The principle was known even in my own age. This cold, white light, with its inconceivably rapid vibrations, would in a moment set up similar vibrations in anything it rested upon! Nothing of material substance could for more than a moment hold its form under the lash of such inconceivable trembling! With this beam we could rock the city—smash through its roof—bring death to every living thing upon which we could get the light!
The whole apparatus was carefully insulated. It would not operate here because of the world aerial power. The insulation was to protect it now.
It could not be operated with this insulation. If we removed it, our power would instantly destroy the filaments and coils, and in a moment or two detonate the battery. The world-power would have to be shut off during its operation.
There had been a consultation of the world governments fifteen minutes ago when in code our city government had asked that the world power be discontinued. We now had the decision. At the Trinight Hour—three hours after Midnight this night—the huge Scotland plant would go dead for sixty minutes. No more time than that could be given us. Most of the air-liners—and all the civic lighting and ventilating and traffic systems—had emergency batteries for sixty minutes. Beyond that limit the whole world would go into disaster.
Sixty minutes, beginning two hours from now! It gave plenty of time to assemble the apparatus and mount it in a swift ship. Lea was to be beside the man who would be chosen to control the projector.
Now Alan and I sat whispering, for upon us had come the realization that this would mean Nanette's death.
I said: "But Nanette—this is death for Nanette!"
"Edward!"
An audible answer! A microscopic aerial voice here in the workshop room-corner! Alan heard it also. And it came again: