Colossus of Chaos
By NELSON S. BOND
IT was the evil spawn of lifeless space,
drifting aimlessly until ITs sinister
birthing place should come. And finding
that abode for life, IT grew, sucking
energy from Terra itself—gathering
strength for that time when all should
flee before ITs malign wrath.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Out of the darkness It came. Out of the grim, bleak, frore, incalculable depths of outer space, into the empire of light and warmth ... and life.
It was like nothing known to Man. It was round, but not quite round; It was hard, but not altogether hard; It was cold, but not cold with the terrible, utter iciness of things which come from Beyond. It was in motion but It did not move of Its own volition, for It was quiescent, insensate. It let Itself be carried by the vagrant and unpredictable whims of a kinetic universe, confident that in a day ... or a century ... or a thousand, thousand centuries ... the fitful fingers of chance would find for It a bourne, a resting-place.
Out of the night It came ... the endless, inpenetrable night which spans the void between star and star. Out of one cosmos into another; out of oblivion into waking horror.
No eye beheld Its coming. None saw Its faint, thin, cool iridescence; no voice lifted to challenge Its arrival on the sixth satellite of the sixth solar planet. It dropped to earth unwatched, rolled a brief, sluggish way, then rested in a deep, soft, sandy pit.