-Flick of the Wrist-

I can no longer cheat the sandman. On Saturday at 2:30 P.M., Scientist J attached an Actigraph to my wrist. This tacky, waterproof spy coils around my wrist from now until the end of the sleep study, recording my movements, and, by extension, my sleep and wake times.

Fearing failure as a lab rat, I treked to the Cathedral of Learning to let the Scientists down easy. Enduring a barrage of instructions, I suggested that the experiment might not work for me since I expected X-file anomalies in my cat scans.

J scoffed at the very idea. "You're not an alien. You passed the physical tests. Your brain chemistry has nothing to do with your personality!"

It almost sounds as if he is declaring my biology, normal; my chemistry, normal; and my personality, alien.