They were always a wonderful couple. He in elegant linen trousers and reckless spats, she in a summer dress just shy of elegant. Any better dressed person standing beside them was instantly transformed into a fop. And such energy they had! Sometimes it dipped into mania. People noticed that, I think, and kept a courteous distance. Ligeia didn’t care. She would grin and pull me into an inappropriately intimate embrace. “That’s why we like to spend time with the youngsters, darling.”
For my part, they amazed me. Their limitless energy, their intellectual vigour and their total devotion to each other represented everything I saw as right, and good, and totally unattainable. I’ve never been a confident person. I’m the wall fern in the aviary, or the person who holds the test tubes in the back ground. I’ve improved over the years. These days I cover my blue lips with make-up, and give excellent excuses to go home early, but I am still essentially set dressing.
Nicholas and Ligeia, took an interest in me, almost as if I were something amusing. They were a little condescending, but I didn’t care. I felt like a little brother. Nicholas took me to his club, enlisted me as an assistant in the Laboratory. Ligeia would ask me to read to her. “I want to get used to your voice,” she said, and laughed at her own strangeness. She was much younger than him, but she had the same recklessness hovering beneath her. And he let her out with me, just me, as if I were above suspicion. People started to talk, of course, but Ligeia would grin like a twelve year old and say, “what are tongues for?” Then she’d take my arm and force me to paddle in the fountain with her.
For three months, I think I was actually happy. Ligeia and Nicholas saw only each other, really, but I think I caught some of their heat just by proximity. They laughed all the time, they danced later than anyone else and they worked on their scientific projects with the same reckless energy they applied to everything else. I loved them. Not the jealous, intrusive love of real life. I felt like I was reading a book, watching them. I loved them together, and wanted nothing less than to insert my oafish form between them.
Eventually, they upgraded me from holder of test tubes to monitor of readings, and revealed their project to me. I was astounded. They had created a device for installing a human mind into a machine. I suspect I may have laughed when they told me, but no-one could have laughed in the face of the machine itself. Great copper funnels swung up from a steel base, and glass vials with strange liquids intruded on its edges. In the centre was a window, and behind it was all shadow. They neither of them looked directly at that.
Summer flew past like a single explosive moment. It was glorious. Ligeia and Nicholas danced feverishly through it, and every night he would swing her up into his arms and carry her up the stairs to their apartment.
“You always travel by arms?” I asked her.
She looked at Nicholas for a moment.
“Always.”
Nicholas swung her down to the ground again.
“You turn, mate,” he said.
I picked her up. She was a little heavier than I expected, but I would not let them see what it cost me to carry her so far. I took her right up to the top, smiled at her, and leaned very casually against the wall, but she frowned.
“You’re not as strong as Nicholas, are you?” she said, thoughtfully.
The next day, before going to the Laboratory, Nicholas took me to his club and punished me in straight sets for a few hours.
“You’ll scrub up nicely after a few more of these,” he said, through the shower door.
“I did OK,” I said. My head was between my knees as I massaged my chest back into a functioning state.
“Physique like yours? You should be beating me.”
I was silent.
We returned to the Laboratory to find Ligeia there already, busy with the machine. I stood and watched her for a while. Her hands moved instinctively across the device, and she moved around it as if it were a body and she a doctor – tender, but businesslike, experienced. I joined her, but my hands were clumsy. She smiled.
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
“When? How long have you been doing this?”
“Not long; Nicholas had a different partner before me. You pick it up.”
“Ligeia, may I ask you a personal question?”
Immediately her scientific side was pushed back and she was flirty, delightful Ligeia again. Ligeia who dances all night.
“Of course.”
“How old are you?”
I think now that I saw a shadow over her face when I said that. I imagine that she glanced at the Device, at the shadowy screen in the middle. But perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she simply smiled boldly up at me and said, “twenty-two.”
That night we went dancing. Nicholas was tired. Ligeia held him gently as he sat and watched the dance until he urged her away to me. She led me to the dance floor and attempted to Charleston. The wall fern baulked, but I did my best. When the music mercifully ceased she looked at me appraisingly, not like a man at all.
No. It’s no good. It’s no good at all if you can’t dance.”
So I had to dance again, and again, always with a solemn, silent Ligeia who gazed at her pale lover whenever the dance turned her that way, and spoke only to correct my feet. By the end, I was fuelled by pride alone, dancing step after step between each erratic heart beat.
In October they woke me up at midnight, half-cut, and insisted that now was the time. I crawled out of bed and followed them to the Laboratory. They clung to each other. For the only time, I saw them frightened. Really scared. They murmured to each other and kept me out of their discourse. We entered the Lab in silence, and Ligeia switched on the machine. They kissed once, and then Nicholas strapped himself into it. Ligeia activated the device, and he yelped and writhed as the image on the screen gained definition. With a final sigh he stopped. Ligeia ran to him and calmly checked his pulse, then she turned on me. She was furious and old.
“You did this.”
I went to her, I wanted to hold her, give her some comfort.
“No. You should have been watching him. You did this.” She paused. “Fix it.”
I took a step backwards. I understood, suddenly. I nodded. She unstrapped the body and pushed it onto the floor. I walked dumbly to the machine and strapped myself in.
***********
She is standing by the machine. Now I see she does not move like a young woman, not really. I wonder if she even remembers how old she is.
The shape in the screen is twisting, changing.
They never asked why I stopped in this little town, never learned to dance, never made plans for my future. I think they won’t realise until it is too late.
I should not be doing them this great unkindness. I am sorry to cause pain. But Ligeia has a sweet face; such a young face.
For my part, they amazed me. Their limitless energy, their intellectual vigour and their total devotion to each other represented everything I saw as right, and good, and totally unattainable. I’ve never been a confident person. I’m the wall fern in the aviary, or the person who holds the test tubes in the back ground. I’ve improved over the years. These days I cover my blue lips with make-up, and give excellent excuses to go home early, but I am still essentially set dressing.
Nicholas and Ligeia, took an interest in me, almost as if I were something amusing. They were a little condescending, but I didn’t care. I felt like a little brother. Nicholas took me to his club, enlisted me as an assistant in the Laboratory. Ligeia would ask me to read to her. “I want to get used to your voice,” she said, and laughed at her own strangeness. She was much younger than him, but she had the same recklessness hovering beneath her. And he let her out with me, just me, as if I were above suspicion. People started to talk, of course, but Ligeia would grin like a twelve year old and say, “what are tongues for?” Then she’d take my arm and force me to paddle in the fountain with her.
For three months, I think I was actually happy. Ligeia and Nicholas saw only each other, really, but I think I caught some of their heat just by proximity. They laughed all the time, they danced later than anyone else and they worked on their scientific projects with the same reckless energy they applied to everything else. I loved them. Not the jealous, intrusive love of real life. I felt like I was reading a book, watching them. I loved them together, and wanted nothing less than to insert my oafish form between them.
Eventually, they upgraded me from holder of test tubes to monitor of readings, and revealed their project to me. I was astounded. They had created a device for installing a human mind into a machine. I suspect I may have laughed when they told me, but no-one could have laughed in the face of the machine itself. Great copper funnels swung up from a steel base, and glass vials with strange liquids intruded on its edges. In the centre was a window, and behind it was all shadow. They neither of them looked directly at that.
Summer flew past like a single explosive moment. It was glorious. Ligeia and Nicholas danced feverishly through it, and every night he would swing her up into his arms and carry her up the stairs to their apartment.
“You always travel by arms?” I asked her.
She looked at Nicholas for a moment.
“Always.”
Nicholas swung her down to the ground again.
“You turn, mate,” he said.
I picked her up. She was a little heavier than I expected, but I would not let them see what it cost me to carry her so far. I took her right up to the top, smiled at her, and leaned very casually against the wall, but she frowned.
“You’re not as strong as Nicholas, are you?” she said, thoughtfully.
The next day, before going to the Laboratory, Nicholas took me to his club and punished me in straight sets for a few hours.
“You’ll scrub up nicely after a few more of these,” he said, through the shower door.
“I did OK,” I said. My head was between my knees as I massaged my chest back into a functioning state.
“Physique like yours? You should be beating me.”
I was silent.
We returned to the Laboratory to find Ligeia there already, busy with the machine. I stood and watched her for a while. Her hands moved instinctively across the device, and she moved around it as if it were a body and she a doctor – tender, but businesslike, experienced. I joined her, but my hands were clumsy. She smiled.
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
“When? How long have you been doing this?”
“Not long; Nicholas had a different partner before me. You pick it up.”
“Ligeia, may I ask you a personal question?”
Immediately her scientific side was pushed back and she was flirty, delightful Ligeia again. Ligeia who dances all night.
“Of course.”
“How old are you?”
I think now that I saw a shadow over her face when I said that. I imagine that she glanced at the Device, at the shadowy screen in the middle. But perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she simply smiled boldly up at me and said, “twenty-two.”
That night we went dancing. Nicholas was tired. Ligeia held him gently as he sat and watched the dance until he urged her away to me. She led me to the dance floor and attempted to Charleston. The wall fern baulked, but I did my best. When the music mercifully ceased she looked at me appraisingly, not like a man at all.
No. It’s no good. It’s no good at all if you can’t dance.”
So I had to dance again, and again, always with a solemn, silent Ligeia who gazed at her pale lover whenever the dance turned her that way, and spoke only to correct my feet. By the end, I was fuelled by pride alone, dancing step after step between each erratic heart beat.
In October they woke me up at midnight, half-cut, and insisted that now was the time. I crawled out of bed and followed them to the Laboratory. They clung to each other. For the only time, I saw them frightened. Really scared. They murmured to each other and kept me out of their discourse. We entered the Lab in silence, and Ligeia switched on the machine. They kissed once, and then Nicholas strapped himself into it. Ligeia activated the device, and he yelped and writhed as the image on the screen gained definition. With a final sigh he stopped. Ligeia ran to him and calmly checked his pulse, then she turned on me. She was furious and old.
“You did this.”
I went to her, I wanted to hold her, give her some comfort.
“No. You should have been watching him. You did this.” She paused. “Fix it.”
I took a step backwards. I understood, suddenly. I nodded. She unstrapped the body and pushed it onto the floor. I walked dumbly to the machine and strapped myself in.
***********
She is standing by the machine. Now I see she does not move like a young woman, not really. I wonder if she even remembers how old she is.
The shape in the screen is twisting, changing.
They never asked why I stopped in this little town, never learned to dance, never made plans for my future. I think they won’t realise until it is too late.
I should not be doing them this great unkindness. I am sorry to cause pain. But Ligeia has a sweet face; such a young face.
3 comments:
I've already commented on this, but: hooray! I love this story. I find new clues that I'd forgotten about each time I read it. This time it was his blue lips and erratic heartbeat post dancing. Very good!
Yay!!
Brilliant! A perfect short story structure, and like Quoth says, well worth rereading for clues. Wonderfully gnomic, like all your writing.
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