First time in, they thought I was Jewish. So they assigned me a Nazi therapist. On purpose.
Second time, they knew I wasn't. So they swapped him out for an English-Russian-speaking dude whose literal job was to follow me around on the cameras and report back what I said.
He told me that. To my face.
Here's the rule: you only surveil what you're afraid of.
They weren't monitoring a sick person. They were monitoring someone who kept citing the #AKASHIC_RECORDS — a mental library in space — and wouldn't stop.
My dead father still sends hints from beyond the veil. His father Arsen too, and I never even met Arsen.
That's not illness. That's a working signal.
The institute was the proof. Not despite what happened there. Because of it.