"Anytime, partner."
Partner.
The word settles in the room. It feels dangerous. It feels permanent.
"We should test it," I say suddenly.
"What?"
"The theory," I say. "We have the Sim Lab. We have the robot. We could upload a motion algorithm and see if we can actually suture a moving target."
Jax looks at me. His eyes darken.
"You want to go to the Sim Lab? With me?"
"Yes," I say. My heart rate kicks up.85 bpm."For... science."
Jax smiles. "Science. Right."
He stands up.
"Lead the way, Chief."
Jax
There are very few things in this world that terrify me.
I have been shot at. I have defused a pressure plate IED with a pair of rusty pliers. I have eaten sushi from a gas station in Nebraska.
But watching Dr. Maxwell York try to operate a three-million-dollar surgical robot he has just "hacked" with a theoretical algorithm... that is terrifying.
"Initiating start-up sequence," Maxwell announces.
He is sitting at the surgeon’s console of theDa Vinci Xisurgical system. His head is buried in the viewer, his hands gripping the master controls. He looks like he’s trying to pilot a starship while wearing a Tom Ford suit.
"Copy that, Commander," I say, leaning against the doorframe of the Sim Lab. "System is green. Target is..."
I look at the operating table.
Lying there is "Bob." Bob is a high-fidelity mannequin torso made of silicone and nightmares. He has a synthetic heart, synthetic lungs, and a very surprised expression painted on his plastic face.
"Target is Bob," I confirm. "He looks nervous."
"Bob is an inanimate object," Maxwell says, his voice muffled by the console. "He does not feel nervousness. Now, inserting the camera."
The robot looms over the table like a giant, four-armed spider. Maxwell moves his hands. The robot arms whir to life. One arm, holding a camera, dives gracefully into Bob’s chest cavity.
"Visuals are clear," Maxwell reports. "The resolution is exquisite. I can see the serial number on the artificial aorta."
"Great," I say. "Now, let’s test the 'Active Motion Compensation' code we just invented while eating hawaiian pizza."
"It is not code," Maxwell corrects. "It is a parameter adjustment. I have increased the sensitivity of the master-slave interface to anticipate rhythmic motion."
"Right. You made it twitchy. Go for the valve."
Maxwell takes a breath. "Advancing Instrument Arm 1. Grasping the needle driver."
The robot arm moves. It’s smooth. It’s elegant. It picks up the tiny curved needle.
