The Province of the Mind

When I opened the door to receive my last experimental participant, I noticed that there wasn’t anyone there but then looked down to see a young woman in a wheel chair. I was surprised but tried to keep my reactions in check, so I introduced myself and asked her if she was here for the test.

She nodded.

“My name is Anna. I have some parts missing,” she said pointing to her body. “Is that okay?”

I was nearing the end of my research studies in which I had tested over 500 experimental participants, all of whom performed a series of tasks wearing specialized equipment on their bodies like sensors, caps, cameras, and so on. It was an elaborate procedure that I had carefully refined to be as effective and efficient as possible.

Anna was missing half of her left arm, a few fingers from the right hand, and her left leg, all of which had been replaced with prosthetics.

I didn’t know if it was going to be okay given her body limitations, but I was interested in her cognition not her physical abilities, and as there was no reason to reject her as a participant, I welcomed her to the study.

She seemed relieved.

I opened the door for her, and she rolled in her mechanical chair.

In the past, researchers believed that the brain was a black box and our behaviour and cognition could not be investigated scientifically. Over time, this idea fell by the wayside, when it became clear, through experimental work, that it was wrong. With the proper scientific methods, we could glean into the mysteries of the mind, however subtle they might be.

In particle physics, scientists cannot see the fundamental particles, but instead they infer their presence or absence, as well as their properties, by analyzing the fragments of particle collisions. Similarly, to investigate the ever elusive human mind encased in that protective skull of ours, we have resorted to analyzing the results of collisions between the participants behaviour/responses and the experimental task.

Critics are correct in pointing out that these psychological procedures can introduce many errors and potentially increase the inaccuracy of the results. Nevertheless, they’re the best tools that we have available, so why not learn how to use them properly?

One particular vexing problem is that of researcher bias. All of us are humans with our own foibles, and we’re bound to be inconsistent day to day, including scientists. Imagine what would happen if one day, I was a happy researcher and treated my participants a certain way, maybe with a smile and vivaciousness, while the following day, I woke up in a bad mood and treated participants a different way. Maybe, as a male researcher, I would treat female participants differently than I would treat male ones. Therefore, to minimize such biases, an investigator of the mind must be neutral and impartial with ALL participants regardless of their sex, race, ethnicity, social class, ability, and so on.

“I lost my limbs to cancer,” she said.

Her prosthetics fit well on the missing parts, and perhaps I would not have noticed had she not pointed it out.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said. I wanted to express more sympathy but making that choice meant deviating from the experimental protocol and potentially confounding the results.

“I hope it doesn’t affect anything,” Anna said apologetically.

“We do have some specialized equipment that you’re required to wear,” I told her, “so I will continue with the protocol, describing the research, the procedure, the equipment, and any potential side effects you may experience. If you agree to participate, then you’ll sign the consent form and fill out some questionnaires before the actual test. We’ll test the equipment first to ensure it works properly. Then after completion of the experimental tasks, you’ll fill out additional questionnaires and have an opportunity to ask questions about the aims of this research.”

Upon hearing this, delivered in my technical tone, she sat up straighter and said, “sounds good to me!”

I usually created a strict protocol and sought to minimize my influence on participants, within limits, as I mentioned, we’re all human and prone to errors. I tried not to deviate from the script or introduce unnecessary words when conducting the session.

I felt a need to say more to Anna, to make her feel at ease in the mad-scientist lab, or just give her a word of encouragement, but I chose to keep my stoic demeanor and proceeded to administer the test.

As she could not perform the task sitting on her wheel chair, she had to transfer to the one that had been set up for the study.

“I got it!” she said wheeling herself to the chair.

I ruffled through some papers as she positioned her body correctly on the testing chair. She huffed and puffed, muttering “you got it” to herself. I felt the impulse to come to her aid, but I just remained watchful until she finally moved to the seat of her own accord.

I proceeded to strap on the electronic equipment to her body.

“If at any point, you feel dizzy or want to stop the experiment for any reason, please let me know,” I instructed her.

“Will do!” she said, looking with wide eyes at the pieces of electronic equipment I was donning on her body. She laughed. “I look like a cyborg!”

“It is state of the art electronics,” I said.

At last, when she was all set, I began administering a procedure to calibrate the equipment with her sensory signals. The procedure could be taxing over time because the equipment was heavy, but she seemed determined to make it happen.

“Look at the target on number 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 9, 2, 5, 7, 1, 2…”

Sometimes, not everything went well because of the dynamic nature of the human body, and at some point during the calibration procedure, I wasn’t able to read her biometrics.

“Is something wrong with me?” she asked with concern in her voice.

“Not at all,” I said. “The equipment has difficulty capturing signals, and has a failure rate of about three percent.”

Participants became very uncomfortable if they thought that something was wrong with them, so it was necessary to reassure them that any calibration issues were all equipment related, even if that wasn't the case.

Finally, I was able to capture the necessary signals and soon began testing her for over two hours in a series of complex experimental tasks. They were complex in that they required the use of multiple sensory and cognitive abilities to complete it. To my amazement, she was blazingly fast and good at it. Not just good. Great! I hadn’t seen anyone like her up to that moment.

She also seemed to have gotten the hang of my formal approach and adjusted her speech to match my matter-of-factness technical language. It no longer felt as if I was a researcher and she a participant, but we were collaborators in this endeavor. By the end of the experiment, we both looked at each other with a sense of achievement.

"Phew!" she said. "That was intense!"

I continued the procedure in my reserved tone until she had received her participation stipend at the end.

We chatted more casually then, and she was highly interested in the study. She was thrilled when I told her that she had been one of the best performers in the task.

“That’s so awesome to hear!” she said. "I'm going to tell everyone."

I brought the wheel chair and held it for her until she had positioned her body on it. Then she deftly maneuvered around the room.

At the doorway, I thanked Anna and shook her hand.

Inside the lab, I looked at the glowing and blinking electronics. Her written documents were on the desk, so I gathered them and filed them away.

My shoulders dropped, and I let out a long sigh. I hadn't realized just how emotionally draining this session had been.

I powered down the machines and processed the gathered data. I stared at her biometrics in comparison with the test performance. Nearly flawless. I smiled then catching myself, I regained composure. Had I influenced her responses in any way with my choices? Had I really been neutral and impartial? After all, I had no way of knowing for certain if I had been as objective as I thought. Oh well, there was no point in worrying about that now, I guessed. Just because the testing phase was over didn’t mean that I could let my guard down. There were still reams of data to analyze and biases could enter at any point in the process.

After backing up the experimental results, I grabbed my belongings, turned off the lights, and locked the door.

---

Afterword

Thank you for reading my tale for the Inkwell Fiction challenge #238 based on the prompt: Choices.

The title is from a quote by a scientist called John C. Lilly who wrote the following quote:

In the province of the mind what one believes to be true, either is true or becomes true within certain limits. These limits are to be found experimentally and experientially. When so found these limits turn out to be further beliefs to be transcended. In the province of the mind there are no limits.

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