Eric took a deep breath, tapped the back of his neck, and grunted in satisfaction when he felt nothing. “Okay, I’m ready if you are,” he said to himself, and shoved the next note in front of the dull eyes. DR. CAMERON. THE OFFICIALS OF SHALEV HAVE DETERMINED THAT ERIC LLOYD’S IMPLANTATION IS TO BE REMOVED. PLEASE MAKE THE INCISION AND PREPARE TO REMOVE THE PLASTIC CHIP. DO NOT—WE REPEAT, DO NOT—REMOVE THE CHIP UNTIL YOU ARE INSTRUCTED TO DO SO.

Climbing quickly up on the table, Eric lay face down, grateful that he no longer had to stand, for his legs were trembling violently. Cliff put on the surgical gloves with maddening slowness, then moved slightly and leaned over his head. The scalpel flashed briefly, and then, a moment later, Cliff stepped back, and Eric saw the bright red of his fingers. He snatched up the note pad and tore off the next page.

DR. CAMERON. PREPARE TO TAKE OUT THE IMPLANTATION. YOU MUST YANK IT OUT SWIFTLY WHEN ERIC SAYS THE WORD THREE. DO NOT TAKE IT OUT UNTIL YOU HEAR HIM SAY THE WORD THREE.

Cliff nodded and stepped forward again.

As Eric picked up the bolt cutters, the ribbons of pain became rivers of molten lava coursing through his body. He jerked once in agony, almost knocking Cliffs hands away. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he inserted the band of the wrist computer into the jaws of the bolt cutter, ignoring the sudden warning buzz. Yellow flashes of light edged in around his vision, and he felt himself slipping away, blackness rushing toward him.

“One!” It was a hoarse gasp. “Two!”

He rose up and slammed down his full weight on the handles of the bolt cutters. “Three!” he shouted.

He heard a sharp snap and a brief, odd sensation at the back of his neck, but those impressions were instantly swept away with the sudden, total cessation of the pain, which left him gasping in amazement and relief. With one great sob of release, Eric collapsed back on the table, drawing breaths of air like a threshing machine gobbling up harvest wheat.

Finally he looked up. “We did it, Cliff!” he whispered exultantly. Cliff watched him steadily, holding the bloody black plastic chip in his fingers.

Eric tore off the next sheet on the pad and held it up. STITCH UP THE INCISION AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED, LIE FACE DOWN ON THE TABLE.

Cliff nodded, unconcerned, stepped forward, and picked up the needle and some suturing thread.

“We did it!” Eric whispered again, hardly able to fathom the total absence of pain. It provided a pleasure more exquisite than anything he had ever known. He slapped the table with his fist, careful not to move his head. “We did it!” he said again in a joyous whisper of triumph.