by Wallace West
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Astounding Stories March 1933. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The End of Time
By Wallace West
* * * * *
[Sidenote: By millions of millions the creatures of earth slow anddrop when their time-sense is mysteriously paralyzed.]
"There is no doubt of it!" The little chemist pushed steel-bowedspectacles up on his high forehead and peered at his dinner guest withexcited blue eyes. "Time will come to an end at six o'clock thismorning."
Jack Baron, young radio engineer at the Rothafel Radio laboratories,and protege of Dr. Manthis, his host, laughed heartily.
"What a yarn you spin, Doctor," he said. "Write it for the movies."
"But it's true," insisted the older man. "Something is paralyzing ourtime-sense. The final stroke will occur about daybreak."
"Bosh! You mean the earth will stop rotating, the stars blink out?"
"Not at all. Such things have nothing to do with time. You may knowyour short waves, but your general education has been sadlyneglected." The scientist picked up a weighty volume. "Maybe this willexplain what I mean. It's from Immanuel Kant's 'Critique of PureReason.' Listen:
'Time is not something which subsists of itself, or which inheres in things as an objective determination, and therefore, remains, when abstraction is made of the subjective conditions of the intuition of things. For in the former case it would be something real, yet without presenting to any power of perception any real object. In the latter case, as an order of determination inherent in things themselves, it could not be antecedent to things, as their condition, nor discerned or intuited by means of synthetical propositions _a priori_. But all this is quite possible when we regard time as merely the subjective condition under which all our intuitions take place.'
"There. Does that make it clear?"
"Clear as mud," grinned Baron. "Kant is too deep for me."
"I'll give you another proof," snapped Manthis. "Look at your watch."
The other drew out his timepiece. Slowly his face sobered.
"Why, I can't see the second hand," he exclaimed. "It's just a blur!"
"Exactly! Now look at the minute hand. Can you see it move?"
"Yes, quite clearly."
"What time is it?"
_A few remained standing like statues._]
"Half past one. Great Scott! So that's why you spun that yarn." Baronhoisted his six feet one out of the easy chair. "It's way past yourbedtime. Didn't mean to keep you up." He stared again at his watch asif it had betrayed him. "It seems we just finished dinner. I must havedozed off...."
"Nonsense," sniffed Manthis. "You arrived at eight o'clock--an hourlate. You and I and my daughter had dinner. Then the two of us came inhere. We smoked a cigarette or two. Now it's half-past one. Do youneed more proof?"
"Your theory's all wet somewhere," the younger man protested with ashaky laugh. "If my watch isn't broken, time must be speeding up, notstopping."
"That comes from depending on your senses instead of yourintelligence. Think a minute. If the watch seems running double speedthat would indicate that your perception of its movements had sloweddown fifty per cent."
Baron sank back into his chair, leaned forward and gripped his curlyblack hair with trembling fingers. He felt dizzy and befuddled.
"June," called the doctor. Then to the agitated youth he added: "Watchmy daughter when she comes in if you still think I'm crazy."
As he spoke the door flew open and a slim, golden-haired girl shotinto the room like a motion picture character in one of those comedieswhich is run double speed. Jack's eyes could hardly follow hermovements.
She came behind her father and threw one slim arm about his shoulders.She spoke, but her usually throaty voice was only a high-pitchedsqueak.
"Can't understand you, dear," interrupted her father. "Write it down."
"June is using a drug which I prepared to keep her time sense normal,"Manthis explained as the girl's pen raced over a pad. "That's why shedisappeared after dinner. I wanted you to get the full effect. Nowread this."
"The deadline is approaching," the girl's message read. "You'd bettertake your injection now. It is 2:30 A.M."
"All right, prepare the hypodermics," directed the chemist. He had torepeat this in a falsetto voice before June understood. "Make one forJack too."
June went out at express-train speed.
Baron glanced at his watch again. The minute hand was moving with thespeed at which the second hand usually traveled. Three fifteenalready!
When he looked up June was in the room again with two hypodermicneedles. Quickly she removed her father's coat and made the injection.
"Let her fix you up too, boy, unless you want to become a gravenimage," commanded Manthis. His voice, which started at the ordinarypitch, went up like a siren at the end as the drug took effect.Dazedly Jack held out his arm.
* * * * *
The sting of the needle was followed by a roaring in his ears like ahundred Niagaras. The room seemed to pitch and quiver. Staring down atthe watch he still clutched, Jack saw the hands slow down and at lastresume their accustomed pace. Gradually the unpleasant sensations diedaway.
"That was a close shave," commented the doctor, drawing a long breath."I wouldn't have waited so long, except that I wanted to experiencethe sensation of coming back from the edge of the infinite. Not verynice! Like being pulled out of a whirlpool. It's 4:30 now. Took us anhour to return to normal, although it seemed only minutes. We have anhour and a half before the end. June, have you noticed anythingunusual on the streets?"
"Yes," whispered his daughter, her usually piquant face pinched andwhite. "I've been watching from the balcony. It's dreadful. The peoplecreep about like things in a nightmare."
Manthis tried to reassure her. On his face was a great sadness whichwas, however, overshadowed by a greater scientific curiosity.
"There's nothing we can do for them now," he said. "But we must learnall we can. Let's go down and watch the city die."
They descended in an automatic elevator and hurried through the hotellobby. The lights of Fifth Avenue gleamed as brightly as ever. Thestreets near the lower end of Central Park still were crowded. Butsuch crowds! They moved with infinite langour. Each step required manyseconds.
Yet the people apparently did not know that anything unusual washappening. Many perhaps were puzzled because their watches seemed tobe misbehaving but this did not stop their conversation as theytraveled home from theaters or night clubs. Two white-haired menpassed by, engaged in a discussion of business affairs. Their voiceswere pitched so low that they were almost inaudible to the trio ofwatchers, while their gestures looked like the slow waving of theantennae of deep sea plants.
* * * * *
"My God, man!" cried Baron, at last awakening from his horror-strickensilence. "Why didn't you warn the world? This is criminal. If what yousay is true, all these people will become rooted in their tracks atsix o'clock like--like characters from 'The Sleeping Beauty.'"
"I only discovered the danger a week ago while working out a chemicalformula." Manthis' eyes showed the strain he was enduring. "It was avery delicate piece of work having to do with experiments I am makingon chlorophyl--quick adjustments, you know. I'd done the thing beforemany times, but last week I couldn't mix the ingredients fast enoug
hto get the necessary reaction. Puzzled, I made further experiments.The result was that I discovered my perception of time was slowingdown. I tested June and found the same thing. There was but oneconclusion."
"But the drug we are using. How did you hit on that?"
"I recalled that such drugs as hashish greatly speed up the timesense. An addict is able to review his entire past life or plan anelaborate crime between two heartbeats. So I collected a small supplyof the stuff."
"But hashish in large doses is deadly, and I've heard that users of itsooner or later develop homicidal
