Elusive Plato by Hughes Rhys H

Author:Hughes, Rhys H. [Hughes, Rhys H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440563218
Published: 2012-01-03T20:00:00+00:00

The alchemist was called Mark Xeethra Samuels and was yet another exile from the Alpine republic. He knew both the midget artisan and Reverend Douglas Delves — though not passionately. Delves had once been a member of his secret society. There was trouble with Austria, some sort of war, and the republic was reduced to shards. He was vague about the details. Unlike other members of the Cadiz dynasty, I was not greatly interested in the game of international politics. I did not press him to elaborate. Of greater concern was my immediate fate. On this he was most eloquent, outlining every detail of his intentions.

The chloroform wore off within an hour. My mind re-entered my brain like a dismissed valet applying for the position of a maid. During these confusing minutes, I was dreamily aware of the alchemist’s rough fingers rummaging under my brassière. His squint was as extended as when he had sported his disguise — I flapped helplessly under him, a bird with wings disqualified by God. He was conducting a medical examination; to create the mystical Hermaphrodite, rather than one of those prosaic mutants who share the same label, it is essential that both components of the deity are utterly pure. Else the matrix will not set.

He did not move me to a more comfortable location, but manipulated my parts on the uneven floor. He used a slide-rule to measure the depth of my dimples, the coyness of my nose; he pulled my nipples to estimate their tensile strength. He was satisfied with the result. Finally, down between my legs he delved, noting the features of my vagina’s geography, then descending into its geology, discovering to his horror that the pit had already been opened for exploitation.

The tattered edges of my broken hymen fluttered in the flavours of his breath. ‘What’s this? A fake virgin? But the Ushers are strict! ’Tis a wondrous anomaly and one worthy of reporting to the Guild. You will be condemned to brusque tortures for this act of impiety. Twill make a good subject for my latest academic paper.’

I was relieved to have escaped his attentions so easily. I tried to speak, to amplify his doubts, but the chemical had parched my voice into quietude. So I nodded as vigorously as my debilitated neck-muscles would allow. He studied this gesture thoughtfully.

‘What are you trying to tell me? ’Tis surely of some great urgency. Oscillating your head thus! What does it signify? Ah, I have it! You are indicating a seesaw! You perforated your hymen in an acceptable way. I’m soothed by this news; it redeems you.’

Cutting free the shreds of hymen with a scalpel and arranging them on a glass slide, he placed the partly reconstructed maidenhead under a microscope and adjusted the focus. ‘There’s writing here!’ he squealed. ‘Much of the text is missing, but I might be able to decipher the rest. Po Jo, hom ina, Co Sten? This makes no sense at all! Wait, what’s this? Virgin Wool! Ah, must be a trademark.

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