but unless your equipment is shielded it could give you trouble.”
Ross knew that all the OR equipment had been shielded the week before. The plutonium exchanger didn’t put out much radiation—not enough to fog anX-ray plate—but it could confuse more delicate scientific equipment. There was, of course, no danger to people.
“We’re shielded,” Ross said. “Have him take it into the OR.”
Ross turned to Morris, scrubbing alongside her. “How’s Benson?”
“Nervous.”
“He should be,” she said. Morris glanced at her, his eyes questioning above the gauze surgical mask. She shook her hands free of excess water and backed into the OR. The first thing she saw was the rad-lab man wheeling in the tray with the charging unit on it. It was contained in a small lead box. On the sides were stenciled DANGER RADIATION and the triple-blade orange symbol for radiation. It was all faintly ridiculous; the charging unit was quite safe.
Ellis stood across the room, being helped into his gown. He plunged his hands into his rubber gloves and flexed his fingers. To the rad-lab man he said, “Has it been sterilized?”
“Sir?”
“Has the unit been sterilized?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Then give it to one of the girls and have her autoclave it. It’s got to be sterile.”
Dr. Ross dried her hands and shivered in the cold of the operating room. Like most surgeons, Ellis preferred a cold room—too cold, really, for the patient. But as Ellis often said, “If I’m happy, the patient’s happy.”
Ellis was now across the room standing by the viewing box, while the circulating nurse, who was not scrubbed, put up the patient’s X-rays. Ellis peeredclosely at them, though he had seen them a dozen times before. They were perfectly normal skull films. Air had been injected into the ventricles, so that the horns stood out darkly.
One by one the rest of the team filtered into the room. All together, there were two scrub nurses, two circulating nurses, one orderly, Ellis, two assistant surgeons including Morris, two electronics technicians, and a computer programmer. The anaesthetist was outside with Benson.
Without looking up from his console, one of the electronics men said, “Any time you want to begin, Doctor.”
“We’ll wait for the patient,” Ellis said dryly, and there were some chuckles from the Nine Group team.
Ross looked around the room at the seven TV screens. They were of different sizes and stationed in different places, depending on how important they were to the surgeon. The smallest screen monitored the closed-circuit taping of the operation. At the moment, it showed an overhead view of the empty chair.
Another screen, nearer the surgeon, monitored the electroencephalogram, or EEG. It was turned off now, the sixteen pens tracing straight white lines across the screen. There was also a large TV screen for basic operative parameters: electrocardiogram, peripheral arterial pressure, respirations, cardiac output, central venous pressure, rectal temperature. Like the EEG screen, it was also tracing a series of straight lines.
Another pair of screens were completely blank. They would display black-and-white image-intensified X-ray views during the operation.
Finally, two color screens displayed the LIMBIC Programoutput. That program was cycling now, without punched-in coordinates. On the screens, a picture of the brain rotated in three dimensions while random coordinates, generated by computer, flashed below. As always, Ross felt that the computer was another, almost human presence in the room—an impression that was always heightened as the operation proceeded.
Ellis finished looking at the X-rays and glanced up at the clock. It was 6:19; Benson was still outside being checked by the anaesthetist. Ellis walked around the room, talking briefly to everyone. He was being unusually friendly, and Ross wondered why. She looked up at the viewing gallery and saw the director of the hospital, the
Ross knew that all the OR equipment had been shielded the week before. The plutonium exchanger didn’t put out much radiation—not enough to fog anX-ray plate—but it could confuse more delicate scientific equipment. There was, of course, no danger to people.
“We’re shielded,” Ross said. “Have him take it into the OR.”
Ross turned to Morris, scrubbing alongside her. “How’s Benson?”
“Nervous.”
“He should be,” she said. Morris glanced at her, his eyes questioning above the gauze surgical mask. She shook her hands free of excess water and backed into the OR. The first thing she saw was the rad-lab man wheeling in the tray with the charging unit on it. It was contained in a small lead box. On the sides were stenciled DANGER RADIATION and the triple-blade orange symbol for radiation. It was all faintly ridiculous; the charging unit was quite safe.
Ellis stood across the room, being helped into his gown. He plunged his hands into his rubber gloves and flexed his fingers. To the rad-lab man he said, “Has it been sterilized?”
“Sir?”
“Has the unit been sterilized?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Then give it to one of the girls and have her autoclave it. It’s got to be sterile.”
Dr. Ross dried her hands and shivered in the cold of the operating room. Like most surgeons, Ellis preferred a cold room—too cold, really, for the patient. But as Ellis often said, “If I’m happy, the patient’s happy.”
Ellis was now across the room standing by the viewing box, while the circulating nurse, who was not scrubbed, put up the patient’s X-rays. Ellis peeredclosely at them, though he had seen them a dozen times before. They were perfectly normal skull films. Air had been injected into the ventricles, so that the horns stood out darkly.
One by one the rest of the team filtered into the room. All together, there were two scrub nurses, two circulating nurses, one orderly, Ellis, two assistant surgeons including Morris, two electronics technicians, and a computer programmer. The anaesthetist was outside with Benson.
Without looking up from his console, one of the electronics men said, “Any time you want to begin, Doctor.”
“We’ll wait for the patient,” Ellis said dryly, and there were some chuckles from the Nine Group team.
Ross looked around the room at the seven TV screens. They were of different sizes and stationed in different places, depending on how important they were to the surgeon. The smallest screen monitored the closed-circuit taping of the operation. At the moment, it showed an overhead view of the empty chair.
Another screen, nearer the surgeon, monitored the electroencephalogram, or EEG. It was turned off now, the sixteen pens tracing straight white lines across the screen. There was also a large TV screen for basic operative parameters: electrocardiogram, peripheral arterial pressure, respirations, cardiac output, central venous pressure, rectal temperature. Like the EEG screen, it was also tracing a series of straight lines.
Another pair of screens were completely blank. They would display black-and-white image-intensified X-ray views during the operation.
Finally, two color screens displayed the LIMBIC Programoutput. That program was cycling now, without punched-in coordinates. On the screens, a picture of the brain rotated in three dimensions while random coordinates, generated by computer, flashed below. As always, Ross felt that the computer was another, almost human presence in the room—an impression that was always heightened as the operation proceeded.
Ellis finished looking at the X-rays and glanced up at the clock. It was 6:19; Benson was still outside being checked by the anaesthetist. Ellis walked around the room, talking briefly to everyone. He was being unusually friendly, and Ross wondered why. She looked up at the viewing gallery and saw the director of the hospital, the
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