Monday, January 3, 2011

The Letters Unfold…

Compiled & Edited by Steven Solomon © 1992 

 Wherein We Meet the Good Professor

The following letters are the earliest known correspondence from the Professor. They are addressed to Evgeny Nedo, Saurian's confidant and lab assistant during his years behind the Iron Curtain. Evgeny is believed to have died or been executed in the Soviet gulag during the Kruschev years; this apparently for his close association with Saurian, the traitor-genius. These documents have been made available thanks to the great strides made during the recent period of openness and restructuring within the former communist block. (Ed.)

 "Those Bastards!"

September 12th, 1951

Dearest Evgeny Sergeivich,

I am free! My jailers, those bastards, have at last released me from the dark night of incarceration, hunger and relentless beatings. I am free, free at last!!!

As the cell door opened, and sunlight graced my continence for the first time in one-hundred and fourteen days, I actually believed once again in the true and just nature of Soviet justice, the law of my adopted land. At that moment, in the dour face of Club-foot Ivan, my sadistic caretaker, I thought that I detected the glimmer of a smile. He wiped the drool from the corner of his crusty mouth and said "Mm-uph-shme". I don't know what it means, and it probably means nothing. He has no tongue.

In any case, as it turned out, my release had nothing to do with the proper resolution of those utterly groundless allegations regarding murder and sadistic bodily mutilation... bah! Of course, I had nothing to do with that old woman's demise nor her missing body-parts. They were briny and stringy and of no use to me.

The charges were all trumped up, you know; a mere and unfortunate happenstance that Helga Kirov should turn up dead and sans endocrine ducts, brain stem, pituitary gland and most of her liver. My misfortune, alas, to be experimenting with advanced neurological medicine just as the elderly victim became the latest in a series of grisly and difficult to solve murders in this socialist paradise where crime does not occur. The good folk of the village set upon me like hungry dogs.

As ever, it was all too easy for the petty, jealous and uneducated to blame a True Man of Scientific Inquiry for their incomprehensible misfortunes. The fuck with them all, I say; those bastards!

Well, that is all behind us, now. Praise the ghost of Lenin, word of my important research finally made its way to the Kremlin! Stalin's own doctors secured the order for my release. They need my help. There is nowhere else to turn... not a single scientist in the entire communist block has carried out extensive and practical investigations comparable to my own. If anyone can solve the problem of our National Savior's rotting brain, it is I, and I alone!

It seems that our Leader has recently, since, oh, the past decade, become rather distracted. He is given to nervous fits; something to do with alcoholic lesions on the brain. He exhibits increasingly paranoid behavior, even by his own standards. How paranoid, you ask: better to query his last neurologist, the venerable Dr. Mishlove, now presumed rolling at the news of my being on the case, in an unmarked, mass grave.

Whatever! The Politburo has grown concerned enough to bring me in as a specialist in the field of Chemical Brain Amplification and Reconstruction. They promise me the best and latest in laboratory facilities, all the help I need and an unlimited supply of anatomical and chemical samples with which to experiment.

As soon as I arrive in Moscow, we will be that much closer toward a cure for Stalin's case of disappearing intelligence. I'm sure that this is a job that I can handle. There is, no doubt, a medal of The Order of Lenin awaiting me in some few months. Why, I'll have our Beloved Socialist First Comrade back in fine fettle in no time at all.

Evgeny, I need you to return to Uralsk and secure whatever equipment remains in the ruins of our old lab. Also, find my notes. Little Riasa, the Commissar's daughter, has kept them safe for me. Be careful, however! Her father, Misha Alexaevich does not know that I was shtuping her. If he finds out that she and I were in any way involved, he might make trouble. I would have to kill them both. I would have to kill the entire family. I am, of course, now a man with a serious reputation and interests to defend. I would probably have to kill you, as well. Yes sir, that's how old Joe would handle it!

For both our sakes, let's just try to avoid it coming to that, eh.

Well, we have quite the excellent opportunity before us, don't we. I am so looking forward to the chance to be working closely with you, once again. Please stay well and have the best of success in your errands on my behalf. I will be seeing and your family in Moscow, very shortly!

Yours in Scientific Zeal & Real Enthusiasm,

Anton Saurian

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