The Side Effects of Learning Thricely
It was a rainy afternoon, and being but sixteen years old and still shackled to the dependent life of the unlicensed driver, I was waiting for my brother to pick me up at the train station. When he finally arrived and I stepped into the warm and dry shelter of his Jeep, I was greeted by a cacophonous sound. Blaring from the speakers was the voice of a man speaking at breakneck pace. A few dozen confused questions later, I deduced that we were actually listening to a book at 3x speed.