Coma

The film itself reminded Susan of old newsreels. Its outdated technique seemed an anachronism in the modern surroundings. The first section was devoted to the concept of the intensive care hospital. The Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare was shown discussing the problem with policy planners, economists, and health care specialists. The problem of spiraling hospital costs spearheaded by the cost of long-term intensive care was illustrated by graphs and charts. The men explaining the charts were dull and uninspiring, as commonplace as the suits they wore.

“This is a terrible film,” said Susan.

“I agree. Government films are all alike. You’d think that they’d try a little creativity.”

The movie moved on to ground-breaking ceremonies, at which politicians smiled and joked idiotically. More graphs and charts followed, attesting to the enormous savings that had been accrued by the hospital. There were several more scenes showing how the Jefferson Institute’s facilities freed the beds in the city’s hospitals for the care of acute cases. Then followed a comparison of the number of nurses and other personnel needed at the Jefferson facility to the number needed in a conventional hospital for the same number of intensive care patients.

The people used to illustrate this point were photographed milling about aimlessly in a parking lot. Finally, the film showed the heart of the new hospital: the huge computer, both digital and analog. It concluded by pointing out that all the functions of homeostasis were monitored and maintained by the computer. The film ended with a burst of inspirational marching music, like the finale of a war movie. The lights under the floor came on as the last image disappeared.

“I could have done without that,” said Susan, smiling.

“Well, at least it emphasizes the point about the economy. That’s the central concept of the institute. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the principal features of the hospital.”

Michelle stood up and walked toward the mirrored wall from which she had appeared. A door glided open. It shut behind them as they entered another corridor about fifty feet long. The far end of the corridor was also mirrored from floor to ceiling. As Susan passed down the hallway she noted other doors but they were all closed. None of the doors had any exposed hardware. Apparently they were automatically activated.

When they reached the far end of the corridor, a door slid open and Susan entered a familiar-looking room. It was about forty by twenty feet and looked exactly like an intensive care unit in any hospital. There were five beds and the usual assortment of gadgets, EKG screens, gas lines, etcetera. But four of the beds appeared different: each was constructed with a gap of some two feet running lengthwise. It was as if each bed were constructed of two very narrow beds with a fixed two-foot span between them. In the ceiling above the beds there were complicated tracklike mechanisms. The fifth bed, which seemed conventional, was occupied. A patient was being breathed by a small respirator. Susan was reminded of Nancy Greenly.

“This is the visiting area for the immediate families,” explained Michelle. “When a family is scheduled to visit, the patient is transferred here automatically. When he is placed in one of these special beds and it is made up, the bed appears like a normal one. This patient was visited this afternoon.” Michelle pointed toward the patient in the fifth bed.

“We purposely did not return him to the main ward for your benefit.”

Susan was confused. “You mean that bed the patient is in is the same as these other beds?”

“Exactly. And when family visits, these other beds are filled with other patients so that the area looks like a normal intensive care unit Follow me, please.”

Michelle walked the length of the room, past the patient in the bed. At the end of the room was a door, which opened silently and automatically.

Susan was amazed when she passed the fifth bed with the patient. The bed appeared exactly like a regular hospital bed. There was no evidence that its central section, its basic support, was missing. But Susan had no time to examine the bed more closely as she followed Michelle into the next room.

The first thing Susan became aware of was the light; there was something strange about it. Then she felt the warmth and the humidity.

Finally she saw the patients, and she stopped in utter astonishment.

There were more than a hundred patients in the room, and all of them were completely suspended in midair about four feet from the floor. All of them were naked. Looking closely, Susan could see the wires piercing multiple points on the patients’ long bones. The wires were connected to complicated metal frames and pulled taut. The patients’ heads were supported by other wires from the ceiling which were attached to screw eyes in the patients’ skulls. Susan had an impression of grotesque, horizontal, sleeping marionettes.