Dynasty of the Small

by John Russell Fearn

  The odors ceased for a space as though a plan of explanation were being formulated. Blair looked at his companions in silent wonder, there to find expressions similar to his own. Then the communication resumed.

  “Even to your understanding, men, there are degrees of parasitism, and from being the most lowly parasitic organism of dimensions of one twenty-five-thousandth part of your inches, we have risen to our full grandeur. The degeneracy of a parasite, you will agree, is in proportion to its dependence. Thus you will see that there is little degeneracy in, for instance, the mosquito, which has to fly, bite, and digest—but on the other hand the tapeworm has nothing to do but digest, and hence is degenerate.

  “We never really possessed any real animosity for our hosts when we were parasitic. We merely tried to avail ourselves of an abundant source of energy, but in the course of doing so we were bound to excrete toxics and poisons which were in many cases obnoxious to our hosts—hence came disease. In particular was this manifest when our growth increase caused the bursting of human beings. Being present in blood, feeding and expanding simultaneously, there was no other course but actual bursting asunder of the victim.

  “For those occurrences we are deeply regretful, but it was unavoidable. Disease has gone now from your world for all time—at least for so long as we exist, and our life span is of course thousands of years. Our food we draw from the soil, our sustenance from the air.

  “Above all, understand this: we are the rightful owners of earthly life. Of us you were originally born; without us you would never have been born. Nothing would have been born. Now our turn has come, and we are here to form a dynasty of our own. We shall not interfere with you, but you would be well advised to attempt no hostility. You may move amongst us as you will, do what you wish—but leave us to our own devices as you value your lives.

  “You cannot be expected to understand the nature of our science, a science which we have perfected through unguessable ages, long before man ever came on the earth. When the world was a steaming, fetid jungle of poisonous gases, we were reaching the apogee of our intellectual evolution. That evolution we perfected when man made his first appearance on the earth, and since then we have steadily perfected our preconceived conclusions.

  “Because of our minute smallness by comparison with the rest of the world, our science is mainly two-dimensional in essence. More we cannot convey to you at the moment, friends, but we rest assured our communication has interpreted itself into the language you understand. As time passes you will know more of us.”

  There the communication ended; the heavy and multifarious odors faded. The jungle became silent, problematical, bathed in the light of the slanting September sun. Quietly, puzzled, the scientists returned to their abode and there, for a while at least, stood in thought.

  At length Blair spoke. His manner was calm and steady, as though he were a general facing a militant crisis.

  “Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “it becomes increasingly obvious that we are being usurped by a strange, new dynasty—a dynasty of the small. At first sight it seems that we humans would have no difficulty in enforcing our own rights, but a little reflection reveals the alarming fact that we are being overpowered by creatures utterly indestructible! Fire, chopping, acids, explosives—everything known to science—are useless! Bacilli can survive all those things, and even if they could not, we have not enough available supplies on earth to be effective. You see, as fast as these infernal things are mown down they will grow again from the severed portions.”

  “Then what are we to do? Sit and take it?” demanded Northern aggressively. “I don’t see taking orders from any damned plant, even if it does smell nice!”

  “You propose we sit here and wait for something, like—like ultramodern Micawbers?” inquired Professor Libby acidly.

  Blair shrugged. “If you have any suggestions I’d be only too glad to have them.”

  Nobody had, it appeared. For the time being the giant bacilli held the field, and mankind, for all his years of culture and brilliance, was at an utter loss.

  CHAPTER 5

  Interest in the invaders on the part of the world’s entire population changed suddenly to consternation four weeks later, when it suddenly became evident that the creatures, as they were commonly called, possessed the power of locomotion. In much the same manner as a spider uses its active legs, so these queer beings of an incredible world used their roots, pursuing a strange, creeping sideways movement. Only when they evidently felt the need of rest or nourishment did, they pause and sink their roots back into the earth. But at least their marshaling into some semblance of order left many regions clear, including that about the Explorations, Inc. building.

  Pursuing the bacilli through many weeks, Blair and his comrades found that the areas in and about New York had become entirely free. Similar reports came from other cities of the world. Everywhere, evidently working by some peculiar telepathic system of their own, the bacilli were moving to former farm and pastureland, where they could best obtain the particular ground stimulant they obviously needed.

  But what a changed world they left behind them! In New York, as people began tentatively to reappear, it seemed as though some giant bomb had been dropped in the very center of the city. Those edifices that had survived the osmosis onslaught were cracked and fissured where the bacteria roots had found a temporary lodging. The streets were cracked and split, in some cases had subsided altogether. Windows in one piece were few and far between; streetcar and railway metals were twisted and bent out of all normal semblance of shape.

  In the country there was also disaster, of a different nature. All plant life was dead; bacilli were in complete dominion. Where wheat and barley should have been standing in that golden fall, where the leaves of trees should have been turning russet brown, there was only an area of infinite miles of mighty eight-foot plants, forever shifting and altering their positions, turning the air of the country and city alike heavy with their odors—and yet the odors were disguised and inconsistent, so that humans, rebuilding their shattered domains and finances, could not analyze what plans the interlopers were perfecting.

  To reorganize the world affairs and repair the damage was not too gigantic a problem; indeed in eight months it was accomplished. But the May of 2021 brought the increasing realization that, whilst man was totally free from all traces of disease, he was faced with complete starvation! The reserve supplies were almost at an end, and there was no means of replenishment.

  Water, now that the osmosis of plants had ceased, was as plentiful as of yore, but the death of all plants had meant the death of nearly all cattle, of wheat, cereals, vegetables, fruits, the mainstays of life. Synthetic means could have been adopted had man been warned in time, but now there were no seeds either.

  Finally, Congress, on June 1, 2021, issued the alarming report that, in America at least—and the position in other countries was, if anything, worse—all supplies would end by July 31st. By September humanity would be extinct!

  * * * *

  A sudden and tremendous wave of panic swept over the American people. Action was demanded—instant action. Accordingly, the helpless congressmen turned once again to science for assistance. Blair, Northern, Libby, all the members of Explorations, Inc.—who along with the world’s greatest scientists had studied the problem ceaselessly in the intervening months—convened an extraordinary meeting to meet the emergency, a meeting which was filled to capacity with an eager and excited audience hours before it was due to start.

  When, ultimately, it did begin, Blair could do little but outline at length the utter indestructibility of the bacilli plants. He delivered almost a complete lecture on the nature of cells, chromatin, and kindred subjects, explained how the bacilli were now living on the very nature of the ground and absorbing the now nearly dead life of trees and vegetable matter to nourish themselves.

  “Unfortunately the plants are still on the increase,” Blair went on worriedly. “Our figures show that
they now populate every scrap of earth where a city or an ocean does not stand. Against such numbers we are powerless. How many of them there will be before they put their unknown plans into operation we don’t know—but we do know that there are too many of them to eliminate.”

  “Be damned to that for a tale!” snorted Caleb Roome, president of the National Food Trust, seated in the front row of the audience. “You call yourselves scientists, and instead of fighting the crisis of world starvation you stand there and prattle about how fast the plants are multiplying! Infernal rot, sir! We have airplanes, bombs, tanks, acids, and gases—all the products of modern warfare. They’ve got to be used!”

  “As you wish, Mr. Roome,” Blair answered wearily. “It will be quite useless. Bacilli are the most adaptive of all living things. They carry within themselves organisms denied to humans. They are a complete filtering laboratory on their own; also they can synthesize; they can change the nature of anything to suit their own requirements. Poison gas they will convert to their own purpose.”

  Blair paused, then thumped his fist heavily on the desk before him. “Mr. Roome, ladies and gentlemen, mankind is faced with an indomitable foe! In six months mankind will be a memory in cosmic history.”

  “Balderdash!” yelled Roome, glaring. “Desperate ills need desperate remedies, and I for one refuse to believe that there is an energy that cannot be destroyed! Those plants must die—and every scrap of modern warfare must be utilized for the purpose. I appeal to you, Senator Morgan, sitting up there in silence, to have Congress pass an act permitting immediate attack by the Army, Navy, and Air Force. These infernal plants are not half so intelligent as we are; it’s against all reason. I insist, senator, on behalf of all these people—”

  Roome’s insistent and bellicose voice was drowned out by the din of enthusiasm that suddenly burst forth. Through the midst of it all Dr. Blair stood in almost pitying silence. Northern, standing beside him, was openly aggressive. Professor Libby, discreet being, chose the region of neutrality and sat with a saturnine, impassive face.

  Senator Morgan rose up with all the pomp his office demanded. With that the noise subsided.

  “Congress will, I’m sure, readily grant your request, Mr. Roome,” he said quietly. “Indeed, we have only been waiting for the outcome of this meeting before coming to a decision. Obviously we cannot face starvation and death—and particularly at the hands of so-called intelligent plants”—the sneer in his voice was grimly obvious—“therefore we shall fight to the death. Not only our own resources, but those of every other country will be pressed into commission. England, Germany, Russia, China—every great nation shall unite to fight the common foe!”

  Further speech was impossible. The cheering broke out afresh. It was mad and senseless cheering—the safety valve of a panic-stricken people. Any promise of succor from their dilemma was sufficient to precipitate the most extraordinary scenes. Stamping and shouting, the people began to disperse.

  Blair watched them go with a sad light in his eyes; he shrugged his shoulders as Senator Morgan and the other members of the opposition stepped down to join them. The air hung heavy now with the odor of rank tobacco fumes. From afar came the sounds of insensate revelry taking place, evidently, in the heart of the city.

  Blair turned at last to Northern, Libby, and his friends of Explorations. Inc.

  “Well?” Northern asked grimly. “What do we do?”

  “Nothing.” Blair compressed his lips with an air of finality. “Let them carry on their silly bombing and poison gas. It will avail them nothing. Doom stares us in the face. That story I told you about the evolution of disease germs has come true. We shall be extinct within two months, unless a miracle happens.”

  “You honestly mean then that there is no way out?” Libby insisted.

  “I do. The only way would be to stop the bacilli plants getting air, cutting off their supplies of nitrogen, for instance. Then and then only would they die. But that plan is entirely beyond scientific bounds; we cannot interfere with the atmosphere in our present state of knowledge.”

  “To me, the whole thing seems to be a vicious circle,” Libby commented pensively. “Even granting that we could ever destroy these damned bacteria and reduce them back to their normal state, we should be no better off without Protozoa. The same thing would happen all over again.”

  Blair shook his head grimly. “No, professor, there you are wrong. Do not forget that it was my crossbred animalcule escaping into the Atlantic that caused the death of all Protozoa. Ultimately, when the last Protozoa had been destroyed—even in our very bodies—and that must have occurred long ago—my animalcule would begin to die from lack of specialized nourishment. Once that happened Protozoa would begin to return to the world; there would be bound to be some survivors from which the initial multiplication would take place. Reproducing at the rate they do, they would soon equal the numbers in existence before my colossal blunder. But what use is it? The bacteria have evolved and Protozoa cannot hurt them now. No, mankind is finished. I had thought of many ends for humanity—but never this! Come, gentlemen—we had better be going.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Within two weeks—the briefest war muster in history—incensed mankind embarked on the most fantastic battle of his existence. Every nation, suddenly realizing the uselessness of attacking his flesh-and-blood neighbor, lent his resources to the all-inclusive ranks. The mightiest numbers of airplanes, ships, shells, missiles, and war materials in earthly history were marshaled for the attack. Each country possessed its own divisional commander; and were all ruled over by Field Marshal Cranbourne, an American, recognized to be the world’s foremost military genius, especially appointed by Congress for the purpose.

  Yes it was indeed a peculiar war. Airplanes rained death and destruction upon vast areas of glorious flowers, watched the lovely creations smash and break amidst the thundering debris of up-plowed earth. Machine guns rattled their staccato beating from strategic points, mowing down the moving plants by the hundreds. Shells from long-range guns were incessant.

  Tanks lumbered through the confusion, backed by infantry and cavalry, armed, not with rifles, but with gigantic and deadly axes that would have done credit to any medieval high executioner! One singular outcome of this unorthodox war was the ultilization of the armed mower—an ordinary wheat-threshing machine covered in armor plating. Actually, they proved far more useful than the tanks, sweeping down great areas of the bacilli giants everywhere they moved.

  Those days did much to reveal the underlying strength and nobility of man when his life and heritage was threatened. He fought with the savage ferocity of the primordial, calling to his aid every known device of destruction that modern science could supply. He fought a grim battle with hunger too, supplies were fast petering out. Strict rationing was enforced, in many cases by no means adequate. Death was already claiming the first members of gallant humanity.

  And through it all, to the hopelessness, of the fighters and the intense chagrin of Marshal Cranbourne, came the knowledge that they were losing—hour by hour! How truly Blair had spoken when he had said the plants were indestructible! They were! As they were destroyed the broken sections resprouted in incredible multiplicity. Where two hundred plants were destroyed, two thousand sprang up in their stead, casting their pungent and now defensive odors to the shell-ridden sky.

  After a fortnight of this feverish battling Marshal Cranbourne called a halt. It was useless—all wasted effort. Reports revealed that the plants were far thicker than they had been before the war had started! Countless millions of them were now in every corner of the earth, jammed tightly together with hardly enough room for further expansion. And more were still coming—thousands, tens of thousands, sprouting from the shattered remnants of the old.

  Finally, by special request of Congress, Marshal Cranbourne—along with Blair and the others—presented himself at a special meeting of crisis. There he made clear the position, convinced his hearers of the impossibility
of success.

  “You were right, Dr. Blair,” was his concluding words. “We have at most no more than a month to live.”

  Blair smiled strangely as he rose to his feet. “Frankly, marshal, I’m afraid you are laboring under a big delusion—if you will pardon my saying so. You imagine you have lost the battle; I venture to aver that you have won it! By tomorrow morning, I am convinced, mankind will be freed from this bacteria invasion.”

  The field marshal smiled gratefully. “Your optimism is appreciated, doctor, but quite unfounded. Where there were formerly thousands of plants, there are now absolute millions. Every scrap of available space is being used by them. They are infinitely thicker than the undergrowth of an African jungle.”

  “I know,” Blair answered quietly “That is what I am counting on. Suppose—and I know this is an unusual request—we wait here until tomorrow morning? That is a matter of some twelve hours. I have taken the liberty of believing you will acquiesce and have instructed radio reports to be sent in from all countries as notable bacilli changes occur. What say you, gentlemen?”

  “Well, we have nothing to lose by doing so,” the chairman answered, “but what you hope to achieve is a mystery, doctor.”

  Blair said nothing to that—not even to Northern and Libby, who were persistent in their questioning. And so, gradually, the hours passed on in the great executive hall. Very meager refreshment was brought in at midnight, after which the majority of the men present began to doze from sheer boredom. Then, suddenly, they were shot into wakefulness, at one a.m., as a radio report came through from England.

  “Listen, gentlemen!” Blair cried exultantly. “England reports that the bacilli are dying! Rapidly! Like plants before a blazing fire!”

  “Impossible,” said Professor Libby, and the others looked on skeptically. Gradually, however, other reports came through—all in the same strain. From Russia, China, the remoter parts of America itself, Germany, Africa—everywhere the plants were wilting and collapsing. Hour after hour during that unparalleled crisis came those welcoming messages, until at last in the cold hours of before dawn an airplane pilot was admitted. It appeared Blair had specially commissioned him.