I awoke the next morning to the most singular noise, which, while I was still half dozing, reminded me of a xylophone being played in a rainstorm. As I regained my senses, I recalled that rainstorms were unheard of this time of the year, and that I owned no instrument capable of producing the musical sounds I was hearing. Sitting up in my bed, I traced the sound to my shower-room. I arose and moved to the open door, through which I witnessed Prof. Glauben’s skeleton standing under a spray of hot water. He had lathered up his cranium, creating an image almost of hair, and he was scrubbing his spine with my shower-brush. As the water drops played upon his ribcage they produced the sound strikingly similar to that of a xylophone, but he seemed oblivious to this fact.
As he turned to rinse his back, the professor met my stare and bade me “Guten Morgen” in a sing-song voice. “I must look mein best for our guests tonight,” he explained as he pushed a washcloth into one ear hole, pulled the end of it from the opposite ear hole, and, clutching both ends, slid it back and forth, accompanied by a squeaking sound.
I occupied the rest of the morning preparing for the evening. I had dispatched letters to the prominent scientists and physiologists of the region the night before, and, despite the short notice, I was already receiving a substantial number of acceptances.
By mid-afternoon I had arranged my dining room into an acceptable setting for our presentation. The long mahogany table sat, as it always did, at the center of the room under a crystal chandelier. The table had been set to accommodate two-dozen persons in addition to myself. To the north of the dining table (whose end faced this direction, and where my place had been set) I had arranged a small occasional table, upon which I had placed a flask of our immortality potion and a folded napkin. Behind the guests sitting on the east side of the table loomed a large picture window that looked out onto the garden. I had closed the drapes over this so my guests’ attention would not be distracted from our presentation. Potted palms–to me a symbol of long life–were placed on either side of the doors on the west wall, and two more were similarly arranged at either side of the staircase to the south. Several armchairs were placed around the room, for space limitations required that my dining room double as a reception area.
I was reviewing the final arrangements when Prof. Glauben descended the stairs. “How does I look?” he asked, pivoting in a full rotation so that I might take in all angles of his appearance. How should I describe the spectacle? He had pulled a black tuxedo over his bones, the outlines of which showed very clearly through the fabric. The cummerbund was drawn about the waist which, being only the diameter of the lower spine, necessitated that the cummerbund be wrapped around several times. The coat hung from the emaciated frame, displaying a series of ridges formed by the ribcage. With no calves to hold them up, a pair of black socks had fallen limply around the ankles. The professor had even donned a black silk hat which, unlike the rest of his attire, fit surprisingly well. The overall effect was so outlandish that I was inclined to laugh. But I suppressed this urge and instead complimented Prof. Glauben on his dashing figure.
“Danke shoen, mein boy. Now, vhen vill our guests be here?” I informed him that they were to arrive at 7 pm–about an hour away–and that dinner would commence at 8:30. I would make my presentation at 9:30, cueing him to descend the stairs at 10 o’clock by calling his name. “Gut,” he replied. “I vill vait upstairs until zhen.”
PART 10 WILL APPEAR ON MONDAY
Chasing Phantoms 