“Dr. Goldblatt’s secretary called twice,” said Helen, “and you’re supposed to call the instant you arrive.”
The output unit activated and asked Martin if he wanted a digital and/or analog display. Philips didn’t know so he asked for both. The printout told him to insert the film.
“Also,” droned Helen, “Dr. Clinton Clark, Chief of Gynecology called, not his secretary, the doctor himself. And he sounded very angry. He wants you to call. And Mr. Drake wants a call too.”
The printout leaped into action and began spewing out page after page of paper filled with numbers. Philips watched with mounting confusion. It was as if the little machine had had some sort of nervous breakdown.
Helen elevated her voice to compete with the rapid staccato typing. “William Michaels called and said he was sorry he wasn’t in when you paid your surprise visit to the computer lab. He wants you to phone. The people from Houston called about your chairing the Neuroradiology section at the national meeting. They said they have to know by today. Let’s see what else.”
While Helen shuffled through her messages, Philips was lifting up the incomprehensible sheets of computer paper covered with thousands of digits. The printer finally stopped producing the numbers and then drew a schematic of the lateral skull where the various areas were letter-coded. Philips realized that by finding the proper letter code he could find the sheet corresponding to the areas he was interested in. But still the printout did not stop. It then produced a schematic of the various areas of the skull and the density values were printed in shades of gray. That was the analog printout and it was easier to look at.
“Oh yeah,” said Helen. “The second angioroom is going to be out all day today while they install a new film loader.”
At that point Philips was not listening to Helen at all. Comparing areas in the analog printout, Martin saw that the abnormal areas had an overall density less than the surrounding normal areas. This came as a surprise because even though the changes were subtle, he’d had the mistaken impression the density was greater. Looking at the digital readout, Philips understood why. In the digital form it was apparent that there were wide jumps between the values of neighboring digits, which was why on the X rays he had thought there might have been little flecks of calcium or some other dense material. But the machine was telling him that the abnormal areas were overall less dense or more lucid than the normal tissue, meaning the X rays could pass through more easily. Philips thought about the nerve-cell death he’d seen in Pathology, but clearly that wasn’t enough to affect X-ray absorption. It was a mystery that Philips could not explain.
“Look at this,” he said, showing the digital readout to Helen. Helen nodded and pretended to understand.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know, unless …” Martin stopped in mid-sentence.
“Unless what?” asked Helen.
“Get me a knife. Any kind of knife.” Philips sounded excited.
Helen got the one from the peanut butter jar by the coffee urn, marveling at her weird boss. When she returned to his office she gagged, unprepared for what she saw. Philips was lifting a human brain out of a formaldehyde jar, and putting it on a newspaper, its familiar convolutions glistening in the light from the X-ray viewer. Fighting off a wave of nausea, Helen watched as Philips proceeded to cut a ragged slice from the back of the specimen. After returning the brain to the formaldehyde he headed for the door, carrying the slice of brain on the newspaper.
“Also, Dr. Thomas’s wife is ready for you in the myelogram room,” said Helen, when she saw Philips was leaving.
Martin didn’t answer. He went quickly down the hall to the darkroom. It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim red light. When he could see adequately, he took out some un-exposed X-ray film, put the brain slice on top of it, and put both into an upper cabinet. Sealing the cabinet with tape, he added a sign: “Unexposed film. Do not open! Dr. Philips.”