"I’ve given some red tickets, yes. I may have to this time. Here-" He fumbled in his jacket pocket and brought out a red cardboard form, something like a shipping label with a loop of wire for attaching it to a buttonhole or a belt loop. He tossed it on the desk. "A blank ‘crit-dose’ form. There it is. Read it. It tells the man he’s sick, very sick. And here-here’s a green ticket too. It tells him he’s well and has nothing to worry about. Look at the red one carefully! ‘Estimated exposure in radiation units.’ ‘Blood count.’ ‘Urinalysis.’ On one side, it’s just like the green one. On the other side, the green one’s blank, but look at the back of the red one. The fine print-it’s directly quoted from Public Law 10-WR-3E. It has to be there. The law requires it. It has to be read to him. He has to be told his rights. What he does about it is his own affair. Now, if you’d rather we parked the mobile units down the highway, we can-"