“Alright, calm down, it’s just a body, we all know this.” The students always reacted strongly when his assistances wheeled the subject into the hall. They peaked up around the body, twitching with curiosity, unsure of how to operate around a dead person. A nose poked up from underneath the sheet, the creases softening over smooth limbs.

Albek snapped on his gloves, and turned to the hall.

“Now, this post-mortem examination is for legal purposes, so while you may be able to observe, please don’t touch, Michelle,” her hand had drifted closer, touching the edge of the sheet. “This body was found fifteen hours ago, and our job today is to determine if death was an accident, homicide, suicide, or a natural event.” He stepped closer, gripping the sheet between his fingers.

This class had seen a body before. Albek had performed an autopsy last year with this group. They were unusually jumpy today, and Albek wondered whether there had been a student event he had forgotten about.

He switched his recorder on, and pulled back the sheet.

The first thing that struck him about this particular man was the hair. It spilled from the table like honey, yellow strands brushing the plastic floors of the hall. It was healthy, almost sparkling in the suspension lighting. Even unbrushed, unwashed, he found himself staring.

His rubber gloves caught on the hair, and despite himself, he carefully untangled them. 

“Before you make any incisions, first conduct an analysis of the state of the body.” A few students held out their phones. His brow creased, but he continued.

Pallor mortis, he doubted, had made much a difference to this body. Clinical death arrives as the brain stops getting oxygen. This shuts down other vital bodily functions, including circulation throughout the body. This creates a greyness, a rubbery suit of skin. However, he couldn’t see too much difference here. His pale skin was worn with ease, face relaxed.

Albek followed the sharp cheekbone, up to the eyes. Another unusual thing here. Most people died with their eyes open, panicked almost. He wasn’t romantic enough to suggest that this man had accepted his fate. He could’ve died in his sleep, or squeezed tight in the breath of death. But, there was a delicate air to the lids that rested over the eyes. 

The skin that touched the metal of the table was settled, black and blue with pooling blood. Perfectly normal, many students at first often mistook the coloration for pre-formed bruises. He pressed gently into the flesh. As the red patches were on the lower back, the man had died sitting up. Perhaps lying against a wall, which would correlate with the marks on the shoulders.

He noted, quickly, the tattoo on his wrist. A sparrow rested against the bone, stretching its wings towards his palm.
“Note down any significant features.” He said, nodded to his students in the front row. “Any information we can find will aid in establishing identity.” Albek lifted the arms, checking for markings.  The body was light, the hollow of his stomach almost sharp. Undernourished.

The muscles had just loosed, the grip of lactic acid causing rigor mortis softening. He found it easy, marking down various scars. Clearly, the pocketed needle scars, tracking up his arms. For once, his heart ached for the younger man. 

He was beautiful, young.

This man hadn’t deserved this. None of them did.

“Suspected drug overdose.” Albek murmured, frowning against his mask. “But for the sake of accuracy, samples will be sent to the lab.” They would conduct a toxicological analysis. If he had to guess, it would have been heroin. The bluish tint to his nails and lips were one sign…

He scrapped down the insides of his nails, and tapped it into a small glass vial.

Pulling out a knife, a few students looked away. A complete internal examination was needed in this case. He ran the knife from each shoulder joint, meeting at mid-chest down to the pubic region, creating a Y down his body. A student began to gag, but he didn’t even bother looking up.

“Once you’re here, you must examine the organs in place,” with strong movements, he cut through the ribs, crunching them open with a rib cutter.

Nothing surprising here. A normal amount of fat around the organs, perhaps a little skinnier than normal. The membranes appeared nominal.

He carefully examined each organ, weighing the heart and lungs. The Virchow technique, removing them one by one, he found, let the students build good habits from the starts.

There was fluid in the lungs. He squeezed them, pointing out the blood. “Note that down, very important.” The heart was stiff beneath his fingers. Despite the drug addiction, this man had been fit and active. With a smaller knife, he took tissue samples.

And when he was done, he placed all the organs back with gentle hands. It was important for him to show the students how to respect the body, even after they had cut it open. He placed the organs in bags to prevent leakage, then began to sew.

“Sir!” Cried a student. “What about the eyes?”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded at his students, fumbling with his tools. “You’re right, I forgot. The eyes can indicate-“ his breath caught in his throat, tongue stuck.

“Professor?”

“Yes, yes,” Albek lifted a hand, a shine of sweat over his forehead. The ground trembled beneath him, and he suddenly felt like he was about to faint. He needed to leave, this was- it wasn’t right- he felt sick- he felt-

“Well, that should be enough for today,” he tugged off his gloves hard enough for it to hurt. He blinked, hard, and took a deep breath. Straight to his toes. “I expect to see you all tomorrow for a follow up.”

With a few grumbles, his students filed out of the room. He held himself to the table, fingers tightening against the table. When the door swung shut for the last time, he sucked in a breath, and let out a wail. 

Why was he crying? The pressure on his heart, the feeling in his chest, he didn’t know this man, but the world had come crashing down around him. This was a stranger, but he felt the urge to hold it close, to apologize for cutting this man open. It was a body, it couldn’t feel, but how could he? This was a person, a man with a life cut short.

Heaving, he pulled off the sheet. The eyes were glassy, milky white, but there was something… something else. His chest burned – there was something missing.

Albek stayed with the body, clutching it until they came to take it away.

---------------------------------------------

Based on a true event. I tried to tone down the technical language a bit, so I hope it was interesting to you. If you are interested in resources, please check the list down below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhgazgHwt-Y

https://www.livescience.com/32789-forensic-pathologist-perform-autopsy-csi-effect.html

http://forensicoutreach.com/library/how-to-perform-an-autopsy-a-beginners-guide/