His arms and legs have been secured to the operating table with bonds that are strong but padded so he won't hurt himself if he struggles.
A nurse blots sweat from his forehead. "Relax, I'm here to help you through this."
He feels a sharp pinprick in the right side of his neck, and then in the left side.
"What's that?"
"That," says the nurse, "is the only pain you'll be feeling today."
"This is it, then," Roland says. "You're putting me under?"
Although he can't see her mouth beneath her surgical mask, he can see the smile in her eyes.
"Not at all," she says. "By law, we're required to keep you conscious through the entire procedure." The nurse takes his hand. "You have a right to know everything that's happening to you, every step of the way."
"What if I don't want to?"
"You will," says one of the surgical assistants, wiping Roland's legs down with brown surgical scrub. "Everybody does."
"We've just inserted catheters into your carotid artery and jugular vein," says the nurse. "Right now your blood is being replaced with a synthetic oxygen-rich solution."
"We send the real stuff straight to the blood bank," says the assistant at his feet. "Not a bit gets wasted. You can bet, you'll be saving lives!"
"The oxygen solution also contains an anaesthetic that deadens pain receptors." The nurse pats his hand. "You'll be fully conscious, but you won't feel a thing."
Already Roland feels his limbs starting to go numb. He swallows hard. "I hate this. I hate you. I hate all of you."
"I understand."
* * *
Twenty-eight minutes in.
The first set of surgeons has arrived.
"Don't mind them," says the nurse. "Talk to me."
"What do we talk about?"
"Anything you want."
Someone drops an instrument. It clatters on the table and falls to the floor. Roland flinches. The nurse holds his hand
tighter.
"You may feel a tugging sensation near your ankles," says one of the surgeons at the foot of the table. "It's nothing to worry' about."
* * *
Forty-five minutes in.
So many surgeons, so much activity. Roland couldn't remember ever having so much attention directed at him. He wants to look, but the nurse holds his focus. She's read his file. She knows everything about him. The good and the bad. The things he never talks about. The things he can't stop talking about now.
"I think it's horrible what your stepfather did."
"I was just protecting my mother."
"Scalpel," says a surgeon.