The Vorrh

lecture hall came into my care with her malady already fully formed. Her family were glad to see the back of her. They would have willingly packed her off to the bedlam, to die in the filth with all those others that have caused grievous embarrassment to their parents and siblings. This one came here undernourished but in good spirits – I saved her from a life of rotting on the streets. She will take part in the experiments and then eventually be released, if she is well enough.’ Muybridge watched the doctor as he spoke, glancing at the guard every so often to gauge a reaction, but both their expressions remained impassive.
    ‘When she first arrived, we treated her like royalty, spoiling her with food, compliments and fine clothing. She grew fat and weak, and she was soon ready for her first encounter with the Lark Mirror.’
    ‘The Lark Mirror?’
    ‘Yes. It’s a tool we use in our hypnotic process, not unlike the peripherscope I used for your treatment.’
    Muybridge did not care for the comparison.
    ‘Anyway, as I was saying, the problem started when we gave Abigail here the picture.’
    ‘What was the picture of?’ asked Muybridge.
    ‘It was a picture of her, taken three weeks ago. I took your advice and photographed all my special cases.’
    The news took Muybridge aback. He had offered his services and been flatly turned down and now, a few years later, Gull had taken the idea and instigated his own photographic enquiries? He tried to hide his disdain as Gull continued.
    ‘When I gave her the print, she just stared at it. I had to tell her it was her likeness. And then she ate it. Before I could stop her, she stuffed it into her mouth and refused to take it out. By the time Crane arrived to part her jaws, it was gone.’
    Before the words had time to settle and sting, he opened the door. She was on the far side of the room, standing in the corner. She was skeletal and absent. Only the top part of her body was clothed. A thick blouse that looked many sizes too large was wrapped about her torso. The lower part of her body, from her sternum down, was swathed in bandages, ending in a small, dangling flap for decency.
    Her stick-like legs were naked and shivering. Her feet turned inwards and were blue with cold.
    ‘She’s undressed again,’ said Crane, exposing the reality of his below-average intelligence.
    ‘Yes,’ said Gull calmly. ‘Cover her up.’
    A blanket was wrenched from her thin mattress and wrapped around her waist. The guard seated her on the equally skeletal bed.
    ‘Her wounds are healing slowly, it takes a long time when the body has so little to draw from.’
    ‘What happened to her?’ asked Muybridge.
    Gull turned and directed his gaze with withering force into the photographer’s unsuspecting eyes.
    ‘She tried to get the picture back. She clawed herself open to find it.’
    Muybridge yanked his gaze away from the surgeon to look at the frail creature again: her distant, vacant stare; the bandages; her bird-like hands with some of the fingernails broken off. He felt queasy and somehow aroused, one sensation cancelling the other out, making him impassive, becoming for a moment like her.
    ‘If we had not found her in time, she would have bled to death. She ripped her abdominal wall, lost part of her lower intestine and nicked her fallopian tubes without screaming or making any other sound.’ Gull was obviously impressed. ‘Imagine the willpower that would take!’
    ‘Did she use a weapon?’ asked Muybridge, already fearing he knew the answer.
    ‘No, sir, that’s what I am telling you: she used her bare hands.’
    ‘Is that possible?’
    ‘Not to you or I. We would hesitate. The hand would lose its power and only scratch and bruise at our weakness. The human hand is a potent and massively strong mechanism. It is a series of fulcrums and levers worked by tough and dominant muscles. Its sinews and bones are tensile and capable of bearing colossal strain. We barely use a fraction of its potential strength, developing its agile pliancy and delicate touch instead. The hand, without doubt, is an awesome tool. Did you know it is one of the most difficult parts of the human body to destroy? You have to crush and mangle it just to get it to break into smaller parts.’
    Muybridge was not sure he wanted to know all this, but clearly he had no choice, and Gull galloped on.
    ‘There is an ancient funeral practice in Tibet called ‘sky burial’. Deceased monks are carried to a