In the hospital, an alert beeped at the charge desk, run by actual people who were oblivious to the new guests. The shocked M.A. in charge, Zarabeth, stared at the message a full thirty seconds before reacting. There must be an error. She went down to the cryo storage unit indicated on the alarm panel and had a look. Sure enough, there were real signs of waking. Through the Superclear Carbon cover she could see visible respiration. Zarabeth gaped for a shocked moment through the very hard, clear compressed carbon window into the unit. Then a slow smile came to her lips. As one of the main people who helped seal up these units, she was able to notice things weren’t done quite the normal way. Everything was functional, but none of the Medical Assistants or Medical Techs on-staff would let the cords and tubes wind around each other in a higgledy-piggledy fashion. Someone had done something to Ms. Moon. Either some idiot surgeon who didn’t know how people were put to bed, or someone on board she wanted to find out about.
Knowing she’d be expected to call a doctor right away, she put in the call. Then quickly she adjusted things to the normal way, just in case they noticed. She also deleted an auto wake-up scan info line that identified the patient’s cerebellum as foreign to her. She would personally sneak in checks to make sure that any anti-rejection drugs needed were given to her off the books. This was an exciting possible advancement in medicine – a patient declared permanently comatose able to wake up. She was eager to see what had been done, and how it turned out.
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