by Max Ehrlich
He studied the photograph eagerly. It was that of a familiar constellation, and his practiced eye picked out at first glance what seemed to be a normal astronomical pattern. His mind clicked over like a comptometer, identifying the various members in the group.
Then suddenly something j arred his vision.
It was a tiny patch of light where no light should have been.
Dr. Dawson hadn't even labeled it.
David tried to place the intruder, tried to identify it. But it was foreign to him; he had never seen it before. He shuflBied through the other photographs. There it was, again and again, the annoying and insistent extra patch of light, hanging on like a bright little leech. It changed its position as the dates of the observations changed, but it was there every time, sharp and clear.
It was all the more mysterious because Dr. Dawson had neglected to give it a name.
David stared at the photograph again, and his mind leaped to the possibility of asteroids or a new comet, but as quickly aban -- « doned the idea as he shufifled through the other photographs.
David looked up at the Old Man, bewildered.
"I don't understand it, sir. It's something I don't recognize --
something that doesn't belong " He caught his breath as he saw
the expression on the Old Man's face. "You mean it's something brand new -- something we've never seen before?"
The Old Man nodded. "You and I are among the first to see it, David, with the help of the 200-inch telescope. But in the not-too-distant future it will be visible not only to other astronomers with smaller telescopes, but finally to the naked eye of the whole world. It was only by sheer accident, by the most remote chance, that I stumbled on it first, late in September, while doing some routine observations."
"But what is it, sir," asked David, "that extra point of light?"
"A new planet," answered the Old Man quietly.
"A neiv planet?"
"Yes, David. A strange new intruder into our solar system. Not an ordinary planet in the conventional sense, for it doesn't revolve around our sun at all. But a planet in size and mass and every other detail."
Dr. Dawson paused a moment as David kept his eyes glued to the tiny patch of silver. Then he continued:
"As you know, the last planet discovered was Pluto, back in 1930, at the Lowell Observatory. At the time of its discovery, before it was officially named Pluto, it was designated as Planet X.
"Therefore, I shall name this newcomer -- Planet Y."
Planet Y!
David was staggered. He stared at the Old Man stupidly. For a moment he could not believe what he had heard. No wonder the greatest astronomers alive had dropped whatever they were working on and answered the Old Man's summons! .
This was one of those dream discoveries, the greatest triumph of the Big Eye, an astronomical miracle. He thought dazedly of what would happen in the observatories of the world when the news came out officially. That is, if the world was still around.
They'd go crazy, he thought, crazy!
So this was the answer! This was what the Old Man was talking about -- the hand of God. This was it, this extra patch of light. There it was, planted on those photographs, sharp and clear.
For as long as men could remember there had been only nine planets revolving around the sun.
And now -- now there were ten.
Now, as the Old Man had put it, there was a strange new intruder in the sky, a kind of heavenly stepchild, a celestial Johnny-come-lately.
Planet Y.
"It's a massive body, as planets go," the Old Man was saying. "Much bigger than the earth. And it's traveling through space with fantastic velocity, far greater than that of the earth. It made the orbit difficult to calculate. In fact, two years ago it would have been impossible, before Morrissey built us his analogue computer."
Dr. Dawson's voice leveled off into a monotone, as though he were delivering a lecture before a science forum. "Although we can now see it and trace its orbit, we don't know where this wildcat planet came from, and we never will. The origin of Planet Y, David, does not fit into any of the present cosmogonies. If we accept the Weizsacker hypothesis as correct for the formation of our own solar system, we must reluctantly conclude that there are exceptions to it as a rule. For Planet Y must have been born in the fiery explosion of a supernova."
David nodded. "I would agree, sir. It seems to me only the expanding wave front of a bursting sun could have given it the initial velocity necessary to bring it toward our system at its present speed."
As he spoke he reflected on what a triumph this would be for the Old Man. To discover a new planet was tremendous enough, but to add to it a major contribution to the theory of planetogenesis was enough to shatter the calm in every observatory in the world.
"At any rate, David," the Old Man went on, "Planet Y was born. It was hurled off into space, traveling like a fantastic juggernaut, drifting through space for thousands or millions of years --
Then at last it came into the gravitational field of a star, was caught and held. It is plunging toward that star now."
"And that star," said David, "is the sun."
"Yes."
"It's a great discovery, sir." David's voice shook a little. "No wonder you called those men to Palomar. It'll create a sensation."
Yet as David spoke he wondered, even so, even in the face of this tremendous new phenomenon, why had the Old Man ordered him back in such a hurry?
"As you say, David," continued Dr. Dawson, "this new intruder into our solar system will create a sensation. But it is more than just a new planet. The consequences of its appearance are staggering beyond the limits of human imagination and there is no doubt it will profoundly change the pattern of human life. If this new planet is anything it is the hand of God."
There he goes again, thought David. The hand of God.
The Old Man seemed obsessed with the idea. Dr. Dawson was a scientist, through and through, and yet what he was saying now was curiously unscientific. Of course, David said to himself, it was a miracle, but you could figure it on a cause-and-effect basis. A fragment from a distant star coming within the sun's gravitational field and swinging in an orbit around it.
It was the longest long shot possible, but theoretically it could happen.
In fact, it had happened.
But that wasn't all, apparently. There was more that the Old Man was getting ready to say. David could see it in his face, read it in his over-bright eyes.
There was something else coming. Something big.
But what?
What could top a discovery like this? The Old Man had said something about the planet's changing the way men lived. It struck like a jagged fragment in David's mind. Where did that belong in all this?
"David," said the Old Man, "everything I have discussed up to now has been a kind of preamble, by way of preparation for what I have to tell you now. A minute ago I asked you if you believed in God, and I said I had a reason for the question. If your belief is sincere, if your faith is deep-rooted, then it will give you strength to meet the revelation I am about to make to you, and even help you gain some comfort from it." Dr. Dawson hesitated a moment. "Now, David, I must ask you to prepare for a shock -- a very great shock."
David sat rigid in his chair, fascinated, watching the Old Man. His collar suddenly seemed to be unnaturally tight, and he felt the goose flesh rise on his body. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Finally the Old Man picked up a chart from his desk.
"This chart illustrates the future orbit of the new planet, David. I've been plotting it for days, but I got my first result about an hour after you left for New York on Wednesday."
David looked down at the chart.
Then suddenly it swam before his eyes as the full implication of what he saw smashed into his brain. The sweat broke out in a cold ooze on his forehead, his mouth went dry, a cruel hand seemed to be curling itself around his throat, stifling his breath.
&n
bsp; It was right there before his eyes. The awful and incredible denouement to the Old Man's discovery.
Planet Y was headed for an elliptical orbit around the sun. But its orbit intersected that of the earth, and the chart showed both bodies reaching the intersection point simultaneously.
Long before the geometric point of intersection, Planet Y would come close enough to exert a tremendous gravitational pull upon the earth, send it flying out of its orbit and toward Planet Y itself. And that would mean -- planetary collision.
The end of the world!
It was right there, right there in neat circles on that crisp piece of graph paper. Dr. Dawson had indicated the point where the clash would come. He had marked it with a tiny "x." X marks the spot, thought David foolishly; x marks the spot where the accident would occur.
Like a man in a dream, he put his finger on the point.
The Old Man nodded. "The point of final gravitational attraction, David. The cosmic collision point."
It was impossible, of course. In the infinite sweep of space, the earth was merely a speck of dust. So was this new planet, this Planet Y. Every law of chance was against it. A billion billion billion to one.
But there it was, right there in the diagram. There were the orbits of Planet Y and the earth.
And there was the point of collision. And nothing, nobody could stop it.
The end of the world.
The end of the world! The end of tne world! It beat through David Hughes's head like an awful refrain.
It was fantastic. It was something you toyed with in your imagination, or read about in those weird fiction stories. Soothsayers from the beginning of time had been predicting it, religious fanatics had seen it in their visions, and every year some crackpot predicted the exact day and hour of the catastrophe.
But people just laughed or shrugged and went about their business. The newspapers sent a photographer to take pictures of the cranks and their followers, usually kneeling and praying on some mountaintop as the appointed hour drew near.
But the hour came and went, and the earth kept right on rotating on its axis, and the photographers got their pictures. And the crackpot and his followers finally gave up and sheepishly went home.
And the next year there was always a new prophet and a new flock, a new day and a new hour. And a new picture in the press for the people to smile at the next day.
But this new prophet was not a crank. He was the man sitting at the desk, the man watching him with compassion in his eyes. He was Dr. Charles Dawson, a man of science, who placed no reliance in visions or dreams.
"At first I couldn't believe what I saw," the Old Man was saying. "I went over my calculations again and again. And invariably I always came to the same result -- the same staggering result.
"It was then that I called the men from the other observatories -- the only men in the world who knew the necessary mathematics for this problem -- the best research astronomers in the world. I wanted them to check my calculations. I didn't dare trust myself.
"Furthermore, David, I could not announce this terrible phenomenon to the world alone. The responsibility would be too great, and there would be skepticism. After all, the world would have only my word, only one man's word, that the catastrophe would occur. But if the announcement came simultaneously from a group of the greatest astronomers in the world, then there would be no room for doubt, it would then be accepted as the truth it is."
Yes, thought David, this white-haired man sitting here in this quiet room was the true prophet, whose gospel and predictions were made on cold, hard facts. And these facts had been attested to by other true prophets like himself.
"Then that tremor we had in New York -- those other phenomena General Hawthorne spoke about . . ." began David.
"Are all the result of natural stress and strain from the intrusion of this new astronomical body in the solar system," said the Old Man. "The fact is, they should have been even more violent and widespread, and in our discussion here we were puzzled as to why they were not. The only explanation we can offer is that, curiously enough, the other celestial bodies in our system seem to have moved into a new position of balance, compensating the strain. And so we can count on a little more time than we had expected."
It was clear to David now -- too clear.
"Then there's no Russian secret weapon, after all."
"No, David. And as far as I know, there never was. What happened in the city of New York was a cracking of the bedrock, a minor earthquake fault in the rock. The other phenomena can no doubt be similarly explained."
David could have sworn that he saw the flicker of a smile on Dr, Dawson's face as the Old Man continued:
"Professor Varanov of Leningrad is here at Palomar, David, as you probably know. And I have it from him that the same kinds of baffling phenomena have taken place recently, not only in the Soviet Union, but in Soviet-dominated Europe and Asia. There has been an earthquake in Warsaw and tidal waves at both Naples and Vladivostok, to name a few. The Russians are sure I've have a new and terrible weapon of some kind."
David suddenly recalled the news broadcast aboard the strato-cruiser as they were coming into San Diego a few hours ago.
"Then it was you who called the President, Doctor?"
The Old Man nodded. "I told him about the planet, told him it was on its way, and begged him to hold off any positive move for a few hours, until we were absolutely sure there would be a collision. Now -- we are." Dr. Dawson paused for a moment. "We had to stop the fools from destroying each other before the planet ended their natural time."
Before the planet ended their natural time.
When? When would it strike?
That was the question, the question he avoided, the question that stuck in his throat, that he did not dare ask.
But now it was insistent, it wouldn't stay down, it demanded an answer.
"Do you know when the collision will come, Dr. Dawson?"
The Old Man nodded, but he did not answer immediately. It was still in the study, very still, except for the regular ticking of the clock in the corner. Then finally he spoke.
"A decade ago, as you well know, David, even a rough conclusion would have been impossible. But we have come a long way since then, with the new instruments we have developed and the new mathematical techniques we have evolved, and indeed with the 200-inch reflector itself. But now, although it is too early yet to calculate the exact hour, we have been able to calculate the day."
"When will it be?" asked David. He was impatient; he wanted the Old Man to get to it, and get to it quick. "What day will it be?"
"The end will come in two years and one month," answered the Old Man quietly. "On Christmas Day, 1962."
Christmas Day, 1962!
"A date not without its irony," Dr. Dawson was saying. "And yet an appropriate day, when one considers that almost two thousand years ago a miracle had been ushered in by a new heavenly body shining in the sky. It had heralded the birth of a new idea and then disappeared off into the void." The Old Man's voice was hushed now, almost inaudible. "It would almost seem, David, that it had made a complete circuit of the heavens and returned, this time in a different and final role."
Yes, David thought wildly, one thing was certain. Planet Y didn't just happen, it couldn't have just happened; the odds were stacked against it, millions and millions to one.
Whatever it was, it was a sign, a sermon in the sky, a divine wrath, a terrible judgment upon the creatures who called themselves men.
There could be no other answer. The Old Man was right. It was the hand of God!
David stared at Dr. Dawson. "What do you think will happen to people when they find out, sir?"
The Old Man leaned back and closed his eyes. "No man can tell, David. All we know is that there'll be profound changes, not only in our social and economic patterns, but in our mental processes. In a way, I got a preview of that this morning. When we started to go over my calculations, two of the astronomers present
were confirmed atheists, and others were agnostics. They had believed in a kind of divinity of order, because the system of the heavens had functioned according to a kind of heavenly Hoyle ever since time began.
"But when they learned about this outlaw, this huge gob of matter, plummeting into our lives from nowhere, it smashed their faith or lack of it. The runaway planet up there was the great dissenter, the disrupter of order, the harbinger of chaos. It was the first and final exception to the rule they had worshiped, and they could not escape its timeliness and significance. And when they walked out of here a few minutes ago, David, they were men of religion."