Frankenstein Theory (15 page)

Igor looked at me, a twinge of pain coloring his cheeks and eyes. “I have endured much worse, Doctor.”

“
You do understand we cannot stop him. This might be the only means for him to channel his mental and physical return.”

The pain on Igor’s face resurfaced with the realization that he would be the creature’s keeper as he continued the macabre concerto.

I looked from Igor to the man at the piano, and back again to Igor. “Understand, Igor, this signifies the Frankenstein Theory is sound. We have the means at our disposal to create man.”

Igor stood from his repast and turned to face me, a twisted smile gracing his mouth. “You are a god, Doctor.”

The creature continued his musical discovery in the background. Every so often, the notes would be punctuated with a grunt, growl, or groan.

Igor tossed a glance toward our ghoulish pianist. “What do we do now, Doctor?”

There was no hesitation in my answer, no cause to give extraneous thought life. “We allow him the time he needs to return.”

The creature paused his exploration and turned his bloodshot gaze to me. The flicker of candlelight glinted off the bolt in his left temple. His lips peeled away to reveal teeth splintered from stress and stained with blood. A rough sound rose from deep within his throat…the sound of threat, of menace, of hatred. Though he had little control over his faculties, it seemed recognition flicked behind his eyes.

Would revenge soon follow?

Every instinct within me begged that I confront the creature, speak to him…at him, as if he were mine to instruct, command. Yet…the menace behind his gaze dared me
come near
.

The creature returned to the instrument in order to communicate with the gods of life and death; each note a plea for forgiveness or permission to destroy. Instead of disrupting his singular moment of truth, I backed away, whispering to Igor with each step. “Let him play through the night, should he choose. As for your part, I want my lab spotless by morning.”

“
Y-yes, Doctor.” Igor turned to begin the process of cleaning. I grabbed him by the shoulder and eased him back into the chair at my desk.

“
Finish your meal first. Never let it be said that Victor Frankenstein is a tyrant.”

Igor glanced up at me, his eyes and smile narrow. “Thank you, Doctor Frankenstein.”

With that, I slowly made my way up the stairs and returned to my place beside Elizabeth.

E I G H T E E N

Morning broke through the tapestries to dance light across my eyelids. I’d only just fallen asleep, it seemed. My mind raced around every possibility regarding the creature in my laboratory. What would he become? Man or monster? Would I ever enjoy the thrill of introducing the man to science? Or would he forever remain relegated to the shadows, fettered to a piano?

The sounds of Elizabeth dressing seduced me from my reverie. She must have known I’d returned to bed at such a late hour, otherwise she’d already have plucked me from my slumber. I played along, feigning sleep in order to enjoy a moment of peace.

Elizabeth opened the door to the room and escaped the silence.

Before I managed to drift off into a blissful sanctuary of far-off dreamscapes, it dawned on me that she could possibly hear the sounds of the monstrous symphony rising from below. Or worse, had I even remembered to pull the door to the laboratory closed? I drew in a ragged breath that stuttered across my lungs and caused my heart to skip a beat or two.

Exhaustion and I were never good bedfellows.

My feet touched down on the cold marble floor of the bedroom. My slippers were nowhere to be found. I stood and shuddered against the chills racing up my legs. My heavy woolen robe wrapped me in a false sense of security, but protected me from the cold morning air.

I grabbed the handle of the door and twisted. With breath firmly in check, I pulled the door open and waited for the dreadful sounds of clashing notes to waft into the room.

Nothing came.

My heart beat steady once again.

I shuffled into the hall and down the grand staircase. With every step, I expected a moan or pounding fist against keys straining to remain in tune. Instead, my ears were rewarded with the lilting sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. Relief flooded my system.

My truth begged that I head back to the lab. At the moment, sloughing off the thoughts of the creature’s progression was an impossible task. He consumed my every moment. There would be no escape for either mind or motivation. The creature…the work…was everything. Venturing into the breakfast room to spend a meaningless moment with Elizabeth and Mother would only delay a very crucial inevitability.

Creation.

I had to spend time with that which I had wrought. I had to help him reform the connections of memory. Certainly this creature wouldn’t survive when his only tie to reality was a piano. I didn’t care what Shakespeare had said. If music were the food of life, than I was its creator…so the only one to play on would be me.

And science.

And theory.

I opted to bypass the morning meal and head straight for the laboratory. There would always be time for another meal with my wife. The opportunity to help mold and reshape a reanimated corpse might come only once. This was my chance…my time. I had to take this moment and make it mine.

Thankfully, the door to the passageway was closed. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I vanished inside my study and then into the dungeon-like hall that led to the stone staircase. The second I entered the passage, the sound of piano greeted my ears—only this time, the music was a bit more refined. The chaotic spread of notes still remained, but there was more familiarity in the playing of each note…as if the player understood the profound connection between musician and instrument.

I descended the stairs and, in the doing, spied Igor sprawled on the very table where the creature was brought to life. My heart momentarily locked up. Was my assistant dead, or dormant? If deceased, had the creature performed the deed?

Each step of bare foot onto cold stone seemed to bring another carefully plucked note rising heavenward. By the time I reached the floor of the laboratory, the slowly played notes teased an actual melody.

“
He’s been playing those same twelve notes for the last two hours.” Igor sat up and rubbed his pinhole eyes with the palms of his hands. “I would give anything to strangle that man right now.”

I offered a brotherly pat to Igor’s unsullied shoulder. “Why don’t you sneak out? The women are in the kitchen enjoying breakfast. I’m certain you could use a break.”

Igor hopped off the table and stretched to the limits of his twisted spine. “I will gladly take you up on that.”

“
You need to return tonight, Mr. Fishka.”

Igor nodded and climbed the stairs with difficulty. I watched and wondered how the little man had managed to navigate the waters of an already challenging existence with the added baggage of deformity pulling him down into the depths of darkness.

When I heard the door to the passage close, I turned to the creature seated before the piano. He sat, fully upright, both hands on the keys. A marked improvement over the slouched, one-handed posture from mere hours ago.

The biggest challenge facing me at the moment was that I had to pull him from the instrument of his affections. How would this affect his demeanor?

“
Here we are, maestro,” I said cautiously. “I need to run a few tests. In order to do that–” I made to grab the man’s arms, only to have him lash out against my grip and swing with purpose at my head. The look in his eyes hinted at a mind-leveling madness. I raised my hands in surrender. “I understand.” With a gesture to the piano, I channeled as much gentleness as I could muster. “Play on, my friend.”

Instead of tapping away at the keys, the creature turned to face me and, with that same menace in his eyes, made an attempt to stand. He dropped like a stone gargoyle to the floor and unleashed a woeful cry for help. Instinctively, I reached out to lend the creature a hand. He snaked his fingers around my wrist and jerked me to the floor.

His hot, rancid breath escaped his lips and spilled over my face as he pulled me nearer his gaping maw.

“
There’s no need for…”

The creature shook his head in a slow, subtle motion. Tears welled and slipped free from duct and lid until both cheeks and floor were flooded with misery.

“
You
know
,” I whispered. “This isn’t pain you display. You understand what I’ve done.”

The creature continued weeping and eased his grip. I slipped my arm from his grasp and stood, holding a hand out to aid the man. He willingly, carefully clasped my forearm in his and nodded. I pulled him to his feet and returned him to the piano. Without hesitation, he placed his fingers on the keys, took in a slow, solemn breath, and played.

The notes fell into a perfect, harmonious structure. Gone was the chaotic storm of sound, in its place a melody of such heartbreaking beauty, it was all I could do to not join the creature in weeping as he played.

What had I done? My goal was to create life alone. The bittersweet truth was that I’d created a soul…one who, in turn, held a profound connection to the creation of art.

Truth begets art. My truth, seated at the piano…my art.

“
Your name,” I started, and was shocked that the creature pulled his hands away from the keys as if they’d grown hot. He turned to me, his eyes begging for release from the trapped state of ignorance. “Your name is Johann Grimm.” I remembered the name Igor and I had agreed upon and borrowed the surname from an old family friend. “You were in a tragic accident.” I layered the lie. “You were brought to me at death’s door, in need of surgery. I promise you will enjoy a full recovery, but it will take time. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t bother to answer, at least not with words. Instead, he turned back to the piano and played; only this time, his delicate, lithe fingers offered up a most familiar melody.

“
I know that,” I spoke with the glee of a child spotting Herr Kringle trudging through the snow in a midnight lark. “Mozart. Piano concerto 21.”

It wasn’t perfect. In fact, the melody was broken and arrhythmic at times. But there it was; my creation…creating.

As Johann offered every ounce of concentration he could muster to the piano, I turned my attention to the bolts in his temples. There was no sign of infection, no indication the body had rejected the foreign objects. Hair had also begun to regrow. Soon the telling scars and hardware would vanish from sight, to leave behind the monstrous facade.

Suddenly, the music fell to silence and Johann titled his head to one side. He brought a hesitant finger to one of the keys and tapped the note to life. As the sound faded, he attempted to match the pitch with his voice. The tonality was rough, fragile, and slightly flat…but it was there.

He shook his head and returned to playing the melody. At the same spot in the progression, he stopped and repeated the earlier behavior, only this time he played and sang back a different note. Delighted, he nodded and replayed the melody with what I could only assume to be a corrected pitch.

I stared on in shock. What I had just witnessed would set the scientific community abuzz with speculation and envy. Johann, this man whom I’d returned from death, had displayed signs of self-awareness and intelligence. Every boundary between life and death had crumbled at the behest of my skills.

“
Johann,” I said quietly, so as to avoid startling the man. “Prior to your accident, you’d studied piano and music composition. You were considered a prodigy by most. I have every intention of returning you to your former glory. Wouldn’t you enjoy performing again?”

The creature ceased playing and heaved a great sigh. As his shoulders drooped, so too did his head. I saw the slightest hint of a nod. With marked caution, I hovered a nervous hand over the man’s shoulder. “I’ll see to it that a recital is arranged when you’re ready.”

Another sigh. This time, however, the creature didn’t attack when my hand met his body. In fact, the human connection seemed to bring some semblance of relief to the man. He returned to the melody…even as my hand remained.

N I N E T E E N

Elizabeth gave my hand a squeeze. “I never thought I’d get the great Victor von Frankenstein to attend an opera.”

“
My dear, I feel as though I should be offended by that comment,” I chided.

“
You should certainly be offended.” Elizabeth grinned and gave my fingers another squeeze. “I only tease you, Victor.”

“
I should say so, Elizabeth. I have been a patron of nearly every form of art. And, lest you forget, my family has endowed numerous students over the years. The Frankensteins are generous when it comes to music, the theater, dance…”

“
Victor,” Elizabeth turned her gaze toward me. “You need not tell me these things. I am quite aware of your family’s philanthropic nature.”