Rain beat against the large panes of glass in sheets that nearly drown out Dr. Crane's daily lecture. With a laser pointer, he indicated various sections on a diagram of the human brain projected onto the blackboard. "Here we have the amygdala. This small organ is roughly almond shaped and can be found approximately one inch within the brain at the left and right temples. It is commonly referred to in the singular, but note that there are in fact two of them." Lightning flashed outside and Crane paused a moment until the accompanying rumble of thunder passed. "The left hemispherical amygdala is associated with positive emotions while the right can be traced to such negatives as aggression, defensiveness, and fear," he continued. "Naturally you can see why this part of the limbic system is such a fascination to psychologists." With that he turned to the clock and the bell rang. He smugly patted himself on the back for having finished the lesson on time. Now onto stage two.
As the classroom emptied, Crane straightened his tie and deftly approached Phoebe while she gathered up her materials. With his most charming smile on his face, he asked, "Pardon me, Miss Watson, but may I have a word with you?"
Phoebe nearly jumped and her head snapped up to see him standing before her, hands folded in front of him. Regaining her composure, she answered, "Yes Dr. Crane?"
Crane took a deep breath before replying, hoping the theatricality would help persuade the girl. "Well, it's just you've been doing so well in the class, I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind aiding me in a series of experiments."
An eager light shone in Phoebe's eyes. "Oh, I'd love to help, doctor. What sort of experiments?" Another low rumble shook the classroom's windows.
Just as Crane had predicted she'd react. "I merely wish to observe your behavior in a controlled environment as well as your response to certain stimuli." This girl was so easy to manipulate. So eager to please, so willing to do whatever he asked of her. If only there were more like her, he wouldn't have needed spoil his most apt pupil. Ah well, such is life after all.
"It's a behavioral study?"
"Yes Miss Watson, one I've been looking forward to for quite some time." He gave her another charming smile, knowing already that he had her right where he wanted her. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a notepad and pen and scribbled down his address. "Is tomorrow night acceptable?"
Phoebe thought for a moment, her brow wrinkling as she considered the proposition. Then her smile returned and she responded, "Tomorrow will be fine, Dr. Crane."
Handing her the slip of paper, he replied, "Please, call me Jonathan. After all, we are going to be colleagues in this little endeavor, won't we?"
With a small, girlish giggle, she took his address and scampered out of the room. Watching her go, Crane shook his head as a triumphant grin crossed his face. Far too easy. He nearly pitied her.
Outside the classroom, Greg Hammond fell into step beside Phoebe. "You're out late," he commented dryly. Clasping his hands together and giving her a "Bambi-eyed" look, he teased, "Lost track of time swooning over Johnny?"
The crowded hallway was a buzz of conversations as she looked at him, chuckling. "Shut up. It's nothing like that." Squeezing between an amorous couple, she continued, "Dr. Crane is a brilliant man and I have nothing but the utmost respect for him." She shot him a glare. "And that was a very childish thing you did to him."
"Oh come on," Greg protested. "The guy's a grown man and he looks like my kid brother." For a moment they walked on in silence. "So what did the Scarecrow want?"
"Greg!" she hissed, he anger flaring at his use of the nickname. He raised his hands placatingly and she went on, still fuming. "He just wanted my help in a behavioral study he's going to be doing."
The football player rolled his eyes. "Sounds real romantic, Phoebe," he said sarcastically.
"I know," she sighed heavily. "He's so handsome…" Greg eyed her strangely, arching one brown eyebrow. After a beat, she burst out laughing and punched him lightly in his muscled arm. "Gotcha!" she laughed and stood up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.
The following night, Crane sat in his den reading a copy of Watson's Behaviorism, sipping at a steaming cup of tea. A sharp knocking on the front door roused him from his concentration and he set the book aside. Getting up, he crossed into the foyer and opened the door, smiling warmly at the girl standing on his porch. "Welcome, Phoebe, do come in," he greeted her, taking her coat and hanging it beside the door next to his own. He then turned, leading her into his house. "Please, right this way. Would you like some tea?"
Nodding as she followed him into the kitchen, Phoebe replied, "Yes, please. What sort of behavior did you plan on observing, Dr. Crane—er—Jonathan?"
"Oh… everyday behavior…" he replied, rummaging through the cabinets for a mug. She didn't notice him drop a single water-soluble tablet into it before he poured the hot liquid, then stirred it with a small spoon to make it dissolve. Handing it to her with a grin, he said, "I do hope you don't suspect any ulterior motive on my part."
"No, not at all," she said in a rush, taking the mug in one hand and wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. She blushed as he eyed her with amusement. Avoiding his gaze, she took a moment to look around at the homey decoration of the kitchen, the wooden cabinets, the small table with only two chairs, the counter he leaned against casually.
As she took a sip of the spiked beverage, Crane's heart leapt for joy. The knockout drop he'd placed in her drink wasn't part of the experiment, but it was necessary for him to be able to administer his drug without her knowing. "Tell me, how was your drive over?" he asked conversationally.
Her eyelids drooped and she mumbled a barely intelligible, "Fine." The tablet worked fast, Crane was impressed. She seemed to have trouble keeping her balance.
"Are you alright?" he asked, knowing full well she wasn't. Inside he felt like a kid in a candy store, barely able to contain his elation. As much as he may have pitied her, he couldn't overcome his excitement. Before she could answer, the mug fell from her hands, shattering on the floor, spilling its contents across the linoleum tile. She soon followed it, collapsing into unconsciousness.
There was a distant sound, like a voice, that came to her through the darkness. Phoebe felt as though she were submerged in water until a foul odor assaulted her nostrils and her eyes fluttered open. She stared into the worried face of Dr. Crane, a small vial of smelling salts in his hand. "Miss Watson, are you all right?" he asked.
"What… happened?" she moaned, her throat scratchy. She felt groggy.
"You blacked out somehow. Are you all right?" Her vision distorted a bit. The edges blurred and strange shapes swam before her eyes. Dr. Crane's voice took on a deep, echoing tone. The lighting was unusually harsh as her eyes shot across her surroundings; everything seemed covered in thick strands of white silk. "Is something wrong?" Crane asked in that nightmarish voice.
She returned her gaze to him, shuddering uncontrollably, sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her eyes widened in terror as a pair of grotesque, dripping fangs sprouted from his mouth, clicking together hungrily. There was a tearing sound and four long, segmented legs ripped out of his body as her surroundings swirled at a breathtaking speed. She shrieked and backed away, crawling across the floor. The Crane-thing scrabbled towards her and she could no longer move, paralyzed where she sat. She looked down, tears streaming down her cheeks and saw that she was bound by the silky strands that covered everything. She tried to tear her way free but to no avail. She screamed again, overcome with terror as the giant spider that had been her professor advanced, its fangs dripping expectantly. "Spider!"
Crane was absolutely mesmerized by the girl's reaction to the drug. I'm definitely on to something, he thought as he watched her squirm on the floor of his basement. At first she had attempted an escape but then held perfectly still, as though bound. She then screamed about a spider and now she was practically lying there catatonic. Glancing between her and his notebook, he enthusiastically wrote notes about her behavior, as well as a recommendation to up the dosage next time. He smiled to himself as he considered the possibilities.