Jeremiah Arkham stood before the observation window, nearly crumpling the freshly compiled patient list in his hand.
"What... what are they doing?"
"Based on their behavioral patterns..."
The assistant stared blankly at the security feeds on the computer. "They're throwing a... party, Director."
This might have been the most absurd sight Jeremiah had witnessed since taking over as Arkham's director.
In the main hall, patients in striped hospital clothes were celebrating with starfish stuck to their faces. At least twenty patients had gathered together, each wearing a starfish as though attending a masquerade. Jeremiah recognized several with paranoid schizophrenia, two with antisocial personality disorder, and an elderly gentleman convinced he was Napoleon reincarnated.
The old man who called himself the Pea King was banging a spoon against a metal meal tray, loudly demanding order. In another corner, a woman who had once tried to turn herself into a human kite with balloons on Gotham Bridge was struggling to string three starfish together with bandages, attempting to make a necklace.
The three young patients who always delighted in imitating Clown's laugh and makeup were now gathered around a small table, using crayons to draw crooked smiley faces on the backs of starfish.
"The starfish aren't affecting them?" Jeremiah asked, pressing his fingers to his temples.
"They're not entirely unaffected."
The assistant physician pointed to a patient on the screen who was banging his head against a wall. "This one, for example... normally, he bangs his head against the wall for fifteen minutes at precisely three every afternoon. He's still doing it with the starfish on, only now he shouts 'Long live Starro' as he does it."
Jeremiah closed his eyes. He remembered the promise he had made to Li Jie-
"Every patient here will receive the treatment and dignity they deserve."