Strange Tea and Its Consequences

My day started off in an unusual way. I’m an experimental psychologist doing research on how brain pathways are affected by psychotropic drugs. The lab next to mine was occupied by Jack Sprague who was pursuing a similar line of research but using only one drug, psilocin, which is to say magic mushrooms. Jack was a pioneer in this research and had invited me to have coffee with him that morning. This was quite a surprise. We were not close so I was curious about what he had in mind.

Regarding psilocin, there’s a consensus that it will emerge as both a major recreational and therapeutic drug. The success of cannabis has demonstrated that the appetite for recreational drugs in the country is almost insatiable. Some have predicted that psilocin sales at some point will exceed those of cannabis. 

Jack was sitting on a “mountain of gold,” quite unusual for an academic. He was a streaking comet and I was a mere speck in the galaxy. His grants amounted to tens of millions of dollars a year whereas mine, with fewer sexy ramifications, added up to a mere fraction of that. There were even rumors that some of mine would not even get renewed. I decided to meet with him that morning, thinking I had nothing to lose.

____

Jack stared at me as I entered his office. He poured two cups of coffee and launched into the conversation: “I am going to be very frank with you, Harvey. Excuse my lack of subtlety but I regard you as a friend and I want to be very clear about what I am saying. Your career is going sideways and perhaps even about to crash. Some of your grants may not be renewed and the chairman has confided in me that he’s not optimistic about your career path and promotion.” 

I responded with a tinge of anger, given both the seriousness and harshness of his claims. I understood that there was some truth in what he was saying but I was not accustomed to his frank and direct style. These were my personal issues and not his to rag me about.

“Thanks for your helpful advice, Jack,” I replied tersely. “I know that I am definitely in a rut but I have plans about how to reverse things.”

“Don’t fret,” Jack continued. “This is truly your lucky day, I can provide you with a solution. I need your help and can put your career back on track. I’m out of town most of the time these days delivering lectures and meeting with leaders in the industry. I have my own career challenges to solve. My post-docs are not up to the task of overseeing my lab when I'm away. On the basis of this, I have decided to offer you the position of co-director of my research.”

“Here is the way this would happen. At the beginning of each week, I will give you a plan and we would then review your progress on the following Friday. You would write all of the lab’s articles submitted for publication. I, of course, would be the senior author on them. Your position and future in the department would now be secure because mine is undoubtedly so. This is your dream job.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I responded, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. There was barely a hint of generosity in his proposal. I would be effectively an indentured servant — my career would be tightly bound to his and I would always be in his shadow. I immediately concluded that I would rather dig ditches than accept his offer.

I am sure that I had a sour expression on my face which apparently had gone unnoticed by Jack. He continued with his monologue: “Just to get you in the proper frame of mind to accept, I want to propose that you run a personal experiment.” 

He handed me a small plastic vial. “It’s powdered psilocin,” he said. “Brew a cup of your favorite tea and dump in the powder. I call the concoction ‘strange tea.’ Sit in your favorite chair, and have a wonderful trip.”

"Oh, and by the way, the wife is out of town and I am off to Tokyo.” He slid a ring of keys across the table toward me. “Would you pop into my house every couple of days to check on the heat and water. Text me if you find anything amiss. Also enjoy the view of the park across the street.”

Jack then nodded, suggesting our little chat was over. He turned away and speed-dialed a number on his cell phone. I left his office, returning to my lab next door, breathing deeply in frustration about the way I had been treated. This was not a good way to start the day.

____

After dinner that evening, I was sitting in my favorite chair, reviewing the events of the day in my mind. I could feel the strange tea vial in my pocket. I was not a druggie by any stretch of the imagination. I will admit to having smoked a joint once or twice in college but it never turned into a habit. 

I did understand that much of what Jack said to me was, unfortunately, correct. I was languishing in mid-career. I was simply not hungry or aggressive enough. I probably would not get past the tenure decision that was coming up fast. I badly wanted to stay in town and in the department but did not relish being in servitude to Jack. He was proposing a recipe for a kind of modest success. What was I to do now? I wondered whether the magic mushrooms would help me come to a decision about my future?

“Oh, what the hell,” I said out loud. “I have nothing to lose. I may as well give the mushrooms a try.” I brewed a cup of chamomile tea, poured the contents of the vial into the cup, and sipped the beverage slowly. I leaned back in the chair, not knowing what to expect. 

I must have dozed for about thirty minutes when my eyes opened and I saw a shapely young woman, standing in front of me. She was wearing an off-the-shoulders dress and holding a microphone. I seemed to have been propelled into a hallucinogenic TV show. Most remarkably, she had a striking resemblance to Jack’s wife who I had met on occasion at faculty dinners. I had found her charming. I might add that she was also a post-doc in his lab.

“Good evening, Harvey,” she spoke enthusiastically. “My goal tonight is to persuade you to examine your life and take whatever action is necessary to improve it. This will require some planning on your part.”

“Well, regarding the need for planning,” I replied to her, “I did speak with your, errr, husband this morning about my career. He also gave me the psilocin that was my ‘ticket’ to your show. I would dearly like to swap my professional life for his but, of course, that’s impossible. But, his offer for me to be the co-director of his lab did not sit comfortably for me.”

“You underestimate your ability to direct your career and life,” she said as she put her arms around my waist, kissed me lightly on the lips with a little body squeeze, and faded away.

The rest of the “show” was something like an animated Disney movie with colorful amorphous cartoon characters floating in space in swirls of color. I must have woken up in my chair a couple of hours later. I then got myself to bed where I slept fitfully through the rest of the night.

____

There was a loud knock on my office door in the morning three days later. I beckoned for the man who was knocking to enter the room. He was burly and dressed in a business suit but with a bulge at his waist. Looked a lot like a cop. An unusual visitor for me.

“Good morning,” he said. “My name is Peter Mulroney. I am a detective with the city PD. I will get right down to business and not waste your time. I am coming from the home of your colleague, Jack Sprague. His cleaning woman found him lying face down in the living room.

We turned his body over and found a surgical scalpel embedded in the left side of his chest that had punctured his heart. Instant death. No evidence of forced entry into the house or robbery. Neighbors didn’t hear a thing. Do you have any ideas who would benefit from his death or have a possible motive for the murder?”

“I'm totally shocked,” I replied. “Jack was one of the academic superstars of the department. He had no enemies in the department that I was aware of.”

“How about your personal relationship with him?”.

“Copasetic,” I responded. “We had met for coffee a few days ago and he proposed that I join him as the co-director of his lab. Check with the chairman of the department and lab personnel for confirmation of that. They must have seen me in his office. I can only tell you that his death is a personal disaster for me. His offer is now obviously off the table, as it were. I am totally screwed.”

“Wait,” I continued. “I want to help you as much as I can. I probably should not be going down this road but his research focused on the magic mushroom drug. He had a sizable inventory of it on hand in his lab. I wonder if it’s remotely possible that some of it could have ended up on the street, perhaps creating some bad feelings?”

“Go on,” he said, “anything else?”

“I have another idea that’s probably crazy. There could be some irony in the fact that he was stabbed with a surgical scalpel. Such an instrument would be used in operations on animals in the lab. His name has been much in the news lately. Is it be possible that some crazy animal rights activists were involved in his murder?”

Mulroney responded: “I can’t exactly say that Sprague had a number of bitter enemies in the department but no one is exactly crying their eyes out either. Unusual case. Maybe something more concrete will turn up later. Right now, we are out of ideas about suspects. His wife was out of town with her sister but she never looked good for this. No fights according to the neighbors. By the way, she spoke generously about you and said that you and Jack were close.”

The detective then nodded his head slowly, suggesting that our conversation was helpful but that there would be more to come. “Thanks for your time, Professor. Stay in town. But for now, I have no more questions.” With that, he got up and hurriedly left the room.

____

A week later, the chairman called me into his office. “How are you holding up, Harvey?” he asked.

“Terribly,” I replied: “I’m shocked like everyone else. Apparently no clues as to any suspects for the murder?” 

The chairman continued. “I have a large problem that I need to deal with right away. As you know, Jack had millions of dollars in grants. A substantial percentage of this money is allocated to the university and to our department for overhead. We are in no position to walk away from them. Your research seems to be closer to Jack’s work than anyone else’s in the department. Do you think that you could take over his research and satisfy the granting agencies?”

“I could do so easily,” I responded confidently. “I think that some of his techs may have overheard part of our recent conversation in which he offered me the co-directorship of his lab. He said that he was sure that he could count on me.”

“Interesting. I think that I have made up my mind. I will proceed to recommend that you take over Jack’s lab and research. We will advise the agencies and companies funding his grants of this change. It will then be up to you to prove that you are up to the job. His vote of confidence in you prior to his death and your abilities have won me over. Good work and good luck.”

He smiled, suggesting that he was happy with the outcome of our meeting and that events were back on track despite the trauma that all of us had recently endured and that the financial aspects of the problem had been resolved, at least for the time being. 

____

She looked beautiful although definitely sad. I was sitting in the living room of Jack’s house, facing his wife Michelle who had invited me over for a chat.

“Harvey, as you can imagine, I am still in a state of shock over what happened to Jack. There does not seem to be any progress on the part of the police in identifying a suspect. I do want to thank you and the chairman for stepping in and keeping his research on an even keel. As you know, I am a post-doc in the lab and my professional career was also on the line.”

“Having you take over the lab brings a sense of calm to me. My life is chaotic now but I came up with an idea that I want to discuss with you. I am facing so many decisions that you could help me with. I was thinking that all of this would be easier if you would move into our spare bedroom for a while to help me. I would be very grateful.”

“One other thing that just occurred to me,” she continued. “As a mere post-doc at departmental social events, I would be now relegated to the back row, so to speak. If you would also be willing to escort me to such occasions it would make me much more comfortable.”

“One other, other thing. With Jack’s murder still unsolved, I would also feel much safer with you staying in the house all of the time.”

“I am willing to do what needs to get done to bring some order and calm to your life,” I replied enthusiastically. “I’m glad that we had this little chat. Planning and necessary action. That’s the ticket to success. I know that you will agree with this. It has worked out very well for me, at least recently.”