The moon era
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The Moon Era
By JACK WILLIAMSON
By the author of "The Alien Intelligence,"
"Twelve Hours to Live," etc., etc.,
_Illustration by Paul_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Wonder Stories February 1932.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_Jack Williamson has properly been called a first-rate writer of
colorful tales. His "Alien Intelligence" published in the early
days of_ SCIENCE WONDER STORIES _placed him, in the estimation
of our readers, in the class of A. Merrit and other masters. The
present story carries on Mr. Williamson's gripping portrayal of the
possibilities of science on other worlds._
_It is quite within reason that our moon, now dead and barren, was
once the scene of flourishing life. Although no water now exists
there, nor air shields from the moon the intense solar rays, in
another age the moon may have been bountifully endowed by nature.
If that is true, then the picture of the Eternal Ones drawn by
our author is certainly a colorful portrayal of what the lunar
civilization may have been like. And the picture of the Mother,
and her exciting and bizarre adventures with our hero, are, in our
opinion, among some of the best drawn by any author of science
fiction._
* * * * *
We were seated at dinner in the long dining room of my uncle's Long
Island mansion. There was glistening silver plate, and the meal had
been served with a formality to which I was unaccustomed. I was ill
at ease, though my uncle and I sat alone at the table. The business
of eating, without committing an egregious blunder before the several
servants, took all my attention.
It was the first time I had ever seen my uncle, Enfield Conway. A tall
man, stiffly erect, dressed severely in black. His face, though lean,
was not emaciated as is usual at his age of seventy years. His hair,
though almost perfectly white, was abundant, parted on the side. His
eyes were blue, and strong; he wore no glasses.
A uniformed chauffeur had met me at the station, in the afternoon. The
butler had sent an entirely unnecessary valet to my luxurious room. I
had not met my uncle until he came down to the dining room.
"I suppose, Stephen, you are wondering why I sent for you," he said in
his precise manner, when the servants had carried away the last course,
leaving cigars, and a bottle of mineral water for him.
I nodded. I had been instructor of history in a small high school
in Texas, where his telegram had reached me. There had been no
explanation; merely a summons to Long Island.
"You are aware that some of my patents have been quite profitable."
Again I nodded. "The evidence surrounds me."
"Stephen, my fortune amounts to upwards of three and a half million.
How should you like to be my heir?"
"Why, sir--I should not refuse. I'd like very much to be."
"You can, if you wish, earn that fortune. And fifty thousand a year
while I live."
I pushed back the chair and rose to my feet in excitement. Such riches
were beyond my dreams! I felt myself trembling.
"Anything--" I stammered. "I'll do anything you say, to earn that! It
means--"
"Wait," he said, looking at me calmly. "You don't know yet what I
require. Don't commit yourself too soon."
"What is it?" I asked, in a quivering voice.
"Stephen, I have been working in my private laboratory here for eleven
years. I have been building a machine. The best of my brains have gone
into that machine. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. The efforts of
able engineers and skilled mechanics.
"Now the machine is finished. It is to be tested. The engineers who
worked with me refused to try the machine. They insist that it is very
dangerous.
"And I am too old to make the trial. It will take a young man, with
strength, endurance, and courage.
"You are young, Stephen. You look vigorous enough. I suppose your
health is good? A sound heart? That's the main thing."
"I think so," I told him. "I've been coaching the Midland football
team. And it isn't many years since I was playing college football,
myself."
"And you have no dependents?"
"None.--But what is this machine?"
"I will show you. Come."
He rose, agilely enough for one of his seventy years, and led the way
from the long room. Through several magnificent rooms of the big house.
Out into the wide, landscaped grounds, beautiful and still in the
moonlight.
I followed silently. My brain was confusion. A whirl of mad thought.
All this wealth whose evidence surrounded me might be my own! I cared
nothing for luxury, for money itself. But the fortune would mean
freedom from the thankless toil of pedagogy. Books. Travel. Why I could
see with my own eyes the scenes of history's dramatic moments! Finance
research expeditions of my own! Delve with my own hands for the secrets
of Egypt's sands, uncover the age-old enigmas of ruined mounds that
once were proud cities of the East!
We approached a rough building,--resembling an airplane hangar,--of
galvanized iron, which glistened like silver in the rays of the full
moon.
Without speaking, Uncle Enfield produced a key from his pocket,
unlocked the heavy padlock on the door. He entered the building,
switching on electric lights inside it.
"Come in," he said. "Here it is. I'll explain it as well as I can."
* * * * *
I walked through the narrow doorway and uttered an involuntary
exclamation of surprise at sight of the huge machine that rested upon
the clean concrete floor.
Two huge disks of copper, with a cylinder of bright, chromium-plated
metal between them. Its shape vaguely suggested that of an ordinary
spool of adhesive plaster, from which a little has been used--the
polished cylinder, which was of smaller diameter than the disks, took
the place of the roll of plaster.
The lower of the massive disks rested on the concrete floor. Its
diameter was about twenty feet. The cylinder above it was about sixteen
feet in diameter, and eight feet high. The copper disk above was the
same size as the lower one.
Small round windows stared from the riveted metal plates forming the
cylinder. The whole was like a building, it burst on me. A circular
room with bright metal walls. Copper floor and copper roof projecting
beyond those walls.
My uncle walked to the other side of this astounding mechanism. He
turned a projecting knob. An oval door, four feet high, swung inward
in the curving wall. Four inches thick. Of plated steel. Fitting very
tightly against cushions of rubber.
My uncle climbed through the door, into the dark interior. I followed
with a growing sense of wonder and excitement. I groped toward him
through the darkness. Then I heard the click of a switch, and lights
flashed on within the round chamber.
I gazed about me in astonishment.
Walls, floor, and ceiling were covered with soft, white fiber. The
little room was crowded with apparatus. Clamped against one white
wall was a row of the tall steel flasks in which commercial oxygen is
compressed. Across the room was a bank of storage batteries. The walls
were hung with numerous instruments, all clamped neatly in place.
Sextants. Compasses. Pressure gauges. Numerous dials whose functions
were not apparent. Cooking utensils. An automatic pistol. Cameras.
Telescopes. Binoculars.
In the center of the room stood a table or cabinet, with switches,
dials, and levers upon its top. A heavy cable, apparently of aluminum,
ran from it to the ceiling.
I was gazing about in bewilderment. "I don't understand all this--" I
began.
"Naturally," said my uncle. "It is quite a novel invention. Even the
engineers who built it did not understand it. I confess that the theory
of it is yet beyond me. But what happens is quite simple.
"Eleven years ago, Steven, I discovered a new phenomenon. I had
happened to charge two parallel copper plates, whose distances apart
had a certain very definite relation to their combined masses, with a
high tension current at a certain frequency.
"The plates, Stephen, were in some way--how, I do not pretend to
understand--cut out of the earth's gravitational field. Insulated from
gravity. The effect extended to any object placed between them. By a
slight variation of the current's strength, I was able to increase the
repulsion, until the plates pulled upward with a force approximately
equal to their own weight.
"My efforts to discover the reason for this phenomenon--it is referred
to in my notes as the Conway Effect--have not been successful. But I
have built this machine to make a practical application of it. Now that
it is finished, the four engineers who helped design it have deserted.
They refused to assist with any trials."
"Why?" I asked.
"Muller, who had the construction in charge, somehow came to the
conclusion that the suspension or reversal of gravity was due to motion
in a fourth dimension. He claimed that he had experimental proof of
his theory, by building models of the device, setting the dials, and
causing them to vanish. I would have none of it. But the other men
seemed to accept his ideas. At any rate, they refused with him to have
any part in the tests. They thought they would vanish, like Muller says
his models did, and not come back."
"The thing is supposed to rise above the ground?" I asked.
"Quite so." My uncle smiled. "When the force of gravitation is merely
suspended, it should fly off the earth at a tangent, due to the diurnal
rotation. This initial velocity, which in these latitudes, amounts to
considerably less than one thousand miles per hour, can be built up at
will, by reversing gravitation, and falling away from the earth."
"_Falling away from the earth!_" I was staggered. "And where is one to
fall?"
"This machine was designed for a trip to the moon. At the beginning of
the voyage, gravitation will be merely cut out, allowing the machine to
fly off on a tangent, toward the point of intersection with the moon's
orbit. Safely beyond the atmosphere, repulsion can be used to build up
the acceleration. Within the gravitational sphere of the moon, positive
gravitation can be utilized further to increase the speed. And reversed
gravitation to retard the velocity, to make possible a safe landing.
The return will be made in the same manner."
I was staring at him blankly. A trip to the moon seemed insane, beyond
reason. Especially for a professor of history, with only a modicum of
scientific knowledge. And it must be dangerous, if those engineers--.
But three million--what dangers would I not face for such a fortune?
"Everything has been done," he went on, "to insure the comfort
and safety of the passenger. The walls are insulated with a fiber
composition especially worked out to afford protection from the cold of
space, and from the unshielded radiation of the sun. The steel armor is
strong enough not only to hold the necessary air pressure, but to stop
any ordinary meteoric particles.
"You notice the oxygen cylinders, for maintaining that essential
element in the air. There is automatic apparatus for purifying it.
It is pumped through caustic soda to absorb the carbon dioxide, and
through refrigerator tubes to condense the excess moisture.
"The batteries, besides energizing the plates, are amply powerful to
supply lights and heat for cooking.
"That, I believe, fairly outlines the machine and the projected voyage.
Now it is up to you. Take time to consider it fully. Ask me any
questions you wish."