… continued the work without pause. As the bellows was pressed, every corpse’s chest rose, then fell, in unison.
“Does it… hurt them?” Gareth asked hesitantly.
The medic shouted, “Dreksa, trade with Kander for now.” Then, more quietly, “Oh, they do not feel anything. Their minds are gone. This system, in all its parts, keeps the tissue in good condition for transplant, for when I need it.”
“The heat, too? I assume to, ah, emulate body temperature?” Gareth asked, trying to brush off the horror by making conversation.
“That is just a result of the boiling. It is a good thing, I suppose, as some of the tissues are sensitive to drops in temperature.”
Gareth almost asked what the purpose was for boiling so much water, but another look around the room yielded his answer: there were lines strung wall to wall, and numerous racks, on which countless stained bandages were hung to dry. In the water itself floated dozens – possibly hundreds – of sharp knifes, delicate needles, and other instruments Gareth couldn’t hope to identify. At least he could be assured the medic’s tools had been cleaned, he supposed.
In the meantime, the elderly medic wrestled a rolled-up mat of some kind from a corner of the wet room and was straightening it out on the dirt floor. … [cont.]
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