Day 43: Sun Room, Second Shift

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible.

Oh, right. He was supposed to be looking for someone who was "VERY LARGE, WITH DARK HAIR." And also seemed to not know what lower-case letters were on the bulletin. As if that would help. He'd seen a likely candidate last shift, but talk of chocolate had distracted him.

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[felled-hero.livejournal.com]

Hughes shook his head. Now that was idealism. Guy'd been here for ten days already and still asking if people had escaped.

"Dead or disappeared," Hughes said with a small sigh. "People go missing and no one knows what happened to them. A couple of them were apparently 'rehabilitated' and 'released'. Some folks have even seen them back here, for visiting hours. They're different people, fully convinced they were never prisoners, never had a life beforehand. It's damn messed up, all this psychological brain washing. But everything they do here is deigned to make us dependent on them anyway, so..."

He shrugged. He could see, from a detached stance, how it could work. Why, he still had no idea.

[brokenweapon.livejournal.com]

Okay. If Hughes didn't know anyone who had properly escaped, then escape must have been very difficult indeed. There was no such thing as an impossible escape. Bourne had been in worse situations before, he just knew it, but damned if he could remember any of them.

That sort of brainwashing chilled him to the bone. But Hughes had mentioned 'visiting hours', which reminded him what day it was. Sunday. Visitor day. Would Marie - or 'Anna' - be back?

"I've noticed there's something off about the visitors," he said as dryly as he could. "I'm not sure how they manage to pick up who they get, though." Marie had died, after all...

[felled-hero.livejournal.com]

"Who knows?" Hughes shrugged. "I know a hell of a lot about how the human mind works, but I can't for the life of me figure out what's going on in the head of the good doctor." And he'd tried, time and time again. And he wasn't the only one.

"But yeah, they're 'off'. I've had a session myself." And he didn't want to talk about it any further than that. "Everything about this place is off. The nurses, the townspeople, the orderlies...." But he didn't get that same sense of 'otherness' from his own 'therapist'.

Interesting, that.