Therapy hadn't illuminated much, but interesting things were happening on the bulletin board, notably the reintroduction of maps. This set was cruder than the one Indy had copied shortly after his arrival, with the staff-only rooms unmarked--an effort to evade the recent spike in censorship, evidently. Still, it was good that knowledge was getting out there.

He didn't have anything planned for this shift, so he just let the nurse lead him to the music room once he'd finished checking the bulletin board. Indy briefly amused himself with the idea of turning up to Pilgrim's "Sex Bob-Omb" (kids these days) auditions, if only to see the look on the kid's face. (His actual ability to contribute was probably limited; he hadn't seen any saxophones around here.)

After a few seconds, he decided that no matter how much his dignity had been curtailed over the last few weeks by his being forced to wear a ridiculous uniform and be led around by the hand by a bunch of condescending nurses, he drew the line at even pretending to be interested in the musical opportunities presented by a group called "Sex Bob-Omb." So he just picked up a small drum for the sake of looking compliant and took a seat on one of the couches where he could watch the audition process. Comedy hour didn't count as progress, but in Indy's book it was better than nothing.