It looked and acted like a gas meter or electric meter.
Then I dismissed the meter from my mind, and considered my predicament.
For some reason I thought of my father, Alden Cabot, now many years
dead. The old man had been a stern puritanical character, abhorring
sloth and frivolity.
How often had I heard him rebuke some act of laziness with his favorite
Biblical quotation: “Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and
be wise.”
“Wouldn’t father be pleased,” thought I, “for I have certainly gone to
the ant, all right! But now the big question is how to get away from
them.”
By this time the sentinel noticed that I was awake, and immediately
brought me my breakfast, consisting of a bowl of the sweet green liquid
and a bowl of dark reddish-brown paste, about the consistency of mashed
beans, and having a rich flavor not unlike beef gravy.
After breakfast Doggo took his turn as guard. I patted his head, and
then went over to the windows to see the view, if any.
The windows overlooked a courtyard completely enclosed by piled-up
Puéblo buildings. In the yard was a fountain, surrounded by beds of
plants quite unlike any that I had ever seen before. The prevailing
color of the foliage was gray and silver green. Many of the twigs bore
knobs of red or purple, and a few of the plants had brilliantly colored
blue and yellow flowers somewhat similar to those of dandelions.
For a long time I aimlessly gazed upon this beautiful garden. The warm
moist fragrant atmosphere was not conducive to hurry or to excitement.
But finally even the beauties of the view palled upon me, and I returned
to the blue couch.
Just then Doggo ushered into the room, with great deference, four
ant-men slightly smaller than himself, but more refined looking than he,
if one can appreciate such differences among ants. That is, they were
more slender and delicate, like machines built for precision rather than
for strength.
They evidently were a bit afraid of me, for after eyeing me furtively
from the door they appeared to confer with Doggo, though not an audible
word passed between them. To assure them that I was perfectly harmless,
Doggo walked over to me and permitted himself to be patted; after which
the committee drew near and inspected me carefully, agitating their
antennae at each newly discovered peculiarity.
They appeared chiefly perplexed by my forehead and my back, to examine
which, they lifted up my toga. They counted my fingers several times,
and then counted my toes.
But the thing about me which amazed them the most was my ears. These
they studied for a long time, with much inaudible consultation, as I
judged by the motions of their antennae.
Finally they took their departure, and Doggo came to me bristling with
excitement, and apparently having much important information to impart;
but, alas, he did not know my language, and he had no language at all. I
patted him again, but this time it did not soothe him, for he broke away
from me impatiently and returned to his station by the door.
Left to myself, I fell to studying the meter again, watching the
counter-clockwise rotation of its hands. Even the _left_ pointer had
moved a bit since early morning.
Now I noticed, what I might have surmised on the analogy of an earthly
gas meter, that each graduation of the central dial represented one
complete revolution of the pointer on its right; and this principle
presumably extended to the dial on its left. Then I counted
chim_pan_zees again, and found that the right hand pointer was still
rotating counterclockwise at the rate of about fifty chim_pan_zees per
graduation. Counter_clock_wise! Why, perhaps this machine was a _clock_!
I made a hasty mental calculation: “One graduation equals fifty seconds.
Twelve graduations—one complete rotation—equal six hundred seconds—ten
minutes. Thus one graduation of the middle dial represents ten minutes,
and its complete circuit, represents two hours. By the same token, a
complete circuit of the left dial would represent twenty-four hours—one
day!”
My guess was apparently correct.
At that time it did not occur to me as strange that a day on this planet
should be twenty-four hours as on earth.
The figure to the left of the top of each dial was a single horizontal
line, presumably standing for unity; for a single line, either
horizontal or vertical, is the almost universal symbol for unity.
“Then,” said I, “the next figures must be two, the next figure three,
and so on around to twelve. Eureka! I can now count up to twelve with
these creatures; thus establishing, in writing at least, the beginning
of a possible basis of communication.”
Eager to test my newfound knowledge, I beckoned to Doggo. He came to my
side.
Scratching the ant figure five upon the floor with a small pebble which
I found in a corner—for I could not reach the dials to point to their
figures—I held up five fingers. The effect was electrical. Greatly
excited, Doggo rushed to the door. But, pausing on the threshold, he
returned; held up three legs, looking at me almost beseechingly, as I
thought; and, when I wrote an ant figure three on the floor, his joy
knew no bounds. He patted me on the side of my head for a moment, to
show his appreciation, and then rushed once more from the room.
And now, for the first time, I was left unguarded, but I had no thought
of escape; in the first place, because it would be unfair to my friend;
and in the second place because escape merely from the room would be
useless.
Presently Doggo returned with the committee of four, and put me through
my paces. He would hold up a certain number of legs, and I would scratch
the corresponding character upon the pavement. Finally, as a crowning
stunt, I wrote down five and six, pointed to them, and then wrote down
eleven. The committee were much impressed.
Then Doggo had me put on and take off my toga for them. Evidently he was
trying to convince them I was a reasoning human being like themselves,
though what the disrobing performance had to do with it I could not see
for the life of me.
At last the committee left, and after that a very nice luncheon was
served; more green milk, some baked cakes and honey. Real honest to
goodness honey, like we have on earth. You can’t appreciate how these
little touches of similarity to good old _terra firma_ appealed to me,
thoroughly homesick after three whole days’ absence.
After luncheon, Doggo brought me a pad of paper and a pointed stick like
a skewer, with its tip incased in some lead-like metal. This stick could
thus be used as a pencil. He himself was similarly equipped, except that
his pencil had a strap for attachment to his left front claw. The
difference between the two pencils attracted my attention and excited my
wonder, but I could not account for it.
Instruction began at once. I would point to some object; Doggo would
make marks on his pad; and then I would copy them on mine, adding the
name in English. These additions puzzled and annoyed my instructor; but
I persisted, for otherwise I might forget the meaning of his scratch
marks.
When a vocabulary of about twenty concrete nouns had been accumulated,
Doggo took away my sheet, and then pointed to the articles in turn,
while I wrote down their ant names, as well as I could remember them.
Fortunately I have a good visual memory, for I was no more able to
invent sounds for the ant words, than I would have been able to read
aloud a Chinese laundry ticket.
After several hours of this absorbing sport, Doggo produced a book! With
rare presence of mind, I figured that as ant-men wrote with their left
hands and had counterclockwise clocks, their books would probably begin
at the wrong end; so accordingly I opened at the back. And, sure enough,
the last page was numbered one. This proof of my intelligence pleased my
instructor greatly.
On page one was a picture of an ant-man. Under it was printed the word
which Doggo had given me as equivalent to himself. Next came the same
word, followed by a strange word. Then these two words were repeated,
followed by two others.
Reasoning by the analogy of my primary school days at home, I decided
that these words were: “Ant-man. An ant-man. This is an ant-man.” But I
was wrong, for on this basis, the next line made no sense; for, reading
from right to left the next line would be: “An ant-man is this.”
Oh, I had it! “Ant-man. The ant-man. I see the ant-man. The ant-man sees
me.” To test it, I wrote down the word for “I,” and pointed to myself.
Doggo, who had been watching me intently as I studied the page, now
showed unmistakable signs of pleasure at this evidence of my
intelligence; and, departing, soon returned with a large furry
beetlelike creature about two feet square, called a “buntlote”—so I
learned later—which he set on the floor before me with every expectation
of extreme gratitude on my part. I tried to appear grateful; but could
not figure out what I was supposed to do with the beast!
The buntlote, however, had much more definite views on the subject, for
he ambled over to me and patted me on the side with one of his front
paws. I looked inquiringly at Doggo, who indicated that I was supposed
to feed the buntlote with some of the remains of my luncheon, which was
still on the couch.
The buntlote, after satisfying his hunger, curled up in a corner and
went to sleep, whereupon I returned to my studies. Evidently ant-men
kept pets the same as humans; but whether this buntlote was supposed to
be a dog, or a cat, or what, I did not know.
Doggo then taught me how to write “buntlote,” and the words for food,
mouth, and eat—my first verb, by the way—and so on.
By supper time I was in a position to carry on a very elementary
conversation with my instructor, but only by pad and pencil, of course,
for not a word nor a sound had I ever heard him utter.
And since their speech was not articulate, their written language could
not, of course, be phonetic. It must be ideographic, like the Chinese.
The fact that each word consisted in but a single character lent color
to this surmise.
And yet I noticed that all of the characters which I had so far learned
could be decomposed into distinguishable parts, and that there were only
about thirty of these parts in the aggregate. This fact certainly
pointed to a _phonetic_ alphabet of thirty _sounds_, for it was
inconceivable that these highly cultivated animals possessed only thirty
_ideas_. And yet how could an unspoken language be phonetic? I gave up
the puzzle.
Supper came, the lights went on, and my buntlote uncurled and ambled
over to be fed. I decided to regard him as a cat, and so named him
Tabby.
At this meal Doggo joined me, and as we ate, my attention was again
attracted to the white marks on his back, which to my surprise I now
noticed were exactly like those on the clock. They must be his license
number: “334-2-18.”
If the large figures represented his license number, I thought, what did
the small figures stand for? The license numbers of the cars he had run
into, perhaps? I little guessed how near this came to being the truth.
That night I went to bed well satisfied with my progress. But, alas,
although Doggo proved to be an indefatigable teacher, I did not get on
so well during the succeeding days.
But I did make progress in one thing however; namely, in acquiring a
beard. Although facilities for washing and bathing were provided in a
little alcove off my room, and although a fresh toga was forthcoming
from time to time, yet my captors did not furnish either a razor or a
mirror. Of course ants have nothing to shave, and they cannot be blamed
for not caring to look at themselves in the glass. I tried my best to
explain to Doggo what I wanted, but it was no use.
If this manuscript is ever discovered, let the reader try to figure out
how to explain by sign language to a person who has never seen either a
razor or a looking glass, that you want them.
When the beard got well under way, the committee of four were recalled
to view it. They were even more impressed with my beard than they had
been with my ears, and made frequent visits to take notes on its growth.
This convinced me that they had never before seen any men, or at least
any unneat ones, and so my hope for human companionship received another
blow. Yet if there were no men on this planet, how account for the fact
that when I drew a sketch of a table and a chair these were at once
forthcoming, together with a written name for each?
Of course all my time was not spent in lessons. Sometimes I played with
Tabby and sometimes I took long walks. Gradually I became more of a
guest than a prisoner or even a curiosity, and so I was given the run of
the entire city, which was built as one large connected house; a
veritable jumble of rooms, passageways, ramps and courtyards.
But this freedom nearly proved my undoing.
One day when I had strolled unusually far from my own quarters, I met my
old enemy, Satan, in one of the courtyards. Instinctively I shrank back,
but he gave every indication of wishing to be friendly, even to the
extent of turning his head on one side to be patted. Distasteful as the
act was to me, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor,
and so patted him gingerly.
Apparently as a reward for this service, he beckoned me to follow him.
And so I did, through many a winding corridor. Our way finally led to
the outskirts of the city, to a grating guarded by a sentinel, whom
Satan promptly relieved. When the old guard had gone, Satan, to my great
surprise, opened the gate and motioned me to step out.
This was indeed a favor, for, although I had been able to get plenty of
fresh air in the courtyard flower gardens and on the roofs, yet I had
felt cramped and restrained, and had longed for the freedom of a run in
the open fields. So, patting him again, to show my gratitude, I rushed
out and turned several handsprings for joy on the silver sward.
As I regained my feet, what should I see to my dismay but a squad of
ant-men issuing from the gate and rushing toward me at full speed, with
Satan at their head, his savage jaws snapping with hate. I stood
astounded for a moment, and then turned and fled.
At an earthly speed of running a man would have little hope of
distancing one of these creatures, but the added buoyancy of this
strange planet gave me a slight advantage over them, until I had the
misfortune to stub my toe on something and fall. Whereupon the pack
closed over me.
The fall stunned me, and as my brain darkened, I felt the sharp
mandibles of my enemy fasten upon my throat.
_5_
a vision
The full measure of Satan’s perfidy was now evident. Under the guise of
pretended friendship he had lured me to the city gate and had persuaded
me to step outside. Then hastily calling a detachment of the guard, he
had informed them that I had escaped. He had led them in pursuit of me,
and my flight had furnished sufficient verification of his accusation.
So now, I was entirely in his power. He was free to kill me without fear
of the consequences, for the whole squad would back up his story that I
had fled and that he had been forced to slay me for the purpose of
preventing my escape.
Why he did not bite me at once and end my life I do not know. Perhaps he
wished first to gloat over me. At any rate, after I came out of my daze,
he loosened his hold on my throat and, planting his front feet upon my
prostrate body, threw his head aloft, as if singing a paean of victory,
although of course no sound came.
Then suddenly he sprang away from me entirely. And now I discovered the
meaning and use of the peculiar green weapons which every ant-man
carried slung in a holster at his side when out of doors. These supposed
weapons were nothing more nor less than green umbrellas which Satan and
the others were now hastily putting up in very evident terror.
Sitting up weakly, I tried to figure out what had so frightened them as
to cause them to desist abruptly from their attack on me. But I could
discern nothing except a patch of sunlight, the very first I had seen,
by the way, since my advent on the planet. My late antagonists were
apparently watching this—to me—very pleasant sight, with every
indication of extreme fear. Looking above, I saw a small bit of blue
sky.
The patch of sunlight passed close by me and proceeded toward a small
herd of green cows who were grazing near by. And, as it passed among
them, the shifting of their feet stopped, and every cow on whom the
light had rested shuddered, wilted and dropped in evident agony upon the
ground.
Then I realized that this planet must be very close to the center of the
solar system, and protected from the intense heat of the sun only by the
dense, silvery clouds which surrounded it. I was now nearly certain, as
I had surmised before from the prevailing silver-gray and the gravity
slightly less than that on earth, that this must be the planet Venus.
I was still gazing abstractedly at the stricken cows in the wake of the
solar heat, when I was rudely called to my senses by the ant pack
closing over me once more. And once again the mandibles of Satan
fastened on my throat.
But the best laid plans of mice and men—and even _ant_-men—gang aft
aglee. With all his clever scheming, Satan had made one fatal mistake:
he had reckoned without the faithful Doggo. As Satan’s jaws were about
to pierce my jugular, again he dropped me, and stood at attention, as if
in response to a peremptory command from a military superior. I looked
up and saw that the rest of the guard were also standing at attention,
while rapidly approaching up from the city gate came my old friend,
Doggo, with antennae erect and quivering. Once more he had saved my
life.
How I regretted the blows which I had struck him in the fight at the
beach on my first day upon this planet, and how glad I was that his had
not been the head which I had severed in that spirited encounter.
Presently, as if in response to another command, Satan slunk away, and
the squad of ant soldiers returned to the city, while Doggo came and
stood solicitously at my side. When I had rested sufficiently I rose to
my feet, and together we returned to my quarters.
It was time for my lesson, but I was in no mood for study, so I gloomily
pushed the books and papers to one side and went and stood by one of the
windows, gazing aimlessly at the beautiful garden below.
It is always darkest before dawn. As I stood there at the window, with
my spirits at a low ebb, there came to my eyes a vision which changed
the entire course of my life.
For, crossing the courtyard below me, was what seemed to be a human
being! Here at last was some one for me to talk to!
But was it a human being, after all? He, or she, or it, stopped just in
front of my window, and began daintily to pluck a bouquet of flowers, so
that I had ample opportunity to study the creature. It wore a blue and
white toga, similar to the one which the ant-man had furnished me. And
now I saw the reason for the slits in the back, for through them
protruded a pair of tiny rudimentary butterfly wings of iridescent
pearly hue.
The complexion of this dainty creature was a softer pink and white than
ever I had seen on any baby. Its hair was closely cropped and curly and
brilliantly golden. But the most attractive thing about it was the
graceful way in which it swayed and pirouetted, as if before a mirror
there unless in its own imagination. This pirouetting led me to suppose
that the creature whether human or not, was probably feminine.
Is there any more beautiful sight in the world, or in any world for that
matter, than a beautiful girl admiring herself and preening herself, and
acting altogether natural and girlish, when she thinks that she is alone
and unobserved?
But was this a girl? She was pretty enough to be an angel, or a fairy,
and the little wings suggested something along that line.
Then I began to notice certain other things about her which puzzled me.
In the first place, she had an extra little finger on each hand, and six
toes on each of her bare little feet, yet this fact did not in the least
detract from their dainty slimness. Then, too, there projected from her
forehead two tiny antennae, such as one sees on pictures of elves. Also
she apparently had no ears. Anyhow, the lack of ears was hardly
noticeable, though the absence of the little pink tip just barely
showing below the edge of short hair, did give a slightly unfinished
look to that part of her head.
Antennae and wings! This must be either a fairy, or some new and
beautiful kind of creature.
She bore such a close resemblance to a human being, that my lonely
spirit was cheered by the thought that at last there was a possibility
of speech and human companionship on this planet.
So intent had I been on drinking in this vision of beauty below my
window that I had not noticed Doggo approach me and place himself at my
side. I was terribly fearful lest the girl should go away without my
finding out who she was and how I might see her again. So, forgetting my
manners and even the fact that she was of an unknown race, I plucked up
sufficient courage to address her.
“My dear young lady,” I began; but I got no further, for without
noticing me in the least, she picked up her flowers and left the
courtyard. Then I turned, and there was Doggo standing beside me. So he,
too, had seen the fairy!
Seizing my pad and paper I wrote: “What is that?”
And he replied: “It is a Cupian.”
“Are there many Cupians?” I wrote.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Am I a Cupian?” I asked.
His answer: “We do not know. It puzzles us.”
That afternoon I made more progress with my studies than I had made in
weeks. For now I was no longer fitting myself merely for a bare
existence in an ant civilization; but rather I was preparing for
communication with—and I hoped, life among—creatures closely resembling
my own kind.
The beautiful Cupian was evidently, like the ant-men, devoid of hearing.
Apparently she lived here in the ant city, and so undoubtedly understood
the ant language.
But to make sure, I asked Doggo on my pad: “Do Cupians read and write
this kind of writing?”
And he answered: “Yes.”
At this I certainly did tackle my work with a vim. It was clear now that
if I wished to communicate with her, I must perfect myself in the
written language of the ants; and so I set myself assiduously to the
task.
Every day at about the same hour she came and picked the blue and yellow
flowers and the red and purple twig knobs of the garden below my window.
And every day I sat in the window and watched her, and racked my brains
for some tactful way in which to attract her attention.
Of course I raised the question with Doggo, but he kept putting me off
by saying, in substance: “It is not yet time.”
This I took to mean that I could not yet write fluently enough to
converse with her, and so I redoubled my efforts at my studies.
So rapid was my progress now, under the spur of my desire for human
companionship, that within a very few days I was able to graduate from
my primers and read real books.
One of the first real books which they brought me was a history of their
world; and this interested me greatly, as it furnished a setting for the
experiences which shortly were to crowd upon me. The book confirmed my
theory that this world was the silver planet, Venus.
Finally I reached a point where my interest was such that I could not
wait to wade further through the voluminous pages; so, taking my pad and
pencil I asked Doggo: “Tell me briefly about the more recent events on
Poros.” For so they called the planet, though of course, I did not yet
know the sound of this word, nor even whether it had a sound. “Tell me
more particularly about the great war.”
“Well,” he replied, also in writing, of course, “A little over five
hundred years ago the entire inhabited part of the planet Poros, that is
to say the continent which is surrounded by the boiling sea, was divided
up into twenty or more warring kingdoms of Cupians and one small
queendom of ant-men, namely Formia.
“The Formians, who were possessed of all the virtues, became more and
more vexed with the increasing degeneracy of their neighbors, until, for
purely altruistic reasons, the Formians began a conquest to extend their
culture.
“When the first convenient excuse offered, we declared war on one of the
Cupian nations, which we proceeded to attack through the territory of a
neutral state.”
“But wasn’t this wrong?” I interjected.
He admitted: “I suppose that you are right and that it really was a
violation of all treaties and of the solemn customs of the planet. But
it was all in a noble cause.
“The other nations did not have sense enough,” he continued “to rally to
combat the common menace, and so the Formians gradually conquered them
one by one, until at last Formia was mistress of all Poros.
“There must have been some very able statesmen in the Imperial Council
at that time, judging by the terms imposed by our conquering nation. We
erected a fence, or ‘pale,’ across the middle of the entire continent;
and all the Cupians, regardless of their former boundaries, were
organized into a single nation to the north of this pale. The nation was
named Cupia, after the creatures who composed it, and Kew the First was
made its king.”
Kew, so I later gathered from the book, was a renegade Cupian, who had
always greatly admired the conquerors, and had even gone so far as to
assist them in their conquest.
“The ant-men,” Doggo went on, “took over all the territory to the south
of the pale, and prospered greatly. We were naturally a more industrious
race than the sport-loving Cupians, and now had in addition the services
of slaves, for by the terms of the Treaty of Mooni, every male Cupian
upon coming of age has to labor for two years in Formia.
“There have followed nearly five hundred years of peace, a peace of
force, it is true, and yet a peace under which both countries had
enjoyed prosperity; in recognition of which fact the anniversary of the
signing of the treaty is annually celebrated throughout the continent.
“The present reigning monarch of Cupia is Kew the Twelfth, the first
after a long line of docile kings to give us any trouble in the
enforcement of the treaty; but even he keeps within the law.
“The statutes of Cupia are enacted by a popular Assembly, while those of
Formia are promulgated by an appointive Council of Twelve; but the laws
of both countries must receive the approval of the Queen of Formia.”
Such were the salient features of the recent history of Poros.
Every day I watched for the fair Cupian at the appointed hour. I learned
to know her every feature and every curve of her supple girlish body. I
noted that her eyes were azure blue. I noticed the dainty way in which
the tip of her little pink tongue just touched each edible red twig knob
which she placed between her lips, and many another individual
mannerism.
A great many beautiful girls have I met in the course of my brief
existence. Boston society need yield the palm to none on this score. Yet
I had gone to all the teas and dinners and dances perfunctorily, merely
because it was done; and had always regarded women as an awful bore.
How few women are interested in radio engineering, for instance, or even
have a sympathetic feeling for it!
But now all was changed, and I didn’t in the least care whether or not
_this_ girl was interested in radio engineering, or _what_ she was
interested in; provided I could eventually interest her in me. For I
longed for human companionship.
Of course on days when tropical thunderstorms swept the city, as
happened frequently, I did not expect her. But on such days I missed
this, my one contact with humanity, and felt vaguely uneasy.
Yet I did not fully realize how much even these daily visits of hers to
my garden had come to mean to me, until one perfectly pleasant day, when
the Cupian girl failed to show up at the expected hour.
I waited and waited, and fretted and fretted, but still she did not
come. Doggo was unable to offer any consolation, and my lessons went
very badly.
The next day the committee of four made one of their visits of
inspection. I had now progressed far enough in my mastery of their
language so that Doggo was able to explain to me the reason for the
existence of this committee.
“These four,” wrote he, “are the professors of biology, anatomy,
agriculture, and eugenics from the University of Mooni, the center of
education of all Poros. Immediately upon your capture, this committee
was speedily dispatched by the university authorities to make a thorough
study of you. They were to determine whether you are a Cupian or some
new and strange kind of beast, and whether your particular breed could
be put to any good use.”
“How interesting,” I wrote on my pad. “And have they reached any
conclusions?”
“It is for _them_ to question _you_,” he replied. “Come, I will write
down, for you to answer, the things they wish to know.”
So then, through the medium of Doggo’s pad, they questioned me at length
about myself, the earth, how I had come to Poros, and my progress since
landing. But their procedure mystified me. How did Doggo know what they
wanted him to say? Was he a mind reader?
When they had asked me all they cared, they gathered together in a
corner, apparently holding an inaudible conference on the results.
It was evident that there was something of great moment in the air.
And so there was, for presently they withdrew and returned with the
young girl, the girl whose presence on this planet had inspired me to
master at last the ant language!
Eagerly I sprang forward with my stylus and paper, anxious to start a
conversation with this fair creature. And then I was halted by the sight
of her face.
To my dying day nothing can ever wipe from my memory the deeply engraved
picture of the look of absolute horror and loathing which she gave me,
as she recoiled from the contamination of my presence. Then she fainted
dead away, and was carried out by the four professors.
Oh, how I longed for her, the one human-like creature that I had seen on
Poros, and yet what an impassable gulf separated us! The gulf between
the understandings and mentalities and means of communication of two
distinct worlds! I was determined, nevertheless, to see her again. But
how? That was the question!
_6_
radio plays its part
I have already told you how dismayed I was at the horror displayed by
the pretty Cupian when she was led into my presence. It is neither
flattering nor reassuring to have a lady register fear and disgust upon
seeing you for the first time. It is even worse if the lady happens to
be the most divinely beautiful creature you have ever seen; and still
more unbearable if she happens to furnish the one human touch on an
entire planet.
Yet, was she to be blamed?
I was heavily bearded, whereas male Cupians, so Doggo said, wore their
hair on the top half of their heads only. I had peculiar mushroomy
growths—my ears—on the sides of my face. I had one finger too few on
each hand, and one toe too few on each foot. And I was devoid of
antennae.
Altogether I must have looked like a strange and ferocious wild beast,
all the more repulsive because of its resemblance to a Cupian being. And
if I had then known what I do now as to the reason why she had been
brought to my quarters, I should have been even more sympathetic with
her viewpoint.
But, although her horror was entirely justified, this fact in no way
mitigated my chagrin. With great care I drafted a letter of apology
which I sent to her by Doggo, only to have her return it unopened, with
the statement that Cupian ladies had nothing to do with the lower
beasts.
Oh, if I could only talk, if she could only hear my words, I felt sure
that I could break down her hostility. How did these creatures
communicate, anyhow? They undoubtedly had some means, for had I not seen
Doggo halt Satan when the latter had been about to kill me? And had I
not seen Doggo place on paper the questions which the four professors
had wished to ask of me?
And then I remembered the speculations of some earth scientists, which
had been running in the newspapers shortly before my departure from that
sphere. The opinion had been expressed that insects communicate by very
short length radio waves. I had made a note to investigate this subject
later, but at that time I had been too engrossed with my machine for the
transmission of matter to be able to give the question of insect speech
more than a mere passing thought. It had not crossed my mind again
until, immediately after my sad meeting with the beautiful Cupian, I was
racking my brains for some means of talking with her.
Radio! The very thing!
How strange that I, a radio engineer, whose life was the capture and
subjugation of the Hertzian wave, should have missed this solution for
so long!
The solution certainly was plausible: If fireflies can produce a
ninety-five per cent efficient light, and if electric eels can generate
a current sufficient to kill a horse, why should not an insect be able
to send out and receive radio messages over short distances? If animals
can create light and electricity in their bodies, why can they not
create radio? Perhaps Doggo could enlighten me.
“Doggo,” wrote I, only I called him by his number, 334-2-18, instead of
Doggo, “can ant-men and Cupians communicate in any way other than
writing?”
“Of course they can,” he replied. “They use their antennae to talk and
to hear.”
Or “to send and to receive”; I don’t know just which way to translate
the words which he used, but I caught his meaning.
“In my world,” I wrote, “people send with their mouths, and receive with
their ears. Let me show you how.”
So speaking a few words aloud, I wrote on my pad: “That constitutes our
kind of sending.”
But he shook his head, for he hadn’t received a single word.
He then sent, and of course this time it was I who failed to receive.
But at least we had made a beginning in interplanetary communication,
for we had each tried to communicate. Was it not strange that all this
time, while I had been accusing the inhabitants of this planet of
deafness and dumbness, they had been making the same accusation against
me?
At this moment the electric lights went on, and they gave me an
inspiration.
Pointing at them, I wrote: “Where are those things made? Is there a
department at the university devoted to that subject?”
He answered: “There is a department of electricity at Mooni, with an
electrical factory attached to the department.”
“That,” I said, “was my line of work on earth. Do you suppose that you
could take me to Mooni? If you could, I believe that I can construct
electrical antennae which will turn your kind of message into my kind,
and _vice versa_, thus enabling us actually to talk together.”
“I doubt very much,” he replied, “whether anything you do will ever
enable you to talk or to hear, for you have no antennae. Of course no
one can either talk or hear without antennae. But there will certainly
be no harm in giving you a chance to try.”
So a petition was drawn up and signed by Doggo and me, humbly begging
the Council of Twelve to assent to my transfer. In due course of time,
the professor of anatomy—of the four professors who had so often
examined me—visited us again, bringing with him a new ant-man, the
professor of electricity. They were both very skeptical of my theories,
but were glad to assist in obtaining my transfer, as that would give
them better facilities for studying me, and also an opportunity to
exhibit me to the students.
There seemed to be some doubt, however, as to the advisability of taking
me away from the beautiful girl. But the reason for this I could not
guess at that time, as I was sure that the farther away I was, the
better it would certainly suit her.
Before the two ant professors left, I wrote for them the still
unanswered question: “What conclusions have been reached as to the sort
of animal I am?”
They replied: “The majority opinion is that you must have come from some
other continent overseas. The presence of the boiling ocean, which
entirely surrounds continental Poros, has prevented us Porovians from
ever exploring the rest of our world. And even the airplanes do not dare
penetrate the steam clouds which overhang the sea.
“But there is a tradition that a strange race, something like the
Cupians, live beyond the waves. You must be one of that race, since it
is inconceivable that you could have come from another planet.
“A minority, however, are of the opinion that passage across the boiling
seas is just as absurd, no more and no less, than a trip through
interplanetary space, and this minority are inclined to give credence to
the theory that you come from Minos, the planet next further from the
sun.”
In other words, the Earth.
All this conversation was in writing, of course, and was very slow and
tedious. From their statements I gathered that the professor of anatomy
was one of the minority; so I gave him some evidence to support his
point of view.
“Things weigh more where I come from,” wrote I, “and in my world a year
consists of 265 days.”
This was, of course, in duodecimal notation. The 265 in Porovian
notation means (2 × 144) plus (6 × 12) plus 5, which equals 365 in earth
notation. Because of the twelve fingers, the Cupians count in twelves,
and the Formians have adopted the same system.
My statements about the earth impressed him greatly, and confirmed his
belief that I was a Minorian.
Then the professors withdrew, after promising to assist in trying to
obtain my transfer.
While waiting for the decision of the Council of Twelve, time would have
hung heavy on my hands if Doggo had not thoughtfully procured for me a
book entitled “Electricity for the Newly Hatched.” Of course I needed no
instruction in elementary electricity, nor even in _advanced_
electricity, but I _did_ need an introduction to the technical terms and
electrical symbols of the ant language. And this the book gave me.
The council were a long time in deciding, for many important matters
were pending, and my petition had to await its regular turn. At last,
however, Doggo brought me the joyful news that my transfer to the
University of Mooni had been approved, and that he was to be permitted
to accompany me.
I saw the beautiful girl only once more before my departure. She came to
my courtyard to pick flowers, as she had regularly done before the fatal
day of our meeting. But this time she noticed my presence at the window,
and hastily left the garden with her head tossed high and a disdainful
sneer on her lips.
This made me more determined than ever to make good in my new venture.
The day of departure finally arrived, and Doggo and I prepared to make
the trip. I took Tabby, while Doggo took a strange animal of a sort I
had never seen before. I had never known that Doggo had a pet, but have
since learned that an excess of pets is one of the worst vices of the
Formians. In fact, one of their professors who has devoted his life to
the subject, reports that the Formians possess some fifteen hundred
species of domesticated animals, many of which do not exist at all in a
wild state, and most of which have absolutely no practical use.
Doggo’s little beast was a mathlab, closely resembling a rabbit in size
and appearance, except that it had antennae instead of ears, and had
brick-red fur. These creatures are very docile and affectionate, but
breed rapidly, and thus are not so expensive nor so much esteemed as
some of the rarer varieties of beetle such as Tabby.
A closely related animal, slightly larger, black in color, and not so
tame, is kept for its flesh, and also for its eggs, which are a staple
article of Porovian diet. In their wild state both species are preyed
upon by a fierce carnivore named the woofus, so that their great
fecundity is all that saves them from absolute extinction.
Mooni lies about one hundred stads east of Wautoosa, the city where I
had been residing. The journey was made in a kerkool, a two-wheeled
automobile, whose balance is maintained by a pair of rapidly rotating
gyroscopes, driven by the same motor which propels the vehicle. The
fuel, as I later learned, is a synthetic liquid resembling alcohol, and
supposed to be extremely poisonous.
There were no seats, for ant-men do not sit down, but a chair for me had
thoughtfully been added to the equipment. The chauffeur, or kerko as
they call him, wore goggles very much like those used on the earth, and
similar pairs were provided for Doggo and me.
The trip was easily and pleasantly made in about one Porovian hour.
The way lay through rolling fields, where grazed herds of green cows
guarded by huge spiders; and through fragrant woods, where I saw many
strange animals, taken unawares by the swift approach of our kerkool.
Many questions were on the tip of my pencil, but conversation was
difficult, for the motion of the kerkool jiggled my pad.
At Mooni there was a large crowd of ant-men awaiting our arrival, and
mingled with them were many Cupians, the first that I had seen other
than the girl at Wautoosa. They were a handsome race, and I began to
wonder what chance I could possibly have in competition with them as an
aspirant for the hand of one of their women, even if I were to shave,
grow wings and antennae, and cut off my ears. Their complexions ranged
from pink-and-white to tan; and their hair, sometimes close and
sometimes curly, ran through all the colors of human hair.
The ant professor of electricity met us at the city gate, and introduced
me to the crowd with a few inaudible remarks, which were received in
silence. Then he showed me to my quarters, where I had a chance to wash
up, put on a clean toga, and take a much-needed rest.
That evening a dinner was given in my honor at a large banquet hall. At
the head table stood the president of the ant university, the committee
of four ant-men who had examined me so often, the ant professor of
electricity, a visiting Cupian professor, Doggo, and myself. At the
other tables stood other and lesser members of the faculty, and students
both Cupian and Formian.
I was the cynosure of all eyes, and—so Doggo informed me in writing—the
subject of most of the speeches. I had to take his word for it that
there were speeches; for, so far as I could tell, not a word was said. I
could not even watch the speaker rise and give his talk, for all were
already standing.
Altogether it was a very dull occasion for me, in spite of my being the
lion of the evening. Besides, I was eager to be done with the
preliminaries, and get busy with my real work.
The food was plenteous and varied. Among the dishes which I remember
were a highly seasoned stew of the red lobster-like parasite which
afflicts the aphids, minced wild mathlab with mathlab egg sauce, and
something resembling mushrooms, only not so rich.
Several of the Cupian maidens in the audience made eyes at me. Not that
they thought me prepossessing with my big black beard, but rather in
much the same spirit that would induce an earth maiden to flirt with a
gorilla in a cage, just to see what effect it would have on the beast.
It had absolutely no effect on me, for the picture of the girl at
Wautoosa was ever present in my mind.
So I was glad when the banquet was over and I could go to my room, and
my bed, and pleasant dreams in which a Cupian damsel and I walked hand
in hand through a roseate future.
No guard was placed over me at Mooni, but Doggo shared my room.
The next morning I was inducted into the laboratory. The critical point
of my career had arrived. Was I to succeed and become a nine days’
wonder and perhaps distinguish myself sufficiently to find favor in the
eyes of the beautiful girl at Wautoosa, or was I to fail and return
discredited? Heaven only knew; but time would tell.
The ant superintendent of the laboratory assigned me a bench, a kit of
tools, and two Cupian slaves as assistants. He was most deferential and
did all that he could to help me, but my handicaps were many. I was not
versed in their electrical machinery. I was unaccustomed to their tools,
which looked for all the world as though they had been copied from the
monstrosities which appear weekly in the Official Gazette of the United
States Patent Office. All my conversations with either superiors or
subordinates had to be carried on in writing, in a strange language,
which I had only just recently and just barely mastered.
But, worst of all, most of my time had to be devoted to appearing before
classes as a horrible example of what nature can do in an off moment, to
being examined both physically and in writing by committees of
scientists, to entertainments staged in my honor, and sight-seeing about
the city.
My hosts were determined to do everything in their power to make me
enjoy my visit; when if they had but known it, my only desire was to
devote myself to my self-appointed task, so that I could speedily return
to Wautoosa, which held all that was dear to me on this planet.
From time to time I would inquire about her of Doggo, and he would
assure me that she was due to stay indefinitely at Wautoosa, and would
certainly be there upon my return.
In spite of vexatious interruptions, my work gradually progressed. I
found that although all electric current on Poros is derived from
dynamos of a multisolenoidal oscillating type, and although batteries
are unknown, yet the Porovians do possess efficient storage batteries,
in which a very large amount of current can be stored in a very small
space. These I used for my A batteries.
For my B and C batteries I constructed dry cells, to the amazement of my
associates, who could not figure out where the current came from. Even
though my main experiment failed, this feat of plucking electricity out
of nowhere, as it were, would make my fame secure on Poros.
The sight-seeing trips included the various factories, each under the
control of the appropriate university department. For the Formians are
well skilled in all the arts, although the fine work has to be done by
Cupian slaves, whose fingers are more efficient than the claws of the
ant-men. Only practical arts are employed in Formia, although the
Cupians go in for painting, sculpture, architecture, _et cetera_.
I slung the three batteries on a belt about my waist. This belt also
carried a tube and my tuning apparatus, of a particularly selective type
which I had designed on earth, and for which I now have a United States
patent pending, unless my patent attorneys have abandoned it through
want of word from me.
I now adapted this design to an unusually short wave length, in order to
comply with what I remembered to be the speculations of earth scientists
on the method of insect communication. My tubes were of the Indestructo
type invented by me on earth, or they never could have withstood my
subsequent adventures.
From a skull cap I suspended two earphones and a microphone, and on top
of the cap I mounted a small pancake coil. The microphone gave me more
trouble than any other part of the set, as carbon of the exact sort
required seemed hard to get on Poros. But finally, after testing several
hundred other materials, I hit upon a very common light silvery metal
which did just as well. This metal I am unable to identify, but I think
that it is one of the platinum group, more probably osmium.
I spent four months of earth time in the laboratories of Mooni, growing
more and more homesick for Wautoosa. If it had not been for the
consoling assurances of the faithful Doggo, I do not believe that I
could have stood it, so many were the interruptions to my work.
Of all the diversions offered me, only one interested me at all, and
that was the Zoo, or gr-ool—_i.e._, animal place—as they termed it. And
the most amusing part of the gr-ool was the monkey house. Of course
there are no monkeys on Poros, but I refer to this place as a monkey
house, because that is what it would correspond to on earth.
Here were kept specimens of all the wild species of ant known on the
planet. Except in size and color, I could discover no features which
would distinguish any of them from the ant-men.
One day, seeing my interest, Doggo wrote down for me:
“Some of the species are very intelligent, so much so that they were
formerly bred in large quantities for slaves, before the treaty of Mooni
supplied Formia with a superior substitute.”
“Did it ever occur to anyone,” I asked, “that these creatures might be
either immature or degenerate Formians?”
He was horrified.
“These wild ants,” he explained, “are the basis of one of the great
intellectual disputes of this planet—namely, as to whether or not we are
merely a superior species of ants, or whether we are an entirely
distinct type of being, specially created, and not a part of the animal
kingdom at all.
“Most of the university men hold that we are related to these brutes,
and this is likewise the more modern view. But fortunately there is an
influential body of opinion, high in the politics of this country, which
considers that such a view is too degrading to admit of acceptance. And
accordingly the Council of Twelve is even now seriously considering a
law intended to prohibit the teaching of this dangerous doctrine.”
“How about the Cupians?” I asked. “Have they any such evolutionary
problem?”
“No,” he wrote, “fortunately for them, they have no problem of
evolution, for they are the only non-egg-laying creatures on Poros, and
so do not regard themselves even as mammals.”
Whereat I wondered to myself whether it was not probable that it was
this distinctiveness of the Cupians which had inspired the jealous
Formians to deny their own obvious kinship to the ants.
In addition to the gr-ool I frequently visited the stuffed specimens in
the museum of their Department of Biology.
The absence of any birds either here or at the gr-ool, perplexed me,
until I reflected that birds are merely a specialized form of flying
lizards on my own earth, and that their occurrence even on earth was
merely a not-to-have-been-expected accident. Creatures similar to
pterodactyls were among the extinct species on exhibit at Mooni, but
birds had never been known on Poros, although I could have sworn to
having seen some sort of small bird flitting in tandem pairs in the
woods on my second day on the planet.
But to get back to radio. By the way, that is how I always felt during
my trips to the gr-ool and my other diversions: oh, to get back to
radio!
One of the Cupian slaves who was assisting me turned out to be Prince
Toron, second nephew of King Kew XII. Toron’s older brother, Yuri, was
the crown prince, as the king was a widower and childless, except for a
daughter, Lilla. Toron’s term of slavery was nearly completed, and he
was anxious to return to Cupia; where a day’s work was only two parths,
or Porovian hours, instead of five as prevailed here.
Think of the degradation of having a prince of the royal house of Cupia
held as a slave in the factories of an alien race! Think of the further
degradation involved in the fact that no one saw anything improper in
the situation! They even celebrated annually, as Peace Day, the
anniversary of the treaty which had imposed this indignity upon them.
“Toron,” I wrote one day, “would not war be infinitely better than such
a peace?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “there is some sentiment among the younger men of my
country against the rule of the ant-men, but the ant-men are
all-powerful and promptly suppress treason with an iron hand. So I am
afraid that our cause is hopeless.”
As the time for the completion of my experiment drew near, I thought of
my massive beard, and I decided that it must be removed before I again
faced the beautiful girl at Wautoosa. Also my hair needed attention.
Cupian hair does not have to be cut and does not grow at all on the
face, which must be a great convenience to them.
With the aid of Toron and a pair of wire clippers, I managed to trim my
hair to a respectable state, leaving long locks, however to obscure my
ears. I also clipped my beard as close as possible and then finished the
job with a sharp laboratory knife of the sort of copper commonly—but
erroneously—called “tempered” on earth, and some lubricating grease.
And behold, with the minor exception of wings, fingers, toes and
antennae, I was as presentable appearing a Cupian as any one would wish
to see. Thereafter I kept the knife, and shaved daily, later making
myself real soap for the purpose.
The change in my appearance resulted in more delay, for I was
immediately exhibited to all the classes again and was forced to write a
long essay on haircuts and shaving as practiced upon my own planet,
Minos.
Interest in me had lagged somewhat, and I had been given more time with
my work, but now interest revived again and interrupted me considerably.
Nevertheless, my apparatus was at last completed and I was ready for the
test. The next day my work was to be inspected by a committee of ant
scientists, so with trembling fingers I adjusted the controls and bade
Toron speak to me.
The result was—silence!
_7_
a hunting trip
My radio set was a failure! I could not hear Toron, and he could not
hear me. All my labor of four months in the laboratories of Mooni had
gone to waste.
Perhaps the Porovian scientists were right, and the earth scientists
were wrong, and insects did _not_ communicate by radio waves after all.
Yet I was unwilling to give up.
So I begged Toron to talk in as many different ways as he could, and at
last was rewarded by a slight squeak in my earphones. Then I myself
tried, talking now loud, now soft, now high, now low, until at last,
when I yelled at a particularly high pitch, Toron reported that he too
had heard. The earth scientists were vindicated! Communication was
established!
The sounds had been received and sent at the very shortest wave length
within the powers of my apparatus, so I now determined to reduce that
wave length still further.
Late into the night I worked frantically; and Toron, catching some of my
contagious enthusiasm, worked with me.
At first I experimented with various sizes and shapes of coil antennae,
but I was confronted with weak signals of short wave length. Any change
in my apparatus which reduced my wave length also reduced my
receptivity; and any change which increased my receptivity likewise
increased my wave length. So I was between the devil and the deep sea.
Finally I tried condenser antennae without plates; two rods. And then we
were rewarded by speech, clear, distinct and unmistakable.
We ceased our work, exhausted. But before turning in for the night,
Toron taught me how to say in Porovian language the following sentence:
“The planet Minos sends to the planet Poros, and informs Poros that
Minos was right. Communication between Porovians _is_ electrical.”
I told him that my name was Myles S. Cabot, a fact which I had
previously had no means of imparting to any one. Then we separated for
the night.
The next morning the committee were astounded at my success. Although I
was most anxious to get back to Wautoosa at once, the committee insisted
on my remaining and demonstrating my apparatus, and this took several
weeks more.
But at last I was permitted to return.
On my arrival I was informed that the girl was still there, so at once I
requested an interview. At first she refused to receive me, but Doggo,
who acted as go-between, finally succeeded in arousing her interest by
hinting to her that the scientists at Mooni had discovered that I was
really a Cupian after all. And a very handsome one at that, now that
they had succeeded in completely removing my former deformities. So at
last she reluctantly consented. Apparently she had heard no news of the
great doings at Mooni.
I planned for this meeting with even more care and application than I
had spent upon my radio apparatus. Everything that Doggo and I were to
say and do was carefully rehearsed. My speeches, of course, had to be
learned by rote, for I had as yet no opportunity to study the spoken
language of Poros.
We built a head frame of heavy wire concealed in my hair, and arranged
the phones so that they would lie unobserved under the locks which
covered my ears. The batteries, tubes, tuning-apparatus and one rod were
on my back, carried by a belt and hidden beneath my toga. The other rod
and a dummy mate to it were affixed to my forehead and camouflaged to
resemble Cupian antennae. My small microphone was located between my
collar bones, where the front edge of my toga just concealed it. Of
course, I could have mounted both of my real rods on my forehead, but
that would have reduced the capacity enough so as to have increased my
wave length out of the required range. Hence the seemingly unnecessary
complication of my arrangement.
The need for tuning-apparatus requires some explanation. Porovians tune
for the slight difference in individual wave length, by moving their
antennae; but this, of course, was not practicable to me, so I employed
for this purpose a microscopically small variable condenser on my belt.
To complete my disguise we even went to the extent of fastening
artificial wings to my back, so that, except for the slight peculiarity
of my hands and feet, I looked and sounded like a real Cupian.
Then we were ushered into the presence of the lady. She was a beautiful
and regal figure, as she sat poised upon a richly upholstered dais,
garbed in the Grecian simplicity of the Cupian national costume. In her
arms snuggled a pet mathlab, which I noted with a twinge of jealousy.
She was unmistakably taken aback by the change in my appearance, and
only a hasty glance at my hands and feet convinced her that she was not
being made the victim of a practical joke. But she quickly recovered her
dignity, and frigidly awaited our advances.
Doggo opened the conversation.
“Gracious lady,” he said, “Myles Cabot and I pay our most humble
respects. As you can see, he is now a full-fledged Cupian, with the
minor exception of fingers and toes. The object of this interview is
that he may reassure you, and apologize for the fright which he caused
you when last you two met.”
I then stepped forward. In spite of my transformation she cringed a bit,
I must admit. Evidently she still remembered my horrible beard, for she
kept studying my face inquiringly.
I spoke my memorized piece, as follows: “Gracious lady, I am your
everlasting slave, from whom you need fear no harm.”
And then _she_ spoke! The sweetest, most tinkling, silvery voice that I
have ever heard. Somehow I had known that her voice must be like that.
Of course, I did not yet understand the spoken language of this planet;
but I stood enchanted.
Doggo afterwards wrote out for me the substance of her remarks, which
were that she was thrown in contact with me against her will, but that
if I comported myself circumspectly she would condescend to tolerate my
acquaintance, or words to that effect. Never once did her cold manner
relax, and yet I fancied the merest twinkle of interest in her
heaven-blue eyes.
We withdrew, fully satisfied that an opening had been made.
Doggo at once wanted to report the occurrence to headquarters, whereas I
insisted that the affair concerned no one but myself.
“Why should headquarters care?” I asked.
His reply astounded me. It took paper and pencil and a great deal of
explaining before I finally grasped the horrible fact that the Cupian
girl had been brought to Wautoosa so that the Formians might breed us
like cattle, in an attempt to perpetuate my peculiar species. No wonder
that she still revolted from me, in spite of my more presentable
appearance.
“Teach me to talk,” I pleaded on paper, “in order that I may explain to
her that she has nothing to fear from me, and that I will guard her
honor with my life.”
Doggo could not understand my sentiments, but he had enough friendship
for me so that he respected them on my account. Accordingly he set to
work instructing me, chiefly by making me read aloud and take dictation.
The language turned out to be phonetic, after all. In fact, it is very
like Pitman shorthand, although not quite so compact.
As I already knew the written language pretty thoroughly, I made rapid
progress in the radiated language, so that in a very few weeks I became
really proficient. Now I learned the names “Cupian” and “Formian” and a
great many other words which I have used earlier in this narrative,
although only their written forms were known to me at that time.
I was now able to write my name phonetically. Heretofore I had used for
my name the plural of the character for their unit of measure, stad, a
poor pun for Myles.
Every few days I saw the lady briefly. At first our conversations were
very formal, consisting on my part almost entirely of set speeches
committed to memory. But gradually as I mastered the language I became
able to understand her and to improvise a bit.
One afternoon, about fifty days after my return from Mooni, I said to
Doggo, doubtless apropos of something that was in my lesson:
“Tell me, have you any name of your own? I have called you Doggo right
along, and you haven’t seemed to mind it; so it has never occurred to me
before to ask your real name.”
“No,” he replied, “I have no name. That is why I felt highly honored
when you called me one. Cupians have names, but we Formians, except in
the case of our Queen Formis, have merely numbers. These numbers are in
three parts, the first part representing the year of hatching, the
second the month of hatching, and the third the serial registration
number of the individual. Thus my number ‘344-2-18’ means that I was the
twentieth Formian hatched in the second month of the four hundred and
eighty-fourth year following the Great Peace.”
Let me explain here, that a year on Poros is made up of twenty months of
twelve days each. A day is twelve parths, or about twenty-two and a half
earth hours; so that a parth is about one hour and fifty-two and a half
minutes of earth time.
I would have asked him then what was the meaning of the other and
smaller numbers on his back, but I was more interested in learning about
the beautiful lady. It was strange that I had never asked her name of
either herself or Doggo. But I had always called her “gracious lady,”
with never a thought of any further title.
Now I inquired: “If Cupians have names, what then is the name of the
gracious lady?”
At this question Doggo’s antennae quivered with suppressed excitement.
“Never ask that question again of any one,” he adjured me. “Do not even
ask the lady herself. There are reasons of state against your being
told.”
To relieve this strained situation, I changed the subject, saying: “Oh,
by the way, it has occurred to me to ask the cause of the accident to
our airplane on the day of my capture.”
Whereat Doggo, mollified, explaining as follows: “Our airplanes are
stabilized entirely by gyroscopes.”
I interjected: “On my planet, Minos, we depend upon the shape and design
of the wings.”
“Be that as it may,” Doggo continued, “_we_ use gyroscopes. On the
particular occasion in question the gyroscopes broke down, thus
crippling the plane as completely as if it had lost a wing, and so
bringing it to the ground.”
As we were on the subject, I asked: “What is the reason for the peculiar
shape of your flying-machines?” For I had noticed that they were built
with long flexible tails, so that the general appearance was that of a
dragon fly.
“Oh,” Doggo explained, “the tail is the fighting element of a Porovian
airship. The green cows, whose milk furnishes such an important part of
the diet of us Formians, are preyed upon by the enormous bees, such as
the one who fell into the same spider-web with you shortly after your
arrival on this planet. These bees are chiefly noted for their honey and
for the peculiar shrill noise which they radiate, on which account they
are called ‘whistling bees.’
“Airplanes exist for the sole purpose of combating these predatory
creatures. By one of the terms of the treaty of Mooni, the Cupians are
not allowed to possess planes, and accordingly all of the policing of
the air has to be done by the Imperial Air Navy of the Formians. This
city, Wautoosa, where we are now staying, is the barracks for the air
navy, and contains nothing else, which accounts for the absence of
visiting Cupians here. I am a high ranking naval officer, an eklat,
whereas the one you call ‘Satan’ is only a pootah.”
Thus explained Doggo. I gathered that the ranks of eklat and pootah
correspond respectively to commander, and lieutenant junior grade, on
earth.
I having done my share to relieve the tension caused by my asking of
Doggo the name of the Cupian girl, he now in turn invited me to go on a
bee hunt, which I accepted purely for politeness’ sake, as I did not
care to travel far from the lady. But perhaps such a diversion would be
just as well, until I had made more progress in mastering the spoken
language.
So, about a week after the conversation above related, I embarked with
two young officers for a part of the country where it had been reported
that several bees were preying upon the flocks. Doggo remained behind at
Wautoosa, because of certain important military duties.
The trip took almost an entire day, and we put up for the night at a
small farming village. The farmer ants displayed a true rustic interest
in my peculiarities, which the two young bar-pootahs, or ensigns, took
great pleasure in showing off. My fame had evidently reached this
community, but with it a myth to the effect that my electrical antennae
could discharge not only speech, but also death-dealing lightning at
will.