The Placebo Effect by David Rotenberg Read Free Book Online

their conversation. Decker slowed his breathing. Instantly he felt the cold approach, then the weight in his right hand. He closed his eyes, allowing the light to filter through his lashes—and watched. He tilted his head, and the clarity flew up his nostrils, hit his upper brain stem and played out on his retina screen. He saw—and he knew—beyond doubt. Beyond scientific certainty. Beyond all reason.
    â€œSo?” the bald exec demanded for the fourth time.
    Decker felt the cold retreat, but it took longer this time. Every time he “went up,” the cold was just a little more intense and lasted just a little longer—and his suspicion increased.
    Decker stepped away from the glass, flexed his right hand and opened his eyes.
    â€œYou’re supposed to be the expert—so tell me already!”
    Decker reached up and turned off the overhead speaker, then picked up his coat. “Do you have my money?”
    â€œYes. In cash, as you asked.”
    â€œI should charge more now that our dollar is worth as much as yours.”
    â€œI have the agreed upon fifteen thousand dollars in U.S. currency. So tell me.”
    This one was simple—too simple? Decker dismissed the thought. He didn’t care. This company made more money in a year than some third-world countries made in a decade. He held out his hand. The bald man passed over the money.
    â€œThanks,” Decker said, pocketing the cash. “Your applicant isn’t telling the truth. He’s not an idiot, so he’s trying to cleverly not tell the truth, but clearly he’s not telling the truth. He could be lying, prevaricating, equivocating, paltering or just plain old fibbing. I really couldn’t tell you which. What I know is when people tell the truth—and he isn’t.”
    â€œHow do you know that—something he did or the way he spoke or moved or what?”
    Ah, that television stuff about fingers twitching and eye movements betraying a liar. Decker liked the actor on that show, Tim Roth. Thought he was an amazing talent. But the show was based on a bogus premise. Yes, a person can learn, with years and years of practice, to piece together the physical manifestations of those who might be lying, but it’s far more art than science, and the margin of error even for those who are really good at it is way too high for it to be of any real use. Humans are just too damned varied in their response to any given stimulus. And the kinesics notion of establishing a baseline of behaviour simply has too many assumptions in it to be reliable. Kinesics is just good guessing, period. But the TV show was fun—voodoo hoodoo—but fun.
    â€œMy job’s done here,” Decker said as he headed toward the door. But at the door—for no particular reason; just a moment of ego burst—he stopped and said, “And so’s your interviewer, by the way. Not telling the truth, that is.”
    Decker did what he thought of as “escaping” from the Orlando office tower by heading to the basement and exiting through a crash door. Outside he took the USB key from his digital recorder, put it in a preaddressed and stamped envelope and popped it into a U.S. Mail box. Then, as Eddie had instructed, he took three different cabs and just made his flight. It would get him to Dallas, where he’d grab his flight to Pittsburgh.
    He’d directed plays in the regional theatres of the American South, and he was a fan of southern writers. The South seemed to be, in its own way, in touch with an “otherness” that Decker recognized, so he found himself anxious to watch the magic of the South just beyond the plexiglass window of this three-seat-across puddle jumper.
    The engine roared as the plane bounced into flight, although it never bothered to break the cloud cover.
    And the magic of the South did come into view—the land lost its green as the plane scudded westward and the white beaches