“They’re not going to want you for this one,” he said, handing her another page. “They’ll be looking for subjects with a higher BMI.”
“Oh.” Lisa had been forced to choose between paying rent and buying groceries so often since her father’s death that she was at the low end of a normal BMI. She’d been underweight, her rib cage and collarbones uncomfortably prominent, for so many months that she was actually thankful she made the scale now.
His brows drew down as his eyes widened. “Hell no on this one. One of my other students checked it out, and the possible side effects are terrifying.”
Lisa glanced at the page he handed her. “Really? It’s for an allergy medication.” She had seasonal allergies, so she’d thought this one would be a win-win.
“I know. You’d think that would be okay, but…” He shuddered. “Don’t do that one.”
“Okay.”
He perused the next. His expression lightened as a smile dawned. “I’m tempted to try this one myself just to see who else shows up.”
She grinned. “Is that the psychic one?”
“Yeah. The Anomalous Cognition Research Institute,” he read. “That’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”
She laughed.
“They appear to be looking for psychics.” He sent her a narrow-eyed look over the paper. “You haven’t been holding out on me, have you, Holt? I could really use those winning lotto numbers.”
She sent him a wry smile. “So could I. Then I wouldn’t have to do these trials.”
He scanned the flyer. “They pay you for the time it takes to go through the screening program.”
“Right. And I can do it on my lunch hour, so I won’t miss work.” She had a two-hour break between classes.
He read a little more. “Looks like they’ll do the old What card am I holding up? test.”
She nodded. “I checked out their website. It seems legit.”
He handed her the flyer, then retrieved his phone from his battered briefcase. “Let me give it a look and make sure they aren’t crackpots.” A moment passed while he browsed. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“I think their parent company might be funded by the government.”
She frowned. “Really?” She hadn’t seen that.
“Seems okay though,” he murmured, swiping and scrolling through the site. “Read the fine print on whatever forms they give you first. Make sure it doesn’t mention testing any drugs or herbal supplements they believe can enhance psychic abilities or anything like that. If it does, don’t commit until we check those out. Their website doesn’t really go into depth on how exactly they plan to study you if you’re selected, so if they want to do any scans that involve exposure to radiation, tell them no.”
“You really think the government is looking for psychics?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. They’ve been known to use remote viewers in the past.”
She stared at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Pretty wild, right?”
“Right.”
He put his phone away. “You heading over there today?”
“May as well.”
“Let me know how it goes,” he said with a smile as students for his next class began to meander in.
“I will. Thanks, Dr. Aguera.”
The Anomalous Cognition Research Institute ended up being in the basement of a pretty sleek two-story medical building. The exterior looked new and modern, lots of brick, glass, and steel. The lobby was crisp and clean with marble flooring and enough artsy accents to remind her of a high-end dermatologist’s office.
The woman at the information desk directed Lisa to an elevator that took her down to the ACRI office. Though the basement was bright and clinically clean, it lacked the flare of the lobby and was a bit of a letdown. She would likely only see it once though, so it made little difference.
Three women and two men—all of whom looked like fellow college students—sat in chairs, diligently writing on clipboard-supported pages. After checking in at the desk, Lisa joined them and went to work filling out a standard medical history similar to her doctor’s and responding yes or no on the included questionnaire.
Some of the questions made her want to laugh.
Have you ever known who was calling as soon as you heard the phone ring?
Yes. Hasn’t everyone at one time or another?
Have you ever known you were going to receive a package before the doorbell rang?
Yes. Thanks to delivery tracking.
Have you ever had a feeling or premonition that warned you something bad was about to happen?
Yes. Every damn time my mother went to the doctor after her initial diagnosis.
Have you ever had a prophetic dream?
Yes. Sort of. A few months before her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Lisa had dreamed that two tornados struck her house and demolished it with both her mother and father inside. While neither of her parents had been killed by a tornado, she had still lost them both, so she’d count it.
Do you ever know what someone else is going to say before they say it?
Yes. Easy to do when I know the person I’m speaking with well.
Have you ever reached for the phone seconds before it rang?
Yes. Who hasn’t in this phone-centric world?
Have you ever accurately predicted the outcome of a contest or competition?
Yes. Couldn’t anyone make a good guess here or there, particularly when they knew the odds?
And so the questions went. The last page laid out the time requirements. She’d have to come here three days a week for one-hour sessions if chosen. Not a problem since the spring semester would end soon. The page also revealed the weekly pay each subject would be granted.
Her eyes widened. Really? That much? Holy crap, that would help. A lot.
Excitement rose as she wondered how the hell she could convince them she was psychic when she wasn’t.
“Lisa Holt?” a moderately deep voice called.
Rising, she glanced across the waiting area. “Yes?”
A slender man about her age—twenty-six—stood in a doorway, holding a door open. He smiled. “Will you come with me please?”
Returning his smile, she grabbed her purse in one hand, the clipboard in the other, and strode toward him.
“How are you today?” he inquired politely.
“Good, thank you. And you?”
“I’m good.” He closed the door behind her. “Did you finish filling out the forms?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” He took the clipboard from her. “This way, please.”
Looping her purse strap over her shoulder, she walked up a long hallway beside him.
“So how did you hear about our study?” he asked. He was tall, probably nine or ten inches above her own five feet two inches, with short blond hair and sparkling blue eyes.
Lisa was usually pretty shy, but he had a friendly way about him that put her at ease. “I saw the flyers you posted at UT.”
“Ah. You’re a student?”
She nodded.
“I earned my bachelor’s degree there. I’m almost done with my masters now. Hopefully, I can pursue my doctoral at Rice University.”