“Heil Hitler,” Otto follows, peering at me to hint that I do the same.
“Heil Hitler,” the servicemen say.
I utter the same words while biting my cheek.
Hearing Hitler’s name grows older with each passing day.
I spot the papers on the table and plan to sign them without reading through the gibberish because I don’t quite care what is written. I’ll imagine the worst. I continue to clutch my notebook against my chest and allow my handbag to slide off my shoulder so I can take that in my hand too. With the pen resting on top of the papers, I lean forward, feeling all pairs of eyes in theroom staring at me as if there’s an alternative to what I’m about to do. I scan each paper, sliding the tip of the pen under each line, reading every other word on how my agreement is legally binding and prosecutable if falsified or objectified. With my initials scripted along the bottom line I place the papers back in an even stack and set the pen on top.
“I’ll bring that to Dr. Dietrich’s desk,” one of the uniformed men offers.
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to the outcome of your work, Frau Berger,” Dietrich says, disappearing from the doorway of the lab.
“Emilie, we discussed the idea of beginning our research with our test subjects to determine our baseline data including body temperatures prior to immersion in varying degrees of water,” Otto says. “All of our test subjects are in fair health without medical complications or history of medication conditions.”
We should have discussed this at home so he wouldn’t have been embarrassed by my response to his plan.
“Do they all have records of heart rate, weight, age, and rectal temperatures?”
Another one of the airmen slides a folder over to Otto as if to help him with the vital stats he should know.
Otto takes the folder and thumbs through the pages, searching for the data that must be hidden in the pile.
“We don’t have time for this,” the third airman says. “We’re filling the submersion tubs, as discussed.”
“Submersion tubs?” I repeat. “There’s much to be done before testing contrasting temperatures.”
“They’re right. We don’t have time,” Otto says.
“Yes, we do. It only takes a second.” I take the folder from his hand and thumb through the pages, finding no records of heart rate, age, weight, or body temperature for any of the subjects. We’re talking about living, breathing people who chose thisoption over execution. “Without baseline knowledge, we won’t have?—”
“Okay then,” Otto interrupts. “Fill the submersion tubs to 34°C/93°F. We should be gauging the rate of change for body temperature when immersed into water about five percent colder than average body temperature.”
The last of the airmen to leave the room nods at me with an agreeable gesture and continues into the adjoining lab where I assume the tubs are located. By starting at 34°C/93°F, a temperature warmer than a pool or summer ocean water, I’ll be able to measure the gradual change of heart rate and body temperature without causing hypothermia. If we move at incremental rates, I’ll know when to stop before endangering anyone’s health. If they are looking to me to educate them on this process, they shouldn’t expect a quicker way of getting these results.
“They aren’t going to give you the leisure of time,” Otto says, taking the folder back from my hands. “They’re going to think you aren’t moving quick enough if it takes too long, and they’ll take matters into their own hands.”
He’s speaking so quietly, it’s hard to hear every word of what he’s saying, but it’s the first time in the last three days I’ve felt like we’re on a semi-common side on this.I won’t hurt those men out there, and I won’t let Dietrich or the selected servicemen do it either.
“What water temperature will cause hypothermia within minutes?” he asks.
I lower the notebook I’ve been squeezing in my hand and glance at my notes, reading that 5°C/44°F will cause hypothermia within a few minutes. We can’t brush up against that number.
“16°C /60°F.”
Otto glances at my notebook but I pull it back to my chest. “Okay,” he says.
“Prisoner number: 13415 and 13286, come forward,” someone shouts. “Go down the hall to room twelve, strip out of your clothes then report to room ten.”
The sound of scuffling feet moving down the hall grows louder as they pass by the lab, then quieter again as they continue down the hall. I take a guess that they’re preparing our first two test subjects before we’ve had a chance to even fill up the tubs and regulate the temperatures against a thermometer.
“The second submersion tub needs to be set just slightly over the patient’s original body temperature, so we don’t scald anyone when switching them over.”
“Okay, okay, don’t worry. We’ll check the temperatures before going any further,” Otto says.
“Do you understand what happens to a freezing body when it is overheated within minutes?” I don’t know if he grasps the importance of what I’m saying and I’m scared he’s going to think I’m being overly cautious and do something reckless to appease these people.
“Of course, I do. I took similar classes as you, didn’t I?”
