Mind Scanners Decide who counts as sane

Every patient starts with their view of the world. You listen to what they say, weigh it, and decide: sane, or not. The city calls it diagnosis. In practice you are judging whether someone's thoughts make them a problem, and the line between eccentric and insane is exactly where you draw it.

Some cases are easy: a person lost in a delusion, clearly suffering. Others are harder, citizens whose only real symptom is thinking against the order of things. Get it wrong and it costs you time, and time is the one resource you never have enough of. Each verdict follows a person out the door, and you take full responsibility for your patients. The job makes sure you remember that.

Treatment runs on arcade-style devices, each one its own small machine to master. You turn dials to match symbols, repeat sound sequences by ear, count shapes hidden behind sliding panels, steer a patient through a rotating maze. One wrong move and the patient's stress climbs; push it too far and the treatment ends early.

There is a catch the machines do not advertise: treating a mind can wear the person down with it. Watch the personality meter, because a patient drained to zero is cured in the way a blank page is finished. Spend your ₭apok and science points on new devices, and choose the tool that removes the madness while leaving the person mostly intact.