by Tom Godwin
pressure of 2,051,000 pounds.
Two million pounds.
The bubble in which he sat was a bomb, waiting to explode the instantany section of the thin metal weakened.
It was supposed to be an alloy so extremely strong that it had a highsafety factor but he could not believe that any metal so thin could beso strong. It was all right for engineers sitting safely on Earth tospeak of high safety factors but his life depended upon the fragile wallnot cracking. It made a lot of difference.
* * * * *
The next day he thought he felt the hook to which the exerciser springwas attached crack loose from where it was welded to the wall. Heinspected the base of the hook closely and there seemed to be a fine,hairline fracture appearing around it.
* * * * *
He held his ear to it, listening for any sound of a leak. It was notleaking yet but it could commence doing so at any time. He looked outthe windows at the illimitable void that was waiting to absorb hispitiful little supply of air and he thought of the days he had hauledand jerked at the springs with all his strength, not realizing thedamage he was doing.
There was a sick feeling in his stomach for the rest of the day and hereturned again and again to examine the hairline around the hook.
The next day he discovered an even more serious threat: the thin skin ofthe bubble had been spot-welded to the outside reinforcing girders.
Such welding often created hard, brittle spots that would sooncrystallize from continued movement--and there was a slight temperaturedifference in the bubble between his working and sleeping hours thatwould daily produce a contraction and expansion of the skin. Especiallywhen he used the little cooking burner.
He quit using the burner for any purpose and began a daily inspection ofevery square inch of the bubble's walls, marking with white chalk allthe welding spots that appeared to be definitely weakened. Each day hefound more to mark and soon the little white circles were scatteredacross the walls wherever he looked.
When he was not working at examining the walls he could feel the windowswatching him, like staring eyes. Out of self defense he would have to goto them and stare back at the emptiness.
Space was alien; coldly, deadly, alien. He was a tiny spark of life in ahostile sea of Nothing and there was no one to help him. The Nothingoutside was waiting day and night for the most infinitesimal leak orcrack in the walls; the Nothing that had been waiting out there sincetime without beginning and would wait for time without end.
Sometimes he would touch his finger to the wall and think, _Death is outthere, only one-sixteenth of an inch away_. His first fears became ablack and terrible conviction: the bubble could not continue to resistthe attack for long. It had already lasted longer than it should have.Two million pounds of pressure wanted out and all the sucking Nothing ofintergalactic space wanted in. And only a thin skin of metal, rottenwith brittle welding spots, stood between them.
It wanted in--the Nothing wanted in. He knew, then, that Horne andSilverman had not been insane. It wanted in and someday it would get in.When it did it would explode him and jerk out his guts and lungs. Notuntil that happened, not until the Nothing filled the bubble andenclosed his hideous, turned-inside-out body would it ever be content ...
* * * * *
He had long since quit wearing the magnetized shoes, afraid thevibration of them would weaken the bubble still more. And he begannoticing sections where the bubble did not seem to be perfectly concave,as though the rolling mill had pressed the metal too thin in places andit was swelling out like an over-inflated balloon.
He could not remember when he had last attended to the instruments.Nothing was important but the danger that surrounded him. He knew thedanger was rapidly increasing because whenever he pressed his ear to thewall he could hear the almost inaudible tickings and vibrations as thebubble's skin contracted or expanded and the Nothing tapped and searchedwith its empty fingers for a flaw or crack that it could tear into aleak.
But the windows were far the worst, with the Nothing staring in at himday and night. There was no escape from it. He could feel it watchinghim, malignant and gloating, even when he hid his eyes in his hands.
The time came when he could stand it no longer. The cot had a blanketand he used that together with all his spare clothes to make a tentstretching from the table to the first instrument panel. When he crawledunder it he found that the lower half of one window could still see him.He used the clothes he was wearing to finish the job and it was muchbetter then, hiding there in the concealing darkness where the Nothingcould not see him.
He did not mind going naked--the temperature regulators in the bubblenever let it get too cold.
He had no conception of time from then on. He emerged only whennecessary to bring more food into his tent. He could still hear theNothing tapping and sucking in its ceaseless search for a flaw and hemade such emergences as brief as possible, wishing that he did not haveto come out at all. Maybe if he could hide in his tent for a long timeand never make a sound it would get tired and go away ...
Sometimes he thought of the cruiser and wished they would come for himbut most of the time he thought of the thing that was outside, trying toget in to kill him. When the strain became too great he would drawhimself up in the position he had once occupied in his mother's womb andpretend he had never left Earth. It was easier there.
But always, before very long, the bubble would tick or whisper and hewould freeze in terror, thinking, _This time it's coming in ..._
* * * * *
Then one day, suddenly, two men were peering under his tent at him.
One of them said, "My God--_again!_" and he wondered what he meant. Butthey were very nice to him and helped him put on his clothes. Later, inthe cruiser, everything was hazy and they kept asking him what he wasafraid of.
"What was it--what did you find?"
He tried hard to think so he could explain it. "It was--it was Nothing."
"What were you and Horne and Silverman afraid of--what was it?" thevoice demanded insistently.
"I told you," he said. "Nothing."
They stared at him and the haziness cleared a little as he saw they didnot understand. He wanted them to believe him because what he told themwas so very true.
"It wanted to kill us. Please--can't you believe me? It was waitingoutside the bubble to kill us."
But they kept staring and he knew they didn't believe him. They didn't_want_ to believe him ...
Everything turned hazy again and he started to cry. He was glad when thedoctor took his hand to lead him away ...
The bubble was carefully inspected, inside and out, and nothing wasfound. When it was time for Green's replacement to be transferred to itLarkin reported to Captain McDowell.
"Everything is ready, Larkin," McDowell said. "You're the next one. Iwish we knew what the danger is." He scowled. "I still think one of myroustabouts from the engine room might give us a sane report six monthsfrom now instead of the babblings we'll get from you."
He felt his face flush and he said stiffly, "I suggest, sir, that younot jump to conclusions until that time comes."
* * * * *
The cruiser vanished back into hyperspace and he was alone inside theobservation bubble, ten thousand light-years beyond the galaxy'soutermost sun. He looked out the windows at the gigantic sea ofemptiness around him and wondered again what the danger had been thathad so terrified the men before him.
Of one thing he was already certain; he would find that nothing waswaiting outside the bubble to kill him ...
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ December 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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