Metamorphosis

by Sesh Heri

  “Mr. Tesla,” Mr. Czito said. “The precise cutting of each of the individual crystals and their adjustments within the housing will require the handiwork of the finest jeweler; it’s work that can’t be rushed. I don’t even know if I can do it with my eyesight as it is now. I’m practically certain that I can’t make this in a day. I’m going to need more time.”

  “Just do the best you can,” Mr. Tesla said. “That is all any of us can do.”

  Over the next several hours Mr. Tesla and Mr. Czito worked at a fever-pitch to complete what normally would have been accomplished over days or even weeks. First, the sapphires all had to be careful cut to a precise shape. This task Mr. Tesla divided between himself and Mr. Czito. Once this tedious work was accomplished Mr. Tesla took the sapphires to another room to infuse their lattices with fast-spin gold, while Mr. Czito turned his attention to the metal working tools before him.

  More hours sped by, hours that seemed only minutes to Mr. Tesla and Mr. Czito. When at last Mr. Tesla came back into the room where Mr. Czito worked, he found that Mr. Czito had made great progress on the control switch housing; it was composed of six steel rods, each of which was three and a half feet long. The rods had already been coated with a baked surface of white ceramic. Set in between each rod was a kind of long window of a transparent substance which allowed a view of the interior of the rod housing. One “window pane” remained to be installed. Before this could be accomplished, the fast-spin sapphires would have to be set inside, the tip of one sapphire fused to the tip of another, forming a long bead-like chain which would finally be most carefully fused to a master crystal— a fast-spin crystal of quartz imbedded with minute particles of fast-spin gold. Electrical power coursing through this crystalline lattice would follow the coiled path of an ever tightening spiral, exponentially increasing in voltage to an ultimate point of infinite energy. At some point, as yet undetermined by Mr. Tesla, the energy level would become so powerful that it would pass into another dimension. Heat itself could generate electricity within the quartz, triggering a massive pulse of electricity, and so even to fuse these crystals together posed a tremendous risk. Mr. Czito and Mr. Tesla took turns doing this fusing work, as it required great mental and muscular focus, a kind of focus required of a skilled surgeon— and both Mr. Tesla and Mr. Czito were men in their late fifties, and under a pressure few could understand. Upon the careful, precise motions of their hands and eyes controlling the thread of flame fusing the crystals together pivoted the destiny of the whole planet. One slip of their hands, or one instant longer than the allowable burn time for fusing the crystals together, and a horrific accident could erupt. The crystals, having become too hot at their centers, would explode out of existence— explode in a massive wave of longitudinal electricity that would erupt in a gigantic sphere in an instant obliterating the island of Manhattan and in another instant the earth itself. Theirs were the hands of surgeons operating with a vial of nitroglycerin. So they fired the thread of flame in short bursts followed by long moments of rest to allow the crystal to cool. It was burn then rest, burn then rest— a cycle that tested will and nerve in the time measured. At the first notice of slight fatigue in either one of them, Mr. Tesla or Mr. Czito would stop, lay aside the little electric heating torch he held in his hand, and step away from the work table. In this alternating work pattern of high tension, Mr. Tesla finally completed the fusing of all the crystals. They stood back and looked at what appeared to be a bead of sapphires terminating in a large quartz crystal. Already the crystals were drawing electricity from the surrounding environment; this was evident by the scintillation in light flashing through the sapphires and the quartz; the whole crystalline rod was beginning to be charged with electrical power— power that flowed to the quartz and was stored there.

  Mr. Czito picked up the rod of crystals with insulated tongs and inserted it into the ceramic covered steel housing. He then made a final fusing of substance: the sapphire at the opposite end from the quartz master crystal was fused to the interior electrical circuit. This connected the fused crystals electrically to the receptacle at the end of the rod housing. Now all that was left to be done was to secure the final window of the rod housing in place. This was done with a thin, long tongue of metal that was soldered against the sheet of clear, mica-like window substance.

  The switching device for the Bell had been completed, and in only a little more than a day.

  The switching device— the rod of crystals— required a test, and so now Mr. Tesla took the device they had just created to a special testing chamber they used for their many experiments involving high voltage and high frequency electricity.

  Mr. Tesla clamped the receptacle at the end of the rod housing over an electrode which was, in turn, attached to an electrical generator powered by a quartz master crystal. Then he and Mr. Czito sealed the chamber shut, and went down a long hallway to another room where they sat in front of a sheet of glass upon which was projected a moving picture of the interior of the test chamber. Mr. Tesla called this viewing device a “television.” The moving picture projected upon the glass was not a recording of a past event, but a moment-by-moment imagery of the immediate present inside the test chamber; it was a kind of motion picture telegraph system.

  Mr. Tesla and Mr. Czito sat in front of the television and watched what was about to happen inside the test chamber. Mr. Tesla closed a switch in front of him. Suddenly there was a gigantic ‘boom’ like a thunderclap. Simultaneous with the ‘boom’ the window screen of the television went black for a second. When the picture flashed back on to the glass screen again, they could see that the inside of the control room had been instantly changed. All that could be seen on the television viewing screen was a wall of rock. Not only was the switching device gone, but the electrical generator— and the wall behind it— was gone!

  “What happened, Mr. Tesla?” Mr. Czito asked. “Was it all vaporized?”

  “Check the atmospheric readings,” Mr. Tesla replied.

  Mr. Czito went over to read the gauges on a machine across the room.

  “There are no atmospheric readings at all,” Mr. Czito said. “According to the instruments here there is no atmosphere of any kind in the chamber. It’s a complete vacuum.”

  Mr. Tesla and Mr. Czito went down the hall and tried to open the door to the test chamber, but neither of them could get it to budge. Realizing that the gauges in the control room were giving an accurate measure of vacuum conditions within the test chamber, they brought in a high-speed drill and drilled a hole through the outer test chamber wall. Suddenly there was a loud whistling sound and rush of air.

  “That will do it,” Mr. Tesla said, laying the drill aside, and opening the door of the test chamber. Mr. Tesla stepped inside, followed by Mr. Czito.

  They found that one wall of the test chamber was still perfectly untouched. This was the wall where the television camera was mounted. The opposite wall and parts of the other walls and the floor and ceiling had been cored out in a giant hemispherical shape, as if the whole room had been cut away by a giant ice cream scoop— and what of the missing “scoop”— that is, the missing walls, floor, and ceiling? They were no where to be seen; they had completely vanished.

  Mr. Tesla studied the raw surface of the exposed rock mass in the room and found that it bore no evidence of being cut. The surface had a glassy, vitrified appearance and was formed in a wave-like pattern, which, when viewed as a whole, resolved into the form of a spiral.

  “Where did everything go?” Mr. Czito asked.

  “Perhaps into a higher dimension,” Mr. Tesla said. “I did not reckon that as the speed and power of the electrical waves increased past a certain point, an extremely strong gravitational field would be generated which would draw everything into it, generating a gravitational avalanche. How stupid of me not to have anticipated this effect.”

  “Then the black-out was not an interruption in the transmission waves of the television,” Mr. Czito said.

  �
�No,” Mr. Tesla said. “It was an actual optical black-out here in the chamber. Everything was drawn in to a single point within the master crystal, even all the light rays.”

  “And then what?” Mr. Czito asked. “Where did that single point go?”

  “That I can’t say right now,” Mr. Tesla replied. “If the condensed point of matter was not too dense, then it penetrated to the center of the earth. If it was a bit denser then it shot downward to the center of the earth and then out through the other side of the planet and into outer space.”

  “Where’s the hole in the floor?” Mr. Czito asked.

  “It wouldn’t produce a hole,” Mr. Tesla said. “It would’ve been far too compact for that. That condensed point of material substance would approximate to the size of a cosmic ray. If it was even smaller than that, then the condensed point would not have passed through the earth at all, but into the next order of space fabric which is much denser than ours.”

  “That’s the higher dimension,” Mr. Czito said.

  “That is correct,” Mr. Tesla said.

  “So,” Mr. Czito sighed forlornly. “What are we to do?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Tesla said. “That is my question as well. What are we to do? Of course we must begin construction of another control switch, but with a significant change in design. That will take some thought. Mr. Czito, you go home and get some sleep. I will call you when I’m ready.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mr. Czito asked.

  “Think, Mr. Czito,” Mr. Tesla replied. “I am going to do nothing but think.”

  Mr. Czito went with Mr. Tesla to the elevator and they both ascended to the street level of New York City. At 40th Street, Mr. Czito nodded to Mr. Tesla and said: “Good luck,” and then he turned and walked away.

  Mr. Tesla walked up Broadway to Central Park, turning the whole problem over in his mind. The streets of the city were dark and rainy and uninviting, but Mr. Tesla paid no attention to the world around him, for he was all-absorbed with his one aim. By the time he had returned to

  40th Street he found that his thoughts had also ran in a circuit back to where they had started. He was close to despair. As he walked slowly along by the Library building with his head down, he heard a faint voice in the darkness cry out gently. It was a woman’s voice.

  The voice cried, “Help!”

  Mr. Tesla looked up and listened. All he could now hear was the cold wind and the patter of rain drops upon the pavement. He dropped his head again, and took another step.

  “Help!” he heard the voice cry again.

  Once more he stopped. He looked up into the darkness. He felt he was being watched. He turned his head. His glance fell upon the sill of a window in the Library building. No one was there. He started to look away, but something arrested his gaze. He scrutinized the window sill. Lying at one corner of the sill was a small shape. He took a step forward. He saw the shape was a bird, a pigeon lying on its back. He went up to the window sill and picked up the pigeon in his hand. The bird’s heart still beat.

  Gently holding the bird in his hand, he glanced about in the darkness again, listening for the woman’s voice. He could hear no sound but the wind and rain. He walked around the corner of the Library building all the while looking for the woman who had cried out. But he saw no one at all.

  The rain began to pour down heavily, and so Mr. Tesla, holding the pigeon cupped in his hands, walked back across 40th Street and returned to his underground laboratory.

  Down below, he found that the pigeon revived and stood upon a table top where it fluffed up its wet wings.

  “Well,” Mr. Tesla said, “I wasn’t able to rescue that lady, but I was able to get you out of the rain. And I’m afraid that is all I am able to do, all I will be able to do. If only I could think! If only I could get my feeble mind to work! But— nothing. Nothing! I can think of nothing at all! What am I to do? What am I to do?”

  Mr. Tesla slumped down into a chair, exhausted, every last ounce of energy in him spent. He sat there for a moment in complete despair. Then he sat up in sudden shock.

  He had heard the woman’s voice again.

  The voice cried: “Help!”

  Mr. Tesla stood up and looked about the room. He was a mile underground New York City, and all alone. From where could the woman’s voice be coming? His mind raced over the possibilities. He touched his ear. Could someone be beaming a voice directly to his ear— or even to his brain? Mr. Tesla had designed just such sound transmission machines. He knew this was possible. If someone was sending sound directly to him on an electrical beam from a great distance— who could this be? And why would they be doing such a thing? Just as he asked that question, he seemed to receive a reply.

  He heard the woman’s voice say: “To help.”

  You send in order to help? Mr. Tesla thought. Who do you wish to help?

  “Man,” the woman’s voice replied in Mr. Tesla’s ear.

  Where are you? Mr. Tesla thought.

  “I am here,” Mr. Tesla heard the woman’s voice say.

  Where? Mr. Tesla thought.

  “Here,” the woman’s voice said. “Before you I stand.”

  Mr. Tesla had been looking across to the wall in front of him. He looked about, but saw nothing. He looked down, at the pigeon standing on the table top. He looked up again at the wall.

  “I am here,” the woman’s voice said, “beneath your gaze.”

  Mr. Tesla looked down again, down at the pigeon standing on the table top, a white pigeon with gray-tipped wings. He looked into the pigeon’s eyes.

  The pigeon looked back at Mr. Tesla, and he heard the woman’s voice say, “I am she who speaks.”

  “You?” Mr. Tesla asked audibly. “It is you? That is you?”

  “I will wave my wings as a sign unto you,” the woman’s voice said, “and then you will know that it is I who speak.”

  Immediately the pigeon fluttered her wings.

  Mr. Tesla stood, speechless, absorbing what he had just witnessed. Then he forced his mouth to form words.

  “What are you?” Mr. Tesla asked.

  “I am a being come from a far land,” the voice of the woman said, “from among the stars you call the Pliades. I have been sent to help you save your world.”

  “You come in the form of a bird?” Mr. Tesla asked, his eyes widening in amazement.

  “Not in the form,” the woman’s voice said. “I have projected my soul across space to this bird and she and I have mingled our souls together to form a single over-soul. We have done this to save Man from the Nameless Ones imprisoned beyond Time. They would reach out to you with their minds as you attempt to close the veil which they have opened, but to us they cannot reach. We will show you the way to close the veil. We will show you the way to vanquish the Nameless Ones.”

  Then a brilliant ray of white light emitted from the eye of the pigeon and shone directly into Mr. Tesla’s eyes. He stood transfixed, flooded with a sudden knowledge flowing forth from the pigeon. An exchange of ideas that would have transpired in hours, weeks, and months of discourse suddenly burst upon Mr. Tesla’s consciousness. The problems with the control switch which had seemed insurmountable a moment before, now stood forth in his mind alongside their answers with brilliant clarity. The solution to the switching device was elegantly simple. Instead of a direct current impulse traveling in one direction through the crystals to form an intense electro- gravitational field, he now envisioned an arrangement whereby two electro-gravitational impulse fields would be reflected back and forth within the crystals as two opposed traveling waves, constantly interfering and canceling each other out. The frequency between the two waves, Mr. Tesla recognized, would have to be calibrated at 7.83 Hz. This configuration resulted in a gravitational field with a force of zero, but a field that could be loaded with an incredible amount of electrical power. While the solution to the control switch was of tremendous consequence, it was only a small part of the information that Mr. Tesla received in that sudden burst
. The greater part of his vision was a revelation of worlds and of time-cycles and of soul-cycles and of mysteries of the universal spheres that the tongues of man have yet found words to voice.

  Mr. Tesla teetered upon his feet, and then collapsed into the chair from which he had risen. He sat there a moment staring at the bird. Then his hand reached for the telephone receiver sitting upon the table. He lifted the ear piece and placed a call to Kolman Czito.

  The telephone rang on the other end, and Mr. Czito picked up the earpiece on his end of the line.

  “Yes?” Mr. Czito asked in a sleepy fog.

  “Mr. Czito,” Mr. Tesla said. “I have found the answer to our problem. Meet me on the front steps of the Library in ten minutes.”

  “Your thoughts have bore fruit!” Mr. Czito exclaimed.

  “My thoughts— and those of another,” Mr. Tesla said. “I have been given knowledge. I have been told a great deal.”

  “Told? Who told you?” Mr. Czito asked.

  Mr. Tesla replied, “A little bird.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Note

  “Some of us have superstition— yes; but

  I no longer. I have succeeded, my wife is

  la mascotte; ever since I married I have

  been lucky. Yet for many years I carried the

  Ten Commandments in a little bag, written

  very small. They wore out three or four

  years ago, and I have not troubled since.”

  Houdini

  Jack, Ed, and I returned to Oakland using the ferries again. Our return trip contrasted sharply with our outbound journey. Where before there had been much talk with most of it being done by Ed, the three of us now stood silently at the railing of the boats, looking at the turbulent waters of San Francisco Bay or at the gray sky stretching over our heads like the ceiling of a mammoth cave. At intervals Jack and I would say a word or two; it would be an odd reminiscence from the past, something from our boyhood days. We would begin to tell our tale, but then our words would trail off haltingly, our thoughts led astray by other thoughts, thoughts which we could not utter, and our words would turn to whispers and then the whispers to silences. Then there would again just be the sound of the water churning in the bay and the cry of sea gulls winging over our heads. Finally we gave up speaking, realizing that none of us needed to say a thing. We stood silently at the railing of the ferry as the city of Oakland grew larger in the gray distance.