THE WANING OF A WORLD
By W. Elwyn Backus
Author of “The Hall Bedroom”
It all started over Professor Palmer’s book, _Man and the Universe_.
Out of this grew the Palmer-Margard controversy which attracted such
wide-spread interest. Profusely illustrated magazine articles abounded
on the subject, while Sunday supplements, with imagination rampant, were
in their glory. The upshot of this literary duel was the publication of
a volume by Professor L. R. Margard, F. R. S., etc., in critical review
of his contemporary’s deductions.
Public opinion was divided into two camps, each with its chosen
champion. The explanation of certain geographical features on a planet
some thirty-five million miles away absorbed more of the fickle public’s
attention for the moment than the outrageous price of a pound of sugar
or a dozen of eggs.
In spite of the tax upon credulity which Professor Palmer’s theories
demanded, they inspired belief among the majority. Perhaps this is
because most of us are gifted with an over-supply of imagination; and
the Palmer theories appealed strongly to the imagination.
But the majority is not always right; rather the contrary, all of which
Professor Margard promptly pointed out. “A challenge to the thinking
world,” he branded the Palmer theories. To which the eminent Professor
Bernard Palmer, A.B., LL. D., retaliated that even Columbus was
ridiculed. No doubt, he stated, an astronomer on Mars would have equal
difficulty in convincing a Martian public of the possible existence
of inhabitants on our earth.
_Man and the Universe_ was written by Professor Palmer after nine years
of intensive personal study of the planet Mars. Even his opponents
accorded him admiration for his unremitting labors, his perseverance and
successful observation.
All of these observations were made from the lonely Palmer observatory
constructed near F----, California, 8,000 feet above sea level. Equipped
with a giant equatorial telescope having a 48-inch object glass, and
situated ideally as to atmospheric conditions, Professor Palmer was
excellently prepared to observe our much-discussed neighbor.
One result of his observations was the careful recording and mapping of
curious straight lines visible on the planet. Running from the polar
caps down to and across the equator, crossing and recrossing, these
lines formed a veritable network over the planet’s surface. Here and
there round spots appeared at junctures of the lines. Some of the lines
were discovered to be double, although these were few, the great
majority of them appearing singly.
By continually observing the planet during ensuing seasons, a marked
decrease in the size of the polar caps during the Martian summers was
noted, with a corresponding darkening of the “canals”, as Professor
Palmer designated the lines. The spots, or terminals, he called “oases.”
His deductions were, that owing to the admitted scarcity of water on the
arid planet, the Martians transported water from the vast, melting polar
snows by means of canals. It was this question of canals, and the much
mooted question of sufficient heat to sustain life on the small planet,
which caused contention between the two renowned experts.
2
Despite many years of concentration on technical things, Professor
Palmer was a surprisingly human and ordinary-appearing man. The fact
that he was considered one of the world’s foremost authorities on
astronomy, and was a lecturer of world-wide renown, did not detract from
his naturally benign disposition. Yet there was something compelling
about his personality. Students before whom he delivered lectures
accorded him marked attention, and went away with a graphic picture in
their minds of the things he wished to convey to them.
“Henry,” he remarked quizzically to his young but capable secretary one
morning, having just read a particularly seathing criticism of his pet
theories, “these gentlemen at least take my hobby seriously. That in
itself convinces me that my deductions are worthy of consideration.”
“They take advantage of the fact that you have no means of definitely
proving your deductions,” defended Henry, loyally. “As you have
remarked, even Columbus was ridiculed; but he, at least, had means of
obtaining concrete proof to silence the scoffers.”
“Well put, my friend. A few more earnest advocates of my theories like
yourself, and I should require no proof.”
“That reminds me,” resumed the grateful Henry G. Simms, “there was a
young chap in here yesterday who claimed to be an ardent champion of
your views. He was extremely anxious to see you. Said he had a matter of
great importance to take up with you.”
“He’ll return?”
“Grant’s army couldn’t keep him away. He will be here at 10 o’clock.”
“So? What sort of a chap is he?” curiously.
“A well set-up fellow of about twenty-four. About six feet tall; light
hair, pleasant features, refined manners. Impetuous sort of fellow.”
That was how Robert Sprague happened to meet Professor Palmer a half
hour later.
A pleasant thrill possessed him as he shook hands with the professor.
The kindly, though keen, gray eyes met his encouragingly. This was
contrary to Robert’s expectations, for he had assumed that he would be
fortunate if he succeeded in seeing so busy and prominent a man for a
few minutes. He was prepared even for a curt dismissal. What he did not
know was that his evident earnestness and enthusiasm had obtained for
him an interview through the redoubtable Henry where others would have
failed.
Without realizing how he had commenced, he found himself conversing
easily with this learned man as if such interviews were everyday
occurrences with him.
The professor was impressed with equal favorableness by his caller. The
frank, winning countenance and earnest manner created a profound
impression upon him in spite of an extraordinary story.
“Let me get this right,” said the professor, finally. “You say that the
machine is virtually perfected--that you have succeeded in accomplishing
the aim for which your father unsuccessfully spent his life?”
“Not unsuccessfully,” defended Robert, quickly; “without what he had
accomplished I could never have constructed a machine of its kind.”
“But it can actually be controlled as you suggest?”
“It can.”
“Pardon my insistence, Mr. Sprague. The idea is so--ah--extraordinary.”
“I realize that, professor. I should be happy to have you see for
yourself.”
Professor Palmer pondered. The young man’s story had impressed him,
notwithstanding its unusualness. At any rate, he concluded, he would
investigate. He could risk no more than disappointment. If there was
anything in it, the possibilities for research and discovery were
boundless. He found his own enthusiasm rivaling that of his caller as he
momentarily allowed it free rein. Why--he might yet prove his own weird
theories to the world!
The next moment he smiled at his own indulgence. First he would humor
this young man by investigating his wild claims: time enough for dreams
afterward.
“Well, Mr. Sprague,” he said, “this is an age of strange
accomplishments. I’m going to look at that machine of yours. How will
tomorrow evening do?”
A feeling of relief and exultation swept over Robert as the professor
spoke. At last his absurd-sounding claims for the life-work of his
father had been taken seriously, and recognition of his labors was
within reach.
He stammered his thanks, shook hands with the amused professor, and
departed.
“That boy believes in the machine; and he is no fool, either,” remarked
Professor Palmer after Robert had left.
“The world is full of them,” observed Henry sagely.
Henry even openly questioned his employer’s theories at times. Not that
the latter minded, for the ensuing arguments furnished interesting
debates, and fresh ideas sometimes; and in the end he usually succeeded
in silencing his intrepid secretary--if only temporarily.
But today, Henry’s caustic comment irritated him. He wanted to believe
in the weird claims of his caller regarding a strange, gravity-defying
machine, in spite of his saner judgment to the contrary. He
subconsciously resented any expression of his own disbelief.
Professor Palmer slept poorly that night, though he rarely failed to
sleep soundly. Try as he would, he could not dismiss from his mind the
hope which struggled so persistently with his natural skepticism.
But he was not alone in his sleeplessness. Robert slept not a minute
that night. Over and over he reflected on just how he would best explain
the intricacies of the _Sphere_ in order that he could convince
Professor Palmer of its practicability. The fact that he lacked the
necessary funds to complete the apparatus gave him considerable concern.
For much, therefore, depended upon his ability to convince the professor
of the feasibility of mere theories.
3
It was with considerable relief and expectancy on both sides that Robert
and Professor Palmer shook hands in the big, high-ceilinged parlor of
the old Sprague manor.
Their footsteps echoed eerily through the house as they tramped back
through the long dark hallway to a big barnlike addition which had long
served as a workshop. Here Robert’s father had spent countless weary
hours, to the despair of his good wife, who had already followed him to
his reward.
As they entered the doorway the professor became aware of an immense
gray-black sphere in the dusk of the far end of the shop. The top of
this sphere reached within a few inches of the lofty ceiling. It was
probably twenty-five feet in diameter, and rested upon a short scaffold.
What appeared to be curious round windows in its side, like portholes in
a ship’s hull, gave it the appearance of a gigantic diver’s helmet.
Robert approached the _Sphere_. Without hesitancy he selected and
pressed upon what appeared to be an ordinary rivet-head like hundreds of
others over the _Sphere’s_ shell. A round hatch, large enough to admit a
man, swung open, disclosing a black and uninviting interior. Flustered,
he courteously invited Professor Palmer to enter first.
For an instant the professor hesitated. The weirdness of the whole
affair suddenly struck him forcibly. This young man’s queer claims, the
big manor with its eery echoes and atmosphere of dismal loneliness--all
seemed to cry out to him to beware. The dull gray shape looming above
them in the gathering twilight looked disquietingly like some freak
prison, such as a madman might invent.
Robert, sensing the professor’s misgivings, apologized for not having
considered his difficulty in negotiating the unfamiliar interior in the
darkness, and relieved him by entering first. A sharp click, and a
comfortable glow of light suffused the interior. They passed up a brief,
winding stairway into a long chamber.
“This is the gyrostatic control which neutralizes the force of gravity,”
Robert began, calmly, as if this assertion were the simplest thing in
the world. He indicated a complicated mass of glittering machinery in
the center of the compartment in which they stood.
He reached for a small lever, and pulled it toward him. Simultaneously
there was a soft whirring sound. For a moment the floor tilted slightly,
then steadied again.
“And the power for this?” queried the professor.
“Furnished by storage batteries,” Robert explained. “The batteries are
recharged by petrol-driven dynamos.”
“But your supply of petrol? Where have you sufficient space for a supply
that will last any considerable length of time?”
“All round us.”
The professor swept their surroundings with his sharp eyes. No
receptacle was visible. Two full-size doors and several small ones
appeared in the partitions; but nothing suggested a receptacle for a
large supply of fuel. Then quite suddenly it dawned upon him that there
was a vast amount of space unaccounted for between the partitions, floor
and ceiling, and the _Sphere’s_ outside shell. His respect for Robert’s
claims was growing. So far, at least, the young inventor seemed quite
confident.
“What is this?” asked the professor, indicating what resembled the
breech of a dreadnaught’s gun protruding from the floor. Electric wires,
dials, and other curious devices were connected to it.
“That’s the Norrensen Tube, so named by my father after its inventor, an
old friend of his, now deceased. It is capable of terrible destruction.
It will produce a bolt of lightning rivaling the elements, which will
strike up to twelve miles away--and it can be aimed with startling
accuracy. I remember seeing a giant oak blasted into pulp with it in a
test across a valley four miles wide, when I was a boy.”
“But, how is it that the world has never heard of this remarkable
invention?”
“Norrensen was an eccentric character whom the world had wronged
grievously. He insisted on conducting the tests with greatest secrecy.
Overtaken suddenly by a fatal illness, he exacted a promise from my
father to retain the secret of this weapon till his death.”
“What a terrible weapon that would make in the hands of a man bent on
destruction!” mused the professor.
The compartment they were in looked to be about twelve by twenty-five
feet, and some ten feet in height. There were three round ports at
either of its rounded ends; these, being located below the bulge of the
_Sphere’s_ greatest girth, enabled one to obtain a good view downward as
well as outward. The straight sidewalls and ceiling were windowless, but
a vertical well extending from the floor, beside the controls, to the
outer shell, with heavy, circular glass panes at either end, enabled the
operator to see out directly below. The compartment was flooded with
soft, mellow light from a dozen frosted incandescent lamps.
“Deducting for this compartment, two small storerooms, the cupboards,
and the water and oxygen tanks,” Robert was saying, “the net capacity of
the petrol reservoirs is more than 40,000 gallons. That and the full
storage power of the batteries is sufficient to operate the high-speed,
but delicately balanced gyrostats, more than fifty days and nights
continuously.”
“You say that gravity is completely neutralized?”
“Almost entirely so, even with all reservoirs filled to capacity. The
stability of the gyrostatic device is so powerful that weight becomes a
negligible factor. If you will follow me I can prove this to you.”
* * * * *
The professor quivered with suppressed excitement as he followed Robert
down the flight of steps leading to the outer manhole through which they
had entered. At last he was about to know beyond doubt whether the
remarkable claims made by his guide had any foundation. If they had, a
new era would be unfolded. Again his common sense reacted against hope,
blasting his short-lived credulity. That either this boy or his father
should have mastered the problem of the fifth dimension after experts of
centuries had failed, seemed unbelievable. And yet--
In the deepening twilight the _Sphere_ seemed to loom above them larger
than ever. Its lighted portholes, contrasting strangely with its shadowy
bulk, gave it a weird, fantastic, almost unearthly aspect.
“The _Sphere_ is now in almost perfect equilibrium from every
direction,” Robert explained, pride creeping into his voice
unconsciously. He indicated two iron rungs near the bottom of the
_Sphere_. “If you will take hold here, you will be able to move it in
any direction without effort. Softly though--keep a firm hold upon it.”
Doubting still, Professor Palmer grasped the rungs, fully expecting to
find the vast bulk an immovable weight.
To his intense surprize it rose from the floor as if it were an
air-filled balloon! He had exerted himself not the slightest bit. The
_Sphere_ had simply risen at his first slight lift, and had continued to
rise until a slight tug upon his arm stopped it. He extended his right
arm, still gripping one rung. The _Sphere_ followed easily, its only
resistance apparently that of the atmosphere surrounding it.
“Now release it,” suggested Robert.
The astonished professor did so, half expecting to see it crash to the
floor.
But nothing of the sort occurred. For several seconds the giant ball
continued to rise very slowly, like a sluggish soap-bubble. Doubtless he
had unwittingly allowed his hand to waver slightly when releasing it.
Then very, very slowly the _Sphere_ began to descend, finally settling
softly and with scarcely a sound. Though it had been but a few feet
above the floor, it required fully a minute to come to rest. One
noticeable feature was its vertical stability. It neither rolled in its
descent nor wobbled in settling, but simply came down with a paradoxical
combination of majestic ponderance and zephyrlike softness.
“Remarkable!” ejaculated the professor, feeling the inadequacy of the
word when applied to this marvelous achievement.
“The rigid stability,” Robert explained, “is automatically controlled by
a delicate device attached to the central upright gyroscope.”
“I was under the impression that the entire apparatus was unaffected by
gravity.”
“This device is the exception. The _Sphere’s_ weight is neutralized to
an absolute minimum by the gyroscopic control, but it was necessary to
maintain one point of gravitational contact in order to establish some
permanent upright stability; otherwise, the _Sphere_ would revolve at
random when in midair.”
“Manifestly.”
“This device also makes it possible to maintain the observation ports at
the ends of the main compartment in any desired direction horizontally.
It may surprize you to hear that this device was the last part
perfected. My father’s final prostration was largely due to its
intricacies. He passed away just as he was about to achieve its
perfection.” A slight quaver in Robert’s voice betrayed his grief and
his deep regard for his departed parent.
Professor Palmer’s eyes kindled sympathetically.
“On the contrary,” he replied, “I can readily understand the
difficulties encountered.”
A silence ensued during which each was busy with his own thoughts.
Robert was thinking of the most important feature of all--the propulsion
of the _Sphere_, and its control. This principle had been worked out on
a small scale, but owing to its prohibitive cost on a larger scale he
had been unable to perfect its application to the _Sphere_. Professor
Palmer, with his personal resources and backing, could finance it, but
even then, Robert estimated, it would tax his total resources heavily.
Robert held no illusions on this point, and he was wondering how best to
present his plea for financial aid.
* * * * *
Professor Palmer was trying to visualize the possibilities in the
_Sphere_. In it he saw a possibility of proving his own theories
regarding the planet Mars, and this brought him round to the very
feature on which Robert’s thoughts were concentrated at that moment.
“Hm-m,” mused the professor. “And you claim to have worked out a scheme
of magnetic propulsion requiring a minimum of internal energy?”
Robert drew a full breath and prepared to retrench.
“Only on a small scale, professor. I have a miniature model over here,
illustrating the practicability of the idea.”
He switched on the light over a work-bench, revealing a curious
contrivance about five inches high. A dull black rod, terminating in a
tiny blunt bell-like device, hung suspended from a universal joint. The
whole was supported by a small frame bolted to the table. Examination of
the bell-like bulb showed that its larger end was flat, and composed of
a dull, whitish metallic substance similar in appearance to aluminum.
Its outer surface was a brilliant silver. This bulb seemed of
extraordinary weight for so small an object, swinging heavily back to
its former position when released, where it came to rest quickly over
the center of the disk almost as if bound in that position with a
strong, invisible elastic band.
“This pendulum,” Robert explained, in response to the compelling and
unconcealed curiosity in the professor’s eyes, “contains a rare, and
hitherto unknown, element which my father named ‘mythonite.’ A good part
of his life was devoted to the accumulation of this small quantity for
experimental purposes. It was obtained bit by bit through a difficult
and costly process from vast amounts of river-gravel, in conjunction
with platinum, to which, strangely enough, it has a strong antipathy.
This condition is responsible for the most curious discovery of all. The
effect of gravity upon mythonite is almost entirely annulled through
platinum!”
“Remarkable,” said the professor; but there was a trace of incredulity
in his voice which was not lost on Robert’s alert ears.
“This casing,” resumed Robert, tapping on the polished side casing of
the pendulum, “is a very thin layer of platinum. With the pendulum
inverted, the earth’s attraction is intercepted by the casing. At the
same time the attraction of any other heavenly body within the radius of
the uncovered surface of the mythonite is unchanged. Further, I have
discovered that the free attraction of mythonite is greatly intensified
by electricity, without any corresponding increase in its gravity
through the film of platinum.”
He clicked on a small switch attached to the base of the frame. An odd
phosphorescence suffused the disk-like surface of the pendulum.
“Now, professor, will you raise the pendulum to a vertical position?
Take hold of the insulated rod, here.”
Professor Palmer raised the pendulum slowly. Its original weight,
extraordinary as it had seemed before, was now several times greater, to
his astonishment. It now seemed almost as if it were riveted into
position.
But gradually, as the glowing disk was pointed upward, its weight
decreased. At an angle of ninety degrees its weight had virtually ceased
to exist. As it neared an upright position it felt as light as a
feather. In an upright position it seemed poised between the professor’s
fingers as if about to take flight.
He released it softly. It wavered unsteadily for a moment like a flower
balancing in a light breeze, then steadied. The professor’s fingers,
clumsy from pent-up excitement, collided with it. With a sudden swoop,
it dropped heavily into its former pendent position, coming to rest
abruptly.
Professor Palmer drew a sharp breath excitedly.
“Young man,” he said, extending his hand, “you have convinced me, even
as I hope to convince a lot of other doubting Thomases and scoffers some
day. Apparently you have evolved the greatest discovery of all time; I
congratulate you.”
There was no doubting his distinguished visitor’s sincerity. Robert’s
voice was husky as he stammered his appreciation.
“Now, let’s get down to brass tacks,” continued the professor. “This
device installed on a large enough scale in the _Sphere_ would make it
possible to propel it anywhere in space. The possibilities for research
would be virtually boundless. Have you estimated the probable cost of
such an apparatus?”
“Often. Even with the aid of improved equipment and sufficient workmen,
it would require considerable time and a great expenditure. Fifty
thousand dollars is a low estimate--and seven months’ time.”
Professor Palmer looked thoughtful. Though he was known to be
comfortably fixed, his total resources did not quite meet this sum.
Slave to science though he might be, he hesitated to gamble his entire
fortune on a visionary venture that might prove to be impracticable. As
to the deficiency, he could get that as a loan or a gift from one or
more of his many wealthy friends who had every confidence in him. Should
the scheme fail, he would be penniless--possibly friendless.
“Do you believe a flight to another planet and back could be made
successfully in the _Sphere_ so equipped?” he asked.
Robert considered carefully. He did, but the professor’s question
renewed many doubts. Most of all, he hesitated to involve his would-be
benefactor in a disastrous venture.
“I do,” he answered truthfully, at last.
“So do I,” supplemented the professor, stoutly, as if to help convince
himself. “Would you be willing to undertake such a journey?” he asked
suddenly, fixing his eyes keenly upon his host.
“Yes, sir!” responded Robert quickly.
His prompt reply and evident sincerity convinced Professor Palmer that
he was in earnest. The professor had decided. Nothing risked, nothing
gained. As for Robert, nine months of trench warfare in France had
steeled him against fear of anything except women and the devil.
“It is settled, then,” concluded the professor, unconsciously
authoritative. “You will come to my home, and together we will supervise
the completion of the _Sphere_.”
“But the _Sphere_--,” began Robert, surprized by the professor’s quick
decision.
“We will have it conveyed to my estate, where the light and space will
be much better; and where I can look after you better, my boy.” His face
softened. Ah, an old bachelor had not all the advantages. What would he
not give to have a son like this!
Something about Robert’s hesitation reminded him abruptly of an
important consideration.
“I am forgetting,” he apologized. “Your interest must be fully
protected. We will draw up a contract whereby full possession of the
_Sphere_ and all its equipment, now and always, will remain yours. I
will undertake to complete it, defraying all expenses, in return for
which I ask the use of the _Sphere_ in a flight to Mars and back if
possible.”
“That is more than fair,” Robert replied, feeling ashamed of a
shortlived, though natural, apprehension.
4
Robert found Professor Palmer’s homestead vastly more cheerful than his
own gloomy quarters.
The _Sphere_ was placed in a large, well-lighted barn, which had been
carefully prepared for its new purpose. The barred windows were frosted
to defeat the curiosity of possible busybodies, and reliable locks put
on the heavy doors.
Removal of the _Sphere_ from its original quarters presented
difficulties, because no provision had been made for its exit. It had
been constructed piece by piece inside the four walls which housed it so
long. It was necessary to hew an opening through the wall, to the acute
curiosity of the neighbors.
However, their curiosity went for naught, as a large tarpaulin and
protecting crating disguised the object of their interest, which was
removed at night. Professor Palmer and Robert were agreed in their
decision to keep their project to themselves as much as possible until
they had succeeded in perfecting the _Sphere_.
The hauling of the _Sphere_ proved an extremely simple task. With the
gyrostats running quietly at halfspeed, its weight was rendered to
almost nothing. Nevertheless a large, heavy truck was provided for any
emergencies. They wisely avoided any unnecessary chance of destroying,
at the very beginning of their task, the intricate work of many
painstaking years.
A small brick building was put up and the necessary machinery installed
for the production of mythonite. Here the tedious process was soon
directed by Robert. Eleven skilled metallurgists and chemists labored
day after day under his supervision, without knowing for what purpose
the curious metal they were producing was to be used.
Weeks passed, and vast quantities of waste material were hauled away
daily; but the quantity of the precious mythonite accumulated with
discouraging slowness. An addition was built adjoining the first plant,
and the corps of experts increased to an even two dozen. By improving
methods and increasing deftness, the former production was trebled.
Nevertheless, it soon became apparent that the desired quantity could
not possibly be produced at the present rate within the period which
Robert had estimated. The first month’s operation had resulted in but
two small ingots, each an inch square and three inches long. This was
before the plant was enlarged, however. This had been eventually
increased to seven ingots a month. But even at this rate, it would
require almost four years longer to produce a sufficient quantity.
Obviously, the project was doomed to failure unless some means of
greatly increasing the production could be devised.
It was four months after the completion of the original plant that
Robert and Professor Palmer were discussing this matter with a view to
deciding finally whether or not to abandon the project. During this time
Professor Palmer had come to look upon Robert as a son. His untiring
energy, his frank, cheerful personality and intelligence, had made a
profound impression upon the professor.
“I am going to see this thing to a finish, Robert,” he was saying. “But
if we are to take advantage of the next favorable apposition of Mars
just eight months from now, we must make some radical improvement in our
program. Not till fifteen years later will it again approach so close to
the earth. Have you any new plans to suggest?”
“This,” replied Robert. “We might have the crushing and the crude
processes done elsewhere. By concentrating upon the finer processes
alone, we should be able to increase our production of mythonite
considerably. But we should have to replace the crushing apparatus with
additional equipment for the final processes. We must take advantage of
every available bit of space and every man’s time.”
“Our total expenditures to date are what?”
“Approximately $33,000. But, the sales of excess platinum have reduced
that to about $32,000.”
“Not so bad,” mused the professor. “However, it is clear that we can not
reach our goal without a vastly greater rate of production.”
He knit his brows, pondering silently for a little while.
“Robert,” he broke out suddenly, “we’ve got to take a big gamble! We
will not only follow out your suggestion, but we will double the present
size of our plant.”
Robert gasped. He thought of the professor’s dwindling resources,
wondering if he were suddenly gone mad.
“Why, that would bring the total cost round $60,000!” he cried.
“Quite so,” replied Professor Palmer, calmly; “but a four or five year
program would be far more expensive--to say nothing of its
impracticability. It’s win all or lose all, Robert.”
So the Palmer laboratories were enlarged and arrangements successfully
made for the crushing and partial separating with a near-by rock plant.
The little force of experts was augmented to thirty, and work began in
earnest. The next month resulted in a production of forty-one ingots of
mythonite!
The following month a minor improvement discovered in the process
increased that month’s production to fifty ingots. Even this production
was bettered somewhat during the following months. At the end of the
sixth month after the enlargement of the plant the total production of
mythonite had reached more than three hundred ingots--all that were
required! A month remained in which to prepare for the great venture
into the unknown.
* * * * *
It was with a feeling of overwhelming elation that Robert and the
professor gazed upon the little stack of dull, silver-gray bars in the
dusk of an early July twilight. Winter and spring had come and gone
while they labored. These three hundred tiny ingots were the result. Not
entirely, though; for in addition to a sufficient quantity of platinum
reserved for their own requirements, the Palmer laboratories had
produced and sold enough platinum to defray all expenses incurred.
Little wonder that they felt elated.
Professor Palmer put his arm across Robert’s broad shoulders with
fatherly tenderness.
“My boy,” he said, softly, “whatever the _Sphere_ accomplishes, it has
at least brought us together. To me, our perfect companionship has come
to mean more than anything else. I did not realize what a lonely old man
I was before you came.”
“Old man!” chided Robert. “Fifty-seven years young.”
“It is well for me that you had the _Sphere_ to occupy you, or some
sweet young vision would have taken you in hand ere now. But forgive an
old codger’s selfishness, Robert.”
“Time enough to think about that, professor,” smiled Robert.
“Careful. Don’t let them make a bachelor out of you. An old bachelor is
a superfluity for which no one really cares. Even an old maid has her
cat.”
“Very well. We’ll each make love to a moon-maiden,” laughed Robert, and
Professor Palmer joined him heartily.
The following day the small ingots were melted and forced into the big,
flattish, circular, platinum-lined and studded mold. Before the pouring
was attempted, the mold was securely fastened down as a precaution
against the lifting power of the mythonite when freed from the earth’s
gravity by the interruption of the platinum beneath it. As an additional
precaution, a disk of platinum was suspended over the mass, thereby
neutralizing the attraction of heavenly bodies.
With great care, the platinum-incased mass of mythonite was installed in
the _Sphere_. A stout steel rod and universal joint connected it to the
gyrostatic center, and the wiring and other details of its proper
control were quickly completed. The petrol and oxygen tanks were partly
filled, the gyrostats tuned up, and the _Sphere_ at last was ready for a
trial trip.
5
Henry Simms, much interested, but skeptical to the last, was shown the
interior of the _Sphere_ on the afternoon set for the first trial. He
crawled through the manhole after Robert and the professor, firmly
convinced that he was about to witness a flat failure of the _Sphere_
for which the professor claimed so much. To do him justice, though, it
should be stated that Henry’s expectations were not without keen
sympathy for the disappointment to which he felt certain the professor
was doomed.
“She looks more like a submarine than a blimp, professor,” was his first
comment as they reached the main compartment.
Indeed, the interior of the _Sphere_, with its intricate mass of
machinery and its bull’s-eye windows, its riveted partitions and curved
walls, and the incandescent lamps, did suggest a typical underseas
craft.
“She goes up, Henry, not down,” the professor laughed.
“Deal me out, then,” cried Henry. “I am not prepared to go up for keeps
yet!”
“Rest easy,” said Robert. “It will be much easier to drop back, if in
doubt, than to continue upward.”
Robert proceeded to explain the _Sphere’s_ important features for
Henry’s benefit.
“Here is the gage that registers the pull of the disk,” he said,
finally, after having explained the rudiments of the _Sphere’s_
operation. He indicated a dial attached to the rod which harnessed the
powerful mythonite disk to the core of the _Sphere_.
He pushed the first of a row of switch buttons on the controller. Poor
Henry’s heart fluttered as a faint scraping sound heralded the mere
opening of one of the three cameralike platinum shutters over the
mythonite disk’s highly magnetic surface. He was already regretting his
consent to accompany them on a trial flight. The handle on the dial of
the lifting gage suddenly raced from zero and steadied at 605 pounds.
The _Sphere_ remained at rest.
All three men were now keyed to the highest pitch of excitement. This
was the first time the completed apparatus had been tested, and upon its
results depended entirely the success of the _Sphere_ and its remarkable
project planned by the professor.
The registered tension on the strong steel arm removed all doubt from
the minds of Robert and Professor Palmer regarding the success of
mythonite as a practical power of propulsion. A feeling of wild
exultation gripped them both.
“Danger from shock of sudden great pull is avoided by gradual uncovering
of the disk’s surface,” resumed Robert as he pushed the next button,
sending the hand on the dial up to 1,420. The third button swung it to
3,475, accompanied by a slight tremor perceptible in the floor of the
_Sphere_. Their startled glances through the nearest porthole satisfied
them, however, that the _Sphere_ still rested on _terra firma_.
Robert pushed all three of the corresponding row of buttons directly
over the first three, and the hand again registered zero.
“I don’t want to lift the roof off your barn, professor,” exclaimed
Robert. “I’ll start the gyrostats now to neutralize the _Sphere’s_
weight, and we will get out and push it outside the stable.”
A few minutes later the now thoroughly convinced Henry watched his
companions disappear within the _Sphere’s_ shell while he debated with
himself as to whether he should follow them. A moment later Professor
Palmer appeared at a porthole and beckoned him; but Henry shook his head
vehemently.
The professor unlatched the window and swung it open.
“Hurry in, Henry,” he called. “Voyage is about to commence.”
“Not I, professor! This suits me real well, right out here.”
“Come on, Henry,” the professor urged. “You aren’t afraid?”
“Not afraid--just a little bit careful. I’m just beginning to find out
how nice and solid this ground feels. I’ll watch you do it.”
And no amount of urging would change his mind. He politely but firmly
maintained that he felt much healthier outside.
“Stubborn chap, that,” the professor commented to Robert. “Can’t say
that I blame him, though.”
“Simply a difference in the values we set on our own carcasses,”
suggested Robert. “Henry just takes his more seriously than we.”
They laughed. Both, somehow, felt relieved afterward. Henry had
furnished a welcome diversion. The former nervous tension was broken.
“Well, so long, old man,” Robert called out the window, as he prepared
to close it.
“Give my regards to Saint Peter,” shouted Henry.
“Cheerful cuss,” contributed the professor, as the heavy glass slammed
shut.
Robert stopped the gyrostats.
A deep silence reigned within the heavy walls as he examined carefully
the delicate machinery upon which so much depended. Then he pulled the
lever, setting them in motion again. Their steady purr was a relief from
the oppressive silence.
Professor Palmer’s keen eyes followed him as he moved about. Robert’s
excitement of the previous minutes was forgotten as he expertly, almost
lovingly, ran his eyes over every detail of the perfect, whirring
machinery, most of which his father had produced. His throat contracted
strangely as his thoughts dwelt for a moment on his beloved parent. His
mother he could scarcely remember, for she had died when he was but a
baby of three years. But his father had been his constant companion--his
pal. What would he not have given to have him standing by him at this
moment, on the eve of his triumph, of the realization of his dreams!
Being a shrewd judge of human nature, the professor rightly guessed his
thoughts at that moment. A suspicious moisture in Robert’s eyes
confirmed his guess.
Robert’s next move was to adjust the direction of the disk’s covered
face toward the zenith. The gyrostats were revolving smoothly. With
bated breath, he again pushed the button which partly bared the disk.
The _Sphere_ gave a slight lurch. This was followed by a sensation like
that felt in an elevator rising suddenly. A faint shout from below. With
one impulse Robert’s and the professor’s glances swept eagerly through
the ports.
There they saw just what they had expected to see; but the actuality
affected them curiously. Oddly enough, they had subconsciously expected
till the last moment that the _Sphere_ would fail.
The landscape seemed to be dropping from under them. Even the horizon
was receding alarmingly.
* * * * *
Robert’s hand shot out to the control board, closing the disk’s surface.
A slight tremor evidenced the abrupt cessation of the disk’s pull.
“Six thousand feet,” read Professor Palmer from the altimeter.
Robert joined him. A few minutes later it registered seven thousand.
They were still rising, but not nearly so rapidly as before. The closing
of the disk had checked their speed at once.
“A little more and I’d have boosted her right off the earth,” said
Robert, breathlessly. “I’ll have to use the disk more sparingly on
ordinary sight-seeing excursions hereafter.”
“You had it opened only to first power, too, hadn’t you?”
“Yes; and without the ‘juice’ turned on. Jove! We didn’t realize how
much reserve power of propulsion we had. It’s well that I experimented
first with the minimum. And the current almost quadruples the magnetism
of mythonite! Phew!”
Robert paused and read the altimeter again. Eight thousand. He gripped
the gyrostatic control, and carefully moved it to half speed.
The _Sphere_ seemed to pause a moment, then they could detect its
beginning to settle earthward as the neutralization of gravity was
modified. Six thousand; five thousand; they were dropping steadily at a
rate of nearly a thousand feet a minute.
Robert shoved the lever back to full speed and the _Sphere’s_ downward
momentum was quickly checked. With the disk safely throttled, the
_Sphere_ became as a rubber balloon. They merely drifted in midair.
Together they peered through the observation well in the floor. Through
this they could plainly see the landscape, some three thousand feet
below, sliding by sluggishly as they drifted with the light air current.
From the side ports they could discern the big Palmer homestead and the
laboratories about a mile and a half to the west of them. It was an
ideal day for observation. The sky was cloudless, and the air of crystal
clearness.
“Well, professor, shall we run back to our stall, or take a little
sight-seeing jaunt?” queried Robert.
“Let’s see some of the country, by all means,” decided the professor,
his face aglow with boyish excitement and anticipation.
“All right; here goes,” Robert sang out as he deflected the disk to a
horizontal position, pointing due north.
The next instant he switched open the first shutter from the disk’s
surface. There was a jerk, and the landscape suddenly began slipping
away to the south with accelerating speed. Another click, and their
speed was further increased. Once more the switch clicked, releasing the
last shutter from over the disk. The _Sphere_ seemed literally to leap
ahead. A muffled roar without indicated the great speed at which they
were rushing through the air.
Town after town flashed by beneath them with astonishing rapidity. The
fact that they were flying at a comparatively low altitude made their
speed seem terrific. Robert wisely decided to seek a safer height. He
elevated the disk several degrees and the _Sphere_ promptly soared
higher. At eight thousand feet he checked its upward trend.
Far away to the east they could see a solitary big biplane bound in the
same direction as they--probably a fast mail express; but it was quickly
left behind, and lost from view in the afternoon haze.
For twenty minutes they roared northward. Then, to their surprize, a
vast body of water appeared against the horizon ahead.
“Lake Erie!” gasped Robert, after a moment’s reflection. “Two hundred
miles in less than half an hour. Why--that’s about five hundred miles an
hour! And without the aid of electric magnetization of the disk!”
“Marvelous!” exclaimed the professor, enthusiastically.
Already they were soaring over the expanse of water. On the horizon the
distant Canadian shore was rapidly taking shape. Beneath them several
long, slim lake craft could be discerned, crawling at what appeared,
from so great a height, to be a snail’s pace. No doubt the _Sphere_
would have presented a much more curious sight to those below had its
luminous gray shell been more than a faint speck against the brilliant,
cloudless sky.
It was at this juncture that Robert’s alert ears detected a subtle
change in the hitherto soft whir of the gyrostats.
“What is it, Robert?” whispered Professor Palmer, as he observed
Robert’s suddenly tense attitude.
“Wait!” anxiously.
Outside, the muffled roar sounded in strange contrast to the still air
within. The bright sunshine streamed across the gray door in mock
cheerfulness. A single captive fly buzzed drowzily against a windowpane.
These commonplace details registered on Robert’s mind indelibly in those
fleeting seconds as he listened with palpitating heart for he knew not
what.
Taking his cue from Robert, Professor Palmer was listening with equal
intensity to the drone of the machinery upon which their lives depended.
Even he could now detect the change. The drone was gradually,
unmistakably, decreasing in volume. The gyrostats were stopping!
Unconsciously they gripped each other’s hands an instant as they
realized the seriousness of their plight. Should the gyrostats stop, the
_Sphere_ would plunge to its doom!
Frantically Robert tortured his mind for a possible solution, or a
reason for the unexpected interruption. The altimeter already indicated
that they were falling at a steadily increasing speed. The formerly tiny
ships below were no longer tiny. The water seemed to be rushing toward
them at a terrific rate. Robert remembered afterward a sudden inane
conjecture as to how big a splash they would make.
It was at this moment his numbed senses returned to him. Cursing himself
silently for a rattle-brained idiot, he spun the wheel madly, thus
adjusting the vertical position of the disk. To his tortured mind it
seemed an eternity before it finally pointed toward the zenith.
Their downward rush was noticeably checked, but the lift of the disk was
not equal to the weight of the _Sphere_. They continued to fall at a
dangerous rate. The altimeter registered but two thousand feet!
Fully recovered now from his former temporary inertia, Robert jammed
over the switch which connected the disk to the powerful storage
batteries. This was the reserve that he had not ventured to utilize
before. Thus the lift of the _Sphere_ should have been increased more
than four-fold, and its descent checked at once.
As the switch swung over, the gyrostats stopped completely. In a flash
the explanation of it all occurred to Robert. The batteries were
exhausted!
6
The world was rudely shaken from its customary lethargy.
Having lapsed into a monotonous, smooth-running order of events, the
public had long since resigned itself to such. Not since the Great War
had newspapers had such an opportunity. Even the steady development of
trans-Atlantic and trans-continental air traffic had become commonplace.
Of the myriad readers, perhaps none was so keenly interested in the
article which appeared on the front page of every paper in the United
States on the morning of the eighteenth as Henry Simms.
Since the _Sphere_ had disappeared from his astonished gaze the day
before, he had anxiously awaited its return. As hour after hour passed,
his fears for its little crew of two grew proportionately. He had little
faith in the curious invention to which the professor and his companion
had entrusted their lives.
So it was with little spirit that Henry sat down to his breakfast that
morning at the Palmer homestead, where he lived. He picked up the
morning paper listlessly, hoping it might contain some report of the
_Sphere_. He feared that if it did contain such news, it would be fatal
news. Henry was a pessimist.
The big heading escaped his notice at first because he was looking for
some smaller notice regarding the _Sphere_ and its failure to return.
Then suddenly it caught his eye. Breathlessly he devoured it.
SENSATION
CAUSED BY FLYING SPHERE
Curious Metal Blimp Seen Floating Above Lake Vessels’ Mast Tops
STRANGE NEW AIR TRIUMPH
Heavier than air machine with no visible means of ascension
or propulsion possesses marvelous speed
(Special Dispatch to the Morning Chronicle)
ERIE, Pa., July 18.--The freighter, “Mary Ann”, arriving here tonight,
reported a remarkable incident.
About 4 o’clock this afternoon a member of the crew descried a small
speck over the southern horizon. This speck grew in size rapidly until
it became apparent that it was not only approaching the “Mary Ann”, but
falling with great velocity from its former immense height. It looked to
be a large grayish globe.
During the ensuing moments, it seemed as if a huge cannon ball were
launched directly at the vessel. Her destruction seemed certain.
Consternation seized the crew and officers, who, by this time, were all
aware of the pending disaster.