burning sky

Chapter 2

The endless phosphorous fire in the wilderness

1894 5 Month 8 Day.

victim of tyranny

a respected friend in art

he goes on living

through his genius

He still works for mankind

Lagrange's eulogy for Lavoisier, October 1795.The Sri Lankan has passed away, so what is the use of writing and ink...

A wet and cloudy afternoon after the rain.Robert Boyle was sitting by the window, flipping through a book, his long, curly brown hair sticking to his pale, gaunt face from damp, making him uncomfortable.And these empty comforts made him even more bored.

The stagnant water is dripping from the eaves, and it is the season for fungus to grow.He doesn't know how long he has been such an entity of memoirs, and he still feels that the name of this kind of judgment is very awkward.He just knew that he would no longer be a human being, and the space he was in now would no longer be the original human world.According to his melancholy philosophy, they are just physical ghosts who live in different dimensions and occasionally contribute their surplus value to the real world.

Especially when he has to face the cruelty and resentment of the human world.

"Robert, today's reception task is mainly for you. Pascal and I will do our best to assist." Descartes walked over, "I believe the arrival time is approaching. The smell of the ferry in the backyard has already..." He thought A bit of wording, "smells with blood."

In fact, the space in which the United Association of Individuals of the Common Memoirs of Human Beings is located is very similar to the human world.It's just that whenever I come to the ferry to accept new partners, I always remind them that I will no longer be the person I used to be.In a sense, the ferry is the connection point between the world on the other side and the space to which the association belongs.

Boyle stood on the shore, the salty sea breeze was gradually changing its taste.Although it was afternoon, the sky was terribly cloudy.The obsidian-like turbulent cloud is finally connected with the restless and undulating black water in a secret place.Descartes was wearing a dark cloak, and his long hair was disheveled by the wind.His dark eyes stared cloudily at Boyle.

"Robert, I want to tell you, after all, he has a lot of grievances and depression, and he is a memoir materialized individual constructed under abnormal death, so there will inevitably be some dangers... I don't know how the process of memoir materialization will affect his neck. To what extent has the huge damage recovered...But judging from the extent of Bruno's burn repair last time, he will not be separated from his head." Descartes said to Boyle, "But in order for him to live a normal life, We can only adjust his apparent age to the lowest value... Do you understand?"

"Are you saying that he can only choose to live as a 15-year-old... Helpless age, small body, this is undoubtedly another kind of deprivation for him..." Boyle said sadly.

Pascal looked at the dark ripples, and a black figure gradually became apparent in the mist. "I think he's coming."

A simple coffin approached between the blood-colored mist and black waves.

"Welcome, Mr. Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier, as a new member of the European branch of the United Association of Individualized Individuals of the Common Memoirs of Humanity."

As Descartes and Boyle carried the dripping coffin together, Pascal counted the amount of blood dripping out.Undoubtedly, if Lavoisier was still a human being, such a loss of blood would undoubtedly lead to death; but for him as the materialized individual of the memoir, all this is just the beginning.

In the break room of the chemistry group.

Boyle sat on the edge of the bed.His shoulder-length brown curly hair framed his thin and pale face, and the white candle lit on the bedside table flickered in front of his brown eyes.

Lavoisier, 51, or 151, was lying on the bed.He hasn't woken up yet, and Boyle doesn't know when he will wake up, and find that the original world has gone away from him.Lavoisier was still in his prison uniform, his brown hair was disheveled, and his face was bloodless.There were scratches and scratches all over the body, which may have been caused when they were transported to mass graves for centralized burial after the execution.The only difference from today a century ago is that there are many bandages wrapped around his neck indiscriminately. Those bandages are of strange colors and have been soaked in blood.The white sheets and quilt had been stained with some fresh blood.

It occurred to Boyle that when he first came here he asked Descartes what he looked like on the first night, and Descartes said that Boyle's long hair was very beautiful.Now it seems that I was absolutely miserable at the time.Even after changing his apparent age to twenty-five, Boyle was sure that if he didn't move or speak, but just lay still, he would either look like a zombie or a corpse, only a pretty one.

Boyle looked at the flickering candle.From the establishment of the discipline of chemistry to the establishment of the theory of oxidation, the two founders of modern chemistry met so strangely.

Some sounds brought him back from his trance.Boyle turned his head and looked at Lavoisier on the bed.Lavoisier opened his eyes, and they looked at him with brown dull eyes.

"Sir..." Boyle was at a loss for words for a moment.

"Oh young man, I know what you're going to say..." said Lavoisier in a breathless voice, "I know I'm dead, I know my situation very well..."

It is already night.The living room was only lit by candles, and the things in the room outlined twisted shapes on the walls.

"Look at this scene..." Lavoisier turned his head to look around with difficulty, "I should be in hell. I want to be thankful that my head is finally on my shoulders, although it still hurts to move; and Thank you for having such a soft and comfortable bed in hell." He pursed his lips weakly after speaking.

"It's not like that, sir, it's not hell..." Before Boyle finished speaking, Lavoisier looked at the small white candle and said, "This candle is still burning, which means that there is still oxygen here, but I am not breathing anymore, what is the value of this oxygen? If life is a living fire, then I am probably just a small group of phosphorus fire in the wilderness."

"Up to this point, I still used the standard of phlogiston theory to construct my theory..." Boyle couldn't help saying, "How could I believe in negative weight..."

"So... I seem to have seen you in a book somewhere..." Lavoisier paused, with a trace of surprise on his old face, "...you are Robert Boyle, a British physicist at the end of the 17th century And the chemist, is it...?"

Boyle nodded.

"I see, I'm supposed to be in a scientist's cemetery, isn't it... Thank God for forgiving my sins and allowing me to be a scientist..." Lavoisier tried to smile, but his smile It solidified quickly.A violent, painful convulsion hit him, and the wound in his neck seemed to be re-opening, blood leaking out like a splash of rain.His torso seemed to be paralyzed, unable to move.The convulsion tore the vocal cords, and the roar turned into a rapid gasp, endlessly looping in the dark space where the candle shadows flickered.

Boyle suddenly thought of Descartes' advice.

"Carl, please look at Mr. Lavoisier! I'll be right back!" Boyle rushed out of the door and shouted to Scheler at the door.

Scheler glanced into the room subconsciously, and the horror and hysteria in the room at that moment made him petrified.

After Boyle returned from the archives after changing his apparent age, he saw Scheler standing at the door with a complicated expression. In other words, this young memoir materialized individual had been shocked by the tragedy and had to lean against the door.

"How is M. Lavoisier?!" Boyle asked.

Scheler was silent for a long time before he remembered how to answer. "When you changed your apparent age, he was obviously terrified by the violent changes in his body... Maybe it was some tearing caused by the violent changes in his body... A miserable howl... After that, there was no sound at all... …until now……"

"No!" Boyle rushed into the lounge.

A bundle of sheets wrapped together.A large area of ​​spreading blood.No Lavoisier.

The white candle was still burning mysteriously.

Then suddenly, Boyle realized that Lavoisier was in the tangle of sheets, however small it was.Boyle flicked the sheet lightly, and the sheet trembled slightly.Then Boyle lifted the sheet.

If Scheler hadn't been guarding the door, it would have been hard for Boyle to imagine that the child in front of him would be Lavoisier.He was thin and small, with a sickly pallor of skin, the result of years of suffering from severe anemia.His hair had turned from brown to a beautiful silvery white, curly and flowing just down to his shoulders.The round eyes on Xiaoyuan's face stared at Boyle in horror, and her small mouth was tensely closed.

Boyle looked at his bare neck.The bandages have all fallen off, and the incision from that year now looks more like a dark red tattoo. It's not like a scar, but more like a mysterious pattern of some kind of contract.

Little Lavoisier shrank into a ball and kept shrinking into the quilt. "Uh..." Lavoisier stopped when he was about to speak, his voice now was completely different from not long ago.

Boyle stretched out his hand cautiously, and lifted little Lavoisier out of a ball of blankets.

Death is eternal dreamless sleep.I once remembered Hamlet saying that.Maybe for happy people.

But on my first night in this space, black, wet and cold nightmares, filled with viscous fear and panic, invaded my fragile thoughts time and time again, dragging me into the cracks of criminal history.

"Robert, I know that the small size clothes customized for Mr. Lavoisier have not yet arrived... As a humble friend of my future roommate, please give him this set of pajamas..." Pascal stood in the chemical group lounge. At the door, holding a set of his little pajamas in his hand.

"Okay, Bryce." Boyle looked at the sallow and thin child in front of him, his eyes flickered behind the long hair.

"Having a roommate who is about the same age as me, I don't know whether I should be happy or feel sad for us who have lost our choice?... Can I see my new roommate?" Pascal pursed his lips.

"No..." Boyle jokingly flicked Pascal away (for a child, it is helpless to be always under the control of an adult), and walked into the lounge.

With the help of Scheler these days, the lounge of the chemistry group has become tidy and cozy again.The sun shines on the pale yellow daisies on the window sill, and the circle of light draws one after another roundabout dance in the haze.

The 15-year-old (apparent age) Lavoisier is sitting on the bed, holding the memoir The Body Manual of the Incarnated Individual in his small hands.Boyle's shirt was over him, making him look like a little doll in a sack. "Mr. Boyle, what's the date today...?" Lavoisier's voice was very weak like a butterfly's wings about to fall in a storm.

"May 1894, 5," Boyle said, putting his pajamas on the bed.Now it has changed into a light yellow sheet, which looks like a daffodil bud. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Er, yes," said Lavoisier, but it was clear that his recollection seemed to touch upon something that frightened him.He froze for a moment, then came back to his senses: "Thank you for helping me bathe yesterday, I haven't bathed in a century..."

"It's okay." Boyle seemed to recall something delicious, with an evil smile on his face.

"But . . . Monsieur Boyle, I have a question," Lavoisier said, turning his head (his neck was now free).His long silver hair was neatly combed and tied behind his head with a red ribbon. "My hair is no longer reddish-brown. Why do I always feel that... the wig I wore back then seems to have become my real hair..."

"Oh this..." Boyle seemed to be remembering something sad, "Do you think I have real hair on my head now..." He waved his thick waist-length curly hair.

"Oh, don't you always wear a wig..." Lavoisier said in surprise.

"No, now this is my real hair..." Boyle grabbed a hair in pain, "I thought I was dead and still wore my stupid wig, but now I don't show any mercy After grabbing a peg, my pain told me I was dead wrong...the fact is that, as memoirized entities, our appearance seems to be constructed from popular impressions, and we always wear The wig....and then..."

"So the materialization of memoirs has turned our wigs into real hair...?" Lavoisier ruffles his pale hair.

"Have you ever regretted that you should have chosen a wig that looked better in style and color?" Boyle fiddled with his long hair painfully, "I'd say I spend an hour every day changing it from a feather duster to a slightly more visible wig." The dogtail grass..."

"No..." Lavoisier said in confusion, "I suddenly thought that my wig seemed to be made of horse tail hair, so is it possible for me to become a centaur now...?"

Boyle's long face contorted. "No wonder people keep saying that my face is getting more and more like a horse's face. That's it."

……

(Okay, after this enter key, we assume the atmosphere is now normal)

"Oh, this pajamas, Bryce Pascal lent you."

"Uh Pascal...?!"

"It is said that you will meet all the sages here... Um, am I indirectly flattering myself?"

"Oh, I mean... Mr. Pascal, is he in the same childhood state as me...?"

"Yes, it's all to eliminate the effects of the sequelae of the disease." Boyle sighed, "Almost all the children in the association come here... But two children and an old man should be happier together, right? "

"Er you mean..."

"Mr. Lavoisier will live in the main French Pavilion, with M. Voltaire and M. Pascal."

Voltaire...Enlightenment...Rousseau...French Revolution...Marat...don't remind me of the blood I shed in that Revolution...whether my own sins or A trick of fate...

The author has something to say:

From this chapter, the novel enters the different world where the "memoir materialized individual" lives.Here I briefly mention again the background and relationship of some of the characters who appeared in the first "Wings of the Aether" and the second "Portrait in Two Mirrors".

People who appear in this chapter: Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier, Robert Boyle, Carl Wilhelm Scheele, René Descartes, Blaise Pascal.

Boyle, a British physicist and chemist in the late 17th century, is the leader of the chemistry group of the association in the novel; his apparent age is 25 years old.

Scheele, a Swedish chemist and pharmacist in the 18th century, is a member of the chemistry group and a doctor at the Association Hospital in the novel; his apparent age is youth.

Descartes, a French scholar in the 17th century, is the former director of the French Pavilion of the Association in the novel (currently Voltaire, who tells this story in the second part of RHUMA), who is responsible for receiving the freshmen of French nationality. Age 43 years old.

Pascal, a French scholar in the 17th century (it may be necessary to list these two specifically), in the novel his apparent age was changed to 16 due to physical reasons, and he concluded a blood contract with Descartes (these two are also RHUMA’s first protagonist of a movie).