You were an intern at White Sand Street Asylum. Under the requests of your father you were taking steps to become a doctor. There was one patient that always stuck out to you, Emil. His name was all that was known about him. You looked through the small, barred window into his padded cell. He was wearing a straight jacket and was chained to the wall. He looked dazed and tired. The asylum was over medicating him, even as an intern, you could recognize that. You carefully step into the room.