Cranial to Caudal

[Farah]

A look of quiet surprised drifted onto her face at the concept of Samson practicing with his gentle hands on…melons. It was an odd thing to do but she could appreciate him recognizing a flaw in himself and working to correct it in order to be a better doctor.

“When I was still learning, I’d practice suturing the skin of a banana.” The thought of it almost made her smile. “They say that it’s about as tough as human flesh.” She’d also sliced her own skin in order to stitch herself back up again. Nothing too dramatic, just practice.

A conversational silence fell between them for a few moments which gave Farah enough time to consider something. Usually she didn’t go out of her way to help anyone—other doctors, of course—unless there was something for her to gain. Whether it be a fancy surgery or a favor later on down the line, Farah was out for herself.

“Come on.” She rose, gesturing to the rat. “Put that away. We’re going to leave the lab for a while.”

Tumor growth on the pancreas, they could see it with the naked eye. No sense in continuing to butcher a now useless rat corpse.

Not when there were perfectly good humanoid corpses in the morgue.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

Huh.

That was actually a really good idea.

If Samson had his notebook with him he would have noted that down. Instead the giant simply committed it to memory: when home, check the prices of bananas and then buy some maybe. Because it was most definitely one of the areas worth pursuing just a little bit. "If you don't mind, I might borrow the banana idea." Samson murmured before nodding and starting the clean-up of the rat carcass.

It was all done methodical, clean, efficient.

Even in this the clone had worthwhile experience that let him avoid the pitfalls (and screams of Farah) of the aides. It didn't take long, before the rat corpse was disposed of and Sam considered himself clean and purified.

"Where are we going, Farah?" Samson asked as they left the labs behind.

 

[Farah]

“I don’t mind.” Farah never did mind when it came to learning. In her own angry, fear inspiring way, she encouraged it. But surgeons were bitterly aggressive and she was known to steal surgeries out from under other residents. They all were. In order to learn in an environment like this, you had to do whatever you could to come out on top.

She disposed of her gloves as Samson took care of the rat’s remains, neither of them commenting on the tumor that was clear as day. Had Farah been alone, she’d likely have thrown the rat against the wall our out the window in frustration.

Out in the hall, Farah walked with quick strides. She always moved quickly, sharply. Shorter interns often found themselves scrambling to keep up with the doctor who did not seem to care, but Samson would have no trouble matching her stride.

They went down the hall, descended a few levels to the basement floor where the routine clinical labs were. At the end of another hall sat a thick durasteel door. Farah punched in a code at the keypad and scanned her badged. A few pings and beeps later, the door slid open to reveal a cold, quiet room.

“The morgue.” She announced, turning to Samson. “No more melons. We’re going to have you practice on real humanoid bodies.” Dead ones, of course. Eliminated the risk of accidental death.

“The bodies in here have been donated to medicine so there are no legal barriers.” Just ethical ones.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

It was certainly not difficult for Samson to keep up with her rapid stride.

Oh, he could see how it would have been a challenge for the aides, but his size and the length of his legs meant that every step he took would roughly be three steps for an averaged-sized aide. This was one of the few areas where being this large was an advantage. At least until the pacing would cause him to forget just the scale of everything around him and make him slam his head into the support beam of a door they were passing through.

Like... now.

Just as they entered the morgue after she entered the pad Samson accidentally caught the upper-beam with his forehead, while trying to please her and keep up with her rapid pace.

"Ow." Sam grunted while clutching his head. "Ugh, I hate it when that happens." He murmured next while rubbing his head and following along. The nod came a bit later, because he was kinda woozy right now.

But it would be fine.

Probably.

"This is very kind of you, Farah." He'd say after the pain receded a bit.

 

[Farah]

The solid thunk Samson’s head made as it came into contact with a support beam did not go unnoticed.

In turning towards him, the Zeltron gave him a once over—aside from the red mark on his forehead, he seemed relatively intact. But just to be sure, she pulled a pen-sized light from her pocket and shifted up and onto her tip toes.

Nope. That wouldn’t work.

Mumbling to herself, she looked around for a few moments before dragging a step stool out from the corner of the room. With this, she was able to gain the additional height needed to shine the light in his eyes, pulling each lid upwards as she checked to make sure that neither pupil was blown. Satisfied with his responsive eyes, she dismounted from the stool and nudged it away from them with their foot.

Kind? “This is necessary.”

Gloving her hands, she turned to what seemed to be an endless wall of drawers that nearly wrapped around the room. After some searching and muttering to herself, she tapped several times on one of the drawers. It shifted open, revealing the pallid corpse of a woman tucked neatly inside. Farah removed the plastoid blanket covering her and motioned for Samson to come over.

A scalpel was produced and a single deft slice was made in the patient’s thoracic cavity. A tool affectionately named the ‘rip spreader’ was snatched from a nearby tray prepared for autopsies. It was placed within the incision and the crank turned, displacing the ribs enough for them to see the heart.

She prompted him with a look.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

Samson didn't protest when she started checking his physical state after that bump.

"It's okay, Farah, this isn't the first time." Which... kinda made it worse, because repeated trauma was most definitely worse than just a spare isolated event, but right now Sam was just trying to put her at ease. It did feel nice that someone cared though, but that was besides the point. "Oh, the perspective of necessity is the kindness as far as I am concerned." Because anyone else wouldn't have bothered with him. Too scary, too much of a presence that intimidated.

He didn't blame them.

It just felt nice to have someone that didn't feel that way.

[member="Tryp West"], now Farah. It felt good.

Samson watched impassively as she cracked open the ribcage and passed him the scalpel. It was clear from the way his eyes studied the internal organs, the way his scalpel settled easily in his hand, that it wasn't the first time he watched or was in close proximity to bodies like this. "...you are sure it will be okay, if I accidentally break something?" Sam asked cautiously while pushing the scalpel inside and beginning the first few incisions, they weren't 'dangerous' yet.

That would come a bit later, once his other hand would come to help him with the heart.

 

[Farah]

“I’m sure it’s not.” She cut in quickly. With height like his, she’d be surprised if he hadn’t concussed himself already once or twice.

Farah gave him a strange look as he implied that she was being kind. “You show promise. I hate to see it wasted when you could be working for me.”

As he fiddled with the corpse, she nodded. “The ones in here, on this side of the wall,” She gestured. “Are for medical research which includes teaching students.” While not one to worry about ethics, Farah made sure that she was allowed to do this sort of thing before doing it. She liked to push boundaries but knew that stepping over them could cost her her job and more importantly, her research.

“That’s enough.” Once he’d cut his way through the surrounding area, it would be enough. Samson’s hands were larger than those of most surgeons which meant that he’d need a little extra room to maneuver.

“Now rest your hand against the heart. Gently.”

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

Working for her?

Now that was an interesting prospect she casually released there.

Samson wasn't certain how he felt about it.

In the end it was put to the side, because medicine took priority over such prospects. There was an automation to his movements, but Farah would notice him catching himself in it- eyes becoming clear as his hands stopped for a moment. From there he took every cut, every swipe and pull with dedication. His eye was there, rather than allowing memory to take control over the movements. It was slower than what had happened with the rat carcass.

But that was necessary. "Mhm, I..." Slowly, he let his hand sink down into the chest and then let his palm rest on the heart. It was cold, sticky... elastic, it had none of the heat of the other time he had done this. It didn't beat anymore.

The most important part?

It didn't explode.

"Look, Farah!"