The line stayed smooth for nine seconds. I knew because the assistant counted them while I tried not to breathe differently.
At ten, the edge broke into a shallow notch. I reduced the flow, felt heat gather beneath the dressing, and took my hand away before he told me to.
The indicator went dark.
"Nine," he said.
I looked at the dark indicator. Beneath it, the assistant drew out the narrow record strip and marked the end of the clean line. Nine was less time than it took to read most of my medical notes. It was also the first result I had obtained that made the inspection notice look like something other than a date attached to an ending.
"Same setting?" I asked.
"After the rest interval."
He wrote the first result on the practice card and moved the reader away from my reaching hand. I sat on the bench.
