"Don't let all this apparatus get in your way -- the anesthesiologist's clutter and that annoying beeping. This body is no different than the cadavers. (And the similarity will be even more pronounced if you don't act soon.) Of course, it's intimidating. Flesh devoid of scars... Nothing like a blank canvas staring at you. Your scalpel is like the artist's brush -- the first stroke is the hardest. But always remember that presentation is everything. Use the context. Take your inspiration from the curves already presented and your knowledge of what lies beneath."

I drummed my fingers against the thorax, and my mask expanded as I sighed. "Why the reverence?" Dr. Süurd demanded. "It's raw material. Do with it what you will." I nodded and poised my scalpel over the region, probing gently with my left fingers to locate the epotnetous. Satisfied that the ligaestion was retracted, I punctured the skin and opened the body with a flowing nine-inch gash.

"That was interesting," Dr. Süurd proclaimed, as one of the nurses swabbed the wound. "You don't like it?" I asked. He shrugged, "Incisions are clearly not your forte. But you can still recover." At that point, Dr. Kördann interjected, "I rather like it," she said. "It's intriguing... Unexpected. Makes me think." Dr. Süurd mumbled something under his mask, "Well, I'm curious to see what you make of it. Proceed." I slid my fingers inside and widened the crevice, which the second nurse took as a cue to suction. "Personally, I would have used a retractor," Dr. Süurd commented wryly. "But you see there? The delineation is incomplete. You failed to cut through the last few centimeters. Consistent pressure. Consistent pressure. You've already dug quite a hole for yourself. Closing will be plenty challenging without poor workmanship to complicate matters."

Saying nothing, I retrieved my scalpel and cut the remaining strands of lower epidermal. "Retractors." I scooped out some of the fat and deposited it in a stainless steel bowl, prompting Dr. Süurd to groan, "At some point, you've got to close this beast," he declared. "Did I not impress upon you the importance of presentation?" I looked at the mound of yellow globules in the dish. "It was in the way. I'll put it back later." Dr. Süurd glanced up, "Put it back?" he echoed. "Now that, I would like to see. Cellulite in mammoth proportions." But Dr. Kördann again interjected on my behalf, "That might work," she suggested. "Dramatic changes in scale can be most effective." To which Süurd countered, "I see where you kids are going with this, but don't think it hasn't been done before. And there's good reason the practice hasn't continued. I dabbled with it myself back in the late fifties. Formative years, I tell you..."

As the good doctor ruminated, I oriented myself in the cavity and isolated the process. "I'm going to try the laser," I decided, "using Vilex as a coolant." I dialed in the settings, and positioned the barrel. A pungent wisp of smoke ascended from the patient. "Clamp and suction," I ordered. "Jesus Christ," exclaimed Dr. Süurd. "Better hook up another pint or two. You're gonna bleed out." I backed away to allow the nurses room, "I thought it would cauterize." But Süurd countered insolently, "At those adjustments, you're lucky you didn't start a fire. It's bad enough you didn't stabilize the region first."

But Dr. Kördann seemed encouraged by my approach. "Keep going," she said. "It's exciting." I surveyed the now-protruding organs (removing a piece from one that didn't look particularly healthy). "Why isn't there any more blood?" I reached under the anterior flap and stretched a terminated artery into view. "Damn... Looks like it did cauterize," I realized. "We're going to have to reconnect that somewhere." Dr. Süurd immediately jumped on my assertion, "Ha!" he barked, "Now you've done it. No where to go from here without a prosthetic, and the stockroom is clean out."

I looked to Dr. Kördann for reassurance, but her expression only confirmed Süurd's morbid analysis. "Pressure rising. Gotta open something somewhere." And I mulled the decidedly limited options. "Well, if it bursts, we'll have something to work with." But Dr. Kördann folded her arms. "Wishful thinking," she pronounced. "A debacle of the highest order," Dr. Süurd proclaimed. "Downbeat endings are seldom indicated, but sometimes they're necessary to maintain artistic integrity. It won't be pretty, but I think I can salvage this procedure." And with that, he retrieved a shotgun from beneath his scrubs and leveled the firearm at the patient's head. "Stand back," he ordered. "With any luck, I'll hit the oxygen and we'll all go up." He pumped the action, chambering a thirteen-gauge shell. "No, wait!" cried Dr. Kördann. "I just added a Dresyllic compound to the IV. Should induce seizure momentarily." Dr. Süurd reluctantly lowered the barrel. "Not as dramatic as my conclusion," he lamented, "but I'll allow it, since this is your first attempt."

And so we waited... Until one of the nurses finally spoke up, "Bleeding out... Arrest imminent." And Süurd grumbled, "Anticlimactic in the extreme. I can't condone this type of surgery." And he raised the barrel again, "Cover your ears..." Then, Dr. Süurd himself suddenly convulsed. Grand mal paroxysm. And as he collapsed next to his shotgun, I noticed the IV Dr. Kördann had slipped into the Arsophuis vessel of his neck. "Open him quickly," Dr. Kördann advised. "Süurd has a prosthetic we can salvage."

And thus concluded my first surgical study, under the direction of the esteemed Dr. Süurd. Variation on a theme... Collage with found object. Hardly one for the books, but good practice nonetheless. My thanks to Dr. Kördann for assisting.