It is generally a pleasure when others take a keen interest in one’s work, and certainly you have assembled here with all of the passion for which secluded villagers are justly famed. And to have done so in such inclement weather speaks well of your concerns for our town’s peace and safety. Still, may I offer some suggestions, in hopes of finding a mutually satisfactory resolution?
First, a request: could those with pitchforks and torches kindly refrain from the wild gesticulations? Likewise, shouts of “kill the demon!”, though admirably robust, do not lend themselves well to reasoned discourse. Certainly, there is cause for concern; equally, steps must be taken. Yet conclusions have been reached which are perhaps not entirely justified. And should we not give due deliberation to the situation before rushing into actions which are by their very nature irrevocable?
You come here claiming that I am the source of our woes. Is it because I am seldom among you, the stranger with (you whisper) strange habits? But I am not so different from you. Like farmers, stout tillers of the soil, I also labor in hope of a rich harvest. It is only that I toil in the field of science, and plow furrows of thought.
And each of you, good sirs, enjoys the fruits of that work.
Consider those strong, sharp pitchforks. They are the refinement of a thousand years of experimentation. Every workman’s tool, every housewife’s utensil, is another harvest from the field of science. Science is a mighty thing, and its successes rank with humanity’s grandest achievements. But we who pursue it are only men, as fallible as any, and our failures can be as epic as our successes.
The Creature cannot by any means be consider a success, but would you slay us both for an honest mistake? You mutter that it is ungodly of me to seek power over life and death. As if that sets us apart! Have not each of you fathered or birthed children, seeking in such fashion some measure over power over life, and death? My offspring arose from the mind rather than the body, but he is no less a child.
And for this you have come to kill us both! If my crime is in seeking to make new life then does that not make you servants of death? You are all God-fearing people, are you not? Then let us examine my plight…our plight…in the light of the Scriptures.
Consider Cain, who slew his brother Abel. Was not that offense greater than any the Creature has committed? Yet did God then have Cain put to death? Did he slay Cain’s father, Adam, for the crime of siring him? He did not! Indeed, Adam fathered others as well, else none of us would be shivering in this stormy night. So will you slay me for the acts of my newborn, who unlike Cain has not even acted from malice?
No, he has not! I assure you he has not! You, Goodwife! If your newborn was like mine, nigh eight feet tall and a quarter-ton in weight, would not his childish antics be much the same? Would there not be flowerbeds trampled, horses stampeded, the occasional less-than-sturdy cottage destroyed?
The firstborn of Adam’s body sinned, while the firstborn of my mind has merely erred. So what will you do, good people? Kill me for seeking life more abundantly? Will you punish me now as God Himself did not punish Adam?
No? Very well. Thank you. I shall repair to my manor, then, and pray earnestly that you capture the Creature will minimal bloodshed…what? You’d have me lead this foray? Dear God no! Er…because…it might enrage the Creature to see his own creator at the head of such a vocal and passionate…
Very well, if there is no other choice. But if I am to lead this procession, sir, I will trouble you for that flintlock. Then let us be off; let the tragedy proceed apace…