Observable Data

Mr. Utterson:

Because you hold the unique position of my confidant, lawyer, and closest friend, I am entrusting the contents of this letter to you in the hopes that you will divulge it to the rest of my family at a time that you deem appropriate. By the time you read this I would have gone into hiding as a result of the experiments which I have been conducting for the past few weeks. As you know, I have gone through great lengths to keep the nature of my research a secret from my would-be plagiarists.

If you recall, just three days ago I complained of headaches so intense that I had to end our Sunday lunch early. It turns out it was much more than simple dehydration or a migraine. The headaches were a result of my transforming optic nerves. I will not bore you excessively the details but suffice it to say that the formula that I had concocted yielded inconclusive results in the lab rats. It was only until very recently that I realized that what I had created would only work on a narrow spectrum of proteins found only in humans for it to take full effect.

Whatever conclusion you drew upon reading that last sentence, I can assure it is most likely the correct one. I felt that it was the only way to prove or disprove my hypothesis, but there were some unforeseen consequences. My intention was to create a treatment for genetically inherited diseases that would stifle certain traits such as cancer. My findings are copiously detailed in my notes, which I have attached with this letter.

I know a great deal of this seems impossible and most likely only confirms that all the formula has succeeded in doing is driving me insane but I’m going to need you to trust me on this. By the time you read this, the transformation may have already been complete in which case I will not be able to walk around in public without welcoming the shrieks of passersby. Make no attempts to contact me as I will be officially of the grid once I send this package to you. Should there be any emergency or substantial progress with my condition, I will be the one to contact you.

Thank you, friend, for everything.

-Eric

Research Notes of Professor E. Singer:

Day 1:

After much deliberation I have decided to use myself as a guinea pig for my latest experiment. I injected myself with the formula just a moment ago and thus far do not feel any after effects nor is there any regret with the course that I have taken. However, there should be an easier way to get the substance in the bloodstream. The intravenous route was troublesome and in all honesty the most painful injection that I have ever experienced. It was as if I could feel each individual molecule penetrate the cells surrounding the injected area.

Just a few minutes have passed and I have noticed that some of my hair has begun to fall out with relative ease, similar to the after effects of chemotherapy. However I used the Geiger counter to check if the formula caused any abnormal spike in radioactivity in my body and the results were negative. Fortunately, much of the hair loss has occurred on parts of the body that would otherwise be covered up with clothing. This works out for the best since I intend to go out today and have my Sunday lunch with Gabe Utterson as usual. I am hoping that I can get through the day with as few distractions as possible.

I braced myself for unforeseen and physically tolling side effects but just a few hours ago I experienced a headache so severe that I had to come home early. Hopefully, Gabe doesn’t suspect any foul play though he is the only other person I can trust with the information that I am experimenting on myself. Upon further observation, I realized that it wasn’t something about my brain or circulatory system that was changing but the actual shape, size and appearance of my eyes. The headache was an intensified version of that experienced when I read for long periods of time in dim light.

Day 2:

My vision is still a bit hazy but I have learned that my ability to focus on distant objects has dwindled greatly. It’s difficult to explain but it feels as if my eyeballs are too small for my head. But that was the least of my problems as I woke up and my gums felt itchy. Upon inspection, I discovered that my mouth was bloody. My teeth had fallen out in the middle of the night, somehow without my knowledge and when I checked myself in the mirror, a new set of teeth had grown in its place.

My throat began to feel sore and scratchy and after a while felt as if something was lodged in the back of it. I tried speaking but it was almost as if the capacity of my lungs has dramatically decreased as I could not reach the volume I am accustomed to. I wanted to scream in frustration, but my voice seemed unfamiliar as it was unleashed from what I assume to be a transformed voice box. It frightened me to hear such a hauntingly strange sound come from me.

All my appointments of the day were cancelled as even more hair began to fall out with relative ease. So much of the hair has fallen out at this point that I am virtually unrecognizable. As I passed the hallway mirror, I could have sworn that a wild animal had broken into the house only to realize that it was actually my own reflection.

Day 3:

I’m not sure I can handle anymore of this. I can’t even be categorized as being of the same species at this point. Though I’m inclined to hope for the best, I don’t see any possibility of saving myself and have decided to go into hiding.

As I opened my eyes, I felt sore over every square inch of my aching body as if I had been running nonstop for the past two weeks. I realized that my musculature and skeletal system must have changed overnight. I move more swiftly in some aspects, much more clumsily in others and unfortunately I have found that it has been a lot more of the latter. The way I walk is uncomfortable in that I am used to way my body carried its own self. It’s almost as if my soul were trapped in some animal’s body.

The one aspect of this ordeal that has worried me so is how quickly the changes are occurring with each passing night. And I begin to wonder, how much change I have left. How much more horrible and disfiguring can I get? More importantly, with each passing day, will I be further and further away from reversing the process?

As I got up to inspect my new body this morning, I was frightened by my feet and hands that have metamorphosed into shapes that look so alien that they appear to have come from some other planet. They are still anti-symmetrical to each other, still making it possible to walk around in these poor excuses for feet.

I am writing these last few lines while in hiding before sending it off to you, Utterson, and I do hope these notes find you. Yours are the only hands that I will trust this information with. I have found refuge in the wilderness and even brought along a few knick knacks to keep my mind in constant motion until I can figure out a more permanent, appropriate situation for myself. It’s funny how many of the books that I have taken to keep me entertained are science fiction. That’s life imitating art, I suppose.

I’m sure if we were to ever bump into each other you would do everything in my power to assure me that everything will turn out for the best. All the while I’m sure what you will see in front of you is nothing more than a hideous monster and I wouldn’t blame you at all. I’m just glad that I never got around to starting a family. I would hate to put a wife and children through this ordeal. To be entirely honest, I feel the utmost remorse for having to drag you into all of this which is why I have opted to stay away from you as much as possible.

As I write these final words to you, I hold in my hand a novel about a man going through a similar metamorphosis. It’s much less gruesome than the actual process, and through the words of a real writer must sound like a romantic, cathartic metaphor for an internal struggle. But I assure you, I feel no less like a monster than the creature in that very book. And if you feel that you can convince me that there is still a little bit of me stuck in this hideous shell, I left the worst part to the end.

This morning, just before I began this final entry, my tail just fell off and plopped lifelessly. My heart sank, my breath grew shallow and the flesh on my disfigured face was both hot and cold, drenched in sweat. I’m not sure what I’ve become. I doubt that anything like me exists anywhere so I’ll resort to stealing a line from this book and name my kind after the monster. You will always be my friend, but I am no longer one of you. From now on, I am “human.”