XI

The reign of terror caused by the falling meteors gripped New York for

five days. On Tuesday night, when Henry and Olinski were scheduled to

give a public demonstration of interstellar signaling and the exchange

of radio messages between the earth and Mars, in Radio Center, remnants

of the hot heavenly bodies were still hissing down in unexpected

places, with many fatalities.

Thousands of timorous families in the metropolitan area were living in

their basements. The principal thoroughfares, Broadway, Fifth Avenue

and Park Avenue, were strangely deserted at night. The newspapers were

still screaming at the scientists and scholars for their failure to

offer any explanation of the remarkable phenomenon, at the same time

making an intensive play on Henry's discovery.

One enterprising paper, having exhausted all resources in its efforts

to explain the mystery of the huge swarms of meteors, dug up from an

unknown source the story of a mad scientist, long since dead, who had

predicted a similar heavenly occurrence, which was to precede some sort

of cataclysm of the solar system. This gave them the opportunity to

intensify the importance of Henry's feat as a possible connecting link

in the solution of the meteoric mystery.

It was, therefore, with a full-fledged case of the jitters that many

thousands assembled in the vicinity of Radio Center on that Tuesday

night. The people had worked themselves into a state of hysteria, and

were in a receptive mood for anything unusual that might happen. Police

emergency squads were on hand to hold the crowd in check, while police

on motorcycles kept the streets clear for the fire brigades which were

being called out hourly, to fight the conflagrations caused by the

falling meteors.

While the demonstration was to be held in the auditorium of the

National Radio Corporation Building, in Radio Center Annex, it was not

officially sponsored by the president of the concern, Alden Scoville,

who was sceptical and suspicious; but he was very nice and polite about

it. He made it plain that the corporation was merely donating the use

of its premises and equipment for the public experiment, in compliment

to the valuable work of its assistant research engineer, Serge Olinski.

There was to be a world-girdling hook-up, so that the deciphered code

signals from Mars, and the replies transmitted from the earth, could

be heard in every land. Everything was perfectly arranged, with loud

speakers for the masses congregated outside the building.

Accompanied by Jane and Pat, I motored in from the country for the

great event. Henry had gone into town early in the afternoon, to see

after last minute details. We were to meet him in the NRC Building,

where Prince Matani was to join us.

An odd thing occurred just prior to our leaving the castle. Jane was

seated in the car, and I was waiting in the hall for Pat. When she did

not appear promptly, I sent Niki, now acting in the double role of

butler-valet, to find out the cause of her delay. Pat refusing to see

him, I hurried upstairs myself to investigate.

Much to my indignation, she refused to attend the demonstration. As an

excuse, she said it had just dawned on her mind that Henry's discovery

was incredulous, and it would be dreadfully humiliating to her if he

failed to establish interstellar communication.

"It's such a crazy thing, anyway," she said. "No one ever has succeeded

in doing it, and I think Uncle Henry is just plumb crazy. It's idiotic;

it simply can't be done. There's a queer streak in him. Look how he

treated poor Mr. McGinity."

At the mention of the reporter's name, her nerves gave way, and

tears began to flow. Then I realized that her explanation about the

incredulity of Henry's feat had nothing to support it but her own word.

Her tears were the direct proof that she was refusing to go because she

had to sit formally with Jane and me, and Prince Matani, when she much

preferred to be mixed up in the excitement with McGinity.

I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I took her firmly

by the arm, and conducted her downstairs; and after she had made

a mysterious telephone call, we were soon on our way to the city.

Then something else disconcerting happened at the entrance to the

auditorium. McGinity met us there, as though by accident. It looked

to me as if he had been tipped off by telephone in advance of our--or

Pat's--arrival. Pat seemed so excited and thrilled, I fancied I could

hear her heart going at the rate of a million beats a minute.

We occupied seats in the front row, where the Prince, with a terrible

black eye, joined us, about five minutes after we had arrived. I

noticed him glaring in the direction of McGinity, who sat at the head

of the press table, with about fifty other reporters. Occasionally

McGinity would glance up from his work, and exchange smiles with Pat,

when the Prince wasn't looking. So the only delight she got out of

seeing him there had to be a secret one. No more than a furtive glance,

or smile, whenever it could be managed with discretion.

Jane's nerves were jumpy. Careful inventory of the invited guests, who

taxed the capacity of the auditorium, and the crowd I had glimpsed

outside the building as we came in, convinced me that everyone was

sitting, or standing, on needles and pins. My nose and ears have a

habit of twitching whenever I am under a tense, nervous strain, and I

had the uncomfortable feeling that persons back of me, in the audience,

were watching my ears wiggling. My nose kept twitching and jumping like

a Mexican bean.

I tried to distract my thoughts and ease my anxiety by studying the

mechanical equipment on the stage. I couldn't have explained what they

were if some one had pointed a shot-gun in my face. Radio has always

been a great mystery to me. I can never seem to get it into my brain

that radio waves can travel 186,000 miles a second. As for bridging the

sidereal abyss, as Henry calls it, between the earth and Mars, I was

stumped.

When Henry and Olinski finally stepped on to the stage, and my wiggling

ears rang with the tumult of thunderous applause, my first horrifying

thought was that my brother had gone mad, and that Olinski had gone

crazy with him. Pat's words of warning came back to me: "It's idiotic!

It simply can't be done!" The voice of wisdom often comes from

unexpected sources.

Henry looked scared, but he showed no nervous hesitancy in his

introductory remarks, after being formally presented to the audience

by Mr. Scoville, who acted as host. It was just nine-thirty when he

took his place before the microphone. The signaling and messages from

Mars were due to arrive at ten; they had never failed to come through

at that hour, during all the preliminary experiments, extending over a

period of three weeks.

"My dear friends," he began, in his modest, shrinking way, "I feel

privileged to be here tonight, to tell and show you something of

interest in connection with the research studies on static, recently

made by my co-worker, Mr. Serge Olinski, and myself.

"For some time, mysterious radio waves, which appeared to come from

some definite source in space, have been puzzling men of science

engaged in radio research work. We know that infra-red radiation

and short radio waves make it theoretically possible to communicate

with other planets. They can penetrate the upper atmosphere, and may

be directed toward any planet with accuracy and power, as well as

penetrating the planets without scattering. The receiving apparatus for

infra-red rays consists principally of a sensitive cell, so sensitive

that the light of a match struck on the moon and translated into an

electric current, can be registered on the earth."

Henry paused, to wet his lips with a sip from a glass of water. The

audience showing rapt attention, he continued.

"To detect these radio waves from outer space, Mr. Olinski and I

contrived between us to construct a delicate receiving instrument. We

found they were distinctly electro-magnetic waves, that could be picked

up by any standard radio set. Then, one night, less than a month ago,

while testing it out, there was registered on this same instrument, a

series of distinct dots and dashes, somewhat similar to our Continental

Morse code.

"These signals were received regularly every night thereafter, round

ten o'clock, fading out in about half an hour. This convinced us both

that some intelligible communication force was at work in outer space.

One evening, Mr. Olinski startled me by exclaiming: 'I have it! It's

someone on the planet Mars, trying to attract attention on the earth.

It's their station signal they're trying to get through to us.' As it

turned out, Mr. Olinski was quite right.

"Now the purpose of our demonstration tonight is to show you, in the

simplest manner possible, how we have been conducting interstellar

communication by means of short waves. We do not claim to have solved

the riddle of Mars. We have received code messages from some definite

source in space, which we believe to be Mars, and we have successfully

deciphered these messages, and through the same medium we have

exchanged ideas with this definite source in space. Before we begin

our experiment, however, Mr. Scoville, president of the National Radio

Corporation, who is still a little sceptical, has prepared a list of

questions, which he wishes to put to me."

At that, Mr. Scoville stepped forward, and joined Henry in front of the

microphone.

"As I understand it, Mr. Royce," he began, "you believe Mars to be

inhabited, and that civilization there is just as advanced as our own?"

"For many years, I was doubtful," Henry replied. "But, now, I'm

absolutely certain of it."

"As the earth is only a very small part of our illimitable universe,"

Mr. Scoville went on, "why should the Martians--" He checked himself as

Henry interrupted with an upraised finger.

"It is execrably bad taste to interrupt a speaker," Henry interjected,

in an apologetic tone, "but I wish to correct you on one point. The

planet we call Mars is not known to its inhabitants by that name,

therefore, it is erroneous to call them Martians."

Mr. Scoville smiled, and said: "I'm afraid you'll have to be more

explicit than that, Mr. Royce. Where did you get that information?"

"I can be entirely explicit," Henry answered. "In transmitting our

first radio message to the planet, we said: 'Stand by, Mars! Earth

is calling!' To our great surprise, we received this reply: 'Noble

friends, you err in calling our planet, Mars. This is the Red Sphere.

Your planet, which you call the Earth, is known to us as the Blue

Sphere.'"

"And why should they call the earth the Blue Sphere?" Mr. Scoville

inquired.

"Because the earth, to the Martian astronomers, appears in a bluish

haze," Henry explained, "just as Mars looks reddish to us."

"But why should the Martians--I beg your pardon--why should the

inhabitants of the Red Sphere, take such an interest in our

insignificant globe?"

"Doubtless, because the conviction has persisted there, among

scientists, that our planet is inhabited," said Henry, "just as the

conviction has persisted here that Mars harbors life."

"Supposing this is true, how can you explain their knowledge of a radio

code, which somewhat resembles our International Morse code?"

After a moment's hesitation, Henry replied: "It's my opinion that they

gained this knowledge from the International Morse messages directed on

their planet by a powerful beam of light, from the lofty summit of the

Jungfrau, in Switzerland, less than a year ago. This was undertaken by

a group of American scientists, in the hope of attracting attention on

Mars."

"Were these code messages, to a strange people, in a remote planet,

decipherable in English?"

"Oh, yes," Henry readily replied; "and there's no doubt in my mind that

superior intellects on Mars worked them out into English."

"It doesn't seem possible," Mr. Scoville remarked. "Life, conditions,

everything on Mars must be so totally different from things as they

exist here."

Henry smiled, and said: "I firmly believe that all things in the

beginning were created alike. The countless stars, suns and moons,

and all the great planets, are largely composed of the same material

that entered into the composition of this world. These meteorites

that are falling about us contain the same metals, among them, iron

and tin, which we mine from the earth. There is also a striking

similarity between things of the material universe and the invisible,

or spiritual, world. In Heaven, so we are told in the Bible, there are

cities, streets, mansions, trees, gates and fountains. All of which

makes it certain that human beings, like ourselves, not the grotesque

monsters, as so often pictured, inhabit other planets."

"I'm inclined to agree with you in that," said Mr. Scoville, fingering

his chin thoughtfully; "but I can't get it into my head about these

Martians having a knowledge of the English language."

"You must take this fact into consideration, my dear Mr. Scoville,"

said Henry, "that for some years our radio short waves have been

bombarding the planets, including Mars, with speeches and songs in

English."

"If that is so, then the Martians may be learning to speak English with

our nasal, American accent--what?" Mr. Scoville interposed, laughing.

And the audience seemed to enjoy this witticism.

"Hardly," said Henry, trying his best to look grave, as the laughter

subsided. "I have no reason to believe that, but I do believe the

Martians have devised a means to pick up our language from the

radio waves, and are adapting it for the purpose of communicating

intelligently with us, just as we study, and often use, in various

ways, other languages besides our own."

"Are their code messages decipherable in good English?" Mr. Scoville

asked.

"Their spelling is very crude, but the liberal transcription,

surprisingly enough, reads rather classical."

"By the bye, what station signals do you use?"

"I'll show you," said Henry. He motioned to Olinski, who rose, and

moved quickly to a large blackboard, which had been placed in the

center of the stage. With chalk, Olinski wrote in big capital letters:

"ABUBCUC."

"Now, that is our--the earth's--radio station signal," Henry explained.

"Simply--'ABC.'"