A Machine That Turns Water into Cocaine
Part 1: WEIRD SCIENCE
October 1 —
I’m going to invent a machine that turns water into cocaine!
I got the idea from a throwaway joke in an episode of American Dad. The joke implies the CIA possesses a machine that can turn water into cocaine (which is probably true).
But it got me thinking.
Such a machine would be a marvel of the modern world.
Imagine the possibilities if such a machine existed!
I’m clean from cocaine now. My journey to recovery was an arduous one. I haven’t touched the stuff in over two years now. But I used to be the reigning King of Cocaine. I was doing way too much coke back then — it must have been a lifetime’s worth of cocaine. Over the years, cocaine has caused me a great deal of personal grief and suffering.
But I do miss it. I’m lying if I say I don’t. Cocaine is like an old flame — she’s a fun girl to sleep with, but deep down you know she’s bad news. You must accept those days are over. Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened. But even so, the sweet nostalgia remains…
But such a machine would be a game changer.
No longer would I have to worry about silly responsibilities like finances. Finances are the main hurdle when it comes to cocaine addiction. Cocaine is quite an expensive habit after all.
Such a machine would be a revolutionary breakthrough.
It would forever change the way we manufacture cocaine. We wouldn’t have to source cocaine from peasant farmers in South America — now it would be “fair trade” coke (as the coffee brands like to say). The major Mexican drug cartels would go bankrupt overnight. And no longer would you have to drive to the hood and wait outside a trap-house for your sketchy dealer.
Cocaine could (and should) be as attainable to the average American as a glass of water.
Furthermore, such a machine would do wonders for the quality control of cocaine. This is a major public health concern, and yet it goes ignored by the scientific and medical communities.
Lately, cocaine has received a bad reputation for being impure and unsafe. And that’s a damn shame. Too many people are dying needless, preventable deaths.
But I can change all of that for the better.
This journal will be a log of my experiments. I’m writing this on a yellow legal pad (my preferred medium for note taking). I always keep my research notes on yellow legal pads for archiving purposes. The yellow legal pads are also a superstition of mine.
My simple hypothesis is that such a machine is possible.
And I swear I will make it a reality.
This is a highly confidential matter. Top secret. I must keep these experiments a secret from my girlfriend. Under no circumstances can she discover my experiments.
She wouldn’t understand. It would be like cheating if she ever found out I was messing around again with the lovely lady in white.
But I will tell her when the time is right — I promise.
October 3 —
I work downtown in a patent processing office (I was hired for my scientific literacy) — but on the side, I moonlight as an amateur engineer. I’m an aspiring inventor. What can I say — I like to tinker with things.
I’ve set up a makeshift laboratory inside my drab studio apartment. It’s not much, but I’ve always been a DIY type — I get by with what I have.
I’m entirely self-taught when it comes to science. My only true scientific credential is a bachelor’s degree in chemistry. Plus, I’m a math wizard. But other than that, I have no formal training.
After finishing undergrad, I applied to several medical schools, but they all rejected me because of my personal statement. One school sent back a handwritten letter calling me a “quack.” Another school served me a cease-and-desist letter asking me to please never contact the school again.
In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a good idea to mention in my personal statement that my inspiration for pursuing medicine was reading “Herbert West — Reanimator” by H. P. Lovecraft.
Medical school didn’t pan out, so instead I focused myself on graduate school — perhaps academia was my true calling. I enrolled in a sketchy correspondence school and earned a master’s degree in bioethics.
From there, I pursued a PhD in neurology at a proper university. I was so close to finishing, but the review board screwed me over in the end. When I gave my dissertation, they were appalled by my research on the phenomenon of psychokinesis. They refused to award me a PhD and instead laughed me out of the room, calling me “fringe” and “loony.” Can you believe it?
Despite many setbacks, I remained unfettered in my ruthless pursuit of science.
Next, I applied for grants in hopes of starting my own laboratory for medical research. After sending many applications, I won a federal grant to fund my studies, but it was swiftly revoked once the government caught wind of what I was doing — searching for a method of achieving immortality via cellular genetic modification (I was so close too). My research ended abruptly once the funds dried up. It was devastating — I was forced to shut down my lab in shame and start from scratch.
I felt ostracized by the medical and scientific communities — but I would prove them wrong. My Magic Cocaine Machine would prove them all wrong.
October 5 —
To be honest, my inventions haven’t seen much success thus far. I always think of novel ideas but find myself limited by the scope of what’s possible with the current technology.
But my Magic Cocaine Machine would be different.
This would be the breakthrough success I needed to gain the recognition I deserve (and maybe even win a Nobel Peace Prize while I’m at it).
But my greatest inventions thus far are the “research chemicals” I produce as a drug chemist. I use my homemade chemistry lab to synthesize various designer drugs, including MDMA, MDA, LSD, PCP, GHB, ether, methamphetamine, and a plethora of LSD derivatives. I’ve even synthesized niche drugs with cryptic, fake-sounding names like “bath salts” and “plant food.”
But I’ve also invented a few unique designer drugs myself — the most popular of these drugs being a compound I named “OCD-420–69-hcl,” which is a cross between mescaline, diazepam, and dextroamphetamine (but way better).
I sell these designer drugs to friends and acquaintances for extra money to fund my passion projects. But I admit I also used these drugs myself from time to time. I may be clean from cocaine, but (almost) everything else was fair game as far as I’m concerned. I was never a fan of the golden rule — “Never Get High On Your Own Supply.” That one was more of a guideline.
I thought it was extraordinary — by producing the drugs myself, I was cutting out the middleman. I could be the producer, distributor, and consumer all at once. I was a one-man drug cartel. Nothing could stop me from creating my own brand-new designer drugs. I was like a god of drugs — a Master of the Universe.
Furthermore, I sold drugs out of a deep-rooted libertarian instinct. I believe it’s an act of black-market revolution. I favor a laissez-faire drug policy. Easy access to recreational drugs is a fundamental right of every honest working American.
All drugs should be legal for recreational use and readily available. All drugs — yes, even the scary ones like cocaine.
It’s not the government’s job to regulate drugs. People should make their own choices — the government can’t decide these things for them.
Give me one good reason why Joe Six-Pack shouldn’t be allowed to purchase an eight-ball from his local pharmacy — you can’t.
It doesn’t have to be this way. We could end the failed War on Drugs. We could pardon all nonviolent drug offenders. We could halt the militarization of police. A better future is possible if you believe in it.
I digress.
I hope that someday my weird science will usher in a new era of modern drug policy. Innovation is the only solution to stagnation.
It is for these reasons I set out to invent a Magic Cocaine Machine.
Jesus turned water into wine, but I will be the first man to turn water into cocaine.
Part 2: THE ALCHEMIST
October 8 —
I took a micro-dose of psilocybin. I have edible candies infused with a low dose of magic mushrooms (I call them “psilly billies”).
Whenever I’m looking for inspiration, I take psychedelics to wake up my mind and get the creative juices flowing.
For good measure, I took a decent amount of mescaline too. Just in case.
Sure enough, inspiration came to me that night like a burning bush.
I could envision it before me, clear as day.
I sketched a rough blueprint of the schematic on graph paper and pinned it to my wall.
I stood back and examined my work.
Hmm…
Yes, by my estimation such a machine could in fact be possible — if only in theory. My new life’s mission was to put that theory into practice. I just had to figure out how to do so.
Which brings me to alchemy.
My hypothesis centered around the possibility of alchemy as a tangible science. Merriam-Webster defines alchemy as “a medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of the base metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means of indefinitely prolonging life.”
Modern science has since rejected alchemy, labeling it “pseudoscience.” But I was open to the possibility. If I’m going to invent this machine, alchemy seems to be the surefire key to success.
Time to consult with my trusty computer. I have a triple monitor set-up at a desk in the corner of my studio apartment. I call it my “research station.” I put on my blue light blocking glasses (the kind with orange lenses) and sat down at my desk to conduct a proper literature review.
I studied countless esoteric texts about natural philosophy. Upon a cursory review of the available literature, I surmised that my hypothesis was not just a shot in the dark. It may in fact be possible after all.
I learned about the philosopher’s stone — a mythical substance with transmutative powers. If it has the power to turn lead into gold, then it must be able to turn water into cocaine.
Obtaining the philosopher’s stone is the only way to make the Magic Cocaine Machine a reality.
I’m dabbling in the dark arts now.
Let the experiments begin!
October 12 —
Alas, my first experiment was a complete and utter failure.
The initial prototype had many bugs, which I will have to troubleshoot in the coming days. This machine must be perfect. Form must follow function.
In the first trial run, the water filtered through the system as it properly should, but all it resulted in was a pot of boiling water. I was despondent.
My math must be off.
Back to the lab again.
October 14 —
A funny thing happened with the second experiment.
My second experiment also turned out to be a failure, although with some comedic results.
I poured water into the chamber, and this time it produced a brick of white powder. I was ecstatic.
I dabbed my thumb in the powder and tasted it.
It was flour.
I had produced flour with this second prototype. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on me. But I at least had to appreciate the humor in it.
Back to the drawing board.
I won’t stop until I crack the code once and for all!
October 15 —
I’ve done it! I discovered the philosopher’s stone!
This is a breakthrough!
I can’t go into any detail — a magician never reveals his secrets. But I will say that my process involved distilling a tincture out of various elements. The resulting tincture was waxy, golden, and glowing brightly.
I know it is only a matter of time until I piece together the puzzle of the Magic Cocaine Machine.
October 16 —
I think my girlfriend is on to me.
The other day she came into my apartment unannounced. In a rushed panic, I threw a tarp over my workbench to conceal my clandestine operations.
“What are you working on?”
“Nothing.”
She reached for the tarp, but I slapped her hand away.
“Hey! What’s your problem?”
“No peeking. Not until it’s ready. Then you can see.”
“Is it a surprise for me?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever you say…”
October 18 —
I’ve done it! By God, I’ve done it!
I invented a machine that turns water into cocaine!
Through a lengthy process of trial and error, at last I’ve perfected the Magic Cocaine Machine.
I constructed it out of the following items: a five-gallon office water cooler, a crockpot, a humidifier, a dehumidifier, a condenser, a car battery, and a catalytic converter.
Without giving away my trade secrets, let me attempt to explain how the machine works.
The process involves the evaporation of water into cocaine bricks. First the machine siphons the water through the humidifier. Then it pumps the water back through the dehumidifier. Next, it filters the water into the central heating chamber. That’s where the magic happens. Inside the central heating chamber, the water undergoes a proprietary treatment process. I won’t elaborate much on this treatment process, but I will say it involves boiling the water until only cocoa paste remains. The cocoa paste is then dried into a solid brick of cocaine. When the crockpot timer goes off, the cocaine is done cooking. Remove from the crockpot and let cool for five minutes.
And voila, the water is now pure cocaine!
Furthermore, my cocaine is environmentally friendly. The machine works without producing any harmful chemical emissions or byproducts. I’m not sure what this means, but it’s an upside.
But before I could declare the machine a total success, I first needed to sample the product for myself.
Just this one time won’t hurt. It’s not like I’m going to relapse.
First, I dabbed my thumb in the cocaine and rubbed it on my gums. It had the unmistakable taste of cocaine.
But will it pass the sniff test? I used a scalpel to scoop up a sizable bump of coke and sniffed it.
Woo!!!
It was the purest cocaine I’ve ever had the pleasure of sniffing.
My entire face went numb, and I began sweating profusely. I felt like my two front teeth were going to fall out. My face felt like it was going to melt clean off my skull. My heart skipped beats.
I sniffed another bump. And another. And another (etc.).
My god, this is good shit!
I laid out three fat, white lines and railed them one after another.
I will return with updates. In the meantime, I’m going to sample more of this cocaine — for research purposes, of course.
October 20 —
I’m snorting a gram of cocaine every hour now. If I go longer than an hour without cocaine, I get dizzy and sweaty.
I’ve lost my appetite. I haven’t eaten anything since I got the Magic Cocaine Machine working. Food repulses me. Instead, I’ve been drinking protein shakes and Mountain Dew for my daily caloric intake.
Nothing beats the cocaine weight-loss diet — I’m already looking thinner. I was trying to lose weight anyway, so I don’t mind.
But on the bright side, I’ve never felt so much inspiration.
My mind is running at a million miles per minute.
I feel like God!
October 22 —
Great news!
I’ve cooked up a brand-new invention. The philosopher’s stone, coupled with the raw power of cocaine, has given me the ability to accomplish things I never dreamt were possible.
I invented a Telepathic Typewriter.
I wanted to come up with a way for me to write while still being able to do cocaine. So, I got to work crafting a device to solve this problem. I stayed up all night for two nights straight working on it.
The device consists of a good, old-fashioned electric typewriter, which is wired up to my home Wi-Fi router. The typewriter syncs to my brain waves via a sports headband equipped with a tiny transmitter antenna, which sends signals from my cerebral cortex to the typewriter.
This means from here on, I’ve abandoned my yellow legal pad in favor of printer paper. From this point forward, I’m typing all my journal entries via the new Telepathic Typewriter.
I mentioned I’m superstitious about my yellow legal pads. Hopefully this doesn’t turn out to be bad luck for me.
October 23 —
I’m going through an eight-ball of cocaine every hour now, and I’ve never felt more lucid in my entire life.
Since my invention of the Telepathic Typewriter, I’ve been hard at work on many other brilliant inventions. Some of these inventions include a new super-strain of the drug known as “bath salts,” a hydraulic sex robot, and a microphone that allows humans to communicate with dogs.
I haven’t perfected any of these yet, but I’m getting close — I can feel it.
I’m so tired and hungry, but I can’t stop doing cocaine. Besides, I’m finally seeing some success with inventions, and it’s all thanks to cocaine. I can’t stop now.
I’m beginning to think maybe the world isn’t ready for my Magic Cocaine Machine. I think I will keep it a secret from the world. It gives me an edge over my scientific competitors — why would I give away that secret for free?
It’s better if I keep the Magic Cocaine Machine all for myself.
October 25 —
I have some bad news to report. My girlfriend left me today.
She found out about the Magic Cocaine Machine. It was only a matter of time. I’ve been acting strange around her recently, but the worst of it was today. When she came over to my apartment, I had white powder all over my face. I was caught red-handed with my nose buried in a mountain of cocaine.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“It’s not what it looks like — I can explain.”
“Explain what?!”
“This isn’t any ordinary cocaine! It’s magic cocaine! I made it from scratch!”
“I don’t give a shit!”
“It’s for research purposes!”
“What is all this?” she asked, looking at the bricks of cocaine stacked beside the Magic Cocaine Machine.
“It’s my invention, babe! It turns water into cocaine! We can make as much cocaine as we want, and it’s all for free! It’s a gold rush! We’re going to be rich! I’m going to be famous!”
“You’re a monster!”
She stormed out of my apartment in a fit of tears and rage.
She just doesn’t understand. But she will soon enough.
I’ve set out to invent a love potion. It’s the only way I can get her back.
I’ve accomplished so much with the philosopher’s stone already, certainly it must be the key to concocting a love potion.
Anything is possible with the philosopher’s stone (and cocaine).
October 26 —
I woke up from a blackout with my face caked in blood. My pillow was covered with crusted, dried blood. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.
I’m experiencing frequent nosebleeds. I’ve also noticed I’m starting to lose my sense of smell.
I’ve snorted two kilos of cocaine so far, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon.
I tore the bathroom mirror off the wall so that I had a massive surface for cutting up lines.
I tried working on the love potion, but I got distracted cutting up line after line after line of cocaine. I lost track of what I was doing and decided to call it quits.
October 27 —
My girlfriend stopped by today to pick up a few things she left at my apartment.
I begged her to please understand, please take me back.
But she was repulsed by me.
When she saw me, she gasped and covered her mouth.
“You look like absolute shit. This whole place is a shithole.”
She swiftly collected her things and rushed out of my apartment.
“I never want to see you again,” she said before leaving.
I must create a love potion, or I fear I’ll never get her back.
October 28 —
It’s reached the point where I can’t snort cocaine anymore without getting a severe nosebleed. This hasn’t stopped me though.
I love cocaine too much to ever stop.
There’s coagulated blood all over my apartment from the nosebleeds.
I’ve lost fifty pounds since inventing the Magic Cocaine Machine. None of my clothes fit me anymore. Now I only wear a fuzzy, white bathrobe — the one thing that still fits me properly.
Two of my teeth have fallen out. The rest are chipped from grinding and clenching my jaw nonstop.
I’ve noticed my fingernails are starting to flake off in brittle chunks. In addition to this, my hair has begun falling out in thick clumps.
My physical appearance is becoming more grotesque with each passing day. I worry one day I’ll cease to look human any longer.
Disgusted by my own appearance, I smashed all the mirrors in my apartment in a dramatic fit of cocaine-fueled rage. It was only after this I realized I had no more mirrors to snort cocaine from.
Without mirrors now, I cleared off my kitchen table and poured out an entire kilo. I started chopping the mountain of cocaine into hundreds of lines. I snorted line after line after line.
I’m going to stop writing now and finish snorting the rest of the lines.
Part 3: THE MAD SCIENTIST
October 31 —
I’ve started smoking crack and it’s fucking amazing.
The nosebleeds have gotten so bad I can’t snort cocaine anymore. It makes me sneeze gobs of snotty blood. I think my nose is going to rot off.
I needed to choose another way to ingest my cocaine.
I was going crazy without it. And I was getting sick — nausea, vomiting, cold sweats, shaking, and frequent blackouts.
I needed my medicine.
I’m averse to needles (ironic for someone who used to want to be a doctor), so injecting it wasn’t an option.
The next best alternative is smoking it.
In order to be smoked, powdered cocaine hydrochloride must be converted into free base form (“crack cocaine”) via a process called “freebasing.” (The technical name for the process is trituration). The result is pure cocaine crystals (“crack rocks”). It sounds complex, but it’s so easy that street-level gang-bangers can do it.
I cooked the crack rocks in my kitchen. I dissolved a brick of powdered cocaine in water over constant heat while adding baking soda. The first batch was a total success.
I put a crack rock in some tinfoil and held a lighter under it. The rock evaporated into vapor, which I inhaled through a glass tube (a method known as “chasing the dragon”).
It hit me like a runaway freight train. Instant bliss.
So, I’m freebasing all my cocaine now.
The benefit of smoking crack versus snorting coke is that it has a rapid onset, and it dramatically intensifies the effects.
Now that I have the superpower of smoking crack, I can do anything.
The world is mine.
I’m going to get that Nobel Peace Prize, damn it! I’ll show them! I’ll show them all!
Too much writing. Time to smoke some more crack.
Tuesday —
Haven’t slept for 2 weeks straight.
But that’s okay — b/c of crack, never tired. Don’t need sleep anymore. Sleep for the weak.
Been a while since I last wrote. Forgot about writing. Too busy smoking crack.
What’s new? My nose finally fell off.
Put my nose in the freezer — maybe will try to reattach it later. Sucks, but I don’t need it anymore.
Just need my pipe for smoke.
My lips are permanently stained white. They’re chapped & cracking. They’ll be the next to go.
I can’t find my glasses. Tore up the whole place looking for them. Not that I would be able to wear them anyway b/c of my nose.
Oh well.
Haven’t heard from girlfriend since she left.
Who needs her anyway. No gf = more time for crack.
Sunday(?) —
People are trying to break into my apartment.
They’re coming after my Magic Cocaine Machine. They want to steal it for themselves.
I taped trash bags over the windows, barricaded the door with my couch.
But I still hear them talking to me thru the walls.
It’s MINE! No one can take what’s mine. I won’t let those bastards steal it!
Think I heard knocking at the door just now. Let me check.
Back now. Had to smoke more crack first.
No one at door. Ding-dong ditch? Those people are messing with me.
Can’t focus on writing no more. Need more crack.
Back again. Had idea for invention. Wanted to write it down. But I forgot what it was. Maybe more crack will jog my memory. Be right back.
Back now. I’m freaked out by the intruders. Those people are getting into my apartment somehow. Heard bathroom door slam but they got away b4 I could catch them.
I hear whispers coming from everywhere.
They say bad stuff.
Why won’t they leave me alone?
My shadow is following me.
Keep seeing shadows moving out of the corner of my eye. But when I look, nothing there.
Smashed all my lightbulbs. No light = no shadows.
But it’s not working. They won’t go away.
They hide in my walls. Everywhere. Always watching me.
Bugs crawling under my skin.
Creepy crawlies.
Can feel them now. So itchy. Keep scratching, but too many of them. Scratched myself raw. Scabs all over.
Maybe perform surgery on self to remove bugs?
Bees in my teeth! — help me get these bees out of my teeth!
??? —
No more water. Utility company shut it off today. Or maybe it was yesterday. Can’t remember. Nonpayment or something.
Don’t know, don’t care.
All out of crack now. Need more water.
But too scared to leave apartment. Shadow people will get me.
What do??
Sick again. Can’t stop shaking. Hurts so bad.
Need crack. Need it now — sickness is getting worse. Feels like dying.
Must get water.
Need water…