CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

Chapter 74: chapter 74



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Surgery

'It's better than expected, but not by much.'

Better than expected meant Sasha was still breathing, but not by much meant she was on the brink of death.

Karl didn't notice any external injuries on Sasha, which was astonishing for someone who had fallen from such a height. Yet, as he looked at the unconscious Sasha, a well-known image flashed in his mind.

'The most beautiful suicide.'

In 1947, a woman named Evelyn jumped from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building in New York, a fall of 320 meters, driven by depression. When she landed on a streetcar, her body bore no scars. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful, her feet slightly together, and one hand clasped the necklace on her chest. She looked as if she were merely asleep.

Robert Wells, a passing photography student, was deeply struck by the serene scene. Almost instinctively, he raised his camera and captured the moment. The photo, later published by Time magazine, became famous under the title "The Most Beautiful Fallen Angel."

However, what Karl felt now wasn't awe at the beauty of the scene before him, reminiscent of that photo. It was regret.

A regret for the life that was slipping away.

Just as Robert Wells later regretted taking that photo and abandoned photography, Karl believed the feeling toward a passing life should not be admiration for its beauty.

Why do beautiful things so often remind people of death rather than life?

"I'm not Robert Wells, and you're not Evelyn... Thank good luck."

What Karl was most grateful for at this moment was that he had thoroughly studied trauma team first aid techniques earlier that day and still had Forrester Type 3 in his possession.

Forrester Type 3 was a top-tier pneumatic injector for medical treatment. Because it was expensive, Karl only carried four doses.

When faced with a wounded person whose condition is unclear, one shouldn't hastily inject Forrester, as the rapid healing it induces could misalign broken bones or other organs. But in emergencies, that risk was secondary to survival.

Even if bones healed incorrectly, they could be rebroken in a hospital or by a prosthetic doctor. Worst case, organs could be replaced. Artificial organs were commonplace in 2075.

Karl raised his hand and injected Forrester directly into Sasha's heart.

A detailed examination would come later. Most injuries could wait, but if the cardiovascular system was ruptured, blood pressure could drop dangerously fast, leading to death in seconds.

After the injection, Sasha's body twitched slightly, a sign of life returning.

Karl conducted a quick examination.

His eyes scanned Sasha's body, his mind swiftly analyzing her condition.

Rib fracture, punctured lung, shattered left humerus, comminuted pelvic fracture...

The injuries were severe, especially the rib fracture puncturing the lung—a wound akin to the medieval Norse punishment "blood eagle." But the most critical injury was to the head.

Acute subdural hemorrhage of the brain. Even with timely treatment, there was a 50% to 80% mortality rate. If the hematoma reached 50 to 100 milliliters before treatment, death was almost certain.

Sasha's brain hematoma had reached a critical level that needed immediate drainage.

'You're lucky I know how to handle this.'

Karl was about to perform a craniotomy for acute subdural hemorrhage for the first time. It was also his first time treating someone else. He missed Oliver as he prepared for the difficult surgery.

If Oliver were here, Karl would just be his assistant, not the one shouldering the burden.

There was no time to waste. They could worry about infections later, after surviving this ordeal.

A length of monomolecular wire extended from Karl's wrist. He used it as a makeshift scalpel.

First, he shaved off the hair above the bleeding site, then cut through the skin down to the skull. Without a proper retractor, he used his prosthetic fingers instead.

This makeshift operation would cause any serious doctor's blood pressure to spike, but to Karl, it felt entirely natural. Blood splattered onto his face, yet he didn't blink, maintaining focus on recalling the necessary techniques.

What was the next step?

He needed to make a hole in the skull.

Got it.

Monomolecular wire.

Carefully, he cut a diamond-shaped hole, ensuring not to charge the wire to avoid damaging the brain tissue beneath the skull. He intended to save Sasha, not turn her into a brain-damaged hacker.

As he cut, Karl whispered to the unconscious Sasha, whether or not she could hear him.

"Don't worry, it's okay..."

He wasn't sure if the words were more for her or himself, but his hands moved steadily, without hesitation.

Once the skull was removed, he addressed the dura mater.

He located the hematoma. The blood was draining slowly, but to accelerate the process, he needed a drainage tube.

Damn, no drainage tube.

The principle of a drainage tube is the siphon effect, using pressure differences to drain fluid. It wasn't hard to improvise.

Scanning the car's contents, Karl found a bottle of water with a straw.

'If Oliver knew how I conducted this operation, he'd kill me.'

He felt like he was desecrating medical science.

Grabbing the straw, he shook out the remaining water. At least it was pure water, something Karl could recognize by taste.

Not paying much attention to the car itself, Karl assumed the owner was wealthy, given they drank pure water.

Carefully, he inserted the straw's tip into the hematoma, ensuring it didn't touch other tissues, then blocked the other end with his thumb.

And released.

It was a simple trick anyone could try—insert a straw into a drink, block one end with a thumb, then release. The liquid at the straw's tip would be drawn out by the pressure difference.

It was the same principle as a flushing toilet.

As the blood poured out of the straw's end, staining his palm red, Karl exhaled.

He repeated the words to Sasha, unconscious and now more stable.

"Don't worry, it's okay."

In Karl's eyes, the Forrester Type 3 was rapidly repairing Sasha's body, pulling her back from the brink of death.

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