Mikhail Bulgakov. The Fateful Eggs -
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all hell was let loose in the Professor's laboratory. The tadpoles slithered
out all over the Institute. Lusty choirs croaked loudly in the terrariums
and all the nooks and crannies, as in marshes. Pankrat, who was scared stiff
of Persikov as it was, now went in mortal terror of him. After a week the
scientist himself felt he was going mad. The Institute reeked of ether and
potassium cyanide, which nearly finished off Pankrat when he removed his
mask too soon. This expanding marshland generation was eventually
exterminated with poison and the laboratories aired.
"You know, Pyotr Stepanovich," Persikov said to Ivanov, "the effect of
the ray on deuteroplasm and on the ovule in general is quite extraordinary."
Ivanov, a cold and reserved gentleman, interrupted the Professor in an
unusual voice:
"Why talk of such minor details as deuteroplasm, Vladimir Ipatych?
Let's not beat about the bush. You have discovered something unheard-of..."
With a great effort Ivanov managed to force the words out. "You have
discovered the ray of life, Professor Persikov!"
A faint flush appeared on Persikov's pale, unshaven cheekbones.
"Well, well," he mumbled.
"You," Ivanov went on, "you will win such renown... It makes my head go
round. Do you understand, Vladimir Ipatych," he continued excitedly, "H. G.
Wells's heroes are nothing compared to you... And I thought that was all
make-believe... Remember his Food for the Gods'!"
"Ah, that's a novel," Persikov replied.
"Yes, of course, but it's famous!"
"I've forgotten it," Persikov said. "I remember reading it, but I've
forgotten it."
"How can you have? Just look at that!" Ivanov picked up an incredibly
large frog with a swollen belly from the glass table by its leg. Even after
death its face had a vicious expression. "It's monstrous!"