"Iralnard," said Rog Tanlu. "A nation which does not exist on earth
today, but which was contemporary with the beginning of the last Ice
Age. At that time my people occupied this very land. I am, as you might
say, a refugee from the Ice Age--the first to come through. But I
believe that others will follow. A number of my people. This possible
migration cannot help but result in discord with the present holders
of the land, unless some friendly agreement can be established. So I
called you."
By this time I was up to my ears. I grabbed Doc Champ's arm.
"Doc," I groaned, "are we awake? Is this guy joking? Or what's the
answer?"
Doc pushed me away.
"I shall make everything clear," said Rog Tanlu.
"Let's get this straight," insisted Doc Champ. "You say you are a
refugee from the Ice Age? But that was some five hundred thousand years
ago. And you are in possession of at least two instruments of advanced
science. It doesn't match up."
"It is quite necessary that you believe me." Rog Tanlu wasn't smiling
now, but was speaking very seriously. "Perhaps you realize that it is
a trait of the human mind to look upon the Past as uncultured. Such an
attitude is greatly in error."
"You traveled here through Time?" asked Doc.
"Not exactly," said Rog Tanlu. "Time, as you know, is merely the
illusion experienced by creatures endowed with memory living in
a universe of random energy distribution. Time is movement, the
rearrangement of matter--dependent upon the degree of entropy. I found
it impossible to travel in Time. That's why I constructed the Ice
Stone."
"The Ice Stone!" There was a kind of awe in Doc's voice. "_You_ built
the Ice Stone?"
Rog Tanlu nodded. "Of course I didn't call it that. But I happened to
overhear a conversation between you two, with the audio-visiscope,
some days ago, and thereby learned the name you have for it. A very
appropriate name! I also learned that neither of you had ever seen it.
So now, if you will accompany me, I will take you to my laboratory--or
rather to what still remains of my laboratory--and show you the Ice
Stone. That should simplify things, and may help us to solve the
problem of this impending migration--a problem which was forced on me
due to certain interference, as I will later explain."
He picked up that flashlight thing and started off up the creek bank.
Doc Champ shot a glance at me as he wiped beads of perspiration from
his face with his old felt hat. The shiny black locks plastered down on
his head glinted as he stepped into the sunshine.
"Come along," he said to me. "We'll see this through."
We followed Rog Tanlu. Presently he turned off the bank of the creek,
and the path he chose got rocky and wild as hell. I began to understand
why it was that so few people had ever run across the Ice Stone by
accident.
"Doc," I whispered, "what do you make of this guy? Did you ever hear
such a crazy yarn?"
"You forget," muttered Doc, "that we saw some things, too."
I knew what he meant. You couldn't get around that buzzard tumbling out
of the sky, nor the mullah's image and voice in that silver globe.
Rog Tanlu was walking a few yards ahead of us. Suddenly I saw a
queer-looking object hanging in one of those scraggly trees that were
having a hard time trying to grow there among the rocks. It looked
like a heavy blanket or garment, the same fawn-color as Rog Tanlu's
outfit.
He stopped just opposite the tree where the thing was hanging from a
low branch.
"After emerging from the Ice Stone," he explained, "I had to discard my
outer clothing. The sudden climatic change was almost shocking." Then
he pointed upward and to the left along a broad ledge that seemed to
zigzag down the rough face of a cliff, a hundred yards away.
I guess Doc Champ had already caught sight of the Ice Stone. But I
hadn't; and now with my first glimpse of it, the thing did look exactly
like ice. It was like a huge, square block, set flush with the face of
the cliff, and with that ledge forming a pathway up to it.
"Queer," I heard Doc Champ muttering. "All the legends pertaining to
the Ice Stone mention its black appearance. That stone doesn't look
black--it looks transparent."
"Its color has recently changed," explained Rog Tanlu. "It isn't a
stone, or any material substance. It is a peculiar kind of space--space
with the third dimension, thickness in this instance, so twisted and
curved as to allow the fourth dimension to emerge from nothingness
into a certain hypostatic realness. Light has needed a long time to
penetrate through it, and for that reason the cube has only recently
assumed an apparent transparency. Now, if you will follow me, I will
lead you to my laboratory."
He continued on around a shoulder of the cliff, so that we lost sight
of the Ice Stone. Gigantic boulders all but blocked the way. However,
our strange guide seemed to know where he was going and how to get
there.
"All these rocks didn't used to be here," he said musingly. "They are
evidently glacier débris carried down since--well, since my time. Ah!
Here we are."
He wormed his way through a narrow crevice. Doc and I followed. We
soon entered what at one time in the past must have been the wide mouth
of an underground cavern.
For a moment we stood there, breathing the cold, moist air and staring
into the darkness.
Suddenly a light flashed. I saw that Rog Tanlu was using that
fountain-pen thing like a flashlight, but now it was sending out a
blue-white radiance instead of those thin, death-dealing flashes.
"This was my laboratory," he said, holding the light at arm's length
above his head. "There were big sliding doors that closed the place
up tight and kept out the ice and the cold. I had some rather unique
scientific apparatus here, but now it's all mouldering dust."
His voice sounded flat, there with the weight of rocks around us, and
sad somehow.
The floor of the cavern slanted stiffly upward. As we advanced, the air
around us kept getting colder and colder. It was like a gale from the
poles blowing in our faces.
"We'll soon be directly behind the Ice Stone," said Rog Tanlu.
A light began to appear ahead. I could see more of that cavern--even
the rock-ribbed ceiling high overhead. I can't express just what I
was thinking at that moment, but I saw Doc Champ kick at a mound of
something underfoot. The mound crumbled; Doc stooped and picked up a
round object, like a disk of rusted metal, and looked at it with a kind
of stark wonder. Then he threw it away and we followed Rog Tanlu.
The light grew brighter, became a huge square of blustery, blue-white
chaos. We were standing as if just within the maws of a Gargantuan
doorway--an open doorway through which we could look out over a scene
of inexpressible dreariness.
You've seen pictures of the Antarctic? Titanic masses and pinnacles of
ice, frozen white barrens, a land without feeling or soul? It was like
that.
"We are looking through the Ice Stone." Rog Tanlu's voice was all but
snatched away by that glacial blast swishing in our faces. "I set it
up like a door--a door leading from my laboratory to the outside. The
light you see, and the wind, has taken half a million years to get
through."
Doc Champ was tugging at the collar of his coat, and my own teeth were
chattering. Rog Tanlu motioned us to one side, out of that freezing
blast.
"You see what we were up against?" he smiled. "Our space explorations
had killed the hope that some other planet in the system might offer
a suitable refuge where humans could live under anything like natural
conditions.
"Moreover, there were social troubles. Politicians, philosophers and
sociologists all combined to control science. A scientist had to get a
special permit before he could conduct any new line of inquiry.
"So I built this laboratory--ten miles from the vitro-domed city of
Iralnard--partly to escape governmental interference and partly to
keep from being spied upon by Darlu Marc, another experimentalist and
personal enemy of mine. I worked here alone, except for one laboratory
assistant--Eyoaoc Eiioiei, as I called him. And here we created the Ice
Stone.
"As I have already explained, it is no material thing--merely a cube
of specialized space, foreshortened, warped and curved to attain
a specific result. Its action is very simple. It slows up a beam
of light exactly as does a lens, but to an incomparably greater
degree. And being composed of nothing tangible, it acts on any moving
thing--particle, atom or electron--exactly as it does on light photons.
"Thus a man can walk through the Ice Stone without sensing any
change. Yet every function of his being is retarded, including mental
processes. And when he emerges from the other side, approximately half
a million years have elapsed. But once having touched it, say with his
hand, he must not try to withdraw, for his hand will then be within a
separate and distinct macrocosm, uninfluenced by anything outside, and
he must follow on through.
"My intentions were, of course, to provide an avenue of escape from the
Ice Age we were entering, for I knew it wouldn't last indefinitely.
But I needed some sort of proof as to what conditions would be like
in half a million years before I could offer the Ice Stone as a
possible refuge. With Eyoaoc Eiioiei's help I managed to obtain several
chemically depicted approximations of the nearby landscape as it would
be likely to appear after the Ice Age.
"These were very beautiful--or thus they seem to me--for you must
remember that in my time no one had ever seen trees or grass or flowers
growing naturally in the open.
"We had just completed all this when, as we were working one day here
in the laboratory, my assistant sensed a snooper-ray on us. I myself
am not sensitive to an audio-visiscope emanation--sometimes called the
'snooper-ray'--but Eyoaoc Eiioiei sensed it, and he warned me.
"However, the warning came too late. Darlu Marc, my enemy, was the spy.
Within a few hours I was thrown in prison. Eyoaoc Eiioiei escaped. He
was almost immune to the outside cold.
"Darlu Marc had inveigled himself in with certain politicians and,
as a reward for reporting my misconduct, he received charge of my
laboratory. But I knew that the Ice Stone was safe, being practically
indestructible.
"Shortly thereafter, word came to me in prison that a company had been
formed under Marc--a company that was selling tickets to the poorer
class of Iralnard City, entitling the holder to emigrate through the
Ice Stone. Their slogan was 'Tickets to Paradise.'
"Naturally, this injustice made me desperate. I swore that I'd be the
first to pass through. In the meantime Eyoaoc Eiioiei had managed to
enter Iralnard City, disguised. He was very attached to me. He helped
me escape, helped me reach the laboratory. However, at the last moment,
we became separated. To avoid recapture I was forced to pass through
the Ice Stone alone.
"Now, my friends, you know why I am here."
Doc was beating his arms to keep from freezing.
"If I understand you," he puffed, "that thing"--pointing toward the Ice
Stone--"affords a short-cut into the future, by a kind of suspended
animation. And once there, you can't go back."
"Quite correct." Rog Tanlu seemed pleased. "If I were to pass through
it again, in either direction, I would not return to the Ice Age but
would take another jump into the future."
It sounded simple, as he told it, even to me, and Doc nodded.
"What seems queer," he observed, "is about this cold and wind. I
understand it's blowing from the outside cliff into the Ice Stone--from
way back in the Ice Age--and is only now emerging here. In that case
the cube must have swallowed a tremendous amount of air--and energy!"
"You grasp the idea," said Rog Tanlu, with quiet satisfaction. "But
you must not judge the capacity of the Ice Stone by its external
dimensions. They are quite deceptive. I assure you that its
ramifications in the fourth dimension would enable it to absorb a total
of all telluric energies, and still have room to spare.... Come, my
friends, I had not realized that you were suffering from the cold! Let
us return to the balmy open. I find your climate--inexpressible!"
Well, I wasn't sorry to hear this proposal. And judging by the way Doc
Champ was frostily puffing and rubbing his ears, I guess he wasn't,
either.
We soon got down to where the wind didn't hit so strong, and Doc
started asking questions.
When would the refugees start coming? Would Darlu Marc--Rog Tanlu's
enemy--be among the first?
"He may never come," said Rog Tanlu bitterly. "His purpose is to bleed
the people, sell them passage to this paradise. That would enable him
to live in comparative security and comfort back in Iralnard City for
the remainder of his lifetime."
I could see by the way he spoke that those half-million years
separating him from this guy Marc were pretty galling on Rog Tanlu.
We were moving slowly down toward that all-but-closed entrance, and now
and then he would flash his light to show the way.
"Here's a strange thought," said Doc Champ suddenly, as he stumbled
along at my elbow. "Why can't we go up on that ledge and look through
the Ice Stone from that direction? We ought to be able to see right
into your laboratory, as it was a short time after you left, and find
out what's going on."
Rog Tanlu chuckled. "Of course," he agreed eagerly. "That's right
where we're bound now. I've been hanging around there for nine
days--watching. But so far--"
A funny sound cut in on him--a sound coming from somewhere ahead. It
was like a voice--a metallic voice--thin and clear.
"_Rog Tanlu ... Rog Tanlu ... Rog Tan-lu._..."
Then I saw something move, there in the shadows, and goose-pimples
sprang out on me. For as the light glinted on that thing, I saw it
wasn't human.
"Eyoaoc Eiioiei!" cried Rog Tanlu. "He's come through--he has followed
me!"
[Illustration: _"Eyoaoc Eiioiei!" cried Rog Tanlu, "He's come through.
He has followed me!"_]
Did you ever see a dog frisk around someone he likes, someone he's been
separated from for a long time? Then picture the dog as no dog at all,
but a madhouse thing prancing on two jointed-metal legs, as thick as
stovepipes, its eyes glinting ruby-red when they catch the light--
But the part that made cold shivers run up my back was the thing's
head--a round globe from which those ruby eyes sparkled. That head
wasn't attached in any visible manner to its short, squat body, but
seemed to float, six inches above its shoulders, as if poised there by
some magnetic force.
All the while the thing was capering around Rog Tanlu, it was jabbering
at him in some outlandish tongue, and he was jabbering back at it.
Doc Champ and I stood there staring.
But by and by I heard Doc's voice.
"A robot," he said, speaking softly and in kind of an awed tone. "So
his laboratory assistant is a robot."
"No wonder it was immune to the cold," I gulped, swallowing hard.
Presently Rog Tanlu swung around toward us and commenced to talk so we
could understand.
"Serious news," he bit out. "Darlu Marc has delayed the emigration.
But he is sending a party of his vassals to wipe me out. He thinks
I possess means to destroy the Ice Stone--thinks I'd do it out of
sheer spite. He's wrong of course, in both instances. But the idea
is hindering the sale of tickets. Eyoaoc Eiioiei learned of Marc's
intentions. He managed at last to reach the Ice Stone, and bring me
warning. He emerged on the cliff side while we were in here. But an
armed band of Marc's vassals are right on his heels!"
I couldn't tear my gaze from that thing he called Eyoaoc Eiioiei. It
had stopped frisking around him and was now blinking its ruby-red eyes
at Doc Champ and me; and, I swear, I believe that damned thing was just
as amazed and curious as I was.
"Do you mean," asked Doc, "that these killers are outside now?"
"I do not know," answered Rog Tanlu. "If so, they will soon find the
entrance to my laboratory, since they are familiar with the terrain."
"Then we better sneak out of here," I suggested, not liking the idea
of being bottled up, there in that hole.
"My friends," said Rog Tanlu, "I regret having drawn you into this.
Leave now; you may be able to escape undetected. But I shall await them
here, in this cavern which is very familiar to me."
Doc Champ shook his head. I knew he wouldn't fall in with that plan.
"We're both armed," he told Rog Tanlu, slapping the automatic that
sagged in his pocket. "We'll hang around awhile."
I guess I like this quality in Doc. Maybe it was partly the reason why
I took to him.
Well, I backed up the little guy ... but I thought he was wrong. That
fight--if there was going to be a fight--wasn't ours. And I couldn't
just see men with pistols getting very far against those fountain-pen
affairs, like Rog Tanlu had. And then, there was that Eyoaoc
Eiioiei.... The whole thing was a little beyond my depths. I thought
Doc was wrong to mix up in something we didn't know a cussed thing
about--and I still think so!
Rog Tanlu had switched off his light. We stood there in the dark
listening. But we didn't hear a sound.