FIVE THOUSAND YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
Alan did not lose consciousness. But it was a terrible sensation of
falling; a soundless, clattering chaos. The room seemed going dim;
glowing silver-bright, with every smallest detail sharp and clear--and
then fading. There was the sense that his body was suddenly spectral,
with a lightness of thistledown, whirling away in all this soundless
confusion.
The sensations were momentary; the room presently was almost normal
again. Alan sat still and gazed around him. A solid, white metal
floor; gray-white metal walls; a metal ceiling, windows and doors,
all closed. A solid room, unmoving--standing in the bottom of a tower
planted solidly upon the ground. It felt like that. Almost normal. But
not quite. For under his feet Alan could feel the floor vibrating. A
whirring, infinitely tiny, infinitely rapid vibration. It thrilled up
into his body like a gentle current; it gave him a sense of lightness,
buoyancy.
Alan knew that the tower was traveling in Time. Into our Past, or
our Future he could not tell which. Across the room at a table of
instruments Lea and the young man sat gazing at a bank of whirring
dials. They talked together in low tones; words unintelligible to Alan.
Lea, glancing over, caught his gaze and smiled. He stood up; stood
trembling and dizzy. At once she came and took his arm.
"Let me see the dials," he said. He knew she could not understand the
words, but he gestured, and she understood and steadied him to a seat
by the table.
"San," she said, and pointed to her companion.
The young man smiled, and offered his hand in the fashion of
Alan's time. He was a trifle taller than Lea; similar of aspect--a
gentle-looking youth, but with strongly masculine features. Blue eyes,
like Lea's, brown hair, long to his neck; a robe of fabric, dark-blue,
in form not unlike hers. It revealed his delicately molded limbs. A
very gentle, handsome young fellow, but there was nothing girlish,
nothing effeminate about him. He stood up with a quiet dignity--almost
an unconscious aspect of superiority, as though he were a gracious
little prince, shook hands with Alan, and sat again at his dials.
Alan surmised he was Lea's brother. Certainly they looked alike.
Alan made them understand that he wanted to read the dials. Most
of the dials were unintelligible, but there was one, with a slowly
moving pointer, which Alan could read. It marked 1980 A.D. Into
the future! Alan cursed the fact that he could not talk to his two
companions. His mind leaped back to Nanette and to me. Captured by
Turber. Taken--where? He did not know. But one thing was clear, Lea
and this San were friendly to him. They had forced him into the tower
because they knew it was the best thing for him. They were taking
him now--ahead, into what we call the Future. Doubtless to their own
Time-world.
Alan believed it must be far into the future--a time when English was
lost and forgotten, a dead language of history. But once there, Alan
thought that they would have a way of communicating with him. Their
smiles were reassuring. Lea examined his head and shoulder wounds. They
were no more than severe bruises.
"Nothing," said Alan. "I'm all right. But Nanette?" He tried to gesture
to make it mean something.
"Nanette," said Lea. She smiled again, but then her face went solemn.
San said abruptly: "Lea--San--Alan." His gesture included the three
of them. And then he pointed to the dial. Alan understood. He was
indicating the year to which they were going.
It was the year 7012 A.D.
"But Nanette," Alan insisted. "Nanette? Turber?" He swung his finger
over the dial. But they both shook their heads. They were solemn,
perturbed. They did not know Turber's destination. Alan's heart sank,
yet there was nothing he could do but wait.
* * * * *
Presently Lea was showing him about the tower room. It was some
thirty feet square, occupying the entire base of the tower. There was
furniture which seemed to be of metal. A gray-white room, windows
closed now and covered by opaque metal plates, a dim glow of light, the
source of which he could not determine, lighted all this gray interior.
Two small sections of the room were divided off by hangings of what
might have been a gray metallic fabric--one inclosure where it seemed
food was stored; the other, an instrument room. A low hum came from
there. Alan saw lines of tiny wires of cobweb fineness, which began
there and spread like a tiny white network woven into the walls and
ceiling and floor of the room. And, in one corner, there was a small
metal staircase--an incline spiraling upward through a trapdoor of the
ceiling. Lea gestured.
"Want us to go up?" said Alan.
She evidently did. She showed him the dials again. They were passing
the year 1995. She spoke to San. He remained at the instruments; Alan
and Lea went up into the tower.
Amazing sight! They stood on the narrow balcony which girdled the
small tower room near its top. Alan had not dared to look down as they
climbed the ladder. It seemed that around him was a gray, luminous fog.
On the balcony he clung to the breast-high railing and stared.
A gray monochrome of city--blended colors of whirling days and nights,
seasons, years--all blended into this flat, shadowless gray. A blurred
scene, crawling with movement. Melting outlines, changing with the
progressive altered aspect of the passing years.
1995! 2000! Our great city of 1945, here just a few moments ago, now
seemed so small and antiquated! What a tremendous giant, rearing itself
here now around him! And it was still growing. Its great buildings had
come up and were encroaching upon the park. They loomed far higher than
the tower.
He saw, off where Broadway traversed its diagonal path, a roof appear
over the street. A great shadowy spread of roof--over Broadway--then
over other streets. Growing giant of a city. The outlines of the huge
buildings came nearer. The park was dwindling as the city flowed over
it. Structures which Alan fancied might be great airplane stages rose
high on stilted tower legs. One was quite near. It came up all in an
instant--twice the tower's height, with an enormous platform upon its
top. Once, for just an instant, Alan fancied he saw the shape of an
airliner resting there. A thing which, because it persisted long enough
for him to see it, must have been lying there for many months.
The city seemed a single solid structure now--a vast building of
tumbled, storied wings, and walls, towers and spires. A city, roofed
over. The roof was over the tower now. The buildings had long since
flowed over the park. No trees here now. No sky; no light from nature.
The persisting man-made lights now were visible, blurred spots of dull
yellow-red glow. It seemed suddenly a city infernal. Teeming multitudes
here under one vast roof. Spider-like aerial bridges and viaducts were
everywhere.
The tower presently was set in the space of a street. Alan could see
very little of the city's extent--a street of many pedestrian levels
one above the other, flanked with great lights.
The street had come into being, risen around the tower--endured for
a moment. And then, as though leprous, it began dismembering. A
portion of it melting away; then another. But other buildings--other
viaducts--other towers rose to fill up the gaps. And always larger
structures.
* * * * *
The tower now seemed traveling faster. Alan could imagine the
city--this one vast roof with the rivers flowing beneath it. Staten
Island with the space of Turber's hospital, was doubtless under this
same roof. And all the upper bay; and the New Jersey shore of the
Hudson; and Brooklyn and all this end of Long Island.
Incredible millions of people, living here in this enormous, monstrous
beehive--living pallid; some of them perhaps, in the poverty-stricken
sections, never having seen the moon save as its light might struggle
through their translucent roof; not knowing the sunlight rays; never
having seen the sea, with only gloomy rivers flowing through tunnels
to represent it; wondering, perchance, what grass might be, and things
that people richer and more traveled spoke of as trees. Pallid people
of the monstrous city, slaves to their own machinery!
Alan clung to the balcony rail, with Lea beside him. Her hand was on
his arm as though to steady him. Occasionally she met his glance and
smiled; or gestured to indicate the gray shifting wonders of the scene
around them.
Alan noticed now that in this constricted area where the tower was set,
there seemed few changes. These vast structures, of a material the
engineers of this age may fatuously have termed indestructible, were
enduring over larger periods. They melted away occasionally and others
took their places. But the form was about the same.
As though now mankind here were resting. The peak of civilization here,
and perhaps upon all the earth, was reached. Man resting upon the
summit of his achievements. But in nature there is no rest! A thousand
years, here upon civilization's summit. And then--a little step
backward! Mankind, softened by ceasing to advance, turning decadent. A
little backward step.
As though this city here were a symbol of it, Alan could see the
decline. A rift in the street--and it was not rebuilt. Another rift. A
leprous slash--a hole that gave Alan a wide extent of vista to the east.
Doubtless, upon an earth so unified by transportation as this age must
have been, it was not only New York decaying--but also a decadence of
all mankind over all the world. Alan saw it here. By what might have
been the year 5000 A.D., the shadows of the vast city lay in ruins
around the tower. Broken buildings, crumbling visibly as Alan stared
at them. Fallen roof--the whole ramified and multiform structure
everywhere lowering as nature pulled it down. It lay piled in shadowy
mangled fragments.
There were trees now! Vegetation springing up. A wild, neglected
growth. A forest growing in the ruins of the city, where the occasional
broken spires still stood like headstones; and then melted down.
The forest grew around the tower; the city was almost buried. Lea
plucked at Alan. She murmured something.
"Shall we go down?" he said.
She smiled. She said, quite distinctly, "Yes."
She led him down the ladder. He felt more secure now. There was no
sense of movement of the tower; the ladder-steps were firm and solid.
Alan saw the forest melting. A sylvan landscape seemed coming.
In the lower tower room they found San still intent upon his dials.
He drew Alan over and indicated that single dial which to Alan was
legible. It marked 6650 A.D. The pointer was traveling much faster
than when Alan had seen it before; but as he watched it now he could
see that it was slackening. He sat regarding it; listening to the
musical, unintelligible words of his two companions.
Then they gave him food and drink. And Lea again examined his bruised
shoulder and the gash on his head. But they were not serious; he had
forgotten them.
6700 A.D. 6800 A.D. The tower's flight was slowing; the hum of the
room seemed progressively at a lower pitch. They were nearing their
destination; preparing to stop in 7012.
* * * * *
Alan's mind again went to Nanette and me. Where were we in all these
whirling years? A sense of loneliness, depression swept him. He felt
utterly baffled, helpless. But he tried to shake it off. He said
aloud, as though to cheer himself:
"Lea--see here--I've got to talk to you. Understand?" It seemed almost
that she did. "My sister, Nanette--that villain Turber has her--he's
always wanted her, understand? I've got to get her back, Lea. Damn it,
I've got to find him--get her away from him!"
But all Lea could do was touch him sympathetically.
Baffled. This cursed barrier of language! "Lea, what is Turber to you?"
San, with readier wit, pointed again to the dial. Indicated 7012, and
then gestured to his lips.
Alan nodded. "Yes, I understand--when we get there we can talk."
They came to the year 7000. Traveling slowly now.
Then Lea had an idea. In the automobile, coming from Staten Island,
she had been wrapped in Nanette's cloak. It was discarded now; but it
lay here in the tower room. She picked it up and stood before Alan.
Fragile, beautiful little creature! The soft folds of the sky-blue
drapery fell about her figure; the golden tresses lay in a mass over
her shoulders. Her eyes, clear pale blue as a morning sky, were fixed
on Alan. A wave of emotion swept him; it seemed that he had never seen
a girl so beautiful.
"Nanette," she said, lifting the cloak.
"Yes," he responded. "Nanette's cloak. I understand. But what--"
She took Alan's finger and moved it over the dial. Aimlessly. She said:
"Nanette--Turber--Edward--"
And shook her head. She did not know where we were. But then she
indicated the cloak again, and smiled, and said, "Yes--yes."
What could she mean by that? Was she trying to convey that with
Nanette's cloak they would be able to learn where Nanette was? It
seemed so.
A tenseness had come to San. He was alert at his mechanisms. He spoke
sharply to Lea. Her hand went to Alan, steadying him. Alan braced
himself. San flung a switch-lever. The tower seemed almost to lurch
physically.
They had reached their destination. Alan's senses had suddenly reeled;
but they cleared at once. The tower room was vibrationless; the hum was
stilled. San opened the door. A warm sunlight streamed in.
The Space of Central Park, five thousand years in our future!
Lea and San led Alan from the tower.