Kuila repaired to the room given him--identical to all other living
rooms in Central City. In measurement the room was fifteen by fifteen
and twelve feet high. At first glance the walls were a buff color,
but after a few moments in the room under the glow of the light that
appeared to emanate from the walls themselves it was evident that they
were changing color. A pink flush was creeping over them, a pink that
deepened to a rose to be saved from red by the appearance of another
hue, a delicate blue, that, from dark blue, became a light green and so
through the spectrum of colors. Ages ago Man had discovered the effects
of color upon his nervous system and knew that the monotony of any one
shade would eventually drive him mad. Therefore, as one by one the
colors of Nature disappeared around him, he set about producing a riot
of color about him. Everything he made was colored with a pigment which
in the light brought out the seven colors and all the delicate shades
between them. Even clothes had the faculty to change minutely.
In shape the room was square, and yet the corners were built with a
curve that gave the room a graceful line. Its furnishings were of the
simplest. There were low couches padded with a soft felt-like material,
and like the walls, it changed color continually. These couches,
fashioned so as to give perfect ease to the body, were shaped to its
curves and angularities, and were used both as beds as well as for
relaxation, serving for the awkward chair of the ancient. Several low
tables, hardly a foot high, served as desks or to hold a few simple
though colorful ornaments.
One wall of the room was given almost entirely over to a large
mirror-like surface that gave no reflection. But by touching a small
lever on its side it gave the onlooker all the news of the world--like
the news-reel of old, by which ages ago one might sit back and watch
the progress of the world. A simple attachment gave forth sound so that
music, lectures and various sound arrangements came to the listener.
Now men seldom used this medium, for, in a world that comprised only
two cities and a few outposts, there was little news to broadcast
besides that which went by word of mouth or could be announced in the
city streets and auditoriums.
Adjoining the single room was a small bathroom with all its necessary
features, and on the far side of the room was a small closet. Herein
were three faucets and a cupboard. One faucet gave water, and the other
two faucets each emitted a liquid food that was the mainstay of the
Earth's thousands. Once man ate the flesh of animals, but animals, as
well as leaves, fruits and roots of grasses and vegetation had passed
away. Man had discovered thereafter that the food products of trees,
and later of minerals, were even more highly efficient, and though
Man lost sense of taste he gained a better store of body energy. The
machinery that produced the tasteless liquids also brought forth
cubes of highly concentrated food that was preserved in this manner
for indefinite periods. And, as one cube a day together with a measure
of liquid is sufficient for the human, it was possible to carry
several months' supply on one's person without taking up much space.
Consequently the pleasure of eating had been lost, but the tripled
efficiency of the food overcame that loss.
Kuila Rei drew a glass of the colorless liquid that was hot to the
taste; and then threw himself on a couch. He did not sleep immediately,
dreaming rather of the girl he had just left. Soon, however, sleep
claimed him. He was awakened by a metallic voice near at hand, coming
from a small instrument on one of the nearby tables, that informed him
that the hour of meeting in the Auditorium was at hand.
He found Ramo Rei at the place they had named for their tryst, and
together the pair took their places on the benches arranged to seat the
several thousand the building was housing. They were addressed by an
official who spoke of what the machines had been doing in the bowels
of the Earth; of what they would find in their new home; of what would
be the duty of every man and woman. It was not a beautiful prospect he
painted for them, but then there was no reason to paint the picture any
brighter than it was. He explained that everyone was to carry on the
type of work that he was accustomed to atop the Earth, and for those
whose type of employment would be of no use under the Earth's crust,
new work should be found.
Ramo and Kuila turned to each other with a question. What could they,
the astronomers, do now? It would take years before shafts could be dug
through the earth back to the summits of the mountains whereon stood
the observatories. Well, whatever might come, it was certain that the
twain would stick together.
They went into a conservatory and strolled there together for hours.
Then, when the hour of dawn was again at hand, they repaired to the
roof. Two more days passed in the same manner, and on the third day
word was noised about that the last hour was at hand. The Sun was in
its death throes.
The two went to their place at the parapet. The crowds were silent now,
holding their breath. Gradually the sky was becoming gray, but a sickly
gray, watery and pale. Nothing was distinct in the poor light. Eyes
strained to catch the first glow of the single flame of light, and a
volume of sound went up when at last it appeared.
Its light was very faint, so faint that it was no brighter than the
glow of a distant star. Then suddenly it all changed. It grew brighter
and brighter. That streak of red growing brighter, still brighter. It
suddenly looked as if the whole star was aflame again. Who said the Sun
was dying? A cry went up from the roof-tops. The multitude could feel
the warmth from that bright fire.
[Illustration: Brighter, ever brighter, a single flame pushed out. The
Sun was dying, and that light was its last burst of glory. A death-like
silence settled over the multitude.]
Brighter, ever brighter, a single flame pushed out, reaching out,
growing, brighter and brighter. Some one screamed. "That flame ... the
Sun is coming to consume us! Hail O Sun, take us to your heart, devour
us in your last burst of glory!"
The flame, however, appeared to have spent itself, it was dwindling
once more. The Sun was dying. That burst of light had been the Sun's
last burst of glory. Low murmurings arose from the crowds, someone
commenced to sing a dirge and all took it up as they watched the
flame growing smaller, smaller. Then the light was gone. Only a faint
grayness persisted, but that too died. Several minutes more and the
darkness gathered in, a darkness that was never to be dispelled again.
* * * * *