Reincarnated Cthulhu - Chapter 23

23. The Visage of Dr. Frankenstein

Effort would be futile in endeavouring to recount the dread which washed over me upon first acquaintance with Dr. Frankenstein.

Permit me to commence with his distinct and peculiar disposition.

Indeed, never had I encountered a man so gaunt as Frankenstein. His fervor was a phantom’s glimmering betwixt his sunken cheeks, his sharp cheekbones eerily reflecting the stark angles of his eyes. His appearance bore such fragility that one could anticipate his collapsing there and then, yet his gaze bore an icy intelligence, a terrifying rationale.

His eyes! Indeed, I have always postulated that the nature of a man could be gleaned by scrutinising his eyes. Thus, it was clear that there were no limits to what Dr. Frankenstein might accomplish. His dark, bottomless eyes held within them a dread which refused to dissipate. His gaze danced, like the pendulum of an old clock, seeming perpetually hounded by an invisible pursuer.

He held a cane which, despite a brief glimpse, was clearly laden with solid intricacies. The end of the cane bore scars from having been dragged relentlessly, yet oddly, it was not muddied despite the day’s inclement weather.

“Why, Dr. Frankenstein!”

Even though Arthur had foreknowledge of his arrival, his surprise seemed genuine. As he approached Dr. Frankenstein, he appeared suddenly abashed at his own casual attire.

“Pray forgive my rudimentary attire. The anticipation of this moment has left me a touch unprepared.”

Frankenstein merely acknowledged him with a subtle nod. Indeed, Arthur was not truly seeking permission, thus a response was not essential.

“Philemon, allow me to present our esteemed colleague, the master chemist, Dr. Victor Frankenstein. He hails from the German Empire.”

“Actually, it is Geneva.”

Arthur gazed quizzically at Frankenstein.

“I took my degree from the University of Ingolstadt in Bavaria…”

“What consequence does one’s place of birth bear in this era of scientific enlightenment? Ever since the inception of the locomotive, the world has become a much smaller place.”

I elected to not correct Arthur’s error. Highlighting what he might perceive as a slight to his ego would be folly, particularly considering his evident pride.

“Dr. Victor Frankenstein is the cornerstone of our current endeavour. Indeed, without his invaluable insights, I wouldn’t dare suggest that we possess the capacity to resurrect her.”

“The honour is mine. I had desired further assistance…”

“Alas, our fellow members are beyond our reach.”

As I mentioned earlier, I was still in a state of disbelief over the enigma that was Frankenstein.

His voice carried an unexpected sweetness. While I would not dare to define one’s nature by voice alone, I could sense a fragile spirit within him. This, considering he was Dr. Frankenstein! Being cognizant of his notorious reputation, my astonishment was amplified.

Yet, taking into account the case of Dr. Jekyll, I resolved to approach with caution. Dr. Jekyll was a stark contrast from the man I had anticipated. His supposed alter ego, Hyde, had neither split nor descended into madness.

It would be no surprise if Dr. Frankenstein were similarly complex.

“And this is my esteemed companion, Philemon Herbert. A renowned figure in England, surely you’ve heard of him?”

“…Indeed, I have followed his accomplishments closely.”

Frankenstein’s gaze fell upon me for the first time since we descended into the underground chamber.

This was when I encountered the third wave of shock. It was as though he viewed me less as a man and more as an experiment. When he extended his hand in greeting, for a fleeting moment, I feared he sought to peel the very skin from my face.

His antagonism towards others was transparent. I marvelled at Arthur’s audacity in feigning familiarity with him. Even while extending my own hand in greeting, I maintained a prudent distance.

“I feared we would not meet. I am Victor Frankenstein.”

“Philemon Herbert, a professor at Oldcourt.”

In truth, my faith in retaining this position was waning. However, given the circumstances, I thought it fitting to introduce myself as such, albeit hesitantly.

“I trust that the two of you will forge a strong camaraderie. We have a great deal to accomplish together.”

Arthur wedged himself between us, embodying camaraderie. As it had been prior to this encounter, it was evident that Arthur intended for me to join the academic society. He dismissed the possibility that I might decline his invitation.

Though I cannot deny a certain curiosity about his proposition, it seemed neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. Frankenstein appeared similarly disinterested in the topic, striding past me with long, purposeful steps.

“Is this the subject of our work today?”

“Indeed, her name is Shirley Marie.”

Frankenstein raised Marie’s head abruptly. He peeled back her eyelids, scrutinized the cross-section of her neck, and pried open her mouth to grasp her tongue. His movements were practiced and nonchalant, clearly familiar with the inspection of lifeless bodies.

“Pray, exercise caution.”

My words fell from my lips without thought.

“I assure you, I am quite practiced in handling the deceased. There is no cause for concern.”

“Worry not. He is a peculiar man who has spent two years in close quarters with the church cemetery, wielding a shovel.”

Arthur chuckled as he spoke, his blasphemous humor often set me ill at ease. Today was no exception. Frankenstein continued to scrutinize Marie’s skin for a while, probing her loose neck bone, before finally knitting his brows together.

“When did the subject pass on?”

“A month, thereabout.”

“Preposterous.”

Frankenstein’s face contorted. His already unsettling visage combined with his grimace gave me a sense of foreboding unease. The sight was akin to a madman’s fevered nightmare, a lunatic tormenting a severed head.

“Do you know which part of a corpse decomposes first?”

I shook my head. I had a basic understanding of when death had occurred, but such specifics eluded me.

“Typically, it is the area where flies have deposited their eggs. This is usually the part of the body that has retained the most warmth post-mortem. As maggots can only digest rotting flesh, flies lay their eggs in parts already beginning to decay. It’s their own form of childcare.”

Frankenstein continued his examination of Marie’s head in a roundabout manner.

“Conversely, if flies have not yet laid eggs, it indicates that the body has not begun to decay…I see no sign of maggot activity in this subject. Has she been embalmed?”

I couldn’t provide an answer, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would have taken the effort to preserve the body of a woman as unfortunate as Marie. Frankenstein poked a long wooden stick into Marie’s nostrils.

“Hold on!”

“It doesn’t seem so…Embalming cannot be performed without the removal of the brain.”

Frankenstein withdrew the wooden stick. He then produced a small bottle from his pocket, spraying a bit of liquid onto the end of the stick. The droplets that fell to the floor smelled of alcohol.

“This is an anomaly. Her head is exceptionally fresh. I am uncertain if even a freshly guillotined head could be in such pristine condition…”

He carefully laid Mary’s head down once more. His fleeting insanity seemed to evaporate, leaving only profound weariness etched on his face.

“Since my arrival in England, I have been beset by inexplicabilities. Is the preparation within?”

“Indeed, the requested item has been at the ready for a year now.”

“That’s an excessively long duration…”

Arthur and Frankenstein carried on a conversation that seemed pre-arranged, an exchange of narratives known only to them. Suddenly fraught, I turned to Arthur.

“Do we need to venture into that room?”

Honestly… I harbored no desire to unlock any doors in this subterranean abode.

“Owing to the steam engine, the humidity here is unbearable. The human body is so delicately balanced that any excessive moisture is an aberration.”

“Fear not. I have no intention of opening that particular door. The one we seek lies opposite.”

“Opposite?”

Arthur strode ahead without further explanation, as was his wont. I clutched Marie’s head and hurriedly followed. Frankenstein again took hold of the wheelbarrow, grating it across the floor, but Arthur seemed entirely unbothered by his struggle.

“I daresay you didn’t anticipate a door here, did you?”

He halted before a wall. No, not a wall, but a door. Indeed, a door was cleverly concealed behind the oracle square. Arthur beamed with impish delight.

“Gracious, how extensive is this basement?”

“I confess, I’ve not taken measurements. However, having spent the last year confined to the house, merely traversing it once in a while served as ample exercise.”

Arthur replied with a smirk, then proceeded to open the door. I couldn’t discern how he managed to open a door seemingly devoid of a handle, but I assumed some sort of mechanism was at play. His knack for discovering such contraptions continued to baffle me.

The room that unveiled itself was grander than I had envisioned. Its sheer size surprised me, but the presence of yet another door within was the most startling revelation. At this point, I began to suspect that Arthur’s earlier jests may not have been in mere jest.

“Does it not spark a sense of awe in you? I dare say even the Royal Academy could not offer such surroundings.”

Indeed, it was true. The Royal Academy was not capable of providing such an environment.

Primarily, they would not have sanctioned the expenditure for all these devices, their purposes unknown.

This appeared less a modern laboratory and more the workshop of a medieval alchemist. Even to my inexperienced eyes, it was apparent we had regressed into a time of rudimentary science. The flasks arranged on the desk were geometrically bewildering, the exact shapes eluding understanding upon a cursory glance.

Upon the walls, liquids of assorted colours were stacked by the gallon, most of them hues I’d struggle to describe in the English language. ‘Bile-coloured’ was a phrase that sprang to mind, though those with an artistic or literary inclination might be able to offer a more nuanced explanation.

At the very centre of the room stood an iron experimentation table. The grooves in the floor directed towards it implied a significant relation. A silken covering ensured the table remained the most sanitary environment possible in this era.

Adjacent to this, an iron spike ran from floor to ceiling with a noticeable seam halfway up. Likely it could be separated, though its use was wholly beyond my understanding.

“If only I possessed a deeper understanding of chemistry…”

“Pardon?”

Arthur swung his gaze towards me.

“I’d have no hesitation in labelling this as utter chaos. Regrettably, I can’t.”

The trouble was that Arthur was the one who had prepared this room. The various instruments were his responsibility and, whilst he was evidently a man of considerable talents, he seemed incapable of organising them in a logical fashion.

“I’d… prefer to clean up, if at all possible.”

Frankenstein, who had arrived belatedly in the room, was panting heavily as he surveyed the chaotic scene. Given the traces he’d dragged along the floor, the contents of the case must have been burdensome. Especially so, given his appearance did not suggest a man of great strength.

“I want to get started whilst the brain is still fresh, so I’ll get right to it. Can you remove the silk?”

Arthur, for once, obliged. His anticipation was palpable. I gently placed Mary’s head onto the exposed iron plate. Meanwhile, Frankenstein opened the case and began to meticulously organise its contents.

“Could that possibly be….”

“Materials. It was never my intention to utilise a decaying corpse from the outset.”

“Are you going to construct a human body?”

I did not doubt his capability.

Frankenstein had accomplished the most divine feat of the era. Aware of his achievement in creating life from nothing, the suggestion of constructing a human body did not seem implausible.

However, the issue lay with the materials. The items he was listing bore no resemblance to human body parts. Sensing my sceptical gaze, Frankenstein launched into an explanation, clearly aware of my scrutiny.

“The skin will be composed of wax.”

“Wax!”

“Yes, sourcing the required quantity was quite the task. I’ve sourced it from all corners of London.”

In truth, Frankenstein was not some deranged man piecing together corpses. Even I, cognizant of this fact, had anticipated a morbid display of cadaverous fragments. His proposal was startlingly innovative. He continued with measured caution.

“As the esteemed gentlemen present will likely know… The advancement of science has recently revealed that the human body is simply composed of a handful of chemical components. In a bid to determine the perfect composition of the human body, towards the conclusion of the Frank academic conference…”

Arthur exclaimed, a laugh echoing in his voice.

“You’ve been robbing graves!”

“There aren’t many sources of untarnished human bodies….”

Frankenstein mumbled a justification, a note of grievance in his tone. At that moment, a revelation struck me with the force of a blow to the head.

“You are the Graveyard Alchemist!”

He offered a shy nod. I was astounded by this unexpected fact, or perhaps, a fact that seemed so fitting. After all, Frankenstein had a more apt appearance for a suspicious foreigner than Noel. He was the very image of a dubious gravedigger, exactly as an Englishman might imagine.

“Anyway, I noticed a substantial difference between healthy and unhealthy corpses… Namely, the amount of fat. If Darwin’s claim is correct, the more fat, the better to conserve heat and moisture for survival… Furthermore, wax, although derived from fat, does not decay in the absence of blood. From this perspective, wax is the ideal substitute for the human body.”

Frankenstein took out an iron can from beside him, filled it with wax and began to melt it with heat.

“It will take some time. Meanwhile, let’s prepare the skeleton. Contrary to popular belief, bones, which do not circulate blood, decay easily… Therefore, we’ll use lead.”

“Lead!”

I had vowed not to be surprised by any of his proclamations, yet once again, I found myself taken aback.

“Yes. Admittedly, there is a certain level of toxicity, but given that bones are enveloped by the body, there’s no immediate danger. The wax skin will effectively shield against the toxicity of the lead. This would only be possible with wax. Other materials would not be suitable.”

I couldn’t just attribute this to a discrepancy in understanding between the 19th and 21st centuries. Despite his full comprehension of the toxicity of lead, he remained adamant about using it for the skeletal structure.

“Lead, possessing an amiable malleability, lends itself well to the intricacies of nerve embedding. Few substances balance the necessity of firmness and ductility as artfully as this does for a skeletal structure. The muscular system will be crafted with a protein adhesive of my own creation, combined with copper and rubber. They constrict and solidify under the influence of even the feeblest electric pulse. Preventing the flow of electricity in precise areas should suffice to mimic musculature. As for the delicate matter of the eyes, they will be formed from minuscule glass orbs mixed with mercury, filled with collagen derived from the bones of poultry. The adhesive strength of the concoction was found wanting in my original application, yet it serves well here. To simulate the neural network, fine copper thread shall be employed, with the vital brain-to-spine pathway being constructed of gold. In truth, human cognition and actions are mere electrical signals. We are not so far from the humble lightbulb.”

Thus did Frankenstein discourse, his utterances betraying a remarkable madness. I could discern no sense in his musings, each sentence a refutation of the basic tenets of science.

This is preposterous. We must abort this endeavor.

My tongue teetered on the brink of this declaration.

Arthur, however, had already spoken, his lips curling into an unsettling smile.

“Your experience is evident in your discourse.”

A flash of guarded terror on Frankenstein’s face confirmed my suspicion. He was privy to a secret, one hidden within a realm unfamiliar to me. He carried within his gaze a potent secret, a danger to mankind, a knowledge procured from trespassing forbidden territories!

I stood powerless. Today, Shirley Marie would be given a second life. This, I felt in my soul.

“To engender a human, it isn’t necessary to craft a flawless physique. Life, after all, is but a crude puppet. In the era of electric power, man will give rise to man.”

And with that, the experiment was set into motion.

Incredibly, Frankenstein brought to life all that he had claimed. He was… manufacturing a human being! Employing materials that bore no resemblance to human tissue! Doctor Frankenstein was indeed unhinged!

Of all the chemicals he had prepared in his lab, I could confidently identify not a one. His hands seemed otherworldly. Everything I had known was rendered unrecognizable by his touch. Even the mysteries of existence and reproduction were reduced to mere substances under his manipulation.

His countenance betrayed an intense passion, even as he looked upon his own work with revulsion. Yet his hands did not falter. His eyes mirrored his terror with every passing moment, but his hands, diligently at work, remained steadfast.

Marie’s brain was transplanted as the final stage.

Her skull was meticulously cleaved, her fresh brain extracted and placed into the newly crafted body. Black fluid replaced cerebrospinal fluid within. The suturing of the skull seemed a mere hallucination.

How long had it been?

A matter of hours, or perhaps days? I could not tell. The sanctity of humanity was violated with each passing moment, divine works desecrated. I beheld the gruesome spectacle for hours, entranced. I could almost hear the devil’s derisive laughter, or was it merely the sound of the rain?

Arthur hummed a merry tune as he observed the proceedings.

“Children conceived amidst a thunderstorm were said to be offspring of Zeus. Is she then an illicit child of a god? Or had they known, even two millennia past, that the mysteries of life they babbled about were merely illusions of electricity?”

Frankenstein extricated a metallic rod from the earth.

“This is a lightning rod.”

He inserted it calmly into the reassembled body of Marie.

───── Boom! Boom!

Lightning struck. At that moment, I feared not even the wrath of God.

A brilliant flash of white light surged through Shirley Marie’s renewed form. White sparks danced from the metal plate, and Marie’s bare form twitched violently.

And what I truly feared was…

Oh, God!

Oh, God! She’s moving!

(TO BE CONTINUED On Jun 9{Fri})