The Circus Infinitus - Genesis Infinitus

by Ethan Somerville

  “You can save him?” Del exclaimed.

  Icarus shot to his feet and crossed to the large tank-like device. “No, I can make him better.” His Immortality Machine was dusty but still in perfect working order. He had been maintaining it all these years, just waiting for the right subject. And Del had delivered someone perfect right into his lap! Newly dead, a homeless tramp no-one would miss!

  Del could only gape in horror. “No, you can’t! It’s against nature!” he blurted before he could stop himself.

  “Yes, just like me,” growled Icarus as he dragged a cable from the generator to plug into the base of the device.

  “No, I didn’t mean you,” protested Del, trying to dig his way out. “You did … what you had to do to survive. But you don’t need to put anyone else through it!”

  Icarus pulled down a chain from a complicated array suspended from the ceiling, hooking it to the Immortality Machine’s giant steel lid. “What’s the point of having such a device if I never use it? So far I only know what it has done to me. What will it do to someone different? What abilities will it grant this fellow? What will he need?”

  “You’re condemning him to eternal damnation!”

  “Don’t give me that rubbish!’ Icarus started turning a giant wheel, drawing the lid up from the machine. “You know I’m not condemned.”

  Del might have accepted – albeit grudgingly – Icarus’s undead condition, but he wasn’t about to stand idly by and watch him drag that poor drunk’s soul from salvation. He grabbed Icarus, pulling him from the machine. But he had never physically grappled with him before, and Icarus easily pulled himself free, throwing Del from him, so hard he flew the length of the room. His strength far exceeded a normal human’s.

  “I can’t let you do this,” Del gasped as he picked himself up. “Just let the fellow die with dignity.”

  Icarus glared at him, but there were tears on the human side of his face. “I’m doing this, whether you want me to or not. I made a promise to perfect this machine, and I intend to keep it.” His voice cracked, but he continued.” If … if you don’t like it, you can leave.”

  Del couldn’t believe his ears. “Do you really want me to leave?” he asked in a low voice.

  Icarus did not, but he stood his ground. “I can’t suspend my life because of you.”

  Del turned to stomp out but stopped at the doorway. He could feel Icarus’s gaze on his back. If he departed he would find himself at the mercy of the city once more. Eventually he would learn the language and find his own way, but here he had a place to live – a warm place, and someone with the intelligence and above all power to help him find his way home. He sighed heavily. “No, I can’t go,” he muttered, in a voice so soft Icarus hardly heard it. “You are the only one who understands me. But I don’t have to be around while you resurrect the dead. I will be back later, hopefully when you’re finished.” Then he swept out.

  Icarus stared at the door for a few seconds, then sagged against it in relief. He wasn’t sure what he would have done had Del decided to walk out. Wiping the tears from his cheek he knelt beside the drunk’s body and began stripping it out of its filthy, fetid clothing. The man was clad in several outfits – it seemed whenever he’d appropriated a new article of clothing he’d simply donned it on top. The things closest to his flesh were little more than strips of rags Icarus had to peel off. As the Immortality machine charged, sparks began to leap and dance around the throbbing generator. Icarus connected more chains to the platform inside the device so it could be lowered into the brackish water. He hoisted the body up onto the platform, locking its bony wrists and ankles into the manacles. Then he cranked another handle on the wall. The platform descended into the evil-smelling liquid.

  Really should change that more often, Icarus thought as he switched levers, descending the steel lid. Then he reached for the giant two-pronged switch and paused, waiting for the machine to reach full power. The generator’s throb ascended to a hum, a whine, then a high-pitched scream. More sparks danced and leapt. Icarus wasn’t sure how much he needed – last time he had relied on a lightning-bolt for full power. But he would have to do it soon or blow the entire array.

  He slammed the lever down, sending the entire charge into the Immortality Machine. Power roared through the thick cable and into the machine, filling the interior with electricity. The salty water amplified it. Through the thick, recessed windows Icarus watched the shackled body buck against its chains, the undead muscles locking it into a bow. Once again he had to judge when he thought it had received enough. He thrust the lever up, and the generator powered down with a hiss. The air was filled with smoke and the stink of ozone and brimstone. Did it work? Even though he didn’t need to breathe, Icarus felt like he was holding his breath as he scuttled over to the crank-handles and began to raise both the lid and the grate. The pale naked body lady still, no sign of life – or unlife. Icarus freed it and pulled it down onto the floor, dragging it across to the fire-place. If only the great lightning-bolts of nature worked, then he would have to move his entire lab and revise his technique. “Come on, live,” he muttered, helping the creature to sit and slapping its ruined face. “Come on Faceless – you are my first creation!”

  The disease had not reached the dead drunk’s eyes, and as Icarus watched they opened, revealing the muddy, lifeless orbs of a true zombie. Water spilled from the crater that had once been its nose and mouth. Then a horrible, gurgling moan issued from the depths as more water belched forth. Icarus lifted his hands, forming a simple know-spirit spell. He sensed the return of an essence – whether it belonged to the man or something else he couldn’t tell. But it feared its bizarre surroundings and Icarus had to add another component to his spell, soothing the newborn.

  “You are safe here. I will not hurt you. My name is Icarus,” he explained. “You are…?”

  The creature could only gurgle. Just before he died, the drunk had lost the power of speech. Icarus brought him his coat, which out of all his clothes wasn’t in too bad a condition, and wrapped it around his shoulders. The zombie sat silently, then he lifted a gnarled hand and touched the cloth. He remembered! Icarus revised his spell again, enabling him to touch the creature’s emotions and surface thoughts. He found snatches of memory – his own soul had returned to him! It must have been hovering around the body, unable to leave!

  “You are … Tom Dobbs, aren’t you?” Icarus asked.

  The zombie grunted, and suddenly shifted closer to the fireplace. Did he seek the warmth like Icarus sought electricity? Tom lifted his hands, now more emaciated than they had been in life, his fingernails like bird-claws. He seemed to be concerned about their state, but that was overlapped by the wonderful sensation of finally being free of pain. Towards the end of his life not even his constant drunkenness had helped against the unique sensation of his face slowly being eaten away by the spreading ulcer.

  Icarus opened the furnace and shoveled some more coal in. Fuelling the generator had used a lot of fuel. The flames surged, filling the subterranean laboratory with thick, smoky air. Tom Dobbs immediately perked up, crawling to the oven close enough to touch it.

  Icarus grabbed him. “You might set yourself on fire!” But his spell was still running, and he realised it wasn’t heat Tom wanted, but smoke. It seemed to be soothing him. “You’ll survive around here pretty well then!” He left him beside the fire and went to his work-bench. Putting aside the item that Del had asked him to make, he started fashioning a mask for Tom that would both hide his ruined face and deliver the smoky air he needed. He was hard at work when he felt Del return to the alley above and hover uncertainly at the door, unable to decide whether to come back in.

  It’s alright, you fool, he sent to Del via the closest ward. I haven’t created a vile abomination, rather given a sick man a second chance at a pain-free existence!

  Del actually jumped, startled by the volume of Icarus’ telepathic message. But he returned to the basement, where he found the zombie – To
m Dobbs – seated quite happily in front of the fire, relishing in his freedom from pain. But his mind was no longer as open as a human’s, containing a darkness that could only have come from his brush with death. Del hesitated, still not sure that Icarus had done the right thing.

  Icarus rose from his work-bench, looking supremely satisfied with himself. In one hand he held an odd metal and leather device that Del thought resembled an old-fashioned gas-mask. “You see? No vile apparition farted from Hell’s arse, but a man restored.”

  “Alright,” Del admitted as he hung up his hat and cloak. “He doesn’t seem damned to me. But he does contain a darkness that wasn’t there before. You have set him on a downward path.”

  Slowly Tom Dobbs rose from the fireplace and turned to look at Del. Del realised he wanted to tell him that he could choose his own path, thank you very much! Del gave him a nod of understanding, and Tom returned to his comfortable spot. He seemed to have accepted that the folks around here could read his thoughts, and since he could no longer talk, that suited him fine. What did he have to hide? He could remember very little of his last few days.

  “Interesting. He seems to have accepted his fate, as though his situation no longer worries him,” Del remarked to Icarus in a low voice.

  “Obviously the change affects us differently. He seems quite happy there in front of the fire, absorbing the smoke. Perhaps in time he will be more curious.” Suddenly, Icarus grabbed something else from the bench and secreted it beneath his coat. “Come with me.” He turned and hurried off down the corridor behind his lab, disappearing into the room with the electric chair. Del followed, wondering why he was suddenly being so secretive.

  Icarus pushed the door closed behind him. “What happened last night? Did you get any interesting customers?” He sounded breathless, even though Del knew that was impossible.

  “Surely you didn’t need to drag me in here for that?” Del exclaimed.

  “You want to reveal your sordid evening in front of our new friend?” Icarus retorted.

  “Why not?” Del asked innocently,

  Icarus stared at him, once again confronted by the cavernous difference between himself and the alien creature. “We humans like privacy,” he answered eventually.

  Del laughed. “That’s not what I discovered last night, at a certain aristocrats’ party!”

  Icarus craned forward eagerly. “Tell me more!”

  So Del began with his interesting journey around the East-End streets in the back of Lord Longcock’s carriage. “It was quite exciting, gazing out at the people on the streets through a gap in the curtains, all the while being taken from behind by that ravenous earl,” Del explained matter-of-factly. “None of them knew what was happening within that carriage.”

  Icarus was so engrossed in the story that he had to sit down on his chair. “What next? You mentioned something about a party!”

  “I’m getting to it.” He continued his tale, and Icarus could not tear his gaze from him, so beautiful and so erudite with his story – not a detail glossed over, not a single turned gaze or embarrassed blush. Truly he would have blurted out the whole tale in front of Tom had Icarus asked him to.

  “The fellows at the party asked me to perform all sorts of tricks for them, but seemed quite surprised when I actually acquiesced,” Del explained. “At one time I had three of them on me at once! I sucked on one fellow’s organ while another had me from behind, and a third caressed my excited-“

  Icarus lifted a hand. “Enough! I can’t take any more.” He stood up, pulling his coat open, baring his mechanical body. “This morning I did what you wanted. I fashioned a mechanical apparatus so I could give you pleasure. Is …is this the sort of device you had in mind?”

  Del stared at it in amazement. “It’s … quite impressive! How did you attach it to your own body?”

  “It’s magnetic.”

  “True genius. Does it move?”

  “It possesses a hydraulic action that I can control.”

  “How long does it get?”

  “Fifteen inches. But I can extend it if that’s insufficient.”

  “All those extra protuberances – they look very interesting.” He touched it, running his hand up and down. “You’ve oiled it, too. And it’s warm … so warm. Even better!” He had been considering a nap until now. “I must try it. Is it ready?”

  Icarus sat back down on his chair. “Of course! I never do anything half-arsed.” He gave a wicked laugh.

  Smiling, Del began removing his clothes, revealing that pale, hairless perfect flesh. He stood erect – already excited by the prospect of Icarus’ hand-made prosthesis, gleaming with lubricants.

  “I’m glad you came back,” Icarus blurted before he could stop himself.

  “What? Oh, I wasn’t going to leave. I couldn’t – not after what we’d been through.” Del ran his hands down his body. “We seem to be two of a kind – set upon the same path to perdition. How can I condemn you for your damnation when I also wear the mark?” He touched his forehead. “All we can do is try to live the best life we can.”

  Icarus held out his hands. “I … I love you, Del.”

  For once Del’s ability to speak deserted him. He couldn’t find the words. The sheer force of emotion from Icarus threatened to swamp him. The cyborg had dropped his shields as soon as they’d stepped into the room, so there was no mistaking his feelings. But Del was tongue-tied because he didn’t feel the same way. He liked Icarus and valued the help he had given him; the place to stay and access to technology, but he didn’t love him with the same intensity.

  On Eridon, it was easy to have sex with a stranger. But to love … true love was far rarer, for it meant not only a physical coupling, but a mental one as well, in which both parties telepathically shared all their memories and feelings. Deception was impossible.

  “Oh Icarus … I don’t know what to say…” Del tailed off, not knowing how to continue.

  That seemed to be enough. “Let me have you. Let me feel what you feel.”

  Icarus seemed to equate Del’s lust as love, the fact that he could see past Icarus’s bizarre appearance. Del could live with that. As he maneuvered himself into position Icarus grabbed him, suffusing him with a heat that would have burned a normal human. Del relished it like a fine meal that not only tasted good, but filled him as well. The heat soon permeated his flesh from within as well as without. If felt wonderful! He sighed with pleasure, and immediately Icarus felt it too. Del felt Icarus’s new attachment start to pulse inside him and reached for his own throbbing erection. He had to admit – after all that he had experienced this was something truly unique. Even after all he had been through the night before, it did not take him long to reach a climax.

  It was the most intense one he had experienced for a long time. And Icarus felt it too.

  Tom Dobbs rose from his fireside place. He had finally emerged from his accepting fugue and remembered something vitally important, some business he could not leave unfinished. It was what had probably enabled him to return to life so long after his death. Perhaps the smoke he now craved had fully restored his wits. A pity it couldn’t restore his face. No matter. He cast about the room, looking for the rest of his clothes. Unfortunately, the garments he found were too badly torn and soiled to use. How could he have let himself fall so far? Had he really become so decrepit? He cringed at the filthy wreck he had been.

  He drew his coat closed and looked for the strange pair who occupied this bizarre underground room with him; the man with the half-metal face and the long-haired angel who thought he was damned. He couldn’t see them so he started exploring, eventually discovering the narrow passage at the back. The first door was closed so he knocked softly. He tried to call out, but only a grunt emerged.

  “Just a minute,” rasped the man with the metal face – what was his name? Icarus – that’s right, he had called himself Icarus.

  He emerged, also holding his coat closed. Tom towered over him, but still felt small in his p
resence. After all this man had brought him back from nothingness. He tried to form his concern in words but could only manage an incoherent moan.

  Icarus lifted his human hand, making an odd gesture with his fingers. “I know your name is Tom Dobbs.”

  Tom shook his head frantically, and tried to form the word inside his mind. Unfortunately, to spell the name he wanted took considerable effort – he had never learned to read or write more than a few words.

  “T…I…M Dobbs?” Icarus queried.

  Tom nodded vigorously, and broadcast another word.

  Brother

  “You have a brother named Tim?”

  Another nod.

  “And you’d like me to find him and bring him here?”

  Yes! Tom formed a sequence of another man, a twin but not identical, who was also suffering from advanced syphilis. But the ulcers had consumed the flesh around his eyes instead of his nose and mouth, destroying his vision and rotting the organs in his skull. Unlike Tom, Tim had been unable to sneak from the poorhouse and lose himself in London’s back streets. He was still there, struggling against his pain and trying to make a few pennies picking apart hunks of old rope. Tom had thought he could steal enough money to free his brother, but had instead used what funds he found to drink himself to death.

  I wronged him once. I must help him now.

  “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t really leave here. At least not during the day.” Icarus turned, banging on the door behind him. “Del – come out here. We need you to help find Tom’s brother, Tim.”

  Del emerged, once again not a single hair out of place. His clothes weren’t even wrinkled. Tom stared at him, realising in some secret place that this … being ... wasn’t human. He seemed to be too …perfect. But he held himself erect and managed to meet his eye. After all, he wasn’t human anymore either. He had accepted that he had become … something else. But what, he had no idea. He had never troubled himself with things beyond his understanding. Not like his brother Tim, who questioned everything and frankly never shut up. Perhaps it was just as well that Tom had lost his ability to speak. Becoming mute would have driven Tim crazy.