The Doomsman by Van Tassel Sutphen (books to get back into reading .txt) 📕

and one of the very largest size, delivering as high as fifteen thousand horse-power of potential energy. But how to account for the chance that had preserved this mightiest of the Old-World forces? What miracle had been wrought to keep this soulless giant in life through so many years of darkness and of silence? Constans felt his head spinning; the con[Pg 129]sciousness of a fact so tremendous was overwhelming; to save himself he turned away from the dynamo proper and began looking about for the source of its mechanical energy. He found it in an odd-appearing motor, to which the dynamo was connected by the ordinary means of a shaft and belting.

The engine was simple enough in outward construction. All that could be seen was an apparatus consisting of two ten-foot tuning-forks of steel supported on insulated pedestals, and between them a disk of some unknown composition, mounted in a vertical plane and revolving at inconceivable velocity. The power was taken from the shaft of this revolving disk and reduced in speed by means of gear-wheels before being conveyed to the dynamo. The prongs of the big tuning-forks continued to vibrate strongly, and gave out in unison the loud, humming note that had originally attracted Constans's attention. It was undoubtedly, a form of motor whose power was derived from some secret property of vibratory bodies, a recondite subject to which his books alluded but obscurely. Yet in the years immediately preceding the Great Change the principle seems to have been reduced to practical utility. Here was the engine in actual operation, and whatever its source of fuel supply or the ultimate secret of its energy there could be no doubt about its production of power. It moved, it was alive, and Constans gazed upon it with fascinated eyes.

The priest had risen to his feet; he touched Constans lightly on the shoulder.

"The presence chamber," he said, in a whisper. "Come, that you may look upon the face of the[Pg 130] Shining One; he will rejoice in knowing that there is left even one faithful in Doom."

He opened a door leading to a room at the left of the main hall and motioned Constans to enter. The door closed behind them and they stood in darkness. Then came the click of a switch-key, and out of the blackness faint lines of radiance appeared, changing slowly to a fiery brightness. And as the lines grew visible they resolved themselves into the semblance of a great and terrible face, the countenance of a man of heroic size with long hair. There was no suggestion of a body, only that majestic head crowned with hyacinthine locks and limned in lambent fire.

Constans felt his knees shaking under him, and involuntarily he prostrated himself; then again he heard the switch click, and the vision faded into nothingness.

There was the sound of a shutter being thrown back, and the daylight streamed in. He rose uncertainly to his feet and looked about him.

It was a small apartment, low-studded, with cement walls and a tiled floor. Near the door and fastened against the wall was a wooden framework, bearing a complicated arrangement of push-buttons and levers. Constans had seen its like pictured in his books, and he instantly conjectured it to be an electrical switch-board, designed to control and direct the current generated by the dynamo. On the opposite wall was suspended a thick sheet of some insulating substance—vulcanite—and fixed upon it was a net-work of wires in whose outlines he could distinguish the lineaments of the fiery face. Now he understood; it was simply a trick, the passing of a strong current of electricity through platinum wires until they became incandescent.[Pg 131]

The recognition of those material agencies for the production of the apparition that had so terrified him gave Constans back his confidence; his books had not deceived him, and he was ready now for any fresh marvels that might be on the cards. But the attitude of the priest puzzled him. Was he really the charlatan, the trickster that he seemed? Was it not equally simple to regard him as the self-deluded votary? He could not decide.

"You have looked upon the face of the Shining One," said the old man, breaking the silence. "Now behold his throne; perchance he will accord you the honor of sharing it with him."

In the middle of the apartment stood the only piece of furniture proper that it contained, a massive oaken chair, with a head-piece, upon which was fastened a metal plate. On the arms of the chair were copper clips, the size of a man's wrist, and all the points of contact were supplied with cups containing sponges. Again Constans understood. It was only necessary to dampen these sponges to ensure a perfect discharge of the electrical current passing through the head-rest and the metal wrist-clips. Constans shuddered, and this time with reason; he knew enough of the science to realize that the slightest contact with those enormously charged electrodes must be fatal.

The priest went to the switch-board, and, after a series of genuflections and the mumbling of what might have been an invocation, he turned a lever. Constans stepped back hastily.

"Now is the Shining One come upon his throne. Take your seat at his side if you would put his divini[Pg 132]ty to the proof. Or else be content to serve him in silence and singleness of heart, even as I."

Constans guessed acutely that the full current from the dynamo must be passing through the metal framework of the great chair; he moved a little farther back and stood on guard. There was a glitter in the old man's eye that was disquieting, and Constans did not relish the idea of a hand-to-hand struggle in this contracted space with these wicked-looking wires running in every direction. One of them had been broken, and from the dangling end, which hung close to a metal wall-bracket, a continuous stream of sparks fizzed and spluttered.

"I am content," he said, quietly.

The priest smiled grimly. "Yet it is a pity that your doubts are not of a more stubborn growth, for it is many a year since the Shining One has taken a man to his arms. Of a truth, the ancient faith has failed miserably among the children of the Doomsmen, and I alone of all his priests remain to serve our lord."

There was silence, the old man remaining apparently absorbed in his bitter reverie. Constans had been growing more and more uncomfortable, and this seemed to be his opportunity to escape. He edged towards the door. Now the metal knob of the door handle was within reach; he grasped it, and received a severe electric shock. Unable to master his startled nerves, he gave utterance to a cry of pain. The priest turned quickly, a frosty smile upon his lips.

"The sentinels of the Shining One are faithful to their duty," he said, quietly. He touched a push-button, and Constans was at last able to let go of that innocent-looking door-knob; he fell to rubbing[Pg 133] his arm vigorously in order to relieve the contracted muscles. What a ridiculous figure he had made of himself, he thought, vexedly.

"My son."

There was a new note in the old man's voice, an inflection almost kindly, and Constans wondered.

"Nothing happens of itself," continued the priest, "and it was more than chance that led you thither. Surely, the Shining One has been mindful of his own, for I am an old man and my days are numbered. Therefore, has he sent you, my son, that to you I may commit the secrets of his power and worship. Then shall I ascend in peace upon the knees of the Silent One, knowing that his honor is safe in your hands. What say you?"

Constans realized that he was in a difficult position; nay more, that he was absolutely at the mercy of his new acquaintance. There was no means of exit save by the one door, and he had no desire for a second trial of strength with the electric current. The old priest might be ignorant of the real nature of the forces under his control, but certainly he was well provided with practical formulas for their exploitation, as witness the illuminated face and the electrically charged door-knob. Constans understood that he was in a trap, where even to come into contact with the walls of his prison-house might mean death. There was but one thing to do, and that was to surrender.

"I will serve the Shining One," he said, quietly.

"You have chosen well, my son," returned the old man. "Now a fool would never have understood that a net may be none the less strong for being in[Pg 134]visible, and our lord does not love to speak twice. You have heard and you have obeyed; it is good."

He stepped to the switch-board, and, after going through a series of genuflections, accompanied by an undertone of carelessly gabbled ritual, he depressed a lever. Instantly the room was in darkness and the spluttering wire ceased its crackling. The priest passed into the great hall, motioning Constans to follow him. Another brief and incomprehensible ritual and he approached the vibratory motor. Constans watched intently as he proceeded to manipulate a series of polished rods and levers. Suddenly the loud, humming note separated into two distinct tones, at first in musical accord and then becoming more and more dissonant. The revolving disk slowed down and stopped, and with it the dynamo came finally to rest. The hour of worship had come to an end; the Shining One had departed from his sanctuary.

At the suggestion of his ecclesiastical superior Constans brought within doors the offerings of food that had been left by the earlier worshippers. There were some dry cakes, baked of rye flour, a pot of honey, cheese, milk, and two bottles of wine. These provisions he was ordered to carry to a room on the story above the street, where a fire of sea-coal burned cheerfully in a brazier. Here they sat down and feasted amicably together, for the frosty air had put a keen edge to appetite and the noon hour was long overpast. And then as they sat at ease after the meal and the old man was well started on his second pipe, Constans came directly to the point.

"If I am to serve the Shining One acceptably," he[Pg 135] said, "there are many things that I should know. May I speak, my father?"

The priest looked at him searchingly. "As you will," he replied.

All through the afternoon and deep into the night they talked earnestly together. And so, from time to time, in the days that were to follow, for it was a question of many things, and of some that were hard of understanding.[Pg 136]

XIV

ARCADIA HOUSE

Little by little, Constans succeeded in piecing together the puzzle, for puzzle indeed it was. Here in this city of the dead he had found in actual operation one of the great power-producing plants of the ancient world. How to account for the miracle of its preservation during the generations that had passed since the sun of knowledge had disappeared beneath the sea of mental darkness. What sufficient explanation could there be for this amazing fact?

From Prosper, the priest, Constans drew the main outlines of the story, and his studies enabled him to fill in the details. In brief, it may be set down as follows:

When the convicts and criminals, who were the ancestors of the Doomsmen, took possession of the old-time city, it is reasonable to suppose that among them were a certain proportion of technically educated men—artisans, mechanics, engineers. A power-plant of such imposing proportions (designed, we may conjecture, for the furnishing of motive power to one of the great transportation systems) could hardly escape their notice, and they would certainly know how to utilize it if they cared to do so. And they did—for a peculiar reason.[Pg 137]

It is a matter of record that in the twentieth century the universal form of capital punishment was execution by electricity. In every state-prison stood the "death-chair," the visible embodiment of the moral force which the wrong-doer had defied, and which, in the ensuing struggle, had proved too strong for him. No wonder that it was both feared and hated by the citizens of the underworld of crime.

Now that the social fabric lay in ruins, now that the very foundations of law and order had been razed, what could be more natural than the impulse to turn this instrument of legal punishment into one of unlicensed vengeance? Society had dealt, mercilessly, with the breaker of laws, and now it was to suffer in its turn. So it came to pass that whenever a House-dweller (as representative of the