object:1f.lovecraft - In the Walls of Eryx
author class:H P Lovecraft
subject class:Fiction
genre class:Horror
class:chapter
with Kenneth Sterling
Before I try to rest I will set down these notes in preparation for the
report I must make. What I have found is so singular, and so contrary
to all past experience and expectations, that it deserves a very
careful description.
I reached the main landing on Venus March 18, terrestrial time; VI, 9
of the planet’s calendar. Being put in the main group under Miller, I
received my equipment—watch tuned to Venus’s slightly quicker
rotation—and went through the usual mask drill. After two days I was
pronounced fit for duty.
Leaving the Crystal Company’s post at Terra Nova around dawn, VI, 12, I
followed the southerly route which Anderson had mapped out from the
air. The going was bad, for these jungles are always half impassable
after a rain. It must be the moisture that gives the tangled vines and
creepers that leathery toughness; a toughness so great that a knife has
to work ten minutes on some of them. By noon it was dryer—the
vegetation getting soft and rubbery so that the knife went through it
easily—but even then I could not make much speed. These Carter oxygen
masks are too heavy—just carrying one half wears an ordinary man out. A
Dubois mask with sponge-reservoir instead of tubes would give just as
good air at half the weight.
The crystal-detector seemed to function well, pointing steadily in a
direction verifying Anderson’s report. It is curious how that principle
of affinity works—without any of the fakery of the old ‘divining rods’
back home. There must be a great deposit of crystals within a thousand
miles, though I suppose those damnable man-lizards always watch and
guard it. Possibly they think we are just as foolish for coming to
Venus to hunt the stuff as we think they are for grovelling in the mud
whenever they see a piece of it, or for keeping that great mass on a
pedestal in their temple. I wish they’d get a new religion, for they
have no use for the crystals except to pray to. Barring theology, they
would let us take all we want—and even if they learned to tap them for
power there’d be more than enough for their planet and the earth
besides. I for one am tired of passing up the main deposits and merely
seeking separate crystals out of jungle river-beds. Sometime I’ll urge
the wiping out of these scaly beggars by a good stiff army from home.
About twenty ships could bring enough troops across to turn the trick.
One can’t call the damned things men for all their “cities” and towers.
They haven’t any skill except building—and using swords and poison
darts—and I don’t believe their so-called “cities” mean much more than
ant-hills or beaver-dams. I doubt if they even have a real language—all
the talk about psychological communication through those tentacles down
their chests strikes me as bunk. What misleads people is their upright
posture; just an accidental physical resemblance to terrestrial man.
I’d like to go through a Venus jungle for once without having to watch
out for skulking groups of them or dodge their cursed darts. They may
have been all right before we began to take the crystals, but they’re
certainly a bad enough nuisance now—with their dart-shooting and their
cutting of our water pipes. More and more I come to believe that they
have a special sense like our crystal-detectors. No one ever knew them
to bother a man—apart from long-distance sniping—who didn’t have
crystals on him.
Around 1 p.m. a dart nearly took my helmet off, and I thought for a
second one of my oxygen tubes was punctured. The sly devils hadn’t made
a sound, but three of them were closing in on me. I got them all by
sweeping in a circle with my flame pistol, for even though their colour
blended with the jungle, I could spot the moving creepers. One of them
was fully eight feet tall, with a snout like a tapir’s. The other two
were average seven-footers. All that makes them hold their own is sheer
numbers—even a single regiment of flame throwers could raise hell with
them. It is curious, though, how they’ve come to be dominant on the
planet. Not another living thing higher than the wriggling akmans and
skorahs, or the flying tukahs of the other continent—unless of course
those holes in the Dionaean Plateau hide something.
About two o’clock my detector veered westward, indicating isolated
crystals ahead on the right. This checked up with Anderson, and I
turned my course accordingly. It was harder going—not only because the
ground was rising, but because the animal life and carnivorous plants
were thicker. I was always slashing ugrats and stepping on skorahs, and
my leather suit was all speckled from the bursting darohs which struck
it from all sides. The sunlight was all the worse because of the mist,
and did not seem to dry up the mud in the least. Every time I stepped
my feet sank down five or six inches, and there was a sucking sort of
blup every time I pulled them out. I wish somebody would invent a safe
kind of suiting other than leather for this climate. Cloth of course
would rot; but some thin metallic tissue that couldn’t tear—like the
surface of this revolving decay-proof record scroll—ought to be
feasible some time.
I ate about 3:30—if slipping these wretched food tablets through my
mask can be called eating. Soon after that I noticed a decided change
in the landscape—the bright, poisonous-looking flowers shifting in
colour and getting wraith-like. The outlines of everything shimmered
rhythmically, and bright points of light appeared and danced in the
same slow, steady tempo. After that the temperature seemed to fluctuate
in unison with a peculiar rhythmic drumming.
The whole universe seemed to be throbbing in deep, regular pulsations
that filled every corner of space and flowed through my body and mind
alike. I lost all sense of equilibrium and staggered dizzily, nor did
it change things in the least when I shut my eyes and covered my ears
with my hands. However, my mind was still clear, and in a very few
minutes I realised what had happened.
I had encountered at last one of those curious mirage-plants about
which so many of our men told stories. Anderson had warned me of them,
and described their appearance very closely—the shaggy stalk, the spiky
leaves, and the mottled blossoms whose gaseous, dream-breeding
exhalations penetrate every existing make of mask.
Recalling what happened to Bailey three years ago, I fell into a
momentary panic, and began to dash and stagger about in the crazy,
chaotic world which the plant’s exhalations had woven around me. Then
good sense came back, and I realised all I need do was retreat from the
dangerous blossoms; heading away from the source of the pulsations, and
cutting a path blindly—regardless of what might seem to swirl around
me—until safely out of the plant’s effective radius.
Although everything was spinning perilously, I tried to start in the
right direction and hack my way ahead. My route must have been far from
straight, for it seemed hours before I was free of the mirage-plant’s
pervasive influence. Gradually the dancing lights began to disappear,
and the shimmering spectral scenery began to assume the aspect of
solidity. When I did get wholly clear I looked at my watch and was
astonished to find that the time was only 4:20. Though eternities had
seemed to pass, the whole experience could have consumed little more
than a half-hour.
Every delay, however, was irksome, and I had lost ground in my retreat
from the plant. I now pushed ahead in the uphill direction indicated by
the crystal-detector, bending every energy toward making better time.
The jungle was still thick, though there was less animal life. Once a
carnivorous blossom engulfed my right foot and held it so tightly that
I had to hack it free with my knife; reducing the flower to strips
before it let go.
In less than an hour I saw that the jungle growths were thinning out,
and by five o’clock—after passing through a belt of tree-ferns with
very little underbrush—I emerged on a broad mossy plateau. My progress
now became rapid, and I saw by the wavering of my detector-needle that
I was getting relatively close to the crystal I sought. This was odd,
for most of the scattered, egg-like spheroids occurred in jungle
streams of a sort not likely to be found on this treeless upland.
The terrain sloped upward, ending in a definite crest. I reached the
top about 5:30, and saw ahead of me a very extensive plain with forests
in the distance. This, without question, was the plateau mapped by
Matsugawa from the air fifty years ago, and called on our maps “Eryx”
or the “Erycinian Highland.” But what made my heart leap was a smaller
detail, whose position could not have been far from the plain’s exact
centre. It was a single point of light, blazing through the mist and
seeming to draw a piercing, concentrated luminescence from the
yellowish, vapour-dulled sunbeams. This, without doubt, was the crystal
I sought—a thing possibly no larger than a hen’s egg, yet containing
enough power to keep a city warm for a year. I could hardly wonder, as
I glimpsed the distant glow, that those miserable man-lizards worship
such crystals. And yet they have not the least notion of the powers
they contain.
Breaking into a rapid run, I tried to reach the unexpected prize as
soon as possible; and was annoyed when the firm moss gave place to a
thin, singularly detestable mud studded with occasional patches of
weeds and creepers. But I splashed on heedlessly—scarcely thinking to
look around for any of the skulking man-lizards. In this open space I
was not very likely to be waylaid. As I advanced, the light ahead
seemed to grow in size and brilliancy, and I began to notice some
peculiarity in its situation. Clearly, this was a crystal of the very
finest quality, and my elation grew with every spattering step.
It is now that I must begin to be careful in making my report, since
what I shall henceforward have to say involves unprecedented—though
fortunately verifiable—matters. I was racing ahead with mounting
eagerness, and had come within an hundred yards or so of the
crystal—whose position on a sort of raised place in the omnipresent
slime seemed very odd—when a sudden, overpowering force struck my chest
and the knuckles of my clenched fists and knocked me over backward into
the mud. The splash of my fall was terrific, nor did the softness of
the ground and the presence of some slimy weeds and creepers save my
head from a bewildering jarring. For a moment I lay supine, too utterly
startled to think. Then I half-mechanically stumbled to my feet and
began to scrape the worst of the mud and scum from my leather suit.
Of what I had encountered I could not form the faintest idea. I had
seen nothing which could have caused the shock, and I saw nothing now.
Had I, after all, merely slipped in the mud? My sore knuckles and
aching chest forbade me to think so. Or was this whole incident an
illusion brought on by some hidden mirage-plant? It hardly seemed
probable, since I had none of the usual symptoms, and since there was
no place near by where so vivid and typical a growth could lurk unseen.
Had I been on the earth, I would have suspected a barrier of N-force
laid down by some government to mark a forbidden zone, but in this
humanless region such a notion would have been absurd.
Finally pulling myself together, I decided to investigate in a cautious
way. Holding my knife as far as possible ahead of me, so that it might
be first to feel the strange force, I started once more for the shining
crystal—preparing to advance step by step with the greatest
deliberation. At the third step I was brought up short by the impact of
the knife-point on an apparently solid surface—a solid surface where my
eyes saw nothing.
After a moment’s recoil I gained boldness. Extending my gloved left
hand, I verified the presence of invisible solid matter—or a tactile
illusion of solid matter—ahead of me. Upon moving my hand I found that
the barrier was of substantial extent, and of an almost glassy
smoothness, with no evidence of the joining of separate blocks. Nerving
myself for further experiments, I removed a glove and tested the thing
with my bare hand. It was indeed hard and glassy, and of a curious
coldness as contrasted with the air around. I strained my eyesight to
the utmost in an effort to glimpse some trace of the obstructing
substance, but could discern nothing whatsoever. There was not even any
evidence of refractive power as judged by the aspect of the landscape
ahead. Absence of reflective power was proved by the lack of a glowing
image of the sun at any point.
Burning curiosity began to displace all other feelings, and I enlarged
my investigations as best I could. Exploring with my hands, I found
that the barrier extended from the ground to some level higher than I
could reach, and that it stretched off indefinitely on both sides. It
was, then, a wall of some kind—though all guesses as to its materials
and its purpose were beyond me. Again I thought of the mirage-plant and
the dreams it induced, but a moment’s reasoning put this out of my
head.
Knocking sharply on the barrier with the hilt of my knife, and kicking
at it with my heavy boots, I tried to interpret the sounds thus made.
There was something suggestive of cement or concrete in these
reverberations, though my hands had found the surface more glassy or
metallic in feel. Certainly, I was confronting something strange beyond
all previous experience.
The next logical move was to get some idea of the wall’s dimensions.
The height problem would be hard if not insoluble, but the length and
shape problem could perhaps be sooner dealt with. Stretching out my
arms and pressing close to the barrier, I began to edge gradually to
the left—keeping very careful track of the way I faced. After several
steps I concluded that the wall was not straight, but that I was
following part of some vast circle or ellipse. And then my attention
was distracted by something wholly different—something connected with
the still-distant crystal which had formed the object of my quest.
I have said that even from a greater distance the shining object’s
position seemed indefinably queer—on a slight mound rising from the
slime. Now—at about an hundred yards—I could see plainly despite the
engulfing mist just what that mound was. It was the body of a man in
one of the Crystal Company’s leather suits, lying on his back, and with
his oxygen mask half buried in the mud a few inches away. In his right
hand, crushed convulsively against his chest, was the crystal which had
led me here—a spheroid of incredible size, so large that the dead
fingers could scarcely close over it. Even at the given distance I
could see that the body was a recent one. There was little visible
decay, and I reflected that in this climate such a thing meant death
not more than a day before. Soon the hateful farnoth-flies would begin
to cluster about the corpse. I wondered who the man was. Surely no one
I had seen on this trip. It must have been one of the old-timers absent
on a long roving commission, who had come to this especial region
independently of Anderson’s survey. There he lay, past all trouble, and
with the rays of the great crystal streaming out from between his
stiffened fingers.
For fully five minutes I stood there staring in bewilderment and
apprehension. A curious dread assailed me, and I had an unreasonable
impulse to run away. It could not have been done by those slinking
man-lizards, for he still held the crystal he had found. Was there any
connexion with the invisible wall? Where had he found the crystal?
Anderson’s instrument had indicated one in this quarter well before
this man could have perished. I now began to regard the unseen barrier
as something sinister, and recoiled from it with a shudder. Yet I knew
I must probe the mystery all the more quickly and thoroughly because of
this recent tragedy.
Suddenly—wrenching my mind back to the problem I faced—I thought of a
possible means of testing the wall’s height, or at least of finding
whether or not it extended indefinitely upward. Seizing a handful of
mud, I let it drain until it gained some coherence and then flung it
high in the air toward the utterly transparent barrier. At a height of
perhaps fourteen feet it struck the invisible surface with a resounding
splash, disintegrating at once and oozing downward in disappearing
streams with surprising rapidity. Plainly, the wall was a lofty one. A
second handful, hurled at an even sharper angle, hit the surface about
eighteen feet from the ground and disappeared as quickly as the first.
I now summoned up all my strength and prepared to throw a third handful
as high as I possibly could. Letting the mud drain, and squeezing it to
maximum dryness, I flung it up so steeply that I feared it might not
reach the obstructing surface at all. It did, however, and this time it
crossed the barrier and fell in the mud beyond with a violent
spattering. At last I had a rough idea of the height of the wall, for
the crossing had evidently occurred some twenty or 21 feet aloft.
With a nineteen- or twenty-foot vertical wall of glassy flatness,
ascent was clearly impossible. I must, then, continue to circle the
barrier in the hope of finding a gate, an ending, or some sort of
interruption. Did the obstacle form a complete round or other closed
figure, or was it merely an arc or semicircle? Acting on my decision, I
resumed my slow leftward circling, moving my hands up and down over the
unseen surface on the chance of finding some window or other small
aperture. Before starting, I tried to mark my position by kicking a
hole in the mud, but found the slime too thin to hold any impression. I
did, though, gauge the place approximately by noting a tall cycad in
the distant forest which seemed just on a line with the gleaming
crystal an hundred yards away. If no gate or break existed I could now
tell when I had completely circumnavigated the wall.
I had not progressed far before I decided that the curvature indicated
a circular enclosure of about an hundred yards’ diameter—provided the
outline was regular. This would mean that the dead man lay near the
wall at a point almost opposite the region where I had started. Was he
just inside or just outside the enclosure? This I would soon ascertain.
As I slowly rounded the barrier without finding any gate, window, or
other break, I decided that the body was lying within. On closer view,
the features of the dead man seemed vaguely disturbing. I found
something alarming in his expression, and in the way the glassy eyes
stared. By the time I was very near I believed I recognised him as
Dwight, a veteran whom I had never known, but who was pointed out to me
at the post last year. The crystal he clutched was certainly a
prize—the largest single specimen I had ever seen.
I was so near the body that I could—but for the barrier—have touched
it, when my exploring left hand encountered a corner in the unseen
surface. In a second I had learned that there was an opening about
three feet wide, extending from the ground to a height greater than I
could reach. There was no door, nor any evidence of hinge-marks
bespeaking a former door. Without a moment’s hesitation I stepped
through and advanced two paces to the prostrate body—which lay at right
angles to the hallway I had entered, in what seemed to be an
intersecting doorless corridor. It gave me a fresh curiosity to find
that the interior of this vast enclosure was divided by partitions.
Bending to examine the corpse, I discovered that it bore no wounds.
This scarcely surprised me, since the continued presence of the crystal
argued against the pseudo-reptilian natives. Looking about for some
possible cause of death, my eyes lit upon the oxygen mask lying close
to the body’s feet. Here, indeed, was something significant. Without
this device no human being could breathe the air of Venus for more than
thirty seconds, and Dwight—if it were he—had obviously lost his.
Probably it had been carelessly buckled, so that the weight of the
tubes worked the straps loose—a thing which could not happen with a
Dubois sponge-reservoir mask. The half-minute of grace had been too
short to allow the man to stoop and recover his protection—or else the
cyanogen content of the atmosphere was abnormally high at the time.
Probably he had been busy admiring the crystal—wherever he may have
found it. He had, apparently, just taken it from the pouch in his suit,
for the flap was unbuttoned.
I now proceeded to extricate the huge crystal from the dead
prospector’s fingers—a task which the body’s stiffness made very
difficult. The spheroid was larger than a man’s fist, and glowed as if
alive in the reddish rays of the westering sun. As I touched the
gleaming surface I shuddered involuntarily—as if by taking this
precious object I had transferred to myself the doom which had
overtaken its earlier bearer. However, my qualms soon passed, and I
carefully buttoned the crystal into the pouch of my leather suit.
Superstition has never been one of my failings.
Placing the man’s helmet over his dead, staring face, I straightened up
and stepped back through the unseen doorway to the entrance hall of the
great enclosure. All my curiosity about the strange edifice now
returned, and I racked my brain with speculations regarding its
material, origin, and purpose. That the hands of men had reared it I
could not for a moment believe. Our ships first reached Venus only 72
years ago, and the only human beings on the planet have been those at
Terra Nova. Nor does human knowledge include any perfectly transparent,
non-refractive solid such as the substance of this building.
Prehistoric human invasions of Venus can be pretty well ruled out, so
that one must turn to the idea of native construction. Did a forgotten
race of highly evolved beings precede the man-lizards as masters of
Venus? Despite their elaborately built cities, it seemed hard to credit
the pseudo-reptiles with anything of this kind. There must have been
another race aeons ago, of which this is perhaps the last relique. Or
will other ruins of kindred origin be found by future expeditions? The
purpose of such a structure passes all conjecture—but its strange and
seemingly non-practical material suggests a religious use.
Realising my inability to solve these problems, I decided that all I
could do was to explore the invisible structure itself. That various
rooms and corridors extended over the seemingly unbroken plain of mud I
felt convinced; and I believed that a knowledge of their plan might
lead to something significant. So, feeling my way back through the
doorway and edging past the body, I began to advance along the corridor
toward those interior regions whence the dead man had presumably come.
Later on I would investigate the hallway I had left.
Groping like a blind man despite the misty sunlight, I moved slowly
onward. Soon the corridor turned sharply and began to spiral in toward
the centre in ever-diminishing curves. Now and then my touch would
reveal a doorless intersecting passage, and I several times encountered
junctions with two, three, or four diverging avenues. In these latter
cases I always followed the inmost route, which seemed to form a
continuation of the one I had been traversing. There would be plenty of
time to examine the branches after I had reached and returned from the
main regions. I can scarcely describe the strangeness of the
experience—threading the unseen ways of an invisible structure reared
by forgotten hands on an alien planet!
At last, still stumbling and groping, I felt the corridor end in a
sizeable open space. Fumbling about, I found I was in a circular
chamber about ten feet across; and from the position of the dead man
against certain distant forest landmarks I judged that this chamber lay
at or near the centre of the edifice. Out of it opened five corridors
besides the one through which I had entered, but I kept the latter in
mind by sighting very carefully past the body to a particular tree on
the horizon as I stood just within the entrance.
There was nothing in this room to distinguish it—merely the floor of
thin mud which was everywhere present. Wondering whether this part of
the building had any roof, I repeated my experiment with an
upward-flung handful of mud, and found at once that no covering
existed. If there had ever been one, it must have fallen long ago, for
not a trace of debris or scattered blocks ever halted my feet. As I
reflected, it struck me as distinctly odd that this apparently
primordial structure should be so devoid of tumbling masonry, gaps in
the walls, and other common attributes of dilapidation.
What was it? What had it ever been? Of what was it made? Why was there
no evidence of separate blocks in the glassy, bafflingly homogeneous
walls? Why were there no traces of doors, either interior or exterior?
I knew only that I was in a round, roofless, doorless edifice of some
hard, smooth, perfectly transparent, non-refractive, and non-reflective
material, an hundred yards in diameter, with many corridors, and with a
small circular room at the centre. More than this I could never learn
from a direct investigation.
I now observed that the sun was sinking very low in the west—a
golden-ruddy disc floating in a pool of scarlet and orange above the
mist-clouded trees of the horizon. Plainly, I would have to hurry if I
expected to choose a sleeping-spot on dry ground before dark. I had
long before decided to camp for the night on the firm, mossy rim of the
plateau near the crest whence I had first spied the shining crystal,
trusting to my usual luck to save me from an attack by the man-lizards.
It has always been my contention that we ought to travel in parties of
two or more, so that someone can be on guard during sleeping hours, but
the really small number of night attacks makes the Company careless
about such things. Those scaly wretches seem to have difficulty in
seeing at night, even with curious glow-torches.
Having picked out again the hallway through which I had come, I started
to return to the structure’s entrance. Additional exploration could
wait for another day. Groping a course as best I could through the
spiral corridor—with only general sense, memory, and a vague
recognition of some of the ill-defined weed patches on the plain as
guides—I soon found myself once more in close proximity to the corpse.
There were now one or two farnoth-flies swooping over the
helmet-covered face, and I knew that decay was setting in. With a
futile instinctive loathing I raised my hand to brush away this
vanguard of the scavengers—when a strange and astonishing thing became
manifest. An invisible wall, checking the sweep of my arm, told me
that—notwithstanding my careful retracing of the way—I had not indeed
returned to the corridor in which the body lay. Instead, I was in a
parallel hallway, having no doubt taken some wrong turn or fork among
the intricate passages behind.
Hoping to find a doorway to the exit hall ahead, I continued my
advance, but presently came to a blank wall. I would, then, have to
return to the central chamber and steer my course anew. Exactly where I
had made my mistake I could not tell. I glanced at the ground to see if
by any miracle guiding footprints had remained, but at once realised
that the thin mud held impressions only for a very few moments. There
was little difficulty in finding my way to the centre again, and once
there I carefully reflected on the proper outward course. I had kept
too far to the right before. This time I must take a more leftward fork
somewhere—just where, I could decide as I went.
As I groped ahead a second time I felt quite confident of my
correctness, and diverged to the left at a junction I was sure I
remembered. The spiralling continued, and I was careful not to stray
into any intersecting passages. Soon, however, I saw to my disgust that
I was passing the body at a considerable distance; this passage
evidently reached the outer wall at a point much beyond it. In the hope
that another exit might exist in the half of the wall I had not yet
explored, I pressed forward for several paces, but eventually came once
more to a solid barrier. Clearly, the plan of the building was even
more complicated than I had thought.
I now debated whether to return to the centre again or whether to try
some of the lateral corridors extending toward the body. If I chose
this second alternative, I would run the risk of breaking my mental
pattern of where I was; hence I had better not attempt it unless I
could think of some way of leaving a visible trail behind me. Just how
to leave a trail would be quite a problem, and I ransacked my mind for
a solution. There seemed to be nothing about my person which could
leave a mark on anything, nor any material which I could scatter—or
minutely subdivide and scatter.
My pen had no effect on the invisible wall, and I could not lay a trail
of my precious food tablets. Even had I been willing to spare the
latter, there would not have been even nearly enough—besides which the
small pellets would have instantly sunk from sight in the thin mud. I
searched my pockets for an old-fashioned notebook—often used
unofficially on Venus despite the quick rotting-rate of paper in the
planet’s atmosphere—whose pages I could tear up and scatter, but could
find none. It was obviously impossible to tear the tough, thin metal of
this revolving decay-proof record scroll, nor did my clothing offer any
possibilities. In Venus’s peculiar atmosphere I could not safely spare
my stout leather suit, and underwear had been eliminated because of the
climate.
I tried to smear mud on the smooth, invisible walls after squeezing it
as dry as possible, but found that it slipped from sight as quickly as
did the height-testing handfuls I had previously thrown. Finally I drew
out my knife and attempted to scratch a line on the glassy, phantom
surface—something I could recognise with my hand, even though I would
not have the advantage of seeing it from afar. It was useless, however,
for the blade made not the slightest impression on the baffling,
unknown material.
Frustrated in all attempts to blaze a trail, I again sought the round
central chamber through memory. It seemed easier to get back to this
room than to steer a definite, predetermined course away from it, and I
had little difficulty in finding it anew. This time I listed on my
record scroll every turn I made—drawing a crude hypothetical diagram of
my route, and marking all diverging corridors. It was, of course,
maddeningly slow work when everything had to be determined by touch,
and the possibilities of error were infinite; but I believed it would
pay in the long run.
The long twilight of Venus was thick when I reached the central room,
but I still had hopes of gaining the outside before dark. Comparing my
fresh diagram with previous recollections, I believed I had located my
original mistake, so once more set out confidently along the invisible
hallways. I veered further to the left than during my previous
attempts, and tried to keep track of my turnings on the record scroll
in case I was still mistaken. In the gathering dusk I could see the dim
line of the corpse, now the centre of a loathsome cloud of
farnoth-flies. Before long, no doubt, the mud-dwelling sificlighs would
be oozing in from the plain to complete the ghastly work. Approaching
the body with some reluctance, I was preparing to step past it when a
sudden collision with a wall told me I was again astray.
I now realised plainly that I was lost. The complications of this
building were too much for offhand solution, and I would probably have
to do some careful checking before I could hope to emerge. Still, I was
eager to get to dry ground before total darkness set in; hence I
returned once more to the centre and began a rather aimless series of
trials and errors—making notes by the light of my electric lamp. When I
used this device I noticed with interest that it produced no
reflection—not even the faintest glistening—in the transparent walls
around me. I was, however, prepared for this; since the sun had at no
time formed a gleaming image in the strange material.
I was still groping about when the dusk became total. A heavy mist
obscured most of the stars and planets, but the earth was plainly
visible as a glowing, bluish-green point in the southeast. It was just
past opposition, and would have been a glorious sight in a telescope. I
could even make out the moon beside it whenever the vapours momentarily
thinned. It was now impossible to see the corpse—my only landmark—so I
blundered back to the central chamber after a few false turns. After
all, I would have to give up hope of sleeping on dry ground. Nothing
could be done till daylight, and I might as well make the best of it
here. Lying down in the mud would not be pleasant, but in my leather
suit it could be done. On former expeditions I had slept under even
worse conditions, and now sheer exhaustion would help to conquer
repugnance.
So here I am, squatting in the slime of the central room and making
these notes on my record scroll by the light of the electric lamp.
There is something almost humorous in my strange, unprecedented plight.
Lost in a building without doors—a building which I cannot see! I shall
doubtless get out early in the morning, and ought to be back at Terra
Nova with the crystal by late afternoon. It certainly is a beauty—with
surprising lustre even in the feeble light of this lamp. I have just
had it out examining it. Despite my fatigue, sleep is slow in coming,
so I find myself writing at great length. I must stop now. Not much
danger of being bothered by those cursed natives in this place. The
thing I like least is the corpse—but fortunately my oxygen mask saves
me from the worst effects. I am using the chlorate cubes very
sparingly. Will take a couple of food tablets now and turn in. More
later.
Later—Afternoon, VI, 13
There has been more trouble than I expected. I am still in the
building, and will have to work quickly and wisely if I expect to rest
on dry ground tonight. It took me a long time to get to sleep, and I
did not wake till almost noon today. As it was, I would have slept
longer but for the glare of the sun through the haze. The corpse was a
rather bad sight—wriggling with sificlighs, and with a cloud of
farnoth-flies around it. Something had pushed the helmet away from the
face, and it was better not to look at it. I was doubly glad of my
oxygen mask when I thought of the situation.
At length I shook and brushed myself dry, took a couple of food
tablets, and put a new potassium chlorate cube in the electrolyser of
the mask. I am using these cubes slowly, but wish I had a larger
supply. I felt much better after my sleep, and expected to get out of
the building very shortly.
Consulting the notes and sketches I had jotted down, I was impressed by
the complexity of the hallways, and by the possibility that I had made
a fundamental error. Of the six openings leading out of the central
space, I had chosen a certain one as that by which I had entered—using
a sighting-arrangement as a guide. When I stood just within the
opening, the corpse fifty yards away was exactly in line with a
particular lepidodendron in the far-off forest. Now it occurred to me
that this sighting might not have been of sufficient accuracy—the
distance of the corpse making its difference of direction in relation
to the horizon comparatively slight when viewed from the openings next
to that of my first ingress. Moreover, the tree did not differ as
distinctly as it might from other lepidodendra on the horizon.
Putting the matter to a test, I found to my chagrin that I could not be
sure which of three openings was the right one. Had I traversed a
different set of windings at each attempted exit? This time I would be
sure. It struck me that despite the impossibility of trailblazing there
was one marker I could leave. Though I could not spare my suit, I
could—because of my thick head of hair—spare my helmet; and this was
large and light enough to remain visible above the thin mud.
Accordingly I removed the roughly hemispherical device and laid it at
the entrance of one of the corridors—the right-hand one of the three I
must try.
I would follow this corridor on the assumption that it was correct;
repeating what I seemed to recall as the proper turns, and constantly
consulting and making notes. If I did not get out, I would
systematically exhaust all possible variations; and if these failed, I
would proceed to cover the avenues extending from the next opening in
the same way—continuing to the third opening if necessary. Sooner or
later I could not avoid hitting the right path to the exit, but I must
use patience. Even at worst, I could scarcely fail to reach the open
plain in time for a dry night’s sleep.
Immediate results were rather discouraging, though they helped me
eliminate the right-hand opening in little more than an hour. Only a
succession of blind alleys, each ending at a great distance from the
corpse, seemed to branch from this hallway; and I saw very soon that it
had not figured at all in the previous afternoon’s wanderings. As
before, however, I always found it relatively easy to grope back to the
central chamber.
About 1 p.m. I shifted my helmet marker to the next opening and began
to explore the hallways beyond it. At first I thought I recognised the
turnings, but soon found myself in a wholly unfamiliar set of
corridors. I could not get near the corpse, and this time seemed cut
off from the central chamber as well, even though I thought I had
recorded every move I made. There seemed to be tricky twists and
crossings too subtle for me to capture in my crude diagrams, and I
began to develop a kind of mixed anger and discouragement. While
patience would of course win in the end, I saw that my searching would
have to be minute, tireless, and long-continued.
Two o’clock found me still wandering vainly through strange
corridors—constantly feeling my way, looking alternately at my helmet
and at the corpse, and jotting data on my scroll with decreasing
confidence. I cursed the stupidity and idle curiosity which had drawn
me into this tangle of unseen walls—reflecting that if I had let the
thing alone and headed back as soon as I had taken the crystal from the
body, I would even now be safe at Terra Nova.
Suddenly it occurred to me that I might be able to tunnel under the
invisible walls with my knife, and thus effect a short cut to the
outside—or to some outward-leading corridor. I had no means of knowing
how deep the building’s foundations were, but the omnipresent mud
argued the absence of any floor save the earth. Facing the distant and
increasingly horrible corpse, I began a course of feverish digging with
the broad, sharp blade.
There was about six inches of semi-liquid mud, below which the density
of the soil increased sharply. This lower soil seemed to be of a
different colour—a greyish clay rather like the formations near Venus’s
north pole. As I continued downward close to the unseen barrier I saw
that the ground was getting harder and harder. Watery mud rushed into
the excavation as fast as I removed the clay, but I reached through it
and kept on working. If I could bore any kind of a passage beneath the
wall, the mud would not stop my wriggling out.
About three feet down, however, the hardness of the soil halted my
digging seriously. Its tenacity was beyond anything I had encountered
before, even on this planet, and was linked with an anomalous
heaviness. My knife had to split and chip the tightly packed clay, and
the fragments I brought up were like solid stones or bits of metal.
Finally even this splitting and chipping became impossible, and I had
to cease my work with no lower edge of wall in reach.
The hour-long attempt was a wasteful as well as futile one, for it used
up great stores of my energy and forced me both to take an extra food
tablet, and to put an additional chlorate cube in the oxygen mask. It
has also brought a pause in the day’s gropings, for I am still much too
exhausted to walk. After cleaning my hands and arms of the worst of the
mud I sat down to write these notes—leaning against an invisible wall
and facing away from the corpse.
That body is simply a writhing mass of vermin now—the odour has begun
to draw some of the slimy akmans from the far-off jungle. I notice that
many of the efjeh-weeds on the plain are reaching out necrophagous
feelers toward the thing; but I doubt if any are long enough to reach
it. I wish some really carnivorous organisms like the skorahs would
appear, for then they might scent me and wriggle a course through the
building toward me. Things like that have an odd sense of direction. I
could watch them as they came, and jot down their approximate route if
they failed to form a continuous line. Even that would be a great help.
When I met any the pistol would make short work of them.
But I can hardly hope for as much as that. Now that these notes are
made I shall rest a while longer, and later will do some more groping.
As soon as I get back to the central chamber—which ought to be fairly
easy—I shall try the extreme left-hand opening. Perhaps I can get
outside by dusk after all.
Night—VI, 13
New trouble. My escape will be tremendously difficult, for there are
elements I had not suspected. Another night here in the mud, and a
fight on my hands tomorrow. I cut my rest short and was up and groping
again by four o’clock. After about fifteen minutes I reached the
central chamber and moved my helmet to mark the last of the three
possible doorways. Starting through this opening, I seemed to find the
going more familiar, but was brought up short in less than five minutes
by a sight that jolted me more than I can describe.
It was a group of four or five of those detestable man-lizards emerging
from the forest far off across the plain. I could not see them
distinctly at that distance, but thought they paused and turned toward
the trees to gesticulate, after which they were joined by fully a dozen
more. The augmented party now began to advance directly toward the
invisible building, and as they approached I studied them carefully. I
had never before had a close view of the things outside the steamy
shadows of the jungle.
The resemblance to reptiles was perceptible, though I knew it was only
an apparent one, since these beings have no point of contact with
terrestrial life. When they drew nearer they seemed less truly
reptilian—only the flat head and the green, slimy, frog-like skin
carrying out the idea. They walked erect on their odd, thick stumps,
and their suction-discs made curious noises in the mud. These were
average specimens, about seven feet in height, and with four long, ropy
pectoral tentacles. The motions of those tentacles—if the theories of
Fogg, Ekberg, and Janat are right, which I formerly doubted but am now
more ready to believe—indicated that the things were in animated
conversation.
I drew my flame pistol and was ready for a hard fight. The odds were
bad, but the weapon gave me a certain advantage. If the things knew
this building they would come through it after me, and in this way
would form a key to getting out, just as carnivorous skorahs might have
done. That they would attack me seemed certain; for even though they
could not see the crystal in my pouch, they could divine its presence
through that special sense of theirs.
Yet, surprisingly enough, they did not attack me. Instead they
scattered and formed a vast circle around me—at a distance which
indicated that they were pressing close to the unseen wall. Standing
there in a ring, the beings stared silently and inquisitively at me,
waving their tentacles and sometimes nodding their heads and gesturing
with their upper limbs. After a while I saw others issue from the
forest, and these advanced and joined the curious crowd. Those near the
corpse looked briefly at it but made no move to disturb it. It was a
horrible sight, yet the man-lizards seemed quite unconcerned. Now and
then one of them would brush away the farnoth-flies with its limbs or
tentacles, or crush a wriggling sificligh or akman, or an out-reaching
efjeh-weed, with the suction discs on its stumps.
Staring back at these grotesque and unexpected intruders, and wondering
uneasily why they did not attack me at once, I lost for the time being
the will power and nervous energy to continue my search for a way out.
Instead I leaned limply against the invisible wall of the passage where
I stood, letting my wonder merge gradually into a chain of the wildest
speculations. An hundred mysteries which had previously baffled me
seemed all at once to take on a new and sinister significance, and I
trembled with an acute fear unlike anything I had experienced before.
I believed I knew why these repulsive beings were hovering expectantly
around me. I believed, too, that I had the secret of the transparent
structure at last. The alluring crystal which I had seized, the body of
the man who had seized it before me—all these things began to acquire a
dark and threatening meaning.
It was no common series of mischances which had made me lose my way in
this roofless, unseen tangle of corridors. Far from it. Beyond doubt,
the place was a genuine maze—a labyrinth deliberately built by these
hellish beings whose craft and mentality I had so badly underestimated.
Might I not have suspected this before, knowing of their uncanny
architectural skill? The purpose was all too plain. It was a trap—a
trap set to catch human beings, and with the crystal spheroid as bait.
These reptilian things, in their war on the takers of crystals, had
turned to strategy and were using our own cupidity against us.
Dwight—if this rotting corpse were indeed he—was a victim. He must have
been trapped some time ago, and had failed to find his way out. Lack of
water had doubtless maddened him, and perhaps he had run out of
chlorate cubes as well. Probably his mask had not slipped accidentally
after all. Suicide was a likelier thing. Rather than face a lingering
death he had solved the issue by removing the mask deliberately and
letting the lethal atmosphere do its work at once. The horrible irony
of his fate lay in his position—only a few feet from the saving exit he
had failed to find. One minute more of searching and he would have been
safe.
And now I was trapped as he had been. Trapped, and with this circling
herd of curious starers to mock at my predicament. The thought was
maddening, and as it sank in I was seized with a sudden flash of panic
which set me running aimlessly through the unseen hallways. For several
moments I was essentially a maniac—stumbling, tripping, bruising myself
on the invisible walls, and finally collapsing in the mud as a panting,
lacerated heap of mindless, bleeding flesh.
The fall sobered me a bit, so that when I slowly struggled to my feet I
could notice things and exercise my reason. The circling watchers were
swaying their tentacles in an odd, irregular way suggestive of sly,
alien laughter, and I shook my fist savagely at them as I rose. My
gesture seemed to increase their hideous mirth—a few of them clumsily
imitating it with their greenish upper limbs. Shamed into sense, I
tried to collect my faculties and take stock of the situation.
After all, I was not as badly off as Dwight had been. Unlike him, I
knew what the situation was—and forewarned is forearmed. I had proof
that the exit was attainable in the end, and would not repeat his
tragic act of impatient despair. The body—or skeleton, as it would soon
be—was constantly before me as a guide to the sought-for aperture, and
dogged patience would certainly take me to it if I worked long and
intelligently enough.
I had, however, the disadvantage of being surrounded by these reptilian
devils. Now that I realised the nature of the trap—whose invisible
material argued a science and technology beyond anything on earth—I
could no longer discount the mentality and resources of my enemies.
Even with my flame pistol I would have a bad time getting away—though
boldness and quickness would doubtless see me through in the long run.
But first I must reach the exterior—unless I could lure or provoke some
of the creatures to advance toward me. As I prepared my pistol for
action and counted over my generous supply of ammunition it occurred to
me to try the effect of its blasts on the invisible walls. Had I
overlooked a feasible means of escape? There was no clue to the
chemical composition of the transparent barrier, and conceivably it
might be something which a tongue of fire could cut like cheese.
Choosing a section facing the corpse, I carefully discharged the pistol
at close range and felt with my knife where the blast had been aimed.
Nothing was changed. I had seen the flame spread when it struck the
surface, and now I realised that my hope had been vain. Only a long,
tedious search for the exit would ever bring me to the outside.
So, swallowing another food tablet and putting another cube in the
electrolyser of my mask, I recommenced the long quest; retracing my
steps to the central chamber and starting out anew. I constantly
consulted my notes and sketches, and made fresh ones—taking one false
turn after another, but staggering on in desperation till the afternoon
light grew very dim. As I persisted in my quest I looked from time to
time at the silent circle of mocking starers, and noticed a gradual
replacement in their ranks. Every now and then a few would return to
the forest, while others would arrive to take their places. The more I
thought of their tactics the less I liked them, for they gave me a hint
of the creatures’ possible motives. At any time these devils could have
advanced and fought me, but they seemed to prefer watching my struggles
to escape. I could not but infer that they enjoyed the spectacle—and
this made me shrink with double force from the prospect of falling into
their hands.
With the dark I ceased my searching, and sat down in the mud to rest.
Now I am writing in the light of my lamp, and will soon try to get some
sleep. I hope tomorrow will see me out; for my canteen is low, and
lacol tablets are a poor substitute for water. I would hardly dare to
try the moisture in this slime, for none of the water in the
mud-regions is potable except when distilled. That is why we run such
long pipe lines to the yellow clay regions—or depend on rain-water when
those devils find and cut our pipes. I have none too many chlorate
cubes either, and must try to cut down my oxygen consumption as much as
I can. My tunnelling attempt of the early afternoon, and my later panic
flight, burned up a perilous amount of air. Tomorrow I will reduce
physical exertion to the barest minimum until I meet the reptiles and
have to deal with them. I must have a good cube supply for the journey
back to Terra Nova. My enemies are still on hand; I can see a circle of
their feeble glow-torches around me. There is a horror about those
lights which will keep me awake.
Night—VI, 14
Another full day of searching and still no way out! I am beginning to
be worried about the water problem, for my canteen went dry at noon. In
the afternoon there was a burst of rain, and I went back to the central
chamber for the helmet which I had left as a marker—using this as a
bowl and getting about two cupfuls of water. I drank most of it, but
have put the slight remainder in my canteen. Lacol tablets make little
headway against real thirst, and I hope there will be more rain in the
night. I am leaving my helmet bottom up to catch any that falls. Food
tablets are none too plentiful, but not dangerously low. I shall halve
my rations from now on. The chlorate cubes are my real worry, for even
without violent exercise the day’s endless tramping burned a dangerous
number. I feel weak from my forced economies in oxygen, and from my
constantly mounting thirst. When I reduce my food I suppose I shall
feel still weaker.
There is something damnable—something uncanny—about this labyrinth. I
could swear that I had eliminated certain turns through charting, and
yet each new trial belies some assumption I had thought established.
Never before did I realise how lost we are without visual landmarks. A
blind man might do better—but for most of us sight is the king of the
senses. The effect of all these fruitless wanderings is one of profound
discouragement. I can understand how poor Dwight must have felt. His
corpse is now just a skeleton, and the sificlighs and akmans and
farnoth-flies are gone. The efjeh-weeds are nipping the leather
clothing to pieces, for they were longer and faster-growing than I had
expected. And all the while those relays of tentacled starers stand
gloatingly around the barrier laughing at me and enjoying my misery.
Another day and I shall go mad if I do not drop dead from exhaustion.
However, there is nothing to do but persevere. Dwight would have got
out if he had kept on a minute longer. It is just possible that
somebody from Terra Nova will come looking for me before long, although
this is only my third day out. My muscles ache horribly, and I can’t
seem to rest at all lying down in this loathsome mud. Last night,
despite my terrific fatigue, I slept only fitfully, and tonight I fear
will be no better. I live in an endless nightmare—poised between waking
and sleeping, yet neither truly awake nor truly asleep. My hand shakes,
I can write no more for the time being. That circle of feeble
glow-torches is hideous.
Late Afternoon—VI, 15
Substantial progress! Looks good. Very weak, and did not sleep much
till daylight. Then I dozed till noon, though without being at all
rested. No rain, and thirst leaves me very weak. Ate an extra food
tablet to keep me going, but without water it didn’t help much. I dared
to try a little of the slime water just once, but it made me violently
sick and left me even thirstier than before. Must save chlorate cubes,
so am nearly suffocating for lack of oxygen. Can’t walk much of the
time, but manage to crawl in the mud. About 2 p.m. I thought I
recognised some passages, and got substantially nearer to the corpse—or
skeleton—than I had been since the first day’s trials. I was
sidetracked once in a blind alley, but recovered the main trail with
the aid of my chart and notes. The trouble with these jottings is that
there are so many of them. They must cover three feet of the record
scroll, and I have to stop for long periods to untangle them.
My head is weak from thirst, suffocation, and exhaustion, and I cannot
understand all I have set down. Those damnable green things keep
staring and laughing with their tentacles, and sometimes they
gesticulate in a way that makes me think they share some terrible joke
just beyond my perception.
It was three o’clock when I really struck my stride. There was a
doorway which, according to my notes, I had not traversed before; and
when I tried it I found I could crawl circuitously toward the
weed-twined skeleton. The route was a sort of spiral, much like that by
which I had first reached the central chamber. Whenever I came to a
lateral doorway or junction I would keep to the course which seemed
best to repeat that original journey. As I circled nearer and nearer to
my gruesome landmark, the watchers outside intensified their cryptic
gesticulations and sardonic silent laughter. Evidently they saw
something grimly amusing in my progress—perceiving no doubt how
helpless I would be in any encounter with them. I was content to leave
them to their mirth; for although I realised my extreme weakness, I
counted on the flame pistol and its numerous extra magazines to get me
through the vile reptilian phalanx.
Hope now soared high, but I did not attempt to rise to my feet. Better
to crawl now, and save my strength for the coming encounter with the
man-lizards. My advance was very slow, and the danger of straying into
some blind alley very great, but none the less I seemed to curve
steadily toward my osseous goal. The prospect gave me new strength, and
for the nonce I ceased to worry about my pain, my thirst, and my scant
supply of cubes. The creatures were now all massing around the
entrance—gesturing, leaping, and laughing with their tentacles. Soon, I
reflected, I would have to face the entire horde—and perhaps such
reinforcements as they would receive from the forest.
I am now only a few yards from the skeleton, and am pausing to make
this entry before emerging and breaking through the noxious band of
entities. I feel confident that with my last ounce of strength I can
put them to flight despite their numbers, for the range of this pistol
is tremendous. Then a camp on the dry moss at the plateau’s edge, and
in the morning a weary trip through the jungle to Terra Nova. I shall
be glad to see living men and the buildings of human beings again. The
teeth of that skull gleam and grin horribly.
Toward Night—VI, 15
Horror and despair. Baffled again! After making the previous entry I
approached still closer to the skeleton, but suddenly encountered an
intervening wall. I had been deceived once more, and was apparently
back where I had been three days before, on my first futile attempt to
leave the labyrinth Whether I screamed aloud I do not know—perhaps I
was too weak to utter a sound. I merely lay dazed in the mud for a long
period, while the greenish things outside leaped and laughed and
gestured.
After a time I became more fully conscious. My thirst and weakness and
suffocation were fast gaining on me, and with my last bit of strength I
put a new cube in the electrolyser—recklessly, and without regard for
the needs of my journey to Terra Nova. The fresh oxygen revived me
slightly, and enabled me to look about more alertly.
It seemed as if I were slightly more distant from poor Dwight than I
had been at that first disappointment, and I dully wondered if I could
be in some other corridor a trifle more remote. With this faint shadow
of hope I laboriously dragged myself forward—but after a few feet
encountered a dead end as I had on the former occasion.
This, then, was the end. Three days had taken me nowhere, and my
strength was gone. I would soon go mad from thirst, and I could no
longer count on cubes enough to get me back. I feebly wondered why the
nightmare things had gathered so thickly around the entrance as they
mocked me. Probably this was part of the mockery—to make me think I was
approaching an egress which they knew did not exist.
I shall not last long, though I am resolved not to hasten matters as
Dwight did. His grinning skull has just turned toward me, shifted by
the groping of one of the efjeh-weeds that are devouring his leather
suit. The ghoulish stare of those empty eye-sockets is worse than the
staring of those lizard horrors. It lends a hideous meaning to that
dead, white-toothed grin.
I shall lie very still in the mud and save all the strength I can. This
record—which I hope may reach and warn those who come after me—will
soon be done. After I stop writing I shall rest a long while. Then,
when it is too dark for those frightful creatures to see, I shall
muster up my last reserves of strength and try to toss the record
scroll over the wall and the intervening corridor to the plain outside.
I shall take care to send it toward the left, where it will not hit the
leaping band of mocking beleaguerers. Perhaps it will be lost forever
in the thin mud—but perhaps it will land in some widespread clump of
weeds and ultimately reach the hands of men.
If it does survive to be read, I hope it may do more than merely warn
men of this trap. I hope it may teach our race to let those shining
crystals stay where they are. They belong to Venus alone. Our planet
does not truly need them, and I believe we have violated some obscure
and mysterious law—some law buried deep in the arcana of the cosmos—in
our attempts to take them. Who can tell what dark, potent, and
widespread forces spur on these reptilian things who guard their
treasure so strangely? Dwight and I have paid, as others have paid and
will pay. But it may be that these scattered deaths are only the
prelude of greater horrors to come. Let us leave to Venus that which
belongs only to Venus.
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
I am very near death now, and fear I may not be able to throw the
scroll when dusk comes. If I cannot, I suppose the man-lizards will
seize it, for they will probably realise what it is. They will not wish
anyone to be warned of the labyrinth—and they will not know that my
message holds a plea in their own behalf. As the end approaches I feel
more kindly toward the things. In the scale of cosmic entity who can
say which species stands higher, or more nearly approaches a space-wide
organic norm—theirs or mine?
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
I have just taken the great crystal out of my pouch to look at in my
last moments. It shines fiercely and menacingly in the red rays of the
dying day. The leaping horde have noticed it, and their gestures have
changed in a way I cannot understand. I wonder why they keep clustered
around the entrance instead of concentrating at a still closer point in
the transparent wall.
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
I am growing numb and cannot write much more. Things whirl around me,
yet I do not lose consciousness. Can I throw this over the wall? That
crystal glows so, yet the twilight is deepening.
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
Dark. Very weak. They are still laughing and leaping around the
doorway, and have started those hellish glow-torches.
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
Are they going away? I dreamed I heard a sound . . . light in the sky.
add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh add-column2log.sh addlist addlist2 addlist3 Agenda_header Agenda_Vol_1 Agenda_works1 allpoetry_authors allpoetry_authors2 allpoetry_authors3 aplayer.sh asay_loop.sh author_sampler.sh BACKUPS bashrc-BACKUP bind_arrowkeys.sh black_wallpaper.jpg book_editting.sh center.sh changedir.sh checkcrontemp.sh chiktemp chiktemp2 chiktemp3 chiktemp4 cw.sh date-2-masslog.sh Desktop docprocessor.sh Documents Downloads eth96l ethnow.sh for_newfull getaddress.sh getbook.sh getchik.sh getlovecraft.sh getsource.sh history_su ifempty.sh if.sh infinite_alarm.sh infinite_sav.sh keys_authoring.sh lambda2.sh lambda.sh lesserlog.sh lesslog.sh majlog.sh map-math.sh map.sh mem_encoder.sh mem_player.sh Music mypoeticside new_subject.sh new_texts organism-quotes Pictures poe-poems POS_file.sh Public quicklisp quotes_switcher.sh randomfooterwp.sh random_sentence.sh random-test.sh read.sh result2.png result.png rip_pic.sh sav_wp.sh say_loop.sh screenshot2.sh screenshot.sh sed1JnlSk sent_compressor.sh simple_az_loop.sh simple_for_loop.sh simple_for_savitri.sh simple_infinite_loop2.sh simple_infinite_loop3.sh simple_infinite_loop.sh SITEMAP sourcerer.sh Steam subject_grouping.sh subject_tagging_keys.sh subject_tagging_newfull.sh subject_tagging.sh T1_wp.sh temp temp4 temp_christ Templates temp-wordlist temp-wordlist2 terminal_colors2.sh terminal_colors.sh test15.sh test_for_loop.sh test.sh timestamp.sh Videos walt-poems when.sh wikipedia-extractor.sh will-wordsworth-poems WORDLIST wordlist-backup-daily.sh wordlist-backup.sh wordlisteditcode.sh wordlistedit.sh wordlisteditxed.sh wp_maker.sh xdo_download_agenda_audio.sh xdo_grab_agenda.sh *
REPORT OF WESLEY P. MILLER, SUPT. GROUP A,
VENUS CRYSTAL CO.
(Terra Nova on Venus—VI, 16)
Our Operative A-49, Kenton J. Stanfield of 5317 Marshall Street,
Richmond, Va., left Terra Nova early on VI, 12, for a short-term trip
indicated by detector. Due back 13th or 14th. Did not appear by evening
of 15th, so Scouting Plane FR-58 with five men under my command set out
at 8 p.m. to follow route with detector. Needle shewed no change from
earlier readings.
Followed needle to Erycinian Highland, played strong searchlights all
the way. Triple-range flame-guns and D-radiation-cylinders could have
dispersed any ordinary hostile force of natives, or any dangerous
aggregation of carnivorous skorahs.
When over the open plain on Eryx we saw a group of moving lights which
we knew were native glow-torches. As we approached, they scattered into
the forest. Probably 75 to 100 in all. Detector indicated crystal on
spot where they had been. Sailing low over this spot, our lights picked
out objects on the ground. Skeleton tangled in efjeh-weeds, and
complete body ten feet from it. Brought plane down near bodies, and
corner of wing crashed on unseen obstruction.
Approaching bodies on foot, we came up short against a smooth,
invisible barrier which puzzled us enormously. Feeling along it near
the skeleton, we struck an opening, beyond which was a space with
another opening leading to the skeleton. The latter, though robbed of
clothing by weeds, had one of the company’s numbered metal helmets
beside it. It was Operative B-9, Frederick N. Dwight of Koenig’s
division, who had been out of Terra Nova for two months on a long
commission.
Between this skeleton and the complete body there seemed to be another
wall, but we could easily identify the second man as Stanfield. He had
a record scroll in his left hand and a pen in his right, and seemed to
have been writing when he died. No crystal was visible, but the
detector indicated a huge specimen near Stanfield’s body.
We had great difficulty in getting at Stanfield, but finally succeeded.
The body was still warm, and a great crystal lay beside it, covered by
the shallow mud. We at once studied the record scroll in the left hand,
and prepared to take certain steps based on its data. The contents of
the scroll forms the long narrative prefixed to this report; a
narrative whose main descriptions we have verified, and which we append
as an explanation of what was found. The later parts of this account
shew mental decay, but there is no reason to doubt the bulk of it.
Stanfield obviously died of a combination of thirst, suffocation,
cardiac strain, and psychological depression. His mask was in place,
and freely generating oxygen despite an alarmingly low cube supply.
Our plane being damaged, we sent a wireless and called out Anderson
with Repair Plane FG-7, a crew of wreckers, and a set of blasting
materials. By morning FR-58 was fixed, and went back under Anderson
carrying the two bodies and the crystal. We shall bury Dwight and
Stanfield in the company graveyard, and ship the crystal to Chicago on
the next earth-bound liner. Later, we shall adopt Stanfield’s
suggestion—the sound one in the saner, earlier part of his report—and
bring across enough troops to wipe out the natives altogether. With a
clear field, there can be scarcely any limit to the amount of crystal
we can secure.
In the afternoon we studied the invisible building or trap with great
care, exploring it with the aid of long guiding cords, and preparing a
complete chart for our archives. We were much impressed by the design,
and shall keep specimens of the substance for chemical analysis. All
such knowledge will be useful when we take over the various cities of
the natives. Our type C diamond drills were able to bite into the
unseen material, and wreckers are now planting dynamite preparatory to
a thorough blasting. Nothing will be left when we are done. The edifice
forms a distinct menace to aërial and other possible traffic.
In considering the plan of the labyrinth one is impressed not only with
the irony of Dwight’s fate, but with that of Stanfield’s as well. When
trying to reach the second body from the skeleton, we could find no
access on the right, but Markheim found a doorway from the first inner
space some fifteen feet past Dwight and four or five past Stanfield.
Beyond this was a long hall which we did not explore till later, but on
the right-hand side of that hall was another doorway leading directly
to the body. Stanfield could have reached the outside entrance by
walking 22 or 23 feet if he had found the opening which lay directly
behind him—an opening which he overlooked in his exhaustion and
despair.
Return to “In the Walls of Eryx”
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