetitive, “Daddy, are you okay?” for the fear that he would display any sign of weakness in front of his children. After several hours of denial, his body gave the final warning that all was not well and the man collapsed in a pool of vomit. That man was my father and I watched as he too weak to stand and vomit on his mouth and clothes, was transported to the nearest medical center with the help of my sister and grandfather. After numerous CAT scans and other tests, we learned that my father suffered a minor stroke. Though he suffered a stroke the day before, my father, against the doctor’s advice, went to work the next day to ensure that his condition was not a financial burden on our family. Seeing my father suffer many complications from diabetes and hypertension, I strove to learn more about these diseases by reading medical literature to see how they could be controlled and prevented. However, watching my father sacrifice his health for financial reasons had a lasting impression on my motivation in medical care. My father was diagnosed with diabetes and hypertension when I was ten years old. His lack of treatment worsened his diabetic condition and my sophomore year in college, he was put on insulin. To this day, I am convinced that if we could have afforded adequate health care my father would have not sacrificed his health and thus he would not have suffered many complications. My primary interest in hypertension and diabetes is personally driven. For two summers I worked in Dr. Yan Huang’s lab where I conducted two independent research projects on the correlation between diabetes and atherosclerosis. One of my projects was concerned with controlling the regulation of connective tissue growth factor (CTGF) expression in vascular smooth muscles cells by thiazolidinediones (TZDs). In this project we hypothesized that the diabetic class of drugs TZDs would reduce CTGF expression in vascular smooth muscle cells, which would in turn reduce atherogenesis. We did an in vitro study and were able to determine that TZDS did reduce CTGF expression in vascular smooth muscle cells. My research for that summer was recently accepted for publication in the journal Atherosclerosis. I saw the importance of biomedical research in clinical care. In addition, my project has taught me about the effective treatments for diabetes and I learned about the seriousness of my father’s disease. However, from reading medical literature and 15 personal experience, I learned about the health disparities that existed among minority groups as well as those of lower socioeconomic class. This information further reinforced my determination to pursue medicine to counter these disparities. As a serious student, I felt that I should contribute equal time to volunteer work. I participated in an alternative spring break project in Logan, West Virginia through the Premedical Organization for Minority Students (POMS) in which we visited the underserved area of Logan, West Virginia and were able to get first-hand clinical experience. From this experience, I obtained skills in taking blood pressure, blood glucose levels, and urinalysis and used these skills while visiting senior citizens residences. Through my interaction with the seniors, I realized that communication and trust is vital for a healthy patient-physician relationship. In addition to doing health related activities, I was able to talk to students from disadvantage backgrounds on the importance of getting a postsecondary education. My goal in doing this was to give back to a community similar to my own because my environment gave me the right foundation to become a strong, intelligent individual. However, the most rewarding part of the trip was sharing with the local high school students my life story and how I found motivation in my disadvantage situation and used it to excel. I believe that it is important for them to see someone like themselves, so that they may be inspired to succeed as well. By far, my most rewarding community service has been with the College after School Team (C.A.S.T), which is a program that provides free tutoring and mentorship to disadvantaged, inner-city high school students that are at risk. My duties included tutoring, during activities with the students, preparing students for the route to college by working with them on standardized tests and college applications. I consider this to be the one of the most rewarding community service that I have become involved with because I am able to see a progress in students and watch them succeed. After seeing firsthand the waste in health due to the lack of health care in my community and family and the health disparities that exist among minorities and those of the lower economic rungs of society, I am aware of the need for physicians in medically underserved areas. As a potential physician, I wish to eliminate health disparities that exist among minorities and lower income individuals by making health care available to those who would not otherwise have access to it. Medical school would provide me with the skills needed to counter the health disparities that exist domestically and globally by providing experience in such areas. 16 Sample Essay 8 A little boy in a rural town in Mozambique is competing with 100,000 patients for the attention of the only three doctors available to him. Meanwhile, in Nicaragua a mother is torn between spending money to put food on the table or tending to her son's illness as they survive on only one dollar a day. The struggle continues as a black mother mourns the loss of her infant daughter because the infant mortality rate amongst the AfricanAmerican community is twice that of any other ethnic group in America. With the world becoming increasingly more connected, we cannot continue to detach ourselves from these issues. I have always felt attached to and compelled by the problems of the world, therefore these stories of disparities and inequalities have always distressed me. In fact, it was these stories that urged me to pursue sociology as a major. Focusing on international social change, I have learned many of the extreme social issues affecting the world today. These issues have inspired me to want to be in the forefront of combating these problems with the best of my capabilities. Those capabilities and opportunities for me lie in the field of medicine. I have wanted to be a doctor from the time I was a child and as I excelled in the sciences throughout my education, that interest developed even more. The University of Michigan provided many outlets for students to gain medical experience and I took advantage of many opportunities there, two of them being my job as a nurse assistant and my Distraction Osteogenesis research. Working as a nurse assistant in the hemodialysis unit for over a year, allowed me to develop health care professional- to- patient relationships and it allowed me to see the doctors and nurses in their working environment. Whereas my research, which investigates the effects of radiation on bone healing, involves surgical procedures in which I assist in and require me to do post-operative rounds. The rounds are performed twice daily during which we give medications to the rats, feed them, identify and care for infections, take daily notes on their overall health, and distract their mandible. This experience gives me a glimpse of how medical student 17 rotations are conducted on the wards. Opportunities like these and many others continue to nurture the spark for medicine that was ignited when I was young. Growing up, my idea of medicine was confined to dealing with patients in a doctor’s office. However, majoring in sociology has allowed me to see that I want to practice a kind of medicine that extends beyond the walls of an office and into the community where disparities in infant mortality have to be addressed through research and education. Furthermore, my travels to Nigeria in December 2004 and my recent trip to China in May 2007, have shown me that medicine can transcends the borders of the United States to places like Nicaragua where I can organize mission trips to provide free, quality health care for those that would never be able to afford it. Achieving quality health is a product of both good physiological maintenance and a healthy living environment. My sociology background has taught me that people not only require their health needs to be addressed but also other life issues as well. I have learned that addressing both of these factors can positively impact a person's general health. My application of this knowledge is apparent through my work on campus in different organizations, especially as the health committee chair of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) - UM Chapter. As health committee chair, I partnered with several professional health school organizations to put together a health fair. There, we provided free screenings for students and people in the Ann Arbor community for cholesterol, blood pressure, body mass index, glaucoma, and diabetes as well as counseling regarding other barriers they felt were preventing them from attaining good health. What I can do as a doctor in the future is build upon the efforts I demonstrated in college by merging the principles I will learn in medicine with those that I have learned in sociology. My mission will be to change lives. I am not a superhero, I am but one person who believes that the needs of the less fortunate should not be overlooked. As long as I am equipped with the armor of medicine, I can help see to the improvement of some of the disparities that prevent people from receiving optimum health care in the United States and abroad. So I hope that I will be given the opportunity to affect the life of that little boy in Mozambique, as well as many medically disadvantaged across the globe.

[peggy-faces]

Mad Men rewatch: Season 1, Episode 1: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

I finally got around to doing this months after I said I was going to start. Don’t say I never keep my promises.

I’m still trying to work out a good format for these recaps/reviews. Having watched this episode so many times before I’m not really sure how to approach this with fresh eyes but I’ll give it a shot. Bear with me, this is a learning process.

This episode is essentially just “24 hours in the life of Don Draper(with some Pete/Peggy hijinks thrown in)”. I genuinely love this and it is the perfect way to be introduced to these characters.

I won’t focus much on Don right now because there’ll be plenty more opportunities down the line, but the thing that struck me in this specific episode was the emphasis on Don’s age compared to Pete and the “younger guys”. 34 is basically a baby by today’s standards. Pete is only 8 years younger than him! Perhaps(?) the role was intended for a man in his 40s but they cast Jon Hamm instead?

A weird thing that’s always bugged me about the pilot. The show seems to set Pete up as someone who wants to take Don’s job. But Pete’s an accounts guy who never really shows that much interest in being in the creative department in the rest of the show.

Also, I’m still not totally sure what was up with Don’s “It’s Toasted” speech. That slogan has existed since the 1910s. Either Mad Men was attempting to retcon history or Don was using it as an example of a good slogan? The commentary tracks seem to suggest it was the former.

Meanwhile, a certain mousy working class girl from Brooklyn is starting her first day of work at Sterling Cooper. Peggy is my favourite fictional character in anything ever and I unironically adore her despite her faults so I’ll definitely have more to say about her in the future especially about her relationships with Don and Joan. But now I’d like to focus on her relationship with Pete.

In the closing moments of this episode, Pete shows up at Peggy’s apartment and she allows him inside, presumably so they can have sex. First of all, how the hell did Pete get her address in the first place. Secondly, Why? Why did Pete go to Peggy of all people? Why did Peggy fuck him? Let’s take a look at their previous interactions in this episode.

1. Pete insults Peggy’s appearance and insinuates that she’s sleeping with Don.

2. Pete lies to get into Don’s office and gets Peggy into trouble with Don on her first day of work.

I like this episode and I do like the Pete/Peggy arc throughout the show and they normally have amazing chemistry together. But this scene feels so inorganic that there was a lot of speculation that Pete and Peggy knew each other beforehand because that would at least make more sense than what we got.

Fun fact: according to the shooting script for this episode(easily Googlable if you want to read it), Pete arrives at Peggy’s apartment at 9:45. Which means Pete’s bachelor party must have ended at 9 at the very earliest in order for him to get to Brooklyn in time. What bachelor party ends that early in the night? And Pete must have spent chunk of time finding Peggy’s address WHICH, AGAIN, WE HAVE NO IDEA HOW HE EVEN FOUND. I like imagining Pete wandering around Brooklyn drunkenly asking random people where “Peggy” lives.

We’re also introduced to Ken, Dick, and Harry. Yes, Paul Kinsey’s name in the pilot was originally Dick but it was changed when it got picked up by AMC. Ken is the weird sleazebag and Harry is the married guy who does seem somewhat decent compared to Kinsey and Ken. Weird how things change, isn’t it? Paul’s the pretentious guy. At least that never changed.

And then, of course, there’s Sal. Hey, did you know that Sal was gay? If you didn't, you probably missed the numerous “subtle clues" that were dropped throughout this episode. And by subtle, I mean so blatant that the only way they could have been more unsubtle is if you could hear Matthew Weiner screaming "heeeeeeeeeeeeee's gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" in the background of every shot Sal is in. The most notorious example of this is when Sal randomly drops the line “we’re supposed to believe people are living one way and secretly thinking the exact opposite? That’s ridiculous.” It doesn’t feel organic to the conversation at hand, it just sounds weird. But if you look closely into the reflection in Sal’s eyes you can see Matthew Weiner patting himself on the back and congratulating himself on being such a genius.

But the most cringeworthy line of dialogue in the entire episode goes to: “It’s not like there’s some magic machine that makes identical copies of things.” Which is the sort of line you’d expect in an SNL parody of Mad Men, not the actual show.

The final plot twist of this episode is that we find out that Don is *gasp* married. Yes, this was actually supposed to be a plot twist. But I guess finding out that the dude who just claimed love was invented by capitalism has wife and kids would be pretty shocking if you don’t know what’s coming?

This is getting kinda long so I’ll touch more on Betty, Joan, and Roger in later instalments as they don’t get much to do here, as well as Rachel and Midge.

Random Observations

I really like the very brief interaction between Roger and Joan. I don’t know if there were was already plans for a secret relationship between the two, but it fits in well.

Elisabeth Moss seems to be affecting some sort of mild Brooklyn accent in this episode that doesn’t exist in the rest of the show. Kinda weird but it does make sense that Peggy would try to hide her working class background later on.

Is this guy in the opening scene Pete? Because he looked like Pete when I was watching it on Netflix but when I put in the DVD to listen to the commentary, he didn’t look like Pete anymore. Pete’s evil twin? Pete’s non-evil twin?

Commentary tracks

There are two commentary tracks for this episode. The first has Matthew Weiner and the second has director Alan Taylor. There wasn’t really anything particularly juicy so I just wrote down the BTS stuff that sounded interesting.

The pilot script existed for five years and Matthew Weiner used it as his writing sample when he applied for jobs.

Weiner was planning to play the role of the judgmental gynaecologist himself. Make of that what you will.

This is the only episode of Mad Men actually filmed in New York. The bar in the very first scene is a real bar in Harlem called the Lennox Lounge.

It took them a long time to cast Jon Hamm, partly because Taylor didn’t believe a man that handsome could be interesting.

Taylor calls Midge the most modern person in the show. Her apartment is a real artist’s studio on 57th street. They were warned it would be impossible to shoot there because it was on the seventeenth floor and only had a tiny elevator and no space for equipment. They built a set based on this apartment when they started filming the show in California.

The traffic sounds you hear in the scene where Don wakes up after sleeping with Midge are real New York traffic sounds.

The actors for Kinsey, Ken, and Harry felt they had to bond so they went out to drink together every night. At least that’s the excuse they used.

If you look carefully at the end of the elevator scene with Peggy and the guys you’ll see Rich Sommer(Harry Crane) walk off to the right because he had mistakenly thought they’d already cut. Classic Harry.

Taylor says the scene with Lucky Strike was very reminiscent of Bewitched and I agree, which is why I initially described Mad Men as “Bewitched with less magic and more adultery” when I was first started watching.

Something weird I noticed: Alan Taylor only refers to Matthew Weiner as “the writer”. Bad blood? Can’t remember his name? Guess we’ll find out in the inevitable Mad Men BTS tell-all someone writes in ten years.

The strip club was a real retro-style strip club in New York.

They’d almost completely run out of money by the time they shot the scene of Don on the train so it’s basically just a piece of plexiglass with water dripping down it. 

Taylor says he dislikes the use of the song Caravan but I actually really like it. 

Overall, great episode, albeit one with some glaring flaws. I give it 7 Scowling Petes of 10.

[nazmeenhussain]

For both GAT-B and IIT JAM, i got to know from my professors. Had no idea about the exam or it's benefits. I didn't know about TIFR or any other exam so didn't attempt. But since I was badly idle during the lockdown and almost had the idea to be with the crowd, to get married. So inorder to distract myself, i started preparing somewhere around September 2021. Till December, i sorted the question papers by knowing from the professors which question belongs to what Unit.

I picked up only past 5 years questions and analysed the physics and mathematics part. I got 90% confidence to leave physics completely because PYQs were far from my reach even though I had been revising my physics concepts regularly. It would have wasted my time.

Coming to Mathematics, it was evident from the questions that majority were upto class 10th level and from +2 portions, only statistics, probability and trigonometry looked important to me. I was a crammer and highly laborious student at school so it was not difficult for me to recall these portions. I only prepared this much in mathematics and attempted all the questions correctly in the exam. (Note: I didn't have maths as a subject in my +2)

Chemistry, i love this subject. My highest scores ever are in this subject yet i betrayed myself by not taking it up in my graduation. Anyways, i loved organic chemistry more than physical and inorganic. In the PYQs i analysed, they're asking more of organic chemistry and from physical chemistry, only Chemical kinetics part. So inorganic chemistry can be left blindly.

Biology, 12+1+2+3, i.e upto graduation level is required. I was lacking badly in my graduation level biology so i analysed the paper and prepared for only specific units like Recombinant DNA technology, microbiology, biotechniques, biochemistry (only Enzyme and kinetics) and basic immunology. (I later covered some more topics but gave more emphasis on these topics)

I had completely restricted myself to study the least. From my previous experiences of competitive exams i had realised that i should focus on minimum input and maximum output. So i was determined to prepare less but more efficiently. Only when I was done with the targeted portions i would try to touch other topics.

I created an MS Excel sheet to keep a check on my revision cycle for each topic.(I'll share on my stories someday, have to search for it) I did all this preparation only in my free time. Nothing like serious dedications. Making life easy away from the unnecessary stress about competition.

Rest was Allah's Miracle.

Find your own strategy, yourself.

All the best.

:)

[jaemtens]

The Canned Genie

monsta x| kihyuk | side jookyun | 11.5k | ao3

summary:  Lee Minhyuk was just making dinner when he ends up with a genie that he didn’t ask for. Yoo Kihyun was just chilling in his “lamp” when he ends up with several headaches that he didn’t ask for.

☆ The First Wish ☆

Minhyuk dropped his backpack on the ground and dramatically collapsed on his rickety bed.

He should eat, he thought to himself.

Long ago, he was sure that the bed frame would iminently give out, folding on itself while he was sleeping on it. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if that happened -- sleep on the floor? That’s not the worst, right? A few days passed, and he was pretty sure he was in the clear. His bed was just rickety and old, even if it was comfy and, um, well-used. He could definitely fall asleep right now. Minhyuk rolled to his side, hugging his blanket and burying his face into it. It was so warm; yup, he could fall asleep right now if he wanted to.

He really should eat, he thought again.

Minhyuk was so tired. Beyond tired. Exhausted? Yeah, exhausted was the word. Today, he had to work the early-morning shift at the convenience store before heading to his night lecture for Quantitative Chemistry aka Quant aka Hell On Earth. Yeah, yeah, he knew that choosing chemistry as his major was definitely not the easy way out. He knew that every waking moment of his four-year degree was going to be hard. But, even if your average Biology or Pre-Medical major Suffered (yes, Suffered, not suffered. Just ask a biology major about organic chemistry and you’ll know why) through every chemistry class, Minhyuk took most of them in stride. Quant was a whole ‘nother level, and his brain ached just thinking about the class. He didn’t know how he made it through today’s lecture, and he certainly didn’t remember dragging himself through the dark streets back to his apartment building.

Just get up and eat, you lard! he chided himself.

He finally acquiesced to his conscience. With a prolonged groan, Minhyuk rolled off his bed, his gangly limbs steadying the sleep-deprived college student. His eyes were barely open, the light streaming from the incandescent bulb above him too much to handle right now. Minhyuk dragged himself to the kitchen, nearly tripping on his bag along the way. God, he was a mess.

Look, he wasn’t usually a mess, okay? Just after Quant. And Inorganic. And -- never mind.

Just how was Minhyuk so perpetually tired?

Well, first, he was a college student. An unhealthy dose of exhaustion was the name of the game. Bonus tired points because he was a chemistry major, a department in which the professors literally did not care if you slept or not. Suffering (yes, Suffering!) was widespread in his major. And Minhyuk? Well, he was basically an academic masochist. Just ask the nuclear magnetic resonance spectrographs scattered all over his desk.

Second, he worked. It wasn’t a good job. It wasn’t even a job he liked. It was a dead-end retail job at a convenience store. But, let’s face it. Who’s going to hire a broke underclassmen chemistry major with literally no work experience? A convenience store, that’s who. Unfortunately, that wiped out most of Minhyuk’s free time.

Third, Minhyuk was the type of person to sleep whenever he could. His sleep schedule oscillated wildly between consecutive all-nighters to, like, 36 hours of sleep straight. Okay, not quite straight, but laying in bed and hiding under your covers while technically awake is not really awake, right? Minhyuk took naps everywhere and anywhere. Altogether, he was pretty sure his sleep schedule was screwed up beyond saving.

Fortunately for sleepy Minhyuk, his kitchen was really close to his bed. The upside to a closet-sized apartment? Is his studio even a real apartment? Still half-awake, Minhyuk opened one of the cupboards and sighed at how hopelessly empty it was. He really needed to get more stuff from the convenience store... Or steal more free food from campus. Grocery stores were too expensive. Who has money for fruit in this economy? Minhyuk reached for his last can of chicken noodle soup and fished out his hand-me-down can opener from one of the drawers. He latched the can opener’s teeth on the can of soup and clenched down hard on the handles, perforating the can on one edge.

Without any further warning, the top of the can practically exploded off, and a plume of lavender-white smoke swirled up from the can. The smoke enveloped his small kitchen, but it left as soon as it had appeared. In its place was an empty can of ‘soup,’ and a boy who looked like he couldn’t be much older than him.

Oh, and the boy was floating.

“I must be hallucinating,” Minhyuk murmured, rubbing his eyes. That was the only reasonable explanation; he was so tired that he was hallucinating. God, he really should’ve just stayed in bed. This is what happens when you shun sleep. Never give up on sleep, kids.

The floating boy rolled his eyes. “No, you’re not,” he emphatically replied. “Name’s Kihyun, I’m a genie, and you get five wishes.”

“What?”

Kihyun sighed. “My name is Yoo Kihyun. I’m a genie, and I grant wishes... Anything you want, really. You get five wishes.”

The hallucination -- Kihyun, his tripped-out brain corrected -- seemed pretty serious for being, you know, completely fake.

“I wish I had another can of soup,” Minhyuk deadpanned, rubbing his eyes again. What a weird dream.

Kihyun rolled his eyes again. Minhyuk swore he heard the boy mutter something under his breath, but, without missing a beat, Kihyun snapped his fingers. Another puff of lavender smoke appeared on his kitchen counter, quickly dissipating to reveal an exact replica of the empty can of chicken noodle soup that Kihyun came from. This new one was sealed, unlike the empty one next to it. Minhyuk looked back over at Kihyun, who acted like this was totally and completely normal.

“Four wishes,” Kihyun dryly said.

Okay, this was a little much for a hallucination… maybe he was dreaming? Minhyuk tried to wake himself up a little, studying all of Kihyun’s features. Even though he was hovering a few inches off the ground, Minhyuk could tell that Kihyun was a few inches shorter than him. He had light brown hair that was boyishly combed down over his forehead. His features were remarkably sharp with strong cheekbones and a strong jawline. His eyes were small and narrow, but his lips and nose were larger. He had small unremarkable earrings in each ear and a blinged-out ring on his right hand, but otherwise he was dressed in plain business casual: a white collared shirt and black pants.

This was oddly specific for a dream. Minhyuk was really tired, though -- maybe he had actually passed out? Kihyun was starting to look impatient. Would he really have dreamed this up? He remembered reading somewhere that your most vivid dreams occurred when you were the most tired. And, well, he was really tired when he got home.

“So…” Minhyuk slowly started. “You’re a genie?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Kihyun retorted. He seemed disinterested, like Minhyuk was probably the most boring thing in his genie-life right now.

“And you grant wishes?”

“Yup,” Kihyun dismissively answered. “If you wish for anything, I’ll make it come true.”

“And you just wasted your first wish on a can of soup,” he added, disdain evident in his voice. Compared to Minhyuk’s low, nasally voice, Kihyun had a high-pitched tone that sounded like a cross between a sassy gay boy and an annoyed younger sibling. It was almost endearing?

“Well, can I get a do-over on that wish?”

“There aren’t any do-overs for wishes,” Kihyun harshly replied.

“Can I wish for more wishes then?”

“No!”

“Oh.”

So, turns out that you can’t wish for more wishes. What a joke. Kihyun said he could wish for anything, doesn’t that mean he can wish for more wishes?

Minhyuk looked back over at the can of soup on his counter. “Why… why were you in a can of soup? I thought genies came in lamps?”

Kihyun sighed. “Look, how many magic lamps have you seen, like, ever?”

“Mmm,” Minhyuk paused, thinking out loud. “None?”

“Exactly. So we have to get creative.”

“But… a can of soup?”

“Okay, first off, it’s a lot bigger than it looks. Quite roomy, actually. But you wouldn’t know since you’re just a boring old human.”

“And… you’re a genie.”

“Ohmygod, yes! Yes, I’m a genie! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Okay, okay, you’re a genie,” Minhyuk tacitly agreed. “And you do genie things like grant wishes.”

“Yes.”

“And live in soup cans.”

“Listen here, you little shit,” Kihyun threatened, his eyes fierce and staring directly at Minhyuk’s eyes now; Kihyun definitely had a temper. “With a snap of my fingers I can banish you to another dimension. Or I can shrink you down to the size of an ant. Or I can turn you into an actual ant. Point is, I have more magic in one finger than you can even dream up in your wildest nightmares.”

Kihyun sure was awfully angry. Or annoyed. He couldn’t tell for sure, but Kihyun seemed upset for someone who had just been released from, well, a can of soup.

“Isn’t it, like, against the genie rules to hurt the person who summoned you?”

Kihyun sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot? He was clearly still annoyed.

“Yes,” he belatedly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that the second you finish your fifth wish--”

“--Don’t you just go back into the soup can?”

“Why are you so annoying!”

“Because this is definitely a dream,” Minhyuk argued. “Or a nightmare, I guess.”

“No, I can assure you that this is very much real, that you’re awake. If anyone’s having a nightmare, it’s me.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad,” Minhyuk protested. Just then, his stomach growled in hunger. He blushed a little -- he still hadn’t eaten.

“Anyways, you don’t get hungry in dreams.”

“Uh huh,” Minhyuk dismissed. Kihyun did have a point: you don’t usually get hungry in dreams. And they usually aren’t this… realistic. He was really hungry. And Kihyun seemed really… real. “You don’t mind if I, uh…” he added, motioning toward the can of soup that Kihyun had conjured up for him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kihyun replied, rolling his eyes again. Minhyuk just smiled in response as he cracked open the new can and poured it into a bowl. He threw it in the microwave and let it cook.

“I hope you, like, made this correctly.”

“I can assure you that it’s just as salty, preservative-filled, and unhealthy as every other can of chicken noodle soup.”

“Great,” Minhyuk feigned. “Just the way I like it.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh.” Minhyuk was too sleepy to be embarrassed. “That’s because I thought you weren’t real.”

“GENIES ARE REAL!”

Minhyuk just laughed in response. “My name’s Lee Minhyuk.”

“Well, okay, Minhyuk,” Kihyun started, “You live in a dump. These kitchen appliances look like they’re from 1962. Your cupboards? 1942. There’s no furniture in this place except for your desk, which, by the way, is covered in crap so you can’t even see the desk. Your walls and ceiling are peeling in at least five places, and I can only imagine what your bedroom looks like. Not to mention that you have no food, no tableware, and no proper cutlery.”

“Um,” Minhyuk demurred, sheepishly scratching his neck while looking around his place. “First, I don’t have a bedroom. Studio and all. Second, I wasn’t exactly planning on having visitors tonight, you know?”

Kihyun didn’t really seem satisfied with that answer, but at this hour? That was the best he was going to get.

“You can, uh, make yourself at home, I guess?” he added.

“Trust me, there’s nothing that you can do to this apartment to make it more homey.”

“You’re right, I can’t make it look like the inside of a soup can,” Minhyuk replied, giggling as he watched Kihyun’s expression sour.

“Why you little--”

The microwave beeped, signaling that his soup was done. Minhyuk stopped giggling and grabbed his tupperware bowl from the microwave with a hand-towel. He cradled the soup in one hand with the towel whilst using his free hand to find a plastic spork for slurping the noodles.

“You were saying?”

Kihyun sighed and rolled his eyes at the same time. Minhyuk wondered if that was an improvement?

“Aren’t you going to make another wish?”

Oh, yeah, the whole genie bit.

“Hmm, well I think I need some time to think about it,” Minhyuk countered before blowing on a sporkful of noodles and stuffing it in his mouth.

“Did me listing all the things that were wrong about your apartment not help?”

“Nope~” Minhyuk replied with a smile.

☆ The Second Wish ☆

Minhyuk’s eyes fluttered open when the sunlight just started to assault his eyes through his apartment’s lone window. Everything was really freaking bright, so he barely cracked his eyes open; he shuffled in his bed, rolling around to face the rest of the room. Everything looked normal? Normal-ish, at least. He lifted his upper body up and sitting -- well, float-sitting (is that the right word for that?) -- near the foot of his bed and looking totally unamused was none other than Yoo Kihyun. He was unchanged from last night, except he had an unimpressed look and a hand on his chin like he had been watching Minhyuk sleeping for… hours? Hours. Minhyuk’s eyes got real wide and he pulled his covers up over his bare chest.

“What are you doing in here?” he groggily stammered out, still in shock that Kihyun would desecrate the sanctimony of his bedroom-slash-living room. And surely he knew that Kihyun was going to say something about the state of his room soon enough.

“The genie equivalent of watching grass grow,” Kihyun deadpanned, still not moving his hand from his face. “Except for us it’s watching humans sleep.”

“Wait, what?” Minhyuk complained. “Don’t you have, like, genie things to go do?”

“Oh, I would love to be doing literally anything else right now, Minhyuk. But, unfortunately for me, I’m stuck with you until you use all of your wishes. And, even more unfortunately for me, you are a very boring person who doesn’t wish for things quickly. So here I am, watching grass grow.”

Minhyuk let his covers fall back down after realizing that, no, Kihyun was not going to kill him. Though, he still had at least one question nagging at him.

“Couldn’t you, like, do something? Anything? Other than watch me.”

Kihyun sighed. “I would do literally anything else, but, again, you’re a boring person who has literally nothing of interest in this shoebox of an apartment.”

“Right.” Minhyuk feigned agreement, still trying to wake up. “Sorry, I’m still really tired.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got a genie who could instantly solve that problem for you,” Kihyun wryly commented, perking up a little. “You could wish for a comfier bed? Fluffier pillows? Warmer covers? Or how about a fully-furnished apartment? Or a larger apartment? Or you could skip the whole apartment and wish to be fully-rested every day?”

Kihyun seemed really excited about the prospect of Minhyuk using up another wish. But why would he want to? He just got up; shouldn’t he, like, fully think this through? Kihyun probably just wanted him to wish for stuff so that he could go back in his soup can and do whatever genies do. Yeah, Minhyuk was pretty sure that whatever Kihyun wanted to do was probably more important than granting his wishes, but honestly? Kihyun was pretty cute and he wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity to have a cute magical boy follow him around for a few days, even if it came at Kihyun’s expense.

“I want -- not wish for -- some privacy while I shower and get ready,” Minhyuk calmly said, walking to his micro-sized bathroom wearing nothing but sweats. Kihyun’s expression darkened when he realized that, no, Minhyuk was not going to get this over with quickly.

“Trust me, I do not want to see you naked.”

“Nope, you just want to watch me sleep,” Minhyuk joked with a smile before shutting the door to the bathroom. He wanted nothing more than to see Kihyun’s facial expression change in response to that comment, but he needed to get ready; his first class started in an hour, and it took him twenty minutes to get to campus. He started the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair was messy and all over the place, but he didn’t really care. Bedhead was pretty normal for him. You know, a common side effect of excessive sleeping. While the shower was warming up, he brushed his teeth and picked out a towel to sling over the shower rod. Minhyuk undressed and stepped into the nearly-scalding water.

What did he want to wish for? Every time his mind turned to his remaining four wishes, everything just went… blank? Like, sure his life wasn’t perfect. Kihyun was right, his apartment was kind of a dump, and he didn’t have much food in his kitchen, and he was always tired. But he couldn’t imagine his life any other way. If he just wished away one of his problems -- or even most of them -- new problems would just take their place. Minhyuk wanted things, sure, but he wanted things that you couldn’t just put into words, that you couldn’t just conjure up, that you couldn’t just wish for. It wasn’t that simple.

He just had to figure those things out.

After lathering himself and throwing some shampoo in his unwieldy hair, Minhyuk rinsed himself off, stopped the water, and dried himself with his towel. He tied his towel around his waist and stepped back into the bedroom to put together an outfit and to find out what sassmaster-genie Kihyun had prepared in past five minutes.

“You know, you really should be nice to your genie. I can pervert all of your wishes to their worst possible meaning.”

“Uh huh,” Minhyuk dismissed, searching his closet for something to wear.

“Aren’t you going to wish for something? I’m sure you thought of something in the shower. Lots of shower thoughts, right?”

“Were you imagining me in the shower?” Minhyuk asked.

“No,” Kihyun flatly replied.

“Do you want me to wish that you were thinking about that?”

“Look--”

“--Besides, how would genies even, like, know what goes on in the shower? Do genies even shower?”

Kihyun didn’t have an answer for that one. He licked his lips while his eyes darted around shiftily; Minhyuk was satisfied.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” he finally complained.

“I didn’t either,” Minhyuk added before disappearing back in the bathroom to change.

“So are you going to come with me to class today?” he shouted through the door.

“Unfortunately,” Kihyun replied, also shouting.

“Okay, well I have--”

“--Organic chemistry lab, I know.”

What? How did Kihyun--

“You had your class schedule on your desk,” Kihyun mentioned. “And your lab. You screwed up #4, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“You fixed it!?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave it wrong, Minhyuk.”

“H-how do you even know organic chemistry?”

“Minhyuk, I’ve been doing this genie thing since before organic chemistry was even a thing.”

He threw on his hoodie and exited the bathroom.

“Why would anyone even willingly learn organic chemistry,” he mused in full earshot of Kihyun. He went straight to kitchen, and he could feel Kihyun’s floaty presence follow him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kihyun replied. “Don’t you wanna wish for, like, a nice breakfast? A stack full of pancakes perhaps?”

“Mmm, pancakes sound, like, really good right now. But maybe I should wish for you to stop asking me about my wishes?” Minhyuk deadpanned before pulling out an Eggo waffle from his freezer. He threw it in the microwave and turned to face Kihyun. “Are you really going out like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” Minhyuk repeated, gesturing at Kihyun’s whole body.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve kept up with current fashion trends,” Kihyun started, “Besides, a collared shirt and pants will never go out of style.”

“Not that... That,”he corrected, motioning more toward Kihyun’s feet, where he was most definitely still floating. Kihyun seemed to take even more offense to Minhyuk’s insinuation, his eyes widening and then narrowing before the microwave decided to interrupt his reaction. Minhyuk tossed the waffle in his mouth, holding it with his teeth, and moved over to his desk, grabbing all the stuff he needed for lab.

“Uh, no, I am not going to walk,” Kihyun protested. “I haven’t walked in over fifty years, and I’m not going to start today. It’s disgraceful for a genie to walk. We can float for a reason -- so we don’t have to walk. Walking is for humans.”

“Well, I would really prefer it if you walked if you’re going to follow me around. Besides, like, aren’t people gonna ask?”

“No, they’re not. You’re the only one who can see me.”

Minhyuk frowned. “Maybe I’ll wish for things faster if I’m not distracted by a floating genie.”

He finished shoving notebooks into his backpack, zipping up the pockets one-by-one until his homework and labs and class notes were all stuffed in his completely-disorganized bag. He finished off his waffle and turned to face Kihyun, who, to his disbelief, looked even more ticked off than before. But! He wasn’t floating. Small victories.

“Do you remember how to walk after fifty years?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Kihyun sassed back.

Minhyuk laughed. “For being hundreds of years old, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“I’m actually twenty-two in genie years, you asshole.”

He laughed again, motioning Kihyun toward the door. “Let’s go,” he announced. Kihyun sighed, marching out of his apartment with a gait and facial expression that told Minhyuk he’d rather be doing basically anything other than this.

“You know, I bet you look older because of the soup can thing.”

“I’m going to kill you, Minhyuk.”

“Are you sure you’re supposed to add that chemical next?”

“For the love of God,” Minhyuk whispered under his breath. He had quickly learned that perhaps having his cute genie follow him around all day was not the best thing to happen to him. For instance, the cons of no one else noticing Kihyun became readily apparent:

First, if Minhyuk tried to talk to him in public, everybody looked at him weird, like Minhyuk was talking to himself. To be fair, that’s exactly what it looked like to everyone else. And there was no feasible way for Minhyuk to explain that, no, I’m not crazy, I’m just talking to my personal genie whom you can’t see. This relegated Minhyuk to whispering, subtly gesturing, and, to steal a page from Kihyun’s book, rolling his eyes.

Second, because Minhyuk couldn’t really respond to Kihyun, this gave Kihyun ample time to be even sassier than he was before. Minhyuk couldn’t shut him down like he usually did, which made Kihyun extra smug. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded -- even if Kihyun liked to slip little comments about wishing for this and wishing for that, he usually chimed in when Minhyuk was about to do something stupid. Like add the wrong solid to his chemical reaction.

Third -- and Minhyuk hated to admit this -- Kihyun was starting to look really cute.

He didn’t dare tell his genie that, though.

“Look, I really think you should double-check the protocol, Minhyuk,” his genie insisted, his butt plopped on the empty bench space next to him. He wasn’t floating per se, but his feet didn’t reach the ground and if that wasn’t the most adorable thing ever --

“No, not that one,” Kihyun interjected as Minhyuk went to grab a different solid.

“Which one,” Minhyuk whispered, slightly exhausted by the constant badgering. Honestly, Kihyun was the only reason he was still working on the lab. Usually he had screwed up so badly that there was no way for him to recover, forcing him to leave early.

Kihyun pointed at a yellow solid, rolling his eyes in the process. “Did you even read the protocol?”

“I was going to, but then my plans got kinda screwed up by an unexpected visitor.”

“Sure, blame it on the genie who you could easily get rid of in four wishes.”

“Shut up,” Minhyuk toothlessly warned. It was an empty threat -- like there was anything Minhyuk could do to actually get Kihyun to stop talking. Meanwhile, Kihyun played with the ring on his right hand’s ring finger, spinning it around aimlessly. Minhyuk really was boring to him.

“Um, what?”

Minhyuk looked to his right.

Crap.

“Hyungwon, I’m sorry, I was talking to myself.”

His hood buddy -- the other student who he shared the fume hood with -- made a face, like Minhyuk had three heads. Hyungwon made that face at him a lot. Kihyun snickered in amusement.

Hyungwon, unlike Minhyuk, usually knew what he was doing. He was a straight-A student who knew chemistry inside and out. Quiet, bookish, and the type to actually study regularly instead of cramming like literally everybody else, Hyungwon was the star of the program. Hyungwon usually didn’t bother to grace Minhyuk with any words throughout their three-hour lab; he was methodical, laser-focused, and, honestly? Too good for the frenetic and unorganized Minhyuk. Hyungwon actually knew what he was doing while Minhyuk was usually just guessing.

“Yo! Minhyuk, pay attention!” Kihyun hollered, leaning forward a bit.

Minhyuk looked over at the reaction he had been carefully stirring.

“Dude!” Kihyun started, peering into the fume hood from his position perched on the lab bench. “You were supposed to stop stirring when it turned white again!”

Minhyuk looked down at his definitely not-white liquid. It was more like a salmon pink color, the reaction having gone past completion. It was also sticky, like silly putty. Minhyuk sighed. This always happened. He wasn’t good at organic chemistry.

Without missing a beat, Minhyuk started cleaning up after himself. He was used to it by now -- the shameful dance of cleaning up your station far before you were supposed to be done. Everybody knew what happened: Minhyuk screwed up. Again. Minhyuk glanced over at the TA, who just shook his head. His TA did that last week too.

He tossed his toxic reagents in the waste container, washed his glassware with distilled water, packed up his belongings, and started taking off his lab coat.

His grade was still salvageable. Yeah, it wasn’t going to be perfect, but Minhyuk just needed to pass the class. You could still get a C on the lab report even if the reaction didn’t work.

Surprisingly, Kihyun was silent throughout the whole ordeal, like he could tell Minhyuk was genuinely upset about the whole thing. He tried his best -- he really did! He just wasn’t the best at labwork. He wasn’t Hyungwon.

“Oh no.”

Just as Minhyuk was about to leave, he heard Hyungwon start to panic. He glanced over at his hood buddy’s reaction, which had started to turn pink, too.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Hyungwon repeated, trying to load the paste-like mixture into his funnel. It seemed like it was too late, though; the mixture wasn’t falling out of his beaker into the funnel at all. Instead, it was like glue, sticking to the bottom of his glassware.

Minhyuk had never, ever seen Hyungwon screw up before. And watching the scene unfold before him -- it was heartbreaking. It sucked when things didn’t work, but Hyungwon was beyond that. His perpetually-pouty face was upset, his eyes starting to gloss up. He was completely distraught, desperately trying to save his reaction, trying to help the rapidly-solidifying mixture into his funnel with his mixing spatula. Nothing was working, and Hyungwon could see his A in the class slipping away as the reaction refused to leave his beaker.

Minhyuk could too.

He immediately turned to Kihyun, who looked surprised by Minhyuk’s reaction to Hyungwon.

“Kihyun, I wish that Hyungwon’s reaction worked.”

Kihyun seemed genuinely shocked. Minhyuk hadn’t wished for anything in over a day, and now he was wishing for someone else’s reaction to work? Even after his own reaction had already failed? Kihyun had no choice though, so he reluctantly snapped his fingers.

Minhyuk ignored Kihyun’s reluctance and threw his backpack’s strap over his shoulder, slowly walking away with Kihyun in tow. They could both hear as Hyungwon’s started whispering incredulously as his reaction liquefied, falling out of his beaker and into the filter-funnel that he had been trying to scrape it into for the past few minutes. Hyungwon was beyond happy, moving wildly to keep his reaction going and his A alive.

Once they were out of earshot of the rest of the lab, Kihyun piped up:

“You don’t wish for anything all day, and then you wish for someone else’s lab to work?” the genie questioned. “Why?”

“I had to,” Minhyuk bluntly replied. “I had to.”

☆ The Third Wish ☆

Saturday.

Finally, it was Saturday.

And if you -- yes, you, random person following Minhyuk’s so-called boring life -- thought Saturday was gonna be any easier than Friday… ha. What a terrible joke. No, Saturday was the day Minhyuk had to go work his meaningless convenience store job. At 7. Yes, as in, 7 in the morning. Not that 7 pm would be any better.

Minhyuk expected that he would tired. He was always tired during this shift. He could sleep all day Friday (yes, he had slept all day Friday before) and still be tired during this shift. It just was a fact of life. Like how Kihyun following him around was also a fact of life.

What he did not expect was that Kihyun would also be tired.

Which led to them walking to the convenience store together in silence.

Maybe Kihyun wasn’t like the physical version of tired, but Kihyun was surely tired of him. Of course, Minhyuk couldn’t read Kihyun’s mind, but if he had to guess? Well…

Kihyun was probably tired of how bubbly Minhyuk was all the time, how he never knew what was going on, how little Minhyuk prepared for his classes, how he slept forever when he didn’t have classes, and, most of all,

How many wishes Minhyuk still had left.

It had now been several days since Minhyuk tried to have soup that one fateful night, and he still had three wishes left. Three whole wishes! Some people would have wished for five things in five minutes. But Minhyuk? Well, he could hardly think of one good thing to wish for. Every idea that popped into his head was something that he didn’t actually want. No, he didn’t want to just graduate. No, he didn’t want a nicer apartment. No, he didn’t want a better job. Minhyuk wanted to earn those things through his own hard work, even if required him to grind through college to get his degree. Kihyun kept suggesting all these material things for Minhyuk to wish for, but he didn’t want any of it.

So that left him with abstract things. You know, love, happiness, et cetera. Things that money couldn’t buy, but Minhyuk could surely wish for… the problem was Minhyuk didn’t want to wish for any of those things either! He could wish for happiness, but, like, what’s happiness without sadness or love without heartbreak? Yeah yeah yeah, you can fault Minhyuk for being a sappy romantic, but those things had to be earned as well. Wishing to find the boyfriend of his dreams would just cheapen the whole thing, right? And, yeah, there were other un-wishable things -- who doesn’t want to be a few inches taller, right? -- but Minhyuk was happy with himself as a person. Maybe it’d be nice to have abs again, but, hey, some boys didn’t like abs.

Did Kihyun like abs?

Did Kihyun have abs?

Did genies work out? Could genies work out?

It was, what, like four days into this… this arrangement and Minhyuk hardly knew anything about Kihyun.

Where he was from, how old he actually was, why he dyed his hair brown, what his favorite color was…

Kihyun was surely fed up with him now… but…

“Kihyunnie!”

When Minhyuk didn’t hear an immediate response, he stopped and looked back at his genie, who had already stopped in the middle of the empty sidewalk. They were the only losers out and about on a Saturday morning, so Minhyuk could speak to Kihyun with a normal-ish voice instead of a whisper. If Kihyun wanted to talk, that is.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“What… what did you call me?”

“Um,” Minhyuk demurred, “I called you ‘Kihyunnie.’ Is--Is that not okay?”

Kihyun shook his head and looked down at the ground, a small smile breaking across his face. “No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s just… no one’s called me that in hundreds of years. Not since I was a kid.”

Oh.

“I… I, uh, missed it,” the brown-haired genie added, looking up at him. There was something childish about his expression -- he didn’t look so sullen and annoyed anymore, the contours of his sharp jawline and cheekbones softening ever-so-slightly. It was cute, and Minhyuk couldn’t help but smiling back.

“I was actually wondering about that… what’s it like being a kid-genie? How… how do genies even have kids?”

“Heh, well it’s a little different from being a human, right? Like, um, there’s no intimacy involved. There’s actually a set number of genies in the universe at any one point in time, and whenever a genie is needed, a new one is ‘born’ from the aether. It’s actually a rare event? There weren’t any other genies ‘born’ within one hundred human years of me.”

“Really?” Minhyuk incredulously replied. “That sounds so… lonely?”

“It wasn’t that bad. My moms were wonderful to me.”

“Moms?”

“Yeah, moms. New genies are raised by a genie pair. There’s a list? It’s weird.”

“That’s not too weird. Where do genies even, like, live?”

“Um, shouldn’t we keep walking, Minhyuk? You’ll be late.”

“Oh, right,” he answered, pivoting on his feet. He started walking toward the store again, but Kihyun jogged up next to him. Apparently he was okay with walking now.

“So, how can I describe this in human terms? Genies live in a dimension parallel to this one. We’re connected to this world by mundane objects.”

“Like cans of soup?”

Kihyun sighed. “Yes, like cans of soup.”

“Did you even pick the can of soup?”

“I mean, in the same way that you ‘picked’ your apartment?”

Minhyuk cocked his head at Kihyun. What?

“It wasn’t really a choice. It was the only place that I could ‘afford’ based on my seniority if that makes sense? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still infinitely better than your apartment--”

“--Hey!”

Kihyun chuckled. Minhyuk liked how Kihyun’s nose scrunched up when he laughed -- it was cute. He had one thought nagging his brain, though.

“Wait, so if you were ‘born’ or whatever, does that mean another genie died?”

“Not necessarily,” Kihyun absentmindedly replied. Minhyuk noticed that Kihyun was playing with the ring on his finger again. “There are a few ways for us to lose a genie.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you. Genie secrets,” Kihyun explained, his smile turning into a bit of a smirk. “Besides, I think we’re here?”

Minhyuk broke his pouting face and looked up at the storefront. They were here! How did Kihyun know…?

“Right on time, too.”

He was a little shocked, to be honest. Minhyuk was never on-time for this shift -- he was always late. He fumbled through his pocket, finding his key for the sliding front door. Kihyun waited patiently while Minhyuk pried the door open, sliding inside. Before he could even make it past the front, his manager called out from behind the register.

“You’re late.”

“Um, actually--”

“--It doesn’t matter,” his manager nonchalantly interrupted. “You’re in charge of re-stocking.”

Minhyuk just sighed and nodded in response. Making his way to the storeroom in the back, he knew Kihyun was following him. They were going to be out of earshot of his manager, and he knew Kihyun was going to say something.

“You’re just going to let her treat you like that?” Kihyun asked. “You’re gonna let her walk all over you?”

“It’s okay, really,” he explained. “This, um, happens every week.”

“And you don’t do anything about it!” Kihyun answered, his voice getting louder. “You don’t tell her to help you?”

“Kihyun, I--”

“You need to stand up for yourself!”

“It’s not that simple, I--”

“Why don’t you just wish you had a better job? Or a better manager?”

Minhyuk looked down and away this time. Kihyun was basically glaring at him -- glaring at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. But he wasn’t. He just didn’t care what his manager said anymore.

“Because I’m okay with it not being perfect.”

Minhyuk made it through his shift. It was still light outside -- after all, it was only 3pm -- but he wanted nothing more than to get home and collapse on his bed.

The manager, as per usual, did jack-shit. When it was busy, she escaped to the back, hiding from all of the customers. When it wasn’t busy, she manned the register, refusing to lift a finger to help Minhyuk re-stock the store for the rest of the week. It was a lose-lose situation for him; he was always working, and, because of that, he was exhausted after his shift. He was like a ghost, limping along the street, dragging himself to his apartment building.

Kihyun, meanwhile, refused to talk to him for the rest of the shift. Something about “not standing up for yourself” or whatever. Minhyuk was sure that Kihyun thought he was a ditzy wimp, unwilling to fight to be treated better. Even during their walk back, Kihyun kept his distance, a perpetual glare fixed on his face. It made Minhyuk feel all dejected on the inside, like he disappointed Kihyun. He didn’t want to make Kihyun’s life miserable, but he didn’t want to rock the boat at his job. And he wasn’t going to wish for it to get better -- the second his job gets better is the second another part of his life (like Organic Chemistry Lab) becomes the shitty part of his week.

Yet, even with how mad Kihyun seemed to be… something seemed off. There were a few times Minhyuk was ferrying items from the storeroom to the front of the store, and, well, it seemed like he finished way faster than he should have. Like he’d make a few trips and suddenly in between trips there’d be a few more items stocked than he remembered doing.

Kihyun never fessed up to doing anything, though.

Sometimes Minhyuk wished he could float up the stairs like Kihyun -- magically will himself up to his apartment on the third floor. It would make these stairs so much easier, like they didn’t even exist.

By the time he keyed into his apartment and closed the door, he was ready to die on his bed. Apparently someone had other plans.

Before his face could even reach his pillow, he heard three loud knocks at his door. Minhyuk froze where he was standing, listening to the door to see if he could hear anything. He caught Kihyun out of the corner of his eyes; he was shaking his head, instructing Minhyuk not to answer.

“Minhyuk?” he heard from the other side of the door. “It’s Hoseok. Your neighbor.”

Minhyuk just shrugged at Kihyun, turning around to go to the door. He caught Kihyun starting to roll his eyes, but he ignored the genie. Minhyuk unlocked the front door, and he opened it up about 30 degrees. As expected, Hoseok was waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey Minhyuk,” Hoseok murmured.

Minhyuk immediately thought something was off. Hoseok was the type of person to envelope him in a bear hug as soon as he saw him; instead, he was quiet now. Nothing like the normal Hoseok.

“Hey,” Minhyuk replied. “What’s up?”

Hoseok perked up and looked back at his apartment. They stood there for a few moments in silence before Hoseok decided to turn his attention back to Minhyuk.

“I’m, uh, sorry to bother you, I know you just got home. I was just wondering you had seen a cat?”

“A cat?”

“My cat,” Hoseok corrected himself. “Calico. Fluffy. Meows a lot. Have you seen her?”

Minhyuk didn’t even know Hoseok had a cat.

He looked back at Kihyun, who shook his head. Apparently Kihyun hadn’t seen her either. Or he disapproved of this whole thing. Either way, Kihyun wasn’t helpful.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

“Oh,” Hoseok mumbled, his voice deflated.

“How long have you been looking?”

“S-since I got home an hour ago,” Hoseok replied, his voice trembling. “I, uh, I don’t know where she could have gone.”

“Do you want me to help look?” Minhyuk asked. He could hear Kihyun facepalming behind him, but Minhyuk didn’t pay any attention to him.

“No, uh, it’s okay, I’ve already taken up too much of your time. I’ve gotta keep looking,” Hoseok hurriedly replied, turning around and heading for his apartment. Minhyuk didn’t say anything afterwards, instead shutting his door and turning around to face Kihyun.

“Why did you even offer to help?” Kihyun dryly asked. “You’re so tired that you probably don’t even know what day it is.”

“It’s Saturday,” Minhyuk quietly answered. “And I wanted to help because I’ve never seen Hoseok so upset before…”

Kihyun sighed.

“Kihyun, I wish that Hoseok would find his cat.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Minhyuk asserted.

“I’m just -- why?” Kihyun snapped his fingers, a small plume of purple smoke appearing near his hand. Moments later, Minhyuk faintly heard Hoseok yelling excitedly through the wall they shared. He had been reunited with his calico.

“That’s why.”

☆ The Fourth Wish ☆

Day #8 with Minhyuk.

Eight days of pure, uninterrupted monotony.

Eight days of watching Minhyuk struggle to… well, everything. The kid had an unnerving mixture of unintentional aloofness, perpetual sleepiness, and intentional laziness. He ambled from one disaster to the next, barely skinning by each and every day. It was like watching a slow-motion trainwreck… but a boring one.

Kihyun’s first thought was that Minhyuk was basically one-dimensional. He was motivated by one thing: sleep. How did that jive with the kid picking one of the hardest majors in his college? A good job gets him more time to sleep. Working on the side? He needed to pay for rent so he could sleep somewhere. Eating? Can’t sleep if you’re dead. Honestly, it made Minhyuk a remarkably boring person. Sure, he had a lot going on between class and work and trying (and failing) to be a functional adult. But it was all very routine -- nothing Kihyun hadn’t already seen in his hundreds of years being a genie.

But then…

Some days, Minhyuk surprised him.

Some days, Minhyuk would get up early and make pancakes for himself from two month old box mix that he “only used sparingly,” according the smiley boy. Some days, Minhyuk would go out of his way to help a complete stranger, saying “it’s the right thing to do” when Kihyun interrogated him. Some days, Minhyuk would use the most valuable thing he owned right now -- his five, now two, wishes -- to make someone else’s day better. Some days, Minhyuk would forget about himself and his own needs.

It was infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

That confused Kihyun. It scared him. A lot. Because, honestly, it meant he cared about Minhyuk. This was the longest amount of time he had spent with any one person in the human world -- besides that one time his human got too careless after his first wish, got hit by a car, and was in a coma for a week. But that doesn’t count. No, he had spent seven waking days with Minhyuk, and he was barely half-done with Minhyuk’s wishes.

“Kihyun?”

“Hmm,” he replied, looking over his shoulder to find Minhyuk cheekily smiling at him. His black hair was shooting out all over the place, still wearing pajamas and sitting up on his bed. It was cute, that little shit. He must have been napping for a while now.

“I invited my friend Jooheon over. He needed to talk about something.”

“You have friends?” he quipped.

Minhyuk’s smile immediately disappeared. “Why are you always so mean to me, Yoo Kihyun?”

Kihyun smirked. “It’s a genie thing.”

The other boy made a face. “I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not.”

“I’ve had 500 years to practice my lying -- you can barely read your textbook, what makes you think you can read me?”

“I can read that you don’t totally hate me.”

Kihyun paused. He knew it was a joke, but had he really been that obvious? Had his stupid feelings seeped through to how he acted around Minhyuk? Had he really changed after spending a week with Minhyuk?

No, he answered himself.

“Uh huh,” he finally replied, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms, impatiently rotating his ring around his ring finger. He had only started doing it in the past few days with Minhyuk, but now it was basically his nervous tick.

“Are you blushing, Kihyun?” Minhyuk teased.

“Keep dreaming,” Kihyun fired back without missing a beat. Minhyuk giggled, letting his head fall back onto his bed. Kihyun knew he wasn’t blushing. He would never blush around Minhyuk -- maybe he’d smack him, but he certainly wouldn’t blush.

He’d make sure not to smack him too hard. Besides, Minhyuk’s pretty face is one of the few assets he’s got going for him... aside from his endearingly boring life and half-witted brain, both of which had their moments.

“When’s Jooheon getting here anyways,” Kihyun absentmindedly asked.

“Oh, in five minutes.”

“And you’re just telling me now!?”

Minhyuk shot him a confused look. “You’re upset?”

“Clearly,” he flatly replied.

“Why? It’s not like Jooheon can see you.”

“I -- I know that!” Kihyun asserted. “I just, uh, need to mentally prepare to deal with more people.”

Minhyuk laughed, his nasally giggles loud and boisterous from his laying-down position. “More like you need more time to come up with ways to torture me when I have to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Er, right.”

“Do you have friends, Kihyunnie?”

“Of course I have friends, you twat.”

“... For some reason, I feel like that’s a lie,” Minhyuk rambled, “... Like, you’re pretty mean to me.”

“Untrue.”

“Um, you definitely just called me a twat,” Minhyuk retorted, sitting up again.

“No, I meant that I’m not mean to most people.”

“Aww, so I’m special?” Minhyuk put on his best puppy-dog eyes, clasped his hands together, and looked at Kihyun expectantly. It was too cute, even for Minhyuk.

“Sure, Minhyuk.”

“Ouch,” Minhyuk replied, feigning the gayest hurt face Kihyun had ever seen.

That was “gay” as in gay, not stupid, by the way.

Just how did Kihyun know Minhyuk was gay?

You mean other than the endless flirting and Minhyuk’s sassy-gay tendencies?

Well, there was that one time when he was mind-numbingly bored when Minhyuk was asleep, so he pulled out Minhyuk’s laptop and decided to get on the Internet. One thing led to another, and, well…

Let’s just say Minhyuk has an interesting browsing history.

“Tell me about your friends, Kihyunnie,” Minhyuk piped up.

“Oh, um, well,” he mumbled.

“-- So your friends aren’t real!” Minhyuk interjected.

“Shut up,” Kihyun harmlessly threatened. “I’m just not used to humans asking about my life, okay? Anyways, so my best friend is named Hyunwoo. He’s only 75 human years older than me, but he acts like he’s 400 years older than me. Wise and worldly and cares about all that genie crap that I, uh, ignore.”

Kihyun paused, but Minhyuk didn’t say anything immediately.

“And your other friends?”

“Uh, well, actually…” he started, nervously running a hand through his hair. “So I don’t really have any friends besides Hyunwoo.”

“I’m sorry,” Minhyuk immediately replied. “I kinda know what that’s like. Jooheon’s basically my only friend.”

“Really?” Kihyun was sure Minhyuk was the type of human to have 100 friends. Outgoing, sociable, loud -- he had all the makings of an extrovert who just clicked with everyone.

“Yeah, most people think I’m annoying? At least that’s what I think.”

Oh.

“Well, um, if it’s any consolation, Minhyuk…” Kihyun began before a knock at Minhyuk’s door cut him off. Minhyuk was still looking at him, though; he was waiting for him to finish.

“I don’t think you’re that annoying.”

Minhyuk smiled. “Thanks.”

The other boy made his way for the door to let his best friend into his apartment.

“It’ll all work out, Jooheon. I promise.”

Minhyuk closed the door to the front of his apartment and looked over at Kihyun. They were finally alone again; Jooheon left to catch the last bus to his own apartment complex. Kihyun, meanwhile, was putting on his best unimpressed face for Minhyuk, but it was mostly a front to hide total and utter disdain Kihyun had been harboring for the past four hours.

“So, what did you think of Jooheon?”

“Charming,” Kihyun dismissively replied, leaning over Minhyuk’s kitchen counter and planting his chin in his left palm. “Absolutely charming.”

“What? So you didn’t like Jooheon?”

“Honestly, I didn’t get to know him too well,” Kihyun replied, keeping his voice monotone and disinterested.

“He was here for four hours!”

“Yeah, two of which were spent watching a movie while basically sitting on your lap. The other two hours were him crying about his crush, Changbin.”

“Changkyun.”

“Whatever.”

“Look,” Minhyuk answered. “Jooheonie’s going through a really tough time. And him and Changkyun would make a great couple. But Jooheon’s too shy to say anything, and Changkyun’s definitely too shy to say anything either, so we’re stuck in this predicament. Which reminds me…”

“What?”

“I wish Jooheon would finally have the courage to ask Changkyun out. Let’s say, tomorrow.”

“You’re serious?” Kihyun couldn’t believe that Minhyuk would wish for something so--

“Yes.”

--asinine. Again.

He was compelled to snap his fingers once more, zapping some confidence into Minhyuk’s best friend. At the very least, he gave the boy enough confidence to ask his crush out without stammering for fifteen minutes like he ordinarily would. Kihyun then quickly turned his attention back to Minhyuk, who was smiling triumphantly, like he had solved world peace. Kihyun finally snapped, this time in a different way.

“Why,” he bitingly demanded.

“Why what?” Minhyuk was so oblivious that it just made Kihyun angrier. He could feel his blood pressure rising, after it had already been building over the past few hours of Jooheon and Minhyuk bro-time.

“Why do you keep on wishing for stupid things?” he spat out.

“Stupid?”

“Yes, stupid! Why do you wish for such stupid things!”

Minhyuk looked even more confused, which fueled Kihyun to continue berating him.

“I’m a genie, Minhyuk. I’m not here for your entertainment. I’m not here to grant stupid wishes. I’m not here to do something that a stupid fairy could do. I grant important wishes, wishes that no human could fathom achieving. But you! You little… You waste my powers on wishing for things that don’t matter. Things that don’t matter, Minhyuk!”

Minhyuk now looked more hurt than confused. But Kihyun didn’t care. He wanted Minhyuk to realize that his wishes were the stupidest wishes Kihyun had granted in hundreds of years.

“Why, Minhyuk? Why do you waste your wishes?”

Minhyuk shook his head. “Do -- do you really think that my wishes are stupid?”

“Yes!”

“T-that Hyungwon’s grades don’t matter to him?”

Kihyun didn’t answer that one.

“That Hoseok’s cat doesn’t matter to him?”

No -- that’s not what he meant.

“That Jooheon’s happiness doesn’t matter to him? Or matter to me?”

“No, I --”

“You what? Think you’re better than that?”

“No!”

Minhyuk looked directly at him now. His facial features were strained, like he was in pain having to say these things. Having to confront Kihyun like this.

“No?”

“No, I -- I, uh…”

“You what?”

Kihyun was mute. He couldn’t say anything. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He was usually four steps ahead of Minhyuk.

Minhyuk shook his head again.

“Could you please leave me alone tonight? I’m going to bed.”

With that, Minhyuk disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Kihyun alone in Minhyuk’s tiny kitchen. He wasn’t supposed to leave, but he did. Everything in the genie rule book told him he had to stay, to be around in case his human wanted to wish anything. But something told him that Minhyuk didn’t want to use his fifth wish. At least, not now.

Kihyun walked out, his brain still numb.

He walked. He hated to admit it, but it felt nice to walk. It forced him to focus on something, to help the numbness go away.

Eventually, one thought percolated to the front of Kihyun’s mind: that he cared too much. He wanted nothing more than for Minhyuk to wish for something for himself. He wanted Minhyuk to care about himself. To think about himself. To live in a better apartment, to have a better job, to be able to afford some actual groceries. Minhyuk deserved better.

Just then, he had a thought that scared him even more. That made him even more upset.

If Minhyuk deserved better, then why did he just scream at him for being stupid?

☆ The Fifth Wish ☆

A big part of Minhyuk wanted nothing more than to make his final wish right then and there. To get this all over with, to make Kihyun disappear from his life forever. But as soon as Kihyun left, a wave of relief swept over him: he didn’t do something stupid. Again, Kihyun would have added, that bitingly cynical thought creeping into his mind. He was becoming as cynical as Kihyun now.

But an even bigger part of Minhyuk won out. The part of him that loved Kihyun’s dimples, his sassiness, his hair, their banter -- it won out. The part of him that only became obvious over the past few days.

When Kihyun first popped into Minhyuk’s life in a plume of lavender smoke (a shade of lavender that Minhyuk now found more endearing than ever before), he didn’t think much of him. Minhyuk flirted, sure, but that’s just who he was. Naturally flirty, making quips about seeing each other naked, and so on. He didn’t expect Kihyun to play along, to take his flirting in stride and throw it right back at him with sassiness. It piqued his interest.

But what sealed the deal, what made Minhyuk really fall for Kihyun, was something else. No, it wasn’t Kihyun’s angelic giggling (but that did help). Minhyuk loved that Kihyun seemed to care. Kihyun did little things that made his life easier, like fixing his homework, coaching him through a difficult lab, helping restock the convenience store -- mini “wishes” that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t make for himself. Underneath all his biting sardonicism and cynicism was a Kihyun who genuinely cared. Minhyuk didn’t know a whole lot about genies, but he sure didn’t think it was normal for a genie to go out of their way to make their human’s life easier unless they wished for it. That definitely sounded like something that would be against the rules if Kihyun’s friend Hyunwoo ever found out. And yet, Kihyun risked it.

For Minhyuk.

So why did Kihyun snap at him like that? What would compel Kihyun to be so hurtful? What would make Kihyun, who went out of his way to make Minhyuk’s life easier even while pretending like he wouldn’t, try to break Minhyuk down? Where did this Kihyun come from? Who replaced the Kihyun that Minhyuk had been secretly falling for?

Part of him needed to know.

Minhyuk didn’t sleep much that night.

The next day was a big studying day for Minhyuk. He had a P-Chem exam this week, and, God, he sucked at P-Chem. It was his weakest subject, and the perfect mix of chemistry and physics to make him wonder if he hated himself. Y’know, choosing this major and all.

No sign of Kihyun, though. Minhyuk was starting to worry. He had already gotten up, showered, thrown on some clothes -- all before 9am on a day when he didn’t have work or class. So, basically a miracle. Aka Thursday. He was currently in the process of shoving his heavy P-Chem textbook into his poor backpack, which seemed to resist his ‘desire’ to study even more than internal Minhyuk did. Finally, he managed to guide the 900-page behemoth down into the right pocket, zipping up the pockets and moving his backpack in front of the door.

Now for breakfast.

Minhyuk moved to his kitchenette, expecting to face a Major Breakfast Problem: he had no breakfast. He had used the last of his precious pancake mix the other day. Eggo waffles were long gone. And he certainly couldn’t afford to buy breakfast out this morning. He hopelessly searched his cupboards, debating whether instant ramen would be better than soup for breakfast. Screw it; he decided that skipping breakfast altogether was easiest.

Turning around, he noticed a large pile of piping hot pancakes with syrup drizzling down the sides of the pancake tower sitting on his kitchen counter.

“Kihyun?” he called out.

Instead of digging in to the pancakes -- why are you such an idiot, his stomach protested -- Minhyuk decided to search his studio apartment. Kihyun had to be around here somewhere. That’s how genies worked, right?. They have to be like, you know, nearby. Like Wi-Fi networks: their powers have a range. Right?

Minhyuk searched his living room. Nothing. The bathroom? Nope. Behind the shower curtain? No. Under his bed sheets? He wished, but nada. In the kitchen cupboards? Zilch. Just then, Minhyuk turned around to face his mysterious pancakes again. This time, there was a handwritten note sitting next to the pancakes that he swore wasn’t there before.

“Just eat them,” it read.

It had to be Kihyun, right?

Kihyun’s handwriting was pretty.

Where was he?

Minhyuk decided that he might as well eat the pancakes while they were here, cutting off a large portion with the accompanying knife and fork. It was like Kihyun was there, insisting that Minhyuk use actual silverware instead of the plastic stuff he jacked from Starbucks. Minhyuk committed to absolutely demolishing these pancakes, stuffing huge pieces into his mouth without thinking. Well, he was thinking. Just not about pancakes. He was thinking about Kihyun, and if this was his apology for last night. But where was he?

Before he knew it, Minhyuk had cleared his plate, his mind preoccupied by considering all the ways today could play out. Like, was Kihyun going to avoid him all day? Yeah, those types of thoughts. Not much healthier than the pancakes he apparently just inhaled.

There wasn’t much he could do to make Kihyun re-appear, so he slung his backpack over his shoulders and walked to the library. At the very least, he could try to study for P-Chem.

You know those walks where you kinda just… forget everything? And walk? That’s what today’s walk to campus was. He just walked. One foot in front of the other, stopping at crosswalks, ignoring everything but focusing on nothing -- he was on auto-pilot. Minhyuk wandered into the library, which was surprisingly empty. He’d never been up this early before, so he had no baseline for library crowdedness at 9:30am. He was able to nab a self-study room, the studying equivalent of a booth table at a restaurant, with ease.

He shut the door to the room, and dropped his bag on an empty chair. He unzipped the pockets, but, before he could coax his textbook out of his bag, he heard the door click back open.

“Oh, I’m sorry this room is ta--”

Minhyuk stopped mid-sentence when he looked up and saw who it was.

“Hey,” the shorter boy said, shutting the door again.

Minhyuk just stood there, hand half in his bag, mouth slack-jawed, and completely speechless.

Kihyun looked like he always did: beautiful. The same sharp facial features, narrow eyes, wide nose, soft brown hair. He looked… sad. Minhyuk had never seen so much emotion in Kihyun, except for last night.

“Studying?” Kihyun finally piped up, breaking the long awkward silence between them.

“Look, if you’re here to tell me to wish to just pass the exam…” Minhyuk replied, his voice a bit hoarse and dramatic. He didn’t know where that thought came from, but it was the first thing that popped into his mind. It was like his mind was wandering around Kihyun’s plump lips but his mouth was vocalizing all the pent-up pain that had accumulated in the last twelve hours.

Kihyun seemed to expect something along these lines, looking down toward the carpet, his expression unchanged. He couldn’t look Minhyuk in the eyes while Minhyuk was outwardly angry with him.

The shorter boy stared at the ground for a few more moments before gathering the courage to look back up at him. “I want to help you study.”

Minhyuk paused. Kihyun seemed earnest, like he meant ‘help’ in the human way and not in the I’m-going-to-use-magic-to-solve-this-problem genie way.

“Okay,” he responded.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” he confirmed, yanking his textbook out of his bag. “I have my P-Chem exam on--”

“--Tuesday,” Kihyun interrupted, cutting him off. He had moved toward the table in the middle of the study room, taking a seat opposite of Minhyuk. It deflated him a bit -- he wished Kihyun had decided to sit next to him.

“Yeah, Tuesday.” Minhyuk pulled out his textbook and sat down.

“So what’s it on?”

“Umm,” Minhyuk demurred.

Kihyun gave him a look.

“Look, I'm just trying to go over all the material today, and then I’ll study the stuff I really suck at tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan… ish,” Kihyun replied. Minhyuk giggled -- he forgot how much he missed Kihyun’s sass.

He pulled out his syllabus, placing it next to the open textbook. There was kind of a problem, though.

“Kihyun.”

“Yeah.”

“It would be easier if you were, um…” he started. “Sitting next to me? That way it’s easier to show you stuff.”

“Oh. Right,” Kihyun replied. “Actually, how about I go grab some reference textbooks and study material from the stacks outside while you figure out what your test is on?”

“Okay.”

“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” Minhyuk dramatically complained, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud. One of his hands was holding his throbbing head while his other arm was stretched out, reaching across the table. He rolled his head over to look at his tutor-genie, Kihyun.

“I can go get some more snacks?” Kihyun suggested. Minhyuk could see his eyes darting around at all the empty wrappers scattered around the table, though -- he knew Kihyun was secretly judging just how much ‘brain food,’ aka junk food, Minhyuk needed to stay motivated and awake. They’d been at this for hours, and Minhyuk was just about brain dead. Delirious, or whatever.

He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the fact that Kihyun must have tried to push his brown hair back like fourteen times in the past thirty minutes when explaining basic P-Chem concepts to Minhyuk, but Kihyun looked even prettier right now. Especially looking up at his jawline from the side. His side profile was stunning.

“Minhyuk? Snacks?”

Oh, right. Words. But, instead of vocalizing his needs like an adult, he just groaned dramatically, earning another look from Kihyun.

“Okay, no snacks.”

“I don’t know anything,” he whined.

“That’s a lie!” Kihyun reassured him. “You know some things!”

Minhyuk groaned again.

“Look,” Kihyun started. “And I really don’t want you to take this the wrong way? But I’m going to suggest it because you’ve tried really hard and because I really want you to pass this exam. But… you could… just… wish to pass the exam?”

Minhyuk was squealing inside. Maybe it was from the delirium, but he loved how Kihyun tip-toed around asking him to wish for it this time. It was so cute. The Kihyun that he knew cared about him deeply finally appeared, and it made him ridiculously happy.

“But that’s not what I want~” Minhyuk teased, looking directly into Kihyun’s eyes while sing-songing his response.

“Oh?” Kihyun replied, dramatically splaying his own arm out like Minhyuk and resting his head on the table. They were now at eye-level, both staring at each other. “Do you want... another stack of pancakes, o lazy one?”

“Nope~”

“What do you want then, Minhyuk?”

Without missing a beat, he replied: “I wish” -- dramatically letting that word fall off his lips -- “that the boy I was looking at right now would kiss me.”

Kihyun’s eyes widened, a light shade of pink instantly creeping across his face.

“You -- You didn’t have to use one of your wishes on that,” he murmured. Kihyun looked away briefly, then focused back on Minhyuk. Hesitantly, the shorter boy leaned closer and closer before softly planting his lips on Minhyuk’s. It was quick -- chaste almost -- because Kihyun recoiled almost as soon as he naturally could. Minhyuk couldn’t get over how insanely pink Kihyun’s cheeks looked, how bashfully cute his genie was.

“Gotta save the best wish for last?” Minhyuk choked out, the humor mixing with the pain to form a lump in his throat. Kihyun had to leave now, right? That’s how this worked. That’s how it worked in Aladdin. Oh god.

“It… It wasn’t your last wish, Minhyuk,” Kihyun softly replied. Minhyuk watched as Kihyun, who still had his planted on the table like Minhyuk, brought his hands together. Using his right hand, he removed the large blingy-looking ring that adorned his right ring finger -- the ring that he liked to play with when he was nervous. Kihyun then reached for Minhyuk’s right hand, gently pulling it close so that it was positioned between the two of them. Kihyun was lazy but deliberate; he slid the ring down Minhyuk’s dainty ring finger.

“You… you know how you asked how we could ‘lose’ a genie?” Kihyun started. “Well, uh, I may not know the genie rules that well, but I know that this is the way that I say that I want to spend some more time with a human.”

More time?

“Y--you mean you’re not a genie anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Kihyun confirmed, a shy smile creeping across his face.

“You can’t grant wishes anymore?”

“I can, actually,” he answered. “But only yours.”

☆ Epilogue: The Eleventh (?) Wish ☆

Minhyuk actually lost track of how many wishes it had been now.

It had been about a week since Kihyun committed to him. A week since Kihyun and him became ‘real,’ since Minhyuk had to explain to Jooheon (and Changkyun) that he had a new boyfriend. A side-effect of committing to Minhyuk? Everybody could see Kihyun now. It made Minhyuk’s life much easier, to be honest.

Their relationship improved dramatically without the constant pressure of wishes hanging over them. Kihyun was relaxed. He was still sassy, of course, and Minhyuk loved him for that. But Kihyun also was fiercely protective -- fiery when someone so much as threatened to hurt Minhyuk’s feelings. It was nice to see that fire directed at someone else, to be honest, even if Minhyuk could more than handle himself.

There were problems of course.

One day, Minhyuk came home from class to a fully-stocked kitchen. New pots, new pans, new appliances, tons of food. Fruit -- even in this economy! And lots of pancake mix. All the pancake mix.

And while Minhyuk truly loved that Kihyun cared, he had to set ground rules for wishing. No amazing, life-changing wishes, no surprising him with tons of new worldly possessions, no making his life so easy that one of his problems became irrelevant, no more than one “wish” per day, et cetera.

“-- Only one a day?” Kihyun complained.

“Yeah, and it has to be small.”

“Why?” Kihyun protested. “I love you and I want to show that I love you, Minhyukie.”

“I love too too, babe. But, like, wishes are the easy way out. I love you because you’re you, not because you’re a genie who can grant any wish.”

The next day was slightly better -- he ‘only’ got a new laptop from Kihyun. They had to sit down and have a talk about what “small” meant. You know, flowers and chocolates and a home-made dinner. Not a new car.

Minhyuk also insisted that Kihyun find something to do during the day. Like enroll in some classes. In a different major, he emphasized. Kihyun acquiesced, got a perfect score on the college entrance exam, and became a philosophy major. Apparently he had a soft spot for the Enlightenment. Something about his youth.

But other than those few problems -- and what relationship doesn’t have problems? -- Minhyuk couldn’t be happier. Besides, it was a nice day out today, and he could watch Kihyun try (and fail) to eat his ice cream for at least a few hours. The park was lovely, but his date was lovelier.

Minhyuk was glad he canned his genie.

[nsofties]

college!jungwoo

undergrad!jungwoo physics major (B.S.) - focus on astrophysics dance and chemistry double minor upon first glance, jungwoo is so full of magic and whimsy, that an outsider might think that he's a creative writing or art major but nope jungwoo is a physics major and he's focusing on astrophysics he loves the stars - looking at them is nice, but he wants to understand them... how they're created, what they're made of, how they react, everything about them and to be honest, he always had a knack for math, and was never really good at creative writing, so despite what other people may think of him, he comes out of calculus III looking chipper (when he walked out of the mandatory first year english class he looks like he walked out of a wind tunnel) he's actually so good at math that the math professors keep trying to get him to double major, though he just gives him his soft little smile and shrugs as he says "i just really love the stars" and to be honest everyone is so smitten and soft for jungwoo, they can't argue with that over the summer months jungwoo stays on campus and works with a professor on their research on sun spots and he really loves it and even though lucas and mark and taeyong and doyoung and everyone don't really understand what he's talking about, the way his breezy voice talks about it like it's as easy as basic math makes them love the research, too the research is a lot of computer work, so he's learned to code, also; but, he enjoys it all the same - especially the times that he gets to travel with the lab to other schools to collaborate or for conferences he minored in chemistry just to have a better understanding of the reactions that occur within stars and planets and galaxies like he figured that it would probably be good to take the physical chemistry series in order to better understand his research, but to do that he had to take general chemistry, and he decided he should take organic chemistry, too, and then he thought spectroscopy sounded fun, and so did advanced inorganic and, well, it just all turned into a minor in the end. jungwoo also has this underlying fascination with fluid dynamics, so often, if not in class or not working, you can find jungwoo reading a recent publication on fluid dynamics - anything about it, really; he just wants to know more he also minored in dance because he really enjoyed dancing growing up, and if he could get credit for something that relieves his stress, why not? he's honestly really good at it - and he has the sweetest voice when he sings along to the songs, too - but he sees it as a hobby more than anything even though the teachers recommend him to audition for solo dances, he just shrugs softly and says that it should go to someone who's majoring in dance and not someone who just finds classes fun and a stress reliever his part-time job is in a flower shop - jaehyun is his coworker and honestly the two bring in a lot of business and it's jaehyun doing a lot of the heavy lifting - moving the huge displays of flowers and potted plants and lugging the heavy watering can around to water everything - and jungwoo sitting at the register, staring dreamily at the flowers with a little smile on his face jaehyun honestly doesn't mind, especially since jungwoo working the register is probably better - he's good at math to the point he can add things up in the head and deliver the total as fast as the register and can make change quickly summer means jaehyun going home, leaving jungwoo in the flowershop with the owner's grandson who's nice enough, but not a close friend to jungwoo like jaehyun so, summers are quiet and mundane to jungwoo, missing the humming of jaehyun as he waters plants and the lively atmosphere from the occassional banter between the two of them during the spring semester a new diner had opened down the road from the flowershop and he hadn't been able to stop by because of his schedule so after work one day jungwoo decides to stop by. it's late, he just closed the shop, and it's the lull that comes between dinner and late-night foodies, the atmosphere relaxed jungwoo looks at the sign that says "seat yourself" and settles into the fake leather seats of a booth in the corner, near the window of the diner, taking out his phone to look at all the messages he has his face becomes blank, his mouth a straight line, as he looks at the meme lucas sent him and stifles a sigh a laugh breaks him out of his long tangent to lucas asking him to stop sending him memes. you place a menu on the end of the table and smile as he looks back at you, embarrassed "bad time?" he nods no "it's fine my friend just sends me bad memes during work" his voice is soft but there's a degree of annoyance in it and you nod in response knowingly "well, the cheesecake and strawberry shortcake here are really good, so if you're in need of a break from reality, that's your stuff" in the end, jungwoo orders the strawberry shortcake which you bring out with a smile and asking if that'll be all. when he says yes, you tell him to flag you down when he wants the check jungwoo flashes his gaze to the nametag you wear before nodding and smiling and that's how jungwoo ends up going to the diner after work whenever he closes, ordering the strawberry shortcake and it continues for a while, you getting used to jungwoo's presence and knowing what he's going to order as he walks in the door, asking to cook to prepare it and sometimes when it looks like he's had a particularly rough day you halve the price and pay for half of it because you totally understand how brutal work can be so when jungwoo walks by after work once the semester has started again, he is startled to see lucas in there, talking with you easily and laughing like old friends while, much to his chagrin, he didn't really ever say much to you in a spur of the moment decision, he walks in, relieved by your surprised and happy expression to see him "haven't seen you in a bit. figured that you wouldn't be stopping by during my shift during the semester since i have such bizarre hours" "oh, you know jungwoo?" and that's how jungwoo finds out that you and lucas are childhood friends and god did he really tell lucas that he has a crush on his childhood friend oh my god he totally did judging from the smirk that lucas sends him his life is over "so it was them that you like huh?" lucas has this huge grin on his face as he asks and jungwoo can't even get a word out before lucas speaks again "yeah that's a good thing since they like you, too" jungwoo is looking at him like he has a hundred heads, sputtering out nonsense, unsure of what to do lucas tells jungwoo to just ask them out - that's what he told you to do "i love being cupid!" "you're not being cupid you're just the person that both of us decided to tell" "hey by the way they think my memes are stupid too but you're both wrong" "they're my kindred spirit bless" the next time jungwoo stops by, you aren't working but your coworker hands you a napkin with your phone number and in the most pissed-off teenager voice says "they've wanted to give this to you for the past like three months please take it and call them so they shut up" jungwoo does call later, asking if you want to get coffee and yeah sure just anywhere but the diner the desserts are nice but the coffee is terrible lucas is upset that your first date isn't because of him but because of your moody coworker but this isn't his college!au now is it you're in the same club as everyone else "i don't really understand what you're talking about but i love you" when he talks about his research, but you do really want to understand, so sometimes on dates you'll ask him to explain a little more in a way you can understand, which is good practice for jungwoo to practice his communication of his research and you get to watch the stars in his eyes as he excitedly explains everything for a little longer asks if it's okay for him to never bring flowers as a gift - he's sort of sick of them from his job and you just shrug and say you'd rather just spend time with him and chat because since he's so busy it's hard to find time with him regardless sitting in the room studying as jungwoo practices the dance from advanced modern dance with ten and yuta jungwoo hates studying in the library because it's the perfect temperature for naps, so he always studies in the physics building, which is where you end up most of the time once you two officially start dating (lucas doesn't hear for a week but he runs around campus screaming about how he's cupid himself) jungwoo may come off as someone who could sleep anywhere, but honestly he's incredibly focused and studious in the physics building which motivates you to study harder (you being there also motivates jungwoo because he feels like he needs to do well when you're there) you go to his shows for his dance classes and instead of bringing flowers for him like every other significant other there to support, you bring strawberry shortcake from you and the others at the diner dating jungwoo makes life a little more fun and magical, even if it's just study dates and strawberry shortcake it's more than enough

[damiencordle]

I Found This Interesting. Joshua Damien Cordle

Solar cells: Mapping the landscape of Caesium based inorganic halide perovskites

Scientists at HZB have printed and explored different compositions of caesium based halide perovskites (CsPb(BrxI1−x)3 (0 ≤ x ≤ 1)). In a temperature range between room temperature and 300 Celsius, they observe structural phase transitions influencing the electronic properties. The study provides a quick and easy method to assess new compositions of perovskite materials in order to identify candidates for applications in thin film solar cells and optoelectronic devices.

Hybrid halide perovskites (ABX3) have risen up in only a few years as highly efficient new materials for thin film solar cells. The A stands for a cation, either an organic molecule or some alkali metal, the B is a metal, most often Lead (Pb) and the X is a halide element such as Bromide or Iodide. Currently some compositions achieve power conversion efficiencies above 25%. What is more, most perovskite thin films can easily be processed from solution at moderate processing temperatures, which is very economic.

World record efficiencies have been reached by organic molecules such as methylammonium (MA) as the A cation and Pb and Iodine or Bromide on the other sites. But those organic perovskites are not yet very stable. Inorganic perovskites with Caesium at the A-site promise higher stabilities, but simple compounds such as CsPbI3 or CsPbBr3 are either not very stable or do not provide the electronic properties needed for applications in solar cells or other optoelectronic devices.

Now, a team at HZB did explore compositions of CsPb(BrxI1−x)3, which provide tunable optical band gaps between 1.73 and 2.37 eV. This makes these mixtures really interesting for multi-junction solar cell applications, in particular for tandem devices.

For the production they used a newly developed method for printing combinatorial perovskite thin films to produce systematic variations of (CsPb(BrxI1−x)3 thin films onto a substrate. To achieve this, two print heads were filled with either CsPbBr2I or CsPbI3 and then programmed to print the required amount of liquid droplets onto the substrate to form a thin film of the wanted composition. After annealing at 100 Celsius to drive out the solvent and crystallise the sample, they obtained thin stripes with different compositions.

With a special high intensity x-ray source, the liquid metal jet in the LIMAX lab at HZB, the crystalline structure of the thin film was analysed at different temperatures, ranging from room temperature up to 300 Celsius. "We find that all investigated compositions convert to a cubic perovskite phase at high temperature," Hampus Näsström, PhD student and first author of the publication explains. Upon cooling down, all samples transition to metastable tetragonal and orthorhombic distorted perovskite phases, which make them suitable for solar cell devices. "This has proven to be an ideal use case of in-situ XRD with the lab-based high-brilliance X-ray source," Roland Mainz, head of the LIMAX laboratory, adds.

Since the transition temperatures into the desired phases are found to decrease with increasing bromide content, this would allow to lower processing temperatures for inorganic perovskite solar cells.

"The interest in this new class of solar materials is huge, and the possible compositional variations near to infinite. This work demonstrates how to produce and assess systematically a wide range of compositions," says Dr. Eva Unger, who heads the Young Investigator Group Hybrid Materials Formation and Scaling. Dr. Thomas Unold, head of the Combinatorial Energy Materials Research group agrees and suggests that "this is a prime example of how high-throughput approaches in research could vastly accelerate discovery and optimization of materials in future research."

Story Source:

Materials provided by Helmholtz-Zentrum Berlin für Materialien und Energie. Note: Content may be edited for style and length.

Journal Reference:

H. Näsström, P. Becker, J. A. Márquez, O. Shargaieva, R. Mainz, E. Unger, T. Unold. Dependence of phase transitions on halide ratio in inorganic CsPb(BrxI1−x)3 perovskite thin films obtained from high-throughput experimentation. Journal of Materials Chemistry A, 2020; 8 (43): 22626 DOI: 10.1039/D0TA08067E

[rtirman-blog]

36.   A Notre Dame Junior

I forgot to tell you about being chosen by St. Ed’s Hall to represent them in the Annual Tennis Tournament which was held before the end of the school year.  Also, I think it is important to mention,  I was feeling more and more a part of Notre Dame, i.e., my existence, and what I did, made a difference in the school. First an off-campus student, to a St. Edwards resident student, to a representative of St. Ed’s.

 So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my tennis match, as the St. Ed’s representative. My opponent was none other than Jim Van Petten, the off-campus tennis representative. As I wrote about earlier, Jim was a legend at Fenwick High School in Oak Park, Illinois and an emerging Notre Dame Legend.  As for me, although not perfect, I was able to get the ball over the net. That match was a joke. Every shot I took was returned with sky high lobs.  Every time I got a chance to slam the ball onto his side of the net, back it came like a Ted Williams home run.  This would continue until I made the mistakes of slamming the ball into the net, hitting the ball out of bounds, or missing the ball with my most powerful swing. I’m sure, by now, you have guess the result- 6-0, 6-0!   Jim is, even today, one of my best friends on earth. But we have never played tennis since then.

 Now onto Dillon Hall and my junior year. My room, 104, was in the front of the building with a lot of pedestrian traffic right out the window.  If there was a girl on campus, I would have spotted her in a second. Going to an all-male school may not have been smart.  By my junior year, I had a daily ache in my stomach, hoping to see a girl sometime in the day.  My roommate, Roy Martinello, was in no better shape.  Academically, I was signed up for 15 credit hours- Organic Chemistry and Lab, Economics, Medical Ethics, Advanced Composition, and Freehand Drawing.  My schedule may seem light, but I did not take to Organic, especially the lab. I can’t honestly tell you anything about Medical Ethics, but I do remember Organic.  First of all, my professor, Dr. Emil Hoffman, was considered the hardest prof in the College of Science, and maybe the entire University.  I took a minimum of six pages of notes at each of his lectures.  Worse than Organic lectures was Organic Lab.  Like every chemistry laboratory, we would go through a safety lab which required a report. This was a repeated procedure for all my chemistry labs in high school and college.  The first one I ever did seemed like a waste of my time, as did every other safety lab and report.

 The second session of Organic Lab was on “recrystallization”.   Each student was given a compound which we were to dissolve, recrystallize, and identify. We each had a different compound to find a solvent which would dissolve it, then boil it off to recrystallize it, and then identify it…or something of that nature.  About midway through the third session of the recrystallization exercise, I had finally found the solvent, recrystallized the compound, poured it the through litmus paper, and captured a large recrystallized amount of the original compound.  I must tell you, there was also a large amount of the compound all over my new white lab coat, which now appeared to have been in the midst of an exploding rainbow. Mostly, it was yellow, the color of my compound.  But there were splotches of red, orange, green, blue, indigo and violet.  All in all, it was three boring weeks of trying to dissolve bits of my compound in every acid and base known to mankind.  You would think of all the explosive things that could happen in an organic lab, something exciting would happen…but no, it was a bore. However, we did have one student start an acetone fire, which was put out quickly.  Wow! One little fire in nine hours in the lab.

 I had my compound drying out on fresh litmus paper.  I would then calculate the percent of yield, and then turn it in to my lab instructor to measure percent and purity of yield.  As my recrystallized compound lay out on my lab table drying, my lab instructor was returning our graded safety lab reports from our first lab session. My report was fairly extensive, perhaps four or five pages inserted in a binder.  Instead of placing my report gently on the lab table, he held it about a foot or two above the table and let it drop flat.  I screamed, “Noooooo!” as the wind created on the table top lifted and flipped over the litmus paper with my crystallized compound.  Why did you do that? It took me three weeks to recrystallize it!  He told me to scrape it up, and turn in whatever I was able to save.  After my compound was returned to me, I did get permission to continue, with the added comment that my yield was small and had lots of impurities.  Any enthusiasm I had for that lab, organic, and, for that matter, chemistry, was gone.

 My job turned out to be very helpful to me.  One day while working at the soda counter, I looked up to the person waiting to order, and to my surprise, I was facing Eric Smitner, my high school Latin teacher. He had taken a position at St. Mary’s College.  Even though in high school it took me three years of Latin to get credit for two years, he was one of my favorite teachers at Freeport High.  He was genuinely glad to see me, and praised my accomplishments of which he always knew I was capable.  That brief interaction, was a needed shot in the arm.  I was feeling proud.

 Earlier, I told you about my boss, Jim McCaraghy (“the g is silent like p in swimming”). He was the person who played poker with Knute Rockne, every week.  Jim sang my praises to the powers that be, resulting in a dining hall job with twice the hours. Early each evening, I would go down to the basement of the Dining Hall, pick up a white jacket, and got on line to pick up my supper and eat for free.  Financially, that was very helpful.

 The dining hall was somewhat like the dining hall at Hogwarts, where Harry Potter learned the skills of wizardry.  Just like at Hogwarts, at the end of the long dining hall was an elevated area for a table of the “higher ups” overlooking the entire dining hall.  Yes, the priests ate at that table.  One day, while eating my supper, there was heard across the dining hall, “THERE IS NO GOD!”. Was that booming voice from the Heavens? Or from an amplifier?  You bet those priests were looking hard to see who yelled that out.  Suddenly, from somewhere in that hall came this, “YOU ARE WRONG, THERE ARE MANY GODS!”  Much to the chagrin of the clergy, the place went up in hysterics. The culprits were never found.

 My job, in the dining hall, was to clear off the tables and then help wash the dishes. I was assigned to wash the dirty glasses by dipping them into water, place them face down on spinning brushes, and then place them in a tray to be sanitized by our big washers. At my station, I had a great view of a town girl who worked in the kitchen, as well.  Plenty of times, I’d be looking at her, rather than paying attention to my work.  While looking at her, I would either miss the spinning brushes or hit them awkwardly. One time, I even broke a glass. Luckily, I was not hurt.

 Fast forward to my advanced composition class and another legend- John Ryan.   Although I am uncertain, Mr. Ryan could have been a member of the poker playing Notre Dame greats!  Nonetheless, I knew I had the absolute best English teacher in the University.  The class met T-R-S at 11:30 A.M.  On Saturdays on which there was a home football game, we met at 8:30 A.M.  Since on those Saturdays the campus was heaving with family members, girlfriends, etc., our class was open for guests to attend. About a week before one of those home game Saturdays, Mr. Ryan assigned us to write am 800- word definition. What happened to me on this assignment never happened to me before nor any time after. The greatest composition professor in Notre Dame’s history, with a classroom filled with students and parents, read an outstanding paper that defined “A Gawky Glasswasher”.

The place was in hysterics as Mr. Ryan read my paper.  Actually, much of it was an explanation of the definition with which I finally ended. It went something like this:  “A gawky glasswasher is a dishwasher whose job it is to put dirty glasses on spinning brushes in order to get them clean, yet keeps dirty glasses dirty by staring at pretty girl workers thus missing the spinning brushes…”  When he finished reading the paper, I received a standing ovation, from students and parents. This was a special event for a someone like me whose ego needed stroking…my first, and last, A-plus English Composition paper.  It probably helped raise my final grade to an 85...a solid C!

I got that same grade in Econ and Freehand Drawing.  Organic and Medical Ethics, 70 and 72, respectively.  In all my pre-med studies, the only science in which I got a halfway decent grade was an 84 in physics, in my sophomore year.  Oh, I did get that 97 in inorganic after failing it the semester before. The challenge of college, for me, was staying and moving forward in pre-med, despite knowing I’d have a zero chance of getting into med-school.

 Do you remember back in high school when I lost my cool and kicked the basketball high above the gym hitting a window.  Well, that me showed up while I was cleaning tables in the dining hall.  I was adept at picking up 5 glasses at a time on each hand. As I was doing that, a couple of glasses slipped out of my hand and rolled across the table…nothing broke.   A supervisor, who was standing close by, suggested that I just pick up two or three glasses at a time.  I took offense, and I told him he could just go f--- himself!  His name was Ziggy, and he was in charge of the dining hall.  I got the boot on the spot!

 Within a few days, I was selling women’s shoes in the downtown store of J.C. Penney.  I had to agree to work through the Christmas holiday, their busiest shopping time of the year. Since the Spring semester started about 10 days into January, I figured I could work there over Christmas followed by a ten-day vacation back home.  I clocked a lot of hours at Penney’s.  Part of the time, they had me working in the boy’s clothing department. I actually did okay as a salesman.

I left for home before the new year with plans to rest.  As soon as I boarded the train, I felt sick.  I ended up spending my entire time off sick in bed with the flu. Then back on the train to face the Spring semester of my junior year.

[thejovianmute]

A Different Way Home, Ch 2

Author: TheJovianMute

Rating: Explicit 

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (any, since it's AU)

Pairing: Ed Elric/Roy Mustang

Tags: Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, Prostitution, Hooker Roy, Student Ed, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rape, Violence, PTSD, Disabilities, Vision-Impaired Roy, Eventual Happy Ending

Summary:  Roy's standing on a freezing street corner, his body for sale and his pride long-since gone, when the boy in the red coat approaches him.  

Notes:  So the first few chapters of this are going to be pure fluff and smut. Basically, I wanted to develop the relationship a little before everything goes to hell. So if anyone's just interested in the happy porny stuff, read on and I'll warn you when things are about to get dark so you can bail.

I had intended to include both Roy and Ed's POV in this chapter and get through the entire evening, but I hit 10k words and still wasn't done and realised I really needed to split it in half. On the upside, that means I already have 3k of the next chapter done!

Still pretty terrified about posting, but people were so lovely with feedback on ch 1, it was incredibly encouraging! Thankyou to everyone who reads, kudos or comments, you're all wonderful!

Ch 2:  In which Roy is fed, Ed is kissed, labels are contemplated, and there are orgasms all round. 

Read on AO3, or read under the cut:

Ed leads Roy to a large apartment block made of grey stone. They take the lift up to the fourth floor and head down a corridor to the door at the end. Unlike Roy's apartment block, this one is relatively tidy and clean, even if the peeling and faded paint gives away its age.

Ed fumbles his keys before managing to get the right one in the lock, and Roy notices that he has a little plastic suit of armour on his keyring. The silver paint is chipped and scratched, marking it as a long-time favourite. Roy wonders if Ed fancies himself something of a knight in shining armour.

Once Ed's managed to unlock the door, he holds it open and gestures for Roy to go through. "So this is my place," he says, somewhat unnecessarily.

Roy enters with a touch of caution. He's not expecting Ed to try and pull anything unexpected or untoward, but old habits die hard.

Directly inside there's a little entrance hall, with a bookcase crammed with books on one side and a shoe rack on the other, above which are a row of pegs. As Ed divests himself of his long red coat Roy follows suit, taking off his jacket and hooking it onto one of the unoccupied pegs. Ed proceeds to lean against the wall to unlace his boots and tug them off, so Roy assumes this is household protocol and removes his shoes as well. He places them in a spare space at the end of the rack, noting as he does that there are two distinctly different sizes of shoes present. The smaller size likely belongs to Ed - a supposition borne out as Ed dumps his boots haphazardly beside the smaller set of sneakers - but there's no explanation for the latter.

"You have a housemate?" Roy asks casually, gesturing towards the larger sets of shoes. It's not likely to indicate anything sinister, but if Roy needs to keep an ear out for a boyfriend returning home early, that will definitely change the tone of the evening.

But Ed doesn't look in the least abashed, nodding and visibly brightening. "My brother, Al. He's a year younger than me, but he's fucking brilliant." There's unvarnished pride and affection in Ed's tone; it's obvious the brothers are close.

"He's not here tonight," Ed adds. "He's staying with his girlfriend." His nose wrinkles, and Roy wonders if it reflects Ed's opinion of said girlfriend, the idea of a girlfriend in general, or the idea of his brother being sexually intimate with anyone.

Ed heads through the archway and into what Roy presumes is the main room of the apartment. Roy follows, looking around curiously. It's a reasonably-sized lounge, with a kitchen directly attached to the right. In the lounge area two couches are arranged with a television opposite, and a dining table is strewn with textbooks, notebooks, paper and pens.

Ed dumps his satchel in the corner by the dining table, pulls off his gloves and tosses them on top, and then turns back to Roy.

"Payment up front, right?"

Roy nods, surprised - he often has to prompt tricks to remember that part, especially first-timers who don't know the drill yet.

"Be right back! Feel free to make yourself comfortable, or whatever."

Ed disappears down the hallway, and Roy uses the opportunity to look around. The apartment has a lived-in feel, with evidence of the occupants' personality in everything from the carefully-repaired furniture to the assortment of geeky nick-nacks arranged along the windowsill. There's no coherent colour scheme, but the mismatched curtains, cushions and throw rugs - which should in theory clash rather horribly - simply make the place look bright and homely.

Best of all, Ed must have flipped on the heating as they entered, and warm air is already circulating, slowly defrosting Roy's numb extremities.

Roy finds himself drawn to the table and it's haphazard spread of books and papers. The notes are written in two different hands - one neat but cramped, the other a chicken-scratch scrawl - neither of which his vision can make out. But the titles of the textbooks are printed in bold, clear capitals, and he aches at their familiarity: "Fundamentals of Materials Science", "Introduction to Electrodynamics", "Malchion's Inorganic Chemistry", "Classical Mechanics". The texts range across the sciences, from biology to chemistry to physics and several crossover areas in between.

One of the textbooks is open, and he lifts the front half of the pages so he can read the cover. The design on the rust-coloured background is immediately familiar, and he doesn't even need to read the title to know what it is: "A History of Chemical Discovery". He runs a finger over the bonds of the molecule on the cover, an odd sense of nostalgia stealing over him.

In his peripheral vision he sees Ed return and approach the table to stand beside him.

"Rifamycin," Ed comments, looking at the cover Roy is still staring at, lost in memory.

"Rifampicin," Roy corrects absently, and then freezes as he realises what he's just revealed.

Ed's eyes widen and he looks down at the cover and then back up at Roy.

"You've studied chemistry?" Ed asks, surprise and confusion in his tone.

"A long time ago, yes," Roy says stiffly. He carefully re-opens the book to where he'd marked the place with a finger, waiting for the inevitable question: so how the fuck did you go from studying chemistry to whoring yourself on a street corner?

But Ed surprises him yet again. "That's so cool!" Ed says, his delight seemingly genuine. "What was your favourite? Organic or inorganic?"

"Inorganic," Roy replies automatically. The sudden, vivid image of flames blazing against a starlit desert sky reminds him of the uses his chemical knowledge was put to, and he shuts the memory down hard, his hands clenched into shaking fists.

"Mine too!" Ed enthuses, oblivious to Roy's distress. "Al's totally into organic, he's probably going to go into medical research or biomedical engineering or something fancy like that. He really likes people, wants to do something where he can work with them, not just be stuck in a lab all the time. I'm still undecided. I mean, materials engineering would be fascinating, but I'm not sure what I'd do with it, y'know? Astronomy is kinda tempting, too, but it's not all that practical. Al says it's more important to do what you love than what's useful, but there's a lot to be said for not worrying about where your next meal is coming from."

Speaking of income seems to remind him of his errand, and he holds out his hand, in which is a folded bundle of notes. "Sixty thousand," he says, sounding oddly cheerful about the amount.

Roy's not even going to ask. He takes the money and slips it into his pocket. Normally he'd count it first, especially if it was from a trick he didn't know or didn't trust, but he wants to trust Ed. More than that, he wants Ed to be trustworthy. His self-preservation instincts mutter their discontent, but he forces himself to ignore them.

"And speaking of food, I'm starving," Ed says, with enough fervour to imply that he hasn't eaten in a week. "I'm gonna cook. Stir fry all right with you? It's not real Xingese style, as Al's girlfriend likes to point out repeatedly, but it's pretty damn tasty all the same."

Ed looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer while Roy stares back at him blankly; he's never in his life had a trick offer to cook for him before. He was relatively sure he knew how the evening was going to go once they got here, but Ed's just veered completely off-script and Roy feels like he's been caught flat-footed.

Ed, however, misinterprets his hesitation. "If stir fry isn't your thing, I make a mean quiche. I'm pretty sure we have enough eggs, lemme look…" he trails off as he opens the fridge and begins to rummage through the contents.

"I have no objections to stir fry," Roy says, managing to finally find his voice. "But you don't have to feed me."

"When was the last time you ate?" Ed asks, peering around the open door of the refrigerator.

Roy pauses, trying to remember. He's only been awake since the early afternoon, but he has no idea whether or not he ate when he got up today. He often forgets to eat if he's not hungry, and he hasn't felt particularly hungry lately. He hasn't really felt much at all.

"If you have to think about it, it was too long ago, and it's time to eat again," Ed declares.

"All right," Roy says, his shock slowly fading into amusement. Ed's the one paying for his time, so if Ed wants to spend it cooking for them both, Roy's not going to argue.

Ed starts rattling around the kitchen, pulling out pans and knives and ingredients and setting everything on the bench.

"Can I do anything to help?" Roy asks.

Ed waves him away without even looking. "I've got it under control. And besides, you're a guest! I'm not gonna put you to work."

Roy finds this both amusing and perplexing; few people would consider a hooker they've hired to be anything resembling a 'guest'. The dismissal does give him a convenient opportunity to watch Ed as he works, however, so Roy takes advantage of it. Although Ed prefers his left hand, he seems quite willing and able to use the right when he needs to, and its dexterity is impressive. He also crouches down to reach things stored on the lowest shelves, without even a hand on the bench for balance.

The functionality of the prosthetics is extremely impressive, and he finds himself curious about exactly how they work. Not a conversation he's going to initiate, of course - regardless of how sensitive Ed is to the topic, Roy's here do a job, and he doubts talking about missing limbs is going to get Ed in the right kind of mood. He wonders idly what will get Ed in the mood, and spends the next half an hour alternating between watching Ed and thinking about what sort of tricks he can use to get Ed writhing and begging for more.

By the time Ed serves the stir fry into bowls and clears room for them at the table, the house smells of the savoury sauce Ed fried the meat in, and Roy has to admit it smells pretty tempting.

"Would you like a drink?" Ed asks.

Roy would kill for something alcoholic, preferably neat, but he knows that drinking on the job usually leads to making bad decisions, and he really doesn't need any help in that department.

"I'll have whatever you're having," Roy says instead. He's expecting some kind of soda, but Ed surprises him yet again.

"Juice for me," Ed says, heading back to the fridge. "But there's milk if you'd rather." The shudder in Ed's voice suggests that drinking ditch water would be preferable.

The set-up is too perfect for Roy to resist. Any other trick and Roy wouldn't bother trying to engage, but he can sense the tentative beginnings of a rapport between them, and Ed's earnestness makes him too tempting a target.

"What's wrong with milk?" Roy asks. "It's good for growing bones." He pauses for effect, and then adds: "Although it rather looks as if yours have given up on the attempt."

"Hey! No!" Ed exclaims, incensed, "I'm still growing!"

Roy smirks, having hit the target dead-on. "Perhaps if you drank more milk they'd put more effort into it."

Ed splutters indignantly, cheeks reddening, obviously working himself up into some kind of rant in response.

"Juice is fine," Roy says before Ed can let it loose, unable to suppress a grin.

Ed gives him a darkly suspicious look before pouring them both a glass and delivering them to the table, finally collapsing into a chair in an untidy sprawl. Roy takes the seat opposite, so he can watch Ed as they eat, as well as his vision allows.

Fortunately, when faced with food Ed's ire quickly vanishes, and he dives into his bowl. Roy follows suit more sedately.

As it turns out, Ed's assessment of his own cooking isn't actually hyperbole: the stir fry is quite tasty, and after the first couple of mouthfuls, Roy's body begins reminding him of exactly how hungry he is. He makes an appreciative sound as he swallows, and Ed grins at him, obviously delighted.

"See! It's good. Mei's just a food snob," Ed declares.

"Mei is Al's girlfriend?" Roy asks.

"Yeah," Ed says, in between mouthfuls. "She's all right, I guess. Not really sure what he sees in her. She seems to adore him, at least - but who wouldn't, he's Al. He's like, a kitten in human form or something."

Roy is amused by the description, especially considering the size of Al's shoes compared with Ed's - Roy is guessing that he's significantly taller.

"Mei is from Xing?" Roy asks.

Ed nods. "Came here to study, Al met her in one of his classes. What about you? I mean, where are you from?"

"I'm from Central," Roy answers, tone a little flat. He dislikes the the way too many people ask him the question, as if his exotic looks make a lie of his assertion that he's Amestrian, despite having been born here. He's never even been to Xing, doesn't speak the language or know anything of their culture. He never knew his mother long enough to learn.

To his relief, Ed doesn't seem to see any need to question his nationality. "I figured as much," Ed says, "from the fancy accent. Al and I are country bumpkins, we're from out East. Risembool, if you've ever heard of it."

Roy is amused to hear his accent described as 'fancy', especially considering his background, but if there's one thing Madame Christmas taught him it was how to socialise with the elite as if he'd been born one of them. Her informal elocution lessons over tea (for him) and gin (for her) were a regular part of his week, his accent being gradually 'corrected'. By the time he reached the Academy, he only had to introduce himself and the well-bred young men there simply assumed that he was one of them.

So he supposes that to a country kid he would sound rather formal. It's a strange juxtaposition, considering their current roles; Ed the one with money and a bright future ahead of him, while Roy has lost everything and returned to the gutters he was born in. He shuts down that line of thinking, knowing it can lead nowhere good.

"I know of Risembool," he answers. "I spent some time in the East."

"Neat," Ed says. "It's a nice place, but there isn't all that much to do there. Me and Al both knew we wanted to study science when we finished school. We researched every university in the country, but we heard that Central University had the best science department in Amestris, so we moved here."

"That's what I've heard, too," Roy agrees.

"Where did you study?"

Roy freezes, and then forces himself to swallow the mouthful he was chewing. Admitting the truth would reveal far more information about him than he had any intention of admitting to a trick he's just met. He knows he could easily lie, come up with something convincing that Ed would have no reason to question. But he finds that he doesn't want to. Ed's been nothing but honest with him so far, and he feels like it would change something between them if he broke that tentative trust, whether Ed was aware of it or not.

"CAA," Roy says finally, knowing that even someone as provincial as Ed will have heard of it. Central Army Academy is well-known throughout Amestris as the only choice for officers who aspire to the upper echelons of the military hierarchy.

Ed's eyebrows fly up. "You're military?"

"Not any more, obviously," Roy retorts, with more bite in his tone than he had intended.

Ed stares at him, wide-eyed, obviously aware that he's just stepped on a verbal landmine and not quite sure what to do about it.

Roy takes pity on him, smoothing things over with the skill he's cultivated since childhood. "I'm sure the Academy did things rather differently than the University, of course. Tell me about your studies, and how you've been finding it so far."

The relief on Ed's face is obvious and Roy wonders what his life has been like, that he's never had to learn to school his expression the way Roy did to survive.

Once prompted, Ed is more than happy to ramble on about his studies and his experiences at the University to date, and the brief tension which had flared between them quickly dissipates. Ed is an engaging speaker, his enthusiasm contagious, and Roy listens with genuine interest. It helps that he has the background to understand the things Ed's learning, and is able to ask relevant questions that get Ed shooting off on fascinating tangents.

"What drew you to study science?" Roy asks eventually. "And what about Al - did he choose to follow in your footsteps, or just happen to be interested in the same areas?"

"Al got into science because he wanted to use it to help people. Me, I thought it'd be kind of like a superpower: if I could understand the fundamental building blocks of the world and how they worked, I figured I could learn to make them do anything I wanted!" Ed snorts - Roy assumes at his childhood naivety. "It didn't work out like that, of course. Understanding matter and energy doesn't give you some kind of magical control; it's not like waving a wand or having a superpower."

Ed is silent and contemplative for a few moments, getting the look Roy is beginning to recognise as the one that means he's about to go veering off on a tangent. When he speaks again, Roy isn't disappointed.

"I mean, as far as superpowers go, matter transformation would be pretty damn cool. But if you're going for flashy it's hard to go past super-strength, and there are definitely a few assholes that I wouldn't mind punching through walls. But if we're talking about utility - and matter control was off the table - you'd have to go for something like telekinesis or intangibility, maybe teleportation. Something that you could use in all kinds of ways - to rescue people, steal stuff, whatever you wanted." Ed pauses, giving a grateful Roy a moment to catch up; following Ed's mental meanderings feels rather like being aboard a bus taking lefts and rights suddenly and at random, with no actual destination in mind.

"What about you?" Ed asks. "What would you pick?"

Roy considers the question.

If you had have asked him when he was Ed's age, Roy probably would have said pyrokinesis. He's always had a fascination with fire, the way the tongues of flame flicker and dance, beautiful and almost supernaturally alive as they consume all they touch. But now, having seen the horrors he's seen and knowing how he'd be forced to use a power of that kind, the idea makes him ill.

Again he has to force down the mental images and phantom smells of burned and bloody bodies, and give himself a moment for his stomach to stop churning. He tries to breathe through it, keeping his expression bland.

The thought of the wounded and dying makes him tempted to choose healing. Certainly there was a moment in time where he would have sold his soul for the ability, and would have gone happily to his eternal damnation if it had have saved the man bleeding out in his arms. But now there's nobody he cares enough to save.

Now… now he thinks he'd go for mind control. He'd take control of the Amestrian Government and make sure that nothing like Ishval could ever happen again. He'd restore Amestris to the country it should have been, without the political aggression and expansion-at-all-costs philosophy that caused decades of territory wars and destroyed an entire race of its people. He'd be a dictator, he knows, but a benevolent one, working for the good of the people. But then, all dictators probably think of themselves as benevolent, he supposes.

"I don't know," he says finally, unwilling to expose so much of himself by speaking his thoughts aloud.

Ed accepts this at face-value instead of pushing, for which Roy is grateful. A moment later and Ed's quicksilver mind is off and racing again, this time steering the conversation into the realm of superheroes and comic books. It's been a while since Roy's read anything in the way of comics; a while since he's been able to read anything at all. But he enjoyed comics during his younger years, and finds common ground with Ed over the heroes and villains of a decade ago.

By the time Roy finishes his meal, Ed has long-finished his. Roy finds himself feeling satiated and well-fed for the first time in a long while. The sensation settles on him uneasily, making him feel like it's something he hasn't earned. He reminds himself that it was Ed's choice to feed him: Ed's is in control here, and Roy's being paid to go along with whatever he chooses to do, sex-related or not.

Roy helps Ed clear the dishes despite Ed trying to wave him away, and then they move back into the lounge. Ed stands awkwardly for a moment, looking at one of the couches, and then abruptly turns on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

Roy is somewhat nonplussed by his sudden departure, unsure if he's supposed to follow or wait where he is. After a few moments curiosity wins over caution, and he follows the path of Ed's retreat.

He finds Ed in a bathroom, standing at the sink and squeezing toothpaste onto a toothbrush. Ed looks up as Roy appears in the doorway behind him and their eyes meet in the mirror.

Roy raises a questioning eyebrow.

"What?" Ed demands defensively, with a somewhat embarrassed scowl. "It's polite to brush your teeth before you kiss someone."

Roy is amused by Ed's defensiveness but genuinely touched by this small display of thoughtfulness, and his smirk softens at the edges.

Ed pauses with the toothbrush halfway to his mouth, suddenly breaking the eye contact and looking away. "I mean, only if you want to. You don't have to, of course." He pauses for a moment, looking back up to the mirror. "Do you kiss? I mean, your, uh…" Ed stumbles to a halt, obviously unsure what term to use.

"Clients?" Roy suggests, trying not to smile at the kid's verbal fumbling.

"Yeah," Ed agrees, obviously relieved by the save.

Roy contemplates the question for a moment - generally he doesn't kiss, but that has more to do with the acts he's usually performing than any kind of prohibition on his part. It's difficult to kiss with a mouthful of cock, or while he's being hammered from behind. That being said, he certainly has no desire to kiss most of his clients, shuddering to think of that kind of intimacy with those of poor personal hygiene or who get off on the more degrading aspects of his work.

But Ed… Ed, who is brushing his teeth for Roy's benefit, who is forthright and sweet and awkward by turns. He thinks he could kiss Ed. He thinks he might even want to.

"I kiss," Roy says simply, not daring to say more for fear of what he might reveal.

Ed's expression brightens, and he shoves the toothbrush in his mouth and begins brushing vigorously, as if concerned that Roy might change his mind.

"Do you have a spare?" Roy asks. "Fair's fair, after all."

Ed crouches down to rummage in the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a pack of a dozen-odd toothbrushes, only half of which remain. Roy extracts one from the packet and Ed makes room for him at the sink.

They stand side by side as they brush, and Roy tries to make sense of the picture they present in the mirror: two men, pressed close in the limited space. It's an oddly domestic scene, typical of partners or family members. There's nothing to mark Roy as a whore, or Ed as his trick.

The pair of them are a study in contrasts. Ed is in the same black shirt and cargo pants as the previous day, his golden hair up in a ponytail, cascading down his back and forward over one shoulder. Roy is taller by nearly a head, wearing plain blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, his arms bare. In the mirror Ed's eyes are golden-bright, while Roy's are so dark a brown they look black.

Ed spits and rinses, and then makes room for Roy to do the same. When he's done, Roy hands the brush back, and Roy adds it to the little rack where Ed's and his brother's already stand. Roy isn't quite sure how to feel about that, so tries to put it out of his mind.

They head back through to the lounge, which is when Ed seems to run out of steam, looking unsure of himself for the first time.

"So, uh. How do we do this?"

"Well, generally, my clients tell me what they want, and I get on with doing it." Roy takes a step towards him, letting his hips tilt a little and offering the knowing smile that gets him the attention of both genders; Roy knows he's good at this particular game. "But if you like, I can make some suggestions. Would you like me to kiss you?"

"Yeah," Ed says, voice low with want. "Yeah, definitely. I'd like that."

Roy closes the distance between them, until he's standing directly in front of Ed. This close, he can see how richly amber the depths of Ed's eyes are, currently alight with anticipation.

But he can also sense the tenseness of Ed's body, shoulders as tight as if he were braced for a blow. Ed's obviously nervous and uncertain, but Roy can't discern the cause. Is it because Roy's a stranger? Because he's a man? Because Ed expects something in particular to happen that he doesn't want?

"Here, let's sit down," Roy says, putting a hand on Ed's shoulder and guiding him towards the couch, nudging Ed to sit when he's close enough and taking a seat beside him when he does. He hopes that the casualness of the position will help Ed relax, with the added bonus of reducing the height difference between them.

Then he slides a hand around the back Ed's neck and guides him forwards with the lightest of pressure. Their lips meet lightly, slide over each other's, and part again. Roy gives Ed a moment to process, and then moves back in to kiss a little more firmly.

It takes Ed a few moments to engage fully, and then he's leaning into the kiss, mouth fitting to Roy's, warm and wet and tasting faintly of mint. Ed's left hand reaches to grip Roy's bicep as the kiss deepens. Roy licks at Ed's lower lip, a gentle request, and Ed opens his mouth for Roy to delve inside.

It's quickly obvious to Roy that while this isn't Ed's first kiss, he's not particularly experienced either. But he's enthusiastic, and willing to follow Roy's lead, and Roy finds himself enjoying a kiss for the first time in too many empty years. He slides an arm around Ed's body to pull him closer, cradling the back of his head with the other hand, silken hair sliding over his fingers.

Roy breaks the kiss off after a few minutes. "How are you doing?" He asks, wanting to make sure Ed's still on board. His enthusiasm seems genuine and his physical responses indicate he's enjoying the proceedings, but people can be complicated, Roy knows.

"I'm great!" Ed says fervently. His breathing a little fast and there's a pink flush stretched across both cheeks.

"Do you want to keep going?" Roy asks.

Ed nods. "Definitely!"

Roy smiles and succumbs to the urge to run a thumb over the blush on Ed's cheek. He kisses Ed just once, and then nudges him to lie back, using the arm around him to help guide him down until Ed's reclining along the length of the couch. Roy follows him, shifting until he's lying atop Ed's body. Ed's eyes are wide beneath him, and it takes a few moments before Ed lets his arms come up and fold around Roy's body.

He kisses Ed gently, letting Ed dictate the intensity. Ed shifts beneath him, and Roy can feel Ed's cock, hard against his pelvis. Roy has little doubt that Ed's just as aware of his own erection, pressing into the hollow of Ed's hip. The kisses slowly become more heated as Ed's confidence increases and his arousal builds, and Roy is pleased when Ed gets game enough to slip his tongue into Roy's willing mouth.

Ed pulls back to gasp a breath, and Roy moves his attentions to Ed's neck, nuzzling and kissing at the soft place beneath his jaw, sucking lightly and then scraping his teeth lightly along the skin. Ed bucks beneath him at that and Roy smirks against his neck. After that Ed can't seem to hold back the little twitches and jerks of his hips. Several times he presses up deliberately and then stills again as if he isn't sure he's allowed to seek his pleasure against Roy's body.

Roy rolls his hips in response, a deliberate grind, and Ed groans. Roy can't wait to get Ed out of his clothes, to have no barriers between them, nothing but skin against skin. He remembers Ed asking if Roy was willing to fuck as well as be fucked, and his cock twitches just at the thought of sinking into Ed's body.

"Do you prefer to top or bottom?" Roy asks against Ed's neck.

There's no immediate response, so Roy pushes up so that he can see Ed's face. "When you're with men," he elaborates.

Ed's gaze slips off to the side and he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Well, uh…"

"You've never tried either?" Roy asks.

Ed shakes his head. "Not so much, no."

"What have you tried, with other guys?"

"I've never really, uh…" Ed trails off with a shrug. "Yknow. Anything, with a guy."

Roy sits up and moves off of Ed's body, knowing that there's a conversation here that needs to be had without distraction.

Ed follows his lead, sitting up and trying to sweep his hair into some semblance of order, looking at Roy a little warily.

"I'm the first man you've been with?" Roy asks, gentling his tone.

"Yeah," Ed admits. He gives an embarrassed sort of smile, and then suddenly looks worried. "Is that a problem?"

Roy shakes his head. "Of course not, but it's useful for me to know. I don't want to rush you or do anything you're not comfortable with, so we'll just take it a little slower than usual, all right?"

Ed looks relieved by this. "Yeah, that would be great," he says.

"And if there's anything you find you don't like, please tell me. There are always plenty of other things we can try."

"I will," Ed promises. He looks as if he wants to say more, so Roy waits patiently.

"Are you into guys?" Ed blurts abruptly.

The question isn't what Roy expected, and throws him slightly. "I'm a male prostitute," he says sardonically, resorting to deflection. "It would be problematic if I wasn't."

"Yeah, but…" Ed shrugs. "It's not like you'd have to be into it to do your job, would it? I mean, if you aren't, uh… the one doing the fucking, then it wouldn't matter if you weren't into it, right?"

And damn this kid for being one of the insightful ones, for not accepting Roy's prevarication at face value. Roy wonders for a moment what would happen if he said 'no', whether it would make a difference to Ed, whether Ed might halt the evening altogether out of respect for Roy's stated preferences. But Roy has no reason to lie.

"You're right, of course," Roy concedes. "But as it happens I am sexually attracted to men. Why do you ask?"

Ed fiddles with his sleeve. "I had a girlfriend," he says after a few moments, and Roy realises that Ed's issues might not be limited simply to his inexperience. It would hardly be the first time he's been rambled at by a trick working through their own hangups, though, so Roy settles himself more comfortably as he waits.

"We practically grew up together," Ed continues, "and just sort of fell into a relationship when we were pretty young. We broke up a bunch of times but we always got back together, until this last time."

"What was different about this last time?" Roy asks.

"She wanted to have sex," Ed says. "And I realised that I didn't. I mean… not with her. I love her, I really do. But I just didn't feel that way about her. When I kissed her, it felt… nice, I guess. But it didn't make me want to do anything more."

"It didn't turn you on?"

Ed shakes his head, and then shrugs. "I mean, she sat in my lap and I got hard - but it was a physical thing, y'know? She was rubbing against my dick, it paid attention. But that's all."

"Did you have sex with her?" Roy asks.

Ed shakes his head again, and Roy is oddly relieved, glad that Ed wasn't pressured into doing something he didn't want. "She didn't get why. I'm a teenage guy, I'm supposed to be desperate for it, but I turned her down, even though I was sitting there with a hard-on tenting my pants. She got pretty angry at first, and then she cried." Ed winces a little at the memory. "She thought it was just her I didn't want, but it wasn't. I've never felt that kind of thing about any girl."

"Did you think you might be attracted to other men?" Roy asks.

"Well, at that point, it hadn't really occurred to me. I know that sounds stupid - I mean, how can someone not even know what floats their boat? But the thing is, for most of my life I never really thought about sex at all," Ed says. "I was so busy taking care of Al, making sure we stayed together, trying to fix our bodies, plus studying and working on top of that, that I just didn't have room in my head to think about sex as well. I mean, I jerked off, but it was just a physical thing, I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular. At school the other guys would talk about sex all the freaking time, but I just… didn't. It was only after Winry said she wanted to that I really stopped to think about it."

"What conclusions did you come to when you did?"

"I realised that I just wasn't into girls."

"And?" Roy prompts.

"And I tried thinking about guys, and that did make me want to do more."

"But you haven't had the opportunity to try it out in practise, as yet?"

"No."

"So, is that why you hired me, then? To test out your theory, see if it works the same way in reality as it does in your head?"

Ed doesn't answer for a moment. "Well," he says, looking somewhat abashed but with a hint of a grin, "to be honest, I just saw you and wanted you. I didn't really think about it much further than that. But I guess it works out, right? Means I can try stuff out with a guy and if I don't get into it, it doesn't matter! It's not like having a date that'll be pissed if you realise you're just not into dick halfway through." He pauses and then the grin spreads wider as he reaches down to adjust himself in his pants, erection still obvious. "Not that I think being into it's going to be a problem."

Roy smirks. "I'm flattered to have caught your attention." He's definitely getting the impression that Ed's not really the sort to look before he leaps, jumping into the things with wholehearted enthusiasm, but not always a lot of forethought. In this particular instance, however, it seems to have worked out well for both of them: Ed gets to experiment with his sexuality without the anxiety of trying to please a partner, while Roy gets the easiest night's work he's had in years, and gets to stay warm in the bargain.

"And you're right, I certainly won't be offended if you choose to stop the experimentation at any point during the evening. You've paid for my time and you get to choose what to do with me, even if you decide to do nothing."

Unexpectedly, Ed's expression twists in a grimace of embarrassment. "You must think I'm a total loser," he says, looking away. "Hiring a hooker to lose my virginity. Like I couldn't get a guy any other way."

"Not at all," Roy says, frowning. "My first time was with an escort, too." The words escape before he can corral them, and Roy curses himself for opening yet another chink in his protective armour of anonymity. He's only ever told that story to one other person, and he certainly hadn't planned on divulging it to a trick he barely knows.

But Ed's looking at him with sudden hope in his expression, so Roy tries to push the self-recriminations aside and continue.

"She was kind and gentle with me - she made sure I enjoyed it, as well as teaching me some useful things about how to please a woman."

He didn't mention that it was at the request of his foster mother, who had specifically chosen one of her girls to initiate him, once she decided he was old enough.

"Really?" Ed stares at him, wide-eyed. "And you don't regret it?"

"Not at all," Roy says. "Look, Ed. There are a whole range of reasons why you might want to hire a sex worker, and other people have no right to judge you for it. It doesn't mean you're a loser, or that you couldn't find a partner to have sex with if you tried. It just means that you're choosing to take control of the experience in a particular way."

"I guess so," Ed says, not sounding entirely convinced.

"When you have sex - especially when it's your first time - it should be with someone you feel comfortable with," Roy presses. "And someone you trust to stop if you need them to. If that person is someone you hire, so what?"

"I feel comfortable with you," Ed says, a touch shyly. "I trust you."

"I'm very glad," Roy says, trying not to let Ed's hesitant, earnest smile get to him, while fearing that he's not entirely successful.

Roy wants to tell Ed that he has entirely too much faith in people, that it's not safe to trust anyone, particularly someone you know so little about. But he doesn't want to be the one to disillusion the kid, or expose him to the fundamental assholery of humanity. At the same time Roy recognises the hypocrisy of the thought, considering he's broken several of his own rules this evening already because he trusted a kid he'd only just met.

"So you like girls, too?" Ed asks, obviously contemplating Roy's earlier statement.

"Yes. I'm bisexual." Roy ends up drawn to men more often than women emotionally, but finds women more convenient for casual sex. He used to, anyway - he hasn't had the urge for any kind of sex in a long time.

Ed seems to digest this silently. "I guess that makes me gay," he says, as if only just coming to the realisation. Roy gets the feeling that Ed's recently-discovered attraction to men is something he still hasn't fully processed.

"Ed, they're just labels - try not to get too hung up on them." Roy reaches out to cup Ed's face in his palm, stroking Ed's cheek with the side of his thumb. Ed tilts his head into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before refocusing on Roy's face.

"People like labels to conveniently pigeon-hole others, but not everyone fits neatly into one box or another, or even identifies with the same box from day to day. Don't let other people's labels push you into doing something you don't want, or keep you from doing something you do want."

"I want this. I mean, I want you," Ed says, no uncertainty in his tone this time.

"Good. That's the only thing that matters, right now."

"So, does that mean we can keep doing stuff?" Ed asks hopefully, seeming to have shelved his sexuality-related anxieties for the moment. "Like what we were doing just before?"

"Of course," Roy says, hiding his amusement. "We can do anything you like."

"I liked it when you were on top of me," Ed says, with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "Kissing me."

"In that case…"

Roy presses Ed back down onto the couch, settling himself between Ed's thighs and covering Ed's body with his own. Ed immediately grabs Roy's hips, pulling him down while pressing up against him, making his desires clear. Roy smirks against Ed's mouth as he kisses him; he's getting the impression that patience isn't one of Ed's stronger suits either.

Roy accedes to the unspoken demand and grinds his hips against Ed's, setting up a regular rhythm, the pleasure slowly building as their cocks rub together, pressed between their bodies. Ed hooks his flesh hand around Roy's neck, holding him in place as their mouths slide over each other's, heated and wet. Ed's making stuttered moans whenever they break for breath, the sounds going straight to Roy's cock. Ed presses his face against Roy's neck for a moment, overwhelmed, and the warm caress of his exhalation against Roy's skin makes him shiver.

Being with Ed like this feels good in a way that Roy hasn't felt in a long time. It's completely unlike the sex he has when he's working; he never makes out like this, clothed and messy like desperate teenagers. Usually he's using his skills to drive his target towards orgasm as quickly as possible, or letting them use his body to do the same. His own pleasure just doesn't enter into it.

But he could come like this, Roy thinks, just from grinding against Ed's body with all of his clothes still on. It's obvious that Ed's already well on his way to the finish post, if the way he's squirming beneath Roy is any indication. But Roy doesn't particularly want to come in his pants, especially when he has to walk home in them.

What he wants is to slow things down, to undress Ed and explore every inch of his body with fingers and mouth, to show Ed all the different types of pleasure his body can experience. But he knows that Ed doesn't have the patience for that right now. He's practically vibrating with pent-up arousal, desperate to come as quickly as possible. Fortunately Ed's also young, and shouldn't have any issues getting it up for a second round, so there's no harm in getting him off fast right now.

But Roy's still not coming in his pants.

Roy sides off Ed and encourages him to turn so that they're both lying on their sides, facing each other. Ed's looking at him inquisitively, impatience held in check for now but lurking not far beneath the surface.

Roy reaches down between them, undoing Ed's belt and pants by touch alone as he watches Ed's face. He pauses with his fingertips just under the elastic of Ed's boxers.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Roy asks.

"Yeah," Ed breathes. "Fuck, yeah!"

Roy pushes the waistband down, freeing Ed's dick, and wraps a hand around it, taking a long, slow stroke.

Ed makes a sound halfway between a choke and a gasp, pushing into Roy's hand in an unspoken demand for more.

Roy obliges, setting up a rhythm, experimenting a little to see what gets a reaction. Some guys prefer firmer pressure down at the root, others like a squeeze over the head on the upstroke. Ed seems to appreciate everything Roy tries, looking half-dazed with pleasure, responsive to every change in Roy's touch.

"Good?" Roy asks.

"Oh hell yeah," Ed says breathlessly. "I didn't think it'd feel so different - someone else's hand, I mean. But it's so much better."

Roy smirks, using a few of his tricks to tease Ed and wind him up even further, while Ed grips his arm so tightly his fingers will probably leave marks.

Meanwhile, Roy's own arousal is a low ache in his abdomen, his dick still clamouring for attention.

Roy releases Ed for a moment, ignoring his small sound of complaint, and quickly undoes his own belt and pants so he can pull himself free. Then he presses forward until his cock is aligned with Ed's and takes them both in his fist, stroking firmly.

"Oh, fuck," Ed mutters, looking down between them to where the heads of both cocks protrude from Roy's fist on the downstroke. "That is so fucking hot."

"Do you want to come like this?" Roy asks.

Ed nods quickly. "Yeah, fuck yeah!"

Roy strokes them both firmly and quickly, foregoing any further teasing and simply pushing them both towards orgasm as quickly as possible. Ed is so wound up he can't hold himself still, his hips stuttering forward and back to push himself further into Roy's hand. It makes Ed's dick drag against his own, and Roy moans at the sensation. Soon they're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, Ed's eyes closed.

Ed is the first to tip over the edge. He stiffens abruptly with a sharp indrawn breath, and then he groans as his dick pulses in Roy's hand and he starts spurting onto both of their stomachs. Roy eases him through it, slowing as the orgasm tails off. Ed is gorgeously flushed and breathing unsteadily, his good hand still gripping Roy's shoulder.

Roy takes a few moments to enjoy Ed's dishevelled state before giving in to his cock's throbbing demand for attention, taking himself back in hand and stroking hard and fast. It isn't long before he reaches his own climax, gasping as the pleasure crashes through him. It's been so long since he's jerked off that the rush of sensation and the relief that follows nearly blindsides him.

Afterwards, they lie tangled together on the couch as they recover.

"That was fucking awesome," Ed declares.

Roy can't hold back a snort of amusement, Ed's combination of enthusiasm and inexperience ridiculously appealing. His unbridled delight at a simple hand-job - the tamest trick in Roy's sexual repertoire - is a novelty completely at odds with the the usual reactions of his clients, who barely seem to enjoy the acts they engage in.

But then, the experience was something out of the ordinary for Roy as well, the intensity startling and unexpected. He can't remember the last time he enjoyed sex. He's certainly never come when he's on the job before, never let himself turn the act into something mutual, or let his own pleasure enter into the equation. There's no denying he enjoyed himself, though, not with the evidence still decorating the front of his t-shirt.

"It was pretty awesome," Roy agrees, both amused and sincere.

Roy's hand is now thoroughly sticky, so after a minute he carefully extracts himself from Ed's tangle of limbs, re-fastens his pants with his left hand, and makes his way down the hallway to clean himself up.

In the bathroom, he stops at the sink and meets his own eyes in the mirror. His hair is in disarray from where Ed's fingers have threaded through it, and his mouth is reddened and kiss-swollen. He's coming down from the high of orgasm and the reality of the situation is starting to intrude in unpleasant ways. His thoughts clamour at him, reminding him how dangerous it is to get attached, to open himself up, to trust in any way, big or small. He should know better, he thinks. He should remember the lessons that were hard-learned.

"Roy," he mutters to his reflection. "What the hell are you doing?"

[jeroldlockettus]

Freakonomics Radio Live: “We Thought of a Way to Manipulate Your Perception of Time.”

A.J. Jacobs, Manoush Zomorodi, and Stephen Dubner play Tell Me Something I Don’t Know. (Photo: Lucy Sutton)

We learn how to be less impatient, how to tell fake news from real, and the simple trick that nurses used to make better predictions than doctors. Journalist Manoush Zomorodi co-hosts; our real-time fact-checker is the author and humorist A.J. Jacobs.

Listen and subscribe to our podcast at Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, or elsewhere. Below is an edited transcript of the episode. 

*      *      *

This is a bonus episode of Freakonomics Radio Live. It’s the non-fiction game show we call Tell Me Something I Don’t Know. This was recently recorded in New York. If you’d like to attend a future show or be on a future show, visit freakonomics.com/live. We’ll be back in New York on March 8th and 9th, at City Winery; and in May, we’re coming to California: in San Francisco on May 16, at the Nourse Theater, in partnership with KQED; and in Los Angeles on May 18th, at the Ace Hotel Theater, in partnership with KCRW. And now, on with our show.

Stephen DUBNER: Good evening, this is Freakonomics Radio Live! Tonight we’re at Joe’s Pub in New York City and joining me as co-host is Manoush Zomorodi. Manoush is the host and creator of the podcasts ZigZag and Note To Self. She’s the author of the book Bored and Brilliant: How Spacing Out Can Unlock Your Most Productive and Creative Self. Manoush, we know you grew up in Princeton, N.J., the child of not one but two psychiatrists.

Manoush ZOMORODI: Indeed. Everybody went like this: “Aww.”

DUBNER: Well, afterwards they’ll come to you with their problems, presumably. We know that, before getting into the cutting edge world of podcasting, that you reported for legacy media companies including Thomson Reuters and the BBC. So tell us something we don’t yet know about you, Manoush.

ZOMORODI: My big break was I was a breaking news producer for the BBC and I was sent with a correspondent, a real grownup reporter person to report from Mount Etna, which was erupting. The volcano is going off, that was pretty cool. We’re on TV. And then he’s like, “Right, see you later. I’m going back to Rome for my child’s birthday party.” And I was like, “All right, bye.” I couldn’t get a flight out until the next day.

DUBNER: Was that a Roman accent?

ZOMORODI: That was Brian Barron actually. So I went to sleep in my lovely hotel. So they wake me up at four in the morning, and they are like, “The volcano is erupting again.” And I was like, “Yeah, but Brian left.” And they were like, “You, go to the volcano and report.” So I was on the morning news reporting from an erupting volcano and never looked back. 2001, been a reporter ever since.

DUBNER: Congratulations. We are so excited that there was danger happening and Manoush got to be there —

ZOMORODI: Have you ever seen lava flow, really? It goes like this.

DUBNER: Just so you know, this is radio. I’d like to describe what Manoush was doing. She was holding up her hand and moving it very slowly. Did it change your life in any way other than career-wise?

ZOMORODI: Yeah, because I thought of my own capabilities completely differently. So that changed everything.

DUBNER: Okay, Manoush, very, very happy to have you here tonight.

ZOMORODI: Thank you.

DUBNER: Thank you for coming to play Tell Me Something I Don’t Know with us. Here’s how it works: Guests will come onstage to tell us some interesting fact, or idea, or story, maybe a historical wrinkle we don’t know. You and I can then ask them anything we want. And at the end of the show our live audience will pick a winner. They will vote on three simple criteria: No. 1, did the guest tell us something we truly did not know? No. 2, was it worth knowing? And No. 3, was it demonstrably true? And to help with that demonstrably-true part, would you please welcome our real-time fact-checker, the author of four New York Times best-sellers and counting, including The Year of Living Biblically, A.J. Jacobs.

A.J. JACOBS: Thank you Stephen.

DUBNER: So A.J., it’s been a while since we did one of these shows together. I assume you’ve just been sitting at home waiting for us to call. Have you been working on anything at all?

JACOBS: Well that and I was able to squeeze in— I have a new book. It’s called Thanks A Thousand, and the idea is I went around the world and thanked a thousand people who had even the smallest role in making my morning cup of coffee possible. So I thanked the farmer who grew the coffee beans, and the trucker, and the logo designer, and the man who made the zarf.

DUBNER: What’s a zarf?

ZOMORODI: Bless you.

JACOBS: Well, thank you. A zarf is, I learned, the official name for that little cardboard sleeve that goes around a coffee cup.

ZOMORODI: No way. Come on, that’s not the word for it. Zarf?

JACOBS: Zarf. Yes. And, just so you know, it has a long and glorious history. There were zarfs in ancient China made of gold and tortoise shell so—

ZOMORODI: Wait, A.J. wins. I’m sorry. That fact was amazing. That’s so cool.

DUBNER: Do we know where the word comes— Is it the sound the first person made when they grabbed a cup of hot coffee without a zarf?

JACOBS: That is that is a good question. If you give me 30 seconds, I can give you an answer.

DUBNER: We’ll get back to it, by the end of the show you can tell us the etymology of zarf. A.J., delighted that you are joining us as well. It’s time now to play Tell Me Something I Don’t Know. Would you please welcome our first guest, Julie Arslanoglu. Julie, welcome. I understand you are a research scientist at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I’m guessing that’s pretty fascinating work and very promising for our purposes tonight. So, I’m ready, as are Manoush Zomorodi and A.J. Jacobs. What do you know that’s worth knowing that you think we don’t know?

Julie ARSLANOGLU: I have a simple question: What do antibodies have to do with art and art conservation?

DUBNER: Antibodies being the protein in blood that attacks the bad guys?

ARSLANOGLU: It’s the protein that your body produces to recognize an other. So every living organism has these.

ZOMORODI: Is it something that you apply?

ARSLANOGLU: We apply antibodies to art. Yes.

ZOMORODI: Okay.

DUBNER: Oh, you apply antibodies. You’re not looking for antibodies in the art.

ARSLANOGLU: No we’re not.

DUBNER: Let’s ask about you. Is your background purely art, and/or art conservation, or do you have some kind of bio-chem background?

ARSLANOGLU: I have an organic chemistry graduate degree.

DUBNER: Oh.

ZOMORODI: So are you potentially part of the preservations staff at the Met?

ARSLANOGLU: I’m a research scientist within the conservation department.

DUBNER: Does the Met have a lot of you, or are you flying solo?

ARSLANOGLU: No, there’s 12 of us.

DUBNER: Really?

ZOMORODI: There’s 12 of you?

ARSLANOGLU: Yeah.

ZOMORODI: Okay.

DUBNER: Where do the antibodies come from that you apply?

ARSLANOGLU: We purchase them from commercial sources.

DUBNER: What do they belong to? Where do they come from?

ARSLANOGLU: Well. The way an antibody is created is, you take something that you want to study, some protein from an organism. It can even be a small molecule. You inject it into an animal that’s called the host. The host creates antibodies against the ‘other.’ You harvest those, and then you inject those into a second animal and create antibodies to that first antibody and use that as your reporting system. So the whole idea is that when you have one thing that you want to recognize, you create an antibody to that.

DUBNER: That is super fascinating. So this is some version of antibody dating or— I don’t mean like smooching, dating. I mean like carbon dating, dating.

ARSLANOGLU: It could be timed theoretically, but it’s really complex, because you have a couple of problems. One is that normally antibodies are made against what are called native proteins. So these are the proteins that come off freshly from an organism. So let’s talk about collagen. If you extract collagen from let’s say bovine skin, you can create an antibody for collagen, and you can create an antibody specifically for bovine skin. But these are going to be in their native state, meaning it’s the way the protein is extracted from the tissue or the organism.

My issue is that the proteins that are extracted, are extracted to be prepared to use for artwork. So if it’s going to be a glue or if it’s going to be a binder for a paint, meaning a paint is usually ground-up minerals and you have some sort of adhesive that holds the whole thing together. So, if you prepare this material, you are going to heat it to extract it. You’re going to do something to it to prepare it for an artistic way of using it. Then you’re going to mix it with these inorganic mineral pigments which have cations that react with proteins.

DUBNER: Cat-ions?

ARSLANOGLU: Cations—

DUBNER: Ions from cats?

ARSLANOGLU: Cations means positive charged.

DUBNER: Okay.

ARSLANOGLU: And then you’re going to let this stuff dry. So a protein normally lives in an aqueous environment. Now you are going to remove the water and then you’re going to let it age for 500 years, a thousand years. So stuff happens to those proteins. Art is made up of materials, materials continue to react. The way they react is really complex because we don’t have a really clear knowledge of the conditions that art was exposed to. And art continues to be treated over time. So if it enters a museum, for example, it might be consolidated with additional animal products, like sturgeon glue, or animal glue. It might have a synthetic polymer added to it to create a more cohesive surface. So you have all these things mixed together, they continue to react.

DUBNER: So you’re doing this kind of proactive-ish, historical-ish, detective work for what purpose? For restoration, for proving the provenance or history of something? What?

ARSLANOGLU: So, at the most basic level what we’re trying to identify is: what materials are used to create the artwork. And why this is important is a few things. One is, you have a sort of a lexicon of how art was created. So for example, egg tempera being used in the Italian Renaissance. Well, was every painting in the Italian Renaissance made with egg tempera, or did they use other protein based binders? So you can inform that lexicon, you can create a timeline that informs the art historians about what the materials actually were being used.

But more than that, when you look at a piece of artwork, it’s a combination of all the chemistry that’s going on. So when you mix a binder like a protein with a mineral pigment, as the light passes through it, you’re going to get a certain amount of saturation of colour. You can get some— An amount of gloss, and it all depends on that combination of which pigment in which binder. And if you add an oil to it, it changes everything. So looking at an artwork, understanding what you see, why does it look the way it does right now? And did it look that way originally, or has it changed? So that’s one of the most basic reasons for doing that.

ZOMORODI: Oh my God. If you had been around in high school, I would have actually liked biochemistry. I was the artsy kid who was like, “I don’t understand.” And I got a C- in chemistry you guys, it was my worst grade. But if you had —

DUBNER: You got no sympathy for that, I think what that means is that most of them got worse than C-.

ZOMORODI: Maybe. I found it really difficult, but also because there was no applicable usage. Like what you just described just lit up my brain and explained to me why I like certain paintings and others, and that’s amazing! That’s so cool.

ARSLANOGLU: There is a really strong connection between art and science. So the way it looks, why it changes, the mechanics of the film. As it changes and gets older, it actually increases in stiffness and you get cracking. And you can explain all this with chemistry and engineering. This is a really strong connection with STEM and STEAM, there are universities that really pull us into their chemistry classes to teach folks who aren’t quite so keen on chemistry.

DUBNER: Are there any applications of this method or something similar beyond artwork? Is it used in archaeology, etc., etc.?

ARSLANOGLU: Absolutely. One of the earliest uses of antibodies was actually paleontology. They used it to identify the collagen in dinosaur bones.

DUBNER: This was how long ago?

ARSLANOGLU: This is like late 70’s, early 80’s.

ZOMORODI: Is this process used in order to, not only understand the ingredients that have been used to make the art, but potentially to preserve it in some way? Or clean it, I guess.

ARSLANOGLU: Well, we’re trying to use a combination of the antibodies and something called mass spectrometry to look at the molecular structure of the protein. So what we found out is that when you mix different protein binders — like collagen, or whole egg, or milk products — casein — with different pigments, you actually will change the conformation of the protein. These combinations change the conformation of the protein. So you’re getting some sort of structural change in the protein, and we’re trying to look to see how that affects the longevity of the paint.

DUBNER: A.J. Jacobs, Julie Arslanoglu from the Metropolitan Museum of Art has been telling us about antibodies and the use thereof in restoration and learning more about art for many applications. I’m sure you know an awful lot about this.

JACOBS: Of course. Even before I came. Yeah. Well, it all checks out. Julie gets an A+ for accuracy, not a C+. No offense.

ZOMORODI: C-.

JACOBS: Cheap shot. But actually it led me to this list of the strangest ingredients contained in paint. There was Indian yellow, apologies to those eating right now, but according to legend this was made from cow urine. And not just regular cow urine. This was cows who were fed only mango leaves which makes for a gorgeous pee, apparently. And Scheele’s Green, which was also lovely, but poisonous. It was made from arsenic, and according to legend it’s what killed Napoleon Bonaparte. He had green walls in his room. So there you go. Cow urine and arsenic. \That’s art.

DUBNER: Well A.J., thank you and Julie thanks so much for coming to play Tell Me Something I Don’t Know. Would you please welcome our next guest David Reitter. So, David Reitter it says here you’re a professor of Information Sciences and Technology at Penn State and that your research has been particularly focused on what makes us intelligent — those of us who may or may not be — and why we make mistakes. So that sounds great turf for us. David, tell us something we don’t know please.

David REITTER: So I live in this college town, and I guess it’s a bit divided, which you see when you drive around there. There’s the people that lived there all their lives, and these townies have all the time in the world. And then there’s people like me who are a little impatient, and we’d like to drive our fast cars to where we need to go, right? How can you make me a little more patient?

DUBNER: We could start by not calling them townies, because I don’t think they like that. But that’s just a hunch. You’re saying that you and your uber-educated class of people, you got a lot to do. You’re rushing to do research and to give aid to floundering students like Manoush who are getting C-‘s.

ZOMORODI: So are you doing research into ways to get people to not be like you?

REITTER: Yeah. I think there’s a lot of work that’s been done in behavioral economics that has found out that we’re all a little impatient, right? So I’ll give you an example: Do you like chocolate?

ZOMORODI: I love chocolate. Can you please just tell me what you’re going to — I’m sorry, just kidding. That was my demonstrating my impatience.

REITTER: I’ll run a little experiment to you, okay? Would you like two pieces of chocolate or one?

ZOMORODI: Of course two.

REITTER: All right. Now I’ll attach a little bit of time to that. Would you like two pieces of chocolate in a week from now—

ZOMORODI: Oh are you doing the marshmallow test on me? It’s that what you are doing on me?

REITTER: That’s exactly right.

ZOMORODI: I’m a tech reporter, so I know about this stuff, let me tell you, alright? We can’t wait for anything any more, because we have instant gratification.

REITTER: So in a way we all know that we’re impatient. Right? The question is, can you do something about it?

DUBNER: So I have to say, even though the way you presented your dilemma you sounded a little — I don’t want to say arrogant, but like, “I have a problem with the slow people.” Right? That’s what you said. But it’s interesting that now when you’re searching for a solution, your solution is not to make the slow people faster, you do want to ameliorate your impatience.

ZOMORODI: That’s a good point.

DUBNER: You are identifying that. So you want to know how you could become more patient while driving. Have you tried listening to a fine podcast?

ZOMORODI: I think that’s a really good idea. Or smoking weed. Have you ever been behind someone who is like, “Whoa, we’re going so fast, dude.” And it’s like 20 miles an hour. That was also high school, could explain the C-. Just going there.

REITTER: All of these would work.

ZOMORODI: Okay. But you’re trying to look at it more of a cognitive behavioral, sort of talk yourself into being more patient thing? Because that’s what you do?

REITTER: It’s not talk therapy.

DUBNER: Is it a technological intervention of some sort?

REITTER: It is.

DUBNER: Oh, I once learned that the best way to make people on a train feel that the trip is shorter is just by putting in really good fast WiFi. So if you do that in your car then you can watch Netflix while driving.

ZOMORODI: Okay. What if it’s autonomous vehicles and therefore no one’s driving.

REITTER: How boring.

ZOMORODI: I mean the vehicles are all just driving themselves and they’re all at the same speed.

DUBNER: Then you can smoke dope and watch Netflix and it’s not a problem.

ZOMORODI: Exactly, amazing.

DUBNER: Why don’t you tell us what you did? And I’m curious to know, is this an experiment that you did in the field or in a lab? Because we care about those distinctions.

REITTER: Neither. We run experiments on thousands of people that are somewhere in the world. So our research is not based on American undergraduate psychology students but people from all over the planet of different ages that like to do our experiments.

ZOMORODI: Who live in towns where there are half the people who are really snooty and think that they’re really busy and have to go somewhere really fast and the rest of the people are like, “F— you, we just are trying to get to the grocery store.” Like that?

REITTER: Exactly. We thought of a way to manipulate your perception of time by giving you something that you might already know. A countdown. Like the countdown you see on old time movies before the movie actually starts. Or a progress bar when something is really really slow on a computer. So we show people a countdown and then we give people a test of their impatience. Now we manipulate the countdown. We were interested in what happens when that countdown is fast versus when that count down is really slow. The countdowns always take the same amount of time, 15 seconds. But I count down “15, 14, 13, 12,” or I can countdown like this, “5, 4, 3—” Are you impatient yet?

DUBNER: Yes, very. So you’re saying that if the numbers are going faster, even if the duration of time is identical, we experience it faster.

REITTER: That is correct. We’re happier with the whole game. But most importantly we make better decisions during the impatience test that follows.

DUBNER: What is the decision-making tests that you use in this experiment?

REITTER: Well so, this is kind of fun. My collaborator Moojan Ghafurian came up with this beautiful experiment, where we bring in Cookie Monster. Now Cookie Monster is probably the most impatient guy we know.

ZOMORODI: Now you have my attention.

REITTER: And your job is to host your friend, the Cookie Monster. And you’ve got a jar of cookies sitting in your living room and Cookie Monster. Now the question is, for you, how often do you check on Cookie Monster to make sure he hasn’t started eating cookies yet, or you catch him the right moment when he starts eating cookies. So if you do it right, you only check once, right after he starts eating cookies. And that’s really really hard. And we found that the people that saw the slow countdown, checked earlier and more often. The people that were more impatient made worse decisions. And that was in the time that followed watching the countdown, not during the countdown.

DUBNER: So let me just see if I understand. If you were to make a prescription would you say that, for instance, traffic lights should have attached to them a countdown clock from, whatever it is, 30, going fast? Is that the idea?

REITTER: They should be going fast, and they should even be speeding up. We found that—.

DUBNER: But you’re talking about literally mounting a countdown clock where it’s visible at a traffic light or an intersection or whatnot, is that the idea?

REITTER: And for pedestrians that’s already being done.

DUBNER: Well we have that in New York, fairly recently. Is your research connected in any way to that? Our walk and don’t walk signs they used to be the hand.

ZOMORODI: Right.

DUBNER: Now you get a countdown clock and I think it starts with like 30 and goes really fast. And I see old people running. Which to me seems potentially counterproductive. I don’t know. But do you know anything about that and whether it’s working, safer, etc?

REITTER: My guess it will be safer. I don’t think it’s meant to manage people’s impatience in that sense. It manages people’s timing. So they don’t block the intersection, anything like that.

DUBNER: Is impatience necessarily, however, a trait to be lessened or dampened? Because I would consider myself a fairly impatient person, which I know has its downsides in some cases, but I think there are also upsides. You quit things faster when they’re not working out, which that may not suit everyone, but there are those who argue that that can be a good thing. And I’m curious whether impatience is actually the thing that you’re fighting or was that just a viable mechanism to try to figure out how to manipulate people’s perception of the events?

REITTER: When Etna is breaking out, do you really want to be patient?

DUBNER: He played the volcano card.

REITTER: We’re truly interested in how we can change people’s perception of time and how we can affect people’s decision making. And you can use these countdowns in both directions. You can make somebody more patient or you can make them more impatient.

DUBNER: Oh, that could be handy.

ZOMORODI: So, when you’re doing this research, you couched it in the fact that this is happening in your town. But are there better use-case scenarios were you are trying to fix that problem in particular? Or were there other problems that you were actually trying to sort out?

REITTER: So our experiment that we designed is meant to be very much like many decisions that we take in real life. And these are decisions such as how often do I inspect a crumbling bridge? Or when do I decide to renovate it? Because every week I don’t renovate the bridge, I get more use out of it. Right? Or similarly, a police precinct deciding how often to patrol an area. Or simply, again, you’re driving and you have to make quick decisions on how to gather information about the things around you. Has that cyclist moved, or is he still in my blind spot?

So making all of these decisions is really something that’s very, very commonplace. Timing decisions are very, very important to managing risk, managing our safety. So of course this is applicable in the context of driving as well. And if you can’t put up countdowns on your traffic lights, perhaps you could listen to some fast music before you get in the car, you’d listen to some slow music while you’re going. Or a slow podcast.

DUBNER: There are no slow podcasts, only slow podcast listeners. A.J. Jacobs, David Reitter has been telling us about how to essentially manipulate away our impatience, which is fascinating. What more can you tell us on that?

JACOBS: Well, I’ll just get right to it. It does check out. Actually I was losing the train of thought a little, so I—

DUBNER: Smoked some dope.

JACOBS: No, my kids are in the audience. But I did research what is the longest traffic light in America, according to The New York Times. It’s in New Jersey, an impressive five minutes and 28 seconds.

ZOMORODI: Where? Where in New Jersey?

JACOBS: West Milford, New Jersey.

DUBNER: Is anyone surprised the longest traffic light is in New Jersey? Let’s be honest. But wait a minute, that can’t be right.

JACOBS: That’s what it says. This is the paper of record. You can listen to the Gettysburg Address almost three times in five minutes. So that’s a good use of your time.

ZOMORODI: So what I want to do is, I want to apply what you’re saying to Twitter. Instead of people reflexively retweeting or responding with outrage, what if they were like, “Countdown, here we go. I need 15 seconds before I can respond.” Do you think that would work to make people stop tweeting stupid s— basically?

JACOBS: I love that.

REITTER: I love that.

DUBNER: Hey David Reitter, thank you so much for coming to play Tell Me Something I Don’t Know. And would you please welcome our next guest, Jeff Nosanov. Jeff is a consultant for NASA. He formerly worked at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab, the coolest spot in the NASA universe. He’s also got a law degree. Yeah, no clapping for that. But check this out. He’s also got a very rare master’s degree in space and telecommunications law.

Jeff NOSANOV: That’s right.

DUBNER: Which is odd and nifty.

NOSANOV: It is. It is. It’s been a strange journey.

DUBNER: So Jeff, welcome to our stage. Thank you so much for coming. What do you have for us tonight?

NOSANOV: Well my question to you is what is the most useful mission that NASA has done?

DUBNER: Well I would say, if the moon landing had not been faked, that would have been it.

NOSANOV: You got us, you got us.

ZOMORODI: Okay. Are there humans involved in this mission?

NOSANOV: No. Great way to narrow it down. So there’s a human side and the robotic side. So I’m asking about the robotic side.

DUBNER: The most useful mission?

NOSANOV: Yes.

DUBNER: It’s going to be something about gathering information with a big telescope.

NOSANOV: Yes.

DUBNER: Is it a flyby? Is it — you fly by Mars?

NOSANOV: No it’s not. It’s an Earth orbit.

ZOMORODI: So it’s not the cute Mars lander? That guy?

NOSANOV: No. No.

DUBNER: Does it have to do with the location of space minerals?

NOSANOV: In a sense.

ZOMORODI: Gases?

NOSANOV: Sort of.

DUBNER: Minerals and gases. Antibodies?

NOSANOV: No. No. That would be — if that had ever happened that would be the answer, but we’re not there yet.

ZOMORODI: Is the mission ongoing?

NOSANOV: Sort of.

JACOBS: This is going to be very hard to fact-check.

DUBNER: Have you ever said either yes or no in your life?

NOSANOV: Yes, yes I have.

DUBNER: Why don’t you tell us?

NOSANOV: Sure. So, the mission that I think is the most important and most useful is the Kepler space telescope. Do you have a penny up here by any chance? A penny in your pocket?

DUBNER: I don’t have a penny in my pocket.

NOSANOV: Okay, so hold up your finger and look at— Look at the ceiling kind of, in the shape of a penny. If you make a telescope that looks through that—

DUBNER: If I had a penny I couldn’t see the ceiling, so why did you want us to use a penny?

NOSANOV: If you imagine a cone that goes from your eye through that penny, and out in space, and you look through that telescope you will find thousands and thousands of planets that are similar in a lot of ways to the ones we have here in the solar system. And that’s just in a penny-sized slice or section of the sky. And that’s not even looking that far. That’s just staying within our own galaxy.

So, since we were all kids the number of planets has gone from 9 to 8 to about 3,000. And to me that I think is the most important and useful mission because it truly places into an unimaginable perspective everything else that NASA does and that, really, humans do. And every other field of science including minerals and gases—

DUBNER: Now, I believe Kepler was recently retired, but it was a massive success, wasn’t it? It was up there something like three times as long as originally planned?

NOSANOV: This is a really very much accomplished mission, which is showing us that the galaxy at least, and the universe by extension, is full of planets, more than there are stars. And that to me, the philosophical conclusion there, is that it’s almost impossible that the conditions that make Earth unique are unique.

DUBNER: So that is fascinating. It resonates and I think it’s an interesting answer, that Kepler is the most useful mission. Do you have a larger point about NASA and usefulness though? Because it’s a big point of contention.

NOSANOV: Well what initially drew me to the podcast was the idea of hidden economies, and the idea that for every mission that you read about in the paper or that you see photos from, there’s hundreds of other missions that are designed, evaluated, and rejected.

DUBNER: What is the actual rejection ratio, would you say?

NOSANOV: Oh, a hundred to one. If not more.

DUBNER: Wow.

NOSANOV: And that’s because it’s that much harder to actually build and fly something to another planet.

DUBNER: Are the rejections primarily for a lack of technical or engineering ability?

NOSANOV: That’s where the hidden economies come in. There’s really four factors that really matter. There’s risk, cost, science return, and technology development. And that has changed over time, the weighting of those has changed over time. So in Apollo, everything was off the charts but they did it anyway. Now there’s a larger focus on minimizing risk and maximizing science return, which makes sense. But if you tell them you’re going to discover life somewhere and your technology needs another 10 years, you’re going to get rejected for multiple reasons. Science — we’re not ready to make that conclusion yet — too risky, and too much technology work.

DUBNER: When you said the four dimensions on which a proposal is assessed, and you talked about risk. What is meant in that context?

NOSANOV: Well, there’s a number of components. There’s actual technical risk, like can we look for life somewhere? Does the scientific evidence support a look for life, a search for life? And I believe that there is sort of a larger philosophical debate that goes around in the top floor of NASA headquarters about do we really want to support a mission that, if it’s successful, we have to declare for all time that we have discovered life somewhere else?

DUBNER: Why would that be a burden?

NOSANOV: Announcing you’ve discovered life somewhere else will permanently change human history. It will throw, in my opinion, countless ideologies into internal conflict. I hope I see it, but I can see that it will be hard for someone to sign off on.

DUBNER: Overall what share of the collective missions would you say are driven by scientific concerns, and not political or economic concerns?

NOSANOV: Well, formally the answer is about 10 percent, which is the Science Mission Directorate of NASA that sends out these robotic spacecraft. If a human spaceflight expert were here, they would probably point out the tremendous advancements that come sending humans into space, and those are all true. But the human side of NASA has from the beginning been associated with political gamesmanship. And that doesn’t take away anything from it, but the pure science, the “What are the rocks on Mars made of,” that’s only about 10 percent.

ZOMORODI: So but does that change now that it may not be up to you to decide? Because Elon Musk might do it for you?

NOSANOV: Elon Musk is actually doing a great service for those of us who try to get missions off the ground because he’s building the delivery truck. And we haven’t had a really good delivery truck at a cost that’s sustainable for a while.

DUBNER: If you talk about risk being a barrier, is working with a private firm like SpaceX, is that essentially a way of kind of offshoring some of the risk for NASA?

NOSANOV: So, and this is this is worth noting in its own right, so space launch is no longer really considered a risk, it’s a cost. You don’t really have to say, “Well they might blow up.” And I think it’s worth noting, as a species we’ve reached a point where we can say, “Yeah putting stuff into space is no longer the hard part.” So it’s not really a risk. It can help with the cost though. The SpaceX rockets are still a little— They have a slightly shorter history of success than some others, but we certainly propose to use them whenever we can because they save us money on other stuff

DUBNER: So I hate to ask you to reduce an extraordinarily complex and fascinating set of ideas into essentially a headline, but I am curious to know what’s your problem? What is the thing that you want to happen? Do you want NASA to take more of a different kind of risk?

NOSANOV: So I have a naive answer and a realistic one. The naive one is that I would like people to march on Washington demanding more funding for space science missions. More realistically I would like —

DUBNER: Did you hear those deafening cheers from people that were ready to go march?

NOSANOV: Thank you. You can send them this recording. More realistically I think I would like to see the re-emergence of a scientifically, confident, literate, encouraging society across the board.

ZOMORODI: Wait which one is naive, did you say?

DUBNER: Can I ask you one last thing before we turn it over to A.J.? The Kepler observatory I believe was built by Ball Aerospace, which is a subsidy is a subsidiary of Ball Corporation, which until 1993 I believe used to make Ball mason jars. So I’m curious if that’s the root of the NASA problem, somehow.

NOSANOV: Ball did build part of it. And that’s part of what we did to reduce cost.

DUBNER: They built the jams and jellies for the mission?

NOSANOV: I think they built the main spacecraft part and the telescope came from somewhere else. So NASA doesn’t build all of those spacecraft anymore. When possible, we use contractors and vendors.

DUBNER: A.J. Jacobs, Jeff Nosanov, a NASA consultant, has been telling us a lot of interesting things about what he feels are the slightly wrong headed philosophies behind NASA. Keeping in mind he has a little bit of a horse in the race as a consultant who wants to get his projects going. How much of what he said was totally false, A.J.?

JACOBS: About 40 percent.

ZOMORODI: What?

JACOBS: No. In my extensive research it did check out. And I’m a big fan of the Kepler telescope. It found over a thousand planets, and I actually looked up what the planets were called. They’ve got some wonderful names. There’s Kepler 560-B and Kepler 438-B. There’s a crowd favorite of Kepler 841-B.

NOSANOV: Yeah.

JACOBS: So you guys need some creativity, I think.

NOSANOV: Once we know a little bit more about them, other than there’s one there, it will be easier to name them. I think.

JACOBS: There are a lot of Roman gods and goddess left.

NOSANOV: Yeah that’s true.

JACOBS: And I also looked up the original Kepler, that it’s named for. He’s Johannes Kepler, 17th century astronomer, and it turns out, appropriately enough, he had money problems. So NASA, he had money problems. And he had to supplement his astronomy work with astrology. He was the astrologer to the Holy Roman Emperor. Which I think is just super sad because it’s like Stephen Hawking reading tarot cards. I mean it’s the great scientist of the period.

NOSANOV: So I did not know that.

DUBNER: Jeff, thank you so much for playing Tell Me Something I Don’t Know.

*      *      *

DUBNER: Before we get back to the game we have got some FREAK-quently asked questions written just for you, Manoush. Are you ready for it?

ZOMORODI: Okay. Yeah.

DUBNER: Manoush we know that your latest podcast, ZigZag, spends a lot of time talking about the blockchain. So for those who still don’t get it, can you explain the blockchain in 30 seconds or less, please?

ZOMORODI: 30 seconds. Okay. Think of it as Google Docs, right? If you have a document in Google Docs, if you change it, everyone sees the change right? And when you go back in, if somebody else changed it, you see it as well. Think of that, but with no Google being in charge. Pretty cool, right?

DUBNER: That was phenomenal, and it was 17 seconds.

ZOMORODI: I could keep— Do you want me to keep going?

DUBNER: Give me 13 seconds more on it.

ZOMORODI: Okay, great. So also, blockchain, it really truly is like a necklace of computers across the world all linked together. When the change gets made, it goes across the entire necklace. You can have private ones, like a bank can have its own blockchain, or you can have more public ones, like Ethereum, which anyone can join the Ethereum blockchain, as it were. And you can layer— Keep going?

DUBNER: You’re way over your 13 seconds. Well, let me ask you one more question on blockchain. Most people who know a little bit about blockchain are alternately kind of enamored and petrified, especially when it’s attached to a currency, which tends to be very volatile. Tell us your one very-favorite totally non-currency potential application of blockchain.

ZOMORODI: Saving journalism. That’s the weirdo experiment that I’ve been part of. Anybody heard of Civil here? [Silence] Great. Okay, so Civil is the blockchain startup that my former executive producer at WNYC, we quit our jobs to join this weirdo startup and we are documenting the entire process of trying to get our heads around what blockchain is, how it could potentially save journalism. The idea with Civil is that there would be a network of trusted, verified, little media publications and people would be able to sort of pay for them as they go, or tip, or vote if somebody is putting nonsense on there, fake news could get voted off by staking their tokens. Spoiler, the token sale failed this week. All documented on our podcast, ZigZag.

DUBNER: So that sounds like a great project. Let me ask you this, since you have an interesting relationship with technology. Sometimes very pro, sometimes much less pro. What is your personal strategy for creating and managing computer passwords?

ZOMORODI: Okay, I’ve never told anyone this.

DUBNER: It’s just me here.

ZOMORODI: I write messages to the tech platforms about how I really feel about them. You’re supposed to be like random strings of words is a better way to write a password? So I will write like, “F.U. Facebook” and then like —

DUBNER: So your whole string of passwords it’s just a litany of your feelings towards the tech companies that you engage with?

ZOMORODI: Yes, correct. Or if I like the tech company, it’s a message to myself reminding me of why I like it.

DUBNER: Give me a for instance. In other words, just tell us your Amazon password.

ZOMORODI: I’ll give you another one. One is like a running app and it was like words of encouragement to myself.

DUBNER: Oh that’s so cute.

ZOMORODI: Kind of sweet right? Anyway I also use a password manager, which you all should do so that that you’re not keeping your passwords in places that are not—

DUBNER: Does it run on blockchain?

ZOMORODI: No, it does not run on blockchain.

DUBNER: And finally, Manoush Zomorodi, you’ve worked in many media forms, radio, TV, books. Why in your view is podcasting superior to all of them?

ZOMORODI: Because of the listeners, right? No, I’m serious. It’s the truth. I’ve been a journalist for a long time now and only when I started doing podcasts would people write me the most personal incredible emails. Hug me when I met them at events. It’s a relationship that I have never had before with people I don’t know based on sharing of stories and information.

DUBNER: And you’re comfortable with this level of forced intimacy?

ZOMORODI: Have you listened to my shows, Stephen? I’m pretty comfortable with a lot of things. Yes.

DUBNER: Ladies and gentlemen, Manoush Zomorodi. Alrighty then. Let’s get back to our game. Would you please welcome our next guest Scott Highhouse. Hi Scott, it says here that you are a professor of psychology at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. And I understand you have a riddle for us of some sort. Yes?

Scott HIGHHOUSE: There was a study in 1959 that showed that psychiatric nurses in a mental hospital were just as good at predicting patient readmission as were the expert psychiatrists. So what were the nurses doing?

ZOMORODI: Listening to the patients? Oh, I feel bad. My mom and dad are going to listen to this. Were they actually — because there’s new technology out there that is analyzing voice and can predict when someone is going to have a psychotic break. Were they actually listening to the way that they spoke?

HIGHHOUSE: No.

DUBNER: You just loved to stomp on her enthusiasm, didn’t you? Why don’t you tell us because I have a feeling that the story behind the answer is interesting.

HIGHHOUSE: They took each patient’s folder and placed it on a kitchen scale and the heavier folders predicted readmission more than the lighter folders.

DUBNER: So is this what people talk about when they talk about Occam’s Razor? The simplest theory is more likely to be correct? Or is it something different than that?

HIGHHOUSE: I don’t disagree with that. I think the general principle is that expert intuition is not very good when it comes to making predictions, particularly about people’s behaviors and their performance.

ZOMORODI: So are you also saying that this could not be replicated in this day and age due to digital files?

HIGHHOUSE: Right. You’d have to be more creative. I think maybe the length of the file or something.

ZOMORODI: Gigabytes.

DUBNER: So let me ask you this. You’re a psychology researcher.

HIGHHOUSE: Yeah.

DUBNER: Is this story that you just told us related particularly to the work you do? Or does this expert intuition idea travel across domains?

HIGHHOUSE: Yes, my area is industrial organizational psychology and I’m interested specifically in hiring and interviewing. We know that intuition is a derailer. We knew way back that admissions officers for universities who knew the G.P.A. and the S.A.T. score, screwed things up when they added their holistic judgment about the students. And we find the same thing with job interviews. Expert interviewers, experienced interviewers in H.R. are actually worse than a layperson who uses structured questions that are job related and behavioral in nature.

DUBNER: So, can you give an example of a good interview question and a poor one that’s more fishing for intuition?

HIGHHOUSE: Yes. A traditional interview question would be, “Why do you want to work here?” “Tell me about yourself.”

DUBNER: And those are boring sounding, but you’re saying they work.

HIGHHOUSE: No, those are more intuitive. “What is that drives you,” and things like that. A more structured question would be job related and behavioral. So, “Tell me about a time when you encountered conflict at work and what did you do about it.” Or, “What would you do in a situation where someone tried to undermine you at work?” So those very behavioral questions, are very specific and they ask about what would you do or what did you do.

DUBNER: Of all the domains in which all of us engage all the time — so workplace, dating and mating, an example like you gave in the medical field where you’re trying to assess someone’s prospects or assessing anyone’s prospects — where do you find intuition is most heavily relied on, and therefore most damaging?

HIGHHOUSE: Oh, goodness. I do know that — maybe it doesn’t answer your question directly — but intuition is good in some areas like wine tasting and art appreciation.

DUBNER: But when you say it’s good—

HIGHHOUSE: Well those are studies based on an agreement with experts. So—

DUBNER: But the experts you just told us are full of —

HIGHHOUSE: My area is prediction, remember. We are trying to predict future performance on the job. So in areas where they look at agreement with experts on aesthetic judgments, intuition seems to work well, and the more you think about, “Is this de Kooning a good painting?” the farther away you get from expert judgment.

DUBNER: I find really interesting the idea that in a job interview, but I’m guessing in any context, if we asked for specific behavioral response, whether it’s theoretical or real from history, I mean that makes a lot of sense. A.J., Scott’s telling us that intuition is to be leery of, at least in some cases and that experts tend to have a lot of it and make some bad decisions. What more can you tell us about that?

JACOBS: Well, yeah, both my intuition and the data support that intuition is terrible. It’s a terrible predictor of future. I actually kind of got sidetracked because I’m a fan of the old fashioned ways of predicting the future. And maybe you can tell me how successful they are. There’s Bontroscopy, which is predicting the future by the sound of thunder; Haruspex, which is predicting the future from the livers of sacrificed sheep; and Myomancy, predicting the future by the movement of rats and mice.

DUBNER: Do you use a lot of sheep livers at Bowling Green?

HIGHHOUSE: No, but there are areas of employee-hiring where they look at handwriting or, many years ago, bumps on the head. And none of those were very useful.

DUBNER: But if you got your bump in a very dramatic way, it could tell you something about the person.

JACOBS: And, just so you know, Zarf, the coffee cup sleeve, and I know you’ve been waiting — from the Arabic, Zarf for vessel.

ZOMORODI: Thank you.

DUBNER: A.J. Jacobs as always going way above and beyond the call duty. A.J. thank you and Scott Highhouse, thank you so much for playing. It’s time for our final guest of the evening. So would you please welcome her, Rada Mihalcea. Rada is the director of the Artificial Intelligence Lab at the University of Michigan. Rada, the floor is yours.

MIHALCEA: I have a timely topic. How can you increase your odds of finding out if a news article is true or fake?

ZOMORODI: Does it involve A.J.?

JACOBS: I am available.

DUBNER: I wonder if what we just heard from Scott Highhouse should weigh into it in some way, which is distrusting intuition. Does that have anything to do with it or no?

MIHALCEA: To some extent.

DUBNER: Cagey answer. Let’s say, more than just discounting intuition, seeking out firm behavioral or structural elements like punctuation or typography.

MIHALCEA: Getting closer.

ZOMORODI: Okay, so the second season of ZigZag is trust and information, is our theme. And we just did something with the Knight Foundation looking at how misinformation and fake news essentially spread on Twitter before the 2016 election and post. And actually the crazy surprising finding was that all that fake information, the millions of tweets went back to just a few dozen sites. So it was far more centralized than people thought before.

The other fact that was really interesting was that 95 to 97 percent of the information coming from those news sites was true. It was a very small amount — it was that 3 to 5 percent that was nonsense that really got pumped out across Twitter. So, counterintuitively one might say is the genesis with somewhat reputable sites or sites that are well established?

MIHALCEA: And I think that would add to the challenge in fact, because you cannot really rely on the source.

DUBNER: You work in language and I.T. So your answer has something to do with technology computing. Yes?

MIHALCEA: That’s true.

DUBNER: Okay so are you in possession of a pretty good method or algorithm to determine fake news? Is that what you’re saying? You have in your pocket something useful?

MIHALCEA: Right. So your best bet would be to bring along a computer. It turns out that computers are better than people at detecting deception. What we found with our algorithms for instance in courtrooms, we can spot witnesses who are lying about 75 percent of the time. Which is quite a bit better than what people would do at the same task. So people do a little bit better than random at 55 percent. In fake news people are better. They get fake news about 70 percent of the time.

DUBNER: And computers do what?

MIHALCEA: And computers were 76. So people are still behind the computers at detecting fake news.

DUBNER: Okay so what are the computers actually doing though. Is it a text analysis, is it finding inconsistency in mood or language? What’s happening?

MIHALCEA: So computers are basically learning from data. They are learning from collections of lies and truths what are the attributes of those. So basically we program the system to look for certain features or attributes like sequences of words, or relations between words or the semantic type of the word.

DUBNER: Can you give me an example of a phrase or a sentence or even a word that would indicate fakeness?

MIHALCEA: So one of the aspects of language that computers would pick on is the use of personal pronouns. Liars would tend to use less often first person pronouns like I, me, myself, we, and instead would use more often he, she, they. Psychologists would explain that by saying that liars would want to detach themselves from the lie. Another one which I think it’s somehow counterintuitive is the use of words that reflect certainty. Liars will tend to more often use words such as always, absolutely, or using exaggeration.

ZOMORODI: The best!

MIHALCEA: The best, there we go. Unlike the truth tellers. Truth tellers would more often use hedging, like “maybe, perhaps, probably,” something like that.

DUBNER: Interesting. So, cynical question, by publicly discussing this research both in general and specifically, aren’t you just making it easier for the purveyors of fake news to get better?

MIHALCEA: Not necessarily. I think the clues that computers tend to pick on are not intuitive for humans. So if I were to ask you how many times I said “I,” you probably have no idea, because you don’t look for those little words that actually make a difference in deception detection. So it is still hard. Even if you want to prevent others or a computer to detect deception, it’s actually hard.

ZOMORODI: Are you using deep learning I’m assuming with processing all this information?

MIHALCEA: We do use deep learning in other projects but not in this particular one.

ZOMORODI: What are you using?

MIHALCEA: We are using machine learning. The reason being that deep learning works very well when it has a lot of data. So you need a lot of lies, a lot of truths.

ZOMORODI: We know some places.

DUBNER: Can I just ask: how surprised should we be that this is the kind of task that computers are better at? I mean isn’t the list of things that humans are better at computers than getting really short? I don’t mean to degrade the value of this kind of identification, but I guess it’s just not so surprising that a computer, an algorithm would be better than an intuitive, emotional, impatient human being, because we know that we’re bad at those things right?

MIHALCEA: Well, yes and no. I think there are certain tasks where we are still better. Like for instance, writing. If you were to write a novel, people are still much better. So there is still a fair number of applications or ways in which we are much better.

ZOMORODI: So, I think the question is, could you use the technology to parse Brett Kavanaugh’s testimony?

MIHALCEA: We could and we are planning to. So we are working on—

ZOMORODI: Oh! You heard it here first! And Dr. Ford, of course. I mean, right?

MIHALCEA: Of course, the whole dialogue.

DUBNER: A.J. Jacobs, Rada Mihalcea from the University of Michigan is telling us that computers are getting pretty good at detecting deception. What more to add?

JACOBS: It is looking good. These are early days for this technology. But I mean we desperately need it. And I looked into a little of the history of truth detection devices. Because the polygraph tests that measure your pulse, and your skin, they are not that reliable. The American Psychological Association says to be very skeptical. Though, in their defense, polygraphs do have a very cool backstory. Because one of the inventors of the polygraph was William Marston, the man who created Wonder Woman, the superhero. And Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth, that is 100 percent scientific and reliable. So that’s the secret.

DUBNER: A.J., thank you. And Rada Mihalcea. Thank you so much for playing. Can we give one more hand to all our guests tonight? It is time now for our live audience to pick a winner. So who’s it going to be?

Julie Arslanoglu, with using antibodies to answer art questions?

David Reitter, with how to manipulate away our impatience?

Jeff Nosanov, with rethinking risk in NASA and space?

Scott Highhouse, with how intuition is often wrong?

Or Rada Mihalcea, with detecting deception with computers?

DUBNER: Okay, the audience vote is in. Once again thanks so much to all our guests presenters. And our grand-prize winner tonight, you could chalk this up to a little recency bias, but I don’t think so, for telling us about detecting deception with computers, Rada Mihalcea, congratulations. And Rada, to commemorate your victory we’d like to present you with this Certificate of Impressive Knowledge. It reads, in full, “I, Stephen Dubner, in consultation with Manoush Zomorodi and A.J. Jacobs, do hereby vow that Rada Mihalcea, told us something we did not know for which we are eternally grateful.” That’s our show for tonight. I hope we told you something you didn’t know. Huge thanks to Manoush and A.J., to our guests, and thanks especially to you for coming to play “Tell Me Something …

AUDIENCE: I Don’t Know!”

Tell Me Something I Don’t Know and Freakonomics Radio are produced by Stitcher and Dubner Productions. This episode was produced by Alison Craiglow, Harry Huggins, Zack Lapinski, Morgan Levey, Emma Morgenstern, Dan Dzula, and David Herman, who also composed our theme music. The Freakonomics Radio staff also includes Greg Rippin and Alvin Melathe. Thanks to our good friends at Qualtrics, whose online survey software is so helpful in putting on this show, and to Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater for hosting us.

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from Dental Care Tips http://freakonomics.com/podcast/tmsidk-zomorodi-2018/