I need not detail the aftermath of our emergence from the atom. Dr. Kent
and Babs followed me out within a few moments. But Alan was not with
them! He had seen Polter fall. His father and Babs were safe. The
sacrifice he had made in leaving Glora was no longer needed.
Down there on the rocky plateau, Dr. Kent suddenly realized that Alan
was dwindling.
"Father, I have to! Don't you understand? Glora's world is menaced. I
can't leave her like this. My duty to you and Babs is ended. I did my
best. You two are safe now."
"Alan! You can't go!"
He was already down at Dr. Kent's waist, Babs' size. He held up his
hand. "Dad, don't try to stop me. Good-bye." His rugged youthful face
was flushed, his voice choked. "You--you've been a mighty good father to
me. Always."
Babs flung her arms about him. "Alan. Don't!"
"But I must." He smiled whimsically as he kissed her. "You wouldn't want
to leave George, would you? Never see him again? I'm not asking you to
do that, am I?"
"But, Alan--"
"You've been a great little pal, Babs. But I have to go."
"Alan! You talk as though you were never coming back!"
"Do I? But of course I'm coming back!" He cast her off. "Babs, listen.
Father's upset. That's natural. You tell him not to worry. I'll be
careful, and do what I can to save that little city. I must find Glora
and--"
Babs was suddenly trembling with eagerness for him. "Yes! Of course you
must, Alan!"
"I'll find her and bring her out here! I'll do it! Don't you worry." He
was dwindling fast. Dr. Kent had collapsed to a rock, staring down with
horror-stricken eyes. Alan called up to Babs:
"Listen! Have George watch the chunk of gold quartz. Have it guarded and
watched day and night. Handle it carefully, Babs!"
"Yes! Yes! How long will you be gone, Alan?"
"How do I know? But I'll come back--don't worry. Maybe in only a day or
two of your time."
"Right! Good-bye, Alan!"
"Good-bye," his tiny voice echoed up.
Babs could see his miniature face smiling up at her. She smiled back and
waved her arm as he vanished into the pebbles at her feet.
* * * * *
It has broken Dr. Kent. A month now has passed. He seldom mentions Alan
to Babs and me. But when he does, he tries to smile and say that Alan
soon will return. He has been very ill this last week, though he is
better now. He did not tell us that he was working to compound another
supply of the drugs, but we knew it very well.
And his emotion, the strain of it, made him break. He was in bed a week.
We are living in New York, quite near the Museum of the American Society
for Scientific Research. In a room of the biological department there,
the precious fragment of golden quartz lies guarded. A microscope is
over it, and there is never a moment of the day or night without an
alert, keen-eyed watcher peering down.
But nothing has appeared. Neither friend or foe--nothing. I cannot say
so to Babs, but often I fear that Dr. Kent will suddenly die, and the
secret of his drugs die with him. I hinted that I would make a trip into
the atom if he would let me, but it excited him so greatly I had to
laugh it off with the assurance that of course Alan would soon return
safely to us. Dr. Kent is an old man now, unnaturally old, with, it
seems, the full weight of eighty years pressing upon him. He cannot
stand this emotion. I think he is despairingly summoning strength to
work upon his drugs, fearful that at any moment, he will not be equal to
it. Yet more fearful to disclose the secret and unloose such a diabolic
power.
There are nights when with Dr. Kent asleep, Babs and I slip away and go
to the Museum. We dismiss the guard for a time, and in that private room
we sit by the microscope to watch. The fragment of golden quartz lies on
its clean white slab with a brilliant light upon it.
Mysterious little golden rock! What secrets are there, down beyond the
vanishing point in the realm of the infinitely small? Our human longings
go to Alan and Glora.
But sometimes we are swept by the greater viewpoint. Awed by the
mysteries of nature, we realize how very small and unimportant we are in
the vast scheme of things. We envisage the infinite reaches of
astronomical space overhead. Realms of largeness unfathomable. And at
our feet, everywhere, a myriad entrances into the infinitely small. With
ourselves in between--with our fatuous human consciousness that we are
of some importance to it all!
Truly there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in
our philosophy!
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was first published in _Astounding Stories_ March 1931.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors
have been corrected without note.