The manuscript lets out a dull thud as it drops to the table. Ilian sighs as he reaches for the bottle to pour another glass before thinking better of it. He pushes it aside, head in hands. This was the first piece of text that required a certain level of inebriation to get through, and if the concepts expressed in it weren’t as intriguing as they were he would have tossed it into the bin. Still, it was an unexpected piece to find within the old study. How it had come into the possession of his family he was still unsure, but nevertheless he was glad that he had for all the aches and pains he went through following its contents’ protagonist.
To do more than to just revive dead flesh, but to create a fully formed individual from it…
Absently his hands reach for paper and pen, beginning to jot down a mixture of ‘what if’s?’, diagrams memorized from textbooks, shaky sketches of humanoid designs, and guesses as to how far the boundaries of the form could be stretched. Was the large size of the creation strictly to match the creator’s ego or to leave a sizable margin of error? Or part of the aesthetic choices rather than practical? What about the potential complications that could arise…
New questions and potential solutions popped up one after the other, all of them poured out into the pages of his journal, coming in faster than his hand could keep up with at points. Inspiration and annoyance settling him on the wall between sobriety and drunkenness. His thoughts became more disjointed as the hours passed but in a way he felt as though an outline was actually beginning to form, slowly being chipped away and carved into a coherent vision, writing until there was nothing left to write.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
While the relative seclusion of the grounds worked in his favor to a degree, it also made getting the much needed resources a hassle to be delivered or moved in. As he began to amass the necessities and begin drafting up plans for the machinery he moved to the dining room on the ground floor where it provided both ample room for his designs and a safer exit than the second story (not to mention easier on the knees.) It was also now lined with all manner of small animals (courtesy of the resident stray) in jars of preservatives with a few pinned open for temporary study, which were not particularly suitable for general company.
Months of testing and scouring the libraries of the surrounding cities enabled him to revive dead tissue within a certain amount of time after death. It took a few weeks more to keep them from reverting back to their previous state and when he had finally managed to revive the body of a rat he felt what he realized was a flicker of excitement.
Except it was only the body. The shell. The organs, while no longer in a state of decay, refused to perform. When he got past that obstacle, created instruments that would allow the innards to function, he was left with a body that was technically alive, but not a true living being.
The brain he focused on next, because surely that was where the gaps in his knowledge lied. He often wishes his predecessor had left more detailed notes about his process and the trigger for the actual ‘awakening.’ But while the search is tedious, he finds comfort in the familiarity of research, confidence growing as he refreshes his memory, beginning to consume all he could find in reference to the organ and updating his internal library with the newest studies. It reminds him of his university days, when he was younger and more passionate, filled with an insatiable desire to do more and know more.
He’s finding that again, he thinks, and idly wonders when the spark had begun to dim.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Perhaps it was a mixture of pride and ego, but as Ilian looks upon his finished creation he can’t understand how someone could turn and flee. Maybe his feelings would change when they awoke, and he would feel the same sense of dread and terror after the fact, crushed under the weight of what he has done. But for now all that he feels is a growing sense of anticipation as his hand hovers above the button. He takes a breath, steeling himself, and presses.
Machinery begins to whir to life, his jaw clenching as the lights flicker briefly. He had done all he could to ensure the fuses wouldn’t burst or cut out mid-sequence, but he has lived long enough to know that oftentimes plans go awry in irritating and unpredictable ways. Quietly he mutters a prayer for the first time since childhood as he monitors the readings, asking for the life being drawn into the vessel safe passage as opposed to forgiveness he knew would not be given. The lights flicker for a minute more before they finally settle alongside the hiss and clank of gears and valves.
Power surges and dips periodically, causing a few of the bulbs to burst and the metal to heat but so long as the core components remained, Ilian kept his focus on his creation’s inert form, gripping tight to the head of his cane. He listens to the thrum of the current within the cables and wires that run along the baseboards of the dining room, traces the waves upon the paper that prints, glances back up at the figure.
Gradually the whiring begins to slow, quieting. The static clinging to the air begins to fade, the door to the tank popping open with a hiss. He waits until all the lights dim and the room goes quiet before approaching. Gently he pops out the tubes connected to various points of his creation’s body, taking a few steps back, and waits.
Sp00ki
avril
Fetzen
IAmAugustReign
Vampiretwilight
Snowdrops
Vertigo
Sotiras