Chapter 39 Simulated Surgery
I instinctively pulled out the compact pistol from my waist and aimed it at Dax, trying to scare him off.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the gun barrel behind the curtain moving. I quickly stepped back to put distance between Dax and me.
A gunshot rang out.
Dax dropped to his knees, his right hand clutching his left shoulder as blood gushed out, instantly staining half his chest red.
Four burly attendants walked over and escorted Dax out of the building.
"Are you okay?" Gideon asked me with concern.
I nodded. "I'm fine."
Gideon shook his head and sighed. "Dax comes from a medical family. He's not a bad person by nature, just can't accept failure."
I smiled but said nothing.
Gideon looked toward the dark stairway. Instead of rushing upstairs, he curiously discussed the answers with me.
Sure enough, he had also based his response on the previous round's question, considering three causes of uncontrolled bleeding during heart surgery.
"The quick hemostasis methods I know are pretty standard, but I've developed a drug for coagulation disorders. I figured that patient had clotting problems, which is why I passed." Gideon paused and looked at me curiously. "When they announced the results, your name was listed before mine, which means your answer was better than mine."
My answer was actually Phoenix Blood Balm.
"What are you dawdling for! Get up here already!"
An irritable male voice came from upstairs.
I looked at Gideon and gestured for him to go first.
Gideon returned the courtesy, and we went upstairs together.
The second floor had a stronger smell of disinfectant alcohol. The spacious area contained a bunch of equipment, a desk, and a deep purple sofa bed.
Roger sat on the sofa bed. He was around fifty, with shoulder-length graying hair. His complexion looked unhealthy, like someone suffering from long-term malnutrition. The skin visible outside his clothes bore many scars. Though seated, he looked at us with complete disdain, extremely arrogant.
"Are you Roger?" Gideon asked politely.
"That's me. I don't like small talk because I hate wasting time." Roger adjusted his sitting position, and the iron shackles on his feet made a clinking sound.
"The Langford family leader's little granddaughter is seven years old. She was born with a heart defect and needs corrective surgery. I failed when I operated on her, so they're hunting me down. Luckily, her condition hasn't gotten worse." Roger said bluntly, "If you want to take me with you, you'll have to solve that girl's medical problem first."
So that's it! Gideon and I exchanged surprised glances.
"Can we look at the medical records first?" Gideon asked cautiously.
"Go ahead." Roger pointed to two large VR surgical simulation machines against the wall. "Her condition and all the physical data are recorded in there. You have three attempts before today ends. If your surgical success rate can reach 60%, you'll pass the final test."
The equipment Roger provided was top-of-the-line in the industry. I wasn't unfamiliar with simulation equipment, but this was my first time seeing such advanced machines.
I examined them with interest for a while before opening the medical file.
The patient's heart defect wasn't actually that severe. The earlier the corrective surgery, the higher the survival rate. But the difficulty lay in the patient being too young, with incomplete clotting function, making it highly likely she would die from excessive blood loss during surgery.
Moreover, the patient had a rare blood type and also suffered from a blood disease, with platelet counts lower than normal.
This really tested a doctor's skills. The surgery had to be fast and the correction precise.
The equipment had saved Roger's previous surgery. I watched it carefully. Roger's skills were excellent, his fingers very nimble, but he had failed because the patient hemorrhaged heavily, and also because the assistants working with Roger couldn't keep up with his pace.
After reviewing the saved records, I didn't rush to simulate. I removed the VR headset to let my tense nerves relax.
Gideon wasn't at the equipment next to me either, but sitting beside Roger, discussing correction plans with him.
Roger was eating lunch with a dismissive attitude. Gideon eagerly asked three or four questions, but Roger only answered with a sentence or two.
I felt Roger didn't care about the little girl's life or death, nor whether we could pass the test and buy him. For Roger, staying at Silver Eagle Auctions was safe enough. He had never truly wanted to sell himself from the start.
I took the menu Gideon handed me and ordered a simple sandwich, my mind on Marcus and the others outside the building.
I unconsciously touched the bracelet on my left wrist.
Roger suddenly asked me, "Did you invent Phoenix Blood Balm?"
I denied it. "I happened to get a half-finished formula and perfected it."
"That's what I thought. You're so young and a woman—how could you be better than me?" Roger snorted. "Where did you get the half-finished formula?"
"Bought it on the black market. The seller didn't know what it was worth and sold it to me for a hundred dollars." I made something up on the spot. Phoenix Blood Balm was actually my invention.
"You really had good luck," Roger said, somewhat jealously and resentfully.
"You have good judgment," Gideon disagreed with Roger. "If Isabella hadn't recognized the formula, all the luck in the world wouldn't have helped."
Roger clicked his tongue but didn't argue.
After lunch, Gideon and I dove into the equipment and began simulating the surgery.
Even though I knew everything before my eyes was fake, my hands trembled uncontrollably, my vision went dark, and my mind went blank.
After several minutes, my rapid breathing slowly calmed. I opened the patient's chest to examine her ventricles, but lost control of my strength and stabbed the knife into her heart.
"Patient has lost vital signs. Surgery failed!"
The system's shrill alert sounded in my ears. I had no choice but to exit the equipment.
As soon as I turned around, I faced Roger's gloomy expression. "Are you out of your mind? You killed the patient with one stab! If you can't do it, just give up. Don't hang around here wasting my time!"
I pressed my lips together. "I can do this. There are two more chances, aren't there?"
Roger glared at me, cursing under his breath as he turned and walked away.
Just then, a failure alert also came from the equipment next to me. Gideon came out awkwardly. "Roger, your equipment is too advanced. There are many functions I don't know how to use. Could you teach me?"
Roger flew into a rage, calling us both useless. After finishing his tirade, he called us to the same machine and very impatiently demonstrated it once.
Gideon thanked him gratefully and dove into the equipment to begin the simulated surgery.
Roger looked at me sideways and urged, "You start quickly too, then fail, and you two better get lost together before dinner!"
"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you." I shrugged and walked into the equipment.
Roger's demonstration gave me a stronger sense that I was just simulating, not actually standing by an operating table. This dramatically reduced my pressure.
This time, I stayed in the equipment for over five hours, ending the simulation with a 55% success rate.
Roger's requirement was 60%. I was still a bit short.
"Want dinner?" I asked Roger.
Roger studied me, his eyes showing less laziness.
Just then, Gideon emerged from the equipment, looking exhausted. I asked him, "Want dinner?"
Gideon smiled bitterly and shook his head. "I can only eat outside now."
I froze. Roger said coldly, "He's already tried three times. His third attempt had a 51% success rate."
"Besides me, you two are the only ones with success rates over 50%."
Roger examined me with interest. "And you're the person whose success rate is closest to mine. I think I underestimated you before."