Yes.

Linda blinked, suddenly awake again. "Um, yeah. Ok. The TV's in the center of the room, on small wooden table..."

It was an old trick. It took her long enough to describe her surroundings that she wouldn't lapse into a stupor immediately. If her mom had asked how she was doing or how her drive was, she would have come awake long enough to reply then fallen right back into a stupor.

As usual, her mom interrupted. "Ok, honey, please keep up our conversation until I let you go. How was your drive? Did you make it ok? Have you met your handler?"

Normally she hated how her mom fussed over her condition, but today she didn't mind. She'd been dealing with it since 5th grade, when it came on all at once. She went from a normal, if quiet, little girl to the freak who zoned out and peed her pants during math. A couple of close calls with some malicious kids had landed her in a facility where she slowly learned how to live with her disorder. Now that she was approaching thirty, she finally felt the confidence to strike out on her own.

Sitting in her one-bedroom apartment 300 miles from any friends and family, Linda didn't feel very confident. She put those feelings aside and tried to sound brave for her mom. She gave all the usual reassurances, and her mom ended the conversation with an instruction. "Be careful, Linda. The handlers should be in touch this afternoon."

As she hung up, she looked over at her locked door. Too late, Linda realized that locking herself inside her apartment was apparently a fair interpretation of "be careful". She quickly pulled out her phone to call her mom back, but she knew even as she did it it was pointless. She could already feel the paralysis creeping into her mind... her thoughts slowed to a crawl, then a trickle...