Motionless on a white-covered table, small and insignificant in the harsh brilliance of overhead lamps, a fox terrier listed in the laboratory records as Lazarus II lay last week in a gloomy old building on the University of California's campus. White-clad figures moved in & out of the glare, watching the creature they had asphyxiated with ether and nitrogen. Lazarus II's heart stopped beating and he no longer breathed. His shoe-button eyes were glazed. Lazarus II was dead.
When six minutes had elapsed since the last heartbeat, sallow young Dr. Robert E....
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