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Authors: John Wyndham
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help you overcome the effects more quickly.’
I have taken one capsule, and I begin to feel the benefit of it already, but it is still hard to believe that it is over.
It seems such a short time ago that we climbed the long passage into the interior of the Globe and dispersed as we had been instructed. Each of us found his or her elastic compartment, and crawled into it. I released the valve to inflate the space between the inner and outer walls of my compartment. As the lining distended I felt myself lifted on a mattress of air. The top bulged down, the sides closed in, and so, insulated from shock in all directions, I waited.
Waited for what? I still cannot say. One moment, it seems, I lay there fresh and strong: the next, I was tired and aching.
Only
that, to indicate that one life has ended and a new one is about to begin. My compartment has deflated. The pumps have been exchanging the gas for fresh air. That must mean that we are now on that beautiful, shining blue planet, with Forta only a speck in our new heavens.
I feel different for knowing that. All my life hitherto has been spent on a dying planet where our greatest enemy was lethal discouragement. But now I feel rejuvenated. There will be work, hope, and life here: a world to build, and a future to build it for …
I can hear the drills at work, cutting a way out for us. What, I wonder, shall we find? We must watch ourselves closely. It may be easier for us to keep faith if we face hardships than if we find ourselves among plenty. But, whatever this world is like, faith
must
be kept. We hold a million years of history, a million years of knowledge, that
must
be preserved.
Yet we must also, as His Excellency said, be ready to adapt ourselves. Who can tell what forms of life may already exist here? One could scarcely expect to find real consciousness on a planet so young, but there may be the first stirrings of intelligence here. We must watch for them, seek them out, cultivate them. They may be quite different from us, but we must remember that it is their world, and help them where we can. We must keep in mind that it would be a wicked thing to frustrate even an alien form of life, on its own planet. If we find any such beings, our task must be to teach, to learn, to co-operate with them, and perhaps one day we may achieve a civilization even greater than Forta’s own …
‘And just what,’ inquired the Inspector, ‘do you think you’re doing with that, Sergeant Brown?’
The police-sergeant held the limp, furry body dangling by its tail.
‘It’s a cat, sir.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘Well, I thought the W.O. gentleman might want to examine it, sir.’
‘What
makes you think the War Office is interested in dead cats, Sergeant?’
The sergeant explained. He had decided to risk a trip into the outhouse to note developments, if any. Bearing in mind the Inspector’s suggestion of gas, he had tied a rope round his waist so that he could be dragged back if he were overcome, and crawled in, keeping as low as possible. The precautions had proved unnecessary, however. The hissing or sizzling had ceased, and the gas had evidently dispersed. He had been able to approach the ball without feeling any effects whatever. Nevertheless, when he had come so close to it that his ear was almost against it he had noticed a faint buzzing.
‘Buzzing?’ repeated the Inspector. ‘You mean sizzling.’
‘No, sir, buzzing.’ He paused, searching for a simile. ‘The nearest thing, to my mind, would be a circular saw, but as you might hear it from a very long way off.’
Deducing from this that the thing, whatever it was, was still active, the sergeant had ordered his constables away to cover on the far side of an earth bank. He himself had looked into the shed from time to time during the next hour and a half, but observed no change.
He had noticed the cat prowl into the yard just as they were settling down to a snack of sandwiches. It had gone nosing
I have taken one capsule, and I begin to feel the benefit of it already, but it is still hard to believe that it is over.
It seems such a short time ago that we climbed the long passage into the interior of the Globe and dispersed as we had been instructed. Each of us found his or her elastic compartment, and crawled into it. I released the valve to inflate the space between the inner and outer walls of my compartment. As the lining distended I felt myself lifted on a mattress of air. The top bulged down, the sides closed in, and so, insulated from shock in all directions, I waited.
Waited for what? I still cannot say. One moment, it seems, I lay there fresh and strong: the next, I was tired and aching.
Only
that, to indicate that one life has ended and a new one is about to begin. My compartment has deflated. The pumps have been exchanging the gas for fresh air. That must mean that we are now on that beautiful, shining blue planet, with Forta only a speck in our new heavens.
I feel different for knowing that. All my life hitherto has been spent on a dying planet where our greatest enemy was lethal discouragement. But now I feel rejuvenated. There will be work, hope, and life here: a world to build, and a future to build it for …
I can hear the drills at work, cutting a way out for us. What, I wonder, shall we find? We must watch ourselves closely. It may be easier for us to keep faith if we face hardships than if we find ourselves among plenty. But, whatever this world is like, faith
must
be kept. We hold a million years of history, a million years of knowledge, that
must
be preserved.
Yet we must also, as His Excellency said, be ready to adapt ourselves. Who can tell what forms of life may already exist here? One could scarcely expect to find real consciousness on a planet so young, but there may be the first stirrings of intelligence here. We must watch for them, seek them out, cultivate them. They may be quite different from us, but we must remember that it is their world, and help them where we can. We must keep in mind that it would be a wicked thing to frustrate even an alien form of life, on its own planet. If we find any such beings, our task must be to teach, to learn, to co-operate with them, and perhaps one day we may achieve a civilization even greater than Forta’s own …
‘And just what,’ inquired the Inspector, ‘do you think you’re doing with that, Sergeant Brown?’
The police-sergeant held the limp, furry body dangling by its tail.
‘It’s a cat, sir.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘Well, I thought the W.O. gentleman might want to examine it, sir.’
‘What
makes you think the War Office is interested in dead cats, Sergeant?’
The sergeant explained. He had decided to risk a trip into the outhouse to note developments, if any. Bearing in mind the Inspector’s suggestion of gas, he had tied a rope round his waist so that he could be dragged back if he were overcome, and crawled in, keeping as low as possible. The precautions had proved unnecessary, however. The hissing or sizzling had ceased, and the gas had evidently dispersed. He had been able to approach the ball without feeling any effects whatever. Nevertheless, when he had come so close to it that his ear was almost against it he had noticed a faint buzzing.
‘Buzzing?’ repeated the Inspector. ‘You mean sizzling.’
‘No, sir, buzzing.’ He paused, searching for a simile. ‘The nearest thing, to my mind, would be a circular saw, but as you might hear it from a very long way off.’
Deducing from this that the thing, whatever it was, was still active, the sergeant had ordered his constables away to cover on the far side of an earth bank. He himself had looked into the shed from time to time during the next hour and a half, but observed no change.
He had noticed the cat prowl into the yard just as they were settling down to a snack of sandwiches. It had gone nosing
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