Rayguns Over Texas

by Michael Moorcock

  He reached his house to find it deserted. Doors and windows appeared to have been closed for ages. Yet strange to say, the garden bore no evidence of neglect. On the contrary, it was filled with many rare flowers and shrubs he never had even heard of, and tall trees waved their graceful branches over his head. The amazed owner of the house pulled the doorbell violently; no response but the ringing peal within. He tried side doors, and back doors, with equal success, and in despair started off to the neighboring town for some one to assist him in breaking into his own house.

  The pretty iron gate turned easily and smoothly on its hinges, and Mr. Langschlaf stepped off his own premises---not into the dusty road that but that morning had led to town--but on to the marble pavement of a broad and apparently endless street, which was adorned on either side with stately places of exquisite beauty. These palaces were surrounded by beautiful grounds, ornamented with clusters of trees, groups of flowers, and vine-covered nooks from which gleamed statuary in white and polished beauty. The street itself was inlaid with various colored marbles in pretty fanciful arabesque. Tall trees interlaced their delicate foliage over head, and on each side was a foot path adorned with flowers and pretty fountains, which sent their translucent spires high into the air.

  “I am dreaming,” murmured Mr. Langschlaf, “and this I suppose is Paradise. I wish I could come across some of the angels--hallo! There’s one now!”

  And off he started at full speed towards a man somewhat strangely but becomingly attired, who had a fine commanding presence, and walked slowly along with an open book in his hand.

  “Sir,” said our friend, when he had recovered his breath, “Sir, will you be kind enough to tweak my nose?”

  The stranger turned around and regarded the author of this rather unusual request with astonishment, which, however, soon gave place to rapturous delight, and he exclaimed without heeding the aforesaid request--

  “Good heavens! Can it be possible? What have I done to be so blessed? An old man, positively an old man! With the gray hair and beard so accurately described in my book! I am the happiest man in the world!”

  “Umph,” muttered Langschlaf, “he speaks English anyway; but this man is a lunatic. I am not old enough to be an object of curiosity, I should think;” and then aloud to the stranger, who continued to regard him with increasing interest and delight, he said--

  “I made a polite request of you sir, but as it is, I confess, rather a singular one, I will explain why I made it. I laid down to day about 1 o’clock, P.M., to take a nap, leaving my own place surrounded by beautiful meadows and streams, I awake at 6 P.M., meadows, woods, and streams have disappeared, and a city has arisen in their place--a city so beautiful that I must think I still dream, for naught like it exists on earth. I was reading some absurd nonsense about progress and future perfection just before I sent to sleep, and I suppose I am dreaming of it now. Now sir will you be kind enough to pull my nose?”

  “After you have answered me a few questions,” replied the stranger, “but first let us be seated where we can talk quietly,” and he led the amazed and somewhat indignant Langschlaf into one of the many lovely gardens--found some charming seats under a myrtle tree and requesting Langschlaf to take one he appropriated the other.

  “I think it would be more polite of you to comply with my request without any conditions, but I presume from the rude manner in which you alluded to my age that politeness is at a discount here, however, proceed with your questions,” and Mr. Langschlaf settled himself comfortably in his place.

  “I beg pardon if I have offended,” said the stranger earnestly, “I assure you it was unintentional.”

  “Go on please,” interrupted Langschlaf--“I am in a hurry, and most outrageously hungry.”

  “In a hurry,” repeated the stranger meditatively, “in a hurry--and old--upon my word it is extraordinary! But,” he added, aloud, “your hunger can be easily satisfied.”

  So saying, he took from a pocket a singular looking little instrument somewhat like a watch, which he placed upon the ground. “Your dinner will be here directly,” he remarked to Langschlaf; and presently a white object like a large bird appeared in the air above their heads, descended swiftly, and lit on the ground before them. It proved on inspection to be something like a balloon--but beautiful and delicate in its construction. From this singular vehicle a pretty boy came forth with a slender cane in his hand. This he unfolded and formed a table which he placed before the two gentlemen and soon this novel table was covered with a charming repast.

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Langschlaf “this looks like witchcraft--I am almost afraid to eat a dinner so mysteriously provided--but I’ll risk it.” And he immediately fell to with an eagerness that made the two spectators stare.

  “I wonder he ever lived to be old if that’s the rate he generally consumes food,” said the host, sotto voce.

  The keen edge taken off his appetite, Mr. Langschlaf discovered his companion was not eating, and pressed him to take something.

  “Thank you. I had just dined when I met you, but I will join you in a glass of wine at dessert.”

  When the dessert was served the stranger dismissed the waiter saying, “I will signal for you when I want you again.” “Thank you, sir,” replied the waiter, “I cannot well be spared from the restaurant just now; we are very busy preparing for a grand entertainment which is to come off in South Africa to-morrow evening, and I have charge of the ices which we are expecting every moment.”

  “Where do you get your ices now?” asked the host.

  “From the North pole at present, sir. The Confectioner at the South had more than he could well attend to, and the North was a few thousand miles nearer.” And the waiter stepped into his air chariot, touched a kind of organ stop in the side of it, and was off in a moment.

  “Marvelous!” muttered the astonished Langschlaf, “entertainment in South Africa--ices expected from the North pole--navigating the air with balloons propelled by organ stops! Umph, wonder if the fellow ever means to pull my nose? But I don’t believe I care to wake up just yet. I feel better since I ate my dinner. Your health, sir,” he added aloud, turning to his entertainer, “will you oblige me by telling me your name?”

  “I am William Thornfield, Professor of Antiquities and Curiosities in the Grand Theater of Agreeable Science at Universalia.” Your health, sir, (rather an odd expression, but I suppose he is used to it) said Mr. Thornfield to him-self, “your health, sir, and happiness.”

  “And I am John Langschlaf at your service, and ready now to answer any questions you may ask. (Umph, professor in a theater, indeed).”

  “Thank you,” answered the Professor. “In the first place, then, please tell me in what year you went to sleep.”

  “What year? Why this morning, I tell you--about five hours since.”

  The Professor smiled curiously and asked,

  “And what year do you call this, then?”

  “Young man,” said Mr. Langschlaf, gravely, “I am not so ignorant as not to know the year in which I live, but I promised to answer your questions and I will, with what patience I may. This is Anno Domini, eighteen hundred and sixty-five.”

  “Really, the most remarkable instance of prolonged somnolence I ever heard of. Do you really mean to say you went to sleep in the year 1865, and have never waked until now? If this is true you are the most valuable relic on the earth; the finest specimen of antiquity extant; the greatest curiosity on the planet.”

  As the Professor spoke he grew more excited with every word, and his voice grew higher and higher.

  “Umph!” grunted the irate Langschlaf, “valuable relic, indeed! specimen of antiquity, forsooth! complete curiosity--upon my word, this is too much”--and he rose indignantly and was about to go, but the Professor, seeing his anger, said

  “I beg your pardon, sir, if I have offend
ed you. I did not intend it; but I was astonished out of my propriety. Have you any idea how long your siesta lasted? Permit me to inform you that you have slept just five hundred years. This is the year two thousand three hundred and sixty-five--and, now I can account for your bewilderment. Good heavens! how much you have to learn, and how much you can teach us of the past.”

  “Then I am not asleep now? asked Mr. Langschlaf. “Not at all,” replied the Professor.

  “What name have you given this beautiful city which looks like Paradise?”

  “City—city--oh yes. I remember you did in your day have cities and town--I may say this is one great city, and it is called Universalia.”

  “Indeed! well, I presume I have not changed my location since I went to sleep? I hope I am still in America.”

  “Yes, so was this part of the world called in your day and for many years afterwards. When oceans, mountains, and rivers separated the various parts of the earth were necessary, and even yet they are used to designate the different parts of Universalia. This is supposed to be what was once called the ‘United States,’ though historians differ as to its exact locality--some even deny its existence, but I am convinced such a nation did really exist for many years in this part of the world, and that they were actually known as the United States of America. Your evidence, sir, will place the truth of my theory beyond a doubt.”

  John Langschlaf had not interrupted the speaker before, for the simple reason that he was speechless with indignation. Now, however, he stammered in accents of intense rage--

  “My evidence will prove it indeed. What sir!” and patriotic pride gave strength to his voice--“Do you mean to tell me there is any doubt of the existence of the United States of America? Do you mean to insult the American flag, sir? Do you pretend to question the existence of the great American Eagle? Do you, sir, I ask, pretend ignorance to the best government the world ever saw? Sir, I will not stand it.”

  “Do not get excited sir, I entreat,” said the dismayed Professor. “I only said others doubted these things. I do not, as I said before, at all doubt that such a country existed, nay, that it played a very important part in the world’s history for quite a long period. l do not dispute the existence of a flag or national ensign as it was the custom then for all nations, as they called themselves, to have such things. As for the eagle, l have seen too many stuffed specimens, in the museums to have any doubts on the subject,--l beg you will finish your wine and then we will take a stroll through the neighboring streets and you can see some of the changes which five centuries have wrought.”

  This was sensible advice and our friend much mollified, finished his wine. The professor again placed his apparatus on the ground--the air chariot appeared, and the waiter removed the debris of the dinner.

  “Tell me,” said Langschlaf, after the balloon had departed, “what do you call that wonderful little instrument, and by what power it communicates with people at a distance?”

  “This instrument is an Aggelos, or Messenger, and the power is what you called Electricity. The telegraph wires interfered greatly with air navigation, so our men of science set to work to discover some easier and more convenient method. The mighty powers of electricity--the many currents of that fluid constantly traversing earth and air, had been tolerably well ascertained. The Aggelos is the last and best of many inventions of the same sort, and is now in universal use. To send a message you have only to put this into communication with that current of electricity which goes to the place to which the message is sent. This is easily learned, as every body can understand the current science. I sent my message to Paris from which place we received our dinner.”

  “But is it possible it could have come in so short a time? It was not half an hour coming.”

  “It is true nevertheless my friend, electricity is the swiftest traveler, except thought, that we have any knowledge of.”

  “Electricity? Do you propel by electricity?”

  “Of course we do. The great power of electricity, or as we call it now, Lucistra, was first discovered by means of a singular delusion which at one time attacked the civilized world, as it was then called, with great violence, and spread with unexampled rapidity. At first it was left to the ignorant, the superstitious and the designing; the latter pretended to use it as a medium of communication with the spirit world, and succeeded in palming off the most absurd compositions as the work of departed authors. But finally it attracted the attention of scientific men, who studied it thoroughly as a science, and from this apparent delusion they elicited the divine spark of light which was destined to illuminate the world. By it time and space are annihilated, people of separate nations brought into daily and hourly intercourse with each other, and knowledge disseminated with unparalleled rapidity and clearness.”

  “And this came from spirit rapping. Well, I never would thought that humbug could have brought good to the human race,” said Langschlaf, musingly.

  “And now,” said the Professor, rising, “let’s promenade. This is the very time to walk, we will meet the beauty and elegance of our part of the globe at this hour.”

  There was a gay crowd on the street when they entered it, and Mr. Langschlaf remarked that there seemed no prevailing fashion in the dresses, yet everybody looked well, and becomingly dressed. Some gentlemen wore the heavy plumed hat and richly laced costume of Charles the Second; others wore the Spanish dress with its rich sombre colors, and graceful low crowned hat; and some wore a combination of these styles.

  As for the ladies, all ages and fashions seemed to have united to do them homage. Light, gauzy, diaphanous fabrics floated in bewildering mazes around forms of exquisite beauty. Bright eyes gleamed from beneath bonnets, and hats of all styles were becoming and pretty; all the fabrics of all the looms seemed here assembled in one irresistible phalanx. But John Langschlaf was an old bachelor, and of course, somewhat cynical, so he said to his companion, somewhat sneeringly:

  “You seem to have a sort of chronic Fancy Dress Ball in Universalia. Does the quartier Paris still set the fashions?”

  “Fashion, my dear sir,” said the Professor, “exists no longer. She is among the dethroned Deities. Everyone dresses, now, in the style most becoming to them. We have dressmakers and tailors still, but they are educated at art schools, and the only criterion they go by is the peculiar style of the person to be dressed. Everyone is taught the art of dress thoroughly; nothing becoming is rejected because it is old fashioned; and nothing unbecoming worn because it is fashionable. There are, however, certain rules of health and taste that control fancies, which would otherwise become extravagant.”

  “Well, that is an improvement,” said Langschlaf, “but still I suppose needlewomen will sit up all night for the next night’s ball, and ruin their health for gay people’s pleasure.”

  “By no means,” answered the Professor. “Needlewomen is an obsolete term. When a lady wants a new dress, she places her Aggelos in a certain current, and her dress Artiste appears. ‘I want this dress this evening for a reception.’ ‘In what part of the world, Madam.’ This answered, the next question is, have you any choice of colors? If the lady is an original, or has any particular reason for wishing a certain color, she answers accordingly. The artiste then steps into her Aeolita and goes home. The style decided upon, she signals to the various quarters of the globe for her materials. When these arrive, a machine takes them up, cuts, makes and turns out a complete dress in about ten minutes. The artiste has nothing to do but order the materials and decide on the style. Manual labor is now performed by machinery”

  By this time a dense crowd had collected around our two friends, and Mr. Langschlaf became uncomfortably conscious that he was an object of intense curiosity to those about him.

  “What extraordinary hair!” said one. “And what a singular beard!” added another. “Oh! what a funny face,” cried a little boy, “all full of
little ridges.”

  “This is very disagreeable,” said Mr. Langschlaf. “I really don’t see what there is about me to create such excitement.”

  “It is your age, Sir,” said the Professor.

  “But I am not a Methusaleh,” said Mr. Langschlaf, “have they never seen an elderly gentleman before?”

  “Most of them never have,” replied the Professor. “You will see no old looking people here. I, for instance, am nearly sixty; yet you see how young I look. We never permit ourselves to look older than thirty-five, which we look upon as the handsomest age.”

  “But how do you prevent it?” asked our friend eagerly.

  “The science of Hygiene is so thoroughly and universally understood that sickness and old age are unknown to this generation. We are gradually drawing near primitive longevity and health. Blindness, deafness, deformity and all ‘the thousand ills that flesh is heir to,’ or was supposed to be in Shakespeare’s time, are rapidly disappearing from the world.”

  The crowd now became quite oppressive and the Professor said to his companion:

  `“I am afraid you will have to be rejuvenated, my friend.”

  “Afraid!” exclaimed Langschlaf. “I only wish I could.”

  “Oh, it can be done. That is if the machine is not out of order from long disuse. The last subject for rejuvenation was an old man we found in the mountains of South America. But I regret, exceedingly, the necessity of rejuvenating you. Your evidence would be so much more convincing, enforced by your venerable appearance.”

  “Oh hang the evidence. Take me along quick,” said Langschlaf. “Where is this wonderful machine?”

  “Only a few moments distance, in Calcutta.” And the Professor signaled for an Aeoline, as their airships were called.