Lars
In his long history of health resorts Lars had experienced some bizarre and unusual practices, but this was a first. It was ironic because one of the side benefits of coming here was to cut down on his recreational drug use.
‘It’s called micro-dosing and it’s perfectly safe,’ said their esteemed leader, who, as always, sat cross-legged and straight-backed, her incredible long white legs so entwined that sometimes Lars got distracted trying to work out where each leg started and ended.
‘There are multiple benefits: higher levels of creativity, increased focus, heightened spiritual awareness, improved relationships – I could go on and on. Basically, you function just a little better than a normal person. The doses are about a tenth of a normal dose of LSD.’
‘Wait . . . what?’ asked Frances. She laughed uncertainly, as if she’d heard a joke she didn’t quite get. Lars liked her already. ‘Sorry. You’re not saying that we’ve been taking LSD?’
Lars saw most of his fellow guests were staring at Masha with dull incomprehension. This was surely too conservative a crowd to cope with a revelation about drugs, even taking into account the popularity of cocaine in the suburbs. Lars himself dabbled with coke, ecstasy and pot, but never LSD.
‘As I said, it’s called micro-dosing,’ said Masha.
‘It’s called spiking our smoothies with a hallucinogenic drug,’ snapped Heather.
Heather. Before today, Lars would never have picked Heather as her name. It was far too soft a name for this skinny, tanned woman with quadriceps that looked like machine parts and a permanent pained squint as if she were peering straight into the sun. Every time Lars had looked at her during the silence, he’d imagined pressing his thumbs to the point between her eyebrows and saying, ‘Chill.’ Now he felt bad about feeling aggravated, because she’d lost her son. The woman was allowed to frown.
‘It’s called outrageous,’ continued Heather. She wasn’t squinting now. Her eyes were ablaze with fury.
‘I don’t quite understand,’ said her adorably addled husband, a long celery stick of a man, so dorky he was cool. His name was Napoleon, which just added to his marvellousness.
Lars didn’t think he was high. He’d been feeling great, but he generally did feel good on any sort of cleanse. Perhaps the doses were too small to affect him, or he’d built up a tolerance. He surreptitiously ran a finger around the edge of his smoothie glass and licked it. He thought about how, on the first day, he’d drunk his smoothie and said to Delilah, ‘This is so good. What’s in this stuff?’ and Delilah had said, ‘We’ll give you the recipes when you leave.’ Lars had been imagining the recipes would specify the number of teaspoons of chia, not how many milligrams of LSD.
‘But . . . but . . . we’re here to detoxify!’ said Frances to Masha. ‘You’re saying we’ve cut out caffeine and replaced it with acid?’
Tony, aka Smiley Hogburn, said, ‘I can’t believe you confiscated my beer and now you’ve given me drugs. I’ve never taken drugs!’
‘You don’t think alcohol is a drug?’ said Masha. ‘LSD has been ranked one-tenth as harmful as alcohol! What do you think of that?’
‘I guess LSD has no calories,’ said Carmel. It was easy to remember her name because Lars had a friend called Carmel who was also boringly convinced she was fat. Carmel’s glasses sat crookedly on her face but she didn’t seem aware of it. She had been mooching about for the last five days with that recently-kicked-in-the-face look Lars knew so well from his clients. The one that ignited a deep burn of rage in his belly; the rage that had fuelled his entire career. He’d put a million bucks on her husband having left her for a trophy wife.
‘Does LSD also speed up the metabolism?’ Carmel asked hopefully. ‘I really feel like my metabolism might be speeding up. I’ve never had drugs either, but I’m completely fine with this. I have total respect for you and your methods, Masha.’
Getting thin won’t help you feel better, honey. Take the fuckwit to the cleaners. Lars would talk to her later. See who represented her.
‘I can’t believe you’ve been giving my underage daughter LSD,’ said Heather.
‘I’m not underage, Mum,’ said Zoe. ‘I’m feeling pretty good right now; better than I’ve felt in a while. They’re only micro-doses. It’s all good.’
‘It’s not all good!’ her mother sighed. ‘For Christ’s sake.’
Napoleon spoke earnestly. ‘Masha, listen, I had a terrible experience with drugs when I was a teenager. It was a “bad trip”, as they say. One of the worst experiences of my life and I always told my kids that’s when I swore off drugs forever. So I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m not taking anything.’
‘My God, Napoleon, you’ve already taken it!’ said Heather through gritted teeth. ‘Are you not listening?’
‘This is bullshit,’ said the lottery-winner kid. What was his name again? A good, wholesome, straight-boy name. What was it? The kid trembled with so much suppressed rage it looked like he was having a seizure and he spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I did not choose this.’
His young wife spoke up. ‘Ben is, like, full-on anti-drugs.’
Ben, thought Lars. That was it. Ben and his cosmetically enhanced wife was . . . Jessica. Ben and Jessica. No chance those two had a pre-nup, and now there was significant money at stake if the marriage fell apart. They’d be the type to lose it all to their lawyers.
‘He doesn’t even like taking aspirin,’ said Jessica. ‘His sister is an addict. A proper addict. This is not good.’ She put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. ‘I don’t see how this is going to help our marriage. I’m not feeling very happy about this either. Not happy at all.’
Her poor little Barbie doll face did look very unhappy. Lars felt something unfurl in his chest: a deep, rich welling of sympathy for poor Jessica. Poor, poor little plastic Jessica. Confused little rich girl. All that money and no idea how to spend it, except on cosmetic procedures that were doing her no favours.
‘I understand your fear,’ said Masha. ‘You’ve been brainwashed because of the misinformation spread by governments.’
‘I have not been brainwashed,’ said Ben. ‘I have seen it for myself.’
‘Yes, but those are street drugs, Ben,’ said Masha. ‘The problem with street drugs is you can’t control the content or dosage.’
‘I cannot believe this.’ Ben got to his feet.
‘LSD has actually been used very successfully to treat drug addiction,’ said Masha. ‘Your sister could benefit from it. In the right setting.’
Ben smacked his hands to his face. ‘Unbelievable.’
Masha said, ‘Do you know, there was a great man. His name was Steve Jobs.’
Lars, who had been expecting her to say the Dalai Lama, snickered.
‘I always admired him greatly,’ said Masha.
‘Not sure why you took all our iPhones away then,’ muttered Tony.
‘Do you know what Steve Jobs said? He said that taking LSD was one of the most important, profound experiences of his life.’
‘Oh, well then,’ said Lars, greatly amused. ‘If Steve Jobs said we should all take LSD, then we really should!’
Masha shook her head sadly at them, as if they were misguided but lovable children. ‘The side effects of psychedelic drugs are minimal. Respected researchers at Ivy League universities are doing clinical trials as we speak! The results have been excellent! Micro-dosing has allowed you to focus on your meditation and yoga practices over the last week, as well as alleviating the withdrawal symptoms you would otherwise have suffered by cutting out far more dangerous substances, like alcohol and sugar.’
‘Yes, but, Masha . . .’ said Heather. She sounded calmer than before. She splayed her fingers on both hands as if she were waiting for a fresh manicure to dry. ‘The effects I’m feeling right now, the effects I suspect we are now all beginning to feel, that has to be more than just a micro-dose.’
Masha smiled at Heather, as if she couldn’t be happier with her. ‘Oh, Heather,’ she said. ‘You are a smart lady.’
‘That last smoothie was different,’ said Heather. ‘Wasn’t it?’
‘You are right, Heather,’ said Masha. ‘I was about to explain this but you keep racing me to the punch!’ She corrected the phrase almost instantly. ‘Beating me to the punch!’ Her strong white teeth gleamed in the candlelight. It was hard to tell if it was a smile or a grimace.
‘What’s happening now is the next step in a rigorously planned and executed new protocol.’ She looked around the room, giving everyone tiny nods, as if dispensing affirmative answers to their unspoken questions. Yes, yes, yes, she seemed to be saying. ‘You are about to embark on a truly transformative experience. We’ve never done this before at Tranquillum House and we’re all so excited about it. You are the first nine guests to have this extraordinary opportunity.’
A glorious sense of well-being spread like honey throughout Lars’s body.
‘For most of you, your last smoothie contains both a dosage of LSD and a liquid form of psilocybin, a naturally occurring substance found in certain mushrooms.’
‘Magic mushrooms,’ said Tony with disgust.
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Frances. ‘It’s like I’m back doing my arts degree again.’
Lars was so happy he’d chosen Tranquillum House for this cleanse. What a truly wonderful place. How innovative and cutting edge.
‘But that’s what caused my bad experience,’ said Napoleon. ‘My bad trip. It was a magic mushroom.’
‘We won’t let that happen, Napoleon,’ said Masha. ‘We are trained medical professionals and we’re here to help and guide you. The drugs you have taken have been tested to ensure they are in their purest form.’
Lovely, top-quality, pure drugs, thought Lars dreamily.
‘It’s called guided psychedelic therapy,’ said Masha. ‘As your ego dissolves you will access a higher level of consciousness. A curtain will be drawn back and you will see the world in a way you’ve never seen it before.’
Lars had a friend who had travelled for days in the Amazon to take part in an Ayahuasca ceremony, where he’d vomited repeatedly and been eaten alive by bugs in his search for enlightenment. This was delightfully civilised in comparison. Five-star enlightenment!
‘What a load of bullshit,’ said Tony.
‘But I lost my mind,’ said Napoleon. ‘I honestly lost my mind, and I did not like losing my mind.’
‘That’s because you weren’t in a safe, secure environment. The experts call it “set and setting”,’ said Masha. ‘For a positive experience you need the right mindset and a controlled environment like we’ve created here today.’ She gestured about the room. ‘Yao, Delilah and I are here to guide you and keep you safe.’
‘You know you’re going to get sued for this,’ said Heather serenely.
Masha smiled at her tenderly. ‘In a moment, I’m going to ask you to move to one of the stretchers, where you may lie down and enjoy what I can assure you will be a truly transcendent experience.’
‘And what if we don’t want this experience?’ said Tony.
‘I think we’re all strapped into the spaceship now.’ Lars nudged Tony’s big beefy shoulder with his own. ‘All you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride. I find your smile very charming, by the way.’
‘Oh, so do I!’ said Frances. ‘I love his smile! It’s like his whole head kind of crumples up like a . . . like a . . . crumpled tissue.’
‘Jesus,’ said Tony.
‘You yourself are very handsome,’ said Frances to Lars. ‘Devastatingly handsome, in fact.’
Lars always felt fondly towards people who were unequivocal in their acknowledgement of his looks.
‘That’s kind of you,’ he said modestly. ‘I can’t take credit for it. I come from a long line of devastatingly handsome men.’
‘I feel like giving us drugs without our permission must be against the law,’ said Jessica.
Of course it’s against the law, you twit, thought Lars.
‘Please don’t call me a twit,’ said Jessica.
Lars’s blood ran cold. She could read his mind and she was extraordinarily wealthy. She now had the capacity to take over the world for her own nefarious purposes.
‘We’re here for couples counselling,’ said Jessica to Masha. ‘We paid for couples counselling. This is all just pointless for us.’
‘This will have a profound impact on your marriage,’ said Masha. ‘You and Ben won’t be separated on your journey. You will sit together and experience this as a couple.’ Masha indicated one of the clusters of cushions in the corner. ‘Your smoothies contained a different formula from everyone else’s. We studied the research carefully and we found that MDMA was the best –’
‘Ecstasy,’ snapped Heather. ‘She means ecstasy. She’s given you a party drug. Unbelievable. Kids die every year after taking ecstasy tablets, but don’t let that bother you.’
‘You’re being kind of a downer about all this, Mum,’ said Zoe.
‘Let’s go,’ said Ben to Jessica. He held out his hand to his wife and looked at Masha. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘Just . . . hold on.’ Jessica didn’t take his hand.
‘Again, when used in a controlled environment, MDMA is perfectly safe. It has been trialled for prescription psychotherapy with great success to treat PTSD, social anxiety and for couples therapy!’ said Masha. ‘There has never been a single death or even a single adverse reaction to a clinically administered dose of MDMA.’
‘This is not a clinical setting!’ cried Heather.
Masha ignored her. ‘MDMA is an empathogen. It produces feelings of empathy and openness.’
‘It is a very nice experience, you guys,’ said Lars lovingly.
Masha gave him a disapproving look. ‘But this is not about dancing all night at a club. This is guided therapy. You will find, Ben and Jessica, that you become more sensitive to feelings and more accepting of each other’s views. You’re about to communicate in a way you’ve probably never communicated before.’
‘Consent,’ said Napoleon. ‘I feel like that’s what’s missing here. I feel like . . . I’m pretty sure . . .’ He held up a finger. ‘I read the paperwork very carefully, and I feel certain we did not consent to this.’
‘No, we fucking did not,’ said Tony.
Jessica stuck one of her long, fake fingernails in her mouth and chewed.
Careful, thought Lars. Those things look sharp.
‘What things look sharp?’ Jessica frowned at Lars, and then turned to Ben. ‘Maybe we should give it a go?’
Ben, who was still on his feet, shook his head, his eyes fixed on a far-off horizon only he could see. ‘I did not choose this,’ he said again. ‘Drugs are dangerous. Drugs are bad. Drugs ruin lives.’
‘I know, babe,’ said Jessica, looking up at him. ‘But maybe we should just go with it?’
‘I think you two should go for it,’ said Lars. ‘I’ve seen a lot of bad marriages, but I think your marriage has . . .’ There was a fine word he needed to finish his fine sentence but it had escaped his brain.
The word swooped about between Jessica and Ben like a frisky butterfly before it landed, quivering, on Tony’s hand. Lars leaned forward and read it.
‘Potential!’ he said. ‘I think your marriage has potential.’
Time slowed, and then snapped back to normal pace.
Delilah stood right in front of him. She’d teleported herself, the clever minx.
‘It’s time to lie down now, Lars,’ said Delilah. Teleporting was a handy skill that Lars would like to develop. He would order Teleporting for Dummies. He felt like that was the kind of witticism his new friend Frances would appreciate, but he saw that Frances was with Yao, lying down on one of the stretchers, trustingly lifting her head as Yao placed a mask over her eyes.
‘Up you get.’ Delilah offered her hand. Lars was momentarily transfixed by a thick, lustrous curl of black hair that fell over her shoulder. He studied it for an hour and then he took her hand.
‘I know all about bad marriages,’ Lars explained as he let her haul him to his feet. Delilah was as strong and powerful as Wonder Woman and she also strongly resembled Wonder Woman. She was quite wondrous in many ways, although he would not let her near his hair.
‘Let’s talk about that more in a moment,’ said Delilah, as she led him to a stretcher. ‘We can explore it during your guided therapy.’
‘No thank you, sweetheart, I’ve already done years of therapy,’ said Lars. ‘There is nothing I don’t already know about my psyche.’
He thought of all those fat files crammed with pages of handwritten words about the Great Mysteries of Lars, which could in reality be summed up in a few paltry paragraphs.
When Lars was ten his father left his mother for a woman called Gwen. There may have been nice Gwens in the world, but Lars doubted it. His mother was screwed in the financial settlement. Now Lars spent his days eviscerating wealthy men who left their wives: an endless, pointless revenge fantasy against his long-dead father, a job which he found emotionally and financially satisfying.
He was a control freak because he’d lost control of his life when he was a kid, and weird about money because he’d grown up with none, and he wasn’t sufficiently vulnerable in his relationships because . . . he didn’t want to be vulnerable. He loved Ray, but there was a part of himself he withheld, because Ray had had a happy, functional childhood, and it seemed Lars subconsciously wanted to punch him in the face for having the happy childhood that Lars didn’t get. That was it. Nothing more to know, nothing more to learn. A few years ago Lars had swapped therapy for health resorts, and Ray took up cycling and got skinny and obsessed like all city cyclists. Life was good.
‘You haven’t done this sort of therapy,’ said Delilah.
‘No thank you,’ said Lars firmly and politely. ‘I’ll just take the trip.’
Lars lay down and got himself comfortable. Big Tony, Smiley Hogburn, lay on the stretcher next to his. Masha kneeled by his side, tucking him in with swift sure movements like he was a giant, grizzled baby. Lars met Tony’s eyes just before Masha covered them with a mask. It was like looking into the terrified eyes of a prisoner. Poor Tony. Just relax and enjoy it, big man.
Delilah leaned in close to Lars, her breath warm and sweet. ‘I’m going to leave you for a moment, but I’ll be back to check in on you and to talk about whatever is on your mind.’
‘There’s nothing on my mind,’ said Lars. ‘Don’t you touch my hair while I’m asleep, Delilah.’
‘Very funny. I’ve never heard that joke before. Masha and Yao are here too. You’re not on your own. You’re in safe hands, Lars. If there is anything you need, just ask.’
‘That’s sweet,’ said Lars.
Delilah put the mask over his eyes and headphones over his ears.
‘Look for the stars,’ said Delilah.
Classical music cascaded from the headphones directly into his brain. He could hear each note separately, in its entirety, with absolute purity. It was extraordinary.
A little boy with dark hair and a dirty face said to Lars, ‘Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.’
‘No thanks, buddy,’ said Lars. ‘I’m busy right now.’
He recognised this little kid. It was his boyhood self, little Lars, trying to give him a message.
‘Please,’ said the little boy, and he took Lars’s hand. ‘I’ve got something I need to show you.’
‘Maybe later,’ said Lars, pulling his hand free. ‘I’m busy right now. You go play.’
Remember this, he thought. Remember it all. He would tell Ray all about it when he got home. Ray would be interested. He was always interested in everything that happened to Lars. His face so earnest and open and hopeful.
Ray didn’t want to take anything from him. All Ray wanted was his love.
For a moment that simple thought was everything, it hung there suspended in his consciousness, the answer to every question, the key to every lock, but then his mind exploded into a billion purple petals.