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The Crossing

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Wing Chun: B- | Grade It Now!
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The Crossing

Over by Crushed Firefighter, the jackhammering continues apace...until it causes the train car to give way and crush Crushed Firefighter even more, whereupon he screams in pain. Elizabeth leans over to help him, and ends up cradling her back in her hands instead. Carter scurries over and, ignoring Crushed Firefighter, asks Elizabeth whether she's all right. She tells him she may have strained her back. Oh, yeah? So badly it might have to be amputated in the middle of a dusty winter field, with hardly any anaesthetic? No? Then stow it. Crushed Firefighter begs them not to stop digging him out, but Capt. Davis explains that, if they do, the weight of the train will shift onto him. Carter urgently asks whether a crane is coming, and Capt. Davis replies, "From Indiana." "What?!" Carter screams. Capt. Davis promises that it's coming. Elizabeth is still clutching the small of her back as she asks for Crushed Firefighter's blood pressure. Hearing the answer, she looks at Carter, who silently but seriously shakes his head. "Can you assist?" she asks. Carter says he can. Elizabeth leans over and explains, as gently as one can when one is literally screaming into another person's face, that she'll have to proceed with amputating both his legs. Crushed Firefighter starts sobbing in protest, insisting that he's worked on people who've been trapped for hours before they got them out. Elizabeth tells him that he's lost too much blood: "If I don't amputate and control the bleeding, you're going to die." Crushed Firefighter stares into the heavens and curses his fate. Or cries and drools, silently. Elizabeth, taking this as her answer, says, "Okay, then. I'm going to start. Do you understand? I have to start now." Crushed Firefighter nods feebly. Elizabeth tells Carter to prep the area, and calls for a scalpel. Crushed Firefighter makes a face like it really, really, really hurts.

In a dusky conference room, an older dude in a lab coat hands Mark a pile of oversized cards. Mark jokes, "Can you tell my fortune with these?" Mark, shut up. Enough of the "gallows" "humour." In front of Mark are laid out three cards. From Mark's left to right, the first card shows two green arrows, pointing left; the middle card shows three red arrows, pointing up; the last card shows four purple arrows, pointing down. As Mark fidgets with the pile in his hand, Lab Coat explains, "Pick up each card from your pile, and put it under the card to which it belongs." But not really "under" the card, like, beneath it, in a stack, but as if Mark is creating another row of three cards under the existing row already laid out there. Why am I explaining this stupid throwaway scene in so much detail? I don't know. Mark holds up the bottom of the stack in his hand and cracks, "Is that the Death card?" Shut. Up. MARK. GOD. Lab Coat ignores Mark's stupid, unfunny jokes, and says that he'll tell Mark when he's right or wrong. Okay, now, here's where I really start keeping track, because I don't think I could pass this test. The first card shows two red arrows pointing right. Mark puts it under the middle card (three red arrows pointing up). "Wrong." Mark tries to put it under the two green arrows pointing left, but Lab Coat tells him not to try to correct his mistakes, and simply to move on to the next card in his deck. Mark replaces the card where he initially put it. Okay, so the next card is three purple arrows pointing right. He places it under the two green arrows pointing right. Right? Wrong! That's where I would have put it. Good thing I'm not trying to be a doctor. Mark's third card is four green arrows pointing right; Mark puts it under the four purple arrows pointing down. "Yes." Next is two purple, down; Mark puts it under two green, right. "Yes." Three green, right; Mark puts it under three red, up. "Yes." Three purple, up; Mark puts it under three red, up. "Yes." Okay, so, now I think I'm getting the pattern: arrow colour and orientation don't matter, it's just the number of arrows you match. Right? Four red, down; Mark puts it under four purple, down. "Yes." Two red, up; Mark puts it under two green, left. "No." "No?" Mark and I repeat, in unison. D'oh! Mark flips another card we don't see; "no" is the answer again. "Do you ever say anything besides 'yes' or 'no'?" Mark asks. "No," comes the predictable answer. Wah wah. And, I am officially incompetent to practice medicine in the state of Illinois.

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