the oozing piece of scalp out of the way. She used one of the smaller syrinxes to spray regen evenly over the lacerations. The man’s moaning had already ceased, and the lid of his uninjured eye drooped sleepily as the medicator measured out the sedative. Ishi wheeled the surgical dome into place with deft movements, no awkwardness revealing that she had never done it before. Zahra nodded to her.
“Excellent, Ishi,” she said. “This would have been very difficult without you.”
Above her verge, Ishi’s eyes curved into smiling crescents. Zahra glanced at her from time to time as she began to suture the edges of the man’s torn skin. Ishi seemed not at all disconcerted by the blood and the mess. She watched closely as Zahra, her hands in the gauntlets, smoothed the skin into place and secured it with infinitesimal bursts from the radiant wand.
“How does that work?” Ishi asked.
Zahra regarded her own hands with new eyes, seeing them as Ishi must see them. “It’s actually a very simple principle,” she said. “In ancient times, on Earth, they would burn a wound to close its edges. Then they used thread, like Lili uses to mend your clothes. Doctors have used all kinds of things to seal the edges of wounds, absorbable sutures, even staples of various materials. The radiant wand uses tiny stitches of regen. The places we touch heal almost immediately, and the wound is held together. I could just use newskin, but this is better for the scalp because it doesn’t interfere with the hair. Our patients,” she added dryly, “are happier if they don’t have reminders of their visits to us.”
She surveyed her handiwork, lifting blood-crusted locks of hair to make certain the scalp wound was securely closed. Satisfied, she sprayed more regen over the scalp and the facial laceration. “Within twenty-four hours, the wound’s edges will be completely closed.”
“How does the regen work? Where do we get it?”
“Like so many things, Ishi, it comes from Earth. We haven’t the materials here to make it, or the knowledge. Regen is just short for ‘regeneration accelerator.’ It speeds the healing process by sort of nudging the immune response, not systemically—that is, throughout the whole body—but locally, at the point of contact. Microscopic bacteria, like little smart bugs, know just which parts of the tissues to talk to.”
“They must know so much on Earth,” Ishi breathed.
Zahra pulled her hands out of the gauntlets and moved the surgical dome away from the exam bed. She smiled at her apprentice as she stripped off her gloves and discarded them.
“Indeed they do,” she agreed. She moved to the sink to scrub her hands. “Perhaps someday we’ll know that much!”
Ishi’s small head tilted to look up at her. “I don’t know, Zahra. We have to do it all by ourselves, don’t we? That slows us down. On Earth, both men and women are doctors, so—”
Zahra quickly put her fingers over Ishi’s lips, and gave a sharp warning movement of her head. With her eyes she indicated the screen that hid Diya from their sight. Ishi’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Zahra smiled down at her, and caressed her forehead with her fingers. Barely audibly, she murmured, “Never mind.”
Zahra showed Ishi where the warm blankets were kept, and they smoothed one over their now-sleeping patient. Ishi, without being asked, crouched with a damp cloth to mop drops of blood from the floor. Zahra raised the bars at the sides of the bed, and then both she and Ishi went around the screen to where Diya drowsed on his stool.
“Did someone come with the patient?” Zahra asked. Her tone was sharp now, and Ishi glanced up at her in surprise. Diya stood up, rubbing his neck.
“In the waiting room,” he said, with a negligent jerk of his head toward the dispensary.
“All right. Let’s go see him,” Zahra said. She led the way, Diya following, Ishi trailing behind.
A disheveled man, no
“Excellent, Ishi,” she said. “This would have been very difficult without you.”
Above her verge, Ishi’s eyes curved into smiling crescents. Zahra glanced at her from time to time as she began to suture the edges of the man’s torn skin. Ishi seemed not at all disconcerted by the blood and the mess. She watched closely as Zahra, her hands in the gauntlets, smoothed the skin into place and secured it with infinitesimal bursts from the radiant wand.
“How does that work?” Ishi asked.
Zahra regarded her own hands with new eyes, seeing them as Ishi must see them. “It’s actually a very simple principle,” she said. “In ancient times, on Earth, they would burn a wound to close its edges. Then they used thread, like Lili uses to mend your clothes. Doctors have used all kinds of things to seal the edges of wounds, absorbable sutures, even staples of various materials. The radiant wand uses tiny stitches of regen. The places we touch heal almost immediately, and the wound is held together. I could just use newskin, but this is better for the scalp because it doesn’t interfere with the hair. Our patients,” she added dryly, “are happier if they don’t have reminders of their visits to us.”
She surveyed her handiwork, lifting blood-crusted locks of hair to make certain the scalp wound was securely closed. Satisfied, she sprayed more regen over the scalp and the facial laceration. “Within twenty-four hours, the wound’s edges will be completely closed.”
“How does the regen work? Where do we get it?”
“Like so many things, Ishi, it comes from Earth. We haven’t the materials here to make it, or the knowledge. Regen is just short for ‘regeneration accelerator.’ It speeds the healing process by sort of nudging the immune response, not systemically—that is, throughout the whole body—but locally, at the point of contact. Microscopic bacteria, like little smart bugs, know just which parts of the tissues to talk to.”
“They must know so much on Earth,” Ishi breathed.
Zahra pulled her hands out of the gauntlets and moved the surgical dome away from the exam bed. She smiled at her apprentice as she stripped off her gloves and discarded them.
“Indeed they do,” she agreed. She moved to the sink to scrub her hands. “Perhaps someday we’ll know that much!”
Ishi’s small head tilted to look up at her. “I don’t know, Zahra. We have to do it all by ourselves, don’t we? That slows us down. On Earth, both men and women are doctors, so—”
Zahra quickly put her fingers over Ishi’s lips, and gave a sharp warning movement of her head. With her eyes she indicated the screen that hid Diya from their sight. Ishi’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Zahra smiled down at her, and caressed her forehead with her fingers. Barely audibly, she murmured, “Never mind.”
Zahra showed Ishi where the warm blankets were kept, and they smoothed one over their now-sleeping patient. Ishi, without being asked, crouched with a damp cloth to mop drops of blood from the floor. Zahra raised the bars at the sides of the bed, and then both she and Ishi went around the screen to where Diya drowsed on his stool.
“Did someone come with the patient?” Zahra asked. Her tone was sharp now, and Ishi glanced up at her in surprise. Diya stood up, rubbing his neck.
“In the waiting room,” he said, with a negligent jerk of his head toward the dispensary.
“All right. Let’s go see him,” Zahra said. She led the way, Diya following, Ishi trailing behind.
A disheveled man, no
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