The surgeon peeled off his gloves, though blood still spotted his wrists and rolled up sleeves. "Well mister Trent, you're done. I'd say that this is possibly my finest bit of work in months. How does it feel?"
"I can't feel anything!" Trent reached up, touching the wrapped area covering his eye.
"Yes, well, be happy for that, the anesthesia should wear off very soon." the surgeon discarded his gloves, and began to gather up the bloody implements of his work.
Trent felt around the wrapping and bandages, his one good eye watching the surgeon warily. "How bad will the pain be?"
The surgeon shrugged at that, noncommittal. "About as bad as having one's eye surgically removed, their socket cleaned out, and fitted with complex electronics would, mister Trent. I don't really have a concept of just how bad that is."
Trent continued to prod the area around his eye, worry and fear creeping into his features with every passing moment. Doubt had found a home in him. "Why can't I see anything?"
The Surgeon's reply was tired and practiced, as though he'd answered this question many times before. "The hardware is working, mister Trent, it's just going to take some time for the optical nerves to recover from the shock and begin interpreting the signals properly. If you still can't see anything within a day or two, let me know. Do you want to keep the eye?" He motioned to the removed eye in a container on a nearby tray.
"No... no you can have it." He stared at his own eye as it rested in an unknown solution that was tinged with his own blood.
"I'm sure I can find someone looking for a healthy orb. Donors are surprisingly rare these days. But then, there are always good people like you mister Trent, looking to help out the maimed and injured."
Trent looked back to the surgeon. "Can I go now?"
"Yes of course, mister Trent, you're all paid for." He picked up the extracted eye, and placed the container into cold storage. "Give mister Sinclair my regards."
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