Wonder of the Worlds

by Sesh Heri

  “Let’s talk plain. We both know that J.P. Morgan is behind this whole mess.” “Do we?”

  “Morgan’s behind the collapse of the Philadelphia & Reading Railroad. Him and Vanderbilt. They backed Archibald McLeod into a corner and forced him to unload his stock in a falling market.” “Forced him?”

  “I’d say when a person can merely whisper an unfounded claim of financial instability and have everybody believe him—that is force. And that is what Morgan has done. Morgan collapsed the P & R and then picked up the pieces when it went into receivership. But Morgan’s not just interested in grabbing a railroad. He wants to collapse the entire economy.” “Why would he want to do that?”

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  “You know why. The same reason he collapsed the P & R Railroad. So he can come in afterwards and pick up the pieces. So he can own everything and everybody. Now what I want to know is: What are you going to do about it?” “It is not the function of government to interfere with the normal process of business activity.”

  “Normal process? I’d say the normal process of business is one of digestion. And there is a world of difference between digestion and stomach cancer.” Cleveland f linched when I said that, his poker face breaking. I did not understand why—then. But later, I was to learn that a cancer was eating away the roof of his mouth at the very moment I was speaking to him. By the summer of that year, he would undergo a secret operation that would save his life. But at that moment while I was talking to him, he must have known what was wrong with him, or at least suspected. The very word “cancer” was hard for him to hear.

  Cleveland said, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that—for your sake. I always make allowances for a gentleman in his cups. The problem this country faces now is one of imbalance between gold and silver reserves. We must repeal the Sherman Act of 1890. If we can accomplish this, then what is hap- pening now in the banking centers will correct itself as part of the normal course of business. But we cannot set this country’s house in order until we protect our gold reserves.” “And how are we going to protect them? No—don’t tell me. I’ll tell you: with government bonds bought by Morgan, right? And just how much will he make on that deal?” Cleveland’s eye f linched again.

  “Your Excellency, let me make my position clear. I have no objection to people making money. I have no objection to people having money. What I object to is when somebody reaches into my pocket to get my money. And that’s what’s happening now. I’m being robbed—and so is every citizen of the United States. Morgan’s playing a poker bluff with the bank reserves. He knows their Achilles heel—their inf lexibility. The day after you were sworn in, Morgan hit the reserves hard. Seems he’s expecting something from your ad- ministration. Question is: will he get it?” Cleveland looked out the window. He didn’t seem to be listening to me. But I went on: “I know Morgan’s powerful. Damn powerful. One of the most powerful men in the world. But you’ve got power, too, the power freely given to you through your lawful election by the people. You have the power to tell Morgan a few things. You can tell him that he can go ahead and pick up what he’s already shook from the tree. But tell him the time has come for him to stop shaking the tree. Tell him to stop—or you will tie him up with so much legislation that he won’t be able to put his hands in his own pockets.”

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  Cleveland looked back at me. I asked him:

  “Now, are you going to sit there and tell me you’re going to do nothing to rein in Morgan?” “Rein in Morgan?” Cleveland asked. “Ha!” he said, his face set like unre- sponsive stone. “Hilarious. A knee slapper. Everyone says Morgan is pulling my strings.” “I know better.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know you. I know you are going to do what is right for this country, just as you swore in your oath of office: preserve, protect, and defend.” “Preserve, protect, and defend—the Clemens’ family fortune? Ha! You are a genius of the absurd. Don’t you worry about the Clemens’ fortune. I happen to know that Morgan, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, and Rogers just adore you, and, at the right time, if it becomes necessary, they’ll throw you out a safety net.” “I wish I had your optimism.”

  “I’ll say it again. Optimism has nothing to do with it.”

  I did not say another word to Cleveland while we were in the carriage. It occurred to me that he was telling me in his own guarded way that he was doing all he could to get the country back on track. Yes, I knew that Cleveland was “Morganized.” I knew Morgan was the driving power be- hind Cleveland’s campaign for the Presidency. I knew Cleveland worked for the law firm representing Morgan before assuming office for his sec- ond term. Yes, I knew Cleveland was “Morganized,” but it must be re- membered that Morgan was a master poker player who never blinked or f linched, and who had, ultimately, the only game in town. It was a lesson many of us would learn. Before the centur y came to a close, all of us in that landau—Cleveland, Tesla, and I—would receive tutelage from Mor- gan. Yet, Cleveland was a subtle man and underestimated by almost ev- eryone. To my mind, at that time, he was everything a President of the United States ought to be. And I still hold to that estimate; for Cleveland always saw the big picture, and many of his finest deeds were carried out in secret, and remain to this day unheralded in the histor y books. Tesla had kept his head bowed down throughout my conversation with Cleveland, but now he looked up, and said, “We’re approaching the fair.” Tesla stuck his head out of the carriage and waved. A voice outside said, “Good evening, Mr. Tesla.” It was a sentry guarding a gate. We passed through the gate and into the fairgrounds.

  About a block away, the driver of Lillie and Ade’s hansom shouted, “They’re going into the fairgrounds! I can’t get in there! See? They’ve turned in. There’s a sentry up there at that gate—to keep the union men away from the workers. I don’t think he’ll let me in.”

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  Ade said, “That’s the Midway Plaisance they’ve gone into. There’s only one way out of the fairgrounds from here—the south gate. Turn right up here and go around to it. We’ll see if they come out there. If they don’t come out of the south gate soon, we’ll come back here and wait until they come back this way.”

  Inside our cab, we looked out on the half-finished fair. Here and there, at intervals, incandescent lights illuminated the surrounding murky darkness and threw strange shadows on exotic temples and mysterious castles built of plaster and wood. We passed a big heap of wooden scaffolding—all that yet existed of Ferris’ giant wheel, Tesla told us. We passed under a railroad bridge. Beyond us lay a black nothingness. Tesla took a little metal box from his coat pocket and pulled out a telescop- ing steel rod which was on the box’s top. “Mr. President,” Tesla said, “I know you will push the button to start the electricity for the fair on Opening Day, but I thought I’d give you a little preview tonight. I’ve arranged things for your special viewing.” Tesla handed Cleveland the metal box, and said, “Just push the button. It is a wireless electrical control switch.” Cleveland waved the telescoping metal rod around in the air, and asked, “Do I need to point this in a particular direction?” “No, Mr. President” Tesla said. “Just push the button.”

  Cleveland pushed the button. Suddenly shining out before us in the dis- tance was a white city of dreams, a city suddenly brought into instant existence out of what had been a black void. Great domes and towers were lit up bright as noon against a stark, black night sky. Gigantic beams of light in red, blue, green, and yellow swept the black expanse with a carnival of colors, glowing magic wands of light, waving, crossing, and uncrossing. The edges of all the buildings glowed with jeweled necklaces of incandescent light bulbs. Every- thing was glory, glitter, and heaven-glimpsed. “Tesla,” I said, involuntarily.

  “I know,” Tesla said, “I know.”

  We gazed in silence while the panorama of domes and towers kept moving past us. Then, just as we reached the most spectacular vista yet, Tesla took the metal box from Cleveland’s hand and pushed the button again. The
white city ceased to exist. There was only the black void, and complete silence. “Hey!” It was the driver of the landau. “Hey, did you fellows just see that?” Tesla leaned his head out, and asked the driver, “See what?”

  “The fair!” the driver said. “It just—just lit up! Just lit up! The whole world just lit up! Didn’t you see it just now?” “Are you all right?” Tesla asked the driver. “You didn’t see it?” the driver asked.

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  “Drive on,” Tesla said.

  “Well, I saw it!” the driver said, more to himself than anyone else. “I don’t care what anybody says! I saw it! Queerest thing!” We reached another sentry and passed through another gate and out of the fairgrounds. In a moment we turned left and went east a number of blocks. After turning right and going south for a few blocks, the driver turned left at a corner. At the next corner he turned left again. The driver had turned us back in the general direction in which we had come. He proceeded up the street two blocks then drew our landau to the curb. Cleveland got out, then Tesla, and then I stepped down. “Now really,” the driver asked, “didn’t you see everything light up out there?”

  Tesla did not reply, but gave the driver his pay. Then Tesla said, “Now, I suggest you go and have some strong coffee.” “What?” the driver said, “You think I’ve been drinking? Ah, never mind!” And he slapped the reins of his horses and the landau started away with a jerk.

  I looked about. We were in front of a windowless warehouse about five stories tall. It had been painted white to match the buildings of the fair. The front of the building had been given a classical façade, but the rest of the warehouse looked like a big, featureless box. “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A warehouse built specially for the fair,” Tesla said. ”It was used this last winter to store some of the colossal statuary and some building materials. They’re letting me use it right now.” Tesla put a key in the door of the warehouse and opened the door, and we all went in.

  Two blocks back up the street, the hansom cab carrying Lillie and Ade stopped in the inky darkness. They had circled about the fairgrounds to the south gate and had waited until our landau came rolling out. Then they had followed us here to the warehouse, keeping well back the whole time. Lillie got out of the cab and said to the driver, “Pull up to the curb and wait.” She handed the driver a roll of bank notes. “Wait,” she said. “There will be more when I get back.” “Don’t you worry, Miss,” the driver said. “For this much, I’ll wait all night for you.”

  Ade got out of the cab and held the crook of his elbow out to Lillie. She ignored it, and started down the street, walking fast. Ade caught up with her, and the two of them made their way up the street toward the big, white warehouse. They reached the door of the warehouse. Ade tried the knob and found it locked.

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  “So much for that,” Ade said. He looked at Lillie, and asked, “Now what?” Lillie peered around the corner of the warehouse, and then slipped around it into the shadows. Ade looked up, down, and across the street, and then followed her.

  Tesla, Cleveland, and I had stepped through a hall and into a work room filled with electrical machines the like of which I had never seen before, even in Tesla’s New York laboratory. Kolman Czito, Tesla’s assistant, sat at a work- bench, wiring together some kind of electrical device. Czito was a small man of about 35 years of age at that time, I believe. He had small, squinting eyes which f lashed from behind a pair of spectacles, and he combed his light brown hair the same way Tesla did, parted down the middle and shining with brillian- tine. Like Tesla, he wore a small, neatly trimmed mustache. This night, he wore a shop apron over his shirt and tie. Czito looked up as we entered, pushed his work aside and stood up. Tesla said, “You both know my assistant, Mr. Czito.” “Mr. Clemens, Mr. President,” Czito said, bowing slightly. “Hello, Czito,” Cleveland said. “You’re looking well.” Cleveland handed Czito his coat and hat.

  “Kind of you to say so, Mr. President,” Czito said. “How are you doing, Czito?” I asked. “Very well, thank you,” Czito replied.

  I took off my coat, looking Czito up and down the whole time, and said, “You look taller than you were the last time I saw you. Have you grown?” “Elevator shoes,” Czito said, looking at me with his solemn squint.

  I gave Czito a knowing nod, took off my hat, and started to give him my coat and hat, but then saw that he held Tesla’s hat in his right hand and Cleveland’s in his left. I studied Czito a moment; then lay my coat over Tesla’s where it lay across Czito’s right arm. Then I dropped my derby on Czito’s head. It went down over his eyes. Czito pushed the brim of my derby back and peered up at me, a little irritated. “Why, Czito!” I said. “If you ever decide to quit electrical engineering, you could make a fortune—renting yourself out as a coat rack!” Czito said, “Only if I went through all the pockets.”

  I chuckled and looked over at Cleveland. The President was all ready for a hand of poker, as usual. Tesla said, “Gentlemen.” And he walked forward through a door. Cleveland and I followed.

  Outside the warehouse, Lillie and Ade approached an iron grillwork which closed off access to a fire escape stairway which went up, landing upon landing,

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  all the way to the top of the building. Ade shook the grillwork and looked down to see a lock.

  “Very interesting,” Ade said, “a locked fire escape. Why would anyone want to do that?” Ade crouched down and studied the lock, which was dimly visible in the moonlight.

  “Hairpin,” he said, holding out his hand to Lillie while he continued to study the lock. Lillie reached up to her hair and pulled out a pin. Her long tresses tumbled down around her shoulders. Lillie held the pin out to Ade between the tips of her fingers. Ade turned his head and looked up at Lillie. “Much better,” he said.

  “The lock,” Lillie said, holding the pin up into Ade’s face.

  Ade took the pin, bent it out almost straight, and inserted it into the lock. He felt for the wards, and then pushed. The lock sprang open. Ade stood up and swung the iron grillwork forward on its hinges. “Ah,” Ade said, “at least the lock is not unconquerable.”

  “The lock is only a lock,” Lillie replied, and she rushed past Ade, and up the stairs. Ade shrugged, and followed behind her.

  Inside the warehouse, Tesla led us down a dark hallway which came out upon a large open space some sixty or seventy feet high by one-hundred fifty feet wide by two hundred feet long. In the center of the space stood a ship made of metal. It was shaped like a cigar, one hundred fifty feet in length and two decks tall. I immediately thought of Jules Verne, and chuckled inwardly. Verne was dreaming about machines just like this, but here Tesla had built a real one and hidden it here under the nose of the whole world. I could not tell what kind of ship it was; it fit no category I could bring to mind. It seemed that it might be a submarine, and for the moment I settled on that. I stepped forward to get a better look. The upper deck had a row of port- holes running fore to aft along the length of the entire ship. To the fore of the upper deck was what looked to me to be a dome-shaped pilothouse with mullioned windows. On the roof of the pilothouse was a little round cupola which was actually a pill-box type gun tower capable of pivoting 360 degrees. The upper deck at the stern of the ship consisted of a curve of mullioned windows, covering what appeared to be some kind of observation deck. On top of the ship were two large metal rods that looked like f lagpoles, each rising about fifteen feet from the top of the ship, and each of them was capped by a shiny copper ball. The ship stood on four, massive telescoping metal legs. On the lower deck were two doors; one of them stood open, and a set of steps led up to the door’s threshold. I began to slowly walk along the length of the ship. Tesla walked ahead of

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  me, Cleveland behind. A thousand questions ran through my head; it was just too much to take in all at once.

  “By jings!” I said, “By jings! It’s the most… It’s amazing… beautiful… spectacular… ! What is it?”
“It’s an airship,” Tesla said.

  “Of course! An airship! But…”

  I stepped up to the underbelly of the ship and rapped on its hull with my knuckles. There was a dull sound. “Solid steel,” Tesla said, “encased in a ceramic shell made from powdered uranium.” “Why, she must weigh tons!” I said. “No balloon could ever lift her.” “She doesn’t use balloons,” Tesla said.

  “No balloons?” I asked. I looked up and down the length of the ship, then stepped back as far as I could to take in her whole view at once. “A rocket!” I said. “Why, she’s a rocket airship, by jings! But… still… can you make her go? Why, you’d have to pack her with so much gunpowder, it’d blow all her passengers to kingdom come!” “She’s not a rocket, Mark,” Tesla said.

  “Not a rocket… ?” I asked, half to Tesla, half to myself. “Not a balloon… She’s a… she’s a… Well, damn, Tesla! What the hell is she?” Tesla said, “She is an electro-gravitic vessel.” “A… what?” “A vessel which operates on electricity.”

  “Electricity! Of course! E-lectricity! But… how? What makes her go? What’s her motive force?” Tesla said, “I will explain all that in due course. Suffice it to say, her operation is electrical in nature. She’s capable of f light through air, under the sea, and in the vacuum of interplanetary space.” “You say… space?” I asked.

  Tesla said, “She’s capable of f light to other worlds. To other stars, in fact.” “How fast can she go?” I asked. “In Earth’s atmosphere—ten thousand miles an hour. In the vacuum of space—her potential speed is without limit—infinite. You see, in f light, she has neither mass nor inertia. She can sustain constant acceleration indefinitely. Her practical limit is the life-span of her crystal converter, which does eventually burn out and must be replaced. She can travel faster than sound—faster than light—if pushed to her absolute limit—faster than thought.” I stopped and turned around. Tesla and Cleveland stopped too. I noticed Cleveland’s face. He would have lost this hand; I could see the details being explained by Tesla were News to Cleveland as well as to me. Both Cleveland and I were staggered by the implications of a ship so powerful that it could f ly to other worlds—to other stars!