“Mr. Bird?” The doctor’s long white coat tail fell to his heels. Armed with his clip board, and peering around the room, his call rang once more. “Mr. Bird?”

Ears perked up, and shaking with fright, a young man stood up in reply. Nodding his head at the doctor, he followed out from the waiting room. It had always been his dream, ever sense he was so little, to just sprout wings and take off to the skies. Considering his name and all, he felt it destined to be. The doctor held open a large white door, allowing Mr. Bird to proceed through.

“We thank you for your participation in these trial runs. Now I must ask,” Handing the clip board off to Mr. Bird, “All of this paper work is correct? Should something unfortunate occur during the transplant, we are not liable for any legal action, correct?”

“Correct.” He just wanted the wings, not caring a bit over what could happen.

“Alright, and you are aware that the mortality rate of this operation is higher than survival?”

“I am fully aware.

“Then let us begin.”