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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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Amazing Stories, June 1928, with "The Blue Dimension"
HERE is another Flagg story which you will instantly take to your bosom. A fish, swimming in his own element, probably will find it impossible to think—if he does think—that there could be any other dimension or any other plane where beings exist who do not swim. Likewise, it is difficult for us to imagine another totally different plane on which people could live without our being aware of their existence. The author of this story brings out his point very clearly and most interestingly, and almost overcomes this difficulty.
I AM suspected of having made away with Doctor Crewe. Furthermore, my sanity is being questioned. That is all right; I can blame no one for holding to either or both suspicions. But, as a matter of fact, I have not murdered my friend, nor am I insane. Listen to me patiently please, and I will do my best to tell you of the wonderful discovery of Doctor Crewe, and in what manner he came to disappear.
As you all know, Doctor Crewe was sixty years of age, and a retired optometrist. He lived alone in this house with one servant and friend, myself. I am a man of thirty, young, strong. In a great many ways the Doctor treated me as a son. He paid me a liberal wage and made it possible for me to go to college. Sensible of the kindness he has shown me, I have hated to quit his service, even though graduated from the university for over a year and a half.
Doctor Crewe was a shy, retiring man with no friend, save myself, and few acquaintances. Engrossed in experiments of his own, he would often enter his private workshop and not emerge from it, sometimes for as much as twenty-four hours on a stretch. Except in a general way, he never discussed his experiments with me, for he was not a man given to much talk. I had not the least inkling of what it was that engaged his time and interest until two weeks ago. At that time he became very excited. God forgive me, I thought the excessive hours of work, coupled with little sleep, was affecting him mentally.
"Robert," he said, calling me into his workshop.
I went in. He was seated in a big chair right under the skylight.
"Have you ever read this?" he asked, holding up a large copy of the "Book of Mormon."
"No, sir. At least not all of it," I answered.
"But enough to know the story of how Joseph Smith dug up the tablets and was enabled to read and copy them?"
"You mean about the miraculous spectacles?" I laughed. "That bunk!"
"How do you know it's bunk?"
"Why, of course it is," I protested. "Who ever heard of such glasses before or since?"
"Nobody," he admitted. "And, as you say, Joseph Smith's story is probably bunk. But for all that, have you ever thought it might be possible to make a pair of glasses through which one could see—beyond this environment?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know we are living an existence that is an enigma to the wisest of our scientists and philosophers. I believe it was Millikan, the physicist, who once, on being peremptorily requested to define what he meant by the term 'spirit,' retorted that he would gladly do so if his questioner would first define what matter was. As a matter of fact, matter is something beyond our comprehension. It is, of course, reducible to force. But what is force? You see, we can reason ourselves to an impasse."
"Granted. But what has that to do with spectacles?"
"More than you think. Consider that we are living at a certain rate of vibration. Everything vibrating within range of our own rate would manifest itself to us as matter, that is, as concrete material, such as mountains, trees, cats, birds, snakes, etc. Anything below or above our range would to us be merely space, non-existent. You follow me?"
"Not quite," I confessed.
"Well, let me put it differently. You know there are sounds so high in frequency or pitch that the human ear cannot hear them, and vice versa, so low as to be inaudible."
"I understand that."
"Good. Then please remember that everything we observe around us, the smoke of factories, the red of sunset, houses, trees, animals, men, are all things manifesting themselves to us at varying degrees of vibration. At a certain rate they impinge on the ear as sound, the eye as color, the tongue as taste, the flesh as feeling. If that be true, then there must be a wealth of things all around us we cannot taste, handle or see."
I had never thought of this before.
"You mean," I said haltingly, "that as there are colors and sounds which go above or below our vision and hearing, so also there may be trees, animals—even men?"
"Why not? What is space to us may be reality to them, and what is reality to them may be space to us. I literally believe that, as, the Good Book says, there are worlds within worlds."
The conception was stupendous; I stared at him fascinated.
"Robert," said the Doctor impressively, "the world, as we know it, the world of our five senses, has been pretty well explored. Lots of people think there remains nothing more to discover. But what if someone were to open the way into those hidden realms all around us, the countless planes above and below! Think of the strange races that might be found, the new lands that might be visited, the wealth of knowledge that might be garnered!"
I thought of it and my head swam. Then I got a grasp on my common sense. All this was wonderful, of course; it made fine conversation; but, after all, it was speculation pure and simple.
"You know, sir," I said smilingly, "you made me believe for a moment that such worlds existed and could be visited."
"I am glad of that," he replied quietly, "because they do exist, and one of them at least can be visited."
This, I thought anxiously, is the result of overwork.
"Won't you come to lunch, Doctor? You know you've had nothing to eat since an early breakfast."
"Now, now, my boy," he laughed. "I assure you I'm quite sane and not at all light-headed. I repeat that such worlds actually exist, and that I am the Christopher Columbus who has discovered one of them."
I must have looked my incredulity, because he said with some force, "I see you doubt my contention. There is nothing for it, then, but to let you see it as I have seen it."
He picked up from a work-bench what appeared to be a pair of goggles. They were attached to a cap-piece made to fit over the head. The lenses were of queer design. "In fact," said the Doctor, "they are ground with forty-five inner facets specifically arranged so as to redistribute the light waves before they impinge on the retina of the eye. Nor is that all of it. There are really two lenses arranged for each eye-place, and in the space between them—about half an inch in thickness—is a space or cell filled with Radium-Tetra-Dimenol, a new substance. But I cannot tell you more, as I have discarded all the known formulae of optics in making these glasses."
He fitted the cap over my head, but as yet held the goggles above my eyes.
"I beg you not to be in the least alarmed, no matter what you see. Remember to keep quiet and not to endanger these lenses by any sudden move. Bear in mind the fact that you are in no bodily danger, that I am constantly by your side in this workshop, and tell me, if you can, what you see."
With that the eye-glasses were brought down until the rest-piece fitted the nose, and the side-flaps, drawn back, were made fast in the rear.
For a moment I was dazzled. My blinking eyes were lost in a maze of contrasting crystals. Then, so suddenly as to galvanize me with the shock, the crystals merged into one harmonious whole, seemed to expand, clarify, and I was gazing—gazing through the incredible aisles of a blue forest. It was a blue world that I saw. The trees, the giant ferns, the sucker-like blooms, were all blue. Not one prevailing shade of blue, no. The flowers, in some cases, were almost purplish red, and in others, shaded away into the most delicious contrasts of creamy whites and yellows. But the predominating color was blue. What could be seen of the sky was greenish blue. The very atmosphere had a bluish tinge, as if the winds were colored and could be seen. Whichever way I looked, the blue forest was before me. I turned my head. It was on either side of me—behind me. A shiver of fear ran down my back.
"Doctor!" I cried nervously.
The pressure of his hand reassured me.
"I am right here, my boy. Tell me, what do you see?"
"A blue forest," I said; "great ferns, and other growth of the same color."
"That is what I saw," he replied. "It isn't a tangled growth, though; it is more like a natural park, isn't it?"
"Yes," I answered, "it is more like a park. Wait! There's something stirring in the bushes to the left of me. I can't make it out as yet. I... Good God!" I gave a convulsive leap. If the Doctor had not held down my hands, I should have torn the glasses from my head.
"What is it?" he cried; but I couldn't answer. The strength left my body. Frozen with terror, I glared at the awful nightmare which seemed to pause and stare right into my face. Even in that moment of stark horror I realized that it was human—or what would have been called by whatever term passed for human in that other world. It was, perhaps, seven feet in height, naked, and of an indigo color over all. The eyes were set at the end of short tentacles which continually moved and writhed and could bring the creature's vision to bear in any direction, or in several directions at the same time, for of organs of sight there were three. The mouth was a pouting thing that filled me with indescribable loathing, while the root-like legs ended in flat feet probably a yard in circumference. Four snaky branches were attached to the upper part of the body and were evidently arms.
What made me conclude that this creature occupied the place of man in its own world, was the fact that it carried a weapon. This was a length of stick shaped like a short spear. That it was a weapon, and a deadly one, I soon had proof. Some monstrous sort of beetle came sailing through the trees. It was perhaps, a foot and a half long. The creature crouched, drew back what I must call one of its arms, and went through the motions of hurling the spear. The weapon never left its grasp, yet the insect fell as if struck by a bolt of lightning. The creature reached out with another of its snaky, branch-like arms. It seemed to have the ability of stretching it to an unbelievable extent. As the arm went, the tip of it became swollen, bell-shaped, finally falling over the stricken insect like an inverted cup. With a whip-like motion the prey was retrieved to the pouting mouth and swallowed—or rather absorbed—with an insuction of the lips. It was too much. The sensation of being alone in a weird wood, confronted by such a monster as this, made me shudder. When one of the writhing tentacles brought a saucer-like eye within an inch of my nose, I screamed and clawed at my head.
"For God's sake, Doctor," I screamed, "take them off!"
The glasses were removed. I stared at the familiar walls of the workshop with heartfelt relief. The blue forest, the hideous creature, were as if they had never been. I rubbed my eyes and laughed sheepishly.
"I'll admit, sir, that the thing scared me."
"What thing?"
"The indigo monster."
He shook his head. "I've never seen it."
I walked over to the faucet and drank a glass of water.
"Tell me, sir, isn't this some sort of trick you're playing on me?"
"In what way?"
"Oh, by arranging those lenses so as to create an optical illusion."
"No, my boy, no. What you saw is actual enough—only on another plane."
I couldn't believe it. That the blue forest, the incredible creature and the beetle it had swallowed, were all around me at that very moment, only manifesting themselves at a different rate of vibration, was unbelievable. It was too creepy an idea for me to accept without a severe mental struggle. What if something were to happen to the various rates of vibration, some accident merge them all into one! I wiped the sweat from my brow.
"Don't you think it possible, Doctor, that you may have accidentally brought about an optical illusion? That what I saw has no reality, save as the products of the glasses themselves, ground and arranged a certain way?"
"I thought of that," he replied, "and that is one reason I called you in to look through them. The question was this: Would you only see what I saw? Personally, I saw only the blue forest, the flowers. But you saw something else besides. That would tend to prove that the spectacles are not deluding us, that we are really gazing into another dimension. However, let me assume the glasses and see if I can observe what you did."
I helped him to adjust the spectacles. After a few moments he said, "There is not one such creature as you describe, but a dozen. Some are smaller than the others, and these I take to be females. In addition to spears, most of them carry yellow sacks. Undoubtedly the creatures belong to the dominant species in this strange world, though one would hesitate before ranking them higher than the savages in ours. In some ways they remind me of trees. I shouldn't be surprised to learn that they had evolved directly from the vegetable kingdom. Their legs are really roots with leaf-like protuberances. Now they are going away. They have disappeared to the right of me. The immediate forest is empty."
He was silent for a moment; but evidently saw nothing new, for in a few minutes he removed the spectacles.
"Robert," he said impressively, "you are the only one I have taken into my confidence. For ten years I have dreamed and experimented, keeping my own counsel. Until I am ready to announce my discovery to the world, I wish no word said of this."
"You can rely on my discretion, sir."
"Thank you, my boy, I knew you would say that. But from now on I shall need someone's assistance. Will you help me?"
"Gladly," I replied, because the thought of that other world, the untold marvels that might be laid bare to mankind by the Doctor's invention, fired my imagination. The Doctor grasped my hand.
"I'll admit I had counted on you. Know then, that in conjunction with the glasses, I believe I have perfected a machine by means of which it is possible to enter that other plane."
I could hardly believe my ears.
"You mean," I gasped, "that you have invented a way of getting there?"
"Exactly."
"But how?"
"Briefly, by altering the present rate of vibration and bringing it in harmony with that prevailing in the other dimension. Obviously, if my body can be made to vibrate in accord with the blue world, I shall manifest there and not here. At least, I think so."
He led the way to what looked not unlike a big wringing machine of the roller type. The rollers, however, were of fine wire coils, interlockingly arranged, and there were twelve of them supported above a large tub filled with a metallic fluid. Several powerful looking electric batteries lay at the tub's base, on the floor.
"This," said the Doctor, laying his hand affectionately on the complicated apparatus, "is the Re-vibrator. The person or thing to be re-vibrated is run through those rollers, at the same time an alternating current of electricity is maintained in the wire coils which affects the molecules of matter and brings about the vibratory change. Just how this is done, I cannot tell you, for I do not know; but take my word for it, it is done."
I stared at the inert piece of machinery with mixed emotions. That anyone or anything could be run through its rollers to another dimension seemed the height of absurdity. Yet, after my experience with the glasses, I was distrustful of my own doubt.
"I have here some white mice," said the Doctor. "If you will put on the spectacles again, Robert, I shall run them through the rollers and you can see what happens."
With trembling hands I affixed the cap, the goggles. The same blue forest grew before me, but now I saw it from a slightly different position. In spite of myself I could not repress a little shiver. This preliminary shiver was always to be mine whenever I gazed through the glasses. To all intents and purposes I was transferred from the workshop and set down in a blue wilderness. To reassure myself, I gripped the sides of my chair and ran my hands over them from time to time. In my ears sounded the purr of grinding cogs.
"Watch very carefully, Robert," came the quiet voice of the Doctor, "I am sending the first mouse through."
Nothing happened.
I strained my eyes in the direction from whence his voice had come.
"I see nothing yet," I began, then gave a convulsive start, for in the blue air, to one side of me, appeared the head of a mouse. I stared at it tensely. The shoulders followed the head, the fore-paws the shoulders; then, by degrees, the rest of the body. No sooner was the body altogether in one piece than it fell a distance of several feet to the ground. And what a white mouse! It was now as large as an ordinary rat. For a moment it cowered on the purplish grass, its pink eyes darting from side to side; then, apparently recovering from its first surprise at finding itself in such queer surroundings, it ran nimbly up a tree trunk and was lost to view behind a mass of foliage. Two more mice came through and acted in a similar manner.
"But what made them so much larger?" I asked the Doctor, after removing the glasses.
He looked at me thoughtfully. "I cannot say for certain, unless the pressure of the atmosphere is much less on the other plane than it is here. But whatever the reason, it doesn't seem to have impaired the activity of the mice. Also they went through the rollers in good physical condition. If mice, why not men?"
Indeed, why not? It appeared perfectly feasible. Yet at the thought of entering that other world physically as well as visually, my flesh crept.
AFTER lunch, about three-thirty, the Doctor called me
into the workshop again.
"So far," he said, "we have only looked into that other dimension from one spot, this room. How would it appear from some other place—say Lake Merritt Park?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, let's go and see."
Seated on a secluded bench, the Doctor opened his satchel and produced the glasses.
"Put them on, Robert," he commanded.
Nothing loath, I obeyed. The same startling metamorphosis took place in my surroundings; but this time I was on the edge of the blue forest and before me stretched a rolling plain. It was covered with a profusion of daisy-like flowers and low-growing shrubs. A herd of purplish-black beasts with six legs and tortoise-like heads were grazing in the near foreground. They were about the size of sheep.
Though now more or less accustomed to the sensation of being transported, as it were, into this mysterious other plane, I could not refrain from instinctively crying out when the herd of beasts suddenly stampeded in my direction. It was hard to realize that I had no existence for them; that I was so much space through which they sped like a whirlwind and were gone.
Not all of them, though. A half dozen of the six-legged beasts were left behind, stark and lifeless.
From the low-growing shrubbery through which they had evidently crept in a recumbent position, burst a band of the oddest huntsmen mortal eyes ever beheld. I call them huntsmen, because, though much shorter than, and in some respects different from, the indigo monsters seen in the forest, they, too, belonged to the same dominant species. In color they were not unlike yellow copper, and in height they could not have exceeded five feet.
If they had been the first "human" beings to meet my sight in this weird world, I should doubtless have considered them horrible enough; but compared to the hideous giants of their kind, they were almost beautiful to observe. Formed much as were the giants, there was this difference in structure. The eyes—of which they possessed but two—were set on the ends of stable protuberances, and not of writhing tentacles. A feathery, fern-like hair grew plume fashion from the head and waved in the wind. The mouth was more pleasing than the pouting mouth of the indigo monsters, the lips flower-like, but the arms and legs were of the same general nature, though on a more delicate scale. I relinquished the glasses to the Doctor, who wished to observe them for himself.
"Yes," he remarked, "these creatures are undoubtedly of the same species as the ones seen in the forest, but palpably of a dwarfish branch. I am inclined to think them higher in the social scheme than the others. They are armed with the same sort of spears, but in addition carry knives or swords with which they are dismembering the game."
He rose abruptly to his feet.
"Robert," he said, "they are getting ready to move on. By means of the glasses I am going to try and trail them to their homes. I want you to lead me by the arm and see that I don't stumble into people and buildings or get run over. Keep track of the streets and the general direction, because later on I shall try and draw a map of the course I've followed!"
Then ensued one of the queerest walks I've ever taken. Oddly enough, the course followed by the creatures in that other world seemed to follow the streets laid out in this. There were times, of course, when the Doctor complained I was leading him away from their trail, but nearly always some street swung us once more in the desired direction, or they turned back into ours. For three-quarters of an hour we walked. Suddenly, in the vicinity of Fruitvale Avenue, the Doctor halted.
"Marvelous," he murmured. "Wonderful. I expected nothing like this."
"What is it?" I asked, all on fire with curiosity. But for nearly ten minutes he made no answer; he was absorbed in the contemplation of something he saw. At last I could contain myself no longer. I shook him by the shoulder.
"May I have a look, sir?"
"Yes, Robert, yes," he said, coming out of his spell with a start. "Of course you may, my boy."
I assumed the cap and goggles with trembling fingers. What new marvel could I expect to see? What further monstrosity? The glasses came over my eyes, the flaps were buttoned. I strained my vision to the utmost. The familiar blue grew in front of me. But what was this! No forest, no rolling plain, but a city. A great square of sapphire blue was all around me. Underfoot lay a flagged pavement of the same color, dotted here and there by showering fountains, strange trees, exotic blooms. This square was bordered with magnificent buildings. Like spokes radiating from a central hub, wide avenues ran away from the square. I looked about me with awe. Who owned this city? Surely not the indigo giants or the copper-colored dwarfs. This magnificent place seemed far beyond the capabilities of either to build. Here, undoubtedly, dwelt the real rulers of this other dimension, the superior race of all, but where were they? Save for some gigantic butterflies, some creeping reptiles not unlike lizards, the place was deserted. Everything was in perfect order, no sign of ruin or decay, yet not a glimpse of inhabitants could I gain.
"The housetops, Robert," came the voice of the Doctor. "Look at the housetops."
Even as he spoke, I saw them. Were they living beings or statues wrought from navy-blue stone? There they were, like carven images, on the cornice of every building. Their basilisk eyes were set in a fixed stare, and on one outflung limb some terrible insect poised, with wings spread, as if ready for flight. It was ghastly. I felt the gooseflesh rising on my skin.
And there was another uncanny thing.
Try as we might, neither the Doctor nor myself could gain access to one of those buildings. Always, no matter how we moved, we were in the open, and the edifices of sapphire stone were so many sealed crypts.
"But that is natural enough," I exclaimed, after some thought. "If from another plane, people were to gaze at our world, they would not be able to look through wood or stone into our houses."
"True enough," replied the Doctor, "but you forget that, while, by means of the glasses, we are viewing the wonderful city, our bodies are capable of moving through the space its buildings occupy. Theoretically nothing should prevent us from pausing on the spot in this plane occupied by one of those buildings on the other plane and viewing its interior."
All the time we sat on the kerbing, talking and alternately gazing through the glasses, people in our own plane were passing to and fro and looking at us curiously. I wondered what they would say if I should grasp them by the arms and tell them that the space they walked through so carelessly was occupied by immense buildings of a strange design; that all around them were nightmarish monsters with three eyes and sucker-like hands; and that they were only separated from another world and all its untold terrors by a variation in the rate of vibration. They would call me crazy, of course. But what if they should catch a glimpse of an indigo giant through the spectacles? What then? I pondered over that thought as we walked homewards.
THAT night, the Doctor drew a map of the other
world—or rather, of as much of it as he had seen or
could visualize.
"The forest is here," he said. "To the east are the rolling plains; and southeast of us lies the Silent City."
He studied what he had drawn intently.
"That's funny," he remarked.
"What is?" I asked.
"The size of that city. It occupies only a section of East Oakland, and yet it impressed me as being immensely large." He shook his head. "The whole thing is an enigma, but one that shall not baffle me much longer."
Suddenly I thought of something. "Those huntsmen you followed," I exclaimed, "what became of them?"
"I don't know," confessed the Doctor. "When I saw the buildings to one side of me, I ceased following the huntsmen and directed my footsteps toward the city."
AFTER he finished with his map, we spent several hours
gazing through the glasses. It was night, too, on that
other plane. In the blue forest dense darkness brooded.
Nothing was to be seen but spectral lights flitting through
the trees. Several times vague shapes blundered by; and
once a bat-like something soared right into the space that
was my face. So vivid was the scene on that other plane,
so real the feeling of being surrounded by black night and
at the mercy of unearthly creatures, that I was forced,
from time to time, to remove the glasses and assure myself
that I was not really there. It was after midnight when I
retired to bed, and left the Doctor still gazing through
the spectacles. In the morning, however, he was afoot
early, and appeared fresh and rested, more so than I.
"Well, Robert," he said cheerfully at breakfast, "this is the big day."
"We are going to take the spectacles out again?" I asked eagerly.
"Better than that, my boy; I am going through the machine."
I tried to dissuade him from his rash project until he had viewed the other plane more thoroughly with the glasses, but he was adamant.
"The mice met with no harm and neither shall I."
"From the machine, no," I replied, "but what has their fate been from other beasts? Perhaps by this time they have been devoured. Think of the indigo giants. What would you do if you fell in with several of them? And there are doubtless more fearful creatures of which we know nothing."
"True, Robert, true; but I shall take implements with me. A German Luger[*] with plenty of cartridges; a compass. You might as well cease talking, my boy, my mind is made up."
[* A pistol with magazine for cartridges.]
Still I did not desist.
"Let me go, sir," I pleaded, even though my flesh crawled at the very thought. "I am younger than you, stronger."
"No," he said, "no. This is my adventure. I have been looking forward to it for a long time and do not mean to step aside for another."
"Then take me with you!" I cried. "In that unknown world two will be much safer than one."
But this request he also denied.
"You must stay on this side and be ready to operate the machine when I return."
There was nothing for it, then, but to repair with him to the workshop and listen to his last instructions.
"I am going to make for the Silent City on my first expedition," he said. "I expect to be gone only a few hours. Under no circumstances must you leave this machine in my absence." He laid his hand on the Re-vibrator. "Watch for me with the glasses, and when I give you the sign, press this button here. It reverses the action of the Re-vibrator and will restore me to this room. Do you understand me?"
I made him repeat his instructions.
"There, I'm sure you've got it, my boy. And now look through the spectacles and see if the road is clear."
With a heart full of misgivings I did as he had. Nothing was stirring in the blue forest. Only the ferns waving gently, and the leaves of the tall trees.
"To make sure that the machine is functioning properly, I am sending the Luger and a box of cartridges through by themselves," said the Doctor. Almost with his words the Luger and cartridges materialized on that other plane. But now the Luger was the size of a large rifle and the ammunition box as big as a shoe-box. I remembered the mice, and a foreboding of trouble came over me.
"Doctor," I began, but never finished the warning, because the Doctor was coming through.
I saw his head. It was an enormous thing. I looked at it with horror. Behind it came the massive neck, the mighty shoulders. Inch by inch, seemingly out of nothing, the unbelievable body emerged, fell to the purple grass.
"Good God!" I exclaimed; for when the Doctor rose to his feet he was all of twenty feet tall. He stood up, a great colossus of a man, and stretched his arms experimentally, stamping with his feet, and taking several deep breaths. He smiled reassuringly at me and waved his hand in my direction, though of course I was invisible to him. I watched him with bated breath, as he picked up the Luger and retrieved the box of cartridges. Quite calmly he consulted his compass and map, got his bearings, and after a last glance in my direction swung off through the trees and ferns. His gigantic figure was visible for some distance, the head appearing above the tree-tops. Finally it disappeared and I was left to my lonely vigil—surely the strangest vigil ever kept by mortal man.
LUNCH time came and passed. The evening shadows
deepened. Darkness fell over the blue forest in that other
world—the creepy forest through which I had seen the
Doctor walk and disappear—and still he did not come.
A prey to the most ghastly of fears, I sat all night by the
Re-vibrator, peering through the glasses at the spectral
lights that wandered among the trees, shuddering at the
bat-like forms which swept silently on and over me. And
all the time I asked myself how it went with the Doctor,
overtaken by night on that other plane. Had he succeeded
in reaching the Silent City? Was he encamped there now or
had some hideous beast destroyed him or some strange power
taken him prisoner? I thought of those brooding images on
the housetops and the blood ran cold in my veins. I had one
consolation. Save for the navy-blue statues in the Silent
City, on that other plane, no creature as large as the
Doctor now was, had been seen by me. Even the indigo giants
were dwarfed by the colossus he had become. And he was
armed with an immense Luger—a deadly weapon. Yet for
all that, anxiety consumed me.
Morning dawned. Haggard and worn, drinking cup after cup of black coffee, I watched through the leaden hours of the second day. The blue forest was strangely still. Or was it my imagination? Nothing stirred in its depths. No life, no motion. I might have been Staring through a stereoscope at blended pictures. The Doctor had said he would be only a few hours, yet the second night came and he was still missing. With the descent of darkness the blue forest became alive. It moved and murmured. Though I could not hear it murmur, I sensed it. Perhaps the blood was pounding at my heart. I cursed myself for ever having allowed the Doctor to embark on his rash journey. I should have restrained him—by force, if that had been necessary.
The third day dawned.
I watched it breaking in that other, that incredible world, that blue dimension separated from our own merely by a slight difference in rates of vibration.
"If he does not come this morning," I said to myself, "I shall take the glasses on the streets and go searching for him."
But about eight o'clock I saw him. I shouted aloud in pure joy, oblivious to the fact that he could not hear my voice. He came striding through the forest, ten yards at a stride, and most amazing sight of all, a dozen indigo giants came with him. The Doctor's clothes seemed much the worse for wear, torn and rent, but he himself appeared sound in body and limb.
I was beside myself with excitement. What strange sights had he seen, what adventures had he had? The indigo giants were evidently his friends. He had been to the Silent City. In a few minutes now, he would be back in the workshop with me, telling me of the marvels of that other plane, the secret of the navy-blue statues. I could not restrain another exultant shout.
Arrived at the spot where he had made his landing three days before, the Doctor looked about him hesitatingly. I could read what he was thinking. Was this the correct spot? To reassure him I ran a pencil—the first thing my fingers picked up—through the Re-vibrator. It dropped at his feet the size of a walking stick. At this sight the indigo monsters recoiled with every indication of wonder and fear. Instantly the Doctor smiled. He waved his hand. His mouth formed the words, "Reverse the Re-vibrator." I pressed the button he had instructed me to. Nothing happened. The Doctor pawed at the air with his hands, a perplexed look beginning to dawn on his face. For perhaps five minutes I waited; then I scribbled a note on a piece of paper and sent it through to him.
"What is the matter?"
He picked up the paper, now the size of a napkin, and wrote on the reverse side, "I cannot come back, because on this plane the machine has no existence."
"Good God!" I whispered, appalled. Then the following dialogue took place between us by means of written messages.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"That I have overlooked a vital thing."
"In what way?"
"By forgetting that the Re-vibrator can manifest other things over here, but palpably not itself."
Through the glasses I glared at him in horror.
"But what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm trying to think. In the meantime, Robert, can't you send me through some food—a pot of coffee? I'm starved."
"Yes," I answered back, "yes."
To get the food and coffee I had to remove the goggles.
How it happened I don't know.
Perhaps my nerves were unstrung from the long hours of wakefulness, the terrible suspense of three days, the crowning disaster of all. Be that as it may the cap, the goggles slipped from my fumbling fingers and fell—straight into the tub of metallic fluid under the rollers.
Half frantic with terror I dipped them out and dried them off. No, they didn't seem hurt, they weren't broken; but when I tried to look through the lenses I could see nothing but blackness.
That was ten days ago. And every one of those days I've been in this room sending food and supplies through the Re-vibrator, and trying to fix the glasses.
That is all.
You ask me where the Doctor is?
I tell you he is somewhere in space, on that other plane, trying to get back—and he can't!
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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