Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,33

the crew of the Proteus.

When the device entered the operating room and stopped at the table, Carter recognized this fact by ordering: "Contact the Proteus!"

The reply was: ALL WELL BUT A LITTLE SHOOK, and Carter forced a grin at that.

Benes was lying on the operating table, a second focus of interest in the room. The thermal blanket covered him to the collarbone. Thin rubber tubes led from the blanket to the central thermal unit under the operating table.

Forming a rough semi-sphere beyond Benes' shaven, grid-marked head were a group of sensitive detectors intended to react to the presence of radioactive emissions.

A team of gauze-masked surgeons and their assistants hovered about Benes, their eyes fixed solemnly on the approaching device. The Time Recorder was prominent on one wall and at this point it changed from 59 to 58.

The waldo stopped at bedside.

Two of the sensors moved from their place, as though they were suddenly endowed with life. Following the long-distance manipulations of a quick-working technician, they lined up on either side of the hypodermic, one adjacent to the ampule and one to the needle.

A small screen on the technician's desk woke to greenish life as a blip appeared upon it, faded, was reinforced,. faded again, and so on.

The technician said, "Proteus radioactivity being received."

Carter brought his hands together in a harsh clap and reacted with grim satisfaction. Another hurdle, one which he had not been allowing himself to face, had been overcome. It was not merely radioactivity that had to be sensed, but radioactive particles that had themselves been miniaturized; and that, because of their incredibly tiny, infra-atomic size could pass through any ordinary sensor without affecting it. The particles had, therefore, to pass through a de-miniaturizer first, and the necessary juxtaposition of de-miniaturizer and sensor had only been improvised in the frantic hours of the early morning.

The waldo holding the plunger of the hypodermic now pushed downward with a smoothly increasing pressure. The fragile plastic barrier between ampule and needle broke and, after a moment, a tiny bubble began to appear at the tip of the needle. It dropped off into a small container placed underneath; a second bubble and a third followed.

The plunger sank, and so did the water level within the ampule. And then, the blip on the screen before the technician's eyes changed position.

"Proteus in needle," he called out.

The plunger held.

Carter looked at Reid, "Okay?"

Reid nodded. He said, "We can insert now."

The hypodermic needle was tilted into a sharp slant by the two sets of claws and the waldo began to move again, this time toward a spot on Benes' neck which a nurse now hastily swabbed with alcohol. A small circle was marked on the neck, within the circle a smaller cross, and toward the center of the cross the tip of the hypodermic needle approached. The sensors followed it.

A moment of hesitation as the needle-tip touched the neck. It punctured and entered a prescribed distance, the plunger moved slightly and the sensor-technician called out, "Proteus injected."

The waldo moved off hurriedly. The cloud of sensors moved in, like eagerly-reaching antennae, settling down all over Benes' head and neck.

"Tracking," called out the sensor-technician, and flipped a switch. A half-dozen screens, each with its blip in a different position, lit up. Somewhere the information on those screens was fed into a computer, which controlled the huge map of Benes' circulatory system. On that map, a bright dot sprang into life in the carotid artery. Into that artery the Proteus had been injected.

Carter considered praying but didn't know how. On the map there seemed only the smallest distance between the position of the dot of light and the position of the blood-clot on the brain.

Carter watched as the Time Recorder moved to 57, then followed the unmistakable and rather rapid motion of the dot of light along the artery, headward and toward the clot.

Momentarily, he closed his eyes and thought: Please. If there is anything out there somewhere, please.

Grant called out, having a little difficulty catching his breath. "We've been moved toward Benes. They say they're getting us into the needle and then into his neck. And I've told them we're a little shook. Whoof - a little shook!"

"Good," said Owens. He battled with the controls, trying to guess at the rocking motions and neutralize their effect.

He wasn't very successful.

Grant said, "Listen, why - why do we have to get into the - oof - needle?"

"We'll be more constricted there. Moving the needle will hardly affect us then. Another-uh-thing,