Perdido Street Station - China Mieville [55]
“Life as a lab assistant is cruel, isn’t it?” murmured Lublamai into the tank. “What other disgusting grubs do you have?”
“Bunch of maggots. Easy to feed. That’s probably the smell that’s got Sincerity upset.” Isaac laughed. “Some other grubs that promise to turn into butterflies and moths, horribly aggressive water-things that I am told turn into damask-flies and what have you . . .” Isaac pointed at a tank full of dirty water, behind the others.
“And,” he said, swaggering over to a little mesh cage some feet away, “something rather special . . .” He jabbed his thumb at the container.
David and Lublamai crowded round. They gazed with open mouths.
“Oh, now that is splendid . . .” whispered David, after a while.
“What is it?” hissed Lublamai.
Isaac peered over their heads at his star caterpillar.
“Frankly, my friends, I have not an arsing clue. All I know is that it’s huge, pretty, and not very happy.”
The grub waved its thick head blindly. It shifted its massive body sluggishly around the wire prison. It was at least four inches long and one inch thick, with bright colours slapped randomly around its chubby cylindrical body. Spiky hairs sprouted from its rump. It shared its cage with browning lettuce leaves, little snips of meat, slices of fruit, paper strips.
“See,” said Isaac, “I’ve tried to feed the thing everything. I’ve put in as many herbs and plants as exist, and it doesn’t want any of them. So I tried it on fish and fruit and cake, bread, meat, paper, glue, cotton, silk . . . it just roots aimlessly around being hungry, staring at me accusingly.”
Isaac leaned in, planting his face between David’s and Lublamai’s.
“It obviously wants to eat,” he said. “Its colour’s fading, which is worrying, both aesthetically and physiologically . . . I’m at a loss. I think the beautiful thing’s going to sit there and die on me.” Isaac sniffed matter-of-factly.
“Where did you get it from?” asked David.
“Oh, you know how this stuff works,” said Isaac. “I got it from a cove who got it from a man who got it from a woman who got it . . . and so on. I’ve no idea where it came from.”
“You’re not going to cut this open, are you?”
“ ’Stail, no. If it lives to build a cocoon, which I’m afraid I doubt, I’ll be very interested to see what comes out. I might even donate it to the Science Museum. You know me. Public-spirited . . . So anyway, this thing’s not really much use to me for research. Can’t even make it eat, let alone metamorphose, let alone fly. So everything else you see around you—” he spread his arms wide, wriggled his wrists to take in the room “—is grist to my counter-gravitational mill. But this little geezer—” he pointed at the listless caterpillar “—this is social work.” He grinned widely.
There was a creaking from below. The door was being pushed open. All three men lurched dangerously over the side of the walkway and peered down, expecting to see Yagharek the garuda, with his false wings under his cloak.
Lin peered up at them.
David and Lublamai started in confusion. They were embarrassed at Isaac’s sudden cry of irritated welcome. They found something else to look at.
Isaac was scurrying down the stairs.
“Lin,” he bellowed. “Good to see you.” When he reached her he spoke quietly.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing here? I thought I was going to see you later in the week.”
As he spoke he saw her antennae quivering miserably, tried to temper his nervous irritation. It was clear that Lub and David understood what was going on—they’d known him a long time: he did not doubt that his evasion and hints about his love life had left them guessing reasonably close to the truth. But this was not Salacus Fields. This was too close to home. He might be seen.
But then, Lin was clearly miserable.
Look, she signed rapidly, want you to come home with me, don’t say no. Miss you. Tired. Difficult job. Sorry for coming here. Needed to see you.
Isaac felt anger and affection jostle. This is a dangerous precedent, he thought. Fuck!
“Hang on,” he whispered. “Give me a minute.”
He raced