He opened the packet of anesthetic paste, smeared it with his smart-gloved fingers over the nozzle of the tubing, and then, with a single gesture that took all the courage he had, deliberately shoved it down his own throat. He successfully avoided the back of his tongue, felt it flicker down his sore and swollen larynx, down through the beating center of his chest. He’d nerved himself to do this, maybe even to talk, but as the anesthetic kicked in, all the strength flew out of him like an exploding covey of quail, and left him empty and cold and sick.