Sleepless 3- 224hrs and 16mins

‘I can’t keep up with them, they’re all so aroused. Honey is flowing from their innards. You understand don’t you? Who has hold of the ball now that I can’t hold it anymore?'

He was staring straight at the screen. The live web feed, recording him as the hallucination faded; his pixelated face gazing blankly into space.

A thick strand of mucus hung from his bottom lip, quivering with each short exhalation. He caught site of the glistening pendulum and watched as it circled his groin. Perhaps he had been dowsing? Radiesthesia? The German Navy had used it to find warships. Was he trying to find something? No. He knew where and what it was. He was just trying to slow it down.

He needed the toilet and quickly eyed the ECG's on-screen timer. On the second day he’d watched the clock for the best part of 10 hours, mesmerised by the reassurance it provided him. Whilst the numbers rotated he was still alive, but four days ago time had briefly become an adversary:

‘Time seems too classically human a concept for it to really be a credible idea. We find order, unity and consequently reassurance in its presence. It ties us to a mode of behaviour that restricts us more and more. The universe was born of a violent chaotic event, and it remains a violent chaotic event and we inhabit it.’

It made sense. The seconds were cheating him of freedom. The minutes mocked his autonomy. Time was choking him:

‘My mind’s understanding of time creates time. I intuitively feel a connection to time because I create time. If I create time I can destroy time. I choose to destroy time, because it will destroy me.’

Dr X's destruction of time had lasted exactly seven minutes. Until the blood pressure alarm sounded and he’d switched the timer back on. Whilst hyperventilating he’d watched the minutes tick by for another 10 hours.

That was four days ago. Now on the ninth day the clock was the visual cue for a fully developed obsession. All activity was time dependent. The experiment's original timetable had been developed to trigger the consumption of Ritalin and Modafinil and the taking of various physiological and neurological measurements. Now it had become an elaborate web of time dependent rituals. He couldn’t even go to the lavatory without the clocks consultation. Nothing could be left to chance.

He winced as the stabbing pain returned to his groin. 52 minutes remained before he could find relief in the toilet. With one hand soothing away the pain, he used his index finger to make a blog entry:

“God does not play dice.”