But I am a scientist first. And it is to that which I answer. If, let us suppose, we are not creating a catalog of residents, what else might one do? What else might one see? Suppose we are searching for something. Suppose--you weren't here for it.
I'm a scientist as well. In a double blind study, you would be treating people, not gathering evidence from every single citizen.
If you're really a scientist, you'll know that transparency is an important part of the scientific process. And as your "test subjects," we have a right to know what your intentions are.
I've kept my degrees, kept my name, kept the papers, kept the signs, kept the seals, kept the certificates, kept the notes, kept the lectures, kept the scrawled details run to faded pencil and dull ink in my mixed hand both print and script. My own hand. The alphabet soup that trails both before and after my name. I say I am a scientist. I was. I was. And I do miss it: my planetary dances, the slap and sting of Imoplex in development, the lectures to halls of students all intent on taking me down and not a one could touch me, the biostatistics, the details, the cast iron and the cradle, cotton swab and Baby Albert newly published, the frustration of the early days with Sasha and Gregor, the raging insult of covalent bonds...
But now I'm here and, despite all my intentions, I suppose all bets are off. I'm a bureaucrat now.
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Maybe it's just for "teh lulz."
But I am a scientist first. And it is to that which I answer. If, let us suppose, we are not creating a catalog of residents, what else might one do? What else might one see? Suppose we are searching for something. Suppose--you weren't here for it.
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If you're really a scientist, you'll know that transparency is an important part of the scientific process. And as your "test subjects," we have a right to know what your intentions are.
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I've kept my degrees, kept my name, kept the papers, kept the signs, kept the seals, kept the certificates, kept the notes, kept the lectures, kept the scrawled details run to faded pencil and dull ink in my mixed hand both print and script. My own hand. The alphabet soup that trails both before and after my name. I say I am a scientist. I was. I was. And I do miss it: my planetary dances, the slap and sting of Imoplex in development, the lectures to halls of students all intent on taking me down and not a one could touch me, the biostatistics, the details, the cast iron and the cradle, cotton swab and Baby Albert newly published, the frustration of the early days with Sasha and Gregor, the raging insult of covalent bonds...
But now I'm here and, despite all my intentions, I suppose all bets are off. I'm a bureaucrat now.
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Regardless, I'm asking a simple question, and you have yet to give me an answer.
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Why do we want samples of your hair?
Why 100 bottles of beer? Why a cup of sugar? Why obligations of crying? Why why why?
Socratic method: answer a question with a question: why do you think we want samples of your hair?
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As for the beer, sugar, and crying, those are obviously just you flaunting the power you hold over people. It's childish.
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