“And how’s that?” Ben asked.
“Well, let’s just say that I made a number of phone calls today, and I was able to get everything we need to beat the test.” Nathan opened his briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “I spoke to some of the technicians in the security division and they explained it all. First and foremost, you’re right about the test not being admissible in court.”
“I know,” Ben said curtly. “They’ve never been admissible.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Nathan asked.
Ober looked at Ben. “It’s nothing,” Ben said. “I’m just nervous about it. What else did they say?”
“This is the way the test works,” Nathan said, consulting a sheet of paper. “When you first walk in, they almost always have the machine set up in the middle of the room. They try to make it look imposing since the theory is that most people will confess because they’re so terrified of the machine. They then ask you questions for at least an hour before the machine is even hooked up and turned on. On average, this is where most people crack,” Nathan said, looking up from the paper to accentuate his point. “They said that the shadow of the box is enough to intimidate the average criminal.”
“Hey, Ben’s far more than average,” Ober said. “He’s at least in the ninetieth percentile of criminals.”
Ignoring his roommate, Nathan continued, “The machine itself measures three things: respiratory rate, blood pressure, and galvanic skin response, which is the skin’s response to electric current. Lying usually has a positive correlation with sweating, so the machine picks up your sweat levels. Not that you’d have any problem with that.”
“Just tell me how to pass the test,” Ben said impatiently.
“Relax,” Nathan said. “After the hour of questions, they’ll hook you up to the machine. And when they attach it, the machine will take baseline readings of your breathing and respiratory levels. This is the place where the undereducated always try to cheat the machine. They’ll try to breathe heavy and fidget around-doing anything they can to convince the machine that their heart rate is higher than it actually is. But the guys in security said that a good machine operator will easily recognize this and will quickly account for it.
“After the initial adjustment, they pull out a deck of cards, and they ask you questions about the cards. This is just to convince you that the machine works. Then they ask you three questions, and you’re supposed to answer no to each one, even if the real answer is yes. That’s how they see if you’re lying. They ask if you’re over the age of twenty-one, if you smoke, and if you’ve ever done anything you’re ashamed of. After that, finally, they ask you a maximum of three questions about whatever it is you’re accused of.”
“And that’s it?” Ben asked skeptically.
“That’s it.”
“But what about the way it works in the movies?” Ober asked. “Where you see the suspect getting grilled with dozens of questions while the needle thrashes across the scrolling paper.”
“Doesn’t happen in real life,” Nathan said. “In the real world, it can only test the truthfulness of three statements in a session.”
“So how does that help me?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Nathan said, reaching back into his briefcase. He pulled out a small brown medicine vial and threw it to Ben. “Those’re the pills that I told you the military uses to beat the tests.”
Ben read the label on the vial. “Prynadolol?”
“It works,” Nathan said. “You’re supposed to take one pill as soon as you wake up in the morning, and if your test is after three o’clock in the afternoon, you should take another pill at lunch.”
“How did you get these?” Ben asked, pulling off the cap to see five pills inside.
“I told the technicians that my younger brother had to take a lie detector test for his job in the mall. When they heard that, they just offered the pills to me.”
“How do they work?”
“They’re supposed to moderate your heart rate and blood pressure,” Nathan explained. “Doctors usually give them to people who have recurring heart attacks, and politicians use them to beat stagefright, but the military realized that they could put them to much better use.”
“Are these experimental or are they FDA approved?”
“If they were approved, everyone would have access,” Nathan said.
“So they’re experimental,” Ben said.
“They’re fine,” Nathan said. “Do you really think they’d give me something that was potentially dangerous?”
“I think it’d be cool if they were dangerous,” Ober said. “Then you’d grow an extra nostril in your forehead and we could sue the government for billions.”
“Or maybe it’d cause me to grow a brain,” Ben said. Looking back to Nathan, he continued, “Now tell me how this helps me pass the test.”
“It doesn’t guarantee you’ll pass,” Nathan said. “It significantly increases your chances, but it’s still primarily up to you. While you’re in the room, you have to be as calm as possible. Don’t fidget and don’t get nervous. The technicians said that if you’re a good liar, you should do fine. If you’re a bozo, you’ll probably freak out and fail regardless.”
“Oh, man, you’re dead,” Ober said to Ben.
Ben put the vial in his pocket and stood up from the couch. “I’m going to make some pasta,” he said coldly. “Anyone else want some?”
“Hey, you’re welcome,” Nathan said, making a face.
“I’ll say thank you if I pass the test,” Ben said, heading to the kitchen.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with you anyway?”
“I just want to be sure I can trust you about these,” Ben said. He turned around and looked directly at Nathan. “I mean, they’re not placebos, are they?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ben, don’t accuse-” Ober began.
“No, let him finish,” Nathan said, standing from his seat. “Accuse me of what?”
“Well, today I got a phone call from Rick, who said that he no longer needs my help. Apparently, he already got a Court decision from someone else.”
“And you think I’m the one that gave it to him?” Nathan asked, his voice rising with anger. “Have you thought about your little friend Lisa, or is all the blood that was once in your brain still being used by your dick?”
“I actually did think it was Lisa,” Ben shot back as he returned to the living room. “And when I called you so that we could talk about her, I had an enlightening conversation with one of your office mates, named Andrew. He was telling me all about the briefcase microphone that we were supposed to use during our first meeting with Rick. He told me how great they work, and how wonderful they are, and how they pick up everything. So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that I hadn’t heard a single word about this marvel of technology.”
“And now you think I’m the one who’s in on it with Rick?” Nathan asked, laughing.
“I’m not joking,” Ben said. “Look at the facts.”
“The facts show nothing!” Nathan yelled. “And beyond that, have you even thought about actually asking me why we didn’t use the briefcase mike?”
“And I suppose there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”
“Of course there is. The briefcase mike is a prototype, and regardless of what Andrew said, it works like crap. The leather muffles the sound, and you can’t hear a thing. The only reason we have it around is because everyone likes the idea. I just figured that we might as well go with equipment that works-I’m crazy like that.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Believe what you want,” Nathan said. “But that’s the truth.”