by Anthology
He realized she was referring to his de-handcuffed wrist and grinned, indicating that he'd tell her later.
"I see you've been outfitted for our new climate," she went on. A student in the row of chairs ahead turned and frowned. The instructor talked on, oblivious.
Don nodded and said "Sh."
"Don't let them intimidate you. Did you see the planes?"
More students were turning and glaring and Don's embarrassment grew. "Come on," he said. "Let's cut this class."
"Bravo!" she said. "Spoken like a true Cavalier."
She gathered up her books. The instructor, without interrupting his lecture, followed them with his eyes as they left the room.
"Now I'll never know whether the young princes got out of the tower alive," she said.
"They didn't. The question is, will we?"
"I certainly hope so. I'll have to speak to Father about it."
"He's locked up in his lab, they tell me. Where would that be?"
"In the tower, as a matter of fact. The bell tower that the founding fathers built and then didn't have enough money to buy bells for. But you can't go up there—it's the holy of holies."
"Can you?"
"No. Why? You don't think Father is making all this happen, do you?"
"Somebody is. Professor Garet seems as good a suspect as any."
"Oh, he likes to act mysterious, but it's all an act. Poor old Father is just a crackpot theorist. I told you that. He couldn't pick up steel filing with a magnet."
"I wonder. Look, somebody's called a meeting for us outsiders from the train at two o'clock. It's almost that now. Maybe I'll have a chance to ask some questions. Will your father be there?"
"I'm sure he will. He's a great meeting-caller. I'll go with you. And, since you have two free hands now, you can hold my books. Maybe later you'll get a chance to hold me."
Among the people sitting around the bare tables in the dining room, Don recognized the conductor and other trainmen, two stocky individuals who had the look of traveling salesmen, an elderly couple who held hands, a young couple with a baby, two nuns, a soldier apparently going on or returning from furlough, and a tall, hawk-nosed man Don classified on no evidence at all as a Shakespearean actor. All had been on the train. He didn't see Geneva Jervis anywhere.
An improvised speaker's table had been set up at one end of the room, near the door to the kitchen. A heavy-set man sat at the table talking to Mrs. Garet, the professor's wife.
"The stoutish gentleman next to Mother is the president of Cavalier," Alis said. "Maynard Rubach. When you talk to him be sure to call him Doctor Rubach. He's not a Ph.D. and he's sensitive about it, but he did used to be a veterinarian."
They sat down near the big table and Mrs. Garet smiled and waved at them. Mayor Civek came in through the kitchen door, licking a finger as if he'd been sampling something on the way, and sat down next to Mrs. Garet.
At that moment Don's stomach gave a hop and he felt blood rushing to his head. Others also had pained or nauseous expressions.
"Ugh," Alis said. "Now what?"
"I'd guess," Don said when his stomach had settled back in place, "that we've stopped rising."
"You mean we've gone as high as we're going to go?"
"I hope so. We'd run out of air if we went much higher."
Professor Garet came in presently, looking pleased with himself. He nodded to his wife and the men next to her and cleared his throat as he looked out over the room.
"Altitude 21,500 feet," he announced without preamble. "Temperature sixteen degrees Fahrenheit. From here on out—" he paused, repeated "out" and chuckled—"it's going to be a bit chilly. Those of you who are inadequately clothed will see my wife for extra garments. I believe you have been comfortably housed and fed. There will, of course, be no charge for these services while you are the guests of the Cavalier Institute of Applied Sciences. Thank you. I now present Mr. Hector Civek, the mayor of Superior, who will answer any other questions you may have."
Don looked at Alis, who shrugged. The conductor stood and opened a notebook which he consulted. "I have a few questions, Mr. Mayor. These people have asked me to speak for them and there's one question that outweighs all the others. That is—are you going to take us back to Earth? If so, when? And how?"
Civek cleared his throat. He took a sip of water. "As for the first question—we certainly hope to take you and ourselves back to Earth. I can't answer the others."
"You hope to?"
"Earnestly. I turn blue easily myself, and I'm as anxious as you are to get back. But when that will be depends entirely on circumstances. Circumstances, uh, beyond my control."
"Who's controlling them, then? Your friend with the whiskers?"
Professor Garet smiled amiably and patted his beard. The portly Maynard Rubach got up and Civek sat down.
"I am Dr. Maynard Rubach, president of Cavalier. I must insist that in common decency we all refrain from personal references. Mr. Civek has done his best to give you an explanation, but of course he is a layman and, while he has many excellent qualities, we cannot expect him to be conversant with the principles of science. I will therefore attempt to explain.
"As you know, science has been aware for hundreds of years that the Earth is a giant magnet…."
Don saw Geneva Jervis. She was at the kitchen door beyond the speaker's table.
"… the isogenic and the isoclinic …"
The red-haired Miss Jervis saw Don now and put her finger to her lips.
"… an ultimote, which is simultaneously an integral part of …"
Now the redhead was beckoning to him urgently. He excused himself to Alis, who frowned when she saw the other girl; then he went back of the speaker's table ("… 1,257 tenescopes to the square centimeter …") into the kitchen. Jen Jervis was by now at the far end of it, motioning him to hurry up.
"I've found something," she said. She was wearing a shapeless fur coat, apparently borrowed.
"Come on. You'll have to see it."
"All right, but why me?"
"Aside from myself you seem to be the only one from the train with any gumption. I know you've been spying around doing things while everybody else sat back and waited for deliverance. Though I can't say I admire your choice of companions. That tawdry blonde—"
"Now, really, Miss Jervis!"
"Tawny, then; sometimes I mix up my words."
"I'll bet."
She led him out the back door and across the frozen ground past several buildings. They reached what once must have been an athletic field.
"At the far end," she said. "Come on."
"Where were you when your boy friend and his daredevil aces came over?"
"I saw them."
"Did they see you?"
"None of your business."
He shrugged. They were at a section of the grandstand at the end of the field. Jen Jervis indicated a door and Don opened it. It led to a big room under the stands. "What does this remind you of?" she asked.
Don looked blank. In the dim light he could see some planking, a long-deflated football, ancient peanut shells and an empty pint bottle. "I don't know. What?"
"Stagg Field? At the University of Chicago? Under the stands where they first made an atomic pile work?" She looked at him with the air of an investigator hot on the scent.
He shrugged. "Never been there. So what?"
"It's a pattern. This is where they've hidden their secret."
"It looks more like the place a co-ed and her boy friend might go to have a little fun. In warmer weather, of course."
"Oh!" she said. "You're disgusting! Look over there."
He looked, wondering what made this young attractive woman hypersensitive on the subject of sex. This was the second time she'd blazed up over nothing. What he saw where she pointed was a door at a 45-degree angle to the ground, set into a triangular block of concrete. "Where does that go?" he asked.
"Down," she said as they walked toward it. "And there's som
e machinery or something down there. I heard it. Or maybe I only felt the vibrations. It throbs, anyway."
"Probably the generator for the school's lighting system. Did you go down and look?"
"No."
"All right, then." He opened the door. "Down we go."
At the bottom of a flight of steps there was a corridor lit by dim electric light bulbs along one wall. The corridor became a tunnel, sloping gradually downward. They had been going north, Don judged, but then the tunnel made a right turn and now they were following it due east. "I don't hear any throbbing," he said.
"Well, I did, and from way up here. They must have turned it off."
"How long ago was that?"
"An hour, maybe."
"While we were still rising. That would make sense. We've stopped again, you know. Professor Garet gave us a bulletin on it."
He had been going ahead of her in the narrow tunnel. Now it widened and they were able to walk side by side. There seemed to be no end to it. But then they came to a sturdy-looking door, padlocked.
"That's that," Don said.
"That's that nothing," she said. "Break it down."
He laughed. "You flatter me. Come on back."
"Don't you think this is at all peculiar? A tunnel starting under an abandoned grandstand, running all this way and ending in a locked door?"
"Maybe this was a station on the underground railway. It looks old enough."
"We're going through that door." She opened her purse and took out a key ring. On it was an extensive collection of keys. Eventually she found one that opened the padlock.
"Well!" he said. "Who taught you that?"
"Open the door."
The corridor beyond the door was lined—walls, ceiling and floor—with a silvery metal. It continued east a hundred yards or so, swung north and then went east again, widening all the time.
It ended in a great room whose far wall was glass or some equally transparent substance. The room was a huge observatory at the end of Superior but below its rim. They could look down from it, not without a touch of nausea, to the Earth four miles below.
Don, thinking of the surface of Superior above, thought it was as if they were looking out of the gondola slung beneath a dirigible.
Or from one of the lower portholes in a giant flying saucer.
V
There were clouds below that occasionally hid the Earth from sight. For a minute or more they gazed in silence at the magnificent view.
"This wasn't built in a day," Jen Jervis said at last.
"I should say not," Don agreed. "Millions of years."
She looked at him sharply. "I wasn't talking about the age of the Earth. I mean this room—this lookout post—whatever it is."
He grinned at her. "I agree with you there, too. I'm really a very agreeable fellow, Miss Jervis. Obviously, whoever built it knew well in advance that Superior was going to take off. They also knew how much of it was going up and exactly where this would have to be built so it would be at the edge."
"Under the edge, you mean, with a downward view."
"That's right. From a distance I'd say Superior looked as if someone had cut the end off an orange. The flat part—where the cut was made—is the surface and we're looking out from a piece of the convex skin."
"You put things so simply, Mr. Cort, that even a child could understand," she said acidly.
"Thank you," he said complacently. He had remembered that whoever was listening in for Military Intelligence through the tiny radio under his shirt could have only a vague idea of what was going on. Any little word pictures he could supply, therefore, would help them understand. He had to risk the fact that his companion might think him a bit of an idiot.
Of course with this Geneva Jervis it was easy to lay himself open to the scathing comment and the barbed retort. He imagined she was extremely useful in her role as Girl Friday to Senator Bobby Thebold.
"I don't think this is the work of those boobies at the booby hatch," she was saying.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The Cavalier Institution of Applied Foolishness, whatever they call it. They just wouldn't be capable of an undertaking of this scope."
"Oh, I agree. That's why I let you drag me away from the meeting. It was a lot of pseudo-scientific malarkey. Old Doc Rubach, D.V.M., was going on about the ultimote being connected to the thighbone, way up in the middle of the air. Tell me, who do you think is behind it all?"
She was walking around the big-sided room as if taking mental inventory. There wasn't much to catalogue—six straight chairs, heavy and modern-looking, with a large wooden table, a framed piece of dark glass that might be a television set, and a gray steel box about the size and shape of a three-drawer filing cabinet. This last was near the big window-wall and had three black buttons on its otherwise smooth top. Don itched to push the buttons to see what would happen. Jen Jervis seemed to have the same urge. She drummed on the box with her long fingernails.
"I?" she said. "Behind it all?"
"Yes. What's your theory? Is this something for the Un-Earthly Activities Committee to investigate?"
"Don't be impertinent. If the Senator thinks it's his duty to look into it, he will. He undoubtedly is already. In the meantime, I can do no less than gather whatever information I can while I'm on the scene."
"Very patriotic. What do you conclude from your information-gathering so far?"
"Obviously there's some kind of conspiracy—" she began, then stopped as if she suspected a trap.
"—afoot," Don said with a grin. "As I see it, all you do is have Bobby the Bold subpoena everybody up here—every last man-jack of 'em—to testify before his committee. They wouldn't dare refuse."
"I don't find you a bit amusing, Mr. Cort, though I have no doubt this sophomoric humor makes a big hit with your teen-age blonde. We'd better get back. I can see it was a mistake to expect any co-operation from you."
"As you like, Madame Investigator." Don gave her a mock bow, then turned for a last look down at the vast segment of Earth below.
Geneva Jervis screamed.
He whirled to see her standing, big-eyed and open-mouthed, in front of the framed dark glass he had taken for a television screen. Her face was contorted in horror, and as Don's gaze flicked to the screen he had the barest glimpse of a pair of eyes fading with a dissolving image. Then the screen was blank and Don wasn't sure whether there had been a face to go with the eyes—an inhuman, un-earthly face—or whether his imagination had supplied it.
The girl slumped to the floor in a faint.
COLUMBUS, OHIO, Nov. 1 (AP)—Sen. Robert (Bobby) Thebold landed here today after leading his Private Pilots (PP) squadron of P-38's on a reconnaissance flight which resulted in the loss of one of the six World War II fighters in a crash landing on the mysteriously airborne town of Superior, Ohio. The pilot of the crashed plane parachuted safely to Earth.
Sen. Thebold told reporters grimly:
"There is no doubt in my mind that mysterious forces are at work when a town of 3,000 population can rise in a body off the face of the Earth. My reconnaissance has shown conclusively that the town is intact and its inhabitants alive. On one of my passes I saw my secretary, Miss Geneva Jervis."
Sen. Thebold said he was confident Miss Jervis would contact him the moment she had anything to report, indicating she would make an on-the-spot investigation.
The Senator said in reply to a question that he was "amazed" at official Washington's "complete inaction" in the matter, and declared he would demand a probe by the Senate Investigations Subcommittee, of which he is a member. He indicated witnesses might include officials of the Defense Department, the Central Intelligence Agency, and "possibly others."
LADENBURG, Ohio, Nov. 1 (UPI)—Little Ladenburg, former neighbor of "The City in the Sky," complained today of a rain of empty beer cans and other rubbish, apparently being tossed over the edge by residents of airborne Superior.
"They're not so high and mighty," one sani
tation official here said, "that they can make Ladenburg their garbage dump."
WASHINGTON, Nov. 1 (Reuters)—American officials today were at a loss to explain the strange behaviour of Superior, Ohio, "the town that took off."
Authoritative sources assured Reuters that no military or scientific experiments were in progress which could account for the phenomenon of a town being lifted intact thousands of feet into the air.
Rumors circulating to the effect that a "Communist plot" was at work were greeted with extreme scepticism in official quarters.
Bulletin
COLUMBUS, Ohio, Nov. 1 (UPI)—The airborne town of Superior began to drift east across Ohio late today.
VI
The unconscious Geneva Jervis, lying crumpled up in the oversized fur coat, was the immediate problem. Don Cort straightened her out so she lay on her back, took off her shoes and propped her ankles on the lower rung of a chair. He found she was wearing a belt and loosened it. It was obvious that she was also wearing a girdle but there wasn't anything he wanted to do about that. He was rubbing one of her wrists when her eyes fluttered open.
She smiled self-consciously. "I guess I was a sissy."
"Not at all. I saw it, too. A pair of eyes."
"And a face! A horrible, horrible face."
"I wasn't sure about the face. Can you describe it?"
She darted a tentative look at the screen but it was comfortingly blank. "It wasn't human. And it was staring right into me. It was awful!"
"Did it have a nose, ears, mouth?"
"I—I can't be sure. Let's get out of here. I'm all right now. Thanks for being so good to me—Don."
"Don't mention it—Jen. Here, put your shoes on."
When he had closed the big wooden door behind them, Don padlocked it again. He preferred to leave things as they'd found them, even though their visit to the observation room was no longer a secret.
He was relieved when they had scrambled up the steps under the grandstand. There had been no sense of anyone or anything following them or spying on them during their long walk through the tunnel.
They were silent with their separate thoughts as they crossed the frosty ground and Jen held Don's arm, more for companionship than support. At the campus the girl excused herself, saying she still felt shaky and wanted to rest in her room. Don went back to the dining room.
