“Hmmm…” Gore stroked his chins then glanced at his diary. “Sunday tomorrow—no engagements,” he murmured. “I could manage it at that. I have to admit that the curious coincidence of facts has aroused my interest, even though I feel there is no real danger. If, of course, you prove all you have said, I will have every scientist in the land investigating your claim.”
Rod got to his feet actively. “Now you’re talking, Doctor. I’ll prove everything, never fear. Suppose we say tomorrow at nine in the morning? I’ll be at the Regent Hotel. We’ll drive over to my place.”
“I’ll bring my own car,” Gore responded. “I have to return to New York remember. Nine o’clock it is.”
* * * *
Dr. Gore not only brought himself the following morning, but also three other men—lean, gray haired experts of the scientific fraternity. Their manner was vaguely interested, but professionally doubtful. Evidently Gore had sensed something worthwhile in Rod’s observations and was prepared to take a chance.
Throughout the day the two cars continued their whirlwind journey to Middleton, with only one short break for a tabloid lunch. It was nearing seven o’clock when they regained Rod’s solitary farm. He paused only long enough to provide refreshments all around, then set out into the enclosure with Phyllis at his side and the men behind him. Eagerly he threw aside the loose boards, removed the last one with a triumphant flourish. “There you are gentlemen—” He broke off in dumbfounded amazement, staring blankly as though he could not credit his senses.
The hole was no longer there! The metal, yes—but it was as solid and un-scratched as though never before revealed.
“What the hell—?” Rod jumped down into the shallow pit and rubbed frantically at the grayness. No joint, no seam—no hole.
“Is this what you were—er—talking about?” Gore asked with awful solemnity.
Rod looked up dazedly in the doctor’s cold eyes. The expressions on the other scientists’ faces were grim and bitter. Only Phyllis looked sympathetic, though baffled.
“There was a hole!” Rod gasped hoarsely. “The entrance to the underworld. Isn’t that so, Phyllis?”
“Of course!” She looked anxiously at the scientists. “That’s absolutely true, gentlemen.”
Gore turned suddenly. “Come, gentlemen! I think we have wasted time enough: forgive me for wasting your time on an absurd hoax. As for you two, you haven’t heard the last of this—”
“But wait a minute!” Rod shouted, leaping up and clutching the scientist’s arm. “I’ll prove it yet. I’ve got an electric welder in the house. I don’t know how this metal got recovered, but I can soon bore through again. Wait a minute, please.”
Grudgingly, Bore agreed, watched in silence as Rod brought out the equipment and started to work with savage vigor. Minutes passed and searing flame blazed steadily at the metal.
Five minutes…ten minutes. The scientists grew restless. Their eyes were twitching from the glare. Phyllis bit her underlip uncertainly. Rod could only gaze through his goggles, unable to swallow the devastating fact that the metal was not even heated, let alone cut! Baffled, he finally switched off, tugged off his glasses.
“I—I don’t understand it,” he groaned, coming to Gore’s side. “Last time I cut through it in a moment, and—”
“I—I think,” Gore broke in coldly, “we have wasted time enough.”
“But hang it, can’t you see for yourself that the metal is unusual when even this flame won’t go through it?”
“We did not come here to inspect peculiar metals that open and reseal without reason,” Gore retorted acidly. “We came to see an underground city which could be taken as proof of your statements. As it is, there’s nothing more to be said. Good evening to you, sir—and you, young lady!”
Stupefied, Rod watched them go, climb into their car. He only began to come to himself when the dust had settled behind them.
“Phyllis, what on earth’s gone wrong?” he demanded helplessly. “Can you account for it? While we’ve been away in New York somebody has re-sealed the hole—possibly one of the robots from the city below. But why? And why doesn’t this damned welder cut through it as it did before?”
He regarded the apparatus disgustedly. Phyllis shook her blonde head.
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Rod—unless the opening was secured with a metal far tougher than the other stuff. Perhaps the presence of other people isn’t wanted below…”
Rod rubbed his head in bewilderment. “But why not? Why on earth should my only chance of proving myself right be stopped? Oh, I don’t know! What, for instance, do I do now? I’m sunk!”
The girl considered for a moment. Finally, she said, “I thought you said that while you were down there you were taught all manner of scientific things? Several electrical and engineering secrets among others?”
“Correct. So what?”
“Use your knowledge, of course. Never mind why the hole was sealed up; we’ll probably solve that mystery later. Point right now is to discover why this welder didn’t work this time—or if it comes to that you might try another part of the ground. Perhaps all the metal isn’t the same—may only be this resealed portion we can’t cut. Try it, before we go any further.”
“O.K.”
In a moment or two Rod had obtained pick and shovel and dug another small hole some distance off. Confidently, he set to work again with the welder, but the answer was the same. It failed to make the least impression.
“Then all the metal’s alike,” the girl mused. “The only solution is to find something that will go through it. That’s where your knowledge comes in. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t expect too much,”
“But—”
“Now don’t start protesting! Come into the house and get to work. There must be something you can devise; use your knowledge. It’s the only way you’ll find a permanent key to this underworld, or even an explanation of the mystery, for that matter.”
Rod stared at her for a moment, then snapped his fingers.
“You’re right!” His expression changed a little; he regarded her curiously. “Say, you’re helping me a lot, aren’t you?” he asked slowly. “Why do you do it? Have you some special interest in all this, or something?”
She shrugged. “Consider the circumstances, Rod! I happened in on this right at the beginning. It involves world issues. Can you expect any girl with the normal desire for adventure to drop out right now? Not on your life! I’ve got to see how you make out. Now come on…”
She led the way into the farmhouse, switched on the light. It was already nearing twilight. Without a word she went across to the bureau and found writing pad and pencil. She pulled up a chair purposefully.
“Now—concentrate!” she ordered briefly, pointing to the chair.
The girl’s steady blue eyes were strangely compelling. The oblique rays from the light threw them into curious relief—deep blue irises and large black pupils.
“Gosh, Phyllis, you’re beautiful!” Rod whispered, studying her.
She gestured impatiently. “Oh, never mind that! I’m here to watch you work. Get started!”
He nodded quietly and took up the pencil. It seemed odd to him, but the moment he concentrated the transferred genius from the underworld suddenly leaped into his conscious mind. He forgot all about himself and his surroundings, was only aware of the figuring and computing he performed on that sheet of paper.
Then another sheet—and another. Hour after hour he worked on, without eyestrain, without fatigue, plunging into the midst of the most complicated mathematics, of which, before the underworld venture, he had not even had the slightest knowledge.
Beyond doubt, he was a man inspired. When at last he put his pencil down he realized he was stiff with cramp. His head ached a little, too.
He glanced at his watch and gave a whistle: it was 2:30 a. m.
“Gosh!” he whispered. “Nearly six hours solid concentration…but I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Electrical
energy of a certain wavelength will break down that metal. It will break down any matter in the universe. But how did I ever come to know that?”
He shrugged, sat staring at the mathematical solution he had worked out. He felt like a man who has composed a masterful oratorio in his sleep. Yawning, he turned, then gave a start.
Phyllis was lying on the couch, fast asleep, her traveling coat tossed over her.
Silently Rod crossed over to her, looked down at her perfect features. Uncomfortably he glanced toward the closed door. Strong ideas of conventions were still in his mind.
“Oh, hell!” he growled at last. “The world’s going to change, anyway. What difference does this make?”
He drew the coat further over her, switched off the light, then tiptoed to his own room and flung himself on the bed.
CHAPTER IV
Into the City Again
Rod awoke again to the tempting odor of frying ham and eggs. He dressed hastily and strode into the kitchen to find Phyllis in the act of pouring boiling water into the coffee pot. She glanced up with a smile of welcome.
“Just beaten me to it!” she said regretfully. “Thought I’d have everything ready.”
“You know,” Rod muttered, sitting down, “this is all wrong. You were here all last night, and that makes me look a regular heel—”
“Skip that and tell me what you found out,” the girl interrupted briefly. “I’m not interested in what people think. Did you solve the problem?”
“Yeah, I solved it.” Rod looked pensively at the ham and egg under his nose. “But in solving it I came up against something of a mystery. You see, an electrical wavelength, produced by incorporating the right amount of coils and resistances, will cut through any form of matter—not because of the heat it generates but because of the vibration, which shatters molecular clusters asunder. I could, with the necessary recoiling and electrical odds and ends, transform that welder of ours into the right instrument, and it wouldn’t take me more than an hour. But why in Heaven’s name did it cut through the stuff the other day and yet not yesterday? It is just as though it incorporated my special wavelength on the first occasion, but not afterward.”
The girl nodded, stirring her coffee. “There may be another explanation. For instance, on the first occasion it was ordinary metal and collapsed under ordinary means. But after you had been below, the robots—probably by electrical means—toughened the molecular resistance of the metal in every direction, so that it could not be pierced again. That was why it didn’t work the second time. Maybe they did it to test you, knowing that you had the knowledge to devise a means of entry if you wanted.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Rod admitted, shrugging. “Funny how easily I solved the problem. Came just like that!” He snapped his fingers.
Rod finished his breakfast and pushed the plate away. Actively he got to his feet.
“Now there’s work to be done. I want some special wire and electric stuff from Markinson’s. I’m going to convert that welder of ours. Maybe I can borrow your car?”
“You can do more than that,” the girl replied quietly. “I’ll drive you there and, I gather, you’ll need money?”
“Huh? Lord, yes! I’d forgotten.”
“Leave that to me. Now let’s go.”
* * * *
Once they both returned to the farm, around dinner time, Rod spent most of the afternoon pulling the welder’s insides to pieces and refitting it with the gadgets he had bought. He worked with a skill that inwardly amazed him, knew every detail of what he did, had a perfect knowledge of the position of every screw and every piece of wire. By the time he had finished the whole converted interior fitted neatly into position. Smiling with satisfaction he fastened up the exterior case, then plugged in the socket.
“We’re ready!” he announced, as the girl glanced inquiringly at him. “Now let’s see if my reasoning’s O.K.”
They marched outside to the original pit and jumped down. They donned their goggles, then Rod snapped in the switch of the apparatus and directed the savagely bright beam at the metal. Instantly there was a shower of sparks: a thin, dark line began to appear in the midst of the flare.
“I was right!” he panted. “It does work! It’s going through…” He watched for a moment or two longer, then turned sharply to the girl. “We’re going below when I’ve finished. Garage your car, then get my other torch from the bureau. Bring some provisions and see the farm’s locked up. O. K.?”
“Check!” the girl nodded quickly, and scrambled away.
By the time she had returned with the necessities Rod was triumphantly kicking away the metal square he had burned away. It vanished, was followed by an echoing clang from below. He welded a metal ring beside the hole and fastened the rope lying nearby.
“Guess you’d better go first this time,” he said, turning to the girl. “You know what to expect, and I’ll follow right after you with the stuff. Here, take the torch. Ready?”
She nodded quickly, and he noosed the rope under her arms. Then bracing it twice round his arm he began to gently lower her into the cavity. At the limit of the rope her faint shout floated up.
“All right! Come on!”
First he lowered the provisions down to her, then slid down gently to her side. As they began to move the metropolis below came suddenly into life. Rod waved his torch beam on the floor, following a long sunken line of metal which had formerly escaped his notice.
“So that’s it!” he exclaimed. “Something like traffic signals. Pass one way over it and you light the city up like switching on a pianola; go the other way and you put it out. I wonder how it happens to be under the very spot we came through?”
“Maybe dozens of them, so we just couldn’t miss,” the girl commented.
For a moment they stood gazing down the infinity of steps; then they slowly began to descend, neither of them speaking. From this high standpoint the city was clearly visible. It spread for perhaps two square miles under the earth—solid and impregnable, housed in its globe of metal, air conditioned by hidden connections to the surface. Again Rod found himself wondering why the metal had been made so impregnable, why he had been stopped in proving his point to the scientists.
They came at last to the first building; the doors had been automatically swung open. Rod recognized it immediately as the laboratory in which he had received his knowledge. The only difference this time was that there were no robots in sight. Everything was quiet.
At last Rod spoke.
“Well, what do we do?”
“Explore,” the girl replied, without hesitation. “Once we have assessed this city’s resources we may be able to decide what to do. Come on…”
They made their tour slowly and thoroughly. Scientific achievements reared on every side, incorporating machinery of every possible use and description, most of which, Rod inwardly realized, he fully understood, thanks to the genius that had been conferred upon him.
The biggest surprise of all came when they entered an enormous domed place resembling a great mausoleum. On every hand, lying full length in six-foot-long glass cases were motionless men and women, lightly clad, hands folded on their breasts. Altogether, Rod counted one hundred and ninety nine cases; the two hundredth, at the far end of the hall was empty.
“These must be the sleepers,” he observed, turning to the girl. “In a darned good state of preservation, too. Later, I suppose, I’ll have to revive them.”
Phyllis nodded slowly. “When you’re absolutely sure of the right method—not before. You might finish them off for good, otherwise.”
“Yeah…” Rod’s eyes wandered to the last empty case and he frowned. “Queer,” he muttered, then shrugging his shoulders he led the way out of the place, returned across the main square to the laboratory.
For another hour they both wandered around, until at last Rod found a magnificently equipped radio-television instrument. With unerring skill, using once again his conferred knowledge, he set the complicate
d controls into action, started the generators. Almost immediately the screen, using absolutely perfect lifelike color, came into life. The loud speaker twanged noisily, then settled down.
“At least we’re in touch with the world,” he commented briefly, then he hesitated over switching off as the announcer’s worried face and alarmed words arrested attention.
“…nor have we any idea what is causing it, but it is an undoubted fact that a crime wave of unprecedented proportions seems to have been launched on America, Britain and Europe, commencing sometime after noon today. Murder, rape and theft are sweeping all three countries; there are not enough detectives or police available to tackle the sin flood. Full details are not yet available. It can only be assumed that agents in each country have fixed a given hour and a given day to launch mass terror.”
Rod switched off, stood in silence with lips compressed. The girl laid a hand on his arm.
“It’s—it’s started!” she breathed. “Must have begun just after we came below here. The first signs of atavism. In that case the cosmic cloud itself ought to be visible. Sky was clear when we came down here…”
Rod slowly nodded, then struck with a sudden thought he switched on the televisor apart from the radio. His first study was of the sky. It was muddy yellow in shade, as though dense overhead fog was reigning. The sun’s rays straggled weakly through it. He made observations of different parts of the world. Everywhere the color was the same.
“It’s begun all right,” he muttered; then switching back to New York’s main streets he surveyed in silence the scenes of obvious disorder, the mass rioting, the altercations between police and civilians, the general first collapse of normal law and order.
“Anyway,” Rod muttered, switching off, “we’re safe enough down here. This place produces synthetic radiations to take the place of the lost ones. Machinery must be somewhere around here…” He looked round quickly. He did not stop to wonder how he knew which machine was the right one; it came to him quite naturally. Thoughtfully he switched it on, stood listening to its beating purr.
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