By the spring, only sparse traces of “groupism” remained, and only in places where the malady had been benign. Among these places, some manifested a noticeable relaxation of the collective bond; others, much rarer, revealed no significant amelioration. It was soon discovered that such persistence corresponded with a particular dietary regime—the regime that Meyral had introduced in La Roche-sur-Yonne. Remarkably, the belated groups did not experience any distress, and even enjoyed some singular privileges; humans and animals seemed invulnerable to parasitic diseases, with the result that mortality was very limited. In Roche and Collimarre, only one old man had died during the winter.
Nevertheless, Meyral—and Langre especially—felt a certain anxiety, although it was only manifest periodically. As for the people of the village, after an interval of mistrust, they were reassured; there was nothing unpleasant about their situation. They accomplished their tasks as well as ever; the domestic animals worked as well as they had in the past, perhaps better. For the time being, the rustics remained steadfastly loyal to the “sorcerers”; their faith, by virtue of collective repercussions, was almost religious.
In one sense, this situation pleased the physicists; it permitted them to push their experiments to the end, to check their tiniest details and to multiply the proofs. The La Roche-sur-Yonne memoirs revolutionized the scientific world. Although they clashed on a few points with English, German, American, Italian and Russian scientists, Meyral and Langre left their rivals’ most subtle investigations far behind—and when they announced an official verification of their discoveries, all the academies in the world sent delegates. The date of the session was fixed for April 20.
From the 15th on, people became anxious to ensure themselves a place. Between the 17th and the 19th, La Roche-sur-Yonne filled up with a population whose origins rendered it incongruous. Small Japanese, bronze-skinned Hindus, black Africans and people of mixed origin rubbed shoulders with tall Scandinavians, sturdy Germans, haughty Anglo-Saxons, quick Italians and placid Slavs.
It was necessary to arrange the apparatus in the gardens, in garages that sheltered them from the solar rays. For those experiments that required near-darkness the spectators were reduced to filing through in little groups.
At first, some spectators—especially those who claimed to have made significant discoveries themselves—manifested a certain skepticism, but the astonishment and admiration gradually grew to the point of enthusiasm. The two principal facts—the destruction of violet rays and the conservation of lines of force—positively excited the scientific audience.
When Langre gave a synthetic summation of the investigations carried out at La Roche-sur-Yonne, he was interrupted by ovations, but the speech concluded in silence.
“There can scarcely be any doubt as to the nature of the catastrophe that almost destroyed animal life on our planet. A storm of energies swept through the space that surrounds us, but these energies have only distant analogies with ours. Even so, the analogies exist, since our energies were subjected, during the passage of the interstellar cyclone, to modifications which, in some instances, ended in veritable destructions.
“From experiments that a favorable combination of circumstances allowed us to pursue a little further than our glorious colleagues, it can be deduced that these destructions were, in fact, metamorphoses. A general proof of that was provided, after the cataclysm, by the great afflux of energies that gave vegetation an extraordinary luxuriance, and which determined the strangest vital excitement in humans. The particular proof, Gentlemen, we were fortunate enough to produce in this very place; it is, we believe, more decisive than the other.
“From the sum total of our verifications, we dare to conclude that the incident energies comprise, in addition to unimaginable forms, a considerable number of longitudinal, or rather helical, oscillations, with the peculiarity that the transverse component of the waves is excessively reduced. When these waves encounter luminous waves, there is a conflict which, if sufficiently prolonged, ends with the disappearance of ultra-violet, violet, indigo, blue and even green waves.
“These various waves are literally vanquished by the unknown waves. Nothing any longer remains but yellow, orange, red and infra-red waves. The yellow waves resist the attack. The orange, red and infra-red waves go further; they win the battle, succeeding in transforming a part of the unknown rays. We have also observed, along with our illustrious colleagues, that during the planetary catastrophe, the red and orange zones exhibited a slight increase in brightness. Fluorescent phenomena demonstrated that it was the same for the infra-red; even so, beyond a certain wavelength, it seems that the phenomenon changes qualitatively or becomes more complex.
“The conflict between the red rays and the unknown waves is particularly fascinating, because it reveals itself more clearly to the eyes of observers. In fact, we observe that the lines of force uniting our group become perceptible when one illuminates the routes of their passage with red light. This perceptibility is indirect; it results from the conflict of waves—the red rays form a sort of sheath around the connecting lines, which are beams of helical waves.
“Many processes will remain permanently obscure—including, no doubt, the effect of the mysterious energies on chemical phenomena. We may, however, hope—and we are carrying out further research in this regard—to furnish a few suggestions regarding the perturbations to which various other forms of energy are subject. In the present state of affairs, it is best to leave such delicate problems until later.
“We must now, Gentlemen, engage with the most troubling of enigmas—by which I mean the astonishing series of organic phenomena which, by turns, charmed and terrified our species. The facts that emerge from observation and scientific experiment are of two kinds, some physiological and others physico-chemical. We shall say little here about the former, which are outside our competence. Nevertheless, let us recall the singular properties of mushrooms with respect to carnivorism, and the remarkable effects of our colloidal solution, prepared with the aid of the spores of the fly-agaric mushroom. These are indications appropriate to interest not only physiologists, but also—and even more so—those involved in physical chemistry.
“As for groupism itself, on the one hand, it seems likely to remain a mystery, but on the other hand, there is no doubt that it depends on a double organic environment: the terrestrial organic environment and an external organic environment. In other words, people and animals have been a terrain of cultivation, doubtless unfavorable but possible, for seeds that have come from interstellar space. It is permissible to conjecture that each animal and human group was the prey of one of these seeds, ergo, of a living being. The individuals that developed thus at our expense, inevitably emerged from the energetic environment that was so harmful to light.
“We know, with an approximate precision, about two of the elements comprising our prodigious parasites: firstly, the patches that are the first symptoms of the disease; and secondly, the networks of linkage.
“The physical properties of the patches are familiar to you. They exhibit no resemblance to our matter, and yet they behave like solid bodies—like ultra-solid bodies, I might say, since they resist all means of destruction or even deformation. They seem so perfectly permeable to all our substances that one might conclude that impermeability does not exist for them. We have not been able to discover any appearance of mass in them, but they extend in all directions. They must contain waves analogous to those which destroy violet radiation and augment red radiation, since, in sum, they cause the former to pale slightly and slightly increase the brightness of the latter. On the whole everything occurs as if we were dealing with stabilized energies.19
“The same observations apply to the threads that connect the individual members of a group together, in a more precise and more striking manner. Here, in fact, we obtain not only a weakening of violet radiation, but their destruction, provided that we consider a thin pencil of rays, and the effect on red rays is manifest. Finally, w
e succeed, in our colloidal solutions, in immobilizing threads exactly as we can immobilize fluid currents, by solidifying them in some manner. Given that, it is difficult to deny that the energy-storms that swept the terrestrial surface are capable of a permanence of form comparable to the permanence of our solid bodies.
“Does that mean that we can take the analogy to its limit? We do not think so. There are enough differences between the unknown energies and our matter-energy system for the same terms to be unable to serve the two modes of existence—and yet, the analogies are real, since we see a part of our energies absorbed and transformed by the invading energies, and, on the other hand, the latter—more weakly, admitted—absorbed and transformed by our energies. The exaltatory phase that followed the catastrophe’s depreciatory phase was a partial restitution of the lost forms of energy.
“Permit me, Gentlemen, to conclude with a hypothesis—which, in our opinion, we consider as the imperious suggestion of observation and experiment. Considering that the interplanetary storm gave rise to a cycle of phenomena which is, on the one hand, analogous—albeit distantly—to our physico-chemical phenomena, and which is, on the other hand, more distantly but certainly analogous to our organic phenomena, we may conjecture that it is a world, or a fragment of a world, that has encountered our Earth. To all evidence, this world belongs to a system very different from our solar system. It does not follow that it is associated with systems beyond the space occupied by the Milky Way and the other nebulas.20
“It might be that our space includes different kinds of universe, some of which are capable of partial interaction with one another, and others almost complete in their mutual indifference and even their mutual permeability. In the latter case, the coexistence of universes, whatever their proximity, would not give rise to any perceptible disturbance, while, in the former case, cataclysms proportionate to the analogies are possible. The world that has just passed through our system did not have enough analogy with ours to destroy our Earth—the planetary mass does not seem to have suffered any serious modification—but there was sufficient to attack our superficial energies and to threaten life. Had there been a slightly higher degree of analogy, or a less rapid transit of the catastrophe, terrestrial animal life would have disappeared.
“In any case, we posit the hypothesis that we have been subject to the collision of a world, incapable of compromising the existence of our world or even of troubling its progress through space, and that that world includes, as ours does, an organic regime.
“Let is conclude with a word of consolation. It is highly improbable that such an accident will be repeated, at least for thousands of billions of years—and the residues of energies and unknown entities that still persist in our midst have ceased to be dangerous. The recent experiments carried out on the groups of La Roche-sur-Yonne, to which we were party, seem conclusive in that regard: the parasitic organisms are doomed. Thanks to our equipment, we can calculate approximately the curves of their decline. Our special alimentation has sheltered us from crises, and the crises themselves have become less redoubtable: the living webs that envelop us will only pose a serious threat if we attempt premature separations; it is necessary to wait for the webs to break of their own accord.
“Is it necessary to confess, Gentlemen, that we await that denouement without impatience, and even that we would like to see it delayed for some months yet? At La Roche-sur-Yonne, we have only suffered—and not very much—for a very short time; exceptional circumstances preserved us from the ordeals to which the vast majority of our peers were subjected. Our solidarity has ended up being so pleasant that we shall sometimes regret it when we have finally recovered our individual independence—and my scientific egoism will cause me to regret it more than anyone else, for it is all too evident that it has been extraordinarily favorable to my collaboration with Georges Meyral.
“Nevertheless, Gentlemen, you do not know how profoundly happy we are to see the human family delivered from the most frightful nightmare to which it has ever been subject since the time when our ancestors lit the first fires and stammered the first words.”
An immense storm of applause resounded through the gardens; a sea of faces surged forward, and old Whitehead, laden with years and honors, gave the accolade to the two physicists, declaring: “Posterity will class your discoveries among the most astonishing that the genius of our species has made.”
The acclamation resounded thunderously, the hands tumultuously raised and an ardent enthusiasm lighting up every eye. Langre, his eyelids bathed in tears, felt that the glory of which he had despaired during so many trying days had finally been conferred upon him, and would never be rescinded.
II. Sabine
Sabine advanced beneath the copper beeches at a dreamy pace, and when she emerged from the shade, she seemed to be very close to the beautiful clouds that were gathering in the west. The light was peculiar and variable; the branches were quivering, and Sabine considering the stream and its noble poplars, savored the living warmth of the breeze. The fervor of young races swelled her bosom; she no longer saw life as a wood full of pitfalls, and there was a certain recklessness in the way she shook her tresses.
While she abandoned herself to the strange population of dreams, she heard someone approaching and turned round. Meyral emerged from the shade. He came forward rather fearfully; his large bright eyes dared not settle on the young woman. She watched him come toward her; when he was close, he murmured: “In a few weeks, we’ll be free.”
A melancholy expression passed over their faces. The bonds that had united them for long months had become so weak that they only sensed them in moments of excitement. At that moment, in the dully stormy air, confronted by the landscape of Old France, they shared the same regret.
“I can’t rejoice on that account,” she replied. “It seems to me that I shall be alone.” She bowed her head and added, in a whisper: “I love the mysterious creature that unites us!”
“Do you?” he said, in his mystical voice. “You can’t imagine how sad I was, just now, while considering the frail lines that still join us. I thought I could feel the pulsations of the death-agony of the Being in which we’re living; my blood ran cold.”
“I knew that! I shared your suffering.”
“We have ended up, if not knowing it, at least living partly in accordance with its nature. The strange space in which it exists, that space devoid of surface and depth, how clearly I sense it! And that alternative duration in which each pulsation extends in part into the past! I have its rhythm fully within me—a rhythm that renews all our ideas regarding the essential nature of things…”
“Ah!” she said. “Most of all, I’m struck by its sadness. It knows that it is in exile, exiled forever, separated from its world by an inexpressible infinity. Its dolor is reflected in me; I was unaware of it at first, for I was unaware of the creature itself; then communication was established. I think and live in association with it!”
“It was also unaware of us! Isn’t it one of our most thrilling sensations to perceive its gradually increasing consciousness of our existence, and its attachment to us?”
“Oh, yes!” she sighed. “How sensitive we are to its lamentation! And what poetry is mingled therein…”
“Only the music of the masters can give us a very distant impression of it, if that music becomes absolutely internal, invading every nerve with its profound mystery…”
There was a long silence. Then she fixed Meyral with her gaze. Their hearts beat faster.
In a slightly hoarse and curt tone, she said: “I also know why you have followed me.”
“Sabine!” he said, tremulously. “I was resigned, and I can be again—but take care not to give me any false hope; the awakening would be abominable!”
She only hesitated momentarily before saying: “Suppose I wanted to take you into my confidence?”
“Oh!” he cried, with a joy that was ready to change into distress. “Don’t let me glimpse anything if you don
’t love me!”
She smiled at him, with a woman’s tender malice; an immense sliver ran through him; all the beauty of the world passed by in a hurricane of love. Kneeling down in front of her, fearful and fretful, he said, in a broken voice: “Is it true? You’re not mistaken…it’s not compassion? I don’t want compassion, Sabine.”
She took his hand and leaned toward the imploring face. “I believe that I shall be happy!”
“Ah!” he sighed.
The past was no more—or, rather, the present moment contained all life, all time and all space. He remained kneeling on the sacred ground on which Sabine stood; the religion of family filled his breast, and when the long blonde hair touched his lips, he knew that his destiny was complete.
HARETON IRONCASTLE’S AMAZING
ADVENTURE
Prologue
The Fantastic Land
Rebecca Storm was waiting for the Spirits. She was holding a gold pencil-holder lightly, with its point on a pad of gray paper. The Spirits did not arrive. “I’m a poor medium,” she sighed.
Rebecca Storm had the Biblical face of a dromedary, and almost the same sandy hair. Her eyes were visionary, but her mouth, fitted with the teeth of a hyena, which could have crushed marrow-bones, provided a realistic counterweight.
“Am I even worthy? Do I deserve the Beyond?” That anxiety ravaged her. Then, hearing the clock chime, she headed for the dining-room.
A tall man, a perfect symbol of the type invented by Gobineau,21 was standing by the fireplace. Hareton Ironcastle, with his rounded face, hair the color of oat-straw and the gray eyes of a Scandinavian pirate, still retained at the age of 43 the skin of a blond virgin.
The Mysterious Force Page 16