The Smell of Telescopes Read Free

cheeks, they swung like the pendulums of a cuckoo death, the optic nerves of one entangling with those of the other, braiding his visionary sense into that of a Siamese cyclops.
    For the first time in his life, one eye was able to directly stare at its twin. It was a different shape, feminine—for the lashes high above were fluttering. Many parts he; now they were leaving him, returning home, and he almost recollected an earlier dissolution, numerous accidents. Mina, he realised, had returned to the mole on his neck. It was not a mole after all, but a bolt, with a screw-thread which passed through his throat. It held his head to his shoulders and she was loosening it with an adjustable spanner. It came out with an inner screech, and his skull began to wobble alarmingly. He attempted to stand, but he lacked knees: they lay under the desk. And every cell of his body rejoiced to be liberated from an unnatural fusion.
    There was still time to ring for assistance. Limbless, voiceless, there was only one course of action available. He nodded at the bell and his head fell from his torso, rolling on the polished surface of the desk and knocking the bell over the edge. It tinkled once as it landed. Then, before utter blackness blew into every corner of his mind, he became aware of the wall splitting from ceiling to floor. It was a concealed door, and through it came an ancient figure, thin and menacing, with a shock of white hair and a peculiar limp. Was this the Bank Manager? His hopes fell with his blood-pressure as the figure cried:
    “Tough luck, Mina. The practical is always the hardest part.”
    “Sorry, Doctor Waldman. I tried my best.”
    “I know you did.”
    “It was nearly right. After my theory exam I was so confident. But there was a trace of compassion buried in its subconscious. It had to be destroyed. A single flaw and the creature is useless.”
    “This is a discipline for perfectionists, Mina. I believe you will do better in the resits.”
    “I hope so, Doctor Waldman. I certainly intend to use these limbs again. They performed very well. But the head is not right. Back to the morgue, I think!”
    “Let me help you cram all the pieces in your handbag. You are my favourite student, Mina, and I know you will go far. I feel it in my selection of hearts.”
    “My only wish is to emulate Victor Frankenstein.”
    “Oh, you will surpass his achievements. Your aptitude is as staggering as your originality. What a remarkable project for your finals! The Utterly Evil Banker!”
    Together they passed through the door, locking it behind them. The props would remain until the examination room could be booked for a resit.
    In a corridor of the University, Mina stopped and clutched at Doctor Waldman's sleeve. Her eyes were like icecaps awaiting a mysterious sledge.
    “I must succeed,” she said, “for the sake of the human race. The centuries to come will be characterised by unrestrained progress. Science will give us weapons of which we cannot conceive. Motorised guns which can spray thousands of bullets every minute, flying machines which can level whole cities with explosives, armoured wagons and undersea boats, rockets capable of sending germs or poisons to distant countries in a matter of hours, unimagined sources of destructive power borrowed from the sun, mystic rays to blind or carve up crowds, electric gadgets able to monitor and punish citizens. In short, everything necessary for autocrats to stamp their psychoses over the nations of the world! And who will create these devastating tools? Graduates, that’s who! What better way to limit their excesses than to nip them in the grant?”
    “You always grasp the big picture, Mina.”
    “We must ensure that as many students as possible are discouraged from graduating. They must be mercilessly harassed at the fresher stage until they drop out. Naturally, there will be those who refuse to abandon their studies, but I can’t be expected to cure the problem, merely