knowledge, and I wondered why I had been chosen, but Master Szilard said, “I can’t trust anyone who knows too much about alchemy.” I didn’t understand the reason, but if Master Szilard says it, it cannot possibly be wrong.
In the twenty year interim, I issued orders to the blender and administered the finished product to white rats. The concoction included strong poisons, so there was no fear that the blender would drink it. In fact, white rats that were given liquor other than the finished product died instantly. Either that, or, as with the failed product, they met their deaths through old age.
The heaviest blow came from the Prohibition Act. It struck me as a law created by incompetents, and consequently, considerable obstacles were placed in our path. As the nickname
liquor
suggests, the elixir utilized alcohol as a catalyst, which meant we were rendered unable to own a large factory or procure raw materials in bulk.
However, at this point, even that hardship is a pleasant memory. As I suspected, changing blenders at reasonable intervals does seem to have been the correct course of action. Of course, blenders for whom I had no more use met with fatal accidents.
Thinking that we could continue using him for the coming mass production and that Master Szilard might require him, I made an exception for the most recent blender—the one whose brew had succeeded—and paid him a reward.
However, it may have been that he let the large sum go to his head: I hear he encountered a brigand who robbed him of both his money and his life.
Well, in the end, that was all he was worth.
The miracle is already in our hands. All that remains is to show these results to Master Szilard.
The white rat, which has regained its former shape, begins struggling against the pain of the nails driven through its feet. What a fortunate rodent. To think it has obtained eternity a step ahead of me.
Growing slightly jealous, I bring the hammer down again.
On the heels of the unpleasant noise, I hear a rapping on the ceiling of the cellar… In other words, on the floor of the room above. Ah, that’s a signal from the members. Immediately, I flip the switch. That will have illuminated the lightbulb on the first floor.
There is a short interval, and then I hear the commotion again.
Has Master Szilard come at last? What will the great man say on seeing the three dozen bottles of finished product in this cellar? Then, after that, the time for my liberation from the terror of aging will finally be at hand.
Heart leaping with anticipation, I climb the stairs and open the ceiling.
As my face emerges from the cellar, it is struck by a gust of hot, choking wind.
What is this?
On discovering the source of the rapping, I am aghast.
The shelves on the walls are aflame, and the falling debris has collided with the floor, one piece after another.
One side of the room is colored a fiery red.
Why? Why did this have to happen now? Why a conflagration, now of all times?!
There was nothing here that was flammable!
The liquor… I must haul out the liquor… Hastily, I descend the staircase, go to the crate of finished product and lift… I
can’t
! It’s heavy, and I am completely incapable of lifting the entire thing!
Even with an indestructible body, then, is my strength unchanged?
Only a little longer… Just a little longer and I will evolve into an exceptional being, and yet… Before that evolution, I remain only a stunted creature…a creature unable to lift a mere thirty-six bottles of liquor?!
AhSomeoneSomeone come to me
Anyone
!
“Hey… Maiza, c’mere a second!”
Hearing Firo calling from the street, Maiza poked his head out of the greengrocer’s.
“What is it? …Oh!”
Billows of gray smoke rose over the roof of the shop across the way. It wasn’t that far, probably about two streets over.
“I’m gonna go take a look.”
“Wait, don’t rubberneck. If the police come…”
Firo was carrying the bootleg liquor
In the twenty year interim, I issued orders to the blender and administered the finished product to white rats. The concoction included strong poisons, so there was no fear that the blender would drink it. In fact, white rats that were given liquor other than the finished product died instantly. Either that, or, as with the failed product, they met their deaths through old age.
The heaviest blow came from the Prohibition Act. It struck me as a law created by incompetents, and consequently, considerable obstacles were placed in our path. As the nickname
liquor
suggests, the elixir utilized alcohol as a catalyst, which meant we were rendered unable to own a large factory or procure raw materials in bulk.
However, at this point, even that hardship is a pleasant memory. As I suspected, changing blenders at reasonable intervals does seem to have been the correct course of action. Of course, blenders for whom I had no more use met with fatal accidents.
Thinking that we could continue using him for the coming mass production and that Master Szilard might require him, I made an exception for the most recent blender—the one whose brew had succeeded—and paid him a reward.
However, it may have been that he let the large sum go to his head: I hear he encountered a brigand who robbed him of both his money and his life.
Well, in the end, that was all he was worth.
The miracle is already in our hands. All that remains is to show these results to Master Szilard.
The white rat, which has regained its former shape, begins struggling against the pain of the nails driven through its feet. What a fortunate rodent. To think it has obtained eternity a step ahead of me.
Growing slightly jealous, I bring the hammer down again.
On the heels of the unpleasant noise, I hear a rapping on the ceiling of the cellar… In other words, on the floor of the room above. Ah, that’s a signal from the members. Immediately, I flip the switch. That will have illuminated the lightbulb on the first floor.
There is a short interval, and then I hear the commotion again.
Has Master Szilard come at last? What will the great man say on seeing the three dozen bottles of finished product in this cellar? Then, after that, the time for my liberation from the terror of aging will finally be at hand.
Heart leaping with anticipation, I climb the stairs and open the ceiling.
As my face emerges from the cellar, it is struck by a gust of hot, choking wind.
What is this?
On discovering the source of the rapping, I am aghast.
The shelves on the walls are aflame, and the falling debris has collided with the floor, one piece after another.
One side of the room is colored a fiery red.
Why? Why did this have to happen now? Why a conflagration, now of all times?!
There was nothing here that was flammable!
The liquor… I must haul out the liquor… Hastily, I descend the staircase, go to the crate of finished product and lift… I
can’t
! It’s heavy, and I am completely incapable of lifting the entire thing!
Even with an indestructible body, then, is my strength unchanged?
Only a little longer… Just a little longer and I will evolve into an exceptional being, and yet… Before that evolution, I remain only a stunted creature…a creature unable to lift a mere thirty-six bottles of liquor?!
AhSomeoneSomeone come to me
Anyone
!
“Hey… Maiza, c’mere a second!”
Hearing Firo calling from the street, Maiza poked his head out of the greengrocer’s.
“What is it? …Oh!”
Billows of gray smoke rose over the roof of the shop across the way. It wasn’t that far, probably about two streets over.
“I’m gonna go take a look.”
“Wait, don’t rubberneck. If the police come…”
Firo was carrying the bootleg liquor
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