One score and negative two months ago, I set out to answer one of the enduring questions of our time: why do police officers gun down Black people with such enthusiasm on the street, but not in the lab? For that matter, why do normal people (of both races) massacre Black targets with such zeal in simulations?
I employed only the most cutting-edge technology: millisecond-level reaction time measures, carefully photoshopped jpegs, sixteen-page debriefing questionnaires, keyboards with blue and green stickers, rectal thermometers, and more. One hundred and sixty subjects, $10,000 dollars in grant money and fees, and 422 liters of hot salty tears later, I may be on the verge of an answer!
After weeks of painstaking cleaning and formatting, I have prepared a 59,000 line spreadsheet containing all the relevant data. (The original data spew was so large that it could not be opened in Excel.) All that remains is to submit this data to the merciless gaze of statistical analysis.
Will my results be significant? Will alpha drop under .05? THE FATE OF SCIENCE HANGS IN THE BALANCE.
I also have a massive stack of demographic forms and completed questionnaires that I need to haul back to the lab. Unfortunately, an enthusiastic gym session this morning has left my normally glistening, Adonis-like musculature in a state of tremulous quiescence.
What if I am unable to haul the paperwork to the lab? What if I collapse in a puddle, drowning thousands of items of indispensable demographic information in the oily tar of the spring sidewalks?
Can Battuta finish his research? OR WILL IT ALL BE IN VAIN