A Step Beyond by Christopher K Anderson

or diarrhea?”
    “I did not have a bowel movement this morning, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I am suffering from constipation.”
    “Let me see your eyes.”
    Brunnet opened his eyes wide. Endicott was visibly relieved: the eyes were clear, not the pale yellow that would suggest cirrhosis of the liver.
    “What do you think it is?”
    “Could be a kidney infection, acute pyelonephritis, or even kidney stones, but I doubt it. The symptoms are textbook. I believe you are suffering from an inflamed appendix.”
    “Appendicitis?”
    “We will need to consult with Earth and perform some tests to confirm the diagnosis. If my suspicions are correct, your appendix will have to be removed.”
    “When?”
    “As soon as we are sure of the diagnosis. Time is of the essence. A burst appendix can be fatal.”
    “Do you have the proper equipment?”
    “Of course,” Endicott replied with a false smile. He was wondering how he would conduct the diagnosis without an X-ray or an ultrasound machine.
    E ndicott and Nelson were standing in front of the high-definition waiting for Dr. Cain to silence the men surrounding him. When he finally succeeded, he smiled briefly at the camera.
    “Good morning,” he said. “You may already know some of the doctors here.”
    The camera swiveled past Cain’s silver curls and focused upon a panel of doctors. Seated at the center, an elderly man lifted his graying head and, with his index finger, pushed back on a pair of wire-framed glasses until they settled into the red indentations that marked each side of his nose. Cain introduced him as Dr. Lear.
    “Good morning, Dr. Endicott. I had hoped our next meeting would have been under more pleasant circumstances,” Dr. Lear said, articulating each word with crisp precision. “In order to minimize the delay, I will pause between questions to allow you to respond. Of course, we will be unable to respond to any questions you may have until several minutes later. They tell me the delay is nearly twelve minutes. I understand you are used to this sort of disorientating dialogue, but I assure you my colleagues and I are not, so please bear with us.” He paused to look down at a sheet of paper. “The white blood-cell count was slightly higher than I would have expected. Over eighteen thousand.”
    “Eighteen thousand, five hundred, and sixty-two,” Endicott clarified.
    “The elevated count and the shift to the left could indicate a perforated appendix. Under the circumstance we must assume the worst. Commence intravenous hydration and start the patient on Mefoxin immediately. Any evidence of albuminuria in the urine?” He paused.
    “None.”
    “Did you check for Rovsing’s sign?” He paused again.
    “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with the technique.”
    “The level of amylase in the urine was normal, which rules out acute pancreatitis,” piped in a younger doctor, seated to the left of center. Dr. Lear peered over the top of his glasses, his eyebrows lowered in disapproval. After several uncomfortable seconds he continued.
    “Appendicitis can be easily confused with several other disorders, and without a barium enema or ultrasonography the diagnosis can be tricky. Do you feel confident he is not suffering from a severe case of gastroenteritis?” He paused, and while he waited he arranged the lab results on the table in front of him.
    “As you have said, without the appropriate equipment it is difficult to make an accurate diagnosis,” Endicott replied. “I am as certain as I can be.”
    Lear went on to discuss many of the complications that could arise and had just finished describing the procedures for a perforated appendix when Endicott could hear his own voice over the high-definition saying, “Yes, I am.”
    He watched the doctors as they listened to him respond to their questions. Intermixed with his replies a tape of the Earth-side dialogue was being played quietly in the background so that the physicians were able to