Fear
She: “Don’t worry about the usability test, tomorrow. You’ll do fine.”
Me: “It’ll turn into something dark and ugly, I’m sure.”
She: “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Me: “The test could be taken over by goths. You know how they are. The lab would have low lighting and blackened windows, a lone PC with a black desktop would hover on the alter-like table. The participants would choke on the hazy film of smoke while the disembodied voice of Death told them to sit and read the script. Oh, they’d try, but who could concentrate with the driving, pumping rhythm of Ministry competing for control of sanity? The results of the test would end up hopelessly skewed because they’d be riveted with fear from the unidentified blood stains on the floor. Disaster. Chaos. I’d have to start over.”
She: “So, find enough people for the study?”
Me: “I’m still looking for warm bodies.”
