"Slow-down? What's that?" asked Warren, looking at some of the photos of star fields lying on the table.
"Oh," said Stanhope, "well, maybe you better start going through the general photo record. You'll understand the need for it better as you get on. Here, in this file here," he walked out of the developing room back to the mail records hall and pulled open a file drawer, "youll find a general survey of our work. It was arranged as a simple historical sequence for publication eventually, after we take the wraps off the project.
"Take seats at the bench there and spread the pictures out as you go. You'll find descriptions of each sequence attached, but I hope the pictures will speak for themselves."
Warren and the girl sat down as directed and Warren started through the fat file of photos. He followed them in sequence and read aloud from the accompanying descriptive captions. Within minutes the two found themselves enthralled as there unrolled the whole history of a universe—a history that paralleled the birth pangs of our own cosmos, and revealed secrets of nature which no man had ever dreamed could be unfolded before.
The first pictures showed simply the setting up of the Thunderhook layout, the activation of the powerful atomic pile which supplied the vast energies needed, the setting up of the initial experiment.
Then followed a single photo showing a brilliant white ball, alone in blackness. This was the primordial atom as it had first materialized. It was featureless, white, and around it was a thin shell of black. Outside the black shell could be seen the edges of the instruments of the laboratory.
"This was taken in the first microsecond of the experiment. But look at what happened in the very next microsecond!"
The next photo showed that the globe had already started to expand. In a matter of microseconds, the primordial single compact massive atom of hydrogen had already exploded, was pushing outwards at a seemingly vast rate, extending steadily. As it extended the black border of the space envelope surrounding it expanded. The elements of the original atom seemed to fill all the area of the encapsuled space-time segment. Soon the photos showed a universal grayness as the elementary sub-electronic dust of the original explosion filled all the area of the universe. Then, hours later evidently, this began to thin out, patches of black appeared, and it could be seen that the dust was coagulating to form clouds and other areas where no dust seemed left. Now the pictures showed an area filled with misty nebulae—the unformed stuff of which stars are made.
Section by section the two watched the universe take shape. In the first half year of the Project work, they saw the first stars begin to take form, they saw the main gas cloud assume its spiral disc shape, and saw that the little cloudlets of gas, the nebulae, were also mainly discoid in shape. Special shots taken of certain of these showed that within the gassy discs there were bright spots and darker spots. A point of atomic explosion was accumulating at the center and radiating around it were specks of dark where non-explosive matter was forming and jelling. They followed one of these sequences to a point where after the first year they saw a solar system formed—a glowing star and six tiny planets revolving around it.
"And this, says the comment, represented the first third of a billion relative years of this micro-universe. Three hundred millions years compressed into one of our years!" exclaimed Warren.
They shuffled through a number of planetary formations, saw that the general configuration of the microcosm now had taken much the form of the micro-universe as they saw it. Stars were recognizable, and the spiral shape of its one galaxy was beginning to be recognizable.. Many nebulous clouds still remained, and these were to thin out during the next seven hundred million—relative—years.
They followed sequences of the formation of planets. They saw systems with two planets and systems with as many as fifteen. Now greater magnification began to bring them close-ups of star surfaces in blazing coronal glory, and of planets. They saw the planets as" molten masses, glowing and red. They saw them covered with great clouds of steam and gases. They saw some lose their atmospheric envelopes and become sterile rocky masses. They saw others become great gaseous globes of belted atmosphere rings, like such worlds as Jupiter and Uranus. And they saw some that began to shape up like Earth-type worlds, worlds with land and sea areas, poles and clear atmospheres.
On some of these they saw some amazing photography, microsecond work, of rough surfaces, of great deserts, of clefts and volcanic action, of rows of mighty volcanoes, and of huge cloudbanks shot through with lightning.
And as they watched the second year of the Thunderhook work they saw that the micro-universe planets were settling down, assuming sufficient surface peace to allow for the development of life. They saw how green covered the land as fern forests climbed out of the ocean depths, and they saw tantalizing shots that indicated animal life—very tantalizing, for the instruments at Thunderhook had limitations. Viewing closely the surface of a tiny planet whirling at frenzied speeds around a tiny sun buried somewhere within the pulsing mass of the microcosm was a feat of photography virtually beyond calculation. Shots of this section were few and not too good. A few black dots across a landscape would hint at the movement of a herd of animals.
"Plainly this form of photography, taken by telescope at high speed, just wasn't sufficient to show up any details," said Warren.
"That's understandable," said Marge. "It's a miracle they could get any scenes at all. But I don't understand how they can know so much now. How, for instance, can they get details today that will give them any discoveries of any inhabitants. . . ."
They thumbed through more photos. By the third year, the micro-universe was passing into a different phase of evolution—and moving relatively faster in that fine even than our own universe. They saw that the spiral had assumed its present shape, and they saw from the notations, that the telephotography had concentrated conveniently on a few dozen stars and their systems in the outer edges of the spiral.
Stanhope came over and looked over their shoulders. "It's interesting, you know," he remarked, "that the worlds we studied mostly are in the same general locations as our own Earth and sun is in our galaxy, on the outer edges."
Warren came to the next picture and gasped. It showed a scene on a planet, where in surprising clarity a set of primitive huts could be seen and tiny humanoid figures standing about them. "What a change!" he exclaimed.
"Oh dear," said Stanhope. "Why that's entirely out of sequence!" He hastily fingered the balance of the file, then withdrew several and rearranged them. "Whoever has been in here must have been taking copies of some of these later ones."
"A spy," said Warren. "There's no doubt of it."
"Yes," said Marge, "but tell me how you get this detail and clarity all of a sudden."
"Oh, that was when we perfected the slow-down," said Stanhope. "We realized that we were going to miss a lot of important things if we couldn't pin down the events on the planetary surface. About then Marco worked out a method of increasing the magnetic grip on the microcosm. By running it counter to the thrust of the spiral galaxy, we found that by the constant application of great energy we could literally slow down the micro-universe. Everything moves slower—not to its own knowledge of course, but strictly in relation to ourselves.
"By this means we are able to slow down the breakneck pace of its internal evolution for hours when necessary—but only at limited intervals. In such periods we can actually take scenes at the surfaces of planets and examine the internal goings-on of the cosmic structures.
"So we are now able to follow the actual development of intelligent life on many of these worlds. We are on the verge of some important things. . . .*
The rearranged sequence now began to show these marvels. They saw dinosaurian beasts and early mammals. They saw the developing intelligences of various species, until on a number of worlds manlike beings had come into existence. Finally they saw these nomadic bands of club-wielding creatures settle in specific planetary areas, begin to build shelters and
cultivate fields.
At the present time they realized that in the microcosm many of its worlds had reached a point closely similar to that of our Earth. They saw worlds whose civilizations were Roman in nature, others still in barbarian state. The inhabitants of the worlds varied in various details; none were exactly human in the Terrestrial sense, yet all were definitely humanoid enough to pass. Some were furry, some tailed, a few had oddments such as crests or stumpy horns, but basically all had the biped upright structure that seemed required of intelligent species.
They saw a number of photos that were ascribed to visions that appeared around Thunderhook. They saw that various things of a nature similar to other manifestations in Coningo
County were phased vibrations brought about by the growing similarities of these micro-worlds to the Earth itself.
Then they came upon sheafs of notes, sandwiched in between photos. Warren was about to pass over these sheafs for later until his eye was caught by lines in one. He saw place names and personal names and references to historical events and culture patterns on what seemed to be a micro-world. He showed these to Marge.
"This is strange. How could they possibly know what languages are spoken on one of these worlds, by what names their inhabitants call themselves, what the historical events are? No kind of photography could show this. No kind of machine could detect what goes on in their minds and what they record of themselves!"
He turned to Stanhope, but that man was back in his dark room and a warning red light indicated he was hard at work in his developing tanks.
He started to read an account of the machinations of some barbarian monarch of a world describing itself as Chundra but listed as Planet 4 of NWE 61. Marge looked at it. "Didn't make much sense to me, until I noticed it was something like an ancient history course I took in my senior year in high school. I hated the teacher; she flunked me.
At that moment, Stanhope's light blinked off, and the man,himself came out, yawning. "Time for supper, I believe. I'ffi half-starved, and I hope you are too."
Marge and Warren got up, put the file back in its folder and into its proper drawer. "Better be sure you lock up tight this time."
Stanhope nodded. "I'm going to have to talk to Enderby about this. This is bad, very bad. Spies could destroy all we are doing here . . ."
They left together for the main lodge. Outside it was already dark and the stars of the greater universe were shining down. Warren felt odd as he walked with the others across the dark grass. For an instant he wondered whether other eyes were looking down on them, recording their doings. But then, he thought, we know our universe is infinite. Did the inhabitants of the microcosm know theirs was not?
CHAPTER SEVEN
DURING THE next few days Marge and Warren fit themselves into the life of Project Microcosm. Marge worked in the photography lab with Stanhope and sometimes in the main dome itself with whomever was at the observation post. She turned out to have a surprisingly good grasp of the photographic techniques—whoever had pulled strings to get her on People was not entirely without conscience. A number of improvements in the usage of these instruments were suggested by her and proved practical.
Warren found himself immersed in the huge mass of records, readings, and plates in the records hall. There was a great deal to be done; curiously enough, Thunderhook was actually understaffed for the work it had amassed and a good historian was indeed a welcome necessity.
He found himself drafting a general history of the project and at the same time a popular history of the microcosm itself. The simple set of plates which had been shown them by Stanhope was one but hastily put together and needed much improvement. After the first day on the job, Warren realized he had drawn himself a full-time chore, and a fascinating one.
Yet as he worked he wondered occasionally at the unexpected finding now and then of what appeared to be detailed accounts of minute fractions of history of one or another microcosmic world. Each time the thought came to him that he hadn't found out how this was known. Some material of detail had been gathered from the mirages—but nothing like that.
He knew that the mirages themselves were recent phenomena. The microcosm had only now begun to catch up in its own evolutionary age with the greater cosmos of our skies. Basically the work of the project was soon to pass from the study of the past to the study of the future. And this shift was taking place now, planet by planet, in the microcosm.
It would appear that most of the worlds were entering Roman or Grecian phases. Several were in their medieval era, and a handful passing though industrialization. Such a one was the world that had evoked the vision on the mountainside.
The work was not arduous. The scientists were all dedicated to their tasks, attending the pulsing microcosm like acolytes of a temple, as, in a sense, they were. Steiner and Marco alternated in charge of the tiny universe itself, with Weidekind and Rendell in assistance. What Carter Williams' work was, and that of the other member of the scientific staff, a man named Daniel Hyatt, was not yet clear to Warren. At no time were all present at meals, and he noticed that the men did not usually discuss their work then. The three guards were usually somewhere around.
Jack Quern and Mike Kenster seemed to be making eyes at Marge; it was evident that the girl had no objections at all to this interest. Either instinctively, or because she was quite accustomed to the attention of men, and was inclined to be flirtatious, she was clearly beginning to play one guard against the other. The members of the scientific staff watched the play with amusement, but the girl seemed to have no particular concern for them after working hours.
Warren smiled quietly when he saw Jack and Marge taking a stroll two evenings later. The girl plainly knew how to handle men. As for Warren, he felt no particular interest in her. True, he did feel that she was a sort of charge, having come in with him on the same assignment, but he realized that trying to maintain a paternal attitude toward the girl —though in fact he was but slightly her senior—would get him nowhere.
Enderby, as general manager, could usually be found a-round the place, anywhere and even-where. There were others about—but they evidently had separate quarters and eating arrangments—housekeeper, gardener; the men who attended to the atomic pile; and others.
As for the spy problem, there was no further evidence of this. Warren discussed this with Enderby, who had been informed of the strange doings in the photo lab. Enderby was disturbed, but pointed out that the spy was hardly likely to sabotage an experiment whose successful working out was necessary to his own operations. "I've notified the Foundation," said Enderby, "and they're going to see what they can do about it."
After lunch on the third day, Warren and Marge started off toward the records hall together. As they crossed the grass, the girl turned and grasped his arm. "What's that litde dome against the side of the main one?" she asked pointing.
Warren looked. Sure enough he noticed that there was a sort of small bubble emerging from the side of the hemispherical building. He had seen it before, but simply never gave it a thought. The bubble was built of the same cement but seemed to have a newer look, as if it had been thrown up and cut into the bigger structure as an afterthought. There was a closed door leading into the small annex.
"Shall we take a look?" ■ sked Warren and the two started towards it. When they reached it, Warren turned the handle of the door. It opened and they looked into a small round room.
They entered into darkness. At first they saw nothing—a heavy table near the door, a sheaf of writing paper on it, a metal ruler, a dozen sharpened pencils and a chair.
In the dark depths there was a faint light as if coming from a thick glassy aperture. They started over to it, and heard a groan.
"It's a man!" gasped Marge.
Lying on a wooden frame, just under the aperture against the far wall, a man seemed to be moving his head back and forth, muttering and groaning every now and then.
The two went over to him. "He's strapped down!" said Marge
shocked. "And it's Carter Williams," added Warren.
"But what's the matter with him?" Marge whispered as the two leaned over. Carter was naked to the waist, and thick leather straps encircled his chest and strapped his arms and legs down to the frame of the hard flat bed. His eyes were closed but his lips were drawn up as if in agony and he was moving restlessly against the straps.
"He was all right at breakfast," said Warren softly. "I saw him at the table. He seemed in good health and in fine spirits."
"I know," murmured Marge breathlessly. "Jack told me that the spy would strike soon. Ill bet the spy caught Williams, knocked him out and tied him up here. We'd better release him quickly and get him some medical attention. Maybe he can tell us who did it to him!"
Warren whistled. "We'd better get him loose anyway—he looks as if he's in pain."
He bent over the moaning scientist and hastily unbuckled the straps.
Warren rubbed the thrashing man's forehead. "Williams!" he called. "Wake up! You're all right. Help's here!"
Williams's eyes opened. For an instant they stared at Warren, but as if without any recognition. Williams looked at him open-mouthed, then put out a hand, struggled to a sitting position.
Sitting up the young scientist rubbed his hand against his forehead, muttered something to himself. Again he looked around, as if seeing everything for the first time.
"Are you all right?" asked Warren. "Shall we get you medical attention?"
Williams's eyes widened, then he jumped up with unexpected force and grabbed Warren. The reporter fell back, almost losing his balance. Before he could recover himself, Williams's hands were on his throat, and the scientist was yelling furiously in some strange language.
Marge screamed. Williams turned quickly, glanced at the girl. Taking advantage of the distraction, Warren brought his fist up hard and buried it in Williams's mid-section. Again the scientist yelled, let go his grip on the reporter's throat.
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