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Scientific Fiction

Vol. 7.

JULES VERNE'S TOMBSTONE AT AMIENS
PORTRAYING HIS IMMORTALITY

In Our Next Issue

THE METAL DOOM, by David H. Keller, M.D.
(Serial in three parts) Part I. In an almost per-
fectly appointed world, scientifically and mechani-
cally speaking, living has become a greatly sim-
plified matter— with reservations, of course. Ac-
cidents are liable to happen, naturally; serious
ones. How would Ave all — intelligent beings, who
believe that we can easily adapt ourselves to
changing conditions — react to a drastic change?

WORLDS ADRIFT, by Stephen G. Hale. During
a recent trip in California, Mr. Hale tells us, he
quite by accident received his inspiration for this
much-called-for sequel to "The Laughing Death/'
A more detailed account of this experience will
be found in the Discussions columns.

THE RETURN OF THE TRIPEDS, by Neil R.
Jones. It seems hardly necessary to say anything
beyond mentioning the author and the name of
the story. Here is another story in the Jameson
series — complete in itself — in which we learn of
developments more amazing than anything that
has happened to the professor before, and we
learn the secret of "the planet of the double sun/'

THE LEMURIAN DOCUMENTS, by J. Lewis
Burtt. No. 3. Daedalus and Icarus. Here is the
third in the series of mythological stories brought
to us in modern manner, which makes us won-
der once more just when some of our miraculous
inventions of the present day really were started.

THE PERFECT PLANET, by Miles J. Breuer,
M.D. All things which might be sent us from
outer space are not necessarily sent for our doom.
Strangely enough — or perhaps, naturally enough —
it is not a scientist who discovers the value of
this particular "gift" from the skies.

And Other Unusual Scientific Fiction

April, 1932

No. 1

In Our April Issue

Mechanocracy

By Miles J. Breuer, M.D 6

Illustrated by Morey

Seven Sunstrokes

By Bob Olscn H 16

Illustrated by Morey

The Lost Machine

By John B. Harris 40

Illustrated by Morey

Cosmic Steeple-Chase

By Robert A. Wait 48

Illustrated by Morey

Troyana

(A Serial in three parts) Part III
By Capt. 5. P. Meek, U. S. A

Illustrated by Morey

70

In the Realm of Books , A 86

What Do You Know?

(Science Questionnaire) 86

Discussions 86

v

Our Cover

this issue depicts a scene from the story entitled, "The Lost
Machine," by John B. Harris, in which the strange tentacled
metal construction that definitely showed intelligence is testing
the atmosphere of this, to it, new world, and is about to start
preliminary investigation for its master, who took the unhappy
precaution of staying within his space machine.

Cover illustration by Morey

Published Monthly by Teck Publishing Corporation, Washington and South

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OFFICERS 350 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK CITY, N. Y.

Lee Ellmaker, President Entered as second class matter at the Post Office at Puncllcn,

Warren P. Jeffery ?-,. D ., . N. J., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1931, by

Huston n Crino*ni V9€ * Pres,dettts Tcck Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved. Title Reg;

«"?.. u " cnppcn ) m jstercd at the V. S. Patent Office. Printed in the United States of

William Thompson, Treasurer
Wesley F. Pipe, Secretary

America. The contents of this magazine must not be reproduced
without permission. We cannot be responsible for lost manu-
scripts, although every care is taken for their safety.

Avenues, Dunellen, N. 7.

25c a Copy, $2.50 a year,
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Foreign Countries. Sub-
scribers are notified that
change of address must reach
us five weeks in advance of
the next date of issue.

j(ost ^hiachine

By John B. Harris

J^SYCHOLO GISTS — and others — are greatly concerned about the effects —
JL possible and assured — of machines and the machine age, on human life and
endeavor. But who has ever stopped to consider the possible reactions —
or thoughts — of the advanced machine of the future? That, apparently, was left
to our brothers across the sea, and one of them at least has done an excellent bit.
of work on its presentation. Here is a story that is different indeed, and thor-
oughly English in its atmosphere!

ATHER, here, quickly," Joan's voice called

down the long corridor.

Dr. Falkner, who was writing, checked him-
self in mid-sentence at the sound of his daugh-
ter's urgency.
"Father," she called again.

"Coming," he shouted as he hastily levered himself
out of his easy chair.

"This way," he added for the benefit of his two com-
panions.
Joan was standing at the open door of the laboratory.

"It's gone," she said.

"What do you mean?" he inquired brusquely as he

brushed past her into the room. "Run away?"

"No, not that," Joan's dark curls fell forward as her
head shook. "Look there."

He followed the line of her pointing finger to the
corner of the room.

A pool of liquid metal was seeping into a widening
circle. In the middle there rose an elongated, silvery
mound which seemed to melt and run even as he looked.
Speechlessly he watched the central mass flow out into
the surrounding fluid, pushing the edges gradually
further and further across the floor.

Then the mound was gone — nothing lay before him
but a shapeless spread of glittering silver, like a mini-
ature lake of mercury.

For some moments the doctor seemed unable to speak.
At length he recovered himself sufficiently to ask hoarse-
ly:

"That— that was it?"

Joan nodded.

"It was recognizable when I first saw it," she said.

Angrily he turned upon her.

"How did it happen? Who did it?" he demanded.

"I don't know," the girl answered, her voice trembling
a little as she spoke. "As soon as I got back to the
house I came in here just to see that it was all right. It
wasn't in the usual corner and as I looked around I
caught sight of it over here — melting. I shouted for
you as soon as I realized what was happening."

One of the doctor's companions stepped from the
background.

"This," he inquired, "is — was the machine you were
telling us about?"

There was a touch of a sneer in his voice as he put
the question and indicated the quivering liquid with the
toe of one shoe. \

"Yes," the doctor admitted slowly. "That was it."

"And, therefore, you can offer no proof of the talk
you were handing out to us?" added the other man.

"We've got film records," Joan began tentatively.
"They're pretty good. . . ."

The second man brushed her words aside.

"Oh, yes?" he asked sarcastically. "I've seen pictures
of New York as it's going to look in a couple of hundred
years, but that don't mean that anyone went there to
take 'em. There's a whole lot of things that can be done
with movies," he insinuated.

Joan flushed, but kept silent. The doctor paid no at-
tention. His brief flash of anger had subsided to leave
him gazing sadly at the remains before him.

"Who can have done it?" he repeated half to himself.

His daughter hesitated for a moment before she sug-
gested :

"I think— I think it must have done it itself."
"An accident? — I wonder," murmured the doctor.
"No — no, not quite that," she amended. "I think it
was — lonely," the last word came out with a defiant rush.
There was a pause. j

"Well, can you beat that?" said one of the others at
last. "Lonely — a lonely machine: that's a good one.
And I suppose you're trying to feed us that it committed
suicide, miss? Well, it wouldn't surprise me any; noth-
ing would, after the story your father gave us."

He turned on his heel and added to his companion:
"Come on. I guess someone'll be turnit^ this place
into a sanitarium soon — we'd better not be here when it
happens."

With a laugh the two went out leaving father and
daughter to stare helplessly at the residue of a van-
ished machine.

40

Illustrated by MOREY

"A second later there came a stunning ex-
plosion. . . . The cause of the disaster must
always remain a mystery. ... / only know
that when I looked up the vessel was no-
where to be seen . . . only a rain of metal
parts dropping to earth all about me.

41

42

AMAZING STORIES

At length Joan sighed and moved away. As she raised
her eyes, she became aware of a pile of paper on the
corner of a bench. She did not remember how it came
to be there and crossed with idle curiosity to examine it.

The doctor was aroused from his reverie by the note
of excitement in her voice.

"Look here, father," she called sharply.

"What's that?" he asked, catching sight of the wad of
sheets in her hand.

As he came closer he could see that the top one was
covered with strange characters.

"What on earth ... ?" he began.

Joan's voice was curt with his stupidity.

"Don't you see?" she cried. "It's written this for us."

The doctor brightened for a moment; then the ex-
pression of gloom returned to his face.

"But how can we . . . ?"

"The thing wasn't a fool — it must have learned enough
of our language to put a key in somewhere to all this
weird stuff, even if it couldn't write the whole thing
in English. Look, this might be it, it looks even queerer
than the rest."

Several weeks of hard work followed for Joan in her
efforts to decipher the curious document, but she held
on with painstaking labor until she was able to lay the
complete text before her father. That evening he picked
up the pile of typed sheets and read steadily, without
interruption, to the end. . . .

Arrival

S we slowed to the end of our journey, Banuff be-
gan to show signs of excitement.
"Look," he called to me. "The third planet,
at last."

I crossed to stand beside him and together we gazed
down upon a stranger scene than any other fourth planet
eyes have ever seen.

Though we were still high above the surface, there
was plenty to cause us astonishment.

In place of our own homely red vegetation, we beheld
a brilliant green. The whole land seemed to be covered
with it. Anywhere and everywhere it clung and thrived
as though it needed no water. On the fourth planet,
which the third planet men call Mars, the vegetation
grows only in or around the canals, but here we could
not even see any canals. The only sign of irrigation
was one bright streak of water in the distance, twisting
senselessly over the countryside — a symbolic warning of
the incredible world we had reached.

Here and there our attention was attracted by out-
croppings of various strange rocks amid all this green.
Great masses of stone which sent up plumes of black
smoke.

"The internal fires must be very near the surface of
this world," Banuff said, looking doubtfully at the rising
vapors.

"See in how many places the smoke breaks out. I
should doubt whether it has been possible for animal
life to evolve on such a planet. It is possible yet that
the ground may be too hot for us — or rather for me."

There was a regret in his tone. The manner in which
he voiced the last sentence stirred my sympathy. There
are so many disadvantages in human construction which
do not occur in us machines, and I knew that he was
eager to obtain first hand knowledge of the third planet.

For a long time we gazed in silent speculation at this
queer, green world. At last Banuff broke the silence.

"I think we'll risk a landing there, Zat," he said,
indicating a smooth, open space.

"You don't think it might be liquid," I suggested, "it
looks curiously level."

"No," he replied, "I fancy it's a kind of close vege-
tation. Anyway, we can risk it."

A touch on the lever sent the machine sinking rapidly
towards a green rectangle, so regular as to suggest the
work of sentient creatures. On one of its sides lay a
large stone outcrop, riddled with holes and smoking
from the top like the rest, while on the other three sides,
thick vegetation rose high and swayed in the wind.

"An atmosphere which can cause such commotion
must be very dense," commented Banuff.

"That rock is peculiarly regular," I said, "and the
smoking points are evenly spaced. Do you suppose . . .?

The slight jar of our landing interrupted me.

"Get ready, Zat," Banuff ordered.

I was ready. I opened the inner door and stepped
into the air-lock. Banuff would have to remain inside
until I could find out whether it was possible for him to
adjust. Men may have more power of originality than
we. and they do possess a greater degree of adaptability
than any other form of life, but their limitations are,
nevertheless, severe. It might require a deal of ponder-
ous apparatus to enable Banuff to withstand the con-
ditions, but for me, a machine, adaptation was simple.

The density of the atmosphere made no difference
save slightly to slow my movements. The temperature,
within very wide limits, had no effect upon me.

"The gravity will be stronger," Banuff had warned

me, "this is a much larger planet than ours."

It had been easy to prepare for that by the addition
of a fourth pair of legs.

Now, as I walked out of the air-lock, I was glad of
them : the pull of the planet w ? as immense.

After a moment or so of minor adjustment, I passed
around our machine to the window where Banuff stood,
and held up the instruments for him to see. As he
read the air pressure meter, the gravity indicator and
the gas proportion scale, he shook his head. He might
slowly adapt himself partway to the conditions, but an
immediate venture was out of the question.

It had been agreed between us that in such an event
I should perform the' exploration and specimen collect-
ing while he examined the neighborhood from the
machine.

He waved his arm as a signal and, -in response, I set
off at a good pace for the surrounding green and brown
growths. I looked back as I reached them to see our
silvery craft floating slowly up into the air.

A second later, there came a stunning explosion ; a
wave of sound so strong in this thick atmosphere that
it almost shattered my receiving diaphragm.

The cause of the disaster must always remain a mys-
tery : I only know that when I looked up, the vessel was
nowhere to be seen — only a rain of metal parts dropping
to earth all about me.

Cries of alarm came from the large stone outcrop and
simultaneously human figures appeared at the lowest of
its many openings.

They began to run towards the wreck, but my speed
was far greater than theirs. They can have made but
half the distance while I completed it. As I flashed

THE LOST MACHINE

43

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<t

..

across, I could see them falter and stop with ludicrous
expressions of dismay on their faces.

'Lord, did you see that?" cried one of them.

'What the devil was it?" called another.

'Looked like a coffin on legs," somebody said. "Mov-
ing some, too."

Flight

BANUFF lay in a ring of scattered debris.
Gently I raised him on my fore-rods. A very
little examination showed that it was useless to
attempt any assistance: he was too badly broken. He
managed to smile faintly at me and then slid into uncon-
sciousness.

I was sorry. Though Banuff was not of my own
kind, yet he was of my own world and on the long trip
I had grown to know him well These humans are so
fragile. Some little thing here or there breaks — they
stop working and then, in a short time, they are decom-
posing. Had he been a machine, like myself, I could
have mended him, replaced the broken parts and made
him as good as new, but with these animal structures

one is almost helpless.

I became aware, while I gazed at him, that the crowd
of men and women had drawn closer and I began to
suffer for the first time from what has been my most
severe disability on the third planet — I could not com-
municate with them.

Their thoughts were understandable, for my sensitive
plate was tuned to receive human mental waves, but I
could not make myself understood. My language was

unintelligible to them, and their minds, either from lack
of development or some other cause, were unreceptive
of my thought-radiations.

As they approached, huddled into a group, I made an
astonishing discovery — they were afraid of me.

Men afraid of a machine.

It was incomprehensible. Why should they be afraid?
Surely man and machine are natural complements : they
assist one another. For a moment I thought I must
have misread their minds — it was possible that thoughts
registered differently on this planet, but it was a possi-
bility I soon dismissed.

There were only two reasons for this apprehension.
The one, that they had never seen a machine or, the
other, that third planet machines had pursued a line of
development inimical to them.

I turned to show Banuff lying inert on my fore-rods.
Then, slowly, so as not to alarm them, I approached. I
laid him down softly on the ground near by and retired
a short distance. Experience has taught me that men
like their own broken forms to be dealt with by their
own kind. Some stepped forward to examine him, the
rest held their ground, their eyes fixed upon me.

BanufFs dark coloring appeared to excite them not a
little. Their own skins were pallid from lack of ultra-
violet rays in their dense atmosphere.

"Dead?" asked one. v

"Quite dead," another one nodded. "Curious looking
fellow," he continued. "Can't place him ethnologically
at all. Just look at the frontal formation of the skull
— very odd. And the size of his ears, too, huge: the
whole head is abnormally large."

"Never mind him now," one of the group broke in,
"he'll keep. That's the thing that puzzles me," he went

on, looking in my direction. "What the devil do you
suppose it is?"

They all turned wondering faces towards me. I stood
motionless and waited while they summed me up.

"About six feet long," ran the thoughts of one of
them. "Two feet broad and two deep. White metal,
might be — (his thought conveyed nothing to me). Four
legs to a side, fixed about halfway up — jointed rather
like a crab's, so are the arm-like things in front: but
all metal. Wonder what the array of instruments and
lenses on this end are? Anyhow, whatever kind of power
it uses, it seems to have run down now. . . ."

Hesitatingly he began to advance.

I tried a word of encouragement.

The whole group froze rigid.

"Did you hear that?" somebody whispered. "It — it
spoke."

"Loud speaker," replied the one who had been making
an inventory of me. Suddenly his expression bright-,
ened.

"I've got it," he cried. "Remote control — a telephony
and television machine worked by remote control."

So these people did know something of machinery,
after all. He was far wrong in his guess, but in my
relief I took a step forward.

An explosion roared : something thudded on my body
case and whirred away. I saw that one of the men was
pointing a hollow rod at me and I knew that he was
about to make another explosion.

The first had done no injury but another might crack
one of my lenses.

I turned and made top speed for the high, green vege-
tation. Two or three more bursts roared behind, but
nothing touched me. The weapon was very primitive
and grossly inaccurate.

Disappointment

FOR a day and a night I continued on among the
hard stemmed growths.
For the first time since my making, I was com-
pletely out of touch with human control, and my exis-
tence seemed meaningless. The humans have a curious
force they call ambition. It drives them, and, through
them, it drives us. This force which keeps them active,
we lack. Perhaps, in time, we machines will acquire it.
Something of the kind — self-preservation which is allied
to it — must have made me leave the man with the ex-
plosive tube and taken me into the strange country. But
it was not enough to give me an objective. I seemed to
go on because — well, because my machinery was con-
structed to go on.

On the way I made some odd discoveries.

Every now and then my path would be crossed by a
band of hard matter, serving no useful purpose which I
could then understand. Once, too, I found two unending
rods of iron fixed horizontally to the ground and stretch-
ing away into the distance on either side. At first I
thought they might be a method of guarding the land
beyond, but they presented no obstacle.

Also, I found that the frequent outcroppings of stone
were not natural, but laboriously constructed. Obvious-
ly this primitive race, with insufficient caves to hold its
growing numbers, had been driven to construct artificial
caves. The puzzling smoke arose from their method of
heating these dwellings with naked fire — so wasteful a

11

AMAZING STORIES

system of generating heat that no flame has been seen on
the fourth planet,* save in an accident, for thousands of
years.

It was during the second day that I saw my first
machine on this planet.

It stood at the side of one of the hard strips of land
which had caused me so much wonder. The glitter of
light upon its bright parts caught my lenses as I came
through the bushes. My delight knew no bounds — at
lart I had found a being of my own kind. In my excite-
ment I gave a call to attract its attention.

There was a flurry of movement round the far side
and a human figure raised its head to look at me.

I was able to tell that she was a woman despite the
strange coverings that the third planet humans put upon
themselves. She stared at me, her eyes widening in
surprise while I could feel the shock in her mind. A
spanner dropped from her hand and then, in a flash,
she was into the machine, slamming the door behind her.
There came a frantic whirring as she pressed a knob,
but it produced no other result.

Slowly I continued to advance and as I came, the agita-
tion in her mind increased. I had no wish to alarm her
— it would have been more peaceful had her thought
waves ceased to bombard me — but I was determined to

*

know this machine.

As I drew clear of the bushes, I obtained a full view
of the thing for the first time and disappointment hit
me like a blow. The thing had wheels. Not just neccs-
cessary parts of its internal arrangements, but wheels
actually in contact with the ground. In a flash the
explanation of all these hard streaks came to me. Un-
believable though it may seem, this thing could only
follow a track specially built for it.

Later I found that this was more or loss true of all
third planetf land machines, but my first discouragement
was painful. The primitive barbarity of the thing sad-
dened me more than any discovery I had yet made.

Forlornly, and with little hope, I spoke to it.

There was no answer.

It stood there dumbly inert upon its foolish wheels
as though it were a part of the ground itself.

Walking closer, I began to examine with growing
disgust its crude internal arrangements. Incredibly, I
found that its only means of propulsion was by a series
of jerks from frequent explosions. Moreover, it was so
ludicrously unorganized that both driving engine and
brakes could be applied at the same time.

Sadly, as I gazed at the ponderous parts within, I be-
gan to feel that I was indeed alone. Until this encounter,
my hope of discovering an intelligent machine had not
really died. But now I knew that such a thing could
not exist in the same world with this monster.

One of my fore-rods brushed against a part of it with
a rasping sound and there came a startled cry of alarm
from within. I looked up to the glass front where the
woman's face peered affrightedly. Her mind was in
such a state of confusion that it was difficult to know
her wants clearly.

She hoped that I would go away — no, she wished the
car would start and carry her away — she wondered
whether I were an animal, whether I even really ex-
isted. In a jumble of emotions she was afraid and at
the same time wa^ angry with herself for being afraid.
At last I managed to grasp that the machine was unable
to run. I turned to find the trouble.

As I labored with the thing's horrible vitals, it be-
came clear to me why men, such as I had met, showed
fear of me. No wonder they feared machines when
their own mechanisms were as inefficient and futile as
this. What reliance or trust could they place in a ma-
chine so erratic — so helpless that it could not even tem-
porarily repair itself? It was not under its own control
and only partially under theirs. Third planet men's at-
titude became understandable — commendable — if all their
machines were as uncertain as this.

The alarm in the woman's mind yielded to amazement
as she leaned forward and watched me work. She
seemed to think me unreal, a kind of hallucination:

"I must be dreaming," she told herself. "That thing
can't really be mending my car for me. It's impossible ;
some kind of horrid nightmare. . . ."

There came a flash of panic at the thought of mad-
ness, but her mind soon rebalanced.

"I just don't understand it," she said firmly and then,
as though that settled it, proceeded to wait with a grow-
ing calm.

At last I had finished. As I wiped the thing's coarse,
but necessary oil from my fore-rods, I signalled her to
^ush again on the black knob. The whirr this time was
succeeded by a roar — never would I have believed that a
machine could be so inefficient.

Through the pandemonium I received an impression
of gratitude on my thought plate. Mingling traces of
nervousness remained, but first stood gratitude.

Then she was gone. Down the hard strip I watched
the disgusting machine dwindle away to a speck.

Then I turned back to the bushes and went slowly on

my way. Sadly I thought of the far away, red fourth
planet and knew that my fate was sealed. I could not
build a means of return. I was lost — the only one of
my kind upon this primitive world.

The Beasts

THEY came upon me as I crossed one of the
smooth, green spaces so frequent on this world.
My thought-cells were puzzling over my condi-
tion. On the fourth planet I had felt interest or dis-
interest, inclination or the lack of it, but little more.
Now I had discovered reactions in myself which, had
they lain in a human being, I should have called emo-
tions. I was, for instance, lonely: I wanted the com-
pany of my own kind. Moreover, 1 I had begun to ex-
perience excitement or, more particularly, apathy.

An apathetic machine!

I was considering whether this state was a develop-
ment from the instinct of self preservation, or whether
it might not be due to the action of surrounding matter
on my chemical cells, when I heard them coming.

First there was a drumming in my diaphragm, swell-
ing gradually to a thunderous beat which shook the
ground. Then I turned to see them charging down

upon me.

Enormous beasts, extinct on my planet a million years,
covered with hair and bearing spikes on their heads.
Four-footed survivals of savagery battering across the
land in unreasoning ferocity.

Only one course was possible since my escape was cut
off by the windings of one of the imbecile-built canals.
I folded my legs beneath me, crossed my fore-rods pro-
tectingly over my lenses and diaphragms, and waited.

•Mars.

tThe earth.

THE LOST MACHINE

45

They slowed as they drew close. Suspiciously they
came up to me and snuffled around. One of them gave a
rap to my side with his spiked head, another pawed my
case with a hoofed foot. I let them continue : they did
not seem to offer any immediate danger. Such primitive
animals, I thought, would be incapable of sustaining
interest and soon move off elsewhere.

But they did not. Snuffling and rooting continued all
around me. At last I determined to try an experimental
waving of my fore-rods. The result was alarming. They
plunged and milled around, made strange bellowing
noises and stamped their hooves, but they did not go
away. Neither did they attack, though they snorted
and pawed the more energetically.

In the distance I heard a man's voice; his thought
reached me faintly.

"What the 'ell's worritm' them dam cattle, Bill ?" he
called.

"Dunno," came the reply of another. "Let's go an'
'ave a look."

The beasts gave way at the approach of the man and I
could hear some of them thudding slowly away, though
I did not, as yet, care to risk uncovering my lenses.

The men's voices drew quite near.

"'Strewth," said the first, "W did that get 'ere,
Bill ?"

"Search me," answered the other. "Wasn't 'ere 'arf
an hour ago — that I'll swear. What is it, any'ow?"

" 'Anged if I know. 'Ere, give us a 'and and we'll
turn it over."

At this moment it seemed wise to make a movement ;
my balancers might be slow in adjusting to an inverted
position.

There was a gasp, then:

"Bill," came an agitated whisper, "did you see that
rod there at the end? It moved, blessed if it didn't."

"Go on," scoffed the other. " 'Ow could a thing like
that move? You'll be sayin' next that it . . ."

I unfolded my legs and turned to face them.

For a moment both stood rooted, horror on their faces,
then, with one accord, they turned and fled towards a
group of their buildings in the distance. I followed them
slowly: it seemed as good a direction as any other.

The buildings, not all of stone, were arranged so as
almost to enclose a square. As the men disappeared
through an opening in one side, I could hear their voices
raised in warning and others demanding the reason for
their excitement. I turned the corner in time to face a
gaggling group of ten or twelve. Abruptly it broke as
they ran to dark openings in search of safety. All, save
one.

I halted and looked at this remaining one. He stared
back, swaying a little as he stood, his eyes blinking in
a vague uncertainty.

"What is it?" he exclaimed at last with a strange
explosiveness, but as though talking to himself.

He was a sorely puzzled man. I found his mental
processes difficult to follow. They were jumbled and
erratic, hopping from this mind picture to that in un-
controlled jerks. But he was unafraid of me and I was
glad of it. The first third planet man I had met who was
not terror-ridden. Nevertheless, he seemed to doubt
my reality.

"You fellowsh shee the shame s'l do?" he called deaf-
eningly.

Muffled voices all around assured him that this was so.

"Thash all right, then," he observed with relief, and
took a step forward.

I advanced slowly not to alarm him and we met in the
middle of the yard. Laying a rough hand on my body-
case he seemed to steady himself, then he patted me once
or twice.

"Goo' ol* dog," he observed seriously. "Goo' ol'
feller. Come 'long, then."

Looking over his shoulder to see that I followed and
making strange whistling noises the while, he led the way
to a building made of the hard, brown vegetable matter.
At openings all about us scared faces watched our prog-
ress with incredulous amazement.

He opened the door and waved an uncertain hand in
the direction of a pile of dried stalks which lay within.

"Goo' or dog," he repeated. "Lie down. There'sh
a goo' dog."

In spite of the fact that I, a machine, was being mis-
taken for a primitive animal, I obeyed the suggestion
— after all, he, at least, was not afraid.

He had a little difficulty with the door fastening as he
went out.

The Circus

THERE followed one of those dark periods of
quiet. The animal origin of human beings puts
them under the disability of requiring frequent
periods of recuperation and, since they cannot use the
infra-red rays for sight, as we do, their rests take place
at times when they are unable to see.

With the return of sunlight came a commotion out-
side the door. Expostulations were being levelled at
one named Tom — he who had led me here the previous
day.

"You ain't really goin' to let it out?" one voice
was asking nervously.

'Course I am. Why not ?" Tom replied.

The thing don't look right to me. I wouldn't touch
it," said another.

"Scared, that's what you are," Tom suggested.

"P'raps I am — and p'raps you'd 've been scared last
night if you 'adn't been so far gone."

"Well, it didn't do nothin' to me when I'd had a few,"
argued Tom, "so why should it now?"

His words were confident enough, but I could feel a
trepidation in his mind.

"It's your own funeral,"- said the other. "Don't say
afterwards that I didn't warn vou."

I could hear the rest of them retire to what they con-
sidered a safe distance. Tom approached, making a show
of courage with his words.

"Of course I'm goin' to let it out. What's more, I'm
takin' it to a place I know of — it ought to be worth a
bit."

"You'll never »

"Oh, won't I ?"

He rattled open the door and addressed me in a fierce
voice which masked a threatening panic.

"Come on," he ordered, "out of it."

He almost turned to run as he saw me rise, but man-
aged to master the impulse with an effort. Outwardly
calm, he led the way to one of those machines which use
the hard tracks, opened a rear door and pointed inside.

"In you get," he said.

I doubt if ever a man was more relieved and surprised
than he, when I did so.

« 'i

<(i

46

AMAZING STORIES

With a grin of triumph he turned around, gave a
mocking sweep with his cap to the rest, and climbed into
the front seat.

My last sight as we roared away was of a crowd of
open mouthed men.

The sun was high when we reached our destination.
The limitations of the machine were such that we had
been delayed more than once to replenish fuel and water
before we stopped, at last, in front of large gates set
in a wooden fence.

Over the top could be seen the upper parts of pieces
of white cloth tightly stretched over poles and decorated
by further pieces of colored cloth flapping in the wind.
I had by this time given up the attempt to guess the
purposes of third planet constructions, such incredible
things managed to exist on this primitive world that it
was simpler to wait and find out.

From behind the fence a rhythmical braying noise per-
sisted, then there came the sound of a man's voice shout-
ing above the din:

"What do you want — main entrance is round the
other side."

" Where's the boss?" called Tom. "I got something
for him."

The doors opened to allow us to enter.

"Over there in his office," said the man, jerking a
thumb over his shoulder.

As we approached I could see that the third planet
mania for wheels had led them even to mount the "office"
thus.

Tom entered and reappeared shortly, accompanied
by another man.

'There it is," he said, pointing to me, "and there ain't
another like it nowhere. The only all-metal animal
in the world — how'U that look on the posters?"

The other regarded me with no enthusiasm in his eyes
and a deal of disbelief in his mind.

"That long box thing?" he inquired.

"Sure, 'that box thing/ Here, you," he added to me,
"get out of it."

Both retreated a step as I advanced, the new man
looked apprehensively at my fore-rods.

"You're sure it's safe?" he asked nervously.

"Safe?" said Tom. " 'Course it's safe."

To prove it he came across and patted my case.

"I'm offering you the biggest noise in the show busi-
ness. It's worth ten times what I'm asking for it — I
tell you, there ain't another one in the world."

"Well, I ain't heard of another," admitted the show-
man grudgingly. "Where'd you get it?"

"Made it," said Tom blandly. "Spare time."
^ The man continued to regard me with little enthu-
siasm.

"Can it do anything?" he asked at last.

"Can it — ?" began Tom indignantly. "Here you,"

he added, "fetch that lump of wood."

When I brought it, the other looked a trifle less doubt-
ful.

"What's inside it?" he demanded.

"Secrets," said Tom shortly.

"Well, it's got to stop bein' a secret before I buy it.
What sort of a fool do you take me for? Let's have
a look at the thing's innards."

"No," said Tom, sending a nervous look sideways at
me. "Either you take it or leave it."

"Ho, so that's your little game, is it? I'm to be the

sucker who buys the thing and then finds the kid inside,
workm* it. It wouldn't surprise me to find that the
police'd like to know about this."

"There ain't no kid inside," denied Tom, "it's just
— just secret works. That's what it is."

"I'll believe you when I see."

Tom waited a moment before he answered.
^ "All right," he said desperately, "we'll get the blasted
lid off of it. . . . Here, hey, come back you."

The last was a shout to me but I gave it no notice.
It was one thing to observe the curious ways of these
humans, but it was quite a different matter to let them
pry into my machinery. The clumsiness of such as Tom
was capable of damaging my arrangements seriously.

"Stop it," bawled Tom, behind me.

A man in my path landed a futile blow on my body
case as I swept him aside. Before me was the biggest
of all the cloth covered erections.

"Here," I thought, "there will be plenty of room to
hide."

I was wrong. Inside, in a circular space, stood a line
of four footed animals. They were unlike the others I
had met, in that they had no spikes on their heads and
were of a much slenderer build, but they were just as
primitive. All around, in tier upon tier of rings, sat
hundreds of human beings.

Just a glimpse, I had, and then the animals saw me.
They bolted in all directions and shouts of terror arose
from the crowd.

I don't remember clearly what happened to me, but
somewhere and somehow in the confusion which fol-
lowed I found Tom in the act of starting his car. His
first glance at me was one of pure alarm, then he seemed
to think better of it.

"Get in," he snapped, "we've got to get clear of this
somehow — and quick."

Although I could make far better speed than that pre-
posterous machine, it seemed better to accompany him
than to wander aimlessly.

The Crash

SADLY, that night I gazed up at the red, fourth
planet.
There rolled a world which I could understand,
but here, all around me, was chaos, incredible, unreason-
ing madness.

With me, in the machine, sat three friends of Tom's
whom he had picked up at the last town, and Tom him-
self who was steering the contraption. I shut my plate
off from their thoughts and considered the day I had
spent.

Once he was assured that we were free from pursuit,
Tom had said to himself:

"Well, I guess that deserves a drink."

Then he stopped on a part of the hard strip which
was bordered by a row of artificial caves.

Continually, as the day wore on, he led me past gaping
crowds into places where every man held a glass of col-
ored liquid. Strange liquids they were, although men
do not value water on the third planet. And each time
he proudly showed me to his friends in these places, he
came to believe more firmly that he had created me.

Towards sunset something seemed to go seriously
wrong with his machinery. He leaned heavily upon me
for support and his voice became as uncertain as his
thoughts were jumbled.

THE LOST MACHINE

47

"Anybody comin' my way?" he had inquired at last
and at that invitation the other three men had joined
us.

The machine seemed to have become as queer as the
men. In the morning it had held a straight line, but now
it swayed from side to side, sometimes as though it
would leave the track. Each time it just avoided the
edge, all four men would break off their continuous wail-
ing sounds to laugh senselessly and loudly.

It was while I struggled to find some meaning in all
this madness that the disaster occurred.

Another machine appeared ahead. Its lights showed
its approach and ours must have been as plain. Then
an astounding thing happened. Instead of avoiding one
another as would two intelligent machines, the two lum-
bering masses charged blindly together. Truly this was
an insane world.

There came a rending smash. Our machine toppled
over on its side. The other left the hard strip, struck
one of the growths at the side of the road and burst
into naked flames.

None of the four men seemed more than a little dazed.
As one of them scrambled free, he pointed to the blaze.

"Thash good bonfire/' he said. "J oll y S ood bonfire.
Wonder if anybody'sh inshide?"

They all reeled over to examine the wreck while I,
forgotten, waited for the next imbecility to occur on this
nightmare world.

"It'sh a girl," said Tom's voice. *

One of the others nodded solemnly.

"I think you're right/' he agreed with difficult dignity.

After an interval, there came the girl's voice.

"But what shall I do? I'm miles from home/'

'"S'all righ'/' said Tom. "Quite all righ\ You
come along with me. Nishe fellow I am."

I could read the intention behind his words— so could
the girl.

There was the sound of a scuffle.

"No, you don't, my beauty. No runnm* away. Dan-
geroush for li'l girlsh— 'lone in the dark."

She started to scream, but a hand quickly stifled the
sound.

I caught the upsurge of terror in her mind and at that
moment I knew her.

The girl whose machine I had mended— who had been
grateful.

In a flash I was amongst them. Three of the men
started back in alarm, but not Tom. He was contemptu-
ous of me because I had obeyed him. He lifted a heavy
boot to send it crashing at my lens. Human movement
is slow: before his leg had completed the back swing,
I had caught it and whirled him away. The rest started
f utilely to close in on me.

I picked the girl up in my fore-rods and raced away
into the darkness out of their sight.

Discouragement

AT first she was bewildered and not a little fright-
ened, though our first meeting must have shown
• that I intended no harm.
Gently I placed her on top of my case-work and, hold-
ing her there with my fore-rods, set off in the direction
of her journey. She was hurt, blood was pouring down
her right arm.

We made the best speed my eight legs could take us.
I was afraid lest from lack of blood her mind might go
blank and fail to direct me. At length it did. Her mental
vibrations had been growing fainter and fainter until
they ceased altogether. But she had been thinking ahead
of us, picturing the way we should go, and I had read
her mind.

At last, confronted by a closed door she had shown me,
I pushed it down and held her out on my fore-rods to her
father.

"Joan . . . ?" he said, and for the moment seemed un-
surprised at me — the only third planet man who ever
was. Not until he had dressed his daughter's wounds
and roused her to consciousness did he even look at me
again.

There is little more. They have been kind, those two.
They have tried to comprehend, though they cannot. He
once removed a piece of my casing — I allowed him to do
so, for he was intelligent — but he did not understand. I
could feel him mentally trying to classify my structure
among electrically operated devices — the highest form of
power known to him, but still too primitive.

This whole world is too primitive. It does not even
know the metal of which I am made. I am a freak ... a
curiosity outside comprehension.

These men long to know how I was built; I can read
in their minds that they want to copy me. There is hope
for them: some day, perhaps, they will have real ma-
chines of their own. . . . But not through my help will
they build them, nothing of me shall go to the making of
them.

... I know what it is to be an intelligent machine in a
world of madness. ...

The doctor looked up as he turned the last page.

"And so," he said, "it dissolved itself with my acids."

He walked slowly over to the window and gazed up to
Mars, swimming serenely among a myriad stars.

"I wonder," he murmured, "I wonder."

He handed the typewritten sheets back to his daughter.

"Joan, my dear, I think it would be wisest to burn
them. We have no desire to be certified."

Joan nodded.

"As you prefer, father," she agreed.

The papers curled, flared and blackened on the coals
— but Joan kept a copy.

The End

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