Logan was now very sure that he was mad. There was no other explanation for it except for madness. He expected that the doctors and nurses wherever it was they were, were constantly drugging him because that would explain his constant and persistent bouts of unconsciousness. He was very sure that they must be spiking his coffee and he would have refused to drink it had it not been coffee. At first, every time he regained consciousness, he would quickly resume his quest to scratch his eyes out but then he had just stopped responding. He would just lay there on a bed in a room that he could see. It wasn’t that he was blind, not he could just see a different room that he was supposed to be seeing.
He had recently started to see little fling robots. They were exactly the same as he had seen
