by Jerry Sohl
Just to make sure, Devan borrowed a Geiger counter from Inland’s big supply room, made a test circle of the Needle with it himself, got nothing out of the ordinary in the neon flasher or earphones or on the milliroentgen scale. So much for that. There were no gamma rays, X-rays, radioactive ores or cosmic rays in the tube. Whatever Dr. Costigan was testing for, Devan could not guess.
The executive committee had been informed that afternoon that the first test was to be made that night. The seven of them had met at seven o’clock in the big room, moved chairs close to the Needle. That seemed days ago to Devan. The doctor had slowed things to a crawl.
First, Dr. Costigan had moved a large control panel on a pedestal across the floor on rubber tires to one side of the Eye, a large rubber-covered cable running from the portable panel to a bank of control panels along the wall.
Then he had punched a red button at the top of the panel and instantly there was a loud hum of several motors and a final clang that resounded in the room. Then there was silence. Devan could see the red lights over the big electrically operated doors, knew then that no one could get in or out. Even the guard in the small office adjacent to the big doors could not enter the experimental room.
But what happened when the red button was pushed was the only thing of any real interest that had happened for over an hour. Dr. Costigan had started operations, pushing buttons, pulling levers this way and that and swearing slightly when things evidently didn’t add up right on his panel. He switched everything off, had been working on the Needle’s wiring ever since. Nobody offered to help; the doctor discouraged it. So the six of them sat back, variously occupied, while the thin scientist, bent over the small opening to one side of the Needle’s Eye, pushed and prodded and grunted and swore.
The Needle was a beautiful shaft of gleaming metal that rose from the floor, its surface unbroken except for an occasional eye bolt from which guy wires ran to the wall. It looked capable of anything and Devan presumed that it probably had been considered for a number of things in the conjectures of those who had worked on it so feverishly in the past two months. The wires that bound it to the walls made it look like a landlocked guided missile.
He saw Dr. Costigan step back, put his hands to the small of his back and straighten, grimacing as he did so. Then he picked up the metal panel, put it back into place, screwed it tight, then walked stiffly over to the control pedestal and flicked a few switches. The doctor’s face brightened.
“Ah,” he said, eyes darting here and there around the panel’s many dials, “I think that’s it.” He looked up. “I think we’re ready.”
As had been planned, Sam Otto moved from his chair to a small box near by. Orcutt moved a U-shaped wooden enclosure to the Eye of the Needle. Sam picked a large, white rabbit out of the box, dropped it into the small yard made by the low fence.
“All right, Bugs,” he said. “On your way.”
They all crowded around, watched the rabbit’s pink nose exploring the concrete floor, then the air. He did not move toward the Eye.
“You ought to have a carrot to lure him,” Devan said.
“I’ve got one,” Sam said, moving his cigar around with his teeth and lips. “I almost forgot.” He withdrew a carrot from his pocket, broke it into several pieces, tossed them into the Eye area where they rolled along the floor. “I hope Hodge’s Grocery has the kind of carrots rabbits like.”
At first the rabbit did nothing, then his nose went into the air and he wiggled the end of it. Suddenly he hunched and jumped, hunched and jumped again. He paused, sniffed the air, seemed certain he was headed right, hopped quickly into the Needle’s Eye and disappeared from view. The carrot pieces were still there.
For a long time they stood there, watching the area underneath the Needle, the archway Eye, four feet wide and eight feet high, twelve feet deep at the top and only eight feet deep at the bottom because of the tapering sides of the Needle at the floor. The Eye looked deceptively safe.
The rabbit did not come out.
“He could come out the other side, couldn’t he?” Basher asked.
“I should think so,” Holcombe said. “He goes along the concrete here, then he comes to the Needle’s Eye, goes into it, disappears from us, doesn’t find the carrot pieces because they’re here and not where he is. He’s bound to come out one side or the other.”
“Maybe he can’t find his way out,” Tooksberry said. “Maybe he’s as confused as we are.”
“I’ve kept the power on,” Dr. Costigan said. “I should think he’d find his way out. First he smelled the carrots, started after them. When he didn’t find them I should think he’d think they are farther on and come out on the other side looking for them.”
“Nothing’s come out,” Sam said. “Let’s try the other one.”
“Might as well.”
The same thing happened to the second rabbit.
“Look,” Orcutt said, finally. “This business with animals tells us it works. That’s fine. But does it tell us anything else? What we need to do is walk in there ourselves and see what it’s like.”
“Just a minute,” Dr. Costigan said. “That would be risky, don’t you think? Suppose we all go in and none of us comes out? Who’s left to tell what went on here?”
“Oh, hell,” Orcutt said. “We’re different from a damn rabbit. We have brains. We’d mark the spot and come through it when we wanted to come back.”
“Think so?” The doctor was smiling. “Remember my first experiments? My arms met water. I was in a basement and when my arm went through the hole, it encountered water. Suppose the same thing happens here? What if you came out in water?”
“Then you’d go up to the top, if you didn’t drown on the way,” Orcutt said. “I see your point, though. But there’s no sense in standing here.” He started for the Eye.
“Wait, Ed.” Devan was on his feet. “What are you going to do?”
“Just feel if there’s water, Dev. That’s all.” He moved the wooden enclosure away and they all crowded around the opening.
It looked innocent, that area just within the lips of the Eye. As Devan approached it, he had a fleeting impulse to jump into it, such as he had experienced when he was high in a building and felt like jumping to the street. He supposed many people felt that way and, as he observed the curious, tense faces of those about the Eye, wondered if any of them was controlling an urge to fall into the Eye.
Orcutt moved closer than the rest. “No pushing, boys,” he said. There was a laugh and tension lowered. He thrust his hand into the Eye. It disappeared. He moved his invisible hand down.
“Pretty chilly,” he said. “But no water.”
His hand went to the floor—and lower.
“We’re on the ground, aren’t we?” he asked in some surprise.
“Yes, Ed,” Devan said. “We excavated a little underneath the wooden floor of the old factory so we’d be on ground level.”
“Well, my hand goes down quite away...”
Suddenly he withdrew his hand, stood up. “This is ridiculous. I’m going through the Eye—all of me.” He turned to go in it.
“Now, wait,” Dr. Costigan said.
Orcutt hesitated.
“I invented this thing,” Dr. Costigan went on. “Don’t you think I should have the honor of going through the Eye first?”
“But we don’t know what’s on the other side,” Devan protested. “After all, you’re not as young as Ed here, Doctor.”
“You’re the inventor,” Basher said. “You’d better stay here, don’t you think?”
“Frankly, no,” the doctor said coolly.
“You may have invented the Needle,” Orcutt said, “but it was I who swung the board to thinking we ought to invest in it.”
“What about me?” Sam said, smiling cherubically. “Where would any of you be if it weren’t for my offering Dr. Costigan’s idea to you?” He moved forward. “One side, gentlemen. Let me through. I want to feel like Columbus.” It didn’t t
ake much to restrain him, just the merest pressure on his arm by the doctor. “Well, I tried.”
“How about Jimmy?” Devan said. “He’s president of the board. Maybe he ought to go first.”
“Maybe you all ought to go,” Tooksberry said, drawing back from them. “You could get on your marks, get set and run from a distance and the first one through is ‘it.’ And after you’ve all gone through, I could turn the machine off.”
“Very funny,” Orcutt said. “Well, we’re getting nothing done this way.”
“There’s a fair way,” Sam said. “We could draw straws.”
“I’ll agree to that,” the doctor said.
The others approved the move—everybody but Tooksberry.
“I’ll get the straws,” he said. “I’ll arrange them. I don’t want one myself.” He went off to search for a broom. When he came back he had six straws in his hand. “Take your pick, gentlemen.”
It had not been Devan’s intention to volunteer to go through the Needle’s Eye, but someone was going to have to go and the more he got to thinking about it, the more the idea of his going appealed to him. The area just beyond that brightly illuminated doorway held the secret to what had been puzzling them all since they had seen the first Needle. Perhaps Sam Otto wasn’t so far wrong; going through the Needle’s Eye might be equivalent to Columbus’s voyage across the Atlantic. Perhaps the name of the first man to pass through the Eye would become a household word for all the years to come. It depended, of course, upon the significance of what lay on the other side. But Devan wasn’t concerned with the significance of it at the moment; he was moved more by curiosity. He drew an offered straw.
Glenn Basher held the short straw high. “I’ve got it.”
He moved to the Eye opening and then turned toward them. “I think this is the only way, just as Orcutt says.” He smiled a little nervously, lit a cigarette. “But I’d like to try a few things I’ve thought of, first.”
“Go ahead,” Orcutt said. “It’s your party. You won the short straw. But if you don’t want to go, I’ll take your place.”
Basher shook his head. “No. I’ve been wondering a long time about it and now I’m glad I won’t have to hear about it from anybody else. I can go myself.” He took a deep drag on the cigarette, crushed it out under foot. Then he lay down on the concrete floor, moved himself toward the Eye as if he were stealing through underbrush. At last he had only a few inches to go before his head would be inside the entranceway.
“Here goes!” he said. He lunged forward, stuck his head into the Eye. His head disappeared. Several small pieces of metal dropped to the concrete floor.
After several minutes Basher’s head was out again and he got to his feet. “It’s chilly in there. I could feel a breeze. But I didn’t see a damn thing. Got to walk into it, I guess.” He stopped talking, his face went blank and he was doing something with his mouth.
“I’ll be damned!” He worked his mouth around, his tongue poking his cheek out here and there. “All my fillings are gone!”
The others walked to the Eye entranceway, saw the metal fillings on the concrete.
“The Eye won’t pass inanimate objects,” Dr. Costigan said.
Basher stooped to pick up his fillings, his hand disappearing as he did so. Suddenly he lost his balance and started to fall forward, uttering a cry.
A dozen hands reached for him, a few caught his clothes... and held them.
His clothes were there. But they were limp and empty.
All of Glenn Basher had gone through the Eye. He had completely disappeared.
For a few moments they all stood quiet and unmoving. They knew Basher was going to go through the Eye but they had expected him to do it in an orderly manner. They had expected him to step through, stay a few minutes and then step back and report. Then, if everything seemed all right, he would go through for a longer period. If this worked well, then they could all go through to see what it was like.
As it was, Basher’s falling through the Eye jarred them as nothing else had that evening and the echo of his cry still rang in their ears.
Sam Otto was the first to move. He was looking toward the opening as if it were a thing of horror, lips moving, jaw working, face white. Then he started to move away from the opening slowly.
Orcutt saw him. “Let’s not lose our heads, gentlemen,” he said moving over and taking Sam’s arm. “Let’s examine the facts.”
They sat down and Sam seemed to come out of it, starting to wipe cold sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.
“We have Glenn’s clothes,” Orcutt said. “That means he is in there naked, so he won’t want to be in there long. He has more sense than our rabbits. He’ll find his way out. All we have to do is sit here and wait.”
They were quiet and sat without exchanging a word for a long time. Orcutt started his pipe; Holcombe and Devan lit cigarettes. Sam Otto retrieved the cigar that had fallen out of his mouth during the tussle with Basher and, to Devan’s amazement, put a match to it. Only Dr. Costigan remained standing, examining the dials on the portable control panel.
As the time dragged slowly on, Devan grew increasingly uneasy. Both Orcutt and Basher had remarked on how cold it was in the Eye, and Basher, without clothes, wouldn’t want to stay there long. He remembered that Orcutt’s hand had gone beneath the concrete and hadn’t touched anything. Was there anything to touch? How far was down?
Orcutt’s hand hadn’t gone into outer space, that was certain; otherwise the chill of it and the absence of air would have done damage. But where did the hand go? In Dr. Costigan’s experiment in his first basement, the Needle’s Eye had opened into water. Nothing inorganic could be transferred through the Eye, so the water did not come through to the basement. In the experiment in his second basement, the Eye opened out to air—above water, he presumed, since air wouldn’t be under water. On the second floor of the factory the hole had opened to cold air, air as cold as that outside at the time. The water and the cold air proved the Eye opened to a world just like this one, didn’t it? They had been over that: forward or backward in time, perhaps, or another area on the earth itself.
The bottom of the Needle was at ground level. Why hadn’t Orcutt’s hand touched ground in the other area? But then that wasn’t reasonable—there was no water in the basement where the doctor had performed his first experiment, so why should there be ground here now? Unless it was an underground water supply in this other place, assuming once again this other place was just like this one... Thinking about it made his head swim.
“Basher’s dead.”
The sudden words that shook them all out of their reveries and made Devan jump were uttered by Tooksberry.
“That’s a hell of a thing to say,” Orcutt said.
“Why doesn’t he come back, then?” Tooksberry’s eyes were triumphant. “Dead things don’t come back from the other side.”
“Basher’s not dead!” Holcombe snapped a little too quickly.
“He hasn’t come back, though.”
“Listen, you!” Sam was pale. “You shut up talk like that!”
Tooksberry grunted and leered at him.
“Somebody’s got to go after Glenn,” Orcutt said. “And I’m nominating myself.”
“No, Ed.” Devan got to his feet. “None of us is going after him. I’ve thought of that. So have the others, I’m sure. We’ve got to stay here, all of us. Otherwise we’ll all be moving through the Needle’s Eye one at a time and there won’t be anybody left.”
“Except me,” Tooksberry said. “You’ll never get me in that thing.”
“Maybe somebody ought to shove you in it,” Sam said.
“Well,” Orcutt said, ignoring Sam, “maybe you’re right, Dev. But I’m going to stick my head in. As Basher did.”
“Ready to lose your fillings?”
“I don’t give a damn. Basher’s more important. I can always get new fillings.”
Orcutt lay down on the floor, Devan holding one leg
, Holcombe holding the other. They moved him slowly toward the opening. He raised his head as he neared it, his hands on the side of the opening, the fingers disappearing into the Eye.
“Just like a ledge,” he said, fascinated with the way the backs of his hands were visible and his fingers were not. “Ready? Here goes!”
He moved his head forward into the empty space and it disappeared. There was a rattle of metal particles as his dental fillings hit the floor. He stayed that way for a long time, moving a little once in a while, Devan and Holcombe never releasing their grip on his legs. Finally, his head came out. His face was despair itself.
“No sign of him. It’s cold and dark and damp in there.” Orcutt’s white hair was disheveled and his manner was discouraged. “I tried to sense everything I could. Just a stiff breeze for movement and only the vaguest grays for light. No idea where the ground is, if there is any. I yelled for Basher but I didn’t get any answer. I didn’t even hear an echo.”
Four hours later six glum men sent for Mrs. Basher.
She lived in Wilmette and by the time she came by taxicab, early-morning April mist was lifting from everything and dull grays were bringing Chicago buildings into sharp relief against the sky.
Devan remembered her as a shy young thing. Basher had introduced her around the office when she had come up one day, but no one at Inland had ever become acquainted with her; the Bashers seemed to prefer their own company.
He had forgotten she had red hair. Now the hair was much in evidence as were the question marks in her eyes as the six of them tried to tell her what happened, explaining how much of a secret it all was, how Basher had chosen the short straw, how he had wanted to go.
She didn’t believe a word of it. And to make matters worse, when Orcutt tried to show her how his hand could disappear in the Needle’s Eye, it didn’t disappear.
