Nine ordinary faces.
Some smiling.
Some frightened.
All dressed in hospital clothing.
At the bottom was a date.
Three days after my playground accident.
I touched the image.
"Who are they?"
Dr. Harris stood beside my hospital bed.
He had been helping me review the historical records while my vision continued improving.
He also warned me not to spend too long looking at the documents.
Reading still exhausted me.
Colors sometimes seemed painfully bright.
And after twenty years without useful sight, my brain needed time to interpret the visual world.
But I couldn't stop looking.
"According to the records," Harris said, "these children were enrolled in different parts of the same research program."
I stared at their faces.
"Did they all lose their sight?"
"Not all. Some appear to have suffered other complications. We need to verify what happened to each person."
I looked at the little girl beside me in the photograph.
