Dr. Elm approached the camera, filling the frame as he turned the recorder off. A wave of electronic noise flashed, and Dr. Elm and an associate appeared in a different location in an in-camera edit. They both wore lab coats, standing beside a man in his early twenties in a thick gray sweatsuit and white hardhat with a lamp attached. The round lamp was from the 70s, looking more like a VW headlight than a helmet lamp. Electrodes stuck to the subject’s temples and heart, with wires running under his sweater to a bulky EKG monitor on wheels. The subject wavered like he was half awake, his eyes opened a slit.
Dr. Elm held the EKG cart with one hand and a microphone in the other. His grad school assistant in bell-bottoms took notes on a clipboard. Elm spoke into the mic — his voice booming over speakers on the bottom shelf of the EKG cart. The sound echoed through the hollow classroom, devoid of desks and chairs. It appeared to be night, with only a dim bank of lights on at the far end of the room. “You are a spelunker,” Dr. Elm said to the subject. “You are exploring a cave. Reach to the front of your hardhat and turn your lamp on.”
The subject followed orders, turning the lamp on. It shone directly into the camera, filling the screen with blooming light. Momentarily whiting-out the optical tube sensor inside. “Look at me,” Elm said, and the subject turned the bright beam on him.
“You’re in a large cavern and you have spotted a small, narrow lava tube to your right, near ground level. Crawl into the tube.”
The subject turned to his right, stooped down on hands and knees and crawled into an imaginary lava tube. His hands and knees slowly shuffling across the cold, faded linoleum floor.
“The rock is hard and course on your hands and knees. Like volcanic pumice.” The subject subconsciously paused, rubbing his palms as if the pumice scraped them. He continued crawling on hands and knees. “The tube narrows. Crouch down lower and keep crawling.” The subject did as Dr. Elm commanded.
The associate took notes as Elm eased the EKG cart forward, keeping up with the subject snaking around in a cave of his imagination.
Hal and the others watched the screen in disbelief.
The crawling man headed toward a wall. “The lava tube winds,” Elm said. “It turns to the right. Crawl to the right.” The subject planted his right hand, pivoting around it as instructed, avoiding the wall. “You can’t see where the tube ends. You’re in deep and the tunnel narrows even more. Your helmet scrapes on the rock ceiling above. You have to crawl on your elbows, and there’s no space to turn around. Your only option is to keep moving forward.” The EKG machine beeped faster — anxiety accelerating the subject’s heart rate.
Hal watched with fascination. Leaning back from the TV screen unwittingly. Vicariously feeling the subject’s claustrophobia.
“The tube turns again to the right. Crawl right.”
The subject squirmed to the right, avoiding the door, heading to wide open space in the classroom.
“You reach forward and touch a solid wall.” The subject stretched an arm forward and it stopped in thin air. Like a mime feeling an imaginary wall. “You hit a dead end. You try to feel above and around you, but the space is too tight. Your arms hit the curved rock ceiling above. Turning around is impossible. You can only crawl backward the way you came.”
The subject tried to feel the wall above and to the sides. His own mind creating the tight space around him, blocking his arms from reaching higher than the cramped tube ceiling. The beeps of his heart rate sped up on the EKG monitor — the readout showing sharp spikes in his heartbeat. He put his palms flat on the linoleum floor and pushed himself backward. Trying to pull himself at the same time with his knees and toes. Backing up at a snail’s pace.
The assistant jotted notes from the EKG on his clipboard.
Henry watched the subject inching backward in disbelief. “What the hell?!” He looked over to Hal and Jenny, shaking his head.
The video continued. “You feel the ground around you tremble.”
The subject froze in panic. His eyes opened wide even though his mind was asleep in another world. The reaction surprised even Dr. Elm. He crept closer to the man on the ground, waving a hand before his eyes. It went completely unseen by the subject.
“The trembling increases,” Elm said, his voice rising in intensity, conveying the terror of the shuddering cave. “You feel the sheer power of the earthquake as the whole mountain around you shakes. Sand and small rocks break from above, falling down on you. Clouding your view through the helmet lamp. Visibility is zero as dry pumice dust fills the lava tube. You breathe it in and it burns your lungs, clogging them.” The subject coughed. Not an ordinary cough, but a deep cough as if the microscopic pumice fragments were tearing his lung sacs. He covered his mouth with his palms to breathe through them. “Larger rocks fall on your helmet and the light goes out. You’re in utter darkness.” The EKG beeping went haywire, sounding a more frightening electronic alarm — the man’s heart rate rising to a lethal level.
The subject swatted frenetically at his forehead and the imaginary helmet lamp. Trying to get it to turn on, while coughing and wheezing from the hallucinatory dust.
“An aftershock hits!” Elm exclaimed. “Jolting the entire mountain. A hundred tons of rock collapse on your legs — crushing them from the waist down.” The subject screamed in agony. Writhing as if tons of rock really were pulverizing his legs.
Hal recognized the shrill and terrifying wail — it was the same guttural shriek victims of IED blasts yelled.
“Nobody can hear you,” Elm said in a calm voice. “Nobody will ever hear you.” The subject freaked out. Full on panic attack. Screaming. Writhing back and forth. His legs frozen from the immense weight of imaginary rocks. The EKG beeps screeched in fury and suddenly sounded a dull, morose, solid tone.
“He’s flat-lining!” The associate said. “Get him out! Talk him out!”
Elm fumbled his words. Not knowing what to say. “You’re okay now. Calm down. The earthquake passed.” It wasn’t helping. The man lay motionless. The associate dropped the clipboard, dashed over and started CPR. Dr. Elm turned to the camera operator making a throat-slashing motion. “Cut it! Turn it off.” The screen fizzled to snow and then went black.
Hal took in a lungful of air and exhaled audibly. The three stood in motionless silence, staring at a electronic noise on the screen. Hal looked at Jenny, noticing tears rolling down her cheek. She felt his eyes on her. “I had no idea,” she said, sitting down. “I never knew. They never told me any of this. I feel so stupid.” She looked up at Hal. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you didn’t know,” Hal said, comforting her. “It’s not your fault.” He sat down next to her and put a soothing hand on the small of her back. Henry grabbed a box of tissues from the table, housed in a leather-craft cover. He handed it to Hal, who held it while she pulled a couple tissues out, patting her eyes.
“What’a’ya say we take a little break?” Henry asked. Hal nodded.
“No, I’m okay,” Jenny said. “Let’s keep going.”
“How about something to drink?” Henry said.
“Just water for me,” Hal replied.
“Water?” Henry asked Jenny. She nodded.
“We don’t have to watch these now,” Hal said. “Really. We can watch another time.”
“I’m good,” she said. “Let’s keep going.”
Henry arrived with a couple ice waters and a beer for himself. He sat down on the couch opposite Jenny. Hal ejected the tape and dug the next one from the box. He popped it in the VCR and hit play on the old, black VHS machine. Taking a seat in one of the recliners.