The Transvection Machine Read Free Page A

arms and chest were floating clear, somehow detached from the rest of his body. It was a not unpleasant feeling, reminding him of the time in his youth when he’d received a spinal anesthetic for an operation on a broken leg that had failed to mend properly. He supposed they’d given him a spinal this time too, though the anesthesia guns they used these days were so painless as to be completely unnoticed.
    “I resent that only a nurse remark,” she told him. “I took a special ten-week course in the surgery machine, and I hold an operating certificate for it. But it really will be Dr. Cozzens who cuts into your abdomen, you know. Every move will be his.”
    “Where is this master computer with the preprogrammed operation?”
    “It’s located across town, actually, at the Federal Medical Center. But it could just as well be a thousand miles away. We use standard telephone lines for transmission.”
    “And if the line goes dead in the midst of the operation?”
    “Oh, we have a fail-safe mechanism. The entire operation must be received on our machine’s own tape before it begins cutting. That’s what’s happening now. See that glowing green light?” She patted the stainless steel monster above his head as if it were a living creature, a pet to be fed and watered and loved. “The actual operation might last anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or two, but all the programmed information is fed into our baby here in a matter of minutes. As soon as the green light goes out, we’ll be ready to begin.”
    “Just how does? …”
    “Well, the trickiest thing about it, from the machine’s point of view, is the fact that the appendix is an extremely mobile organ, and can be found in any one of eight or nine different positions within the abdomen. But once it’s located, the rest is easy. This laser scalpel arm here will make the initial incision—either a McBurney or a Right Rectus—about two to four inches long. The diseased appendix is then delivered into the wound, its base is securely tied off, and the organ is cut across and removed. The abdominal wall is then closed with plastic stitches. As I say, it can be over in a few minutes with luck—if your appendix is where it’s supposed to be.”
    At that moment the green light blinked out, and Nurse Simmons let out her breath. “Does that mean it’s ready?” Vander Defoe asked.
    “It’s ready. Just a double-check to see it’s the correct tape. Yes, we’re ready to begin now.”
    He saw the machine begin to move above him, saw the sighting lamps contract like some living weapon stalking its prey. “I … I can’t…”
    “Do you want a general?” she asked suddenly. “You really don’t need to be unconscious. It’ll be over before you know it.”
    “I just don’t want to look at that damned thing coming down on me!”
    “Oh, very well! I’ll put up a screen.” She pulled a pale green curtain across his middle, effectively blocking out the operating area. “There! How’s that?”
    “Better,” he mumbled.
    “Now just let your mind go blank. Don’t think of a thing. Or think of the weather. Think of your wife. Think of …”
    His wife. Gretel. Gretel in bed. Living, thrashing about like some tormented tidal wave. Gretel the untamable. Gretel the machine, with a soul like the stainless steel monster above his head. He wondered if she had initiated her current lover, whoever he might be, into the boundless joys of the electric lance. Surgery by machine, and sex by machine. Was there really much difference? Ah, Gretel.
    Ah …
    “My God! You’re hemorrhaging! Something’s wrong!”
    “What?”
    “Don’t try to move!” She was pressing buttons, frantically trying to reverse the machine.
    “What is it? What’s the matter? I don’t feel …”
    “I don’t know,” she gasped out, fully panicked now.
    “I don’t think I can …”
    That was the last he heard, as a great wave seemed to sweep over him. He was suddenly far away from