Men, haunted by the specter of death, confront the eternal question that lingers in the shadows of their existence. In the solitude of contemplation, I find myself posing inquiries that transcend the boundaries of mortality.
Shall I, in my pursuit, unearth the elusive means to conquer death itself? Can the echoes of my achievements reverberate across the centuries, transcending the boundaries of time? Will strangers, as yet unborn, whisper my name with a reverence reserved for those who defy the grasp of oblivion?
These ponderings crystallize into a singular truth—an acknowledgment that immortality stands as the solution. The yearning for a legacy that outlasts the fleeting dance of life becomes an anthem, driving me toward a destiny where the boundaries between mortal and immortal blur into a seamless continuum. Immortality, the elusive elixir, beckons as the key to etch my name upon the annals of time, an indelible mark destined to withstand the relentless march of ages.
In times of doubt, my sanctuary has always been science—an unwavering compass in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. Every superstition, every purported supernatural occurrence, I believed, held a scientific explanation within its folds. Yet, there were moments when even the most steadfast beliefs wavered.
Take earthquakes, for instance—an age-old notion held by many as the wrath of gods. But in the realm of reason, it is merely a result of the earth's crust in motion or the unleashed fury of volcanic activity. Such rational musings guided my worldview.
The clock struck 8:00 am, heralding a wonderful morning in the vibrant city of London. The sky stretched above, a canvas of pure blue—a rare sight in my newly adopted home. Teaching, particularly the intricacies of anatomy and advanced galvanism, had become my daily routine.
I found solace in imparting knowledge, though the repetition of clinical references and the same information dulled the excitement. My stint at Harvard University, not driven by a thirst for fame but a desire for financial freedom, allowed me to continue my clandestine researches and experiments—a journey that aimed to alter the very fabric of human thought.
Yet, as fate would have it, my researches faced hurdles and setbacks. The road to success, it seemed, was paved with obstacles and towering walls. Undeterred, I pressed on, a self-disciplined soul with an unyielding determination.
My current struggle focused on deciphering the delicate balance of cerebral fluid and electrical stimulation required to revive a human being. Luigi Galvani's achievements, while impressive, lacked control. I sought to understand the intricate dance of the brain's responses, to manipulate them, and, in doing so, to tame death itself.
At noon, with a resounding proclamation, I dismissed my class. The auditorium, once filled with the murmur of students, now echoed their departure. Amidst the departing crowd, a peculiar figure stood out—a young man with blue eyes, red curly hair, and a devious smile. He placed a red apple on my desk and uttered, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away."
I gazed at him with a smile that bespoke gratitude. "Red apple, my favorite! Thank you."
Our eyes locked, and the exchange of smiles lingered between us. Suddenly, his countenance shifted, the smile dissipating like mist in the morning sun.
"Your lectures delve into the mysteries of life, but do you dare peer into the abyss of the unknown, Eros Corciato?" Lucas's voice, a sotto voce melody, reverberated through the fog-laden air.
"Pray forgive me, sir, for I have yet to make your acquaintance," said the man with a hint of formality.
"My name is Lucas Aurora, an overseas instructor of thanatology and Egyptology."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Aurora," I replied with a polite nod.
"I must say, sir, your research and thesis are truly captivating and pertain to my field of study," he continued. "If it is not too much trouble, would you mind affixing your signature to this tome?"
With a gracious smile, I accepted the book, only to realize it was one of my most treasured volumes - "Paradise Lost."
"All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate..." I began reciting the verse.
Lucas seamlessly continued the verse himself, "And the courage never to submit or yield," he interjected.
I smiled in agreement, impressed with his knowledge of the classics. As I handed the book back to him, he whispered a cryptic message in my ear,
"Sir Corciato, you must broaden your horizons and open your mind. I sense a fragility beneath your façade of logic. Be steadfast, for I shall require your assistance. Do not underestimate the gravity of the events that are yet to unfold. For you and I are bound on a journey that will twist the very fabric of logic and science."
Lucas hinted at a broader perspective, a widening of my gaze and mind. His words left me with a sense of foreboding, a recognition that our destinies were intertwined on a journey that would challenge the very foundations of logic and science.
With a firm tap on my shoulder, he concluded our encounter and made his exit from the auditorium. I pondered the intriguing gentleman, his face triggering a distant memory, perhaps from a dream or, perchance, a déjà vu.
I left the university and returned home, where the struggle to perfect my theories and achieve the unattainable continued.
As the evening unfolded, a nagging doubt crept in—what if all my efforts led to naught? The self-criticism meditation ensued, a clash between the ego and the super-ego that lasted for hours. The question lingered: Am I worthy of this task?
With a hint of desperation, I ventured into the basement, prepared my instruments, and laid out the body for experimentation. The ceaseless pursuit of knowledge and the quest to conquer death fueled my resolve, even in the face of doubt. The journey continued, and the basement became a crucible where the boundaries of life and death blurred in my relentless pursuit.