Wonder of the Worlds

by Sesh Heri

  Tesla said, “The boy is the gravitational field, the girl is the substratum of matter, its atomic structure. The gravitational field is the ether vibrating in waves of a certain frequency with a certain intensity of force. The atomic structure of matter is vibrating in a certain resonance with the vibrating ether, the gravitational force. Matter is affected by gravity because it is in resonance with it. I call this my ‘Dynamic Theory of Gravity.’” “I begin to see your point,” I said. “But—the giant? Who—or—I should say— what—what is the giant?”

  “Electricity,” Tesla said. “Electricity is the giant.” Tesla slid the door of the cabinet back and snapped it shut.

  “You see,” Tesla said, “what I have discovered is that electricity has a direct inf luence on atomic and molecular arrangements within macroscopic bodies. An electrical charge passing through a dielectric body will change its length. Moreover, a current of sufficient charge passing through a dielectric will cause it to move in the direction of its positive pole. This is because the electrical charge partially changes the frequency of oscillations and the orientation of the spin of the atoms in the dielectric. What I subsequently found was that any material body can be made ‘gravitationally transparent’ or ‘gravitationally re- versed’ if the voltage was great enough and the frequency of electrical pulsa- tion high enough to match the frequency of the waves in the local gravitational field. The rest was only a matter of details, engineering, and construction.” I asked, “Did you get all that, Your Excellency?”

  Cleveland said, “Electricity. Girl on swing pushed by boy. Giant bends branch. Swing misses boy. Giant stops swing. Cosmos runs giant.” “That’s it,” Tesla said.

  I added, “Your electric field… your electric field grabs your atomic field by its shirt collar—and yanks.” “You have it,” Tesla said.

  “Where’s the pilothouse?” I asked. “Follow me,” Tesla said.

  Up on the rooftop of the warehouse, Lillie began carefully climbing along the edge of the skylight, scampering sidewise like a crab. “Where are you going?” Ade whispered. “To get a better look,” Lillie whispered back.

  Lillie kept crawling along until she reached a window pane that gave a direct view down into the pilothouse windows of the airship. She reached out with her hand and wiped the dew off the pane and looked down. When she did, she saw Tesla enter the pilothouse, then me, and then Cleveland.

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  I peered around the pilothouse. It looked vaguely familiar. I had a faint recollection of a recurring dream. I was back on the Mississippi River pilot- ing a steamboat toward Hat Island. It was pitch dark with a thick fog, no star to steer by, no land, either. I had to feel my way by memory just as a blind man would; for without light of any kind I was blind. I could not tell by looking whether I was headed into the island, down the channel, or on to a sand bar—or the river bank. In the dream, I was always standing in a strange pilothouse—a domed-shaped pilothouse with mullioned windows—the pilot- house I stood in now. “Not much different than the pilothouse of a steamboat,” I said. “Some difference,” Tesla said. “The ship is controlled with this wheel.” “Starboard and larboard,” I said, “just like a steamboat.” “The wheel is on a universal joint,” Tesla said. “Not like a steamboat,” I said, tilting the wheel back slightly.

  Tesla said, “Tilt the wheel back you go up, tilt it forward—you go down. Press this pedal with your foot—and the ship accelerates forward. Press this pedal—the ship slows, or stops. Press this one—the ship backs up.” I looked at the levers and pedals and realized that however complicated the airship’s engine was, the pilot’s controls were so simply made that any fool could operate them, and I figured that qualified me to be an airship pilot. This was not like piloting a steamboat, where you had to call down in a speaking- tube to the engineer every two minutes for him to slow down, give her a head of steam, back up, or stop. It seemed that here in this airship you did all that yourself, and did it instantly with the push of a pedal. And in an airship you did not have to worry with sandbars, snags, or f loating timber—or with boiler explosions, or any other kind of explosions. I could not imagine what could worry the head of an airship pilot, and it seemed to me that a berth on this airship held all the delights of piloting and none of the worry and strain. “Ain’t it a charm!” I said. “How do you start her up?”

  “Close this switch,” Tesla said, “and you connect the aerial conductors to the ship’s circuits—electrical conduction begins—and you’re ready for f light.” “Can I… can I try her out?” I asked. Tesla glanced over at Cleveland. Cleveland looked at me, then back to Tesla, and nodded.

  “The wheel is yours, Mark,” Tesla said.

  Tesla went to the steps leading down to the airship’s top deck and called down into the ship: “Mr. Czito—come up here and prepare us for f light.”

  Czito immediately came up the steps and f lipped a switch next to the pilot’s wheel. Beyond the windows of the pilothouse I saw the walls of the warehouse open up and slide apart—two giant doors opening up a space some sixty feet tall and fifty feet wide to allow the airship passage.

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  Beyond the widening opening, the nighttime waters of Lake Michigan lay shimmering in the moonlight. Tesla said to Czito, “Just engage the main capacitors; we won’t need the auxiliaries.” Czito nodded and went to a desk at the back of the pilothouse. This desk was long, running the entire width of the pilothouse, and had a great number of electrical switches and rows of little incandescent light bulbs. He closed some of the switches and left the rest open. Then he went back down the steps leading out of the pilothouse.

  In a moment, I heard a clang below and an incandescent light on the board next to the pilot’s wheel f lashed on. I realized that this light indicated whether the door to the airship was opened or closed. Tesla said, “You may proceed anytime, Mark.”

  I nodded, took a deep breath, exhaled, and grabbed hold of the pilot’s wheel. “Take her out low on the water—like a boat,” Tesla said. “Like a boat—I know,” I replied. I closed the starter switch, and I immediately heard a low, undulating hum. “Listen to that!” I said, “Reminds me of the sound of a steamboat engine! Gentlemen, we’re going out!”

  I pressed the accelerator pedal ever so slightly with my foot and at the same time carefully tilted the wheel a fraction of an inch. I felt no movement, but I could see that we had instantly—and I mean instantly—lifted up, and were slowly and steadily moving forward through the open doors and out of the warehouse! I steered the ship between the edges of the open doors, calling on every bit of finesse that I could from my piloting days on the river so as not to crash the airship into the edge of one door or the other, or lift the airship too high and crash into the ceiling. I got the airship aimed at the center of the open space in front of us, and I gave the accelerator a feather-weight tap with my foot. We sailed out of the warehouse in a straight line. I brought the airship down on to the surface of the lake; we touched down with a gentle splash, and plowed along the lake surface like a ship under a full head of steam.

  Above on the rooftop of the warehouse, Lillie and Ade had watched the airship glide out of the doors. When she realized the airship was moving out, Lillie turned and climbed down the roof with Ade following behind her. They ran to the rooftop’s parapet wall and looked down to see me pilot the airship on to the waters of Lake Michigan. Lillie and Ade watched us depart, the ship’s hull glowing with a blue electrical nimbus and bolts of electricity f lashing between those two fancy lightning rods which Tesla called the “aerial conductors.” They kept watching the airship

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  move away until it appeared to be only a blue ball of light skimming the surface of the lake. “It’s a boat!” Ade said.

  Suddenly the blue ball of light shot straight into the sky.

  “It’s an airship!” Lillie shouted, her long, blonde hair blowing wildly in the wind.

  “Yee-how!” I shouted. “Yee-hooow! Damned if I ain’t a white hot rocke
t from hell!” I was piloting the airship straight up through the clouds—to the Moon!

  We were standing stock still, and we were f lying a thousand miles an hour— all in the same instant! White clouds approached us like angels barring the gates of heaven. They encircled us, beseeched us to go no further, but we broke past to the inky expanse beyond. Now there was nothing to bar our way, only eternity lay before us, waiting, waiting, as if it had always been waiting for this moment when we would break all bonds and ascend to the Moon and stars. All I could do was grip the wheel and follow the onward moving force— and I was astonished to realize that the force was nothing more than my own will to move! “I’ll be double-damned in hell if this ain’t the most… !” My words failed. I took the airship larboard and then down in a great arc.

  Chicago lay slumbering 10,000 feet below us. I could see the dim glow from the streets and buildings all ranged out along the shoreline of Lake Michigan. I spotted the tall buildings of downtown and aimed the airship toward them. “Yee-how!” I shouted.

  “Clemens! Clemens! Clemens!” I heard Cleveland shout from behind me and I thought he wanted me to speed up. “Yes, sir, Your Excellency,” I said, “I can make her go faster!” “No—no—I—”

  Before Cleveland could say another word, I pushed the wheel forward and the accelerator pedal down a mite. The airship rocketed down through the skies and we swooped over the tops of Chicago’s highest towers. “I’m going to loop her!” I said.

  I pulled the wheel back and the airship nosed up to the sky. We were moving toward the Moon again, then the Moon passed under us, and, above us, through the pilothouse windows, we could see the streets of downtown Chicago. I brought the airship down this way, on its back, so to speak. It seemed that we were not moving, but that the city of Chicago was lowering down on us from above. I looked starboard out the pilothouse windows and caught sight of the tops of buildings hanging upside down—that is, they looked upside down. Either we were upside down, or the world was; it was moot. It did not seem to me that we were upside down. I felt a normal pull of gravity

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  downward to the f loor of the airship. It seemed I had turned the world on its back, or, I should say rightly, Tesla had.

  Here was a moment sublime, not to be hurried over unnoticed and unfelt, but savored and appreciated for the full measure. I took out a cigar, struck a match on the pilot’s wheel, and lit up. “Shoot, Tesla!” I said, “f lying this airship’s child’s play. And that’s my meat and ‘taters—child’s play!” Tesla grinned back at me. I clinched the cigar between my teeth, grabbed the pilot’s wheel, and pressed the accelerator pedal.

  “Yee-how!” And I took the airship around in another loop which brought us upright again. Now I turned the airship about and sped north over the city of Chicago, rising higher and higher through the clouds—faster—and faster— “Clemens! Clemens!”

  Cleveland was shouting, I suddenly realized. He shouted: “I order you to bring this ship to a halt! Now!” “Yes, sir, Your Excellency!” I said, and slammed my foot on the brake pedal.

  We came to an instant stop among the clouds. A f lock of birds passed our window and seemed to peer in on us and wonder who we were and where we had come from. I heard Cleveland let out of sigh of relief. “Ah, Tesla,” I said, “you are a genius! And your ship’s a beauty!”

  “Thank you, Mark,” Tesla said, “You are the only person besides Mr. Czito and me who has ever piloted my ship.” “Well,” I said, “I’m honored.”

  I held out my hand for Tesla to shake, and, although Tesla did not care much for shaking hands, he reached out and gave my hand a hearty grip with his. “Mr. Clemens!” Cleveland said, “do you think you can get us back to port without getting us killed?” “Why, certainly, Your Excellency, right away, sir,” I replied. “And slowly, man, slowly!” Cleveland added. I nodded and turned the airship starboard away from the Big Dipper and swung her around south toward the Moon and downtown Chicago. Then I sent her forward and up, climbing above a bank of clouds that lay before us. I kept taking us up. We entered the cloud bank and everything went deep black. Then, in a moment, we came out upon the tops of the clouds. I steered the airship along the tops of those clouds, as if I was following a great, fog-bound river in the light of the Moon. Finally the clouds began thinning out, and I began bringing us down in a slow descent toward Lake Michigan.

  I’m not sure exactly where we were, but I don’t think I would be far wrong to say we were probably somewhere over lower Wisconsin and about 30,000 feet up in the sky. I kept on bringing the airship down. We passed through

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  another layer of clouds glowing in the light of the Moon. In a little while, glimmering through the thin, cottony layer of clouds, I saw the lights of Chicago again, and at that moment I began to feel like an old hand at the airship piloting business. I got very easy and comfortable at the wheel, and would take a draw on my cigar and puff out a smoke ring or two. Soon we came abreast of downtown Chicago and I brought the airship down to about 1,500 feet above the lake front. I moved the airship along slowly and we looked out upon the city, fairly certain that we would not be noticed at this altitude in the air— for who would be looking up at the sky this time of night?

  Just as we were most comfortable and serene, a large, dark object suddenly sped up beside us and hovered there, not fifty feet away. Our airship was rocked by a wake of displaced air. “Whoa!” I cried. “What the hell is that?”

  As soon as I said that, the dark object sped off into the sky like it was shot from a cannon and disappeared from sight in less than five seconds! “That’s it!” Cleveland shouted. “The foreign airship!” “They could’a killed us!” I said.

  “What do you say now, Clemens?” Cleveland asked. “What do you think we should do?” “Wait—watch—and watch out,” I said.

  Cleveland turned to Tesla, and asked, “How long would it take you to produce a f leet of these airships?” “Roughly—two years,” Tesla said, “possibly one—if I had the money and man power.”

  “And money means Morgan,” I said.

  “I can swing a loan to the government from Morgan,” Cleveland said. “Really?” Tesla asked. Cleveland nodded.

  Tesla said, “You should know that Morgan has spied out my laboratory operations and views my advanced ideas with great suspicion.” “Yes,” Cleveland said, “I realize the conf licting interest. But I also realize we are faced with a formidable, unknown foreign threat—a threat to all of us, including Morgan. I believe I can convince Mr. Morgan of the necessity of financing these new inventions of yours as a secret military project. Such a secretly contained industrial development need not affect our public economy. Let me deal with Morgan. You think about building airships.”

  Tesla nodded, but I could tell that his agreement was cargoed with ex- treme wariness. I piloted the airship on in silence. None of us felt like talking, so we did not.

  Lillie and Ade had watched us fly away in the airship until we plunged into a cloud about 10,000 feet above Lake Michigan.

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  Lillie turned abruptly, retrieved her shoes from where she had tossed them, and started for the rooftop fire escape. “Where are you going?” Ade asked, following behind Lillie. “To file my story.” “What story? You don’t have a story.” “I have the story of the century.”

  Lillie sat down on the fire escape landing and began putting on her shoes. “How do you figure that?”

  “You need it spelled out? All right. Mark Twain is piloting an airship. That’s a story. President Grover Cleveland is a passenger on the airship. That’s a big story. Nikola Tesla has invented an airship. That—is the story of the century.” Lillie had on one shoe and was putting on the other.

  “Lillie, you don’t know what you’re getting into. We need to sit on this until we really know what’s going on.” “I know what’s going on.” “Lillie—”

  “No. I know what you’re after. You want to slow me down just enough so you can file the st
ory yourself. Well, it won’t work. Not this time.” Lillie had both shoes on. She stood up, and shot down the stairs. “Lillie!”

  But Lillie was gone. She had disappeared down into the darkness.

  Ade descended the fire escape. When he got to ground level, he caught sight of Lillie’s silhouette moving toward the street. He followed after her, but not too quickly, for he was all the while thinking to himself: Let her fume; when she calms down I can reason with her. Ade stepped out on the street in front of the warehouse. He saw Lillie marching quickly back to the cab which now stood only a half block away. Lillie reached the cab, got inside, and the cab lurched forward. Ade stood on the side of the street, waiting for the cab to come abreast of him; but when it did, it did not slow down. “Hey!” Ade shouted. “Hold up there!”

  For an instant Ade saw a f lash of Lillie’s face as the cab rushed by in front of him. He saw her face in profile, and it looked indifferent as a statue. Ade ran out into the street as the cab rolled away, leaving him behind. “Hey! Hey!” he shouted.

  But the cab kept going, rattling and jingling and clip-clopping away into the night. “Damn!” Ade said, kicking a stone across the street.

  Ade stood there a moment, contemplating. Then he slowly looked up at Tesla’s warehouse and beyond it to a sky of stars and thin clouds shining with moon-glow, and, above those shining clouds, a little blue point of light.

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  That little blue point of light was Tesla, Cleveland, Czito and me sailing along at an altitude of about 10,000 feet.

  Inside the cab, Lillie tried hard to think about everything she had to do, while at the same time forcing the image of George Ade from her mind—the laughing, mocking face of George Ade who always seemed to be one step ahead of her in every story she had tried to cover. Lillie’s cab circled the fairgrounds, turned up in the vicinity of Washington Park, and then got on to Michigan Avenue and headed north toward down- town. As the cab neared the lake front, the driver suddenly drew the horses up and they came to a stop. The street ahead was blocked by a tangle of carriages stopped dead-still. A crowd was gathered all around, looking up into the night sky. Lillie looked up and saw a glowing blue cigar—Tesla’s airship. A man asked, “Did you see the other one go by?” “That was a meteor,” another man said. “No,” said the first man. “It was another airship.”