The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(166)
“Do you really?” The bogus Wells scowled at Murray, visibly irritated by his interruption. “You only understand me because I’ve lowered myself to your level, using concepts that are simple enough for you to comprehend. You could say I’m speaking to you in my sleep, or inebriated, if you prefer.”
“And to what do I owe the honor of your wanting to talk to me, inebriated or not?” asked the real Wells in a feeble display of petulance.
I gave Clayton a sidelong glance to see how he was getting on, and my heart nearly leapt into my throat. The inspector was unscrewing his fake forefinger and with mouselike steps was moving away from us and imperceptibly closer to the Envoy. Damn it, Clayton, do it now! I wanted to shout, incapable of containing my tension any longer.
“I was curious,” I heard the Envoy say to Wells, even as Clayton began surreptitiously raising his mechanical arm. “Your mind is unlike that of any of my previous hosts, and not simply because you are more imaginative or intelligent than other men. No, I’m referring to the fact that your mind possesses a . . . how can I describe it? A mysterious mechanism, and I want to find out what it is for. Although, judging from your face, even you don’t know the answer.”
Hearing the Envoy’s words, Clayton stopped what he was doing and gave Wells a meaningful look, which I couldn’t understand. Wells looked back at Clayton for what seemed like an eternity and then turned to the Envoy.
“Why all the interest?” he said. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t afraid of what I might do with it.”
The Envoy gave a look of surprise, which he instantly masked with a smile of amused admiration.
“You’re an exceptionally intelligent human, Mr. Wells. And you’re quite right. Of course we’re not having this conversation because I’m curious about you, but rather because I’m . . . afraid of you.”
We all looked at Wells in astonishment, but the author said nothing. He simply contemplated the Envoy solemnly, and for a moment, the pair of them looked like reflections.
“Yes, Mr. Wells,” the Envoy went on. “You have the privilege of making me afraid, of instilling fear into a being infinitely superior to Man in every way. And do you want to know why? Because not only do I replicate the body of those whose blood I steal. I replicate their minds and everything in them: their memories, their abilities, their dreams, and their desires. An exact replica of the original. That is why I only need delve into the recesses of your brain to know more about your childhood than you yourself, to discover the tepid feelings you pass off to your wife as love, to unearth your most shameful desires, to reason, even to write as you do. Because I am you, everything that you are, everything that is great and sordid in you. And the brain inside my skull, which is identical to yours, also contains the mechanism I mentioned. And I don’t know what it’s for, and that terrifies me. How can I explain it? Imagine if you dissected a simple cockroach and discovered in its tiny body something unknown and completely incomprehensible. Wouldn’t it make you afraid, terribly afraid?”
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted,” the real Wells retorted with icy calm.
The Envoy gave a rueful smile.
“I don’t know whether this mechanism can be used to make the tomatoes in your greenhouse grow bigger, or to kill off our race,” he said with a weary sigh. “But this doesn’t concern me, Mr. Wells; what concerns me is what it all means. There’s something inside your brain that no other species in the universe possesses. Something we know nothing about—we who thought we knew everything. This means the universe isn’t what we thought it was, that it still contains secrets unknown to our race—secrets that could destroy us. I’m not sure if you humans can conceive of what that means, given the difference between your place in the universe and ours.” The Envoy fell silent for a few moments, caught up in his own reflections, until finally he shrugged and sighed. “But perhaps I’m being unduly alarmist. Now that I’ve discovered you’re alive and have survived the invasion, we may be able to resolve the matter. As soon as the rest of our race arrives on Earth, our scientists will dissect your brain, and we’ll get to the bottom of the mystery. We’ll find out what is hidden in your head, Mr. Wells, and we’ll no longer be afraid of you.”
As the color drained from Wells’s face, the Envoy studied each of us, one by one, like a general inspecting his troops.
“As for you, I’m pleased to see you’re all healthy, robust specimens, as we’ll be needing slaves to help us build a new world on the ruins of the old one.”
“In that case, I’m sorry to have to wreck your plans,” Clayton suddenly declared.
We realized with a shudder that, like it or not, our mad escape plan was about to begin. We stiffened, ready to perform our role in it as best we could. The inspector raised his artificial hand, as if to stop a moving train, and a moment later, it spat out a stream of smoke into the face of the Envoy, who disappeared behind the opaque screen that fell between him and us.
“Quick, get out!” Clayton commanded, shouting over his shoulder at us.
As though we were carrying an invisible battering ram, we hurtled toward the door. First Shackleton, then Murray, who shielded the ladies with his bearlike frame, and behind them, Wells, Harold, and myself, relegated for differing reasons to a secondary role in this surprise escape: Wells owing to his fragile constitution, Harold because of his advanced age, and myself on account of my strong sense of self-preservation, which had always inclined me to avoid any physical combat outside of fencing classes. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking back, and, through the blanket of smoke, I was able to glimpse the Envoy’s transformation. This made me stop, as if I were bewitched. With a mixture of horror and fascination, I saw the false Wells’s body begin to swell up, distorting rapidly in a series of rhythmical convulsions. In a matter of seconds, he had changed into a monstrous four-legged beast the size of an elephant, with what appeared to be a long, thick tail. A thunderous roar showed me he also possessed a formidable throat. Suddenly, as I gazed in awe at the hideous transformation, the creature’s thick spiky green tail emerged fully from the veil of smoke spreading through the room and flailed around in the air. As though searching for something to hit, the tail struck Clayton, knocking him to the ground, then snaked toward me. Mesmerized as I was, I couldn’t even react. The tail wound itself swiftly around my throat, and, unable to comprehend what was happening, I felt my feet lift off the floor. The pressure of the tail around my throat made it difficult for me to breathe, and my vision became blurred.