Morality Under the Knife -121

Everyone chose the rest period, and so they spent most of the time huddled together and talking about what they had learned about the place, the people, and the operation.

Not that there was a whole lot of information to go around; most hadn't learned much of anything, and those that did had only learned tiny little details.

As for the minimal amount of work that we had to do in the downtime, we also didn't let them know much. It was just about the operation if they had any comments, any possible improvements, that kind of stuff.

And then they were asked to rate their assistants, which was hard since some of them hadn't really done much yet.

Other than that, they could just wait and prepare themselves to do a no doubt more difficult test since the first one, indeed, as promised, was some very simple surgery.

And when finally the day of the second test rolled around everyone was told that yes, they had indeed passed the first one and they would be allowed to take the second one, and as long as they did that, they would be getting at least one million dollars out of all of this.

Upon entering the large work area, Strange saw Sandra, John, and Casandra already standing by where he expected he had also been the day before, and he went up to them. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Dr. Ready for another day?"

"I would be more ready if I knew what we would be doing today." He said, hoping they would answer him.

"You will be doing the same today, only this time on real living patients." Sandra answered without a problem.

"I see" was all he said, though internally, he couldn't help but wonder if these people, likely in the hundreds, were willingly here or if they had also been kidnapped.

"The second test involves doing the same procedure as yesterday to implant the same type of object inside the chest of the patients for a full 10 such patients, which will be a mix of male and female, as well as different types of body types. To ensure you have full mastery over the operation."

Dr. Strange nodded, absorbing the magnitude of what was asked of him. "And these patients have consented to this, fully aware of the risks involved?" he asked, his tone serious as he considered the ethical implications of the operation.

The three of them just smiled at him, which gave him a very bad feeling, but before he could ask further questions the doors were pushed open, and more soldier types started pushing in medical beds.

And then came the answer, as the room was filled with screams and shouts from the people strapped to the beds; they weren't consenting to this.

He couldn't help but freeze due to the noise and chaos filling the room. His heart sank as he realized the true nature of what was happening.

"These people."

"Are D-class personnel, you don't have to worry, they have no legal rights, they are already legally dead, criminals taken off of death row and the like." Sandra interrupted him.

"That… that still doesn't make this right; what if something goes wrong?"

"The surgery will be performed Dr. I have been allowed to inform you that if you wish, you may at any point trade place with one of them, but they will not care at all about your life, so you should care. If nothing goes wrong, they won't be harmed, but if you trade place? Well, I doubt they have your skills." She explained, making Strange swallow his complaints.

He felt a bit in his stomach as he now faced this mortal abyss. This wasn't why he became a Dr, but on the other hand. He couldn't just trade places with him; he would die for sure. While he could ensure that they lived with his skills.

In the end, it wasn't all that difficult for him to place himself above them. he was more important, and he could do the most good, he would ensure that the operation was a success, and in doing so, he would ensure that both himself and they would be safe.

"Alright then. Who is first."

"Glad to hear it Dr. we will begin right away, though do let us know if you need breaks, we have been given three days for this test." She said, as she waved her hand, and a patient was wheeled over.

He was a man, a younger one, probably around his own age, but covered in tattoos; he really did look like some hardened gagster. He was looking at him with murder in his eyes. "Fucking bastards, let me go, I will fucking kill you if you don't release me right now!"

He screamed and cursed, and suddenly Strange felt a lot less sympathy for him. "John, if you would please." He said towards his Anesthesiologist.

Sandra, the surgical nurse, and Casandra, the surgical technologist, both stood ready to assist him in this upcoming operation.

John swiftly administered the anesthesia to the agitated patient, his movements practiced and precise. The room quieted down as the sedative took effect, the man's angry threats fading into unconsciousness. Dr. Strange exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders slightly easing as he prepared for the procedure.

With a nod from Sandra, Strange began the surgery. Casandra was efficient, handing him the surgical tools as he made the initial incision. Despite the ethical shadows overhanging the operation, Strange's hands were steady, his training taking over as he focused on the technical aspects of the surgery to ensure the patient's safety and the success of the implant.

As he worked, Strange's mind wrestled with the moral implications of his actions. He was saving these individuals from immediate harm by performing the surgery correctly, yet the fact that they had not consented to the procedure gnawed at him. Each cut, each suture, was a reminder of the dire situation he and the patients found themselves in.

The surgery proceeded without complications. Sandra monitored the patient's vitals, giving updates that anchored Strange back to the task at hand. Casandra anticipated his needs, passing instruments and materials to him with an efficiency that spoke of her experience and professionalism.

After completing the implant, Strange closed the incision, his movements meticulous. He stepped back, allowing Sandra to check the patient's vitals once more. "Stable and all parameters look good," she confirmed, her voice a mix of professional satisfaction and relief.

"One down," Strange muttered to himself, feeling the weight of the remaining nine surgeries. With each patient, the process was repeated: anesthesia, surgery, careful monitoring, and recovery. Each case presented its own challenges—differences in anatomy, variations in patient response to anesthesia, but Strange handled each with the same level of care and precision.

By the end of the day, the toll of the surgeries was evident in the exhaustion etched on Strange's face and in his movements. He had maintained his professional standards, ensuring the safety and care of each patient, but he could feel the toll it was having on him.

"I don't think I can do more for today, nothing without it affecting my performance." He admitted operating like that, one after another, was very tasking, and he really needed to relax now.

Sandra nodded understandingly at Dr. Strange's admission of fatigue. "Of course, Dr. Strange. We expected this might be taxing. We'll schedule a break, and you can resume tomorrow. It's important that you're at your best."

Casandra and John began the process of cleaning up the area and prepping the patients who had undergone surgery for transfer back to their recovery rooms. Strange watched them work, the weight of the day's ethical dilemmas and the physical demand of the surgeries pressing heavily on him.

"We will have someone escort you to your room, Dr. We will take care of the cleanup here." They said and bid him farewell for the day.

As he made his way back, he quickly went to the communal area, hoping to spot someone else and talk with them—someone else who shared his burden of operating unwilling patients like this.

In the communal area, Dr. Strange found several of his colleagues gathered, each showing visible signs of the day's strain. Their faces were drawn, and conversations were hushed as they discussed their own experiences. He approached them, his own exhaustion mirrored in their expressions.

"Hey," Strange greeted them quietly as he sat down. The group nodded in response, making room for him at the table.

One of the doctors, a neurosurgeon named Dr. Linda Cho, looked up from her coffee. "How did it go for you today, Strange?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of concern and fatigue.

"It was as expected... difficult," Strange replied, pausing as he searched for the right words. "Ethically challenging, and physically demanding. We're performing surgeries under duress, on patients who haven't consented. It's unsettling."

Dr. Amir Khan, another surgeon, chimed in, his tone bitter. "We're all in the same boat. It feels wrong, every single moment. But what choice do we have? We're just as much prisoners here as the patients."

The group fell silent for a moment, each person lost in their thoughts about the moral complexities of their situation. Dr. Emily Nguyen, who had visited Strange earlier, spoke up, trying to inject a note of solidarity. "We need to support each other through this. It's the only way we'll maintain our integrity—or what's left of it—in this place."

They talked a lot that night but never really decided on anything. Not that they could have done anything. Even if they had, it probably wouldn't have amounted to anything. After all, they were prisoners here, forced to do as they were told.

This meant they could just talk, support each other through all of this, and then, after resting, go right back to work the next day. The only thing that they had managed to agree on was to try to go slow and use the time available to them.

This was both to ensure that the patients got the best possible chance at a successful operation and that they would hopefully be released together, making it less likely that they would disappear, since it would be more difficult, or at least that was the plan.

And so, the next few days passed just like that; they would do a few of the same operations, and then they would rest and talk about their work. Each day, they became better; each day, they could do the whole thing a little more smoothly.

Finally, the tenth surgery was done, and they were all told to rest for the day, as their work would be graded, and those with the highest grade would move on to a final test.

"What do you mean final test? I thought we were supposed to be done with tests now?" someone asked.

"Yes, that was the plan, but it has proven difficult to decide the best among you, so a further test, closer to the real thing, has been devised, which a few select of you will go through, after which the real operation will be next." The man in charge explained.

 No matter how much they might resent the change, there wasn't much they could do about it, they complained a little but in the end, they all just prepared themselves for the risk of having to do it, and waiting another day or two.

The next day, Strange was woken up by a knock on his door. When he answered, he saw Sandra standing outside. "Dr. Congratulations. You passed the second test and will be taking the third and hopefully final one now."

Among those left in the large room, he only recognized a few. The rest was all the personnel belonging to his organization. Clearly, there had been many who didn't make the final cut.

"For this test, you will once again be doing the same operation, only this time. The patient will already have implants; your task is, therefore, to ensure that no problem occurs when the new one is placed inside the body."

After the briefing, they were sent back out towards where they would be working, where they were given more detailed information to go over.

After that, it was time for the surgery itself, which, while a little more difficult, still proved rather easy. Much like they had promised him right from the start that it would be easy and the pay great. He did wish they would have mentioned the kidnapping, nuclear bomb, and unwilling test subjects.