From: SHANDRA             
To: OPUS                
Subject: Huh?           
Date & Time: 04/07/91 04:17:17
Message Number 14734

I look around at the little morph's demand. Is /he/ addressing me?
Yeah, seems like it. I am starting to wonder if I'm wearing a blinking
sign reading "Bartender," or why nobody can see the bartender. I walk
over to him, frowning. "I'm not the bartender, but you're right about
the doctor." I rummage under the bar for the little medicomp that's
normally kept there. "Ah, here we go. Next best thing to a real doctor."
I sling the thing over my shoulder and walk around to the patrons' side
of the bar. "Army issue," I explain to the little morph. I pull the
scanner out of its tether and run it over his behind. "Just business,
don't get any ideas," I say as I put the scanner back. "Well, no sign
of infection. Nice clean wound, like it was done with a laser or a
scalpel or...hello, it's been stitched, too. Looks like the stitches
were removed too soon, and it's starting to open up again. Who did this
to you?" I pull an autoinjector out of the medicomp's side cabinet,
and ram it against his behind. The Army autoinjectors hurt like a
sonofabitch--old-fashioned spring-loaded needle instead of pressure
spray--but what the hell, they work. "Anasthetic and a broad-spectrum
antibiotic. I can stitch it if you like, but not here. It looks like
a bandage ought to do it."