CHAPTER IX
Intervention
Had I been a condemned criminal sentenced to the electric chair, my torments would have been less hard to bear. For then, at least, I would have known that I was suffering justly; I would have been surrounded by people of my own kind and race; I would have had time in which to prepare myself, and I would have had to face no such diabolical instrument as the violet-ray. Oh, how I loathed the sight of that machine. Even today I cannot think of it without an involuntary start of fright! Yet, apparently, there was no power on Heaven or Earth to save me from it. Coolly, deliberately, with the most matter-of-fact manner, my oppressors dragged me out of prison, pulled me at the end of a wire to the stone column that had witnessed the six executions, and, still not approaching me, hurled some heavy iron strands around the column in such a way as to hold me tightly against it.
Now it seemed to me that I was living through some horrible nightmare, persecuted by devils. I saw the ghastly black-and-white figures of the spectators crowded at a safe distance, their salmon eyes glittering with pitiless curiosity; I saw the ten soldiers with their hatchet helmets looking on like the creatures of some delirious vision; I saw the death-machine being moved into place and watched the operator as he peered through the little glass tube as if to make sure of his aim. Then, while I gave a convulsive shudder and grew limp with fright, the executioner lifted his hand to signify that all was ready....
The following seconds seemed each as long as whole hours. For the first time since my childhood, I had an impulse to pray; my lips opened, as if to gasp out a supplication to that Supreme Power in whom I no longer believed; but nothing except a cracked, dry sound came forth, and I half imagined I already heard my own death-rattle. In that final second, I seemed to live through my whole life again, as the drowning are said to do; I was a child in my mother's arms; I was a youth at college; I was a grown man making love to that auburn-headed one who might even now be my bride, if—
But at this point my remembrances ceased. My ears caught the tell-tale whirring of the death-machine; my eyes beheld the cone of violet light, its thin point tapering toward my breast; and, straining with a last futile effort against the imprisoning wires, I thought that my days on earth were over.
Several seconds, long-protracted, tortured seconds—went by. I was aware of a faint warmth, a slight tickling sensation above the heart—and that was all. Was my death to be painless?
Then, in a wild rush, hope came flooding back upon me. Might I not, after all, be saved? Was I immune to the effects of the rays?
Yes!—the miracle had happened! Suddenly the whirring of the machine ceased, the violet-ray snapped off, and the spectators, surging back and forth with excited cries, showed that they shared my own surprise at the failure of the execution.
But was I actually saved? Again I heard the fearful buzzing of the machine; again the cone of violet light pointed toward me; again I felt that ticking sensation in my breast. But I still defied the rays of death!
After the third fruitless attempt, the chalk-faces seemed ready to abandon the effort. I saw the soldiers gathered in a little knot as though in conference; I heard the spectators noisily talking with explosive exclamations; then, after a minute, to my great relief, one of the helmeted ones reached out with a long forked pole and loosened the wires that bound me.
A moment later, I was a free man! Still mystified as to the reason for my escape, I felt impulsively at my chest, wondering if I had not been wounded, ever though I felt no pain. And, as I did so, sudden light dawned upon me. Beneath my coat, which had been punctured with a little round incision like a bullet-hole, I felt a small familiar bulge. And reaching into an inner pocket, I drew forth a little leather-covered notebook! A deep, charred perforation, reaching almost through the heavy back cover, showed what it was that had checked the deadly rays!
Had my enemies taken the trouble to search me in advance, I would not have escaped so easily. Only their irrational dread of approaching me could account for this omission!
But let me not exult prematurely! Now that the cause of the interference had been discovered, what was to prevent my captors from subjecting me once more to the violet rays?
Evidently, the same idea occurred to them as well. Seeing me take the notebook out of my pocket, they uttered shrill exclamations of interest, and the soldiers motioned me to surrender it. At first I refused, but they bound me again with wires shot from one of the rifle-like machines, forcing me to drop the book, which one of the chalk-faces instantly drew toward him with a pronged pole.
But as he could not see clearly at close range, he placed it twenty or thirty feet away, and examined it through a sort of binoculars, while one of his companions turned the pages. I do not know what he found to interest him, for all that it contained was some mining notes with some printed matter bearing statistical information, such as the names and populations of leading cities, the capitals of states, etc. Besides, it was to be presumed that he could not read English! Nevertheless, he uttered significant grunts as he looked from page to page, and one would have thought he had gained invaluable knowledge!
All this was, however, of little consolation to me, for I still expected to be executed the next minute. And was I not justified in this expectation, judging from the way the operator of the death-machine was testing the apparatus, turning the violet-ray on and off every few seconds as if for practice?
Indeed, had it not been for the arrival of Professor Tan Trum, my execution would have been postponed but a few minutes.
I mentioned the name of this renowned individual as I afterwards learned it; for, at the time, of course, I knew nothing of his distinguished reputation. I was only aware of the approach of a chalk-face of unusual appearance. He was much taller and thinner than any of his companions, being well over six feet in height and lean in proportion, and he bent far forward as he walked. His gray hair fell in long braids and curls from his massive brow; his embroidered robe rippled almost to his ankles; and his face, instead of being cleaned-shaven like that of his fellows, showed a long grizzled beard, neatly parted in the center.
At his approach, the others withdrew, not exactly with deference, but with a little of the awe of children at the appearance of some authoritative adult, while he, not heeding them in the least, pushed his way to the front of the crowd, took out his binoculars, and peered at my notebook from a convenient distance.
As he did so, I could see his little reddish eyes beaming enthusiastically. But I was little prepared for the whoop of joy which he let out, or for his excited leap and rush in the direction of my notebook. Approaching it, he had to grope like a blind man, since he had even more trouble than his countrymen in seeing near at hand. However, he finally managed to locate it, and, hugging it to his side as though it were some rare art treasure, he uttered another cry of delight.
The next moment, I noticed that his eyes were fastened upon me, but I felt more friendliness than hostility in his glance; indeed, it turned out that, for the first time since arriving in these nether depths, I had found a defender. I realized that I personally interested him less than did my notebook, yet he was so grateful that I could have kissed his hand when he motioned to my captors, speaking sharply and angrily, and they once more untied my bonds.
Yet I was to be disappointed if I imagined the ordeal to be over. I was, indeed, relieved of the fear of instant execution; but other trials and perils followed immediately. No sooner was I released from the wires than the Professor issued an order and several of the little coaster-like cars were wheeled up. What was my horror when I was motioned to take my place on one of them! However, it was useless to protest. Upon my refusal to obey commands, I was pitched on to one of the vehicles with a two-pronged pole and was made to understand that any attempt to escape would be severely treated. So I lay on the car at full length, clinging to a little board projecting in front, instead of squatting with crossed legs, in the manner of the natives. Loud was their laughter to see me take this position, and great was their surprise that I appeared to have no knowledge of the steering mechanism; but they solved the difficulty by hitching my machine with a wire to another, which forthwith dragged it away.
The ride that followed did not last more than ten minutes, but it was an expedition through Hell itself. My mind kept no clear track of details; I only know that we roared through narrow tunnels, lurched at breakneck speed around curves, shot across causeways and bridges, raced along avenues where other cars swept past in a gray whirl of speed, and finally came to a halt with such abruptness that I was pitched forward off my perch, and was only saved from serious injury by falling on Professor Tan Trum, who drove the car ahead of mine.
Not being versed in the native language, I did not know what epithets of abuse he used; but the sparks that flashed from his salmon eyes, and the sharp tones of his indignant voice, testified to his anger as he picked himself up, nursed a bruised arm, and brushed out the rumpled embroidery of his gown. But, infuriated as he was, I could see that his first thought was for my notebook, which he still firmly clutched. Finding this unharmed, he seemed consoled for his injuries.
We were now joined by half a dozen more chalk-faces, including several soldiers, who had followed us on other cars, and the whole party, without delay, started down a brilliantly lighted gallery toward a great shining hall. As always, most of the chalk-faces kept at a distance from me, some of them trotting half a dozen yards behind, and others as many yards ahead; but Professor Tan Trum, surprisingly, seemed willing to walk at my side—an act of friendliness which filled me with deep gratitude.
As we drew near the hall, my companions slackened their pace; when we had come within a stone's throw of the entrance, I was startled to see a row of soldiers, their faces hidden in triangular helmets, their right hands clutching pikes twenty feet high. They all stood stiff as stone and made no response to our salutes; in fact, such was their lifeless rigidity that at first I supposed them to be, not living men, but statues.
However, after one of our attendants had spoken, slipping a little something into their hands, two of the soldiers proved themselves to be human after all; they moved aside a few feet, making room for us to pass; and, while their pikes gleamed high above us, we entered the hall beyond.
I was now surprised to see my companions drop to their knees and move forward on all fours in a grovelling attitude which I could not be persuaded to imitate until a sharp cuff on the small of the back taught me discretion. Even Professor Tan Trum had fallen into a most ungainly and unbecoming posture; his lanky form, as he crept forward foot by foot on his hands and knees, impressed me as so ridiculous that I could not restrain a burst of laughter, which cost me a second and even more severe cuff on the back.
But what was it that filled the chalk-faces with such humility? Had they entered the shrine of a god—or the throne-room of their king? After a moment, I accepted the latter explanation, although nothing very kingly-looking met my eyes. There was, to be sure, plenty of pomp and display; the walls of the hall, which was at least a hundred yards across, were emblazoned with multitudes of brilliant white, red, and yellow lights; enormous dragon-shaped banners of green and vermilion hung from the high fretted ceilings, interspersed with long strings of swords, pikes, and helmets; in the center, on a raised platform of polished red sandstone, sat the most remarkable individual it had ever been my fortune to behold.
Let me say, to begin with, that he was the smallest man I had encountered outside of a circus. He may have been four feet high, but I doubt it; his lean and weazened frame may have been as stout as that of an eight-year-old, but again I doubt it. The legs, thin as those of a paralytic, were little more than two dangling sticks; his arms were scarcely better developed; his head was bald, his mouth toothless, and his fingers without nails; his eyes were covered with instruments like binoculars, through which he could see only with difficulty; his ears were hidden by a mass of wires, and by black projections like telephone receivers; his nostrils were encased in rubber-like tubes, connecting with steel tanks which, as I later learned, contained oxygen; his mouth, likewise, was fitted with breathing tubes, which I saw him remove only in order to talk, which he did by means of a megaphone.
In other words, the poor creature seemed to have scarcely one of his natural faculties intact!
Yet, to judge from the way in which he was dressed, he was a personage of note. I shall spare the reader an account of his apparel, except to say that, unlike his fellows, he was robed not in black, but in resplendent green and saffron, with a purple crest upon his hairless pate, and with a string of huge rubies dangling about his neck. Personally, I did not care for the color scheme, but he himself was apparently well pleased with it, for all about him, in a gleaming circle, a row of large mirrors was displayed, and through these he was feasted with a constant view of himself and could catch every turn and nod and twist of his imperial countenance. Moreover, other mirrors, spaced at intervals about the room, caught the reflections of the ones nearest him and magnified them so that, in no matter what direction one looked, one was sure to catch the image of that green-and-saffron figure.
It was appropriate that throughout the greater part of the room, except for the reflection of the central dignitary, there should be nothing at all. But just around him, with a mincing and obsequious manner, twenty attendants stood in waiting on the sandstone platform; whenever he made a move or a gesture, were it only to smooth out his dress or scratch the back of his neck, at least half of them would rush up to serve him. I well remember their consternation on one occasion when their master, with the most undignified suddenness, bent forward and sneezed; for a moment, not knowing what was the trouble, I thought I was witnessing a riot as the twenty attendants, like one man, leapt forward to readjust the nose-tubes, which had been blown out of place.
All this I observed while my companions and I, on our hands and knees, crept up to the throne of the potentate. Why should the chalk-faces, absurd as they were, do reverence to such a monarch? I wondered, for I now had no doubt that this was their royal lord. But knowing that there is no accounting for political tastes, I dismissed the mystery as beyond solution; and, for the sake of good form, I remained crouching in a respectful attitude after we had finally halted twenty yards from the throne.
For half an hour we remained on all fours, miserably waiting—at least, I was miserable. During all this time the sovereign seemed to take no note at all of our existence, but remained seated in a sort of dreamy trance, as if brooding on the mystic bliss of Nirvana. Unfortunately, it was the rule among the chalk-faces that subjects could not speak until spoken to; hence we might have remained stooping there all day, and still not have gained an audience, had the dignitary not eventually caught sight of me and become interested.
So interested was he, in fact, that he rose from his seat and tottered to the edge of the platform—a distance of fully six feet, which he accomplished with the utmost difficulty, while three attendants supported him on each side. Then, for at least a minute, he stared at me intently through his binoculars until, exhausted from the effort, he had to be carried to his chair and fanned back to life again.
This process consumed at least ten minutes, during which we all had to remain in the same uncomfortable attitude. But at length the regal one, restored by the fanning of his servants and strengthened by hypodermic injections, was revived sufficiently to be able to speak through the megaphone which a slave lifted to his mouth. Of course, I did not know what he said, but the words were high-pitched and squeaky and rasped upon me like the edge of a file; but the effect was, at least, most welcome, for all of us, with sighs of relief, were able to rise to our feet.
Now Professor Tan Trum, after a flourish and a low bow, waved my notebook high in the air for all to see and launched forth into speech. And what a speech it was. The words seemed to trip and fall over one another, as they came out in a rattling torrent; many minutes went by with scarcely a pause for breath, while all the other chalk-faces made scarcely an effort to conceal their yawns. At last even the monarch, apparently, could endure it no longer; he lifted his arm in a gesture of command, motioned for the megaphone, and snapped out two short words—which instantly put an end to Tan Trum's discourse.
Not until much later did I learn that the ruler had granted everything the professor had asked, nor did I know how deeply everything that had happened affected myself. But his speech, as I afterwards read it in the court records, ran something as follows:
"Lord High Dictator Thuno Flâtum, sovereign of the great empire of Wu and illustrious ruler of the Underworld and the Overworld, I prostrate myself before you! Long may your distinguished might endure! Long may your power cause the nations to shake! I come to you today on a momentous mission, and I trust you will let no thought of my personal unworthiness deter you from that just decision for which you are so rightly renowned. Know, O Thuno Flâtum, that this day a stranger of queer and unprepossessing appearance has been found in our midst. His dark skin and gray eyes proclaim him to be a member of one of those colored races of which ancient traditions tell. But he was at first mistaken for a spy sent out against us by our enemy, Zu, in the war now being waged. This view was re-inforced by the fact that he was found in the Scouting Galleries, just above Black Ravine, where the forces of Your Highness have this day won such a glorious victory. Hence he was sentenced to be executed, in accordance with that good old maxim, 'In wartime, kill first and investigate afterwards.'
"But, as fortune would have it, I arrived in time to save him. Your Highness will observe the curious little book which I carry in my hand; this proves him to be not a spy after all, but a creature of some outside race who arrived in some manner beyond our imagining. It is preposterous, of course, to suppose that he came from the Overworld, which, as our scientists have conclusively proved, is incapable of supporting life, since all living things would be instantly killed by the sunlight and fresh air. But may he not have come from caverns deep down in the earth's center, where we have never penetrated?
"This is my theory, Your Highness, and it is supported by the queer writing in his book, which I take to be the hieroglyphics of the crude and undeveloped race of which he is a member. As a philologist, I cannot but be interested, and as a student of primitive writing, I consider that here is an unparalleled opportunity for scholarly research. So I request, Your Highness, that you permit me to take him to my own home, where I will care for him and will attempt, in case his mind be capable of absorbing a few simple facts, to educate him in the rudiments of our language, so as better to study his habits in the interests of science. I will deliver a full report in not less than three octavo volumes, before the Royal Institute of Anthropological Abnormalities, and meanwhile will put up a bond to take every reasonable care of the prisoner and not to let him bite any one or escape...."
Such was the opening of Professor Tan Trum's speech, which continued in the same vein for thirty pages. It is little wonder, therefore, that the patience of Dictator Thuno Flâtum finally weakened, and that, with his permission, I left the hall in the company of Professor Tan Trum, to be launched by him into a new and unpredictably strange career.
CHAPTER X
Some Riddles Solved
The home of Professor Tan Trum was typical of the so-called "Second Class" citizen of the country of Wu. It was composed of five or six small rooms, excavated out of solid rock, and opening on one of the numerous side-galleries that threaded the underworld. There were no windows, but light was provided by the yellowish-green electric bulbs; while a constant supply of air was forced in through whirling fan-like devices located in little orifices near the front door. All in all, the Professor's abode was comfortable enough, although I could never accustom myself to the stone chairs and tables, to the stone beds without pillows, or to the grotesque hangings and adornments, composed of small likenesses of swords, helmets and land-battleships, which constituted the native idea of art.
The family of the Professor included his wife, Tan Tal, and his three daughters, Loa, Moa, and Noa. In them I made my first acquaintance with the feminine half of the population—and not few or slight were the surprises which they gave me! To begin with, there was the trouble of telling them apart, and in distinguishing the oldest from the youngest. On first entering the house, I assumed that Tan Tal, the mother, was the most youthful of the girls, while Loa, the last-born daughter, struck me as undoubtedly the parent. And this mistake, absurd as it may seem, was only natural, owing to the peculiar ideas of beauty entertained by the ladies of Wu.
For it was their opinion—in which the men seemed to share—that the supreme mark of a woman's loveliness was her wrinkles, and that the more wrinkles she boasted, particularly around the eyes and on the neck, the more alluring was her appearance. Hence all the damsels used to spend hours a day with wrinkle-producing creams, with permanent "wrinkle-wavers," and with other devices to create creases in their naturally smooth countenances; and only the old and matronly women, who were past the stage of trying to shine before their lovers, could afford to neglect the cosmetic arts and to let their features unwrinkle themselves.
It was for this reason that the young Loa, who, as I was later told, had barely reached seventeen, impressed me as a hag of advanced years. Her cheeks, her forehead, and her neck were furrowed in such a fashion as to remind me of a crone of ninety; while she was rendered all the more hideous, to my way of thinking, by the cream-colored paint with which she had daubed her lips, and by the fact that her eyelashes, in accordance with native custom, had been shaved away. Yet in the estimation of the chalk-faces, she was supremely beautiful!
There was another fact about Loa—and about all the other ladies—which grated horribly on my sensibilities. This was that, while the men wore skirts, the women all went around in trousers! All females, above the age of four or five, wore loose, pajama-like pantaloons of various colors; and it was considered unseemly, not to say indecent, for a lady to appear in any other costume; in fact, one of the maidens of my acquaintance was denied admittance to the best social circles because once, in jest, she had donned her brother's skirts.
In the same way, I myself was looked upon with suspicion, not to say contempt, because the trousers which I wore were considered unbecoming for a gentleman. Some persons, seeing me from a distance, made a mistake as to my sex, while others were so shocked that they went away shuddering with noses pointed high in the air in horror. Only after Professor Tan Trum had been officially notified of my delinquency, and had remedied the situation by providing me with one of his old black skirts, was I able to appear in respectable society.
I am sure that any of the local youths would have envied me the privilege that I now endured for several hours each day. This was to be instructed in the native language and institutions by the "beautiful" Loa. Professor Tan Trum, of course, supervised my education, but was so absorbed in his researches into the roots of extinct verbs that he could not give me more than a few minutes a day. Hence, it was natural that his daughter, having little else to do with her time, should be my instructress.
I must confess that she took her task, on the whole, conscientiously enough, although her first efforts were not to teach me the language, but to teach me how to pencil my eyebrows, whiten my cheeks and lips, and bleach my hair, so as to conform to the native idea of masculine beauty. Failing in these efforts, she resigned herself with a sigh to the inevitable; yet from the too-gentle and yearning way in which she glanced at me from time to time, I could see that my charms, such as they were, had had too much of an effect on her impressionable young heart. Already I had intimations that trouble was brewing!
But let me pass from this subject, for the present, to mention some of the astonishing facts I learned under her tutorage. First, of course, there was the necessity of studying the native language; but, fortunately, I made rapid steps in this direction, not so much because of any natural ability, as for the fact that Loa was a capable teacher, and because I made every effort to remember when she pointed to object after object and mentioned its native name, and then, after a time, began linking the words into simple sentences. I was like a little child first learning the language of its parents; but having, I confidently believe, a quicker intelligence than a child's, I was not long in absorbing the rudiments of the vernacular. Within two or three weeks, I could exchange elementary ideas; within a month, I could conduct a brief conversation; while, in less than three months, I was able to carry on an extended colloquy with any member of Tan Trum's household, and would not miss more than an occasional word, due to the limits of my vocabulary.
Strange, unbelievably strange, were my discoveries as to my new home. The underworld, composed of the twin countries of Wu and Zu, reached for hundreds of miles in all directions, and probably underlay not only most of Nevada, but much of Utah, Arizona, and adjoining states. This whole vast universe, comprising a multiplicity of great caverns and smaller connecting galleries, some of which reached down eight or ten miles, was inhabited by a population variously estimated as between forty and fifty millions—all of them chalk-faced and salmon-eyed, like the ones I had already seen. Neither Loa nor her father could tell me how long they had dwelt underground; their written records dated back thousands of years, and their claim was "Forever"! While there were traditions that once they had lived above ground, in a land of blue skies and open air from which they had been driven to escape annihilation in warfare, there were now no intelligent men to believe such tales, which were not only preposterous on the surface, but had never been proven by historical research. It was generally held that human life had originated in caves underground, and that, as population multiplied, men had excavated new caves and corridors to take care of the surplus millions.
So accustomed had the people become to their subterranean environment that it was impossible for them to appear above ground, unless they wore heavy metallic suits, like those of undersea divers, in order to protect them from the rays of the sun, which their white skins, having lost all pigment in the course of the ages, were no longer able to endure. Hence their belief, which scientists had verified by means of elaborate mathematical proofs, that no life could endure above ground, and hence the fact that none of them had ever been observed by our race; for only once every score of years would any scientist of Wu venture above ground, and even then he would emerge in some desert place where no human habitation existed.
But how did the millions of Wu and Zu manage to preserve life underground? How did they contrive to eat, breathe, and clothe themselves? That was one of the first questions I asked; and the answer came to me partly from Loa, and partly from my own observations.
The secret, as I had early surmised, was to be found in the prodigious scientific development of the Underworld. I do not exaggerate when I say that they were centuries in advance of our own race; they had evolved mechanical formulae and devices of which we have not the remotest conception. As an engineer by profession, I was naturally much interested in this phase of their growth; and while I was not able to study or understand all their numerous contrivances, yet I could understand enough to fill me with amazement and admiration. Every phase of the life of Wu, I found, depended upon science. Without it, they could not have existed for a single day; it was both astonishing and frightening to know how completely these people had come to rely upon their own inventions.
I shall not take time, at this point, to dwell upon all their elaborate appliances—which, indeed, would require a separate volume even for their enumeration. I shall leave out of account the intricate ventilating system, by which they pumped an adequate supply of air from the outer world; for I shall have occasion to refer to this again. Likewise, I shall not now describe their military engines, of which I have already given some idea, but which I was later to observe more intimately. I shall begin, therefore, by telling of the manufacture of food and clothing, which was conducted on principles I had never before considered possible.
Let me say, by way of explanation, that my food in the Professor's house had consisted entirely of queer-looking ingredients, comprised in part of purple capsules, such as I had been given in prison, and in part of a stringy, fibrous substance reminding me of seaweed. I was told, indeed, that the wealthier sections of the population occasionally enjoyed delicacies such as fish from subterranean rivers, and mushrooms grown in specially prepared cellars; but if Professor Tan Trum could afford such luxuries, he would not waste them on a barbarian such as myself.
My clothes, likewise, were of a substance I could not recognize—a woven substance a little like hemp and yet clearly not hemp, for it was not quite so coarse. But the fibres, on the other hand, did not resemble those of linen, cotton, silk, or wool. What could it be? The answer, as I learned from Loa, was that the native clothing, and likewise the food, was manufactured synthetically. From the most ordinary chemical ingredients—from oxygen and hydrogen as contained in water, from carbon as contained in carbon dioxide or in coal, from the nitrogen found in the air, and from the sulphur and phosphorus of the mines—they would create compounds resembling natural organic products.
The simplest of all to manufacture were starch and sugar, and a fibre like the cellulose of plants. For these, all that was required was a brilliant lamp, imitating the qualities of sunlight, a chemical cell which utilized the lamp-rays as the chlorophyll of the vegetable kingdom utilizes the solar beams, and an adequate supply of water and carbon. Thus the people might obtain all the carbohydrates they required for the table, and also all the fibres needed for weaving into paper and clothes; for, since cellulose constitutes the main ingredient of cotton and other vegetable fabrics, it was possible to produce a synthetic equivalent of the garments worn in the world above.
More difficult was the problem of the nitrogenous foodstuffs; but here again the ingenuity of the chalk-faces had proved equal to the task. I was never able to understand by exactly what process they had succeeded in combining nitrogen with oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, and other substances to form albumin; but it is certain that this is precisely what they did, fusing the elements by means of an electric current and several catalytic agents, whose nature I was unable to learn.
Let me say, at this point, that I made every effort to find out; but the formula was the carefully guarded secret of the National Food Producers, Unlimited, a privately owned corporation, which was forbidden by law to tell the people the truth about the food they ate. Hence my efforts not only met with no success, but were so resented that I was threatened by the Company with imprisonment on the charge of unpatriotic activities.
In other fields, however, I was better able to satisfy my curiosity. I learned something of the power-system, by means of which the chalk-faces kept their factories running, excavated and illuminated the galleries, and conducted their warfare; I was told that they generated electrical energy in part from the flow of underground rivers, and in part by means of a chemical discovery made so long ago that no one remembered the inventor. This was the compound knows as Mulflar, an explosive at times beneficial, and at times annihilating in its effects.
Once again I was unable to discover the formula, for this was the exclusive property of the National Power Producers, who found it their most lucrative source of dividends, and had long ago succeeded in passing a law prohibiting themselves from making the facts public. The general principles underlying the invention, however, were well known. Mulflar was made by the union of nitrogen, phosphorus, magnesium, and sulphur with carbon, hydrogen, and one or two other elements in a compound both simply and easily produced. Its distinctive feature was its chemical unstability; its atoms would disintegrate and explode upon the slightest shock or upon the application of a spark, releasing a prodigious amount of energy through the conversion of that active element, hydrogen, into the chemically inert helium.
So great was the explosive power of Mulflar that a single gram, properly directed, was capable of blowing a hundred pounds of rock or iron to the height of half a mile. Naturally, a substance so dangerous had to be carefully controlled; and though accidents sometimes did occur, resulting in the occasional loss of a few hundred lives, in general it was highly adaptable to industrial uses. Shot off in small quantities in cannon-like tubes of specially prepared steel, it was used to set great dynamos into action, and consequently to furnish the larger part of the electricity indispensable to life. It was the energy of Mulflar, passed into storage batteries, that made it possible to run those little coaster-like cars with which I had had such a frightening experience; it was the energy of Mulflar that kept the lights and the ventilation in operation, that ran the food and clothing factories, and that pumped fresh water into pipes throughout the length and depth of the land.
But, at the same time, it was the energy of Mulflar that proved to be the worst enemy of the people. Never had I seen more convincing proof of how the most beneficial inventions may be transformed into engines of destruction! For it was Mulflar that accounted for the deadliness of the warfare waged by the chalk-faces; it was Mulflar that had produced those lightnings which Clay and I had watched in such fascinated horror; it was Mulflar that had supplied the motive-power for the land-battleships; it was Mulflar that had blown those gigantic machines to tatters. And it was Mulflar that was responsible for even more horrendous implements, which I was later to observe.
But before I report my discoveries in this regard, I must describe other peculiarities of the chalk-faces. And I must tell of one saddening conversation which I had with Loa and her father—a conversation which crushed one lingering spark of hope that had survived until then in the face of all discouragements.
This was in connection with my friend Clay. Hardly an hour went by but that I thought of him and his disappearance; hardly an hour but that I wondered whether he were alive or dead. True, I had heard nothing of him; but he might have been safe and well only a stone's throw away, and I would not have known it, since, at the time, I was confined in the Professor's house as closely as in a prison. Consequently, as soon as I was able to speak a few words in the native language, I asked about my friend.
The result could not have been more disappointing. Both Professor Tan Trum and his daughter looked astonished when they understood the nature of my inquiry. "What!" gasped my protector, with a sincerity that I could not question. "You say there were two like you? I wish there were! That would double the opportunities for verification of my theories!"
"Another like you?" questioned Loa, in milder tones; and then burst into a giddy explosion of laughter. "Why, that's just too good for words! I'm sure there couldn't be two like you in the whole deep world!"
Not knowing whether to take this as a compliment or not, I said nothing, while the Professor continued.
"My dear friend, if another man like you had been found anywhere in Wu, we would know of it instantly. The news would be flashed from end to end of the country—just as your own arrival has been."
"My friend wasn't exactly like me," I explained, fighting against a sinking sensation that all but overcame me. "He was taller, and his hair was red—"
For the first time in my experience, the Professor bent nearly double with laughter, his great ungainly frame rocking back and forth in mirth. It seemed minutes before he and Loa could suppress their merriment. "His hair was red?" echoed Tan Trum, riotously. "Red? Red, you say? My dear man, who ever heard of red hair?"
And both he and his daughter went off again into spasms of laughter.
My only consolation was the reflection that, although Clay appeared hopelessly lost, still, if he ever were found, I would hear of it, since no red-haired man had ever been seen before in all the land of Wu.
CHAPTER XI
Fresh Surprises
While I was questioning Professor Tan Trum and his family in regard to the underworld, they were equally eager in making inquiries as to my own land.
Naturally, they were anxious to know where I had come from, and how I had arrived; but, unfortunately, they already had their own theories on the subject, and nothing that I could say was able to change their views. Since they had decided that I had escaped from some cavern far below them, my story that I had come from the so-called "Overworld" met with incredulous smiles. Their attitude was about what our own would be if some stranger should assert that he came from the depths of the sea. "No use trying to deceive us!" they cried reprovingly. "The Overworld is not capable of supporting life!"
And then curiously they asked, "Are the people where you come from all colored like you?"
"Colored?" I flung back, a little irritated. "I haven't a speck of colored blood in my veins! I'm American white, every inch of me!"
"White?" they jeered, pointing to my face, with its rosy complexion. "What! you call that white? Why, you're pink!"
And loud was the laughter that convulsed the family group.
"If you're white, then what are we?" demanded Loa, insolently indicating her own snowy features.
I had nothing to say in reply. I could see that, by comparison with the chalk-faces, I was indeed the member of a colored race.
"My dear young man," consoled Professor Tan Trum, with the most unbearable superciliousness, "do not let the matter of your origin grieve you. We know that birth is not a matter of choice, and if nature has made you a member of an inferior race, at least it speaks well for you that you could rise to join us."
"But I didn't rise to join you!" I insisted. "I descended! I fell into your world by accident, through a fissure caused by the shocks of your warfare."
This explanation, however, was ignored, while the members of the family exchanged significant glances, as if to say that I was the most incorrigible liar they had ever met.
It was Tan Tal, the charming wife of Tan Trum, who put the next question.
"Where you come from, is there only one country?—or is there more than one, so as to give you someone to fight with?"
"Oh, there are many countries!" I declared. "We have simply no end of lands to fight with!"
At this announcement, the three young daughters of the family tittered uncontrollably, with the most amused expressions on their milky, wrinkled countenances.
"Why, how funny!" laughed Loa.
"How confusing!" giggled Moa.
"How absurd!" roared Noa. "Then how do you know which one to fight first?"
Professor Tan Trum, unlike his daughters, had been listening with an unsmiling solemnity of manner. I could see that he did not consider my statement comical; his massive brow was furrowed with profound thought as he replied.
"That is an excellent idea, young man—to divide yourselves into many countries. It is plain that even the barbarians have ideas. Up here, you see, we have only two nations, Wu and Zu. Hence we are much handicapped, from the military point of view. If we want to go to war, we have only one possible enemy, and that at times grows monotonous. Again, it becomes difficult sometimes to find excuses for hostilities. They say that only this year our Secretary of National Defense—poor fellow!—was driven out of his mind to find a plausible reason for declaring war on Zu. However, if we had had some other country to oppose, there would have been no problem at all."
"Yes, that is so, father," agreed Loa, who by this time had ceased laughing. "Why not recommend to Dictator Thuno Flâtum that we split up into several countries?"
"Excellent!" concurred Tan Tal. "Then we could go to war to defend the rights of small nations!"
"But I don't quite understand," I put in, finding the conversation getting wholly away from me. "You're talking as if war is a good thing! Up in our world, we call it a curse!"
"A curse?" echoed all the members of Tan Trum's family. "A curse? Why, what nonsense!" And loud was the laughter of the ladies.
"Don't let anyone here catch you saying that!" warned the Professor, scowling severely. "If one of the Government Police overheard you, you'd be court-martialed!"
Appalled at the enormity of my offense, I gaped at the Professor in awe-stricken silence.
"There's no use talking," mused Tan Tal, shaking her head sadly, "the savagery of the colored races is unquenchable. To think they're actually opposed to warfare!"
"It's so unenlightened of them!" condemned Loa.
"So disgusting!" jeered Moa.
"So barbarous!" groaned Noa. "Really they must still be in the Stone Age!"
"You see, my dear young man," explained the Professor, turning to me not unkindly, as he observed my bewilderment, "we live in an age of unreason. Unreason and science—these are the two features of our life. And both of these tell us that man is a fighting animal. Biology assures us that he was created with the instinct of aggression, which is necessary for the sake of self-preservation; and psychology declares that all the instincts planted in him by nature must be satisfied. Accordingly, men must satisfy their instinct of self-preservation by destroying one another. That fact was demonstrated long ago by the philosophers—to question it would be heresy. So you see, my good young friend, why it is necessary to fight?"
There was a vague suspicion in my mind that this argument, reasonable as it seemed, might not be altogether sound; but before I had had time to formulate any objections, Tan Tal once more lifted her voice.
"Besides, there is another reason. If we didn't fight, think of the loss to industry! Think of all the millions invested in Mulflar Works, and in land-battleship factories! Why, if we didn't have any war, all this capital would be wasted."
"Yes, and my stocks in Mulflar Products, Amalgamated, would go down to nothing!" groaned the Professor, who seemed to regard this as the culminating argument.
Taking advantage of a gap in the conversation, I was now able to ask the question that had long been puzzling me.
"What is the present war all about, Professor Tan Trum? What is the issue, the principle behind it?"
"Issue? Principle behind it?" shouted Tan Trum, while the ladies struggled to hold back a fresh outburst of laughter. "What makes you think there is any issue, any principle behind it? We are fighting for the national honor—and, certainly, there is no principle behind that!"
The Professor paused, energetically stroking his two-pointed beard, glaring at me as though I had been guilty of some offense against decency.
"There has to be an official reason for the war, of course," he resumed, more mildly. "In this case, we were driven to our wits' end, and couldn't think of anything better than the old Nullnull dispute."
"Nullnull dispute? What's that?"
The five chalk-faces all stared at me a little blankly, as if surprised that there was anyone who had not heard of the Nullnull dispute.
However, the Professor condescendingly undertook to explain.
"On the borderline between Wu and Zu is the province of Nullnull. This is composed of a series of desert caverns, a dozen miles long and about half as wide. They say that once it was valuable land, containing lakes and streams and rich ore deposits; but it has been so shot to pieces that no one lives there now, and it is worthless for everything except as a place to fly the national flag. It is therefore highly coveted by both Wu and Zu. In the course of the last thousand years, it has changed hands one hundred nineteen times, belonging first to one country, and then to the other, and every time it has been recaptured there has been an excuse for another war, for of course the citizens of the defeated land would not be content to have Nullnull wrenched away from them. Thus the military ardor of the citizens of both countries has been kept at fever pitch, and we have had no trouble in advancing our Military Birth Extension Program."
"Military Birth Extension Program?" I cried. "What under heaven is that?"
"What do you think it is?" demanded Tan Trum, a flare of irritation in his salmon eyes. "Exactly what the name implies! In order to keep a war going, what do we need most of all, besides money and ammunition? Naturally, man-power! But present-day warfare is so efficient that man-power does not last long. It is estimated that the military turnover is seventy-five per cent a year."
"Military turnover? And what is that?"
"Just what the term implies! The percentage of men turned over to the ranks of the immortals."
"You mean, the percentage killed?"
Tan Trum and the four ladies all glared at me as though I had committed an impiety. The Professor stroked his beard in indignation; the mouths of Loa, Moa, and Noa all gaped wide with horror.
"Killed? Killed, young man?" thundered Tan Trum. "Never use that word in connection with war! It is not permitted! It is illegal, unpatriotic! No one is ever killed in war! Millions are sent to the Blessed Caverns, or converted into deathless heroes, or become the Unknown Warriors! But no one is ever killed! That is forbidden by law!"
"Young man," remonstrated Tan Tal, "remarks like yours are enough to ruin military morale!"
"If we didn't know you spoke in ignorance, sir, we would have you examined by the Intelligence Department, which would most likely have you executed for free speech!" threatened the Professor.
After a moment, however, he seemed softened by my contrite expression; and, regaining his good humor, continued.
"But I was going to explain about our Military Birth Extension Program. The principle is very simple. We have introduced Birth Uncontrol, and made it compulsory by law. The idea is that all families should have as many children as possible—sons, so that they may go out to fight for their country, and daughters, so that they may bear more sons to fight for their country. All couples married for ten years or over are required to pay a tax for every child which they have less than seven; while, for every child after the seventh, they receive a bonus. This system works so well that we are able to keep our population stationary."
"Stationary?" I cried. "At that rate, it ought to double every generation!"
"It would—except for the military turnover. As it happens, our boys are all enlisted in the reserve corps of the army at the age of six, and from that time forth are trained for the next war. So rigorous is the discipline that fifty per cent never reach sixteen. This is, in fact, one of the great merits of the system, as it ensures the survival of the fittest. At sixteen the youths are enrolled in the active army, and are sent to the front to face the boys of Zu. They then are offered the hope of being permitted to retire from military life at eighteen, if they should reach that age. But fifteen out of sixteen, in the course of these two years, enjoy the fate of heroes and go over to the Blessed Caverns."
I was about to comment, but refrained, for fear of breaking some penal law.
"Besides being profitable, it is a great honor to have many children," continued the Professor, with zest. "Mothers are given an honorary gold crescent for every son born to them; and fathers receive an honorary crescent of silver. Immediately upon the death—" here Tan Trum paused, and coughed in great embarrassment—"I mean to say, immediately upon the turnover of a son, the mother and father each receive another honorary crescent. It is this that makes Birth Uncontrol such a success."
"Well, Professor, you yourself don't seem to have starred in that line," I remarked, with a side glance at Loa, Moa, and Noa, who surprised me by averting their eyes and sighing. "With only three daughters to your credit—"
"Three daughters?" bellowed Tan Trum, his long black-gloved hand shaking in uncontrollable ire. "And what, pray, of my five sons?"
"Yes, what of our five sons?" echoed Tan Tal, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
"Well, what of them?" I demanded.
"They have all gone to the Blessed Caverns!" sighed the Professor.
"I have five extra crescents for the dear boys!" confided Tan Tal, wiping a second tear from her eye. "Poor darlings! The oldest was just seventeen when he—when he was turned over. I shall always be proud of their record!"
"I too!" coincided Tan Trum. "It shall always be a source of melancholy gratification to look at my five extra silver crescents, which shall contribute to my honor forever."
"To your honor?" I cried. "Who was it, then, that died?"
"Something in me died forever when they—when they were turned over," he mourned, drawing up his gaunt face in a preternaturally long, solemn expression.
Tan Tal, meanwhile, with all the suppressed fury of outraged motherhood, was glaring at me as if to devour me whole. "Barbarian!" she challenged. "What makes you think they died? They shall live forever in our memory! They shall endure in the annals of their country! They shall live here—here, in the shrine of my breast!"
So speaking, she smote the designated part of her anatomy a blow severe enough to do herself physical injury.
"They shall live forever—here in the shrine of my breast!" thundered the Professor, hitting his bony thorax a resounding smack.
Concluding that these people, though normally sane, had gone mad on this one topic, I thought it best to change the subject. "Did you say all the boys of Wu are enlisted in the army?" I inquired. "Are there no exceptions?"
"I didn't say there were no exceptions," stated the Professor, assuming a milder manner. "Naturally, there are! All sons of Second and Third Class citizens must go to war. But sons of First Class Citizens are exempted."
"First Class Citizens? Who are they?"
"Why, haven't I told you of our three classes? The division is an ancient one, and is the basis of our social life. The Third Class, which is the most numerous, is sometimes also called the Hungry Class; its members are notable for doing most of the country's hard work, and for being so poor that they rarely have enough to eat. The people of this class are prohibited by law from thinking, lest thought lead them to revolt. Above them is the Second or Sedentary Class—to which I have the honor of belonging—its members usually have enough to eat, hence a mild amount of thought is permissible, so long as it doesn't give birth to free speech. But over us all is the First or Master Class, which makes up less than one per cent of the population and owns ninety-eight per cent of the country. This, of course, is the class that rules us."
"But I thought Dictator Thuno Flâtum ruled you."
"Thuno Flâtum is the head of the Master Class."
"Let's hope he isn't typical of them," I was on the point of declaring, remembering this puny individual, with his artificial eyes, ears, and breathing apparatus. But, fortunately, I held my tongue and did not make any such treasonous remark.
"Thuno Flâtum was chosen by the Master Class as their leader," continued Tan Trum, "since he was considered the strongest of them all. In other words, his senses, his legs, and his lungs were the most atrophied."
Since this was just a bit confusing, I began to wonder if Tan Trum, after all, were not out of his head.
"You see," he explained, "for ages the Master Class has prided itself on its pure blood. None of its members, under pain of death, has ever been permitted to intermarry with a Second or Third Class citizen. The result of this long interbreeding has been a distinctive type, unlike us low-grade people. Thanks to their lives of luxury, and to their constant use of wheeled vehicles, the Masters have all but forgotten how to use their legs, which have become thin and shriveled; in the same way, since they have never filled their lungs by exercise or labor, their breathing apparatus has almost withered away; while, since they have rarely used their eyes or ears, these organs too have become worthless without artificial aid. All these qualities, consequently, are regarded as signs of superiority—or of 'green blood,' as aristocracy is called among us; and that Master whose lungs are the frailest, whose legs are the feeblest, and whose vision is the dimmest, is chosen to lead the country, since the purity of his lineage is the most unquestioned."
Being unable to understand this arrangement, which somehow did not strike me as altogether sensible, I was so undiplomatic as to let my doubts be known. "I don't see why the people stand for it," I blurted out. "I don't see why they let these frail little Masters rule them, own most of the property, and be excused from fighting, when they—"
But that was as far as I proceeded. The horrified faces of my hearers warned me to halt. Never, I am certain, had such impious words entered their ears before!
It was a full minute before any of them was able to find speech. "Well, I never!" gasped Loa at length, her features more wrinkled than ever as she made a grimace of disgust. "I didn't know we had a radical right in our own home!"
"A poisonous radical!" cried Moa. "Who would have believed it?"
"The next thing, he'll be demanding the single standard in justice, or some other crazy new-fashioned notion!" exclaimed Noa.
"He may even be asking honest politics!" contributed Tan Tal, glowering at me with a resurgence of her previous indignation.
"This is serious indeed!" conceded the Professor, his long head wagging with laconic severity. "Of course, allowances must be made for barbarians; you can't expect to civilize them in a minute. So I'll tell you what we'll do, folks. We'll take him down tomorrow to the Commissioner of Public Thought, and make him swallow the Oath of Fidelity. After that, if he makes any more disloyal statements, he will have to take the responsibility."
"Good! Very good!" cried the ladies in chorus. "We should have done that long ago!"
"But who's the Commissioner of Public Thought?" I inquired. "And what's the Oath of Fidelity?"
"You'll find out, young man, after you've swallowed it!" snapped the Professor. "And now you've had enough of my time for one day! I must get back to my researches on the history of the comma in ancient literature!"
So saying, the Professor glided from the room with long strides of his great, ungainly legs, while the four ladies regarded me more than a little coolly, like one who has betrayed a strange and criminal turn of mind.
CHAPTER XII
I Swallow the Oath
It was on the following day that Professor Tan Trum, true to his promise, took me to visit the Commissioner of Public Thought. Or, rather, it was on the following "wake"; for the chalk-faces, not having the guidance of the sun, divide time into periods of about twelve hours each, which are known alternately as "sleeps" and "wakes."
As this was the first time I had been out of the Professor's house for months, except for occasional visits to back galleries for exercise, I strode along at his side with great glee as he led me through the winding thoroughfares toward the office of the Commissioner. Several times, in my joy at being out, I walked carelessly ahead of my companion, and narrowly missed being felled by one of the small coaster-like vehicles, or "scootscoots," as they were called; but despite such near-mishaps, I kept up my good spirits until we had reached our destination, a long gloomy chamber where fifty chalk-faces were already waiting in line.
"The Commissioner's Headquarters are always crowded," stated the Professor, as we took our places at the foot of the procession. "You see, all Second and Third Class citizens are required to swallow the Oath of Fidelity twice a year."
"What's the purpose of that?" I inquired; but the Professor merely shook his head and did not deign to answer. However, I saw how the first in line, having finished his business, passed out a gleaming bit of silver, which was promptly rung up on a cash register by a little chalk-face seated at a table; and later I observed how each successive person, before leaving the room, similarly disposed of a bit of silver, which likewise was rung up on the cash register.
For over an hour we remained standing in line; and, to amuse himself during the interval, Tan Trum read out to me in loud tones the various signs and placards that hung about the room—signs and placards which I was not yet able to decipher unaided.
"Lower class citizens should be seen and not heard!" read the Professor, sonorously. "And the less seen the better!" Then, turning to me, he commented, "That is a good old maxim dating back thousands of years to Tit Wit, our greatest lawgiver.
"A little thought is a dangerous thing," continued Tan Trum, turning back to the signs, "and much thought is impossible. Therefore the ideal citizen will live in a state of sublime thoughtlessness.
"That is a rule we always do our best to follow," he remarked, turning to me with a boastful smile. "It is the first of the Silver Rules of Conduct—silver being our most valued metal, you know.
"But I suppose it's useless to try to drill such high principles into the barbarian mind," he meditated. "However, here's the second Silver Rule.
"Thoughtlessness is the best policy," he read. "It ensures one the respect of one's superiors, the confidence of one's equals, and a successful career in business or politics."
Seeing that I had no comment to make, my guide proceeded to the third Silver Rule.
"Thoughtlessness is next to godliness. A thoughtless mind and soul are the purest creation of the divine. He who thinks not will be content. He who thinks not will not spend time on vain revolts. He who thinks not will never suffer from headaches."
There were eleven other Silver Rules, all of which the Professor read with gusto; but my attention had wandered and I scarcely heard what he said. My mind was far away; I was thinking of Clay and asking myself where he was, if indeed he were alive at all; I was picturing my friends in the Overworld, and wishing I might see them once more, and wondering, as I had wondered so often, whether there were not some way to climb back through the maze of caverns toward the sunlight and blue skies....
I was awakened from my reveries by hearing a voice snap, "Next!" and feeling the Professor grab my sleeve and thrust me forward. To my surprise, I saw that I was now first in line.
Before me sat a scowling little individual at a stone table, with a cash register as tall as a grandmother's clock towering above him.
"Well? What is it?" he barked.
"This is my protégé," explained the Professor, coming forward. "Being a barbarian, he knows little of our laws, and I therefore thought it best to give him the Oath of Fidelity before it is too late."
"That's all very well," snarled the official, "but who's going to pay?"
"I'll attend to that," agreed Tan Trum. "As a member of the teaching profession, I'm allowed a ten per cent discount."
"Very well!" the other consented. "All accounts strictly cash!" And then, while the Professor muttered something about "Fidelity oaths come high this year," the official reached for a long roll of paper printed with minute characters, which he read aloud from across the room by means of binoculars, proceeding at such speed and in such mumbling tones that I could not distinguish a word he said!
Having finished, he thrust the paper forward, pushed a pen into my hand, and directed, "Sign here!"
Although not well versed in the native handwriting, I was able to make a mark that passed as my signature.
With a sigh of relief, I turned away, when I heard the official's voice ringing out behind me, "Wait a minute! You've forgotten to swallow the Oath!"
Unable to imagine what he meant, I wheeled about, and saw that the paper I had just signed was being rolled into a little pellet in the official's hands.
"Here! Swallow this!" he ordered, tossing it to me after it had been reduced to the size and shape of a marble.
"Swallow it?" I echoed. "What for?"
I was aware that several persons behind me in line were tittering; but I was still unable to take the command literally.
"Do as the man says!" I heard the Professor's irritated voice shrilling in my ear. "What use is the Oath of Fidelity if you don't swallow it—and swallow it whole?"
I reached for the pellet and regarded it suspiciously. It was hard and unappetizing, and I would about as soon have swallowed a stone.
"What are you waiting for?" demanded the official, his pinkish eyes aflame with anger. "Don't you want to swallow it after all? Or will we have to call the police and force it down your throat?"
Realizing that he was in deadly earnest, I could no longer hesitate, but slowly lifted the pellet toward my lips.
As I did so, I noticed that it had a bad odor, suggestive of decay; hence I was more reluctant than ever to swallow it.
But alas!—there was no hope! "I suppose we'll have to force it down your throat after all!" threatened the one-eyed one—at which, in sheer desperation, I thrust the oath into my mouth....
But not so easily could I gulp it down. The seconds that followed were among the most miserable of my existence. Have you ever, dear reader, experienced the sensation of choking? Have you ever felt a piece of foreign matter stuck in your throat, cutting off your breath? This was exactly my plight, for the Oath of Fidelity got caught, and would not go either up or down.
They tell me that my face went blue in the ensuing struggle, and that I sank down and almost fainted. I was aware that Tan Trum, half beside himself with excitement, was pounding vigorous blows on my back; I was aware that some one had snatched a tool like a pair of pliers, and was forcing it down my throat; but I knew little besides this, except the desperate craving for air, and the furious wish not to die, not to die just yet....
But at last, thanks to heroic efforts, the refractory Oath went down the passageway after all, and the reviving air entered my lungs. A minute longer, and the Oath would have killed me....
As I gradually regained my senses, I saw the Professor passing out a bright piece of silver, and heard the ringing of the cash register.
"Congratulations, young man!" exclaimed Tan Trum, heartily, as he led me away. "The Oath of Fidelity pretty nearly didn't take—but I'm glad you swallowed it after all. Now you're a full-fledged citizen of Wu!"
"Full-fledged citizen? And what does that mean?"
"It means you've promised to obey all the laws of the land. It means you've pledged allegiance to Dictator Thuno Flâtum, promised to honor him, to obey all his orders unquestioningly and never to utter a word against him. It means you've vowed to lead a life of one hundred per cent thoughtlessness. It means, finally, that you guarantee to live in Wu the rest of your days, and never to attempt to leave, under penalty of death."
"But I didn't guarantee anything of the kind!" I protested, perceiving that new and unexpected obstacles were being placed between me and escape.
"Indeed you did!" he denied. "Didn't you sign the Oath?"
"Yes, but I didn't understand what it said."
"That doesn't matter. No one is supposed to understand. Understanding is a sign of thought, and thought is a sign of disloyalty. But you did swallow the Oath, didn't you? That's what makes it legal!"
Not yet did I realize that this was but one of many unpleasant things I should have to swallow during my stay in Wu!