The Last Adventurer

Just a short story I'm working on; I'm not sure about the title; and as always, comments are appreciated!

-LA

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In the City of Angels, there is a completely nondescript building. In that respect, it like most of the city, square, anonymous, and homogenous. It is not the only one of its kind, nor is extraordinary in any way to the naked eye. It is a place that has had many names. Most people that pass its neatly ordered bricks do not suspect the invisible disorder that runs throughout its corridors. Presently, to those who have an inkling of an idea, it is known as a facility for those that are “reality challenged”.

The inside is a very quiet place. Corridor floors glisten under soft humming halogen lights with antiseptic wax, and each doorknob is freshly pressed. The structure has not always been silent. The calm that permeates each nook was recently imposed from the top down. Several months ago, the facility’s administration met, and with prosaic eloquence decreed that all uncontrollable screaming and ranting would be banned. The directors took this extraordinary step because such conduct was unseemly, and more typical of a standard chain run of the mill “nut-house” and therefore, not fitting for their quality institution.

It was easy to enact a ban, but even the directors suspected that enforcing it might be slightly problematic. However, as the board had at least one mind of rigorous talent, it came to an interesting solution. It was decided in consensus building voices that in order to enforce the newly enacted rule all of their guests would have to be medicated to near-catatonic states. There were no objections to this idea because the directors thought that such a policy was in the best interests of their wards.