Time Travel Omnibus, page 125
“And where is that?”
“A few hundred miles down the coast. We passed to the east of it on our journey to Dobruda.”
I learned that Diraun was the secret city, the temple city of the Mothers, where the ecto-genetic laboratories were. Our first sight of it from the air was a marvelous one. Stretching up the foothills where Altadena had once been, and covering the slopes and top of Mount Echo, going to the very crest of Mount Lowe itself, lay the city of the Mothers. I gazed at it with wonder and admiration not unmixed with awe. The magnificent, ethereal buildings seemed to change, to take all shapes and hues from minute to minute. Vast stretches of parklike gardens lay between the various buildings, and in the reflecting mirrors one could see the hordes of mechanicals going about their tasks with mechanical precision. But over this city no air-autos rolled, no people walked. Of its human inhabitants we saw nothing. Our craft finally alighted, not in but beyond the city, towards where San Marino, the city of millionaires, once stood. But now this section of country was a wilderness of fruit orchards and gardens. Here the majestic woman left us with no word of explanation, only smiling at Editha and murmuring, “Love and be happy, fear nothing!” We watched the air-vessel that had brought us leap into space, circle above us once, and then disappear to the northward.
As the afternoon was still young, we wandered hand in hand through tangles of orchards and gardens. Oranges, peaches and pears were ripening on the bough. We plucked golden delicious fruit and slaked our hunger and thirst. Mechanicals glided about, intent on nothing but their directed labors. Most of them had a grotesquely human aspect, though some looked not unlike birds or reptiles. By and by we came to a gleaming rose-white lodge. Here all conveniences for living were gathered. Editha appeared to have lost her former fear and mistrust. She sang and danced on cushioned feet. I laughed and sang with her. Her good spirits were contagious. Yet in my heart I was not at ease. For what purpose had we been brought to this sylvan paradise? Clearly not for the mere purpose of living and loving. Something more serious must lurk behind, or rather beyond, this glorious interlude.
Three weeks passed in this way—weeks in which we saw no one save the mechanicals, weeks of happiness surpassing anything I ever expect to know again. Once I asked Editha if she knew anything of the functions of the Mothers. She said yes, that they bore the children I had seen in the nurseries and schools; that they had borne all the population of Arcadia.
The Ceremonial
“YOU mean,” I said, “that the ordinary women can’t hear children?”
“Of course not! Didn’t you know that? They can love and be happy, but only the Mothers are the vehicles of life. It is they who devote their lives to tending the machinery that brings the embryos to birth, who regulate the increase of population.”
“In favor of their own sex,” I added.
“That isn’t true.” Editha’s eyes blazed. Then she looked at me uncertainly. “Those men told you lies. I don’t believe a word of what they say.” But I saw she was troubled, so I hastened to change the subject.
“But there must be fathers!”
“Of course—fathers. Each Mother when she is chosen is allowed to bring her chosen lover to the secret city. I know that.”
“Well, what are their duties?”
“I don’t know. I suppose they live with their mates—as you, my virsekso, are living with me.”
We both laughed. Suddenly a great wave of relief rolled over me. Why, of course, there was nothing to fear! Men might not be considered the equal of women in Arcadia, or in this secret city, but nonetheless I was Editha’s husband, and her chosen mate.
be separated. So I thought, revelling in my fool’s relief. And then the blow fell.
As usual we fell asleep at dusk, after listening to a book read by Elinor, tired out from a day of continuous activity. I awoke—to find the morning sun shining through the opaque walls of a strange room! Fear leapt in my heart. “Editha!” I cried wildly; but Editha was gone!
I flung myself like a mad man at the doors of the room, at the walls, but they were impervious to my blows and kicks. The morning hours passed. I could measure them by the slow movement of the sun’s rays. When the sun stood overhead the doors noiselessly opened. Two mechanicals entered and in spite of my resistance made me a prisoner. I was borne, helpless, in an iron grasp, to an audience hall. How can I describe it? The hall was arranged like an amphitheatre, in circular formation, tier on tier of seats rising towards a remote ceiling. On these seats sat a concourse of females, by their dress, Mothers. But it was not on this concourse my eyes rested with fear and awe.
In the center of the hall, on a large dais, stood the women I had seen in the crystal. In their filmy garments, with the contours of their heroic bodies gleaming darkly through the silvery draperies, they presented an overpowering, an unforgettable, sight. In front of them, on the floor to one side of the dais, the mechanicals stood, and I could neither speak nor move. Only fearful thoughts ran through my brain and all my old fears were revived a thousand-fold. Where, in the name of God, was Editha? Then I saw her coming. She was still clad in her one-piece garment. Only her face was pale and still, and her eyes had the unrecognizing stare of one who walks in her sleep.
“Editha!” I tried to scream, but the name strangled in my throat. At her coming the concourse of women stood up and with one voice cried: “Welcome, Editha!” Then they sank into their seats and the woman with the serpent rod advanced the length of the dais until she stood in front of Editha. I knew I was witnessing some ceremony of initiation.
“A mother has gone on,” intoned the sweet, penetrating voice of the woman, “and a Mother arrives. Editha, are you willing to become a Mother?”
THEN I saw the color steal back into Editha’s face, her eyes begin to glow with a look of intelligence and understanding. But she only said with a strong, vibrant voice, “I am.”
“Unless it be her will to pass on and seek spiritual perfection in other spheres, she shall live forever. Body after body shall she wear and her youth shall not pass away.”
“She shall live forever!” intoned the concourse of women. “Editha,” said the sweet, penetrating voice, “your body is fair and acceptable in our eyes. Do you dedicate it to the perpetuation of life?”
“I do,” said Editha.
“Then with these garments do we cover you, and with these symbols seal you to the Hierarchy of Mothers.”
Editha was clothed with flowing garments, a finger of her hand was encircled with a ring and a string of jewels strung around her neck. She knelt at the feet of the woman with the serpent rod. The woman raised her up and kissed her on the brow. The concourse of Mothers broke into a low chanting. I had watched these various things with what emotions can be imagined. Suddenly came power to move my limbs. With a swift rush forward I clambered on the dais and threw myself in front of Editha, both of my arms encircling her body.
“Dearest!” I cried. “Dearest!”
But she looked at me unseeingly. Her eyes bore a strange remote glow, and her face was rapt in some exalted ecstasy.
I shook her with my whole strength. She gazed at me without recognition.
“Who is this?” she asked evenly.
“Editha!” I cried, “it is I, Bayers! O my God, what have they done to you!”
But now the mechanicals came forward and again made me a prisoner. Without deigning a farewell look, Editha passed out of the audience hall with the concourse of women;
“You!” I cried wildly, glaring at the Mothers still left standing on the dais. “What have you done to her with your infernal arts? You have hypnotized her, robbed her of her memory!”
“Hush!” said the woman with the serpent rod so forbiddingly that I fell into silence. Then she said slowly: “It is not permitted that a man shall possess in love and passion a woman vowed to life, to Motherhood. Three weeks you have had in the garden, and the seed of your love shall in due time blossom. Now your season of love is over, and your body shall go from here to dwell in the House of Husbands.”
“The House of Hushands!” I echoed.
“Yes,” she said, “where you shall be indexed . . .”
“Good God!” I cried, “what are you going to do to me?”
“Oh, it will be painless and not dangerous. Be assured, you shall not suffer. Your body shall be kept alive and through Editha father many children. I have spoken. Take him away.”
How shall I describe what followed! It is like an evil dream, a nightmare. That I was under mesmeric control of a machine, I believe. But once I knew that Editha was looking down on me, and her eyes were cold and stern. Vaguely I was conscious of strange instruments, and what seemed a gigantic X-ray. Then a blank. . . .
I came to myself in a long, bare room open on three sides to an expanse of park. I was alone. I sat up wildly, strong enough in my limbs, yet aware of a vague sensation, a feeling, an emotion. . . . I looked at my body and horror gripped me. I raved, I swore. But I was alone.
All around me was the empty park. Perhaps the Mothers forgot I was not as other men. Doubtless the males of Arcadia would have been cowed by the females and resigned to their fate. But in my brain I was conscious of only one blind impulse: to rise and flee from the horrible place. Oh, I was in the grip of a nightmare! I would outrace it—I would! Where I found the air-shoes and the rod I do not know. With their aid I walked and walked, and somewhere or other possessed myself of an air-auto. Perhaps I didn’t. Perhaps I imagined I did. Be that as it may, I came, somehow, someway, uncaught, undetected, to where my time machine lay concealed in the hills. I had but one desire, to get aboard it, to return to my own people, to 1950. I did. I am here! . . . .
Professor Bayers ceased speaking abruptly. We stared at him unbelievingly. At last Ellis spoke.
“Do you really expect us to believe—this incredible story?”
Bayers only looked at him. We could see he was not joking. There could be only one explanation. The man was mad, mad. Even as the thought came to me, Ellis went on, “What proof have you . . . proof . . .”
“Proof!” Bayers ripped the coat and shirt from his shoulders. “Proof!” he cried wildly, “proof! Look at me—look!”
Then Indeed we came to our feet with a surge, staring at him in horrified amazement, scarce able to credit the evidence of our own eyes; for there emblazoned on his chest, six inches high, and by a curious process that seemed to have bitten into the very flesh, were the letters:
VIRSEKSO 1426X
(Editha)
THE END.
[1] Invented in 1887 by Dr. L. Zamenhof. It contains 2,642 root words. Its vocabulary consists of words common to every important European language, spelled phonetically.
[2] It has been thought by many, even today, that if the long wavelengths could be “strained” from light the heat could be eliminated and “cold light” produced.
[3] Originally, this meant a state of society in which the mother was the head of the family and all hereditary rights of succession passed from mother to daughter instead of from father to son. It was once popular among primitive peoples.
[4] In Esperanto a male man is a virsekso.
[5] By this device the memory cells of the brain were invaded by the electric current and “memory impressions” were blurred. Complete erasure was not possible without injuring the subject.
THE MAN WHO SAW THE FUTURE
Edmond Hamilton
WHEN we stop to think of it, it is not so very surprising that people of even a few centuries hack should have looked askance upon prophecies and even have burned the “prophet” at the stake as witch or sorcerer. We cannot conceive of anything beyond the experiences of generations preceding and including our own. Since the experiences of past generations were vastly limited in comparison to those of our present decades, it is perfectly natural that those things which were hazily foretold (and which have since been realized) should have been looked on in former days as supernatural and as visions conjured up by the devil. Today, when we see so many machines which former ages would have looked on as impossible, we still look somewhat-contemptuously at anyone who dares intimate the possibility of something that is outside our immediate knowledge. There is nothing impossible in Hamilton’s story, which, we might add, is of exceeding scientific interest, to say nothing of its value as entertainment.
JEAN DE MARSELAIT, Inquisitor Extraordinary of the King of France, raised his head from the parchments that littered the crude desk at which he sat. His glance shifted along the long stone-walled, torch lit room to the file of mail-clad soldiers who stood like steel statues by its door. A word from him and two of them sprang forward.
“You may bring in the prisoner,” he said.
The two disappeared through the door, and in moments there came a clang of opening bolts and grating of heavy hinges from somewhere in the building. Then the clang of the returning soldiers, and they entered the room with another man between them whose hands were fettered.
He was a straight figure, and was dressed in drab tunic and hose. His dark hair was long and straight, and his face held a dreaming strength, altogether different from the battered visages of the soldiers or the changeless mask of the Inquisitor. The latter regarded the prisoner for a moment, and then lifted one of the parchments from before him and read from it in a smooth, clear voice.
“Henri Lothiere, apothecary’s assistant of Paris,” he read, “is charged in this year of our lord one thousand four hundred and forty-four with offending against God and the king by committing the crime of sorcery.”
The prisoner spoke for the first time, his voice low but steady. “I am no sorcerer, sire.”
Jean de Marselait read calmly on from the parchment. “It is stated by many witnesses that for long that part of Paris, called Nanley by some, has been troubled by works of the devil. Ever and anon great claps of thunder have been heard issuing from an open field there without visible cause. They were evidently caused by a sorcerer of power since even exorcists could not halt them.
“It is attested by many that the accused, Henri Lothiere, did in spite of the known diabolical nature of the thing; spend much time at the field in question. It is also attested that the said Henri Lothiere did state that in his opinion the thunderclaps were not of diabolical origin, and that if they were studied, their cause might be discovered.
“It being suspected from this that Henri Lothiere was himself the sorcerer causing the thunderclaps, he was watched and on the third day of June was seen to go in the early morning to the unholy spot with certain instruments. There he was observed going through strange and diabolical conjurations, when there came suddenly another thunderclap and the said Henri Lothiere did vanish entirely from view in that moment. This fact is attested beyond all doubt.
“The news spreading, many hundreds watched around the field during that day. Upon that night before midnight, another thunderclap was heard and the said Henri Lothiere was seen by these hundreds to appear at the field’s center as swiftly and as strangely as he had vanished. The fear-stricken hundreds around the field heard him tell them how, by diabolical power, he had gone for hundreds of years into the future, a thing surely possible only to the devil and his minions, and heard him tell other blasphemies before they seized him and brought him to the Inquisitor of the King, praying that he be burned and his work of sorcery thus halted.
“Therefore, Henri Lothiere, since you were seen to vanish and to reappear as only the servants of the evil one might do, and were heard by many to utter the blasphemies mentioned, I must adjudge you a sorcerer with the penalty of death by fire. If anything there be that you can advance in palliation of your black offense, however, you may now do so before final sentence is passed upon you.”
Jean de Marselait laid down the parchment, and raised his eyes to the prisoner. The latter looked round him quickly for a moment, a half-glimpsed panic for an instant in his eyes, then seemed to steady.
“Sire, I cannot change the sentence you will pass upon me,” he said quietly, “yet do I wish well to relate once, what happened to me and what I saw. Is it permitted me to tell that from first to last?”
The Inquisitor’s head bent, and Henri Lothiere spoke, his voice gaining in strength and fervor as he continued.
“SIRE, I, Henri Lothiere, am no sorcerer but a simple apothecary’s assistant. It was always my nature, from earliest youth, to desire to delve into matters unknown to men; the secrets of the earth and sea and sky, the knowledge hidden from us. I knew well that this was wicked, that the Church teaches all we need to know and that heaven frowns when we pry into its mysteries, but so strong was my desire to know, that many times I concerned myself with matters forbidden.
“I had sought to know the nature of the lightning, and the manner of flight of the birds, and the way in which fishes are able to live beneath the waters, and the mystery of the stars. So when these thunderclaps began to be heard in the part of Paris in which I lived, I did not fear them so much as my neighbors. I was eager to learn only what was causing them, for it seemed to me that their cause might be learned.
“So I began to go to that field from which they issued, to study them. I waited in it and twice I heard the great thunderclaps myself. I thought they came from near the field’s center, and I studied that place. But I could see nothing there that was causing them. I dug in the ground, I looked up for hours into the sky, but there was nothing. And still, at intervals, the thunderclaps sounded.
“I still kept going to the field, though I knew that many of my neighbors whispered that I was engaged in sorcery. Upon that morning of the third day of June, it had occurred to me to take certain instruments, such as loadstones, to the field, to see whether anything might be learned with them. I went, a few superstitious ones following me at a distance. I reached the field’s center, and started the examinations I had planned. Then came suddenly another thunderclap and with it I passed from the sight of those who had followed and were watching, vanished from view.
