Salamander

Chapter Nineteen: Marcellus Holy

Chapter Nineteen

The room was dark and cold, the smell of dirt wafting in the air and clinging to my recently-washed skin. There were numerous torches perched around the sides of the room, giving the space a soft, orange, flickering glow. At other side of the room was an archway that led to total darkness and at the center was a wooden table with two of the mutants, strapped down by numerous belts.

             The scientist approached one of them after picking up a magnifying glass from another table at the left side of the room. He peered down into their third eye, which, regardless of the fact that the mutants were unconscious, remained open.

            “Tell me, Alan.” He looked up at me suddenly. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

            I nodded.

            “Alan – have you ever heard of the term ‘enlightenment’?”

            I shrugged. “That’s a Buddhist belief. I’m not too familiar with the religion’s ideals.”

            “You’re right when you say it’s Buddhist,” the scientist said. “But enlightenment is not a belief.”

            I gave him a puzzled look. “Are you saying it’s a fact?”

            The scientist squinted his eyes as he peered at the third eye of one of the mutants. “Oh, yes. I’ve had family members and friends who have shown me what enlightenment does, and believe me, one you see someone else who has it, you don’t even need faith.” He walked across the room and exchanged the magnifying glass with some sort of wooden hammer. “It is said that when one is enlightened, their third eye,” he pointed to the area just in between his eyebrows, the spot where the mutants’ third eyes was located, “becomes opened.” He let out a soft laugh. “Of course, they don’t actually have third eyes. By third eye they mean one of the main energy centers within our own bodies.”

            “And?” I pressed.

            “And I think that these mutants have been enlightened beyond what can be naturally achieved, hence the reason why their third eyes are actually open.” He tapped the creature’s third eye with the hammer, causing the being to twitch violently. He moved to the other mutant and did the same, resulting in the same body spasm. “Huh.” He walked across the room and put the hammer down on the table with all of his other tools. “I need to go to a temple for a Buddhist’s opinion.”

            I raised my eyebrows. “That’s on the other side of the Old World!”

            He nodded. “Yes, I know. But truthfully, I have no idea what’s wrong with these poor kids.”

            I looked at the two mutants, suddenly remembering that they once were kids, possibly even teenagers, like me.

            The scientist let out an aggravated sigh. “I guess I’ll have to wait before I can continue testing.”

            “What about the blood sample you took?” I asked.

            “I have to take that to the city’s science center for further analysis,” he explained. “In the meantime, I just want to finish working on my robots.” He began to walk towards the archway at the other side of the room. “Come,” he said over his shoulder.

            I followed him into the darkness. From his pocket, the scientist retrieved a match and after lighting it began to go around the room, igniting the torches on the walls one by one, gradually giving the space shape and definition. Once all of the torches were lit, I saw the robot that had rescued me from the neurotoxin. He must have been led into this cell after we had arrived at the cottage. He was in his hibernation mode, his back slumped over and his head hung low. His eyes, ominously, remained wide open while he was in this state, glossy and lifeless.

            There was another half-made robot strapped to the wall, and this time it was a girl. A girl who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. As of then her head was open, revealing clockworks and pistons and other mechanical devices that I couldn’t place a name on. Her stomach was open as well, revealing more brass machines as well as a metal tank, probably the one that would hold water and giver the robot steam-power.

            “How does the water boil?” I asked.

            He looked at the tank in the open stomach of the robot. “A continuous fire is lit underneath it.”

            I could feel my eyes widen. “What keeps them from catching on fire, then?”

            “I invented a fireproof liquid a while back,” he explained. “I coat the inside of the robot’s body before installing the mechanics.”

            I laughed, staring as a low vibration in my throat, evolving into howling. “And you live in a cottage like this?”

            The scientist looked at me, obviously taken aback. “Excuse me?”

            I forced myself to stop laughing with a cough. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “It’s just that that invention, the fireproof liquid, could make you millions! You could be an aristocrat.”

            “Well, what if I don’t want to be?” the scientist said condescendingly. “That isn’t my purpose in life, to make money. As I said, I need to focus on getting this robot done so that I can present it to the new king.”

            I suddenly felt guilty, realizing how rude my behavior had been. “Oh,” was all I was able to say.

            The scientist picked up a brass gear from a pile of scrap metal and machines just at the robot’s foot. He skillfully installed it into her stomach so that it would roll against two other gears.

            “So . . . who are you?” I asked cautiously, wondering if I was crossing the line or if he was still sensitive over what I had said earlier.

            “Who am I?” he asked as if it was a question he didn’t even have the answer to. After a short pause he said, “My name is Marcellus Holy.”

            “Marcellus,” I echoed.

            “I had a family once,” he said bluntly. “A wife and a dog, but no kids.”

            I nodded, trying to seem as interested as possible in hopes of him giving me more information.

            “I was also a physician,” he continued. “I wasn’t by any means the best in the kingdom or even the city, but I had acquired a sort of . . . reverence from the people.”

            My mind flashed back to Bale, suddenly wishing he had been the one to help me escape my hometown rather than the collectors.

            “I even knew how to perform surgery,” he added. “But unfortunately that had led to the deaths of a few individuals.” He looked down, probably remembering what he had done – something that I had done as well.

            Wait, that isn’t right.

            He had accidentally killed people while doing something that served the kingdom good. I was just a cold-blooded murderer. However, that didn’t mean that we didn’t share the same kind of guilt and grief.

            “I know how you feel,” I said solemnly.

            Thankfully he didn’t prod for more information. He kicked the pile of metal lightly. “I need more supplies,” he said. He retrieved the tube of blood from his coat pocket. “And I need to deliver this to the science center.”

            “May I come?” I asked.

            He smiled. “Yes.” His face suddenly turned grim as he took a step towards me. “But let me warn you, you may hear things in the city that may make you want to run.”

            “Run from what?” I questioned him, curious as to what horrors might’ve been lurking within the alleyways and roamed the streets of the city at night.

            “From me.”