First she tried to create life in the laboratory, with nothing more than science to help her. She mixed methane and hydrogen, carbon dioxide and water vapour, and passed electric sparks into it for many weeks. But all she got was a soup with complex organic chemicals and an amino acid or two. Perhaps if she waited a few decades she might make a single strand of DNA, she thought, but she hadn’t the patience to wait for something that wouldn’t ever happen anyway.
Then she thought that if she couldn’t create life de novo, she might as well attempt to revive the dead. She read up on all the great literature on the subject, including the writings of such eminent resurrectionists as Jesus Christ, HP Lovecraft and Mary Shelley. Unfortunately, each of them had his or her own and wildly different methods, and reconciling them seemed impossible.
She tried, though; she did her best. Under the shadow of a crucifix, and with an open Bible beside her, she stitched together the pieces of corpses disinterred at the dead of night, and muttered arcane voodoo prayers over them while passing electric currents into the resulting composite body. The next morning, the chest cavity of the corpse showed signs of movement, and she thrilled with the thought that it was breathing. But it was merely the gases of decay, and when the body blew up from them, the lab stunk for weeks afterwards.
After that she thought of selling her soul to the Devil in exchange for what she wanted. But the Devil had long ago resigned and left Hell in disgust, since his evil couldn’t compete with that of humanity.
So finally she got married. A husband wasn’t quite as good as a zombie, but it was better than nothing.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2012