A Fetish of the Machine

I'm sitting in the basement of the biomedical engineering building, following the movement of a red dot with my eyes. Leaned forward, my teeth clamped down a bite block, I have two wires attached to my eyes by way of two specially modified contacts. Each one of these contacts was made by hand, by one person, who retired last year. The wires are finer than thread, and break just as easily. Each one of these wires cost $300 to replace. My eyes have been numbed, and after the experiment, a dye is applied to make my cornea fluorescent under black lights. Satisfied that the wires haven't scratched my eyes, the doctor, a pregnant Thai lady, takes away my bite block and the contacts.

This isn't fiction. I just had a "scleral search coil" test, which measures measures the anterior, posterior and horizontal canals of my vestibular system. Earlier in the afternoon, my ears were filled with hot and then cold water, causing the room to spin, as if I'd achieved drunken samadhi. I'm participating in one of those before and after studies, in this case, on the effect of cochlear implants on the vestibular system. I haven't decided for sure whether I'm getting an implant yet; at the very least, the tests will determine any balance problems I might have as a result of losing some hearing a month ago. So far so good-- my balance function appears to be pretty normal.