The Hidden World: A Golden Age SF Classic

by Stanton A. Coblentz

  Before a few months were over, I began to wish that I had remained safely Second Class. The order against adulteration of the air supply brought down upon me the wrath of my old employer, the Ventilation Company. My rule raising the military age of children from six to eight sent legions of patriots fuming to my palace in protest. The law that spies must receive a trial before being executed provoked widespread denunciation on the ground of its “sentimental weakness.” And my enactment taxing the First and Second classes no less than the Third almost led to armed rebellion.

  But before I tell of my further public difficulties, let me mention one private vexation. This was in connection with Professor Tan Torm and his daughter Loa.

  I had hoped that, in my role as “Luma the Illustrious,” I would be able to elude them entirely. But one day, when delivering a public address in my throne room, I chanced to notice two familiar faces among the front ranks of spectators.

  It was only a few wakes later that Tan Torm, accompanied by his daughter, paid me a visit. In view of our past relationship and my feeling of indebtedness to Tan Torm, I could not refuse them an audience.

  After congratulating me on my rise—which he ascribed to the training I had had at his hands the professor approached a delicate subject. judging from the ogling glances which Loa cast me, it was all too evident that the magnanimous creature was willing to forgive my past rebuffs!

  "How happy your success makes me, my dear boy!” said Tan Torm. “A great burden has been removed from us all. You need no longer be debarred from lifelong bliss. Loa has been faithful to you, my boy!"

  "Yes, I have been faithful!” echoed the blushing damsel, her wrinkled face downcast.

  "We well realize your position, my dear friend,” continued the professor, beaming. “Weighed down by cares of State, you have had no time to pay us a visit. Besides, it would be unseemly for a man in your high position to visit our humble quarters. To be sure, you might have summoned us here, but you hesitated, fearing to shock us too greatly. Is that not so, my boy?"

  "Yes, that is so!” I groaned.

  "You see, Loa, what a considerate lover you have! I always said you were lucky, my dear. Yes, you are lucky, both of you. I wish you—"

  In desperation, I was ready to clutch at any straw. I interrupted Tan Torm hastily: “Have you forgotten the eugenics test?"

  Both visitors smiled upon me benignantly, as one might smile at the recollection of sorrow outlived.

  "Of course, we recall! It was one of the great griefs of our life. Poor Loa! It was seven wakes before she began to show a normal interest in her wrinkles again!"

  "I didn't care what happened to me,” added Loa, looking up with a demure twinkle in her eye. “Since you were lost to me, it didn't seem to matter if I lost all my fatness. But now, of course, my dearest, all that is over!"

  "I don't see quite how,” I replied, weakly, while a stabbing sensation seemed to take me at the heart.

  "Why, it's all plain as light!” declared Tan Torm, still smiling. “Since you are now a law to yourself, declare yourself eugenically fit, and who will dare contradict you?"

  All at once, I understood the disadvantages of being Dictator.

  "To be sure, your former disbarment was valid enough,” rambled on the professor. “Having no military ancestry, you naturally weren't qualified to become the head of a family. But now your sons won't have to fight and be turned over—"

  I do not know how or why—perhaps it was the professor's reference to fighting—but at this point an idea leapt into my head. “All that is true,” I broke in. “I have, as you declare, no fighting ancestry. Therefore, before assuming domestic happiness and responsibilities, I must justify myself. Tomorrow I lead the army to battle!"

  Both the professor and his daughter looked downhearted. “Oh, but that isn't necessary, my dear boy!” frowned the former. “You have, well, altogether too high a code of honor!"

  "But, great caverns, it's unheard of! The leaders never go forth to fight!” pleaded Loa. “Their own lives are too valuable to risk."

  "Ali, but I am no ordinary leader, and my country's welfare is at stake. Would you have me shrink from the field of honor?” Suspecting that they would, I added, hastily, “Goodbye, my dear friends. Kindly give my regards to Tan Tal, Moa, and Noa."

  * * * *

  Anxious as I had been to escape from Loa, her coming had not been the only reason for my sudden decision; I was anxious to find some way of diverting public attention. Besides, the enemy had lately attacked with new energy and resourcefulness. Already they had wrested from us a stretch of Nullnull seventeen yards deep and fifty-nine yards wide—a defeat which, though our papers did their best to conceal it, had somehow become public knowledge, vastly weakening my prestige. I realized that, if I were to regain the ground I had lost, Wu must retake the ground it had lost.

  However, was I competent to lead the troops? On this subject I had no doubt at all; all our generals were so thoroughly versed in thoughtlessness that they did not seem hard to surpass.

  No action since I had become dictator evoked such enthusiasm as the announcement that I was about to command the army. The Blare and the Screamer, commending me in full-page editorials, expressed their thanks that I was ready to bring my people to “the most glorious turnover in history"; the masses, acclaiming me in wild demonstrations, cheered and celebrated until you would have thought I had already won a victory.

  I must confess that my own plans were a little vague. I had become so weary of the Underworld that I did not particularly care if I should be turned over in the next engagement; however, I was determined to remain ruler while I lived, and did not hesitate to antagonize the generals by vetoing projects such as the one calling for a Subterrain of unprecedented power, which would shatter the roof above the capital of Zu, burying the city and all its people amid the ruins.

  I set out on a scoot in the midst of an army of a hundred thousand picked soldiers. A magnificent display they made as we proceeded along the main avenues and galleries, the people shouting exultantly, “Have a successful turnover! Successful turnover!"

  Owing to the torrential applause, my advance was greatly retarded; several wakes were consumed in the march to the depths, as the natives termed the battle front. And, during the interval, tremendous changes were afoot. We caught intimations of these in the bulletins from Zu, which stated that the enemy, terrified at my approach, were already thinking of retiring from the topline depths.

  Thanks to the happy intervention of our Propaganda Office, our agents in Zu had spread demoralizing reports; the new Dictator of Wu was represented as a giant eight feet tall, who, thanks to his amber glasses, had a supernatural faculty of seeing close at hand, and was therefore irresistible in battle.

  To this day I am not certain just what changes did occur in that disturbed land. I was little prepared for the actuality, when, on the fourth wake since my departure for the depths, we reached the war area.

  I recognized the region easily enough, by the tremendous chasms, such as the one which Clay and I had observed on our arrival in Wu; besides, I could everywhere read the effects of warfare.

  Now it was that I began to look eagerly for the enemy, who were rumored to be in hiding hereabouts. My scouts pushed on ahead, being told to report any sign of hostile activity; while I, pitching camp in the wilderness at one corner of Nullnull, impatiently awaited the engagement which would either turn me over or make my reputation as the savior of Wu.

  Unfortunately, it has been regarded as a first principle of warfare, in all lands and ages, that, in order to fight, you must have an enemy, and, in this case, where was the enemy? It now appeared that we could take all Nullnull without loss of life; but this, being against all precedent—which required a large turnover—would have gained me no glory.

  I was on the point of marching on—against my better judgment, for I feared a trap—when one day a courier dashed into camp and demanded to see me at once.

  "Your Excel
lency—Excellency,” he panted, when, having made deep obeisance, he stood before my chair, streaming with perspiration.

  "Your Excellency, I-I have just come from Zu!"

  "Well, what of it?” I demanded impatiently.

  "Oh, Your Excellency—Abysmal Excellency, the most wonderful news!"

  "Well then, out with it!"

  Still panting, the man paused for a moment in order to regain control of himself.

  "Your Abysmal Excellency,” he resumed, in a less excited manner, “there has been a revolution in Zu!"

  "Revolution?” I cried, leaping to my feet.

  "Indeed, Your Excellency, a great revolution! The people have risen up and driven En Yuno from the throne. It was not because of the war, Your Excellency. They say he did not give them the right capsules to eat. Now they have a new dictator."

  "Oh! And who may he be?"

  "I wish I knew, Your Excellency. Nobody seems to know. He calls himself Ra the Righteous. He is said to have the strangest looks of any man in the whole world."

  "What does he look like?"

  My visitor hesitated. “Well, Your Excellency, I know you will laugh. No man like him has been seen before. They say his eyes are blue. And his hair is red."

  "Eyes blue? Hair red?” I reeled backwards, ready to collapse.

  CHAPTER XIX

  RA THE RIGHTEOUS

  Hardly had the messenger left when I hastily dictated a letter:

  To His Abysmal Excellency

  Ra the Righteous

  Dictator of Zu

  Whereas our army has been maneuvering for wakes on the outskirts of Nullnull, and has been unable to find any of your followers to turn over, we conclude that your citizens are too craven to join us in battle, and therefore demand that you cede the whole of Nullnull to us immediately and unconditionally. Otherwise, beware!

  Belligerently yours,

  Luma the Illustrious

  Prime Dictator and High Potentate of Wu

  This letter was, of course, duly written on the official stationery by the court scribe, in the language used by both Wu and Zu. But underneath the formal message, to which I affixed my signature with a flourish, I added the following in English: "For God's sake, Phil, is it You? If so, let's get together! Frank."

  Knowing that these words would convey no meaning unless the new Dictator of Zu were my lost friend, I hurriedly delivered the letter to an envoy who, carrying the pink badge of neutrality, was allowed to traverse enemy territory unmolested.

  Within a few hours, Ra the Righteous would have the communication; meanwhile copies of my message were sent to the Blare and the Screamer, which printed it conspicuously, with laudatory comments on my “firmness” and “courage.

  Before the wake was over, the response was in my hands:

  To His Abysmal Excellency

  Luma the Illustrious

  Dictator of Wu

  Whereas I have just received your missive, and have read it with astonishment at your effrontery, I refuse unqualifiedly to accept any of your terms, and demand that you, for your own good, cede the whole of Nullnull to us.

  Defiantly yours,

  Ra the Righteous

  Dictator Supreme and Sovereign

  Commander of Zu

  It was with an amused smile that I read the above. But almost cried out for joy at a little postscript, scribbled in English. “Thank heaven, Frank, it's you! I'd given you up ages ago! Meet me at the beginning of tomorrow wake at the end of gallery 341 C, at the northeast end of Nullnull. Better come disguised. Phil."

  * * * *

  Hours before the brightening camp-lights had announced the beginning of the new wake, I had risen from bed, disguised myself by means of a steel helmet and a long flowing black robe, and slipped away through the wilderness of galleries that tunneled the borderland of Nullnull.

  I well knew that the adventure was not without its perils; yet the hope of seeing Clay more than sufficed to overcome my fears. Guided by a flashlight, I kept on at a steady pace through the darkness, until at length a welcome sign, stamped in the rock of the cavern wall, announced that I had reached gallery 341 C.

  Down this thoroughfare, which wound tortuously, I proceeded at an increasing pace. It seemed as if I had traveled miles before finally the gallery came to a dead end.

  Then, as I paused, removed my helmet for the sake of comfort and wondered whether I had passed Phil in the dark, a vague shape withdrew from the dimness behind a shelf of Rock; and a well-remembered voice rang through the air: “Frank!

  "Phil!” I called back; and the next moment we were gripping each other's hands in a fervent clasp.

  "Well, old fellow, let's have a look at you!” exclaimed Clay at last, pulling out a flashlight and casting the rays full upon my face. “You've changed; you're looking like your own grandfather!"

  "Years have gone by, you know,” I returned, not pleased by this compliment. “Now, let's take a look at you!"

  Clay pulled down the mantle that had half hidden his features, and I saw that his red locks were as abundant as ever—in fact, had grown long. He had also sprouted a full red beard, which added to his impressiveness; while deeply graven lines along his cheeks and brow bore evidence of recent suffering.

  "Believe me, I never expected to see you again this side of eternity,” declared Clay. “I thought the lightnings got you long ago, in the battle cavern when we both ran for dear life!"

  "I thought they had got you! I never heard a word of you until yesterday."

  "Nor I of you! We're going to have a good time hearing of each other's troubles. I've had my share, Frank, and you look as if you've had yours.

  "Oh, I've been all right, everything considered. Let's hear your story first!"

  "No, yours first!” he insisted, so I yielded. Both of us took seats on a rocky ledge as I recited the highlights of my recent adventures.

  "You've sure had a time of it!” muttered Clay, when I had finished. “Ought to put it in a book when you get back! At that, I don't think you've got me beaten."

  "No? What happened to you?"

  Clay settled back on the ledge, as if seeking a more comfortable berth; and it was a moment before he spoke. Meantime, it seemed to me that I saw, from around a bend in the gallery, a sudden flutter of light and a shadow moving. just a sentinel on his rounds, I thought.

  "Well, let's go back to when we parted,” Clay began with a reminiscent drawl. “Both of us were pretty much in a hurry. I remember scampering down the main gallery, with the lightning just about missing me on every side; then I raced off along a side-gallery, where the lightning couldn't hit. I was so scared, I ran till my legs gave out. Then suddenly I noticed you were gone, and it came to me you'd either been hit or had rushed off down another side-gallery.

  "So I started back, and lost my head so completely I cried out, ‘Frank! Frank! Frank!’ at the top of my voice. Well, I had to pay for that idiocy! It wasn't a minute before I was surrounded by white-faced savages, whooping like wild Indians; and they lost no time about tying me with wire and carting me away. Later I learned they were scouts from Zu, spying on their enemies of Wu.

  "They bore me to their own country, and threw me into a dungeon as a prisoner of war. Once or twice they were on the point of executing me, but my red hair interested them so much that they changed their minds just in time to save my neck. Finally, they decided to exhibit me in a circus as a ‘Wild man from Pako'—the name they give to the center of the earth, where they thought I hailed from. But one day, owing to my ability to see close at hand, I managed to pick the circus lock and escape.

  "I turned my hair white by means of some stolen dye, and whitened my face also, then I played highwayman, waylaying an obliging old gentleman and forcing him to change clothes with me so that I could pass as a native.

  "By this time, I'd learned a good deal of the language, and was able to start life as a Third Class citizen, after being sponsored by an agent of the Department of Public Unemployment. He arranged t
o have me swallow the Oath of Fidelity and take a regular job, in return for signing over my wages for the first hundred wakes."

  "Zu doesn't seem very different from Wu,” I commented.

  Clay laughed. “From all I can make out,” he observed, “they're as much alike as the two halves of a split orange. Maybe that's why they hate each other so cordially."

  "Maybe so,” I concurred.

  "My new work,” Frank continued, “was as an employee of the Synthetic Capsule Producers, who manufacture all the country's food. All I had to do was to mix ingredients in the bread capsules, making sure they got just the right proportion of every vitamin from A to X. But being able to see close at hand, I made myself so useful I was promoted time after time, and after about a year became a Second Class citizen. All the while I was looking for a way to escape to the Overworld, but couldn't find any. I made inquiries, but no one had ever heard of any gray-eyed man like you. Well ... the Capsule Producers still kept on promoting me, until at last I was General Distribution Manager—which means that I had pretty much the freedom of the works, without anything much to do except draw my pay. And then—then I started the Great Salt Revolt."

  "Great what Revolt?"

  "Salt Revolt! Haven't you heard of it? Why, it's about the biggest thing that ever happened in Zu. You see, it had struck me that these chalk-faces didn't put enough salt in their food, and you know how I've always liked salt. Well, one fine wake, I emptied a few kegs of sodium chloride into a batch of dough being made into capsules for the whole country. The results were excellent, I thought, for the first time since reaching Zu, I could enjoy my dinner. But the natives—you ought to've seen the faces they made when they tasted those capsules. Some of them grew deathly sick—suffered acute indigestion, convulsions, and other severe symptoms; they'd been so long with only a bare pinch of salt that their systems couldn't stand the added dose.

  "I tell you, I never saw such wild times. The people thought they'd been poisoned, and stormed about the dictator's palace, crying, ‘We want better food, better food, better food!’ It was the funniest thing I ever saw."