Looking for participants for sleep research with substantial compensation. 

Contact : sleeplab.perception@email.org

Romy Reed tore the announcement from the corkboard, her brown eyes scanning the other sheets pinned with multicolored tacks. Two mentioned calls for contributions to upcoming conferences, three professors were looking for assistants - Romy tore those down too, competition was fierce - and finally, the sleep research, which she stuffed into her bag without ceremony.  

It was only her second month in Montreal, and despite her parents' financial support, Romy was struggling to make ends meet at the end of the month; her last meals consisting of noodles and rice, saving just enough to afford a cranberry-vodka at the Double’s. Fortunately, her international student visa allowed her to take on a small side job, and even better, she had discovered the hidden gems on the university’s corkboards; paid research studies. Solving puzzles or watching nature documentaries with electrodes on her head for $25 was already an opportunity she never hesitated to seize, but sleep studies, which lasted an entire night (with meals included), were absolute goldmines for her savings.  

A quick glance at her watch made her grimace. She turned to see that the hallways of the 4th floor, home to the political science department, were completely empty. The white neon lights reflected off the gray floor, and the long white walls, adorned only with doors, seemed to stretch endlessly. She took a deep breath and headed for her classroom, hesitating a moment before opening the door. She first peeked in to gauge the situation, and seeing the dozen students settling around the square-shaped arrangement of tables, she quickly moved to an empty seat.  

Romy opened her laptop while Professor Shepherd, a seasoned biologist researcher who could never let them forget he used to work with NASA, began introducing the day's topic of his multi-disciplinary bio-ethic class. Instead of taking notes, she preferred to check her emails while pretending to concentrate. She was practically invisible in the class, despite its small size. Romy wasn't the best, nor the most passionate, she was simply there because it was expected of her to pursue higher education long enough to not be considered a waste of money. This master's program was the only one that interested her enough to sit in a chair for three hours and at least skim through the introduction and conclusion of her required readings without too much resistance.  

From: RomyMalloryReed@email.email

To: sleeplab.perception@email.email

Subject: Participation  

Hello,  

I would like to participate in your sleep research. How much is the compensation? Do I need to fill out a form?  

Best regards,  

Romy Reed  

"Romy, your thoughts on the main arguments of the second text?" the professor called out.  

A chill ran down her spine when she heard her name. Romy frantically clicked through the open windows on her laptop, hoping to miraculously land on her notes. The seconds dragged on, the classroom was silent except for the click-click of her trackpad and her hesitant "uhh" as she struggled to find something to say. She gave the professor a nervous smile, almost ready to invent a philosophical connection between this text - which she had barely read - and the one from last week, which she vaguely remembered.  

"It can be linked to the author from our second session, especially in how they both use realist theory," the girl to her right interjected.  

Saved by the bell. Shepherd decided to accept the answer and moved on, though not without giving Romy a pointed look that made her shudder, whether from fear or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. She leaned toward her classmate and whispered a quick "thanks," so close that her long, smooth chestnut hair, which she took great care of, slid onto the other girl's lap. The unknown student sniffed before replying with a thick Québécois accent, "It’s all good."  

The first thing Romy noticed when she sat back up and got a better look at her savior was how little clothing she was wearing. She wasn't exactly a prude, but the idea of wearing only low-rise jeans and a cropped t-shirt, exposing her midriff in Montreal during November, when temperatures hovered around 5°C, seemed extreme. The girl had thick, dark brown hair falling in soft waves to her shoulders, well-defined eyebrows that made her look naturally made-up, and light brown skin, slightly more tanned on her face as if she still spent time outside despite the cold. 

Her classmate caught her staring and met her gaze with bright, lively black eyes. "My name’s Ezia Cardinal," she said.  

"Romy Reed."  

And that was it. Ezia went back to listening to the professor, chewing on the end of her pen, while Romy, now slightly irritated, straightened in her chair and resumed sending emails to professors looking for assistants. Being a teaching assistant was an easy and well-paid job with flexible hours that matched her fluctuating work ethic, meaning she really hoped to secure two or three contracts to afford drinks without worrying about paying off her credit card on time. While editing her CV, Romy frowned as a notification popped up at the top of her screen.  

From: sleeplab.perception@email.email  

To: RomyMalloryReed@email.email  

Hello Romy,  

We offer $1,000 for a full night spent in the lab, from 7:00 PM to 8:00 AM. Two meals are included, along with a television for entertainment. Please complete the following questionnaire to determine if you are eligible to participate.  

Best regards,  

Aloys  

Her gaze froze on the number before she let out a low groan, catching Ezia’s attention. She clicked the link while silently cursing Aloys, knowing full well she’d have to focus for a good ten minutes to answer the questionnaire properly. There was no way she was passing up the chance to make $1,000 just for spending a night in a lab, with meals and binge-watching included.  

Your email: RomyMalloryReed@email.email

Do you live alone?  

☐ Yes ☐ No  

Do you have family in Canada?  

☐ Yes ☐ No  

Are you close with your family?  

☐ Yes ☐ No  

Do you have close friends in Canada?  

☐ Yes ☐ No  

Do you consider yourself introverted?  

☐ Yes ☐ No  

Romy read the list with a disheartened expression. The questions made no sense, the only pattern she could detect was isolation, but she couldn't figure out what Aloys was looking for. Did he want someone isolated or socially connected? What did this have to do with sleep? She gritted her teeth. An idea formed in her mind, and she pulled out her phone.  

She discreetly tapped Ezia’s thigh under the table. Ezia turned to her with a mildly annoyed expression, half-listening.  

"Hey, can I get your email, please?" Romy asked with an apologetic smile. "I think my mails keep going to spam, could you check for me?"  

With a small grunt, Ezia scribbled her email on a sticky note and smacked it onto Romy’s thigh with just a bit too much force, making her mumble an apology. Within seconds, Romy wrote a generic email and sent it to Ezia. Then, on her phone, she opened the survey link, entered Ezia’s email instead of her own, and filled out the survey as dishonestly as possible: lots of close family, yes to friends, and an extroverted personality. She clicked "submit" and grinned when she saw the result:  

"You do not meet the criteria."  

Keeping her face as neutral as possible, Romy slid her phone back into her bag and redid the survey on her laptop. This time, she went full isolation mode,yes to being alone and introverted, no to friends or family. She was painting a rather bleak portrait of her life, and she sincerely hoped she’d never run into Aloys after this, let alone at a party where he might say, “Oh look, it’s that girl with no friends or family, so sad and desperate!”

Romy clicked "submit," and a satisfying message appeared on the screen:  

"You meet the criteria. See you Friday night."