Chapter 4

From that day on, natural philosophy - especially chemistry - basically became my whole thing. I dove into those brilliant and insightful books modern scientists had written. I went to lectures and got to know the science guys at the university.

Even M. Krempe, who wasn’t exactly the most pleasant-looking dude, had some seriously good info. He was still valuable, even if his manners were a bit off. M. Waldman was a total friend. He was always chill, never lecturing, and he explained things with a super laid-back and friendly vibe.

It just made everything click. He made learning so much easier and cleared up the most confusing stuff. At first, I wasn’t super focused, but I got more into it as I went. Soon, I was obsessed - seriously, I’d be in the lab all night, and the stars would vanish with the sunrise.

I was working so hard, it's easy to see my progress was fast. Seriously, my passion blew everyone away - the students and even the professors. Professor Krempe would tease me, with this sly grin, asking how Cornelius Agrippa was doing. And M. Waldman was genuinely stoked about how far I was getting.

Two years flew by like that, and I didn’t even visit Geneva. I was totally absorbed in trying to make some breakthroughs. You just can’t understand the pull of science unless you’ve been there. In other subjects, you just follow what’s already been done - nothing new to learn. But with science?

It’s constant discovery, constant wonder. A smart person who really focuses on something will totally nail it. And I was all about one goal, so I improved so quickly that, after two years, I made some major discoveries with chemical instruments.

It got me a ton of respect and recognition at the university. I was doing great, knew the theory and practice of natural philosophy better than any of the professors at Ingolstadt. It was time to head back to my friends and my hometown. But then something happened that kept me there.

Something that really caught my eye was how bodies - human or animal - are built. I kept wondering, where does life even come from? It’s a huge question, and honestly, it’s always been a total mystery.

But imagine how much we could figure out if we weren't scared or just lazy about looking into things. I kept thinking about it and decided to focus on the parts of science that deal with how bodies work.

Seriously, unless I had this crazy, almost unreal drive, studying this would have been a total drag. To understand how life works, you gotta look at death, too. I got into anatomy, but it wasn't enough. I needed to see how bodies rot and break down.

My dad made sure I wasn’t freaked out by anything supernatural growing up. I never got spooked by ghost stories or worried about seeing spirits. Darkness didn't bother me, and a graveyard was just a place where dead bodies went - places that used to be beautiful and strong, now food for worms.

Now I was obsessed with figuring out why and how this decay happened, so I spent days and nights in creepy vaults and morgues. I stared at things that would totally gross anyone else out.

I saw how a person’s form got messed up and wasted away. I watched life fade, replaced by the decay of death. I saw how worms took over what used to be eyes and brains. I stopped, checking out every tiny detail of how things cause each other. Like, how life turns into death, and then back to life.

Suddenly, a light flashed in my mind - bright, amazing, and totally simple. I felt dizzy thinking about how huge it all was, and I was shocked that I was the one to figure out such a crazy secret, even though so many smart people had been looking into the same stuff.

I'm telling you, I'm absolutely sure what I’m about to say is true. Maybe some crazy thing brought it about, but the way I figured it out was totally logical, step by step.

After days and nights of insane work and exhaustion, I cracked the secret of how life begins - seriously, I could even give life to something that wasn't alive. At first, I was totally blown away by what I’d found, but then I just felt this rush of excitement. After putting in so much effort

, finally reaching the top of what I wanted was the ultimate reward. But it was such a huge discovery that I totally forgot all the steps that got me there - I just saw the final result.

Basically, what the smartest people have been trying to figure out since the beginning of time was now in my hands. It wasn’t like a magic reveal, though; the info I had just showed me where to focus my efforts, not the finished product itself.

I felt like that Arabian who got buried with the dead and somehow found a way to come back to life, guided by just a tiny spark of light. I can see by the way you're looking at me - the wonder and hope in your eyes - that you're dying to know the secret I know. Sorry, that's not happening.

Just listen to my story, and you'll get why I'm being so tight-lipped. I'm not gonna lead you down the same path I went down, all eager and clueless, straight into destruction and misery. Learn from me, if not by what I say, at least by what happened to me.

See how dangerous it is to chase after knowledge, and how much better off someone is who thinks their hometown is the whole world, compared to someone who tries to be more than they’re meant to be.

Finding such a crazy power in my hands, I seriously debated how to use it. I could bring things to life, sure, but building a body - all those muscles, fibers, and veins - was still a massive, almost impossible job.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I should try to make something like me, or something way simpler. But after my first success, my imagination was totally hyped, and I was convinced I could give life to an animal as complex and amazing as a person.

The stuff I had on hand didn't exactly feel up to the task, but I knew I'd nail it eventually. I braced myself for tons of setbacks; my work could get totally derailed, and end up being a mess.

But when I thought about how much science and tech were improving every day, I felt hopeful that my attempts would at least set the groundwork for future wins. I didn't see the huge scale and complexity of my plan as a reason to think it was impossible. That's how I started creating a human.

Since the tiny parts were slowing me down, I decided - against my original plan - to make the being huge, like, eight feet tall, and proportionally big. After I made that call and spent a few months gathering and organizing my materials, I got to work.

Seriously, no one could grasp the whirlwind of feelings pushing me forward, especially when I first tasted success. Life and death felt like these totally breakable limits, and I was gonna blast through them and flood our world with light.

A whole new species would be like, thanking me for bringing them into existence; so many awesome people would owe their lives to me. No dad would ever feel as loved by his kid as I would be.

Thinking about it, I figured if I could give life to something lifeless, I could eventually (though I realized now it was impossible) bring life back where death had basically wrecked a body.

These thoughts kept me going as I dove into my project, totally committed. Studying had left me looking kinda ghostly, and I'd gotten super skinny from being stuck inside. Sometimes I’d be so close to figuring it out, then I’d fail.

But I still held onto the hope that tomorrow or even the next hour would bring a breakthrough. This one secret, the hope I’d poured everything into - that was mine alone. The moon watched over my late-night work as I chased after nature, digging for answers.

Who could even imagine the crazy stuff I was doing, messing around in cold, creepy graves or hurting animals to bring life to lifeless clay? My hands shake just thinking about it, and my vision swims. But back then, I felt this unstoppable urge - like I'd lost all feeling except for this one goal.

It was like a weird dream, and when the strange feeling faded, I felt everything again, even more intensely. I collected bones from cemeteries and messed with the deepest secrets of the human body.

Up in this lonely room, more like a cell, at the very top of the house - separated from everything else by a hallway and stairs - I had my workshop of gross creation. My eyes were practically popping out of my head from staring so much.

The dissecting room and the slaughterhouse gave me a lot of what I needed. And honestly, sometimes I’d feel totally disgusted with what I was doing. But this growing excitement just kept pushing me forward, bringing my work closer and closer to being done.

The summer just flew by while I was totally absorbed in one thing. It was a seriously gorgeous season - the fields were overflowing with crops, and the vines were giving off the best grapes ever. But I didn’t even notice.

"And the same stuff that made me ignore everything around me also made me forget about my friends who were so far away, the ones I hadn’t seen in ages. I knew my silence was stressing them out, and I remembered exactly what my dad said: "I know you’ll think of us with love and keep in touch.

You gotta forgive me if you stop writing - it’s gotta mean your other stuff is falling apart too. I knew exactly how my dad would feel, but I couldn’t pull my thoughts away from what I was doing. It was awful, honestly, but it had totally hooked my imagination."

I was like, I’d put off all the feelings and stuff until I finished this big thing that was consuming everything about me.

I thought my dad would be totally unfair if he thought I was being bad or messing up. But now, I get why he felt like I had to take some responsibility. A perfect person should always stay chill and peaceful, right? Never let feelings or a quick whim mess with their vibe.

I don’t think learning is an exception to that rule. If what you're studying makes you feel less connected to people and ruins your taste for simple things - the stuff that's genuinely good - then that study isn’t right for you. It’s not fitting for a human mind.

If everyone followed that rule - if no one let anything get in the way of their family and friends - Greece wouldn’t have been taken over, Caesar would have been kinder to his country, America would have been found more slowly, and the empires of Mexico and Peru wouldn't have crumbled.

But whoops, I’m getting all preachy in the best part of the story. Your faces tell me to keep going.

My dad didn't call me out in his letters, just started asking about what I was up to, like, really asking. Winter, spring, and summer just flew by while I was working. I didn’t even notice the flowers blooming or the leaves popping out - stuff I used to love - I was so into it.

The leaves had already turned brown by the time my work was almost done, and I could see how well it was going. But I was stressed, seriously anxious. I felt like someone forced into slave labor, digging in mines or something, not an artist doing what they love.

Every night, I had this low-grade fever, and I was a nervous wreck. A falling leaf would freak me out, and I avoided people like I'd done something wrong. Sometimes, I’d get totally freaked out by how much I’d changed. Just the drive to finish kept me going.

I thought once my work was done, getting some exercise and having fun would clear up the sickness. I was already planning it - once my creation was complete.