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Chapter 2 - Waterlogged Part 1

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All photos of the underground waterworks on Mathildenhöhe copyright Lars Lambrecht

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Ike's wellies sent concentric ripples racing across the crystal-clear water in the subterranean reservoir until they broke on the massive brick pillars propping up the vault. After the arrival of the Litera Tours group in the disused reservoir under Darmstadt's famous art deco quarter, the cavern bought to mind a swimming pool on a bright summer's day.

Greg, the American boy, had already given up on the guide's explanations and was splashing from column to column in his bare feet, yelling at the top of his lungs. His parents waddled after him, hampered by their oversized rubber boots.

The boy might be noisy, but at least he seemed to enjoy himself. The same could not be said for the academic contingent. A battle stand had been drawn close to the nearest pillar, only a line was missing in the chalky sediment under their feet. The Oxfordians—Grimsby, a second professor whose name kept eluding Ike, and the lone female academic stood to the left, while Hucks and his Cambridge gang looked daggers from the right.

"And I'm telling you, there is no connection."The female professor's double chin wobbled with indignation, her strident tones cutting across the guide's gentler voice. Despite having staked their lines of battle well away from the others, the combatants were visibly annoying the rest of the guests, even if they were too polite to throw more than irritated glances across the cavern. Ike had stayed with the dons to dampen their ardour but had so far achieved zilch.

"Hear, hear," nodded the other two Oxfordians.

"Hah," Professor Hucks said.

That wasn't what the good lady seemed to have expected as a response to her gauntlet, so she upped the ante. "I mean, it's obvious, isn't it? The simple fact that the lab on the castle is underground proves—"

"It proves nothing, dearest Lydia," Hucks said, his fake Father Christmas smile morphing into the leer of a dyspeptic elf.

"Are there questions related to the lab's authenticity?" Everything about the second Cambridge don looked pinched, but his voice was both tempered and reasonable, which made for a pleasant change.

"Oh, no problems on that front," Hucks said. He cleared his throat and filled his chest, giving every impression of a man about to deliver a lengthy lecture.

Grimsby beat him to the post. "The laboratory has been linked with one Conrad Dippel, who conducted his experiments at the castle during the time Mary and Percy Bysshe were touring Germany en route to Geneva, where they were to meet Byron and his mistress, Claire Clairmont."

Behind them, Greg's yells stopped on a wail which made Ike guess his parents might have caught up with him.

Hucks had grown red in the face. It would clash with the Father Christmas coat if he only were wearing one. "Yes, yes, spare me the sermon. We're all aware of that. The only thing we need to know is that yes, there was an alchemist on the castle, and yes, he was trying to find what he called 'elixir of life'."

The quiet don interspersed again as if he had forgotten which faction he owed allegiances to. "That's not the same as creating artificial life or, in other words, a monster. Sounds more like a snake-oil producer."

"Hah," Hucks said again, glaring down his hapless colleague.

"You're missing my point. The lab we visited was underground," the female professor repeated doggedly. "Mary Shelley'snovel begins with the rain beating against the window panes of a laboratory in the upper story, separated from the rest of the dwelling."

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