Vicky Frankenstein
My name is Victor. My peers tell me I am a brilliant scientist. That’s what they’ve been telling me all my life. I was the youngest to ever graduate from the university at age fifteen. I got degrees in biology, chemistry and medicine before any of my friends were able to get just one degree. So I must be smart.
However, It turned out even geniuses make mistakes. I got so excited. I got in a zone of creation and I messed up. I messed up bad. When a normal person messes up, the consequences are low. When an extraordinary, yet imperfect, mind like myself messes up, it tends to get real messy. That, I found out the hard way.
The fire in my brain started on a sunny day in May. I was 24 years old and the world lay at my feet. I had pushed the boundaries of what was once deemed impossible. Fellow scientists from all over the world hailed my work. They used so many positive adjectives I lost track of them. Actually, that’s a lie. I received exactly 56 adjectives that can be perceived as positive. ‘Brilliant;’ was the most common one but I could appreciate other choices such as freakin awesome, cool as fuck and mind-blowing. Although I never really liked uncontrolled explosions I was told that even that last one should be interpreted as a positive adjective.
On this sunny day in May, two things happened. The first thing was the most courageous thing I had ever done. Bear in mind that I had genetically manipulated hogs to become 500-kilogram fighting machines (the military pays well.), I had milked the toxins of the most dangerous snakes in the world with my bare hands. Pushed the poison out of their fangs even though one drip could paralyze me. I had been on explorations in the jungle of the Congo to study the effect of rabies on gorillas first hand. But this was far more risky than anything I had ever done before. I talked to a girl.
56 adjectives would not have been enough to describe how beautiful she was. I am blessed to not be a professor in linguistics or I would be frustrated by the limitations languages impose on communication. I would feel the constant desire to add words to the dictionary until no dictionary could ever again fit in a backpack. Exact sciences do not know such limitations. Despite all my brilliance, I had never been able to figure out this absolute wonder of nature that is a woman. They function in such an absurd way, even my grey cells get jammed by the absurdity of their behaviour. How could anyone ever spend more than ten minutes on average in the restroom? Our digestive systems are very similar, yet excreting feces takes longer than one minute and sixteen seconds in just three point two percent of cases I have recorded. Washing my hands takes up forty-three seconds. Only once since I’ve started analysing bathroom breaks have I spent more than ten minutes in the restroom. It was the day after I had first eaten Thai food. A terrible misjudgement that will never happen again. It baffles me to see how women ignore any logic and I’m still not sure how I am capable of craving such imperfect creatures. A friend once advised me to never study the chemicals involved with what is commonly known as ‘love’, for I would never be able to find true love. He asked me not to kill the entire concept of love. So I didn’t.
I walked to the girl and I said,
‘Hello, female specimen of the homo sapien race, I would like to bring you to my lab so I could study what it is about you that makes my pulse raise and why your presence creates a hormonal imbalance in my brain. More specifically, I would like to study your secretion of pheromones and I would, of course, also need to take your exact measurements. Would you mind coming with me and take off all of your clothes?’
Saying all this in just one breath was hard. I had lost control of my breathing so it was the only way to verbally express myself. She did not take it well.
‘Excuse me?’ She said. ‘I am way out of your league, go train some muscles and get a tan before you ever dare talk to me again.’ Confusion is a very rare feeling for me. Yet, It always seems to happen when I’m having a conversation with a woman. Did I not communicate exactly what I meant? Why does a woman want me to train something as superficial as muscles? And why did I need a tan when in this climate a more pale skin helps me to create sufficient vitamin D with limited exposure to the sun? My friends referred to this as ‘rejection.’ Again, I felt the need to study linguistics so I could propose a better word for this. But it seems to be a waste of time when you realise the unlimited potential of biochemistry.
The incomprehensible concept of love fascinated me. How was it possible for me to get confused? Why did my intelligence plummet in the presence of a woman? And why was being the smartest person in the country not enough to deserve the attention of a female?
This is when the second event occurred that fired up my mind. My friend Dietrich told me ‘why don’t you create your own woman since you can’t seem to find love with a normal woman you might as well make one.’ My other friends at the table started laughing. I was amazed by the enthusiasm they showed for the idea through their laughter.
‘Do you think this is possible?’ I asked Dietrich. Dietrich is an average biochemist at best. However, he has “been with a lady” before so I value his opinion about women.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You’re the one person crazy enough to pull it off.’ The enthusiasm at our table was noticeable through uncontrolled laughter I had rarely seen. ‘You could use fresh corpses and sew the best pieces together,’ he chuckled. His enthusiasm was so great he could no longer speak normally. As I said before, my brain got fired up. This female had rejected me and Dietrich had given me an idea. As it goes with fire it burns uncontrolled and it spreads quickly through the dry hay that is my brain.
Obviously, I went to work. I must admit I might have rushed the process just a little bit. My self-confidence was perhaps too high. My friends seemed excited about the idea initially. Although it’s weird they never inquired about my progress. Additionally, there were a few strange rats and a most peculiar chicken running around town that saw life because of my Brilliance. I had a proof of concept. I did not even consider failing my masterpiece. It did not take long before I finished my very own female.
It opened her eyes. My body froze. Its fingers twitched. I could no longer control my excitement.
‘It’s alive!’ I yelled. I tried to compose myself. I couldn’t wake up my parents and I didn’t want to scare it. For such a magnificent creature I could only imagine one name great enough.
‘Vicky,’ I whispered softly. My voice was trembling. I approached her face with my hand. O the skin was so soft. It was no longer a thing. It was a female humanoid creation deserving of the pronoun “she”.
I aided her to sit upright. She was now engaging in eye contact. I might even have excreted some tear fluid. I consciously smiled. I knew the importance of mimicking as part of the learning process. She returned my smile. It was the first time a female homo sapien specimen returned a smile. I took it a step further. I held her arm and I laid it on my chest. I felt affection for my creation. The warmth of my chest had the same effect on her. I’m sure of it. I saw it in her spontaneous facial expression. I brought my other hand into my chest and said ‘Victor’. Then I pointed at her and said, ‘Vicky’. I repeated her name a few time. She was trying to bring out the words. Until it happened. ‘Vicky,’ she said.
My smile faded. For her voice was deeper than Sean Connery’s voice had ever been. Only then it came to my attention the arm I was pushing against my chest was rather hairy and very muscular. I quickly let go of its arm and jumped back. It stared at me with questions. ‘One moment,’ I foolishly said. It, she or he couldn’t understand English yet. ‘One moment,’ it repeated. The voice vibrated through my body. I opened my notebook and searched for clues about what had gone wrong. Was it a mistake for me to desire a tall woman? I had used parts of Ashley, Louise and Michel. All three of them in their twenties. Ashley died in a car crash, Louise died of lung cancer and Michel had a hunting accident.
Only now I realised Michel came from France and the name was spelled with just one L. I had used a man for the arms and parts of the chest. Meanwhile, the abomination was stretching its legs. Getting used to its body. It approached me with a fanatic smile full of desire. I escaped a hugging attempt.
‘It’s a monster!’ I yelled before running off into the forest.
‘Victor!’ it growled with inhuman volume.
I am aware of the effects adrenaline has on the body. That day an unhealthy amount rushed through my veins. It’s my luck that my lab at my parents’ house is just five point four meters away from the forest. The vegetation gave me a place to hide when Vicky came after me. Many words come to mind to describe the way she was looking for me. Frantic is the best one in my opinion. It ran around yelling my name, her name, “one moment” and “it’s a monster”. At the time this was its entire vocabulary range. I was pleased with the speed it picked these words up even though they lacked any meaning to this abomination. It wandered deeper into the forest. I stayed put in the bush I had jumped into until I could no longer see it or hear the heavy voice of my failure. I was confused for I hadn’t experienced failure in my scientific endeavours ever before. It was this monstrous concept of love that must have clouded my judgement. That and the French having no respect for gender-specific names.
This is where I must tell you about what Vicky went through. My sudden hormonal imbalance at the time had made it impossible for me to understand what Vicky experienced. She told me when we met again four months later.
She wondered through the forest several days. Eventually, she stopped yelling. She understood it didn’t help. She inherited the instincts of three different persons. Luckily Michel knew a thing or two about finding food in the forest. Somehow this transferred to Vicky. Putting a gun in her hands would probably be a bad idea though. Then, she found a cabin that had a storage room build against it. Vicky made this storage room her home. Through a crack in the wall, she could see what transpired in the cabin. The cabin was a home for a lesbian couple. It was reassuring to me that Vicky had observed lesbians for these are the most rational of females of the homo sapien race. She picked up the language. She learned what human behaviour should be like. And she now realised she needed another person like herself to be “whole”.
The place we met again was that very same place my brain ignited the first time. Dietrich and my other friends were still showing me their appreciation through laughter. There were still no girls looking in my direction. Everything was the same as months before except for the now dreary weather.
‘Victor,’ she yelled. Vicky’s voice sounded loud even though she was still fifty meters away from the picnic table outside the university building. She was drawing a lot of attention to herself. I could hear the people using adjectives such as ugly, terrible, awful, nasty and repelling. It filled me with regret for ever calling her a monster. It had been my hormonal imbalance causing me to say foolish things. I never meant it. These people however were all acting the same way they always do. The girl that caused my hormonal imbalance in the first place was also present. I read her lips from a distance. She called Vicky ‘a freak,’ when Vicky walked past her. Suddenly my pulse no longer raised when I saw this girl. Her pheromones had lost any effect on me. My friends left the table when Vicky came closer. They used these same negative nouns and adjectives. I was ashamed for being their friend. She towered over me. She looked angry. But I instantly knew this was because I messed up the eyebrows. That’s just the face she has.
‘Victor, I need your help,’ she said. I offered her a seat. ‘I’ll stand,’ she said. ‘It’s better for the blood circulation.’ She had a good point. So I stood up myself. She was looking around. ‘Why are all these people afraid of me?’ she asked. I did the best I could to answer her but first I explained to her I specialised in biology, chemistry, biochemistry and medicine. Anthropology or Psychology were not my fields of expertise.
‘Well Vicky, these people are afraid for persons they don’t know or understand. They don’t understand what drives you or what your desires are. This feeling is enhanced because you look,…’
‘Ugly, terrible, awful, nasty and repelling? Like a freak?’ she said. I try not to make assumptions. But she was only a few months old so I could forgive her this mistake when trying to complete my sentence.
‘No, because you look different,’ I said.
‘Is different bad?’
‘No, everyone is different. You are unique just like anyone else. Except you are even more unique than anyone else. Your distinctly yellow tan and your size are quite rare in this part of the world.’ The next few words were hard for me to pronounce. ‘I must admit I don’t understand why some people run away from you.’
‘But you ran away,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry. I was suffering a temporarily hormonal imbalance which caused this unpredictable behaviour of me.’
‘I need you to make another me. I need a second person like me to love,’ she said. I agreed and shook her left hand. It confused her but I explained to her that her left hand came from Ashly and didn’t have the hard grip of Michel.
Even though I considered Vicky a failure at first, she turned out very well in her own way. However, this time I wanted to achieve the abstract concept of beauty. I used five bodies this time to fabricate my newest creation. I double-checked the names and gender. I had done this before so my confidence was high. The peculiar three-headed chicken hanging around the lab was a constant reminder of my brilliance.
I finished her up. I breathed along with her when she first sucked the air into her lungs. I couldn’t resist touching her face. It was smooth. Sure she was pale but I couldn’t stop my hormones from limiting my cognitive functions. I named her Belle. She repeated her name. I shivered. This time it wasn’t because of a low bass voice. I shivered because of the tenderness her voice possessed. A masterpiece that worked out the way I wanted it. Even the eyebrows were a success. I promised myself to never do this again. I’m quite fond of cognitive functions and these female specimens make my intelligence plummet. It would be self-destructive to go and create another newly composed woman. Of course, I had promised Belle to Vicky. I told Vicky I had succeeded in my mission but that I needed more time to teach her basic linguistics so communication would go smoothly.
I had underestimated the effect Belle had on me. My attention span evaporated whenever I saw Belle. My pulse raised and I started sweating. Somehow I didn’t mind all this. I knew Pi until 3664 numbers behind the comma but when Belle was with me practising speech I couldn’t get past 118. However, it was In her best interest she received the best education possible. I decided to visit the lesbian couple in the woods and ask them to take over the teaching from me. These two women said I had to consider them as non-binary. This abstract concept confused me. It reassured me they were of great intelligence because it takes effort to confuse me. I never felt so welcome. These non-binary people are very warm.
I picked up Belle a few months later. I always keep my promises. It baffles me how some people just say things and don’t follow up on them. Not keeping my word has simply never been an option. But I now realise how hormonal imbalances can diverge a person’s moral principles from its normal disposition.
I suggested chaperoning the first date between Vicky and Belle. Vicky started crying when she met Belle. Belle was very polite and smiled at Vicky. We went to a small restaurant and we had Salmo Salar with baked Solanum tuberosum and some Pisum sativum. I like these simple dishes. They don’t surprise me and they allow me to focus. I sat next to Belle during the date. They sat in front of one another. They barely noticed me. They talked and talked and talked. I was impressed by the improvements Vicky had made. She had a wide vocabulary range. Things went well between them. Vicky was quickly getting attached to Belle. Even socially awkward me could see this. I had of course created the perfect female. Furthermore, Belle’s mind was a mostly blank slate. I knew this date would result in Vicky completely dominating Belle’s neural synapses. In this early stage of development, this would result in an irreversible attachment. Their love for each other would be pure and deeply grinded into their nervous systems if I didn’t stop it. I asked for a large bottle of water and some cups. I kept refilling Vicky’s cup. I told her drinking lots of water was of the utmost importance. She insisted we would drink just as much because of this. She wanted both of us hydrated just as much as herself. But I explained to her that sitting on the north side of the table didn’t require us to drink as much. I know, I am not a very experienced liar, but she believed me.
Looking back at it I am astounded by the evil nature within myself. My neural development is highly advanced but falling in love with my own creation was inevitable. I wanted Belle for myself. I was naïve to think this kind of fabricated love could ever work. I blame the hormonal imbalances.
Finally, Vicky stood up. She needed to use the restroom. I was hoping her feminine side would be dominant. If that was the case there would have been plenty of time for me to run away with Belle and get a big head start on Vicky who would certainly chase us. I held Belle’s hand as I was watching the male and female symbols above the toilets. Holding her hand made my hormones rage even more and degraded my mind to that of an average noble price winning scientist. If she would choose the ladies bathroom I would not hesitate and run away with Belle. But Vicky stood still in front of the two doors. She made her voice vibrate through the room. ‘I want to speak to the manager,’ she said. The whole restaurant went silent. I knew she wasn’t angry. That’s just the way she speaks and me not being an expert in sewing on eyebrows. Still, I seemed to be the only one to know this. A big-bellied mand came out of the kitchen. They started a discussion I could not comprehend at the time. Again, I do not specialise in linguistics but I’m more advanced in it than most others. It was a conversation about the absence of a gender-neutral toilet. The manager saw no need for it but Vicky demanded a solution. For the second time in my life, the concept of non-binary identity was imposed on me. I’m ashamed to admit that a binary world of categories and easy to understand concepts is a comfort and it allows me to do my research more effectively. But even though my research is binary and benefits from categories, the world, of course, isn’t binary but infinitely complex beyond human comprehension. Vicky taught me this. The student tutoring the teacher.
I saw an opening to bolt. This discussion touched the essence of Vicky’s identity so she would focus on it and lose sight of us. I pulled Belle by the arm to go and run with me despite the primal expression of confusion on her face. We ran. I ran as fast as I could. My heart was pumping. I had studied bathroom breaks before. But I had never timed a discussion about a non-binary gender toilet. This was an uncertainty. I feared this uncertainty. Even if this uncertainty made me feel more alive than ever before.
I did not dare to look back as I ran through the streets. Belle was hesitant and I had to pull her arm hard to get her to come with me. Suddenly it became easier and I ran away with great strides. I was blind to the reality that it had become too easy. I looked back and saw Belle fifty meters behind me. Yet, I was still holding her arm. People were looking at her. They were whispering things. No one came to help her, even though she had lost an arm. I walked back to her and urged her to follow me. It wouldn’t be long before Vicky came looking for us. Vicky would hear the people’s whispers about the one-armed woman and her hunting instinct would track us down.
I took Belle to a nearby hospital. Doctors were astounded by the sight of Belle. One of them even fainted. Yes, she is that beautiful. I tried to explain as simple as I could the basic principles of how Belle was made and how they had to fix her. This other dark side of me surfaced. My pride took control. I lectured a handful of doctors who ignored the waiting room of the emergency room. They took notes and two of them volunteered to assist me when sewing the arm back on. I had lost a lot of time in the hospital.
The name, ‘Victor’ vibrated through the hospital. We had to run through a backdoor to avoid crossing Vicky on our way out.
My instincts told me running wasn’t going to work much longer. We came to a square which I was unfamiliar with. Truth be told, I never bothered seeing the city. My lab had always seemed more interesting. I dragged Belle into a bar, hoping Vicky wouldn’t find us here. Once we went inside the bar I didn’t dare to get out again. The music was absolutely awful. Terribly boring lullabies commonly referred to as house music. I wondered if they had never heard of Mozart or Liszt. And why they would pick these repetitive sounds with silly phrases ahead of classical brilliance? We sat down at the bar.
‘I’ll have some Carbonised H2O please,’ I said to the barmaid. ‘And my friend will have some red wine. But make sure the wine still has anti-inflammatory properties. She has some scratches that need to heal.’
‘Coming right up,’ she said and she closed one eye.
‘I’ll want it in front of me instead of right up somewhere,’ I said. She laughed.
‘You’re funny. Is she your girlfriend?’ she asked pointing at Belle. I looked at Belle. Her mostly blank mind was being overstimulated because of all the people in the bar.
‘Girlfriend? Vicky girlfriend,’ Belle said.
‘You’ve come to the right place if Vicky is your girlfriend,’ the barmaid said.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Well, this is what most people call a gay and lesbian bar. Although people of all strides are welcome,’ the barmaid said. I looked at Belle. She was staring around the room. I noticed her foot tapping on the beat of the music. She started smiling. I looked around myself. I still haven’t found a better word to describe what I saw. It was love. Love was all around. Belle noticed it. That’s what made her smile. I noticed the toilets. There were three separate toilets. I saw two persons come out the middle one meant for non-binary people.
‘Victor,’ I heard Vicky’s voice say. Her voice was the only one potent and deep enough to carry that far through the music-induced room. I wasn’t startled at all. Cheers of excitement filled the room upon Vicky’s arrival. People came to her to hug her. Belles smile grew larger. Vicky walked up to us.
‘I’m angry with you,’ she said. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’
‘Hormonal imbalances,’ I muttered.
‘That’s no excuse for not paying your part of the bill at the restaurant.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything,’ I said.
‘It’s okay. I got you covered. Next time you’re paying though,’ she said. I nodded. Belle and Vicky hooked their arms together and walked out. The barmaid had put my glass in front of me. I sipped it.
‘So what’s the deal with you? You straight?’ The barmaid asked.
‘No, I have a slight curve of the spine because of the lack of physical exercise. But it’s nothing problematic,’ I said. She laughed. Again she briefly closed one eye.
‘My name is Sofia. The drink is on me,’ she said.
‘I’m pretty sure the drink is on the counter,’ I said. More laughter. A neural reflex made me smile as well.
‘I’m Victor.’
‘What do you do for a living Victor?’
‘I eat food just like anyone else.’
‘You’re not accustomed to having casual conversations are you?’
‘It’s a small price to pay for the advancement I’ve made in biochemistry and medicine.’ I still can’t quite grasp what caused me to continue talking. But that’s what I did. ‘Did you know your nose is responsible for taste more than your tongue is?’ I said. She leaned towards me.
‘Fascinating,’ she said. ‘I’m a sapiosexual. Do you know what that is?’
I blushed. Hormonal imbalance.
