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The natives spent most of yesterday packing their belongings and preparing themselves for the long journey to the Promised Land.
Mike Morris had assured the tribe that the transfer would begin in the morning of March 1st, St. David's Day. Upon hearing the news, the cynical faces of the tribe told its own story on that score.
High noon came and went but around 1pm Mike announced; it was time.
The journey was arduous, many of the older natives perished
"Email me if you have any problems, all the PM's will be deleted so if you have ones you need to keep, save them now!" shouted Mike to the crowd of posters as he pushed the board's huge doors closed for the final time.
It was a thankless task, he knew from experience that half of them weren't even listening.
"I tried requesting my account details, I never got an email!" shouted one poster. "How do you get to the new board?" yelled another as the rabble pressed harder against
Wilkins glanced up at the clock. 5pm. "Time to do my rounds, I think!"
He liked this part of the job. A nice opportunity to stretch the legs and have a chat with the patients.
He switched off his radio, checked his teeth in the mirror, put on his pristine white lab coat, put his stethoscope around his neck and left his room.
Mrs. Telford in Ward B was always happy to see him and he always talked to her first, and for the longest.
Wilkins sat down