In the UNM stacks, I take the second door. Most desks have been taken, with books spread out. My friend is doing an autopsy at a fluorescently lit table. He holds up bones that are wet and squishy and turn to mush when squeezed.
I am a medical student. I have been assigned to do autopsies on three cadavers. I have only 24 hours to do them, including the chemical analysis, before their phosphorous content decreases to nothing (I can see the exponential decay chart). I haul one body by the armpits into the bathroom. I must make an incision in the ass and remove some organs. I see that the signs on the stalls now indicate that it has been changed to a women's bathroom. I quickly seat the body in one of the stalls and get out. I am then distracted by other activities, all the time with the nagging knowledge that time is running out and the phosphorous is going away.
Old-skool in tha house! When it comes to classic grind, no one did a more Fangora-worthy job back in the day than Autopsy. There were equals, forebearers and even bands like Napalm Death, Carcass, Cannibal Corpse and Suffocation that eclipsed the California trio both technically and stylistically, but in terms of unabashed bloody gore fests, no one pulled it off time and time again with Autopsy’s sublime dedication to good old-fashioned splatter.