An Island Called Moreau by Brian W. Aldiss Read Free Book Online

the fortification.
    â€œHow many times have I told her—”
    Dart was moving again, charging through the door and along the corridor. “Da Silva! Da Silva!” he called. His chair had a turn of speed to match his anger. He appeared outside, closely followed by a slender, dark-complexioned man in a lab coat who I guessed was the hastily summoned Da Silva. I saw Dart reach for a whip clamped to the outside of his chair. Then I started running.
    When I got outside, it was to see him striking the wretched Bella repeatedly across her shoulders. She cowered under the lash but made no attempt to run away until I shouted, whereupon she showed a good turn of speed and slipped inside by a farther door.
    The man in the white coat grasped my arm without a great deal of conviction and I easily brushed him aside. I seized Dart’s whip and flung it to the far end of the compound.
    â€œYou dare interfere—This is my island—” Dart’s face turned a patchy yellow.
    â€œThey aren’t your people to do what you like with—”
    â€œThey are my people—”
    â€œYou do not own their souls—”
    â€œThey have no souls, they’re animals—”
    â€œAnimals deserve better than that. You and I are going to quarrel, Dart, unless you keep your temper in check. I can see you feel you have reason to hate the world, and I’m sorry, but I will not stand by and see you—”
    â€œYou fool, I’ll throw you out of here if you speak to me like that! You dare attack me?”
    He was far from subdued by my action. His face was a study in malice. Moreover, I had by no means disarmed him by wrenching his whip away. He seemed to be literally well armed. Whatever disaster had struck him, I saw now that he had had his arms as well as his legs replaced, though the loose-fitting garment he wore made this hard to discern. Three pairs of arms were clamped on both sides of his chair, making him look somewhat like a plastic-and-metal spider. Some of these six interchangeable appendages ended in very odd hands indeed; at least two of them looked like lethal weapons.
    But he mastered his wrath and said, “Just be warned. Come back inside; I wish to finish speaking to you. Da Silva, back to the labs.”
    His chair bore him speedily back into the room we had left, and I followed.
    Dart flipped off the vision on his huge screen. Only music flowed through the room—a quartet by Shostakovich.
    â€œThese people have to be kept under stern control—as you will understand when you have been here a little longer.” He spoke without looking at me.
    I was still angry and would not reply. When Dart spoke again, it was in a vein of explanation, although the tone of his voice gave no hint of apology.
    â€œThe truth is, Roberts, that I’m vexed to be interrupted in my work by you or anyone else. My work here has gone through three stages. The first stage was merely to duplicate Moreau’s original experiments, the second—well, never mind that. Suffice it to say, cutting the cackle, that I’m now into the culminating third stage. All the early crudities of approach have been set aside, junked—finished. I’m beyond all that. I’m discovering … I’m discovering the relativity of flesh …
    â€œThe phrase means nothing to you, Roberts. But believe me, all these years of pain—and pained thought—suffering is nothing unless you learn from it—I am the Einstein of a revolutionary biology …”
    He flashed a look at me.
    â€œI’m listening,” I said.
    He laughed. I saw again that dark and troubled thing in him. “I know you’re listening, man. Mr. Roberts, I want you on my side and don’t know how to get you there. I’m not another Moreau. You’ve decided already you hate me, haven’t you?”
    â€œI couldn’t take the way you treated Bella.”
    â€œListen, I’m not