She turned the page again, devouring the cruelty and the horror of the duc’s words, noting the dates, the other ‘failed’ test subjects cast aside until each and every word detailed Olympe’s life of confinement and torture.
She had to show this to Camille. If they were searching for useful information, surely this was it.
But she hesitated. They would have to leave these notes here, the duc couldn’t know they’d set foot in his grisly hideout. She would never get a chance again to study his methods, the theories at work in the miracle that created Olympe.
Quietly, Ada drew a clean sheet of paper, quill and ink to her, and began making her own notes as she read.
28 janvier 1787
Subject age: eight years, twelve days.
Report of findings: It responds with no alarm to an electrostatic charge, but the scalpel blade and boiling water both have harsh effects upon its epidermis.
I have been concerned by recent reports about the conduct of our young trainee doctor, Comtois.
That explained how the Revolutionaries had known about Olympe to kidnap her in the first place. Comtois must have been involved in the duc’s work before defecting.
He has been found on a number of occasions to carry on whole conversations with the subject as though it understands human reason, to gift it books and pretty trinkets. To express concern for its pain. I have cautioned him on this – while it may still have the size and form of a human girl, this is no creature like ourselves. This is the first of a new breed. Our farmers breed their livestock to give better meat; kennel owners breed their dogs to hunt more keenly. Why should not we, the great and loyal scientists of King Louis, breed a new creature to protect his glorious reign from this upstart mania of the people?
Tomorrow, I have ordered we begin testing the subject’s requirement of breathable air by use of the ponds—
Ada snapped the leather folder shut.
Comtois must have stolen Olympe from the duc, and now they both wanted her back.
‘What have you found?’
Olympe appeared at her elbow making her start.
‘Oh! Just – it’s almost like a diary.’ Ada edged her own notes underneath a bill for candles.
‘The duc’s?’ She had taken the folder and opened it to skim through the pages. Her expression was cold and hard.
‘You don’t have to read them if you don’t want to—’
‘Do you understand them?’ Olympe cut her off. ‘What he writes about his experiments?’
Ada hesitated. ‘A little. He seems to be a follower of the theory of animal magnetism. The idea that there is an invisible natural force in all living things that we could control and use for all sorts of purposes if only we knew how.’
‘You mean like this?’ Olympe held up a bare hand and let the blue sparks dance between her fingers.
‘Yes. Or, at least, that’s what he thinks he’s hit on.’
‘So I am a science experiment. I am only his creation.’
‘No,’ said Ada firmly. ‘Even if he had a hand in your creation, that will never be all you are. Each of us is more than just the creation of our parents.’
Olympe’s mouth twitched. ‘I don’t like to think of the duc as my parent.’
‘Then don’t. Anyway,’ Ada took the folder from Olympe to flip through the sheets until she came across the right one, ‘I don’t think he had as much of a role in making you what you are as he thinks he does. Look here, at this passage. He can’t work out what made his original experiment successful. He can’t repeat it and he can’t work out what he’s doing wrong.’
Olympe read over the page carefully. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Well, for one thing that he’s not quite the genius scientific mind he thinks he is. And for another, the only variable in the process is you.’
‘Me?’
‘He tried to create somethi— Someone like you before and failed. Every time. Until you came along. Maybe what you can do isn’t down to him. Maybe it’s down to you.’
