Norton, Andre - Anthology (22 page)

 
          
 
"In size it is simply negligible in the
cosmic scheme. Compared to the Sun, it is a gadfly speck, but it would be
capable of blasting a heavenly body millions of times larger than itself.

 
          
 
"The little figure, which you have seen,
was spawned on an unimaginably energized planet no larger than a large meteor,
encircling a sun heavier than Van Maanen's star, but smaller in circumference
than Venus. A pygmy sun containing within its tiny bulk a concentration of
matter so intense that its atoms may actually have become negative in mass.

 
          
 
"The thin, transparent sheaths in which
the little figure appears to float are nonconductive energy sheaths. When the
figure extends its arms the sheaths divide laterally, and a searing emanation
streams out."

 
          
 
Ashley's voice rose in pitch. He appeared to
be approaching a crisis in his recital.

 
          
 
"That radiation surpasses high-frequency
electric waves in its destructive power.

 
          
 
"You are, of course, familiar with the
theories of the noted research biologist Dr. George Crile as to the nature and
origin of life. Crile believes all life is electromagnetic in nature and
directly activated by the solar disk. He affirms that the Sun shines with
unabated radiance in the protoplasm of animals.

 
          
 
"According to Crile, every cell of an
animal body contains tiny centers of radiation called radiogens, which have a
temperature of six thousand degrees centigrade. These minute hot points are
invisible even under the most powerful microscopes. Tiny, incandescent suns,
hotter than the solar photosphere and more mysterious than the atom, they
generate fields of force within us, producing in all the cells of our bodies
the phenomenon of life. But these force fields do not flow outward from our
bodies in searing emanations. They are so inconceivably tiny and infrequently
spaced that their excess heat is dissipated by the water in our tissues.

 
          
 
"The figure, which you have seen, is more
lethally endowed. The
product of a hotter and more
concentrated sun, its radiant energies are
not damped by what Crile has
defined as interradiogen spaces within itself. Its entire body is a mass of
radiogens. When the protective sheaths are withdrawn, this terrific energy
flows outward in channeled waves, searing everything in its path.

 
          
 
"Two days ago, in my presence, it
withdrew the sheaths. One channeled wave streamed eastward across the Atlantic
Ocean and was dissipated before it reached the shores of Europe. But the one
that streamed westward killed twenty-four human beings.

 
          
 
"One death occurred right in this
vicinity. A tenant farmer named Jake Saunders was sitting quietly in the living
room of his home with his wife and children when the ray pierced him. He threw
up his arms, cried out and slumped jerkily to the floor. His flesh turned
black. Although the Sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the local papers
blindly assumed that a bolt of lightning had blasted the poor devil. In a New
York paper, which arrived yesterday, all of the other deaths are casually
ascribed to freak electrical storms throughout the country. One would think
that such tragedies were of everyday occurrence."

 
          
 
"But if the wave crossed the continent,
thousands should have perished," I gasped. "How do you account for
the fact that only a few were fatally affected?"

 
          
 
"The unimaginable thinness of the radiant
beam," he said. "It is a single lethal filament, nonspreading until
it contacts an animal substance. Then it spreads in all directions, blasting
and searing the body in its path. Before it leaves the body it becomes a narrow
thread of force again. Extend a thin wire from New York to San Francisco, and
the number of men and animals directly in its path would be small indeed."

 
          
 
I was too horrified to comment. I glanced at
the microscope, in silent dread and revulsion. Somehow I could not doubt one
word of Ashley's recital. I had seen the little shape with my own eyes. It had
stared up at me and communicated with me. Only its assurances of amity awakened
my skepticism, causing my mood to grow darker as I mused on the implications of
Ashley's words.

 
          
 
"I have been in constant communication
with it for three days," said Ashley. "It was drawn to me because it
believes I am superior to most men in intellectual acumen. The quality of my
mind exerted a profound influence upon it, attracting it like a lodestone.

 
          
 
"The world from which it comes would be
incomprehensible to us. Its inhabitants are motivated by passions and desires
which are alien to humanity. The little shape is a sort of emissary, sent
across space by its myriad brethren to study conditions on the remote
terrestrial globe at first hand. Although they possess instruments of
observation infinitely more complex and powerful than our telescopes and have
studied Earth from afar, they have never before attempted to communicate with
us. When the little baroque returns, its brethren will come in vast numbers.

 
          
 
"When they come, they will probably
exterminate the entire human race. The little shape does not admire us, and
when it returns, its observations will reflect no credit on mankind. It thinks
us needlessly irrational and cruel. Our custom of settling disputes by a
process of wholesale extermination, it regards as akin to the savagery of
animals. It thinks that our mechanical achievements are less remarkable than
the social life of the ants and bees. It regards us as unnecessary excrescences
on the face of a comparatively pleasant little globe in space, which should
afford limitless opportunities for colonization.

 
          
 
"As an isolated individual, it respects
and even admires me. There is nothing paradoxical in this. Mankind as a whole
shuns and fears the dangerous animals which individual men frequently cherish
as pets. It regards me as a kind of superior pet—possessing certain likable
characteristics, but sharing a heritage and following conduct patterns which
are repellent to it."

 
          
 
I glanced at the microscope in apprehension.
His candor disturbed, frightened me.

 
          
 
"Isn't it reading your thoughts
now?" I asked.

 
          
 
"No. One must be within two or three feet
of it. Its telepathic equipment breaks down beyond a certain radius. It cannot
overhear us. It does not even know that I intend to destroy it."

 
          
 
I stared at him, startled.

 
          
 
"If it does not return," he said,
"they will not raid Earth immediately. They will send another emissary to
search for it. Although they can travel with the velocity of light, the star
cluster from which they come is so remote that another emissary would not
arrive before the twenty-second century. Another two hundred and fifty years
would elapse before that emissary could return and make his report. The first
raiders would not arrive before 2700.

 
          
 
"In eight hundred years mankind may
succeed in developing some means of defense sufficiently powerful to repel and
destroy them.
Atomic armaments, perhaps."

 
          
 
He ceased speaking abruptly. I noticed that
the muscles of his face were twitching spasmodically. He was obviously laboring
under an almost unbearable emotional strain. Suddenly his hands went into one
of the spacious pockets of his laboratory frock and emerged with a flat,
metallic object no larger than a cigarette case.

 
          
 
"This is used for purposes of
demonstration in the metal industries," he said, as he extended it toward
me on the palm of his hand. "It is a midget induction furnace. It will
melt virtually all known metals in three or four seconds—even molybdenum, which
has a melting point of nearly five thousand degrees Fahrenheit."

           
 
I stared at the object, fascinated.
Superficially it resembled a little crystal radio set. It consisted merely of a
small, spool-like object about a half-inch in height, resting in the center of
a flat surface of highly burnished copper. Two curving prongs with insulated
stems branched from both sides of the little spool and projected a full inch
beyond the gleaming baseboard.

 
          
 
"High-frequency waves set up a searing,
blasting heat within the metal a few seconds after the furnace is turned
on," he said. "I telegraphed to Charleston for the apparatus
yesterday, but it did not arrive until an hour ago."

 
          
 
I had a pretty good idea then why he had sent
for me. Richard Ashley was about to endanger his life. If the little horror
survived the terrific heat generated by the blast furnace, it would certainly
turn upon Ashley and destroy him. It would destroy both Ashley and
myself
. And since its protective sheaths could resist an
internal incandescence of thousands of degrees centigrade, Ashley would be
taking a long, grim chance.

 
          
 
My friend seemed to sense what was passing
through my mind. "Perhaps you'd better not stay, John," he said.
"I've no right to ask you to risk your neck."

 
          
 
"You want me to stay, don't you?" I
asked.

 
          
 
"Yes, but—"

 
          
 
"Then I will. When do we—burn it?"

 
          
 
He looked at me steadily for an instant. I had
a shaky feeling he was weighing the chances against us.

 
          
 
"No sense in putting it off," he
said.

 
          
 
Unwaveringly, I met and held his gaze.
"Right, Richard," I murmured.

 
          
 
"It will be difficult," he said.
"Difficult and—dangerous.
It will start reading my mind
as soon as I approach the microscope, and if it becomes suspicious it will
remove itself before the slide begins to melt."

           
 
He smiled with an effort. His hand shot out.
"I'll try to make my thoughts behave," he said. "Wish me
luck."

 
          
 
"I know you'll succeed, Richard," I
murmured, as I returned the pressure of his fingers. He had laid the little
induction furnace on the edge of the laboratory table. With a grim nod, he
picked it up and advanced with rapid steps toward the long row of sun-dappled
microscopes. His broad back concealed the gleaming instruments from view as he
approached the far end of the laboratory.

 
          
 
I watched him with indrawn breath. When he
reached the extremity of the table, he swung about and stooped a little. I saw
his elbow jerk back. There was a faint, sputtering sound. It was followed by a
blinding flash of polychromatic light. For an instant he remained bending above
the table. Then he straightened and came slowly back to where I was standing.
His face was gray.

 
          
 
"There isn't much left of the
microscope," he said. "The side is liquid, molten. Take a look at
it."

 
          
 
Curiosity drew me swiftly toward the end of
the table. The little induction furnace had indeed flamed destructively. The
microscope was a twisted, blackened wreck. The optical tube lay prone in a
gleaming mass of metallic ooze on the zinc table top.

 
          
 
Ashley had moved to the opposite side of the
laboratory and was stripping off his soiled and faded frock.

 
          
 
"I'm going for a walk," he
exclaimed. "I've got to get out in the open, away from all this. I'll
crack if I don't."