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Topic “Competitive Vivisection” as suggested by Garrett Cook.

The Doctors
Doctor James Vander scrubbed his hands vigorously, working
the creamy pink soap into a rich lather over his skilled hands. Behind him, the
door swung open, swooshing almost soundlessly on its oiled hinges. Jim glanced
over his shoulder to see who had entered the clean room outside of the O.R. A
smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, producing a sort of lopsided half grin
on his thin face.

“How’re you, Kyle?” he asked, turning from the sink with his
arms raised, hands held out in front of him as droplets of water gathered on
his fingertips before falling to the green tiled floor. The newly entered
doctor shrugged. “Same old, same old.” He said, stepping towards the great
metal sink. “Marcy’s on my case about Kyle Junior’s behavior again. That kid
has a bit of the devil in him, I swear!” Kyle shook his head, depressing the
plastic pump on the bottle of soap with his wrist. Dr. Vander nodded
sympathetically. “Kids’re tough.” He said.  “Do you remember what you were like at that
age?” Doctor Kyle Jennings snorted. “Heh, yeah. Marcy doesn’t know how good she’s
got it! I was a hell raiser back then!” “Me, too!” Jim laughed heartily, fingers splayed like a shadow puppeteer getting ready
for a show.

“How is Marcy?”
James asked, holding his hands out as a nurse placed a surgical mask over his
ears and nose, tying the ribbons in back into little white bows behind
his head. Kyle finished lathering his hands. Streams of warm water cascaded
over them, rinsing the suds into the sink and whisking them down the drain. “She’s well. She’s been volunteering over at the library the past few weeks. It’s good
for her, I think. Gets her out of the house. Say, you and Robin should come
over for drinks sometime. Maybe next week?”

Jim Vander shook his head. “Can’t do next week.” He said, “Taking
the wife down to Cabo. Maybe when we get back.” Jim pulled on a pair of sterile
blue latex gloves, snapping them as he released the stretchy material. Bits of
white powder briefly clouded the air around his hands before dissipating. The
nurse had finished tying Dr. Jennings’ mask on. He donned his own pair of gloves
before he and Jim turned and pressed their backs into the large double doors,
pushing them open while preserving the sanctity of their gloves and face masks.

Two wide eyed teenage girls were strapped to twin exam
tables in the center of the spotless operating room, thick bands of plastic wrapped tightly over their mouths. At the doctors’
entrance, they began to struggle anew, straining at the leather bonds that
bound them to their respective tables. Next to each of the girls stood an
instrument tray displaying a variety of sharp looking surgical equipment, sparkling
under the bright lights that had come on overhead. Jim looked sideways at Kyle,
eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. “Race ya!” he said, picking up a