Through the Phonoscope
I can scarcely recall where I wandered in my haste; I only know that I followed long twining aisles in a half-darkness, beset by the vision of a man with slit eyes and twisted nose. I must have traveled half a mile before at length I turned to glance behind me, confident of having thrown off my pursuer. But how cruelly I was surprised! About a hundred yards down the gallery, advancing toward me at no uncertain pace, strode a chalk-face whom I thought I recognized by his slit eyes. Owing to the distance, I may have been mistaken; but, in any case, I thought it wiser to flee than to investigate, and put on my best sprinting gait as I slipped around a bend in the corridor and off along a narrow, down-curving passageway.
Less than a minute later, I passed another turn in the gallery, and came out, to my surprise, among a crowd of natives in a wide grotto dominated by a sign in glowing crystalline letters: "Phonoscope Theatre: Admission, One Silver Finger."
Now I had no notion what a "phonoscope theatre" might be, but I knew that a "silver finger" was a fair-sized sum of money—equivalent to the returns from an average day's labor. Needless to say, I had never yet had such a sum; hence it might have seemed sheer madness to follow the idea that leaped into my mind—to seek refuge in the theatre. Yet I had not a moment's hesitation. Mingling with the crowd, I pressed forward in a long line filing past a ticket-taker; and since, of course, I was without the requisite slip of paper, I determined upon strategy to admit me. Taking advantage of the chalk-faces' inability to see things near at hand, I seized a little strip of cardboard which chanced to be in my pocket (it had been used for jotting down some notes during my lessons from Loa) confidently thrust this into the ticket-taker's hand, and cried, "Free pass!" knowing that he would have to hold it off at a distance and examine it with binoculars before discovering the fraud. Then, while the puzzled official was inspecting the ticket, I allowed the impatient mob behind to press me forward and lost no time about passing the theatre door.
It seemed to me that, as I entered, I heard a confused shouting outside, and some imprecations calling down the Seven Furies on someone's head. However, I paid little attention, but remained nicely hidden in the midst of the crowd as I shuffled down a long aisle in the most peculiar amusement place I had ever seen.
It had, indeed, some resemblance to theatres as I had known them, but was nearer in appearance to the amphitheatres of the Greeks. Beneath a ceiling that arched to a hundred feet or more, long rows of benches sloped down toward an open central space or stage, on which a tall chalk-face with a long three-pointed beard was holding forth sonorously; while all the spectators, curiously enough, were looking and listening through queer instruments projecting from the benches, and rarely seemed to heed the speaker.
As quickly and inconspicuously as possible, I slipped into one of the seats, feeling that I had at last eluded my pursuer, and began to examine the instruments in front of me, of whose purpose I remained in doubt. There were tubes like earphones, attached by wires to a little electric socket; and there were other tubes resembling small telescopes, also attached by wires to a socket. What use could there be for telescopes in this auditorium?
So I asked myself, as, following my neighbors' example, I tried to adjust the instruments. But so cumbrous were they that it was minutes before I had discovered their purpose.
While I was struggling with the tubes, I heard the voice of the speaker.
"Fellow citizens of the Second and Third Classes, you are about to witness an extraordinary exhibition. Until three years ago, when that marvelous invention, the Phonoscope, was perfected, it would not have been possible safely to witness what you are now about to see. For the benefit of those still unacquainted with this masterly machine, I would say that if you will arrange the eye- and ear-pieces, and step on the little lever to your left, you will be just in time for the beginning of the performance."
In a few seconds more, I had managed to adjust the earphones and the telescope-like tubes; and, following the speaker's advice, I stepped on a little steel rod reminding me of the brake of an automobile. And instantly there occurred the most remarkable transformation I have ever witnessed.
So sudden was the change that I would have rubbed my eyes like one in a daze, had they not been pressed close to the lenses. At first I imagined I was dreaming; the theatre, the long rows of benches, the tall form of the speaker, had vanished from view; the shuffling, grating noises of people passing down the aisles, the sonorous voice of the long-bearded one in front, had all been obliterated. But new sounds, new sights crowded upon my bewildered senses.
Looking out upon an enormous cavern like the one where Clay and I had witnessed the battle, I saw swarms of warriors, tens of thousands strong, moving in serried ranks across a smooth stone floor, while a crashing as of many spears was in my ears and a booming like distant thunder.
"You now behold a battlefield a hundred miles away," I heard the speaker proclaim, when, in order to relieve my aching ears, I had removed the earphones. "The Phonoscope, you see, is connected by wires with scores of points on the battlefield. Motion picture cameras, at the other end of the line, are constantly photographing the sights, which are conveyed to you by an apparatus like television, except that you may see directly instead of gazing at a screen. At the same time, radio transmitters catch the sounds and bring them to your ears, so that you may see and hear the battle from a safe distance. It is hardly necessary to remind you that before the invention of the Phonoscope, no one except generals and field-marshals could enjoy such a privilege."
I was still observing how the army, with yellow-and-purple banners afloat, was advancing across the field; but I was so interested in the speaker's words that I was reluctant to clap on the earphones again.
"Thanks to the Phonoscope," he went on, "war has become much more interesting than ever before. Previously we had to observe it through the newspapers, which was altogether too tame. Or else we had to go to war ourselves—in which case we were all too likely to be—er—turned over. But now, for the payment of a fee, we can enjoy the spectacle without enduring any of its hardships. You do not know how much more popular this has made the fighting. Besides—" here the speaker paused, and a smile of glowing pleasure overspread his countenance—"Besides, it has at last put war on a business basis. The fees from the Phonoscope Theatre have been most satisfactory—most satisfactory. Last year alone the Government reaped dividends of eleven per cent!"
It was at this point that my attention was distracted from the speaker to the battlefield. Out of little round orifices on the cavern walls, showers of pale phosphorescent silvery orbs suddenly flashed, falling like shooting stars upon the floor where the purple-and-yellow army was maneuvering. And all at once those regular, serried ranks became like a column of ants on whom one has poured hot water. The wildest disorder prevailed; squadrons of men seemed literally to wither away; I saw a myriad forms convulsed on the ground, writhing and gesticulating in mortal anguish, while other myriads fled pell-mell in all directions.
At the same time, slipping on the earphones, I heard a confused wailing and groaning, like the agonized cries of a multitude; and so desolate, so heart-rending was this sound that I had to snatch the earphones off instantly.
"You have just beheld the attack of the radium bombs," the speaker was stating, in matter-of-fact tones. "Radium bombs, as you are aware, represent the most advanced method of scientific slaughter. They are more effective than dynamite or even than Mulflar, for they not only kill all who happen to be near when they fall, but, after falling, they continue indefinitely to be radioactive, so that all who approach are afflicted with terrible and incurable sores. That is why you see the surviving soldiers fleeing so madly. For the same reason, whole vast regions, far beyond the present battle lines, have been transformed into a permanent public menace."
I wondered how the chalk-faces obtained radium enough to use so widely; but the speaker was not long in informing me.
"At one time, you know, we could secure the element only in insignificant quantities. But science is great, and surmounts many obstacles. About twenty years ago, the renowned chemist Blo Bla discovered that, by means of a new solution composed of a chromium-phosphorus compound (the exact formula of which is strictly guarded) we might extract it efficiently from the pitchblend that abounds throughout our caverns.
"It was then that we first conceived the idea of using it for military purposes. Our main difficulty was not so much in securing the radium as in manufacturing it into bombs; and this problem we solved by devising a missile with a body of some less deadly metal, such as iron or lead, and with a radioactive surface. Unfortunately, there is one minor disadvantage; the bombs can be made only at a considerable cost to the workers, who—well, whose turnover, I am sorry to say, is one hundred per cent every ninety wakes. But such, my friends, is war! Is it not all for the honor of the country? To end one's days in a radium factory is considered a glorious turnover!"
For several minutes the speaker rambled on in this vein, telling how the enemy, Zu, had been so dastardly as to duplicate the radium bombs, at a great cost to the army of Wu.... Then, suddenly stopping in midsentence, he broke into an exclamation I could hardly catch: "Look carefully, my friends! Look carefully! The Subterrain is coming! The Subterrain! The Subterrain!"
Anxious not to miss anything of interest, I clapped the earphones on again and glanced once more at the battlefield. And, as I did so, a scene of shattering fury burst upon my view.
For one instant, I was aware of the wide cavern floor, with the stricken multitudes still writhing piteously, while other multitudes still fled toward the safety of the walls. But, the next instant, all this had vanished. There was a terrific upheaval of earth and rock, which for a fraction of a second covered all things in a great blur; the walls of the cavern sagged, and in places collapsed in avalanches; the floor became jagged as a lunar landscape, with sharp craters and deep ravines, and hillocks, bluffs, and gulches where all had been flat and smooth a moment before. And in my ears was such a thundering that I reeled and was all but knocked over.
Hastily snatching off the earphones, I remained gazing with absorbed interest upon that hideous scene. To my horror, I could no longer see any trace of the purple-and-yellow army. The fugitives, no less than the victims of the radium bombs, had all disappeared! And, as the visible sign of their destruction, a long, thin, dark metallic tube was projecting from the broken center of the floor, like the neck of some great carnivorous dinosaur.
"Ah, that is fine, isn't it, my friends? A very satisfactory enemy turnover! Very satisfactory, indeed!" the voice of the speaker rang out, with gloating pleasure. "You see that long tube jutting above the floor. That is the tip of the Subterrain! You all know, of course, about this marvelous engine. It is generally conceded to be the greatest invention of modern times. No other contrivance has ever produced half so great a turnover. It was the creation of the renowned engineer Hizz Crazz, who, about fifty years ago, decided that war was getting too tame, since it was fought all on the surface of the galleries. Why not make a machine, he asked, which would travel underground as our submersible vessels travel beneath rivers and lakes?
"The result was the Subterrain. The principles behind it are admirably simple; the weapon, which is a relatively slender steel cylinder accommodating five or six men, gradually works its way through a narrow excavation already prepared for it by a machine like a powerful well-borer—the 'cave-blaster,' which operates by the power of Mulflar, and has made it possible to dig our gigantic war-galleries.
"But let me go on to tell about the Subterrain itself. Affixed to its prow is an electric dredge which tears up the earth before it and deposits it behind; by this means, the Subterrain digs its way forward at the rate of a quarter of a mile an hour. Meanwhile, its crew, confined in their narrow compartment, are kept alive by air supplied through long connecting tubes, in the manner of divers. A delicate instrument, with a radio attachment, informs the men when they are in the neighborhood of an enemy cavern—for, of course, the machine is never used except in wartime. Being within a few feet of a hostile gallery, the Subterrain halts, retreats a short distance into the tunnel it has bored, and launches a Mulflar torpedo—whose effects, as you have observed, are terrible beyond description."
It seemed to me that I had now seen enough of the Phonoscope exhibition for one day, and I began to glance about me for the most inconspicuous way of retreating. But since a crowd of new arrivals were coming toward me down the aisle, the moment did not seem opportune.
"Great as are the merits of the Subterrain," the speaker continued, "it cannot be denied that it has some minor drawbacks. One of these is that there is no longer any security for the civilian population during wartime. One never knows when a Subterrain, boring unnoticed beneath one's feet, may launch a Mulflar bomb directly at one. It is impossible to say how many thousands of noncombatants have been turned over in this manner since the war began. Even First Class Citizens have not been spared—an intolerable form of barbarity, which will now—thank the Lord!—be ended by a humanitarian treaty which has just been negotiated, confining attacks of the Subterrains to regions occupied by Second and Third Class Citizens."
It was at this point that I lost interest in the speech. The newcomers having by this time reached their seats, I had risen to leave ... when my eyes were riveted on a chalk-face just appearing at the door. Whether he had come by accident or by design I was never to learn; but there at the entrance, staring at me with a fascinated gaze, was my friend of the slit eyes and twisted nose!
Not waiting to make his closer acquaintance, I darted toward a dark passageway marked "Exit." And instantly he set up such a howl that the whole theatre was aroused, and the speaker, startled, halted midway in his address. "Thief! Robber! Bandit!" was dinned from behind me. "Catch him! Catch him! Catch him! He's a deserter from the war! Catch him! Catch him!"
As I darted into the passageway at a speed that did justice to my college track training, it was only too evident that the slit-eyed one, who was apparently a detective, had mistaken me for someone else. But I did not wait to inform him of his error. Well knowing that the penalty for a war deserter was death by the violet-ray, well knowing that the chalk-faces would execute me first and exonerate me afterwards, I did not check my pace for so much as a fraction of a second as I dashed away with half the theatre audience at my heels.
The violet-ray would not have been needed after all, had that bloodthirsty mob laid hands upon me. "Lynch him! Lynch him! Lynch him!" screeched the leaders of the multitude, as they raced after me along the curving galleries. "Lynch him! Burn him! Tear him to bits! The rat! Cur! Viper!"
There were also other epithets, some of them quite untranslatable; while, as I rushed around the bends of those branching corridors, I could feel the blood-lust of the rabble behind me, could hear their cries growing more excited, could hear the rattling of pebbles and great rocks flung after me by the ardent onsweeping patriots.
Then, suddenly, above the din and screaming of the throng, my ears caught the screech of a whistle, and I knew that the police were being summoned, and that, in another minute, I would be trapped beyond possibility of escape.
In that critical moment, while my breath came hard and fast and my heart hammered like a great weight, I slipped around a turn that hid me temporarily from my pursuers. And, at the same instant, the saving suggestion came to me. There, on the pavement in front of me, was an iron lid as large as the manhole of a sewer; its top bore the prominent letters, "Property of the Ventilation Company! Keep off!"
Clearly, this was no time for hesitation. With a swift downward lunge, I thrust the iron lid out of place; with a leap and a plunge, I dropped into the gaping black hole; and with a desperate wrench of my arms, as I came to a halt on a slippery steel surface, I pulled the lid into place above me.
The next instant, secure in that cranny amid the darkness, I could hear the mob surging and stamping above my head.