A Step Beyond by Christopher K Anderson Page A

associate the answer with the question.
    Dr. Lear turned to the camera. “Rovsing’s sign occurs when pressure is applied to the lower left side of the abdomen and pain is felt on the lower right. The symptom does not always present itself, but when it does there is a high probability the cause is appendicitis.”
    “There was no indication of pain,” Endicott responded.
    “As I was saying,” Lear continued, “it will be impossible for us to assist you directly with the operation owing to the time delay; however, the medical assistance program should be able to guide you through any complications that might arise.” He glanced at a paper that had been passed to him. “I have just been informed that if you have any further questions, you must ask them now.”
    “What should I look for if it turns out not to be the appendix?” Endicott asked.
    Slides of an appendectomy appeared on the high-definition while Endicott and Nelson waited restlessly for a response. As the slides advanced in slow motion, the recorded voice of an elderly woman explained the various aspects of the operation. Thin layers of oblique muscles, crisscrossing, were being pulled back with curved, spoonlike utensils. Behind the muscles was a confusion of organs, dominated by a reddish mass the voice of the elderly woman referred to as the cecum. The bloody organ was being pulled up and out of the wound when suddenly it disappeared and was replaced by the crisp image of Dr. Lear.
    “In the event the appendix does not appear to be infected, examine the small bowel for enteritis or Meckel’s diverticulitis. The lymph nodes should also be examined for mesenteric adenitis. The simulation will explore each of these possibilities. If indeed nothing is found to be wrong, the appendectomy should still be conducted.”
    There was a pause.
    “Good luck.” Dr. Lear’s warm smile had been digitized and torn apart bit by bit, then mathematically reconstructed after oscillating, single file, through space. The smile conveyed confidence in Endicott or was at least meant to convey confidence. Endicott could not be certain. The camera swiveled and focused on Cain. His smile seemed forced, which for Cain was unusual.
    “Best of luck, gentlemen,” he said.
    Endicott wondered just how much luck he would require. As part of his training for the mission he had performed several surgical procedures, including an appendectomy, but he was not a surgeon. His understanding of medical matters was mostly academic. He glanced at Nelson and saw that he appeared to be waiting for instructions. Normally, Nelson would be giving orders in a crisis of this magnitude. He seemed uncomfortable, or perhaps he was just nervous. Endicott glanced at his watch in order to collect his thoughts.
    “We should get him started on the antibiotics,” he said upon looking up.
    T he compartment was too small to be a proper operating room. There was barely enough space for the EKG machine or for Lieutenant Colonel Carter, who was standing nervously in front of the machine with his back to the patient. His responsibilities were to monitor the life-support readouts and enter information dictated by Endicott into the computer. He purposely did not turn around. His skin was still damp with cold sweat and his stomach tight. He had seen the scalpel make a vertical slice across Brunnet’s bare abdomen, leaving a trail of red dots that grew into pools of blood until a sponge swept them away. That was all he could bear to watch. In an attempt to force the image from his mind, he concentrated on the steady pulse of the EKG. He was beginning to think of other things when he heard, or thought he heard, the sound of flesh pulling apart. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He wanted to close his ears to stop the sound, and desperately fought the urge to clasp his hands over them. He heard Endicott say something, but his voice was distant. Then silently and without warning came the smell. At first he was