

I Should beTreated as a King "I tell you; I was a warrior in another life, I was great then. I fell foe under my blade like they were wisps of butter before me. Not like now, where I shuffle through the halls of this asylum at your will, the will of these half pot doctors," Corvis spoke wildly and with an irregular rhythm, at times raising his voice without cause. He was so patient of the truths he spoke of with his therapist. The therapist sat behind a wall of glass, punching notes into a network of documents on Corvis. Her bulbous fingers careful to execute the correct keys on the touch pad keyboard. Her gray skin was in high contrast to her white robes. "Now I'm with you again and will have to eat that horrid grass you call food. No, once I was fed like a king when I invented for the Supreme. I called mutiny and they declared me unstable. I'm just a wretched crazy ranting lunatic now. I know I was once a romantic warrior who battled off the ignorance from the likes of you." As Corvis stood atop his chair, the therapist looked up from her notes and opened her small mouth to reveal her jutted teeth. "Corvis, what makes you think you had a past life? You were a great inventor for the supreme, but I have tried telling you before, you were compromised and now you have a parasite. We will try to remove it soon, do not fear us. We want to bring you to health." Corvis grew wild and tried to throw his chair at the glass that separated the therapist from him. However, the chair was bolted into the floor. The therapist cleared her smile and began to frown as her patient continued to show rage. Her forefinger hovered over a large black button, should she need to sound an alarm. "Corvis, relax, I'm not trying to silence you, but you must calm yourself for everyone's safety." The large glass monitor in front of her started flashing numbers that were decreasing, their session was nearing the end of its cycle. She announced they were finished despite having a few minutes left. The door to the room opened and Corvis gladly stormed out of the room. The therapist amended a note to his file that she would need to pad the examining room for next time. As Corvis stood in the long halls that were lit with glowing yellow ambient lighting, there were patients laying all about. Some were drooling like morons; others were laughing hysterically. The halls were narrow and so Corvis had to snake around all the patients to avoid them interacting with him. He was so hungry, all these months eating nothing, but grass had taken a toll on his gut. He once ate the best fish and grains, but now was reduced to eating grass. He made his way to an elevator and punched the button to bring it to his floor. While waiting there was a sense to him that he was never going to escape. That there was no parasite in his mind, and he was indeed sound of mind. His mind counted the seconds until the door opened and was relieved no one was on the elevator. The metal of the lift reflected his white jumpsuit, white clothing was all the rage in this place. Well it was mandatory; professionals and patients wore nothing but white. One time a guest wore a red shirt without getting the memo on wearing white, and a dozen patients started talking about the sun. They were all isolated and given heavy treatments to wipe their minds. There weren't many choices of where to go on the elevator, it was either residence, doctors, therapy or the food library which included a food court for well, grass feedings. An unease complacency overcame him as he punched the food floor button. Music came over the speakers, dull boring sounds of a whistling piece of wood. It was incredibly without rhythm or any sense of beat, just tones to fill the mind. The elevator doors opened to a busy food court, where many patients were about eating grass, waiting in line for grass, some were attempting to make their grass something more than grass. But for all those efforts, the food they could consume, was just grass.