All around him his erstwhile colleagues eyed him coldly and fingered their scalpels. They probed and prodded with harsh whispers pitched just loud enough to reach his ears. Even without the silver biometal pin on his chest they would have known who and what he was. Hospitals were like small towns. Word travelled fast.
Pariahs can expect no privacy.
What these fools didn't know was how little their hatred and contempt meant to him any more. It was a fact of life. The condition was chronic. His bland, indifferent gaze settled on one particular couple scowling at him from a table in the corner. He thought he recognized the woman from that afternoon.