The Curious Steambox Affair by Melissa Macgregor Page A

arrivals.
    The good news is that there is currently a shortage of cadavers, good news on a humane level, but poor news with regard to research. Your father and I often discussed this, and he is of the firm opinion that being a Highland scientist and physician had its merits in this particular instance. In rural outposts, the Crown often assigns the cadavers on a location basis. Being in a small town or village can mean a lesser volume of bodies, but in proportion, there are fewer scientists to compete for the Crown’s bestowing. In remote areas, due to the Crown’s lack of interest in transporting said cadavers, they are given, historically, to the nearest physician for his own researching needs. That is, of course, if the families and next of kin agree to surrender their loved ones for the higher purpose.
    A city such as Edinburgh, home of the illustrious Doctoral Council, is another matter entirely. The shortage remains, and there is a plethora of physicians located here. All of them require the use of cadavers to forward their scientific projects. The bureaucracy is maddening, the process with which one must petition the Crown Office for possession of the next available cadaver is endless. An extreme amount of paperwork is required. A horrific wait for approval. Favoritism is alleged, as are rumors of money exchanging hands, thereby greasing the bureaucratic wheel. And there are so very few bodies available!
    Today, I discovered that none of this applies to Hyde. His absolute Crown approval extends even to this matter. There is no process that Hyde must undergo to procure a cadaver, nothing other than his making a simple request. The next one, invariably, is assigned to Hyde. No fuss. No papers. No frantic bargaining. Simple delivery to his office, upon demand.
    How can this be true? Hyde’s arrangement with the Crown is as fantastic as his work. My mind boggled with this knowledge, curiosity an avalanche. How on Earth had he managed the impossible? Did he have regular audiences with the King or with the royal advisors? What great work had Hyde done in the past, to so afford himself this luxury? What made his name so respected that a simple request resulted in his every satisfaction?
    Why I am found to be at fault in any of this is staggering. I have grown so accustomed to being ignored entirely by my fellow workers that I fear I have become spoiled to my solitude. Arriving today at the office, to find what can only be described as an angry mob gathered outside our door, was a complete surprise. I learned today that I quite like being left completely alone. Being treated like a leper has proven very useful to me, and I instantly took offense at this morning’s pattern being otherwise.
    Voices were raised. Challenges issued. And I, sipping my morning mug of coffee and still glowing from receipt of your letter, was so astounded by this bizarre turn of events that it took me a moment to catch up, conversationally.
    MacDougal’s assistant took pity on my obvious ignorance. He (and I have endeavored to memorize his name . . . Mr. Rose, although I must assure you that it is a ridiculous moniker for such a sour, officious man) informed me of Hyde’s talent for securing cadavers for himself. Rose expounded on the vast unfairness of it all, implying an obvious graft, a gross mishandling of Crown resources, and on and on until my head finally ached with the ferocity of his argument.
    It seemed that Hyde had gotten approval for the next cadaver available, even though he had been granted the previous two. I was expected to provide an accounting, a reasoning, an explanation! When, truth be told, I was euphoric that Hyde possessed such a capability. To secure us cadavers at whim! I found his luck staggering, and since it is only to my advantage that he possess it at all, I politely ignored all demands at apology. As if I would!
    I was also pleased that we would be conducting our research in a more