Alex was only 15 when for the first time, at a party, someone gave him Perfection. It was in the form of a small piece of blotting paper with a picture of Shiva as Nataraja, Lord of the Dance on it, waving the universe into continual renewal with his windmill arms and legs. It was tasteless and odourless.
The dealer was an older girl, a Goth by the name of Lucy, and he didn't want to appear spineless so he took it. He didn't know many people at the party but he did know that he wanted to join this set because they seemed to have such a great time. He and his mum had only moved into the neighbourhood a few weeks ago and he needed to make friends. Pretty soon he felt a warm glow and was talking to some of them like he'd known them for years. Lucy in particular seemed to like him. They danced for an hour around about one o'clock and then he surprised himself by saying: "Can we go back to your place?" To his astonishment she said yes.
The drug was beginning to wear off by the time they arrived at her small flat on the high street. "He supplies the drug too," she told him. "Want another?" she asked, popping one herself.
Alex shrugged in acceptance and she made him pay for it before giving another blotter to him. They waited for the effect to come on. Lucy told him that she was 19 and had dropped out of college to make the world a better place. Alex didn't have much experience of sex but one thing he knew was what they did next was the closest thing to heaven he'd ever experienced. He was sure their cries and laughter were going to wake up the entire street. He felt like he was the ringtone of paradise in the phone of ecstasy. Queen of psychotronica Lucy was dialling his number from the exchange of experience and he answered the call to be a man expertly.
When he finally turned up at his mom's place at three o'clock on Sunday afternoon he expected her to be having kittens but she was cool. "As long as you had fun, darling," she said. He wondered what had come over her. Perhaps she got laid too last night, though God knows why anyone would want to do it with her. Even later that night he still felt good, just tired -- no comedown. Next day he went to school and even that wasn't too bad, so come the evening he was back at Lucy's with a fistful of coins. He expected to be patronised but she treated him like a grown-up, despite explaining that she couldn't have sex with him again now, and he tried not to fall in love with her and kept his hands to himself, just accepted the blotters and left.
Outside he popped one and began to wander home. The night felt humid and pregnant. Further down the high street two or three of the crowd from the party waved to him and he exchanged a few friendly words -- now he was beginning to feel at home. But further down the street there was danger. A group of Muslims outside the Mosque were being hassled by some cops who had spilled out of a riot van. He crossed the road anxiously clutching the bag of blotters in his pocket but nobody noticed him and he made it safely home.
By the end of the week the blotters were all used up and so was his money. Alex wasn't stupid. He'd seen it happen to other kids -- get a drug habit, take to shop lifting, housebreaking, then mugging old ladies. They got caught and sent down. It wasn't going to happen to him. Something this good was worth paying for properly. Otherwise it would not be sustainable. Good word that: sustainable. What kind of job did he want? Something that paid well, was fun -- and would help in his career. Whatever that was. He'd never bothered to think about a career before. So why not start now?
Maybe it was the drug, but suddenly he knew that he wanted to be a chemist. Weren't they always saying that the country needed more scientists? They earned a good salary too. He was only doing his GCSEs -- yet he was doing the three science subjects, and he did achieve reasonable marks when he tried. Anyway, on Saturday he went down the chemist's shop and asked if they needed an assistant. He was in luck. The previous Saturday assistant had just been caught with his hand in the prescription drugs cupboard and the police had taken him away. He started that day on the till. His mum wasn't half pleased. "Maybe you are going to make something of yourself after all," she said. "Unlike your dad."
