When We Lost Our Heads

Automatons, extravagant creatures made of metal and wires and plaster that moved around mechanically, were very popular. But thirteen-year-old Marie was always disappointed by automatons. She had seen so many and they never seemed real enough to her. So her father had a mechanical deer sailed over from a watchmaker in Switzerland. It was said the watchmaker’s machines were so lifelike, he had been jailed for sorcery.

The automaton arrived in a huge wooden crate that was brought in by seven men. The deer stood in the ballroom looking delicate and poised. The household gathered around, waiting for it to move. It seemed frozen, as though it had heard the sound of a predator in the forest. Then a tinkling musical sound began to play. The deer moved its head in an almost imperceptible way. Even its little ears tingled as though it heard a sound, and its chin turned in a manner that caused it to look very sophisticated and intelligent. It bent its nose down on the carpet. It moved in a slow way that made each motion seem surreal and elegant. It began to walk a few feet.

Marie and the maids were all delighted. She ran up to it on her tiptoes and with trepidation. And put her hand out under its nose. The deer’s head lowered and its nose grazed her palm.

The whole neighborhood came to see the fantastic deer. And at one point, Marie had it walk across the lawn for the children to see. Then, despite its cost and splendor, the Antoines grew bored of the deer. It was to be found grazing in remote corners of the house. And one day it had a pair of bloomers on its antlers.



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There was talk all over the world of the possibility of creating the first incandescent lightbulb. That autumn, as the skies were turning gray and the days were getting shorter, Louis had an experimental model brought in from Toronto. It was placed on the dining room table. The whole household gathered around to watch.

Louis ordered all the lamps in the room turned down, so they were all in darkness. There was a nervous energy in the room, as though they were at a séance and waiting for an apparition to step out of the afterlife and greet them. Lightbulbs were known to burst into plumes of fire and set young ladies on fire.

Then it suddenly lit up. The room was filled with such light as they had never seen. It was greater than the sun. Louis turned the lightbulb on and off to admire what had been harnessed, until it made an exploding noise and was extinguished for good. But for a few moments, they had beheld the future of light. Louis realized when he was turning on the lightbulb that no one needed to believe in God anymore. He let out a sigh of relief.

Louis hated the past, and anything to do with it. He liked inventions. He wanted to live in a world that looked and operated in a manner radically different from his childhood one. What was he looking for? He was looking for the object that would bestow him perpetual delight. It was as though his soul were a dark and lonely apartment. He kept trying to illuminate all the rooms. He went from room to room looking for the one that wasn’t dark and not finding it. This missing room was causing the rest of his body to be cold. He couldn’t find it.

Soon he began to dream of looking for inventions all over the world. This was a time of great travel and adventure. Rich people from the West were traveling all over the world, to the farthest reaches of the Congo and Peru. In Louis’s study, there were books on all the shelves and maps all over the walls. It made him look as though he were a man of science and letters. It was in vogue for a man to appear cultured. When Marie walked into his study to see him, his vest and shirt were open as he leaned back over his desk. The doctor had a stethoscope up to his heart as though he were a thief trying to find the combinations to a safe.

“There is no way you can travel to the jungle,” the doctor said. “Your heart would never survive that type of exertion.”

“I am still a young man!” Louis protested. “I am in my prime. I am at the age men make their most significant discoveries.”

The doctor sighed as he took out a small percussion hammer and began tapping it on Louis’s chest while having him inhale deeply.

“How much do you drink?” the doctor asked.

“How much do I drink every night?”

“Do you drink every night?”

“Well, obviously. How can you get through that uneasy transition between day and night if not for alcohol?”

“You don’t make an effort to exercise.”

“If I need exercise, a trip to Peru would be the perfect prescription, I should think.”

“I would be signing your death warrant. There isn’t a chance you could survive. You are too fair. You would have sunstroke immediately.”

Louis buttoned up his shirt. He picked up a saucer with a teacup on it. He took a sip. He then absentmindedly picked up a pastry and dunked it into his tea. It didn’t seem like the type of pastry that could be eaten in one bite, but he opened his mouth, and when it was closed, the pastry had disappeared. All that was left was a sprinkle of icing sugar on his lips. It was closer to being a magic trick than it was to eating.

Marie also wanted to leave Montreal. She had started to find everything in the city wanting. She was impatient with other girls her age. She had tired of the parks and the museums. She was experiencing the lack Louis felt all the time. She wanted to get out into the world and fill this void with as much strangeness and excitement as he did.

“I don’t know if I have an inclination to travel through a swamp just to find a butterfly no one’s seen before and name it after myself,” Marie said, finding a bright side. “I would like to see America. I’m more interested in inventions.”

“Let’s ride the train. I want to see all of America too.”

When he told the doctor he was thinking of traveling along the East Coast in the spring, and going to the novelty museums and seaside resorts, his doctor thought it was a marvelous idea. He prescribed Louis a small container of cocaine. He was to snort a little should he ever experience lethargy or his heart slowing down. Louis opened the bottle and tapped a little out onto the back of his hand. He snorted it. He threw his head back and his arms up in the air. “We’re going to America!” he yelled. “Show us your technological wonders, America!”



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On one of their stops, they had gone to a seaside resort on Long Island. The clouds were puffy and large like the foam at the top of a glass of beer. Marie had never seen the sea before. She stretched her arms out toward it. There was a large brass band playing as she ran about collecting seashells. A musician held a French horn to his head that looked like the ear of an elephant pricking up to hear a sound.

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