"Do you expect the heal to react to our treatment badly, or just the fungus? If it combats the regimen but not the disease..."

"That is what I was worried about. But it doesn't seem to be interpreting a completed treatment as 'damage', nor inactive fungus. So this test might not have helped us learn anything."

"Well, I suppose I'm grateful it didn't make things any worse. But as tests go, it wasn't the most enlightening. We can try one of the more risk-tolerant patients, in particular one who has experienced...a few more amnesiac episodes than the rest."

"Someone told me negative results are good science too once."

"They can be. I was hopeful for an answer that would tell us whether the next test is safe. Should I bring you one of the patients?"

"Probably. You say there's someone who might be more risk-tolerant?"

"One of our patients has repeatedly failed to react properly to our training, and has trigged relapses multiple times before we learned how to handle him, using recordings of himself to get the point across."

"Eesh. I know the type. The kind of people convinced we're hiding captured aliens at the bases, or something. And they might agree to something experimental for a chance to learn 'the truth'?"

"It's hard to tell how bad it is. His file shows him as paranoid in general, but not necessarily into conspiracy theories. It's probably that we're a medical institution, at least partially. I suggest interviewing him, find out if it's up to your standards of consent."

"Alright then."

"It's probably best if he comes to you. Can you keep yourself occupied for about two to three hours?"

"I was planning on visiting the - I don't like this descriptor since I'm hoping they'll stop fitting it - the bandits, and some farmers again. I can come back in two or three hours?"

"That should work. Best of luck."

"Thanks! ...Say, I never got your name. I'm Gren."

"Purpose. Dr. Morrell, once upon a time. It was nice meeting you."

"Same."

And after a quick snack she's off. To the farmer who promised her pumpkin seeds. She sets down at the edge of the fields and walks toward the farmhouse as before.

No weapons are brandished.

The boy she healed runs inside when he sees her, calling for the farmer.

The farmer comes out alone, grinning, and tells her "right here in the old shed, just a mo', you can have them growing by nightfall."

He retrieves the seeds, and asks how things went with the bandits.

"They've planted zucchini now - I'm going to show them how to forage properly later. Anything you want me to fast-grow a bit as long as I'm here? It covers about half an acre."

Well, if she really doesn't mind, the carrots could use some sprucing up.

She walks out into the middle of the carrot field, and sings (not particularly well or poorly) for about five minutes.

The carrots' leaves are visibly darker green, less wilted. Though any weeds have also benefited.

"Before you ask, yes, the singing really is necessary. It's a bit idiosyncratic sometimes."

He claps politely.

"Singing is good for the soul. And apparently, for crops. I'm glad for your help, ma'am."

"And I'm glad for yours. Have a nice day."

Seed delivery! Singing at the new zucchini sprouts to speed them up a ways! Foraging lessons!

The bandits appreciate her help!

They decide to join in with the singing, and celebrate after lessons are complete. She's invited, too.

"I should only stay for a little while. Sorry everyone! I'll be back tomorrow too!"

They wave her off, then, and hope to see her then.