Bhaskar Banerjee

Dr. Elias Voss had not moved a single muscle below his neck in eleven years, and yet he was, by every measurable standard, the most dangerous mind on the planet. The thought amused him, in the private way that thoughts could still be his own before they became words. Amusement was one of the last unrationed luxuries left to a man whose body had become a locked room. Everything else - his fingers, his legs, the simple animal comfort of scratching an itch - had been auctioned off, year by year, to a disease that had no interest in negotiating.