In 1954, psychologists infiltrated housewife Dorothy Martin’s UFO doomsday cult.
4:00 AM: Dorothy asks me to rip the zipper off my pants. She says that if we’re wearing metal, the superior beings will not take us to the promised land. I consider saying no, but ultimately go pantless.
4:37 AM: The apocalypse is supposed to start any minute. Dorothy is stressed because she hates when things run behind. As a scientist, I empathize with her attention to detail.
5:01 AM: Dorothy tells us to please hang tight. The floods are starting very soon. I suggest that to kill time we go in a circle and rate our belief in doomsday on a scale of one to ten.
5:25 AM: Someone orders Dunkin Donuts and Dorothy says enjoy it while you can because she really wasn’t kidding when she said the floods are coming.
5:26 AM: Dorothy glances over my shoulder and asks why I keep writing everything she says in a notebook labeled “Fieldnotes On Dorothy’s Cult.”
5:45 AM: Dorothy announces that this was just a test run and the apocalypse will actually start tomorrow. I suggest that we hang out in this field for a few more hours and use the EKG in my backpack to monitor our emotional states.
5:47 AM: Dorothy responds that we will soon be destroyed in the flood, and any sensible person would go home and get some rest. I glare at Dorothy and throw my EKG on the ground.
5:47 AM: I agree to go home on the condition that we come back to the exact same spot tomorrow so I can finish my scatterplot. Dorothy says that she has no idea what I’m talking about but fine if it’s really that important to me.
