Jogging with Roussel 7

It was October 27, 1905, Martial Canterel was in Richmond, Surrey, England, walking along a deserted thoroughfare lit only by one streetlamp. As the wind whipped up, a slatted shutter banged noisily against a stone wall. Accompanying Martial was a small blonde curly headed child whose face seemed inordinately passive and tranquil. Seeming unsure of his surroundings, Martial was peering through an open window to assure himself he was at the correct address. Through the window, a man in elegant clothing was taking a dried a plant from between the pages of a large crimson book. Martial knocked three times on the door in darkness. Soon, the door was opened by a small dark gypsy woman obviously in her late 60’s. Martial and the child went in. They were shown to the elegantly appointed library where the man regarded them warmly from behind the desk. The man’s name was Orson Welles. Orson spoke first, filling his calabash pipe. “Has it worked then?” said Orson.  Canterel motioned toward the child, “See for yourself..” “How many are on board?”  Canterel smiled, “About a hundred..” “May I see one then?” said Doctor Welles.. Martial Canterel put the child in front of him, who was not actually a child at all, but a genetically altered being that Canterel had created using information and genetic material Dr. Welles had brought back from the year 802, 701. “Who are they, then?” said Doctor Welles. “At the present time, they are only me, but resurrectine in sufficient quantity would allow any person to have their mind, and mental faculties, memory, etc transferred to an Eloi body like this. With sufficient fruit, this body will last at least a thousand years, maybe longer, but the Chlorotrons must reproduce, but they do so with very little information loss.” “Please, allow me to meet you!” said Dr. Welles.. “Very well..” The Eloi Chlorotron host unbuttoned its little jacket and shirt, and revealed a smooth stomach which had instead of a bellybutton, a pale green rectum which opened itself like an organic porthole. Out came a translucent green fingernail, like a catwalk, diving board, or balcony, then, out stepped two little green men, each about 3.2 centimeters tall. One of them smiled, and bowed. The other did a strange little dance.. “What period shall we retire to then?” said Dr. Welles. “What do you suggest?” said Martial, bringing out a phial of luminous green fluid and a syringe. “Care for a memory?” The gypsy woman had undressed in the back of the library. Another Eloi host stepped into the circle of light around the massive wooden desk. The two ‘children’ joined hands sweetly.