path: root/76114-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76114 ***



THE ARTIFICIAL MAN

By Clare Winger Harris


[Illustration: Before David’s startled gaze the newcomer placed his
right hand to his left shoulder and removed the left arm. He then
proceeded to dismember himself until only a torso, head and one arm
remained.]


[Illustration: Clare Winger Harris]

	It is well established today that human beings can get along
	without a number of their usual organs. We have seen men
	deprived of their arms and legs who could still do useful
	work. There are men living, and seemingly little the worse
	for it, who have lost either an eye or a nose, or have only
	one kidney, and it is now possible even to have an
	artificial voice in case a part of the larynx and the vocal
	chords have to be removed through disease.

	That science will discover more and more how to artificially
	replace human organs is a foregone conclusion. How far this
	process may go no one however knows. Recent experiments on
	animals have shown that it is even possible for a cat to
	live with an artificial rubber heart. These experiments are
	all of vast importance to humanity, because we may be
	deprived of a number of our organs by accident or disease.

	The author of the present story has taken these thoughts as
	a basis of a most interesting narrative which is in its
	entirety based upon excellent science, and there is no
	telling that an exact counterpart of what she so vividly
	describes may not come about sooner or later.


On the annals of surgery no case has ever left quite as horrible an
impression upon the public as did that of George Gregory, a student of
Austin College. Young Gregory was equally proficient in scholastic and
athletic work, having been for two years captain of the football team,
and for one year a marked success in intercollegiate debates. No student
of the senior class of Austin or Decker will ever forget his masterful
arguments as he upheld the affirmative in the question:—“Resolved that
bodily perfection is a result of right thinking.” Gregory gave every
promise of being one of the masterful minds of the age; and if masterful
in this instance means dominating, he was that—and more. Alas that his
brilliant mentality was destined to degradation through the physical
body—but that is my story.

It was the Thanksgiving game that proved the beginning of George’s
downfall. Warned by friends that he would be wise to desist from the
more dangerous physical sports, he laughingly—though with unquestionable
sincerity—referred to the context of his famous debate, declaring that a
correct mental attitude toward life—he had this point down to a
mathematical correctness—rendered physical disasters impossible. His
sincerity in believing this was laudable, and so far his credence had
stood him in good stead. No one who saw his well-proportioned six-foot
figure making its way through the opponents’ lines, could doubt that the
science of thinking rightly was favorably exemplified in young Gregory.

But can thinking be an exact science? Before the close of that
Thanksgiving game George was carried unconscious from the field, and in
two days his right leg was amputated just below the hip.

During the days of his convalescence two bedside visitors brightened the
weary hours spent upon the hospital cot. They were David Bell, a medical
student, and Rosalind Nelson, the girl whom George had loved since his
freshman year.

“I say, Rosalind,” he ventured one day as she sat by his bedside. “It’s
too bad to think of you ever being tied up to a cripple. I’m willing to
step aside—can’t do it gracefully of course with only one leg—but I mean
it, my dear girl. You don’t want only part of a husband!”

Rosalind smiled affectionately. “George, don’t think for a minute that
it matters to me. You’re still you, and I love you dear. Can’t you
believe that? The loss of a bodily member doesn’t alter your identity.”

“That’s just what gets me,” responded her lover with a puzzled frown. “I
have always believed, and do now, that the mental and physical are so
closely related as to be inseparable. I think it is Browning who says,
‘We know not whether soul helps body more than body helps soul.’ They
develop together, and if either is injured the other is harmed. Losing
part of my body has made me lose part of my soul. I’m not what I was. My
mental attitude has changed as a result of this abominable catastrophe.
I’m no longer so confident. I feel myself slipping and I—oh it is
unbearable!”

Rosalind endeavored to the best of her ability to reassure the
unfortunate man, but he sank into a despondent mood, and seeing that her
efforts at cheering him were unavailing, she arose and left him.

In the outer hall she met Bell on his way to visit the sick man. He
noticed her troubled mien and asked if George were not so well today.

“Yes, David," she replied, a quiver in her voice, “the wound is healing
nicely, but he is so morose. He has a notion—oh how can I tell it—a sort
of feeling that some of his mental poise and confidence have gone with
his lost limb. You will soon be a graduate physician, won’t you assure
him that his fears are groundless?"

“I don’t know but that his case is one for the minister or psychologist
rather than the medical man,” answered Bell. “His physical wound is
healing, but it seems his mental wound is not. However, I will do my
best, not only for your sake, Rosalind, but because I am interested in
the happiness of my old college chum.”

Rosalind smiled her gratitude and turned abruptly away to hide the tears
that she had held back as long as possible.

Five months passed, and with the aid of a crutch George made excellent
headway in overcoming the difficulties of locomotion. If David and
Rosalind noticed a subtle change in the disposition and character of
their mutual friend, they made no further reference to it.


A Transformation
----------------

At length came a day when in the company of both of these faithful
friends George Gregory announced his intention of using an artificial
limb instead of a crutch. His sweetheart voiced immediate remonstrance.

“No, George, I’d rather see you walking with the visible aid of a crutch
than to think of your using an artificial leg. Somehow it seems like
hypocrisy, a kind of appearing to be what you aren’t. I know my idea is
poorly expressed, but that’s the way I feel about it.”

A peculiar light came into Gregory’s eyes, a light that neither friend
had ever seen there before. He straightened visibly, almost without the
aid of his crutch. “I’ll walk yet as well as any one and maybe it will
give me back my mental confidence. My mind shall triumph over my body as
well as it ever did!”

The artificial leg was duly applied to the hip stump, and it really was
amazing to observe the rapidity with which Gregory mastered the art of
using it proficiently. Anyone unacquainted with his deformity would
never have realized that he did not possess two normal legs.

And then came the automobile accident a week before the time set for the
Nelson-Gregory nuptials. How George Gregory’s car was struck by an on
coming truck, reduced to a junk-heap, and George thrown into a ditch, so
that one arm was finally caused to be amputated, never will be known,
for George had always been a careful driver. Even with his artificial
leg he declared he had no difficulty in putting on the brake. The fall
had, as was proved later, caused also internal injuries so that some of
the bodily organs did not function properly.

The months that followed were to all who were closely concerned with the
accident, like a descent into Hades. Dr. Bell, serving as an interne in
the Good Samaritan Hospital, devoted himself untiringly to the tragic
case of George Gregory. A world famous specialist was summoned in
consultation concerning the internal injuries sustained by Gregory. Very
little hope was held out for the life of the unfortunate man, although
there was one chance; an artificial kidney[1]. The vigorous constitution
of the invalid came to his rescue. He not only survived the operation
but seemed to be in the best of health afterward.

And it is not to be wondered that Rosalind began to doubt whether her
love for George Gregory could remain the same as before. Thrown
constantly as she was in the company of Dr. David Bell, observing his
devoted care and interest in George, she began to compare, or rather to
contrast, the two men. George’s rapid deterioration was no longer a
possible flight of the imagination. It was an actuality. It was no
longer possible to overlook the meaning behind his words.

“God expresses Himself through the physical world,” he said when the
three were together at George’s apartment on Kenneth Drive. “He is a
Spirit, but He makes Himself manifest in the perfection of a physical
world. As much of physical perfection as I have lost, that much of God
or Goodness has left me and there are no two ways about it.”

Remonstrance was useless, so convinced was the invalid that his theories
were correct. Also in his mind there grew steadily an ever increasing
dislike for the friend of his college days, the doctor. He could no
longer be blind to the fact that it was a struggle for Rosalind to be
loyal to him. He was also aware of the growing affection that existed
between David and Rosalind. From a dislike his feelings gradually
changed to those of implacable hatred for his former chum.

  1. An “artificial kidney” has been invented recently, and tried out
     successfully on dogs. A cylinder of glass contains a number of
     celloidin tubes which strain the poisons out of the blood.


The Parting
-----------

At length after weary days and nights of indecision Rosalind came to the
conclusion that she could not marry George Gregory. She longed to tell
David of her feelings, but could not because she was conscious of her
love for the young doctor. The subject of marriage had not been
mentioned by either George or Rosalind since the second accident, but
instinctively the girl felt that her lover’s previous offer at the time
of his lost leg, to release her from their engagement, was not to be
renewed; though he must have known that his qualifications as a husband
were now fewer than they could possibly have been before.

The moment that Rosalind had dreaded came at last. They were strolling
together one evening toward the outskirts of the town. The moon
softened, with its silvery glow, objects that in the glare of noon stood
out in too bold relief. As they left the highway for the river-path
George said:

“Let us set a day for the wedding. I’ve waited long enough.” As he spoke
he put around her waist an arm, not one with which nature had equipped
him, but one so cunningly wrought that a casual observer would never
have known. But Rosalind knew! She shuddered, and in that act, George
Gregory knew that his doom was sealed.

“I can’t marry you, George,” she pleaded in a hoarse, unnatural voice.
“I am sorry that it is so, but I cannot do it.”

The man laughed and the tones chilled the heart of the girl. “You said
once that my identity remained, no matter what the physical
imperfections of my body. Now you deny it!” His voice rose in his
excitement.

“Listen, oh George,” she cried now thoroughly panic-stricken. “You are
yourself allowing your mental attitude toward life to be altered. You
have admitted it. Had you remained unchanged mentally, I truly believe
your physical difference would not have mattered. I loved you for what
you were, but, George, you are so changed!”

“Yes I am changed,” he shrieked, “but my desires and passions are no
different, unless intensification indicates a difference.”

He reached toward her, but adept as he was in the use of his two
artificial limbs, she eluded his grasp and was off with a bound up the
rough river-path and toward the highway. She heard distinctly the sound
of pursuit. Could he outrun her handicapped as he was?

Once he fell, and the sound of muttered oaths came to her ears. On and
on she flew, not daring to look back though she suspected that he was
gaining. Just within the border of the town where the houses were
somewhat scattered he caught her and simultaneously she fainted away.

When consciousness returned a dear familiar face was bent near her own.
With a sob of joy she put her arms about David’s neck, and in a few
endearing words they plighted their troth.

David, on his way back from a professional call, where he was
substituting for old Dr. Amos who was ill, had witnessed from a distance
the two running figures. Before he arrived upon the spot with his car,
the pursuing form had overtaken the other.

To rescue a maiden from the arms of her lover seemed a very peculiar
service to render—but one look into the eyes of George Gregory proved to
the doctor beyond the question of a doubt that he was not dealing with a
sane man. The contest was an unequal one, though the agility displayed
by the cripple would have done credit to a normal man of more than
average prowess. David tried to reason with his antagonist, but the use
of logic at that time was unavailing. It was a hard struggle, but George
was finally willing to admit himself defeated.


A Man Obsessed
--------------

About three months following this incident Dr. Bell (now in possession
of the office of the late Dr. Amos) was about to lock up after the
afternoon consultations when he heard the approach of a belated visitor
in the hall. Looking up he beheld Gregory who passed quickly through the
waiting-room and into the inner office, closing the door behind him. The
peculiar look of a fanatic, that had become more marked since his second
accident, was evident now as he seated himself and turned wild eyes to
the doctor.

“Don’t be scared, doc,” he jeered at sight of Bell’s white drawn face.
“I didn’t come to blame you for winning Rosalind’s love, though I
confess the thought of your wedding next week goes considerably against
the grain. I came for another purpose and I want you to help me.”

He rose now and advanced toward the physician. The latter observed the
perfect mastery of the artificial limbs, a mastery that proved how well
the brain can be trained to control nerves and muscles under unusual
conditions. Was all the effort of this brain being turned in that
direction to the detriment of a well-balanced reasoning power?

“Here’s my proposition, Bell,” the words jangled harshly, bringing to a
swift conclusion the doctor’s thoughts regarding the changed mental
status of his one-time friend. “I have decided what I want done. I’ll
admit that what I’m about to tell you will prove I have a mental quirk
which, by the way, corresponds to my physical quirks, but this thing has
become an obsession with me.”

The speaker leaned forward and held the other’s attention with a steady
gaze. He then resumed. “I am going to try out an experiment, or rather
have it tried out on me, for I shall be a passive factor in this case. I
am going to find out how much of this mortal coil I can shuffle off and
still maintain my personal identity as a piece of humanity here on
earth. In other words, as much of my body as can be removed and
substituted by artificial parts, I wish to have done.”

During Gregory’s recital David’s eyes had dilated in horror, and he
unconsciously recoiled from his visitor until the width of the room was
between them. Not a word could he utter. The seconds ticked away on the
little ebony clock on the desk and still the two men regarded each other
with unquestionable antagonism.

“Well, will you do it, Bell?” The man pointed significantly to the
surgical instruments and the operating table. “I have ample means to pay
you handsomely. I’m going to find out about this mortal body and its
relation to the soul before I die. You’ve robbed me of one desire of my
heart, but this you shall grant!”

At last Bell spoke, and with the sound of his voice his courage
returned. “George, whether you believe it or not, you are a madman and I
refuse to comply with your request. If, as you yourself maintain, with
the loss of every bodily member, your mental and spiritual powers have
waned, what in heaven’s name tell me, would you be with only enough of
your body left to chain your spirit to earth? I will not aid you in this
mad project of yours. Go, or shall I have you taken to the hospital for
the insane?”

George Gregory saw that further persuasion was useless. He walked toward
the outer office but at the doorway he turned and faced Bell. “There are
other surgeons in the world, and mark my words, I shall find out yet by
how slender a thread body and soul can hang together.”


The Artificial Man
------------------

Five years passed. David Bell married Rosalind Nelson and built up a
splendid reputation as a surgeon. Nothing had been heard in those years
of George Gregory. His memory passed as an evil dream and his name was
never mentioned. Then one day (it was shortly after the erection of the
new county hospital) David and a young interne by the name of Lucius
Stevens were putting away the instruments after an operation, when they
felt rather than heard the approach of an individual. Turning they
beheld the unfamiliar form of a stranger. He was a little under average
height. A cap covered the upper portion of his face and a long loose
overcoat concealed most of his figure.

“What can we do for you, stranger?” asked Dr. Bell of the silent figure
in the door.

“Stranger!” exclaimed the hollow, metallic voice that issued from
somewhere beneath the visor of the cap. “I am no stranger, though
possibly you do not recognize me. Do you remember your rival George
Gregory, Dr. David Bell? I am he.”

“You—it is impossible,” exclaimed the amazed doctor. “Gregory was a tall
man, altogether different in appearance. You—”

“Nevertheless I tell you I am George Gregory and I have come to settle
old accounts with you. Clear out,” he shouted to the frightened Stevens.
“My trouble is not with you.”

Lucius lost no time in following the stranger’s suggestion. After his
departure the two men in the operating room faced each other for some
moments in silence.

“Before I have done with you,” came the metallic tones again, “I will
explain a few things that may puzzle you.”

Here he walked to the office door, locked it and put the key into the
overcoat pocket. “Now, sit down, David Bell, don’t be in a hurry, for
you are not going to leave this room alive. I promise you that, and I am
accustomed to doing what I promise.”

Bell did as he was bade. The curiosity of his analytical mind was
aroused and he wished to find out more about this stranger whose
identity he could in no way associate with Gregory. Fascinated, he
watched while the man removed his cap and overcoat, and then before
David’s startled gaze the newcomer placed his right hand to his left
shoulder and with a slight manipulation removed the left arm which he
propped up in the chair nearest him. He then seated himself and
proceeded to dismember himself until nought but a torso, head and one
arm remained, all of which were scarred with countless incisions. A
mirthless laugh jarred to the depths the doctor’s overwrought nerves.
The features of the intruder were not recognizable as those of his
former friend, Gregory. There was no nose, only two nostrils flat upon
the surface of the face. The head was bald and earless, the mouth a
toothless gap.

A shudder of disgust went through David, and again the dry laugh of this
monstrosity echoed through the room.

“I’m not exactly pretty, eh? But I’m finding out what I wanted to know.
After I left you five years ago I went to a famous German surgeon and
put my plea to him. He was as interested as I in the experiment, and you
see the result. The operations required a period of two years in order
to give nature a chance to have the body recuperate in the interim
between experiments. As you see me now I am without any parts except
those absolutely essential to life. One exception to this however, are
my eyes. I did not yet wish to be shut off from the outer world by all
of the senses. The artificial internal organs I dare not remove as I do
my appendages for they are necessary to my life. The crowning operation
of all was a pump replacing my heart. This pump is a simple double valve
mechanism which circulates the small amount of blood required for my
torso, head and arm. Look here!”

As he spoke he proceeded to reattach the artificial members. After he
had again thus assumed semblance to human form he called attention to
something David had not noticed before, a flat object lying upon his
chest.

“This is the control board,” he explained. “With the exception of the
right arm I now move my body by electricity. The batteries are concealed
within a hollow below the hip of my right leg. Behold in me an
artificial man who lives and breathes and has his being with a minimum
of mortal flesh! My various parts can be mended and replaced as you
would repair the parts of your automobile.”

During Gregory’s recital David had not withdrawn his fascinated but
horrified eyes from the mechanical man. Invulnerable and almost
immortal, this creature was existing as a menace to mankind, a self-made
Frankenstein. When he was again complete he stood before David, a
triumphant gleam in the eyes which alone, unchanged physically, were yet
scarcely recognizable as Gregory’s, for the soul that peered through
these windows was transformed.

In the gathering gloom Bell could see the automaton staring at him. He
moved slowly toward a window hoping to elude his antagonist by a sudden
exit in that direction, but Gregory crept toward him with a clock-like
precision in his movements. The doctor noticed that the right hand was
kept busy manipulating the control board at his chest. If this were the
case, the interloper possessed only one free arm, but little had Bell
reckoned on the prowess of that left arm! Like the grip of a vise the
metallic fingers clutched at his throat. One thought pervaded his mind.
If he could get that right hand away from the control and damage the
connections to the various appendages and organs! But he soon realized
how futile were his weaponless hands against the invulnerable body of
his adversary. Down, down, those relentless claws bore him. The darkness
fell about him like a heavy curtain. A throbbing in his temples that
sounded like a distant pounding. Then oblivion.


The Thread Snaps
----------------

When David Bell regained consciousness he was lying in his bed. The
bright sunlight shining through the curtains made delicate traceries
across the counterpane. His first thought was that this was heaven by
contrast to the events of his last conscious moments. Surely that was an
angel hovering above him! No—at least not in the ethereal sense—but an
angel nevertheless, for it was Rosalind, her sweet face beaming with
love and solicitude.

“Mr. Stevens and I have been watching by your side for hours, David
dear,” she said as she placed a cool hand upon his brow. “You have him
to thank for saving your life, not only at the time of the attack, but
during the uncertain hours that have followed.”

David turned grateful eyes toward his rescuer.

“Tell me about it, Lucius,” he said quietly.

Stevens seated himself in a chair by the bedside and proceeded with this
narrative.

“After that demon you called Gregory ordered me from the room, Dr. Bell,
I turned over in my mind what had better be done to save you from his
vengeance. I thought it advisable to say nothing at the time to Mrs.
Bell because I did not wish to alarm her unnecessarily, but I knew that
when I forced entrance into the room, it must be with adequate
assistance, and within a very short period of time. I made my way to the
office as quickly as I could without arousing suspicion. Miss Cullis was
at the desk. Knowing I could rely on her natural calmness of demeanor
and self-possession, I told her briefly of the danger which threatened
you, then I phoned police headquarters. Before ten minutes were over
Copeland and Knowles had arrived armed with automatics and crow-bars. I
carried an axe. Cautiously we made our way to the door of the operating
room and stood without, listening. We heard no sounds of voices and
Copeland wanted to force entrance immediately, but I held him in
temporary restraint. I wanted to obtain some cue as to conditions on the
other side of the door before taking drastic measures. But thanks to
Copeland’s impatience we broke down the door and saw—I shall never
forget the sight till my dying day—that fiend of hell with his talons
gripping your throat. He was evidently somewhat deaf for he heard no
motion of our approach. We closed in on him from the rear, but he swung
around with such force in that left arm that we all went down like ten-
pins. Knowles, as soon as he was on his feet again, struck him several
times with the bar, but his efforts were wasted, for he might as well
have rained blows upon a stone wall. Copeland aimed for his head in
which he knew was encased a mortal brain, but that blow was avoided by
the monster’s ever active legs and arms. I was reserving my axe for a
telling stroke, when it came upon me with sudden clarity of
understanding, that the man governed his movements by manipulating the
fingers of his right hand upon a place of control at his breast. His
right arm and the switch board! These were the vulnerable parts. At last
I had found the heel of Achilles!

“While Gregory was occupied with his other two antagonists I dealt a
sudden stroke with the axe at his right hand, but missed, the weapon
falling heavily upon his chest. My first emotion was disappointment at
having missed my mark but in another second I realized that the blow had
disabled him. The left arm hung useless at his side, but what prowess it
lacked was made up in the increased activity of the legs. He ran, and
never have I seen such speed. He would have made Atalanta resemble a
snail! However, three against one put the odds too heavily in our favor.
Between lurches and thrusts at the flying figure I managed to convey to
the two policemen my discovery in regard to his mortal points, and we
soon had his trusty right arm disabled. The rest was comparatively easy.
We dismembered him. We did not want to kill him, but it was soon
apparent to us that the damage done to the control board would prove
fatal. He wanted to speak, but his voice was faint, and stooping I could
barely get the words.

“‘Tell David,’ he said, ‘that I’ve been wrong, dead wrong ever since I
was carried off the field in that football game. I had been right at
first. Mental perfection does make the physical harmonious, and with the
right mental attitude after that accident, I could have risen above the
physical handicap. It was not the physical loss of my leg that brought
me to this. _It was the mind that allowed it to do so._ Tell David and
Rosalind I am sorry for the past, and I wish them much happiness for the
future!’ Those were his last words.”

David Bell and his wife looked at each other with tear-dimmed eyes.

Next day the “slender thread” which had held George Gregory to this
world was laid in its last resting place, but the soul which had
realized and repented of its error, who knows whither it went?


[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the Fall, 1929 issue of
_Science Wonder Quarterly_ magazine.]




*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76114 ***