Delirium (Meta, Mystery, WB, Escape?) - IC, Dead

[Talchyon]

A different kind of Meta RP by Talchyon

This is the IC page

OOC | Discord channel | Aurora Grove Staff (NPC) | PC Roster

Aurora Grove Psychiatric Institution

Soothing classical music plays softly in the background over all loudspeakers in the hospital.

Dr. Lee Roberts, chief administrator
Monday, 11:46 a.m.

The large desk in the executive office portrayed a confidence that Dr. Lee Roberts didn't feel. The whole thing was a literal powderkeg under the wrong circumstances. And the buck stopped squarely at his desk.

There were the usual headaches that came with running a hospital. Money, for starters. The three malpractice lawsuits already this year were looking like expensive out-of-court settlements, or potential even-more-expensive court appearances. The legal team for Aurora Grove had their hands full, as always. And Roberts knew the money could run out. Eventually. Then there were the State Boards and their nosiness. Cramped space and a need for a new wing, without the funds or board approval to get it. The integration of some of the newer patients, for example. Or the slow crawl that Research & Development had regressed to. The slow rate of recovery for many of their patients. The favors he was paying off. The people he was angering. Even those who were supposed to be supporting him. It was too much, sometimes.

But Aurora Grove was not the typical hospital, and not all of the patients they treated were the kinds a normal psych ward had. Under the wrong circumstances, certain patients could level the place and everyone in it. It was a tight balancing act that the Aurora Grove staff had to do. Dr. Roberts was hoping that they would keep balancing, and not come crashing down.

As the chief administrator, he would do what he could to make sure his team was at 100%. Too much was riding on them to do otherwise.

---

Dr. Feng Xu, Research Director

The middle-aged Chinese man in pressed gray slacks and a red and gray tie on a white shirt beneath a white lab coat tried another algorithm in his formula. The last one hadn't been nearly as effective. Too much nitrate still. Frowning, the Chinese man pressed the 'enter' key on his computer simulator, and ran a hundred more simulations. Still no.

He glanced at the clock, and then back at his screen. He still had a little time to use before he was required to take a lunch break. And today, it wouldn't have mattered. Today, the research was going nowhere fast. He could have gone for his break now. But one thing about Dr. Feng Xu was that he didn't like feeling incompetent. And this aspect of his research was doing just that. He could work through lunch.

Maybe it was the formula that was wrong. Maybe he'd need to start from scratch. Again. So far, it was as if he was hitting his head against a hard wall. Too many unstable variables. Too many changing factors. The ionized cells weren't reacting how they should. What was he missing?

Just then, a shrill yell sounded out through the research lab. Its sound pierced the clinical sterility, as a young chubby woman with red hair woke up and wrestled in vain against the straps that held her down on the bed in the control room. The muzzle that had been put on her was some benefit in drowning out any intelligible words, but the sound of her screams still penetrated the thick leather. That would be some of the Dysproxil taking effect.

Dr. Xu looked over at the young woman, and glared. After all his time working in Research & Development, he had gotten used to screams. He never really liked them, and only considered them the necessary price to pay for what they had discovered so far. But on a day when he was already frazzled, the screams annoyed him more than he had thought possible only half an hour before. So the middle-aged Chinese researcher pressed a few buttons on his computer keyboard, and the sound from the control room was muted. Finally, there was peace.

Frowning, he brought his mind back to the problem at hand, and turning over the numbers in his mind, still couldn't see the solution. What was he missing?

---

The lunchroom

One by one, the orderlies brought in the various patients and seated them at their assigned tables. When the patients were all relatively good, the orderlies helped bring over the lunches prepared for them.

A younger, African-American man in clinical white, helped bring a patient over to his assigned table. Tyrell Jackson had a quick grin and a warmth about him that even the clinically insane found charming. "So, my man, did you hear the one about the blonde and the puzzle?" And without waiting to hear it, the African-American man launched into the joke. "Ok. So, why was the blonde thrilled to get done with her jigsaw puzzle in only six months? Because the box said it was for two to four years! Ha ha! Tyrell, Tyrell, baby, you just keep crankin' 'em out!"

Another orderly, a tall, mid-20's white man with a military buzzcut, just sighed. "Why do you do that, Tyrell?"

"Ain't no problem, man. See Rex, I think it's great when people like us enjoy our jobs. And Todd here didn't seem to mind."

The patient, Todd, was an older frail man with little comprehension in his eyes. He sat expectantly, waiting for his lunch but seemingly tuning out everything else around him.

Meanwhile, a brunette with long, naturally curly locks and darting eyes was seated at her lunch table, with one hand holding on to her tray that had just been set down. Looking at the salisbury steak in front of her, cut up in bite size pieces and swimming in a brown gravy, the patient now called Belinda pushed the tray in front of her. She drank from the water sparingly, as if it were diluted venom.

Muttering to herself, her eyes glanced around at the security by the doors, as though they could read her mind. And maybe they could! Belinda tried to clear her mind, count to ten silently, and take a deep breath. It seemed to help. If the security officers could read her mind, they'd be rushing over to take her to her padded room. But they weren't even moving towards her. Maybe it was a ruse. Maybe they wanted her to think she was a safe. But she knew. She knew!

Again muttering, Belinda said to those at her table, "Don't eat the food. I'm warning you. Don't eat. Have you noticed people disappearing here? I have. They all ate the food, too. That one black man with the beard, he was here recently. Last week? I... I don't remember... But I knew him. His name was Kevin. And he ate. And now he's not here." Her conversation dropped again into hard to hear mutterings.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

The lunchroom

... Again muttering, Belinda said to those at her table, "Don't eat the food. I'm warning you. Don't eat. Have you noticed people disappearing here? I have. They all ate the food, too. That one black man with the beard, he was here recently. Last week? I... I don't remember... But I knew him. His name was Kevin. And he ate. And now he's not here." Her conversation dropped again into hard to hear mutterings.

Lupe looked at Belinda. She wanted to stop the girls mutterings. It was making Lupe upset. Lupe was upset that she couldn't remember much about herself.

"Belinda," said Lupe, "You've obviously been eating since last week. It isn't the food that made Kevin (was there a Kevin ever here? Dammit, why couldn't she remember?) disappear. Eat the damn food, so I don't have to hear you moaning tonight about how hungry you are"

I could just make her eat, I really could! thought Lupe. Something's wrong, though, what is it? I'm not in the zone, that's it. I won't be in the zone for a few days, yet. Wait, what's 'the zone'?

"Eat your damned food and stop whining!" she shouted, not even at Belinda, but at God.

[Haedros 92712]

The lunchroom

... Again muttering, Belinda said to those at her table, "Don't eat the food. I'm warning you. Don't eat. Have you noticed people disappearing here? I have. They all ate the food, too. That one black man with the beard, he was here recently. Last week? I... I don't remember... But I knew him. His name was Kevin. And he ate. And now he's not here." Her conversation dropped again into hard to hear mutterings.

Lupe looked at Brenda. She wanted to stop the girls mutterings. It was making Lupe upset. Lupe was upset that she couldn't remember much about herself.

"Brenda," said Lupe, "You've obviously been eating since last week. It isn't the food that made Kevin (was there a Kevin ever here? Dammit, why couldn't she remember?) disappear. Eat the damn food, so I don't have to hear you moaning tonight about how hungry you are"

I could just make her eat, I really could! thought Lupe. Something's wrong, though, what is it? I'm not in the zone, that's it. I won't be in the zone for a few days, yet. Wait, what's 'the zone'?

"Eat your damned food and stop whining!" she shouted, not even at Brenda, but at God.

Markus, The lunchroom

"Now let's just calm down now. Brenda, the food is safe. I've been eating it since I arrived here. And look, I'm still here. Perfectly fine." But when did I arrive here? It must've been awhile ago. "Now Brenda, just go ahead and eat your food. You can't be starving yourself, after all." It was then that Markus felt a whisper, a tug at the back of his mind. A voice, a near indistinguishable whisper... Listen to you nagging. You better get to eating yourself, my friend. I certainly can't have you starving. Cold fear. When the other man spoke, his words were not to be ignored. Markus began shoveling food into his mouth. He finished his food in under a minute, and then began to calm. The other man did not make jokes.

[Lunas Legion]

Persis Angelopoulos

She stared at the food on her plate suspiciously, pushing it around in a circle with her fork. She was sitting at a table next to Belinda's, the muttering girl behind her as she played with her food, her eyes roaming over the room before she looked back at her food and stabbed a fork into her mac and cheese, nervously, hesitantly raising her fork up into her mouth.

Her eyes widened in realisation and she tore the fork out of her mouth, slamming it down on her plate. "Heh." She shook her head, letting out a low chuckle as she began to mutter to herself. "This is just another dream, isn't it? Oh, it's been so real so far, but taste, taste and smell know the truth. I know what mac and cheese smells and tastes like, and this-"

She shoved the plate of uneaten food away from her. "Isn't." No doubt the guards would try and make her eat, tell her this was real, but the dream was self-reinforcing like that, always trying to convince her it was real, always, always, always lying to her...

Even when she slept in the dream, she just went deeper and deeper, into new layers, where things became different, never upwards, never to the waking world, never to reality... Was there even reality? She crossed her arms in front of her on the table and laid her head down on them, shutting her eyes. The darkness was still a lie, but it was an honest lie, for there was nothing but lying darkness there, nothing that tried to make her think this was real.

Someday, she would find reality. Find it again. She remembered she had been there, once. But she had lost her way and wandered too far with no map or trail of breadcrumbs to guide her way home. But time, why, time meant one could not remain lost forever.

[Benuty]

Nelson

Aurora Grove-Cafeteria
Monday- 11:46 am.

Nelson calmly smiled and said to Belinda "If that was the case...then why haven't you disappeared my dear?" he proceeded to take a bite of his lunch, and calmly chew it with his mouth closed unlike some of the more raucous patients who ate with their mouths open. After finishing the bite of food he had in his mouth he proceeded to speak again "The food isn't making people disappear or else this place would be empty...which I suppose some people would prefer". Nelson smiled and slyly nodded over to the man with the military haircut groaning rather loudly at his compatriot's joke. After wiping his mouth Nelson turned over to Lupe, and wagged his finger in disapproval before speaking up "No need to get angry, it just rots away a person, and in the end what good does it do?". Of course, while not much made Nelson truly angry he would be a hypocrite if he said he was never angry.

Truth is a few things made him really angry, and it often had to do with that janitor. The crusty old man was constantly chasing away animals if not outright killing them. The other day he bashed a mouse, and thanks to some misplacement couldn't find the broom dustpan to pick it up. Thankfully the mouse was still alive enough for Nelson to give a boost, and scurry away. The little thing sniffing Nelson's hand in what could have been a gesture of gratitude before fleeing back to his home.

Suffice to say the Janitor was absolutely livid once he found the dustpan. Nelson understood that the janitor had a job to do, but he didn't have to be so needlessly cruel trying to get rid of the "pests". Truth be told the only reason the mice are here is that people are leaving enough food for them to make a living off of. Still, a mouse is a living being, and hardly one will do any damage, but if the Janitor would do his job right he wouldn't be fighting the mouse week after week. Truth be told...it might not be even the same mouse anymore at this point.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Nelson

Aurora Grove-Cafeteria
Monday- 11:46 am.

Nelson calmly smiled and said to Belinda "If that was the case...then why haven't you disappeared my dear?" he proceeded to take a bite of his lunch, and calmly chew it with his mouth closed unlike some of the more raucous patients who ate with their mouths open. After finishing the bite of food he had in his mouth he proceeded to speak again "The food isn't making people disappear or else this place would be empty...which I suppose some people would prefer". Nelson smiled and slyly nodded over to the man with the military haircut groaning rather loudly at his compatriot's joke. After wiping his mouth Nelson turned over to Lupe, and wagged his finger in disapproval before speaking up "No need to get angry, it just rots away a person, and in the end what good does it do?". Of course, while not much made Nelson truly angry he would be a hypocrite if he said he was never angry.

Truth is a few things made him really angry, and it often had to do with that janitor. The crusty old man was constantly chasing away animals if not outright killing them. The other day he bashed a mouse, and thanks to some misplacement couldn't find the broom dustpan to pick it up. Thankfully the mouse was still alive enough for Nelson to give a boost, and scurry away. The little thing sniffing Nelson's hand in what could have been a gesture of gratitude before fleeing back to his home.

Suffice to say the Janitor was absolutely livid once he found the dustpan. Nelson understood that the janitor had a job to do, but he didn't have to be so needlessly cruel trying to get rid of the "pests". Truth be told the only reason the mice are here is that people are leaving enough food for them to make a living off of. Still, a mouse is a living being, and hardly one will do any damage, but if the Janitor would do his job right he wouldn't be fighting the mouse week after week. Truth be told...it might not be even the same mouse anymore at this point.

Swiftly, Lupe grabbed Nelson's wagging finger and bent it backwards, toward the top of his hand. She only applied enough pressure to inflict momentary pain before letting go of it.

"Don't poke your limp little finger at me!" she said to him in a husky low tone, with scorn dripping from her voice, "Next time I'll bite it off, or something that size!"

Lupe arose and stormed to an unoccupied corner of the day room. Being here, in this 'hospital', was driving her insane! It wasn't even a real hospital, it was a laboratory. If it was a hospital, they'd give her something to take the edge off her monthly cravings for men, for a real man.

That's the zone.

[Talchyon]

The lunchroom
Belinda

Despite the words of those near her, Belinda's mind was made up. Looking at her salisbury steak and gravy as if it were a wild animal that she had to assert dominance over, Belinda just kept muttering to herself. They wouldn't listen? Fine. They can eat the food. And they'll see. But as for her, she pushed her tray away and sipped only some of the water.

The orderlies had all the patients seated, and a few cooks had brought over their own trays. Sitting at a central table, the sooner to react to any other table, Rex and Tyrell got into a conversation between themselves about an upcoming Matt Damon movie. They were pretty deep in conversation and not as aware of their surroundings. When suddenly, there was a loud shriek, as the ground began to shake. Not so much as to break plates off tables, but enough to rattle them. The tremors continues, and the shaking seemed to slightly intensify over the span of a half minute.

The majority of patients reacted to the tremor with surprise. Besides those like Todd who stared off into their own world, some cowered, some got wide eyed. The loud shrieking continued as the two orderlies stood up and approached a certain table. There was a short, Hispanic lady there, roughly 30 hard years old. Her eyes were fearful, darting one direction and then the next. Tears flowed down her face, and her hands gripped her head in an obvious sign of distress. The orderlies helped the hysterical Hispanic woman up, Rex leaning in to say something to her. Whatever it was, it didn't make her worse. She was still shrieking, though not as much. The two orderlies helped her walk out of the room. Standard procedure for other patients, so they wouldn't get disturbed by her reactions.

They were gone for a few long minutes. Eventually, the earth stopped shaking. The tremor had passed. Some of the doctors there in the lunchroom began to pacify a few of the more easily upset patients. Belinda muttered more to herself. Todd stared off into space, seemingly oblivious to it all.

After what seemed like an eternity, the two orderlies stepped back into the lunchroom. They went over and spoke quietly to a few of the doctors present, and then went back to their center table. "No need to be afraid, folks. Just a minor earthquake. It's all passed. Everything's going to be fine. You can go back to your lunch."

[Lunas Legion]

Persis Angelopoulos

Persis giggled to herself as the world shook, looking up at the ceiling as others, no, the other projections of the dream panicked and screamed while all she could do was giggle. Of course they were panicking, they knew it was ending, she'd realised it was a dream and so like a chameleon it would have to change to fool and deceive her again, but right now here and now it was collapsing and so she giggled and giggled-

Until the tremors, after a few long minutes, stopped. She looked around. Nothing had changed. She grinned. Oh, you... You tricky dream, you clever, cunning thing. It had been trying to fake her out with the collapse, get her hopes up, but then crush them. It wanted to play with her. They did that sometimes. Sometimes they were just horrifying, sometimes they just liked to mess with feelings or show her new and wondrous things or continue previous dreams, as if they were an author working on chapters of a novel but in the wrong order.

She stared at the dream food, disappointed. It was still there, but she didn't want false, lying food or to sit here, so she stood up and moved to leave. She wanted to walk the halls of the dream, see what she could see. They were always similar but differences, why, those oh so subtle differences between each dream made them a game to her.

[Benuty]

Nelson

Aurora Grove-Cafeteria
Monday- 11:50 am.

Nelson looked at his finger, and merely sighed as Lupe's imprint from her nails slowly faded. Had she pressed hard enough to cut this might be more than a simple annoyance, and take longer, but she didn't. That said Lupe was clearly on edge for whatever reason, but nevertheless, the agitation would spread quickly as people tended to bicker when agitated. Nelson guessed Lupe would go bicker with one of the orderlies or doctors for some more pills to take the edge off. Whatever anyone was going to do about Lupe was secondary to the slowly rising tremors which starting happening, and shaking across the cafeteria.

A few minutes later the tremors ended, and the more erratic patients had to be escorted out by the orderlies. Tremors like these seemed rather unusual since he didn't remember anything about this being a zone with earthquake problems. Nevertheless, Nelson didn't think much of it since nothing was damaged, and the only damage done was to the fragile mental states of people. People such as the poor Hispanic woman the orderlies had to escort out probably to some quiet room. She would probably be put through therapy or worse heavy medication to sedate her...they never take people to the same calming place, but this never truly helps them...if only Nelson could find her, and help her a just little bit.

[Union Princes]

Invisible Man

There's no reason to be here. No reason at all. To the staff and the people around him, he had no mouth to eat, no nose to smell, no eyes to see the food, and no ears to hear the chatter. But yet he was here. Sitting by himself. A foggy as foggy glass. He wan't unseen anymore but he was transparent enough to see his shadow behind him. It's the drugs, the drugs that make him more real then he could ever dream. If he could dream.

The people around him. They are not kids. Save for one. They can look at him now as he stared back at them with his blank human face. Pity he had no hair on his head.

Facing the food on his plate, He took his spoon and began to dig in. By digging in, he was smearing food all over his face. Almost creating a expression on the blank slate of his face. Peas, carrots, and mashed potatoes stuck to his face with gravy as glue. Messy, like a baby child.

When the tremors came, some of those bits of food fell back onto his plate. Sighing heavily (or what seemed to be a sigh), he wiped the food off his face and stuffed it back onto the plate. Taking the nearby napkins, he wiped his face clean of gravy and mashed potatoes. Now what's next for the Invisible Man?

[Auphelia]

Eleanor

She sat at her table, eating her lunch in peace. Well, not so much eating as staring. She looked down at the boiled potatoes, carrots, and pasta that filled her plate. A cup of water stood by her plate, mocking her. She didn't know why, and had never received an explanation for her unasked question, she was always served the blandest foods imaginable. Her palate was so numb by now, she would probably die from the least bit of salt.

She pushed some of the potato chunks around, the soft mush smearing around the plastic trays the patients were given. It almost touched the small pile of carrots, but she herded it back into place, careful not to let them mix. As bland as they were, the mixture of such mushy foods always made her gag when they were jumbled up. With a sigh, she started today's meal, spearing a single piece of plain pasta at a time, and carefully placing each in her mouth to be counted and swallowed. On her seventeenth piece of pasta, she felt the flavour.

It was slightly bitter, and hardly noticeable, but it was there. Nearly every meal she tasted it somewhere in her food, though rarely in her pasta. She wasn't sure why, but it always made her sad. The flavour saturated her mouth, but as she swallowed the pasta it passed. She tested each piece of pasta, touching them to her tongue, and found that fifteen others has the same bitter taste. She left them alone. Normally she didn't have such luxury, as her mashed potatoes were the usual suspects, one spoonful inseparable from the next, but she didn't complain. She was lucky it was in her pasta this time, easily removed. Blandness was better than the depressing bitterness.

She had just finished with her carrots when she sensed a vibration somewhere. Suddenly the woman next to her screamed. The plates began to rattle and shake with a fury as the floor rippled under her feet. It was almost as if she could feel everything around her shake around, all emanating from Mrs. Villaseñor. It was a silly thought. The woman was usually withdrawn and shy, as only Eleanor, two of the orderlies, and a small group of other patients could communicate with her, which made her screaming all the more strange. Eleanor had never known her to raise her voice much above a whisper. Tears flowed and she clutched her head, obviously in pain. Unsure of what to do, Eleanor could only think to ask a question she obviously had the answer to.

"Mrs. Villaseñor, are you okay?" she managed to gasp out in their shared language, just before the orderlies came.

Obviously upset by the earthquake, Mrs. Villaseñor was quickly rescued, and a few minutes later the quakes stopped. She hoped the older woman was okay. She was kind, and was sometimes willing to play backgammon, a game Eleanor always lost. Still, it was fun to play and one of the few times interaction and competition was encouraged among patients. She liked board game night.

Perhaps a fifth of the patients were still rattled, and the doctors and orderlies fanned out to calm them down, with two or three having to be escorted out, presumably taken back to their quarters. For her part, Eleanor turned back to her food, eating her mashed potatoes. The soothing words of the doctors floated over to her, calming her racing heart. It had been a bit upsetting to see something like that happen, but for some reason the event with the woman next to her seemed to become less important by the second. Patients were getting upset all the time, after all. That's why they were here. They had to get better. That woman would get better.

[Talchyon]

---

Time Skip

2:30 p.m.
Group Therapy
Dr. Maria Vasquez

Sitting in a circle in a well-lit, peach-colored room, the patients had been brought in for their daily therapeutic group sessions. Since the board of directors preferred daily results on therapy, the institution had a tag-team of expert psychiatrists who could take turns leading the sessions. Dr. Maria Vaszuez, M.D., who had done her residency at Stanford, had practiced psychiatric medicine for 12 years. In her early 40's, the Hispanic woman with glasses and long, straight black hair checked a file in front of her. Today was her day. Other days, the therapist leading the session was Dr. Hugo Christiansen. Dr. Christiansen (pronounced "Chris Johnson"), Psy D., Danish, was pushing 70, and had done his residency at Brown back when the dinosaurs still roamed the earth.

Glancing up at the group, and then stealing one more glance at the file, Dr. Vasquez put it in her briefcase on her lap, closed it and sat it down on the floor next to her. There was a reason Dr. Vasquez had such a successful track record. Not only did the woman have a mind full of pertinent information regarding all kinds of psychological disorders, but also, a flow of peace seemed to exude from around her. Just being in her presence made many patients more relaxed, and willing to open up.

With the patients this afternoon, her warmth and serenity was on as normal. "Good afternoon. I'm glad to see you all today. Thank you for coming again."

Belinda muttered to herself, "Not like we had a choice." Fortunately, Dr. Vasquez didn't hear.

"Today we're going to be talking about memories. As part of our group therapy, again, remember this is a safe place. No one is hear to hurt you at all. All of us are here to help each other. Remember that we have a code of conduct." The code of conduct was read over the loudspeakers each evening. Every time, a gentle, grandfatherly masculine voice read that this is a place for healing and getting better. Certain rules applied. Don't interrupt therapists. Be polite. Show respect to each other.

Dr. Vasquez continued. "Today, would anyone like to go first and speak about a recent memory? Something that you felt a strong emotional connection to, perhaps?

Looking around at the group, no one willing to volunteer, Todd in his wheelchair staring off in the distance with his mouth partly open, Dr. Vasquez nodded. "Then I'll go first. I remember when my husband proposed to marry me. We were both in med. school, and didn't have a lot of time to see each other. But I had passed my preliminary exams and he had only a few left. He took me out to a nice restaurant, and there in the middle of dinner, dropped down on one knee and asked me if I would be his wife. I was so touched. I didn't know he was that serious, but he really loved me." The woman positively beamed at the happy memory.

"Memories help us connect to each other. They teach us about each other. And if we are connected to each other, we can help each other out too. So, all you need to do is share a memory you have. Something you don't mind having other people know. It it's sensitive for you, you don't have to share it. How about... we have Belinda speak next."

The group's gaze turned to the surly, long-curly haired young woman who had taken back to muttering to herself. Those near her, or who had excellent hearing, would hear nonsensical things and disjointed phrases that didn't seem to connect.

After a bit, Belinda looked up and said, "Ok. I have a memory. I remember Kevin. I remember when Kevin was here with us. Short, black guy with a beard. Kind of on the scrawny side. But Kevin was alright. He helped me once with... something. That part I don't remember. And then, they took Kevin, and he's gone. Vanished."

The therapist spoke placidly, but her eyes were firm. "Belinda, we've spoken about this before. I've never had a patient named Kevin, never as an individual, and not in our group sessions. And the hospital doesn't have any records of a Kevin being with us."

Belinda only muttered and glared. "I remember him though. He was annoyed at life, but I got him laughing once."

Dr. Vasquez simply said, "Laughter is often healing for people. To be able to laugh is to be able to let go."

Belinda shook her head, "Kevin was here, for at least a few months. I remember him clearly."

Dr. Vasquez simply sighed. The file on Belinda was a piece of work. For a long time, she had invented imaginary people who she had long drawn-out conversations with. That was a coping mechanism for some of the awful things she suffered as a young girl. But Dr. Vasquez didn't want to indulge her fantasy. She was here to help her cope with her past trauma, and embrace reality as it is- not as her mind invented it.

The therapist said, "Sometimes a person sees someone else that only they see, but who isn't there. Often, this is a way to help cope with something bad that happened." Belinda looked up as if sharply wounded. Dr. Vasquez continued, "But remember, this is a safe place. You are not going to be treated like you had been. We will help you cope. That's why I'm here for you, Belinda."

Belinda seemed to relax a little, as much as the uptight disturbed young woman could. Dr. Vasquez meanwhile jotted something down on a notebook she had in her hands, and then moved on. "Who would like to share a memory now?" She knew that for Belinda, the woman herself would have to be willing to accept help, before her fantasy world and all the people in there who weren't real could be addressed. But that would come. Dr. Vasquez was confident in her therapeutic abilities.

[Benuty]

Nelson

A little after 2:30pm.
Group Therapy Room

Nelson slowly raised his hand giving out a small smile "I guess I will go then" he said hesitantly. After taking a deep breath he spoke "I saw this come to me again last night thinking it was a dream until I realized...I wasn't asleep. I saw her again, the lady with the glowing face whispering as she waded through the river when two bodies came before her. The bodies were in very bad shape and looked as if they had been in a fight for their life. The lady began singing that same haunting hymn again, and suddenly the world around both her, and the bodies began to vanish save for the river...after that its just blackness, and rushing water".

Nelson spoke up "I can't tell what in all is truly a memory, but it keeps coming back to me while I am awake. Poking at my mind almost as if it's trying to lead me somewhere...to something? A lot of my memories seem to involve water, and I don't know what it could mean. Do you know what it could possibly mean Doctor Vasquez?". After that Nelson quieted down not wanting to hog too much time since there were plenty of other people here.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Lupe

"Dr., it's hard for me to dredge up memories," said Lupe. "Especially nice ones. What I remember is generally hurtful or very very personal. Would you have something to trade for my pain or privacy?"

Dr. Vasquez looked with sympathy at the attractive woman. "Lupe, if it's too hurtful or personal, don't feel like you have to share. But maybe we can talk about how you feel when you think of them."

Lupe looked at Dr. Vasquez and sighed. The doctor always deflected her attempts to bargain for a favor, or information. Yet the doctor was a good listener and seemed sympathetic. What the heck....

"I miss happiness," said Lupe. "I miss being a little girl...," and then she recalled how her family betrayed her. "I miss sex. I miss a big, strong man that I can hardly remember. I miss feeling my baby grow insi...."

Lupe's face became filled with pain and confusion. Haltingly, she said, "I... had... a... baby." With that, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Dr. Vasquez nodded. "It can be hard to talk about sensitive topics. You're doing well, Lupe. Motherhood is a strong natural instinct, and it is a natural desire for a woman to have." The news about the child was surprising, but Dr. Vasquez didn't miss a beat.

"Tell me about your baby."

Lupe remembered being in the delivery room, the final contractions and pushes to bring her baby into the world.

The faces around her were all wearing surgical masks and a Nurse mopped her sweating brow.

With a scream, her own scream, and a final push it was over... and the memory stopped there.

Lupe didn't know if she'd given birth to a boy or girl. What kind of mother was she that she forgot her baby!?!?

Standing on unsteady legs, Lupe ran to the door. She flung it open and ran back to her room, wailing because it felt like her soul had been torn from her.

[Talchyon]

Group Therapy
Dr. Maria Vasquez

Sometimes you tread on sensitive ground. This was clearly the case for Lupe. Dr. Vasquez took a breath, and then said in a loud clear voice, "Security. Lupe has left the room. Please bring her back gently."

Taking stock of the situation, lest someone else run out of the room, Dr. Vasquez said, "There are times that things have hurt us in the past. And while we can't change the past, we can take steps to help us in the present. One way is breathing. Simply breathing deeply is able to help things sometimes."

Returning to Nelson, who she felt embarrassed about going out of turn, she said to him, "Going back to you, Nelson. Dreams can mean many things. They are often the expression of our subconscious mind. Whether or not they 'mean' anything has less to do with what you dream, and more to do with who you are." Indeed. Various analysts throughout the past century had come up with their own inklings of what dreams were and meant. Freud, Jung, others. The jury was still out.

"But with your dream, what I come to back is how it repeats again. Sometimes that is a way of a suppressed part of our past coming back to remind us of something. Other times, it wants to remind us of something that we are thinking about that's important, coming up in the near future."

Taking another note on her pad, she made some marks. Her note read - "N: he still sees her."

[Auphelia]

Eleanor

She listened to the others as they talked, paying attention and listening with as much sympathy as she could muster. It always seemed to be much of the same stuff, simply reworked with many of them. Nelson always talked about water. Lupe always got emotional about something. Of course, the whole baby thing was a bit surprising. Then again, everyone here had had a life here before they ended up in group therapy sessions and eating meals off of plastic trays. Everyone had a story, memories that would burble up from the reservoirs of their unconsciousness, even her. Waiting for the others to finish, and letting Dr. Vasquez dole out her wisdom, Eleanor began to speak.

"I would like to go next, if that's fine with you," she said, respecting the doctor and preparing what she was going to say. "I remembered my school. Maybe two days ago, it hit me, you know? Just like that. I didn't know anything, and then suddenly I knew I had been at a school. I was on stage, in our little theatre. The stage was quality wood, very dark and regal. It was a musical, I think. I was singing in that language again. I think it was in Baltimore? Or maybe about Baltimore. I had crabs or something, and I was making a souffle on stage, maybe. Not crabs, but the crustaceans? No. Definitely crabs. Maybe they were the ones from Baltimore? Or maybe . . . no, there was a crown. A crown of crabs? I think I was supposed to be a villain? The curtains were the most beautiful red velvet, very well tended to even though the entire room seemed to have that elegance that comes with time, you know? There were others watching me. The women in the black robes watched, and the school orchestra and band were making this really catchy music. I remember that I liked it. Then the scene went black for a set change and . . . ah, I lost it. Sorry. But then -"

She was hit with an intense flash. She could see every uneven grain, and the scrape of graphite as it wrote down a note. A pencil writing on paper. The paper. At the top it has Dr. Vasquez's name, and underneath it had a list of notes. Dates . . . all of the days they had been in group therapy since last week. Notes were written down orderly and in some sort of shorthand. All she saw was "he still sees her" before she was suddenly back in the circle as quickly as she had left it. Unthinking, she blurted the first thing she could think of.

"Who still sees what?" She blinked. "Erm. Sorry. I lost track of my thoughts there. I . . . yeah. That was everything. Thank you for letting me share."

Eleanor busied herself fidgeting with her hands, glancing nervously as Dr. Vasquez. The therapist had spoken to her before about her out of body experiences. She knew they were a side effect of her medications and the best thing she could do was ignore them, but sometimes they were so intense and realistic they left her completely disoriented.

[Lunas Legion]

Persis Angelopoulos

"What even is memory?" Persis mumbled to herself, not really talking to anyone but trying to answer the question regardless. "Memory is what we remember, but we can't trust it, it's tricky, it fades, it grows, it twists and turns and reshapes itself until true memory and false memory interlink and marry and-" She paused, letting out a breath, trying to calm herself. It was what they told her to do.

"I remember... "

She paused, looking around everyone, taking in everyone's faces.

She heard a man she hadn't noticed before, sitting off towards the edge of the circle, say something, his tone sarcastic and biting. Everyone nodded. She didn't do anything, she didn't hear what she said. She blinked, and he was gone, the chair where he had been sitting there empty.

Huh.

"Um... Have there always been this many of us?" She asked, her voice oddly clear despite her uncertainty, all the mania and rambling nature of her previous speech gone and replaced with clarity and directness, her voice changed as if it belonged to someone else entirely. "As in this many people in the room? No one left? Because I remember being here, just like this, only there was someone else over there-" She waved a hand towards the empty seat where she'd seen the snarky man. "Maybe I should go lie down..." She mumbled afterwards, her voice returning to normal. "But I... I remember so many things, but they are dreams and dreams and reality all in one and... I don't know what are the dreams and what are real... Was the man a dream or real or both or neither? I don't even know if this is real, or not just another dream, my mind trying to give itself therapy with an army of fake people while I lie somewhere, awaiting the ceiling to crack so I can escape and see truth..."

Her speech became an incoherent mumble.

[Talchyon]

Group Therapy
Dr. Vasquez

The therapist only took specific notes when Eleanor started talking. Her memory was sketchy - as were all of theirs. But the images seemed to be mundane. Listening with trained ears to whatever might be out of step with normality, Dr. Vasquez was paying certain attention when Eleanor spoke the word, "Baltimore." That was curious. So Eleanor remembered something about Baltimore? Dr. Vasquez made a mental note to speak to a colleague about that.

As for the question, "Who still sees what?" that Eleanor blurted out, Dr. Vasquez remained neutral. In fact, to her, Eleanor seemed off-kilter, as if some new idea had come in her head that was in no way related to what she was saying. And then, Eleanor apologized and was somewhat humbled.

Dr. Vasquez simply said to her, "That's good, Eleanor. I'm glad you shared that with us."

Persis Angelopoulos

"What even is memory?" Persis mumbled to herself, not really talking to anyone but trying to answer the question regardless. "Memory is what we remember, but we can't trust it, it's tricky, it fades, it grows, it twists and turns and reshapes itself until true memory and false memory interlink and marry and-" She paused, letting out a breath, trying to calm herself. It was what they told her to do.

"I remember... "

She paused, looking around everyone, taking in everyone's faces.

She heard a man she hadn't noticed before, sitting off towards the edge of the circle, say something, his tone sarcastic and biting. Everyone nodded. She didn't do anything, she didn't hear what she said. She blinked, and he was gone, the chair where he had been sitting there empty.

Huh.

"Um... Have there always been this many of us?" She asked, her voice oddly clear despite her uncertainty, all the mania and rambling nature of her previous speech gone and replaced with clarity and directness, her voice changed as if it belonged to someone else entirely. "As in this many people in the room? No one left? Because I remember being here, just like this, only there was someone else over there-" She waved a hand towards the empty seat where she'd seen the snarky man. "Maybe I should go lie down..." She mumbled afterwards, her voice returning to normal. "But I... I remember so many things, but they are dreams and dreams and reality all in one and... I don't know what are the dreams and what are real... Was the man a dream or real or both or neither? I don't even know if this is real, or not just another dream, my mind trying to give itself therapy with an army of fake people while I lie somewhere, awaiting the ceiling to crack so I can escape and see truth..."

Her speech became an incoherent mumble.

After Persis' rambling, Dr. Vasquez answered her odd question. "Have there always been this many of us?" What made Persis think to ask that? What man was she talking about? That hardly narrowed it down. Last time she checked, there were slightly more than half of the world's population who were male.

The therapist responded. "I am not sure what man you are referring to, Persis, but maybe you're remembering somebody you interacted with? Somebody who meant something to you? Any way, you had also asked if there had ever been more of us. I assume you mean, more of us in group therapy?" At this, Dr. Vasquez shrugged. "I would have to check my notes, but I generally try to keep a group together. Sometimes it helps to speak and share in front of people you are more comfortable with. And it's hard to do that if new people are coming in or familiar people are leaving all the time..."

Looking up at the clock on the wall, Dr. Vasquez said, "Ah. Well, this has been a good session. Thank you all for your willingness to share. I look forward to our next time. If anyone has something that you wanted to say to me privately, we can talk alone for a bit. But I do have another appointment soon..."

The session was done. Now, the patients had free time until supper. The orderlies came to escort those who had no questions to one of the two common rooms, living room-shapes with certain approved tv channels that therapists deemed were safe, wholesome and those that would not trigger unwanted psychoses.

---

Rex Burke, orderly

After Lupe had run out of the therapy group room in tears, she had run down some halls as far away from the therapy room as she could go. After Dr. Vasquez asked for security to help, Rex Burke who had been working on paperwork put his clipboard down and came to find Lupe. There she was, clearly shaken at what she was dealing with. Dr. Vasquez had asked for her to be treated gently, and Rex could see that was needed.

He came near her, trying to remain both professional as well as encouraging. "Hey there, Lupe. It's me, Rex Burke. You look like you could use some alone time. You want to come with me back to your room? And then, when you're ready, you can come on out and join the others if you wish. Why don't we do that. I'll walk with you."

Sometimes it was difficult knowing the boundary lines. As a man, it moved Rex to see any woman in distress. But as an orderly, he knew that she was a patient and there was a good reason these patients were here. He didn't want to extend arms to hug lest Lupe (or God forbid, the chief administrator!) get the wrong idea. Best to escort her but keeping a noticeable distance away from her.

---

Dr. Jen Small
Director of Clinical Assessment

A weary, thin woman in her 50's with graying straight blond hair and glasses sat behind her desk. Wearing a long sleeve red collared shirt with khakis under a lab coat, the woman clicked her mouse to the next file to review.

Sometimes wondering if she had been too quick to leave the practice side and join the nameless, faceless hospital administration side of medical care, Dr. Jen Small went through the reports making sure everything was in line for the upcoming state board review. Reports had to be reviewed, and she was the front line of defense for the hospital against lawyers. Whatever was in a report that could jeopardize the hospital had to be looked into. Certain doctors knew how to work the system, that was for sure. Many left things vague on purpose (such as when therapists spoke about treating individuals or a group, but didn't want scrutinizing eyes poring over exactly what kind of treatment they gave). Not that she blamed them. Paperwork was the most tedious aspect of a doctor's day, but it had to be done or the lawyers really would have a field day if their case made it to court. They could easily claim that no one could know if any treatment had been given, if there wasn't at least some paper trail to follow. But doctors were careful. They knew their time was limited, and most had not gone into medicine so they could do paperwork. Besides, most doctors who filed reports on their treatments also needed someone to watch their backs lest someone raise a malpractice suit. It was tedious work, but someone had to do it.

As Jen was reading the latest report, she frowned. She clicked again, opening another file on her computer, and searched for something. "That's odd," she thought. "The files don't match." She double-checked what she had seen, but again the discrepancy was still there.

Dr. Small took a deep breath. This was not good. And she had to tell Dr. Roberts, much as she didn't want to. He was going to be upset. And things were going to get hairy. She gulped, and then left the room, turning her computer off first.

[Union Princes]

Invisible Man

Again, he has now reason to be here, the Invisible Man isn't known for speaking. If he spoke at all. Why would he? The kids did the talking for him. But there is no kid here in this therapy session that will speak fro him. As transparent as ghost, he simply sat in his chair with his appearance like gas forming a solid. One by one, the other patients spoke their parts to the therapists except the Invisible Man. He simply faced forward with only a s light tilt of the head to indicate listening.

When the therapy session ended and the escorts arrived, the Invisible Man grabbed the remote to the TV and began watching cartoons. Despite looking too old for them, he sat on the couch in a reclining position. Due to his lack of facial features, no one could tell if he was sleeping or lazily watching. He doesn't know what's going to happen next, but for now, he will relax.

[Haedros 92712]

Group Therapy
Dr. Vasquez

The therapist only took specific notes when Eleanor started talking. Her memory was sketchy - as were all of theirs. But the images seemed to be mundane. Listening with trained ears to whatever might be out of step with normality, Dr. Vasquez was paying certain attention when Eleanor spoke the word, "Baltimore." That was curious. So Eleanor remembered something about Baltimore? Dr. Vasquez made a mental note to speak to a colleague about that.

As for the question, "Who still sees what?" that Eleanor blurted out, Dr. Vasquez remained neutral. In fact, to her, Eleanor seemed off-kilter, as if some new idea had come in her head that was in no way related to what she was saying. And then, Eleanor apologized and was somewhat humbled.

Dr. Vasquez simply said to her, "That's good, Eleanor. I'm glad you shared that with us."

Persis Angelopoulos

"What even is memory?" Persis mumbled to herself, not really talking to anyone but trying to answer the question regardless. "Memory is what we remember, but we can't trust it, it's tricky, it fades, it grows, it twists and turns and reshapes itself until true memory and false memory interlink and marry and-" She paused, letting out a breath, trying to calm herself. It was what they told her to do.

"I remember... "

She paused, looking around everyone, taking in everyone's faces.

She heard a man she hadn't noticed before, sitting off towards the edge of the circle, say something, his tone sarcastic and biting. Everyone nodded. She didn't do anything, she didn't hear what she said. She blinked, and he was gone, the chair where he had been sitting there empty.

Huh.

"Um... Have there always been this many of us?" She asked, her voice oddly clear despite her uncertainty, all the mania and rambling nature of her previous speech gone and replaced with clarity and directness, her voice changed as if it belonged to someone else entirely. "As in this many people in the room? No one left? Because I remember being here, just like this, only there was someone else over there-" She waved a hand towards the empty seat where she'd seen the snarky man. "Maybe I should go lie down..." She mumbled afterwards, her voice returning to normal. "But I... I remember so many things, but they are dreams and dreams and reality all in one and... I don't know what are the dreams and what are real... Was the man a dream or real or both or neither? I don't even know if this is real, or not just another dream, my mind trying to give itself therapy with an army of fake people while I lie somewhere, awaiting the ceiling to crack so I can escape and see truth..."

Her speech became an incoherent mumble.

After Persis' rambling, Dr. Vasquez answered her odd question. "Have there always been this many of us?" What made Persis think to ask that? What man was she talking about? That hardly narrowed it down. Last time she checked, there were slightly more than half of the world's population who were male.

The therapist responded. "I am not sure what man you are referring to, Persis, but maybe you're remembering somebody you interacted with? Somebody who meant something to you? Any way, you had also asked if there had ever been more of us. I assume you mean, more of us in group therapy?" At this, Dr. Vasquez shrugged. "I would have to check my notes, but I generally try to keep a group together. Sometimes it helps to speak and share in front of people you are more comfortable with. And it's hard to do that if new people are coming in or familiar people are leaving all the time..."

Looking up at the clock on the wall, Dr. Vasquez said, "Ah. Well, this has been a good session. Thank you all for your willingness to share. I look forward to our next time. If anyone has something that you wanted to say to me privately, we can talk alone for a bit. But I do have another appointment soon..."

The session was done. Now, the patients had free time until supper. The orderlies came to escort those who had no questions to one of the two common rooms, living room-shapes with certain approved tv channels that therapists deemed were safe, wholesome and those that would not trigger unwanted psychoses.

---

Rex Burke, orderly

After Lupe had run out of the therapy group room in tears, she had run down some halls as far away from the therapy room as she could go. After Dr. Vasquez asked for security to help, Rex Burke who had been working on paperwork put his clipboard down and came to find Lupe. There she was, clearly shaken at what she was dealing with. Dr. Vasquez had asked for her to be treated gently, and Rex could see that was needed.

He came near her, trying to remain both professional as well as encouraging. "Hey there, Lupe. It's me, Rex Burke. You look like you could use some alone time. You want to come with me back to your room? And then, when you're ready, you can come on out and join the others if you wish. Why don't we do that. I'll walk with you."

Sometimes it was difficult knowing the boundary lines. As a man, it moved Rex to see any woman in distress. But as an orderly, he knew that she was a patient and there was a good reason these patients were here. He didn't want to extend arms to hug lest Lupe (or God forbid, the chief administrator!) get the wrong idea. Best to escort her but keeping a noticeable distance away from her.

---

Dr. Jen Small
Director of Clinical Assessment

A weary, thin woman in her 50's with graying straight blond hair and glasses sat behind her desk. Wearing a long sleeve red collared shirt with khakis under a lab coat, the woman clicked her mouse to the next file to review.

Sometimes wondering if she had been too quick to leave the practice side and join the nameless, faceless hospital administration side of medical care, Dr. Jen Small went through the reports making sure everything was in line for the upcoming state board review. Reports had to be reviewed, and she was the front line of defense for the hospital against lawyers. Whatever was in a report that could jeopardize the hospital had to be looked into. Certain doctors knew how to work the system, that was for sure. Many left things vague on purpose (such as when therapists spoke about treating individuals or a group, but didn't want scrutinizing eyes poring over exactly what kind of treatment they gave). Not that she blamed them. Paperwork was the most tedious aspect of a doctor's day, but it had to be done or the lawyers really would have a field day if their case made it to court. They could easily claim that no one could know if any treatment had been given, if there wasn't at least some paper trail to follow. But doctors were careful. They knew their time was limited, and most had not gone into medicine so they could do paperwork. Besides, most doctors who filed reports on their treatments also needed someone to watch their backs lest someone raise a malpractice suit. It was tedious work, but someone had to do it.

As Jen was reading the latest report, she frowned. She clicked again, opening another file on her computer, and searched for something. "That's odd," she thought. "The files don't match." She double-checked what she had seen, but again the discrepancy was still there.

Dr. Small took a deep breath. This was not good. And she had to tell Dr. Roberts, much as she didn't want to. He was going to be upset. And things were going to get hairy. She gulped, and then left the room, turning her computer off first.

A.J.

Alyssa stares at her feet. She wanted to speak. But at the same time, she was terrified. The patients were like looming predators, waiting to pounce at her. Yet still, she powered through. She spoke, an occurrence so rare most patients didn’t know her voice. “I... I remember... a man. He was... t-tall, scary... and he... he...” Now she was paralyzed by fear. What is he man done? Didn’t I die? Why am I here? She went silent now, sitting, ashamed of her failure to speak.

[Lunas Legion]

Persis Angelopoulos

"No, no meaning, none at all..." Persis answered after a few seconds. "No face, no name, just letters, I think it started with K or C or G... I don't think I even spoke to him, at all, at all, at all." She shook her head, speaking the last few words as if to echo herself. Had she even seen him at all? He'd been there, yes, but the chair had been empty when she'd looked again, undisturbed, as if no one had sat there for a while. "Yes, yes, more us in the group." She continued. "Or less? Maybe they weren't in the group, maybe they were an observer or something? I don't know, my head hurts."

She placed her head in her hands as the session continued, remaining silent until the end when she stood and left, also in uneasy silence. Was this a dream, and that had been a brief flash into reality, or was this reality, and that had been a brief flash into her dreams? She couldn't tell, would never tell, could never tell...

She needed to lie down. Not that she was sure sleep was sleep. Sleep could be her waking up, and while she was awake she was actually asleep, dreaming this world up as some strange thing to occupy her mind. And so, when the therapy session ended, she left to wander aimlessly, stretching her legs, lost in a prison of her own mind.

[Auphelia]

Eleanor

She walked in with the rest of her group, most of whom promptly dispersed to amuse themselves as they saw fit. There seemed to be at least two other full therapy groups, a little more than a dozen older middle-aged people who all seemed to be reading or watching two of their number playing chess, and then some really old people. Wait, older group? Around 3:00? On a weekday? She smiled. Today must have been worse than usual. After all, how could she have forgotten!?

Scanning the room, she saw that one of the television sets had been commandeered by a member of her own group, watching some colourful animated characters running around. Quickly looking to the other side of the room, she saw the two distinctive puffs of salt-and-pepper hair peeking up from around one of the larger chairs. Walking over, she was able to see the other television in the room, and heard the end of the theme song playing.

The seas of love,
Their tides pull at us,
Helpless to their power . . .

The soft orchestral music washed over her and she plopped down between the two women, ready to watch their favourite show, The Seas of Love. Anyone who dared to use more than one television at this time always had to deal with ornery old Latina crones badgering them and spewing a steady stream of curses and orders in rapid fire Spanish until they surrendered the remote control device. That was nothing compared to the time one of the orderlies had tried to turn it off mid-love scene between Javier and Linda, suggesting that it was too intense for the patients to watch. He didn't end up losing his eye, but Mrs. Rodriguez had been confined to her room for a week and Eleanor and Ms. Martinez had had to fill her in on what happened, including the fact that shortly after she had rolled out of the room on top of the orderly, kneeing him in the crotch and tearing out his hair, both Linda and Javier had been shot by Armando, causing both of them to lose their memory and believe they were brother and sister.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked, reaching forward to turn the volume up so she could hear the first murmurs of dialogue from Don Rafael, the oil tycoon turned murder of his sister's hairdresser, who was also his father.

Mrs. Rodriguez humphed and shifted forward, adjusting her hearing aid and signalling for Eleanor to be quiet.

Ms. Martinez just laughed and whispered in a hushed voice, "Bernadette is just upset because in the intro they replayed Victor getting shot by Jose. You know how mad she was about that."

"Ha! Mad? She didn't talk to us for a week, just muttering curses every time Maria didn't notice she wasn't talking to her husband, but his dead twin who is also his grandfather! He hasn't been on in a few episodes. I wonder why -" Eleanor started, before being cut off by Mrs. Rodriguez putting her wrinkled hand over her mouth.

"Shhhh! I'm trying to watch this!" she hissed, concentrating on the screen. Her mouth was puckered, but she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a caramel square. She didn't know where Mrs. Rodriguez got the food she did, food no patient should have had access to, but any time she asked the woman became confused, claiming not to know. She knew it upset her, so she always left it at that, not bothering to press further. She knew everyone was here for a reason, even seemingly normal people like Ms. Martinez.

She turned her attention to the television, where Don Rafael stood in the living room of Linda.

"You must!"

"Rafael, I cannot! What will our brother think!?"

"Javier is of no consequence! If we do not leave now, Armando and his men will come! We must flee!"

"Please, allow me to leave him a message! He must find us!"

"If you must . . ."

She got lost in the story, mindlessly sucking on the caramel as she settled into her familiar position with the women around her. She knew it reminded her something about her past, but it was like wiggling a tooth that never came out: slightly painful, slightly pleasurable, but frustrating.

Oh! That was interesting . . . she hoped Linda would be okay . . .

[Khasinkonia]

Dr. Vasquez & Astrid Long(Co-write with Talc)

Dr. Vasquez watched as the others left. But there was one who stayed behind. Astrid. So, Dr. Vasquez went to her and asked, "Hello, Astrid. Was there something you wanted to say privately?"

“Uh...I don’t remember anything about my past. Just dreams. But dreams can’t be true, can they? I look different every day, and it’s like I’m a new person every month. I know I’m older than a month, but I have trouble recalling actual details before that. I keep a journal to try to help myself remember, but I just can’t. Could it be something in my medicine that causes memory atrophy?” I asked, having meant to ask this question so many times, but never remembering until that...Persis? Persis girl’s rambling.

There was a short but noticeable pause. Dr. Vasquez slowly responded, "Dreams are usually just the expression of the subconscious mind. And while there are various schools of thought among psychologists about the nature of dreams, there seems to be a general agreement that the content of the dream reveals more about the person themselves than about anything external.

"As for your medicine, I don't see why your medicine would cause that reaction in you. Now, memory loss also happens for a variety of reasons. As far as I know, you had no head trauma, which is the most common cause for memory loss. There are certainly other reasons, and I don't know right now what caused your memory loss. But the medicine? We wouldn't give you this medicine if it didn't help you..."(edited)

I mulled her response over for a moment, and dissected what it was she was saying. So she was suggesting the cause was unknown, and the medicine had nothing to do with it? I don’t think I had such a bad memory before I came here...at least...I think. I can’t even remember when it was that I came here. But I’m sure I haven’t always been here; it doesn’t feel...it’s not like a home. This place doesn’t feel like home.
“Could it perhaps be a side-effect, then?” I asked, “I understand it is a powerful drug, after all.”

Dr. Vasquez spoke calmly and said, "It's unlikely to be a side-effect. The medicines have been clinically tested and memory loss is not likely to happen because of that. But I can see that you could use some relaxation, Astrid. Why don't you go to the common area and take advantage of your time?" It was a gentle but not-so-subtle encouragement from the therapist.

I sighed, and nodded in agreement, “I suppose you’re right. Have a nice day, Doctor Vasquez.”

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Lupe
(co-write with Talchyon)

Lupe turned from the corner that she'd put herself in when she'd run away from the group therapy session. The orderly, Rex, had spoken to her, calmly. All of the staff here spoke calmly. Like the inmates here might break, or attack. Lupe knew she had a temper, so, in the right circumstances, she could lash out. Right now, however, she was feeling broken.

Lupe eyed Rex, trying to take mental notes and assess the man. Would he be kind? Was he strong? What would he think of her? Would he hold her in his arms.... She needed him to hold her!

Trembling, Lupe took an unsteady step towards the man. Then she moved to throw her arms around his neck, hoping he would let her cry on his shoulder.

Rex's eyes went wide as the patient flung herself on him. The administration tried to discourage touch as much possible. The last thing they wanted was a sexual harassment lawsuit. And so, all of the employees were regularly reminded about sexual harassment in various forms of employer/employee communication.

He didn't refuse her. There were times when a patient's mental state needed the affirmation of touch. But he couldn't let it go any further.

"It's going to be alright. Pull yourself together," he said, hoping the security cameras would catch that he wasn't encouraging her.

Lupe's sobs lessened after a minute or so. Still, she kept her head buried in his shoulder, inhaling the slight scent of his masculinity that had escaped antiperspirants and deodorants, as she began to speak softly and haltingly.

"Rex," Lupe said, "I'm an awful woman.... I had a baby and somehow I forgot it.... In the therapy, I remembered feeling the baby growing inside me.... I remembered the delivery room..... Now, I can't remember anything else about it.

Lupe again began to sob, but this time the sobs were not so forceful, gentler. She held Rex tightly, but like he was a life-ring and she was adrift on open ocean. What did he think of her? Was she loathsome in his eyes?

Rex felt compassion for the troubled woman. He wasn't the best at helping patients in such a state, but he fell back on the general rules of thumb the powers that be gave for interactions with patients.

"Hey, that's why you're here. To help you get better." After a pause. What else was he supposed to say?

"Rex," she said between her sobs, "I know that I could be better... but the doctors, they won't tell us about ourselves. They only call us by our first names. I don't know my own last name. I don't remember my baby's name."

Rex tried to maintain a professional demeanor. Aware the cameras were picking all this up, he said, "The doctors have their reasons for what they do. You just have to trust them that this is for the best."

Lupe slowly pulled herself away from the orderly. At this point, something was holding him back from offering any more help than just a shoulder to cry on. She wiped away the tears from her face on her shirt sleeve, but it was still clear that she had likely been crying.

"It's hard to trust them," Lupe said to the orderly. "If you only had a few memories, if your doctors had last names but they wouldn't tell you your last name, if you remembered that you had a child, wouldn't you find it hard to trust them?"

Lupe paused and then said wistfully, softly, "I wish I could see my records, or that someone would tell me who I was. I wish I what my baby's name was." She sighed and said, "You can take me to my room, or wherever...."

She accomplished the orderly back, her head bowed.

[Achidyemay]

"Well that should just about finish our discussion this evening, thank you all for your time," The doctor beamed between words. "And Robin, could I see you afterwords?"

There was creaking in the floorboards as everyone left the room at their own speed. Some friends were already discussing the days plans idly, but most left in silence, content that they had said what they would say. The doctor who had lead their group discussion was awkwardly putting his things away in his satchel on the floor while also trying to remain seated. His large stomach was getting in the way some. Robin reached the doctor's chair and wondered if he could help, but there didn't seem to be any way to do so.

"There you are." He said, sounding relieved as he pulled himself back up into an upright posture. "I have good news."

Behind him, John grunted. John had been a true ally and a friend since Robin came here, and constantly insisted to be by Robin's side. This left him exhausted though, and manifesting physically as opposed to just for Robin had become a challenge.

"Good news is rarely good," said the ex-detective.
Robin ignored him, "What's up, Doc?"
"You have been transferred to Dr. Vasquez for care. She is an excellent doctor, and I'm sure you will get along beautifully."
Robin looked confused, so the doctor pressed on.
"You won't notice much difference in your schedule, her group therapy sessions are the same time as ours and are just on the other side of the hall, and here," He started scribbling something onto a half-sheet, "Here is where her office is, it's also near to mine."
Robin accepted the torn bit of paper, glanced over it and then folded it into his pocket. The motion felt very practiced.
"Well, thanks, Doc, I hope to see you around." Robin said, headed for the door with John in tow.
"Absolutely, have a good day."

In the hallway, John spoke up. "So you've been transferred to a new doctor, this could be quite good or quite bad."
"You're always such a worrier, John." Robin replied, it felt good to walk around a bit after sitting in the chair for an hour. "I've probably just made progress, or they understand my case a bit better now and I'm being transferred to a specialist."
"Or they realized things were much worse then they seemed..." John proclaimed with a looming gravitas that bordered on mocking. It was always hard to tell if he was being sarcastic.

They reached the end of the hall and Robin pushed open the door, holding it open so his friend could step through. The common room was much louder than the hallway, TV's were going, small games of cards were being played, and Sam was laying upside down on the couch, reading something. Robin walked over to them, "Whatchya reading?"
"Oh nothing, It's called The Metaphysics of the Mind and it is very pretentious." They gave a slight nod to John, which John returned. Robin flopped down on the couch, noticing the books pages were blank. When he glanced back up he knew John was already gone.
"So you're taking shifts now?"
Sam continued to read the book.
"That's good, I guess, John looks more tired than usual."
"He did need a break."
There was a moment of silence, then Robin spoke up, "I appreciate you guys trying to be here for me."
"Haha," Their laugh was sharp, more knowing than usual, Robin had never heard them laugh so wryly before, "Robin, that is the whole point."

Robin started to connect pieces of the puzzle on the table together, Sam went back to their blank book.