Julio kept talking:
“And under this here cover, we have the toy of the week. Ta-da!” He pulled the lightweight tarp off, revealing what looked like a table with four jointed arms sticking up from it, two in the corners at one end, two more in the middle. The thing had wheels and a closed compartment under it.
“And what is this? A high-tech electric golf cart?”
“No, sir, this is Rocky Scram — that’s R-O-C–C-S-R-M, the acronym standing for Remote-Operated, Computer-Controlled Surgical Robotic Module.”
Howard frowned. “We talking about a doc-in-the-box?”
“Actually, a surgeon-in-the-box, only this is just the box. You’re gonna love this one, it actually might be useful.”
“Talk to me.”
“Here’s the deal. You need a surgical PA, couple nurses, and orderlies. They set this sucker up in a field hospital. Guy comes in, all shot up, needs fixin’. The PA — that’s physician’s assistant, for those of you who missed the medical personnel lecture — does a triage, examines the guy, and makes a quick diagnosis. They plunk him on the table, get him prepped, and dial up a first-class REMF surgeon, who can be up to a thousand miles away, give or take. He cranks up his unit — that part is over here, come look.”
They walked to another covered unit, and Julio removed a tarp from it. There was a chair, a computer screen mounted in front of it on a platform, and some odd-looking appendages on the arms of the chair.
“Your surgeon sits here and slips his fingers into the surgical controls, that’s these rings here. He uses his feet on pedals down on the floor, one each, with a freeze pedal in the middle, kind of like a brake.”
Julio sat in the chair and slipped his fingers into the jointed ring arrangements. The computer screen lit up. “These control the waldos, those are tools you can connect to those arms on the operating table. Left foot runs the endoscope, which holds your light and your camera. Right foot works various clamps and suction things. The hand tools will hold scalpels, hemostats, suture needles, scissors, and a bunch of other things.”
“You’re telling me a surgeon can operate on a patient from a thousand miles away using this gadget?”
“Yes, sir, that’s what the RA medicos say. The surgeons who qualify have to cut up a bunch of pigs and cadavers and RA soldiers before they let them work on real people. They’ve repaired bowels, done blood vessel grafts, stitched up torn hearts, all kinds of things. Nurses and the PA assist, just like in a regular OR. RA medicos say a guy good with this toy can pick up number-six BBs and never drop one.”
Julio waggled his fingers, and there was mechanical hum from the nearby table as the surgical arms moved around.
“It’s all self-contained, battery backup if you can’t get a generator going. Wheel it out there, slap’em on the table, and you cut and paste.”
“Good Lord.”
“Yessir, I expect He is impressed.”
“Downside?”
“Heavy, expensive — million and half a copy — and you need a repair tech who’s qualified to service’em if they break down. Still, RA figures it’s cheaper than training and replacing a surgeon who catches a stray round on the way to do his cutting.”
“Good point.”
“There’s a civilian model been around for a while, but it’s not so compact, and it ain’t portable.”
“Amazing.”
“Ain’t it, though? Now, if the general is through being impressed with modem hardware, I’d like to go catch a nap.”
“Go ahead, Sergeant. Oh. Wait. Hold up a second. I got something for you.” Howard grinned. He was going to like what he was about to do. He was going to like it a whole lot.
Julio paused, and Howard tossed the small plastic box at him. Julio caught it, started to open it. “Not my birthday. What’s the occasion?”
Howard didn’t say anything, just kept grinning.
When Julio got the box open, his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. No!”
“Oh, shit, yes. And we’re skipping right over shavetail and going to right to first.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant Fernandez.”
“You can’t do this, John. Gunny’ll never let me live it down.”
“Already done, Julio. Paperwork is signed, sealed, and delivered.”
“John—”
“More money, which you need with a new baby. Plus now you don’t have to take orders from your wife. Well, no more than any of the rest of us have to take orders from our wives.” Julio’s wife was Joanna Winthrop, and a lieutenant in Net Force herself, although she was on extended leave at the moment.
“But… but… who can you get to replace me?”
“Nobody will be able to replace you, Julio. But there are some new recruits who can manage a top’s chores if you show them how it is done.”
Julio shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”
“No doubt, but at least you can tell the devil you earned your money for part of your career before you got the free ride.”
Julio nodded slowly, then looked up. “All right. Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t look so sour, Julio. Welcome to the officer-and-a-gentleman club. Or at least the officer part of it.”
“Yeah, right.”
Under the bitching, Howard was pretty sure that Julio was pleased. They’d been working together for more than twenty years, first in the regular army, then in Net Force. Julio had known about Howard’s promotion to general before Howard himself had, and there were times when the two of them were practically telepathic. Julio didn’t have the educational background of a lot of officers, but when a situation went hot, he was the man you wanted covering your back. He had another few years before he was going to think about retiring, and the higher his grade, the bigger his pension. He was a married man with a baby; he needed it.
“Go take your nap, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Normally, at seven in the morning, Jay Gridley would be at Net Force HQ, plugged into his computer and making war on the bad guys. He’d be hunting lubefoots who’d dumped the latest ugly virus into the world’s e-mail, or searching for clues to some computer fraud, or trying to track down some sicko posting kiddie porn on church web sites. Now and then, there’d be a big shark cruising the virtual waters of the net, like the mad Russian or the crazy Georgia redneck or the British genius who’d been using a quantum computer to try and restore England’s lost glory, though those were relatively rare. But a few months ago, Jay had finally met his on-line guru who had been helping him recover from a stroke, an old Tibetan monk named Sojan Rinpoche. And as it turned out, the old man was actually a young and beautiful woman. Saji, she liked to be called, and one thing had led to another, which had led to another, which had led to her lying beside him in the bed.
Now, there were days when he called in sick and never left that bed except to pee.
He giggled.
“What is funny?” Saji asked.
He smiled at her. “You. Me. This. Us.”
“What time is it?”
“Who cares?”
“No, you don’t, goat-boy. I’m teaching an on-line class this morning.”
“You don’t have to get up to do that. You can lie right there.”
She laughed. “I don’t think so. I remember the last time I tried to do that. Somebody kept distracting me.”
“You’re a master Buddhist, you’re supposed to be able to meditate and tune out little distractions.”
“Yeah, but the problem was, the little distraction kept getting bigger every time I looked at it.”
They both laughed.