The boy was dwarfed by the hovering instrument that simultaneously clung to his exposed heart, pumped his lungs, jolted his brain, fed awakening substances to his blood. The needles on the indicator gauges began to flicker gently.
Harker felt little of the earlier revulsion this sight had caused in him. Now he stared at the slim thin-limbed body of the boy, his skin mottled with the blue imprint of asphyxiation, and waited for the miracle to take place.
Minutes passed. Once Thurman coughed and it was like a physical blow. Needles rose on dials, wavered, fell back as Vogel decreased power, stepped forward again as the delicate fingers nudged the rheostat a few fractions of an inch upward.
"Watch the EEG indicator," Vogel murmured.
The needle was tracing out an increasingly more agitated line. The calmness of sleep was ending.
"Respiration approaching normal. I'm shutting off the lung manipulators."
The heart-pump followed. Frowning, Vogel moistened his lips and yanked down on toggle-switches, finally drawing the main rheostat back to point zero.
"Artificial controls are withdrawn," Vogel said. "The life process continues."
The boy lived. Raymond said quietly to Harker, "The EEG patterns are normal ones. The boy's mind is okay. We did it."
We did it. Harker felt a sharp sense of triumph, as if he personally had accomplished something. The senators would have to react favorably to something like this, he thought.