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The entire wall on the right had shelving from floor to ceiling. With hardly a square inch remaining, the shelves were full of varying sized bottles and jars. Looking more closely, Susan realized that the amorphous colorless mass in the large jar closest to her was an entire human head cut neatly in half, sagitally. Just behind the halved tongue in the wall of the throat was a granular mass. The label on the glass simply said, “Pharyngeal carcinoma, #304-A6 1932.” Susan shuddered and tried to keep herself from glancing at other equally gruesome specimens.

At the far end of the room was another set of swinging doors identical to those from the corridor. From the room beyond, Susan could hear a mixture of voices and metallic sounds. She walked toward the doors as silently as possible, feeling herself an intruder in an alien and potentially hostile environment.

Susan tried to peer through the crack between the doors. Although her visual field was limited she knew immediately that she was looking into the autopsy room. Slowly she began to open the left door.

A loud ringing noise echoed around the room causing Susan to spin around, letting the autopsy room door snap shut behind her. At first she thought that she had tripped some alarm system and she felt the urge to bolt for the door into the corridor. But before she could move, a pathology resident appeared out of another side door.

“Well, hello there,” said the resident to Susan as he walked over to the sink and picked up a distilled water irrigator. He smiled at Susan as he squirted water over a tray of slides he was staining. The color went from deep violet to clear. “Welcome to the path lab. You a med student?”

“Yes.” Susan forced a smile.

“We don’t see many med students this time of day . . « or night. Is there anything special we can do for you?”

“No, not really. I’m just looking around. I’m quite new here,” said Susan putting her hands in the pockets of her white coat, her pulse racing.

“Make yourself at home. There’s coffee in the office here if you’re interested.”

“No thanks,” said Susan walking back along the desk, aimlessly touching some of the slide boxes.

The resident added another amber stain to the tray of slides and reset the timer.

“Actually, maybe you could help me,” said Susan fingering a few slides on the table. “Several patients from Beard 6 expired today. I wondered if they’ve been ... um ...” Susan tried to think of the right word.

“What were the names?” asked the resident wiping his hands. “There’s a post going on right now.”

“Ferrer and Crawford.”

The resident walked over to a clipboard hanging from a nail on the wall.

“Hmmm ... Crawford. That rings a bell. I think that was a medical examiner’s case. Here’s Ferrer ... that’s a medical examiner’s case. And I was right, Crawford is too. They’re both medical examiner’s cases, but hold on.”

The resident walked quietly over to the doors into the autopsy room and banged one open with the palm of his hand. With his right hand holding the edge of the remaining closed door he leaned into the room beyond, his head just out of Susan’s view.

“Hey, Hamburger, what’s the name of the case you’re doing?”

There was a pause and a voice but Susan could not hear it.

“Crawford! I thought that was an examiner’s case.” There was another pause.

The resident came back into the room as the timer went off again. The ringing noise made Susan jump once more. The resident squirted more distilled water onto the slides.

“The medical examiner released both cases to the department, as usual.

Lazy son of a bitch. Anyway they’re doing Crawford right now.”

“Thanks,” said Susan. “All right if I go in and take a look?”

“By all means, our pleasure,” said the resident, shrugging his shoulders.

Susan paused momentarily at the doors, but she knew the resident was watching her, so she pushed open one of the doors and entered the room.

The room was probably forty feet square, old and dingy. Its walls were surfaced in white tile, which was ancient, cracked, and missing in places.

The floor was a type of gray terrazzo. In the center of the room there were marble tables built with slanted tops. A stream of water constantly ran down each table toward a drain at the foot, which emitted a constant sucking noise. Over each table hung a hooded light, a scale, and a microphone. Susan found herself standing on a level three to four steps above the level of the main floor. Immediately to her right were several wooden benches on progressively lower tiers. These benches were a remnant from older days when groups would assemble to observe autopsies.