The Serpent River

By Don Wilcox
The Code was rigid—no fraternization with the peoples of other planets! Earth wanted no shotgun weddings of the worlds of space!
Split Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on the summit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for a closer view of the strange thing we had come to see.
It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like something that crawled slowly over the planet's surface.
There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. It might have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chain of mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that had shaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollow tube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending their skyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing along the surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness of solid substance.
We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even from this distance we could guess that it had been moving along its course for centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-worn path between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on the horizon.
What was it?
Split Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers. Our sponsor was the well known EGGWE (the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the first expedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two important pieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned) had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various parts of the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on this planet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and (2) that a vast cylindrical rope crawled the surface of this land, continuously, endlessly.
We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distance from the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferred not to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadly vibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, it proved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—or a river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon it gradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend upon Split to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy of split-hairs.