800,000,000 MILES
“NOT a bit what I expected,” murmured Jack to himself: “not the least!”
He looked around him, turning slowly this way and that. On every side
stretched out a plain—if it were a plain; but it had no horizons—no
curvature. In fact, though solid beneath the feet, it was not easily
distinguishable from the medium in which he stood, moved and breathed. It
was transparent, too, in all directions, below as well as above and
sidewise. It was as if he were walking on water—or in water, like a fish.
This medium, however, had a luminousness of its own: not sunlight or
moonlight, though sunlight itself was not so bright and clear. Moreover,
yonder was what looked like the sun—probably was the sun, indeed; it shone
like a white fire, and had no shadowed side, like the other spherical
objects that floated at various distances round about it, and which he now
surmised must be planets. Yes, planets of the solar system, evidently; and
that large one, somewhat below and to the right was our own earth; the
masses of north and south America, and part of western Europe, were
recognizable, lying lustrous on the dark oceans; and there was the moon,
just clear of it on the further side; they must be very far off—several
hundred thousand miles. Jupiter—that must be Jupiter, with the belts and
the red spot—looked much larger than the earth, although more remote. Jack
must have been traveling at a good pace during the few minutes since
pushing down that lever in Mme. Faust’s laboratory—if it were a few
minutes, and not a few days or years: there was no way of telling. Was he
stationary now, or still moving? That too was not easily decided.
Jupiter?—where then was Saturn? His heart began to beat hard; was he on
the way? He gazed before, behind, to right and left; nothing that looked
like Saturn appeared. Not below him, either. Above, perhaps? Ah, yes,
there it was! It hung directly in his zenith, a lovely vision, the ring
clearly defined all round it; its hue was a delicate sapphire, not the
yellowish tinge that earth’s atmosphere gives it. It was very distant; its
apparent size had increased hardly at all. And yet, as Jack gazed at it,
it seemed suddenly to grow larger, as if it had been projected directly
toward him. But that could not be; rather, he had moved at an
inconceivable speed toward it. This was strange!
At this juncture he was acutely surprised to hear a voice—a human voice, a
familiar voice, none other than Jim’s, in fact, addressing him in these
words: “Slow down a bit, boss: Gee, dat was a dandy jump you made! I ain’t
got me sea-leg yet: slow down!”
Jack turned toward the apparent source of this appeal, but at first could
see nothing of his attendant, whose existence he had quite forgotten.
Presently he discerned a dot in the pathless void, immeasurably remote:
could that be Jim? He narrowed his eyes, and now became aware of a new
peculiarity in his environment: Jim, though still in seeming size no
bigger than a flea, became distinctly visible in his minutest details;
nay, he could even hear the tap of his crutch as he exerted himself to
bridge the gulf between them. The mere act of attention—a mental
process—could have the effect of abolishing space to the senses!
“But the boy can never come that distance in a dozen years!” he murmured
half aloud.
“Try anudder t’ink, boss.” replied Jim’s voice, close to his ear; “Watch
me!”
While these words were uttering the flea enlarged to the dimensions of a
bee, and was still coming. What was it that Mary Faust had said about
space? “A difference in mental states?” In other words, thought, on the
mental plane was presence!
As he meditated this discover, understanding began to flow in upon his
mind from various quarters, like the light of dawn through crevices in a
darkened room. He had left his material body on the earth; he was now all
mind—spirit, though he could perceive no change in his outward aspect; his
garments seemed the same; he was substantial as before; though there was
no air in space, he breathed and his heart beat as usual; though space was
absolute cold his body had the warmth of summer; though there was no blue
sky, the etheric light—if it were that—was intense as the electric flash
and iridescent as the rainbow. Upon distant objects it had the effect of a
lens of enormous power.
“I’m what is called dead,” said Jack to himself, summing up his ideas.
“This is my spirit—my me itself. I’m not dead for good though—my body down
there is only asleep. To travel is to pass through a series of thoughts in
continuous succession with a fixed end always in view. I once read, ‘As a
man thinks, so is he.’ To be in Saturn, I must think myself into a Saturn
state of mind. Just how to do that isn’t clear; but I’ll see what wishing
myself there will do; wishes may be wings!”
“Dat sort o’ dope is beyond me, boss,” said Jim; “but if hangin’ on to
your coattails is any good, count me in!” Jim had arrived.
“You’re not scared, are you, Jim?” said Jack, smiling down on him.
“Nix on scared!” was the reply. “I al’ays t’ought it would be a fine t’ing
getting out o’ N’York; but I never t’ought t’would be like this!”
Jack now applied himself to concentrating his mind on his destination,
which he figured as Miriam, with a sapphire halo round her head. They were
moving through the solid, yet diaphanous medium at a speed which could be
estimated only in planetary terms; but with no sense of bodily exertion.
All at once Jim cried out:
“Hully Gee! will yer lamp dat, boss!”
Jack looked: the spectacle sent a shock through him, as when one suddenly
sees the red glare of an express train bearing close down upon him. A vast
red disk covered twenty degrees of the eastern firmament. The planet
Jupiter stood revealed in all its details. Raging whirlpools of fiery
storms tore its surface, diversified with dark streamings and appalling
abysses. Jack fancied he could feel the terrific heat radiating from it;
flames hundreds of miles long licked out toward him. Accompanying this
paralyzing sight was an awful humming sound, and a feeling as of being
drawn into the vortex of an inconceivable red-hot maelstrom. The gigantic
disk seemed nearer!
“The sapphire hand!” spoke the quiet voice of Mary Faust, like a whisper
in his ear. Had she been observing his progress from her station on the
other side of the diameter of the solar system?
He had forgotten the talisman that was to guide him across space: he
grasped it, and in the same moment felt the rush past him of an invisible
tide of forces; as, when one is being swept down the headlong torrent of a
flood, he catches at some stable object, and the wild waters tear at him
as they hurtle past. The sapphire hand barely stemmed the rush. As Jack
hung there, in doubt whether he were saved or doomed, he seemed to see
wild figures racing past him, snatching at him as they flew; fierce,
beautiful faces convulsed with passion; contorted bodies of giants; the
flaring out of fiery hair like streamers of the northern lights. They
gnashed their teeth, the glare of their eyes was as the flashing of
torches. But the sapphire hand was cool in his own, and its power
prevailed.
“Dere was never no subway rush to beat dat!” was the manner in which Jim
expressed his feelings, as the tension abated.
A powerful arm was thrown across Jack’s shoulders, drawing him out into
freedom, and a voice like the tones of a mighty harp exclaimed laughingly:
“Those Jovian fellows are always on the lookout to catch people napping.
They must be disciplined. If you hadn’t thought of your compass when you
did, I should have had quite a struggle getting you free. You are from
Faust, are you not?”
Jack nodded; he was panting from his exertions. Then he looked at his new
friend.
A superb being he was, quite as tall as Jack, and with a body so
beautifully formed that the earth-man, a connoisseur in such matters,
could not restrain a cry of admiration; so might the god Apollo have
disclosed himself in vision to the sculptor who vainly strove to reproduce
him in the Belvedere. He glowed as with an inner light; his features
seemed divinity incarnate; his hair, thick and waving, of a golden hue,
flowed down upon his Olympian shoulders. There was no excess of muscular
development in trunk or limbs, but irresistible power declared itself in
every contour and movement. “Who are you?” Jack asked.
“I am called Solarion,” the other replied; “I am stationed in the midway
here, to look after travelers from your earth, who are specially liable to
kidnaping by these Jovians, who make serfs of them. But, you,” he added,
scrutinizing Jack more closely, “belong to a new type: I have only met one
other—a girl, bound for Saturn. Our friend Mary Faust has been preparing
the route for some while past; but it was not thought that she had yet
completed her arrangements. A wise woman, that!”
“You met a girl—who was she?” demanded Jack with devouring eagerness.
“Miriam was her name—a lovely child— Ah, I see! you have come after her!
Well, you must expect difficulties; it is much easier to make the trip out
than to get back again. The Saturn folks are very agreeable people; but
you two are such an attractive pair that I fear they may want to keep
you.” He laughed good-humoredly as he spoke, sending a very keen look into
Jack’s eyes. “It’s taking a risk, you know,” he added. “I would help you
if I could, but my domain is restricted to these outlying regions. I am
assuming, of course, that you and she—or either of you—will care to
return. Saturn is a pleasant country.”
“Little old N’York is good enough fer us, mister, and don’ you fergit it!”
put in Jim earnestly. “We was jest takin’ a look aroun’, dat’s all!”
Solarion smiled amusedly. “You’ll have a good story to tell your friends,”
he observed. “Few of them will have traveled so far on one leg.”
“My boss figgers we’se sperrits,” said Jim; “sperrits is angels, ain’t
dey? Wot I want to know is, is dere any odder angels wid one fin off, like
me?”
“You are only partly a spirit as yet, Jim,” answered Solarion, patting the
urchin’s head. “When you cut loose altogether, you will find your leg in
its place again.”
During this colloquy, a stupendous distance had been traversed; Jupiter
was now but of the apparent size of our moon; and Jack had latterly been
conscious of a new influence, gentle and soothing, accompanied by warbling
sounds resembling those of an æolian harp, which waxed and waned upon the
ear. The dazzling whiteness of the medium surrounding them had become
modified, and now took on a faint violet tinge. A delicate perfume, too,
like that of wild flowers, but with a peculiar aromatic quality pervading
it, was perceptible.
“Do I imagine these things, or are they real?” he asked his guide.
“Look!” was the reply.
As he spoke, the position of all three underwent an alteration. Hitherto
they had been moving continually in the same course relative to the
station of the earth and sun, but now they insensibly turned, as an arrow
turns in the air after completing its outward flight. Immediately in front
of them rose a mighty arch, with another arch defining itself above the
first, and parallel with it. A minute more, and the first arch had become
a complete circle, with the other surrounding it. The color of the
interior sphere was a royal purple; the outer ring flashed with prismatic
hues of enchanting splendor. Scattered here and there in the void around
this apparition were five or six much smaller globes, each of a different
tint—red, blue, yellow, green, golden and silvery. The voyagers were
dropping swiftly down into the midst of this marvelous earth. It expanded
until its circumference covered the entire field of sight; rivers,
mountains, forests and plains were now discernible. A few breaths more,
and they would alight there!
In the awe and wonder of this revelation, one thought and emotion filled
Jack’s soul: Miriam! As the downward rush continued, Solarion laid a hand
gently on his head; his senses swooned, a tender darkness closed his eyes;
the shouting of a myriad voices seemed to vibrate in his ears for a
moment, and was then hushed; and he knew nothing.