He stepped down from the rostrum, and with slow dignified step left the
conclave room.
* * * * *
The hundred odd members of the Conclave settled back in their seats
after Olduk had gone. The session was resumed.
The Speaker, listening to the monotonous reading of a bill, reached
absently for the water carafe, tilted it. The water did not pour. The
Speaker tilted the carafe further--and further--suddenly the water made
its exit.
It fell from the carafe, the entire contents, struck against the glass,
knocked the glass over, bounced off the table into the air, and thence
to the floor.
There the water, a half-gallon of it, tightly rolled into a neat,
compact sphere, bounced up and down several times, and then subsided on
the floor as clear and flawless as crystal glass.
The Speaker stared at it.
The members of the conclave stared at it.
The Speaker turned to the gaping orderly.
"That's a glass ball," he said harshly, accusingly.
"No, it isn't," the orderly chattered. "That's water! I filled the
carafe with water."
The Speaker looked at it again, and then walked to the sphere, the
Conclave watching him in fascination.
The Speaker scooped up the ball in two hands. Then he tried to drop it.
He couldn't. His fingers seemed curled around the ball, crushed close
together. His hands couldn't draw apart.
He tried to shake the sphere away. He tried harder, and then violently,
working himself into a sudden frenzy. The sphere of water clung to his
hands, and his hands were locked as effectively as if handcuffs had
been placed around the wrists. He got control of himself and turned to
face the Conclave, white-faced.
"It can't be water," he said hoarsely, "but I think it is!"
And looking at the glass ball, he was conscious of a sudden thirst; but
he knew he couldn't drink, although he held in his hands four times
more water than he needed to quench his thirst.
* * * * *
In the Martian Legation Building, Olduk faced his seven associates.
"It is done," he said, in the Martian dialect of his native state. "The
Earthmen have chosen their hell and will soon experience it. You have
your tickets? Then go at once."
The youngest of the attaches said pleadingly, "Sir, we can't go and
leave you. Who knows how long the Earthmen will hold out?"
"All that will happen will happen to Olduk. Go, before you are refused
permission to leave. Tell our people they are to be relentless, until
the Earthmen give in. Now go."
The attaches no longer questioned his commands. Olduk was left alone.
The gong sounded on his television screen; Olduk threw the switch. The
face of the manager of World Broadcasters appeared.
"You will appear and speak in two minutes," he said. Olduk stood before
the television screen, waiting until the proper second. He had planned
the time of this speech and the "hell" chosen by Earth would not begin
until he was well into it. The Speaker of the Conclave had not yet
thirsted. The moment came, and Olduk was introduced briefly, as his
image broadcasted.
"Olduk, the Martian ambassador, speaking for his people--"
Olduk said gutturally, "Olduk greets you, people of Earth, and regrets
that he cannot drink with you.
"All read story of Tantalus, people of Earth. An old Grecian myth it
is, come true. Interesting, see?
"Olduk is sorry. Will you believe Olduk? He is sorry. Olduk says,
please do not touch water. Please do not touch water...."
* * * * *
The diving champion of the world puffed out his chest, feigning
complete nonchalance as five thousand admiring people looked up at him
where he stood as resplendant as an angel on the diving platform.
"Ladeeeeeees and gentlemannnnnnnn!" the loudspeaker blared. "Pedro
Morestes, the handsomest man in the world, and the most perfect
physical specimen by the Olivar Test, is about to break the world's
diving record of all time. Four hundred feet lie between him and the
glistening surface of this world-famed pool!
"Watch him, hold your breath, ladees and gentleman, there he
goooooooosssss--"
Pedro Morestes ran with light graceful steps toward the end of the
diving board. The board flung him upward, and he seemed to stop for an
infinitesimal second, poised like a bird, with the pool far below, and
gasping people staring upward.
One of those people watching had his wrist radio tuned to World
Broadcasters.
"Please," said Olduk's clearly audible radio voice, "do not touch
water. If things strange happen to water, do not touch, please?"
Pedro Morestes began his dazzling drop downward, twisting, twining,
going through all the intricate convolutions that four hundred feet
would allow him.
Now! A loop, a twist, straighten out for the last fifty feet, cut the
water as clean as an arrow cutting the air.
Pedro Morestes eyes popped. A hoarse scream escaped his lips.
Where was the flat surface that should receive him?
Where were the little wavelets that usually betokened the presence of
water?
Why did the entire pool bulge up in the middle, and drop at the sides?
Why was it that the whole pool had been replaced by an immense
_hemisphere of glass_?
Pedro Morestes screamed, squirmed, twisted, came down with a bone
crushing shock on the bulging surface, his posterior foremost.
He bounced upward for fifty feet, fell again, bounced again, fell,
bounced, fell--and was locked, flat on his back, by an invisible vise
that not only held him rigid, but threatened to crush him from all
sides.
The crowd stared in pure fright. The pool of water had become--a
hemisphere of glass? And Pedro Morestes, world's diving champion, lay
atop that gleaming sphere, ribs and one leg broken, unable to move a
muscle....
* * * * *
"Damn that kid," said Sam, throwing his newspaper to the floor.
"I wanna drink," wailed the damned kid, from the bedroom.
"All right, keep your pants on," growled Sam surlily. He went out to
the kitchen, leaving the radio on. It had been jabbering for some time,
something about Olduk.
"Please," said the radio voice of Olduk, "do not touch water. Tell your
friends, my friends, not to touch water...."
Sam got a glass out of the cupboard, held it under the faucet, turned
the faucet on.
The water came out, well enough, but it wasn't water.
"What the hell," Sam said incredulously.
A big drop was suspended from the faucet, was growing bigger as the
faucet fed it.
Sam watched while it became six inches, a foot in diameter.
The glass fell from his paralyzed fingers. "What the hell!" he yelled
hoarsely.
"I wanna glass of water," the damned kid wailed.
Olduk said, clearly and distinctly, "I am sorry you are not able to
drink, see?..."
"All right, you'll get your water," Sam panted excitedly, only vaguely
conscious that the radio was going.
He watched the spheroid grow and grow. Still suspended from the faucet,
it touched the sink. Then the "drop" grew up around the faucet until
the faucet was completely enclosed.
The drop began to overlap the sink, still maintaining a spherical
shape. Suddenly there was a loud, metallic _pop_. The drop broke away
from the faucet, of its own weight, fell to the linoleumed floor with a
dull barrrrooooommmmmmm.
It was three feet in diameter; and another one was growing from the
faucet.
"I wanna drink of water," said the damned kid, waddling into the
kitchen, rubbing its eyes.
Those eyes brightened as they saw the gleaming sphere. A grimy hand
reached out and touched it. Against his will, the whole arm of the kid
was drawn against the sphere, and the rest of the body was drawn with
it, legs snapped together, one arm locked to its side, the other curled
to the breaking point over its head.
Sam roared but he was too late. The bewildered kid's nose touched the
sphere, and his whole face was drawn, in, so that all air was cut off.
Sam grabbed hold of him, and pulled frantically, madly, until he was
panting. Then he let go, screaming, and ran for the cupboard. It was
some seconds before he found an ax. By the time he got back, the second
drop had fallen, had merged with the first, forming a sphere five feet
in diameter, with the kid plastered against it.
Sam swung the ax. The sharp blade hit, actually penetrated the sphere.
Sam yelled. The ax was literally sucked in. Sam refused to let go,
and his hands went into the water after the ax. There was a terrible
contratcile force on his wrists. Then something seemed rushing up his
arms. The something enclosed his body with the speed of a striking
snake.
The next thing he knew, water had smothered his nose, his mouth, and he
was _inside_, looking _out_.
He was staring into the smothered face of the damned kid.
Shortly after that he drowned. He couldn't get out. Another drop fell,
another, and another, another, another, adding themselves to the
original mass....
* * * * *
On the high seas, the S.S. _Wilcox_ battered through rising, flooding
seas.
The captain stood on the bridge, yelling orders to his men below.
The first mate flung water from his face, gritted, "We'll never make
port."
A sailor came up the companionway, steadying himself on the handrail.
"There's water pouring through a hole in a forward section," he gasped
hoarsely. "We can't caulk it. She's sinking at the stem."
"Mr. Jones," said the captain, "sound the signal to abandon ship."
The first officer said to himself, "In these seas?" But he obeyed and
went down to the cargo hold where the alarm apparatus was stationed.
Above the roar of the elements sounded seven short hoarse blasts, and a
long one. The "all hands on deck" signal vibrated through the ship.
The captain watched while sailors donned lifebelts, jumped to boat
stations. Boats were swung out, and eased down by the rail. Passengers,
herded by calm officers, came on to the deck. The ship gave another
sickening roll. A lifeboat was dashed to matchsticks.
"It's no use," the quartermaster said hoarsely. He gripped the rail,
staring out over the raging sea, where mountainous waves were sending
the S.S. _Wilcox_ to her doom.
The captain said slowly, "I wish I were what Cadmus wished he was. I
wish I could command the waves of the sea to vanish."
... An astounding thing happened.
As if a gigantic beer skimmer had been run over the surface of the sea
in all directions, the tops of the waves seemed abruptly to round.
The troughs filled, the crests dropped. The roar of water against the
flanks of the ship ceased. The waves ceased, though the wind still
roared, and whined.
The quartermaster's eyes widened in startled terror, and he looked
askance at his captain.