Lin Mei dropped to her knees on the dry hexagonal tiles near the central drain.
She popped the cap off the yellow grease pencil, pressed the waxy lead against the cold ceramic, and drew a thick circle.
Warm saline gurgled through the brass floor grating near her knee, smelling of sulfur and boiled linen. High above, Atlantic gale winds slammed black rainwater against the glass dome, shaking the iron roof.
“Let’s look at the law,” Lin Mei said. Her pulse raced.
“Mental Hygiene Statute Forty-Four, Section B, Paragraph Three. Do you know what it says about administrative authority?”
“Tell us, Miss Lin,” Dr. Corvo said. He leaned his walking stick against the yellow boundary line, tilting his head so his good right ear faced her. “Administrative law was never my preferred bedtime reading.”
“It’s an incapacity bar,” Lin Mei said. She drew six small circles around the main ring.
“Under Section B, once a patient is committed to a closed psychiatric ward, they suffer civil death. They lose their license to govern.”
