“But why?” says Hall. “Stupid machine – what makes his blood too acid?”
“Ask the patient,” says Karen Anson, pointing out that the patients are awake.
Hall climbs into his glovebox suit lifts the top of the bed frame, and turns Jackson’s head. Jackson opens his eyes.
“Mister Jackson?” says Hall, “Now, don’t be scared. I’m a doctor.”
“Bull,” replies Jackson, closing his eyes. “Where am I?”
“A special laboratory in Nevada,” says Hall. “We brought you here from Piedmont. You’re sick.”