Classic Science Fiction and Fantasy Stories

by Stephen Brennan

  A presence. Was there indeed something else here, of which now in this new state of being they were vaguely aware? Something—like a fellow voyager—making this weird journey with them? Lee’s heart was so wildly beating that it seemed smothering him.

  Unit Ten … Twenty … a Hundred… . With steady acceleration, the lowest size-change pointer was whirling, and the one above it was moving. The globe was five thousand feet high now. And on Earth Lee would have been a monstrous Titan over six hundred feet tall. A globe, and humans in that tremendous size—the very weight of them—in a moment more of this growth—would disarrange the rotation of the Earth on its axis! …

  And then abruptly Lee found himself envisaging the monstrous globe out here in Space. A thing to disarrange the mechanics of all the Celestial Universe! In an hour or two, with this acceleration of growth, the globe would be a huge meteorite—then an asteroid… .

  He stared at the distance dials. With the growth had come an immense augmentation of velocity. A hundred thousand miles an hour—that had been accelerated a hundred fold now. Ten million miles an hour… . Through the window-lens Lee gazed, mute with awe. The size-change was beginning to show! Far down, and to one side the crescent Earth was dwindling … Mars was far away in another portion of its orbit—the Moon was behind the Earth. There were just the myriad blazing giant worlds of the stars—infinitely remote, with vast distances of inky void between them. And now there was a visible movement to the stars! A sort of shifting movement… .

  An hour… . A day… . A week… . Who shall try and describe what Lee Anthony beheld during that weird outward journey? … For a brief time, after they swept past the orbit of Mars, the great planets of Jupiter and Saturn were almost in a line ahead of the plunging, expanding globe. A monstrous thing now—with electronically charged gravity-plates so that it plunged onward by its own repellant force—the repellant force of the great star-field beneath it.

  Lee stared at Jupiter, a lead-colored world with its red spot like a monster’s single glaring eye. With the speed of light Jupiter was advancing, swinging off to one side with a visible flow of movement, and dropping down into the lower void as the globe went past it. Yet, as it approached, visually it had not grown larger. Instead, there was only a steady dwindling. A dwindling of great Saturn, with its gorgeous, luminous rings came next. These approaching planets, seeming to shrink! Because, with Lee’s expanding viewpoint, everything in the vast scene was shrinking! Great distances here, in relation to the giant globe, were dwindling! These millions of miles between Saturn and Jupiter had shrunk into thousands. And then were shrinking to hundreds.

  Abruptly, with a startled shock to his senses, Lee’s viewpoint changed. Always before he had instinctively conceived himself to be his normal six foot earthly size. The starry Universe was vast beyond his conception. And in a second now, that abruptly was altered. He conceived the vehicle as of actuality it was—a globe as large as the ball of Saturn itself! And simultaneously he envisaged the present reality of Saturn. Out in the inky blackness it hung—not a giant ringed world millions of miles away, but only a little ringed ball no bigger than the spaceship—a ringed ball only eight or ten times as big as Lee himself. It hung there for an instant beside them—only a mile or so away perhaps. And as it went past, with both distance and size-change combining now, it shrank with amazing rapidity! A ball only as big as this room… . Then no larger than Lee it hung, still seemingly no further away than before. And then in a few minutes more, a mile out there in the shrinking distance, it was a tiny luminous point, vanishing beyond his vision.

  Uranus, little Neptune—Pluto, almost too far away in its orbit to be seen—all of them presently were dwindled and gone. Lee had a glimpse of the Solar system, a mere bunch of lights. The Sun was a tiny spot of light, holding its little family of tiny planets—a mother hen with her brood. It was gone in a moment, lost like a speck of star-dust among the giant starry worlds.

  Another day—that is a day as it would have been on Earth. But here was merely a progressing of human existence—a streaming forward of human consciousness. The Light-year dial pointers were all in movement. By Earth standards of size and velocity, long since had the globe’s velocity reached and passed the speed of light. Lee had been taught—his book-learning colored by the Einstein postulates—that there could be no speed greater than the speed of light—by Earth standards—perhaps, yes. The globe—by comparison with its original fifty-foot earth-size—might still be traveling no more than a few hundred thousand miles an hour. But this monster—a thing now as big as the whole Solar System doubtless—was speeding through a light-year in a moment!

  Futile figures! The human mind can grasp nothing of the vastness of interstellar space. To Lee it was only a shrinking inky void—an emptiness crowded with whirling little worlds all dwindling… . This crowded space! Often little points of star-dust had come whirling at the globe—colliding, bursting into pin-points of fire. Each of them might have been bigger than the Earth.

  There was a time when it seemed that beneath the globe all the tiny stars were shrinking into one lens-shaped cluster. The Interstellar Universe—all congealed down there into a blob, and everywhere else there was just nothingness… . But then little distant glowing nebulae were visible—luminous, floating rings, alone in the emptiness… . Distant? One of them drifted past, seemingly only a few hundred feet away—a luminous little ring of star-dust. The passage of the monstrous globe seemed to hurl it so that like a blown smoke ring it went into chaos, lost its shape, and vanished.

  Then at last all the blobs—each of them, to Earth-size conception, a monstrous Universe—all were dwindled into one blob down to one side of Lee’s window. And then they were gone… .

  Just darkness now. Darkness and soundless emptiness. But as he stared at intervals through another long night of his human consciousness, Lee seemed to feel that the emptiness out there was dwindling—a finite emptiness. He noticed, presently, that the size-change pointers had stopped their movement; the ultimate size of the globe had been reached. The figures of the Light-year dials were meaningless to his comprehension. The velocity was meaningless. And now another little set of dials were in operation. A thousand—something—of distance. There was a meaningless word which named the unit. A thousand Earth-miles, if he had been in his former size? The pointer marked nine hundred in a moment. Was it, perhaps, the distance now from their destination?

  Vivian was beside him. “Lee, what’s gonna happen to us? Won’t this come to an end some time? Lee—you won’t let anybody hurt me?”

  She was like a child, almost always clinging to him now. And suddenly she said a very strange thing. “Lee, I been thinkin’—back there on Earth I was doin’ a lot of things that maybe were pretty rotten—anglin’ for his money for instance—an’ not carin’ much what I had to do to get it.” She gestured at the sullen Franklin who was sitting on the couch. “You know—things like that. An’ I been thinkin’—you suppose, when we get where we’re goin’ now, that’ll be held against me?”

  What a queer thing to say! She was like a child—and so often a child has an insight into that which is hidden from those more mature!

  “I—don’t know,” Lee muttered.

  From the couch, Franklin looked up moodily. “Whispering about me again? I know you are—damn you both. You and everybody else here.”

  “We’re not interested in you,” Vivian said.

  “Oh, you’re not? Well you were, back on Earth. I’m not good enough for you now, eh? He’s better—because he’s big—big and strong—that the idea? Well if I ever had the chance—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Lee said.

  The sullen Franklin was working himself into a rage. Lee seemed to understand Franklin better now. A weakling. Inherently, with a complex of inferiority, the vague consciousness of it lashing him into baffled anger.

  “You, Anthony,” Franklin burst out, “don’t think you’ve been fooling me. You can put it over that fool girl, but
not me. I’m onto you.”

  “Put what over?” Lee said mildly.

  “That you don’t know anything about this affair or these men who’ve got us—you don’t know who they are, do you?”

  “No. Do you?” Lee asked.

  Franklin jumped to his feet. “Don’t fence with me. By God, if I was bigger I’d smash your head in. They abducted us, because they wanted you. That fellow said as much near the start of this damned trip. They won’t talk—afraid I’ll find out. And you can’t guess what it’s all about! The hell you can’t.”

  Lee said nothing. But there was a little truth in what Franklin was saying, of course… . Those things that the dying old Anna Green had told him—surely this weird voyage had some connection.

  He turned away; went back to the window. There was a sheen now. A vague outline of something vast, as though the darkness were ending at a great wall that glowed a little.

  It seemed, during the next time-interval, as though the globe might have turned over, so that now it was dropping down upon something tangible. Dropping—floating down—with steadily decreasing velocity, descending to a Surface. The sheen of glow had expanded until now it filled all the lower hemisphere of darkness—a great spread of surface visually coming up. Then there were things to see, illumined by a faint half-light to which color was coming; a faint, pastel color that seemed a rose-glow.

  “Why—why,” Vivian murmured, “say, it’s beautiful, ain’t it? It looks like fairyland—or Heaven. It does—don’t it, Lee?”

  “Yes,” Lee murmured. “Like—like—”

  The wall-slide rasped. The voice of one of their captors said, “We will arrive soon. We can trust you—there must be no fighting?”

  “You can trust us,” Lee said.

  It was dark in the little curving corridor of the globe, where with silent robed figures around them, they stood while the globe gently landed. Then they were pushed forward, out through the exit port.

  The new realm. The World Beyond. What was it? To Lee Anthony then came the feeling that there was a precise scientific explanation of it, of course. And yet, beyond all that pedantry of science, he seemed to know that it was something else, perhaps a place that a man might mould by his dreams. A place that would be what a man made of it, from that which was within himself.

  Solemn with awe he went with his companions slowly down the incline.

  Realm of Mystery

  “We wish nothing of you,” the man said, “save that you accept from us what we have to offer. You are hungry. You will let us bring you food.”

  It was a simple rustic room to which they had been brought—a room in a house seemingly of plaited straw. Crude furnishings were here—table and chairs of Earth fashion, padded with stuffed mats. Woven matting was on the floor. Through a broad latticed window the faint rose-light outside—like a soft pastel twilight—filtered in, tinting the room with a gentle glow. Thin drapes at the window stirred in a breath of breeze—a warm wind from the hills, scented with the vivid blooms which were everywhere.

  It had been a brief walk from the space-globe. Lee had seen what seemed a little village stretching off among the trees. There had been people crowding to see the strangers—men, women and children, in simple crude peasant garb—brief garments that revealed their pink-white bodies. They babbled with strange unintelligible words, crowding forward until the robed men from the globe shoved them away.

  It was a pastoral, peaceful scene—a little countryside drowsing in the warm rosy twilight. Out by the river there were fields where men stood at their simple agricultural implements—stood at rest, staring curiously at the commotion in the village.

  And still Lee’s captors would say nothing, merely drew them forward, into this room. Then all of them left, save one. He had doffed his robe now. He was an old man, with long grey-white hair to the base of his neck. He stood smiling. His voice, with the English words queerly pronounced, was gentle, but with a firm finality of command.

  “My name is Arkoh,” he said. “I am to see that you are made comfortable. This house is yours. There are several rooms, so that you may do in them as you wish.”

  “Thank you,” Lee said. “But you can certainly understand—I have asked many questions and never had any answers. If you wish to talk to me alone—”

  “That will come presently. There is no reason for you to be worried—”

  “We’re not worried,” Franklin burst out. “We’re fed up with this highhanded stuff. You’ll answer questions now. What I demand to know is why—”

  “Take it easy,” Lee warned.

  Franklin had jumped to his feet. He flung off Lee’s hand. “Don’t make me laugh. I know you’re one of them—everything about you is a fake. You got us into this—”

  “So? You would bring strife here from your Earth?” Arkoh’s voice cut in, like a knife-blade cleaving through Franklin’s bluster. “That is not permissible. Please do not make it necessary that there should be violence here.” He stood motionless. But before his gaze Franklin relaxed into an incoherent muttering.

  “Thank you,” Arkoh said. “I shall send you the food.” He turned and left the room.

  Vivian collapsed into a chair. She was trembling. “Well—my Gawd—what is all this? Lee—that old man with his gentle voice—he looked like if you crossed him you’d be dead. Not that he’d hurt you—it would be—would be something else—”

  “You talk like an ass,” Franklin said. “You’ve gone crazy—and I don’t blame you—this damned weird thing. For all that old man’s smooth talk, we’re just prisoners here. Look outside that window—”

  It was a little garden, drowsing in the twilight. A man stood watching the window. And as Lee went to the lattice, he could see others, like guards outside.

  The man who brought their simple food was a stalwart fellow in a draped garment of brown plaited fibre. His black hair hung thick about his ears. He laid out the food in silence.

  “What’s your name?” Franklin demanded.

  “I am Groff.”

  “And you won’t talk either, I suppose? Look here, I can make it worth your while to talk.”

  “Everyone has all he needs here. There is nothing that you need give us.”

  “Isn’t there? You just give me a chance and I’ll show you. No one has all he needs—or all he wants.”

  Groff did not answer. But as he finished placing the food, and left the room, it seemed to Lee that he shot a queer look back at Franklin. A look so utterly incongruous that it was startling. Franklin saw it and chuckled.

  “Well, at least there’s one person here who’s not so damn weird that it gives you the creeps.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lee said. With sudden impulse he lowered his voice. “Franklin, listen—there are a few things that perhaps I can tell you. Things that I can guess—that Vivian senses—”

  “I don’t want to hear your explanation. It would be just a lot of damn lies anyway.”

  “All right. Perhaps it would. We’ll soon know, I imagine.”

  “Let’s eat,” Vivian said. “I’m hungry, even if I am scared.”

  To Lee it seemed that the weird mystery here was crowding upon them. As though, here in this dim room, momentous things were waiting to reveal themselves. A strange emotion was upon Lee Anthony. A sort of tense eagerness. Certainly it was not fear. Certainly it seemed impossible that there could be anything here of which he should be afraid. Again his mind went back to old Anna Green and what she had told him of his grandfather. How far away—how long ago that had been… . And yet, was Anna Green far away now? Something of her had seemed always to be with him on that long, weird voyage, from the infinite smallness and pettiness of Earth to this realm out beyond the stars. And more than ever now, somehow Lee seemed aware of her presence here in this quiet room. Occultism? He had always told himself that surely he was no mystic. A practical fellow, who could understand science when it was taught him, but certainly never could give credence
to mysticism. The dead are dead, and the living are alive; and between them is a gulf—an abyss of nothingness.

  Now he found himself wondering. Were all those people on Earth who claimed to feel the presence of dead loved ones near them? Were those people just straining their fancy—just comforting themselves with what they wished to believe? Or was the scoffer himself the fool? And if that could be so, on Earth, why could not this strange realm be of such a quality that an awareness of those who have passed from life would be the normal thing? Who shall say that the mysteries of life and death are unscientific? Was it not rather that they embraced those gaps of science not yet understood? Mysteries which, if only we could understand them, would be mysteries no longer?

  Lee had left the table and again was standing at the latticed window, beyond which the drowsing little garden lay silent, and empty now. The guard who had been out here had moved further away; his figure was a blob near a flowered thicket at the house corner. And suddenly Lee was aware of another figure. There was a little splashing fountain near the garden’s center—a rill of water which came down a little embankment and splashed into a pool where the rose light shimmered on the ripples.

  The figure was sitting at the edge of the pool—a slim young girl in a brief dress like a drape upon her. She sat, half reclining on the bank by the shimmering water, with her long hair flowing down over her shoulders and a lock of it trailing in the pool. For a moment he thought that she was gazing into the water. Then as the light which tinted her graceful form seemed to intensify, he saw that she was staring at him.

  It seemed as though both of them, for that moment, were breathless with a strange emotion awakened in them by the sight of each other. And then slowly the girl rose to her feet. Still gazing at Lee, she came slowly forward with her hair dangling, framing her small oval face. The glow in the night-air tinted her features. It was a face of girlhood, almost mature—a face with wonderment on it now.

  He knew that he was smiling; then, a few feet from the window she stopped and said shyly: