⚙️ Bunker Reading Log #1: My Review of Frankenstein

Filed under: Bunker Literary Maintenance — By Professor Gearheart Wraith

While dusting Barry’s extensive book collection this morning (a task I assigned to myself, as Dale’s method involves more muttering than cleaning), I discovered a weathered volume resting beneath a cracked snow globe and a VHS copy of Bride of Re-Animator.

The book’s title, embossed in fading gilt, read simply:
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus.

Naturally, I was intrigued. Few names have caused me as much professional embarrassment as “Frankenstein.” The good doctor’s reputation, though fictional, has plagued inventors of my temperament for centuries. We build one harmless soul extractor or mildly self-aware tea kettle, and suddenly we’re accused of “playing God.”

Allow me, therefore, to present my official review of this human classic.

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⚙️ Initial Impressions

Miss Shelley’s prose is exquisite — melancholic yet clinical, like a ghost trying to write a lab report. I found myself identifying with her Creature almost immediately. Both of us were assembled by curiosity and condemned by result.

However, I take issue with the Doctor’s design principles. No insulation, no surge regulator, and — most damningly — no understanding of sustainable consciousness. He gave his creation life, then fled at the first spark of sentience. It’s the 19th-century equivalent of launching an AI and going on holiday.

In my day, we at least left a user manual.

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⚙️ Technical Observations

Shelley’s narrative is less about galvanism and more about guilt — which is unfortunate, as galvanism is far more entertaining. Still, the philosophical questions endure:

• What defines a man — his maker, his materials, or his misery?

• Is creation an act of hubris or of hope?

• And most importantly: Who dusts the laboratory afterward?

I sympathize with the Creature. To be abandoned by one’s creator is dreadful enough, but to be poorly wired on top of that — intolerable. The poor thing merely wanted connection, yet everyone he met reacted as though he were a glitch in reality. I, too, have experienced similar responses at dinner parties.

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⚙️ Final Evaluation

Five out of five flickering bulbs.

A triumph of moral terror and philosophical inquiry. Though I suspect Shelley would not have approved of me, I admire her insight into the dual tragedies of genius and grief.

Should I ever meet Doctor Frankenstein in the æther, I would shake his trembling hand — then revoke his laboratory privileges.

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Postscript:
Dale insists the Creature was “misunderstood but huggable.”
Barry says I’m “getting weirdly defensive about a book.”
The Venus flytrap devoured page 212.
All things considered, an enlightening afternoon.

Until next dust storm,
Professor Gearheart Wraith
Major Domo of the Bunker, Literary Division

“Creation is easy. Maintenance, my dear Earthlings, is where the horror begins.”