Humans are the worst sweaters of all the animals who sweat. Charlie taught me that.He said, “There aren’t many animals that actually sweat, but we’re the fucking worst,” and he said it with such conviction that I believed him even though I didn’t care at all about who sweats or how. I wanted to know if the machine was going to work or not.But Charlie brought up sweat again and kept talking about it as he pushed the buttons and hooked up the chords, moving them around to make sure they were in the right place. The only way to tell was trial and error and it was hypnotic watching him.I couldn’t’ move of course. The wires around my wrists and ankles were tight enough to ensure I didn’t make things worse by moving when Charlie got the machine going.The knocking on the door was getting louder and I expected them to burst in at any minute.“Hurry up, Charlie, they’re tearing the door down,” I said.Charlie just laughed and pushed more wires into random holes. “– in terms of odor that is,” he said, “As far as interesting sweats, humans are at the bottom of the list which is another reason they’re the worst,” he said. My wrists hurt. The banging on the door was making my head hurt.Charlie hit a button and a few lights flicked around in a circle on the top of the machine. “That it?” I asked.“Not yet,” he said.There was a small roar from the side of the thing, loud at first and then it died out. The lights died too. The banging stopped and I heard voices. Then the banging resumed.“Fuck,” said Charlie. He slammed his fist against the front of the machine and I thought for a minute that was all it needed, but nothing happened.I wiggled my wrists trying to get them in a position that hurt less and wishing Charlie hadn’t of tight them so tight. But it was for the best and I knew that. Didn’t make them hurt less, though.“Horses have to be the best,” said Charlie, “you know how they sweat?”“I have no idea,” I said, “can these things be loosened?”“Hell no fuck no,” he said, “when the beat kicks in you’re not going to want any space between your skin and those ties, man. Trust me.”“How long’s that going to be?” I asked.Charlie laughed. “You’re awesome, man,” he said, “I’m saving your life and you’re asking stupid questions.”The banging got louder, which seemed impossible before. “Doesn’t feel like you’re saving my life,” I said, “feels more like torture.”“Some things have to die for others to live, man,” he said. He laughed again. I tried to lie still and focus on him moving the wires around.“—so horses have the best sweat story, man,” he said. He looked at me briefly and smiled, then turned back to the machine and flipped a few switches. “Go on,” I said. “Fucking detergent!” he said.“What about detergent?”“Horses, man,” he said, “horses sweat detergent.”I laughed.“No kidding, man,” he said, “horses sweat foams up and shit like soap does and it helps them to keep clean and shit. Like horse detergent, man. Isn’t that cool.”“It’s amazing,” I said. I meant it, too, but in my state I found it hard to show any real enthusiasm.“It is, man,” said Charlie, “it’s amazing. And humans suck when it comes to sweating.”“We could learn a lot from horses, I guess,” I said.“No shit, man,” said Charlie, “not just from sweating either, about everything.”“How’s it coming there man?” I asked.“It’s not a perfected science,” he said, “be patient.”“I am patient,” I said, “if the roles were reversed, you’d be asking, too.”Charlie laughed, then turned and smiled a too wide smile that showed all his teeth at the bottom of his way too handsome face. “You know it,” he said.“Good old Charlie,” I said.Then two things happened at once. First the door flew open and they burst in, then Charlie yelled “got it,” and everything went black.
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