Free The Weaver Fish by Robert Edeson

there should be government recognition and a contribution of state teachers and materials. Anna had read his submission, partly to ascertain the legal implications for the Trustees, and been impressed; they were awaiting a response. Sometimes, she joined in with the classes, and noticed that while the children were given the benefit of education, LDI also had much to learn from them.
    Naturally, the subjects of the Chinese logging and the condor occupied much of their thinking. According to Paulo, Edvard had somehow related the two. For them also, if only by chance, they were intimately connected in the bizarre, repellent events of that single day.
    As a doctor, Anna had wondered about the provision of health and medical emergency services in the station, and once spent a few minutes fossicking around in a large first aid cupboard that she noticed in the canteen. She had not given any priority to the subject in her discussions with Paulo. In one reflective moment at the Edge she had imagined changing her life completely: resign her chair in Cambridge and start a clinic here, provide health care, become a volunteer, study linguistics.
    And so the meagre content of the first aid cupboard was what came to mind when Anna was told that a sick man was being brought to the station. The school bus had found him staggering and wildly waving his arms on the track just south of Copio, picked him up, and radioed ahead. The driver, a local volunteer, said the man had spoken incoherently only one word, over and over. He couldn’t understand it but thought the accent was western Ferent, which indicated, in the plateau scale of distance, that his passenger was a long way from home.
    Paulo and Anna waited in the canteen, which had the best facilities for receiving the patient. The volunteer kitchen staff had cleared one of the refectory tables of breakfast remnants, and covered it with a thick layer of blankets. On another table were organized the total health resources of the station. Nicholas had fuelled the long-wheelbase Land Rover and converted it to a makeshift ambulance with a mattress in the rear, ready for a drive to Madregalo if required.
    It was about an hour from the first message when the bus appeared, crossing the clearing with uncharacteristic speed to stop outside the canteen. Anna saw the man slumped sideways in the passenger seat, leaning against the driver. The twenty or so children on the bus burst into loud, excited chatter, and a teacher herded them away through the rear exit. Anna ran around the front of the bus and opened the door. She was shocked. She turned to Paulo, immediately behind.
    â€˜We’re going to need help.’
    â€˜We can all help.’
    â€˜I mean major help. Intensive care help.’
    She was matter-of-fact. Paulo looked past her and wondered how she could reach that judgement after a glance. But he called out: ‘Nicholas. Get Madregalo Hospital. Tell them we have an emergency. Find out about intensive care.’
    A number of men helped carry the patient to the canteen table. He was unresponsive, breathing rapidly. Someone placed a pillow under his head, and Anna quickly intervened to ensure his airway was clear. He was roughly bearded, and grossly oedematous, with swollen neck, hands and feet. She had difficulty retracting the puffy eyelids to examine his pupils. His clothing was in tatters, much of it caked with mud. Grabbing an old stethoscope, Anna tore his shirt open, exposing large areas of cutaneous haemorrhage in the chest wall. As she leaned forward to listen she spoke loudly.
    â€˜Everyone who’s touched him, wash your hands. How is it going, Nicholas?’
    â€˜Still being connected through.’
    â€˜Stress the urgency,’ she said.
    A volunteer had been charged, after quick tuition, with keeping a time record of events. Anna called out some vital signs.When she had completed a physical examination she looked at hands, arms and feet for venous access. The