Gideon Smith and the Mechanical Girl by David Barnett Page B
Authors: David Barnett
Tags: Fantasy
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Immediately it began flapping around madly on the desk, its eyes swiveling, its ratcheting cries echoing around the room. I observed the thing for an hour before putting it out of its misery.
I need something bigger.
April 4, 1888 , I have a heavy heart, but I knew what I must do. It is what Baxter would have wanted, being a very scientific cat, and his sad but natural death affords me an opportunity. As exciting as the impulses from the artifact are, do they necessarily indicate anything more than an advanced form of electrical charge allowing the nerves to “remember” their function in life? The real test is whether individual tastes and even memories of a specific living thing can be carried over and recharged by the artifact after death.
I wasted no time in attaching Baxter. Oh, the joy at seeing his eyes open and look at me! A test was called for. Baxter had always been a contrary cat, and unlike his brethren shunned fish. But he had a great love for chicken. I had Crowe bring me two bowls, one of tuna and one of chicken, which I placed before the reanimated cat.
He went straight for the chicken! It was not mere automatic electrical impulses driving Baxter. He had been restored to his former life and memories. Or at least partially . . . although he expressed his former interest in food, he seemed to regard me with blankness, as though he did not remember me at all. The poor thing was in pain and I swiftly administered a large dose of morphine, to keep him alive but unconscious.
I am somewhat at a loss what to do next. I know what I wish to do, what needs to be done, but dare I cross that threshold? And, if so, how?
June 9, 1888— More complications. Although the artifact gives life, it does not sustain it. I have had to allow poor Baxter to die a second death. His organs and flesh continued to deteriorate and putrefy, despite the reanimation, and he was in great pain even with the morphine. What use is returned life if the body continues to decompose? Conversely, Baxter’s brain remained in a state of preservation within the hollow of the artifact. I have heard of such things . . . experiments carried out with pyramidal shapes preserved foodstuffs longer than the same items kept within cubic boxes.
June 10, 1888— I am once again indebted to Crowe for his observations. We were having lunch and he wondered aloud whether a brain attached to an artifact would power a non-living device, such as perhaps Bob or Maria. Bob, of course, is our lawnmower man, while Maria is perhaps my crowning achievement in the field of automata: a life-sized doll with such intricate clockwork workings she can perform astonishing feats of dexterity, and even dance. Hmm.
June 12, 1888— Success, but of an abominable sort. I managed to transfer the artifact, containing Baxter’s brain, into the headspace of Maria. I connected her workings to the artifact and wound her up. She began to gambol about on all fours, sniffing at Baxter’s bowls and rubbing her torso against my leg, as though indeed a cat in semi- human form. It was quite disconcerting, though Crowe seemed to find it all delightful. I disconnected her at once and ordered Crowe to bury Baxter’s rotting corpse, brain and all. What is this strange device, and what can be its purpose? I dare not conceive of what I must do next. I dare not. But I must.
June 15, 1888— Another visit from Mr. W, who was “just passing.” He wishes to know if my investigations into the Atlantic Artifact have borne much fruit. I did not reveal my full notes to him, but said progress was continuing apace. He asked pointedly if I required any further resources. I hesitated for but a moment. W. is a man of secrets and shadows, and while I do not feel he can be completely trusted, I imagine he is my best chance for what I require.
I told him I needed a fresh human brain.
He stroked his moustache and regarded me with a most ominous stare, but nodded. “Surprisingly, that is possible,” he
I need something bigger.
April 4, 1888 , I have a heavy heart, but I knew what I must do. It is what Baxter would have wanted, being a very scientific cat, and his sad but natural death affords me an opportunity. As exciting as the impulses from the artifact are, do they necessarily indicate anything more than an advanced form of electrical charge allowing the nerves to “remember” their function in life? The real test is whether individual tastes and even memories of a specific living thing can be carried over and recharged by the artifact after death.
I wasted no time in attaching Baxter. Oh, the joy at seeing his eyes open and look at me! A test was called for. Baxter had always been a contrary cat, and unlike his brethren shunned fish. But he had a great love for chicken. I had Crowe bring me two bowls, one of tuna and one of chicken, which I placed before the reanimated cat.
He went straight for the chicken! It was not mere automatic electrical impulses driving Baxter. He had been restored to his former life and memories. Or at least partially . . . although he expressed his former interest in food, he seemed to regard me with blankness, as though he did not remember me at all. The poor thing was in pain and I swiftly administered a large dose of morphine, to keep him alive but unconscious.
I am somewhat at a loss what to do next. I know what I wish to do, what needs to be done, but dare I cross that threshold? And, if so, how?
June 9, 1888— More complications. Although the artifact gives life, it does not sustain it. I have had to allow poor Baxter to die a second death. His organs and flesh continued to deteriorate and putrefy, despite the reanimation, and he was in great pain even with the morphine. What use is returned life if the body continues to decompose? Conversely, Baxter’s brain remained in a state of preservation within the hollow of the artifact. I have heard of such things . . . experiments carried out with pyramidal shapes preserved foodstuffs longer than the same items kept within cubic boxes.
June 10, 1888— I am once again indebted to Crowe for his observations. We were having lunch and he wondered aloud whether a brain attached to an artifact would power a non-living device, such as perhaps Bob or Maria. Bob, of course, is our lawnmower man, while Maria is perhaps my crowning achievement in the field of automata: a life-sized doll with such intricate clockwork workings she can perform astonishing feats of dexterity, and even dance. Hmm.
June 12, 1888— Success, but of an abominable sort. I managed to transfer the artifact, containing Baxter’s brain, into the headspace of Maria. I connected her workings to the artifact and wound her up. She began to gambol about on all fours, sniffing at Baxter’s bowls and rubbing her torso against my leg, as though indeed a cat in semi- human form. It was quite disconcerting, though Crowe seemed to find it all delightful. I disconnected her at once and ordered Crowe to bury Baxter’s rotting corpse, brain and all. What is this strange device, and what can be its purpose? I dare not conceive of what I must do next. I dare not. But I must.
June 15, 1888— Another visit from Mr. W, who was “just passing.” He wishes to know if my investigations into the Atlantic Artifact have borne much fruit. I did not reveal my full notes to him, but said progress was continuing apace. He asked pointedly if I required any further resources. I hesitated for but a moment. W. is a man of secrets and shadows, and while I do not feel he can be completely trusted, I imagine he is my best chance for what I require.
I told him I needed a fresh human brain.
He stroked his moustache and regarded me with a most ominous stare, but nodded. “Surprisingly, that is possible,” he
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