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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5a0cb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64795 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64795) diff --git a/old/64795-0.txt b/old/64795-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3c98f64..0000000 --- a/old/64795-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1126 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ultimate Image, by P. Schuyler Miller - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Ultimate Image - -Author: P. Schuyler Miller - -Release Date: March 12, 2021 [eBook #64795] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ULTIMATE IMAGE *** - - - - - THE ULTIMATE IMAGE - - By P. SCHUYLER MILLER - - _The Magnificent Defense Unit of Dampier._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Comet December 40. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -"Mike!" - -It was Bill Porter's voice. I put one hand on the balustrade and -vaulted into the garden. From behind a mass of shrubbery came sounds of -a struggle, and Bill's voice rose again. - -"Mike, you ape! Step on it!" - -I plowed through where someone had gone before. Bill, his shirtfront -awry, his coat-tails torn and muddy, was grappling with a snarling, -kicking little man about half his size. As I burst out of the -shrubbery, Bill kicked his legs from under him and they went down in -the newly spaded earth, Bill on top. Bill Porter weighs a good two -hundred pounds. The struggle ended then and there. - -Bill sat up, one fist clenched in the little man's shirt front. He -glared at me out of a rapidly closing eye. - -"Where in blue blazes have you been?" he demanded. "D'you think I -_like_ wrestling with wildcats?" - -I looked him over. "Didn't make out so well, did you? Lucky he wasn't -any bigger, or I _would_ have had to help you. Why pick on a little guy -like that? What's he done that you don't like?" - -He pointed. Light from the reception hall fell through the bushes in -irregular patches. In one of them, half buried in the scuffed-up dirt, -I caught the glint of polished metal. - -"Pick it up," Bill said. - -It was a gun, bigger than the largest six-shooter ever toted by a -Hollywood buckaroo. It had a massive stock and the thickest barrel I -had ever seen. The whole look of the thing was crazy, like something -out of another world. - -Bill had been scrambling around in the dirt. I saw that blood was -oozing from a gash in his neck. Before I could speak he held up a piece -of gleaming metal. - -"Take a look at that," he said grimly. "That's what he wanted to pump -into the Ambassador. Only I got it instead--in the neck. Now will you -give me a hand with this he-cat before he comes to and starts trying to -skin me alive?" - -I took the thing. It was a steel bolt or arrow of the kind once used -in cross-bows, sharpened to a needle point with six razor-edged vanes -running back to the hilt. I slipped it into the chubby muzzle of the -gun. It was a perfect fit. - -"That," Bill told me, "is a solenoid-gun--one that works. You've seen -a metal core pop out of an electric coil when the juice is snapped on. -It's a common laboratory stunt. Well, it's grown up and had pups, and -this is one of the nastiest of them. No noise at all--and does that -dart travel! It would go through a man like cheese even if he's as -thick as His Magnificence yonder." - -Through the open doors of the reception hall I could see the broad -Teutonic back of Herr Wilhelm Friedrich Nebel, Ambassador from the -newly stabilized Middle-European Confederacy. Half the stuffed shirts -in Washington were crowded around him, trying to make themselves heard -over the blare of the band and I recognized three of the President's -own private bodyguards. I knew that there were Secret Service men -posted all over the grounds to forestall this very thing, yet in spite -of them this little man with the outlandish gun had crept within fifty -feet of his goal. Had he picked them off, one by one, with his silent -darts? - -The man was stirring. Bill had him now in a grip that would take more -than wildcat tactics to break. I parted the bushes so that a shaft of -light fell on his face. Surely I knew that forked beard, those piercing -black eyes, the shock of bristling hair. Suddenly I remembered. "Bill! -It's Dampier!" - -Pierre Dampier, France's greatest physicist, the confrere of Einstein -and Heisenberg and Poincare, who had dropped out of sight so -mysteriously five years before. Dampier here, in Washington, sniping at -the Middle-European Ambassador with an electric gun! - -The little man was staring at me with those beady eyes. For a moment I -thought he would deny it. Then his face changed. The fury, the madness -went out of it and were replaced by a great weariness that made him -seem years older. He slumped in Bill's grasp, then stiffened proudly. - -"Yes, gentlemen," he admitted. "Pierre Dampier, at your service." - -This was no ordinary assassination. Big as the news was, Dampier made -it bigger. And news was what Bill and I were here for. - -"Bill," I said, "this is our story. No one else even suspects it. Are -you going to turn him over to the police or do we get the whole yarn, -ourselves, first?" - -He nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "We'll never get it if we let him -go now. Washington has a way of hushing those things up." He turned to -the little Frenchman. "Monsieur Dampier we are newspaper men, we two. -There's a reason for what you tried to do tonight, a good reason, or -you wouldn't have attempted it. Will you tell us that reason, and let -us explain to the world why the great Pierre Dampier has chosen to play -the role of a common murderer?" - -Dampier stiffened. The forked beard was thrust stiffly forward and -the thin shoulders squared in spite of Bill's numbing grip. "I am no -murderer!" he hissed. "Wilhelm Nebel is the enemy of my country and -of yours--of the world! I stood in his way, and I was crushed. I rose -again, and he has found me and tried to grind me under his accursed -heel! He will kill me, if I do not kill him first. I implore you, -Monsieur, let me go! Let me finish what I have begun. The world will be -better for it, and"--a whimsical smile twisted his thin lips--"it will -be a greater _coup_ for you, will it not?" - -Bill was studying him. "We can't do that," he replied, "even if we -wanted to. Herr Nebel is our country's guest. But this I will do. Give -me your word that you will make no further attempt on Herr Nebel's life -for twenty-four hours, tell us why you have done this thing, and I'll -let you go. I'll give you one hour's start, and then I'll tell the -police the whole story. Is it a bargain?" - -Dampier bowed his head. "You have my word, Monsieur. I will tell you -everything. But when you have heard what I will say, perhaps you will -not wish to call your police. Shall we go to my laboratory? We can talk -more freely there." - -Bill's grip tightened. "Wait! This garden was guarded. Have you killed -those men? Because if you have all bets are off!" - -The little Frenchman smiled. "But no, Monsieur. I have no quarrel -with your countrymen. There are other missiles for this little toy of -mine--hollow needles filled with a certain rare drug like the 'mercy -bullets' of your American sportsmen. They will sleep soundly for some -hours yet, and have what you call the big hangover when they awaken but -that is all. Shall we go now? It is late, and I have much to tell you." - -The whole idea looked screwy to me. Even now I'm not sure that it -wasn't. But when Bill Porter makes up his mind, it would take Gabriel's -trumpet to change it. He was quite capable of plumping one of Dampier's -little needles into me and going off with the Frenchman alone. - -"I'll get the car," I said. "Let's get out of here before someone -stumbles over a corpse and yells for the cops." - -We were somewhere in the middle of Maryland before Bill let me slow -down. He must have had a talk with Dampier while I was getting the car, -for the little Frenchman never peeped until we swung into a narrow -dirt road somewhere north of Frederick. He called the next turn, and -the next, until I began to suspect that he was running us around in -circles. At last we pulled up before a deserted farm-house, set back -from the road behind a dilapidated picket fence. Bill nudged me. -Silhouetted against the stars were the towers of a high-tension line. -Dampier was either stealing or buying power in a big way. - -Now a French gentleman's word is supposed to be about as good as -Finland's credit, but we were taking no chances. I remembered that -wicked little dart with its razor-edged barbs, and I felt pretty sure -that Bill hadn't forgotten it either. We lined up, one on each side of -him, and marched across the weed-grown lawn to the rickety side porch. -There was a Yale lock on the door, and as Dampier swung it open I saw -that it was backed with steel armor-plate. Outside the house might look -like the poorer section of Bilded Road, but inside it was built like -a fortress. Six-inch concrete walls, steel doors, indirect lighting -and ventilation--it looked as though Monsieur Pierre Dampier had been -expecting to stand a pretty heavy siege. - -A winding stair went down through the floor into a basement room that -ran under the entire house. Dampier led the way, Bill followed, and I -came last. Probably our science editor could have made something of -what Dampier had in that buried room. I couldn't. I wouldn't even have -known where to begin photographing it, if the Leica hadn't been back on -the terrace at the Embassy where I'd dropped it to vault over the rail -into Bill's little shambles, and the Graflex somewhere in the back of -the car. - -To begin with, he was drawing more current than any ten men I'd ever -seen, and I've covered some of the atom-busting at M.I.T. and the -lightning shop at Pittsfield. It all went into two huge buss-bars, that -ran across to a kind of cage of interlacing copper loops, standing in -the center of the room. They were hung from jointed supports that rose -above an insulated block or platform of bakelite, with most of the -bulkier apparatus inside out of sight, but I had a hunch that whatever -was going to happen would take place in, at, and around those spidery -coils. - -One corner of the room was a kind of office with a desk and books, and -a couple of ancient chairs. Dampier waved Bill and me into them and -began to pace up and down in front of us like an expectant father. -The wild glint had come back into his eyes, but I've seen enough of -scientists to know that that isn't necessarily fatal. Most scientists -are half nuts anyway. Bill and I never agreed on that point. - -You see, before Bill became a demon reporter, he was the white hope of -American science. That's how I met him, trying to cover something I -couldn't understand and didn't much want to. He fixed my story up for -me, and chiseled in on the season's juiciest murder scandal in return. -I came down with a bad case of busted cranium, as a result of following -his hunches a little too far, and he wrote my scoop for me. After that -it stuck. I claimed then they should have made him science editor, but -old Medford is our owner's nephew or something, and besides he's pretty -good. Anyway, Bill wouldn't take a desk job. It seems he'd always -wanted to feel the pulse of Life-- - -Dampier's English was good. He'd been educated in England and the -United States. But when he got excited he fairly surpassed himself and -became heart-breakingly colloquial. Where most foreigners would have -broken down into their mother-tongue, he relapsed into gutter slang or -worse. I've left that out. It doesn't read as well as it sounds, and -besides, nice old ladies like to read these magazines. If only they -knew the truth--the real inside truth about some of the yarns that -have been told in these pages! I've seen the originals--things that -a newspaper wouldn't print for fear of being laughed out of a year's -circulation--and with proofs! They happen, believe me. Only I'd never -been in one before. - -Dampier began with true professional dignity. "Gentlemen," he said, -"you have treated me honorably. I shall do the same to you. I shall -tell you all! When I am finished, judge then if I have done right to -assassinate this monster of the devil! - -"Monsieur Crandall recognized in me that Pierre Dampier who vanished -from the world of science five years ago. It was Wilhelm Nebel who -made me to flee like the wild goose. Nebel--the chief of munitions, -the millionaire, the so great diplomat, whose hands reach out to -every country, regardless of boundaries or the hatred of races. Even -in France I was not safe! The finger of Nebel was in the pie of our -government. He twisted it--poof! Spies of the police investigate me. -They ask questions. They give me the degrees. But I tell them nothing. -They can find nothing. It is all here--here in the grey material!" He -tapped his bristling skull. "And when they have gone, I take my books, -my papers, what money I can get, and take it on the lam to these United -States!" - -He stopped for breath and glared at us triumphantly. "I scram," he -repeated. "I vanish from the sight of men. Here I am Leon the retired -hair-dresser, the man with the big radio. Pierre Dampier is forgotten. -But not by the accursed Nebel! - -"Here in America is a free country where only the dogs, the -automobiles, the husbands must have licenses. There are no foolish -papers to carry about, no questions to answer to the police. I can -hide like a rat in the mousecheese, and be safe. But not from this -son-of-an-unpardonableness Nebel! His men are everywhere. He sees -everything. Only here I can protect myself. Here I can kill before I am -killed! - -"But I see in your eye that I am beating about the gas-works, Monsieur. -What is it that the old man Dampier has wrested from Nature, that is of -so great value to the famous Nebel? What is the secret for which he has -lammed himself here to hide like a flea in the chemise of your charming -Maryland? Why is he willing to sail down the great river, to fry on the -heated seat, so long as Nebel shall die? I will tell you, gentlemen!" - -He drew himself up to every inch of his five feet two. He thrust out -a pipe-stem arm and pointed an accusing finger at the mechanism that -squatted in the middle of the floor. - -"There, gentlemen, is the weapon that will make France supreme! The -instrument of defense that makes offense impossible! The weapon that -will end war!" - -We looked at him, and at it, and at each other. It didn't look like -the sort of thing you'd lug out on a battlefield to chase the enemy -away. It had even less resemblance to the kind of fortress that I'd -heard France was building along the Middle-European border. I began to -wonder if, after all, that glint in Dampier's eyes was the holy light -of pure science. - -"What is it?" Bill asked. - -The little Frenchman's chest pushed out until his vest-buttons creaked. -Then he zipped forward, his rat's eyes darting from side to side, and -hissed in our ears: - -"_It is total reflection!_" - -That left me cold, but it didn't Bill. I could see that he had a -glimmering of an understanding of what went on, but he was puzzled as -to the why, what and how. "How d'you mean?" he asked. "We have total -internal reflection in prisms. That's no weapon--or defense either, -unless you're figuring on Nebel's crowd developing a death-ray or -something like that for the next war." - -Dampier chuckled. It was about as self-satisfied a chuckle as I've -heard. "Death-rays--maybe. I do not care. Bullets, shells, bombs, I -tell you nothing, _nothing_ can break through the barrier of total -reflection! And it is a weapon as well, to turn the enemy's own -strength against him." - -Bill was sitting up straight in his chair. "Tell me about it," he said -softly. - -Dampier wriggled and seemed to settle down like a statue on his two -spread legs. Only from the waist up was he alive, talking volubly with -both hands and that wagging beard. - -"It is simple," he explained. "From the beginning of time, what has -been the first defense of mankind? It is the wall, the barrier which -the enemy cannot climb, cannot break, cannot penetrate with their -weapons. A wall of thorns against the beasts of the darkness. A boulder -rolled in the mouth of a cave. Walls of sharpened stakes, of earth and -stone, of human flesh and blood! Walls of fire laid down by giant -guns. Walls of poisonous vapors through which no living thing can pass. -Always a wall, stronger and stronger, but never perfect. I, Pierre -Dampier, have made the perfect wall! - -"Look, Monsieur--you have spoken of the reflecting prism. All light -that falls on it at the proper angle is diverted, turned back. Walls -of steel and concrete, such as I have here about me, will repel the -bullets of powerful rifles, the shells of small guns, like the little -balls of ping-pong. All these things will protect me from the weapons -of my enemies--but they are not perfect. They are not total reflection! - -"Look you, again. Always there is some ray that will be of the improper -angle, the too great or too small wavelength. Always there is some -shell that will batter its way through my walls and kill me. But if -I can find a mirror that will turn back all rays, a wall from which -all projectiles will rebound, a shield against all the many forces of -Nature and of man--then, Monsieur, I have the perfect defense and the -perfect weapon! - -"See this little mirror in my hand. I flash in your eyes a beam of -light--so. You are blinded, no? And if this is not light, but a ray of -death that you have hurled against my mirror, it kills _you_--is it -not so? If it is a bullet that you shoot at me, it recoils and strikes -you down. If it is a bomb, it is thrown back into your trenches, to -kill your men. If it is a great force of pressure or attraction, it is -diverted, reversed, and it strikes at you while I am safe behind my -perfect wall." - -Bill was on his feet with that mulish look he has when he's sure -he's right. "It's impossible!" he snapped. "No metal can reflect all -wavelengths. No substance can resist a force greater than those which -created it and hold it together. As for magnetism, gravitation, they're -space-warp forces. _Things_ can't stop them. Sorry we're not in the -market for Sunday features today, and I rather doubt that Herr Nebel -is. You've got brains--I'll grant you that. You have some energy source -in the handle of that little gun of yours that would turn industry -up on its tail overnight. I haven't the slightest doubt in the world -that you may have blasted the atom wide open and made it sit up and -beg. But there's no substance, known or unknown, that will do what you -claim, and there never will be. If you have no objections, Monsieur, we -will be on our way, and in exactly one hour I will call the police. Au -revoir, Monsieur." - -Dampier was hopping from one foot to the other like a hen on ice. "No, -no, no, Monsieur!" he cried. "You have not heard all! You must lend -another ear! There is no substance that will reflect all things; that -is true. Only a fool would believe it. But what of a wall that has -no substance--that has no existence in what we call reality but that -is as fixed and unshakable as the roots of the universe--a wall, a -discontinuity _of Space itself_?" - -Bill stopped halfway up the stairs. "Say that again," he demanded. - -The little Frenchman's hands went winging out in hopeless resignation. -"There are no words! One does not explain the theories of Dirac and -Schroedinger in words. There are symbols--the logic of symbols--that -can be translated at last into reality that men can see, but there are -no words for the things that are born and live only here, in the head, -in the think-box. It is here, in these symbols, on these sheets of -paper. It is there, in that apparatus which you see. But it is not in -words." - -Bill wasn't being stopped now. He lives words. "You mean," he said, -"that you've hit on a condition of Space--maybe a discontinuity of -some kind--that has the property of absolute total reflection? It -will reflect all radiations one hundred per cent. Any material body -will bounce off without making the slightest impression. Every -force exerted on it is turned back on itself--even space-forces like -gravitation and magnetism. And you can create that condition at will. -Is that what you mean?" - -Dampier's black eyes fairly spit sparks. "That is it, Monsieur," he -cried. "You have said it with a full mouth! My wall, my zone as I have -called it, will reflect completely all things, although it is itself -a nothing, without existence in our universe. It lives in the symbols -of mathematics, and I have just this day completed the apparatus which -will give these symbols reality--which will create the zone as I desire -it, in any shape or size. I will show you, and you will believe. And -then we shall see about Herr Wilhelm Nebel and his makers of wars!" - -Bill frowned. "Dampier, give me those equations. I've got to puzzle -this thing out for myself, follow your argument through on paper. Is -there any place where I can be quiet?" - -"But of course, Monsieur. There, in the room for thermal work, -everything will be perfectly quiet. Here are the papers, and while you -read, I shall show Monsieur Crandall the working of the works." - -But Bill didn't hear that last. The heavy door of the constant -temperature room had closed behind him and insulated him from the world. - -I couldn't do much but stand and watch Dampier as he bustled about, -tuning up his crazy-looking machine. He talked a blue streak as he -worked, but most of it went right over my head. I'm no Bill Porter. -I did begin to see why Nebel, if he was behind the world's armaments -racket as Dampier claimed, might be pretty anxious to get hold of such -a thing before the little Frenchman began peddling it to his best -customers. In the right hands it might make war very unfashionable. - -Imagine an invaded nation squatting down behind a perfectly reflecting -wall. They can't see out, but nothing can get in. Enemy shells -bounce off into the enemy lines. Death rays flash back into the faces -of those who sent them. Radio is garbled by all kinds of curious -echoes and reflections, making communication impossible. Electrical -and magnetic apparatus would be subject to strange disturbances. And -gravitation--how would it affect that? Would every outside object be -attracted to the mirror, or would it be repelled by a kind of negative -gravity, lifting it into space, to the moon, the planets, to the very -stars? I wish now that I'd known at least a fraction of what Bill did, -and had been able to read what he read in these few sheets of neatly -written paper. I can only guess, from what Dampier said and from what I -saw. What his zone really was--what it could do--I do not know. - -I tried to pay attention to what he was doing. The real vitals of his -apparatus were in the big insulated block. The thousands of amperes he -was drawing from the high-tension lines were merely the kicker that -kept the real engine turning. Atomic energy, Bill had guessed. Probably -he was right. - -The loops and coils above the platform determined the shape that the -zone would take. According to how they were set, Dampier explained, -he could get any geometrically continuous form--a disc, a paraboloid, -anything that geometry can describe. What he was going to make was a -sphere. - -I'm not at all sure that I'm getting the order of things right. I -gathered that the zone must be built up and strengthened little by -little; first impermeable to the simplest forms of energy, like light -and heat, and then to the more and more complex ones, until at some -critical point the whole thing became absolute. The machine that -created it had to be outside, otherwise the zone itself would keep any -power from getting through. On the other hand, it might be powered -by one of those super-batteries that Dampier had in the grip of his -solenoid-gun. With a set-up like that, you could dig a hole and pull it -in after you, so to speak. What I wondered was how you get out? - -I asked Dampier that one. "There would be no way," he told me. "Once -the zone is complete, it is unchangeable--absolute. You would be -inside, to us here, but I think that to yourself it would seem that it -is we who are inside--that you are in a world all of your own, with its -own laws, its own science. They can be worked out, these laws. They are -in the equations that Monsieur Porter is reading; but they are very -strange and complex. In war, a closed zone would be used only as a trap -for the enemy." - -"Wait a minute," I objected. "You mean to say that once you've made -this thing you can't unmake it?" - -"That is right," he nodded. "Once the zone is complete it is a -bubble--a nothingness--entirely apart from our Space and Time. The -forces build up very rapidly, exponentially, but until the very -instant of completion, even if it is one little billionth of a second -before that moment, the zone will collapse if the power which builds -it is shut off. Never in practice would one go so far. Long before it -is complete, such a zone will repel all things that can be directed -against it, while the balance of power still remains in the hands -of him who has created it. To make it--that is nothing. To destroy -it is impossible. But to hold it so in the delicate balance between -destruction and completion; that is the triumph of Pierre Dampier! -I have calculated it all from the equations. See--here at these red -lines each needle must stop. If they go beyond--zut! In the space of a -thinking the zone is complete! Beyond control!" - -He straightened up, his wirey mop of hair bobbing at my shoulder. "Now, -please, if you will watch and remember. The loops are set, so, for -the sphere--little, like the apple of the eye. Now I press the first -switch, and the second and then the others, three, and four, and five. -Now I turn the dials, so, a little at a time. A minute now, while the -zone builds, and then you will call Monsieur Porter and show him that -this is not all sunshine and honeysuckers that he reads." - -The big machine began to hum a deep-throated drone that deepened and -strengthened until I could feel it shaking the floor under my feet -with each colossal pulse of energy. I wondered about the sympathetic -vibrations you read about in the Sunday supplements. Might it not -shake the walls down around our ears? But Dampier didn't seem worried. -And then I forgot it, for a shadow was beginning to form in the space -between the coils. - -That's all it was at first--a shadow, the size of a big red polished -apple. I could hardly be sure it was there, but there was something -queer about the way light acted that showed me where it was. Things -behind it disappeared, smothered out by something that wasn't really -darkness; and then suddenly it began to shine. - -You've seen bubbles of air under water, shining like quicksilver. -Well, it was like that. It was flawless, without texture, intangible -and shimmering. It was not the thing itself we saw, but the things -reflected in it--a little, twisted, shining world swimming in the -heart of that ball of distorted space. Peering closer, I saw that the -coils which shaped it were glowing with an eerie, frosty white light. -I stared, fascinated, and by what? By a half-invisible bubble, like an -indoor baseball, conjured up by some legerdemain to make fools of us! -It was nonsense! I jerked my eyes away--and saw them. - -Three men with guns stood on the little stair, watching us. They were -gentlemen, polished, clever gentlemen adroit at the art of death. Their -guns were of the kind which Middle-Europe gives to its officers, and -their faces were Middle-European faces. They were in formal dress, and -one of them held his gloves in his left hand. - -Dampier had seen them before I, reflected in the shining sphere. He -turned, his back against the control-panel, his white teeth gnawing -like a rat's at his black beard. The madness was back in his glittering -eyes; madness of a trapped beast. - -"So!" he whispered. "Now we shall meet." - -They came down the stairs, one after the other. How they had cut their -way into that Gibraltar of a house I will never know. They may have -been working for days and weeks to break through Dampier's defenses. -But they were there. - -Resistance was futile. Even Dampier realized that. The three guns urged -us back against the wall. Deft fingers searched us but found nothing. -The three men stepped back to the foot of the little stair, their guns -raised, like a firing squad waiting for the signal. And then, above -them, I saw the smiling face of Wilhelm Friedrich Nebel, Ambassador -from Middle-Europe. - -I hadn't believed Dampier's story until then. It was fantastic, this -spy business, with a man like Nebel in the villain's role. Things like -that don't happen any more. Yet Wilhelm Nebel stood there with a smile -on his heavy lips and no smile at all in his pale little eyes. He came -down the stairs, treading silently like a cat. He was like a cat in his -black and white evening attire, white-bosomed and sleek. He had in his -slender fingers a thick golden chain, with a heavy seal of gold made -from an ancient coin. A crimson ribbon stretched across his breast like -a line of blood. - -Satan at the sacrifice! And then the illusion broke. - -Those devil fingers went into the pocket of his vest, brought out -thick, steel-rimmed spectacles, perched them precariously on the -thin-bridged nose. The massive shoulders slouched over, trousers -drew tight across his heavy buttocks as he bent and stared into the -shining globe. I had never thought of Nebel as fat or gross, in spite -of his size, but that single act showed him to me as a Teuton peddler, -stooping to finger the weave of some shoddy cloth, to decide how high -a price would be safe and how low a one profitable. Satan from his -throne! He stood erect again, but his massive face was red with the -effort. - -Me he ignored. I was nobody. He bowed to Dampier and again I heard the -cloth of his breeches creak. - -"We meet again, Monsieur." - -Dampier answered nothing. He too had his fine tradition of insolence. -Nebel's slim hand flicked toward the machine. "This, I presume, is the -great weapon that is to be the salvation of _la belle France_. This -shining ball that floats in the empty air. Will you show us what it can -do?" - -The Frenchman's eyes never left Nebel's suave face as he went to the -machine. His fingers darted here and there among the dials, tugging and -twisting. Above his head the coils stirred in their massive bearings, -and within their compass the silver sphere swelled like an inflating -balloon to the size of a man's head--of a basketball--larger and larger -while its shimmering surface took on a steely hardness. We seemed to be -staring into unfathomable depths, out of which tiny distorted replicas -of ourselves peered curiously. I had a feeling that I was two men, one -here in this buried room and the other there in that twisted other -room, staring inscrutably into my own eyes. - -"Stop!" Nebel's voice rapped in my ears. The sphere was huge--ten feet -and more in diameter. "It is large enough," he said. "What else will it -do?" - -I saw Dampier's eyes then. I knew that this time there would be no -stopping him. Step by step I withdrew toward the wall. One of the -guards saw me and turned his pistol to cover me, but made no other sign. - -Dampier answered. "Many things, Monsieur. If you will watch--?" He -pulled up his coat-sleeve, baring his scrawny arm, and clambering up -on the platform pushed his hand and arm into the shining sphere. I -saw the sweat come out on his forehead with the effort. Already the -zone was strong. He withdrew his hand and touched the dials of the -control-board. Nebel's eyes were watching every move, his hand in the -pocket of his coat. Dampier stepped back. "If the gentlemen will shoot? -But I warn you--be wary of the ricochet." - -Nebel's finger jerked up. "Rudolf!" The youngest of the three men -stepped forward and emptied his gun at the shining globe. The first -bullet passed through and spanged against the farther wall; the rest -glanced whining from its surface and bit ugly scars from the concrete -wall beyond. Dampier's eyebrows raised ever so little. - -"You have improved the quality of your guns," he commended. "They are -more powerful than I had thought." - -"Is that all?" - -"Is it not enough? What weapon have your thieving swine stolen that -will penetrate what you have seen?" - -"Is that all?" Nebel's face was purple with rage. They hated each -other bitterly, these two, and Dampier had given him not the slightest -satisfaction as yet. - -The Frenchman shrugged. "It is not complete. Nothing can pass the -completed zone, though it is good enough now for anything your -blundering fools have invented or will invent. However--" - -He turned to the dials. Then suddenly he wheeled. His thin lips were -drawn back in a snarl of fury, his eyes were sunken pools of black -hate. With a scream he leapt at Nebel's throat. - -The first slug caught him in mid-air. The shock dropped him in a -crooked heap. Five more bullets smacked into him as he lay there, then -Nebel's polished shoe went out and turned him over on his back. He lay -there, a bloody froth on his contorted lips, sneering up at the man who -had killed him. - -For the first time Nebel turned to me. "It was in self defense. You -will remember that, Mr. Crandall, if I decide to let you live." He went -to the machine, as Dampier had done, and tapped the dials lightly with -his long white fingers. - -"These red marks--they are, I suppose, the settings with which Monsieur -Dampier was working. He would not go beyond, for me. And yet, they are -less than halfway to the limit of the dials. What will happen, if I -turn them so--a hair beyond?" - -His fingers twisted once, twice, and behind us Bill Porter's voice -cried out. "Stop, you fool! Stop!" - -He stood in the door of the temperature room, the sheaf of Dampier's -notes in his hand. Nebel's thin eyebrows went up. "Mr. Porter! I had -forgotten you. And why am I a fool?" His fingers spun another of the -dials. - -"You murdering Teuton fool!" Bill's tone was venomous. "What do you -know about science? Your agents bring you this and that. You pay them -or kill them, as may be convenient, but what do you know or care about -what they have given you, so long as it can be sold at a profit: Mike, -come here." - -No one moved to stop me. Bill held out the papers, his thumbs marking -a certain line. I saw that the margins were filled with his spidery -writing. - -"Take that top sheet. Now, look at those readings. Has he reached them -yet?" - -The figures looked familiar. Of course they were the settings at which -Dampier had drawn his little red lines. - -"He's past them," I cried. "On all but two." - -"On all, my friend." Nebel turned again to the dials. "Bluffing does -not work in a game for men." - -As he moved Bill sprang. Not at Nebel--not at the machine--but at the -two great copper bars that came in through the wall. His lean body fell -like a stretched spear across them. There was a burst of flame, the -stench of burning flesh, but my eyes had left him. For as he leaped -Nebel turned the dials. - -[Illustration: _Sparks crashed in a crescendo as he threw his body -across the giant power cables, in a human short-circuit!_] - -A roar of subterranean thunders shook the room. Vast energies poured -into the shining zone. It changed. It was a great mirror of utter -blackness, its shimmering silver sheen gone leaving a shell of strange -transparency out of which creatures of another world leered crookedly -at us. And it began to grow! - -Momentum carried it. I know that now. The looped coils were swept -aside. The apparatus beneath it buckled and split. Beyond it, -Nebel's highborn gunmen gaped aghast. They vanished behind its sleek -circumference, but Wilhelm Nebel was not of their stupid breed. With -a roar he flung his huge body high across the swelling arc of the -sphere's circumference. A moment he slithered on its top, sprawled like -a toad, his great face crimson--then it crashed him against the ceiling -like a toad under a giant's heel. Fragments of concrete began to fall. - -I was up the stair, the remaining sheet of Dampier's equations in my -hand. I was at the outer door as the walls buckled and fell in ruin. I -was running across the littered lawn, staring over my shoulder at the -giant silver globe that towered a hundred feet above me. Then it burst! - -The force of the explosion hurled me a hundred yards across the fields. -I lay gasping in the wet grass, staring glassy-eyed at the column of -violet flame that plumed into the sky. I got shakily to my feet and -stared into the smoking pit where Dampier's fortress had been. At last -I remembered the scrap of crumpled paper in my hand. - -The margins of Dampier's paper were full of Bill's penciled notes. At -the end he had added five neat equations, and below them the remaining -space was filled with his closely written lines. - -"These added equations prove Dampier's analysis to be incomplete," he -had written. "Such a totally reflecting zone has every characteristic -of the closed, intangible boundary of the Einsteinian universe. It may -be considered the boundary of such a universe in miniature, containing -every force and body of the greater outside universe which it reflects. -Neither is more real, in the physical sense, than the other. There is -no way of disproving that we may not in turn be the images of some -greater universe than ours, outside of the Einsteinian boundaries of -our Space and Time. - -"Jeans, and others, have postulated that the size of such a closed -universe must depend upon the number of physical particles included in -it, and that it will expand, _as our universe is expanding_, until that -size is reached. Dampier's closed zone, containing the same number of -image-particles as our own outside universe, must expand _to the same -size_, and at a vastly greater rate. - -"It may be that the cosmic atom, postulated by Abbe Lemaitre, from -which our universe was born, was the creation of some Dampier of a -super-universe, who failed to check its growth, and that its swelling -bubble is crushing the mighty cosmos of which it is the ultimate image, -as Dampier's completed zone would crush our own." - -Bill Porter's scribbled notes stop there. In the split millionth of a -second before the twist of Nebel's fingers could throw the balanced -sphere over the boundary to completion, his body shorted the power that -fed the great machine. It was in time! Momentum of growth, gained in -that instant of which Dampier had told me, swept Nebel and his gunmen -to their death, and as the zone collapsed the incalculable energies -trapped in it burst forth in a holocaust of atomic flame. A millionth -of a second--less perhaps--but in it chance, and whatever power it is -that rules chance, had checked the thing whose illimitable growth would -have swept our universe before it in an avalanche of destruction. - -If, as Bill Porter thought, our universe is just such a swelling -bubble in the vaster world which it mirrors, I wonder whether in that -world there is not another Dampier, another Nebel, another Bill Porter -going to his death. I wonder if Time itself is not reflected in some -contorted scale in such a cosmic bubble, and the entire history of a -universe reproduced in the instant before it bursts. - -I wonder, too, if one day our bubble-universe will not burst as -Dampier's did, robbing us in that future instant of all reality--the -snuffed out images in an almost perfect mirror. For as our Dampier did, -so did the greater Dampier whose image he was. As he failed so did -that other Dampier fail. Perhaps, in his turn, he but mirrored greater -things beyond. 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Schuyler Miller</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Ultimate Image</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: P. Schuyler Miller</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 12, 2021 [eBook #64795]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ULTIMATE IMAGE ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE ULTIMATE IMAGE</h1> - -<h2>By P. SCHUYLER MILLER</h2> - -<p><i>The Magnificent Defense Unit of Dampier.</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Comet December 40.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Mike!"</p> - -<p>It was Bill Porter's voice. I put one hand on the balustrade and -vaulted into the garden. From behind a mass of shrubbery came sounds of -a struggle, and Bill's voice rose again.</p> - -<p>"Mike, you ape! Step on it!"</p> - -<p>I plowed through where someone had gone before. Bill, his shirtfront -awry, his coat-tails torn and muddy, was grappling with a snarling, -kicking little man about half his size. As I burst out of the -shrubbery, Bill kicked his legs from under him and they went down in -the newly spaded earth, Bill on top. Bill Porter weighs a good two -hundred pounds. The struggle ended then and there.</p> - -<p>Bill sat up, one fist clenched in the little man's shirt front. He -glared at me out of a rapidly closing eye.</p> - -<p>"Where in blue blazes have you been?" he demanded. "D'you think I -<i>like</i> wrestling with wildcats?"</p> - -<p>I looked him over. "Didn't make out so well, did you? Lucky he wasn't -any bigger, or I <i>would</i> have had to help you. Why pick on a little guy -like that? What's he done that you don't like?"</p> - -<p>He pointed. Light from the reception hall fell through the bushes in -irregular patches. In one of them, half buried in the scuffed-up dirt, -I caught the glint of polished metal.</p> - -<p>"Pick it up," Bill said.</p> - -<p>It was a gun, bigger than the largest six-shooter ever toted by a -Hollywood buckaroo. It had a massive stock and the thickest barrel I -had ever seen. The whole look of the thing was crazy, like something -out of another world.</p> - -<p>Bill had been scrambling around in the dirt. I saw that blood was -oozing from a gash in his neck. Before I could speak he held up a piece -of gleaming metal.</p> - -<p>"Take a look at that," he said grimly. "That's what he wanted to pump -into the Ambassador. Only I got it instead—in the neck. Now will you -give me a hand with this he-cat before he comes to and starts trying to -skin me alive?"</p> - -<p>I took the thing. It was a steel bolt or arrow of the kind once used -in cross-bows, sharpened to a needle point with six razor-edged vanes -running back to the hilt. I slipped it into the chubby muzzle of the -gun. It was a perfect fit.</p> - -<p>"That," Bill told me, "is a solenoid-gun—one that works. You've seen -a metal core pop out of an electric coil when the juice is snapped on. -It's a common laboratory stunt. Well, it's grown up and had pups, and -this is one of the nastiest of them. No noise at all—and does that -dart travel! It would go through a man like cheese even if he's as -thick as His Magnificence yonder."</p> - -<p>Through the open doors of the reception hall I could see the broad -Teutonic back of Herr Wilhelm Friedrich Nebel, Ambassador from the -newly stabilized Middle-European Confederacy. Half the stuffed shirts -in Washington were crowded around him, trying to make themselves heard -over the blare of the band and I recognized three of the President's -own private bodyguards. I knew that there were Secret Service men -posted all over the grounds to forestall this very thing, yet in spite -of them this little man with the outlandish gun had crept within fifty -feet of his goal. Had he picked them off, one by one, with his silent -darts?</p> - -<p>The man was stirring. Bill had him now in a grip that would take more -than wildcat tactics to break. I parted the bushes so that a shaft of -light fell on his face. Surely I knew that forked beard, those piercing -black eyes, the shock of bristling hair. Suddenly I remembered. "Bill! -It's Dampier!"</p> - -<p>Pierre Dampier, France's greatest physicist, the confrere of Einstein -and Heisenberg and Poincare, who had dropped out of sight so -mysteriously five years before. Dampier here, in Washington, sniping at -the Middle-European Ambassador with an electric gun!</p> - -<p>The little man was staring at me with those beady eyes. For a moment I -thought he would deny it. Then his face changed. The fury, the madness -went out of it and were replaced by a great weariness that made him -seem years older. He slumped in Bill's grasp, then stiffened proudly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, gentlemen," he admitted. "Pierre Dampier, at your service."</p> - -<p>This was no ordinary assassination. Big as the news was, Dampier made -it bigger. And news was what Bill and I were here for.</p> - -<p>"Bill," I said, "this is our story. No one else even suspects it. Are -you going to turn him over to the police or do we get the whole yarn, -ourselves, first?"</p> - -<p>He nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "We'll never get it if we let him -go now. Washington has a way of hushing those things up." He turned to -the little Frenchman. "Monsieur Dampier we are newspaper men, we two. -There's a reason for what you tried to do tonight, a good reason, or -you wouldn't have attempted it. Will you tell us that reason, and let -us explain to the world why the great Pierre Dampier has chosen to play -the role of a common murderer?"</p> - -<p>Dampier stiffened. The forked beard was thrust stiffly forward and -the thin shoulders squared in spite of Bill's numbing grip. "I am no -murderer!" he hissed. "Wilhelm Nebel is the enemy of my country and -of yours—of the world! I stood in his way, and I was crushed. I rose -again, and he has found me and tried to grind me under his accursed -heel! He will kill me, if I do not kill him first. I implore you, -Monsieur, let me go! Let me finish what I have begun. The world will be -better for it, and"—a whimsical smile twisted his thin lips—"it will -be a greater <i>coup</i> for you, will it not?"</p> - -<p>Bill was studying him. "We can't do that," he replied, "even if we -wanted to. Herr Nebel is our country's guest. But this I will do. Give -me your word that you will make no further attempt on Herr Nebel's life -for twenty-four hours, tell us why you have done this thing, and I'll -let you go. I'll give you one hour's start, and then I'll tell the -police the whole story. Is it a bargain?"</p> - -<p>Dampier bowed his head. "You have my word, Monsieur. I will tell you -everything. But when you have heard what I will say, perhaps you will -not wish to call your police. Shall we go to my laboratory? We can talk -more freely there."</p> - -<p>Bill's grip tightened. "Wait! This garden was guarded. Have you killed -those men? Because if you have all bets are off!"</p> - -<p>The little Frenchman smiled. "But no, Monsieur. I have no quarrel -with your countrymen. There are other missiles for this little toy of -mine—hollow needles filled with a certain rare drug like the 'mercy -bullets' of your American sportsmen. They will sleep soundly for some -hours yet, and have what you call the big hangover when they awaken but -that is all. Shall we go now? It is late, and I have much to tell you."</p> - -<p>The whole idea looked screwy to me. Even now I'm not sure that it -wasn't. But when Bill Porter makes up his mind, it would take Gabriel's -trumpet to change it. He was quite capable of plumping one of Dampier's -little needles into me and going off with the Frenchman alone.</p> - -<p>"I'll get the car," I said. "Let's get out of here before someone -stumbles over a corpse and yells for the cops."</p> - -<p>We were somewhere in the middle of Maryland before Bill let me slow -down. He must have had a talk with Dampier while I was getting the car, -for the little Frenchman never peeped until we swung into a narrow -dirt road somewhere north of Frederick. He called the next turn, and -the next, until I began to suspect that he was running us around in -circles. At last we pulled up before a deserted farm-house, set back -from the road behind a dilapidated picket fence. Bill nudged me. -Silhouetted against the stars were the towers of a high-tension line. -Dampier was either stealing or buying power in a big way.</p> - -<p>Now a French gentleman's word is supposed to be about as good as -Finland's credit, but we were taking no chances. I remembered that -wicked little dart with its razor-edged barbs, and I felt pretty sure -that Bill hadn't forgotten it either. We lined up, one on each side of -him, and marched across the weed-grown lawn to the rickety side porch. -There was a Yale lock on the door, and as Dampier swung it open I saw -that it was backed with steel armor-plate. Outside the house might look -like the poorer section of Bilded Road, but inside it was built like -a fortress. Six-inch concrete walls, steel doors, indirect lighting -and ventilation—it looked as though Monsieur Pierre Dampier had been -expecting to stand a pretty heavy siege.</p> - -<p>A winding stair went down through the floor into a basement room that -ran under the entire house. Dampier led the way, Bill followed, and I -came last. Probably our science editor could have made something of -what Dampier had in that buried room. I couldn't. I wouldn't even have -known where to begin photographing it, if the Leica hadn't been back on -the terrace at the Embassy where I'd dropped it to vault over the rail -into Bill's little shambles, and the Graflex somewhere in the back of -the car.</p> - -<p>To begin with, he was drawing more current than any ten men I'd ever -seen, and I've covered some of the atom-busting at M.I.T. and the -lightning shop at Pittsfield. It all went into two huge buss-bars, that -ran across to a kind of cage of interlacing copper loops, standing in -the center of the room. They were hung from jointed supports that rose -above an insulated block or platform of bakelite, with most of the -bulkier apparatus inside out of sight, but I had a hunch that whatever -was going to happen would take place in, at, and around those spidery -coils.</p> - -<p>One corner of the room was a kind of office with a desk and books, and -a couple of ancient chairs. Dampier waved Bill and me into them and -began to pace up and down in front of us like an expectant father. -The wild glint had come back into his eyes, but I've seen enough of -scientists to know that that isn't necessarily fatal. Most scientists -are half nuts anyway. Bill and I never agreed on that point.</p> - -<p>You see, before Bill became a demon reporter, he was the white hope of -American science. That's how I met him, trying to cover something I -couldn't understand and didn't much want to. He fixed my story up for -me, and chiseled in on the season's juiciest murder scandal in return. -I came down with a bad case of busted cranium, as a result of following -his hunches a little too far, and he wrote my scoop for me. After that -it stuck. I claimed then they should have made him science editor, but -old Medford is our owner's nephew or something, and besides he's pretty -good. Anyway, Bill wouldn't take a desk job. It seems he'd always -wanted to feel the pulse of Life—</p> - -<p>Dampier's English was good. He'd been educated in England and the -United States. But when he got excited he fairly surpassed himself and -became heart-breakingly colloquial. Where most foreigners would have -broken down into their mother-tongue, he relapsed into gutter slang or -worse. I've left that out. It doesn't read as well as it sounds, and -besides, nice old ladies like to read these magazines. If only they -knew the truth—the real inside truth about some of the yarns that -have been told in these pages! I've seen the originals—things that -a newspaper wouldn't print for fear of being laughed out of a year's -circulation—and with proofs! They happen, believe me. Only I'd never -been in one before.</p> - -<p>Dampier began with true professional dignity. "Gentlemen," he said, -"you have treated me honorably. I shall do the same to you. I shall -tell you all! When I am finished, judge then if I have done right to -assassinate this monster of the devil!</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Crandall recognized in me that Pierre Dampier who vanished -from the world of science five years ago. It was Wilhelm Nebel who -made me to flee like the wild goose. Nebel—the chief of munitions, -the millionaire, the so great diplomat, whose hands reach out to -every country, regardless of boundaries or the hatred of races. Even -in France I was not safe! The finger of Nebel was in the pie of our -government. He twisted it—poof! Spies of the police investigate me. -They ask questions. They give me the degrees. But I tell them nothing. -They can find nothing. It is all here—here in the grey material!" He -tapped his bristling skull. "And when they have gone, I take my books, -my papers, what money I can get, and take it on the lam to these United -States!"</p> - -<p>He stopped for breath and glared at us triumphantly. "I scram," he -repeated. "I vanish from the sight of men. Here I am Leon the retired -hair-dresser, the man with the big radio. Pierre Dampier is forgotten. -But not by the accursed Nebel!</p> - -<p>"Here in America is a free country where only the dogs, the -automobiles, the husbands must have licenses. There are no foolish -papers to carry about, no questions to answer to the police. I can -hide like a rat in the mousecheese, and be safe. But not from this -son-of-an-unpardonableness Nebel! His men are everywhere. He sees -everything. Only here I can protect myself. Here I can kill before I am -killed!</p> - -<p>"But I see in your eye that I am beating about the gas-works, Monsieur. -What is it that the old man Dampier has wrested from Nature, that is of -so great value to the famous Nebel? What is the secret for which he has -lammed himself here to hide like a flea in the chemise of your charming -Maryland? Why is he willing to sail down the great river, to fry on the -heated seat, so long as Nebel shall die? I will tell you, gentlemen!"</p> - -<p>He drew himself up to every inch of his five feet two. He thrust out -a pipe-stem arm and pointed an accusing finger at the mechanism that -squatted in the middle of the floor.</p> - -<p>"There, gentlemen, is the weapon that will make France supreme! The -instrument of defense that makes offense impossible! The weapon that -will end war!"</p> - -<p>We looked at him, and at it, and at each other. It didn't look like -the sort of thing you'd lug out on a battlefield to chase the enemy -away. It had even less resemblance to the kind of fortress that I'd -heard France was building along the Middle-European border. I began to -wonder if, after all, that glint in Dampier's eyes was the holy light -of pure science.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Bill asked.</p> - -<p>The little Frenchman's chest pushed out until his vest-buttons creaked. -Then he zipped forward, his rat's eyes darting from side to side, and -hissed in our ears:</p> - -<p>"<i>It is total reflection!</i>"</p> - -<p>That left me cold, but it didn't Bill. I could see that he had a -glimmering of an understanding of what went on, but he was puzzled as -to the why, what and how. "How d'you mean?" he asked. "We have total -internal reflection in prisms. That's no weapon—or defense either, -unless you're figuring on Nebel's crowd developing a death-ray or -something like that for the next war."</p> - -<p>Dampier chuckled. It was about as self-satisfied a chuckle as I've -heard. "Death-rays—maybe. I do not care. Bullets, shells, bombs, I -tell you nothing, <i>nothing</i> can break through the barrier of total -reflection! And it is a weapon as well, to turn the enemy's own -strength against him."</p> - -<p>Bill was sitting up straight in his chair. "Tell me about it," he said -softly.</p> - -<p>Dampier wriggled and seemed to settle down like a statue on his two -spread legs. Only from the waist up was he alive, talking volubly with -both hands and that wagging beard.</p> - -<p>"It is simple," he explained. "From the beginning of time, what has -been the first defense of mankind? It is the wall, the barrier which -the enemy cannot climb, cannot break, cannot penetrate with their -weapons. A wall of thorns against the beasts of the darkness. A boulder -rolled in the mouth of a cave. Walls of sharpened stakes, of earth and -stone, of human flesh and blood! Walls of fire laid down by giant -guns. Walls of poisonous vapors through which no living thing can pass. -Always a wall, stronger and stronger, but never perfect. I, Pierre -Dampier, have made the perfect wall!</p> - -<p>"Look, Monsieur—you have spoken of the reflecting prism. All light -that falls on it at the proper angle is diverted, turned back. Walls -of steel and concrete, such as I have here about me, will repel the -bullets of powerful rifles, the shells of small guns, like the little -balls of ping-pong. All these things will protect me from the weapons -of my enemies—but they are not perfect. They are not total reflection!</p> - -<p>"Look you, again. Always there is some ray that will be of the improper -angle, the too great or too small wavelength. Always there is some -shell that will batter its way through my walls and kill me. But if -I can find a mirror that will turn back all rays, a wall from which -all projectiles will rebound, a shield against all the many forces of -Nature and of man—then, Monsieur, I have the perfect defense and the -perfect weapon!</p> - -<p>"See this little mirror in my hand. I flash in your eyes a beam of -light—so. You are blinded, no? And if this is not light, but a ray of -death that you have hurled against my mirror, it kills <i>you</i>—is it -not so? If it is a bullet that you shoot at me, it recoils and strikes -you down. If it is a bomb, it is thrown back into your trenches, to -kill your men. If it is a great force of pressure or attraction, it is -diverted, reversed, and it strikes at you while I am safe behind my -perfect wall."</p> - -<p>Bill was on his feet with that mulish look he has when he's sure -he's right. "It's impossible!" he snapped. "No metal can reflect all -wavelengths. No substance can resist a force greater than those which -created it and hold it together. As for magnetism, gravitation, they're -space-warp forces. <i>Things</i> can't stop them. Sorry we're not in the -market for Sunday features today, and I rather doubt that Herr Nebel -is. You've got brains—I'll grant you that. You have some energy source -in the handle of that little gun of yours that would turn industry -up on its tail overnight. I haven't the slightest doubt in the world -that you may have blasted the atom wide open and made it sit up and -beg. But there's no substance, known or unknown, that will do what you -claim, and there never will be. If you have no objections, Monsieur, we -will be on our way, and in exactly one hour I will call the police. Au -revoir, Monsieur."</p> - -<p>Dampier was hopping from one foot to the other like a hen on ice. "No, -no, no, Monsieur!" he cried. "You have not heard all! You must lend -another ear! There is no substance that will reflect all things; that -is true. Only a fool would believe it. But what of a wall that has -no substance—that has no existence in what we call reality but that -is as fixed and unshakable as the roots of the universe—a wall, a -discontinuity <i>of Space itself</i>?"</p> - -<p>Bill stopped halfway up the stairs. "Say that again," he demanded.</p> - -<p>The little Frenchman's hands went winging out in hopeless resignation. -"There are no words! One does not explain the theories of Dirac and -Schroedinger in words. There are symbols—the logic of symbols—that -can be translated at last into reality that men can see, but there are -no words for the things that are born and live only here, in the head, -in the think-box. It is here, in these symbols, on these sheets of -paper. It is there, in that apparatus which you see. But it is not in -words."</p> - -<p>Bill wasn't being stopped now. He lives words. "You mean," he said, -"that you've hit on a condition of Space—maybe a discontinuity of -some kind—that has the property of absolute total reflection? It -will reflect all radiations one hundred per cent. Any material body -will bounce off without making the slightest impression. Every -force exerted on it is turned back on itself—even space-forces like -gravitation and magnetism. And you can create that condition at will. -Is that what you mean?"</p> - -<p>Dampier's black eyes fairly spit sparks. "That is it, Monsieur," he -cried. "You have said it with a full mouth! My wall, my zone as I have -called it, will reflect completely all things, although it is itself -a nothing, without existence in our universe. It lives in the symbols -of mathematics, and I have just this day completed the apparatus which -will give these symbols reality—which will create the zone as I desire -it, in any shape or size. I will show you, and you will believe. And -then we shall see about Herr Wilhelm Nebel and his makers of wars!"</p> - -<p>Bill frowned. "Dampier, give me those equations. I've got to puzzle -this thing out for myself, follow your argument through on paper. Is -there any place where I can be quiet?"</p> - -<p>"But of course, Monsieur. There, in the room for thermal work, -everything will be perfectly quiet. Here are the papers, and while you -read, I shall show Monsieur Crandall the working of the works."</p> - -<p>But Bill didn't hear that last. The heavy door of the constant -temperature room had closed behind him and insulated him from the world.</p> - -<p>I couldn't do much but stand and watch Dampier as he bustled about, -tuning up his crazy-looking machine. He talked a blue streak as he -worked, but most of it went right over my head. I'm no Bill Porter. -I did begin to see why Nebel, if he was behind the world's armaments -racket as Dampier claimed, might be pretty anxious to get hold of such -a thing before the little Frenchman began peddling it to his best -customers. In the right hands it might make war very unfashionable.</p> - -<p>Imagine an invaded nation squatting down behind a perfectly reflecting -wall. They can't see out, but nothing can get in. Enemy shells -bounce off into the enemy lines. Death rays flash back into the faces -of those who sent them. Radio is garbled by all kinds of curious -echoes and reflections, making communication impossible. Electrical -and magnetic apparatus would be subject to strange disturbances. And -gravitation—how would it affect that? Would every outside object be -attracted to the mirror, or would it be repelled by a kind of negative -gravity, lifting it into space, to the moon, the planets, to the very -stars? I wish now that I'd known at least a fraction of what Bill did, -and had been able to read what he read in these few sheets of neatly -written paper. I can only guess, from what Dampier said and from what I -saw. What his zone really was—what it could do—I do not know.</p> - -<p>I tried to pay attention to what he was doing. The real vitals of his -apparatus were in the big insulated block. The thousands of amperes he -was drawing from the high-tension lines were merely the kicker that -kept the real engine turning. Atomic energy, Bill had guessed. Probably -he was right.</p> - -<p>The loops and coils above the platform determined the shape that the -zone would take. According to how they were set, Dampier explained, -he could get any geometrically continuous form—a disc, a paraboloid, -anything that geometry can describe. What he was going to make was a -sphere.</p> - -<p>I'm not at all sure that I'm getting the order of things right. I -gathered that the zone must be built up and strengthened little by -little; first impermeable to the simplest forms of energy, like light -and heat, and then to the more and more complex ones, until at some -critical point the whole thing became absolute. The machine that -created it had to be outside, otherwise the zone itself would keep any -power from getting through. On the other hand, it might be powered -by one of those super-batteries that Dampier had in the grip of his -solenoid-gun. With a set-up like that, you could dig a hole and pull it -in after you, so to speak. What I wondered was how you get out?</p> - -<p>I asked Dampier that one. "There would be no way," he told me. "Once -the zone is complete, it is unchangeable—absolute. You would be -inside, to us here, but I think that to yourself it would seem that it -is we who are inside—that you are in a world all of your own, with its -own laws, its own science. They can be worked out, these laws. They are -in the equations that Monsieur Porter is reading; but they are very -strange and complex. In war, a closed zone would be used only as a trap -for the enemy."</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," I objected. "You mean to say that once you've made -this thing you can't unmake it?"</p> - -<p>"That is right," he nodded. "Once the zone is complete it is a -bubble—a nothingness—entirely apart from our Space and Time. The -forces build up very rapidly, exponentially, but until the very -instant of completion, even if it is one little billionth of a second -before that moment, the zone will collapse if the power which builds -it is shut off. Never in practice would one go so far. Long before it -is complete, such a zone will repel all things that can be directed -against it, while the balance of power still remains in the hands -of him who has created it. To make it—that is nothing. To destroy -it is impossible. But to hold it so in the delicate balance between -destruction and completion; that is the triumph of Pierre Dampier! -I have calculated it all from the equations. See—here at these red -lines each needle must stop. If they go beyond—zut! In the space of a -thinking the zone is complete! Beyond control!"</p> - -<p>He straightened up, his wirey mop of hair bobbing at my shoulder. "Now, -please, if you will watch and remember. The loops are set, so, for -the sphere—little, like the apple of the eye. Now I press the first -switch, and the second and then the others, three, and four, and five. -Now I turn the dials, so, a little at a time. A minute now, while the -zone builds, and then you will call Monsieur Porter and show him that -this is not all sunshine and honeysuckers that he reads."</p> - -<p>The big machine began to hum a deep-throated drone that deepened and -strengthened until I could feel it shaking the floor under my feet -with each colossal pulse of energy. I wondered about the sympathetic -vibrations you read about in the Sunday supplements. Might it not -shake the walls down around our ears? But Dampier didn't seem worried. -And then I forgot it, for a shadow was beginning to form in the space -between the coils.</p> - -<p>That's all it was at first—a shadow, the size of a big red polished -apple. I could hardly be sure it was there, but there was something -queer about the way light acted that showed me where it was. Things -behind it disappeared, smothered out by something that wasn't really -darkness; and then suddenly it began to shine.</p> - -<p>You've seen bubbles of air under water, shining like quicksilver. -Well, it was like that. It was flawless, without texture, intangible -and shimmering. It was not the thing itself we saw, but the things -reflected in it—a little, twisted, shining world swimming in the -heart of that ball of distorted space. Peering closer, I saw that the -coils which shaped it were glowing with an eerie, frosty white light. -I stared, fascinated, and by what? By a half-invisible bubble, like an -indoor baseball, conjured up by some legerdemain to make fools of us! -It was nonsense! I jerked my eyes away—and saw them.</p> - -<p>Three men with guns stood on the little stair, watching us. They were -gentlemen, polished, clever gentlemen adroit at the art of death. Their -guns were of the kind which Middle-Europe gives to its officers, and -their faces were Middle-European faces. They were in formal dress, and -one of them held his gloves in his left hand.</p> - -<p>Dampier had seen them before I, reflected in the shining sphere. He -turned, his back against the control-panel, his white teeth gnawing -like a rat's at his black beard. The madness was back in his glittering -eyes; madness of a trapped beast.</p> - -<p>"So!" he whispered. "Now we shall meet."</p> - -<p>They came down the stairs, one after the other. How they had cut their -way into that Gibraltar of a house I will never know. They may have -been working for days and weeks to break through Dampier's defenses. -But they were there.</p> - -<p>Resistance was futile. Even Dampier realized that. The three guns urged -us back against the wall. Deft fingers searched us but found nothing. -The three men stepped back to the foot of the little stair, their guns -raised, like a firing squad waiting for the signal. And then, above -them, I saw the smiling face of Wilhelm Friedrich Nebel, Ambassador -from Middle-Europe.</p> - -<p>I hadn't believed Dampier's story until then. It was fantastic, this -spy business, with a man like Nebel in the villain's role. Things like -that don't happen any more. Yet Wilhelm Nebel stood there with a smile -on his heavy lips and no smile at all in his pale little eyes. He came -down the stairs, treading silently like a cat. He was like a cat in his -black and white evening attire, white-bosomed and sleek. He had in his -slender fingers a thick golden chain, with a heavy seal of gold made -from an ancient coin. A crimson ribbon stretched across his breast like -a line of blood.</p> - -<p>Satan at the sacrifice! And then the illusion broke.</p> - -<p>Those devil fingers went into the pocket of his vest, brought out -thick, steel-rimmed spectacles, perched them precariously on the -thin-bridged nose. The massive shoulders slouched over, trousers -drew tight across his heavy buttocks as he bent and stared into the -shining globe. I had never thought of Nebel as fat or gross, in spite -of his size, but that single act showed him to me as a Teuton peddler, -stooping to finger the weave of some shoddy cloth, to decide how high -a price would be safe and how low a one profitable. Satan from his -throne! He stood erect again, but his massive face was red with the -effort.</p> - -<p>Me he ignored. I was nobody. He bowed to Dampier and again I heard the -cloth of his breeches creak.</p> - -<p>"We meet again, Monsieur."</p> - -<p>Dampier answered nothing. He too had his fine tradition of insolence. -Nebel's slim hand flicked toward the machine. "This, I presume, is the -great weapon that is to be the salvation of <i>la belle France</i>. This -shining ball that floats in the empty air. Will you show us what it can -do?"</p> - -<p>The Frenchman's eyes never left Nebel's suave face as he went to the -machine. His fingers darted here and there among the dials, tugging and -twisting. Above his head the coils stirred in their massive bearings, -and within their compass the silver sphere swelled like an inflating -balloon to the size of a man's head—of a basketball—larger and larger -while its shimmering surface took on a steely hardness. We seemed to be -staring into unfathomable depths, out of which tiny distorted replicas -of ourselves peered curiously. I had a feeling that I was two men, one -here in this buried room and the other there in that twisted other -room, staring inscrutably into my own eyes.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" Nebel's voice rapped in my ears. The sphere was huge—ten feet -and more in diameter. "It is large enough," he said. "What else will it -do?"</p> - -<p>I saw Dampier's eyes then. I knew that this time there would be no -stopping him. Step by step I withdrew toward the wall. One of the -guards saw me and turned his pistol to cover me, but made no other sign.</p> - -<p>Dampier answered. "Many things, Monsieur. If you will watch—?" He -pulled up his coat-sleeve, baring his scrawny arm, and clambering up -on the platform pushed his hand and arm into the shining sphere. I -saw the sweat come out on his forehead with the effort. Already the -zone was strong. He withdrew his hand and touched the dials of the -control-board. Nebel's eyes were watching every move, his hand in the -pocket of his coat. Dampier stepped back. "If the gentlemen will shoot? -But I warn you—be wary of the ricochet."</p> - -<p>Nebel's finger jerked up. "Rudolf!" The youngest of the three men -stepped forward and emptied his gun at the shining globe. The first -bullet passed through and spanged against the farther wall; the rest -glanced whining from its surface and bit ugly scars from the concrete -wall beyond. Dampier's eyebrows raised ever so little.</p> - -<p>"You have improved the quality of your guns," he commended. "They are -more powerful than I had thought."</p> - -<p>"Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Is it not enough? What weapon have your thieving swine stolen that -will penetrate what you have seen?"</p> - -<p>"Is that all?" Nebel's face was purple with rage. They hated each -other bitterly, these two, and Dampier had given him not the slightest -satisfaction as yet.</p> - -<p>The Frenchman shrugged. "It is not complete. Nothing can pass the -completed zone, though it is good enough now for anything your -blundering fools have invented or will invent. However—"</p> - -<p>He turned to the dials. Then suddenly he wheeled. His thin lips were -drawn back in a snarl of fury, his eyes were sunken pools of black -hate. With a scream he leapt at Nebel's throat.</p> - -<p>The first slug caught him in mid-air. The shock dropped him in a -crooked heap. Five more bullets smacked into him as he lay there, then -Nebel's polished shoe went out and turned him over on his back. He lay -there, a bloody froth on his contorted lips, sneering up at the man who -had killed him.</p> - -<p>For the first time Nebel turned to me. "It was in self defense. You -will remember that, Mr. Crandall, if I decide to let you live." He went -to the machine, as Dampier had done, and tapped the dials lightly with -his long white fingers.</p> - -<p>"These red marks—they are, I suppose, the settings with which Monsieur -Dampier was working. He would not go beyond, for me. And yet, they are -less than halfway to the limit of the dials. What will happen, if I -turn them so—a hair beyond?"</p> - -<p>His fingers twisted once, twice, and behind us Bill Porter's voice -cried out. "Stop, you fool! Stop!"</p> - -<p>He stood in the door of the temperature room, the sheaf of Dampier's -notes in his hand. Nebel's thin eyebrows went up. "Mr. Porter! I had -forgotten you. And why am I a fool?" His fingers spun another of the -dials.</p> - -<p>"You murdering Teuton fool!" Bill's tone was venomous. "What do you -know about science? Your agents bring you this and that. You pay them -or kill them, as may be convenient, but what do you know or care about -what they have given you, so long as it can be sold at a profit: Mike, -come here."</p> - -<p>No one moved to stop me. Bill held out the papers, his thumbs marking -a certain line. I saw that the margins were filled with his spidery -writing.</p> - -<p>"Take that top sheet. Now, look at those readings. Has he reached them -yet?"</p> - -<p>The figures looked familiar. Of course they were the settings at which -Dampier had drawn his little red lines.</p> - -<p>"He's past them," I cried. "On all but two."</p> - -<p>"On all, my friend." Nebel turned again to the dials. "Bluffing does -not work in a game for men."</p> - -<p>As he moved Bill sprang. Not at Nebel—not at the machine—but at the -two great copper bars that came in through the wall. His lean body fell -like a stretched spear across them. There was a burst of flame, the -stench of burning flesh, but my eyes had left him. For as he leaped -Nebel turned the dials.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>Sparks crashed in a crescendo as he threw his body across the giant power cables, in a human short-circuit!</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>A roar of subterranean thunders shook the room. Vast energies poured -into the shining zone. It changed. It was a great mirror of utter -blackness, its shimmering silver sheen gone leaving a shell of strange -transparency out of which creatures of another world leered crookedly -at us. And it began to grow!</p> - -<p>Momentum carried it. I know that now. The looped coils were swept -aside. The apparatus beneath it buckled and split. Beyond it, -Nebel's highborn gunmen gaped aghast. They vanished behind its sleek -circumference, but Wilhelm Nebel was not of their stupid breed. With -a roar he flung his huge body high across the swelling arc of the -sphere's circumference. A moment he slithered on its top, sprawled like -a toad, his great face crimson—then it crashed him against the ceiling -like a toad under a giant's heel. Fragments of concrete began to fall.</p> - -<p>I was up the stair, the remaining sheet of Dampier's equations in my -hand. I was at the outer door as the walls buckled and fell in ruin. I -was running across the littered lawn, staring over my shoulder at the -giant silver globe that towered a hundred feet above me. Then it burst!</p> - -<p>The force of the explosion hurled me a hundred yards across the fields. -I lay gasping in the wet grass, staring glassy-eyed at the column of -violet flame that plumed into the sky. I got shakily to my feet and -stared into the smoking pit where Dampier's fortress had been. At last -I remembered the scrap of crumpled paper in my hand.</p> - -<p>The margins of Dampier's paper were full of Bill's penciled notes. At -the end he had added five neat equations, and below them the remaining -space was filled with his closely written lines.</p> - -<p>"These added equations prove Dampier's analysis to be incomplete," he -had written. "Such a totally reflecting zone has every characteristic -of the closed, intangible boundary of the Einsteinian universe. It may -be considered the boundary of such a universe in miniature, containing -every force and body of the greater outside universe which it reflects. -Neither is more real, in the physical sense, than the other. There is -no way of disproving that we may not in turn be the images of some -greater universe than ours, outside of the Einsteinian boundaries of -our Space and Time.</p> - -<p>"Jeans, and others, have postulated that the size of such a closed -universe must depend upon the number of physical particles included in -it, and that it will expand, <i>as our universe is expanding</i>, until that -size is reached. Dampier's closed zone, containing the same number of -image-particles as our own outside universe, must expand <i>to the same -size</i>, and at a vastly greater rate.</p> - -<p>"It may be that the cosmic atom, postulated by Abbe Lemaitre, from -which our universe was born, was the creation of some Dampier of a -super-universe, who failed to check its growth, and that its swelling -bubble is crushing the mighty cosmos of which it is the ultimate image, -as Dampier's completed zone would crush our own."</p> - -<p>Bill Porter's scribbled notes stop there. In the split millionth of a -second before the twist of Nebel's fingers could throw the balanced -sphere over the boundary to completion, his body shorted the power that -fed the great machine. It was in time! Momentum of growth, gained in -that instant of which Dampier had told me, swept Nebel and his gunmen -to their death, and as the zone collapsed the incalculable energies -trapped in it burst forth in a holocaust of atomic flame. A millionth -of a second—less perhaps—but in it chance, and whatever power it is -that rules chance, had checked the thing whose illimitable growth would -have swept our universe before it in an avalanche of destruction.</p> - -<p>If, as Bill Porter thought, our universe is just such a swelling -bubble in the vaster world which it mirrors, I wonder whether in that -world there is not another Dampier, another Nebel, another Bill Porter -going to his death. I wonder if Time itself is not reflected in some -contorted scale in such a cosmic bubble, and the entire history of a -universe reproduced in the instant before it bursts.</p> - -<p>I wonder, too, if one day our bubble-universe will not burst as -Dampier's did, robbing us in that future instant of all reality—the -snuffed out images in an almost perfect mirror. For as our Dampier did, -so did the greater Dampier whose image he was. As he failed so did -that other Dampier fail. Perhaps, in his turn, he but mirrored greater -things beyond. Where then—in what inconceivable realm beyond Space and -Time—is the reality of which we are the ultimate image?</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ULTIMATE IMAGE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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