“What kind of scene is that?” the young doctor from Chicago asked. He was a dark man, with a hawk nose and a thick head of hair as black and shiny as anthracite; he was short, muscular, and had copious body hair. Koestler took him to be about thirty.

“It’s a bit smelly. Poor buggers. Pretty much Old Testament, if you know what I mean. Your leper is still the ultimate pariah. In the beginning, there’s ‘gloves and stockings’ anesthesia, and in the end, if we can’t interrupt the course of the disease, a great deal of pain. They only believe in needles—they love needles. So use disposables and destroy them. That’s the first rule. The second rule is this—if you have a patient who requires one unit of blood, do not give it to him. If he requires two units of blood, do not give it to him. If he requires three units of blood, you will have to give it to him, but remember that that blood will most likely be contaminated with HIV, hepatitis B, and God knows what all, despite the assurances from above.”

“AIDS—Slim,” Hartman said evenly. “The only safe sex is no sex. Do not even accept a hand job.”

“I’ve heard that they take great offense if you don’t eat with them,” Indiana said. “I’ve heard they’ll put the evil eye on you if you don’t eat with them.”

“It’s true,” Koestler said.

“So you eat with them?”

“Hell no! I don’t get involved with them on a personal level. You cannot let your feelings get in your way. If you do, you will be useless. Move. Triage. Speed is the rule. You’ll see the nurses doing things that your trauma docs can’t handle back in the States. Hell, you’ll see aides doing some very complicated work. It comes down to medical managing. The numbers defeat you.”

Johnson came out to the gazebo bearing a tray of chilled coconut puddings. He set a dish next to each of the men and then began to light the Coleman lanterns and mosquito coils as the sun did its orange flare and fast fade into the horizon. As it disappeared, Koestler said, “Thank God. Gadzooks! Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, huh, boys? Especially when you’re smack-dab on the equator.”

The new men said nothing but watched as, one by one, Johnson picked up the last of the drunken rhesus monkeys by their tails and flung them as far as he could before padding back to the kitchen.

Indiana looked out at the monkeys staggering in circles. “They don’t know what to do—come back for more or go into the jungle.”

“Those that make for the bush the leopard gets. It’s one way to eradicate the bastards,” said Koestler darkly.

“I see—method behind the madness,” Chicago said.