Omega by Camille Flammarion (books to read to be successful .TXT) 📕

the unheard-of velocities of the comet and the Earth, the pressure cannot be enormous, in view of the extremely rarified state of the matter traversed by the Earth; but this matter, containing so much carbon, is combustible, and at perihelion these bodies are not infrequently seen to shine by their own as well as by reflected light: they become incandescent. What, then, must be the result of a collision with the Earth? The combustion of meteorites and bolides, the superficial fusion of the uranolites which reach the Earth’s surface on fire, all lead us to believe that the moment of greatest heat will be that of contact, which evidently will not prevent the massive elements forming the nucleus of the comet from crushing the localities where they fall, and perhaps even breaking up an entire continent.

“The terrestrial globe being thus entirely surrounded by the cometary mass for nearly seven hours, and revolving in this incandescent gas, the air rushing violently toward the center of disturbance, the sea boiling and filling the atmosphere with new vapors, hot showers falling from the sky-cataracts, the storm raging everywhere with electric deflagrations and lightnings, the rolling of thunder heard above the scream of the tempest, the blessed light of former days having been succeeded by the mournful and sickly gleamings of the glowing atmosphere, the whole earth will speedily resound with the funeral knell of universal doom, although the fate of the dwellers in the Antipodes will probably differ from that of the rest of mankind. Instead of being immediately consumed, they will be stifled by the vapors, by the excess of nitrogen⁠—the oxygen having been rapidly abstracted⁠—or poisoned by carbonic-oxide; the fire will afterwards reduce their corpses to ashes, while the inhabitants of Europe and Africa will have been burned alive.

“The well-known tendency of carbonic-oxide to absorb oxygen will doubtless prove a sentence of instant death for those farthest from the initial point of the catastrophe.

“I have taken as an example the comet of 1811; but I hasten to add that the present one appears to be far less dense.”

“Is it absolutely sure?” cried a well-known voice (that of an illustrious member of the chemical society) from one of the boxes. “Is it absolutely sure the comet is composed chiefly of carbonic-oxide? Have not the nitrogen lines also been detected in its spectrum? If it should prove to be protoxide of nitrogen, the consequence of its mixture with our atmosphere might be anaesthesia. Everyone would be put to sleep⁠—perhaps forever, if the suspension of the vital functions were to last but a little longer than is the case in our surgical operations. It would be the same if the comet was composed of chloroform or ether. That would be an end calm indeed.

“It would be less so if the comet should absorb the nitrogen instead of the oxygen, for this partial or total absorption of nitrogen would bring about, in a few hours, for all the inhabitants of the Earth⁠—for men and women, for the young and the aged⁠—a change of temperament, involving at first nothing disagreeable⁠—a charming sobriety, then gayety, followed by universal joy, a feverish exultation, finally delirium and madness, terminating, in all probability, by the sudden death of every human being in the apotheosis of a wild saturnalia, an unheard-of frenzy of the senses. Would that death be a sad one?”

“The discussion remains open,” replied the secretary. “What I have said of the possible consequences of a collision applies to the direct impact of a comet like that of 1811; the one that threatens us is less colossal, and its impact will not be direct, but oblique. In common with the astronomers who have preceded me on this floor, I am inclined to believe, in this instance, in a mighty display of fireworks.”

While the orator was still speaking, a young girl belonging to the central bureau of telephones, entered by a small door, conducted by a domesticated monkey, and, darting like a flash to the seat occupied by the president, put into his hands a large, square, international envelope. It was immediately opened, and proved to be a despatch from the observatory of Gaurisankar. It contained only the following words:

“The inhabitants of Mars are sending a photophonic message. Will be deciphered in a few hours.”

“Gentlemen,” said the president, “I see several in the audience consulting their watches, and I agree with them in thinking that it will be physically impossible for us to finish in a single session this important discussion, in which eminent representatives of geology, natural history and geonomy are yet to take part. Moreover, the despatch just read will doubtless introduce new problems. It is nearly six o’clock. I propose that we adjourn to nine o’clock this evening. It is probable that we shall have received, by that time, from Asia the translation of the message from Mars. I will also beg the director of the observatory to maintain constant communication, by telephone, with Gaurisankar. In case the message is not deciphered by nine o’clock, the president of the geological society of France will open the meeting with a statement of the investigations which he has just finished, on the natural end of the world. Everybody, at this moment, is absorbingly interested in whatever relates to the question of the end of our world, whether this is dependent upon the mysterious portent now suspended above us, or upon other causes, of whatsoever nature, subject to investigation.”

IV

The multitude stationed without the doors of the Institute had made way for those coming out, everyone being eager to learn the particulars of the session. Already the general result had in some way become known, for immediately after the speech of the director of the Paris observatory the rumor got abroad that the collision with the comet would not entail consequences so serious as had been anticipated. Indeed, large posters had just been placarded throughout Paris, announcing the reopening of the Chicago stock exchange. This