Milgram
Kara Rochelle
Copyright Kara Rochelle 2012
Published at Smashwords
Before I graduated college, I was having some financial trouble, as most students do. Naturally, I started looking for ways to make extra cash. I came across an article in the classifieds asking for volunteers in an experiment. It paid $1000 and would only take about an hour. I called and made an appointment.
I showed up at the psychology department of my college on the day of the test. There was another participant already there, and we learned that we would be working together. Soon, the doctor came in and introduced himself. As soon as he began to explain the test to us, I knew what was going on.
He said the test was about the effect of negative reinforcement on learning ability and memory. One of us would act as a "teacher," and the other would act as the "student." In separate rooms, the teacher would read the student a list of word pairs which the student would have to memorize. Then the teacher would quiz the student, administering an electric shock for every wrong answer. The more wrong answers the student gave, the higher the voltage of the shock.
I'd heard of this experiment before. The student didn't really get electrocuted. The point of the test was to see how much pain a person—the teacher, in this case—would inflict upon another human being at the direction of an authority figure, such as the doctor. I probably should have said I knew what was really going on, but then I probably wouldn't be allowed to participate. I needed that money.
Everything went as I knew it would. The drawing was rigged, and I ended up with the slip of paper that said "teacher." The other participant, who I knew was an actor, was taken into a different room and I watched as he was strapped to a chair, wires were attached to his body, and a remote with four buttons was placed under his hand. Each button would correspond to an answer A, B, C, or D, and his choice would appear on a screen in front of me in the other room. He acted worried about the electric shocks, citing a heart condition, but the doctor told us that, though the shocks may be painful, they were not dangerous.
I sat down in the next room in front of a row of switches, and the doctor told me that for every wrong answer the student gave, I was to flip a switch, starting with the lowest voltage and working toward the highest. Then I began to read the list of word pairs through a two-way intercom to the student. There were fifty pairs for him to memorize. Then the test began.
The student got the first few questions right, as I had expected, and then gave a wrong answer. I administered the first shock. He got a few more questions right, and then got another one wrong. I flipped the next switch. The wrong answers became more frequent, and only a fourth of the way down the row of switches, he started to scream. I knew he was faking it, but I was impressed by how convincing it sounded. Eventually, he was begging for the test to stop, as his heart was starting to bother him. The doctor told me it was vital that the experiment continue.
I went on with the questions, but the student refused to answer. The experimenter told him that in the absence of a response, the answer would be counted wrong. I asked the question again, but he still didn't select an answer. I flipped the next switch, now halfway down the row. The screams were blood-curdling. At least, they would have been to someone who didn't know the true nature of the experiment.
After that, the answers stopped coming, and so did the screams. This was the part where I was supposed to think the student was dead. I continued on, but something strange started to happen. There was a smell, like something burning, wafting through the air. It was like burnt hair and flesh, with some ozone mixed in. I laughed to myself. They had really gone all out to make this experiment convincing.
Soon, all the questions were read and the experiment ended. The smell was much thicker by then, and I thought I was going to throw up.
"Thank you for your participation," the doctor said, and shook my hand. "We'll wire the payment to you within the week."
I paused. "That's it?"
"Yes," he said. "You can go now."
"Wait, aren't you supposed to tell me what's really going on?" I asked.
His brow furrowed. "I don't understand."
"That the shocks were fake," I explained. I didn't care about the money anymore. This was too weird. "The guy in the other room is an actor. You're studying obedience to authority, not negative reinforcement."
He seemed genuinely confused. "The shocks were real. You saw me apply the wire leads to the participant."
"They weren't really hooked up to that machine, though!"
He put his hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. "If you're feeling emotional distress, you can speak to our therapist. Just remember, you've participated in very useful and vital research for the field of education."
"I'm not emotionally distressed, because I didn't really hurt that guy!" I cried, and walked toward the student's room.
"Please, it's best that you don't see—"
I opened the door, took one look inside, and retched.