June 1st. Everyone's devices light up with another message from Brig:

Alright, read up. The infection has manifested itself in different ways for different inhabitants but it's still the same infection. Here's the deal: Good news: our brilliant 'engineer' has found an anecdote. Bad news: if you're sick, you need to come to the hospital for a hypospray injection. Unless you want to stay sick, that's your prerogative. Just know that this is the only way you'll get better. Good news: the cure is instantaneous because our 'engineer' is brilliant. (How many times should I call you brilliant, Korrie?) Bad news: all doors to the outside of Itinere will remain locked until we're sure all diseased have had their injection. (not that the doors are all that reliable anyway. some of them do tend to stick.) The way in is still open because the contagion is contained. Good news: we have lollipops at the hospital for all those getting injected, the kind with the tootsie roll in the center!

And another message:

How can you help? Those with medical training can help to give out injections (and lollipops). Speak to me first though because there is a procedure to follow. For the rest of you, if you see someone who needs assistance in the city, help them get here. Otherwise, business as usual. Find a way to spend your days. If you haven't discovered how accommodating Itinere can be, you haven't been wishing hard enough. Lastly, upper management would like to extend our deepest apologies for the current glitch in question. For your trouble... well... see above about how accommodating Itinere can be. Also, lollipops.

ooc: Feel free to handwave the fact that your muse came in to get their anecdote. Affects of the cure will be instantaneous.
If you want to play the injection out, Brig is at the hospital to help. Other NPC's available for interaction should your muse get curious about them. Also, feel free to use this post to play out threads at the hospital together among yourselves, mingle style.
Brig and Korrie are available for texting. They're magically in your contacts list on your phone. Just let us know in the subject line which you want if you do.
Victor is inconspicuously outside the hospital to be noticed or not.
Plotting Post!

Code for Texting if you so desire!
<center><table style="font-family: helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 2; letter-spacing: 1pt; text-transform: uppercase;"><tr><td width="90" align="center"><img src="YOUR IMAGE HERE" style="width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 15px; border: 1px solid #ccc; box-shadow: #ccc 2px 2px 1px;"></TD><td width="600" align="justify" style="vertical-align: middle;">YOUR TEXT HERE</small></td></tr></table></center>

GOB Bluth was not entirely unaccustomed to finding himself in unfamiliar places, but these incidents are typically accompanied by either unconsciousness or at least a blackout state of sorts, most often courtesy of the Flunitrazepam, or "Forget-Me-Now", pills he so values as both a tool to aid his magic career and a means of shielding himself from the pratfalls of his decision-making skills. What he is not accustomed to is being perfectly aware of walking through the front door into the family's model home only to find himself in another dimension.

And so, he stops short, staring through narrowed eyes beneath a furrowed brow. "Michael?" There's a hint of growled suspicion to the question. But Michael, it seems, is not here. Nor are any of the rest of the house's usual occupants. So he turns back to the door, opening it again... only to find a blank wall on the other side.

That's when a realization quite suddenly strikes him. "The Alliance! It's a test."

It's not.

Self-satisfied, he practically growls, "They want me back."

They don't.

It's under this belief that he sets about examining the blank wall, running his hands over it as he seeks the trap panel that must surely be there, all the while ignoring the unfamiliar bing of his undiscovered PDA's notification sound.