Clocks.

They came, at first, in the night. Dreams, she called them. Dreams of the future. But soon, soon she realised they weren't dreams. They weren't dreams about the future. It was the future.

Wednesday:

Dr. Reigate sighed as she collected the pill boxes and placed them on the metal trolley, she was tired. Tired and frustrated. The patients had been giving her hassle all morning, screaming down the halls and hiding their breakfast pills, deliberately trying to frustrate her and the staff. The patients were vicious, and like rabid animals had to be controlled with darts and then confined. Which meant more money and more paperwork for everyone. She sighed again. They were being difficult on purpose, they always were. They were evil. Pure evil. Ancient priests would have called them possessed. Possessed by the Devil. Possessed patients. Demons.

Welcome to New Bethlem Hospital, thought Meredith Reigate, or as the citizens of Gliese 581 called it, Bedlam number two.

Alicia Murdoch was frightened; very, very frightened. She sat on her bed, huddled up in the corner of her room, tucking her knees beneath her chin. She was waiting for a man. A doctor. Doctor Smith. Doctor Smith and his companions. The people from her nightmares. They were coming to hurt her. They were coming again.