The God in the Box Read online

was no time forthem then. I snatched my menore from its clip on my belt, and adjustedit quickly. It was a huge and cumbersome thing, the menore of that day,but it worked as well as the fragile, bejeweled things of today. Maybebetter. The guard posted outside the ship responded instantly.

  "Commander Hanson emanating," I shot at him. "Present my compliments toMr. Correy, and instruct him as follows: He is to withdraw the outsideguard instantly, and proceed with the _Ertak_ to the large domedbuilding in the center of the city. He will bring the _Ertak_ to restat the lowest possible altitude above the building, and receive furtherorders at that time. Repeat these instructions."

  The guard returned the orders almost word for word, and I removed themenore with a little flourish. Oh, I was young enough in those days!

  "Don't worry any more, Artur," I said crisply. "I don't know who _He_was, but we'll show you some tricks you haven't seen yet! Come!"

  I led the way down the ramp, Hendricks, Artur, and the three Zeniansfollowing. As we came out into the daylight, a silent shadow fellacross the great avenue that ran before the entrance, and there, barelyclearing the shining roof of the auditorium, was the sleek, fat bulk ofthe _Ertak_. Correy had wasted no time in obeying orders.

  Correy could smell a fight further than any man I ever knew.

  * * * * *

  From her emergency landing trap, the _Ertak_ let down the cableelevator, and the six of us, Hendricks, Artur, the three Zenians of thecrew, and myself, were shot up into the hull. Correy was right there bythe trap to greet me.

  "What are the orders, sir?" he asked, staring curiously at Artur. "Isthere trouble brewing?"

  "I gather that there is, but we'll talk about that in a moment--in thenavigating room." I introduced Artur and Correy as we hurried forward,and as soon as the door of the navigating room had closed on the threeof us, I turned to Artur with a question.

  "Now, where will we find the enemy, these Neens? Have you any idea?"

  "Surely," nodded Artur. "They come from their own country, to thesouth. The frontier is the narrow strip of land that connects Libarwith Neen, and since the alarm has been sounded, the enemy is alreadyat the frontier, and the forces of my people and the enemy are alreadymet."

  "I don't know anything about the set-up," put in Correy, "but thatsounds like poor management to me. Haven't you any advance guards, orspies, or outposts?"

  Artur shook his head sadly.

  "My people are not warlike. We who spread His teachings have tried towarn the masses, but they would not listen. The land of the Neens wasfar away. The Neens had never risen against the Libars. They neverwould. So my people reasoned."

  "And you think there is fighting in progress now?" I asked. "How didthe word come?"

  "By phone or radio, I presume," said Artur. "We are in communicationwith the frontier by both methods, and the signal of the lights hasbeen arranged for generations. In the day, all lights were to flash onthree times; at night, they were to be darkened three times."

  * * * * *

  So they had telephones and radios! It was most amazing, but myquestions could wait. They would have to wait. Correy was shuffling hisfeet with anxiety for orders to start action.

  "All right, Mr. Correy," I said. "Close the ports and ascend to aheight that will enable you to navigate visually. You are sufficientlyfamiliar with the country to understand our objective?"

  "Yes, sir! Studied it coming down. It's that neck of land thatseparates the two continents." He picked up the microphone, and startedpunching buttons and snapping orders. In twenty seconds we wererushing, at maximum atmospheric speed, toward the scene of what, Arturhad told us, was already a battle.

  Artur proved to be correct. As we settled down over the narrow neck ofland, we could see the two forces locked in frenzied combat; the Libarsfighting with fine military precision, in regular companies, butoutnumbered at least five to one by the mob-like masses of brown Neens.

  From the north and from the south slim, long vehicles that moved withuncanny swiftness were rushing up reserve forces for both sides. Therewere far more monocars serving the Libars, but each car brought but apitifully few men. And every car shot back loaded with wounded.

  "I thought you said your people weren't fighters, Artur?" I said."They're fighting now, like trained soldiers."

  "Surely. They are well trained, but they have no fighting spirit, likethe enemy. Their training, it is no more than a form of amusement, arecreation, the following of custom. He taught it, and my people drill,knowing not for what they train. See! Their beautiful ranks crumple andgo down before the formless rush of the Neens!"

  "The disintegrator beams, sir?" asked Correy insidiously.

  "No. That would be needless slaughter. Those brown hordes are witlesssavages. An atomic bomb, Mr. Correy. Perhaps two of them, one on eitherflank of the enemy. Will you give the order?"

  * * * * *

  Correy rapped out the order, and the ship darted to the desiredposition for the first bomb--darted so violently that Artur was almostthrown off his feet.

  "Watch!" I said, motioning to Artur to share a port with me.

  The bomb fled downward, a swift black speck. It struck perhaps a halfmile to the west (to adopt Earth measures and directions) of theenemy's flank.

  As it struck, a circle of white shot out from the point of impact, acircle that barely touched that seething west flank. The circle paledto gray, and settled to earth. Where there had been green, rank growth,there was now no more than a dirty red crater, and the whole west flankof the enemy was fleeing wildly.

  I said the whole west flank; that was not true. There were some thatdid not flee: that would never move again. But there was not onehundredth part of the number that would not have dissolved into dustwith one sweep of the disintegrator ray through that pack of strivinghumanity.

  "The other flank, Mr. Correy," I said quietly. "And just a shadefurther away from the enemy. A little object lesson, as it were!"

  * * * * *

  The battle was at a momentary standstill. The Neens and the Libarsseemed, for the moment, to forget the issue; every face was turnedupward. Even the faces of the runners who fled from a disaster they didnot understand.

  "I think one more will be enough, sir," chuckled Correy. "The beggarsare ready to run for it right now." He gave a command, and as thoughthe microphone itself released the bomb, it dropped from the bottom ofthe _Ertak_ and diminished swiftly as it hurtled earthward.

  Again the swift spread of white that turned to gray; again the vast redcrater. Again, too, a flank crumpled.

  As though I could see the faces of the brown men, I saw terror striketo the heart of the Neens. The flanks were melting away, and the panicof fear spread as flame spreads on a surface of oil. Correy has a goodeye for such things, and he said there were fifty thousand of the enemymassed there. If there were, in the space that it takes the heart totick ten times, fifty thousand Neens turned their back to the enemy andfled to the safety of their own jungles.

  * * * * *

  The Libars made no effort to pursue. They stood there, in theirmilitary formations, watching with wonderment. Then, with crispmilitary dispatch, they maneuvered into great long ranks, awaiting thearrival of transportation.

  "And so it is finished, John Hanson," said Artur slowly, his eyesshining with a light that might almost be called holy. "My people aresaved! He spoke well, as always, when He said that those who would comeafter Him would be our friends if we were their friends."

  "We are your friends," I replied, "but tell me, who is this one of whomyou speak always, but do not name? From what I have seen, I guess agreat deal, but there has been no time to learn all the story. Will youtell me, now?"

  "I will, if that is your wish," said Artur, "but I should prefer totell you in the Place. It is a long story, the story of toma annerson,t
he story of He Who Speaks, and there are things you should see, sothat you may understand that story."

  "As you wish, Artur." I glanced at Correy and nodded. "Back to thecity, Mr. Correy. I think we're through here."

  "I believe we are, sir." He gave the orders to the operating room, andthe _Ertak_ swung in a great circle toward the gleaming city of theLibars. "It looked like a real row when we got here; I wouldn't haveminded being down there for a few minutes myself."

  "With the _Ertak_ poised over your head, dropping atomic bombs?"

  Correy shook his head and grinned.

  "No, sir!" he admitted. "Just hand to hand, with clubs."

  * * * * *

  Artur and I were together in the great domed building he called "thePlace." There were no others in that vast auditorium, although outsidea multitude waited. Artur had expressed a wish that no one accompanyme, and I could see no valid reason for refusing the request.

  "First," he said, pausing beside the great shining body of the spaceship upon the central dais, "let me take you back many generations, tothe time when only this northern continent was inhabited, and theLibars and the Neens were one people.

  "In those days, we were of less understanding than the Neens of today.There were no cities; each family lived to itself, in crude huts,tilling the ground and hunting its own food. Then, out of the sky camethis." He touched, reverently, the smooth side of the space ship. "Itcame to earth at this very spot, and from it, presently, emerged He WhoSpeaks. Would you inspect the ship that brought Him here?"

  "Gladly," I said, and as I spoke, Artur swung open the small circulardoor. A great ethon flashlight, of a type still to be seen in ourlarger museums, stood just inside the threshold, and aided by itsbeams, we entered.

  I stared around in amazement. The port through which he had entered ledto a narrow compartment running lengthwise of the ship: a compartmenttwice the length of a man, perhaps, and half the length of a man inbreadth. The rest of the ship was cut off by bulkheads, each studdedwith control devices the uses of which I could but vaguely understand.

  * * * * *

  Forward was a veritable maze of instruments, mounted on three largepanels, the central panel of the group containing a circular lens whichapparently was the eyepiece of some type of television disk the like ofwhich I have never seen or heard. From my hasty examination I gatheredthat the ship operated by both a rocket effect (an early type ofpropulsion which was abandoned as ineffective) and some form ofattraction-repulsion apparatus, evidently functioning through thereddish, pitted disks I had observed around the nose of the ship. Thelettering upon the control panels and the instruments, while nearlyobliterated, was unmistakably in the same language in which Artur hadaddressed us.

  The ship had, beyond the shadow of doubt, come from Earth!

  "Artur," I said gravely, "you have shown me that which has stirred memore than anything in my life. This ship of the air came from my ownworld, which is called Earth."

  "True," he nodded, "that is the name He gave to it: Earth. He was ayoung man, but He was full of kindness and wisdom. He took my peopleout of the fields and the forests, and He taught them the working ofmetals, and the making of such things as He thought were good. Otherthings, of which He knew, He kept secret. He had small instruments Hecould hold in His hand, and which roared suddenly, that would take thelife of large animals at a great distance, but He did not explainthese, saying that they were bad. But all the good things He made formy people, and showed them how to make others.

  * * * * *

  "Not all my people were good. Some of them hated this great one, andstrove against Him. They were makers of trouble, and He sent them tothe southern continent, which is called Neen. Those among my people wholoved Him and served Him best, He made His friends. He taught them Hislanguage, which is this that I speak, and which has been the holylanguage of His priests since that day. He gave to these friends namesfrom his own country, and they were handed down from father to son, sothat I am now Artur, as my father was Artur, and his father before him,for many generations."

  "Just a second," I put in. "Artur? That is not--ah! Arthur! That is thename: Arthur."

  "Perhaps so," nodded the priest of this unknown Earth-child. "In manygenerations, a name might slightly change. But I must hasten on with mystory, for outside my people become impatient.

  "In the course of time, He passed away, an old man, with a beard thatwas whiter than the hair of our new-born children. Here, our hair growsdark with age, but His whitened like the metal of his ship that broughtHim here. But He left to us His voice, and so long as His voice spoketo us on the anniversary of the day upon which He came out of the sky,the Neens believed that His power still protected His people.

  "But the Neens were only awaiting the time when His voice would nolonger sound in the Place. Each year their brown and savagerepresentatives came, upon the anniversary, to listen, and each timethey cowered and went back to their own kind with the word that He WhoSpeaks, still spoke to His people.

  "But the last anniversary, no sound came forth. His voice was silencedat last; and the Neens went back rejoicing, to tell their people thatat last the god of the Libars had truly died, and that His voicesounded no more in the Place."

  * * * * *

  A tense excitement gripped me; my hands trembled, and my voice, as Ispoke to Artur, shook with emotion.

  "And this voice--it came from where, Artur?" I whispered.

  "From here." Sorrowfully, reverently, he lifted, from a niche in thewall, a small box of smooth, shining metal, and lifted the lid.

  Curiously, I stared at the instruments revealed. In one end of thehorizontal panel was a small metal membrane, which I guessed was adiaphragm. In the center of the remaining space was thrust up a heavypole of rusty metal. Supported by tiny brackets in such fashion that itdid not quite touch the pole of rusty metal, was a bright wire, whichdisappeared through tiny holes in the panel, on either side. Each ofthe brackets which supported the wire was tipped with a tiny roller,which led me to believe that the wire was of greater length than wasrevealed, and designed to be drawn over the upright piece of metal.

  "Until the last anniversary," said Artur sadly, "when one touched thissmall bit of metal, here,"--he indicated a lever beside the diaphragm,which I had not noted--"this wire moved swiftly, and His voice cameforth. But this anniversary, the wire did not move, and there was novoice."

  "Let me see that thing a moment." There were hinges at one end of thepanel, and I lifted it carefully. An intricate maze of delicatemechanism came up with it.

  * * * * *

  One thing I saw at a glance: the box contained a tiny, crude, butworkable atomic generator. And I had been right about the wire: therewas a great orderly coil of it on one spool, and the other end wasattached to an empty spool. The upright of rusty metal was the pole ofan electro-magnet, energized by the atomic generator.

  "I think I see the trouble, Artur!" I exclaimed. One of the connectionsto the atomic generator was badly corroded; a portion of the metal hadbeen entirely eaten away, probably by the electrolytic action of thetwo dissimilar metals. With trembling fingers I made a freshconnection, and swung down the hinged panel. "This is the lever?" Iasked.

  "Yes; you touch it so." Artur moved the bit of metal, and instantly theshining wire started to move, coming up through the one small hole,passing, on its rollered guides, directly over the magnet, anddisappearing through the other hole, to be wound up on the take-upspool. For an instant there was no sound, save the slight grinding ofthe wire on its rollers, and then a bass, powerful voice spoke from thevibrating metal diaphragm:

  "I am Thomas Anderson," said the voice. "I am a native of a worldcalled Earth, and I have come through space to this other sphere. Ileave this record, which I trust is imperishable, so that when otherscome to follow me, they
may know that to Earth belongs the honor, ifhonor it be, of sending to this world its first visitor from the stars.

  "There is no record on Earth of me nor of my ship of space, the_Adventurer_. The history of science is a history of men working underthe stinging lash of criticism and scoffing; I would have none of that.

  * * * * *

  "The _Adventurer_ was assembled far from the cities, in a lone placewhere none came to scoff or criticize. When it was finished, I took myplace and sealed the port by which I had entered. The _Adventurer_spurned the Earth beneath its cradles, and in the middle of theTwenty-second century, as time is computed on Earth, man first foundhimself in outer space.

  "I landed here by chance. My ship had shot its bolt. Perhaps I couldleave, but the navigation of space is a perilous thing, and I could notbe sure of singling out my native Earth. This is a happy world, and thework I am doing here is good work. Here I remain.

  "And now, to you who shall hear this, my voice, in some year so faraway that my bones shall be less than dust, and the mind refuses tocompute the years, let me give into your charge the happiness and thewelfare of these, my people. May peace and happiness be your portion.That is the wish of Earth's first orphan, Thomas Anderson."

  There was a click, and then the sharp hum of the wire re-spoolingitself on the original drum.

  "Toma annerson," said Artur solemnly: "He Who Speaks." He offered hishand to me, and I understood, as I shook hands gravely, that this oldEarth greeting