The Answer to Everything by Elyse Friedman Read Free Book Online

up and they wander off for a private conversation. They didn’t talk long. I saw him slip Eldrich something,which I think was a roll of cash. And it looked pretty thick. Then five-foot-two buddy gives six-foot-something Eldrich a big hug and takes off. I watched him go back to his car. Some super-snazzy convertible. I think it was foreign.”
    “Maybe Eldrich is selling him drugs?”
    “No. No way. Eldrich doesn’t buy drugs. He has these hippie chicks who supply him with smoke for his own personal use. They just give it to him. Just ‘cause. He never has more than a few joints worth.”
    “Hmm.”
    “You should’ve seen this guy’s watch. It was like a cylinder with the clock face on the side, and on top was a window into the works of the thing. Must have cost a pant-load.”
    “Hmm.”
    “And you know that woman you thought was his mom?”
    “The one who brings food?”
    “Yeah. It’s not his mom. It’s this lady named Joyanne who cooks for him because she thinks he’s the bee’s knees. Eldrich says he gives her ‘counsel.’”
    “Counsel? Wow. I can’t imagine taking counsel from a guy who wears Birkenstocks with purple socks.”
    “Yeah. And she’s not alone in her devotion. He’s got the hippie maidens and a few mangy park rats who hang around all the time. And there are four or five other people—seemingly unmedicated, employed humans who I met over the last couple of days. Plus Richie Rich with the watch. That’s like a dozen of what Eldrich calls his “friends.” But these aren’t friends, Amy. I wouldn’t even call them followers. These people, I believe, are
disciples.”
    “Hmm.” There was something about the way he was looking at me that made me uncomfortable. As if he expected me to do something. To act.
    “I just think there’s an opportunity here,” he said as I got up and left the room. I went to take a pee, and then grabbed a bottle of Perrier from the kitchen. When I returned he was sitting up against the headboard, biting his nails, cogitating.
    “What kind of opportunity?” I said, climbing back into bed.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m an installation artist. You’re studying psychology—group dynamics, all that stuff. Maybe we could use Eldrich and his supporters as inspiration. Maybe craft a little … experiment slash art piece?”
    I laughed. “Do you know how complicated it is to craft a viable psychological study?”
    “Not really.”
    “Well, it’s a lot of work, especially if you want to design something that isn’t full of flaws and ultimately useless.”
    “OK.”
    “It’s like any other field of science. You have to use the scientific method.”
    “I remember that. Sort of.”
    “You start with an observation. Like, you notice the leaves turn colour in the fall. So you generate a hypothesis to explain it:
I think the leaves turn colour when the temperature drops
.”
    “Right.”
    “Then you come up with a prediction:
If leaves turn colour when the temperature drops, I predict that exposing a tree to low temperatures will cause the leaves to turn colour
.”
    “Pretty simple.”
    “But then you have to design an experiment to test your hypothesis—something that can be replicated to support your findings. In the tree-leaf case, it would be easy, but in the case of anything to do with the psychology of humans, it’s never that straightforward.”
    “But it’s doable. They do studies all the time.”
    “Yeah. But for every study out there, there’s a counter-study refuting the findings or poking holes in the methodology. Like this famous study on the misattribution of arousal, which is when you get excited for a specific reason, but you chalk it up to something else. So say I go on a blind date and I order a decaf, but the waiter fucks up and gives me a double shot of espresso. So I’m drinking my coffee, talking to my date, and my heart starts pounding, I feel alert, energized, and I think, ‘Wow, I really like this guy.’