A thousand deaths by Jack London

during his youth in the fundamentals, he rapidly explored all the higher branches as far as the

scientific world had gone, and found himself on the no man’s land of the unknowable. It was his

intention to pre-empt some of this unclaimed territory, and it was at this stage of his

investigations that we had been thrown together. Having a good brain, though I say it myself, I

had mastered his speculations and methods of reasoning, becoming almost as mad as himself.

But I should not say this. The marvellous results we afterwards obtained can only go to prove his

sanity. I can but say that he was the most abnormal specimen of cold-blooded cruelty I have ever

seen.

After having penetrated the dual mysteries of physiology and psychology, his thought had led

him to the verge of a great field, for which, the better to explore, he began studies in higher

organic chemistry, pathology, toxicology and other sciences and sub-sciences rendered kindred

as accessories to his speculative hypotheses. Starting from the proposition that the direct cause of

the temporary and permanent arrest of vitality was due to the coagulation of certain elements and

compounds in the protoplasm, he had isolated and subjected these various substances to

innumerable experiments. Since the temporary arrest of vitality in an organism brought coma,

and a permanent arrest death, he held that by artificial means this coagulation of the protoplasm

could be retarded, prevented, and even overcome in the extreme states of solidification. Or, to do

away with the technical nomenclature, he argued that death, when not violent and in which none

of the organs had suffered injury, was merely suspended vitality; and that, in such instances, life

could be induced to resume its functions by the use of proper methods. This, then, was his idea:

To discover the method–and by practical experimentation prove the possibility–of renewing

vitality in a structure from which life had seemingly fled. Of course, he recognised the futility of

such endeavour after decomposition had set in; he must have organisms which but the moment,

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the hour, or the day before, had been quick with life. With me, in a crude way, he had proved this

theory. I was really drowned, really dead, when picked from the water of San Francisco bay–but

the vital spark had been renewed by means of his aerotherapeutical apparatus, as he called it.

Now to his dark purpose concerning me. He first showed me how completely I was in his power.

He had sent the yacht away for a year, retaining only his two blackies, who were utterly devoted

to him. He then made an exhaustive review of his theory and outlined the method of proof he had

adopted, concluding with the startling announcement that I was to be his subject.

I had faced death and weighed my chances in many a desperate venture, but never in one of this

nature. I can swear I am no coward, yet this proposition of journeying back and forth across the

borderland of death put the yellow fear upon me. I asked for time, which he granted, at the same

time assuring me that but the one course was open–I must submit. Escape from the Island was

out of the question; escape by suicide was not to be entertained, though really preferable to what

it seemed I must undergo; my only hope was to destroy my captors. But this latter was frustrated

through the precautions taken by my father. I was subjected to a constant surveillance, even in

my sleep being guarded by one or the other of the blacks.

Having pleaded in vain, I announced and proved that I was his son. It was my last card, and I had

played all my hopes upon it. But he was inexorable; he was not a father but a scientific machine.

I wonder yet have it ever came to pass that he married my mother or begat me, for there was not

the slightest grain of emotion in his make-up. Reason was all in all to him, nor could he

understand such things as love or sympathy in others, except as petty weaknesses which should

be overcome. So he informed me that in the beginning he had given me life, and who had better

right to take it away than he? Such, he said, was not his desire, however; he merely wished to

borrow it occasionally, promising to return it punctually at the appointed time. Of course, there

was a liability of mishaps, but I could do no more than take the chances, since the affairs of men

were full of such.

The better to insure success, he wished me to be in the best possible condition, so I was dieted

and trained like a great athlete before a decisive contest. What could I do? If I had to undergo the

peril, it were best to be in good shape. In my intervals of relaxation he allowed me to assist in the

arranging of the apparatus and in the various subsidiary experiments. The interest I took in all

such operations can be imagined. I mastered the work as thoroughly as he, and often had the

pleasure of seeing some of my suggestions or alterations put into effect. After such events I

would smile grimly, conscious of officiating at my own funeral.

He began by inaugurating a series of experiments in toxicology. When all was ready, I was killed

by a stiff dose of strychnine and allowed to lie dead for some twenty hours. During that period

my body was dead, absolutely dead. All respiration and circulation ceased; but the frightful part

of it was, that while the protoplasmic coagulation proceeded, I retained consciousness and was

enabled to study it in all its ghastly details.

The apparatus to bring me back to life was an air-tight chamber, fitted to receive my body. The

mechanism was simple–a few valves, a rotary shaft and crank, and an electric motor. When in

operation, the interior atmosphere was alternately condenses and rarefied, thus communicating to

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6

my lungs an artificial respiration without the agency of the hosing previously used. Though my

body was inert, and, for all I knew, in the first stages of decomposition, I was cognisant of

everything that transpired. I knew when they placed me in the chamber, and though all my senses

were quiescent, I was aware of hypodermic injections of a compound to react upon the

coagulatory process. Then the chamber was closed and the machinery started. My anxiety was

terrible; but the circulation became gradually restored, the different organs began to carry on

their respective functions, and in an hour’s time I was eating a hearty dinner.

It cannot be said that I participated in this series, nor in the subsequent ones, with much verve;

but after two ineffectual attempts of escape, I began to take quite an interest. Besides, I was

becoming accustomed. My father was beside himself at his success, and as the months rolled by

his speculations took wilder and yet wilder flights. We ranged through the three great classes of

poisons, the neurotics, the gaseous and the irritants, but carefully avoided some of the mineral

irritants and passed the whole group of corrosives. During the poison regime I became quite

accustomed to dying, and had but one mishap to shake my growing confidence. Scarifying a

number of lesser blood vessels in my arm, he introduced a minute quantity of that most frightful

of poisons, the arrow poison, or curare. I lost consciousness at the start, quickly followed by the

cessation of respiration and circulation, and so far had the solidification of the protoplasm

advanced, that he gave up all hope. But at the last moment he applied a discovery he had been

working upon, receiving such encouragement as to redouble his efforts.

In a glass vacuum, similar but not exactly like a Crookes’ tube, was placed a magnetic field.

When penetrated by polarised light, it gave no phenomena of phosphorescence nor the rectilinear

projection of atoms, but emitted non-luminous rays, similar to the X ray. While the X ray could

reveal opaque objects hidden in dense mediums, this was possessed of far subtler penetration. By

this he photographed my body, and found on the negative an infinite number of blurred shadows,

due to the chemical and electric motions still going on. This was an infallible proof that the rigor

mortis in which I lay was not genuine; that is, those mysterious forces, those delicate bonds

which held my soul to my body, were still in action. The resultants of all other poisons were

unapparent, save those of mercurial compounds, which usually left me languid for several days.

Another series of delightful experiments was with electricity. We verified Tesla’s assertion that

high currents were utterly harmless by passing 100,000 volts through my body. As this didnot

affect me, the current was reduced to 2,500, and I was quickly electrocuted. This time he

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