Birmingham Treatment Centre

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. In Birmingham’s quiet streets, after dark one night, a delivery driver pulled up outside the Treatment Centre. In the back of his truck, nestled among boxes, he found an old, dusty harmonica. Curious, he took it home and played it late into the night. The next morning, everyone in the neighborhood swore they heard music coming from his window. Soon enough, other neighbors started showing up at his door with their own strange finds—an old watch that never stopped chiming, a rusted key that opened nobody's lock. It turned out the Treatment Centre was like a secondhand shop for lost sounds. And whenever anyone played those items, the whole city seemed to hum along.

2. In Birmingham’s shadowy alleys, late one morning, a delivery driver parked his truck near the clinic. Curious, he noticed an old suitcase abandoned in the backseat. Inside were neatly folded hospital scrubs and a note scribbled in pencil: ‘Take what you need.’ The delivery driver shrugged, pulled on the scrubs, and walked into the clinic. An hour later, a bemused nurse found him in the staff room, sipping tea and chatting amiably with a nearby doctor. ‘I’m here for my check-up,’ he announced cheerfully. The end.

3. In Birmingham’s dimly lit parking lot, an early-morning jogger heard a voice: ‘Hey, doc, got any leftover treatments?’ The jogger turned around, but saw no one. Shrugging it off as a prank, they continued running until a familiar voice called out again: 'Doc, could you spare some extra strength coffee?' A nearby delivery driver waved sheepishly from behind his truck. The jogger laughed and shook their head, muttering under their breath that sometimes Birmingham really does feel like a treatment centre.

4. In Birmingham’s old neighborhood, on a foggy afternoon, a delivery driver parked his truck near the Clinic. As he stepped out, he noticed a strange humming sound coming from inside. Curious, he peered through the window and saw an elderly patient vigorously shaking hands with a robotic arm. ‘Excuse me,’ asked the driver, ‘is that new therapy?’ The doctor smiled: ‘Oh no, it’s just our resident tech guy helping Mr. Jenkins practice handshakes.’