The moonlight beyond the window gradually dimmed as dark clouds drifting in from nowhere covered its pale, round face. But that had no effect on the carnival.
The people coerced by the laughing gas devices had no thoughts of their own. They could only wear smiles and play their assigned roles.
Whether vendors or visitors, they were merely puppets manipulated by the deadly joke.
Cheerful circus-style music still echoed through the night. Even the lions jumping through fire hoops wore exaggerated grins. Joker had truly completed an impressive project.
Speaking of which, Gotham had a profession no other city possessed: Smile Correctors. The pay was quite good.
Laughing gas was not the sort of poison gas that killed someone the moment they inhaled a little. In fact, most of the laughing gas Joker used did not take effect quickly. At the very least, it had to give people time to laugh for it to feel right.
Nor could it only spread through breathing. Skin contact or contact with mucous membranes worked as well.
There were many people in Gotham who had come into contact with small amounts of laughing gas without dying. They would wear exaggerated smiles for the rest of their lives, undergo lengthy treatment, and develop all sorts of psychological problems as a result.
Smile Correctors had emerged in response. The entry requirements were somewhat high. They needed to understand not only medicine, but psychology as well. And since laughing gas damaged patients' facial nerves, acupuncture was currently the most effective treatment.
But Wayne Enterprises paid every patient's medical bills directly. If someone entered that profession and worked diligently each day, earning tens of thousands of US Dollars was no problem.
So if there was anyone in the city who hoped Joker would never retire, those doctors were