Noise in an auditorium has an odd effect. All the new students shuffling their pens and binders, while chattering with their new acquaintances, are sure noisy. Yet, until one tries to speak to the person in the next seat and cannot even hear oneself, one does not realize that the sound levels are as high as a jet plane taking off. That's why the professor is fidgeting with the old style microphone that hangs around his neck. His voice stops the beehive like activity, even though the speakers are faint and crackling.
Dave stares down from his high seat at the end of a stadium like lecture hall. There are over a hundred students in the hall. Some have creative fashion haircuts. Some girls have still wet and matted hair. Some guys sport elegant 20's style hats. A dozen girls have a fun hair colors like a dash of red or completely green. Some already were white or blue medical coats. Others still showed up in baggy pants and oversized, untied basketball sneakers. The latecomers were sitting on the stairs leading down into the pit. The pit contained the professor in a dapper suit, a traditional leather bag on the desk, and his name on the chalkboard, professor Greenberg.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to medical school. Medicine has an ancient and proud tradition. It is the only established profession that does pure good as sworn by an oath. A chemist can work on rocket science after a four year bachelor degree. You will learn medicine, which is vastly more complicated. You will study hard for over a decade before you get to cut for the first time."
"Now, please take a look at the student to your left and right. Introduce yourselves. Only one of you will be here by the end of the semester. The first year drop out right at our institute is around 70%. Some of you will fail our tests miserably. Some of you will give up utterly crushed. We do not make doctors for average hospitals here. We nourish heads of surgeries for the most prestigious hospitals. We inspire the doctors that make medical breakthroughs."
Dave looked under the table at his leather shoes. A leather boot was knocking against the side of his shoes. The leather boot was stiff with the toes standing up. Flames were stitched on the shaft of the boot with purple leather. The male student next to him looked at him intently. He wore a white shirt with thick fabric along the edge of the fabrics, where the buttons were. The thick fabric made the white shirt stand stiff. The two top buttons were opened. The student smiled and leaned over to Dave.
"That's Professor Dick. All the other professors hate him, yet they treat him nice. He washes out most of the students. The other professors appreciate to be spared wasting their time on dim wits. You survive him and you get to experience some of the most brilliant people on this planet. My name is Armando."
"Hey, Armando, we can talk after class. Right now, I want to pay attention to the lecture. My name is Dave."
Armando seized up Dave. Dave was wearing blue jeans with an oval washed out section on the thighs. Thin lines of washed out jeans looked like faded creases. Above the right knee was a small roughed up square, where the designer went to town with a knife to scrape the fabric. At the left bottom was a heart and 'K' stitched almost invisibly into the fabric, because the thread was exactly as blue as the jeans. The bottom of the black shirt fell over the top of the jeans. The black shirt had an oversized Marilyn Monroe printed over ten entire torso front reaching under his armpits. The photo print was painted over with bright colors. Her black pupils were filled with the outline drawing of one fetus each, proposing her pupils to be wombs. The Edge of her smiling lips had a cross of two tiny long bones. From the distance they only looked like an X. The black shadow in her blond hair was an illusion. It was actually, the outline of a sultry Goth girl with long flowing hair reclining on Marilyn Monroe's forehead.
Dave leaned forward onto the narrow surface in front of him. The entire row was sitting on fixed wood chairs. In front of them was a white plastic surface as a writing surface. The writing surface was attached to the top of the chair row in front of them. The row in front of them was lower, so that they could look down onto the heads of the person in front of them.
In front of Dave was a girl with dark dirty blond hair. The hair was twisted into a neat noodle with two white chop sticks sticking way out in both directions. Japanese Kanji characters were engraved on the end of one chop stick. The line drawing of a peacock finished the phrase. The other chop stick had waves, their white crest, and a koi fish engraved. The girls flip flops were hanging of the balls of her feet with a large gap at the heel. She clapped the heel of the flip flop against her naked heal in mindless abandon. The binder in front of her was pink with a large Hello Kitty face. The summer dress was cheery yellow with straps on her shoulder. The guys could see the top of her breasts a bit.
Armando slowly, soundlessly tear a quarter sized paper piece of a bar flyer. He rolled the paper into a tiny ball and snipped it into her hair. The paper pellet had two shiny strands of hair running over it. Yet, a few other loose strands held the paper a bit above the actual hair. The paper was hovering. The girl did not react. Dave whispered to Armando "No."
Armando proceeded to make the next paper pellet. The paper pellet landed right between the girl's flip flops. Dave quickly grabbed Armando's hand and held it. The girl did not react. "You can't do this." Armando smiled in success until the professor interrupted him: "The next person that utters a sound will have to leave this session immediately. I don't care if you just found out the meaning of life or your class mate stepped on your foot."
Armando snipped the next paper pellet into the girl's hair. He fully looked at Dave to capture his reaction. Dave looked away. The girl roused. She reached for her hair. As her finger touched the first paper pellet, she started digging and pulling. She snipped it on the floor and went looking for more. Her hair was sensuous and recently washed. Dave could almost smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. She had a piercing at the top of her left ear. Her summer dress ended in the middle of her thigh. The skin and muscle texture looked young and in average shape.
This time, Armando rolled the paper pellet in his mouth before he flung it down at the girl. He went for her dΓ©colletΓ©. The wet paper hit her chest high and stuck to the skin. The girl turned around. Her fierce eyes were right in front of Dave's who was still leaning forward. Armando placed his finger on his lips to warn the girl from speaking to avoid the ire of the professor. When her facial expression changed, his finger in front of his lips slyly pointed at Dave. The girl shook her hand at Dave. Dave waved 'no' with both hands. The girl turned back to the front. Dave hit Armando into the side of his thigh with a closed fist. Armando's face brightened up only more.
The whole class stood up and started walking toward the front and out the doors next to the chalkboard. The next step was the surgical initiation. The professor believed that students needed a taste of actual surgery to be motivated through the drudgery of learning the basics. On their first day, they were to assist life surgeries with a menial task like injecting a drug into the IV, sucking blood out of the surgery site, or handing the surgeon a scalpel. The surgery rooms were behind the lecture hall. The students formed five lines for each of the surgery rooms. There was a lot of waiting for students to neatly wash the hands all the way up to the forearm and dressing with hairnets, gloves, and surgical gowns. Then, as one student exited one door, the next student could step in. There was usually only space for five students at a time to observe among the many people of the surgical team.
Dave stood next to Armando: "You are an absolute ass."
"You have a problem with hesitation. In medicine, not the students that study the most win. It is the students that can step over boundaries. That girl in front of us will be unable to step over the boundary of cutting a corpse. She will fail anatomy. You will fail, because you are too modest. You will kill the woman with vaginal bleeding, because you don't dare asking her the right gynecological questions. Perhaps, you won't ask her a single one. Medicine is not normal. Cutting and sawing into bodies requires you to give up your hesitations. You still have a chance to get over it before they kick you out."
Dave and Armando stood quietly in the line of blue students covered in puffy coverings head to toe. The pre-room was large, functional with a wooden bench to get dressed and rows of oversized hand sinks. The sinks had foot pedals to operate the water to avoid the clean hands touching anything. Every five minutes, the door opened with a glimpse of machines, large surgical lights and the surgeon. Rancid air wafted into the room from burned flesh. Blood vessels were soldered to stop the bleeding. Everyone looked ahead and was quiet.
When Dave stepped into the room, he scanned the surgical staff to pick out the student, surgeon, anesthetist, nurses among the anonymous smurf-like looking people. The appendicitis surgery would be open soon. He recognized the bothered girl from the class earlier standing near a nurse. He pushed himself past the other students to stand next to her and apologize. As he pulled up next to her, he reached with his right hand for her shoulder to get her attention. His elbow knocked against a shiny stainless steel try. The meticulous instruments rattled loud. A ten blade fell to the floor with the ringing sound of a coin jumping around before it finally settled, only louder. Armando quickly stepped on top of the ten blade with his shoes. The surgeon paused. The nurse next to the surgeon quickly exhaled. "Who dropped a scalpel in my OR?" The nurse next to the girl from class quickly twisted her body around. Her body relaxed a bit, because she had something to do. She peered on the floor and reported: "There is no scalpel on the floor." Another nurse joined her search and confirmed. The surgeon grumbled without a word and continued poking in the abdomen of the patient.