Wyndham Smith

by S. Fowler Wright

  This was no more than to enter the euthanasia furnace at a time when he knew that he would be unobserved, and hide among the dense greenery of the inner hothouses, from which position he could watch the approach of Vinetta’s couch, snatch her from it, and either remain hidden there, or, if there should be interference after her empty couch should have reached the antechamber of death (where it could be observed from outside), to defend her against such as might still be alive, and of a disposition for violence.

  He calculated that there could not be more than fifty-five (including eighteen women) who would be alive when he should attempt the rescue, and of these not less than five would have already entered the furnace, and more would have drugged themselves before discovery could be made.

  His hope went farther than that. Was it certain that, with so few alive, there would be any watchers who would observe the emptiness of that slow-moving couch? Well, perhaps he must answer yes to that. It would still be more likely than not, even apart from the possibility that there might be a special curiosity to see her pass into the fire. But, even so, when he went over the list of those who would be alive, it was hard to think of them as engaging in a physical struggle, or putting aside the pleasant form of dissolution which was so near, to face with weaponless hands the thrusts of that broad and most deathly blade.

  In fact, when he considered what they would do, imagination was baffled. He could not even make a probable guess, but he knew what he would do himself, with Vinetta’s life as the stake, and it was likely to be unpleasant for them.

  So he entered and hid. He had calculated that he would have to wait until the immolations began, and then for about four hours, but he had attached little importance to that. He knew it to be no more than the beginning of irregularities of living, many of which might involve more serious discomforts or dangers than waiting for five or six hours behind a cover of broad-leaved plants.

  He had even had foresight to provide himself with food which could be eaten during the hours of vigil. It was strange to have to think, for the first time in his life, of the need of providing food before the hour of hunger should come! Always, it had appeared before him, the nursery experiences of barbarous times being continued till death in the life he knew. But now the last meal that would be served to mankind by its subservient machines had been distributed and consumed. That had been in the morning. It had been decided that the evening meal would not be required.

  * * * * * * *

  The first hour passed quickly enough, and with little discomfort. For that time, he was not even careful to conceal himself, knowing that he could not he seen except by those who would pass him on their way to death, and that procession had not yet begun. Actually, when it did, the need for concealment was not much, for those who lay on the passing couches were already stupefied by the drug they had swallowed, and even if they had perceived and recognized him, were in no condition to return to give the alarm. But by that time his own condition had become little better than theirs.

  He had noticed as he entered, the heavy, alluring, sickly scent of the flowers blooming on the vines that spread over and hung down from the trellised roof. It was strange to him, for the flowers were grown in no other place, and he had not previously penetrated so far into these portals of death. The flowers were large, with single, wide-open petals, wax-white, with blotches of dark brown on their upper, and a fierce orange colour on their under sides. The scent was unlike anything he had encountered before. Different from, and much more powerful than, that of the outer conservatories.

  After a time he ceased to notice it, though its effect did not lessen for that. He became conscious of increasing torpor of body, and difficulty in maintaining connected thought.

  He did not know how much this might be due to the heavy, sensuous odour, or how much to the hot, damp air which his body, having been accustomed from birth to dry, equable, temperate warmth, was ill-prepared to endure. He became sharply afraid that, as the hours passed, he might be subdued by these conditions, so that he would be unfit for the rescue which he had planned

  He imagined himself lying unconscious while Vinetta would pass on the way of death, and waking too late, to know that he had failed her, and that he would be alone indeed in an empty world. Or perhaps he would never wake. Perhaps he would lie there, unconscious or dead, until, as he knew would be the case two days at the most, the intended fire would spread through the building, consuming that which could no longer be useful to man. His mind wandered from this thought to consider the need for conserving fire in some crude form in the life which was before him now. But perhaps it would be simple enough. Was there not a volcano near the place where he was intending to live? He believed vaguely that they were sources of perpetual fire.

  He pulled himself up in abrupt panic to recall what he had been thinking before. Something more important than that. Why did his thoughts wander in this impotent aimless way? He had been thinking of Vinetta, of course. 0f how she might lie on her moving litter, fearing, wondering, trusting that his rescue would not be delayed, till it would be too late.

  Could he fail her thus? Suppose she should see him lie unconscious? Would she not spring up at the sight, and might not the position be saved, even then. If that were so, would it not be better for him to risk being seen by those who would pass earlier, and remain in the open passage between the palms?

  But she might herself be too dazed to observe him, too drugged to rise? No, he thought not. She would avoid swallowing the drug. Certainly she would not do so to a deadening quantity. He saw hope here, for the others might pass him in stupefied oblivion, while she might be alert. But, if so, and she should not observe him, or fall to rise, might it not mean that she would be defenceless against the flames?

  He imagined her, like Sinto-T9R, aware too late of the horror to which she had been betrayed, and writhing in the flame of her burning robe. Trust in him, obedience to his whispered word, would have brought her to that!

  Love of life, which his ego had brought from a remote time, was strengthened by consciousness of the supreme issues involved. He remembered that his honour was pledged; he thought of Vinetta, and love and pity became the most potent forces of all in a prolonged struggle against the languorous poison which remained neither lost nor won.

  He thought, as his senses wavered towards unconsciousness narrowly kept at bay, that he might endure better if he could quench the thirst which was increasingly difficult to endure, and he saw a possibility of that, if he should have courage to outrage all the teachings of youth by interfering with a machine.

  The automaton whose duty it was to investigate the drying of the soil in the great pots and report to its comrade, who would give them what they required, had recently finished its round. It lay at ease near him at the side of the path, cleaning its proboscis in the thorough leisurely manner which was characteristic of all the machinery of this age, for though they might design each other, as they largely did, the first to be designed came from human brains, which had given their own characteristics to them.

  Its companion, having been informed of the quantity of water which would be required, had filled itself to that amount, and now came crawling along the passage, where it halted its laden belly, stretched out a very long, flexible neck that sought among the great pots for those to whom it had been instructed to minister, and commenced to give them the quantities of water that they required. Why, Wyndham thought, should he not divert that injecting nozzle to his own mouth? If a plant should go dry in consequence, surely it would be a triviality, especially as it was doomed to destruction within the week? He put the inhibitions of childish days firmly aside.

  He made difficult way along and over the pots, breaking through ruthlessly where he could not otherwise pass, until he came to where that long neck advanced like a lengthening worm to one that was much smaller than those around it. He could not guess that his life hung upon the smallness of that pot.

  He caught the flexible, twisting neck in his
hands, endeavouring to draw the mouth-like nozzle to his own lips, and was surprised to be opposed by a stubborn strength which his utmost effort could not overcome.

  An engineer, soothing it with discriminating fingers, could have compelled it to the desired obedience, but he lacked the knowledge which the position required.

  Yet, though he loosed it, he did not resign the effort. He saw that it would only release its water at the places to which it had been directed, and so, bending down, he advanced his own mouth to the nozzle above the surface of the pot.

  The next moment he fell back, as the nozzle was pushed forward into his throat with an injection of choking violence.

  He rose spitting out water of a foul and poisonous taste, much of which had been forced down his throat by the premature violence with which the automaton had been irritated to act. He had not guessed that it was not pure water, but a liquid plant food, which he was attempting to drink, and of which a large quantity had been forced into his gullet.

  Ceasing to spit water, he spat blood from a throat that was bruised and torn. After that, he vomited violently, which may have been a good thing, probably saving his life, but he did not regard it in that way.

  Had he been in a mood for such reflections, he might have considered it to be a warning of what the life he had chosen was likely to be. It was an experience as new as it was foul. He had never done such a thing before, never seen it, scarcely knew that it could be. But it had the immediate effect of rousing him from the control of that deadening scent, so that he might have thanked it doubly both for relieving him from the poison he had swallowed, and the most dangerous lethargy against which he had made no more than a losing battle before.

  This upheaval of body and mind was scarcely over when he became conscious of sounds which warned him that the first arrivals of the final hundred were entering the furnace, and he withdrew to the shelter the leaves supplied. Near him the automaton stretched its long neck in a helpless manner, vomiting a stream of foul water across the floor. Either the wrench he had first given, or his subsequent action, had caused it to lose the sense of direction which enabled it to find the pots to which it had been directed by its companion.

  After an abortive effort, which resulted in nothing better than striking down at the hard floor, it had given up the attempt, and commenced to belch out indiscriminately the contents of its distant belly. Wyndham observed the truth of his childhood’s lesson—interfere with a machine, and no one could foretell what it would do. Well, they could go on their own way now, and make way for a more primitive, simpler world!

  One by one, at intervals of five or six minutes, the laden couches began to pass; soon after, at similar intervals, the furnace would flare up, as a victim was received through its open doors. The glare which shone into the highly heated anteroom was reflected through the doors of non-inflammable glass, into the hothouse in which Wyndham hid; its roar could be heard by him at such moments more distinctly than it came to those who loitered outside.

  He knew that he had still hours to wait, and, as he recovered from the physical shock he had endured, he became apprehensive again of the effect of the deadening scent. He saw that he must face a much longer ordeal than he had yet had. But he found that he was assisted by some freshness of air that came through the opening of doors. Every six minutes the door through which he had come would slide open for a couch to pass, and a breath of dry air would follow, which felt cool and life-giving to him. Every two minutes after, the further door would slide open, bringing an influx of hot air, hard to breathe, but still free from the heavy scent, and, half stupefied though he was, with these helps he endured.

  He did not observe that any of those who passed accelerated their own transit, nor that they retarded it, to the delaying of those behind. They appeared to accept the pace at which the cable drew them forward, lying dormantly, so that their degree of consciousness was not easy to judge; but it was certain that they took no notice of him, even when he came venturesomely out, to take fuller advantage of those short-lived currents of cooler air.

  So the time passed, until the moment came when Vinetta would be due to appear on the next couch. All his life, Colpeck-4XP had been sheltered from apprehension of disaster, from occasion for fear. But Wyndham felt fear now. He learned anxiety, as he had not yet done, even in the last days.

  Would she come? Would they have played some cunning trick? Would she be already too overcome to rise, so that he would be burdened by her insensible form in whatever struggle for her release might be upon him in the next hour? Would she be already dead? Suppose they had made certain of their own will by administering—perhaps without arousing her suspicion—some sudden poison? If they had, he resolved that he would sally out and deal such vengeance to those concerned as is possible to wreak on men who are seeking death in the next hour. Now she had come through the open door. He scarcely waited until it closed before his arms were round her and he had lifted her from the couch, which moved on, being so lightened, at a slightly faster pace than previously.

  She hung heavily on his arm, so that he saw she was unable to stand on unsteady feet. She looked at him with brave eyes that were yet dazed, fighting with sleep. She said, “I will not doubt. He must have a plan,” as though repeating words that she had said to herself before, and not being yet conscious of where she was.

  He answered her in exultant confidence, born of what seemed to be an easy success, “So I had. You are safe now,” but the puzzled look did not leave her eyes. In fact she was unsure whether she were awake or under the power of a drug-bought dream.

  Kisses had more effect. Her eyes changed. She spoke in a more natural voice. “I had to swallow some. They watched all that I did. I could not tell what you meant me to do.”

  “It is over now. You are safe. We must stay here for a few hours, and after that we shall be free.”

  So it seemed obvious that they should do. While they talked, two subsequent couches had passed them, the occupants of which had shown no interest in, no awareness of their existence. Even though it should be observed when her couch reached the anteroom that Vinetta had left it, it might appear better to wait the event where they were than to expose themselves, and challenge opposition, by walking out. Every couch that passed them reduced by one, woman or man, the number of their potential foes. Why hasten the event while time so steadily shortened in their favour the still desperate odds?

  So they stayed for the next hour, and saw eleven more of the last hundred glide forward to the resolving fire, but by that time the difficulty of retaining consciousness had become so great that it was evident that another five hours of that atmosphere would be beyond mortal endurance. For some time Wyndham had been comparing the advantage of the numerical reduction that they were witnessing with the disadvantage of his own dizzying brain. He did not wish to stagger out so dazed that he would fumble in vain for the hilt of that strange weapon against his thigh. Now Vinetta said, “I am getting so that I cannot stand. If you delay more, you must leave me here. Is there nowhere else we can hide?”

  She knew the words to be foolish as she uttered them. To go forward was to enter the anteroom, where, as the emptiness of her couch appeared to have been unobserved, it was possible that they also might not be under instant observation, but they knew that the heat, even at the near end, would be beyond endurance. On the side nearer the furnace it would be so great that their garments would burst into flame. How much they would feel it they could not tell, nor what the pain of burning would be, which was outside their experience; but they knew that it would be sufficient to damage their bodies beyond repair.

  To go back would be to enter the cooler greeneries which were under observation both by those outside, and any who might be entering and still in possession of their normal senses.

  The place where they were was the only part of the way of death which was not open to outside observation, and that was solely because the density of the tropic plants blinded the heat-proof glass. It wa
s also the only section that was not artificially lighted. Light entered from either end, and above a full moon shone through the glass roof.

  Being unable longer to endure the atmosphere where they were, they took the only possible course when they went back, and they used such prudence as the position allowed when they halted in the corridor through which the couches commenced their journey. Here they were in full view of those who were taking their final draught, and would have been from the outside also, had any been there to see, but they did not go out among them immediately. They paused in the purer, cooler air, drawing in breaths that restored them to something which approached their natural vitality before they were subject to more than the curious glances of those who remained alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  For the reason that Munzo-D7D and Pilwin-C6P had kept their suspicions secret—Avanah-F3B had already entered the furnace—the appearance of Vinetta was a matter of blank surprise to all but these two, but it didn’t require that they should be—as they were—the best brains of that dying world for them to be able to guess what its meaning was. They saw the whole declared purpose for which they, with five millions of their fellows, had undertaken that procession of death reduced to mockery by the treacherous defiance of a single woman. It was not surprising that murmurs rose.

  It may be hard to guess to what these would have led had they been left to their own courses, but Pilwin asked, “Shall I warn him of what he does?” And Munzo, having replied, “It would be an act of kindness, which he would thank,” moved among his companions with reassuring words, so that they continued the orderly process of that on which they were engaged, only turning curious eyes to where Pilwin-C6P could be seen in conversation with Colpeck-4XP, which, from earnestness, developed an evident anger, and then a sight so unprecedented and incredible that men might ask themselves whether they had not already passed from the living world to such vivid dreams as dissolution by fire may give.