Episode 5: Attempt Number Eight
THE SCIENTIST: Experiment 31E, attempt number eight.
Date: October 11, 1843.
I… [blows out a harsh breath]
My emotions today have been forced up and down like a ship tossed about in a storm. One moment I’m content, the next furious, and then…
[takes another breath]
I must compose myself. I shall start from the beginning.
Immediately after recording my notes the other day, I sent the Boy into town to find Herman. Reading those letters, pondering my options…I knew I needed to get my next attempt underway. The Boy…he was still looking tired…and he coughed a bit more than usual…his lungs have never been strong… He explained before that the two-faced kitten was keeping him awake. He needs to feed it whenever it’s hungry, to tend to its every need like a mother. It’s become too much of a distraction for him, so I told him to dispose of it. The look on his face when I said that… I realized then that perhaps…I had given…a less than compassionate response… So then I told him that I would…help. I offered to assist in feeding it so he could get rest.
I’m looking at it right now, with its disgusting two faces merged into one…four eyes staring at me from its makeshift bed… It’s still young, maybe a month old. It should be with its mother. But the Boy said the mother was rejecting it. Rahul had to add extra blankets to the nest just to keep it warm after the mother started pushing it away. It wouldn’t have survived much longer.
Rejected by its own mother…
I don’t know why I offered to do this. I have more important things to focus on. But the Boy…he looked so wan and tired…and at the suggestion of ridding himself of this thing he looked so…sad…
Why should I care that he looked sad…?
I need the Boy’s assistance. I need to keep him healthy, or I’ll have to find a replacement. It was a logical decision…
No. This damn cat is not logical.
[sighs]
The Boy…he looked ill. And the cat seemed to be draining him, exhausting him. But, for some ungodly reason, he seems to love the dreadful thing. He would never let it go, even if it meant his own vitality suffered. And I…perhaps…would miss the Boy if he were to not be here…
So here I am, being stared at by four eyes… The Boy named it Stove. He should probably not have children.
But no matter. The point is, I helped feed the cat, the Boy got some rest, and then he found Herman.
Herman was a tad cagey, to use the Boy’s term, when he was finally tracked down. He denied trying to hide from me, which was an obvious lie. He claimed that the specimen he had intended to bring had become unavailable at the last moment, which was why he had not shown to his arranged meet with the Boy. This excuse sounded dubious at best, but since he did not mention anything further about renegotiating his contract—or anything about what occurred when last we met—and promptly procured a new specimen for me, I shall let the lie about his disappearance alone. But I am watching him…
There was one thing the Boy mentioned, however…something Herman said. Herman casually stated he had just visited the grave of Queen Victoria… I remember the uproar after her assassination last year…the argument over who should be regent until her infant daughter becomes old enough to take the throne…the lamenting over her miscarrying a son the year before, therefore leaving only the girl… Herman said…he told the Boy, I thought it’d be a laugh to see where a Victoria was laid low.
A Victoria.
It’s an odd thing to say. Did he mean to add the a? Was he perhaps referring to the fact that the young heir is also a Victoria?
Or…could he have learned my true name?
How could he have done so? Who could have told him…?
There aren’t many Victorias in England or America. My father once told me the story of my naming. My mother had suggested it. She apparently loved the name…fit for a queen she said. Of course, this was before the late Queen was even born… It was the name of the Roman goddess of victory. She was worshiped by generals, a symbol of victory in war, but also victory over death.
A goddess…a queen…a scientist… Is it an appropriate mantle for me?
If I can claim victory in this experiment, triumph over the inevitable end of life…then perhaps I will have earned this name. Not that I care much for it. It’s unwieldy, unfitting…
But my mother always got what she wanted…
Does Herman know? Does he know my surname as well? Can he find me here…?
Surprisingly, though, he’s not my greatest threat at the moment.
Once the Boy returned with the specimen and placed it within the lab, I got to work. I tried the panacea by itself at first. I only have the small vial Solomon and Rahul gave me, so I must conserve what I have as best as possible. Perhaps I used too little, but the panacea had no effect on the specimen. Of course, a panacea is usually meant for the living. It may not be the best option for a corpse.
But my curiosity about—and hope for—that mysterious ingredient I cannot identify led me to the next part of the experiment.
If that inscrutable component is the secret key to improving my formula, I knew I needed to mix the two. The panacea and my original formula combined—could they be the solution to years of hard work? I took a small sample from both and blended them together. I noticed no reaction when they mixed, which I thought was a good thing—if they had proven volatile, it would require significant testing to determine which parts of the two solutions had triggered such a reaction. After mixing them without complication, the next step would have been to administer it to the specimen.
But it had taken so long to procure this specimen, I did not want to waste it by moving too quickly. Part of my procedure involves the use of an electrical current to reactivate the body’s natural electricity. But not all substances respond well to being electrocuted. While the panacea and formula had blended well on their own, I could not be sure there wouldn’t be some form of reaction when electricity was added to the mix. Taking an even smaller sample of this combination, I placed it within a new vial and ran a current through it.
Well, there was certainly a reaction.
The vial exploded, shards of glass flying across the lab. The Boy and I luckily were able to duck beneath a table, so we did not receive a face full of broken glass.
After the shock wore off, I tried to assess the situation.
Firstly, the panacea did not work as a panacea. Its ingredients suggest it is actually a preservative. Why would it be offered to me as a panacea? Probably because a cure for all ailments would potentially be useful in my endeavors—it certainly did attract my interest—but a preservative would be far easier to come by as there has never been a proven instance of a successful panacea. So lying about what it was, rather than producing an actual panacea, which could be impossible, would be the best way to convince me to try it.
Secondly, none of the individual ingredients of the panacea had seemed volatile. And none of them should have produced a combustible substance when combined with anything in my formula. Admittedly, I could not identify that one ingredient, but I detected no explosive element to it.
After repeated experiments with this panacea, I had not detected anything potentially dangerous about applying it with my formula and standard procedure. There was nothing to indicate an explosion would occur, an explosion that would have been much larger and potentially deadly if I had used the full amount of panacea.
Just to test my growing hypothesis, I performed the same actions again. I took a small sample of the panacea, mixed it with a sample of formula, and ran an electric current through the resulting solution.
This time the Boy and I watched from a safer distance and with better protection between us and the vial.
Once again, it exploded.
I’m afraid I must come to the conclusion that this result was by design.
There was nothing, nothing, that should have triggered an explosion. And yet it did. The basic components should not have proven unstable. And yet they did—but only when I ran electricity through it, a part of my procedure that Solomon and Rahul are familiar with. And they know that I must be in the room, near the specimen, during that part of the experiment.
I believe in science, not magic, but I have witnessed things that Solomon and Rahul can do. Things that I tell myself we just don’t understand yet but that certainly have logical, natural explanations that will be discovered in time. The results of this experiment are not logical or natural, and therefore I must come to the conclusion that there is something else at work here, some unknown piece of the puzzle I cannot parse.
My assessment of this situation is that I have been lied to. A false panacea was produced to attract my attention, and then it was tampered with in a way that would hide its true properties, tampered in a way that science cannot yet explain.
I see the signs of an alchemist’s work in this panacea.
What are they playing at?
It is hard for me to believe that Solomon and Rahul were unaware of what this panacea could do. They could not tell me its provenance, they handled it with unusual care, they sent a letter begging me to tell them whether or not I had survived my experiments. It was as if they were expecting something…as if they knew this would be volatile… But then, when they hadn’t heard any announcements about the demise of the Trafford heir, they must have been wondering what was taking me so long—and feigning concern in case I’d only suffered injury rather than death.
[sighs]
I don’t want this to be true. How can it be true? Why would they want to hurt me? Solomon has always been fascinated by my experiments…although, perhaps he was feigning that too…
What if they were trying to stop me? What if they feared what would happen if I could conquer death and bring back to life anyone I wanted? Alchemists have been trying to achieve immortality for centuries, and this girl from America waltzes into their den and does what they never could. Jealousy, really? I would have thought they were above that but…
What if it’s more? What if they don’t just want to stop the experiment…what if they want to rid themselves of me entirely? A larger explosion would have killed me…
Do Solomon and Rahul want me dead? But why? I thought…I thought we were…
How long have they been plotting this? Are they alone in their plans? I know they have friends, fellow alchemists they meet with. Had they gotten help in their scheme?
How many people do I need to hunt down?
The Boy tried to calm me—I don’t think he’d seen me melt down like that before when I began to realize what Solomon and Rahul had done. He tried to make excuses for them, to remind me that they had never before tried to harm me. He said I should give them the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps it wasn’t them but someone else who had tampered with the panacea.
The Boy…the poor, naïve Boy… I know he had no part in this attempt on my life. He is close with Solomon and Rahul but…he would never do this. I can trust him…perhaps, only him…
I want to believe what he says, but I can’t find it in my heart to do so. I don’t want to believe that Solomon and Rahul would betray me, would try to kill me…
It makes no sense… But they knew what they were handing me… They were so nervous…
I wanted to rage into town, confront them at their store, but the Boy told me I should wait, that if I went there when I was blinded by emotions that, if they are trying to harm me, I might not notice if they have set a trap. I didn’t realize John could be so wise…
He coaxed me out of the laboratory, called my maid Agnes to fetch me some refreshment—he almost called for whiskey, but then he remembered I don’t drink. I know he drinks, and more on days when he has to handle specimens. Smokes too, but he at least adheres to my rule of no smoking in the manor—I can’t stand the smell. But I see out the window sometimes, him sitting under a tree with a pipe and a bottle. If only I could steady my nerves the same way, but I despise so much as the smell of alcohol and the sting of smoke makes me choke. I let Agnes bring me some bread and milk. I don’t trust her as well as the Boy, but she knows when to keep quiet, and as soon as she brought the plate and cup she silently disappeared into the depths of the manor, leaving me alone.
She just might be the cleverest of the lot.
I chewed angrily, trying to quell the fury inside me. The Boy left briefly but then came back again because he’s a fool—although, he did bring my favorite book with him, so perhaps not an utter fool. Just mostly one.
I tried to read but I couldn’t concentrate. Not only because of the roiling tide of emotions within, but because something else was nagging at me. That mystery ingredient. I had placed so much hope on it, but the panacea was too dangerous to use.
But could I isolate just that ingredient and test it in my formula?
The Boy startled when I flung my book aside and raced back to the laboratory. I had isolated some of the ingredient before when using my Separator. Could I also remove the taint of whatever the alchemists had done to it?
The Separator requires more work on the Boy’s part, but once I explained what I hoped to do, he agreed to humor this whim. Once I had an isolated sample of the mystery ingredient, I mixed it in a vial with some of my formula.
Now, it was time to duck behind some tables.
I ran an electrical current through the vial—and there was no explosion. I don’t know if I was able to remove whatever alchemical property had been added to the panacea or if it required all the ingredients to be together for the volatile element to be activated. On its own, though, it seemed to be fine.
But what about the ultimate test?
I applied this enhanced formula to the specimen, went through with my standard procedure…
There was a twitch.
This wasn’t the same sort of twitch from attempt five. This was more. This was…significant. The body moved, lurched, ready to climb to its feet…
But then it stopped. It fell back to the table, as dead as it was before, but for a moment there had been something.
The amount of the mystery ingredient I had managed to isolate was so small, it must not have been enough to resurrect the specimen all the way…but it had been enough to wake it briefly.
I need more. I still don’t know what this ingredient is, but I need more.
My instinct seems to have been correct. This ingredient is the key. The attempt on my life may just be worth it if I can procure more.
Of course, procuring more means asking Solomon and Rahul for it. And they have just tried to kill me.
This will be a challenging conversation.
[kitten mewls]
The cat is getting hungry again. It’s two sets of eyes stare at me, like an old man woken angrily from his nap. The Boy is exhausted from the day’s work…I’ll have to attend to it in a moment.
But there is one more thing.
Curious as to what this mystery ingredient had done to the specimen to finally produce successful—if albeit temporary—results, I performed on autopsy on it. The Boy left the room at this point, coughing from the exertion of working the Separator and the electric conductor so soon after one another, but I know he left not to rest but to avoid the sight of the body splayed and dissected.
As I analyzed the organs and other internal structures, I noticed the body was as fresh as Herman had promised—and yet, there were already signs of decay.
The most egregiously affected area unfortunately also happened to be the most vital—the brain.
I imagine this body had not been stored in optimal conditions prior to it being brought here, but the damage to the brain was significant. The cause of death had been a reaction to some substance that had closed off the specimen’s throat. Could that have damaged the brain like this? No, I think it’s more than that…
Every opportunity I have had to perform an autopsy has shown me that the brain can decompose far more rapidly than the other organs of the body. The rate varies, but I’ve cracked open skulls of bodies dead not even a full week and yet the brain had already liquified while the rest of the organs remained largely intact.
I need a healthy brain for resurrection to work. Without one, the body will not function. The longer the body has been dead, the more the brain becomes useless to me.
Even a day and a half was too much in this case.
I don’t think I can wait more than a day to use a specimen. It is too much of a risk of the brain failing. Even a full day is too much.
I need a body that is…fresh…only a matter of hours between its demise and its landing on my table. How many hours, I don’t know, but with what I saw inside this skull today I wouldn’t wait more than twelve.
Perhaps, even less than that.
For best results, I need a specimen that has only just died. I might even need a body that is not quite cold.
I don’t know how Herman will be able to procure one so fresh and bring it for the Boy to bring to me. Not unless…
But how fresh the body is doesn’t matter if I don’t have the proper ingredients for my formula. I need more of that panacea—no, I need that one component of it, that little mystery.
I need to speak with Solomon and Rahul. I need to see what it was they intended to do to me. And I need to see if I can get more of that ingredient—whether they want me to have it or not.