It would seem that they are no stranger[s] to small children, however. A group of young kids were shooed by while we took our tests. I asked why they were here. She dodged the question until I likened it to Sunday School, which seemed to put her at ease. "Yes, exactly. We have classes for kids as young as 8 where they learn about Hubbard's Tech". This, as you might imagine, disturbed me to no end."

http://portlandatheist.blogspot.com/2005/12/some-time-back-i-promised-to-make.html

Portland Atheist
Portland, Oregon, United States
Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Some time back I promised to make a return visit to the Scientology Celebrity Center downtown. It is one of three in the immediate area, and I recently visited the closest in order to take pictures and generally investigate their presence in the area. This is apparently forbidden, as I was asked to leave the moment someone spotted me taking pictures. I complied in order to keep a low profile, as I did not want them recognizing me the next time I came by.

Recently a classmate of mine (let's call him Brett) took an interest in finding out what Scientology was all about. I took him as well as a female friend of mine (let's call her Amy) down to the Celebrity Center for free personality tests. The following is a factual account of our experiences while there.

Please forgive the poor quality of the initial picture, http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4701/1565/1600/scientologytrip.jpg

as it was taken in a hurry (in an effort to be somewhat covert) and my cameraphone isn't terribly high quality to begin with. (Alternatively, "Image blurred to protect the identities of those involved".)

We were instructed to have a seat on the couches nearby. There was a dual-touchscreen information terminal next to a panoramic backlit display of the various books one must buy (and the order in which they are to be read) in the process of becoming "clear". Shortly we were given the personality tests in plastic binders, with about 180 questions. They included forms in which we were to put an enormous amount of personal information, ranging from our names and date of births to our current address and school. Obviously we had t[he] foresight to create pseudonyms and stick to them, so as to avoid Scientologist stalkers later on.

The test, save for several insane questions (would you execute a ten year old for refusing to obey you? Do you sometimes browse railway timetables just for the fun of it?) was excruciatingly boring. I even felt somewhat bad for my colleagues as they had probably expected the outing to be a bit more entertaining. I considered pressuring the staff into doing a choreographed song and dance routine involving Thetans, but they no doubt would have declined.

On my first trip I was unable to convince anyone to let me have a look at the E-Meter. However as we pretended to be three potential converts, it seemed as though I could charm my way into getting them to show me damn near anything. Following the personality test, I managed to convince the elderly German woman who had administered said tests to show us an E-Meter.

This was truly entertaining. The E-Meters were clear plastic (classy!) and came in red, blue or green colors. She pried one free from a foam laden suitcase and set it up for us. "Hold these cans", she instructed. I did so. "Now don't expect to make the needle move, it responds to thought, and we use it to-" she trailed off as she glanced at the meter. By focusing on making the arrow move to the right, I had caused it to gradually climb all the way to the right side. You see, the E-Meter is little more than an electrical resistance gauge. With experience in biofeedback, you can reliably control it. There's nothing magical about it, it's turn of the century technology repackaged and sold to Scientologists for upwards of $4000 dollars for each unit. She, however, didn't know that. In fact for several seconds, she didn't seem to know what to do.

Oh, and speaking of exorbitant expenditures, the upstairs area was disgustingly opulent. The higher-ups occupied offices decked out in polished oak and mahogany. There were gold plated statues and globes littering their offices. The chairs were genuine leather from what I could see, and a far cry from what those who worked on the lower levels were afforded. Clean cut men in business suits strode about, presumably dealing with paperwork of a litigious nature, giving us odd looks as they passed. I sensed that this area was typically reserved for "church" members, particularly those who had invested a significant amount in the "church".

Anyways, after I managed to fuck up the E-Meter readout, ou[r] guide winced a little and readjusted the sensitivity of the meter so that the needle was once again "balanced". I told her to watch t[he] needle. I focused, and the needle once again made furtive leaps to the right until it was all the way there. "Cut that out", she said. "But I'm winning!" I joked. She gave me a frusturated look, so I did as she said, and the needle fell back to the center position. My two cohorts were on the verge of breaking into laughter. "Worst videogame ever", I commented to them later on.

One of the strangest aspects of our visit was the attention we were given. Apparently they were not even slightly accustomed to youths expressing interest in Scientology, as every single person who worked there stared at us for several bewildered seconds as they passed. Later in the session huge groups of people passed through, presumably returning from hocking their literature on street corners, and we received the same "what the fuck are they doing here?" looks all over again.

It would seem that they are no stranger to small children, however. A group of young kids were shooed by while we took our tests. I asked why they were here. She dodged the question until I likened it to Sunday School, which seemed to put her at ease. "Yes, exactly. We have classes for kids as young as 8 where they learn about Hubbard's Tech". This, as you might imagine, disturbed me to no end.

We were pressured into making appointments to come back at a later date. We did so, but with completely false information. None of us have any intention of returning. We did, however, score a bunch of free Scientology literature on the way out. Have a look: (images in top url)

The excursion was somewhat dull, save for the creepy shit we got to see upstairs (the E-Meter, the lavish offices with gold plated everything and leather recliners, the Scientology Kids classrooms) including the actual test, which was quite tedious. 'Brett' was morbidly fascinated by the insanity of it all and seemed to have enjoyed himself immensely, as though he had just attended a zoo in which the mentally infirm were made to entertain the rest of us. 'Amy' missed her bus, (my bad! Sorry) but told me the next day that it was "the creepiest place I have ever been".

As someone who delights in scrutinizing the bizarre, I'd have to agree."

Portland Atheist

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