A large anthology of sci.., p.83
A Large Anthology of Science Fiction, page 83
“I rejoice with you, my friend,” he said heartily. “Great wealth and endless fame are yours. It is marvelous, marvelous—and it is just.”
The immense crowd left reluctantly. Long after nightfall knots of excited and awe-struck people lingered about the refreshment stands and stood peering curiously through the fence discussing the miracle which had taken place before their eyes.
But there was a fly in the ointment of the Professor’s happiness—he bitterly regretted that McCann was not there to witness the climax of his work.
Owing to the success of the demonstration and the fact that the press of the entire country had spread its description far and wide, the Professor seized the opportunity to launch a stock company to exploit his invention whose scope and possibilities, he averred, were well nigh limitless. But he pointed out that its initial work would be in the field of the airplane. A line of his islands would be placed along every plane route. Machines would refuel and make repairs in the air. In the air, the islands would act as guideposts by day, and at night their beacons would flash out to cheer and guide the aviators on their way. Should storms arise the islands would be shot above the storm, and here in a haven of refuge the plane could rest and make necessary adjustments and repairs if need be. Its passengers could leave the cabin for a few minutes, walk about and procure refreshments and many luxuries right on the island.
“And that is not all the wonders I have in mind,” said the Professor with shining eyes as he unfolded the plan to me. “Think of an airplane without any motive power. I am not thinking of gliders,” he added with a deprecatory wave of the hand. “I am thinking of an airplane sailing through the air without any motor or other visible means of locomotion, controlled by power stations on earth which can be fifty miles or more apart, through the medium of my device located on the plane. The future plane, disabled in the air, will not fall like a plummet and crash, or have to glide down and make a forced landing for repairs,” he went on eagerly. “It simply will radio to the nearest hangar island, a repair plane will then slip off through the air, hitch to the nose of the disabled plane and tow it to the island just the same as cripped autos are now towed to a garage.”
Accustomed as I was to listening to the wonderful plans of my friend I could only sit and stare dumbly over this new scheme. Where would that mighty brain finally lead this man? And for the first time I began to fear the final results of his work. If he were able to perform such miracles they might lead him on and on to new fields and triumphs until grasping unseen and undreamed of forces he might innocently usher in a planetary catastrophe.
CHAPTER IV
Evil Premonitions
THE stock of our company—known as the Stiener, Bookman Airways Inc.—took the market by storm. In less than two weeks every share of both common and preferred was sold, and had I not been in on the ground floor with a large block of stock I would have considered I had lost a great investment.
Although Van Beck, whenever we ran across him—which was not often—continued to voice his praise of the Professor’s latest invention, he took no stock in the company so far as we were able to learn. Although the Professor made no complaint I saw that his pride was hurt.
During the next week we were head-over-heels in work. What with perfecting the plans of the new organization and daily trips out to what the Professor termed the mother plant we often worked twenty hours at a stretch without rest. I had put my whole soul in the venture, as well as most of my fortune, but the closer I became associated with the Professor the more secretive and mysterious he became. I thought I had earned the right to know the innermost secrets of his plan which was to revolutionize the world, and Greta agreed with me. At last I faced his reticence with open rebellion.
“Tut, tut, my boy,” he said soothingly. “Of course you have a right to know and you shall know. I will explain all.”
“When?” I demanded harshly.
“Have patience. I have postponed my revelations to you that I might give you other and greater surprises. I will carry out other experiments soon and then I will make you master of all.”
“Do you not realize that your delay to give me all details might easily wreck the whole enterprise? Suppose you were to die—who would carry on?” The Professor stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are right, my boy,” he said at last. “Something might happen to me and then with my secret unrevealed posterity would lose a priceless heritage. Have the plane made ready, Greta,” he continued turning to his sister. “We will go out to the plant, and then after I try out another idea of mine you shall know all, my boy, you shall know all.”
I was athrill with joyous anticipation as we stepped from the plane beside one of the islands. Soon the Professor would draw aside the veil and allow me to view the pulsing heart of this marvel. And then I confidently told myself I would ask Greta the question which long I had wanted to ask. But there was to be another delay.
“I don’t know whether it will work or not,” suddenly said the Professor as if to himself. He began to act queer, jumping about from one thing to another muttering and shaking his head affirmatively. “Maybe I’ll smash it,” he said finally. “But we shall see—we shall see. Come, my boy,” he added turning to me and eyeing me oddly.
He led the way aboard the island, and Greta soared into the air. In a few minutes we had risen to a height of two thousand feet. Then Greta gave another exhibition of the unique braking system of her plane by landing on the little field by our side.
“I am going over to the other island,” announced the Professor. “I shall send it into the air and maneuver it horizontally. I will even come over to visit you, my boy. I shall step from that island onto this one. But if anything should happen to me,” he went on while I gazed at him in astonishment, “you must descend. Just pull this lever down and forward and press this—” He paused with his hand on the lever and looked at me steadily. “But I believe I’ll have you meet me,” he continued, his eyes burning and boring into mine. “It will make the test complete. Come, Greta, let’s be going.” He turned and clambered into the plane.
“Hold on—you have not told me how to meet you,” I reminded unable to understand the sudden changes of his mind.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll try out my island first, then I’ll send directions by Greta.”
In another moment they had zoomed into the air leaving me alone aboard this strange contrivance of the sky.
As they winged away a sudden feeling of loneliness assailed me not unmixed with misgivings. My eyes roved about me. I had but a vague knowledge of the mechanism of this craft. Its bewildering array of wheels and levers and buttons appalled me, thanks to the Professor’s foolish procrastination in teaching me their use. I wondered what would become of me, marooned here in the air should the Professor crash and something happen to Greta. I knew the island could not be lowered from the ground by any one save the Professor. I looked below hopelessly. The workmen were only small dots, and the buildings and equipment of the plant looked like toys.
My attention was soon diverted to the Professor and his island. Majestically he rose into the air until he was about on a level with me. Then I saw him hurrying about over the structure, pausing now and then to oil and examine a machine, to adjust a lever and try a valve. I took up the binoculars and watched him closely. I saw that he was nervous, and the expression on his face alarmed me. His cheeks were pale, his eyes glowing like red coals and the motions of his lips told me he was talking rapidly to himself. I feared that the dreaded moment long feared by Greta had come at last.
And then as I gazed I saw about half a mile beyond the Professor something moving among the trees. Autumn was tardy in coming and most of the timber among the evergreens still retained its foliage though it was splashed with gold. As I watched the tops of the timber seemed to expand, to become strangely animated. Then they appeared to be rising to meet the sky as though they had suddenly taken on a phenomenal growth.
I blinked, lowered the glasses and hastily wiped them with my handkerchief. But as I placed them again to my eyes I uttered a cry of amazement and stupefaction, for soaring above the tree tops was another island of the sky! And this island carried trees and shrubs on its bosom. There was grass there and flowers. At each corner and in the center were airplane beacons the same as ours, but they were of a brilliant hue and artistic design.
A Catastrophe
I rubbed my eyes with a trembling hand. What had come over me to cause this hallucination? I had thought so much about this sky island business, had lost so much sleep over it that the thing was getting the best of my reason. I surely was seeing things. That green island over there soaring into the blue was a mirage, a fantasy of a disordered brain. I resolved to get a grip on myself and quit this business before it was too late. But as I stared again the mirage persisted mockingly, grew plainer and finally ceased its upward flight and came to rest. It was then that I suddenly discerned a figure bobbing about near the corner masthead—a small man with a bristling black beard. I caught my breath with a gasp. My God, I was beholding no mirage but the devilish handiwork of Professor Stiener’s rival—Van Beck!
With sickening force the hot truth surged over me—Van Beck had stolen a march on us, after all. He had photographed the blue print the day Greta landed him in her plane. He had broken into the office, and the report that he had gone abroad was a lie and a blind. He had stolen the Professor’s secret and improved it. True to form he was about to rob the Professor of the fruits of victory. The thing was unthinkable but there was the evidence before my eyes.
And now as I looked closer I saw another man on the green island. His back was toward me and he was crouched over some sort of a machine. He seemed to be working over Van Beck’s directions, for I saw the latter run up to him every little while and gesticulate excitedly.
All this time the Professor was still running about making everything secure for his coming test. At last he paused and looked around with an air of satisfaction. All was ready. And then I observed him suddenly catch sight of his sky neighbor. I saw his face grow white as chalk, and he stood for a moment rigid as a statue. Then he placed a hand to his head in a dazed sort of way. Suddenly I saw him stagger forward, grip a large lever and cast his eyes in my direction. I thought he was about to try out the lateral act, to come over to me and discuss Van Beck’s startling appearance in our field. In another moment I saw that his island was indeed moving laterally, but not in my direction. He was rushing toward Van Beck!
Overhead Greta was soaring and dipping and circling gracefully. I believed that she had not witnessed the advent of Van Beck and his island. I knew she was keeping an eye on her brother; that she would swoop down and rescue him should anything go wrong. It was evident that the Professor was about to board his rival and demand an explanation. In the present state of his mind I feared a battle between the two scientific geniuses—a battle that would bring death and ruin to our cause. Then I saw that Van Beck’s island was moving—that he was coming on to meet the Professor!
“My God, they have both gone crazy!” I exclaimed aloud.
And so it seemed. Even through the glasses I could see that they were rushing along at tremendous speed, but as they drew near each other Van Beck gave evidence that he did not wish to commit suicide, did not wish to fight. Evidently he was but seeking to show the Professor that he could equal and duplicate any feat of his. He raised his island, only to be followed swiftly by the angry Professor. Van Beck shot down lower, and again the Professor followed him.
By this time Greta was flying low above the Professor, and by her gestures and the agonized expression on her face I understood that she was imploring him to check his onward flight, to back away from his foe and seek safety on the plane. But the Professor waved her back with a horrible grimace and turned his blazing eyes toward the advancing island of green. It was plain that he intended to smash the creation of his rival even though he himself should perish in the wreckage. Embittered by years of Van Beck’s meddling in his affairs he would kill him and wipe out the disgrace on the altar of death. I could do nothing to save him. In my excitement I ran to the very edge of my island, shouted and waved my arms frantically. And then as I gazed in the dumb agony of despair I saw that Van Beck was striving desperately to avert the catastrophe. He and his companion were working madly with the machinery, but somehow the island’s momentum could not be checked. The machinery had gotten beyond their control, and the maddened Professor was coming resistlessly on. Edge to edge they met. The detonation was deafening. Blue and green and yellow fire enmeshed them for a moment, then the great mass rushed down.
I shut my eyes and reeled backward faint with horror. I heard an awful crash as they struck. I looked over the side and as the dust cleared away among the trees, many of which had impaled the falling structures, I saw the ruins of the islands.
Greta was flying wildly about above the ruin vainly seeking a place to land. Once I saw the wings of the plane become entangled in a tree top. She had difficulty clearing it, and I thought she was going to crash. I must rush to her aid. I must hurry down. But how?
I gazed about me in dismay. The Professor had delayed the vital information too long. But in my wild anxiety over Greta and the fate of her brother I must attempt the descent. I went up to the center masthead and studied the instrument board carefully. After a time I believed that I understood the lowering mechanism. I seized the lever which the Professor had indicated. I swung it over and pushed it downward. I pressed a button. And then—Was I moving? At first it was uncertain. I looked down at the earth. The workmen within the enclosure were running wildly about, waving their arms and staring upward. It was then I realized I was moving. But, God in heaven, I was mounting higher!
Frantically I ran here and there, pulling levers, whirling wheels, but steadily, mercilessly, noiselessly I rose into the sky. The great bulk beneath my feet was steady as a house floor. Nothing that I did affected it in any way. It was as if some great power from above had reached down and was pulling me into the heart of the universe. I wondered why some of the electricians on the ground did not notice my predicament and shut off the power, then remembered that they did not dare to, the Professor having failed to instruct them what to do in such an emergency. Besides, I realized their attention was centered on the wrecked islands and the safety of Greta.
I speculated on how long the power to operate the repellent device of the Professor’s terrible machines would last. Surely, I reasoned, I must soon pass beyond their influence. But then would I fall gently back or would the gravitational pull of the earth assert its rights and suck me down to destruction?
Wanderer Through Space
EVEN as these alarming thoughts drummed upon my brain I realized that I was rising faster and faster. The altimeter soon registered ten thousand feet, and the air was icy cold, I shivered and buttoned my coat about me. Then came more alarming thoughts. Suppose that these gravity waves, which the devilish ingenuity of the Professor had reversed, reached beyond the sun! Suppose that this island should rush on and on until it should escape those waves and come under the influence of the sun or some other great star, or fall and crash upon the cold, dead moon? Or suppose it would not be attracted to the surface of any of these but would sail on and on through space—a lonely wanderer of the sky!
Again in a frenzy of desperation I made the rounds of the machines. I bitterly reproached myself for permitting the Professor to keep postponing the instructions covering the manipulation of the islands. Now all was lost. Fortune, Greta—everything sacrificed for a madman’s dream.
Fifteen thousand feet by the altimeter. I was still rushing toward heaven like a rocket. My teeth were chattering and I was gasping for breath. My hands and feet were aching with the cold. In a sort of drowsy subconsciousness I realized that I would soon succumb for the want of oxygen. Soon this strange vehicle that was bearing me to destruction would become both my funeral car and my tomb. Yet there was nothing I could do to save myself. Then a strange peace settled upon my soul. Why should I worry? Was I not a distinguished person? My death was to be the most unique ever witnessed by the stars. I gazed up at the cold, blue sky and laughed hysterically. What did I care? But even as I gave myself up for lost and my brain grew dull I was sensible that my speed—tremendous as it had been before—was even faster now. The thin air swirled and whistled about my ears as I fought for breath and my numb hands clutched the mast to keep from falling.
As I stood there swaying dizzily I felt a jar. Somebody was calling my name—it sounded as from a great distance—and there was Greta stepping out of her plane.
THE ARTIFICIAL MAN
Clare Winger Harris
IT is well established today that human beings can get along without a number of their usual organs. We have seen men deprived of their arms and legs who could still do useful work. There are men living, and seemingly little the worse for it, who have lost either an eye or a nose, or have only one kidney, and it is now possible even to have an artificial voice in case a part of the larynx and the vocal chords have to be removed through disease.
That science will discover more and more how to artificially replace human organs is a foregone conclusion. How far this process may go no one however knows. Recent experiments on animals have shown that it is even possible for a cat to live with an artificial rubber heart. These experiments are all of vast importance to humanity, because we may be deprived of a number of our organs by accident or disease.
The author of the present story has taken these thoughts as a basis of a most interesting narrative which is in its entirety based upon excellent science, and there is no telling that an exact counterpart of what she so vividly describes may not come about sooner or later.
