Ross Savage was tired of seeing nothing but white; the walls and ceiling of his small, windowless room, the few pieces of utilitarian furniture and the sheets covering the narrow bed, which sagged under the weight of his muscularly massive, six-foot five-inch frame. He was tired too, of the white bandages on his hands and, although he could not see them, the white bandages that swathed his head and face, leaving only slits for his eyes and mouth.
Today is the day, he thought. Why don't they come? As if in answer to his unspoken question the door latch clicked. Savage turned his head stiffly to watch the door open. As it swung wide the doctor entered, followed by General Strathmore and two nurses guiding a wheeled tray.
"It's time to take them off," the doctor said. No one answered, but Savage felt his hands grow sweaty in their wrappings.
As the group reached the bed a nurse handed the doctor a pair of surgical scissors. He bent over Savage as he said, "We'll take the hands first."
There was no sound other than the snip-snip of the scissors as the doctor carefully cat through the gauze. Finally the sound stopped and Savage looked at his hands. They were white and soft, but there were no scars to betray the fingerprint change.
The doctor permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction, but the room was pregnant with tension as he turned his attention to the gauze covering Savage's head.
The snip-snip came again as the cold steel slid slowly over his skin. An eternity passed before the sound again ceased and a nurse carefully removed the freed gauze. For a long moment there was no sound and Savage looked anxiously from face to face and tried to interpret what he read there. The nurses stared in disgust and horror while the doctor looked satisfied. The General beamed.
"Beautiful job," the General said finally, and the doctor nodded in agreement.
"Let me see," Savage croaked through stiff lips.
A nurse took the hand mirror from the bedside table and held it in front of him. From the glass the bearded face of a Trygonian stared at him; there was no mistaking the narrow chin, the high, broad cheekbones and aquiline nose.