Swamped

It's dark out here - the lamps have been put out. But you do see a few spots of light, probably patients. They might be awake, or they might be under observation.

You definitely don't want the attention of the staff. So you approach one of the lighted curtains carefully. You see two figures there, and you listen carefully.

"I told you already, we can't give you anything for sleep. It might interfere with the medicine."

"Come on! What about those swamp leaves? Heard they knock you right out."

"We do have a few, but we're still studying them. We haven't been able to figure out exactly how they put you to sleep yet, so we can't be sure they won't cause problems."

So there is someone here. Not a voice you recognize, but then, it was years ago and you weren't all that sociable when you worked here. Still, you'd rather not be caught, so you think it's best that you investigate elsewhere.

The closest light source you find isn't one of the beds, though. It's in the records room. The door is open, too, but you don't see anyone here. And you distinctly remember heading home before dark.

Strange. You consider going in to refresh your memory on the records, in case that gives you useful information, but you aren't entirely sure the room is empty. After all, it certainly looks like it's in use.

If only there were some way to be sure.