‘An excellent idea, Héléne,’ said my husband when the maid appeared with the champagne after our candle-lit dinner. ‘We’ll celebrate with reintegrated champagne!’ Taking the tray from the maid’s hands, he led the way down to the laboratory.
‘Do you think it will be as good as before its disintegration?’ I asked, holding the tray while he opened the door and switched on the lights.
‘Have no fear. You’ll see. Just bring it here, will you,’ he said opening the door of a telephone call-box which had been transformed into what he called a transmitter. ‘Put it down on that, now,’ he added, putting a stool inside the box.
Having carefully closed the door, he took me to the other end of the room and handed me a pair of very dark sunglasses. He put on another pair and walked back to a switchboard by the transmitter.
‘Ready, Hélène?’ he said, turning out all the lights. ‘Don’t take off your glasses until I give you the word.’
‘I won’t budge, André. Go on,’ I told him, my eyes fixed on the tray which I could just see in a greenish, shimmering light through the glass-panelled door of the telephone booth.
‘Right,’ said André, throwing a switch.
The whole room was brilliantly illuminated by an orange flash. I saw inside the booth a crackling ball of fire and I felt its heat on my face, neck, and hands. The whole thing lasted only the fraction of a second, and I found myself blinking at green-edged, black holes like those one sees after staring at the sun.
‘Et voilá! You can take off your glasses, Hélène.’
A little theatrically perhaps, my husband opened the door of the booth, and though I expected it, I was astonished to find that the champagne, glasses, tray, and stool were no longer there.
André ceremoniously led me by the hand into the next room, in a corner of which stood a second telephone booth. Opening the door wide he lifted the champagne tray off the stool.
‘Sure it’s not dangerous to drink?’ I asked him as the cork popped.
‘Absolutely sure, Hélène,’ he said, handing me a glass. ‘But that was nothing. Drink this off and I’ll show you something much more astounding.’
We went back into the other room.
‘Oh, André! Remember poor Dandelo!’
‘This is only a guinea-pig, Hélêne. But I am certain it will go through all right.’
He set the furry little beast down on the green-enamelled floor of the booth and quickly closed the door. Again I put on my dark spectacles, and saw and felt the vivid crackling flash.
Without waiting for André to open the door, I rushed into the next room where the lights were still on, and looked into the receiving booth.
‘Oh, André! He’s there all right!’ I shouted excitedly, watching the little animal trotting round and round. ‘It’s wonderful, André. It works. You’ve succeeded.’
‘I hope so, but I must be patient. I’ll know for certain in a few weeks’ time.’
‘What do you mean? Look! He’s as full of life as when you put him in the other booth.’
‘Yes, he seems so. If that little beast is still full of life in a month, we can then consider the experiment a success.’
I begged André to let me take care of the guinea-pig.
‘All right, but don’t kill it by overfeeding,’ he agreed, with a grin for my enthusiasm.
That month of waiting for success seemed a year.
I now expected that my husband would invite some of his colleagues and Air Ministry specialists to come down. He usually did this when he had finished a research job and, before handing them long, detailed reports which he always typed himself, he would carry out an experiment or two for them. But this time, he just went on working.
I was occasionally asked down to the laboratory to witness some new experiment, but I never went unless André invited me, and only talked about his work if he broached the subject first. Of course, it didn’t occur to me that he would, at that stage at least, try an experiment with a human being; though, had I thought about it – and knowing André – it should have been obvious that he would never allow anyone into the transmitter before he had been through to test it first. It was only after the accident that I discovered he had duplicated all the switches inside the disintegration booth, so that he could try it out himself.
The morning André tried this terrible experiment, he did not show up for lunch. I sent the maid down with a tray, but she brought it back with a note she had found pinned outside the laboratory door: ‘Do not disturb me, I am working.’
He did occasionally pin such notes on his door and, though I noticed it, I paid no particular attention to the unusually large handwriting of this note.
It was just after, as I was drinking my coffee, that Henri came bouncing into the room saying that he had caught a fly, and would I like to see it. Refusing even to look at his closed fist, I ordered him to let it go immediately.
‘But, Maman, it has such a funny white head!’
Marching the boy over to the window, I told him to release the fly, which he did. I knew that Henri had caught the fly merely because he thought it looked curious or
different from other flies, but I also knew that his father would never stand for any form of cruelty.
At dinnertime that evening, André had still not appeared and, a little worried, I ran to the laboratory and knocked at the door.
He did not answer my knock, but I heard him moving around and he slipped a note under the door. It was typewritten.
HELENE, I AM HAVING TROUBLE. PUT THE BOY TO BED AND COME BACK IN AN HOUR’S TIME. A.
Frightened, I knocked and called, but André did not seem to pay any attention and, vaguely reassured by the familiar noise of his typewriter, I went back to the house.
Having put Henri to bed, I returned to the laboratory where I found another note slipped under the door. My hand shook as I picked it up because I knew by then that something must be radically wrong. I read:
HELENE, FIRST OF ALL I COUNT ON YOU NOT TO LOSE YOUR NERVE OR DO ANYTHING RASH, BECAUSE YOU ALONE CAN HELP ME. I HAVE HAD A SERIOUS ACCIDENT. I AM NOT IN ANY PARTICULAR DANGER FOR THE TIME BEING, THOUGH IT IS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH. IT IS USELESS CALLING TO ME OR SAYING ANYTHING. I CANNOT ANSWER, I CANNOT SPEAK. I WANT YOU TO DO EXACTLY AND VERY CAREFULLY ALL THAT I ASK. AFTER KNOCKING THREE TIMES TO SHOW THAT YOU UNDERSTAND AND AGREE, FETCH ME A BOWL OF MILK IN WHICH YOU CAN POUR A STIFF GLASS OF RUM. I HAVE HAD NOTHING ALL DAY AND CAN DO WITH IT.
Shaking with fear, not knowing what to think, and repressing a desperate desire to call André and bang away until he opened, I knocked three times as requested and ran all the way home to fetch what he wanted. In less than five minutes I was back.
Another note had been slipped under the door.
HELENE, FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY. WHEN YOU KNOCK I’LL OPEN THE DOOR. YOU ARE TO WALK OVER TO MY DESK AND PUT DOWN THE BOWL OF MILK. YOU WILL THEN GO INTO THE OTHER ROOM WHERE THE RECEIVER IS. LOOK CAREFULLY AND TRY TO FIND A FLY WHICH OUGHT TO BE THERE BUT WHICH I AM UNABLE TO FIND. UNFORTUNATELY, I CANNOT SEE SMALL THINGS VERY EASILY. BEFORE YOU COME IN YOU MUST PROMISE TO OBEY ME IMPLICITLY. DO NOT LOOK AT ME, AND REMEMBER THAT TALKING IS QUITE USELESS. I CANNOT ANSWER. KNOCK AGAIN THREE TIMES AND THAT WILL MEAN I HAVE YOUR PROMISE. MY LIFE DEPENDS ENTIRELY ON THE HELP YOU CAN GIVE ME.
I had to wait a while to pull myself together, and then I knocked slowly three times. I heard André shuffling behind the door, his hand fumbling with the lock, and the door opened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was standing behind the door, but without looking round, I carried the bowl of milk to his desk. He was evidently watching me and I had at all costs to appear calm and collected.
‘Chéri, you can count on me,’ I said gently, and putting the bowl down under his desk lamp, the only one alight, I walked into the next room where all the lights were blazing.
My first impression was that some sort of hurricane must have blown out of the receiving booth. Paper
s were scattered in every direction, a row of test-tubes lay smashed in a corner, chairs and stools were upset, and one of the window curtains hung half torn from its bent rod. In a large enamel basin on the floor a heap of burnt documents was still smouldering.
I knew that I would not find the fly André wanted me to look for. Women know by intuition things that men only deduce by reasoning; I already knew that the fly André wanted was the one which Henri had caught and which I had made him release.
I heard André shuffling around in the next room, and then a strange gurgling and sucking as though he had trouble in drinking his milk.
‘André, there is no fly here. Can you give me any sort of indication that might help? If you can’t speak, rap on something – you know: one for yes, twice for no.’
I had tried to control my voice and speak as though perfectly calm, and I had to choke down a sob when he rapped twice for no.
‘May I come to you, André? I don’t know what can have happened, but whatever it is, I can bear it.’
After a moment of silent hesitation, he tapped once on his desk.
At the door I stopped aghast at the sight of André standing with his head and shoulders covered by the brown velvet cloth he had taken from a table by his desk, the table where he usually ate when he did not want to leave his work. Suppressing a laugh that might easily have turned to tears, I said, ‘André, we’ll search thoroughly tomorrow, by daylight. Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll lead you to the guest-room if you like, and won’t let anyone see you.’
His left hand tapped the desk twice.
‘Do you need a doctor, André?’
‘No,’ he rapped.
‘Would you like me to call up Professor Augier? He might be of more help . .
Twice he rapped ‘No,’ sharply.
I did not know what to do or say. And then I told him, ‘Henri caught a fly this morning which he wanted to show me, but I made him release it. Could it have been the one you are looking for? I didn’t see it, but the boy said its head was white.’
André emitted a strange metallic sigh, and I bit my fingers fiercely in order not to scream. He had let his right arm drop, and instead of his long-fingered muscular hand, a grey stick with little buds on it like the branch of a tree hung out of his sleeve almost down to his knee.
‘André, mon chéri, tell me what happened. I might be of more help to you if I knew. André. . .‘ I sobbed, unable to control myself.
Having rapped once for ‘Yes,’ he pointed to the door with his left hand.
I stepped out and sank down crying as he locked the door behind me. He was typing again and I waited. At last he shuffled to the door and slid a sheet of paper under it.
HELENE, COME BACK IN THE MORNING. I MUST THINK, AND WILL TYPE OUT AN EXPLANATION FOR YOU. TAKE ONE OF MY SLEEPING TABLETS AND GO STRAIGHT TO BED. I SHALL NEED YOU TOMORROW, DARLING. A.
‘Do you want anything for the night, André?’ I shouted through the door.
He knocked twice for ‘No,’ and a little later I heard the typewriter again.
The sun full on my face woke me up with a start. I had set the alarm clock for five, but had not heard it, probably because of the sleeping tablet.
I had indeed slept like a log, without a dream. Now I was back in my living nightmare, and crying like a child, I sprang out of bed. It was just seven!
Rushing into the kitchen, without a word for the startled servants, I rapidly prepared a trayload ofcoffee, bread, and butter with which I ran down to the laboratory.
André opened the door as soon as I knocked, and closed it again as I carried the tray to his desk. His head was still covered, but I saw from his crumpled suit and his open camp-bed that he must have at least tried to rest.
On his desk lay a typewritten sheet for me which I picked up. André opened the other door, and, taking this to mean that he wanted to be left alone, I walked into the next room.
He pushed the door to and I heard him pouring out the coffee as I read:
DO YOU REMEMBER THE ASH-TRAY EXPERIMENT? I HAVE HAD A SIMILAR ACCIDENT. I TRANSMITTED MYSELF SUCCESSFULLY THE NIGHT BEFORE LAST. DURING A SECOND EXPERIMENT YESTERDAY A FLY WHICH I DID NOT SEE MUST HAVE GOT INTO THE DISINTEGRATOR. MY ONLY HOPE IS TO FIND THAT FLY AND GO THROUGH AGAIN WITH IT. PLEASE SEARCH FOR IT CAREFULLY SINCE, IF IT IS NOT FOUND, I SHALL HAVE TO FIND A WAY OF PUTTING AN END TO ALL THIS.
I shuddered at the thought that he must be terribly disfigured and then cried softly as I imagined his face inside-out, or perhaps his eyes in place of his ears, or his mouth at the back of his neck.
Pulling myself together, I said, ‘André, may I come in?’
He opened the door.
‘André, don’t despair; I am going to find that fly. It is no longer in the laboratory, but it cannot be far away. Even if you’re disfigured, perhaps terribly so, there can be no question of putting an end to all this, as you say in your note; that I will never agree to. If necessary, if you do not wish to be seen, I’ll make you a mask or a cowl so that you can go on with your work until you get well again. If you cannot work, I’ll call Professor Augier, and he and your friends will save you, André.’
Again I heard that curious metallic sigh as he rapped violently on his desk.
‘André, don’t be annoyed; please be calm. I won’t do anything without first consulting you, but you must rely on me, have faith in me, and let me help you as best I can. Dare you let me see your face? I won’t be afraid . . . I am your wife, you know.’
But my husband again rapped a decisive ‘No.’
‘All right. I am going to search for the fly now, but promise me you won’t do anything foolish; promise you won’t do anything rash or dangerous without first letting me know all about it!’
He extended his left hand, and I knew I had his promise.
I shall never forget that ceaseless day-long hunt. Back home, I turned the house inside-out and made all the servants join in the search. I told them that a fly had escaped from the Professor’s laboratory and it must be captured alive, but it was evident they thought me crazy. They said so to the police later, and that day’s hunt for a fly most probably saved me from the guillotine.
I questioned Henri and as he failed to understand at once what I was talking about, I shook him and slapped him, and made him cry in front of the round-eyed maids. Yes, he remembered, he had found the fly just by the kitchen window; yes, he had released it immediately as he had been told.
Even in summer we had very few flies because our house is on the top of a hill and the slightest breeze coming across the valley blows round it. In spite of that, I managed to catch dozens of flies that day. On all the window sills and all over the garden I had put saucers of milk, sugar, jam, meat – all the things likely to attract flies. Of all those we caught, and many others which we failed to catch but which I saw, none resembled the one Henri had caught the day before. One by one, with a magnifying glass, I examined every unusual fly, but none had a white head.
At lunchtime, I ran down to André with some milk and mashed potatoes. I also took some of the flies we had caught, but he gave me to understand that they could be of no possible use to him.
‘If that fly has not been found tonight, André, we’ll have to see what is to be done. And this is what I propose: I’ll sit in the next room. When you can’t answer by the yes-no method of rapping, you’ll type out whatever you want to say and then slip it under the door. Agreed?’
‘Yes,’ rapped André.
By nightfall we had still not found the fly. At dinnertime, as I prepared André’s tray, I broke down and sobbed in the kitchen in front of the silent servants. My maid thought that I had had a row with my husband about the vanished fly, but I learnt later that the cook was already quite sure that I was out of my mind.
Without a word, I picked up the tray, and then put it down again as I stopped by the telephone. That this was really a matter of life and death for André, I had no doubt. Neither did I doubt that he fully intended committi
ng suicide, unless I could make him change his mind. Would I be strong enough? He would never forgive me for not keeping a promise. But in the circumstances, did that really matter? Having made up my mind, I looked up and dialled Professor Augier’s number.
‘The Professor is away and will not be back before the end of the week,’ said a polite neutral voice at the other end of the line.
Then I knew I would have to fight alone, and fight I would to save André, come what might.
All my nervousness had disappeared as André let me in, and after putting the tray of food down on his desk, I went into the other room, as agreed.
‘The first thing I want to know,’ I said, as he closed the door behind me, ‘is exactly what happened. Can you tell me, André?’
I waited patiently while he typed an answer which he pushed under the door a little later.
HELENE, I WOULD RATHER NOT TELL YOU. I WOULD RATHER THAT YOU SHOULD REMEMBER ME AS I WAS BEFORE. I MUST DESTROY MYSELF IN SUCH A WAY THAT NO ONE CAN POSSIBLY KNOW WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME. I HAVE OF COURSE THOUGHT OF DISINTEGRATING MYSELF IN MY TRANSMITTER, BUT I HAD BETTER NOT BECAUSE, SOONER OR LATER, I MIGHT FIND MYSELF REINTEGRATED. I HAVE THEREFORE THOUGHT OF A WAY WHICH IS NEITHER SIMPLE NOR EASY, BUT YOU CAN AND WILL HELP ME.
For several minutes I wondered if André had gone raving mad.
‘André,’ I said at last, ‘whatever you may have chosen or thought of, I can never accept such a cowardly solution. No matter how terrible the result of your experiment, you are alive, you are a man, a brain, and you have a soul. You have no right to destroy yourself. You know that!’
The answer was soon typed and pushed under the door.
I AM ALIVE ALL RIGHT, BUT ALREADY I AM NO LONGER A MAN. AS TO MY BRAIN OR INTELLIGENCE, IT MAY DISAPPEAR AT ANY MOMENT.
‘Then you must tell the other scientists about your discovery before it is too late. They will help you and save you, André!’
I staggered back frightened as he angrily thumped the door twice.
‘André, why? Why do you refuse the aid you know they would give you?’
Movie Monsters Page 24
