The Martian by Allen Glasser and A. R. Hilliard (fastest ebook reader TXT) 📖

the field were two creatures, which immediately commanded his attention.

They were not alike. One was similar to those he had already seen, but the other was even larger and of a different shape. Four legs carried the great, bulky body, which rested in a horizontal position, as did the thick neck and long, tapering head. It was dragging the tool which turned up the furrows of soil, while the other followed behind, governing its directions.

Clearly, he thought, there were many types of creatures on Toon. He would have to try to understand their relations to one another....

Inside the room there was much noise, and the air was hot, damp, and very unpleasant to breathe. He was not afraid of the creatures now; and instinctively he realized that it was curiosity that brought them here, and that they meant him no harm. A few were trying to speak to him, looking directly into his eyes and making monosyllabic sounds. This amused him at first. They would not be quite so hopeful if they understood from where he had come.

But in another moment his amusement had vanished. One of the creatures, standing near, placed a finger close to where he sat, at the same time uttering a short disyllabic sound:

"Table!"

A thrill shot through him. He had expected no such intelligence on the part of his captors. A new wave of hope surged up within him.... Carefully, he repeated the gesture and the word.

His action was followed by a burst of excited conversation in the room. Several made sharp, guttural noises which he guessed meant gratification or amusement.

Immediately a number of them took up the game; and he eagerly did his part, repeating the sounds they made and identifying them with objects. With every possible gesture he tried to indicate to them his pleasure and gratification.

He was sorry when they began to go away.

It had been getting steadily darker for some time, when, suddenly, the room was brilliantly illuminated; and, looking quickly around, he saw a number of bright globes. This event brought him to a high pitch of elation. The character of the vehicle in which he had ridden had made him fear that they knew nothing of electricity, but here was tangible evidence that they did. His dream of a return to Loten seemed less like a wild imagining at every moment.

He was beginning to think of these creatures as people, almost human beings.

Now, only two of them remained. From their glances he knew that they were talking about him. Finally, one of them lifted him from the table; and, walking swiftly, carried him through the door, across a short stretch of open ground, and into a smaller and darker structure, there laying him down upon a bed of cloths and cushions in one corner of the single room. The other followed them in, carrying a china dish and cup. Setting these beside him, they both pointed with their fingers to their open mouths. He understood immediately, and was glad. He needed nourishment badly.

But when he looked into the dish his pleasure abated. It contained an assortment of what appeared to be parts of plants and—he tried to conceal his horror—animal flesh.

Looking up, he nodded—a gesture that he had quickly learned; and to his great relief they turned and left the room, closing the door. He heard a sharp click.

The flesh he immediately put aside. He did not like to think what its origin might be. He studied the plants. They had evidently been subjected to a heat process, but had not been chemically refined in any way. The percentage of nourishment in them must be very low, and it would be necessary for him to eat great quantities to sustain his strength. He wondered how long his stomach could stand it.

These people must eat almost daily to sustain themselves on such fare, he reasoned, marvelling.

With a pronged implement that they had given him, he set to work to mash the food into as soft a mass as possible. This process they accomplished easily with their fangs, he knew.

The taste was anything but pleasing, and he had great difficulty in swallowing; but he finally managed to assuage his hunger, and felt better. He drank a little water from the cup, which contained enough to supply him for at least five days.

This done, he stretched himself out upon the bed, and gave himself over to pleasant reflection. A far cry, he thought, from the man lying helpless in the desert, devoid of all hope, to the one who had established contact with a race of intelligent beings who would doubtless be willing to help him return to his own native world. He reflected that if the flying ship had hot happened to come near him, he would most certainly have perished by now—perished in a foreign world, far away from those he loved, never knowing there was a chance for his salvation. But now he had taken the first step.... Anything was possible now.

His attention returned to his surroundings. The bare room was lighted by a bulb hanging from wires in the center. From it dangled a cord, the purpose of which he quickly guessed. The walls and floor were bare wood, and rough. Along the whole length of one wall extended a low, narrow table, or bench, strewn with a miscellaneous collection of objects which aroused his curiosity.

He crawled to the bench, and pulled himself erect by grasping its edge. He was just tall enough to see along its surface. Near him rested a large roll of what he first thought was cord; but on closer examination he decided that it was metal wire covered with a fibre insulation. Obviously it was for the conduction of electricity. Scattered around it were a number of cylinders of varying sizes, which he saw were wound closely with very fine wires. Clearly, these people did more with electricity than make light, he thought, encouraged.

There was nothing else in the room except a pile of rusty metal in one corner. The whole place was depressingly dirty and dreary. He thought that he would feel better without the light. He made his way to the center of the room, and stretched upwards. Finding that he could just reach the cord, he jerked it; and returned in the darkness to his cot.

He lay there quietly, trying to calm his nerves. He wondered what they would do with him....

He was still wondering the same thing at the end of four days. They did not move him. They did nothing except come and look at him—a great many of them at first, but less and less as time went on. They came in the daytime—never at night. They fed him; and a few still tried to talk to him. This pleased him, and he strove eagerly to understand and imitate; but they soon got tired and stopped.

He learned to distinguish the males and females among the people that came, by differences in stature, length of hair, and clothing. He observed, with complete bewilderment, that the males often carried in their hands burning cylinders which they raised regularly to their mouths, blowing out smoke into the air. He guessed, finally, that this must be some sort of sanitary precaution.

Now, however, he was left alone most of the time. They brought him food, and then went away. He was uneasy. Physically, he felt far from well. The damp air made his throat and chest ache; and he feared that the long deprivation of sunlight was hurting him. He could not understand.

Gathering his courage one day, he attempted to open the door. He reached up and turned the knob the way he had seen the people do. But it would not move when he pushed. He remembered the clicking sound he had heard every time after they went out.

He became frightened. He did not understand this confinement. Why would they not let him out?

There passed another day, of mental torture. Would they let him die in this dark, dreary place? Had all his efforts merely led to a lonely, purposeless death?

He wondered what they would do if he went out of his own accord; and finally decided that he must do it, even at the risk of offending them. Further inactivity he could not bear.

Within five minutes he had formed a plan of action. It was night—the best time to work; for he must work undisturbed for a time.

He made his way to the bench, and collected three of the wound wire coils, which he dropped to the floor. With a cutting tool that he found he managed to get a length of wire from the large roll. The tool was very heavy.

Next, he crawled to the corner, and selected a number of small pieces of metal. He rested for a while, studying the light bulb which hung in the center of the room. From the light it gave and the size of the filament, he roughly estimated the power of the current.

Then, with a graphite writing instrument that he had found, he drew a diagram on the floor. He took a very long time doing this, and labeled it carefully. When he had finished, the little window at the end of the room showed that dawn was breaking outside.

Hurriedly then, he set to work with the metal, the coils, and the wire,—twisting, winding, connecting and cross-connecting—constantly glancing at his diagram and at the window. Finally, when it was broad daylight outside, he gave a sigh of satisfaction.

He had achieved an ugly, jumbled apparatus, vaguely cylindrical in shape with a point of metal at one end. He laid it on the floor; and making his way to the bench, secured two more lengths of wire. He crawled under the bench to where the power line for the light ran down the wall, and there connected them. Then, securing his cup of water, he dipped into it the ends of his two wires, and observed them for a moment. Satisfied, he carried them to his cylindrical apparatus, and connected one of them at the end opposite the metal point. The other he did not immediately connect.

CHAPTER IV. The Circus

He was breathing hard now, and his face was flushed. For a long time he sat very still and listened, but he heard no sound. At last, moving very slowly, he carried his cylinder to the door. He raised it, and placed the point against the metal lock, under the knob. He pressed his lips tightly together, and set his jaw.... With the end of the wire which he had not connected he touched a point on the cylinder.

There was no sound. There was no movement of the cylinder. Yet the metal lock dissolved, and daylight shot through the place where it had been. A cloud of light grey dust drifted lazily to the floor.

He disconnected the wires. Carefully he hid the thing under the cushions of his bed. Then he pushed open the door, and crawled out into the sunlight. The sun felt warm and pleasant on his back.

He heard a cry, and looked up fearfully. One of the men of Toon was running towards him carrying a dish. It was the man that brought his food.

His throat was tight, and he was trembling. He knew that this was the supreme moment. He nodded his head and smiled. He raised one hand, palm upward.

The man stopped directly in front of him, and growled—then raised an arm, pointing at the door of his prison.

He made a little murmuring sound to the man; and raising his face to the sun, smiled and nodded once more. The man pushed him backwards with one foot, always pointing at the door.

He turned, and crawled back into the shed. Dully he watched the man; who stood for a long time staring at the door where the lock had been—then strode to the pile of metal and picked up a chain.

He did not move when he felt the chain around his body. He closed his eyes, and did not open them until he heard the door shut. He did not move all that day. He only watched the little window. When, finally, the little window grew black, he drew his machine from under the cushions, and connected it again at the wall. The chain was fastened to a leg of the bench, and allowed him to do this. He destroyed a portion of the chain, and loosened it from his body. He crawled to the wall farthest from the house where the people lived. Moving the machine in a slow arc, he cut a hole in the wall. Disconnecting the wires, he used them to fasten the machine around his waist. Then he went out into the night.

He did not know where he was going—except that he was going away