John Frist lay strapped to a plastic table in the center of the room, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell, his breathing slow and rhythmic.
Dr. Elliot stood in yellow isolation suit, hovering over Frist. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot, trying to watch the different monitors that surrounded Frist. Dr. Oshensker sat at a nearby workstation, typing furiously.
Smith turned to Eric. “Do you understand the process?”
“I read the briefings.”
“Then you know how dangerous and delicate this process is. We’ve had a measure of success and Dr. Elliot assures me they have perfected the technology.”
There was a flurry of activity as the technicians rolled two walls of equipment to the center of the room, placing them on either side of Frist.
“Dr. Elliot wasn’t the first to create nanobots,” Smith said, “but his breakthrough allowed us to offload the power and computing. He looked at it from another perspective. What did he really need to accomplish? He sends them the instructions and a supercomputer will take care of the processing. The racks on either side of the subject will bathe him in an electric field, strong enough to power the nanobots, but not strong enough to cause cellular damage.”
Eric gawked at the amount of equipment, and at Frist, unconscious on the table. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then Mr. Frist died serving his country,” Smith answered soberly.
Below, a nurse inserted a PIC line into Frist’s chest. Eric watched for a moment. “Does it bother you what we’re doing to him? The procedures? The enhancements?”
Smith turned his gaze to Eric. “There were five hundred and twelve people who died in the Red Cross bombing. Mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. They loved and were loved. Many died instantly, but not all. Some died in the fire and some from smoke inhalation. Others died from puncture wounds or blunt-force trauma. One woman suffered a heart attack from stress. You know this. You’ve seen the reports.” He turned his gaze back to the technicians working on Frist. “I’ve done terrible things in the name of freedom, ordered men and women to their deaths. I believe in the sanctity of life and I feel sorrow, even for Mr. Frist.” He stopped and tapped Eric on the leg. “I also know that we do what must be done. We are the gatekeepers. Like as not, if I were asked to do it all again, I would.” Smith paused. “This isn’t about me, is it?”
“No,” Eric said slowly, “I guess it isn’t. I think I understand what you expect from me. No matter how I feel, I’ll perform the job.”
Smith nodded. “I have faith in you, Eric. Perhaps we aren’t turning Frist into a monster, perhaps we’re helping him find redemption.”
“Maybe,” Eric admitted, “Or maybe we’re going to kill him, right here and now, in front of all these people, with a completely untested medical procedure.”
Smith nodded. “Perhaps. You’ve heard the expression, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs?”
“In this case, it’s his skeletal system.”
“The nano-bots will do their job or we wouldn’t be at the human trial stage,” Smith said.
The plasma screens showed a number of graphs, all green. Dr. Elliot directed a man to maneuverer a steel framed array with two glass tubes, each the size of 2-liter soda bottles, directly behind Frist. One was filled with a clear liquid, the other with a liquid so dark it appeared to suck the light from the room. The nurse had finished inserting the PIC line and was busy hooking other IV’s in his arms and legs.
Dr. Elliot finished his last round of checks, whispered something to another tech, and stepped to the front of the room. “Test, test. Can you folks hear me?”
The people in the auditorium sat up and the talking abruptly ended. There were nods all around. Smith sat still, hardly blinking. The only noise in the room was the hum of the equipment and a faint whisper of the ventilation system.
The techs behind the glass took their seats at different workstations. The nurse finished hooking up the last IV and took a position behind Oshensker’s workstation.
“Well,” Dr. Elliot said, “it appears we are ready to begin. Dr. Oshensker is here, just as a precaution. Once the nanobots are inserted, we can’t stop until the program completes. We must finish the process and extract the nanobots. If left in the subject’s body, it could be disastrous.”
The techs in the room nodded their heads. They had worked on this for years, and not all the tests had ended well. When reading through the archives, Eric had stumbled across pictures of a rhesus monkey. The monkey was a bloody mess, as if it had turned inside out.
Now we’re risking a man, not a monkey.
Eric’s eyes swept the room, wondering if they were nervous, and saw a twitch in Frist’s right eyelid. He turned to see if anyone else had registered the twitch, but no one seemed to notice.
The door to the auditorium opened and Nancy joined them. Smith greeted her with a nod. “Nice of you to show up, dear.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. How are we?”
“Nathan is about to begin.”
“Dr. Oshensker,” Dr. Elliot called out. “What’s the status of the test subject?”
“Well within parameters,” Dr. Oshensker answered. “The monitoring program is in place and all vitals are normal. The program is up and the telemetry is recording.”
Eric was barely listening. He watched Frist, but there was no further twitch, no sign that Frist was conscious. He glanced up at the monitor showing Frist’s blood pressure. The status was green, the blood pressure normal. According to the EEG readouts, Frist was unconscious.
Dr. Elliot turned to the nurse. “Kara, would you start the program?”
The nurse nodded and typed commands on her keyboard.
A large countdown clock appeared on the monitor. As it started to tick down, Dr. Elliot continued to lecture. “When we reach zero, the nanobots will be injected. There are billions in the cylinder. Once they are successfully inserted, we’ll take a short break as they receive their positioning instructions. The next step is the nano-carbon material. Once injected, we’ll start the Weave. The nano bots will use the buckeyballs to form a mesh sheathe over the skeletal framework, primarily the arms, legs and ribs, rendering the skeleton much stronger than a normal. Make no mistake, this will not render the subject bullet proof or invulnerable to harm. But, in combination with his battle armor, will increase his chance of survival.”
The timer reached zero and everyone took a deep breath. “We are injecting the nanobots now. This will take several moments. Please note that our test subject is completely unconscious. The migration of the nanobots would be excruciatingly painful if the test subject were awake,” Dr. Elliot said.
The tube of clear liquid drained, quickly at first, then slowing to a trickle. In less than five minutes, the tube was empty.
“The nanobots are injected, and are en route to their destination along the skeletal axis. Keep in mind, they are incredibly small, and are pumping through the blood stream of a living organism. They must find their way to the skeletal structure and prepare for the nanocarbon material.”
Eric was fascinated. They had just injected several million dollars’ worth of nanobots, at the cost of a billion dollars to develop, into a living human being. He shuddered at the thought of billions of tiny ant-like robots plunging through his bloodstream and crawling along his bones.
On the screen, a number climbed until reaching 85 percent, and a gentle beeping started. “We’ve reached the threshold,” Dr. Elliot said. “The nanobots that didn’t make it to the skeleton will go inert once when done. As the blood flows through the kidneys, they will eventually be excreted through the urine. Kara, please begin the injection of the nanocarbon.”