DOS HOSPITAL

WHEN THE CHIPS ARE DOWN, THE PHYSICIAN IS IN

"What do you think, Doc?" the man cried. "Can you save her?" The doctor pried
the man's fingers from their death grip on his lapels and looked into his eyes
with practiced compassion.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid your terminal is ...terminal."

Meet Dr. Victor Thrake, computer virologist, one of the world's most
sought-after authorities on computer viruses. Along with his staff of experts,
he has identified and treated more than 200 common computer viruses in the last
five years.

"Sometimes treatment is as simple as a hot oil bath and a 'Call me in the
morning,"' Thrake told us as we accompanied him on afternoon rounds. "But
occasionally we run across a really nasty bug. You wouldn't believe what some
of those laptops pick up."

As he spoke, Thrake moved down a row of "beds," each containing an ailing PC.
Apples, Compaqs, Tandys, IBMs-no computer is turned away. He stopped briefly at
each bedside, dispensing a kind word here, a few twists of a screwdriver there.

"Here's a real hard luck story," he said, patting an aging IBM. "It worked
twenty years at the same job. Then, just two days after retirement, it got an
infection in its system file that brought on a massive keystroke. Now it's
paralyzed from L through Z"

Thrake's compassion for his unfortunate charges is apparent in every word and
gesture. "Many years ago, I took a vow," Thrake explained. "A vow to end
suffering and injustice to bring hope where there was none, to seek out
evildoers wherever they may dwell and drag them out ... no, wait a second. That
wasn't me. That was The Green Hornet.

"Well, anyway, I took a vow. And I can't rest until these viruses are whipped
once and for all." Facilities around the country are duplicating Thrake's work
in virus detection and treatment. But the psychological counseling he offers to
computers who've come down with a bug makes his clinic unique.

"It's a real trauma for some of these machines. They feel...dirty. We try to
tell them that they're not alone. We aim to rebuild their self-esteem."

Thrake led us into a darkened room from which we could look through a one-way
glass at a counseling session in progress. Several PCs sat in a circle as one
of them printed out the words. "HI, I'M BOB AND I HAD A VIRUS."

The other PCs responded.

"HEY, BOB!"

"LOOKIN'GOOD!"

"BOB, HOW YA DOIN'?"

"At times like these, they really need to be among their own," Thrake said.

Before we could ask him some questions, a sharp, insistent beeping came over the
office intercom. Throughout the facility, iron doors slammed down, trapping
everyone and everything inside,

"Contamination," Thrake said calmly. "Our sensors have picked up a stray virus.
Nothing goes in or out until we nail down the source."

He adjusted a knob on his desktop control panel.

"It seems to be very close by. In fact..." His eyes came to rest on our laptop.

"I think I've found it," he said, grabbing the word processor.

"I hope this won't keep you from finishing your article," he said as he pried
the back off the infected machine.

"Don't worry, " we assured him. "We'll finish it somehow. "