Synthetic Men Read online

  "Now, Douglass," said Pontius suddenly, "on the other side of the tube, you will find a crank. Turn it slowly in a clockwise direction until the tube is inclined fifteen degrees. Then we'll open up the tube and release our good friend."

  Hesitantly the reporter went to obey. He grasped the handles as directed and was amazed to feel the tube slowly incline. When the inclination had reached fifteen degrees, he opened up the tube, leaving the synthetic man exposed as though he stood upright in a glass coffin.

  Expecting to see the creature fall out of the tube and at him, Douglass quickly set the half-tube aside and partly crouched. The being stared at him strangely but made no effort to get out.

  "I don't believe Joe Agar would hurt a flea," laughed Allanna, amused at the reporter's actions.

  Douglass calmed easily. "Joe Agar?" he squinted at her, curiously. "Is that what you are going to call the creature?"

  "What else could we name him, Mr. Douglass?" Allanna smiled. "Agar is the substance from which they sprung. Hence the name. The other one is Jack. Their names are Joe and Jack Agar."

  "Brothers under the skin?" the reporter grimaced.

  "Deeper than that, Mr. Douglass," the girl replied quickly.

  Her attention was suddenly drawn to her uncle who spoke softly at her.

  "Are you ready to receive him, Allie?" the scientist asked without pausing in his work. "Strait-jackets for emergency, ether and all that?"

  "Yes, doctor," she responded, dropping all interest in everything but her professional duty as a trained nurse.

  "Then take your post," Dr. Pontius ordered curtly. He turned to the reporter. "Douglass, you stand ready to support the subject in event his weakness causes him to topple when I let the jelly out into the hole at the bottom of the tube."

  "Weak, eh?" Douglass muttered to himself. "I'm damned glad of that. Makes me feel better."

  "What's that, young man?" Dr. Pontius snapped sharply.

  "Nothing, sir," responded the reporter. "I was just humming a tune."

  "Good!" ejaculated the scientist. "I like to have around me, men who are fearless and callous. You are improving, sir."

  "Thank you, doc," Douglass said evenly. Then to himself: "If he only knew the truth!"

  Douglass was so utterly startled by a sudden groan from the curled lips of Joe Agar that his face turned even more pale. The creature sagged forward a trifle as the jelly slowly filtered through the now opened hole. Instinctively but revulsively, the reporter reached forward to support him. His hands touched the greasy body. It felt as clammy as the skin of a snake and it made him tremble. He felt his flesh creep, but stood rigid, both hands under the armpit of the artificial man.

  CHAPTER IV

  The First Death

  JOE Agar swung his steady unblinking gaze upon the newspaper man. Douglass avoided the green eyes by concentrating on the creature's hairless head and aboriginal brow. He shook almost violently, for the somber, ominous atmosphere with its invisible menace, was striking deeply at his soul. Danger seemed to lurk on every hand and the reporter sensed it even more when the final protecting fluid had slipped from the creature's body.

  Instantly Joe Agar toppled limply into the reporter's arms. The scientist quickly went to his aid and together they carried the weak synthetic creature to a table. Allanna had spread upon it clean sheets and blankets. She stood at its head, a mask in one hand and an ether container in the other. Evidently they had not expected the creature to emerge in such a weakened condition and they were ready to subdue him if need be. He was placed under the blankets and the girl laid aside her instruments of mercy.

  "He is too weak to be harmful," she said calmly, "and too feeble to stand an anesthetic."

  "That is correct, Allie," said her uncle. "His respiration is dangerously low. Just cover him well and let him sleep until morning. I think he'll be alright. Now Mr. Douglass, if you don't mind, we'll remove the other one."

  Silently they returned to the tubes leaving Miss Allanna bending over Joe Agar with a stethoscope attached to her ears. He heard her gasp and glanced over his shoulders. She was looking after her uncle questioningly but said nothing. There came a dismal groan from the table. Dr. Pontius turned suddenly and retraced his steps toward it.

  "What was that, Allie?" he asked apprehensively, as though sensing something untoward in the sound that had escaped his subject's lips.

  Miss Alianna looked up at him curiously. "I—I don't know," she replied softly. "Unless he is dying."

  Douglass came up beside her and looked into the grotesque face on the sheets. Joe Agar seemed to be breathing his last. His lips were still curled into a foreboding sneer and his lids were wide. A purple rash stood out on his brow and a greenish liquid perspiration fairly surged from his over-large pores.

  "Why, he's dying!" exclaimed the reporter with a feeling akin to genuine joy. Through his mind raced a wild thought. "I hope he does!" he thought. "A thing dies, then we'll only have one, his brother, to reckon with! No doubt about it, they seemed to have taken a form of life to purposely revenge themselves on man who violated all laws of nature!"

  "Silence!" snapped Dr. Pontius with a scowl. He reached up suddenly and took a green bottle from the shelf. As if ordered to do so by mental telepathy, Alianna pulled one of Joe Agar's arms out into the open. Dr. Pontius emptied the contents of the bottle into a glass tube under the table and calmly began to transfer it to the veins of the dying subject. Douglass shuddered as a silver tube was inserted in the artery of the arm, and turned away, appalled. Something drew him to the other creature. He paused in front of the big tube, to stare meditatively at the leering features of Jack Agar.

  He felt an urge to bolt the place, then suddenly he came down to earth. If he ran out on this terrifying experiment, he would never hear the end of it. After all, he was a newspaper man on an important story. He must continue with the ordeal whether he wanted to or not despite the fact that Jack Agar was going to be more difficult to handle than the other.

  Jack Agar virtually chewed at his lips in a strange, sinister emotion of savagery. Muscles seemed to bulge under his silky skin. His fingers twitched with the restlessness of a mad man. Douglass realized that there was nothing weak about him. He heard Dr. Pontius emit a dismayed groan and turned. Allanna was working a small pulmotor frantically, but the scientist waved her aside.

  "Never mind, Allanna," he said ominously. "He's done! Dead!"

  THE reporter shrugged as she pulled a sheet over the green-white face. Across his lips flashed a smile. Piously he glanced upward and shook his head as though to offer thanks to the invisible Creator of all things, for having interfered with this horrible violation of nature's laws. He heard Allanna stifle a sob, and wondered if she mourned the death of the synthetic creature. But no, it was not that. She sympathized with her uncle who stood beside the bed dejectedly, like a man who has lost his all. He jerked erect suddenly and came toward the reporter.

  "We're not beaten yet, Douglass!" he muttered. "I rather suspected Joe Agar would pass on, but I have little fear for Jack. He'll live to prove my father's discoveries to the world."

  "I hope so, Dr. Pontius," lied Douglass glibly. Yet he felt genuine sorrow for the old scientist who had spent his life to evolve man, then be forced to watch the results of his genius die at the point of success. "He is indeed filled with vigor and—uncontrolled deviltry."

  "You are right!" Dr. Pontius replied promptly. "He has developed far beyond his brother. That is why I valued his life more. Though he has scarcely less than the brute capacity of the simians and will be hard to control. Still, I have no fear of him, for I will bend him to my will by hypnotic suggestion."

  Douglass somewhat doubted the genuineness of the scientist's expressed fearlessness. There was something in his tone now that belied a kind of fear for the creature in the tube, but the reporter argued with himself that it might be a tone of sadness at the death of Joe Agar. Yet his uneasiness increased and he stirred restlessly while Dr. Pontius disman
tled the tube. He watched with unrestrained forebodings.

  Jack Agar possessed the strength of a maniac. This might appear strange considering the fact that the creature had never been permitted to move freely. But Dr. Pontius had used special care to build up his muscular system. Scarcely had the reporter removed the front section of the tube than the synthetic man lashed out with a frenzied left hand to clutch at him.

  "Hadn't you better use a hypodermic needle on him, Dr. Pontius?" he asked, trembling. Then he added in a grim whisper: "I'll sock him square on the button if I have to!"

  "No! No! No!" said Dr. Pontius severely. "The shock may forever weaken his senses. Do not raise a hand against him, young man! I warn you!"

  Douglass suddenly sensed the nearness of Allanna. She had crept up unnoticed to watch the work of releasing the bestial subject and had seen Jack Agar's savage thrust at the reporter. There was an unmistakable expression of alarm on her features, yet she seemed calm and collected. She peered intently into the maniacal face of the struggling creature, her deep-blue eyes boring into him steadily.

  As though compelled to do so by some powerful, invisible force, Jack Agar gradually ceased his struggles. The green fire seemed to vanish from his eyes. They became soft and languid as the eyes of a child looking up into his mother's kindly face appealingly. Still, Douglass thought he detected an evil gleam in the look. His gaze traveled from the creature to Allanna. Across her lips flashed a pleased smile.

  "Be a good boy, Jack," she whispered softly, never moving her eyes from him for an instant. But whether Jack Agar understood what she said, Douglass could not decide. He very much doubted it however and wondered what force she had applied to him to bring him to submission. Had she used hypnotic suggestion or just plain hypnotism on a weaker will? Or was the creature merely fascinated by the charm of the girl and did the evil gleam in his eyes spell ill for her? Whatever it was, she had certainly subdued him, her eyes soothing him like music soothes the savage beast.

  Dr. Pontius glanced at her presently. "He'll be alright now, Allie," he said smoothly. "You may rest a moment. You must be tired now."

  "Oh, I'm alright, Uncle Mark," she responded, trembling slightly. "You can go ahead. The table is ready."

  CHAPTER V

  Uneasy Hours

  THE scientist gave her a warm, affectionate smile and turned again to the tube. Quickly he surveyed the silent, foreboding subject whose eyes followed Allanna as she turned away. Douglass crouched instinctively expecting the creature to leap from his coffin of glass. But Jack Agar made no such move. He seemed thoroughly fascinated by the girl and watched her steadily through unblinking eyes. The reporter was amazed to see Dr. Pontius lead him easily from his container directly to the table. He followed cautiously, tensely, ready for any sudden outbreak from the synthetic man.

  With his subject prone on the table, Dr. Pontius lost no time in strapping him down by the ankles and wrists. Jack Agar made no protest but kept his orbs glued on Allanna. Reaching to the wall quickly, the scientist grasped a cord and lowered a great, green-shaded lamp of the same proportions as the table. Without hesitation he switched on a brilliant light that sprayed the subject with an emerald glare. Jack Agar writhed as though he lay on a bed of coals. His muscles bulged and snapped; then Dr. Pontius flicked his open hand before his face like a hypnotist working on a subject. The synthetic man ceased his struggles and lay still under the flood of light.

  The reporter heaved a sigh of relief. He opened his clenched fists and relaxed his numbed fingers. The nails had bitten into the palms, leaving crescent scars. His hands trembled in reaction to the released tension. Suddenly he found himself weak, very weak. Dr. Pontius appraised him, glancing at his watch.

  "It is after midnight, Douglass," he said, showing no reaction to the strain and uncertainly of his work. "Perhaps you had better retire. Allie will show you to a guest room."

  "You sure you won't need me again tonight, Dr. Pontius?" the reporter inquired dismally.

  The scientist nodded. "No, Douglass," he said simply. "I will not need you. Let me thank you for your help."

  They shook hands. "Then if you don't mind, I will retire," replied Douglass, rising. He walked over and stood beside the table for a moment to stare at the synthetic man. Jack lay perfectly still now, as still as his sheet-covered brother near him. His unblinking eyes stared upward at the brilliant, illuminated tubes in the flood-lamp.

  Douglass felt a nauseating sensation surging through him as he peered into those dread orbs. They reminded him of a picture of Satan he had once seen. The eyes had been wide and menacing. He felt the roots of his hair tangle. He turned away with a desire to quit the place forever. When he confronted Allanna he recalled quickly that he had a hunch, a persistent premonition that something was going to happen. Seeing her again caused him to forget instantly his desire to leave. Her sunny smile again captivated him.

  She held his coat and hat in her hands. "You will not need the gown any more, Mr. Douglass," she said. Her voice was soft and cheery. He had forgotten about the white linen gown he wore and quickly shed it. She helped him with his coat and together they went out of the ghostly laboratory, leaving Dr. Pontius alone with his skeletons and his subjects, life and death and evil shadows hovering about him.

  "Is your uncle going to work all night, Miss Allanna?" the reporter inquired as they entered a door leading off from the hallway and began mounting a pair of winding stairs that creaked under their weight. The sounds made the reporter shiver, for they sounded mysterious, spectral.

  "I do not believe so," she said promptly. "But he has much work to do. You see, he plans to preserve the body of Joe Agar and intends to place it in the preservatives tonight."

  "Going to pickle him?" the reporter gasped.

  The clear ring of her corresponding laugh made him turn to look at her. She flashed him a serious glance. Could nothing ruffle this girl's cool indifference to the stark realities of the place? He wondered if anything could suspend or break her callousness even temporarily.

  "That's it precisely," she commented softly. "The delicate texture of artificial flesh makes preservation necessary at once. Now that Joe Agar is dead, Uncle Cliff wants the preserved body to go to Tyburn College."

  THE house of Dr. Pontius, the reporter soon discovered, was almost as weird and spectral as his laboratory. Indirect illumination made it a place of lurking shadows that seemed to blend perfectly with the mystery of the man himself. In the living room to which Allanna guided him were many preserved specimens of life, arranged in glass containers on shelves and pedestals. The entire room shrieked silence and dark mystery. Allanna was the only bright object in the place and Douglass was glad to rest his tired eyes upon her sunny face and supple form.

  She invited him to the divan and for the first time since his arrival he regained some of his composure.

  "Did I hear you say you were busy every evening, Miss Allanna?" he inquired strategically to pave a way for future meetings. She appraised him coolly.

  "Oh, no," she replied, suppressing a yawn. "I have several nights open."

  "That's excellent!" he applauded happily. "How about the others?"

  "Well," she said mischievously, "you wouldn't expect a girl to be without at least one boy friend, would you?"

  The reporter felt a vague feeling of jealousy surge through him. His lips tightened strangely again, but in jealous embarrassment.

  "Not a beautiful girl like you," he said, slightly confused. "But I was hoping that I might see you more than several nights a week."

  Allanna shrugged and was about to reply when Dr. Pontius came suddenly into the room. He was smiling oddly.

  "You are indeed a fast-working young man, Douglass," he said. "I wish you luck!" He turned to his niece. "Hadn't you better retire for your beauty sleep, Allie?"

  Allanna yawned and stood up. "I believe I shall, Uncle Mark," she responded. "If Mr. Douglass will excuse me...."

  "Of course," said the reporter, his face
stinging. "Good night!"

  Dr. Pontius cut him short. "Come along, young man," he ordered. "I'll take you to your room. The butler will call you for breakfast."

  Side by side they followed Allanna to the second floor. The house was as silent as a tomb. Allanna flashed them a warm smile as she turned into a room from the hall above. Douglass' blood raced at it, for it had told him much.

  As he entered his room directly across the hall from the one taken by Allanna, Douglass felt a strange feeling come over him. Just why, he did not understand, but he seemed to sense the presence of death. Something akin to a cold current shot through his veins as he picked up a pair of silken guest pajamas. He managed to control himself as he spread them out and speculated on the size. After undressing he climbed into bed and counted sheep until he fell into a troubled, restless slumber.

  During the following hour, his subconscious mind ran the entire gamut of sensations. Wild dreams and nightmares made him toss and roll. His lips became feverish. From them escaped weird sounds that in themselves even went to further terrorize him. They appeared to him to come from the curling lips of the synthetic men. The body of Joe Agar seemed to hover over him like a dismal ghost. The wide, Satanic orbs of the living Jack stared at him, burning like twin fires and searing his soul.

  Then something happened that brought Douglass wide awake. What was it? Was his imagination running wild or had his ears detected the faint, stealthy footsteps of a bare-footed prowler? Sitting rigid in bed, he waited for the sounds to reach his ears again. The room was pitch dark. In front of his eyes danced gray, ominous shapes, the fancies of his strained vision. Suddenly he heard what he thought sounded like a dull thump, as though a body had collided with a wall or the floor. Then the silence became ominous.