The world below
chamber, he was confronted by another youth, of his own age, who came
from the opposite direction, and with an appearance of haste and
excitement, such as I had not observed among these people previously.
He commenced speaking immediately, and, as he did so, the Librarian
arose from her couch so instantly and so quietly as to lead me to wonder
whether she had been asleep at all.
The messenger assailed her mind as she rose with a pressure of thought
of which I could feel the impact, though I could not interpret it
clearly, and appeared to be unable to avoid supplementing it with a
useless triplication of speech and gesture. His auditor surveyed his
excitement with a cool detachment which emphasised the millenniums of
years that divided them. When he had finished, she took back the book
from his waiting companion, and gave it an obviously quieter and briefer
narrative. Then she lay down again, while the two youths left the
chamber together, taking the book with them.
It was doubtless their excited condition that caused them to move so
rapidly that we had to quicken to a run to keep within sound of their
footsteps.
They led us back to the end of the passage, and then along the curving
way, till we came to the next of the dark openings,--the one that led
directly opposite to that by which we had entered beneath the temple. We
followed them along it for about a quarter of a mile, finding it was in
all respects alike to the other, being entirely dark, but having similar
scenes developing within its walls continually. Had I been alone, I
think that I could hardly have controlled my curiosity concerning some
of them,--for I kept sufficiently close to the wall to observe them as
we hurried past,--but I was too conscious of the useless folly of
lingering to make such a suggestion to my companion.
I had short glimpses of a score of scenes which I had no time to
consider, and which left no clear impression, but of a bewildering
variety of landscapes, and once of a tossing windswept sea, beneath a
clouded moon. I caught no sight of human life, except once only, when I
thought there was a distant string of horsemen trailing wearily along a
muddy trampled road, but the scene was obscured by a storm of hail, and
before I could be sure of what I had seen, it had been left behind.
Following in the wake of the two youths, we moved without difficulty,
and kept so nearly behind them that it became necessary to stop very
abruptly when they halted in the darkness.
We heard them turn to the left-hand wall and then a vertical line of
fuchsia-coloured light showed and widened, as a double door slid
backward on either hand.
They went in through this door, and we followed to the entrance, secure
in the fact that no light fell outward. It rose up like a wall of purple
transparency where the door had opened, but it did not penetrate the
darkness in which we stood.
Looking inward we saw, on either hand, high and low, long tiers of racks
on which such living books as that which we had already seen were ranged
in close and orderly rows. They were of somewhat different sizes,
usually about twice that of a man’s head, but more like a large marble
in the hands of those who owned them.
The space between the shelves was wide enough for the two Dwellers to
move side by side, and was more than proportionately lofty; yet, by
reason of its length, it had an effect of narrowness.
Down this alley the bearer of the living history strode for a few paces,
to put it in its place on the rack to which it belonged, his friend
moving beside him. My companion’s mind called me, “Come quickly” and
together we crossed the threshold.
As in our own libraries, the lowest tier of books was close to the
ground. There was just room beneath the rack for us to stand in comfort.
We were under it in a moment.
As we reached this shelter, they turned back. They went out, and the
sliding doors closed behind them.
I disliked the closing of those doors. It reminded me of one that had
closed three nights ago in the darkness. My companion read my mind with
some amusement. “It was your proposal,” she suggested.
“But I don’t like being shut in.”
“How can it matter, till we want to get out?” she answered. “Why will
you always worry over troubles you haven’t got? We wanted to find the
place, and here it is. We wanted to get into it, and here we are. Even
though we should worry later, when we may want to get out, we ought to
be glad now. Let us be glad that we are undisturbed, and see what
knowledge we can acquire which may aid us.”
Her coolness made my fears seem foolish, (as, indeed, they were), and it
was in a recovered serenity that I joined her mind to my own in
exploring the storehouse of knowledge which we had penetrated so
strangely.
We emerged from our cover, and walked along the lofty aisle between the
racks,--pigmies whose hands would scarcely reach to the second shelf,
and whose heads did not reach to the first one.
It was a strange sensation. Even in a library of dead books there is an
atmosphere of knowledge, and of the presence of many forgotten, ghostly
minds. Each room has its own aroma. You may wander with closed eyes into
the divinity section, but you will know at once that you are not in that
of fiction or biography. The atmosphere in a room devoted to sporting
books is different from that of one which is occupied with medical
subjects. That is so with dead books; but these were living. Living
books on either side, clamouring to be read, and we could not read them.
Their desire met ours, but we had no key to their treasures. They would
each answer to the right question, but having no knowledge of what they
contained, we asked of each in turn for that which it could not give,
and an unwilling silence rebuffed us.
Faced by this dilemma, we decided to seek the one book which we knew,
and gain the information which it had received since last we probed it.
We found it without difficulty, about forty yards along on the seventh
tier on the left hand. We both recognised it, high above us though it
was, for these books were not alike. They were all of the same colour,
lobster-red, but the shades varied with each. They all had the little
swaying hands that turned and balanced the living globes, but there was
a difference in each: a difference of personality. They were subtly
individualised by the kind of knowledge which they contained.
So we came to the one of which we knew something already, and received
the last record which we had seen communicated to it. It was brief and
colourless, compared to the evident excitement and long report of the
mind which had brought it, but it was sufficiently momentous, even to
me, and more so when my companion (who had already followed much of it,
and on some points had learnt more detail than was in the recorded
narrative) had explained it to me. It ran thus:
At one fifth after dawn on (here followed a symbol of
date, which conveyed no meaning to my mind) the
fourteenth patrol, on reaching the coast-ridge, observed
two Antipodeans approaching from the east. After
skirting the protective belt for some distance, one of
them attempted to turn into it, lost balance, and
recovered with difficulty. They then soared to a height
of ... (about four miles) when one of them drew
backward, and charged the belt at a very high speed. It
fell when the most part of its bulk was over the belt,
but so that its tail lay in the sea. It was then
inspected as closely as possible, and was seen to be
disabled, but not dead. It was observed to be
differently formed from any previously seen, so that it
was less damaged than would have been anticipated from
so great a fall. It was presumed to be dying, as its
companion descended to the surface of the water, and
commenced to take off its contents through the tail.
Orders were given for the Blue Fire to be used, which
was done twice, but with only partial success, so that
seven Dwellers are dead. Before noon, it was observed
that life was extinct in its main cell, and its
companion retreated. Report was made to the
laboratories; from which orders were issued for the
sufficient flaying of two thousand of the grey-skinned
males.
It was clear from this, even to me, that war was commenced against the
Dwellers by some alien species; but the record was exasperating in its
brevity, and puzzling in the particulars which it supplied, so that I
turned to my companion for explanation.
She answered me readily, though not without a suggestion that we were
wasting time over matters that did not directly concern us.
“Of the last sentence I can give no explanation, but the remainder is
clear enough, excepting only that I do not know how or why there should
have been any deaths to the Dwellers. We knew already that war was
recommencing between the Antipodeans and themselves, which could only
mean that they are being attacked, as it is not likely that they would
attempt to cross the sea or air to assail the Antipodeans, which would
be absurd. Why should they? It would be too unpleasant. The Dwellers
cannot travel under water, and even we avoid the surface around the
coasts of the Antipodeans. Some of my nation have seen the Dwellers
experimenting with the Blue Fire, though I have not. That was many
centuries ago. It moves about like a living thing. The report suggests
to my mind that the result of the attack is not entirely satisfactory to
the Dwellers, though it had resulted in the destruction of one of their
enemies. But if we allow our minds to be occupied by these events, which
do not concern us, we are making them detrimental rather than helpful.”
I answered, “But, surely, they are of interest to you, because of the
alliance you have mentioned, for which I suppose that your own nation
might suffer, should the Dwellers fail in the conflict.”
But this suggestion did not perturb her.
“It is difficult to imagine how we could suffer,” she replied, “for
though we might, in theory at least, be attacked on the Grey Beaches, it
could not be done without our having ample time to vacate them, and we
could retire, were the need sufficient, to the ocean depths, where we
could dwell for ever, and where neither side could pursue us.
“The position of the Dwellers is different. Although they have made
their homes within the body of the earth, they appear to find it
necessary to control, or have access to, some portion of the surface;
or, at least, they are unwilling to resign it. Obviously, they could not
hold it in safety or comfort, if the Antipodeans were always likely to
be feeding upon them.”
“I wish,” I answered, “you would give me some explanation, or sight, of
what these Antipodeans are, when many things might be clearer to me. The
Dwellers do not appear to me as creatures who would be easily eaten, or
who lack means of defence. I suppose that these creatures, which have
the power of flight (which the Dwellers do not attempt?) must be as
formidable in mind as they appear to be huge in body.”
“They are certainly large,” she answered, “but I can say little as to
their minds. I am not sure that they have any. They are not easy to
understand. But I can show you them as they appeared in the mind of the
messenger, when he reported of this fighting.”
Then she gave my mind a vision of sunlit space, with some white cumulus
clouds drifting below, and of a flying insect,--nothing more than that.
It had three pairs of transparent horizontal wings, and beetle-like,
copper-coloured wing-cases, stiffly lifted, but moving occasionally, as
though to steer or balance the flying form.
It seemed small to me, because there was no standard of comparison in