What occurred in the privacy of Eloise's own head did not allow her to follow the conversation around her or to recognize Danae's question. Her bright-eyed eagerness to weigh in on matters of gossip was replaced by stiff jaw, clenched hands, and unladylike posture, twisted, surely uncomfortable.<br/><br/>With eyes on her, Eloise concentrated deeply. A sound, from the pit of her throat, preceding labored speech. Instead, there were no words, only forced air and trapped tongue in accidental noises.<br/><br/>Only when it was perfectly evident Eloise could not speak for herself did a cowed orderly answer.<br/>"Number fifty-one was involved in an incident of assault. The victim was number twenty-nine. Fifty-one was deemed psychotic, and the case assigned to Doctor Rehner."<br/>"Psychotics are the purview of Doctor Rehner," said the second.<br/>"Because Doctor Rehner was unavailable, Doctor Noire deemed fifty-one be given a shock treatment to settle the nerves."<br/>"But another incident of assault followed."<br/>"Doctor Noire ordered number fifty-one taken to treatment. It was placed in Treatment Room C, Psyche Fragmentation."<br/><br/>"A patient is coached into separating dichotomies of the self into those mirrors. Over time, a mirror becomes the focus for a specific behavior. When the behavior is isolated, a skilled operator may alienate it from the viewer's persona and expunge it from the identity for disposal."<br/>"It is a humane treatment. The psychotic are absolved of blame and find new peace with a minimum of distress."<br/><br/>The door to cell<em>G, </em>which the orderlies previously shielded with their grey-clad bodies, opened the same as any other with a master key.<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">If the door is opened</div><div class="spoiler_body">Inside the floor was tiled, white and black. As a bath chamber it was unfinished, with bare wood attic walls, and yet the tub's pump functioned. Humming, whining, the faucet churned out a drizzle of uninterrupted crimson into a waiting tub filthy with mineral. Not blood, no, but a scarlet color like blood, glassy like hard candies.<br/><br/>Two lovely chairs faced the body-length tub, each fitted with manacles for the ankle. There was no one within, only a gradually filling red bath.</div></div><br/><br/>"The psychotic are not truly broken, when the impulse for violence leaves them," said the second orderly. "They merely await like babes to develop as persons. See, no harm has been done."