Frankenstein Theory (6 page)

Elizabeth curtsied. “We shall.”

When the door to the hall opened, a wash of voices spilled past. This was where Elizabeth came to life. Society was her drug, her passion. Her ability to flit and glide about among the upper crust was as second nature as the waltz or the tarantella. Each move she made spilled grace and elegance across the paths of those she deigned worthy. Fortunately, in the eyes and heart of my wife, everyone was worthy. She drew no line, met no human she wasn’t immediately and fully at ease with. I wondered…would Igor test her limits?

“
I so envy you this,” I whispered.

“
Do tell, Victor.” Elizabeth replied.

“
Your innate ability to fraternize with everyone.”

“
My darling husband, these are but people—beneath our flesh, bereft of our finances, are we not all the same?”

As we navigated through the steady stream of people, Elizabeth reached out to nearly everyone, laying on her hands as if to heal all that ailed them.

It took longer than usual, but we did make it to our seats…my legs happy for the rest and my eyes and ears for the peace.

On the stage was a single behemoth of a piano. The black lacquer finish reflected the stage lights into the eyes of those in the first few rows. The performance bell rang once, twice, three times. Everyone scrambled to find their seats…all propriety lost in the chaos. From our booth, we watched, giggling at the awkward dance below.

The show was about to start. Elizabeth sat rigid in her chair, her hand clasping tight against my thigh. An electric heat pulsed from bone to flesh, from heart to head.

A slender man in tails and top hat entered and glided to center stage. With the grace of a ballerina, he raised his right arm above his head and bent at the waist in the deepest bow I’d ever had the pleasure to behold
–
greeting made art. Thunderous applause shook the rafters, though the performer had arrived with nothing more than preceded rumor. He was, to all in attendance, nothing more than a nameless man with fingers blessed by God.

When he sat down at the grand piano, those pious digits spoke in a sacred language that coaxed the believer out in everyone. This was the language of a Lord revered and worshiped by the masses; music that spoke directly to the soul. Heart-breaking melodies played to perfection as the artist proved himself master of the black and white keys. When he finished the first concerto, the audience sat in a perfectly awed silence.

Instead of insisting
–
nay begging
–
for applause, the man dove directly into the next piece…an allegro dance that caused my heart to skip about in my breast. The music worked upon my memories near and distant to remind me that life itself was precious cargo…meant to be lived
in aeternum
.

“
Isn’t this splendid?” Elizabeth’s voice momentarily broke the spell. When I didn’t answer, she huffed and gave my hand a light squeeze.

I leaned into her and whispered softly, “I believe we are witnessing glory, my dear.”

The slightest giggle lofted from Elizabeth’s lips. Thankfully, we were sequestered from the masses in our own tiny world; otherwise, we’d have been ostracized for our transgressions against high society.

As per usual, my mind wandered off. While I viewed the audience below, it dawned on me just how ignorant the masses were with regard to the art of anatomy. Beyond the heart and brain, so few could name a single organ tucked within the flesh. Unfettered from that knowledge, the majority went about their lives unaware of the ways that entropy drew them nearer the grave every day. They obsessed over mortality, yet few had even the slightest inkling of death’s dance over our humors. The festering rot within would send them into apoplectic fits, should they behold its wretched wonder.

A multitude of notes bombarded my senses; I could hear them, feel them. I wanted to flense away the sack of flesh that restricted muscle and bone, to allow the melody and counterpoint into my very tissue. I wanted to feel life at my core, wanted a fundamental connection to everything…all at once.

“
Victor.” Elizabeth’s voice tugged me from my reverie. “Where are you, my love?”

My eyelids blinked open, the amber light from the candle sconces shining brilliant fingers across my vision. The pianist had left the stage and the audience was dispersing.

“
I’m sorry, my love; I must have been so caught up in the music I lost track of, well, everything.”

Elizabeth grinned wide. “Wasn’t it glorious, Victor? I could listen to that man play until the world ends.”

As we made our way to the mezzanine, similar sentiments bounced off the walls from every pair of lips in the hall. When we reached the ground floor, Elizabeth caught sight of the playbill. “A thousand curses upon my luck,” she hissed. “This was his only night in town.” She squealed, “We could follow him from city to city. Wouldn’t that be delightful, Victor? It’s been too long since we’ve traveled.”

I laughed at the thought of leaving behind my work. “I don’t mean to insult you by making light, my sweet. I would love to travel the world with you, chasing a glorious path of notes played to make the angels of heaven jealous. Unfortunately, the university insists I complete the study as quickly as possible. Until that work is finished, I am crucified to that laboratory.”

“
Such a noble cross you bear, my husband.”

E I G H T

Upon returning to the castle, I spirited Elizabeth into the bedroom and then, much to her chagrin, vanished into the dark-shadowed depths of the laboratory. A single candle lit my way into the study and then through the secret passage that served as the only entrance to my sanctuma secret I shared only with those who I deemed worthy or
necessary…
The amber flame glinted from the glass of my spectacles like a fiery specter.

As I glided cautiously down the stone staircase, a melody haunted me. I hummed the rising and falling notes as if song were second nature.

“
Haydn, I believe.” Igor’s belching voice nearly surprised the candle from my grip.

When I reached the floor of the room, I stepped nearer to the voice. “Why are you sitting down here in complete darkness, Mr. Fishka?”

His simple response held a foreboding tone. “I wanted to surprise you, Doctor.”

I inched closer, leaning the candle in nearer to Igor. The flicker of illumination spilled over a body. For the second time since entering the laboratory, I nearly dropped the light. “What have you done, Igor?”

The crooked little man hopped to his feet and gestured to the form on the table. “I did as you asked, Doctor. I turned to my connections. After greasing a palm or two, I managed to procure this lovely body from the office of the coroner. She was a lady of the night, killed by an as-of-yet unnamed assailant. The woman has no family and no record.” Igor slipped a pocket watch from his tattered vest. “According to my calculations, this body has been cold for a mere seven hours. I believe that falls within the parameters of your request?”

I set the candle on the table, nearest the head. Igor had at least had the decency to cover the woman. Even so, by the curvature of the drape, it was clear she was bereft of clothing. “Please tell me you did not…”

Igor lowered his head and stared at me through rolled-up eyes. When he spoke, his voice was a profundo croak. “What?”

I returned the gaze, unsure of how to speak of the depravity racing about my mind.

“
Doctor Frankenstein, I have been accused of much in my miserable existence. Never before, though, has anyone pointed such a wicked finger my way. I have buried, robbed, dug up, and—on one very desperate occasion—tasted the flesh of the dead; but never have I laid with a corpse. Such accusations cut me to the quick.”

“
I do apologize,” I said with feigned sincerity. Truth be told, I carried no care or qualms regarding what the toad had done in the past. All that concerned me was his ability to work by my side now. There was much to be done if my theory was to come to fruition.

I returned my attention to the cadaver, reached into my pocket, and handed Igor coin enough to cover the cost of procuring and transporting the body. Igor greedily accepted the pittance and nodded quickly.

“
We must prepare her for the paddles.”

While Igor busied himself at the transference device, I donned my white coat and prepared the surgical tools. The sounds echoing off the stone walls were just as musical as the notes that had earlier poured majestically from the piano. A delicate flourish of steel. A pounding basso of footfall. The score of my work was magnificent.

The blade of the scalpel touched down on the flesh at the base of the cadaver’s neck. Like a river slicing through a cityscape, the blade cut through flesh to create death’s own canal. Thanks to the constant march of time, no rivulet of blood sprang fourth. The meat was clean and cold, familiar and rife with possibility.

Past sternum and navel to pubis, I finished without flourish or applause. With two more incisions to complete the customary Y, I managed to lay open the woman’s chest cavity. The revelation nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“
The human body, Igor,” I called out, my voice nearing exaltation. “Such a profound piece of work. Each system dependent upon the other, working in perfect harmony. No design of man shall ever best the human machine.”

The real work was next. I withdrew a small hand saw from the table and began the arduous process of cutting through the sternum, careful not to cut too deep, else risk rendering the heart unusable.

With a great tug, I managed to open up the ribs to lay bare the sweet meats within. The only organ of concern awaited.

I pulled on the thick rubber gloves. “Paddles, Igor.” I held out my hand and waited. Igor stepped in behind me and placed a paddle in each hand.

Without the aid of nature, Igor had to manually generate the necessary voltage with a crank. He ducked and dodged his way to the side of the massive machine, grasped the crank’s handle, and heaved it to life. Slowly he managed to get the generator up to speed. The sound of current climbing to the top of the Jacob’s Ladder sent chills dancing across my scalp and down the back of my neck.

“
Igor, can you see the voltage meter from that angle?”

“
No, Doctor.” Igor took a great sniff of the air. “I don’t need the meter. I can smell the current. It’s ready.”

Without a second thought, I plunged the paddles to either side of the cadaver’s heart. Sparks leapt from the chest cavity, and the familiar smell of singed meat wafted into my nostrils. Igor spun the crank with gusto, and the regulators flickered a deadly warning.

And then, within the storm of chaos, it happened. The heart returned to task.

It beat. Once. Twice. Three times…and then drew still.

Again it pulsed
–
a second round of irregular beats. I pulled the paddles away and held my breath. With a single motion, I stopped Igor. The prickly sensation drifted from the air as I continued watching the unsealed woman.

“
Igor,” I whispered. “Come.”

My assistant made his way to my side and stared into the chest.

The heart shifted of its own accord. I could almost hear the
lub
and
dub
of the chambers as they twitched and pulsed.

“
It’s–” Igor started.

I patted the man on his shoulder. “Yes, it is.”

“
Does this mean we’ve succeeded, Victor?”

I drew in a deep breath. “No, Mr. Fishka, it means we are ready for the next phase.”

Igor picked up the paddles and began to wind up the cables into neat piles. “And what, exactly, is that?”

I stared at the man over my spectacles and pondered the question. I was quite aware of my endgame, knew the science and pitfalls; what I didn’t know was how many steps would be necessary to reach the goal. I turned my attention to the ruined body. “You said she was seven hours removed from life?”

Igor nodded quickly.

“
What is the likelihood of getting your hands on someone–how shall I put this…not quite released of their mortal coil?”

Igor leaned against the machine and crossed his smallish arms. “Doctor, what are you asking of me?”

“
I’m asking in what direction does your moral compass point?”

A wicked grin spread across Igor’s face. “It points to the purse, Doctor Frankenstein. To the purse.”

N I N E

I’d managed to slip into bed aside my lovely wife without rousing her. Despite her delicate constitution, she enjoyed an extraordinarily deep sleep. Considering the accomplishments made this evening, the attempt at sleep, for me, would most likely wind up an exercise in futility.

In the silent darkness, my eyelids grew heavy and my breath slowed to a most relaxing rhythm. The all-too-familiar caress of sleep overtook me, and I faded into the abyss.