In Caverns Below

by Stanton A. Coblentz

Less than twenty minutes later, a second Striking Sub-committee arrived. Its members were eight in number, and their method of swaggering hostility was such that I had no difficulty in repeating my previous tactics. Before they realized what I was about, I had gotten too close for them to see me clearly and I aimed my blows so accurately that, in less than a minute, half the gang lay stretched upon the floor. The others, not quite realizing what had struck them, were not long in resorting to that discretion which most men prefer to valor. Dashing to the door, they leaped upon their "scootscoots," which awaited just without, and darted away with a lunatic recklessness, while I stood staring after them with an amused smile. As yet I did not suspect how tragic the occasion was to be.

While my felled opponents were staggering to their feet and retreating by a side-entrance, the sound of a frightful crash came to my ears; and, rushing out and around a bend in the gallery, I saw that a crowd had gathered, while in their midst was a shapeless mass that I could hardly recognize.

Horrified, I shielded my eyes from the sight; and only by degrees did the dread truth dawn upon me; the escaping members of the Sub-committee, in their haste, had collided with some other "scootscoots," and all four members had been "turned over."

But such incidents being of daily occurrence, I tried not to let my mind dwell upon it; and, returning to my seat in the Ventilation Office, I quietly awaited the next development.

Not being good at presaging the future, I could not have known how the news of my exploit was to spread; and how, fanned by rumor, it was to grow to gigantic proportions. As luck would have it, a reporter for the Wakely Blare, on the rampage for material, happened to be present at the scene of the collision; and though he had small idea what had happened, he had no hesitation about accepting the word of onlookers who knew as little about the affair as he did. Consequently he radioed his paper a story so good that the editor decided to make it headline material—in other words, he printed it in red ink all over the front page, while other news items were driven to footnotes on back pages.

This article—which is too long to repeat in its entirety—was to the effect that a regiment of strike-breakers had appeared, no one knew where from, under the leadership of a redoubtable giant capable of "turning over" any adversary at a blow. So tremendous was the power of this group that opponents were said to be under a fatal spell, so that even fugitives from their vengeance came to certain disaster. As proof of this fact, the paper cited the destruction of the four members of the Sub-committee—whose numbers, however, were given as fourteen....

Now the speed of the papers of Wu in printing the news is phenomenal. Thanks to automatic typesetters, which take down the articles from radio dictation, a matter of only minutes need elapse between the occurrence of an event and its appearance in print. In fact, on some occasions the news is reported in "extra-extra" and "super-extra-extra" editions even while the event is happening; it is recorded that once the Screamer, in a special "scoop"—or "raid," as the natives call it—announced the death of a high official seventeen minutes before he actually breathed his last.

Hence it is not surprising that, less than half an hour after I had routed the second Sub-committee, papers telling of the exploit were being flaunted in all the main galleries by the newsgirls (there were no newsboys, since all the boys had gone to war).

Now if truth be told, the Blare was extremely glad of the opportunity to print this story, since, like all the papers, it was owned by a group of First Class citizens, and therefore was profoundly "anti-strike," and eager to play up any account hostile to the strikers. This it was which, along with the desire for circulation—for which several newspaper proprietors had been known to commit murder—explained the prompt featuring of the article.

Even so, the effect of the article would not have been possible had it not been for one little weakness of the people of Wu. In most ways, they are not a credulous folk; indeed, one may show them a plain fact ninety-nine ways without convincing them; but when a statement is once in print, they consider it inviolable. Never would it occur to them to question any remark, once it has been subjected to the sacred art of typography. They imagine that there is a sort of magic connected with printer's ink, which abhors falsehood somewhat as water abhors fire, and in this superstition the educated seem to share along with their more ignorant brothers.