"Nurse Atticus, tend to the wound. I'm going to the fallout shelter." No sign of The Major… "He's dead, doctor." (The Major?) "Yes, well... All the more reason to sterilize. Can't stop now. Plenty of time before the missiles hit." And she removed a Geiger counter from her vagina. "You'll need this," she offered, "in case you survive." Nurse Atticus, you are an angel. "One can never be too careful..." Yes, indeed... It gets hot down there. Humid too, with all that unexpected moisture. "I descended into Hell, and never came back. That was in '63, mind you. Before the demise of her breasts." A sanitized probe (calibrated to withstand the most severe vibration). "I'll play the cello," she offered, "while you gather your wits." And prepare an enema of chilled iodine for The Major (rest his soul), adrift over the sea of tranquility, his compass ruined. "Nurse Atticus, the wound beckons. Death has never been more imminent."