Page 73 of The Secretary Volume II

It’s not a waiver so much as an obituary for his agency—three pages of legal disclaimers dressed up in soft language.I skim it.Words likeanesthesia,removal,harvesting,biological materialpop up in different fonts, as if their presentation matters more than their meaning.

I start to explain what I’ve read, but a nurse calls my name.

I follow her down a hallway that smells like lemon disinfectant and synthetic lavender, but it’s the photos that feel off.Along the walls, stock photos of grinning people in white coats try to sell optimism.I pause briefly next to a poster that says:Confidence starts with a healthy smile.

The nurse opens a door and gestures for me to step inside.

The room is smaller than I expected.Windowless.Cold.There’s a chair in the center—with actual restraints.Next to it, a metal tray draped with gauze.I can see the outline of tools beneath it—sharp, glinting, too many.

“Have you had local anesthesia before?”the nurse asks.

“Yes.”

“Allergic to latex?”

“No.”

She smiles.“You’d be surprised how many people don’t know.”

I think of Ellis.His voice.His mouth.The way he said no complications—and then sent me back to HQ like I was one.

I shouldn’t be here.

She gestures to the chair.

I sit.I shouldn’t.But I do.

“We’ll get started soon,” she says, too bright.“The doctor will be in shortly.”

42

Lena

The nurse clips a pulse oximeter to my finger.Wraps a cuff around my arm.My heart rate shows up on a screen I can’t stop watching.

A man enters.Says he’s an anesthetist.

“Usually it’s just local and a little nitrous,” he says.“But for you?We’re rolling out the red carpet.”

He inserts the IV.My arm goes cold.

“This’ll make you a little more comfortable.”

The sedation hits fast.Too fast.My head gets heavy.My jaw loosens.My limbs start to float, but not in a good way.

I’m aware.I just can’t move.

Another nurse enters.Then the periodontist.She’s young, smiling.

She tilts my head back without asking.“Let’s have a look.”

“Okay,” she nods.“You can let them in.”

Next thing I know, a swarm of dental students piles in—wide-eyed, lip-glossed, and vibrating with the kind of excitement usually reserved for rollercoasters or cadaver day.

They crowd around the chair like it’s an exhibit.One’s already wearing gloves.Another starts adjusting the light.One of them takes notes like he’s at a cooking class.

This feels like a bad dream.A nightmare.

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