Michael_Crichton_-_The_Androme

"Sterno isn't only alcohol. It's methanol, too."

"Doesn't hurt you, does it?" Jackson asked, in a voice suddenly concerned.

"As a matter of fact, it does. It can make you go blind, and it can even kill you."

"Well, hell, it made me feel better, so I took it," Jackson said.

"Did this aspirin and squeeze have any effect on you? On your breathing?"

"Well, now you mention it, I was a tad short of breath.

But what the hell, I don't need much breath at my age."

Jackson yawned and closed his eyes.

"You're awful full of questions, boy. I want to sleep now."

Hall looked at him, and decided the man was right. It would be best to proceed slowly, at least for a time. He crawled back down the tunnel and out to the main room. He turned to his assistant: "Our friend Mr. Jackson has a two-year history of ulcer.

We'd better keep the blood going in for another couple of units, then we can stop and see what's happening. Drop an NG tube and start icewater lavage."

A gong rang, echoing softly through the room.

"What's that?"

"The twelve-hour mark. It means we have to change our clothing. And it means you have a conference."

"I do? Where?"

"The CR off the dining room."