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Driving to Denver, and changing a waitress' outlook.

I'd really like to offer him one of the newer drugs, but we are not cleared for it. Unless the company will agree to making him a free test subject I can't put him on it.

At least my patient isn't dangerous to others, he gets slightly vegetative at times watching the colors. Without better treatment methods he will probably end up completely vegetative. Not that it seems to matter, all of my attempts to get him on better drugs are denied. Probably because he isn't a voter or helped by a large group of voters.

Sadly he's homeless so nobody actually cares, well besides people like myself. Finally I have finished with my regular patients and I'm getting my lunch. Joe got me a salad so I'm happy. Forget trying to get fattened up, I like being a thin gal and visit the gym often. Probably should get my husband to join me, though mostly he's just getting a beer gut.

Rather hard to get him to stop with a cool beer after work. His work is fast paced and dangerous, you have to be conscious of everything. If you slip up you might lose a part of you. Not that anyone has, the safety features are really good. The dangerous machines have the control a good five feet from the input.

Still a danger though, the line moves really fast and it's not all contained behind barriers. I admit that sometimes I miss the simplicity of the factory. Sounds funny but even when looking at roughly one hundred boxes of chocolate it's still simple. Granted the visual check is the first check on it. The machine catches more than the people watching, there are three checkers standing there.

Checkers are still standing there watching because they can add or remove on the fly. The machine pulls the box aside and the pieces are added or removed. Both happen more often than one would think. Course in a sense, I was a chocolatier and married one. Draws laughs when I say that to people, he said he works in a factory first.

Finally time for my extra patient to come in, I've only been sitting in here because I'm seeing him. Normally I'll head home or walk the halls and make sure the patients look good. In this case not drooling on themselves and not being violent. Drooling is due to the drugs and they are over medicated.

Violence should be removed due to the medication. Not entirely, we do want them able to defend themselves. The orderlies check for us but we are supposed to do it ourselves. The orderlies are not all nurses, only one nurse per section. The rest are prison guards just in a mental facility which means less than one would think.

Pitre Mourir comes in looking good with his purple hair. It's a nice darker purple color now. His eyes light up when he sees me and does a little twirl to show off his body. I have to admit it is a nice looking body, he is quite thin. He goes to the sofa when I point then perches on the very edge with hands to his knees.

"That was not a very nice thing you did to me." I sigh and sit down in my chair.

"I know and I'm sorry, there has never been a reaction to the drug like that. I assigned you to the lowest form of it. Tests are being run to figure out what happened as we speak." He leans closer to me.

"They are after me. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Who are they?" He puts a finger to his lips.

"I can't answer that, they have ears everywhere." I make a note and move on, likely part of his condition but I can't assign drugs until the results are back.

"Alright, if you are not supposed to be here, where are you supposed to be?"

"Oh that's easy, I was supposed to move to Paris. Have you ever been to Paris?" He has a smile on his face that I return.

"I've always wanted to go, my husband swears we will as soon as he has the four weeks of vacation time saved up. Sometime next year hopefully."

"Make sure you go in the fall, just before the leaves turn.

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