H. P. Lovecraft - Cool Air(1).pdf - H. P. Lovecraft - catchy.kathy

Cool Air

byH. P.Lovecraft

You ask me to explain why I am afraid of a draught of cool air; why I shiver more than others upon

entering a cold room, and

seemnauseated and repelled when the chill of evening creeps through the heat of a mild autumn day.

There are those who say I

respondto cold as others do to a badodour , and I am the last to deny the impression. What I will do is

to relate the most horrible

circumstanceI ever encountered, and leave it to you to judge whether or not this forms a suitable

explanation of my peculiarity.

It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude. I found

it in the glare of

mid-afternoon, in theclangour of a metropolis, and in the teaming midst of a shabby and commonplace

rooming-house with a

prosaiclandlady and two stalwart men by my side. In the spring of 1923 I had secured some dreary and

unprofitable magazine

workin the city ofNew York; and being unable to pay any substantial rent, began drifting from one cheap

boarding establishment

toanother in search of a room which might combine the qualities of decent cleanliness, endurable

furnishings, and very reasonable

price. It soon developed that I had only a choice between different evils, but after a time I came upon a

house in West Fourteenth

Street which disgusted me much less than the others I had sampled.

The place was a four-story mansion of brownstone, dating apparently from the late forties, and fitted with

woodwork and marble

whosestained and sulliedsplendour argued a descent from high levels of tasteful opulence. In the rooms,

large and lofty, and

decoratedwith impossible paper and ridiculously ornate stucco cornices, there lingered a depressing

mustiness and hint of obscure

cookery; but the floors were clean, the linen tolerably regular, and the hot water not too often cold or

turned off, so that I came to

regardit as at least a bearable place to hibernate till one might really live again. The landlady, a slatternly,

almost bearded Spanish

womannamedHerrero , did not annoy me with gossip or with criticisms of the late-burning electric light in

my third-floor front hall

room; and my fellow-lodgers were as quiet and uncommunicative as one might desire, being mostly

Spaniards a little above the

coarsestand crudest grade. Only the din of street cars in the thoroughfare below proved a serious

annoyance.

I had been there about three weeks when the first odd incident occurred. One evening at about eight I

heard a spattering on the

floorand became suddenly aware that I had been smelling the pungentodour of ammonia for some time.

Looking about, I saw that

theceiling was wet and dripping; the soaking apparently proceeding from a corner on the side toward the

street. Anxious to stop

thematter at its source, I hastened to the basement to tell the landlady; and was assured by her that the

trouble would quickly be

setright.

"DoctairMuñoz," she cried as she rushed upstairs ahead of me, "hehavespeelhees chemicals. Heees

tooseeck fordoctair

heemself--seeckerandseecker all the time--but heweel not have noothair for help. Heeesvairy queer

inheesseeckness --all day

hetakefunnee -smelling baths, and he cannot get excite or warm. Allhees own housework hedo

--heesleetleroom are full of

bottlesand machines, and he do not work asdoctair . But he was great once--myfathair inBarcelonahave

hear ofheem --and only

joostnow hefeex a arm of the plumber that get hurt of sudden. Henevair go out, only on roof, and my boy

Esteban hebreeng

heemheesfood and laundry andmediceens and chemicals. MyGawd , thesal -ammoniac that manuse for

keepheem cool !"

Mrs.Herrero disappeared up the staircase to the fourth floor, and I returned to my room. The ammonia

ceased to drip, and as I

cleanedup what had spilled and opened the window for air, I heard the landlady's heavy footsteps above

me. Dr.Muñoz I had

neverheard, save for certain sounds as of some gasoline-driven mechanism; since his step was soft and

gentle. I wondered for a

momentwhat the strange affliction of this man might be, and whether his obstinate refusal of outside aid

were not the result of a

ratherbaseless eccentricity. There is, I reflected tritely, an infinite deal of pathos in the state of an eminent

person who has come

downin the world.

I might never have known Dr.Muñoz had it not been for the heart attack that suddenly seized me one

forenoon as I sat writing in

myroom. Physicians had told me of the danger of those spells, and I knew there was no time to be lost;

so remembering what the

landladyhad said about the invalid's help of the injured workman, I dragged myself upstairs and knocked

feebly at the door above

mine. My knock was answered in good English by a curious voice some distance to the right, asking my

name and business; and

thesethings being stated, there came an opening of the door next to the one I had sought.

A rush of cool air greeted me; and though the day was one of the hottest of late June, I shivered as I

crossed the threshold into a

largeapartment whose rich and tasteful decoration surprised me in this nest of squalor and seediness. A

folding couch now filled

itsdiurnal role of sofa, and the mahogany furniture, sumptuous hangings, old paintings, and mellow

bookshelves all bespoke a

gentleman'sstudy rather than a boarding-house bedroom. I now saw that the hall room above mine--the

"leetleroom" of bottles

andmachines which Mrs.Herrero had mentioned--was merely the laboratory of the doctor; and that his

main living quarters lay in

thespacious adjoining room whose convenient alcoves and large contiguous bathroom permitted him to

hide all dressers and

obtrusivelyutilitarian devices. Dr.Muñoz , most certainly, was a man of birth, cultivation, and

discrimination.

The figure before me was short but exquisitely proportioned, and clad in somewhat formal dress of

perfect cut and fit. A high-bred

faceof masterful though not arrogant expression was adorned by a short iron-grey full beard, and an

old-fashioned pince-nez

shieldedthe full, dark eyes and surmounted an aquiline nose which gave a Moorish touch to a

physiognomy otherwise dominantly

Celtiberian.Thick, well-trimmed hair that argued the punctual calls of a barber was parted gracefully

above a high forehead; and

thewhole picture was one of striking intelligence and superior blood and breeding.

Nevertheless, as I saw Dr.Muñoz in that blast of cool air, I felt a repugnance which nothing in his aspect

could justify. Only his

lividlyinclined complexion and coldness of touch could have afforded a physical basis for this feeling, and

even these things should

havebeen excusable considering the man's known invalidism. It might, too, have been the singular cold

that alienated me; for such

chillinesswas abnormal on so hot a day, and the abnormal always excites aversion, distrust, and fear.

But repugnance was soon forgotten in admiration, for the strange physician's extreme skill at once

became manifest despite the

ice-coldnessand shakiness of his bloodless-looking hands. He clearly understood my needs at a glance,

and ministered to them

witha master's deftness; the while reassuring me in a finely modulated though oddly hollow andtimbreless

voice that he was the

bitterestof sworn enemies to death, and had sunk his fortune and lost all his friends in a lifetime of bizarre

experiment devoted to

itsbafflement and extirpation. Something of the benevolent fanatic seemed to reside in him, and he

rambled on almost garrulously

ashe sounded my chest and mixed a suitable draught of drugs fetched from the smaller laboratory room.

Evidently he found the

societyof a well-born man a rare novelty in this dingy environment, and was moved to unaccustomed

speech as memories of

betterdays surged over him.

His voice, if queer, was at least soothing; and I could not even perceive that he breathed as the fluent

sentences rolled urbanely

out. He sought to distract my mind from my own seizure by speaking of his theories and experiments; and

I remember his tactfully

consolingme about my weak heart by insisting that will and consciousness are stronger than organic life

itself, so that if a bodily

framebe but originally healthy and carefully preserved, it may through a scientific enhancement of these

qualities retain a kind of

nervousanimation despite the most serious impairments, defects, or even absences in the battery of

specific organs. He might, he

halfjestingly said, some day teach me to live--or at least to possess some kind of conscious

existence--without any heart at all! For

hispart, he was afflicted with a complication of maladies requiring a very exact regimen which included

constant cold. Any

markedrise in temperature might, if prolonged, affect him fatally; and the frigidity of his habitation--some

55 or 56 degrees

Fahrenheit--was maintained by an absorption system of ammonia cooling, the gasoline engine of whose

pumps I had often heard in

myown room below.

Relieved of my seizure in amarvellously short while, I left the shivery place a disciple and devotee of the

gifted recluse. After that

I paid him frequentovercoated calls; listening while he told of secret researches and almost ghastly results,

and trembling a bit

whenI examined the unconventional and astonishingly ancient volumes on his shelves. I was eventually, I

may add, almost cured

ofmy disease for all time by his skillful ministrations. It seems that he did not scorn the incantations of the

mediaevalists, sincehe

believedthese cryptic formulae to contain rare psychological stimuli which might conceivably have singular

effects on the

substanceof a nervous system from which organic pulsations had fled. I was touched by his account of

the aged Dr. Torres of

Valencia, who had shared his earlier experiments and nursed him through the great illness of eighteen

years before, whence his

presentdisorders proceeded. No sooner had the venerable practitioner saved his colleague than he

himself succumbed to the grim

enemyhe had fought. Perhaps the strain had been too great; for Dr.Muñoz made it whisperingly

clear--though not in detail--that

themethods of healing had been most extraordinary, involving scenes and processes not welcomed by

elderly and conservative

Galens.

As the weeks passed, I observed with regret that my new friend was indeed slowly but unmistakably

losing ground physically, as

Mrs.Herrero had suggested. The livid aspect of his countenance was intensified, his voice became more

hollow and indistinct, his

muscularmotions were less perfectly coordinated, and his mind and will displayed less resilience and

initiative. Of this sad change

heseemed by no means unaware, and little by little his expression and conversation both took on a

gruesome irony which restored

inme something of the subtle repulsion I had originally felt.

He developed strange caprices, acquiring a fondness for exotic spices and Egyptian incense till his room

smelled like a vault of a

sepulchredPharaoh in theValleyofKings. At the same time his demands for cold air increased, and with

my aid he amplified the

ammoniapiping of his room and modified the pumps and feed of his refrigerating machine till he could

keep the temperature as low

as34 degrees or 40 degrees, and finally even 28 degrees; the bathroom and laboratory, of course, being

less chilled, in order that

watermight not freeze, and that chemical processes might not be impeded. The tenant adjoining him

complained of the icy air from

aroundthe connecting door, so I helped him fit heavy hangings to obviate the difficulty. A kind of growing

horror, ofoutre and

morbidcast, seemed to possess him. He talked of death incessantly, but laughed hollowly when such

things as burial or funeral

arrangementswere gently suggested.

All in all, he became a disconcerting and even gruesome companion; yet in my gratitude for his healing I

could not well abandon

himto the strangers around him, and was careful to dust his room and attend to his needs each day,

muffled in a heavyulster

whichI bought especially for the purpose. I likewise did much of his shopping, and gasped in bafflement

at some of the chemicals

heordered from druggists and laboratory supply houses.

An increasing and unexplained atmosphere of panic seemed to rise around his apartment. The whole

house, as I have said, had a

mustyodour; but the smell in his room was worse--and in spite of all the spices and incense, and the

pungent chemicals of the now

incessantbaths which he insisted on taking unaided. I perceived that it must be connected with his ailment,

and shuddered when I

reflectedon what that ailment might be. Mrs.Herrero crossed herself when she looked at him, and gave

him up unreservedly to

me; not even letting her son Esteban continue to run errands for him. When I suggested other physicians,

the sufferer would fly

intoas much of a rage as he seemed to dare to entertain. He evidently feared the physical effect of violent

emotion, yet his will

anddriving force waxed rather than waned, and he refused to be confined to his bed. The lassitude of his

earlier ill days gave place

toa return of his fiery purpose, so that he seemed about to hurl defiance at the death-daemon even as that

ancient enemy seized

him. The pretence of eating, always curiously like a formality with him, he virtually abandoned; and mental

power alone appeared

tokeep him from total collapse.

He acquired a habit of writing long documents of some sort, which he carefully sealed and filled with

injunctions that I transmit

themafter his death to certain persons whom he named--for the most part lettered East Indians, but

including a once celebrated

French physician now generally thought dead, and about whom the most inconceivable things had been

whispered. As it happened,

I burned all these papers undelivered and unopened. His aspect and voice became utterly frightful, and

his presence almost

unbearable. One September day an unexpected glimpse of him induced an epileptic fit in a man who had

come to repair his electric

desklamp; a fit for which he prescribed effectively whilst keeping himself well out of sight. That man,

oddly enough, had been

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