Выбрать главу

Until I saw the pea and its uncaring perfection.

The most fragile of pieces owed its safety to a transparent dome, an inanimate device, not to me. The doctor believed my work insufficient. He displayed the pea to prove the inanity of my task, and the cruel man had expected my curiosity to take over. He had wanted me to see the pea.

Brass clasps held the rim of the bell jar fixed to the marble pedestal. I fingered one, jerked my hand away. Overwhelmed by my audacity, I forced myself to step out of range, and glanced at other pieces that rested under their glass shields, forever impervious to the impalpable powders of time. One of the bells protecting a gilded mask had a spidery crack at the base that ended with a chink in the glass rim. The enemy had defeated all defences and penetrated the sanctuary. Trails of insectile feet crisscrossed the ebony floor around the mask. A fly had traced a series of doodling circles in the dust before extending its six legs in the rigour of death. What could my honest work do against such power of insinuation?

I spun other bells around and examined them under every angle. A few clasps were open or not fully cinched over the small indents in the pedestals. Worse still, I discovered a greater number of subtly broken glass surfaces. Bent on ignoring the pieces themselves, concentrating on the dust, I had never noticed any blemishes. Fear scratched tiny claws at my heart. At least one third of the stored bell jars had flaws that allowed decay to invade them. They were sly traitors collaborating with the armies of dissolution. I gripped the edge of the nearest table. Dr. Lambshead knew the shelves like his pockets. He had known the truth all the time. I was his alibi in an illusory resistance. I clenched my fists, fingernails digging into my palms.

And the pea, the only ordinary piece in that unbelievable collection. . . . The doctor couldn’t trust a fragile glass case to protect it. To showcase a perfectly preserved specimen, he surely replaced it at the first sign of corruption, as a statement of short-lived flawlessness.

I went to fetch one of the tallow candles from the pantry. Back in the basement, I drew the drapes that concealed the sink and pushed the candle into the plastic siphon. I struck a long match used for the hearth and lit the wick. I counted on the flame to consume the plastic siphon and create a cloud of soot. It had happened to my cousin once removed when she had inadvertently dropped a candle in the sink after cleaning up the dinner table. The wick was still burning and the siphon had simmered all night, along with the plastic pipe, spitting out particles of soot. She and her husband had awoken to an apartment covered in a layer of greasy black stuff that stuck to every object.

The pea of record. On a cushion.

For the first time since I had begun working there, I opened jars, bottles, boxes, and set the objects free. The tour of the shelves took more than the usual three hours. By then, black particles fluttered about, spurting from the slow-burning plastic under the drain, blackening the unprotected pieces with myriad new soldiers of doom.

I rolled up my sleeves, plunged my rag into a bucket of soapy water, and smiled. Let the best one win.

My plan did not include sparks shooting out of the carbonized siphon. The drape took fire, which I noticed only when the fire reached an electric socket and the light went out. The auxiliary lighting bathed the basement in red. Petrified, I watched the flames lick a nearby shelf.

The side effect of my experiment shocked me at first and then thrilled me. I had intended to measure my skills against a formidable greasy black dust, but I had acted as an agent of purification by creating a cleansing fire.

I unclasped the bell, lifted it, and snatched the pea from under the protective dome. Now I held the doctor’s most precious item between my index finger and thumb—the only symbol of life in a collection of dead objects. I pictured myself slipping the pea into an envelope, along with my resignation.

The pea was very heavy. The skin had lost its glossy polish, growing rough, lumpy. Unnaturally warm.

I threw the thing into the flames. It exploded like a firecracker, in a spray of blue sparks. I ran to the basement door and slammed it behind me.

Like every day before, I went home happy.

Happier.

A Brief Catalog of Other Items

The discovery of the half-burned subterranean space devoted to Dr. Lambshead’s cabinet of curiosities created an urgent need to sort through the wreckage and document “survivors.” A number of experts helped catalog both the remains and the occasional miraculous find of an undamaged object. The most interesting of these items have been described below by the experts who discovered, cleaned, and researched them. Where appropriate, we have also included photographs, illustrations, and diagrams in support of these findings. Not every conclusion reached herein has been verified independently.

Bear Gun—Long-barreled flintlock rifle, four feet butt to muzzle, made from timber that traces back to a species of hickory previously abundant in the Appalachians and long thought to be extinct. When fired, it releases a live bear as a projectile. The bear expands in a matter of seconds from the size of a musket ball to full size, at which point it latches onto its target and devours it noisily. Documents found partly scorched in Dr. Lambshead’s cabinet claim the use of the gun in the American Civil War for political assassinations. The scene of a vicious bear attack often permitted assassins an avenue for escape, while journalists and the government revised the facts of such events due to their absurd nature. A receipt wrapped around the barrel carries the signature of one John T. Ford, but the fire left the cost and date of the transaction unknown. (Adam Mills)

Bullet Menagerie—A clear surface two feet square and one inch in thickness, with the consistency of cold Vaseline. Metal shutters on each side, labeled A and B, may be opened or closed by button-press. When the A shutter is open, a projectile fired at the pane with a velocity greater than ten feet per second will remain trapped within the medium. Opening the B shutter will cause it to exit with its original length and velocity. Inscribed by the inventor: Chas. Shallowvat, 1788. An inventory sheet indicates that the menagerie preserves live bullets fired by French, Prussian, Ottoman, Hanoverian, Etrurian, Swedish, and unidentified forces, which Shallowvat managed to capture while traveling during the Napoleonic Wars. Upon acquiring the menagerie, Dr. Lambshead, perhaps thinking that opening the B shutter would also reopen an infelicitous period in the history of Europe, neglected to verify its contents. (Nick Tramdack)

The very coffin torpedo from Lambshead’s collection.

Coffin Torpedo—Ostensibly of the Clover type, though considerably smaller than other unexploded specimens originating in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Devices like these were used to discourage the very real threat of grave-violation by Resurrectionists, and their armament packages typically contained powder, shot, chain, etc. The triggering lever on this item is removed, thankfully, but it should be noted that the munition here is not of any recognizable type—warm to the touch, and emitting a surprising amount of detectable radiation for so small an object. (Jess Gulbranson)

"This is one of only several existing images of a bear rumored to have been fired from a bear gun. That this bear was thus fired is assumed based on visible friction burns in its fur, most notably on one of its front legs and its back (the latter is evident in an accompanying photograph, not reprinted due to permission issues). The bear seems to have been shot with a taxidermy gun postmortem, as evidenced by stitches visible in hairless patches on its body. The bear’s owner has so far ignored requests for fur samples, despite the need for carbon dating.” (Adam Mills)