An excited Jericho rose from her seat, raced across the room, and rolled a

monitoring machine over to the gurney. She hurriedly attached electrodes to

Rogers’s temples, and then opened his shirt and placed sensors on his chest and

one at his neck.

 

She turned on the machine and studied the screen. She clicked some buttons on

the attached keyboard and studied the results. All the while Rogers moaned and

screamed. Then he turned his head to the side and threw up.

 

Jericho did not appear to notice. “Fascinating,” she said. “But we really need

to hook you up to 3-D imaging, body scanners, that sort of thing. The equipment

we have today is light-years ahead of what we were using thirty years ago.

 

That will give us the clearest picture of what is going on. And a full blood

workup, of course. It will take a long time, but I’m going to get this right. I

promise you that.” She made the call and twenty minutes later Rogers was being

rolled into another room, still in intense pain. He was laid in a tube and run

through a scanner.

 

Jericho studied the screen showing the inner workings of his body. “What level

of pain are you feeling, Paul? Please be as precise as you can. And what is the

frequency of the attacks?” “Fuck you!” he screamed. “We’re wasting valuable

time. I don’t know when you might have another episode like this.” Rogers didn’t

answer. Evidently frustrated with him, Jericho continued to study the screen.

“This is truly fascinating,” she said. “I can already see where improvements can