Thus had twenty great caves been dug out when at last word came from
the astronomers that the Sun's power could not possibly survive the
week. Night and day the work continued so that thousands might be made
fairly comfortable. There was much lamenting on the Earth's crust as
the world watched the fading of the Sun. It was hard enough to lose
the warmth of the Sun, but to have to creep into the damp cellar of
the Earth was almost too much for the soft men and women who had lived
luxuriously under the shadow of mighty machines that had given them all.
Kuila Rei journeying in his flyer from the observatory wherein he had
spent almost his whole life, since he had emerged from the City of
the Children, thought of all this. The flyer had been built several
thousand years before. Once it had been the very latest type of
Lighter-than-Air machines that Science had produced. And it still was,
for no better had been brought forth since. It sat like a bubble on
the thin air of the globe, and in form it resembled a bubble. It was a
perfect globe fashioned from a material that resembled glass, but its
qualities were as different from that brittle, splintery material as
night was unlike the day. Alu, the ancients called it, and it was as
transparent as the air, yet as strong as Earth itself, malleable as
clay and lighter than air. The greatest weight could not smash or crush
it, the sharpest point could not even scratch its surface.
Within this indestructible chamber sat Kuila Rei on a seat covered
with a leathery material whose back could be let down for sleeping
purposes. His feet rested on a similar pad and on a bar in front of him
that extended from side to side were placed the various levers that
controlled the machine. Under the seat was fitted the motor contained
in a small metal box, taking up no more than a cubic foot of space. The
oxygen tank twice the size of the motor stood near by.
Flying thousands of feet above the ground Man had found that the
thinning atmosphere was too rare and each flyer was consequently
supplied with its own oxygen tank containing enough of the precious
gas to sustain the pilot for one hundred hours. An open valve in the
side of the globe allowed enough of the poor grade of air to flow
from the outside to the tank and thence into the globe reviving the
air sufficiently to the proper proportions needed for the driver. The
motor, ingenious and yet of a marvelous simplicity, used for its fuel
the carbon dioxide expelled by the occupant of the machine, thus also
keeping the air clean and fresh. Through another vent the motor tossed
off its waste.
On entering his flyer Kuila had set the indicator for Central City, and
turned the height gauge to the altitude he knew it best to fly. He had
no more to do but wait until he arrived at his destination. Had he been
able to see the ground over which he was flying, at a height necessary
to avoid the irregularities of the Earth's surface, he would not have
been interested in the least. For where ages before had flourished
beautiful trees and wild jungle verdure; where jeweled pools had lay
dimpling in the sun; where brilliant birds and chattering monkeys had
lived joyously (in that part of the world that had once been called
Brazil) there was nothing now other than a wasteland, grey, bleak and
cold, its face like the worn, wrinkled visage of the old.
Kuila had with him a collection of ancient books and archives that he
had discovered during his life. Many hours he had studied them, and
in those hours he had lived not in the barren world of today, but in
the beautiful sunlit years that had gone before. In his books he had
read of the glory of the sun, of the vast, ever-moving waters (all ice
now), of green happy lands, of the moon that had once lighted the sky
at night. Ah! if only he could journey to a world that was as fresh and
young!
Not until he felt the growing stuffiness in his machine, due to the
accumulation of carbon dioxide no longer being used by his motor, did
he realize that he had come to a stop, and that he was floating like a
bubble over the city.
Like every man-made structure that still existed Central City had been
built in the far-off past. Here had been the core of the once-great
realm of the Earth. Here sat the Five, scientists all, who directed
the welfare of mankind. Here had the greatest of men lived. Building
after building rose thousands of feet in the air, each building an
entire community in itself, joined to its neighbors by numberless
airways for both pedestrians, ground and air cars. Several great
arteries were still used by the small population of the city. But for
the most part the city that had once housed thirty millions lay as
dead, the skyscrapers untenanted and cold; although to this day there
was no sign of decay. One could pass from chamber to chamber and find
the belongings of their past owners neatly in order. The decay of the
race had been gradual. There had been no hurried flight. Only the slow
disintegration of a well-satisfied people.
Kuila Rei maneuvered his flyer gently down the roof of perhaps the
most gigantic skyscraper in the city. As he drew near he saw that the
roofs of the surrounding buildings, as well as the one to which he was
descending, were crowded with people. Room was cleared for his machine
close to the hangar and a small group detached themselves to aid him in
pushing the machine under cover.
An aged man standing near by spoke to him. "It is the last time you
shall fly through the air of this condemned world, O Rei," he murmured
and sighed. Kuila scowled at the reminder of that fact, and pushed
himself into the heart of the crowd. He found his way to one of the
kiosks that housed an elevator and stepping in it he pressed the
indicator for a floor a thousand feet below.
The drop occupied less than a minute and he was in a corridor. He
hurried along to an office wherein several people were still lingering.
In the center of the room stood a machine with a mouthpiece on its
face, and into this he dictated his report. He stated his name, age
and occupation and explained that he had been the last to leave the
observatory of Mount 83; that it was in perfect condition, a condition,
he conjectured that would withstand the ice-flow that was slowly
surmounting the peak on which the observatory stood. His report ended,
he turned away. He knew that the machine would relay his report to an
adjoining office, write it in indelible print on a thin metal sheet and
file it away with similar reports in alphabetical and chronological
order.
* * * * *