Time Travel Omnibus, page 113
“Mr. Brown,” I answered, “you can count on me to the last. I have the utmost confidence in your judgment.”
He now indicated to me a small table, painted white in the center and containing a number of dials. He stated that this device acted as a sort of camera-obscura and would enable us to view the outside topography from time to time. The outlook, however, would be brief; for the laboratory control was set to drive us inexorably to our goal.
Brown glanced at his watch. “The moment is at hand, Doctor,” he said. He arose to close the door.
I must confess that I looked forth at my workaday world, at that instant, with much yearning and wondered what sort of an asp I was to thus hazard my life on such a venture.
While I deliberated on this problem, Brown fastened, securely, the door of the house and, returning to the table, stood watching the dials intently.
“When shall we start?” I enquired.
“Start!” he replied: “Indeed, we are now a thousand years along the backward trail!”
Brown laughed loudly at my air of discomfort. “As I have before explained,” he remarked, “time is only a relative term. It means literally nothing. Minutes, hours, days, years, are all arbitrary creations of mankind to register the passage of events. Under different conditions mankind would use other measures of Values. For example, upon a planet like Jupiter whose orbit around the sun requires years twelve times as long as ours, the inhabitants would, undoubtedly, use a basic division twelve times as long, although they might designate it by the same term. Somewhere in space is a universe so vast that events as measured by our standard would make a hundred years but the equivalent of a single second of ours—or, perhaps, the reverse. The mind of the ordinary man does not seem to be able to realize that all things, great or small, are but comparative. There is, in truth, no fixed point from which one can compute absolutely, the duration, motion, or magnitude of the visible universe. For the sake of convenience, we have assumed certain things to be facts, until usage has come to make us believe them to be absolute verities.
“What is a yard, a pound, a gallon? All arbitrary standards. Your text books start out with the commonplace assertion: ‘Let X be a point,’ when, as a matter of fact, there is no such point at all. East, West, North, South—all are matters of the geographer’s imagination, and a limited one at that. And what better terms can you expect while men of science flounder around like a fish out of water? They understand only three dimensions of space, when dimensions without number embrace the universe and angles in myriad lines offer themselves for our delight.
“We are upon one of those infinite lines now. I will give you a view of its possibilities.”
He shut off the lights within the shelter; at once, the white center of the table became an animated screen.
Slowly across the circle moved a ship rowed by galley slaves, while closely following came a larger vessel bearing the insignia of the Roman Empire. Presently this Roman ship overtook the smaller one and, dashing alongside, sent over a boarding party. Then began one of those sanguinary struggles that have always marked the annals of the sea. I could plainly observe the struggling figures—nay, almost hear their battle cries, so vivid was the scene enacted. I took particular notice of one giant warrior clothed in skins, with a horned helmet upon his shaggy head, swinging a keen ax. Here was evidently a raiding party of Norsemen brought to bay by the power of Rome.
The Journey’s End
I GAZED in breathless fascination as the conflict hung in the balance.
Outnumbered, but displaying that desperate courage for which these ancient Vikings were famous, time and time again the Norsemen repelled the onslaught of their foemen. However, in the end, weight of numbers and discipline prevailed and my last view of the conflict showed the giant ringed about by enemies. He seemed about to fall. No, he was striking out again. Then, with a supreme effort, he caught one of his adversaries in his brawny arms and, springing to the rail, with a last defiant gesture he plunged himself and his foeman into a watery grave!
Brown flashed on the interior lights. “A close-up of history,” he said, calmly, “and the more interesting because true. One of those unwritten incidents of a far period that no one remembers now. One of an innumerable series of events, that are recorded only in the book of time.
What a field for the student of history when the means we are now using becomes the common property of mankind. Think of the possibilities of being able to study, with the utmost clearness, with perfect attention to detail, and in very person, moreover, these unrecorded episodes of the past.
“Now, let us see what this second period may have to offer. It is old enough, to be sure; about 2000 years B. C.”
This time I saw what I should judge to be a hunting party amid the splendors of ancient Babylon. A young and handsome man sat within a golden chariot drawn by prancing steeds. He was clad in a short tunic and held a powerful bow strung for action. He scanned impatiently the tall grass that lined the roadway, watching the slaves that beat the brush on either side.
Presently, from one clump of brush, broke a magnificent lion. Striking down one of the unfortunate slaves, it stood upon the fallen body and roared defiance. The young man in the chariot arose and, in leisurely manner, launched an arrow at the lion. His aim was faulty, however, and served but to infuriate the beast. With one awful roar it charged straight through the cringing slaves towards the careless hunter.
I do not know the sequel of this exciting drama, nor ever will, for the scene faded abruptly from the screen. But it was plainly a vision of those days when lion-hunting was a kingly sport and human life was held but cheaply.
Still another picture was reflected upon the screen—when and where it existed in reality, I cannot tell. It set forth a wonderful tropical landscape under a glorious southern moon. I remember a vision of waving palms fringing a silvery lagoon. Some queer night birds flitted across the open space, while a pair of native lovers sat upon the shining strand.
“The world is not so old after all,” I remarked to Brown: “See, we have love’s sweet song set to the music of romance, much the same as today.”
“True,” answered he: “Also some of the difficulties of love”—for at that very moment a monstrous crocodile emerged from the waters and came near to spoiling a perfect evening. It would have done so, too, except for the intervention of a cleverly-concealed trap which promptly ensnared the reptile amid a great splashing of water. Perhaps, the whole romantic setting was part of an artful plan for the undoing of Mr. Crocodile. Who can tell?
Brown laughed. “There is really nothing new under the sun,” said he: “All the fundamental emotions were the same yesterday as now. Love, joy, sorrow, pride, have all been enacted a million times in the past and will be repeated again in the future. This fact will simplify the problem of our journey’s end. We will undoubtedly find a civilization not so essentially different from our own.”
I glanced at the clock and was surprised to note that several hours had elapsed since the beginning of our voyage. I called Brown’s attention to this condition, commenting on the vastly greater time consumed on the present occasion than in the previous experiments.
He pondered the question for a while: “That is one of the strange features of the fourth dimension that I do not myself understand. Perhaps it is a phenomenon analogous to sleep. We ordinarily repose dreamlessly the night through. Hours may have sped and seem but moments. Sometimes we dream and a whole cycle of action seem involved. Actually the dreams are measured in fractions of minutes.
“It all goes to prove that there is no fixed value in time. A million years or an instant, divided into infinity, will have a similar quotient. The clock registers what we think it does.”
“If that is the case,” I objected, “why the common agreement on the standard of time! We both accept this clock as our authority. So does everybody.”
“Exactly,” he interposed with some asperity: “We agree because we have all been taught to so agree. Everybody once agreed that the earth was flat; but that did not make it flat—or round either for that matter. It is the men who do not agree who blaze the path of advancement. How long, oh Lord, how long will men insist in following the beaten trails, blindly? How long will mankind cling in stupid worship before the shrine of accepted custom? You cannot lay your finger on a single so-called fact and say that this is the absolute truth. Why? Simply because you have no place on which to stand and judge the whole. In short, the finite mind cannot comprehend the infinite—and that is all there is to it!”
Brown was evidently becoming excited. To calm him, I ventured the remark, “Well, at any rate, let us be thankful that we are alive.”
“Alive!” he fairly shouted: “How do you know so surely that we are alive? What if you should wake up from your satisfied sleep to find that all your supposed earthly existence is but the shadow of a dream, after all? What then? You do not know even what you are here for, from whence you came, whither you are going. You prance about like the merest puppets doing irrational things, and then you vanish like a candle that is snuffed. Fools that we are, we——”
Brown arose to his feet and pounded the table to emphasize his point, but immediately tumbled to the floor again, as did I and the majority of the furniture. With a sudden shock we had come to our journey’s end!
In Atlantis
I GOT quickly to my feet, although badly shaken, and hastened to Brown’s side. I found him unconscious, with all the outward evidence of a hard knock on the head. Here, then, came the first practical use for my medical kit and I was mighty glad of its handiness. A hasty examination of the injury showed no case of fracture, and this fact was an additional cause for joy. What on earth I could do for myself in the present uncanny situation, I was at an utter loss to conjecture. I doubt whether so unusual a problem as mine had ever confronted a mortal in all the history of mankind. Men have been lost before in mountains or on a desert isle, yet with some hope of final rescue. But I was, literally stranded on the shores of time and, without Brown’s mysterious knowledge I was lost indeed.
Spurred on by these reflections, I worked on my companion to such effect that I had him soon restored to a normal condition.
“I owe you an apology,” said he, rubbing his head somewhat ruthfully: “I got to discussing a pet theme of mine and, in consequence, failed to watch the operation of the machine as carefully as I should have done. I trust that no vital damage has been the result—No,” he resumed, after a hasty examination, “nothing of moment has happened, or else we would have had an excellent opportunity to test the reality of life, as elaborated by you.”
Brown then proceeded to adjust the camera-obscura and, by its aid, we took our first glimpse of the land we had come so far to view. A brief glance told us by what a narrow margin we had escaped total destruction. The house rested, in truth, upon the very edge of a vast chasm. A single yard more, and we would have plunged down a thousand feet to certain death.
On the other side of us ran a roaring mountain torrent which eventually poured, in a great cataract of water, over the edge of the chasm. This fact served to isolate us upon a natural plateau that was, at once, our danger and our security. It probably accounted for the lack of human habitation beside us; but gave us some uneasiness as how we were to get out of the predicament ourselves.
That there were plenty of human habitations in sight, however, was apparent upon further scrutiny. From afar appeared the buildings of a mighty city, while a smaller place nestled at the very base of the cliff. Although the scene was somewhat dimmed by the shade of approaching night, we could perceive many huge structures but no sign of more modern civilization.
“Evidently an age where art has preceded invention,” concluded Brown: “So much the better for us. We will have something to show the natives that will astonish them. Tomorrow we will investigate more of the details. Let us now turn in, for I expect that another day will produce plenty of action.”
“Will we not be discovered by the people hereabouts?” I inquired: “It seems to me that we are as conspicuous here as a fire on a hill.”
“Not at all,” we replied. “Have you forgotten that this house, and all it contains, is completely invisible? When we step outside, however, is another matter. Also how to get out of this cul-de-sac is going to give us a bad hour. It is no use, though, to cross bridges until you come to them. I for one, vote that we retire to rest. My head feels like two.”
This statement at once excited my professional alarm: “I wish I had an X-Ray picture of your cranium, Mr. Brown; the superficial examination I recently made is not very satisfactory to me.”
He immediately unlocked a cabinet and produced one of those newly invented contrivances that makes it possible to view the interior of the body at a glance. I quickly satisfied myself of the soundness of Brown’s skull.
“I have a number of devices such as this,” said he: “Devices that will astonish, not to say edify, natives of this blessed land or I am badly mistaken. That is one of the decided advantages of being in advance of an epoch rather than behind it.”
We retired to rest but I must confess that I, for one, did not fall at once to sleep. The strangeness, the unprecedented situation in which I found myself, seemed more like a nightmare than an actuality. Think of being shifted backward ten thousand years or more! Think of standing in the very flesh amid events that are not even known accurately in a recorded history! Think of viewing a great city, teeming with life, that has utterly vanished from the face of the earth! No! it must be all an illusion. It could not be true. Yet my senses testified to its reality.
Moreover, the substantial breakfast which Brown served on the following morning, brushed away any lingering doubts. Also, the two suits of closely woven wire which he produced.
“Clothed thus,” he explained, “woe to him who lays a violent hand upon our persons! We have but to push this button to transform ourselves into human dynamos. In addition, we will arm ourselves with automatics, a camera, and a pair of field glasses. Then, like crusaders of old, we will be prepared to take the city by storm.”
He opened the door of our shelter and we sailed forth, the first civilized men who knowingly set foot upon that fabled land.
It was, indeed, a glorious picture that met our gaze. At the foot of our cliff ran a green and fertile valley stretching away to the far horizon. Several miles distant, the great city glittered in the sunlight. A city with many splendid buildings, one of which in particular, seemed to be a palace of authority. Closer, in descending terraces were the lesser abodes.
Here was certainly the home of a people high in the scale of advancement, somewhat after the fashion of the Incas of later days. We could not detect, however, any evidence of progress toward modern improvement save in the matter of the masonry of the great buildings—an art that has been typical of many primitive people. We took notice, also, of a body of soldiers drilling in an open space; they were armed only with swords and spears, but because of their numbers, formidable for all of that.
I voiced this judgment to Brown. “Yes,” he replied, “and, probably, superstitious in the bargain. I am going to introduce ourselves to them in a fitting manner, having that thought in mind.”
Placing a row of tall rockets along the edge of the cliff, he touched them off, one by one. High above the unsuspecting city they soared, finally exploding with loud reports and a great gush of crimson smoke. The effect upon the inhabitants was rather comic; something like the results of poking a stick into a nest of ants. They scurried out of the nearby houses and gazed skyward in wonder. Finally some of them descried us as we stood upon the edge of the cliff, outlined by the rising sun. And we did, undoubtedly, cut picturesque figures; for Brown had meanwhile ignited a train of red fire for our background and set in motion an ear-splitting siren.
CHAPTER IV
Converse with Atalia
A NUMBER of them came running to the foot of the cliff and made queer motions and words that we could not in the least understand, as though they rather expected us to take wings and fly to them.
“Not so,” said Brown: “We will now retire to the shelter and give them an opportunity to come to us. I have no doubt that they know of some route of arriving at this spot that would take us days to find. Will you be so kind as to get me a couple of chairs?” I turned to comply with his request, and looked in blank astonishment. Our comfortable shelter had completely disappeared!
Brown noticed my bewilderment and fairly danced in delight. “What did I tell you about the invisibility of our abode?” said he: “You would be a castaway, indeed,-if I had not taken the precaution of marking the doorway with those two queerly-colored stones. Just walk right in between them and all will be well.” I did as directed and found myself, by a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland trick, within the shelter. It was uncanny to say the least and I could not resist the temptation of repeating the performance several times. It certainly made the Arabian Nights seem tame.
“If you think that so strange,” said Brown, “get the stage effect of this one.”
Forthwith he placed the chairs upon the roof of the shelter where, from the outside, they presented the optical illusion of being suspended in the thin air. As a further safeguard, he also placed a line of charged wire around the house to establish a deadline against the unduly curious.
We now took our station on the chairs, and, reinforced by the siren, a few more rockets, and a megaphone, we awaited results.
“How do you expect to come-to an understanding with the natives,” I said. “You cannot speak their language, of course.”
“Do not be too sure about that,” Brown rejoined: “For many years I have made a study of the ancient Sanskrit. I believe that language holds the key to all words modern or primitive. It ought to furnish a basis, at least, for some sort of an intelligent understanding. At any rate, we shall have an opportunity to try my theory out—for here they come!”
