Originally 10x20ishThe truth is I finished this book almost three years ago, or so I thought. But time has continued to pass as I add more and more, so I've been writing new eras for this section as they happened. The problem with that is that the past several chapters are lacking the benefit of hindsight and it's finally caught up with me. So before we proceed forward, I will tell you how it was as I know it now.When I graduated, it rested in the back of my mind that I was about to embark on a new experiment; to see if something like me to exist in the working world. As Nomad came into full bloom I had begun to feel that this crucial trial had failed, meaning I could not fit in the world of Man. The consequences would be dire for sure, but before that door opened I was picked up by Mayer/Berkshire. But I did not count it a success just yet. Phase two would now begin; could I handle the day to day life in the human system. I put a lot of weight on this, for after all I could pretend to be anyone at the interview, could I actually survive through the hidden dangers that would make themselves known over and over for weeks, months or even years? I didn't figure I'd last a year, Nomad had stripped me of whatever confidence I'd had, making Restoration as slow and painful as it was. But Berkshire was a heaven. I told them early on the risks of hiring me, that I was out of sync, that I didn't understand much about corporate society, that the Winter would likely be disastrous when it came, that I couldn't handle wearing shoes, ect. I was daring them to fire me then. I gave them every excuse to within my first month to see just how safe I was. The response was amazingly positive, overwhelmingly positive. The Mayers told me that they had been searching for an eccentric because they believed they made the best work and encouraged me to change nothing. I could wear what I wanted, deck out my desk in as many Christmas lights I could find and sleep on the lawn during my breaks. In return for their kindness I gave them my best. I completed projects they had dreamed of setting in motion years ago but had no talent to pull them off. Tapping my gift they expanded their advertising venues with flyers, branding, packaging, post cards, store displays, catalogues, new product photography and a constant revamping of the website to name a few.And they loved me.Lucky catch! Lucky break! I couldn't be more lucky that these people would overlook my oddities and frailties because they liked me and my work. I knew I would be able to work if I could just outweigh my weirdness with my talent. The experiment was a success. And then Winter came. It was the most savage, brutal Winter I had ever faced, and I went down fast. As I began to deteriorate Doc Rika (best doctor in the world. She'll have her own chapter later) became alarmed and called Bob Mayer, my boss, early January. She asked him to let me telecommute a day or two a week to lessen the strain. He politely refused her. As the weeks went by Bob was his usual friendly self, when he was there, for as I began to lose ground he was on a two week honeymoon in Thailand. In a bid to save myself I self launched a project to recreate the Mayer's Berkshire Legwear catalogue. I would have talked to my friend Mike who also suffered from depression but after a long struggle to continue working he went under. He had tried to save himself by changing his duties from the isolation of the packing room to another job where he would be with people. The number one rule of surviving depression is to never let it get you alone. But Bob politely refused and Mike eventually stopped coming to work. And now he was gone, leaving me alone as well. There was something unsettling about seeing a comrade shot down in battle when you knew it didn't have to happen and that while you are still in the air, you could very well be next. Losing Mike gave me a strange sense of survivor guilt for being able to last when he couldn't. But I was making it. I was still working, even though I was now too sick to go out and get my medicine. Getting my med