DRayVan
07-26-2025, 10:03 AM
Each academic year, a select group of advanced medical students attended a monthly dinner seminar hosted by pharmacology professors Jonathan Greenly and Robert Winston of Downton University. They gathered at Professor Winston’s residence to experience firsthand the effects of plant and animal extracts on the central nervous system. The agenda of this evening’s research focused on the LSD-like auditory and visual hallucinations from the toxins found in Sarpa Salpa bream fish, specifically its liver.
Professor Winston stood at his gas stove, stir-frying onions, garlic, mushrooms, and yuzu kosho in a wok. After the onions had caramelized, he added a generous helping of pickled fish livers to the hot oil. Once the hissing and sizzling stopped, he ladled more livers and mixed in arrowroot for thickening, followed by a helping of sugar and a generous splash of soy sauce.
Four students eagerly waited in the great room, sitting cross-legged on Turkish-Moroccan floor cushions, forming a semicircle. On the central cushion, broad-shouldered Chadwick Winchester III sat beside his best friend, a lanky Benjamin Goldstein. To the left of Chad was Bethany Holbarth, a curvy woman with long auburn-colored hair. Sitting next to Ben was the pale, frail, and petite Vivian Hunter.
The group whispered excitedly as the tempting aromas from the open-plan kitchen reached them. Beth leaned forward and cupped her mouth so the professor couldn’t hear.
“What ya think he’s cooking?”
“Last time, it was cream of mushroom soup, but you know the professor,” Ben said with a shrug of his shoulders. “His creations are always unique and always delicious.”
“And how! Those were some mushrooms! The walls spun for hours.” Vivian giggled as she weaved back and forth to illustrate her point.
“You ate too many, Viv,” Ben said.
“Couldn’t help myself.” A hint of blood rushed to Vivian’s cheeks. “The soup was way too awesome.”
“It tasted okay,” Beth said. “Never was much of a soup fan, but the side effects were amazing. Think Prof’s making soup again?”
Chad shook his head. “Naw. He’s stir-frying and cooking rice... Must be Chinese or Japanese.” When curiosity got the best of him, he sat up straight. “What’s for dinner, Professor?”
The professor turned to the group with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Something very special... Fish livers.”
“Yecch!” Vivian wrinkled her nose and down-turned her lips. “Fish livers? Sounds disgusting.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure, Viv?” Ben said with a lopsided grin. “They can’t be your typical livers, right, Professor?”
“You got that right, Ben.” Professor Winston nodded with a broad smile. “These livers aren’t very tasty—quite terrible actually—but they’re laced with compounds that have LSD-like effects on the central nervous system. Tonight, we’ll experience them firsthand. But don’t worry. I’ve already tried them, and I’ll guide you through the experience.”
“I’m game!” Ben said, rubbing his hands together.
Vivian watched with a cockeyed grimace and a wrinkled brow.
Professor Winston scraped the stir-fried ingredients into a Japanese-style serving bowl. He then ladled generous mounds of fluffy rice from the cooker into another bowl. Next came steamed, garden-fresh vegetables, accompanied by a pot of fresh-brewed herbal tea.
As he wheeled a serving cart of steaming-hot main and side dishes, along with tea, on Japanese serving pieces, delicate teacups, and chopsticks, Chad jumped to his feet.
“Wow, you’ve truly outdone yourself, Professor!”
The group’s voices joined in a chorus of oohs and ahs. Beth’s delighted outburst, “Yummy,” interrupted the conversation.
The students formed a serving line, helped themselves to the food and tea, and returned to their cushions. The professor heaped his plate, took his tea, and joined their semicircle.
Vivian hesitated before taking her first taste of a fish liver. But as soon as it met her tongue, its odd taste and the tingling sensation were more than she could bear.
“Yuck! Gross!”
Vivian spat the liver out and wiped her lips. Hoping for relief, she gulped a mouthful of tea, swished it around, and swallowed. But the aftertaste caused her to cough and sputter.
“Come on, Viv,” Ben said. “You should’ve known to expect something unusual!”
“I’ve never liked liver, no matter how it’s prepared,” she said, crossing her arms as if to reinforce her stance against further ridicule.
“No problem, Vivian,” Professor Winston said. “You can have the important task of filming—”
“What’s film, Professor?” Ben said.
All chimed in with hilarious laughter.
“Okay. Okay, let’s quiet down. Vivian will record our levels of ichthyoallyeinotoxism. For everyone else, keep track of how many livers you consume.”
Vivian took out her phone and started recording each person, zooming in as they struggled with their chopsticks.
“Dial up the volume, Vivian,” the professor said. “I want—”
“What’s a dial, Professor?” Ben interrupted again with laughter.
“All right, already... Up the volume, Vivian, or however you do it. I wanna hear everyone’s conversations and see your reactions as well.”
“Where’s Professor Greenly?” Beth said. “He’s usually first in line to sample your creations.”
“Yeah, and I noticed Chloe isn’t here, either,” Vivian said while she panned the room with her phone, as if expecting to see them appear any moment.
“Uh... Well, John and Chloe are busy reviewing her dissertation proposal,” Professor Winston said.
“At seven? At night?” Vivian said.
The other students exchanged amused glances and a ripple of laughter.
“Grow up, Viv,” Ben said.
Vivian shot Ben a disgusted look.
“Dig in, everyone!” Professor Winston said, cutting through the chatter and shifting the conversation’s focus to the meal.
“When should we expect to feel something, Professor?” Chad said while rubbing his jaw.
“An hour or two,” the professor said. “It varies based on how many you eat, but with your metabolism and physique, you should definitely go for a second helping.”
“Wolf them down, man!” Ben said and gave Chad a playful punch on the shoulder. They shared a halfhearted laugh.
Twenty minutes into the meal, Beth spoke up, cocking her head and grimacing. “Are my lips supposed to feel numb, Professor?”
“No...” he said. “A reaction like that hasn’t been published.”
“My tongue is getting numb and tingly, too.” Beth’s voice rose in pitch. “Did you fry them in peanut oil? I’m allergic to peanuts!”
“No... 100% pure olive oil,” the professor said.
“I’m feeling funny, too, Professor,” Ben said, his jovial tone gone.
“Now that you mention it, so do I,” Chad said. The blood drained from his face. “And my fingers feel prickly.”
“Help me!” Beth screamed. Her voice was a frantic wail as she struggled to inhale; her eyes widened as she pulled at the clothing around her neck. “I—I can’t breathe!”
Before anyone could help her, she collapsed to the floor.
“What’s going on, Professor?” Vivian yelled.
Professor Winston clutched at his throat, terror rising in his voice. “Call 9-1-1! For God’s sake, call 9-1-1.” He gurgled, slurring his words. “Hurry, Viv... Hurry.” Then he leaned backward and collapsed onto the floor beside Beth.
Vivian stopped recording and hastily fumbled to dial 911 for help. Numbness was paralyzing her tongue and lips. Her words were slurred and nearly unintelligible as she struggled to give crucial information to the 911 operator.
Before long, everyone had collapsed on the floor in a grotesque montage of spilled food and drinks and scattered bodies. Only Chad still struggled for air, but his final breath came before the paramedics arrived.
Professor Winston stood at his gas stove, stir-frying onions, garlic, mushrooms, and yuzu kosho in a wok. After the onions had caramelized, he added a generous helping of pickled fish livers to the hot oil. Once the hissing and sizzling stopped, he ladled more livers and mixed in arrowroot for thickening, followed by a helping of sugar and a generous splash of soy sauce.
Four students eagerly waited in the great room, sitting cross-legged on Turkish-Moroccan floor cushions, forming a semicircle. On the central cushion, broad-shouldered Chadwick Winchester III sat beside his best friend, a lanky Benjamin Goldstein. To the left of Chad was Bethany Holbarth, a curvy woman with long auburn-colored hair. Sitting next to Ben was the pale, frail, and petite Vivian Hunter.
The group whispered excitedly as the tempting aromas from the open-plan kitchen reached them. Beth leaned forward and cupped her mouth so the professor couldn’t hear.
“What ya think he’s cooking?”
“Last time, it was cream of mushroom soup, but you know the professor,” Ben said with a shrug of his shoulders. “His creations are always unique and always delicious.”
“And how! Those were some mushrooms! The walls spun for hours.” Vivian giggled as she weaved back and forth to illustrate her point.
“You ate too many, Viv,” Ben said.
“Couldn’t help myself.” A hint of blood rushed to Vivian’s cheeks. “The soup was way too awesome.”
“It tasted okay,” Beth said. “Never was much of a soup fan, but the side effects were amazing. Think Prof’s making soup again?”
Chad shook his head. “Naw. He’s stir-frying and cooking rice... Must be Chinese or Japanese.” When curiosity got the best of him, he sat up straight. “What’s for dinner, Professor?”
The professor turned to the group with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Something very special... Fish livers.”
“Yecch!” Vivian wrinkled her nose and down-turned her lips. “Fish livers? Sounds disgusting.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure, Viv?” Ben said with a lopsided grin. “They can’t be your typical livers, right, Professor?”
“You got that right, Ben.” Professor Winston nodded with a broad smile. “These livers aren’t very tasty—quite terrible actually—but they’re laced with compounds that have LSD-like effects on the central nervous system. Tonight, we’ll experience them firsthand. But don’t worry. I’ve already tried them, and I’ll guide you through the experience.”
“I’m game!” Ben said, rubbing his hands together.
Vivian watched with a cockeyed grimace and a wrinkled brow.
Professor Winston scraped the stir-fried ingredients into a Japanese-style serving bowl. He then ladled generous mounds of fluffy rice from the cooker into another bowl. Next came steamed, garden-fresh vegetables, accompanied by a pot of fresh-brewed herbal tea.
As he wheeled a serving cart of steaming-hot main and side dishes, along with tea, on Japanese serving pieces, delicate teacups, and chopsticks, Chad jumped to his feet.
“Wow, you’ve truly outdone yourself, Professor!”
The group’s voices joined in a chorus of oohs and ahs. Beth’s delighted outburst, “Yummy,” interrupted the conversation.
The students formed a serving line, helped themselves to the food and tea, and returned to their cushions. The professor heaped his plate, took his tea, and joined their semicircle.
Vivian hesitated before taking her first taste of a fish liver. But as soon as it met her tongue, its odd taste and the tingling sensation were more than she could bear.
“Yuck! Gross!”
Vivian spat the liver out and wiped her lips. Hoping for relief, she gulped a mouthful of tea, swished it around, and swallowed. But the aftertaste caused her to cough and sputter.
“Come on, Viv,” Ben said. “You should’ve known to expect something unusual!”
“I’ve never liked liver, no matter how it’s prepared,” she said, crossing her arms as if to reinforce her stance against further ridicule.
“No problem, Vivian,” Professor Winston said. “You can have the important task of filming—”
“What’s film, Professor?” Ben said.
All chimed in with hilarious laughter.
“Okay. Okay, let’s quiet down. Vivian will record our levels of ichthyoallyeinotoxism. For everyone else, keep track of how many livers you consume.”
Vivian took out her phone and started recording each person, zooming in as they struggled with their chopsticks.
“Dial up the volume, Vivian,” the professor said. “I want—”
“What’s a dial, Professor?” Ben interrupted again with laughter.
“All right, already... Up the volume, Vivian, or however you do it. I wanna hear everyone’s conversations and see your reactions as well.”
“Where’s Professor Greenly?” Beth said. “He’s usually first in line to sample your creations.”
“Yeah, and I noticed Chloe isn’t here, either,” Vivian said while she panned the room with her phone, as if expecting to see them appear any moment.
“Uh... Well, John and Chloe are busy reviewing her dissertation proposal,” Professor Winston said.
“At seven? At night?” Vivian said.
The other students exchanged amused glances and a ripple of laughter.
“Grow up, Viv,” Ben said.
Vivian shot Ben a disgusted look.
“Dig in, everyone!” Professor Winston said, cutting through the chatter and shifting the conversation’s focus to the meal.
“When should we expect to feel something, Professor?” Chad said while rubbing his jaw.
“An hour or two,” the professor said. “It varies based on how many you eat, but with your metabolism and physique, you should definitely go for a second helping.”
“Wolf them down, man!” Ben said and gave Chad a playful punch on the shoulder. They shared a halfhearted laugh.
Twenty minutes into the meal, Beth spoke up, cocking her head and grimacing. “Are my lips supposed to feel numb, Professor?”
“No...” he said. “A reaction like that hasn’t been published.”
“My tongue is getting numb and tingly, too.” Beth’s voice rose in pitch. “Did you fry them in peanut oil? I’m allergic to peanuts!”
“No... 100% pure olive oil,” the professor said.
“I’m feeling funny, too, Professor,” Ben said, his jovial tone gone.
“Now that you mention it, so do I,” Chad said. The blood drained from his face. “And my fingers feel prickly.”
“Help me!” Beth screamed. Her voice was a frantic wail as she struggled to inhale; her eyes widened as she pulled at the clothing around her neck. “I—I can’t breathe!”
Before anyone could help her, she collapsed to the floor.
“What’s going on, Professor?” Vivian yelled.
Professor Winston clutched at his throat, terror rising in his voice. “Call 9-1-1! For God’s sake, call 9-1-1.” He gurgled, slurring his words. “Hurry, Viv... Hurry.” Then he leaned backward and collapsed onto the floor beside Beth.
Vivian stopped recording and hastily fumbled to dial 911 for help. Numbness was paralyzing her tongue and lips. Her words were slurred and nearly unintelligible as she struggled to give crucial information to the 911 operator.
Before long, everyone had collapsed on the floor in a grotesque montage of spilled food and drinks and scattered bodies. Only Chad still struggled for air, but his final breath came before the paramedics arrived.