 Two shots: The first abruptly zooms in on a talking, animated, and closely attentive subject pointing the technological apparatus of medical science at a small piece of meat. The second, in a long and occasionally jerky zoom which is so slow that as to be hardly noticeable, shows a red object, presumably the same piece of meat. The surgeon with severely slicked-back hair, who talks into an intercom and then to himself in Swedish before dissecting the meat, creates a somewhat odd impression, in particular due to the curve of the  fake  wide-screen image. But the unusual object being fiddled with (or maybe not) by this sleek mad scientist reminiscent of B movies, Cronenberg and the Kingdom clinic is even more enigmatic. As a result, its visibility is at the same time legible, decipherable, for example as a jiggling, affective red which would overmodulate any video monitor filling out the structure of the meat s tissue. Or as a red galaxy fading into the microscopic detail of a foreign body. Seen, heard and read in a synthetic sense, the zoom into the amorphous body corresponds to the pathway taken by Bernhard Fleischmann s chords and percussion through an inconstant blubbering, crackling, creaking and splashing. The regular contours of the music seem to take their pointed warmth from intimate contact with the meat (the open heart).