Credit: Veer Images

Professor Leglum held one hand over the shock/reward toggles, the other over a microphone. Framed within chat windows on his control screen, the experiment's two volunteers fidgeted in their seats. They were locked inside the last room down the hall in the psychology annex, separated from each other by a white partition wall.

Leglum pressed RECORD on his control panel, removed his hand from the mic, and spoke. "Relax."

The volunteers tracked the letters as voice-to-text transcribed what he said onto their computer screens. To them, that was all he was, black letters on a white background. While volunteers knew whose experiment it was - who didn't? - they were not to know who conducted it.

Most of the time, Leglum's interns manned the controls, but he relieved them every now and again when he felt drawn back to the lab. Theoretically, the anonymity ensured he avoided influencing the subjects' choices.

"You will have a minute between each image in the set," Leglum said. "During that minute, use the stylus and tablet provided to draw the design you think your next image will be. You may draw as many guesses as you'd like. Bank each guess by clicking the end of the stylus. Banked guesses only count for the upcoming image. There will be 10 images to the first set."

The volunteers nodded. Subject X - Margaret - was an attractive young woman wearing a collared blouse with an embroidered alligator on the breast. Subject Y - Shawn - was a scowly young man in a rumpled metal band t-shirt. Both were undergrads.

Leglum couldn't predict when outliers might emerge. Only the experiment showed him who they were. It was what intrigued him about it, frightened him. X and Y were as promising as anyone else at this stage.

"If you have reviewed the waiver form," Leglum said, "sign your tablet to finalise your consent."

Margaret signed with sharp, crimped letters. She had a direct way about her. Leglum could see it; she was ambitious, angling to get into his packed classes, to be close to him as though he had something she needed. Shawn eyed the webcam crowning his computer screen, the microphone stalk at his elbow, and the electrode armband ringing his bicep. He signed with large, looping letters. He was in it for the money.

It was no secret: the student body considered the experiment fast cash - sign up and strap in for a quick fifty before heading to the bars. Hangovers were often called Leglums. Leglum didn't mind.

"You will be compensated on a sliding scale," Leglum said. "You will receive at least $20. An image is either correctly identified by the guesses banked for it or incorrectly identified. For every correctly identified image, you will receive an additional $3. For every image incorrectly identified you will receive an electric shock. The strength of the shock will increase the more images in a set you incorrectly identify."

When costs overran Leglum's grants he dipped into the stock market for cash. The money ensured a larger sample size than he'd otherwise attract. To him, it was worth it. When the ethics board grew disapproving he calmed them. He was good at seeing ways of convincing people.

"We will start by showing you the designs from which your individual images will be randomly selected. You will have a minute to review them."

Leglum waited until their eyes stopped tracking his words, then keyed his control panel. On the volunteers' computer screens, the 50 possible designs appeared: a square; an equilateral triangle; two dots side by side; a horizontal line...

Margaret thinned her lips, her eyes dilating as though taking in the whole set like a wallpaper gestalt. Shawn drummed his fingers on his tablet and faced the white partition wall dividing him from her. "What are you going to draw first?" he asked.

Margaret's face scrunched with frustration, her eyes trained on her computer screen. "Shhhh. We're supposed to act in isolation."

"Whatever."