i see a thousand perspectives.

In truth, his explanation for travel hadn’t been a lie—not entirely, the omitting reasons perhaps the only misinformation that had been given. He had family in Babylon, namely his mother who drilled away at her occupation much like Kang had and, at times that were coordinated with operations of the Alliance Defense Force he served, his father and there would surely be some time to catch up in an equally familiar as it was foreign setting. Just as well, there were things to do and people to see, family friends and associates who only ever heard of his well-being through what minimal conversations he had with his ever-busy parents who would finally have a chance to catch up with for as long as he was in Eden—tentatively, it would be some time. A few days at the least, a week or so at the most, but nothing Kang could put a date on even with all of his professional experience.

After all, Kang wasn’t the surgeon in this case. He wasn’t dealing with the consultation as someone who knew his own methods, practices, and equipment as well as his own team that was to be assisting him. He wasn’t dealing with the pre-operative measures as someone who would be wide awake while the patient went under anesthesia, slowly drifting off to sleep while their vitals were kept watch of over monitors. He wasn’t dealing with the specifics actions enucleation procedures of the eyes and subsequent implant of active cybernetic prostheses and all the parts associated with it as the one directing the whole orchestra, connecting already established cybernetic parts and their associated neural pathways to something new. He wasn’t dealing with anything from the surgical perspective.

In this case, he was the patient.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through a cybernetic surgery of his own volition. It wasn’t even the first time he had gone through a cybernetic surgery for medical necessity, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t nervous of the potential problems associated with such a procedure. He was practiced—he knew what the risks were well before the consultations had begun over communication links, and he knew the staff overseeing the surgery would do right by him given the successes they had under their belt and all the conjoined knowledge staff and patient had together—but the nerves were still there and they would be there until he could open his eyes again to the world around him without difficulty; and there would be difficulty at first as those first connections between organic and inorganic components were made, links established, and tests done to ensure everything from visual clarity to proper perspective.

Then there were the physical ones to do with healing, a process one could only speed up so much through the use of medical gel—the aches and pains of new parts he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but never had they been so readily in his skull. Never had they been one of the very parts he needed to work with upmost certainty to do his job, a blind surgeon not about to instill an overwhelming wash of confidence in current or new patients alike, but that was why he had picked the specialty clinic he had and that was why he had picked the parts he had and that was why he entrusted the surgeon he had well before he found himself under anesthesia, just waiting and hoping that he would wake up whole again, if not improved, on the other side.