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00 Hours 00 Minutes 25 Seconds

Baskerville Psychiatric Hospital founded in 2003 by Sir Arthur Baskerville. It treats people who are suffering from psychiatric delusions, things like thinking they’re Napoleon reincarnated or that the world is a disk being supported by four elephants on the back of a giant flying turtle. However according to rumours that is just a façade. The people in inside are said to have conducted unholy experiments to make soldiers unafraid of death.

That was all the information I had when I infiltrated.



‘Hello. I am insane and I would like to admit myself.’

The man with a thick mane of black hair who said that smiled cheerfully at the receptionist. She blinked in surprise and then said hesitantly to the smiling man, ‘I’m sorry, but you don’t appear to be very insane.’

The man looked at her blankly before a few seconds before an even bigger grin spread across his face.

‘Nonsense. I’m clearly insane. For example, I strongly believe that the world ended, that my left arm, which you will notice is bandaged, is being possessed by the Last Dragon, a creature called Vallian and finally that the ghost of my dead sister, well no not really, just a look alike, is standing beside me and it is all the fault of my employer who I killed by opening a pocket watch.’

After that, they couldn’t get him admitted fast enough.



‘We will just be running some basic tests to see how you are physically.’

The nurse was disgustingly sweet. I had noticed before I entered the building that everyone here was odd. They had been walking under the sunlight, enjoying the blue sky. It was almost as though they didn’t know about the End and the coming of the Other. No, perhaps it would be better to say that, rather than not knowing, they’ve forgotten.

The tests were all basic stuff, checking my blood pressure, heart rate, getting a blood sample. After a while a Doctor came in. She was a small thing and looked a few years younger than me… Well my physical age. Sometimes I had to remind myself that even though my appearance hasn’t changed, it’s been thirty long years since my first Oscillation.

‘I’m Doctor Cain. I’m just going to be performing some psychiatric tests.’

‘And I’m Doctor Echo. I will be undergoing your tests.’

She looked at me blankly for a few seconds before going about her business and pretending I didn’t talk. She might have had a pretty face but that didn’t seem to extend to her personality.

‘I’m going to say a few words. I want you to tell me the first thing that comes into your head when you hear them.’

‘Okay.’

She sat down with pen and paper. I sat opposite with a perfect poker face while I was snickering on the inside. I thought I would play around with her a bit.

‘Home.’

‘Grave.’

‘………..’

I was tempted to ask ‘Was that not the correct answer?’ but I think I would have burst out laughing.

‘Father.’

‘Patricide.’

‘…Mother?’

‘Matricide.’

‘Sister.’

‘Suicide.’

She was looking at me now. Really staring at my face. I think my cheek was twitching as I tried not to smile.

‘Cooking.’

‘Cannibalism.’

‘Happiness.’

‘Murder.’

‘School.’

‘Terrorism.’

‘Tea.’

‘Blood.’

It went on like that for a while until she finally sighed and tried one last one.

‘Fear.’

‘………’

Hmm… I’d pretty much used up all of the worst one word answers I could think of. Towards the end it had gotten a lot more obscure…. Ah, she was looking at me damn it. Think of a word. Think of a word.

‘….Sadist.’

There was quite a large question mark above her head and I was throttling myself in my mind. Really? That was the first word that came to mind? However despite my mental beating, Doctor Cain seemed to have felt she had finally gotten somewhere. I could already hear her writing that as a child I was objectified and forced into a master/servant relationship with a murderous sadist.

Well that was a rather interesting back story, so maybe I would let her think that.



I spent the next few days, blending into my surroundings. Truthfully the more time I spent there the sicker I felt. On the few times I tried to initiate a conversation with one of the other patients they always seemed absent. At first I thought it was just they were tired or thinking about something, but after a while I realised it was something else.

I noticed that the cafeteria ladies would slip something into their lunches every few days. I extracted what they had slipped into mine and after analysing it with the help of my living mythological super computer, Vallian, I found it was a hallucinogenic. It was a very nasty one, not only did it cause people to experience flying elephants and unicorns, it also attacked the adrenal systems in the brain, making a person unable to get that rush of tension called fear.

That certainly explained why they could walk around outside. No one would have been able to do that no matter how much therapy they underwent. But, if you stop them from feeling fear.

But that wasn’t all. I could smell a stench in this place that stunk much more powerful than a few dangerous drugs.

My sessions with Doctor Cain continued. She did the usual things I expected like asking me how I felt recently, have I had any disturbing thoughts or dreams and what my childhood was like. I couldn’t understand what this was about. If my theory about this place was right, then my mental condition should mean squat to them. I don’t see them keeping it up so doggedly just to maintain appearances. So there had to be some other meaning.

I started observing the Doctor closely, monitoring her every reaction to my answers. Trying to figure out what she was looking for.

After one session she asked me I was leaving, ‘Does the name, Mad Hatter, mean anything to you?’

I managed not to freeze up and replied naturally that I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘What about March Hare?’

‘Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.’

When I got back to me room I locked my door and slumped down. I had been shocked. Since I was shocked I was about to have an attack. I could feel it creeping up on me. I could already hear it echoing in my head. The screaming. The delightful- THE HORRIBLE screaming.

Gritting my teeth I wrote down a memo to myself for after the attack. The memo merely had three words on it, but if I was right. It could be possible to change the playing field, and maybe even bring this hospital under my control.

The memo simply said:

Contact March Hare.