He Who Shrank: A Collection of Short Fiction

by Henry Hasse

  Rac, the birdlike little Martian, was indeed excited as he stood at the prow of the Terra and gaped at the spinning blue globe ahead that was Earth. On his head and breast the soft down fairly glowed with its lichen-green luster. His flat, stubby bill was pressed against the glass, and his peculiarly apelike face was almost radiant. The cowl-like frill arching over wide, staring eyes gave him a perpetual quizzical expression. It was the rapid ruffling of that frill, denoting excitement, that attracted Vee at this moment.

  Rac simply could not stand still. He balanced himself on one spindly leg and then the other. He turned to Vee, but she pretended she was busy. He toyed a minute with the flashlight, his proudest possession. Finally he extended his stubby wings and half ran, half soared along the forty feet of space in the Terra. He went back to his comer and pored over the simple English sentences Bob Stevens had outlined for him. But the transparent prow drew him irresistibly and he was soon back again, staring fascinatedly at the blue globe of Earth.

  Rac caught Vee’s eyes at last, and his own beady black eyes glittered. “Rac—” he began in his excited staccato manner, “Rac arrive soon now?”

  Vee sighed. “Not soon, Rac. Earth is still far away. One sleep period yet. One more sleep.”

  Bob Stevens, his lean face dark from four years of Martian wind and sand, looked up from the transmitter over which he’d been working incessantly for the past few hours.

  Grim lines still showed around his mouth, but he managed a wry smile as he said, “Vee, that must be the hundredth time you’ve explained space distance to that brat.”

  “And how many times,” Vee stormed, “must I tell you to stop calling him ‘that brat’ ? I simply adore him—and so do you! Besides,” she continued, “why shouldn’t Rac be impatient? We’ve told him so much about Earth, and he wants so much to learn more. His inquisitiveness is fairly oozing out of him!”

  Bob winced. “It always will!” He was remembering the almost incessant line of eager questions Rac had peppered him with in his limited English. And Rac was learning English fast.

  They had found Rac and a few hundred others, the last handful of a dying race, burrowed beneath ruins of an ancient city near the Martian polar cap, almost in semibarbarism, but with queer memory remnants of a long lost science.

  “Yes,” Bob said reflectively, “I thought man was an inquisitive cuss—until I met Rac and his friends! Man is merely inquisitive, but the amazing thing about Rac is his remarkable retentive memory. He does not understand—he inquires—and he remembers! In a few years we’ll be sending colonies to Mars, and meanwhile Rac is the ideal emissary. He’s learning fast and he’s insatiable. When he returns he can teach his people. I’ll venture to say that some day he’ll be king, or whatever they choose to call it, of a new race.”

  “What! Not Rac, that brat!” Vee rocked with glee. “Do you hear, Rac? Some day you are to be king!”

  But Rac, if he heard, did not care. He remained poring over the hand-printed sheets Bob had given him. He read a few of the sentences in his queer staccato voice. But he made occasional trips back to the prow to stare at the blue globe growing ever nearer.

  For hours more Bob worked over the transmitter, but it remained dead. His brow was knit into a puzzled frown.

  “Vee, I simply can’t make it out! I should be able to contact Earth. We’re surely within the zone by now!”

  “Maybe. But remember, we’ve been gone four years! Our return could hardly be suspected. We’ve probably been given up for dead long ago, just another futile space attempt added to the long list.”

  A small transparent square on the instrument panel lighted up with a green glow, flickered uncertainly. Bob turned to it feverishly, manipulating the dials.

  “This may be it! I think I’ve gotten through!” The light dimmed; they heard a few ominous clicks—and then a thin voice came through:

  “—York! W24X trying to contact the Terra! Answer, Terra, if you’re on our beam. W24X New York! W24X trying to contact—”

  In a fever of excitement Bob switched over.

  “Hello, New York! This is the Terra. We’ve picked up your beam! We’re now about ten hours out, and—”

  “Rac-c-c? Rac-c—” Upon hearing the strange voice come through, the insatiably curious little Martian was instantly at Bob’s elbow, quizzical, aware of something unusual.

  “Rac, go away! Can’t you see I’m busy?” Bob exclaimed roughly.

  But Rac was not to be denied so easily. He wanted to know.

  “Vee, try to explain to him!” Bob cried in desperation. “I’ve got to keep on the beam!”

  It was difficult, but Vee courageously tried to explain how the voice they heard was transmitted to them from the blue globe ahead. Rac never more than half understood, but he listened and bobbed his head and was satisfied for the moment.

  Bob looked up triumphantly. “So, Vee, our return hasn’t been expected? Well, I’ve just learned that we were first sighted by an amateur astronomer in Australia fourteen hours ago; since then scores of telescopes have been trained on us!”

  “Oh, dear,” Vee couldn’t resist saying, “and I forgot to pull down the shades last night!”

  “Sh!” Bob said as the voice of the Earth announcer came through again.

  “—and although every effort has been made to keep your coming a secret until you had effected a landing, the news has leaked out that the returning Terra has been sighted. It’s nearly midnight now, but crowds are still converging on the spaceport by road, by plane, and afoot. You are not to be alarmed. All is under control here and your landing shall not be hampered. Remain on the present beam. Field lights shall remain on, all is in readiness. . . ."

  Bob, with sudden inspiration, said to Vee, “I think I’ll let Rac say a few words when W24X switches over. That should be a surprise to them!”

  The over-zealous voice from Earth was still coming. “Speculation here is rife, for yours is the first successful space flight! There have been several other disastrous attempts since you left four years ago. The Haley rocket, two years ago, is thought to have reached the moon and crashed—”

  “Still trying for the moon,” Bob breathed. “I warned them it was folly to try for the moon, but they wouldn’t believe me!”

  “—other attempt, the Spurlin expedition, is believed to have made an erratic—”

  Bob tired of the voice. He clicked it off abruptly and sent his own through. “What about Dr. Broxted? Does he know we’re returning? He’ll be glad to know the fuel he prepared for us is highly successful!"

  The answer came: “Oh, yes; but I’m not sure whether he’s received the news yet. However, Broxted isn’t experimenting with rocket fuels any longer. Instead, it’s rumored that he’s—”

  It was then that the Earth voice abruptly ceased, without the slightest warning. With a muttered “Damn!” Bob tried to pick it up again. It was to no avail. He glanced quickly at the panel. It still glowed green, unwavering, and that meant he was still on the beam. But—

  Suddenly Rac set up a clatter such as they had never heard before. He rushed to Vee and pulled her, crying, “Come! Come quick, see!” The cowl over his eyes was in rapid ruffling movement. Bob, certain that something was wrong, rushed over to see.

  Rac was pointing excitedly at the spinning globe of Earth ahead. Even as Bob looked he knew, and yet did not know, why the announcer’s voice had been suddenly cut off.

  Over the surface of the globe a strange and swift transformation was taking place. Before their very eyes they saw the bright blue color of Earth change to a pale yellow. They judged it must have started at a point not far from New York City, and it spread out in a perfect, unbroken, rapidly growing circle. They saw it expand over the Atlantic, over Canada, over the Great Lakes and Florida and beyond. It was only a matter of seconds, not minutes, until the usurping color had covered all the hemisphere visible to them; and it was not difficult to suppose that it continued, embracing the entire globe.r />
  Bob and Vee stood there a full minute, watching, dazed and awe-struck. But that was all; nothing else happened. It was now a yellow-tinged Earth that spun out there before them. They looked at each other, not daring to voice the foreboding in both their minds.

  Rac was asking questions, but for once his curiosity had to remain unsatisfied.

  CHAPTER II

  City of Silence

  A mile above New York City the Terra streaked on stubby wings. Even at that height the magnificent panorama brought a nostalgic longing. There were no aircraft at their level, but far below numerous planes hovered. In spite of the brief glimpse, however, something seemed wrong. Those planes weren’t moving. Everything was strangely quiet.

  It seemed that their tiny shell was the only moving and only sounding thing in all the world.

  They braked gradually, and inside of thirty miles set the Terra down in a lonely rural spot. Rac was fairly dancing with glee, but Bob and Vee didn’t notice his antics now. They peered curiously out into the yellowness.

  “We’d better decide what to do,” Bob said practically. “First we’ll test that atmosphere. Frankly, I don’t trust it any more.”

  The test proved the air fresh and pure, and Bob was surprised, almost disappointed.

  “Had you expected some kind of—gas?” Vee asked.

  “Yes, something like that.”

  “Me, too. But now what?”

  “Now we get out. This is the end of the line.”

  It was good to feel the earth under them once more. But they were even further mystified, for there was an uncomfortable chill to the air despite a morning sun that shone wanly now through the yellowness. And this was July!

  Grimly silent, they made for one of the arterial highways they could see in the distance. Rac, with his funny skipping pace, stayed very close to them; he wasn’t gleeful now; he was over-awed at this strange new world that for the moment he could not evince his usual curiosity at anything. Even to Bob and Vee it almost seemed that they had somehow missed Earth and landed on some alien world.

  Vee stopped suddenly, holding up a finger.

  “What’s the matter?” Bob asked.

  “Listen!”

  Bob listened. “I don’t hear a thing.”

  “That’s just the point!” Vee exclaimed. “It just now struck me why everything’s so eerie. It’s the silence! No sound of a plane overhead, or a motor car, or a bird singing out here as there should be. Not even any of the tiny little sounds we’re so accustomed to hearing almost subconsciously. And look at those trees over there, how still! There’s not even the slightest breeze. It makes you almost want to whisper! Bob, it’s frightening!”

  Bob had been pondering, looking about him. Now he repeated her words almost to himself. “Yes, it is frightening. And I’m afraid that—” He did not finish.

  “Bob, what is it? If you have any idea what this is all about—”

  “No, no, of course I haven’t,” he answered too hurriedly. “I’m just beginning to form a theory. It may not be right. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  They walked half a mile before they came upon the sedan, standing curiously in the exact middle of the highway, headed toward the city. The driver was the only occupant. He sat stiffly erect, staring straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. The motor wasn’t running.

  “Hey,” Bob called as they walked around the side of the car. There was no answer. Bob reached in and shook the fellow, who immediately toppled over sideways on the seat. But his arms remained stiffly erect, parallel, in the position of driving.

  Vee gasped and whispered, “Is—is he dead?”

  Rac only stared in wide-eyed wonder.

  “No, not dead. It seems some sort of cataleptic state—but not exactly that either. It’s peculiar! Well, I’ll move this fellow to the back seat and we’ll ride to town—if this car will still operate.”

  Bob soon had the motor purring, and they proceeded toward the metropolis. Rac’s awe was, beginning to fade a little. He was so delighted at this new mode of locomotion that he could not remain still. Soon they came upon another motionless car in the middle of the highway. They stopped to investigate. It had four occupants and all were in the same curious, wide-eyed, immobile state.

  As they came closer to the outskirts of the city this motionless “traffic” became so frequent that Bob had to drive slowly and with considerable caution, threading his way through it. Once he gave an experimental blast of the horn. The sound went shivering away into the vast silence, to die away finally, fainter and fainter. The effect was so mournful he did not try that again! Off to the right they could see a sport-model plane hovering on its gravity control at about a thousand foot level. Soon they began seeing more and more planes, strangely motionless. At one place close to the highway they saw the tangled remains of one.

  For some time Vee had been wanting to say something, but hardly daring to speak. “Bob,” she said at last, “I’m scared, and I don’t care who knows it! I’d rather face those dust plains of Mars again than this. There’s just something so—”

  “I know exactly how you feel,” he replied grimly, “and I’m afraid I’m thinking the same thing you are. Are we the only ones to have escaped this?” He shrugged, hoping Vee wouldn’t see the hopeless look in his eyes. “But we’ve got to face the facts, Vee—and prepare for the worst.”

  Despite all morbid speculation it was not until they entered the city that the full significance of an appalling situation burst upon them. As they drove through the streets they became ever more cognizant of the abysmal stillness. Their ears hearked for the accustomed noise, but all seemed one vast void of soundlessness that overwhelmed them in new awe.

  Where was the thunder of the city? Where was the sound of traffic, of planes overhead, the cries of the inevitable newsboys, all the usual noon-day noise and bustle of a busy metropolis? At first the streets were almost deserted; but soon they began to see, here and there, the grotesquely poised figures of belated pedestrians of the night before.

  Once Bob stopped the car at a red traffic light that shone like a baleful eye through the ghastly yellow. But after a minute the light did not change, and Bob grinned foolishly as he drove through.

  “There, I’ve just realized a life-long ambition,” he said with an attempt at jocularity he did not feel. “I always wanted to drive through one of those red lights without worrying about a cop lurking around.”

  Ever more frequently now did they find the stark, motionless figures, revealing so graphically the frozen fate of this world. There a man was bowed low, just entering a taxi. There in a doorway a young man was just kissing his girl friend good night; there had never been a longer kiss! The fact that everyone seemed in the very act of making some movement or gesture, but did not, was most unnerving.

  There a man was just stepping off the curb directly into the path of a car that was very close to him; the driver was tense, as though he were applying the brakes, and on his face was frozen a look of horror at the impending accident.

  This tableau interested Bob exceedingly. “Wait a minute,” he said, as he stopped the car. He walked over to the pedestrian and hesitated. Then, as Vee watched in amazement, he carried the man to the middle of the street and left him standing poised in mid-step, but beyond the danger of the approaching car.

  “What was that for?” Vee asked

  “Just a hunch,” Bob explained a bit foolishly. “But I may have saved that fellow’s life.”

  Nearing Times Square the motionless traffic was so heavy they had difficulty driving through it. “We may as well get out here,” Bob said at last. “We don’t know where we’re going anyway. Still scared?”

  “N-no,” said Vee, “I think I’m beyond that. I’m just a little awe-struck still. Rac, too, judging by his silence. I just know what he’s thinking: that this is nothing like the world we described to him!”

  In grim retrospection Bob and Vee stared around. How many t
imes had they traversed these streets rife with turmoil! What a contrast now! They walked along slowly, instinctively avoiding contact with the people, trying not to let the gruesomeness of it get on their nerves.

  A beggar stood furtively in a doorway, and a lady was in the act of dropping a coin in his outstretched hand. A taxi driver had his head out of his cab window, bawling out a motorist. At the next comer a policeman seemed to be reprimanding a troublesome drunk, who stood there motionless now, leering at him.

  “What a paradise for a pick-pocket!” Vee said, staring around.

  Rac suddenly broke his long silence to say, “Terra returning earthward.”

  They stopped. “What did you say, Rac?”

  “Terra returning earthward,” Rac repeated.

  “What the devil can he mean?” Bob asked, puzzled. “Oh, now I see!”

  They were near a newsstand where a boy stood with an open paper thrust out toward the pedestrians. His expression was ludicrous, his mouth open wide in the act of bawling his wares. At any moment they expected the stentorian sound to emerge, but it didn’t.

  The paper was a “Special Midnight Extra” and the headline read: Terra Returning Earthward! Another paper proclaimed: Terra, Missing Four Years, Sighted! Rac read all the headlines aloud, laboriously but correctly, very proud of his ability.

  Streets around the Times Building seemed especially crowded, everyone looking up to where the news sign eternally moved. But it was no longer moving nor discernible in the yellowish atmosphere.

  “I guess our return was being proclaimed up there,” Bob said, “at the very instant this thing—happened.”

  “Bob,” Vee said, suddenly deadly serious, “we’ve simply got to face this business squarely and—”

  “How do you face a nightmare like this at all, much less squarely? Anything in mind?”

  “Well, we’ve got to grasp at straws. I was thinking—maybe there are people somewhere who escaped this—people who were indoors?”