A Changed World
Now that we who survived have reconstructed a civilization on a
rational basis, we want to preserve for future generations as many
accounts as possible by the actual witnesses of the catastrophe that
overtook the world.
In 1929 certain curious aberrations in the motion of the moon were
noticed by astronomers, and attempts to explain them were made by
suggesting that the solar system had been invaded by an unknown visitor
which had not yet been discovered. It is still believed that this
is the most likely explanation of what occurred. When this invader
approached the earth, it probably passed between it and the moon. Its
velocity must have been so great that it continued on its course in
spite of the attraction of the earth. However, it disturbed the balance
of forces sufficiently to draw the moon from its orbit and start its
headlong progress toward us.
I was away in Labrador when all this occurred, and it is due to that
fact that I am alive today. The things that happened in the densely
inhabited portions of the globe will be recounted by survivors who
were eye witnesses. It is sufficient to say that when the news of the
impending catastrophe became known a universal apathy seemed to settle
over humanity. It was apparently overwhelmed by the hopelessness of
any effort to escape. The religious people of the period regarded the
coming event as fulfillment of a prophecy of the destruction of the
world in the Last Day. People who had never before been religious
became so in an hour.
* * * * *
First Intimations
It is well that I begin on my personal experiences:
As I said before I was in Labrador when the moon first showed an
aberration in its motion. It will be remembered that in April, 1928,
three aviators, two Germans and one Irish, started on a flight across
the ocean from Ballycombe, Ireland, to New York. They succeeded in
crossing the ocean from east to west, a feat which had not been
accomplished before, but owing to fog and storms they lost their way,
and landed on a little island off the coast of Labrador.
The locality was absolutely inaccessible except by air. The aviators
had damaged their plane in landing, and it was necessary to get to them
with spare parts. The Associated Press, as well as some of the larger
dailies, thought it was equally important that their stories should
reach the world. There was a wireless station on the mainland fifteen
miles away, but for some reason the operator did not get the sort of
news the papers wanted. The Canadian Government started a steamer
toward the island, but it was soon caught fast in the ice.
I had been a flyer during the war and continued to fly a plane for
the pleasure it gave me. In that world which now seems so distant, I
had some reputation as a writer. The Associated Press suggested that
I fly to Greenly Island and get the stories of the marooned aviators.
Perhaps I am spending more time on this episode than it deserves. It is
sufficient to say that I got the stories and got them back to New York.
If that had been all there was to the adventure, there is a strong
probability that I would have perished some months later with most of
the other inhabitants of the United States. It happened, however, that
there were other flyers planning east-to-west hops. It occurred to the
powers who decided such things, that it might be a good idea to have
me fly back to Labrador and make it my headquarters and establish an
observation post while transatlantic flights were being attempted.
Accordingly, I flew back to Labrador whenever a transatlantic flight
was rumored, and made my headquarters at Point Amour on the mainland.
The wireless station was here, and about a hundred people. Little
Greenly Island was some fifteen miles across Belle Isle Strait. I was
getting rather bored waiting for something to happen, when one night
Jim Daley, the wireless operator, came running to the cottage where I
stayed, too excited to wait until nine o'clock, when I always strolled
over to the wireless station for a game of chess.
I stared at him in astonishment. "What's all the excitement about?" I
inquired.
He had been running so fast that for a moment he could not get his
breath to talk.
"You wait until you hear," he gasped. "I bet you'll be as excited as I
am. The world's coming to an end next week!"
I laughed.
"No, I mean it," he said. "It's not a joke. Here's a bulletin issued by
the Smithsonian. I copied it as it came in." He handed me a sheet of
paper.
* * * * *
The News Comes Out
As far as I know, this bulletin was the first intimation of the coming
catastrophe sent out over the radio. I assume that every effort was
made to keep the matter quiet, until it became evident that no escape
was possible.
Consequently up there in Labrador we had heard none of the rumors that
had spread over the civilized world, and had seen no references to the
strange lunar phenomenon which in a sense had prepared most people for
the announcement of some unusual event.
At this time there had been no change in the moon's course or size
visible to the naked eye. In the parts of the world where newspapers
were printed and read, there had been the usual few lines on a back
page that were given to any astronomical phenomenon, such as the birth
of a Nova or the discovery of a telescopic comet.
Some days before, astronomers in Colorado and South Africa had
simultaneously announced the aberration in the moon's motion.
There were occasional facetious references to the moon's
skittishness--emanating from the pens of bored columnists. The next day
there was nothing new from the astronomers, but the third day there was
an announcement that caused faint stirrings of anxiety among those who
read between the lines.
It was on the fourth day that announcements were made in England and
America on the joint authority of the Smithsonian Institution and the
British Royal Society, that some unknown force had displaced the moon
from its orbit, and that it was feared, though calculations were not
yet complete, that it would collide with or at least brush the earth,
resulting in a disaster of the first magnitude.
The formal announcement of the two scientific societies was broadcast
that night, and I was reading the part of it that Jim had written down.
I still have that piece of paper. Even as I look at it to copy it here,
I get again that thrill of horror, that for a moment paralyzed me that
night.
OFFICIAL BULLETIN: Issued by the Smithsonian Institution of
Washington, D. C., and the British Royal Society. Broadcast by all
means possible. Recent aberrations of motion of the moon have been
caused by its being thrown from its orbit by some unknown force.
Incomplete calculations indicate that it will collide with the
earth somewhere in the central Pacific region, on Thursday between
eleven and twelve at night. It is believed that the disaster
will be complete and there is no possible way of escape. Further
bulletins will be issued every few hours and will be broadcast
immediately. There is always the possibility that some force
similar to the one which threw the moon from its orbit may again
change its course. It is urged that all persons meet the crisis as
calmly as possible.
"Well?" asked Jim eagerly, when I had finished reading it.
"If it's not a hoax, I guess it means we're done for," I said slowly.
"Suppose we go over to the station and see what more comes in."
When we left the house I looked up at the moon, hanging full in the
sky, and Jim's apprehensive glance followed mine. I imagined it
was distinctly larger than usual and that it shone with a sinister
orange-colored glow instead of its usual silvery light. It was probably
not imagination, for people all over the world reported the same thing
that night.
We entered the wireless house and Jim sat down with the receivers
clamped to his ears. He began to take down a message which was coming
in and when he had finished, handed it to me.
BULLETIN: Tidal wave in the Pacific overwhelmed many low-lying
islands with great loss of life. All communications with Hawaii cut
off. Smithsonian announces that tidal waves following course of
moon will within the next twenty-four hours sweep far inland.
Jim was taking down another message. I read it over his shoulder.
BULLETIN: There is possibility that life near the poles may
survive. It will probably be possible to use airplanes for the next
twenty-four hours; after that, constantly increasing gales reaching
hitherto unheard of force, will make travel of any kind impossible.
Any survivors of the catastrophe should endeavor to preserve a
record of the phenomena that occur immediately before the impact of
the moon and immediately thereafter.