Wonder of the Worlds

by Sesh Heri

  “Certainly,” Czito said dryly. “We will start with the basics of electrical conduction. Electricity runs on a wire from a power source to a load.” “A load of what?” Houdini asked.

  Czito looked over at me, then back to the others.

  “We will begin at the beginning,” Czito said with a sigh. “The very begin- ning. Let’s get a couple more chairs up here.” George Ade and Houdini went down the steps of the pilothouse, came back up with two chairs, and sat them down in front of the control board. “Please be seated,” Czito said to Lillie, Houdini, and Ade. The three of them sat down in front of the controls. Czito said, “Before you are the controls of a switching system.” Lillie said, “It looks like a telephone operator’s switching board.”

  “Yes,” Czito said, “there is a certain similarity. But instead of telephone reception lines, this system controls the circuits that electrify the ship’s outer steel hull. It is the resonance between the electric field of the ship’s hull with the electrical skin-wave coming from the aerial conductor which determines the speed and direction of the ship. The primary adjustment of resonance is made by Mr. Clemens at the pilot’s controls: the wheel, the pedals, and the primary switches. The control switches before you control the electrical surges which occur with any sudden change of speed and direction. You do not need to understand the technical reasons for these power surges. Basically, they are the result of interactions with the surrounding ether which causes not only inertial effects, but electrical ones as well. Power surges also occur when the ship is struck with energetic rays, such as those we sustained from the Martian

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  airship. These power surges can cause short circuits and a loss in electrical power. Therefore, it is important that all these electrical surges are monitored at all points on the ship’s hull. When the surges occur, the affected circuit must be switched to an electrical dump or virtual ground located inside the lower deck. The red lights at the top of the column of switches indicate a surge when they are lit. When you see one of these go on, you must take the cord directly below it and plug it into its corresponding receptacle below it here. That con- nects it to the ground. When the light goes off, unplug the cord. In a series of sharp turns or changes of speed, you may need to plug and unplug the cords every second or two. Now, I am going to give Mr. Clemens some instructions, and as he carries them out, I want all of you to watch the lights on the board. We will start with a simple maneuver and proceed to the more complex.”

  I said, “If this was a steamboat, they would be the engineers watching the pressure gauge on the boilers.” “The analogy is an over-simplification,” Czito said, “but I suppose it will serve.” Czito began having me take the ship through a series of maneuvers, speeding up, slowing down, stopping suddenly, starting up again suddenly, and then he asked for loops, corkscrew spins on a straight course, and finally corkscrew spins on an undulating course that no snake could follow. The stars beyond the pilothouse windows moved up and down, starboard and larboard, and spun about like a pinwheel on the Fourth of July. These maneuvers went on for quite a while. Finally Tesla came in and said that we had done enough. I was glad, because all that spinning was beginning to make me dizzy. I put us back on course to Mars, and began increasing our speed gradually until we were back up to ten million miles an hour.

  I had been standing watch at the pilot’s wheel for quite a while and shaking from head to foot all the time. I could not stop shaking. It was strange; I did not feel all that nervous, but something down deep in me had been terrified at our sudden acceleration to the speed of light. In that strange and terrible moment, it seemed as if the universe had blinked out of existence; not that I had died, but that everything else had ceased to exist. When the stars slowly reappeared again, they were all pushed forward in front of us to form a sort of ring. Tesla has told me that this was caused by light being distorted through an etheric bow-shock wave that had formed in front of our ship. The wave was in the shape of a funnel and all the light around us was bent toward it and passed through it before reaching us. The stars had not really moved ahead of us at all, they had only appeared to do so. Well, that all should have been comforting to know, but something down deep in me wouldn’t stop shaking. Whatever that thing was, it couldn’t be

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  reasoned with. I took out the only cigar I had on me, and brought out a match to light it up. Just then, Tesla reached out and took hold of my hand that held the match. “Sorry, Mark,” Tesla said, “I can’t allow you to smoke.” “Why not?”

  “The air filtering system can’t handle it. We have a limited supply of air and we must keep it breathable.” “You mean to tell me that you have designed a ship that can travel faster than light, but you can’t smoke on it?”

  “If we were on earth, I wouldn’t be concerned. But as things stand, I’m not sure when we can get another supply of air.” “And if I don’t smoke, how long will our air last?”

  “Long enough. The filtering system re-circulates the carbon dioxide and converts it back into oxygen. But smoke particles might jam the system.” “Well, if I can’t smoke, do you have anything to drink?” “Water. Only water.” “Water and air. Is that all we have on board?” “That’s all.”

  “Nothing medicinal?”

  “There’s a bottle of wood alcohol in the medical kit.”

  “That’s all? This ship is not properly provisioned. Not for an ordinary human being. You should have a cargo of Scotch whiskey on board, or at least some rum or grog or something. Look at my hand. I’m all used up.” “Take a break, Mark. I’ll stand watch for you.”

  “All right. But if I can’t smoke or drink the only break I see coming is my nerves breaking all apart.” “Mr. Ade,” Tesla said, “take Mr. Clemens back to the library. Perhaps you can find him a book to read.” “Oh,” I said, “you have storage space for a Christian Science Reading Room, but none for a little aged libation? Tesla, I have found a f law in your engineering, and you must have it corrected!” I started out of the pilothouse.

  “Mark,” Tesla said. “I’ll take that cigar and match.” I handed the contraband over to him. I said, “Don’t you destroy that cigar, Tesla. It’s a Moos and only improves with age.”

  I followed George Ade down the steps and out of the pilothouse, leaving Tesla to steer the ship. Houdini followed behind me, and said, “That was some piloting back there!” Ade and I stopped and turned around and looked at the boy. I said, “Yes, well, that was some swimming I saw you do.” “Swimming?” Houdini asked. “When did ja see me swimming?”

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  “When? I don’t know. I’ve lost track of time. How long have we been aboard this ship?” “Four hours,” Houdini said. “Four hours? Are you sure?” I took out my pocket watch and Houdini held his watch up next to mine. The hands on both watches were getting close to four o’clock.

  “See?” Houdini said, “It’s been four hours. How long did ja think it had been?” “I don’t know. Four days, maybe.” “Naw, four hours. That’s all. So when did ja see me swimming?” “Oh. You swimming. Let’s see, it must’ve been yesterday—Friday morning.” “You saw me jump?” “That’s right. I saw you go over the side of the bridge there on State Street.”

  “Well, whaddaya know! Say! I remember! I saw you go by in a cab, didn’t I? When Jacob and Mike were carrying me on their shoulders!” “That’s right,” I said.

  “Of course!” Houdini said. “At the time I said to myself, ‘That man looks just like Mark Twain!’ But then I said, ‘Naw! Couldn’t be. What would Mark Twain be doing in Chicago of all places? He’s gotta be on the Mississippi piloting a boat or something.’ You know, I read that book you wrote.” “That book I wrote? Now what book was that?”

  “Why, Tom Sawyer, of course! I read the whole thing. And you know what? I went to your hometown, Hannibal, Missouri, and I went to the cave where Tom and Becky got lost, and it was just like your book! You sure nailed that one. And guess what? I stood right in front of your house.” �
��Now isn’t that fine,” I said, and started to turn away.

  “And look at this,” Houdini said, and he unbuttoned the pocket on his trousers, reached into it, and brought out a little pebble in the palm of his hand. “You know what that is?” he asked. I looked at the pebble, and said, “Can’t say that I do.”

  Houdini said, “It’s a rock from in front of your old house. Here, take a look at it.” I took the pebble and looked at it, and said, “By George, I believe I do recognize this. I used to pass it every day when I was a boy! Only thing is, it has grown considerably since then. When I knew it, it was only a grain of sand, and it didn’t seem that it would ever amount to much. But look at it now, so round and full and prosperous, and who knows what the future will bring? Why, it might grow up some day to be another Plymouth Rock, if not a Wash- ington Monument!” Houdini looked at me a moment with his head cocked to one side, like a hound dog that can’t get the scent; then he straightened up and broke into a laugh.

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  “Aw, ha, ha, ha! Yer makin’ a joke! Aw, ha, ha, ha! I just got told a Mark Twain joke by Mark Twain himself! Aw, ha, ha, ha! A rock that grows up! Aw, ha, ha, ha! That’s a good one! Ha, ha, ha! That’s rich!” “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said, handing him back the pebble. “Here’s your souvenir.” “Thanks,” Houdini said. “Now that you have touched it, it’s worth a lot more. I’m going to keep this the rest of my life and have somebody place it on my tomb when I die.” “When you die?” I said. “You’re too young to be thinking about dying.” “Why do you say that?” Houdini asked. “Everybody dies. Dyin’s just a fact of livin’.”

  “Well, that’s true enough,” I said. “And considering the situation we’re in, I suppose dying is on all on our minds right now.”

  “My father always said, ‘The day of one’s death is more important than the day of one’s birth.’ And he knew what he was talkin’ about. He was a scholar and a rabbi. Can I shake your hand, Mr. Twain?”

  I held my hand out. “Clemens,” I said. “Just call me Clemens.” Houdini took my hand. “And just call me Houdini.” Houdini shook my hand in an attempt at a Masonic clasp—the Lion’s Paw. I did not respond to his gesture. He dropped his hand and looked at me. “Ain’t you on the square?” Houdini asked. “Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

  “Well, not yet. I’m not old enough yet. Not for a couple more years.” “Yes,” I said. “Well, you’re not doing that right. Give me your hand.” Houdini extended his hand and I showed him the proper way to do the Lion’s Paw.

  “Like that,” I said. “And then you do this. See?” “Yes,” Houdini said. “I get it.” “Where did you learn that grip?” I asked.

  “Like I said, my father was a scholar. He had a lot of books. I read it in one of them. I used to read a lot of his books, but then he had to sell them.” “Yes, well,” I said, “that’s the way you do the grip, but I’d advise you not to do it again until you’re initiated. You understand?” “Yes, sir, Mr. Clemens,” Houdini said grinning.

  I nodded to him, and then Ade and I turned about and went on aft to the library.

  Lillie West stood in the pilothouse watching Tesla steer the ship. She watched his tall figure stand still at the wheel, looking at a red star that lay straight ahead of the ship’s prow. “You called him ‘Mr. Clemens,’” Lillie said.

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  Tesla kept looking straight ahead.

  “That’s the first time I heard you do that,” she said. Tesla turned and looked over at Lillie. “To others,” Tesla said, ”he is ‘Mr. Clemens.’ To me, he will always be ‘Mark Twain.’”

  “He means something to you,” she said.

  “A great deal,” Tesla said. “When I was a boy I was very sick. Dying, actually. I felt the will to live leave me. Cholera does that to a person. But then I managed to read Mark Twain’s Jumping Frog story. It made me laugh so much, I forgot all about being sick and dying.” “So that is why he means so much to you.” “For making me laugh when I was sick? No, that’s not it.” “Then why?” “For making me laugh whether I’m sick or well. Just for making me laugh. Just that alone. It is more than sufficient. Few people appreciate the impor- tance of laughter. What about you, Miss West? Do you still remember how to laugh?”

  For once Lillie’s eyes averted Tesla’s gaze; she looked away toward the red star that seemed to be growing brighter. “I do not see anything to laugh about at the moment,” Lillie said.

  “That,” Tesla said, “is when one needs to laugh the most. And to be able to find the point of laughter at such a time—ah, that is the work of genius.”

  George Ade and I had settled down in the library at the stern of the ship. We were seated in the armchairs and a stack of books lay on the center table where Ade had put them. I had glanced through the pages of several of them and had set them all aside. I was in no mood for reading; neither was Ade. We just sat there looking out at the stars. “Books,” I said. “To the making of many books there is no end, as Solomon wrote when he was making another book. So many books are so like each other it is a marvel that we authors should continue manufacturing the things, but I suppose it beats working for a living.” “We seem to be trapped in a book right now, one by Jules Verne.”

  “Yes, Verne could have authored this trip, the main outlines of it, that is. But he couldn’t have thought up this airship of Tesla’s, and he sure as hell couldn’t have thought up Tesla. Verne gets all his character sketching second- hand from some very bad French literature and Walter Scott. The result of all that pawnshop kind of literature is deadly boredom. War talk by a soldier who has been in a war is likely to be interesting, but moon talk by a poet who has not been in the moon is apt to be dull.” I had not realized Tesla had come in behind me while I had been speaking, and now he came around in front of us and said, “Mark and I do not agree on

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  the literary merits of Monsieur Verne. I believe he is a remarkable writer and unappreciated by the many, even by some of those who enjoy him most. Have you ever read Hector Servadac?”

  “No,” I said, “but I have heard of it. It’s something about Earth being struck by a comet, isn’t it?” “That’s right,” Tesla said. “In it Verne encodes much knowledge that has long been held secret.” “Well,” I said, “that’s all fine. But when I read a story, I want it to f low along in an understandable way so that I don’t have to stop and cipher it all out every other paragraph.” “You just don’t like French literature,” Tesla said. “I just don’t like the French,” I amended.

  Tesla laughed, but then looked at me with concern and asked, “How are you doing?” “I’m all played out, Tesla, all played out. What I need is some real rest. Some solid sleep.” “There are crew quarters on the bottom deck,” Tesla said. “Go on down there.”

  “Well,” I said, getting up, “you do have some practical accommodations on board after all. I’m going down there right now. You and Czito can handle things for a while, I’m sure.” “I’ll call you when I need you,” Tesla said.

  I went down the ladder to the lower deck and turned toward the bow of the ship. There was a door going into a narrow hall. I went through the door. There was another door on the right. This was a four bunk crew’s quarters. On the left was another door. This was a bathroom. I went into the crew’s quarters and lay down on a bunk built into the bulkhead of the ship. I listened to the steady drone of the ship’s engine and in a few moments I drifted into a troubled doze. In another stretch of immeasurable time I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. It was during this sleep that I had a curious dream. I was walking through a strange city. It was not like any city I had ever seen before. I walked along looking in shop windows. Not a soul was out on the streets, nor was there any sound of birds, nor did I hear the rustle of the wind. Everything was deadly still, but the sky was bright blue. I walked along wondering where I was and what I was doing there. Then I turned a corner and came upon a familiar sight: it was my house in Hartford, Con- necticut. My daughters, Susy and Clara, ca
me running toward me; they were little children again. “Papa! Papa!” they cried.

  “What is it, my dears?” I asked.

  “What happened to the sky?” Susy asked.

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  I looked up to where they were pointing. The blue sky had a black hole in it showing stars, and the whole city spread out over the distant horizon was being broken apart piece by piece and drawn up into that black void. Susy asked, “Is it heaven or hell?”

  I woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy. I rubbed my face and reached for my pocket watch, took it out, and tried to see the time. It was too dark to read the watch’s face, so I got up from the bunk and went out to the hall, which was lit by a single bulb, and looked at my watch again. It read seven fifty-five. I had been sleeping over three hours. I went to the ladder and climbed it to the upper deck. I found Tesla stand- ing in front of the ship’s engine. He had the doors slid open and was studying the engine as it operated. The drive crystal filled the interior of the airship with a rainbow of light. “Mark,” Tesla said, “I was just about to come wake you up. How was your rest?”

  “Uneasy,” I said. “How’s the engine?”

  “It is doing as well as can be expected,” Tesla said. “The ship has never operated for this long at these electrical potentials before. I was concerned about some of the wiring. But it seems to be holding up. Let’s go up to the pilothouse.” Tesla slid the cabinet door closed and we ascended the stairs to the pilot- house. As I came up the steps, I caught sight through the pilothouse windows of a small, glowing, reddish-orange disk hanging ahead of us in space, just beyond the prow of the airship. Tesla said, “I have instructed Mr. Czito to make a relatively slow approach to Mars so we can throw out our electric echo-beam and detect any surprises that the Martians might have in store for us.” Kolman Czito stood at the pilot’s wheel, and at Czito’s position at the control board at the aft of the pilothouse sat Lillie West, George Ade, and Houdini. I approached the control panel where Lillie and Ade sat and looked at the diagram of the solar system which was all lit up under that square sheet of glass. Two points of light flashed near the glowing point of light on the dia- gram labeled Mars. “Do you think that little f lashing point is the Martian airship?” I asked.