Intelligence Reduction

Lois Lane sat down. Blaze found a pair of clean glasses and spilled vodka into both, shoving one toward the reporter.

"Drink it," the demon said, her warm breath blasting over Lois, even though she sat more than an arm's length away. "It'll help."

The reporter sipped it. The fire was still burning in her chest. She'd dry-swallowed the pill, and the cool liquor helped calm her nerves a little. The demon knocked hers back in a gulp, then slammed the glass down. Stared at Lois with those pure white eyes.

"Intelligence crashes first. The initial stages are indistinguishable from getting drunk. Don't think of it as getting dumber...it's more like your brain stops making the same connections. You know you can remember things, but you can't bring them to your mouth. Logical reasoning starts to diminish. Vocabulary is reduced as all those words you know start to fall out of your head."

Lois blinked, slowly. She didn't like to think that was happening to her.

But would I even know it, as it happened? The reporter thought to herself. I mean, would I be aware of it? When I'm drunk, I usually feel...like, I know when I can't think of something, I just can't get upset about it. Maybe that's part of being dumb. Not knowing you're being stupid. Getting stupider. Or knowing and not caring.

"That's...disturbing," Lois said, as she realized they sat in silence. She sipped her vodka again.

"Not as much as you'd think," Blaze said, that Mona Lisa smile on her lips again. The demon splashed more vodka into her glass, then reached over to top Lois up. "In fact, you stop thinking as much. Dissociative episodes. They start off small. Just a moment where you exist, breathing, there, but not present in the moment, not ruminating, not thinking at all. The more of the **** you take, the longer and longer the episodes get. Some women like that. It's a way to escape from life. They don't have to think about anything for a while."

Lois shivered, though she wasn't cold. Blaze brought her glass up to her lips and sipped this time, and instinctively Lois followed suit...without thinking why.

Monkey see, monkey do... The reporter thought. But as long as I can think, that means the **** isn't working, right? Maybe if I just focus...I won't...I won't blank out...

"You're probably feeling pretty warm right now," Blaze set her glass down on the cluttered table. "You'll want to take off your shirt. The physical changes follow close on the heels of the mental ones."

"But I'm...not..." Lois frowned, searching for the word. She waved her glass. "I think fine," she finished, lamely.

Blaze's smile widened, just a hair. Exposed the tiniest fraction of white teeth.

"It's started, sweetmeat. You can't fight it. Just sit back and enjoy, because the next part..."