The following is a work of fiction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hour 1:
On the verge of one more of these reactions. I keep asking myself how many times I'm going to try this and fail before I decide it's too much trouble. How many times do I have to choke on HI gas? How many times do I have to stain everything in my kitchen brown with fumes from iodine crystals, those same fumes doing things unknown to the inside of my body which are presumably worse than some brown tubing. There has been times in this experimentation where I thought that any second then the DEA was going to come knock down my door and cuff me up. But I'm so close to graduating! I tell myself: only an idiot would continue doing something like this when he could just buy it off the streets. Especially when for all he knows it will end up costing the same amount. Something lingers in me that doesn't allow me to give up.
So I'm sitting in my kitchen. The past 7 days I've barely left the house other than for a box of red hots or a can of acetone. The windows are all shut up and covered, the air is dank and astringent and I'm sitting in front of the most beautiful piles of red, white, and purple. Even when I was sleeping the night before I couldn't keep the image of those pearlescent crystals of psuedo that after an overkill session of boils, recrystallizations, preciptiations, acid basing, and gassing must be close to pharmaceutical. Another wave of fear comes over me, have any of my neighbors noticed the paint dissolving fumes billowing from my roof? As I peek out my window I realize the grass is about .5 meter tall and I can't for the life of me remember the last time that I was out there mowing it. That has got to be obvious that something is going on in here, the un-mowed lawn, the covered up window, me huddling in my house with bags of solvents and the wonderful smell of sulfur emitting from my chimney from that monstrous pile of safety matches made even safer by the removal of those terrible little red strips. As the necessary nervousness fades into oblivion I turn back to the glistening iodine, and that sparkling pile of matchbook phosphorus that I've learned to hate so much.
It all started about 9th grade when I was walking down the street one day and I spotted the man who once bunked me $400 dollars worth of acid. After calling up some friends to rendezvous, we confronted this guy. I start yelling at the bastard, telling him he owes me big. "I don't fuck around", he said as he inched a gun from his pocket for all of us to see,” If I owe you, you'll get what you need". Well he didn't have money, but he still was willing to come to an agreement. An hour later I had a big ass pile of tweak. I had never done this shit and didn't even know how to take. A few assays of small amounts and then I must have hit the target as a large whoosh enveloped my central nervous system and I cried out for more. From that day on I knew I had found the drug I was made for, nothing blended so in synch with my psyche that I felt so in synch. This shit made me superman. For someone so unsociable, I was now the life of the party talking 800 words, smoking three cigarettes, grinding my teeth 9.5 times, taking a big deep breath and almost passing out all in the same minute. Nothing ever felt so good, and I fell in love with this drug.
That is, right up until I was crushing up a freshly bought rock when one of my friends told me his mom was coming down stairs and instead of ditching it down the sink I hid it in my nose. Next thing I knew my tongue was blue, my heart was leaping out of my chest and I couldn't breathe. After that I started getting panic attacks all the time and I had to quit most everything: cigarettes, caffeine, weed, mushrooms, lsd, tweak and all the other 300 otc medicines I would insufflate each time I couldn't find a place to get my fix. I joined a basketball team and left the world on the street in order to find a better lifestyle, but that feeling still lingered in my head, and with my obsession with chemistry I knew I would someday be able to make anything I wanted. And would, regardless of whether I took the drugs anymore or not. Many years later, I've read enough chemistry books to overload my shelf, I've spent more time than I'd like to admit reading all the ramblings at the hive, and I've put in so much work that to quit now would be a shame. In the back of my head still lingers the fact that quitting this insanity is probably the best thing for me.
But as I remember the satisfaction in crushing up those rocks, rolling up my bill, smelling that wonderful smell, tasting it's bittersweet seduction, and wincing in the sting of it flying up my nose and waiting for the rush to hit, I can't let go. I need to go that extra mile. First stop: Whacking that piece of shit alcohol group off of that no good pseudoephedrine.
Today is the day when I get to test what I've learned. Today is the examination of my experience with chemistry. Today is the start of my long wet dream.
I've never been more prepared than this. Lg iodine, super pure psue, and, well, the best phosphorus I can come up with. Sure, I've tried before. Each time I've learned something that I should have already known, but over-eager me blew it every time. I think now I've got it down. I think now I realize that I shouldn't try it my way since after all it wasn't me who came up with this synthesis at all. Now I realize I should benefit from those experiences of others and try my best to dodge the failures others have experienced. At least now that I'm not doing that nano-crizap, when I get that uncontrollable urge to put in "just one more scoop of this" or "well I'm almost out of that, how about I throw it all in?", well now that extra is a small percentage of the total and probably willn't fuck up the ratio.
Everything is prepared. I've decided on a 1:1.16:.75:.95 ratio of E:I:MBRP:H2O to be exact. Even after reading all the ratios I couldn't help but throw in a little personalization. I've decided to run it for 40 hours. I've got the condenser flowing, an addition funnel and a balloon at the top, a bucket of ice and a stir plate and my little round bottom thirsty for some reactants.
At the hood, I mix my water and phosphorus. This shit just will not get wet. Swirl here, stir there, scrape it off of the walls once more, stir again. Finally it's more or less in there. The first scoop of iodine and there is little activity. It is reacting: I see little ghosts of dissolving iodine trailing off of the crystals, but compared to when I fumigated my house with HI this is docile (thank you LWR, you are the best). Another scoop, then another, it's heating up all right! another scoop, whoa! here we go! little bubbles white misty HI gas slinking off the surface. Another scoop, more steam, more swirling, more icy bathing. Ah, fuck it, in she goes, and the whole shebang of iodine gets dumped in. Lots of stirring on the plate, lots of dunking in ice and being careful not to let it get out of control and all of it's in there with no crystals and not a singe puff of HI has escaped out the neck. Now for the pseudo. One scoop goes in.. a little bit thicker but not too bad. Another scoop.. little thicker, stir bar still works though. Another scoop.. is this thing heating up or is it just me? Another scoop, whoops, big ass clump comes out of the bottle. So thick now the magnet willn't work, I decide to just say to hell with it like the iodine and throw it all in. A large magnet held up to the flask allows me to at least make a mixture in the flask. A little bit-o-stopcock grease and she's ready for action. Slow increase on the mantle, shit liquefies, stir bar now works. Little more voltage and the stuff has cute little bubbles like I'm making poisonous whipped cream. A little more voltage and it's off with a bang. The stuff almost escapes into the condenser because it increases so much in volume with the little bubbles. I ousted the mantle, waited a minute, things are settling down. A little less voltage now. A little bit over, then a little bit under, back and forth and back and forth. Finally I find my niche at 55.5 VAC on the mantle and it's refluxing nicely. Here goes time ZERO of my 40 wet dream....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hour 5
Time is passing faster than I thought and after trying to ignore this masterpiece of mine I walk into the lab to find that it reeks. Hmmm? Smells like sulfur? Maybe sulfur dioxide or something like that? Yuck, it's that fucking punch ball. Yep, that perfectly good-looking punch ball balloon is sweating some illish crap and smells awful. Who the fuck said this was a good idea? Would the ACS approve of this? Well, if it goes through rubber, maybe it won't go through plastic. Ahah, here is a plastic bread bag, on ye go... perfect. Smell is gone and a bread bag has saved the day.
Looking down into the flask... boil boil toil and trouble, this time it's crank in this cauldron bubble
The little thing looks just like it did before, bubbling away. Each passing moment I lament not having paid more close attention to those at the hive. My stir plate is on its lowest setting but it's stirring pretty fast... am I supposed to stir at all? What the hell is sweating from my balloon? How can I tell if this shit is working? Well at least this thing appears to be taking care of itself, maybe I can worry about something else now and get some work done for the next 43 hours. Fuck, 43 hours! This really does take forever!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hour 15
Opening my mouth far a-wide and letting out a yawn, I peer into the humble resting place of my monstrous creating. How did I get myself into this mess? I feel like the scientist in Frankenstein who is too exited about what he can do to realize what might become of it.
Upon closer examination I peer inside.. The bubbles are a little bigger now but the solution still looks about the same volume, not like I could tell really, unless there was a substantial change. Suddenly, DRIP! What the fuck was that? A drip had suddenly fallen from the top of the condenser... hmmm, that's strange, the reflux has been mostly condensing in the bottom 5 cm of the condenser. My eyes slowly scanned upward looking for the origin of the drip, some sign of alternate condensation... hmmm, that's funny: the drip left a trail of driplets that aren't surrounded by condensation at all... HOLY CRAP! OH FUCK! GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL! Suddenly the realization strikes me as I peer into the joint of the addition funnel. NO no no, it can't be. Yes, I'm afraid so, the funnel is indeed leaking. This lonely chemist scrambles across the abode. Pipette in hand, the water is extracted from the funnel (why the fuck did I put it there in the first place! never again!!!) The stopcock, which was found to be slightly loose, was tightened just in case.
What have I done? How much water has entered this bustard? What the fuck! With ratios so absolutely delicate in balance, a few milliliters would stop the heart of my creation and render it lifeless... oh my god, how long did it react before getting watered down? What should? I do? The answers escape me as I prepare my things and get ready to go. Prior arrangements necessitate my attending to something alternate for the moment... most people say just let it go, as fucking with things will likely make it worse. But in this case, who knows....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
to be continued...
