Ours has been essentially a philosophical age, in fact the supreme age
of philosophy. But a great practical problem has also concerned us. We
have had to prepare for the task of preserving humanity during a most
difficult period which was calculated to begin about one hundred million
years hence, but might, in certain circumstances, be sprung upon us at
very short notice. Long ago the human inhabitants of Venus believed that
already in their day the sun was about to enter the ‘white dwarf’ phase,
and that the time would therefore soon come when their world would be
frost-bound. This calculation was unduly pessimistic; but we know now
that, even allowing for the slight delay caused by the great collision,
the solar collapse must begin at some date astronomically not very
distant. We had planned that during the comparatively brief period of
the actual shrinkage, we would move our planet steadily nearer to the
sun, until finally it should settle in the narrowest possible orbit.
Man would then be comfortably placed for a very long period. But in the
fullness of time there would come a far more serious crisis. The sun
would continue to cool, and at last man would no longer be able to live
by means of solar radiation. It would become necessary to annihilate
matter to supply the deficiency. The other planets might be used for
this purpose, and possibly the sun itself. Or, given the sustenance for
so long a voyage, man might boldly project his planet into the
neighbourhood of some younger star. Thenceforth, perhaps, he might
operate upon a far grander scale. He might explore and colonize all
suitable worlds in every corner of the galaxy, and organize himself as a
vast community of minded worlds. Even (so we dreamed) he might achieve
intercourse with other galaxies. It did not seem impossible that man
himself was the germ of the world-soul, which, we still hope, is
destined to awake for a while before the universal decline, and to crown
the eternal cosmos with its due of knowledge and admiration, fleeting
yet eternal. We dared to think that in some far distant epoch the human
spirit, clad in all wisdom, power, and delight, might look back upon our
primitive age with a certain respect; no doubt with pity also and
amusement, but none the less with admiration for the spirit in us, still
only half awake, and struggling against great disabilities. In such a
mood, half pity, half admiration, we ourselves look back upon the
primitive mankinds.
Our prospect has now suddenly and completely changed, for astronomers
have made a startling discovery, which assigns to man a speedy end. His
existence has ever been precarious. At any stage of his career he might
easily have been exterminated by some slight alteration of his chemical
environment, by a more than usually malignant microbe, by a radical
change of climate, or by the manifold effects of his own folly. Twice
already he has been almost destroyed by astronomical events. How easily
might it happen that the solar system, now rushing through a somewhat
more crowded region of the galaxy, should become entangled with, or
actually strike, a major astronomical body, and be destroyed. But fate,
as it turns out, has a more surprising end in store for man.
Not long ago an unexpected alteration was observed to be taking place in
a near star. Through no discoverable cause, it began to change from
white to violet, and increase in brightness. Already it has attained
such extravagant brilliance that, though its actual disc remains a mere
point in our sky, its dazzling purple radiance illuminates our nocturnal
landscapes with hideous beauty. Our astronomers have ascertained that
this is no ordinary ‘nova’, that it is not one of those stars addicted
to paroxysms of brilliance. It is something unprecedented, a normal star
suffering from a unique disease, a fantastic acceleration of its vital
process, a riotous squandering of the energy which should have remained
locked within its substance for aeons. At the present rate it will be
reduced either to an inert cinder or to actual annihilation in a few
thousand years. This extraordinary event may possibly have been produced
by unwise tamperings on the part of intelligent beings in the star’s
neighbourhood. But, indeed, since all matter at very high temperature is
in a state of unstable equilibrium, the cause may have been merely some
conjunction of natural circumstances.
The event was first regarded simply as an intriguing spectacle. But
further study roused a more serious interest. Our own planet, and
therefore the sun also, was suffering a continuous and increasing
bombardment of ethereal vibrations, most of which were of incredibly
high frequency, and of unknown potentiality. What would be their effect
upon the sun? After some centuries, certain astronomical bodies in the
neighbourhood of the deranged star were seen to be infected with its
disorder. Their fever increased the splendour of our night sky, but it
also confirmed our fears. We still hoped that the sun might prove too
distant to be seriously influenced, but careful analysis now showed that
this hope must be abandoned. The sun’s remoteness might cause a delay of
some thousands of years before the cumulative effects of the bombardment
could start the disintegration; but sooner or later the sun itself must
be infected. Probably within thirty thousand years life will be
impossible anywhere within a vast radius of the sun, so vast a radius
that it is quite impossible to propel our planet away fast enough to
escape before the storm can catch us.