Numbness

Contrary to popular belief, adrenalin junkies or "dare devils", don't seek risks because they find it thrilling. In fact, extreme danger seekers (like Evil Knievel) process a nerutransmitter called dopamine diffrently than the rest of us would. They usually go around feeling slightly unhappy, or not fulfilled in their normal lifestye.

So, in turn, they try their hardest to find even the smallest bit of enjoyment, which happens to be extreme tasks. For example,you might find happiness in watering your flowers, but the equivalent to this to a dare devil might be jumping off a ten story building.

When this knowledge got out, scientists went nuts, running experiments, tests, anything and everything that might get their foot in the door of the serious science world, or their name in a magazine article. One study however, was diffrent. Nothing was written about it. No one tried to pursue the result. Not a word was even spoken about it.

Why? Because... What they would have found... Was too horrifying. No one wanted anything to do with it. In fact, most of the researchers commited suicide after what they had done, convinced they were already going to hell, and couldn't live with themselves for a moment longer. I wish no one had to know about that. I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you this story. I wish so many things. But, as the saying goes, those who history are bound to repeat it.

In 2006, Dr. Renee Smith gathered a team of qualified specialists to observe the effects of changing the dopamine levels in the average human brain. There was a rigorous process hat had to be gone through in order to be a test subject. You had to be in fair shape, have a certain type of blood, be mentally stable, and, of course, had to have a perfect level of dopamine already naturally given off. In all, 900 applied. 18 accepted.

All of the people who fit the criteria were then shipped to a closed off area modled to be a modern subarban neighborhood. Then, would be adminestered injections containing high levels of dopamine, and monitered for an indefinant amount of time.

Everything went swimingly for about two months.Then the scientists decided to up the dopamine dosage. Apparently they hit a key number, because the results were far graver than anyone could imagine. Of course, logically, it wouldn't escalate that fast. It started slowly. Maybe a guy would get couple more nicks of the razor than usual, or maybe a girl might trip over the sidewalk. Nothing too far from what happened normally, and nothing that would spike suspicion. But, ever so slightly, the amount of "accidental" injuries increased.

I remember one day, May the 6th to be exact, a woman toppled down a two story flight of stairs. She had broken several ribs, an ankle, and would need constant care. On the brightside though, she didn't die. There was something odd however, from the moment she came in, to the day she left, there was the whisper of a smile on her lips. Not that it wasn't good for her to be pleasent, (god knows how many paitents are whiny bitches), but she HAD fallen down a large set of stairs. Was it so unreasonable to be upset?

The same night she was released, she killed herself, climbing to the top of the tallest building and jumping off. There was notjing anyone could do except watch and listen in horror. Nobody would be fast enough. There was no speaker. Nothing to be done. She ran beautifuly, hair whipping out behind her, head thrown back in glee. The last thing we heard were screams of laughter.

Preperations were made to come and clean her remains off the street, and everyone walked around stiffly the rest of the week. No one could really think anymore, let alone notice how many people had been watching with sick, twisted, smiles on their faces.

The next Monday was when the shit really started to hit the fan. It was as if that woman had broken some invisible pact. One that everyone had agreed to follow, so long as the others kept up their end. It makes me sick to even think about. But I have to express to you how important it is to not mess with nature.

Everyone had just sat down after a long night, groggy with their morning coffee, when they noticedd the guresome scene in the livingroom of one woman. There she lay, dead as a doornail. She had slit her arms, all the way up, and painted a large, bloody smiley face on the wall before her. A half painted word was haistily drawn up.

"Nu-"... Screaming. On the next screen, a man started running down the street, yelling at the top of his lungs, and biting off his fingers one by one. There was still a smile on his face. He looked gleeful. Simalar events started popping up everywhere. One memorable couple cut out eachothers hearts. By the end of the day, everyone was dead. No one came to help. These people weren't even people. It was best to let nature run its course.

After the storm had passed, and the body count was sure, they sent people in to... Dispose of the bodies. And others to retrive personal items. One man returned with a diary, written by none other than Miss. Monique Rae. The woman who was admitted to the hospital. The first entries were short, talking about how excited she was to be a part of the project, but slowly faded to long accounts about how bored she had become as the days went on, and how the tasks had become mundane and she no longer could do anything she wanted. How she wished she could adventure. Then, the last few entries, starting May the 6th, Only consisted of one word. "Numb". Sometimes quickly and scrawled in tiny script, others, large and shaky, taking up whole pages at a time. It was chilling.

Dr. Smith took all the information into account, and quickly shut everything down. Everyine was sent home, their pockets heavy for their silence. And that was that. Everyone quietly scarred for life. No sort of closure, nothing. And I'm afraid that is what I have to leave you with. The end of the story. I do however, have some parting words of advice. Don't mess with nature. I beg of you.