If anyone knew obsessive-compulsive, it was Arla. She left stuff all over the floor----clothes and things, but she was incredibly particular about pens and pencils, notebooks, ceiling tiles. She counted, she did math problems in her head. Everything had to be in order and neatly laid out just so. That was a new thing, too. She'd been notoriously messy before she'd infamously lost her mind. Now everything on her desk in her office or her classroom was freakishly ordered and precise.
"Juice?" she asked, stepping inside and brushing past him. Once she was in the room she continued to pace, her hand still clenched in her robe. "Scott says they're coming. I can't sleep at night. They're going to come in and find us and shut us down, that's what they're going to do. The Professor can't protect against it. You're going to have to wipe out all their memories."