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      *     This file was generated by AGT Decompiler v1.0
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MESSAGE 1
   "There you go", Candida wails, "backsliding again. Oh, she must                
   have been right!"                                                              
   You scratch your head, wondering what on earth your nutty                      
   daughter is talking about.                                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 2
   "What on earth are you talking about, Dad?", she asks you, blushing.           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 3
   You slowly unlock the door and sidle into your office.                         
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 4
   On a wild impulse you show her the note.                                       
   The result is miraculous; she rushes away to you know not where,               
   allowing you free access to almost any room.                                   
                                                                                  
   As she runs away, you notice something falling from the pocket of              
   her coat.                                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 7
   You take the letter out of your pocket, smooth it out, and hand it             
   unceremoniously to her. "Here", you say, in your best legal manner,            
   "is the proof, Bertha."                                                        
   "Don't call me Bertha!" she says irritably, and reads the letter. As           
   she reads every line, her face turns first blue, then green, then red,         
   then brown, and finally red again, until you are forcibly reminded             
   of Gmelin's test for bile salts.                                               
   "Ah, Bruce....", she says, and collapses into the sofa.                        
                                                                                  
   Almost immediately Bruce rushes into the room.....                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 10
   You spend a few minutes talking to the patient and discover                    
   that she seems to be suffering from a rare neurological disorder.              
                                                                                  
   "And they said that parietal tractotomy, whatever that is, seems               
    to be the only cure, Doctor. It sounds rather nasty. What is it,              
    anyway?"                                                                      
                                                                                  
   You wonder which idiot has told her that, and remember that there are          
   better cures.......                                                            
   Suddenly you remember the pill in your pocket.                                 
                                                                                  
   "Here, try this", you say.                                                     
                                                                                  
   "What is it?", she asks, mildly.                                               
                                                                                  
   "An experimental remedy", you reply, tongue-in-cheek.                          
                                                                                  
   "Goody! I've always wanted to be a guinea-pig", she says.                      
   "Down it goes!"                                                                
                                                                                  
   Within a few minutes all her symptoms seem to be relieved;                     
   but not as relieved as you are.                                                
                                                                                  
   "You're a nice chap, Doctor", she says. "Unlike that nasty intern              
   who came and shook me up this morning. Why, he doesn't even leave              
   the place clean! He dropped this piece of paper right here, and didn't         
   even bother to pick it up! It isn't even a proper letter, if you ask           
   me."                                                                           
                                                                                  
   With an indignant look she takes out a folded piece of paper, smoothes         
   it out, and puts it in front of you. You thank her.                            
                                                                                  
   "Any time, Doc", she says cheerfully. "Any time. Just tell your boys to        
   be a bit cleaner next time."                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 11
   You take a detailed history and examine the patient; but apart from            
   a diagnosis of Jakov-Steinem-Burgensten syndrome, you learn nothing            
   of use.                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 12
   "Dr. Rice?" she asks you, puzzled. "Tall, lissom female? Well, I don't         
   know much about here, Doctor, but my funny bone tells me she's up to           
   no good. She reminds me of Sally Bones, in my home village....."               
   A lengthy and not very instructive anecdote follows.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 13
   You jump at Bruce, screaming, "Keep your filthy hands off my                   
   hospital!"                                                                     
   "Institute", Bruce replies icily, and slashes your throat                      
   with a starched e-mail from Dr.Rice                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 14
                                                                                  
   Before you can do anything, the student leader stops you.                      
   "There is no way we're going to stop you from letting us make a difference",   
   he says, and shoves you rudely away. Obviously he's willing to tolerate you,   
   but not let you touch the patient.                                             
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 15
   You give the rose to Secret Man 666, hoping he's a flower-power advocate.      
   He spits in your direction, then turns to face his admiring audience.          
                                                                                  
   "You see", he yells, "That's the problem with morons like this Irons here.     
   They have no sensitivity. They don't appreciate the finer things in life.      
   They can't even appreciate something fine and natural, like this flower.       
   Up yours, Irons."                                                              
                                                                                  
   With these inspiring words he takes a deep whiff of the rose's scent.....      
   and falls down in a permanent coma.                                            
                                                                                  
   His crowd, despairing, leads him out of the room. Looks like you're            
   safe for the moment.....Now save that patient!                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 16
   Operating without anaesthesia went out in the 19th century.                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 17
   You don't have all the equipment required to perform the operation....         
   why not go get it?                                                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 18
   You put the mask on the patient. Immediately the machine's lights flash        
   into action:                                                                   
                                                                                  
   "Operative Procedure Setting : MEDIUM                                          
                                                                                  
    SpO2 : 100 %                                                                  
                                                                                  
    Pulse Rate : 89/min"                                                          
                                                                                  
   Better get going fast! That O2 isn't going to last forever.                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 19
   You put the tray of instruments in the autoclave. It bubbles away, vacuums     
   away, cools away - and then spits it out on a shelf, like a CD, ready for      
   use. You wonder at the marvels of modern technology.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 20
   The only thing you can sterilize in this game are surgical instruments,        
   and disposable scalpels, bandages and syringes don't count. And if you         
   want to sterilize a PERSON, that's goddamn illegal. At least get his or        
   her permission first!                                                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 21
   You give the cupboard key to the janitor.                                      
                                                                                  
   "Hell, thanks a lot, Dr. Irons", the janitor says unflappably.                 
   "I was sorta lost without those keys."                                         
                                                                                  
   With these words he unlocks his cupboard. Words cannot describe                
   what you see inside; every conceivable form of odd-and-end is                  
   present within. He rummages among the mess for some time before                
   extracting a GamePad virtual reality kit. He then pulls out a                  
   game cartridge : "Final Combat 95: The Return".                                
                                                                                  
   "Can't live too long without my daily game, Doc", he explains.                 
   "But you sure deserve a reward - Hold on, just a sec...."                      
                                                                                  
   With these words he fumbles in his coat pocket and something falls             
   out.                                                                           
                                                                                  
   "Bloody pockets!" he exclaims. "My <censored> launderers're too                
   <censored> lazy to mend them!"                                                 
                                                                                  
   After a little more cussing, he starts to assume the role of                   
   Wing Commander Muscle Belly against the voracious Vortex                       
   Villains, and pays you no attention at all. As he plays, he                    
   continues to pace around the room."                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 22
   The oxygenator bleeps away merrily.....                                        
                                                                                  
   "Effective oxygen duration left .... #VAR1# minutes.."                         
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 23
   You put the new batteries in the pager. It flickers to life for                
   an instant, and words appear.                                                  
                                                                                  
   DR IRONS - LECTURE IN WEST BLOC CANCELLED                                      
   PLEASE REPLACE DR HAMMETT IN CLINICAL                                          
   DEMO HALL                                                                      
                           STEVENSON                                              
                                                                                  
   The pager then goes dead.                                                      
                                                                                  
   "<Expletive deleted> batteries", you grumble, and toss them                    
   blithely into the incinerator.                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 35
   You slowly heat the memo..and find to your surprise that, in this              
   high-tech hospital (INSTITUTE, goddamn it.....) people still use               
   methods as primitive as invisible ink. Letters appear out of nowhere:          
                                                                                  
                  FROM : SECRET MAN #666                                          
                  TO : SECRET WOMAN #777                                          
                                                                                  
                  Our plans seem to be working out                                
                  just fine! When we apply the final                              
                  crush, that <offensive term>                                    
                  White will be FORCED to yield!                                  
                  DISPOSE OF THAT REPORT I                                        
                  SENT YOU! IT COULD BE                                           
                  DANGEROUS!!                                                     
                                                                                  
   Could be a love letter; then again, maybe not.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 38
   You interrogate the patient and find nothing to contradict the                 
   obvious diagnosis of jaundice. When you are done, he begins to                 
   speak slowly.                                                                  
                                                                                  
   "If you'll excuse me, Doc, would it be - uh - possible for me                  
   to get my treatment. Y'see, I was told to wait here for this                   
   here liver specialist - name of Rice - by some rather                          
   incompetent bloke named Bruce Something. Any idea when things                  
   get done in this place?"                                                       
   He looks at you expectantly.                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 39
   "Mr. Green", you tell the patient, solemnly, "Dr. Rice has been                
   delayed -"                                                                     
                                                                                  
   "Ah, these doctors, all the damned same", he says disgustedly.                 
                                                                                  
   "I'm awfully sorry, but you see", you say artfully, "there are                 
   - er - personal problems involved."                                            
                                                                                  
   Green rubs his hands together. "Shades of Chicago Hope, ain't it?"             
   Both of you start laughing.                                                    
                                                                                  
   Finally you agree to deal with him. "But - be warned - I'm not                 
   a specialist," you say                                                         
                                                                                  
   "Fat lot of good specialists do, running around with their                     
   boyfriends and girlfriends", Green guffaws. "If you'll just                    
   attend to this here problem, I would be most obliged."                         
                                                                                  
   "Well, then, could you do me a favour and wait in the Demonstration            
   Room just opposite? Some of the students will have a look at you,              
   and I'll be right along. Just lie on the couch there - which is                
   a sight more comfortable than this one."                                       
                                                                                  
   "Anything", Green sighs, "would be better than this bag of                     
   rusty springs."                                                                
                                                                                  
   He gets up and walks across to the auditorium.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 49
   "I will not describe what happened next, for such moments are horrible         
   to see, and even worse to describe...."                                        
                                   (with apologies to Louisa.M.Alcott),           
   ...but anyway, the offshoot of it is that five days later you attend           
   their wedding in the hospital chapel. ("What chapel?", you ask. Well,          
   I was too lazy to put it in!). At the wedding, Secret Man 666 acts as          
   best man, and Candida as maid of honour. Your finest hour comes at             
   the reception when you wait till he's totally drunk on punch, and              
   then give him the mother of all surprise lefts. Dr. Rice, of course, is        
   too absorbed in Bruce to even bother about you - thank goodness! Hugo,         
   ever present, asks you if you intend to follow in their footsteps with         
   his sister. "Not an eighth time, Hugo", you reply wisely. "I have the          
   deepest respect for anyone who understands XOXO the Robot as well as           
   she does, but not for the eighth time, please."                                
                                                                                  
   Well, you've done it, Bill! Saved the hospital, saved three patients,          
   saved Adolf White.........and saved yourself.                                  
                                                                                  
                           THE  END                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 53
   Well-primed by the training you got from the nauseous novel, you tell          
   your ex-wife a terribly moving story about Candida and her 'boyfriend',        
   Bruce, (whom you know nothing of), attributing to him all the characteristics  
   of the hero you just read of.                                                  
   Unable to resist temptation, you add piles of tragic twists.                   
                                                                                  
   "Poor dear", she says, wiping away about 59 tears. "No one for her to          
   cry to - except you, Willie, and you're not much comfort."                     
                                                                                  
   You look indignant but say nothing.                                            
                                                                                  
   "Well, I guess I'd better go and find her before she does something            
   terrible....." she begins.                                                     
                                                                                  
   "Such as what? Bomb the Institute?" you say, sarcastically.                    
                                                                                  
   She grins, but George cringes. He looks dreadfully afraid of bombs,            
   perhaps because his wife is fond of hurling them at him.                       
                                                                                  
   "You wouldn't understand.......You and your philandering...."                  
                                                                                  
   "Hey, wait a minute," George pleads. "Who's the husband around here?"          
                                                                                  
   "George, how unfeeling of you. My very own baby girl......"                    
                                                                                  
   Stepping between George and his wife, you allow her to make her way out of     
   the room, in search of Candida.                                                
                                                                                  
   George glares at you.                                                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 55
   Bruce looks at you....perhaps because his lacrimal glands seem to be           
   working overtime, he seems to think you're a senior citizen - perhaps his      
   own Grandpa Joe or Great-Uncle Don or whatever - and begins to cry on your     
   shoulder.                                                                      
                                                                                  
   "It's like this, sir......have you ever managed to fall in love                
   with two people at the same time.......how do I tell her....how do             
   I tell her....."                                                               
                                                                                  
   He goes on and on, but never satisfies your curiosity about who the            
   two unfortunate women are.                                                     
                                                                                  
   Finally he wipes his eyes on the sleeve of your coat.                          
                                                                                  
   "Thanks a lot, sir - you've really helped! Well, it's time I got to            
   work......"                                                                    
                                                                                  
   Bruce then slowly scurries out of the room, leaving his folder on the table    
   as he does so.                                                                 
                                                                                  
   You heave a sigh of relief and remove the mask - and take the opportunity      
   to change your coat, whose shoulder has been fairly well soaked by             
   Bruce's lacrimal secretions.                                                   
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 56
   Bruce looks at you sulkily.                                                    
                                                                                  
   "What's your bloody problem anyway, you goddamn machine?", he grumbles,        
   and paces around the room. "Leave me alone!"                                   
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 57
   You put on the mask. It's a perfect fit it sure as hell makes you              
   look older. It couldn't fool your daughter, and you wonder why on              
   Earth someone is going around making masks of you - of all people.             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 59
   You take a faint sniff at the blotter...With a sudden shock of                 
   recognition you realise that this isn't blue ink but Gram's stain.             
                                                                                  
   The lab boys obviously have something to answer for.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 60
   I've heard of glue-sniffing, but sniffing a $NOUN$ is                          
   sheer absurdity, Billy my boy.                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 66
   As you sniff the rose the same odour of impending doom percolates              
   far, far beyond your olfactory lobes, far even beyond your cerebrum,           
   right down to your brainstem, knocking you unconscious....                     
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 67
   You hardly can remember what happened next, but you swear you                  
   could hear your daughter crying on Dr. Rice's shoulder; the                    
   next thing you remember, you're in the department of Hepatology                
   surrounded by a massive array of tubes, monitors, and (worst                   
   of all) loving attentions......                                                
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 68
   After 12 hours old Dr. Hammett commiseratingly tells you :                     
   "I'm sorry, my lad - I have to go now. They've trapped you                     
    well and good. Sorry about White; I wasn't able to save him."                 
   He pauses, and then adds, embarrassed,                                         
   "When's the wedding, Billy?"                                                   
                                                                                  
   As he walks away you can see little happiness for you in                       
   the years that lie ahead.....                                                  
                                                                                  
                           THE  END                                               
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 69
   As the pill slips down your throat, you can feel your frontal lobes            
   slowly disconnecting.....Too late, you remember all the publicity              
   about Vitax 250, the wonder cerebrochemical that could turn Uncle              
   Scrooge into Romeo Montague. You rush about the building frantically,          
   and collapse into Dr. Rice's arms. The rest is history.....                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 70
                                                                                  
   "Our souls on fire, were drowned in desire;                                    
    I led the way to the funeral pyre....                                         
    With no thought of the consequence,                                           
    I gave in to my decadence...                                                  
                                                                                  
    One slip, and down the hole you fall....                                      
    It seems to take no time at all;                                              
    A momentary lapse of reason                                                   
    that binds a life for life;                                                   
    Just one regret, we'll never forget;                                          
    there'll be no sleep in here tonight...."                                     
                                   - Pink Floyd, "One Slip"                       
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 71
   Confidently, you show XOXO the patient. XOXO performs his preliminary          
   examinations, takes a small biopsy, and confirms your diagnosis.               
                                                                                  
   "Squamous cell carcinoma", it barks out.                                       
                                                                                  
   You then stare in nameless horror as its laser scalpel veers                   
   wildly across the man's mouth, cutting through the growth, and                 
   - worst of all - cutting through the man's moustache.                          
                                                                                  
   "Regional anatomy unknown", XOXO says, his red eyes flashing.                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 72
   You hardly remember what happens next, except that you wake up                 
   in the neurology ward, with Dr. Rice, the Director, and your                   
   daughter by your bedside. You can hear them talk....                           
                                                                                  
   "Totally unstable. Hepatic encephalopathy, Director - a fine                   
   doctor, but his body gave up on him", Dr. Rice says coldly.                    
                                                                                  
   "Are you sure..." White asks nervously.                                        
                                                                                  
   "Believe me, Director. What kind of an idiot", your daughter adds,             
   springing to your defence, "would attempt a carcinoma excision                 
   without programming the computer first?"                                       
                                                                                  
   "And he ruined my lovely moustache!", you hear the patient say.                
                                                                                  
   White wakes you up.                                                            
   "Bill", he says, grumpily, "the way I see it, it looks like this.              
   I can't believe you're nuts - but a medical malpraxis suit could               
   ruin us now - especially me. I'm afraid you're going to have to                
   resign."                                                                       
                                                                                  
   Dr. Rice looks at you with predatory tenderness.                               
                                                                                  
   "Don't worry, Director", she says. "I'll take good care of him...."            
                                                                                  
                                                                                  
                          THE   END                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 73
   XOXO whirs into action.                                                        
                                                                                  
   "Good morning, William. Good morning, Henrietta", it says, genially.           
   "What is the case at hand?"                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 74
   Yeah, right. You haven't even turned the thing on, and you want it             
   to operate. Keep your eyes off the student, Bill, and on the                   
   machine!                                                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 76
   Not much sense in doing that, I'm afraid. Is this place                        
   really getting to you that badly?                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 77
   Well programmed, XOXO races through the operation in approximately             
   2 minutes and 34 seconds, completing it uneventfully.                          
                                                                                  
   Both of you heave a collective sigh of relief as the patient wakes up.         
   "Ah, excellent, Dr. Grahame", he says. "You've even left my moustache          
   intact", he adds, patting it with pride.                                       
                                                                                  
   "Success!", the student says.                                                  
   You think of giving XOXO a high-five, but stop short.                          
                                                                                  
   "Well, that's that", you say, as Moustaches walks out of the room.             
                                                                                  
   "Dr. Irons....", the student says, just as you think of following him.         
                                                                                  
   "What is it now, dear?" you ask, theatrically.                                 
                                                                                  
   "There's trouble brewing in the wards upstairs", she says.                     
                                                                                  
   "What?"                                                                        
                                                                                  
   "It's those post-graduates; the ones majoring in liver surgery. They           
   want to attempt a xenograft from a Rhesus monkey's liver onto a patient        
   with terminal alcoholic cirrhosis."                                            
                                                                                  
   "Why not a human liver?" you ask her.                                          
                                                                                  
   "Because - oh, hell, because they feel it will revolutionize surgery.          
   There are 35 human livers in perfusion, but they still want to use             
   a monkey's. Dumb, isn't it?"                                                   
                                                                                  
   You agree most enthusiastically. "But what can I do?"                          
                                                                                  
   "Go and stop them!", she says, simply.                                         
                                                                                  
   "I'm not exactly Superman....", you begin to explain, but she cuts             
   you off.                                                                       
                                                                                  
   "I could try and get there - but I don't know if I can stop them. Or can       
   you think of something else?"                                                  
                                                                                  
   "Wait", you ask. "What's your name?"                                           
                                                                                  
   "Henrietta Grahame", she replies.                                              
                                                                                  
   You wonder where you heard that name before.                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 78
   XOXO's pincer reaches out, takes the CD, and stuffs it into its                
   drive, giving a good imitation of Jughead Jones devouring a                    
   burger.                                                                        
                                                                                  
   "Loading anatomy. . .Please wait", XOXO says.                                  
                                                                                  
   After about five minutes it regurgitates the CD.                               
                                                                                  
   "Anatomy of oral cavity stored in RAM......Please proceed...."                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 87
   Hoping that Mrs. Newton will be a little more cooperative than her artistic    
   husband, you question her.                                                     
                                                                                  
   "Excuse me, ma'am, would you mind telling me....."                             
                                                                                  
   Clearly annoyed at being disturbed, the woman turns to face you. "Yes, what    
   were you saying.........Good God!"                                             
                                                                                  
   "Good God, what? Listen, lady, I'm not in the mood for.....", you begin        
   to grumble.                                                                    
                                                                                  
   "Good God!" the woman repeats. "Willie? Is that you?"                          
                                                                                  
   "Bite me", you mumble under your breath, and try even harder to remember       
   where you have met her before.                                                 
                                                                                  
   "Excuse me, ma'am", you ask politely, "Have we met before?"                    
                                                                                  
   You have to sit through about seven minutes of uproarious laughter....         
   1.....2.....3.....4.....5.....6......7.....                                    
   until she replies:                                                             
   "Willie, don't you remember me?"                                               
                                                                                  
   "Not at all", you say cautiously, remembering this is a psychiatric ward,      
   and that a lot of people are called Willie.                                    
                                                                                  
   "Well, we were married about fifteen years ago......"                          
                                                                                  
   "Good God!" you exclaim in turn. You now remember who the woman is - your      
   <1000 expletives deleted> sixth wife (or was it your seventh? Damn!) - the     
   one who looked like Daisy Duck and the Microsoft mouse - Candida's             
   MOTHER, for God's sake! You are struck speechless.                             
                                                                                  
   She giggles at you. "Well, Willie, you always had poor taste. Guess I          
   found myself a better man."                                                    
                                                                                  
   George Newton smiles so ingratiatingly that you feel like knocking the         
   blighter's teeth in.                                                           
                                                                                  
   "Oh, well, never mind", she says, returning to her reading. "Play the          
   Beethoven sonata again, George. Willie never appreciated good music."          
   "By the way", she adds as an afterthought, "d'you remember our daughter -      
   Candy, Caroline....what was she called? She'd be about your age by             
   now, George. Is she still alive, Willie?"                                      
   She peers at you expectantly.                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 89
   "Good morning", you say, discreetly. "And what, may I know, are you            
   doing here, Mr. Newton?"                                                       
                                                                                  
   "D'you work here, or what?", Newton says, and plays a perfectly awful          
   extemporization.                                                               
                                                                                  
   "Yes", you say, plugging your ears as unobtrusively as possible. "Do YOU?"     
                                                                                  
   Newton giggles. "No way, Doc. You see....."                                    
   He then gives you a long, boring story of the way in which his marriage        
   almost broke up because his wife refused to serve him grilled eggplant         
   on Wednesdays. "And we didn't really know where we were going, Doc, until      
   we heard about the Department." His wife applauds his recital.                 
                                                                                  
   "What Department?" you demand.                                                 
                                                                                  
   "Hell, are you some kind of bachelor? You mean you work here and you haven't   
   heard about the Institute of Marital Psychiatry?"                              
   His wife looks at you indignantly. You start to feel even more like            
   good old Donald Fauntleroy Duck for some obscure reason.                       
                                                                                  
   With that last expression of contempt he returns to playing the violin, and    
   his wife to reading "An Endless Love".                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 90
   I'm ashamed of you, son. As a doctor, you ought to know that                   
   your job is to cure, and not to kill or destroy property.                      
   Have the CSWs got to you that badly?                                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 91
   "Bloody hell, Dr. Irons!" the janitor mumbles, angrily.                        
   "Nothing is the way it should be around here. All kinds                        
   of hanky-panky....I shall have to report to Mr. White                          
   one day! Why, I can't even find the blasted key to my                          
   own <expletive deleted> closet!"                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 92
   The janitor pokes you in the ribs. "Ah, Dr. Irons, the Director's              
   a good chap - one of the old guard. He was probably the only person            
   to come around here and ask me how things were going. Mind you,                
   he had a damned short fuse! But at least he didn't fall asleep                 
   behind his desk."                                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 93
   "Poor devil", the janitor mutters. "He sure is eating his heart out,           
    isn't he?"                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 96
   You give the students a slap-up lecture on jaundice, demonstrating             
   various features of liver disease, with the kind assistance of                 
   Mr. Stewart Green. When the lecture is done, Mr. Green thanks you and          
   heads - with the prescription you gave him - out of the Institute for          
   good.                                                                          
                                                                                  
   The students crowd around you as they file out of the hall. One of them,       
   summoning up her courage, says.....                                            
                                                                                  
   "Excuse me, Dr. Irons, there's a case I'd like you to have a look at;          
   a fairly straightforward surgical matter, but there seems to be a problem      
   with XOXO the robot. D'you know how to fix it?"                                
                                                                                  
   "Well, I could try", you tell her.                                             
                                                                                  
   "Thanks a bunch, Dr. Irons", she replies. "I'll have him brought to            
   the Robotic Unit straight away."                                               
                                                                                  
   With these words she joins the rest of the crowd that is slowly                
   emptying from the auditorium.                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 97
   You begin to lecture the students, when several hands suddenly go up.          
                                                                                  
   "Excuse me, Dr. Irons", they all say, "Don't we have a case to review?"        
                                                                                  
   You give up and wonder where to get a case.                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 100
   You try to strike up a conversation with the moustachioed patient,             
   and then recall that he's been pumped chock-full of NMDA receptor              
   blockers, membrane fluidizers, and other essential components of               
   the modern anaesthetic package - and hence is not likely to                    
   hear or answer you, even assuming you wanted to.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 101
   There are certain places, such as the Merchant Navy and the state              
   penitentiary, where such deviant practices as what you have just               
   suggested are actually allowed. Unfortunately, Billy, this hospital            
   just isn't one of them.                                                        
   Keep your mind on the game! There's still a lot more to be done.               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 110
   "The day that - person - becomes Director of this Institute, I'm               
   packing my bags and getting outta here."                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 111
   The janitor laughs. "Didn't know you were on first-name terms                  
   with her, Dr. Irons. Well, live and learn!"                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 113
   "Hysterical creature", he scoffs. "Strikes me you could've done                
   a better job bringing her up, Doc."                                            
                                                                                  
   "I know", you say, shaking your head wisely.                                   
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 119
   You show the student the CD-ROM on lip anatomy.                                
                                                                                  
   "Dr. Irons", she says gravely, "you're a life-saver."                          
                                                                                  
   "I know, I know", you say, feigning false modesty.                             
                                                                                  
   "Now all we have to do", she replies, "is give the CD to                       
   XOXO, and let him do his thing."                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 120
   "Bill", Adolf White says wearily, "not now. I have too many things             
   on my mind."                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 121
   You tell Director White about the hepatology report that you found             
   knocking around in the neurology department.                                   
                                                                                  
   "Normal?!" he exclaims. "What the hell were they....."                         
                                                                                  
   "Wait a minute, Director", you ask, "Who's THEY?"                              
                                                                                  
   "Give me a little time to think things out....Damn it, they                    
   almost succeeded!" He seems to be on the point of losing his                   
   temper, but cools down.                                                        
                                                                                  
   "Would you mind.....",you begin.                                               
                                                                                  
   "Son", the Director says, tapping the report firmly, "just                     
   the other day, Dr. Rice told me you were suffering from                        
   hepatic encephalopathy."                                                       
                                                                                  
   "Director", you say, angrily, "if that were so, I'd be in                      
   Intensive Care."                                                               
                                                                                  
   "She claimed it was a new kind, that affected the levels of                    
   neuro...neuro...."                                                             
                                                                                  
   Obviously someone has tried to play a rather vicious practical                 
   joke on you, and you tell the Director so.                                     
                                                                                  
   "Guess I should've read up more before taking this damned job                  
   up, Bill", he grumbles. "But for some reason, people around                    
   here want you out. I can protect you only this far.....but                     
   you'll have to work things out yourself."                                      
                                                                                  
   You thank Director White and leave the office, determined                      
   (more that ever) to get to the bottom of things.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 122
   You tune up, lay your bow across the violin and let rip...A horrible           
   scratching sound comes out, and you can swear you see fault lines              
   appearing on the ceiling. You decide to stop at once.                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 123
   You tune up, lay your bow across the violin and let rip...A horrible           
   scratching sound comes out, and you can swear you see fault lines              
   appearing on the ceiling.                                                      
                                                                                  
   The pit-bull glares at you for a long, shocked second - and then collapses     
   on the floor in a seizure. Howling and screaming, it runs out of the           
   room, down the corridor......and out of the game.                              
                                                                                  
   Well, looks like you've cracked the game's toughest puzzle...                  
                   it's all plain sailing from now.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 124
   XOXO whirs noisily into action. His infra-red eyes size you up.                
                                                                                  
   "Good morning, William", he bawls. "There is no operation assigned             
   to me now."                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 125
   "Oh", she says, "I forgot you didn't know much about this guy. Don't           
   worry, no one does. This might help."                                          
                                                                                  
   She hands you what looks suspiciously like a prayer-book and smiles.           
   You anxiously wonder if she's a closet Pentecostal, but take the               
   book anyhow.                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 126
   "So what exactly is the matter with this fine specimen of humanity?", you      
   ask her, trying to strike a flippant note.                                     
                                                                                  
   "First of all, a large moustache, and second of all, a tumour of the           
   lip. Simple excision is all that is needed; but I've tried presenting          
   this case to this dumb thing -" she points at XOXO with a grimace "- and       
   all it does is say 'Anatomy Unknown', or some silly error message like         
   that."                                                                         
                                                                                  
   "Hmm, sounds serious. So how does one teach the thing anatomy?"                
                                                                                  
   "All you have to do - so the books say - is to give it a disk or               
   CD-ROM on the relevant subject. But where I'm expected to find                 
   one, don't ask me. All these ROMS here", she laughs, pointing to the           
   next room, "deal with nothing but chopped liver - literally."                  
                                                                                  
   "I know", you say, with feeling.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 130
   With an effort - remembering all the rectal examinations you have              
   performed in your long career - you begin to shove your huge paw               
   down the lavatory bowl........and then stop short.                             
                                                                                  
   "Hey!" you think. "Isn't there an easier way to do this? Can't I               
   keep my hands clean?"                                                          
                                                                                  
   Needless to say, you chicken out.                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 131
   Wearing the gloves, you feel a warm glow of Dutch courage, and dig and dig     
   around the toilet bowl. You yank hard, recalling memories of hydrocele         
   and hernia operations done thirty years ago, and finally disloge a small       
   object with a shock. It lies on the floor, apparently undamaged.               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 132
   "Henrietta Grahame", you say. "Not H.G., by any case?" You ask her about       
   the inscription.                                                               
                                                                                  
   "Oh, that one - that wasn't me. That was my brother Hugo."                     
                                                                                  
   "Your brother Hugo? And what on earth was he talking about?"                   
                                                                                  
   "Well, the surgical procedure they were planning......"                        
                                                                                  
   "Yes, I got that all right. What was all the stuff about the bomb?"            
                                                                                  
   "The b....." She stares at you with nameless horror, until you wonder          
   what the hell is wrong with your haircut. "Then he was right!"                 
                                                                                  
   "Right about what?" you ask, totally at sea.                                   
                                                                                  
   "Dr. Irons", she gasps, "there's a group of subversives who want to bomb       
   the Director's office!"                                                        
                                                                                  
   "Now THAT is a tragedy", you say. "But what can I do? And who's behind it      
   anyway?"                                                                       
                                                                                  
   "Let me get in touch with Hugo...Dr. Irons, you've got to save the hospital!   
   I'll try and find him.......but hurry!"                                        
                                                                                  
   "Institute", you mechanically correct her, wondering why on earth you should   
   be the only troubleshooter around here, as she rushes out of the room in       
   search of Hugo Grahame.                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 137
   "<Expletive deleted> you", George grumbles. "Look what you've done             
   to my wife."                                                                   
                                                                                  
   You begin to inch away from the door, explaining that - in your                
   opinion - the Institute of Marital Psychoneurology, or whatever                
   its goddamn name is, is sheer garbage. (Of course, since George                
   looks like a sensitive man, you use gentler language than that.)               
                                                                                  
   George seems to get angrier......                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 138
   Then he stops and laughs.                                                      
                                                                                  
   "Hell, maybe you're right.....Dr......What the hell's your name?"              
                                                                                  
   "Irons", you say.                                                              
                                                                                  
   "Wait a minute - William Irons?" he asks.                                      
                                                                                  
   "Yes, why?" you reply suspiciously.                                            
                                                                                  
   "Well, roll me <2000 expletives deleted> over! My first wife kept on           
   telling me how much better I was than you......until I got bored of            
   hearing that, and split. And now it's happened again. I guess that             
   makes us friends. Shake on it!"                                                
                                                                                  
   You shake hands. Like all violin players, George's grip is extremely           
   tight, and you cast your mind back to the time you jammed your                 
   hand in the revolving door of the Obstetrics department, when you              
   were a student in Seattle.                                                     
                                                                                  
   "And now", he finishes dramatically, "I am out of here! I'm through            
   with the violin! Long live the electric guitar....."                           
                                                                                  
   Throwing his violin - an expensive Charivari model - almost on the             
   tiled floor, he dashes off in search of adventure.                             
   You wish you could follow him, and stop being stuck in this                    
   text non-adventure.                                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 140
   You twist the button......and hear an ominous rumble, slowly building to       
   a crescendo, far, far away. The entire building shakes on its foundations,     
   and you don't know what the hell is happening.                                 
                                                                                  
   The next thing you know, you're in a police court......                        
                                                                                  
   "Does the accused plead guilty to the charge of terrorism?" a voice seems      
   to ask.                                                                        
                                                                                  
   Before you can even wake up, three voices answer simultaneously,               
   "Guilty, your honour."                                                         
                                                                                  
   The judge grins. "Ah, I forgot we were dealing with a loony here. Dr.Rice,     
   your fianc‚ may count himself extremely fortunate that the M'Naghten rule      
   exists; beside, you say that his illness may be curable...."                   
                                                                                  
   "Delusions of grandeur", Candida breaks in. "He wanted to kill the             
   director, Your Honour, and take his place."                                    
                                                                                  
   "Ah - I had a great-uncle like that once", the Judge replies. "Well,           
   Dr. Irons, you are committed to institutionalization for life - and            
   there is no appeal against that sentence. The Court is adjourned."             
                                                                                  
   As they put the strait-jacket on you and take you off to the Shane.S.          
   Thompson Institute of Psychobiology, you feel immensely relieved....           
   You'll be left alone there for a long, long time.                              
                                                                                  
   Pity about the hospital, though.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 141
   The student flushes. "Have you ever wondered, Dr. Irons, what would have       
   happened if one crossed Che Guevara with Marilyn Manson.....and obtained       
   a daughter? With all due respect, sometimes I think that was actually done,    
   and that's how Dr. Rice got here."                                             
                                                                                  
   You feel like applauding, but merely nod.                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 142
   As you enter the theatre, several pairs of arms fasten around you, not at all  
   ungently, and prevent you from moving any further.                             
   You recognize them all as belonging to your former students.                   
                                                                                  
   "Hey, kids -" you begin, but they cut you off.                                 
                                                                                  
   "We're sorry, Dr. Irons - this is for your own good", one of them says,        
   before shooting you full of chlorpromazine, diazepam and several other         
   not-nice things.                                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 143
   Hugo looks at you a little warily.                                             
                                                                                  
   "Dr. Irons", he says, laughingly. "Wait, I know you. You're Dr. Rice's         
   knight in shining armour. If that's really so, why don't you tell her          
   Cult Of Personality to stop blowing holes in people with remote controls?"     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 144
   You explain, at great length - first, that you care for Dr. Rice about         
   as much as you do for fourth-degree haemorrhoids, and secondly, that           
   you've just helped his sister sort out a little lost robot. He looks at        
   you approvingly.                                                               
                                                                                  
   "Shake on it, Irons", he says. "Any friend of my sister's is a friend of       
   mine - as long as he isn't a boyfriend! Ha, ha, ha! But you're too old         
   for that kind of stuff, aren't you? Well, I guess I can trust you. What        
   do you want to know?"                                                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 145
   "You mean you're the only person who thought I wasn't kidding?" Hugo           
   says. "Gee, there are a lot of dumb asses over here. Well, anyway, it's true.  
   The Cult - that's not what it's called, it's what I call it - wants to         
   blow Old King White into the middle of nowhere, simply because he won't        
   abdicate in darling Antoinetta's favour. Talk about a royal rumble. Of         
   course, they have all kinds of excuses.....he's racist, sexist, chauvinist,    
   fundamentalist. Bah! He's just a fussy old man......I wish I had a piece of    
   their machine or bomb; I might be able to avert a major tragedy."              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 146
   "Dr. Irons", Hugo grins, "there are few things on which my sister and I        
   don't disagree. Dear old Ricey is one of them."                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 147
   "Henrietta? Good old sort", Hugo says vaguely. "Why she chose a deadbeat       
   branch like General Surgery is way beyond me - perhaps to avoid chopping       
   livers....."                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 148
   You show the device you found in the bathroom to Hugo.                         
   He stares at it for a few minutes.                                             
                                                                                  
   "Excellent!" he says. "Just what the doctor ordered! Could you let me          
   have the damn' thing, please?"                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 149
   Hugo takes the device from you. He extracts a joke book , "1000                
   Electrician Jokes", from his pocket and sets to work on the device.            
                                                                                  
   "Waterproof", he says, "but not air-proof." He shoves a narrow-bore            
   endoscopy tube down a small slit on one side of the machine and forces in      
   large quantities of ethylene oxide from a nearby fumigator. The device         
   explodes rather quietly, and emits a small cloud of black smoke.               
                                                                                  
   "Listen!" he says. "You've got to stop that operation first - that's           
   the Hippocratic Oath. Punch them, kick them, do what the hell you want         
   with them, but get rid of them. Especially their leader. He's a real           
   poseur - he calls himself Secret Man 666 or some crap like that. I'll          
   ask Henrietta to send up a typed liver in UW solution as soon as possible;     
   but you might need a few instruments. I don't know where you'll find them,     
   but here's a start. Gotta go now!"                                             
                                                                                  
   He rushes away, not before pressing a gleaming utensil into your hand.         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 170
   Have you forgotten your surgical basics, Bill? Or is it just a case            
   of too much Antoinetta? Put the damned mask on the patient before              
   cutting him open!                                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 180
   After suitable preparations, you make a clean incision around the              
   hypochondriac region, dissect out the diseased liver, take a biopsy            
   specimen to please your niece (a histopathologist in East Nairobi),            
   remove the liver...                                                            
                                                                                  
   "Hell!" you think. "Where's the <expletive deleted> transplant?"               
                                                                                  
   No fear! Hugo Grahame pops in, tosses a Perfuso-Container full of UW           
   solution (complete with liver), and dashes off.                                
                                                                                  
   You anastomose the arteries, veins and bile duct, generally fix the            
   damn' thing in place, and close the wound.                                     
                                                                                  
   As a final touch, you apply an artistic figure-8 bandage.                      
                                                                                  
   "Not bad", you say approvingly.                                                
                                                                                  
   Hugo shortly returns, bringing with him not only Dr. Hammett but Adolf         
   White, and you have a mini-conference.                                         
                                                                                  
   "I must thank you most warmly, Bill", White says, shaking your clammy          
   hand. "You've saved my life? You know that window that was broken? Secret      
   Man 666 and his vile brood were responsible for that. They accused me          
   - ME - of being racist! Well, I don't know what you did to him, but            
   he and his gang have left the hospital, with their tails behind their legs!    
   Bill, my boy, words can't express my gratitude!"                               
                                                                                  
   You tell White that you suspect Dr. Rice of being at the bottom of it all.     
                                                                                  
   "You mean she arranged the whole rigmarole just to get her hooks into you!     
   Incredible! Well, I've got to help you - but I'm rather bad at that kind       
   of stuff. Frankly, Mrs. Mengele (I mean Dr. Rice) scares me."                  
                                                                                  
   You look downcast. Is she going to get you after all?                          
                                                                                  
   "Bill", Hammett says, "no fear. By the way, Secret Woman #777 was your         
   daughter Candida. And I found this lying around. Is this of any help?"         
                                                                                  
   He hands you a torn message. It looks like the other part of the e-mail        
   message. "But how do I stick it?", you ask, ever-practical.                    
                                                                                  
   "There's some glue in the storeroom, Bill. If you don't have it,               
   get it and use it."                                                            
                                                                                  
   They walk away towards the cafeteria. "Go get 'er, Bill!" they shout.          
                                                                                  
   Well, it's all up to you now.                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 190
   You begin to operate - but halfway into the procedure all the                  
   vital-status dials go haywire.                                                 
                                                                                  
   "What the....?" you wonder - and then remember that you forgot to              
   sterilize the instruments. You feel a crowd pushing you from                   
   behind, and you black out.                                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 191
   With characteristic aplomb, you inject a large enough dose of lignocaine       
   into the kid's spinal canal. He looks at you for a few seconds, then falls     
   half-asleep.                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 195
   You give a little gulp. You know that you shouldn't hang around here too       
   long, but you are paralyzed by something that you strongly suspect is          
   nerve gas disguised as Chanel perfume.                                         
                                                                                  
   We will spare you the details of what happens, except that Dr. Rice            
   performs that old wrestling favourite, the bear-hug, on you, and then          
   starts screaming. The whole hospital comes running up to witness the           
   fun.                                                                           
                                                                                  
   Just as you manage to break the hold, and are thinking of clouting her         
   on the head with your key, Adolf White arrives.                                
                                                                                  
   "Bill!" he says, angrily, staring at both of you.                              
                                                                                  
   "Absolutely infatuated, Mr. White", Antoinetta says in a pale imitation        
   of a Greta Garbo voice. "Just look at him! Of course, even I don't have        
   the heart to blame him....."                                                   
                                                                                  
   "Bill!" White shouts again.                                                    
                                                                                  
   "Yes, Director?" , you ask.                                                    
                                                                                  
   "You're fired!!!!"                                                             
                                                                                  
   And there is no appeal from that sentence. Of course, that you end up          
   becoming Mr. Antoinetta Rice is a foregone conclusion, but we shall spare      
   you the gruesome details of your future life.....let us just say....           
                                                                                  
                  *******You have lost.********                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 196
   Summoning up all your courage, your nerve, and your experience of trashy       
   novels, you embroider the greatest story of your life, making Bruce's          
   unrequited love for her sound like the life story of the great Keats           
   himself.                                                                       
                                                                                  
   Obviously, you've done a good job.                                             
                                                                                  
   "William", she says, condescendingly, "I now see how unworthy you are of me.   
   But I cannot trust you. I need proof, William, proof! Something to             
   believe in!"                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 197
   You wonder what to say to Dr. Rice, and end up making a silly comment about    
   the weather.                                                                   
                                                                                  
   "William", she says, striking a Nicole Kidman pose, "If you love me, say so!"  
                                                                                  
   You can feel your stomach churn.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 198
   You stick the letter's pieces together. You now have a complete letter         
   to read, if you're interested.                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 200
   Before you can do anything further, the oxygen in the patient's supply         
   runs out. You rush to his bedside to attempt emergency rescuscitation -        
   but Dr. Rice cuts you off.                                                     
                                                                                  
   "This is my case, Irons", she says, sardonically, and finishes the             
   operation using an oxygen cylinder as backup.                                  
                                                                                  
   A few weeks later you receive a letter of dismissal from White.....            
                                                                                  
   Well, too bad. Another brilliant career cut short. But at least you            
   avoided falling into the worst trap of them all - marriage.                    
                                                                                  
   You may consider this a moral victory, Bill, but for us it's just...           
                                                                                  
                             THE  END.                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 240
                                                                                  
   "I want to thank all of you guys - it's been a lot of fun."                    
                                           - Glenn Frey.                          
                                                                                  
   "A Bloody Life" is absolutely free. Hack it, sack it, do                       
   anything you want with it, but please inform me if you                         
   DO manage to improve it.                                                       
                                                                                  
   (Quentin.D.Thompson can be contacted at: philip@giasmda.vsnl.net.in)           
                                                                                  
   Copyright (C)1998, Gamma/PogeSoft International.                               
END_MESSAGE

