Whispr no distress.
An occasional need for a new wardrobe came with the job.
Nor did Chaukutri’s unconcealed desire to get the work over and done with and get rid of him worry Whispr. After all, it wasn’t as if the melder was actually going to touch him. Whispr knew there had been a time long ago when surgeons actually made
personal physical contact
with their patients. A time when incredibly delicate corporal manipulations, excisions, and embellishments had in fact been performed by shaky human fingers. The very thought of it made him shudder as he stepped into the cylinder. The transparent curved door slid tightly shut behind him.
Tilting back his head he allowed a thin tube to slide between his parted lips. It halted partway down his throat. A second tube entered his body via his anal canal and a third through his urethra. In each case there was no pain, no discomfort. Like the anticoagulant in a vampire bat’s saliva, theintruding probes released salving emissions of their own. He felt soothed, not violated.
In less than five minutes his entire body had been properly sterilized, cleaned, and prepared, without harm to any of the useful bacteria in his gut. Responding to a musical tone that rose above the sanitizing tube’s soft, steady beeping, he stepped out of the prep cylinder through a portal on the other side and entered the equally meticulously hygienic operating chamber. Off to his left Chaukutri waved at him from the other side of the transparent barrier. Lights on the console in front of the biosurge were alive with readiness.
Giving a nod to indicate that he was doing fine, Whispr turned, lay down on the bare, internally heated, sterilized platform, and closed his eyes against the subdued illumination. It was almost dark within the chamber. A gentle rising hum was accompanied by a tingling sensation as the maglift took hold of the iron in his body and raised him two meters off the platform. By controlling the magnetic field Chaukutri or the instruments in the chamber could rotate the patient’s suspended body into any position.
The melder’s voice reached Whispr through a speaker. “What kind of sleep would you like, my friend? I can offer you quite a selection.”
“Something Ceylonese,” the already half-anesthetized patient replied contentedly. “Surprise me.”
Chaukutri nodded and proceeded to program the remainder of the sedative. As soon as the Ayurvedic anesthetic took hold he set to work programming the chamber.
Behind the transparent barrier a multitude of extraordinary instrumentation went to work on Whispr’s levitated corpus. They performed their labors independent of any real-time surgical instruction. Having programmed in the melds requested by his customer, Chaukutri had only to sit back, watch, and monitor their progress. Machines did all the actual work. The presence of a human melder was necessary only for backup.
Synthesized facial bone was grafted and sculpted. Over it, delicate fine-tuning was applied to Whispr’s brows and eyelids. There had been a time in Asia when rounder eyes had been considered a sign of beauty. When anyone could have whatever size, shape, or number of eyes they wished, such peripheral beauty concerns became nonexistent. Permanent ionic depilation thinned Whispr’s hair while minuscule injections turned the remaining follicles permanently black from root to tip.
Chaukutri paid no heed when Whispr’s entire body began to jump and twitch. It was merely a sign that chemicals and electronic stimulants which would have been the envy of ancient bodybuilders were giving his muscles an instant tune-up without damaging or overworking the fibers. Cutters opened his legs and peeled back skin and flesh. There was no bleeding at all. Each incision was accompanied by the introduction and adhesion of a mesh of hypoallergenic shunts. Instead of being allowed to leak out of his body, every drop of his blood was allowed to continue circulating normally through
An occasional need for a new wardrobe came with the job.
Nor did Chaukutri’s unconcealed desire to get the work over and done with and get rid of him worry Whispr. After all, it wasn’t as if the melder was actually going to touch him. Whispr knew there had been a time long ago when surgeons actually made
personal physical contact
with their patients. A time when incredibly delicate corporal manipulations, excisions, and embellishments had in fact been performed by shaky human fingers. The very thought of it made him shudder as he stepped into the cylinder. The transparent curved door slid tightly shut behind him.
Tilting back his head he allowed a thin tube to slide between his parted lips. It halted partway down his throat. A second tube entered his body via his anal canal and a third through his urethra. In each case there was no pain, no discomfort. Like the anticoagulant in a vampire bat’s saliva, theintruding probes released salving emissions of their own. He felt soothed, not violated.
In less than five minutes his entire body had been properly sterilized, cleaned, and prepared, without harm to any of the useful bacteria in his gut. Responding to a musical tone that rose above the sanitizing tube’s soft, steady beeping, he stepped out of the prep cylinder through a portal on the other side and entered the equally meticulously hygienic operating chamber. Off to his left Chaukutri waved at him from the other side of the transparent barrier. Lights on the console in front of the biosurge were alive with readiness.
Giving a nod to indicate that he was doing fine, Whispr turned, lay down on the bare, internally heated, sterilized platform, and closed his eyes against the subdued illumination. It was almost dark within the chamber. A gentle rising hum was accompanied by a tingling sensation as the maglift took hold of the iron in his body and raised him two meters off the platform. By controlling the magnetic field Chaukutri or the instruments in the chamber could rotate the patient’s suspended body into any position.
The melder’s voice reached Whispr through a speaker. “What kind of sleep would you like, my friend? I can offer you quite a selection.”
“Something Ceylonese,” the already half-anesthetized patient replied contentedly. “Surprise me.”
Chaukutri nodded and proceeded to program the remainder of the sedative. As soon as the Ayurvedic anesthetic took hold he set to work programming the chamber.
Behind the transparent barrier a multitude of extraordinary instrumentation went to work on Whispr’s levitated corpus. They performed their labors independent of any real-time surgical instruction. Having programmed in the melds requested by his customer, Chaukutri had only to sit back, watch, and monitor their progress. Machines did all the actual work. The presence of a human melder was necessary only for backup.
Synthesized facial bone was grafted and sculpted. Over it, delicate fine-tuning was applied to Whispr’s brows and eyelids. There had been a time in Asia when rounder eyes had been considered a sign of beauty. When anyone could have whatever size, shape, or number of eyes they wished, such peripheral beauty concerns became nonexistent. Permanent ionic depilation thinned Whispr’s hair while minuscule injections turned the remaining follicles permanently black from root to tip.
Chaukutri paid no heed when Whispr’s entire body began to jump and twitch. It was merely a sign that chemicals and electronic stimulants which would have been the envy of ancient bodybuilders were giving his muscles an instant tune-up without damaging or overworking the fibers. Cutters opened his legs and peeled back skin and flesh. There was no bleeding at all. Each incision was accompanied by the introduction and adhesion of a mesh of hypoallergenic shunts. Instead of being allowed to leak out of his body, every drop of his blood was allowed to continue circulating normally through
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