The tall slim figure bent low over the table. A slender hand brushed delicate beads of sweat off a furrowed brow. Ice blue eyes flicked over to a clock mounted upon a white, spotless wall, then the hand reached out, paused, and flipped a red switch; off, to on.
A deep hum filled the room, a throbbing bass. Light pulsed, illuminating the table and the prone figure upon it. The slim hand reached out and caressed the sculpted cheek of the man on the table as electricity crackled and the light changed to ruby, bathing the room and its occupants in it. The faint rumble of thunder in the distance reached the lab as a mournful bell began to toll the ungodly hour. As it struck twelve, there was movement on the table. Light flashed.
When her vision cleared, Dr Victoria Frankenstein could only blink in surprise. The table was empty. Shock sent adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream and she snatched up a scalpel and spun around. Nothing. The room was empty except for her. The raging storm outside and the dying whirr of the machines were the only sounds to reach her ears.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God, oh my..."
"Someone call my name?"
Victoria whirled around; arm poised to fling the scalpel and sighed.
"Can't you knock like everyone else?"
Henry Clerval rolled his eyes and rapped on the door.
"Knock knock. Don't suppose you have any of those muesli bars left do you?"
"Help yourself."
Harry was kind where she was analytical. Compassionate where she was logical. Sensitive where she was objective. He made her a little bit more human every day.
"Harry you didn't see anything strange coming in now did you?"
He laughed. "No, why? One of your crazy experiments to save humanity's soul escape?"
"I don't know."
Harry froze. The wind howled as rain pounded the building. It was wild out there.
"What do you mean, you don't know? You always know Tory."
"Yes, well, this time, I'm not sure."
An uncomfortable silence stretched out.
"What now?"
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
He sighed. "Well if he's supposed to be our savior I guess he'll be all right won't he?"
"It's not supposed to be our savior, it's just a theory I'm trying to test."
"Remind me again, it's about some ancient philosopher?"
"They're not ancient, but yes, Locke and Rousseau were philosophers who, ah, believed in the innate innocence of man, and the corrupting influences of society. I'm trying to test if this is true if one is born - or created - as an adult, rather than a child. Would its mental facilities be that of a child or of an adult? How developed would its emotional capacities be? Can it differentiate between right and wrong? What does it define as right and wrong? Could it be capable of advanced movement or would have to be taught how to walk, talk, sit like a baby? Could it-"
"That's nice. Very academic and research-y. Right up your alley. Let's go now shall we?"
Dark, intense, dead eyes watched as Harry draped Victoria's coat over her shoulders, watched a she turned her computer off and dimmed the lights. Followed them out into the corridor where she locked her laboratory and linked arms with Harry. Saw them swipe their passes and take the lift down to the basement and leave. The eyes glowed red, and glanced over at the body on the floor. He should do something about that.
Victoria peeled the sticky note off her computer screen and sighed. I can't take it anymore. I need – I just need some time alone. To be alone, to think, to just let some steam off. She started as the phone rang.
"Frankenstein."
"Tory, have you heard yet? They've found another guard."
"What? Where?"
"In a little-used store room near the security office. Tory, this is getting serious. They only found him because he was starting to smell. First the one outside, now this guy. We're increasing the number of patrols and stationing officers around the perimeter. Something's going on, and we're struggling to find out what."
"Broken neck?" she whispered.
"Yup. We're thinking it's the same guy."
The temperature seemed to plummet. Get a grip girl. They don't call you the ice queen for nothing.
"Umm Harry. I have to cancel tonight. There's some emergency meeting and I won't be back till late. I'm sorry this is happening again. Two weeks in a row, who'd have thought?" Silence. "Harry? Are you still there?"
"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "That's ok. I'll see you soon then. And Tory. Be careful."
The dingy pub was definitely not on top of Victoria's list of places to be on a Friday night. The shabby paint, garish neon lights and damp, dark bar didn't do anything to assuage her fears. Why the hell did I choose to come here to 'let some steam off', she thought. Ugh. I really need a holiday.
She scanned the room again, feeling the perusal of the tavern's patrons. It was making her anxious. The old man staring deep into his cups like they held the secret to immortality. The young waitress trying desperately to avoid the wandering hands of drunken customers. The bartender languidly wiping his glasses with a filthy rag. The youth in the corner who seemed to be high on something. Whatever that is, I want some. She sighed. Anything to make me forget this nightmare. She glanced at her watch; it was nearly 1am. What's a girl to do when even ethanol doesn't drown her sorrows? She grabbed her coat and pushed her way past a scraggly group of teens stumbling around near the doorway. Walking briskly to her car, she could just make out a shadowy figure leaning against the bonnet.
"Hello Victoria."
He was beautiful. Perfection personified. A vision. He took her breath away lying lifeless on her table but now, living, breathing, he was practically godlike, a noble figure who belonged in the legends of the gods. The breath of life suited him well.
"Shall we go home darling? I have a lot to tell you about."
He took her keys from her hand and opened the door.
"After you. The night is still young, my lady."
Such a gentleman. Obviously he would prove Rousseau and Locke correct. Looking at him, it was hard to imagine anything but sweet naivety and gentle innocence; surely innate goodness existed and it was indeed society which twisted humanity to stoop to base, primordial depravity. But there was plenty of time for that later. She was like putty in his hands.
Victoria looked on in shock. What happened? Rousseau. Locke. I thought I'd proven them right. My research, everything all wasted. I'd never intended for it to turn out like this: wanton, ruthless and manipulating. And so attractive. I've created a monster. Unleashed a predator. She looked at her pale hands. No amount of washing can cleanse these fingers, stained by the blood of the guiltless. What now?
"It's over. You have to stop. I'm calling the police right now."
He was on her balcony, leaning casually against the railing. His black eyes flared red as they met hers, fire versus ice.
"Stop what?"
"You should be locked up for what you've done. Locked up, or worse."
He laughed, a cruel sound piercing her ears. "For what? I haven't done anything that they can prove. Of course, say, if a certain little someone were to tell them what she's seen – but again, the word of a woman driven mad by grief will make a really convincing testimony."
"Who said anything about testifying?" She reached into her purse. "I can't take any chances. You need to be stopped."
"Well then. I guess I'm going to have to persuade you otherwise. Trust me, I never intended for it to end this way. But I guess I'll have to learn to live with it."
"Goodbye –"
"Goodbye –"
They locked eyes one final time as she closed her eyes and whispered. "Goodbye, Ambition."
"The perpetrator of the recent spate of killings has been found dead with a thumb belonging to whom it is believed to be his last victim. It has been confirmed that his neck was broken in a fall, trying to escape after campers accidentally stumbled upon his hideout. In other news, the body of Dr Victoria Frankenstein has been found in her apartment. No suicide note was found, but investigators do not believe any foul play was involved. It is alleged a series of experiments gone wrong caused great mental and emotional trauma upon Dr Frankenstein, resulting in her suicide."
The hunched figure watched the television carefully through the window. Eight feet tall, with yellow skin, deep, sunken eyes and sallow cheeks, it sighed deeply. Yet another Frankenstein to succumb to the temptations of ecclesiastic knowledge. He closed his eyes. Her bloody creation had been so hard to track down. It had managed to wreak havoc upon the city for a whole three months before he stumbled upon its hovel and broke its neck. But not before he could save the young Frankenstein.
He straightened and bowed his head. A moment's silence for the beautiful, young scientist. She was it. The last Frankenstein. A cool breeze caressed his gaunt cheeks. The unstained snowy mountain tops and icy climes were beckoning him. He would build his funeral pyre, return to dust. It had been calling to him for all these years since Geneva, but he had to stay, he had a duty to the family. But now, duty fulfilled, he could rest in peace.