by Various
Into Space
_By Sterner St. Paul_
What was the extraordinary connection between Dr. Livermore's sudden disappearance and the coming of a new satellite to the Earth?
_A loud hum filled the air, and suddenly the projectilerose, gaining speed rapidly._]
Many of my readers will remember the mysterious radio messages whichwere heard by both amateur and professional short wave operators duringthe nights of the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of last September, andeven more will remember the astounding discovery made by ProfessorMontescue of the Lick Observatory on the night of Septembertwenty-fifth. At the time, some inspired writers tried to connect thetwo events, maintaining that the discovery of the fact that the earthhad a new satellite coincident with the receipt of the mysteriousmessages was evidence that the new planetoid was inhabited and that themessages were attempts on the part of the inhabitants to communicatewith us.
The fact that the messages were on a lower wave length than any receiverthen in existence could receive with any degree of clarity, and theadditional fact that they appeared to come from an immense distance lenta certain air of plausibility to these ebullitions in the Sundaymagazine sections. For some weeks the feature writers harped on thesubject, but the hurried construction of new receivers which would workon a lower wave length yielded no results, and the solemn pronouncementsof astronomers to the effect that the new celestial body could by nopossibility have an atmosphere on account of its small size finally putan end to the talk. So the matter lapsed into oblivion.
While quite a few people will remember the two events I have noted, Idoubt whether there are five hundred people alive who will rememberanything at all about the disappearance of Dr. Livermore of theUniversity of Calvada on September twenty-third. He was a man of somelocal prominence, but he had no more than a local fame, and few papersoutside of California even noted the event in their columns. I do notthink that anyone ever tried to connect up his disappearance with theradio messages or the discovery of the new earthly satellite; yet thethree events were closely bound up together, and but for the Doctor'sdisappearance, the other two would never have happened.
* * * * *
Dr. Livermore taught physics at Calvada, or at least he taught thesubject when he remembered that he had a class and felt like teaching.His students never knew whether he would appear at class or not; but healways passed everyone who took his courses and so, of course, theywere always crowded. The University authorities used to remonstrate withhim, but his ability as a research worker was so well known andrecognized that he was allowed to go about as he pleased. He was abachelor who lived alone and who had no interests in life, so far asanyone knew, other than his work.
I first made contact with him when I was a freshman at Calvada, and forsome unknown reason he took a liking to me. My father had insisted thatI follow in his footsteps as an electrical engineer; as he was paying mybills, I had to make a show at studying engineering while Iclandestinely pursued my hobby, literature. Dr. Livermore's courses werethe easiest in the school and they counted as science, so I regularlyregistered for them, cut them, and attended a class in literature as anauditor. The Doctor used to meet me on the campus and laughingly scoldme for my absence, but he was really in sympathy with my ambition and heregularly gave me a passing mark and my units of credit without regardto my attendance, or, rather, lack of it.
When I graduated from Calvada I was theoretically an electricalengineer. Practically I had a pretty good knowledge of contemporaryliterature and knew almost nothing about my so-called profession. Istalled around Dad's office for a few months until I landed a job as acub reporter on the San Francisco _Graphic_ and then I quit him cold.When the storm blew over, Dad admitted that you couldn't make a silkpurse out of a sow's ear and agreed with a grunt to my new line of work.He said that I would probably be a better reporter than an engineerbecause I couldn't by any possibility be a worse one, and let it go atthat. However, all this has nothing to do with the story. It justexplains how I came to be acquainted with Dr. Livermore, in the firstplace, and why he sent for me on September twenty-second, in the secondplace.
* * * * *
The morning of the twenty-second the City Editor called me in and askedme if I knew "Old Liverpills."
"He says that he has a good story ready to break but he won't talk toanyone but you," went on Barnes. "I offered to send out a good man, forwhen Old Liverpills starts a story it ought to be good, but all I gotwas a high powered bawling out. He said that he would talk to you or noone and would just as soon talk to no one as to me any longer. Then hehung up. You'd better take a run out to Calvada and see what he has tosay. I can have a good man rewrite your drivel when you get back."
I was more or less used to that sort of talk from Barnes so I paid noattention to it. I drove my flivver down to Calvada and asked for theDoctor.
"Dr. Livermore?" said the bursar. "Why, he hasn't been around here forthe last ten months. This is his sabbatical year and he is spending iton a ranch he owns up at Hat Creek, near Mount Lassen. You'll have to gothere if you want to see him."
I knew better than to report back to Barnes without the story, so therewas nothing to it but to drive up to Hat Creek, and a long, hard driveit was. I made Redding late that night; the next day I drove on toBurney and asked for directions to the Doctor's ranch.
"So you're going up to Doc Livermore's, are you?" asked the Postmaster,my informant. "Have you got an invitation?"
I assured him that I had.
"It's a good thing," he replied, "because he don't allow anyone on hisplace without one. I'd like to go up there myself and see what's goingon, but I don't want to get shot at like old Pete Johnson did when hetried to drop in on the Doc and pay him a little call. There's somethingmighty funny going on up there."
* * * * *
Naturally I tried to find out what was going on but evidently thePostmaster, who was also the express agent, didn't know. All he couldtell me was that a "lot of junk" had come for the Doctor by express andthat a lot more had been hauled in by truck from Redding.
"What kind of junk?" I asked him.
"Almost everything, Bub: sheet steel, machinery, batteries, cases ofglass, and Lord knows what all. It's been going on ever since he landedthere. He has a bunch of Indians working for him and he don't let awhite man on the place."
Forced to be satisfied with this meager information, I started oldLizzie and lit out for the ranch. After I had turned off the main trailI met no one until the ranch house was in sight. As I rounded a bend inthe road which brought me in sight of the building, I was forced to puton my brakes at top speed to avoid running into a chain which wasstretched across the road. An Indian armed with a Winchester rifle stoodbehind it, and when I stopped he came up and asked my business.
"My business is with Dr. Livermore," I said tartly.
"You got letter?" he inquired.
"No," I answered.
"No ketchum letter, no ketchum Doctor," he replied, and walked stolidlyback to his post.
"This is absurd," I shouted, and drove Lizzie up to the chain. I sawthat it was merely hooked to a ring at the end, and I climbed out andstarted to take it down. A thirty-thirty bullet embedded itself in thepost an inch or two from my head, and I changed my mind about takingdown that chain.
"No ketchum letter, no ketchum Doctor," said the Indian laconically ashe pumped another shell into his gun.
* * * * *
I was balked, until I noticed a pair of telephone wires running from thehouse to the tree to which one end of the chain was fastened.
"Is that a telephone to the house?" I demanded.
The Indian grunted an assent.
"Dr. Livermore telephoned me to come and see him," I said. "Can't I callhim up and see if he still wants to see me?"
The Indian debated the question with himself for a minute and thennodded
a doubtful assent. I cranked the old coffee mill type oftelephone which I found, and presently heard the voice of Dr. Livermore.
"This is Tom Faber, Doctor," I said. "The _Graphic_ sent me up to get astory from you, but there's an Indian here who started to murder me whenI tried to get past your barricade."
"Good for him," chuckled the Doctor. "I heard the shot, but didn't knowthat he was shooting at you. Tell him to talk to me."
The Indian took the telephone at my bidding and listened for a minute.
"You go in," he agreed when he hung up the receiver.
He took down the chain and I drove on up to the house, to find theDoctor waiting for me on the veranda.
"Hello, Tom," he greeted me heartily. "So you had trouble with my guard,did you?"
"I nearly got murdered," I said ruefully.
"I expect that Joe would have drilled you if you had tried to force yourway in," he remarked cheerfully. "I forgot to tell him that you werecoming to-day. I told him you would be here yesterday, but yesterdayisn't to-day to that Indian. I wasn't sure you would get here at all, inpoint of fact, for I didn't know whether that old fool I talked to inyour office would send you or some one else. If anyone else had beensent, he would have never got by Joe, I can tell you. Come in. Where'syour bag?"
"I haven't one," I replied. "I went to Calvada yesterday to see you, anddidn't know until I got there that you were up here."
The Doctor chuckled.
"I guess I forgot to tell where I was," he said. "That man I talked togot me so mad that I hung up on him before I told him. It doesn'tmatter, though. I can dig you up a new toothbrush, and I guess you canmake out with that. Come in."
* * * * *
I followed him into the house, and he showed me a room fitted with acrude bunk, a washstand, a bowl and a pitcher.
"You won't have many luxuries here, Tom," he said, "but you won't needto stay here for more than a few days. My work is done: I am ready tostart. In fact, I would have started yesterday instead of to-day, hadyou arrived. Now don't ask any questions; it's nearly lunch time."
"What's the story, Doctor?" I asked after lunch as I puffed one of hisexcellent cigars. "And why did you pick me to tell it to?"
"For several reasons," he replied, ignoring my first question. "In thefirst place, I like you and I think that you can keep your mouth shutuntil you are told to open it. In the second place, I have always foundthat you had the gift of vision or imagination and have the ability tobelieve. In the third place, you are the only man I know who had theliterary ability to write up a good story and at the same time has thescientific background to grasp what it is all about. Understand thatunless I have your promise not to write this story until I tell you thatyou can, not a word will I tell you."
I reflected for a moment. The _Graphic_ would expect the story when Igot back, but on the other hand I knew that unless I gave the desiredpromise, the Doctor wouldn't talk.
"All right," I assented, "I'll promise."
"Good!" he replied. "In that case, I'll tell you all about it. No doubtyou, like the rest of the world, think that I'm crazy?"
"Why, not at all," I stammered. In point of fact, I had often harboredsuch a suspicion.
"Oh, that's all right," he went on cheerfully. "I _am_ crazy, crazy as aloon, which, by the way, is a highly sensible bird with a well balancedmentality. There is no doubt that I am crazy, but my craziness is not ofthe usual type. Mine is the insanity of genius."
* * * * *
He looked at me sharply as he spoke, but long sessions at poker in theSan Francisco Press Club had taught me how to control my facial muscles,and I never batted an eye. He seemed satisfied, and went on.
"From your college work you are familiar with the laws of magnetism," hesaid. "Perhaps, considering just what your college career really was, Imight better say that you are supposed to be familiar with them."
I joined with him in his laughter.
"It won't require a very deep knowledge to follow the thread of myargument," he went on. "You know, of course, that the force of magneticattraction is inversely proportional to the square of the distancesseparating the magnet and the attracted particles, and also that eachmagnetized particle had two poles, a positive and a negative pole, or anorth pole and a south pole, as they are usually called?"
I nodded.
"Consider for a moment that the laws of magnetism, insofar as concernsthe relation between distance and power of attraction, are exactlymatched by the laws of gravitation."
"But there the similarity between the two forces ends," I interrupted.
"But there the similarity does _not_ end," he said sharply. "That is thecrux of the discovery which I have made: that magnetism and gravity areone and the same, or, rather, that the two are separate, but similarmanifestations of one force. The parallel between the two grows closerwith each succeeding experiment. You know, for example, that eachmagnetized particle has two poles. Similarly each gravitized particle,to coin a new word, had two poles, one positive and one negative. Everyparticle on the earth is so oriented that the negative poles pointtoward the positive center of the earth. This is what causes thecommonly known phenomena of gravity or weight."
"I can prove the fallacy of that in a moment," I retorted.
"There are none so blind as those who will not see," he quoted with anicy smile. "I can probably predict your puerile argument, but go aheadand present it."
* * * * *
"If two magnets are placed so that the north pole of one is injuxtaposition to the south pole of the other, they attract one another,"I said. "If the position of the magnets be reversed so that the twosimilar poles are opposite, they will repel. If your theory werecorrect, a man standing on his head would fall off the earth."
"Exactly what I expected," he replied. "Now let me ask you a question.Have you ever seen a small bar magnet placed within the field ofattraction of a large electromagnet? Of course you have, and you havenoticed that, when the north pole of the bar magnet was pointed towardthe electromagnet, the bar was attracted. However, when the bar wasreversed and the south pole pointed toward the electromagnet, the barwas still attracted. You doubtless remember that experiment."
"But in that case the magnetism of the electromagnet was so large thatthe polarity of the small magnet was reversed!" I cried.
"Exactly, and the field of gravity of the earth is so great compared tothe gravity of a man that when he stands on his head, his polarity isinstantly reversed."
I nodded. His explanation was too logical for me to pick a flaw in it.
"If that same bar magnet were held in the field of the electromagnetwith its north pole pointed toward the magnet and then, by the action ofsome outside force of sufficient power, its polarity were reversed, thebar would be repelled. If the magnetism were neutralized and heldexactly neutral, it would be neither repelled nor attracted, but wouldact only as the force of gravity impelled it. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," I assented.
"That, then, paves the way for what I have to tell you. I havedeveloped an electrical method of neutralizing the gravity of a bodywhile it is within the field of the earth, and also, by a slightextension, a method of entirely reversing its polarity."
* * * * *
I nodded calmly.
"Do you realize what this means?" he cried.
"No," I replied, puzzled by his great excitement.
"Man alive," he cried, "it means that the problem of aerial flight isentirely revolutionized, and that the era of interplanetary travel is athand! Suppose that I construct an airship and then render it neutral togravity. It would weigh nothing, _absolutely nothing_! The tiniestpropeller would drive it at almost incalculable speed with a minimumconsumption of power, for the only resistance to its motion would be theresistance of the air. If I were to reverse the polarity, it would berepelled from the earth with the same force with which it is no
wattracted, and it would rise with the same acceleration as a body fallstoward the earth. It would travel to the moon in two hours and fortyminutes."
"Air resistance would--"
"There is no air a few miles from the earth. Of course, I do not meanthat such a craft would take off from the earth and land on the moonthree hours later. There are two things which would interfere with that.One is the fact that the propelling force, the gravity of the earth,would diminish as the square of the distance from the center of theearth, and the other is that when the band of neutral attraction, orrather repulsion, between the earth and the moon had been reached, itwould be necessary to decelerate so as to avoid a smash on landing. Ihave been over the whole thing and I find that it would take twenty-ninehours and fifty-two minutes to make the whole trip. The entire thing isperfectly possible. In fact, I have asked you here to witness and reportthe first interplanetary trip to be made."
"Have you constructed such a device?" I cried.
"My space ship is finished and ready for your inspection," he replied."If you will come with me, I will show it to you."
* * * * *
Hardly knowing what to believe, I followed him from the house and to ahuge barnlike structure, over a hundred feet high, which stood nearby.He opened the door and switched on a light, and there before me stoodwhat looked at first glance to be a huge artillery shell, but of a sizelarger than any ever made. It was constructed of sheet steel, and whilethe lower part was solid, the upper sections had huge glass windows setin them. On the point was a mushroom shaped protuberance. It measuredperhaps fifty feet in diameter and was one hundred and forty feet high,the Doctor informed me. A ladder led from the floor to a door aboutfifty feet from the ground.
I followed the Doctor up the ladder and into the space flier. The doorled us into a comfortable living room through a double door arrangement.
"The whole hull beneath us," explained the Doctor, "is filled withbatteries and machinery except for a space in the center, where a shaftleads to a glass window in the bottom so that I can see behind me, so tospeak. The space above is filled with storerooms and the air purifyingapparatus. On this level is my bedroom, kitchen, and other living rooms,together with a laboratory and an observatory. There is a centralcontrol room located on an upper level, but it need seldom be entered,for the craft can be controlled by a system of relays from this room orfrom any other room in the ship. I suppose that you are more or lessfamiliar with imaginative stories of interplanetary travel?"
* * * * *
I nodded an assent.
"In that case there is no use in going over the details of the airpurifying and such matters," he said. "The story writers have workedout all that sort of thing in great detail, and there is nothing novelin my arrangements. I carry food and water for six months and air enoughfor two months by constant renovating. Have you any question you wish toask?"
"One objection I have seen frequently raised to the idea ofinterplanetary travel is that the human body could not stand the rapidacceleration which would be necessary to attain speed enough to ever getanywhere. How do you overcome this?"
"My dear boy, who knows what the human body can stand? When thelocomotive was first invented learned scientists predicted that thelimit of speed was thirty miles an hour, as the human body could notstand a higher speed. To-day the human body stands a speed of threehundred and sixty miles an hour without ill effects. At any rate, on myfirst trip I intend to take no chances. We know that the body can standan acceleration of thirty-two feet per second without trouble. That isthe rate of acceleration due to gravity and is the rate at which a bodyincreases speed when it falls. This is the acceleration which I willuse.
"Remember that the space traveled by a falling body in a vacuum is equalto one half the acceleration multiplied by the square of the elapsedtime. The moon, to which I intend to make my first trip, is only 280,000miles, or 1,478,400,000 feet, from us. With an acceleration ofthirty-two feet per second, I would pass the moon two hours and fortyminutes after leaving the earth. If I later take another trip, say toMars, I will have to find a means of increasing my acceleration,possibly by the use of the rocket principle. Then will be time enough toworry about what my body will stand."
A short calculation verified the figures the Doctor had given me, and Istood convinced.
"Are you really going?" I asked.
"Most decidedly. To repeat, I would have started yesterday, had youarrived. As it is, I am ready to start at once. We will go back to thehouse for a few minutes while I show you the location of an excellenttelescope through which you may watch my progress, and instruct you inthe use of an ultra-short-wave receiver which I am confident will piercethe Heaviside layer. With this I will keep in communication with you,although I have made no arrangements for you to send messages to me onthis trip. I intend to go to the moon and land. I will take atmospheresamples through an air port and, if there is an atmosphere which willsupport life, I will step out on the surface. If there is not, I willreturn to the earth."
* * * * *
A few minutes was enough for me to grasp the simple manipulations whichI would have to perform, and I followed him again to the space flier.
"How are you going to get it out?" I asked.
"Watch," he said.
He worked some levers and the roof of the barn folded back, leaving theway clear for the departure of the huge projectile. I followed himinside and he climbed the ladder.
"When I shut the door, go back to the house and test the radio," hedirected.
The door clanged shut and I hastened into the house. His voice cameplainly enough. I went back to the flier and waved him a final farewell,which he acknowledged through a window; then I returned to the receiver.A loud hum filled the air, and suddenly the projectile rose and flew outthrough the open roof, gaining speed rapidly until it was a mere speckin the sky. It vanished. I had no trouble in picking him up with thetelescope. In fact, I could see the Doctor through one of the windows.
"I have passed beyond the range of the atmosphere, Tom," came his voiceover the receiver, "and I find that everything is going exactly as itshould. I feel no discomfort, and my only regret is that I did notinstall a transmitter in the house so that you could talk to me; butthere is no real necessity for it. I am going to make some observationsnow, but I will call you again with a report of progress inhalf-an-hour."
* * * * *
For the rest of the afternoon and all of that night I received hismessages regularly, but with the coming of daylight they began to fade.By nine o'clock I could get only a word here and there. By noon I couldhear nothing. I went to sleep hoping that the night would bring betterreception, nor was I disappointed. About eight o'clock I received amessage, rather faintly, but none the less distinctly.
"I regret more than ever that I did not install a transmitter so that Icould learn from you whether you are receiving my messages," his voicesaid faintly. "I have no idea of whether you can hear me or not, but Iwill keep on repeating this message every hour while my battery holdsout. It is now thirty hours since I left the earth and I should be onthe moon, according to my calculations. But I am not, and never will be.I am caught at the neutral point where the gravity of the earth and themoon are exactly equal.
"I had relied on my momentum to carry me over this point. Once over it,I expected to reverse my polarity and fall on the moon. My momentum didnot do so. If I keep my polarity as it was when left the earth, both theearth and the moon repel me. If I reverse it, they both attract me, andagain I cannot move. If I had equipped my space flier with a rocket sothat I could move a few miles, or even a few feet, from the dead line, Icould proceed, but I did not do so, and I cannot move forward or back.Apparently I am doomed to stay here until my air gives out. Then mybody, entombed in my space ship, will endlessly circle the earth as asatellite until the end of time. There is no hope for me, for longbefore a dupli
cate of my device equipped with rockets could beconstructed and come to my rescue, my air would be exhausted. Good-by,Tom. You may write your story as soon as you wish. I will repeat mymessage in one hour. Good-by!"
At nine and at ten o'clock the message was repeated. At eleven itstarted again but after a few sentences the sound suddenly ceased andthe receiver went dead. I thought that the fault was with the receiverand I toiled feverishly the rest of the night, but without result. Ilearned later that the messages heard all over the world ceased at thesame hour.
The next morning Professor Montescue announced his discovery of theworld's new satellite.
* * * * *
_Coming_-- MURDER MADNESS _An Extraordinary Four-Part Novel_
_By_ MURRAY LEINSTER
* * * * *