Decay

I remain ever suspecting of the precise moment of my demise. However, there is very little anticipation that I have yet encountered while in postulation of death. There is no difficulty in placing an exact origin to the unmentionable epochs I attribute to these thoughts; I recall that I began medical school on a Tuesday of November 23, 1999. Ever since my utmost youth had I an avid interest of that of medicine, later culminating in a great desire to learn all that there is of human anatomy. Therefore, it was no bafflement that I excelled at medical school. Nor was it subtle that my instructors regarded my apparent prodigious knowledge with great interest, so much so that it soon came to my attention that my presence was required in the uppermost tier of the medical school where I attended.

As may be expected, this was where a convention of the most prestigious medical professionals in the area conducted work nearly every day. When I entered, I first came to the realization that there was almost complete silence aside from the quiet murmurings that indicated solemn conversations were being held. My second realization was that a rather corpulent man was advancing towards me at a quick pace that maintained the ubiquitous silence of the room. The conversation that ensued with the man, he revealed unto me that his name was Dr. Gregory Wilson, holds no great importance itself and so I will not repeat it. However, it did somewhat set in motion the events of this wretched tale.

Dr. Wilson informed me that the staff of the medical school had noticed my advanced efforts of unraveling the field of anatomy, and that subsequently a decision had been arrived at that I shall come within contact with one Dr. Franklin Delapore V. I have never been prone to strong sensations of emotion, being a dubious logician; however, at the name of Dr. Franklin Delapore I felt nothing less at that moment than ecstatic enthusiasm. The name of Delapore would inevitably hold minimal meaning to one outside the field of medicine, if indeed it held meaning at all, but it would be quite shocking to hear the same reply of a medical professional. At the very least from one in the immediate vicinity. This is because the Delapores have had an extensive impact on the field of medicine.

The name is heavily believed to have first presented itself in the year 1901 with Dr. Franklin Delapore I, who alone is responsible for numerous revolutionary theories in medicine as well as various other sciences. Every known descendant since have made great contributions to it. Although, as the years progressed, they became extensively more reclusive; only funding gracious donations to research facilities throughout the United States and making new theories known through other means rather than personal presentation. To my further surprise, I was to travel to New York in order to come within more efficient contact with Dr. Delapore. This substantially pleased me, as it could mean nothing less than a personal introduction with him.

When I had arrived in the designated state, the instructions I was given became rapidly more specific. I observed my surroundings as I assumed I was nearing the destination. The landscape gradually transitioned from urban to rural, until finally I assumed Dr. Delapore resided in isolated seclusion. Finally, I arrived at his place of residence. I observed all that I could before entering what was undoubtedly either the house of Dr. Delapore or a colleague of his. There was a great number of trees surrounding his yard and house, so that it appeared to be within a grove.

I crossed the diligently cared-for grass towards the house. Upon entering the venerably expansive house, I was once more impressed with the architecture. Despite the indubitable cleanliness of the house, a certain foetor which resembled that of rotting meat was present in the room which, for the most part, was furnished with an abundance of wood, perhaps mahogany. It suddenly occurred to me that I had not knocked upon the meticulously crafted wooden door before entering, and I pondered whether I should exit the building when a man emerged from within the somewhat hidden hallway in the far corner of the room and greeted me.

“Mr. Hardy,” he began. “Dr. Delapore thanks you for your presence. But unfortunately, he has recently had urgent matters to attend to and cannot make your acquaintance until further notice.”

“You are not him?” I inquired with a distinct sense of disappointment.

“I am afraid not,” the man replied. “My name is Dr. Victor Burtrum. I am a close colleague of Dr. Delapore’s. As you have travelled an elongated distance, the doctor sees fit that you need not return without first greeting him. Do you have access to a place to stay temporarily?”

“I do.”

“This is fortunate. Do you or will you have access to a phone?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. This is Dr. Delapore’s telephone number. He aims to contact you some time this evening in recompense for his absence.”

I gratefully accepted the small piece of paper Dr. Burtrum presented to me. I checked into a hotel I had passed in a large city upon coming to Dr. Delapore’s residence. I awaited his call with no less dissuasion than when I arrived. At last, the anticipated phone call arrived, I answered vehemently. My first recollection of hearing the voice of Dr. Franklin Delapore was that it was nothing less than unnerving.

There was some form of background resonance that made it seem as if a good portion of his speech was aided by some form of translator. What I recognized to be his natural voice sounded hollow and resembled that of the most elderly person I had ever heard. Soon, I entirely forgot the peculiarity of Dr. Delapore’s voice as it ceased to be nothing less than the harbinger of the extensive intellect I could not doubt was there. I was suddenly thrust into deep conversation with him as we discussed new ideas and reminisced on fantastic ones long since compiled. So enthralled in our discussions of our own notes on anatomy that I made the decision of extending my presence in New York.

Then came that fateful discussion that I shudder to think of and recall with horrid detail, it is as follows:

“Mr. Hardy, what is your personal opinion concerning immortality?” he questioned with utmost seriousness.

“Immortality, you say?” I replied as one might suspect when confronted with such an inquiry.

“Immortality, Mr. Hardy. It is such an awe-inspiring subject. And I believe I may have just mastered it.”

I found that I knew not how to reply for quite some time.

“Do elaborate,” I insisted.

“Meaning one merely has to create a process for cellular regeneration, or so would be the most plausible possibility,” he stated.

“Yes, one would suppose so.”

“I believe I may have devised such a way, in part.”

“Please explain.”

“I have created a serum that sustains the brain. However, this scientific breakthrough is its own weakness. The serum sustains the brain and only the brain, subjecting the rest of the body to decomposition and rigor mortis.”

“Most unfortunate. But think of the applications this can have on minor or major brain injuries.”

“You really must focus on the larger scale, Hardy. We are discussing the prospect of human immortality, and you insist on maintaining the current feeble form of our species. What I propose is a solution already devised. A series of electrical pulses applied to the appendages superseding the nervous system and directed through the brain.”

“That’s brilliant, doctor. Albeit immoral.”

“Whatever do you insinuate, Hardy?”

“The brain may survive, this is true. However, you would be nothing more than a cadaver. Not to mention the rate of decomposition will remain for the majority of the body.”

“You have reminded me of the next essential step in my method. We medical professionals are nothing less than familiar with the cadaver. A potential array of apparatus for the living.”

“This is true.” I failed to make my subliminal opposition to this portion of the potential method of immortality known. "Dr. Delapore, I have to ask you something. Frankly, I find it amazing that I haven't yet brought it up."

"Of course, my dear boy, of course. Do speak your mind."

"What exactly are we doing? Forgive me, but I find myself rather disturbed by the implications involving the practicality here. Do you mean to say that we're working on someone already alive? Or, God forbid, are we talking about reanimation here?"

I recall that there was a long and penetrating silence. My breaths had become rapid and loud, and could no doubt be heard on the other end.

"Suppose we are, Hardy," Delapore broke the dreadful hiatus at last, but no relief could be drawn from this response for me. "I ask you to stand back from social convention for just a little while, just this once, and ask yourself what does scientific progression entail? What has it always entailed? We've always crossed the line, Hardy. It's always been the rate at which we've done so that's provoked disturbance with the masses. It so happens I do have a corpse at my disposal. The fact of the matter is, we can begin work immediately. This dead thing can see the world again, experience the beauty of the universe once more. We can save it from the void. This is an inevitability at this point. The only variable factor that remains is whether you want to stand with us and mean something at last."

Something about his demeanor had changed, and something within me had changed as well. God damn me if I didn't feel moved, if my horror faded with his words. We were going to change the world.

"I see what you mean." I could feel that I had now crossed a point of no return, and I didn't mind at all. "This is what I've always dreamed of. Thank you for this opportunity, doctor."

"This is what we've always dreamed of, my boy. To walk without fear at last. This corpse has been elevated supremely by our efforts. Where life had forsaken it, we shall endow it with something beautiful."

"I'm honored, sir."

“Enough of this incessant rambling. We must meet at last, Hardy-” Here Dr. Delapore succumbed to a rhythmic cough that persisted for some time. “Apologies, my lungs have grown incompetent over time. Anyhow, I regress; we must meet tomorrow at 1:00. Embarkments of grand endeavor await us.”

He proceeded to end the call, and I sat for the time being pondering all that had been discussed. The sheer fact that Delapore had chosen me to unravel the uttermost secret of anatomy excited me. I nearly found the idea of pursuing immortality to be intoxicating; for the first time in my life I felt as though death could possibly be challenged. I laid my head down upon the pillow, completely at peace. Perhaps it was the first night of a new life for me. No fear ever again is what the great doctor had promised. What were we about to embark on? I didn't care anymore. If we were to be Frankenstein, so be it. We would succeed where he had failed. I let myself fade into restful oblivion, while perhaps for the first time in history, someone dreamed delightfully with the mind filled with thoughts of reanimated corpses. Another thought crossed my mind before slumber fully overtook me, however. Dr. Delapore was brilliant, but his body was far behind mind, this was obvious to me. His coughing and his voice indicated nearly complete disrepair. I wondered just how emotionally involved he was with the pursuit of immortality. How far was he willing to go in order to save himself, I wondered, and how would it impact our efforts?

The following day at 1, I returned to the doctor’s house. Soon I found myself once more standing within the Delapore residence. The entirety of Delapore’s colleagues were there, including Dr. Gregory Wilson. It only made sense that he should inform everyone of importance of his fantastic proposition. All said not a word and all were transfixed and aghast with horror and revulsion, all but Dr. Victor Burtrum, the doctor’s closest colleague; I found this to be strange. Dr. Delapore arose from the chair and I saw him in person at last as he turned to address everyone, adorned in a robe as if in illimitable comfort, unmistakably a corpse.

What remained of his skin was somewhat brown with rot, attached tightly at some areas of the skull and hanging loosely at others. At some areas there was no skin, most noticeably on the scalp of the skull and along the ribcage. Dr. Delapore’s eyes, however, were nearly in pristine condition. Some of his facial muscles were the same; they could not be his. Electrical cords of some kind were strewn in and out of his body in numerous areas; no doubt the “circulatory system” he had devised for himself. A form of configuration of metal was noticeable in his throat, the source of his robotic speech aid. The lidless eyes he had taken from an unfortunate cadaver peered in my direction. He was the face of decay. The creature outstretched his arms in a welcoming gesture.

Dr. Burtrum addressed the audience in the room. “Esteemed colleagues, Dr. Franklin Delapore the First, Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth welcomes you!”

Dr. Delapore lurched forward in a single contrived stride as if his motion was impeded. I am unsure what exactly occurred afterwards. All that I can recall is that the blood in my head felt drained. All sound became very distant, and I turned around and left the home of Dr. Franklin Delapore. Whether there were reproachful protests in regard to my exit, I know not.

On my return home, I thought of nothing but the audacities of the doctor, so intent on preserving his life. A few days later, I received a letter with the return address from my medical school; it informed me that my attendance was no longer required. I haven’t practiced medicine since. I repeat that I do not anticipate death; to anticipate holds a certain connotative definition involving fear of an encroaching event. In this particular epoch, I found that it held a portion of truth in that to live infinitely is a harrowing prospect. When memories of said epochs present themselves, I feel a severe persistence to hinder them from presenting further; searching for any other memory that even slightly resembles joy. My only consolation is that so long as Dr. Delapore’s brain is confined to his body, he shall share the same fate of all that live. I await death’s merciful embrace.