Astounding Stories, April, 1931. Various
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Alten fumbled in the pockets of his dressing gown for cigarettes. "Go ahead, Miss Mary. You are among friends. I promise we will try and understand."
She smiled. "Yes. I – I believe you." Her voice was low. She sat staring at the floor, choosing her words carefully; and though she stumbled a little, her story was coherent. Upon the wings of her words my fancy conjured that other Time-world, more than a hundred and fifty years ago.
"I was at home to-night," she began. "To-night after dinner. I have no relatives except my father. He is General Washington's aide. We live – our home is north of the city. I was alone, except for the servants.
"Father sent word to-night that he was coming to see me. The messenger got through the British lines. But the redcoats are everywhere. They were quartered in our house. For months I have been little more than a servant to a dozen of My Lord's Howe's officers. They are gentlemen, though: I have no complaint. Then they left, and father, knowing it, wanted to come to see me.
"He should not have tried it. Our house is watched. He promised me he would not wear the British red." She shuddered. "Anything but that – to have him executed as a spy. He would not risk that, but wear merely a long black cloak.
"He was to come about ten o'clock. But at midnight there was no sign of him. The servants were asleep. I sat alone, and every pounding hoof-beat on the road matched my heart.
"Then I went into the garden. There was a dim moon in and out of the clouds. It was hot, like to-night. I mean, why it was to-night. It's so strange – "
In the silence of Alten's living room we could hear the hurried ticking of his little mantle clock, and from the street outside came the roar of a passing elevated train and the honk of a taxi. This was New York of 1935. But to me the crowding ghosts of the past were here. In fancy I saw the white pillars of the moonlit Atwood home. A garden with a dirt road beside it. Red-coated British soldiers passing… And to the south the little city of New York extending northward from crooked Maiden Lane and the Bowling Green…
"Go on, Mistress Mary."
"I sat on a bench in the garden. And suddenly before me there was a white ghost. A shape. A wraith of something which a moment before had not been there. I sat too frightened to move. I could not call out. I tried to, but the sound would not come.
"The shape was like a mist, a little ball of cloud in the center of the garden lawn. Then in a second or two it was solid – a thing like a shining cage, with crisscrossing white bars. It was like a room; a metal cage like a room. I thought that the thing was a phantom or that I was asleep and dreaming. But it was real."
Alten interrupted. "How big was it?"
"As large as this room; perhaps larger. But it was square, and about twice as high as a man."
A cage, then, some twenty feet square and twelve feet high.
She went on: "The cage door opened. I think I was standing, then, and I tried to run but could not. The – the thing came from the door of the cage and walked toward me. It was about ten feet tall. It looked – oh, it looked like a man!"
She buried her face in her hands. Again the room was silent. Larry was seated, staring at her; all of us were breathless.
"Like a man?" Alten prompted gently.
"Yes; like a man." She raised her white face. This girl out of the past! Admiration for her swept me anew – she was bravely trying to smile.
"Like a man. A thing with legs, a body, a great round head and swaying arms. A jointed man of metal! You surely must know all about them."
"A Robot!" Larry muttered.
"You have them here, I suppose. Like that rumbling carriage without horses, this jointed iron man came walking toward me. And it spoke! A most horrible hollow voice – but it seemed almost human. And what it said I do not know, for I fainted. I remember falling as it came walking toward me, with stiff-jointed legs.
"When I came to my senses I was in the cage. Everything was humming and glowing. There was a glow outside the bars like a moonlit mist. The iron monster was sitting at a table, with peculiar things – mechanical things – "
"The controls of the cage-mechanisms," said Alten. "How long were you in the cage?"
"I don't know. Time seemed to stop. Everything was silent except the humming noises. They were everywhere. I guess I was only half conscious. The monster sat motionless. In front of him were big round clock faces with whirling hands. Oh, I suppose you don't find this strange; but to me – !"
"Could you see anything outside the cage?" Alten persisted. "No. Just a fog. But it was crawling and shifting. Yes! – I remember now – I could not see anything out there, but I had the thought, the feeling, that there were tremendous things to see! The monster spoke again and told me to be careful; that we were going to stop. Its iron hands pulled at levers. Then the humming grew fainter; died away; and I felt a shock.
"I thought I had fainted again. I could just remember being pulled through the cage door. The monster left me on the ground. It said, 'Lie there, for I will return very soon.'
"The cage vanished. I saw a great cliff of stone near me; it had yellow-lighted openings, high up in the air. And big stone fences hemmed me in. Then I realized I was in an open space between a lot of stone houses. One towered like a cliff, or the side of a pyramid – "
"The back yard of that house on Patton Place!" Larry exclaimed. He looked at me. "Has it any back yard, George?"
"How should I know?" I retorted. "Probably has."
"Go on," Alten was prompting.
"That is nearly all. I found a doorway leading to a dark room. I crawled through it toward a glow of light. I passed through another room. I thought I was in a nightmare, and that this was my home. I remembered that the cage had not moved. It had hardly lurched. Just trembled; vibrated.
"But this was not my home. The rooms were small and dark. Then I peered through a window on a strange stone street. And saw these strange-looking young men. And that is all – all I can tell you."
She had evidently held herself calm by a desperate effort. She broke down now, sobbing without restraint.
CHAPTER III
Tugh, the Cripple
The portals of this mystery had swung wide to receive us. The tumbling events which menaced all our world of 1935 were upon us now. A maelstrom. A torrent in the midst of which we were caught up like tiny bits of cork and whirled away.
But we thought we understood the mystery. We believed we were acting for the best. What we did was no doubt ill-considered; but the human mind is so far from omniscient! And this thing was so strange!
Alten said, "You have a right to be overwrought, Mistress Mary Atwood. But this thing is as strange to us as it is to you. I called that iron monster a Robot. But it does not belong to our age: if it does I have