Showing posts with label evolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evolution. Show all posts

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Retro Review - "The Eternal Wall" (Raymond Z. Gallun, 1942)


"Retro Reviews - Raymond Z. Gallun, "The Eternal Wall"

(c) 2010, 2011 by Jordan S. Bassior


Introduction

Raymond Z. Gallun is one of the often-forgotten pioneers of high-concept science fiction, and he was distinguished by his acceptance of alien diversity at a time when many writers simply treated alien beings as "monsters." This is very apparent in his most famous story, "Old Faithful" (1934), in which a Martian is at once shown to be very alien and yet a sympathetic character. He was not the first in this regard -- E. E. "Doc" Smith, Stanley G. Weinbaum, and (the later) H. P. Lovecraft also explored aliens as civilized beings rather than merely scary creatures -- but he did come early, and he did it well.

Unfortunately, his total output was relatively small, given his long career as a science fiction writer. That's why I was happy to discover this work, which I'd never seen anthologized, online on Project Gutenberg (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/27110/27110-h/27110-h.htm).

It's a tale of a man from our time, who lives to meet a race after Man on the Earth of the far future.

I. Plot

Ned Vince, a young man of around 18, has hopes of going with his girlfriend Betty to college, but his hopes are dashed when he runs off the road into a deep and cold alkali lake. Ned drowns in his wrecked roadster, but his corpse is preserved through the mixture of low temperature and high pH of the water, being fossilized as a perfect mummy (1)

Hundreds of thousands of years pass. Man rises to great heights, becomes a race of "Gods," expands outward to the stars, and finally abandons the Earth. A new sapient race evolves on Earth, descended from prairie dogs (2), and ultimately surpasses the technology of 20th century humnanity, building great cities and mastering advanced machinery.

They discover the mummified Ned in the rusted remains of his roadster, and take him to their city of Kar-Rah, where Loy Chuk, one of their scientists, decides to attempt an actual re-vivication of the corpse -- possible only because of its good condition and the rodent race's super-science.

Ned Vince is restored and brought back to life. Loy Chuk has learned his language telepathically, and communicates with him by vocoder. Ned is devastated to learn that he has slept for hundreds of millennia, and is now the last human being alive on Earth; possibly the last old-style human in existence anywhere in the Universe. He misses the rest of humanity; in particular he misses Betty.

Overcome with despair, he runs out into the wasteland, half-hoping to die on this inhospitable Earth. He falls unconscious, but before he can die of exposure is rescued by Loy Chuk and his assistants.

Later, Ned Vince begs Loy Chuk to send him back to the 20th century. Loy, aware that Ned is suicidal, agrees. He puts Ned Vince into a machine and zaps him back in time -- Ned is delighted to find himself back in his old machine shop, in the company of his beloved Betty ...

But Loy Chuk couldn't really send him back: not even the Gods themselves were ever able to build a time machine. So, instead, what really did was to build a replica of Ned's machine shop and an android replica of Betty, and -- keeping a credulity ray on Ned to suppress his suspicions.

Ned will live out his life, happily, in this illusion of 20th-century Earth, while Loy Chuk continues to study him ...

II. Characters

Only two, really, but they are strongly drawn as they need to be for the story.

Ned Vince is a nice young man, reasonably bright, but perhaps a bit too rash and emotional, which is how he crashed his car and died; and also how he wound up in his zoo enclosure. A calmer man would not have run off the road; a calmer man would not have fled into the wasteland from the obviously friendly Lok Choy, and a calmer man would have made damned sure that the people of Kar-Rah actually could build time machines, rather than insisting that they must be able to simply because 20th-century science fiction mentioned it as a possibility. An unkind observer (not Lok Choy, who at least means well) might imagine that Lok Choy need not push that credulity ray beyond its lowest setting, in order to trick Ned.

Loy Chuk is a good scientist and a kindly being. As Gallun puts it

Little Loy Chuk was in a black, discouraged mood, himself. He could understand the utter, sick dejection of this giant from the past, lost from his own kind. Probably insanity looming. In far less extreme circumstances than this, death from homesickness had come.

Loy Chuk was a scientist. In common with all real scientists, regardless of the species from which they spring, he loved the subjects of his researches. He wanted this ancient man to live and to be happy. Or this creature would be of scant value for study.


Now, this is remarkable for two reasons. The first is that Loy, an alien, is portrayed as being empathetic enough to understand the despair of Ned Vince. The second is that Gallun is aware that scientists, far from being passionless machines beyond mere emotionality (the stereotype of 1930's-1940's pulp SF) actually love their work.

A third reason might be possibly mentioned: that Loy Chuk is aware (as far too many real students of animal psychology today are clearly not) of the importance of keeping his subject sane for the validity of his results. What this shows is that Gallun had more common sense than did B. F. Skinner and his disciples!

We don't learn much of Loy Chuk's life in his own culture, or of that culture itself, aside from the fact that it is advanced, technological, and at least as and arguably more humane than our own. True, Loy Chuk sees no problem with keeping Ned in what amounts to a padded zoo for the rest of his life, but then we treat experimental animals (even probably sapient ones) far worse than that: at least Loy Chuk intends kindness (albiet from somewhat selfish motives).

III. Setting

The Earth of around a million years in the future is briefly but hauntingly sketched. As with many Gallun stories, it leaves one wanting more: I really wish that he'd developed it further in a series. I discuss this in greater detail in the "Science and Technology" section, but suffice it to say that Earth, Moon and possibly Sun have all apparently suffered some damage, possibly due to the activities of the Gods in times past. As far as I can tell, the Solar System is being left fallow by the Gods, who have decided for reasons of their own not to interfere further in the affairs of Earth's other children.

Kar-Rah is a beautiful but claustrophobic place, as one would expect given that the cynomys sapiens (my term for them) are both subterranean in origin and considerably smaller than humans. I got the impression that cynomys sapiens is a friendly and cooperative species, and that their city is comfortable and lovely to them.

IV. Science and Technology

Atom-Blast Excavator

The bell-like muzzle of a strange excavator-apparatus, which seemed to depend on a blast of atoms to clear away rock and soil.

Essentially, a highly-controlled plasma drill. This is quite possible; because plasma is hot but tenuous, it can if controlled properly vaporize one section of a solid while only barely heating adjacent sections. This was usually called an "atom-blast" in 1930's and 1940's science fiction, with the terminological focus being on the (implicitly-nuclear) power-source rather than the precise type of beam produced.

It was generally assumed at the time that nuclear energy would require particle accelerators, and that the same effect could be channeled off from the reactor to produce a destructive beam. This is sort of correct, but for slightly different reasons: you could indeed funnel some hot plasma from a fusion reactor and use it as a torch.

The State of the Earth

She's seen better days:

The spreading continental plateau of North America seemed to crawl backward, beneath. A tremendous sand desert, marked with low, washed-down mountains, and the vague, angular, geometric mounds of human cities that were gone forever.

Beyond the eastern rim of the continent, the plain dipped downward steeply. The white of dried salt was on the hills, but there was a little green growth here, too. The dead sea-bottom of the vanished Atlantic was not as dead as the highlands.

... Besides, in this latter day, the nights were very cold, the shelter of subterranean passages and rooms was welcome.


This is a remarkable amount of geological change for a mere half-million to million years. Some of it might be explainable by shorter assumed timescales before the invention of radio-isotope dating (generally, in the 1930's and 1940's, the Earth was assumed to be only 2-3 billion years old) and some by a lack of understanding of how seas opened and closed before the general acceptance of the theory of continental drift, but this still seems a bit much for such a short geological stretch of time. It is certainly possible that the Gods did something which severely damaged the Earth's surface.

One thing that is obvious is that the Earth has lost a lot of water. There are numerous possibilities as to "why" -- my guess would be a combination of extensive export of water offworld (possibly as fusion fuel and reaction mass for starflight) and very heavy bombardment of the Earth by charged particles (possibly war damage). It may be relevant here that the ancestors of Loy Chuk's people were medium-sized tunnel dwellers -- perhaps most large surface animals went extinct?

The Earth might be cold as well as dry for various reasons. Back in the 1930's-40's, most popular science assumed that the Sun would "burn out" rather than increase solar output (see Vance's "Dying Earth" stories, for example). This might actually be possible if the Gods engaged in some sort of stellar engineering at some point, and left the Sun in less-than-ideal condition for their successors. Another possibility is that there has been at least one major episode of carbon sequestration between the present and this future, which perhaps went a little too far.

A little later it is mentioned that the air is thinner, and in terrain which would today be a few hundred feet below sea level, which strongly implies that something has stripped off some of the Earth's atmosphere. Intense solar flares is one possibility: perhaps the Gods induced small nova flares at some point as part of a stellar engineering project, and it got a bit out of control.

Astronomical Developments

The Moon was a gigantic, pock-marked bulk. The constellations were unrecognizable.

Luna seems to have come closer and acquired more craters; possibly the result of Godly mega-engineering projects or wars. After a million or so years, the constellations would indeed be "unrecognizable;" many large bright stars would have novaed, while stars visible due to proximity would have changed apparent positions quite noticably.

Cynomys Sapiens City

Far out in a deep valley, Kar-Rah, the city of the rodents, came into view—a crystalline maze of low, bubble-like structures, glinting in the red sunshine. But this was only its surface aspect. Loy Chuk's people had built their homes mostly underground, since the beginning of their foggy evolution.

...

The rodent city was a glowing expanse of shallow, crystalline domes, set among odd, scrub trees and bushes. The crags loomed on all sides, all their jaggedness lost after a million years of erosion under an ocean that was gone.


The sapient prairie dogs would obviously no longer need to hide from predators, but the legacy of their vulnerable racial childhood would affect them just as the legacy of ours has affected us. We like to live in grassy plains at forest edges, and so configure our cities and parks; they would feel comfortable dwelling mostly underground.

Note that Kar-Rah is obviously delved into what was once a submerged canyon, possibly the oceanic extension of what is today a river. One likely candidate is the Hudson River Submarine Valley, which today extends a hundred miles beyond the mouth of New York Harbor. Others are of course possible. Water might still flow past Kar-Rah; obviously, some supply of fresh water would be essential for a mammalian conurbation.

Reviving the Remains

The mummy was taken to Loy Chuk's laboratory, a short distance below the surface. Here at once, the scientist began his work. The body of the ancient man was put in a large vat. Fluids submerged it, slowly soaking from that hardened flesh the alkali that had preserved it for so long. The fluid was changed often, until woody muscles and other tissues became pliable once more.

This part of it is exactly what we might do, if we wanted to restore some ancient mummified flesh to greater flexibility. We generally don't, of course, because wetting a mummy resumes the processes of cellular deterioration. But the super-prairie-dog scientist does more:

Then the more delicate processes began. Still submerged in liquid, the corpse was submitted to a flow of restorative energy, passing between complicated electrodes. The cells of antique flesh and brain gradually took on a chemical composition nearer to that of the life that they had once known.

Pure Golden Age pulp science, there. But believable, if you grant that the chemical baths contain restorative enzymes or nanomachines which require energy inputs to work, which would be the point of the "complicated electrodes."

The final step is "vital energy" right out of the 1931 Frankenstein movie.

With a cold, rosy flare, energy blazed around that moveless form.

And Ned Vince is wakey-wakey!

The Black Box

Loy Chuk put an odd, metal-fabric helmet on its head, and a second, much smaller helmet on his own. Connected with this arrangement, was a black box of many uses. For hours he worked with his apparatus, studying, and guiding the recording instruments. The time passed swiftly.

This device, applied to Ned before re-awakening, scanned his language centers, and transferred Ned's knowledge of English to Loy Chuk. Its functioning is left mysterious in the story, but it obviously includes a powerful computer and translator unit. I can see why it would take at least "hours" to seek out the stored linguistic memories of another species and transfer them into the user's own mind!

Vocoder

Loy Chuk had only to press certain buttons to make the instrument express his thoughts in common, long-dead English. Loy, whose vocal organs were not human, would have had great difficulty speaking English words, anyway.

Ironically, if we ever learn the real-world prairie dog language, we'll need to use something like this to speak and understand it, since prarie-dog chirps and chitters are in part above both our hearing and our vocal range. Loy Chuk is probably a bit bigger than a real prarire dog, but he probably needs to step-up Ned's (to Loy) infra-bass utterances to hear them, too.

The Gods

... and a second man-skeleton that was not quite human. Its neck-vertebrae were very thick and solid, its shoulders were wide, and its skull was gigantic.

Gallun here grasps something that not all writers of his day understood, which is that a super-intelligent humanoid (with an appropriately bigger head) would have a powerful neck and shoulders to carry that head. Many other writers of the 1930's and 1940's just assumed that the supermen would simply make do with vulnerable, easily-broken necks, but that would be silly (the more so if they got smarter through genetic engineering rather than ordinary evolution)). Gallun doesn't specify, but I would imagine either that they were born through caesarians, or else their females had rather exotic pelvic anatomy.

The Ned Vince Show

He did not know anything about the invisible radiations beating down upon him, soothing and dimming his brain, so that it would never question or doubt, or observe too closely the incongruous circumstances that must often appear. The lack of traffic in the street without, for instance — and the lack of people besides himself and Betty.

He didn't know that this machine-shop was built from his own memories of the original. He didn't know that this Betty was of the same origin — a miraculous fabrication of metal and energy-units and soft plastic. The trees outside were only lantern-slide illusions.

It was all built inside a great, opaque dome. But there were hidden television systems, too. Thus Loy Chuk's kind could study this ancient man — this Kaalleee. Thus, their motives were mostly selfish.


The credulity ray is a nice touch. In fact (as was not known in the 1940's) there is a characteristic EEG pattern associated with belief, and the ability to induce belief would be a relatively trivial application of the technology that produced the telepathic translator.

The life-like artificial habtitat is just a more sophisticated version of the sort of thing that we build today for smart animals, to enrich their zoo habitats and keep them happy. This has to be a very life-like habitat, of course, since Vince isn't much stupider (if at all) than the cynomys sapiens who constructed it, though the credulity ray helps.

The Betty-droid is a remarkable achievement, considering that it has to fool a man who knew Betty intimately in life. It's not obvious whether or not it is independently sapient, or "merely" an remotely operated "avatar." (Furry fans may speculate about the psychology and attitudes of the avatar's operator toward Vince: real prairie dogs have complex emotions and social interactions, so romantic feelings are not impossible).

The "lantern slide show" is probably done by laser-generated hologram. We could almost do that, now, and the prarie-dogs obviously have a technology equivalent to that we may develop by 2050-2100, from a modern POV.

V. Theme

"You can't go home again, and you should be careful wishing for it," I'd guess. It's a dark story by the standards of the 1940's: Ned Vince, who one might suspect from his description at the start was going to do some great deeds in the future, in fact totally failed to find a place, utterly spurning the opportunity to learn the super-science of the cynomys. Because of his suicidal reaction, instead he must now live -- perhaps forever -- in the hollow illusion of having returned to his own time. He may be happy, but it is not a fate I would wish upon myself.

VI. Analysis

The story bears obvious comparison with L. Sprague de Camp's and P. Schuyler Miller's Genus Homo (1941), a short novel about a busload of humans who find themselves in a similarly posthuman future. Because of the dates of publication and the small size of the early-1940's science fiction world, I wonder if Genus Homo inspired Gallun? On the other hand, Gallun's own "Seeds of the Dusk" (1936) was about a semi post-human future (the "humans" of that story aren't exactly our own species) with sympathetic nonhuman sapients, and may have inspired De Camp.

Genus Homo goes into its posthuman Earth in considerably greater detail; there are numerous species and a long and involved story. Gallun couldn't do this here, since he was writing a shorter story and making an entirely different point: that a solitary time-castaway might be so alienated from the posthuman future that he literally could not face its reality. This theme bears comparison to Poul Anderson's related point in "The Man Who Came Early" (1956), in which a solitary man cast into medieval Iceland fails to fit in or change history, and winds up dying without accomplishing anything. The cumulative point, especially when comparing with stories like Eric Flint's Grantville universe or S. M. Stirling's Nantucket novels, is that you need friends if you're going to be castaway in an alien time -- and stay sane.

Footnotes

(1) This would mostly work. Cold water retards decomposition, and a sufficiently alkaline lake might dessicate a corpse while preserving its internal structure. Our own science would not be able to revive a victim preserved in this manner, but some more advanced science might be up to the task. The technology of the city of Kar-Rah does it through a "zap, you're healed" energy beam; in reality it would probably be much harder.

(2) Gallun was fascinated by the concept of animal sapience, and was a good judge of the intelligence of real animals. In "Seeds of the Dusk" (1938) he had sapient ravens just one of many intelligent races on a far-future Earth. Interestingly, subsequent research has shown that ravens are tool-users, and prairie dogs have an apparently-syntactical language, making both good candidates for ultimate evolution to advanced technological capabilities.

Conclusion

"The Eternal Wall" is a short but remarkably beautiful and effective story: strange, dark and cold; alienating while featuring a race of very friendly aliens by the standards of early 1940's science fiction. The story is packed full of creativeness, sense of wonder and strange invention. The situation is credible, but much is left unexplained, and one is left speculating about this fascinating far future Earth.

Definitely worth reading at least once.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

"The Eternal Wall," by Raymond Z. Gallun, (c) 1942

THE
ETERNAL
WALL

By RAYMOND Z. GALLUN

(c) 1942

A scream of brakes, the splash into icy waters, a long descent into alkaline depths ... it was death. But Ned Vince lived again—a million years later!


"See you in half an hour, Betty," said Ned Vince over the party telephone. "We'll be out at the Silver Basket before ten-thirty...."

Ned Vince was eager for the company of the girl he loved. That was why he was in a hurry to get to the neighboring town of Hurley, where she lived. His old car rattled and roared as he swung it recklessly around Pit Bend.

There was where Death tapped him on the shoulder. Another car leaped suddenly into view, its lights glaring blindingly past a high, up-jutting mass of Jurassic rock at the turn of the road.

Dazzled, and befuddled by his own rash speed, Ned Vince had only swift young reflexes to rely on to avoid a fearful, telescoping collision. He flicked his wheel smoothly to the right; but the County Highway Commission hadn't yet tarred the traffic-loosened gravel at the Bend.

 
An incredible science, millions of years old, lay in the minds of these creatures.


Ned could scarcely have chosen a worse place to start sliding and spinning. His car hit the white-painted wooden rail sideways, crashed through, tumbled down a steep slope, struck a huge boulder, bounced up a little, and arced outward, falling as gracefully as a swan-diver toward the inky waters of the Pit, fifty feet beneath....

Ned Vince was still dimly conscious when that black, quiet pool geysered around him in a mighty splash. He had only a dazing welt on his forehead, and a gag of terror in his throat.

Movement was slower now, as he began to sink, trapped inside his wrecked car. Nothing that he could imagine could mean doom more certainly than this. The Pit was a tremendously deep pocket in the ground, spring-fed. The edges of that almost bottomless pool were caked with a rim of white—for the water, on which dead birds so often floated, was surcharged with alkali. As that heavy, natronous liquid rushed up through the openings and cracks beneath his feet, Ned Vince knew that his friends and his family would never see his body again, lost beyond recovery in this abyss.

The car was deeply submerged. The light had blinked out on the dash-panel, leaving Ned in absolute darkness. A flood rushed in at the shattered window. He clawed at the door, trying to open it, but it was jammed in the crash-bent frame, and he couldn't fight against the force of that incoming water. The welt, left by the blow he had received on his forehead, put a thickening mist over his brain, so that he could not think clearly. Presently, when he could no longer hold his breath, bitter liquid was sucked into his lungs.

His last thoughts were those of a drowning man. The machine-shop he and his dad had had in Harwich. Betty Moore, with the smiling Irish eyes—like in the song. Betty and he had planned to go to the State University this Fall. They'd planned to be married sometime.... Goodbye, Betty ...

The ripples that had ruffled the surface waters in the Pit, quieted again to glassy smoothness. The eternal stars shone calmly. The geologic Dakota hills, which might have seen the dinosaurs, still bulked along the highway. Time, the Brother of Death, and the Father of Change, seemed to wait....





"Kaalleee! Tik!... Tik, tik, tik!... Kaalleee!..."

The excited cry, which no human throat could quite have duplicated accurately, arose thinly from the depths of a powder-dry gulch, water-scarred from an inconceivable antiquity. The noon-day Sun was red and huge. The air was tenuous, dehydrated, chill.

"Kaalleee!... Tik, tik, tik!..."

At first there was only one voice uttering those weird, triumphant sounds. Then other vocal organs took up that trilling wail, and those short, sharp chuckles of eagerness. Other questioning, wondering notes mixed with the cadence. Lacking qualities identifiable as human, the disturbance was still like the babble of a group of workmen who have discovered something remarkable.

The desolate expanse around the gulch, was all but without motion. The icy breeze tore tiny puffs of dust from grotesque, angling drifts of soil, nearly waterless for eons. Patches of drab lichen grew here and there on the up-jutting rocks, but in the desert itself, no other life was visible. Even the hills had sagged away, flattened by incalculable ages of erosion.





At a mile distance, a crumbling heap of rubble arose. Once it had been a building. A gigantic, jagged mass of detritus slanted upward from its crest—red debris that had once been steel. A launching catapult for the last space ships built by the gods in exodus, perhaps it was—half a million years ago. Man was gone from the Earth. Glacial ages, war, decadence, disease, and a final scattering of those ultimate superhumans to newer worlds in other solar systems, had done that.

"Kaalleee!... Tik, tik, tik!..." The sounds were not human. They were more like the chatter and wail of small desert animals.

But there was a seeming paradox here in the depths of that gulch, too. The glint of metal, sharp and burnished. The flat, streamlined bulk of a flying machine, shiny and new. The bell-like muzzle of a strange excavator-apparatus, which seemed to depend on a blast of atoms to clear away rock and soil. Thus the gulch had been cleared of the accumulated rubbish of antiquity. Man, it seemed, had a successor, as ruler of the Earth.

Loy Chuk had flown his geological expedition out from the far lowlands to the east, out from the city of Kar-Rah. And he was very happy now—flushed with a vast and unlooked-for success.

He crouched there on his haunches, at the dry bottom of the Pit. The breeze rumpled his long, brown fur. He wasn't very different in appearance from his ancestors. A foot tall, perhaps, as he squatted there in that antique stance of his kind. His tail was short and furred, his undersides creamy. White whiskers spread around his inquisitive, pink-tipped snout.

But his cranium bulged up and forward between shrewd, beady eyes, betraying the slow heritage of time, of survival of the fittest, of evolution. He could think and dream and invent, and the civilization of his kind was already far beyond that of the ancient Twentieth Century.

Loy Chuk and his fellow workers were gathered, tense and gleeful, around the things their digging had exposed to the daylight. There was a gob of junk—scarcely more than an irregular formation of flaky rust. But imbedded in it was a huddled form, brown and hard as old wood. The dry mud that had encased it like an airtight coffin, had by now been chipped away by the tiny investigators; but soiled clothing still clung to it, after perhaps a million years. Metal had gone into decay—yes. But not this body. The answer to this was simple—alkali. A mineral saturation that had held time and change in stasis. A perfect preservative for organic tissue, aided probably during most of those passing eras by desert dryness. The Dakotas had turned arid very swiftly. This body was not a mere fossil. It was a mummy.

"Kaalleee!" Man, that meant. Not the star-conquering demi-gods, but the ancestral stock that had built the first machines on Earth, and in the early Twenty-first Century, the first interplanetary rockets. No wonder Loy Chuk and his co-workers were happy in their paleontological enthusiasm! A strange accident, happening in a legendary antiquity, had aided them in their quest for knowledge.

At last Loy Chuk gave a soft, chirping signal. The chant of triumph ended, while instruments flicked in his tiny hands. The final instrument he used to test the mummy, looked like a miniature stereoscope, with complicated details. He held it over his eyes. On the tiny screen within, through the agency of focused X-rays, he saw magnified images of the internal organs of this ancient human corpse.

What his probing gaze revealed to him, made his pleasure even greater than before. In twittering, chattering sounds, he communicated his further knowledge to his henchmen. Though devoid of moisture, the mummy was perfectly preserved, even to its brain cells! Medical and biological sciences were far advanced among Loy Chuk's kind. Perhaps, by the application of principles long known to them, this long-dead body could be made to live again! It might move, speak, remember its past! What a marvelous subject for study it would make, back there in the museums of Kar-Rah!

"Tik, tik, tik!..."

But Loy silenced this fresh, eager chattering with a command. Work was always more substantial than cheering.





With infinite care—small, sharp hand-tools were used, now—the mummy of Ned Vince was disengaged from the worthless rust of his primitive automobile. With infinite care it was crated in a metal case, and hauled into the flying machine.

Flashing flame, the latter arose, bearing the entire hundred members of the expedition. The craft shot eastward at bullet-like speed. The spreading continental plateau of North America seemed to crawl backward, beneath. A tremendous sand desert, marked with low, washed-down mountains, and the vague, angular, geometric mounds of human cities that were gone forever.

Beyond the eastern rim of the continent, the plain dipped downward steeply. The white of dried salt was on the hills, but there was a little green growth here, too. The dead sea-bottom of the vanished Atlantic was not as dead as the highlands.

Far out in a deep valley, Kar-Rah, the city of the rodents, came into view—a crystalline maze of low, bubble-like structures, glinting in the red sunshine. But this was only its surface aspect. Loy Chuk's people had built their homes mostly underground, since the beginning of their foggy evolution. Besides, in this latter day, the nights were very cold, the shelter of subterranean passages and rooms was welcome.

The mummy was taken to Loy Chuk's laboratory, a short distance below the surface. Here at once, the scientist began his work. The body of the ancient man was put in a large vat. Fluids submerged it, slowly soaking from that hardened flesh the alkali that had preserved it for so long. The fluid was changed often, until woody muscles and other tissues became pliable once more.

Then the more delicate processes began. Still submerged in liquid, the corpse was submitted to a flow of restorative energy, passing between complicated electrodes. The cells of antique flesh and brain gradually took on a chemical composition nearer to that of the life that they had once known.

At last the final liquid was drained away, and the mummy lay there, a mummy no more, but a pale, silent figure in its tatters of clothing. Loy Chuk put an odd, metal-fabric helmet on its head, and a second, much smaller helmet on his own. Connected with this arrangement, was a black box of many uses. For hours he worked with his apparatus, studying, and guiding the recording instruments. The time passed swiftly.

At last, eager and ready for whatever might happen now, Loy Chuk pushed another switch. With a cold, rosy flare, energy blazed around that moveless form.





For Ned Vince, timeless eternity ended like a gradual fading mist. When he could see clearly again, he experienced that inevitable shock of vast change around him. Though it had been dehydrated, his brain had been kept perfectly intact through the ages, and now it was restored. So his memories were as vivid as yesterday.

Yet, through that crystalline vat in which he lay, he could see a broad, low room, in which he could barely have stood erect. He saw instruments and equipment whose weird shapes suggested alienness, and knowledge beyond the era he had known! The walls were lavender and phosphorescent. Fossil bone-fragments were mounted in shallow cases. Dinosaur bones, some of them seemed, from their size. But there was a complete skeleton of a dog, too, and the skeleton of a man, and a second man-skeleton that was not quite human. Its neck-vertebrae were very thick and solid, its shoulders were wide, and its skull was gigantic.

All this weirdness had a violent effect on Ned Vince—a sudden, nostalgic panic. Something was fearfully wrong!

The nervous terror of the unknown was on him. Feeble and dizzy after his weird resurrection, which he could not understand, remembering as he did that moment of sinking to certain death in the pool at Pit Bend, he caught the edge of the transparent vat, and pulled himself to a sitting posture. There was a muffled murmur around him, as of some vast, un-Earthly metropolis.

"Take it easy, Ned Vince...."

The words themselves, and the way they were assembled, were old, familiar friends. But the tone was wrong. It was high, shrill, parrot-like, and mechanical. Ned's gaze searched for the source of the voice—located the black box just outside of his crystal vat. From that box the voice seemed to have originated. Before it crouched a small, brownish animal with a bulging head. The animal's tiny-fingered paws—hands they were, really—were touching rows of keys.

To Ned Vince, it was all utterly insane and incomprehensible. A rodent, looking like a prairie dog, a little; but plainly possessing a high order of intelligence. And a voice whose soothingly familiar words were more repugnant somehow, simply because they could never belong in a place as eerie as this.

Ned Vince did not know how Loy Chuk had probed his brain, with the aid of a pair of helmets, and the black box apparatus. He did not know that in the latter, his language, taken from his own revitalized mind, was recorded, and that Loy Chuk had only to press certain buttons to make the instrument express his thoughts in common, long-dead English. Loy, whose vocal organs were not human, would have had great difficulty speaking English words, anyway.

Ned's dark hair was wildly awry. His gaunt, young face held befuddled terror. He gasped in the thin atmosphere. "I've gone nuts," he pronounced with a curious calm. "Stark—starin'—nuts...."





Loy's box, with its recorded English words and its sonic detectors, could translate for its master, too. As the man spoke, Loy read the illuminated symbols in his own language, flashed on a frosted crystal plate before him. Thus he knew what Ned Vince was saying.

Loy Chuk pressed more keys, and the box reproduced his answer: "No, Ned, not nuts. Not a bit of it! There are just a lot of things that you've got to get used to, that's all. You drowned about a million years ago. I discovered your body. I brought you back to life. We have science that can do that. I'm Loy Chuk...."





It took only a moment for the box to tell the full story in clear, bold, friendly terms. Thus Loy sought, with calm, human logic, to make his charge feel at home. Probably, though, he was a fool, to suppose that he could succeed, thus.

Vince started to mutter, struggling desperately to reason it out. "A prairie dog," he said. "Speaking to me. One million years. Evolution. The scientists say that people grew up from fishes in the sea. Prairie dogs are smart. So maybe super-prairie-dogs could come from them. A lot easier than men from fish...."

It was all sound logic. Even Ned Vince knew that. Still, his mind, tuned to ordinary, simple things, couldn't quite realize all the vast things that had happened to himself, and to the world. The scope of it all was too staggeringly big. One million years. God!...

Ned Vince made a last effort to control himself. His knuckles tightened on the edge of the vat. "I don't know what you've been talking about," he grated wildly. "But I want to get out of here! I want to go back where I came from! Do you understand—whoever, or whatever you are?"

Loy Chuk pressed more keys. "But you can't go back to the Twentieth Century," said the box. "Nor is there any better place for you to be now, than Kar-Rah. You are the only man left on Earth. Those men that exist in other star systems are not really your kind anymore, though their forefathers originated on this planet. They have gone far beyond you in evolution. To them you would be only a senseless curiosity. You are much better off with my people—our minds are much more like yours. We will take care of you, and make you comfortable...."

But Ned Vince wasn't listening, now. "You are the only man left on Earth." That had been enough for him to hear. He didn't more than half believe it. His mind was too confused for conviction about anything. Everything he saw and felt and heard might be some kind of nightmare. But then it might all be real instead, and that was abysmal horror. Ned was no coward—death and danger of any ordinary Earthly kind, he could have faced bravely. But the loneliness here, and the utter strangeness, were hideous like being stranded alone on another world!

His heart was pounding heavily, and his eyes were wide. He looked across this eerie room. There was a ramp there at the other side, leading upward instead of a stairway. Fierce impulse to escape this nameless lair, to try to learn the facts for himself, possessed him. He bounded out of the vat, and with head down, dashed for the ramp.





He had to go most of the way on his hands and knees, for the up-slanting passage was low. Excited animal chucklings around him, and the occasional touch of a furry body, hurried his feverish scrambling. But he emerged at last at the surface.

He stood there panting in that frigid, rarefied air. It was night. The Moon was a gigantic, pock-marked bulk. The constellations were unrecognizable. The rodent city was a glowing expanse of shallow, crystalline domes, set among odd, scrub trees and bushes. The crags loomed on all sides, all their jaggedness lost after a million years of erosion under an ocean that was gone. In that ghastly moonlight, the ground glistened with dry salt.

"Well, I guess it's all true, huh?" Ned Vince muttered in a flat tone.

Behind him he heard an excited, squeaky chattering. Rodents in pursuit. Looking back, he saw the pinpoint gleams of countless little eyes. Yes, he might as well be an exile on another planet—so changed had the Earth become.

A wave of intolerable homesickness came over him as he sensed the distances of time that had passed—those inconceivable eons, separating himself from his friends, from Betty, from almost everything that was familiar. He started to run, away from those glittering rodent eyes. He sensed death in that cold sea-bottom, but what of it? What reason did he have left to live? He'd be only a museum piece here, a thing to be caged and studied....

Prison or a madhouse would be far better. He tried to get hold of his courage. But what was there to inspire it? Nothing! He laughed harshly as he ran, welcoming that bitter, killing cold. Nostalgia had him in its clutch, and there was no answer in his hell-world, lost beyond the barrier of the years....





Loy Chuk and his followers presently came upon Ned Vince's unconscious form, a mile from the city of Kar-Rah. In a flying machine they took him back, and applied stimulants. He came to, in the same laboratory room as before. But he was firmly strapped to a low platform this time, so that he could not escape again. There he lay, helpless, until presently an idea occurred to him. It gave him a few crumbs of hope.

"Hey, somebody!" he called.

"You'd better get some rest, Ned Vince," came the answer from the black box. It was Loy Chuk speaking again.

"But listen!" Ned protested. "You know a lot more than we did in the Twentieth Century. And—well—there's that thing called time-travel, that I used to read about. Maybe you know how to make it work! Maybe you could send me back to my own time after all!"

Little Loy Chuk was in a black, discouraged mood, himself. He could understand the utter, sick dejection of this giant from the past, lost from his own kind. Probably insanity looming. In far less extreme circumstances than this, death from homesickness had come.

Loy Chuk was a scientist. In common with all real scientists, regardless of the species from which they spring, he loved the subjects of his researches. He wanted this ancient man to live and to be happy. Or this creature would be of scant value for study.

So Loy considered carefully what Ned Vince had suggested. Time-travel. Almost a legend. An assault upon an intangible wall that had baffled far keener wits than Loy's. But he was bent, now, on the well-being of this anachronism he had so miraculously resurrected—this human, this Kaalleee....

Loy jabbed buttons on the black box. "Yes, Ned Vince," said the sonic apparatus. "Time-travel. Perhaps that is the only thing to do—to send you back to your own period of history. For I see that you will never be yourself, here. It will be hard to accomplish, but we'll try. Now I shall put you under an anesthetic...."

Ned felt better immediately, for there was real hope now, where there had been none before. Maybe he'd be back in his home-town of Harwich again. Maybe he'd see the old machine-shop, there. And the trees greening out in Spring. Maybe he'd be seeing Betty Moore in Hurley, soon.... Ned relaxed, as a tiny hypo-needle bit into his arm....





As soon as Ned Vince passed into unconsciousness, Loy Chuk went to work once more, using that pair of brain-helmets again, exploring carefully the man's mind. After hours of research, he proceeded to prepare his plans. The government of Kar-Rah was a scientific oligarchy, of which Loy was a prime member. It would be easy to get the help he needed.

A horde of small, grey-furred beings and their machines, toiled for many days.





Ned Vince's mind swam gradually out of the blur that had enveloped it. He was wandering aimlessly about in a familiar room. The girders of the roof above were of red-painted steel. His tool-benches were there, greasy and littered with metal filings, just as they had always been. He had a tractor to repair, and a seed-drill. Outside of the machine-shop, the old, familiar yellow sun was shining. Across the street was the small brown house, where he lived.

With a sudden startlement, he saw Betty Moore in the doorway. She wore a blue dress, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. As though she had succeeded in creeping up on him, for a surprise.

"Why, Ned," she chuckled. "You look as though you've been dreaming, and just woke up!"

He grimaced ruefully as she approached. With a kind of fierce gratitude, he took her in his arms. Yes, she was just like always.

"I guess I was dreaming, Betty," he whispered, feeling that mighty sense of relief. "I must have fallen asleep at the bench, here, and had a nightmare. I thought I had an accident at Pit Bend—and that a lot of worse things happened.... But it wasn't true ..."





Ned Vince's mind, over which there was still an elusive fog that he did not try to shake off, accepted apparent facts simply.

He did not know anything about the invisible radiations beating down upon him, soothing and dimming his brain, so that it would never question or doubt, or observe too closely the incongruous circumstances that must often appear. The lack of traffic in the street without, for instance—and the lack of people besides himself and Betty.

He didn't know that this machine-shop was built from his own memories of the original. He didn't know that this Betty was of the same origin—a miraculous fabrication of metal and energy-units and soft plastic. The trees outside were only lantern-slide illusions.

It was all built inside a great, opaque dome. But there were hidden television systems, too. Thus Loy Chuk's kind could study this ancient man—this Kaalleee. Thus, their motives were mostly selfish.

Loy, though, was not observing, now. He had wandered far out into cold, sad sea-bottom, to ponder. He squeaked and chatted to himself, contemplating the magnificent, inexorable march of the ages. He remembered the ancient ruins, left by the final supermen.

"The Kaalleee believes himself home," Loy was thinking. "He will survive and be happy. But there was no other way. Time is an Eternal Wall. Our archeological researches among the cities of the supermen show the truth. Even they, who once ruled Earth, never escaped from the present by so much as an instant...."

THE END