St Dysmus's Hosptial

The citizens of New London are not really the type to attend hospital. Built into the people and the land seems to be some belief that healing comes from herbs and rituals, rather than syringes. And so the hospital is a place for tourists and those who are in no fit state to argue.

The building itself sits uneasily in the swamps, a crumbling neo-classical temple to science and Grecian ideals, a long history of repairs rather than investment behind it. The frontage looks much as it did when it was first built, save the hundred or so years the swamp has had to intrude on it. Dotted around the building, growing out it like fungus on a tree, are newer additions that make almost no attempt to be sympathetic to the original architecture, 1950's and 1970's pre-fabricated constructions bolted on where ever they were needed.

The inside is much like that of hospitals everywhere. The clinical white corridors twist and turn, rooms and wards budding off them as they make their way between stairwells. Some sections are now unsafe due to the intrusion of the environment, and sit slowly decaying behind closed, locked doors or plasterboard walls.

The subterranean basement levels hold their own mortuary and incinerator, the chimneys coiling up inside the building and raising to almost gothic towers above the roof, the smoke of undefined medical waste drifting away from them and into the air.