A Little Irritant

The surgical implant itched, a tiny dot of a radioactive isotope, cesium? Inserted into his heart to remain as an insurance policy for his good behavior. Well the damn thing itched even though that wasn’t one of the listed side effects. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to complete the job and remove the irritant. The implant also felt warm, although the doctors told him that the small metal clad pellet, used to track his whereabouts even through the time portal, did not generate any perceptible warmth, that it was all in his head. Well, it was in his head all right, and if the show didn’t get on the road soon, he’d start cutting away his own flesh to did out the chronoton tracker. 

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