The female doctor lifted a hemostat in her lips, looking thoughtfully at the girl. He managed to suppress his vision of saliva and bacteria crawling all over the instrument with the thought of the grease and dirt that he’d gotten in innumerable wounds that had healed without too much scarring. There was the one time he’d been looking over at the exploded view of a feed mechanism, not really paying attention to what he was doing, and forgot that the nut was reverse-thread. He’d leaned with all his weight on the ratchet, stripping the teeth and slamming his hand painfully into the cutting bit. He’d torn off a huge chunk of flesh right at the base of his thumb . . . all because he was distracted by the instructions.