Man of Glass

I found the police officers in the waiting room; I had been out with a research student whose dissertation I was supervising. My secretary introduced them, Inspector John March and his assistant, Sergeant Howell. I entered my office and Sarah showed them in behind me. I paused for a moment and then answered the Inspector’s first question.
+++++“Yes, I know Felix Mumbler. I forget when we last met, my secretary can check through the records.”
+++++“There is no need, for now,” said the Inspector. He sat. “Tell me, how do you know Felix?”
+++++“He is –or was, a patient, had been for five years or so. He found I had degrees in psychiatry and medicine and sought me out. I don’t recall seeing Felix for a least a year,” I added, “Although from past experiences, that is not unusual.”
+++++March poked Howell in the ribs. He produced a notebook and began to scribble.
+++++“Felix never said why he chose me over his own physician but I got the feeling he thought that his own GP would be… dismissive.”
+++++I sat myself in the leather chair on the opposite side of the desk. It creaked as I adjusted my weight until I sat and slouched, in my usual position, with my head propped against the cushioned top.
+++++“Dismissive? How?” March’s interest was piqued. “When did you first meet Felix?”
+++++I counted back through the conferences and symposiums I had attended since my first meeting with Felix.
+++++“It was 2004, sometime around June when Felix called. I told him I only took on cases upon occasion, I hold a place here at the university as a senior lecturer and it is a demanding role. Felix begged me to see him; there was something in his voice that persuaded me to agree. I trust you know of his condition?”
+++++They both looked baffled.
+++++“His notes show no changes in his health from the age of eighteen,” said the Inspector. “Although if he began to see you privately then, that explains why not even a throat infection is listed on his NHS file. What was wrong?”
+++++Sarah came in carrying a tray of drinks, tea for the inspector and his officer, coffee for me. She laid them on the table and turned to leave. I waited until the door closed behind her.
+++++“When Felix arrived at my office he appeared to be perfectly normal. I asked the usual questions about his health and received no indication that he was unbalanced. When I asked why he believed I could help him, he told me that he thought he was turning into glass.”
+++++There was an awkward silence. March stared at his cup for a moment and then said, “Was he?”
+++++“He didn’t seem to be,” I stifled a nervous laugh. “However, Felix was convinced of it. He would move with great care, he believed that sudden movements might cause his limbs to shatter, or snap his fingers and toes. I gave him a physical examination, his body was perfectly fine- his feet and hands were cold to touch, but I put that down to poor circulation.”
+++++“You diagnosed him?” asked Howell.
+++++“Yes, after some probing I found a history of mental illness in the family. I diagnosed Felix with Delusional Schizophrenia. I prescribed some medication and recommended that Felix attend therapy. I gave him the details of several trusted contacts. Then he left.”
+++++“How was he when he left?”
+++++“He was placated. I assumed he was relieved that someone had listened and given him an answer. I told him to return in six months time for a review of his medication. I didn’t see him for a year.”
+++++“Is that unusual?”
+++++“It’s not uncommon for patients to believe they are cured, or that they can manage their situation themselves. In December, Felix called the office. I was preparing for a conference at St Andrew’s University. Felix arranged to come to my office the day I was due to leave. I told him I could see him for no longer than an hour. I still had preparations to make for a talk I was giving at the conference.”
+++++“Did he show up?”
+++++The younger officer stood. He moved to examine the posters on the far side of the room.
+++++“He came, on time, and told me that he felt worse, said now he really was turning to glass. I dismissed it. Delusional schizophrenia has many symptoms and Felix appeared to exhibit one of the key elements of diagnosis: He was adamant. I excused myself from his company and urged him to see a therapist. I promised to see him for a full review when I returned.
+++++“When I arrived at work first thing Monday morning, I found Felix in the waiting area outside; Sarah informed me he had waited every day. She had asked other members of staff to speak to him but he hadn’t said a word. Each night at 5pm he would leave, and at 8.30 the next morning he returned.
+++++“I allowed Felix into my office and asked what was wrong. He removed a shoe and sock and balanced on one leg, his right foot rested on my desk. His toes had turned to crystal.”
+++++There was silence. I felt awkward.
+++++“Do you expect us to believe that?” said March.
+++++I realised how ridiculous it must sound. “I know it sounds strange, but it is true.”
+++++“I hope you have something to corroborate this tale?”
+++++“I do, Inspector. Would you care to see the evidence now, or should I finish?”
+++++“The evidence won’t run away will it?”
+++++“Certainly not, it’s in this room with us as a matter of fact.”
+++++“Then indulge us.” He smiled at Howell, who had resumed his seat beside the desk.
+++++“Over the next few months I saw Felix on a regular basis and monitored the changes. I saw toes, fingers, ankles, shins, arms solidify. I conducted enquiries amongst colleagues but none had heard of a condition which caused the human body to turn to glass. Consultations with anthropologists led to little more than folklore and conjecture. Although there are stories of statues that wish to become human, and of humans turned to frogs, no story involves a man turning to glass.”
+++++“You introduced Felix to these colleagues?”
+++++I shook my head.
+++++“Each time I presented Felix’s case as a hypothesis. I never mentioned his name or the fact that his problem was very, very real. When I talked with friends from the science department at Manchester, one suggested that my hypothetical man wouldn’t be turning into glass. Glass requires a large amount of silica in its formation, humans are carbon based. It would be much more likely that he would turn to diamond.”
+++++The Inspectors eyebrows rose.
+++++“When I next saw Felix he agreed to a minor surgery. We chipped off a toe from his right foot. He needed no anaesthetic; previous examinations had proven that his glass digits and limbs lacked the nerve endings required for him to feel pain. On examination, the toe turned out to be a diamond of the highest calibre.”
+++++Howell gasped. He collected his wits and made a note. He paused, the pen in held his mouth, he murmured to March. The Inspector rolled his eyes and replied “C-A-L-I-B-R-E.”
+++++“And what happened after that?” the Inspector asked he turned his attention back to me.
+++++“The toe was returned to Felix; I made sure of it. He sat in my office and attached it back to his foot with superglue.”
+++++“Was that the last time you saw him?”
+++++“No, it wasn’t. Felix’s body needed constant attention from then on. Although he was still mobile, the skin of his neck, torso and groin had started to harden.”
+++++The door opened and my research assistant backed in, he pulled a trolley that contained a large wooden crate. The police officers eyed him with suspicion. He manoeuvred the crate until it sat at the edge of the room and then lifted a crowbar.
+++++“Thank you Peter, don’t bother to open the crate now. Leave the crow bar, I’ll see to it.”
+++++“Are you sure sir?” He sounded a little put out.
+++++“Of course I am,” I laughed, “don’t you have a home to go to?”
+++++“Well, thank you sir.” He smiled and left the room, pulling the empty trolley with him.
+++++Howell got to his feet and examined the crate.
+++++“What’s in the box professor?” He turned to look at me.
+++++“Formidable looking thing isn’t it? It contains some enlarged scale models of sections of the human brain, as you know I’ve just finished another conference. They were props for a talk.”
+++++The Inspector appeared to be lost in thought. Howell sat down again; he looked at his notebook and then opened his mouth to speak.
+++++“How did you examine Felix?” the Inspector asked.
+++++Howell shut his mouth, an annoyed scowl crossed his face.
+++++“I found that heat sensitive equipment helped. The scans showed parts of his body which had already transformed to diamond as dark blue: cold, those under transformation showed the white of extreme heat. Heat and pressure combine to produce diamonds, you know.”
+++++The Inspector nodded but Howell looked confused for a moment. Reminders of secondary school chemistry classes must have flooded back into his memory; he nodded and urged me to continue.
+++++“Finally, those parts of his body which were still unaffected exhibited the same red, orange and yellow hues of a healthy human.”
+++++I paused to allow Howell time to write in his slim notebook and then I continued.
+++++“One day, Felix arrived in the office. He was covered from head to toe as a precaution against his condition being noticed, and to protect the more fragile areas of his body, digits, knees and elbows. The latest scan showed his internal organs were now under threat. He was distressed.”
+++++“Why?”
+++++“Whilst he showed no signs of being halted by his condition, he was still agile, still able to walk, reach… we had no idea whether or not his condition would deteriorate once his internal organs were affected.”
+++++“And?”
+++++“The university has rooms set aside for staff members to stay in should they need to remain on campus. I begged Felix to stay here so I could monitor his condition. He agreed.”
+++++March consulted his notebook. He flipped through pages until he settled on one, and scanned its contents.
+++++“He called his parents in May last year to say he was staying with a friend for a few weeks, said that he would be in touch later.”
+++++“He was in a room here at the university.”
+++++“Did you stay here sir?” Howell enquired.
+++++“No, my home is four miles away. I left Felix with phone cards, a laptop connected to the internet, and other items I believed he would need. He was able to call me at any moment should his condition change.”
+++++“How did the change affect him?” Howell asked.
+++++“When Felix’s lungs solidified he showed no problem continuing to live… finally the last of his internal organs, his heart and brain began to change. Since the crystallisation of his stomach and kidneys, Felix found food and drink unnecessary.”
+++++“So, Felix was hidden away? You were the last person to see him?”
+++++“I’d hardly say hidden. He was free to leave at any time and had several methods to keep in touch with friends and family.”
+++++“But he didn’t. What happened?”
+++++“I don’t know.”
+++++“You don’t know?” the Inspector asked. “You hide a man supposedly turning to diamond on university premises, but don’t know what happened to him?”
+++++“I arrived at university one morning and after lecturing my year threes on the importance of accuracy in their final exams, I walked to Felix’s room, expecting him to be there.”
+++++I stopped again.
+++++“The room was empty,” I continued. “The bed was made, the laptop there, lid folded down. On the table sat a glass toe and I knew it to be the one we had removed for tests. Beside it sat a note, a single word.”
+++++“And that was?”
+++++“Thanks.”
+++++“Have you seen Felix since?” March asked his tone was slow and deliberate.
+++++“I haven’t.” I shook my head.
+++++The silence settled over the room.
+++++“What evidence do you have to support this story?”
+++++“His medical files are in the top drawer of the filing cabinet. You may fetch them out yourself. Here is the key,” I said as I handed the small silver key to Howell.
+++++He crossed to the cabinet, opened it and removed the only folder inside, Felix’s file. He handed it to me and I laid out the contents over the mahogany top of my desk.
+++++Transcripts of my earliest sessions with Felix sat beside copies of scan results and photographs of his body as the severity of his condition increased. There was a picture of the right foot with its absent toe, and again a picture, the toe there, the join between the broken edges clouded with dried glue.
+++++“We have a problem,” said March in his slow, deliberate tone. He picked up an early photograph from Felix’s medical file and sat it on his knee; he produced another from a pocket and sat them side by side. He stared at them for a moment; Howell took them from him, examined both images closely and nodded.
+++++“It’s him alright sir,” he said.
+++++I excused myself for a moment, and gathered up the now empty cups which Sarah had fetched in. I placed them on the tray and backed out of the office. I crossed the waiting area outside and entered the small kitchen on the opposite side of the corridor.
+++++I placed the tray on the counter and returned to my office. The Inspector was examining the curios around my room. He held a model of the human head with various marks and notations engraved upon it.
+++++“A physiognomy guide,” I told him, as I closed my office door. “Two hundred years ago they believed this was as precise as modern day psychology”
+++++I took the model from his hands and placed it back upon the shelf.
+++++“They believed that every human trait was written on the face back then. Simple measurements, the distance between your eyes, the width of your brow, the shape of your chin, all signalled whether or not you were a murderer, a lunatic or a dull wit.”
+++++The Inspector allowed himself an indulgent smile. He returned to his seat.
+++++“Felix Mumbler has been reported missing by his family. You were the last person to see him and you present us with what is either the strangest story told, or an elaborate hoax.”
+++++The words were a blow.
+++++“The case of Felix Mumbler is no hoax, Inspector.” The man already had the medical notes, the photographs in his hand, yet still did not believe me. What more did he want?
+++++I glanced around my office.
+++++“I have one more item to show you, though whether it will confirm my story or not is questionable.”
+++++I opened a drawer on my desk and removed a box. I handed it to the Inspector. “Open it.”
+++++He pulled off the lid and stared at the contents.
+++++ “Is that…” His voice trailed off.
+++++ “The toe from Felix’s right foot, yes. And the note he left with it.”
+++++The two men examined the paper and the toe. They turned the digit in the light and watched it refract and reflect.
+++++After a moment the Inspector spoke, “May I take this?”
+++++“Of course and take the medical files. I have another copy.”
+++++March excused himself and his assistant and departed with a copy of Felix’s medical files and the toe in its little black box. I followed them out. The reception room was empty. A clock chimed in the courtyard and told me it was two hours past my usual departure time. My secretary had left a note; she had called my wife and informed her I would be late home. She too was long gone.
+++++I returned to the office, picked up the crow bar, and prised open the crate which Peter had delivered. The top layer of straw fell away. Inside were the models I had used at a recent conference. I removed them, one by one, and set them upon a shelf.
+++++Thankful that the arrival of these models had distracted the police officers so much I crossed the room and pulled a cloth sheet off another curio. I carried it across the room with great care. Its size and strange shape caused me some difficulty. I caught the curio on the corner of my desk as I moved past and heard the sickening splinter as a piece broke off, followed by the light thud as it landed upon the carpeted floor. A quick examination revealed that the damage was minor. I stood the model in the carton and covered it with the straw. I reattached the wooden cover and then looked for the missing piece of my precious find.
+++++I had been beside the desk when it dropped but couldn’t see it. I got to my knees and brushed my hands through the thick pile of the sheepskin rug. My fingers closed upon the missing piece. I sighed relieved, struggled to my feet and stuffed the fragment into a pocket.
+++++I switched off the lights and walked out of my office. I closed the door behind me. As I walked out of the building the cold weather made me thrust my fists deep into my pockets. My right hand collided with something cold and hard, the diamond index finger from Felix Mumbler’s left hand.
+++++
+++++
+++++
+++++
Catherine Almond is a housewife/writer based in Stoke on Trent. Man of Glass was the first thing she wrote after graduating from the creative writing degree at MMU. Now a housewife and freelance writer/editor, Catherine is based in Stoke on Trent. She’s hidden behind her laptop and a pile of rejection letters as she works on her first novel. A Manchester theatre is considering her collection of comedy sketches and monologues for a variety show which will be staged in August.