The Doctor Is In

If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich?

   “Very impressive, doctor.” a low, accented voice congratulates as I step out of the patient interview room.

I look up and see next to Dr. Leland is a stiff, stout woman with sharp glasses, “You are the new psychiatrist, yes? My name is Dr. Whistler, and I am the head of the research department here at Arkham.”

“Pleased to meet you Dr. Whistler.” I greet her politely, seeing how her title most likely makes her my boss's boss.

“I’m interested in the work you’ll provide us here at the asylum.” she tells me as we begin to tread deeper into the asylum, “I understand your previous line of work was a little more...action-oriented, shall we say?”

I nod, “It wasn’t what I had in mind. I’d originally gone to school to become a psychiatrist, but life had other plans. Now that I’ve retired, I can finally put my degree to use.”

We pass by another security checkpoint, Dr. Whistler starring unfailingly forward,

“I’m taking you to the maximum security sector of the Penitentiary.”

Dr. Leland looks up in surprise, “Uhm, Gretchen, you are aware that this is Dr. K’s first day on the job-”

“I want to see if she has guts, Joan.” she replies coldly.

The door opens to another long corridor of cells, these ones much smaller than the previous ones. Compared to the last cell block, this one is relatively quieter. There’s a guard between every cell, and the floor panels are clear glass with electrical wiring running underneath, suggesting that it can be used to shock the patients.

One patient, a bald-headed man with grotesque scars all over his body, immediately jumps up to the front of his cell and presses himself against the glass, “Oh, you poor, poor, zombies...soon you will all be liberated.”

“Do not respond to the patients taunts, unless they are your patient you have no buisness with them.” Dr. Whistler instructs me, as we walk past the man’s cell.

“Victor Zsasz...why is he posted so close to the entrance? And why isn’t he in Intensive Treatment?” I ask, doing my best to ignore the stares of the patients we pass.

“That is a very good question, but that is also none of my business. If you are truly concerned I suggest you take it up with the asylum’s director.”

I might just do that.

As we walk through the asylum, I can’t help but stare at some of the inmates. After all, these are the famous criminals you always hear about on the news.

Suddenly a rat runs out from in between a grate and scampers right in front of our feet, before disappearing into a small chink in the wall,

“Ah!” Dr. Leland screams, jumping back.

“Ratcatcher!” Dr. Whistler proclaims, she stamps over to a nearby guard, “Where is he posted?”

“Toward the end of the hall, second to last cell on the right.” the guard responds.

She snarls before charging off, Dr. Leland and I trying to keep up. We reach the end of the hall to find a sniveling man with rat-like features chuckling in the corner of his cell,

“Did one of my friends disturb you?”

“Mr. Flannegan, you know the rule about bringing rats into the asylum!” Dr. Whistler disciplines him, accusingly pointing a finger at him, “Release them at once!”

A rat runs out from under his bed, up his body and into his hands, “But doctor, I simply found these fellows, I didn’t invite them. And besides, it gets so lonely in here.”