Chapter 12: The Mastery of Mind Over Matter

They descended rapidly, directly over a large and imposing city in the middle of a vast, level, beautifully-planted plain. While they were watching it, the city vanished and the plain was transformed into a heavily-timbered mountain summit, the valleys falling away upon all sides as far as the eye could reach.

“Well, I’ll say that’s SOME mirage!” exclaimed Seaton, rubbing his eyes in astonishment. “I’ve seen mirages before, but never anything like that. Wonder what this air’s made of? But we’ll land, anyway, if we finally have to swim!”

The ship landed gently upon the summit, the occupants half expecting to see the ground disappear before their eyes. Nothing happened, however, and they disembarked, finding walking somewhat difficult because of the great mass of the planet. Looking around, they could see no sign of life, but they felt a presence near them--a vast, invisible something.

Suddenly, out of the air in front of Seaton, a man materialized: a man identical with him in every feature and detail, even to the smudge of grease under one eye, the small wrinkles in his heavy blue serge suit, and the emblem of the American Chemical Society upon his watch-fob.

“Hello, folks,” the stranger began in Seaton’s characteristic careless speech. “I see you’re surprised at my knowing your language. You’re a very inferior race of animals--don’t even understand telepathy, don’t understand the luminiferous ether, or the relation between time and space. Your greatest things, such as the Skylark and your object-compass, are merely toys.”

Changing instantly from Seaton’s form to that of Dorothy, likewise a perfect imitation, the stranger continued without a break:

“Atoms and electrons and things, spinning and whirling in their dizzy little orbits...” It broke off abruptly, continuing in the form of DuQuesne:

“Couldn’t make myself clear as Miss Vaneman--not a scientific convolution in her foolish little brain. You are a freer type, DuQuesne, unhampered by foolish, soft fancies. But you are very clumsy, although working fairly well with your poor tools--Brookings and his organization, the Perkins Café and its clumsy wireless telephones. All of you are extremely low in the scale. Such animals have not been known in our universe for ten million years, which is as far back as I can remember. You have millions of years to go before you will amount to anything; before you will even rise above death and its attendant necessity, sex.”

The strange being then assumed form after form with bewildering rapidity, while the spectators stared in dumb astonishment. In rapid succession it took on the likeness of each member of the party, of the vessel itself, of the watch in Seaton’s pocket--reappearing as Seaton.

“Well, bunch,” it said in a matter-of-fact voice, “there’s no mental exercise in you and you’re such a low form of life that you’re of no use on this planet; so I’ll dematerialize you.”

A peculiar light came into its eyes as they stared intently into Seaton’s, and he felt his senses reel under the impact of an awful mental force, but he fought back with all his power and remained standing.

“What’s this?” the stranger demanded in surprise, “This is the first time in history that mere matter--which is only a manifestation of mind--has ever refused to obey mind. There’s a screw loose somewhere.”

“I must reason this out,” it continued analytically, changing instantaneously into Crane’s likeness. “Ah! I am not a perfect reproduction. This is the first matter I have ever encountered that I could not reproduce perfectly. There is some subtle difference. The external form is the same, the organic structure likewise. The molecules of substance are arranged as they should be, as are also the atoms in the molecule. The electrons in the atom--ah! There is the difficulty. The arrangement and number of electrons, as well as positive charges, are entirely different from what I had supposed. I must derive the formula.”

“Let’s go, folks!” said Seaton hastily, drawing Dorothy back toward the Skylark. “This dematerialization stunt may be play for him, but I don’t want any of it in my family.”

“No, you really must stay,” remonstrated the stranger. “Much as it is against my principles to employ brute force, you must stay and be properly dematerialized, alive or dead. Science demands it.”

As he spoke, he started to draw his automatic pistol. Being in Crane’s form, he drew slowly, as Crane did; and Seaton, with the dexterity of much sleight-of-hand work and of years of familiarity with his weapon, drew and fired in one incredibly rapid movement, before the other had withdrawn the pistol from his pocket. The X-plosive shell completely volatilized the stranger and hurled the party backward toward the Skylark, into which they fled hastily. As Crane, the last one to enter the vessel, fired his pistol and closed the massive door, Seaton leaped to the levers. As he did so, he saw a creature materialize in the air of the vessel and fall to the floor with a crash as he threw on the power. It was a frightful thing, like nothing ever before seen upon any world; with great teeth, long, sharp claws, and an automatic pistol clutched firmly in a human hand. Forced flat by the terrific acceleration of the vessel, it was unable to lift either itself or the weapon, and lay helpless.

“We take one trick, anyway!” blazed Seaton, as he threw on the power of the attractor and diffused its force into a screen over the party, so that the enemy could not materialize in the air above them and crush them by mere weight. “As pure mental force, you’re entirely out of my class, but when you come down to matter, which I can understand, I’ll give you a run for your money until my angles catch fire.”

“That is a childish defiance. It speaks well for your courage, but ill for your intelligence,” the animal said, and vanished.

A moment later Seaton’s hair almost stood on end as he saw an automatic pistol appear upon the board directly in front of him, clamped to it by bands of steel. Paralyzed by this unlooked-for demonstration of the mastery of mind over matter, unable to move a muscle, he lay helpless, staring at the engine of death in front of him. Although the whole proceeding occupied only a fraction of a second, it seemed to Seaton as though he watched the weapon for hours. As the sleeve drew back, cocking the pistol and throwing a cartridge into the chamber, the trigger moved, and the hammer descended to speed on its way the bullet which was to blot out his life. There was a sharp click as the hammer fell--Seaton was surprised to find himself still alive until a voice spoke, apparently from the muzzle of the pistol, with the harsh sound of a metallic diaphragm.

“I was almost certain that it wouldn’t explode,” the stranger said, chattily. “You see, I haven’t derived that formula yet, so I couldn’t make a real explosive. I could of course, materialize beside you, under your protective screen, and crush you in a vise. I could materialize as a man of metal, able to stand up under this acceleration, and do you to death. I could even, by a sufficient expenditure of mental energy, materialize a planet around your ship and crush it. However, these crude methods are distasteful in the extreme, especially since you have already given me some slight and unexpected mental exercise. In return, I shall give you one chance for your lives. I cannot dematerialize either you or your vessel until I work out the formula for your peculiar atomic structure. If I can derive the formula before you reach the boundaries of my home-space, beyond which I cannot go, I shall let you go free. Deriving the formula will be a neat little problem. It should be fairly easy, as it involves only a simple integration in ninety-seven dimensions.”

Silence ensued, and Seaton advanced his lever to the limit of his ability to retain consciousness. Almost overcome by the horror of their position, in an agony of suspense, expecting every instant to be hurled into nothingness, he battled on, with no thought of yielding, even in the face of those overwhelming mental odds.

“You can’t do it, old top,” he thought savagely, concentrating all the power of his highly-trained mind against the intellectual monster. “You can’t dematerialize us, and you can’t integrate above ninety-five dimensions to save your neck. You can’t do it--you’re slipping--you’re all balled up right now!”

For more than an hour the silent battle raged, during which time the Skylark flew millions upon millions of miles toward Earth. Finally the stranger spoke again.

“You three win,” it said abruptly. In answer to the unspoken surprise of all three men it went on: “Yes, all three of you got the same idea and Crane even forced his body to retain consciousness to fight me. Your efforts were very feeble, of course, but were enough to interrupt my calculations at a delicate stage, every time. You are a low form of life, undoubtedly, but with more mentality than I supposed at first. I could get that formula, of course, in spite of you, if I had time, but we are rapidly approaching the limits of my territory, outside of which even I could not think my way back. That is one thing in which your mechanical devices are superior to anything my own race developed before we became pure intellectuals. They point the way back to your Earth, which is so far away that even my mentality cannot grasp the meaning of the distance. I can understand the Earth, can visualize it from your minds, but I cannot project myself any nearer to it than we are at present. Before I leave you, I will say that you have conferred a real favor upon me--you have given me something to think about for thousands of cycles to come. Good-bye.”