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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26967-h.zip b/26967-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ada6816 --- /dev/null +++ b/26967-h.zip diff --git a/26967-h/26967-h.htm b/26967-h/26967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c101e97 --- /dev/null +++ b/26967-h/26967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1698 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Coming of the Ice, by G. Peyton Wertenbaker + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,h3,.figc,.p1 {text-align: center;} + h1 {margin-bottom: -.5em;} + h3 {line-height: 2;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + .tb {width: 65%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: visible;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .smcap,.smcapl {font-variant: small-caps; font-style: normal;} + .smcapl {text-transform: lowercase;} + .figc {margin: 1em auto 0; width: 424px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 2em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .p1 {margin-top: 2em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Coming of the Ice, by G. Peyton Wertenbaker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Coming of the Ice + +Author: G. Peyton Wertenbaker + +Illustrator: Frank Rudolph Paul + +Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMING OF THE ICE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><big><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Coming</span> <i>of the</i> <span class="smcap">Ice</span></big></h1> + +<h2><i>By G. Peyton Wertenbaker</i></h2> + +<div class="figc"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="424" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +<b><small>Strange men these creatures of the hundredth century ...</small></b></div> + +<p class="p1"><i><small>Copyright, 1926, by E. P. Co., Inc.</small></i></p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Stories</i> July 1961 and +was first published in <i>Amazing Stories</i> June 1926. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + +<h3><big>A Classic Reprint from AMAZING STORIES, June, 1926</big><br /> +Introduction by Sam Moskowitz</h3> + +<p><i>One of the gravest editorial +problems faced by the editors of +<span class="smcapl">AMAZING STORIES</span> when they +launched its first issue, dated +April, 1926, was the problem of +finding or developing authors +who could write the type of +story they needed. As a stop-gap, +the first two issues of <span class="smcapl">AMAZING +STORIES</span> were devoted entirely to +reprints. But reprints were to +constitute a declining portion of +the publication's contents for the +following four years. The first +new story the magazine bought +was </i>Coming of the Ice<i>, by G. +Peyton Wertenbaker, which appeared +in its third issue. Wertenbaker +was not technically a newcomer +to science fiction, since he +had sold his first story to Gernsback's +<span class="smcapl">SCIENCE AND INVENTION</span>, +</i>The Man From the Atom<i>, in +1923 when he was only 16! Now, +at the ripe old age of 19, he was +appearing in the world's first +truly complete science fiction +magazine.</i></p> + +<p><i>The scope of his imagination +was truly impressive and, despite +the author's youth, </i>Coming of +the Ice<i> builds to a climax of considerable +power.</i></p> + +<p><i>Wertenbaker, under the name +of Green Peyton, went on to sell +his first novel, </i>Black Cabin<i>, in +1933. He eventually became an +authority on the Southwest with +many regional volumes to his +credit: </i>For God and Texas<i>, +</i>America's Heartland<i>, </i>The Southwest<i>, +and </i>San Antonio, City of +the Sun<i>. But he never lost his interest +in space travel, assisting +Hubertus Strughold on the writing +of </i>The Green and Red Planet<i>, +a scientific appraisal of the +possibilities of life on the planet +Mars published in 1953. He also +served for a time as London correspondent +for <span class="smcapl">FORTUNE MAGAZINE</span>.</i></p> + +<hr class="tb" /> +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It</span> is strange to be alone, and so +cold. To be the last man on +earth....</p> + +<p>The snow drives silently about +me, ceaselessly, drearily. And I +am isolated in this tiny white, indistinguishable +corner of a +blurred world, surely the loneliest +creature in the universe. +How many thousands of years is +it since I last knew the true companionship? +For a long time I +have been lonely, but there were +people, creatures of flesh and +blood. Now they are gone. Now I +have not even the stars to keep +me company, for they are all lost +in an infinity of snow and twilight +here below.</p> + +<p>If only I could know how long +it has been since first I was imprisoned +upon the earth. It cannot +matter now. And yet some +vague dissatisfaction, some faint +instinct, asks over and over in +my throbbing ears: What year? +What year?</p> + +<p>It was in the year 1930 that the +great thing began in my life. +There was then a very great man +who performed operations on his +fellows to compose their vitals—we +called such men surgeons. +John Granden wore the title +"Sir" before his name, in indication +of nobility by birth according +to the prevailing standards +in England. But surgery was +only a hobby of Sir John's, if I +must be precise, for, while he +had achieved an enormous reputation +as a surgeon, he always +felt that his real work lay in the +experimental end of his profession. +He was, in a way, a dreamer, +but a dreamer who could make +his dreams come true.</p> + +<p>I was a very close friend of +Sir John's. In fact, we shared the +same apartments in London. I +have never forgotten that day +when he first mentioned to me +his momentous discovery. I had +just come in from a long sleigh-ride +in the country with Alice, +and I was seated drowsily in the +window-seat, writing idly in my +mind a description of the wind +and the snow and the grey twilight +of the evening. It is +strange, is it not, that my tale +should begin and end with the +snow and the twilight.</p> + +<p>Sir John opened suddenly a +door at one end of the room and +came hurrying across to another +door. He looked at me, grinning +rather like a triumphant maniac.</p> + +<p>"It's coming!" he cried, without +pausing, "I've almost got it!" +I smiled at him: he looked very +ludicrous at that moment.</p> + +<p>"What have you got?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, man, the Secret—the +Secret!" And then he was +gone again, the door closing +upon his victorious cry, "The +Secret!"</p> + +<p>I was, of course, amused. But I +was also very much interested. I +knew Sir John well enough to +realize that, however amazing +his appearance might be, there +would be nothing absurd about +his "Secret"—whatever it was. +But it was useless to speculate. I +could only hope for enlightenment +at dinner. So I immersed myself +in one of the surgeon's volumes +from his fine Library of Imagination, +and waited.</p> + +<p>I think the book was one of +Mr. H. G. Wells', probably "The +Sleeper Awakes," or some other +of his brilliant fantasies and +predictions, for I was in a mood +conducive to belief in almost +anything when, later, we sat +down together across the table. I +only wish I could give some idea +of the atmosphere that permeated +our apartments, the reality it +lent to whatever was vast and +amazing and strange. You could +then, whoever you are, understand +a little the ease with which +I accepted Sir John's new discovery.</p> + +<p>He began to explain it to me at +once, as though he could keep it +to himself no longer.</p> + +<p>"Did you think I had gone +mad, Dennell?" he asked. "I +quite wonder that I haven't. +Why, I have been studying for +many years—for most of my life—on +this problem. And, suddenly, +I have solved it! Or, rather, I +am afraid I have solved another +one much greater."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it, but for God's +sake don't be technical."</p> + +<p>"Right," he said. Then he +paused. "Dennell, it's <i>magnificent</i>! +It will change everything +that is in the world." His eyes +held mine suddenly with the fatality +of a hypnotist's. "Dennell, +it is the Secret of Eternal +Life," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, Sir John!" I +cried, half inclined to laugh.</p> + +<p>"I mean it," he said. "You +know I have spent most of my life +studying the processes of birth, +trying to find out precisely what +went on in the whole history of +conception."</p> + +<p>"You have found out?"</p> + +<p>"No, that is just what amuses +me. I have discovered something +else without knowing yet what +causes either process.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be technical, +and I know very little of what +actually takes place myself. But +I can try to give you some idea +of it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It</span> is thousands, perhaps millions +of years since Sir John +explained to me. What little I +understood at the time I may +have forgotten, yet I try to reproduce +what I can of his theory.</p> + +<p>"In my study of the processes +of birth," he began, "I discovered +the rudiments of an action which +takes place in the bodies of both +men and women. There are certain +properties in the foods we +eat that remain in the body for +the reproduction of life, two distinct +Essences, so to speak, of +which one is retained by the +woman, another by the man. It is +the union of these two properties +that, of course, creates the child.</p> + +<p>"Now, I made a slight mistake +one day in experimenting with a +guinea-pig, and I re-arranged +certain organs which I need not +describe so that I thought I had +completely messed up the poor +creature's abdomen. It lived, +however, and I laid it aside. It +was some years later that I happened +to notice it again. It had +not given birth to any young, +but I was amazed to note that it +had apparently grown no older: +it seemed precisely in the same +state of growth in which I had +left it.</p> + +<p>"From that I built up. I re-examined +the guinea-pig, and observed +it carefully. I need not detail +my studies. But in the end I +found that my 'mistake' had in +reality been a momentous discovery. +I found that I had only +to close certain organs, to re-arrange +certain ducts, and to +open certain dormant organs, +and, <i>mirabile dictu</i>, the whole +process of reproduction was +changed.</p> + +<p>"You have heard, of course, +that our bodies are continually +changing, hour by hour, minute +by minute, so that every few +years we have been literally reborn. +Some such principle as this +seems to operate in reproduction, +except that, instead of the old +body being replaced by the new, +and in its form, approximately, +the new body is created apart +from it. It is the creation of children +that causes us to die, it +would seem, because if this activity +is, so to speak, dammed up +or turned aside into new channels, +the reproduction operates +on the old body, renewing it continually. +It is very obscure and +very absurd, is it not? But the +most absurd part of it is that it +is true. Whatever the true explanation +may be, the fact remains +that the operation can be +done, that it actually prolongs +life indefinitely, and that I alone +know the secret."</p> + +<p>Sir John told me a very great +deal more, but, after all, I think +it amounted to little more than +this. It would be impossible for +me to express the great hold his +discovery took upon my mind the +moment he recounted it. From +the very first, under the spell of +his personality, I believed, and I +knew he was speaking the truth. +And it opened up before me new +vistas. I began to see myself become +suddenly eternal, never +again to know the fear of death. +I could see myself storing up, +century after century, an amplitude +of wisdom and experience +that would make me truly a god.</p> + +<p>"Sir John!" I cried, long before +he was finished. "You must +perform that operation on me!"</p> + +<p>"But, Dennell, you are too +hasty. You must not put yourself +so rashly into my hands."</p> + +<p>"You have perfected the operation, +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"That is true," he said.</p> + +<p>"You must try it out on somebody, +must you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. And yet—somehow, +Dennell, I am afraid. I +cannot help feeling that man is +not yet prepared for such a vast +thing. There are sacrifices. One +must give up love and all sensual +pleasure. This operation not only +takes away the mere fact of reproduction, +but it deprives one of +all the things that go with sex, +all love, all sense of beauty, all +feeling for poetry and the arts. +It leaves only the few emotions, +selfish emotions, that are necessary +to self-preservation. Do you +not see? One becomes an intellect, +nothing more—a cold apotheosis +of reason. And I, for one, +cannot face such a thing calmly."</p> + +<p>"But, Sir John, like many +fears, it is largely horrible in the +foresight. After you have +changed your nature you cannot +regret it. What you are would be +as horrible an idea to you afterwards +as the thought of what you +will be seems now."</p> + +<p>"True, true. I know it. But it is +hard to face, nevertheless."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid to face it."</p> + +<p>"You do not understand it, +Dennell, I am afraid. And I wonder +whether you or I or any of us +on this earth are ready for such +a step. After all, to make a race +deathless, one should be sure it is +a perfect race."</p> + +<p>"Sir John," I said, "it is not +you who have to face this, nor +any one else in the world till you +are ready. But I am firmly resolved, +and I demand it of you as +my friend."</p> + +<p>Well, we argued much further, +but in the end I won. Sir John +promised to perform the operation +three days later.</p> + +<p>... But do you perceive now +what I had forgotten during all +that discussion, the one thing I +had thought I could never forget +so long as I lived, not even for an +instant? It was my love for Alice—I +had forgotten that!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">I cannot</span> write here all the infinity +of emotions I experienced +later, when, with Alice in my +arms, it suddenly came upon me +what I had done. Ages ago—I +have forgotten how to feel. I +could name now a thousand feelings +I used to have, but I can no +longer even understand them. +For only the heart can understand +the heart, and the intellect +only the intellect.</p> + +<p>With Alice in my arms, I told +the whole story. It was she who, +with her quick instinct, grasped +what I had never noticed.</p> + +<p>"But Carl!" she cried, "Don't +you see?—It will mean that we +can never be married!" And, for +the first time, I understood. If +only I could re-capture some +conception of that love! I have always +known, since the last shred +of comprehension slipped from +me, that I lost something very +wonderful when I lost love. But +what does it matter? I lost Alice +too, and I could not have known +love again without her.</p> + +<p>We were very sad and very +tragic that night. For hours and +hours we argued the question +over. But I felt somewhat that I +was inextricably caught in my +fate, that I could not retreat +now from my resolve. I was perhaps, +very school-boyish, but I +felt that it would be cowardice to +back out now. But it was Alice +again who perceived a final aspect +of the matter.</p> + +<p>"Carl," she said to me, her +lips very close to mine, "it need +not come between our love. After +all, ours would be a poor sort of +love if it were not more of the +mind than of the flesh. We shall +remain lovers, but we shall forget +mere carnal desire. I shall submit +to that operation too!"</p> + +<p>And I could not shake her +from her resolve. I would speak +of danger that I could not let her +face. But, after the fashion of +women, she disarmed me with +the accusation that I did not love +her, that I did not want her love, +that I was trying to escape from +love. What answer had I for that, +but that I loved her and would do +anything in the world not to lose +her?</p> + +<p>I have wondered sometimes +since whether we might have +known the love of the mind. Is +love something entirely of the +flesh, something created by an +ironic God merely to propagate +His race? Or can there be love +without emotion, love without +passion—love between two cold +intellects? I do not know. I did +not ask then. I accepted anything +that would make our way more +easy.</p> + +<p>There is no need to draw out +the tale. Already my hand wavers, +and my time grows short. +Soon there will be no more of me, +no more of my tale—no more of +Mankind. There will be only the +snow, and the ice, and the cold ...</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Three</span> days later I entered +John's Hospital with Alice +on my arm. All my affairs—and +they were few enough—were in +order. I had insisted that Alice +wait until I had come safely +through the operation, before +she submitted to it. I had been +carefully starved for two days, +and I was lost in an unreal world +of white walls and white clothes +and white lights, drunk with my +dreams of the future. When I +was wheeled into the operating +room on the long, hard table, for +a moment it shone with brilliant +distinctness, a neat, methodical +white chamber, tall and more or +less circular. Then I was beneath +the glare of soft white lights, and +the room faded into a misty +vagueness from which little steel +rays flashed and quivered from +silvery cold instruments. For a +moment our hands, Sir John's +and mine, gripped, and we were +saying good-bye—for a little +while—in the way men say these +things. Then I felt the warm +touch of Alice's lips upon mine, +and I felt sudden painful things I +cannot describe, that I could not +have described then. For a moment +I felt that I must rise and +cry out that I could not do it. But +the feeling passed, and I was +passive.</p> + +<p>Something was pressed about +my mouth and nose, something +with an ethereal smell. Staring +eyes swam about me from behind +their white masks. I struggled +instinctively, but in vain—I was +held securely. Infinitesimal +points of light began to wave +back and forth on a pitch-black +background; a great hollow buzzing +echoed in my head. My head +seemed suddenly to have become +all throat, a great, cavernous, +empty throat in which sounds +and lights were mingled together, +in a swift rhythm, approaching, +receding eternally. Then, I +think, there were dreams. But I +have forgotten them....</p> + +<p>I began to emerge from the effect +of the ether. Everything was +dim, but I could perceive Alice +beside me, and Sir John.</p> + +<p>"Bravely done!" Sir John was +saying, and Alice, too, was saying +something, but I cannot remember +what. For a long while +we talked, I speaking the nonsense +of those who are coming +out from under ether, they teasing +me a little solemnly. But +after a little while I became +aware of the fact that they were +about to leave. Suddenly, God +knows why, I knew that they +must not leave. Something cried +in the back of my head that they +<i>must</i> stay—one cannot explain +these things, except by after +events. I began to press them to +remain, but they smiled and said +they must get their dinner. I +commanded them not to go; but +they spoke kindly and said they +would be back before long. I +think I even wept a little, like a +child, but Sir John said something +to the nurse, who began to +reason with me firmly, and then +they were gone, and somehow I +was asleep....</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">When</span> I awoke again, my +head was fairly clear, but +there was an abominable reek of +ether all about me. The moment I +opened my eyes, I felt that something +had happened. I asked for +Sir John and for Alice. I saw a +swift, curious look that I could +not interpret come over the face +of the nurse, then she was calm +again, her countenance impassive. +She reassured me in quick +meaningless phrases, and told +me to sleep. But I could not +sleep: I was absolutely sure that +something had happened to +them, to my friend and to the +woman I loved. Yet all my insistence +profited me nothing, for +the nurses were a silent lot. Finally, +I think, they must have +given me a sleeping potion of +some sort, for I fell asleep again.</p> + +<p>For two endless, chaotic days, +I saw nothing of either of them, +Alice or Sir John. I became more +and more agitated, the nurse +more and more taciturn. She +would only say that they had +gone away for a day or two.</p> + +<p>And then, on the third day, I +found out. They thought I was +asleep. The night nurse had just +come in to relieve the other.</p> + +<p>"Has he been asking about +them again?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor fellow. I have hardly +managed to keep him quiet."</p> + +<p>"We will have to keep it from +him until he is recovered fully." +There was a long pause, and I +could hardly control my labored +breathing.</p> + +<p>"How sudden it was!" one of +them said. "To be killed like +that—" I heard no more, for I +leapt suddenly up in bed, crying +out.</p> + +<p>"Quick! For God's sake, tell +me what has happened!" I +jumped to the floor and seized +one of them by the collar. She +was horrified. I shook her with a +superhuman strength.</p> + +<p>"Tell me!" I shouted, "Tell me—Or +I'll—!" She told me—what +else could she do.</p> + +<p>"They were killed in an accident," +she gasped, "in a taxi—a +collision—the Strand—!" And +at that moment a crowd of nurses +and attendants arrived, called by +the other frantic woman, and +they put me to bed again.</p> + +<p>I have no memory of the next +few days. I was in delirium, and +I was never told what I said during +my ravings. Nor can I express +the feelings I was saturated +with when at last I regained +my mind again. Between +my old emotions and any attempt +to put them into words, or +even to remember them, lies always +that insurmountable wall +of my Change. I cannot understand +what I must have felt, I +cannot express it.</p> + +<p>I only know that for weeks I +was sunk in a misery beyond any +misery I had ever imagined before. +The only two friends I had +on earth were gone to me. I was +left alone. And, for the first time, +I began to see before me all these +endless years that would be the +same, dull, lonely.</p> + +<p>Yet I recovered. I could feel +each day the growth of a strange +new vigor in my limbs, a vast +force that was something tangibly +expressive to eternal life. +Slowly my anguish began to die. +After a week more, I began to +understand how my emotions +were leaving me, how love and +beauty and everything of which +poetry was made—how all this +was going. I could not bear the +thought at first. I would look at +the golden sunlight and the blue +shadow of the wind, and I would +say,</p> + +<p>"God! How beautiful!" And +the words would echo meaninglessly +in my ears. Or I would remember +Alice's face, that face I +had once loved so inextinguishably, +and I would weep and clutch +my forehead, and clench my +fists, crying,</p> + +<p>"O God, how can I live without +her!" Yet there would be a little +strange fancy in my head at the +same moment, saying,</p> + +<p>"Who is this Alice? You know +no such person." And truly I +would wonder whether she had +ever existed.</p> + +<p>So, slowly, the old emotions +were shed away from me, and I +began to joy in a corresponding +growth of my mental perceptions. +I began to toy idly with +mathematical formulae I had +forgotten years ago, in the same +fashion that a poet toys with a +word and its shades of meaning. +I would look at everything with +new, seeing eyes, new perception, +and I would understand things I +had never understood before, because +formerly my emotions had +always occupied me more than +my thoughts.</p> + +<p>And so the weeks went by, +until, one day, I was well.</p> + +<p>... What, after all, is the use +of this chronicle? Surely there +will never be men to read it. I +have heard them say that the +snow will never go. I will be buried, +it will be buried with me; +and it will be the end of us both. +Yet, somehow, it eases my weary +soul a little to write....</p> + +<p>Need I say that I lived, thereafter, +many thousands of thousands +of years, until this day? I +cannot detail that life. It is a +long round of new, fantastic impressions, +coming dream-like, +one after another, melting into +each other. In looking back, as in +looking back upon dreams, I +seem to recall only a few isolated +periods clearly; and it seems +that my imagination must have +filled in the swift movement between +episodes. I think now, of +necessity, in terms of centuries +and millenniums, rather than +days and months.... The snow +blows terribly about my little +fire, and I know it will soon gather +courage to quench us both ...</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Years</span> passed, at first with a +sort of clear wonder. I +watched things that took place +everywhere in the world. I studied. +The other students were +much amazed to see me, a man of +thirty odd, coming back to college.</p> + +<p>"But Judas, Dennell, you've already +got your Ph.D! What +more do you want?" So they +would all ask me. And I would +reply;</p> + +<p>"I want an M.D. and an +F.R.C.S." I didn't tell them that +I wanted degrees in Law, too, +and in Biology and Chemistry, +in Architecture and Engineering, +in Psychology and Philosophy. +Even so, I believe they +thought me mad. But poor +fools! I would think. They can +hardly realize that I have all of +eternity before me to study.</p> + +<p>I went to school for many decades. +I would pass from University +to University, leisurely +gathering all the fruits of every +subject I took up, revelling in +study as no student revelled ever +before. There was no need of +hurry in my life, no fear of death +too soon. There was a magnificence +of vigor in my body, and a +magnificence of vision and clarity +in my brain. I felt myself a +super-man. I had only to go on +storing up wisdom until the day +should come when all knowledge +of the world was mine, and then +I could command the world. I +had no need for hurry. O vast +life! How I gloried in my eternity! +And how little good it has +ever done me, by the irony of +God.</p> + +<p>For several centuries, changing +my name and passing from +place to place, I continued my +studies. I had no consciousness +of monotony, for, to the intellect, +monotony cannot exist: it was +one of those emotions I had left +behind. One day, however, in the +year 2132, a great discovery was +made by a man called Zarentzov. +It had to do with the curvature +of space, quite changing the conceptions +that we had all followed +since Einstein. I had long ago +mastered the last detail of Einstein's +theory, as had, in time, +the rest of the world. I threw myself +immediately into the study +of this new, epoch-making conception.</p> + +<p>To my amazement, it all +seemed to me curiously dim and +elusive. I could not quite grasp +what Zarentzov was trying to +formulate.</p> + +<p>"Why," I cried, "the thing is a +monstrous fraud!" I went to the +professor of Physics in the University +I then attended, and I +told him it was a fraud, a huge +book of mere nonsense. He +looked at me rather pityingly.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Modevski," he +said, addressing me by the name +I was at the time using, "I am +afraid you do not understand it, +that is all. When your mind has +broadened, you will. You should +apply yourself more carefully to +your Physics." But that angered +me, for I had mastered my Physics +before he was ever born. I +challenged him to explain the +theory. And he did! He put it, +obviously, in the clearest language +he could. Yet I understood +nothing. I stared at him dumbly, +until he shook his head impatiently, +saying that it was useless, +that if I could not grasp it +I would simply have to keep on +studying. I was stunned. I wandered +away in a daze.</p> + +<p>For do you see what happened? +During all those years I +had studied ceaselessly, and my +mind had been clear and quick as +the day I first had left the hospital. +But all that time I had been +able only to remain what I was—an +extraordinarily intelligent +man of the twentieth century. +And the rest of the race had been +progressing! It had been swiftly +gathering knowledge and power +and ability all that time, faster +and faster, while I had been only +remaining still. And now here +was Zarentzov and the teachers +of the Universities, and, probably, +a hundred intelligent men, +who had all outstripped me! I +was being left behind.</p> + +<p>And that is what happened. I +need not dilate further upon it. +By the end of that century I had +been left behind by all the students +of the world, and I never +did understand Zarentzov. Other +men came with other theories, +and these theories were accepted +by the world. But I could not +understand them. My intellectual +life was at an end. I had +nothing more to understand. I +knew everything I was capable +of knowing, and, thenceforth, I +could only play wearily with the +old ideas.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Many</span> things happened in the +world. A time came when +the East and West, two mighty +unified hemispheres, rose up in +arms: the civil war of a planet. I +recall only chaotic visions of fire +and thunder and hell. It was all +incomprehensible to me: like a +bizarre dream, things happened, +people rushed about, but I never +knew what they were doing. I +lurked during all that time in a +tiny shuddering hole under the +city of Yokohama, and by a miracle +I survived. And the East +won. But it seems to have mattered +little who did win, for all +the world had become, in all except +its few remaining prejudices, +a single race, and nothing +was changed when it was all rebuilt +again, under a single government.</p> + +<p>I saw the first of the strange +creatures who appeared among +us in the year 6371, men who +were later known to be from the +planet Venus. But they were repulsed, +for they were savages +compared with the Earthmen, although +they were about equal to +the people of my own century, +1900. Those of them who did not +perish of the cold after the intense +warmth of their world, and +those who were not killed by our +hands, those few returned silently +home again. And I have +always regretted that I had not +the courage to go with them.</p> + +<p>I watched a time when the +world reached perfection in mechanics, +when men could accomplish +anything with a touch of +the finger. Strange men, these +creatures of the hundredth century, +men with huge brains and +tiny shriveled bodies, atrophied +limbs, and slow, ponderous movements +on their little conveyances. +It was I, with my ancient compunctions, +who shuddered when +at last they put to death all the +perverts, the criminals, and the +insane, ridding the world of the +scum for which they had no more +need. It was then that I was +forced to produce my tattered +old papers, proving my identity +and my story. They knew it was +true, in some strange fashion of +theirs, and, thereafter, I was +kept on exhibition as an archaic +survival.</p> + +<p>I saw the world made immortal +through the new invention of a +man called Kathol, who used +somewhat the same method "legend" +decreed had been used upon +me. I observed the end of speech, +of all perceptions except one, +when men learned to communicate +directly by thought, and to +receive directly into the brain +all the myriad vibrations of the +universe.</p> + +<p>All these things I saw, and +more, until that time when there +was no more discovery, but a +Perfect World in which there +was no need for anything but +memory. Men ceased to count +time at last. Several hundred +years after the 154th Dynasty +from the Last War, or, as we +would have counted in my time, +about 200,000 A.D., official records +of time were no longer kept +carefully. They fell into disuse. +Men began to forget years, to +forget time at all. Of what significance +was time when one +was immortal?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">After</span> long, long uncounted +centuries, a time came when +the days grew noticeably colder. +Slowly the winters became longer, +and the summers diminished +to but a month or two. Fierce +storms raged endlessly in winter, +and in summer sometimes there +was severe frost, sometimes +there was only frost. In the high +places and in the north and the +sub-equatorial south, the snow +came and would not go.</p> + +<p>Men died by the thousands in +the higher latitudes. New York +became, after awhile, the furthest +habitable city north, an +arctic city, where warmth seldom +penetrated. And great fields of +ice began to make their way +southward, grinding before them +the brittle remains of civilizations, +covering over relentlessly +all of man's proud work.</p> + +<p>Snow appeared in Florida and +Italy one summer. In the end, +snow was there always. Men +left New York, Chicago, Paris, +Yokohama, and everywhere they +traveled by the millions southward, +perishing as they went, +pursued by the snow and the +cold, and that inevitable field of +ice. They were feeble creatures +when the Cold first came upon +them, but I speak in terms of +thousands of years; and they +turned every weapon of science +to the recovery of their physical +power, for they foresaw that the +only chance for survival lay in a +hard, strong body. As for me, at +last I had found a use for my +few powers, for my physique +was the finest in that world. It +was but little comfort, however, +for we were all united in our +awful fear of that Cold and that +grinding field of Ice. All the +great cities were deserted. We +would catch silent, fearful +glimpses of them as we sped on +in our machines over the snow—great +hungry, haggard skeletons +of cities, shrouded in banks of +snow, snow that the wind rustled +through desolate streets where +the cream of human life once had +passed in calm security. Yet still +the Ice pursued. For men had +forgotten about that Last Ice +Age when they ceased to reckon +time, when they lost sight of the +future and steeped themselves in +memories. They had not remembered +that a time must come +when Ice would lie white and +smooth over all the earth, when +the sun would shine bleakly between +unending intervals of dim, +twilight snow and sleet.</p> + +<p>Slowly the Ice pursued us +down the earth, until all the feeble +remains of civilization were +gathered in Egypt and India and +South America. The deserts +flowered again, but the frost +would come always to bite the +tiny crops. For still the Ice came. +All the world now, but for a narrow +strip about the equator, was +one great silent desolate vista of +stark ice-plains, ice that brooded +above the hidden ruins of cities +that had endured for hundreds +of thousands of years. It was +terrible to imagine the awful +solitude and the endless twilight +that lay on these places, and the +grim snow, sailing in silence +over all....</p> + +<p>It surrounded us on all sides, +until life remained only in a few +scattered clearings all about that +equator of the globe, with an +eternal fire going to hold away +the hungry Ice. Perpetual winter +reigned now; and we were becoming +terror-stricken beasts +that preyed on each other for a +life already doomed. Ah, but I, I +the archaic survival, I had my +revenge then, with my great +physique and strong jaws—God! +Let me think of something else. +Those men who lived upon each +other—it was horrible. And I +was one.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">So</span> inevitably the Ice +closed in.... One day the +men of our tiny clearing were +but a score. We huddled about +our dying fire of bones and stray +logs. We said nothing. We just +sat, in deep, wordless, thoughtless +silence. We were the last outpost +of Mankind.</p> + +<p>I think suddenly something +very noble must have transformed +these creatures to a semblance +of what they had been of +old. I saw, in their eyes, the question +they sent from one to another, +and in every eye I saw that +the answer was, Yes. With one +accord they rose before my eyes +and, ignoring me as a baser +creature, they stripped away +their load of tattered rags and, +one by one, they stalked with +their tiny shrivelled limbs into +the shivering gale of swirling, +gusting snow, and disappeared. +And I was alone....</p> + +<p>So am I alone now. I have written +this last fantastic history of +myself and of Mankind upon a +substance that will, I know, outlast +even the snow and the Ice—as +it has outlasted Mankind that +made it. It is the only thing with +which I have never parted. For +is it not irony that I should be +the historian of this race—I, a +savage, an "archaic survival?" +Why do I write? God knows, but +some instinct prompts me, although +there will never be men +to read.</p> + +<p>I have been sitting here, waiting, +and I have thought often of +Sir John and Alice, whom I +loved. Can it be that I am feeling +again, after all these ages, some +tiny portion of that emotion, that +great passion I once knew? I see +her face before me, the face I +have lost from my thoughts for +eons, and something is in it that +stirs my blood again. Her eyes +are half-closed and deep, her lips +are parted as though I could +crush them with an infinity of +wonder and discovery. O God! It +is love again, love that I thought +was lost! They have often smiled +upon me when I spoke of God, +and muttered about my foolish, +primitive superstitions. But they +are gone, and I am left who believe +in God, and surely there is +purpose in it.</p> + +<p>I am cold, I have written. Ah, +I am frozen. My breath freezes as +it mingles with the air, and I can +hardly move my numbed fingers. +The Ice is closing over me, and I +cannot break it any longer. The +storm cries weirdly all about me +in the twilight, and I know this +is the end. The end of the world. +And I—I, the last man....</p> + +<p>The last man....</p> + +<p>... I am cold—cold....</p> + +<p>But is it you, Alice? Is it you?</p> + +<p class="p1"><b>THE END</b></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Coming of the Ice, by G. 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Peyton Wertenbaker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Coming of the Ice + +Author: G. Peyton Wertenbaker + +Illustrator: Frank Rudolph Paul + +Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMING OF THE ICE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +_The COMING of the ICE_ + +_By G. Peyton Wertenbaker_ + + +[Illustration: Strange men these creatures of the hundredth century ...] + +_Copyright, 1926, by E. P. Co., Inc._ + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ July 1961 and was + first published in _Amazing Stories_ June 1926. Extensive research + did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this + publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors + have been corrected without note. + + + + +A Classic Reprint from AMAZING STORIES, June, 1926 + +Introduction by Sam Moskowitz + + +_One of the gravest editorial problems faced by the editors of AMAZING +STORIES when they launched its first issue, dated April, 1926, was the +problem of finding or developing authors who could write the type of +story they needed. As a stop-gap, the first two issues of AMAZING +STORIES were devoted entirely to reprints. But reprints were to +constitute a declining portion of the publication's contents for the +following four years. The first new story the magazine bought was +_Coming of the Ice_, by G. Peyton Wertenbaker, which appeared in its +third issue. Wertenbaker was not technically a newcomer to science +fiction, since he had sold his first story to Gernsback's SCIENCE AND +INVENTION, _The Man From the Atom_, in 1923 when he was only 16! Now, at +the ripe old age of 19, he was appearing in the world's first truly +complete science fiction magazine._ + +_The scope of his imagination was truly impressive and, despite the +author's youth, _Coming of the Ice_ builds to a climax of considerable +power._ + +_Wertenbaker, under the name of Green Peyton, went on to sell his first +novel, _Black Cabin_, in 1933. He eventually became an authority on the +Southwest with many regional volumes to his credit: _For God and Texas_, +_America's Heartland_, _The Southwest_, and _San Antonio, City of the +Sun_. But he never lost his interest in space travel, assisting Hubertus +Strughold on the writing of _The Green and Red Planet_, a scientific +appraisal of the possibilities of life on the planet Mars published in +1953. He also served for a time as London correspondent for FORTUNE +MAGAZINE._ + + + + +It is strange to be alone, and so cold. To be the last man on earth.... + +The snow drives silently about me, ceaselessly, drearily. And I am +isolated in this tiny white, indistinguishable corner of a blurred +world, surely the loneliest creature in the universe. How many thousands +of years is it since I last knew the true companionship? For a long time +I have been lonely, but there were people, creatures of flesh and blood. +Now they are gone. Now I have not even the stars to keep me company, for +they are all lost in an infinity of snow and twilight here below. + +If only I could know how long it has been since first I was imprisoned +upon the earth. It cannot matter now. And yet some vague +dissatisfaction, some faint instinct, asks over and over in my throbbing +ears: What year? What year? + +It was in the year 1930 that the great thing began in my life. There was +then a very great man who performed operations on his fellows to compose +their vitals--we called such men surgeons. John Granden wore the title +"Sir" before his name, in indication of nobility by birth according to +the prevailing standards in England. But surgery was only a hobby of Sir +John's, if I must be precise, for, while he had achieved an enormous +reputation as a surgeon, he always felt that his real work lay in the +experimental end of his profession. He was, in a way, a dreamer, but a +dreamer who could make his dreams come true. + +I was a very close friend of Sir John's. In fact, we shared the same +apartments in London. I have never forgotten that day when he first +mentioned to me his momentous discovery. I had just come in from a long +sleigh-ride in the country with Alice, and I was seated drowsily in the +window-seat, writing idly in my mind a description of the wind and the +snow and the grey twilight of the evening. It is strange, is it not, +that my tale should begin and end with the snow and the twilight. + +Sir John opened suddenly a door at one end of the room and came hurrying +across to another door. He looked at me, grinning rather like a +triumphant maniac. + +"It's coming!" he cried, without pausing, "I've almost got it!" I smiled +at him: he looked very ludicrous at that moment. + +"What have you got?" I asked. + +"Good Lord, man, the Secret--the Secret!" And then he was gone again, +the door closing upon his victorious cry, "The Secret!" + +I was, of course, amused. But I was also very much interested. I knew +Sir John well enough to realize that, however amazing his appearance +might be, there would be nothing absurd about his "Secret"--whatever it +was. But it was useless to speculate. I could only hope for +enlightenment at dinner. So I immersed myself in one of the surgeon's +volumes from his fine Library of Imagination, and waited. + +I think the book was one of Mr. H. G. Wells', probably "The Sleeper +Awakes," or some other of his brilliant fantasies and predictions, for I +was in a mood conducive to belief in almost anything when, later, we sat +down together across the table. I only wish I could give some idea of +the atmosphere that permeated our apartments, the reality it lent to +whatever was vast and amazing and strange. You could then, whoever you +are, understand a little the ease with which I accepted Sir John's new +discovery. + +He began to explain it to me at once, as though he could keep it to +himself no longer. + +"Did you think I had gone mad, Dennell?" he asked. "I quite wonder that +I haven't. Why, I have been studying for many years--for most of my +life--on this problem. And, suddenly, I have solved it! Or, rather, I am +afraid I have solved another one much greater." + +"Tell me about it, but for God's sake don't be technical." + +"Right," he said. Then he paused. "Dennell, it's _magnificent_! It will +change everything that is in the world." His eyes held mine suddenly +with the fatality of a hypnotist's. "Dennell, it is the Secret of +Eternal Life," he said. + +"Good Lord, Sir John!" I cried, half inclined to laugh. + +"I mean it," he said. "You know I have spent most of my life studying +the processes of birth, trying to find out precisely what went on in the +whole history of conception." + +"You have found out?" + +"No, that is just what amuses me. I have discovered something else +without knowing yet what causes either process. + +"I don't want to be technical, and I know very little of what actually +takes place myself. But I can try to give you some idea of it." + + * * * * * + +It is thousands, perhaps millions of years since Sir John explained to +me. What little I understood at the time I may have forgotten, yet I try +to reproduce what I can of his theory. + +"In my study of the processes of birth," he began, "I discovered the +rudiments of an action which takes place in the bodies of both men and +women. There are certain properties in the foods we eat that remain in +the body for the reproduction of life, two distinct Essences, so to +speak, of which one is retained by the woman, another by the man. It is +the union of these two properties that, of course, creates the child. + +"Now, I made a slight mistake one day in experimenting with a +guinea-pig, and I re-arranged certain organs which I need not describe +so that I thought I had completely messed up the poor creature's +abdomen. It lived, however, and I laid it aside. It was some years later +that I happened to notice it again. It had not given birth to any young, +but I was amazed to note that it had apparently grown no older: it +seemed precisely in the same state of growth in which I had left it. + +"From that I built up. I re-examined the guinea-pig, and observed it +carefully. I need not detail my studies. But in the end I found that my +'mistake' had in reality been a momentous discovery. I found that I had +only to close certain organs, to re-arrange certain ducts, and to open +certain dormant organs, and, _mirabile dictu_, the whole process of +reproduction was changed. + +"You have heard, of course, that our bodies are continually changing, +hour by hour, minute by minute, so that every few years we have been +literally reborn. Some such principle as this seems to operate in +reproduction, except that, instead of the old body being replaced by the +new, and in its form, approximately, the new body is created apart from +it. It is the creation of children that causes us to die, it would seem, +because if this activity is, so to speak, dammed up or turned aside into +new channels, the reproduction operates on the old body, renewing it +continually. It is very obscure and very absurd, is it not? But the most +absurd part of it is that it is true. Whatever the true explanation may +be, the fact remains that the operation can be done, that it actually +prolongs life indefinitely, and that I alone know the secret." + +Sir John told me a very great deal more, but, after all, I think it +amounted to little more than this. It would be impossible for me to +express the great hold his discovery took upon my mind the moment he +recounted it. From the very first, under the spell of his personality, I +believed, and I knew he was speaking the truth. And it opened up before +me new vistas. I began to see myself become suddenly eternal, never +again to know the fear of death. I could see myself storing up, century +after century, an amplitude of wisdom and experience that would make me +truly a god. + +"Sir John!" I cried, long before he was finished. "You must perform that +operation on me!" + +"But, Dennell, you are too hasty. You must not put yourself so rashly +into my hands." + +"You have perfected the operation, haven't you?" + +"That is true," he said. + +"You must try it out on somebody, must you not?" + +"Yes, of course. And yet--somehow, Dennell, I am afraid. I cannot help +feeling that man is not yet prepared for such a vast thing. There are +sacrifices. One must give up love and all sensual pleasure. This +operation not only takes away the mere fact of reproduction, but it +deprives one of all the things that go with sex, all love, all sense of +beauty, all feeling for poetry and the arts. It leaves only the few +emotions, selfish emotions, that are necessary to self-preservation. Do +you not see? One becomes an intellect, nothing more--a cold apotheosis +of reason. And I, for one, cannot face such a thing calmly." + +"But, Sir John, like many fears, it is largely horrible in the +foresight. After you have changed your nature you cannot regret it. What +you are would be as horrible an idea to you afterwards as the thought of +what you will be seems now." + +"True, true. I know it. But it is hard to face, nevertheless." + +"I am not afraid to face it." + +"You do not understand it, Dennell, I am afraid. And I wonder whether +you or I or any of us on this earth are ready for such a step. After +all, to make a race deathless, one should be sure it is a perfect race." + +"Sir John," I said, "it is not you who have to face this, nor any one +else in the world till you are ready. But I am firmly resolved, and I +demand it of you as my friend." + +Well, we argued much further, but in the end I won. Sir John promised to +perform the operation three days later. + +... But do you perceive now what I had forgotten during all that +discussion, the one thing I had thought I could never forget so long as +I lived, not even for an instant? It was my love for Alice--I had +forgotten that! + + * * * * * + +I cannot write here all the infinity of emotions I experienced later, +when, with Alice in my arms, it suddenly came upon me what I had done. +Ages ago--I have forgotten how to feel. I could name now a thousand +feelings I used to have, but I can no longer even understand them. For +only the heart can understand the heart, and the intellect only the +intellect. + +With Alice in my arms, I told the whole story. It was she who, with her +quick instinct, grasped what I had never noticed. + +"But Carl!" she cried, "Don't you see?--It will mean that we can never +be married!" And, for the first time, I understood. If only I could +re-capture some conception of that love! I have always known, since the +last shred of comprehension slipped from me, that I lost something very +wonderful when I lost love. But what does it matter? I lost Alice too, +and I could not have known love again without her. + +We were very sad and very tragic that night. For hours and hours we +argued the question over. But I felt somewhat that I was inextricably +caught in my fate, that I could not retreat now from my resolve. I was +perhaps, very school-boyish, but I felt that it would be cowardice to +back out now. But it was Alice again who perceived a final aspect of the +matter. + +"Carl," she said to me, her lips very close to mine, "it need not come +between our love. After all, ours would be a poor sort of love if it +were not more of the mind than of the flesh. We shall remain lovers, but +we shall forget mere carnal desire. I shall submit to that operation +too!" + +And I could not shake her from her resolve. I would speak of danger that +I could not let her face. But, after the fashion of women, she disarmed +me with the accusation that I did not love her, that I did not want her +love, that I was trying to escape from love. What answer had I for that, +but that I loved her and would do anything in the world not to lose her? + +I have wondered sometimes since whether we might have known the love of +the mind. Is love something entirely of the flesh, something created by +an ironic God merely to propagate His race? Or can there be love without +emotion, love without passion--love between two cold intellects? I do +not know. I did not ask then. I accepted anything that would make our +way more easy. + +There is no need to draw out the tale. Already my hand wavers, and my +time grows short. Soon there will be no more of me, no more of my +tale--no more of Mankind. There will be only the snow, and the ice, and +the cold ... + + * * * * * + +Three days later I entered John's Hospital with Alice on my arm. All my +affairs--and they were few enough--were in order. I had insisted that +Alice wait until I had come safely through the operation, before she +submitted to it. I had been carefully starved for two days, and I was +lost in an unreal world of white walls and white clothes and white +lights, drunk with my dreams of the future. When I was wheeled into the +operating room on the long, hard table, for a moment it shone with +brilliant distinctness, a neat, methodical white chamber, tall and more +or less circular. Then I was beneath the glare of soft white lights, and +the room faded into a misty vagueness from which little steel rays +flashed and quivered from silvery cold instruments. For a moment our +hands, Sir John's and mine, gripped, and we were saying good-bye--for a +little while--in the way men say these things. Then I felt the warm +touch of Alice's lips upon mine, and I felt sudden painful things I +cannot describe, that I could not have described then. For a moment I +felt that I must rise and cry out that I could not do it. But the +feeling passed, and I was passive. + +Something was pressed about my mouth and nose, something with an +ethereal smell. Staring eyes swam about me from behind their white +masks. I struggled instinctively, but in vain--I was held securely. +Infinitesimal points of light began to wave back and forth on a +pitch-black background; a great hollow buzzing echoed in my head. My +head seemed suddenly to have become all throat, a great, cavernous, +empty throat in which sounds and lights were mingled together, in a +swift rhythm, approaching, receding eternally. Then, I think, there were +dreams. But I have forgotten them.... + +I began to emerge from the effect of the ether. Everything was dim, but +I could perceive Alice beside me, and Sir John. + +"Bravely done!" Sir John was saying, and Alice, too, was saying +something, but I cannot remember what. For a long while we talked, I +speaking the nonsense of those who are coming out from under ether, they +teasing me a little solemnly. But after a little while I became aware of +the fact that they were about to leave. Suddenly, God knows why, I knew +that they must not leave. Something cried in the back of my head that +they _must_ stay--one cannot explain these things, except by after +events. I began to press them to remain, but they smiled and said they +must get their dinner. I commanded them not to go; but they spoke kindly +and said they would be back before long. I think I even wept a little, +like a child, but Sir John said something to the nurse, who began to +reason with me firmly, and then they were gone, and somehow I was +asleep.... + + * * * * * + +When I awoke again, my head was fairly clear, but there was an +abominable reek of ether all about me. The moment I opened my eyes, I +felt that something had happened. I asked for Sir John and for Alice. I +saw a swift, curious look that I could not interpret come over the face +of the nurse, then she was calm again, her countenance impassive. She +reassured me in quick meaningless phrases, and told me to sleep. But I +could not sleep: I was absolutely sure that something had happened to +them, to my friend and to the woman I loved. Yet all my insistence +profited me nothing, for the nurses were a silent lot. Finally, I think, +they must have given me a sleeping potion of some sort, for I fell +asleep again. + +For two endless, chaotic days, I saw nothing of either of them, Alice or +Sir John. I became more and more agitated, the nurse more and more +taciturn. She would only say that they had gone away for a day or two. + +And then, on the third day, I found out. They thought I was asleep. The +night nurse had just come in to relieve the other. + +"Has he been asking about them again?" she asked. + +"Yes, poor fellow. I have hardly managed to keep him quiet." + +"We will have to keep it from him until he is recovered fully." There +was a long pause, and I could hardly control my labored breathing. + +"How sudden it was!" one of them said. "To be killed like that--" I +heard no more, for I leapt suddenly up in bed, crying out. + +"Quick! For God's sake, tell me what has happened!" I jumped to the +floor and seized one of them by the collar. She was horrified. I shook +her with a superhuman strength. + +"Tell me!" I shouted, "Tell me--Or I'll--!" She told me--what else could +she do. + +"They were killed in an accident," she gasped, "in a taxi--a +collision--the Strand--!" And at that moment a crowd of nurses and +attendants arrived, called by the other frantic woman, and they put me +to bed again. + +I have no memory of the next few days. I was in delirium, and I was +never told what I said during my ravings. Nor can I express the feelings +I was saturated with when at last I regained my mind again. Between my +old emotions and any attempt to put them into words, or even to remember +them, lies always that insurmountable wall of my Change. I cannot +understand what I must have felt, I cannot express it. + +I only know that for weeks I was sunk in a misery beyond any misery I +had ever imagined before. The only two friends I had on earth were gone +to me. I was left alone. And, for the first time, I began to see before +me all these endless years that would be the same, dull, lonely. + +Yet I recovered. I could feel each day the growth of a strange new vigor +in my limbs, a vast force that was something tangibly expressive to +eternal life. Slowly my anguish began to die. After a week more, I began +to understand how my emotions were leaving me, how love and beauty and +everything of which poetry was made--how all this was going. I could not +bear the thought at first. I would look at the golden sunlight and the +blue shadow of the wind, and I would say, + +"God! How beautiful!" And the words would echo meaninglessly in my ears. +Or I would remember Alice's face, that face I had once loved so +inextinguishably, and I would weep and clutch my forehead, and clench my +fists, crying, + +"O God, how can I live without her!" Yet there would be a little strange +fancy in my head at the same moment, saying, + +"Who is this Alice? You know no such person." And truly I would wonder +whether she had ever existed. + +So, slowly, the old emotions were shed away from me, and I began to joy +in a corresponding growth of my mental perceptions. I began to toy idly +with mathematical formulae I had forgotten years ago, in the same +fashion that a poet toys with a word and its shades of meaning. I would +look at everything with new, seeing eyes, new perception, and I would +understand things I had never understood before, because formerly my +emotions had always occupied me more than my thoughts. + +And so the weeks went by, until, one day, I was well. + +... What, after all, is the use of this chronicle? Surely there will +never be men to read it. I have heard them say that the snow will never +go. I will be buried, it will be buried with me; and it will be the end +of us both. Yet, somehow, it eases my weary soul a little to write.... + +Need I say that I lived, thereafter, many thousands of thousands of +years, until this day? I cannot detail that life. It is a long round of +new, fantastic impressions, coming dream-like, one after another, +melting into each other. In looking back, as in looking back upon +dreams, I seem to recall only a few isolated periods clearly; and it +seems that my imagination must have filled in the swift movement between +episodes. I think now, of necessity, in terms of centuries and +millenniums, rather than days and months.... The snow blows terribly +about my little fire, and I know it will soon gather courage to quench +us both ... + + * * * * * + +Years passed, at first with a sort of clear wonder. I watched things +that took place everywhere in the world. I studied. The other students +were much amazed to see me, a man of thirty odd, coming back to college. + +"But Judas, Dennell, you've already got your Ph.D! What more do you +want?" So they would all ask me. And I would reply; + +"I want an M.D. and an F.R.C.S." I didn't tell them that I wanted +degrees in Law, too, and in Biology and Chemistry, in Architecture and +Engineering, in Psychology and Philosophy. Even so, I believe they +thought me mad. But poor fools! I would think. They can hardly realize +that I have all of eternity before me to study. + +I went to school for many decades. I would pass from University to +University, leisurely gathering all the fruits of every subject I took +up, revelling in study as no student revelled ever before. There was no +need of hurry in my life, no fear of death too soon. There was a +magnificence of vigor in my body, and a magnificence of vision and +clarity in my brain. I felt myself a super-man. I had only to go on +storing up wisdom until the day should come when all knowledge of the +world was mine, and then I could command the world. I had no need for +hurry. O vast life! How I gloried in my eternity! And how little good it +has ever done me, by the irony of God. + +For several centuries, changing my name and passing from place to place, +I continued my studies. I had no consciousness of monotony, for, to the +intellect, monotony cannot exist: it was one of those emotions I had +left behind. One day, however, in the year 2132, a great discovery was +made by a man called Zarentzov. It had to do with the curvature of +space, quite changing the conceptions that we had all followed since +Einstein. I had long ago mastered the last detail of Einstein's theory, +as had, in time, the rest of the world. I threw myself immediately into +the study of this new, epoch-making conception. + +To my amazement, it all seemed to me curiously dim and elusive. I could +not quite grasp what Zarentzov was trying to formulate. + +"Why," I cried, "the thing is a monstrous fraud!" I went to the +professor of Physics in the University I then attended, and I told him +it was a fraud, a huge book of mere nonsense. He looked at me rather +pityingly. + +"I am afraid, Modevski," he said, addressing me by the name I was at the +time using, "I am afraid you do not understand it, that is all. When +your mind has broadened, you will. You should apply yourself more +carefully to your Physics." But that angered me, for I had mastered my +Physics before he was ever born. I challenged him to explain the theory. +And he did! He put it, obviously, in the clearest language he could. Yet +I understood nothing. I stared at him dumbly, until he shook his head +impatiently, saying that it was useless, that if I could not grasp it I +would simply have to keep on studying. I was stunned. I wandered away in +a daze. + +For do you see what happened? During all those years I had studied +ceaselessly, and my mind had been clear and quick as the day I first had +left the hospital. But all that time I had been able only to remain what +I was--an extraordinarily intelligent man of the twentieth century. And +the rest of the race had been progressing! It had been swiftly gathering +knowledge and power and ability all that time, faster and faster, while +I had been only remaining still. And now here was Zarentzov and the +teachers of the Universities, and, probably, a hundred intelligent men, +who had all outstripped me! I was being left behind. + +And that is what happened. I need not dilate further upon it. By the end +of that century I had been left behind by all the students of the world, +and I never did understand Zarentzov. Other men came with other +theories, and these theories were accepted by the world. But I could not +understand them. My intellectual life was at an end. I had nothing more +to understand. I knew everything I was capable of knowing, and, +thenceforth, I could only play wearily with the old ideas. + + * * * * * + +Many things happened in the world. A time came when the East and West, +two mighty unified hemispheres, rose up in arms: the civil war of a +planet. I recall only chaotic visions of fire and thunder and hell. It +was all incomprehensible to me: like a bizarre dream, things happened, +people rushed about, but I never knew what they were doing. I lurked +during all that time in a tiny shuddering hole under the city of +Yokohama, and by a miracle I survived. And the East won. But it seems to +have mattered little who did win, for all the world had become, in all +except its few remaining prejudices, a single race, and nothing was +changed when it was all rebuilt again, under a single government. + +I saw the first of the strange creatures who appeared among us in the +year 6371, men who were later known to be from the planet Venus. But +they were repulsed, for they were savages compared with the Earthmen, +although they were about equal to the people of my own century, 1900. +Those of them who did not perish of the cold after the intense warmth of +their world, and those who were not killed by our hands, those few +returned silently home again. And I have always regretted that I had not +the courage to go with them. + +I watched a time when the world reached perfection in mechanics, when +men could accomplish anything with a touch of the finger. Strange men, +these creatures of the hundredth century, men with huge brains and tiny +shriveled bodies, atrophied limbs, and slow, ponderous movements on +their little conveyances. It was I, with my ancient compunctions, who +shuddered when at last they put to death all the perverts, the +criminals, and the insane, ridding the world of the scum for which they +had no more need. It was then that I was forced to produce my tattered +old papers, proving my identity and my story. They knew it was true, in +some strange fashion of theirs, and, thereafter, I was kept on +exhibition as an archaic survival. + +I saw the world made immortal through the new invention of a man called +Kathol, who used somewhat the same method "legend" decreed had been used +upon me. I observed the end of speech, of all perceptions except one, +when men learned to communicate directly by thought, and to receive +directly into the brain all the myriad vibrations of the universe. + +All these things I saw, and more, until that time when there was no more +discovery, but a Perfect World in which there was no need for anything +but memory. Men ceased to count time at last. Several hundred years +after the 154th Dynasty from the Last War, or, as we would have counted +in my time, about 200,000 A.D., official records of time were no longer +kept carefully. They fell into disuse. Men began to forget years, to +forget time at all. Of what significance was time when one was immortal? + + * * * * * + +After long, long uncounted centuries, a time came when the days grew +noticeably colder. Slowly the winters became longer, and the summers +diminished to but a month or two. Fierce storms raged endlessly in +winter, and in summer sometimes there was severe frost, sometimes there +was only frost. In the high places and in the north and the +sub-equatorial south, the snow came and would not go. + +Men died by the thousands in the higher latitudes. New York became, +after awhile, the furthest habitable city north, an arctic city, where +warmth seldom penetrated. And great fields of ice began to make their +way southward, grinding before them the brittle remains of +civilizations, covering over relentlessly all of man's proud work. + +Snow appeared in Florida and Italy one summer. In the end, snow was +there always. Men left New York, Chicago, Paris, Yokohama, and +everywhere they traveled by the millions southward, perishing as they +went, pursued by the snow and the cold, and that inevitable field of +ice. They were feeble creatures when the Cold first came upon them, but +I speak in terms of thousands of years; and they turned every weapon of +science to the recovery of their physical power, for they foresaw that +the only chance for survival lay in a hard, strong body. As for me, at +last I had found a use for my few powers, for my physique was the finest +in that world. It was but little comfort, however, for we were all +united in our awful fear of that Cold and that grinding field of Ice. +All the great cities were deserted. We would catch silent, fearful +glimpses of them as we sped on in our machines over the snow--great +hungry, haggard skeletons of cities, shrouded in banks of snow, snow +that the wind rustled through desolate streets where the cream of human +life once had passed in calm security. Yet still the Ice pursued. For +men had forgotten about that Last Ice Age when they ceased to reckon +time, when they lost sight of the future and steeped themselves in +memories. They had not remembered that a time must come when Ice would +lie white and smooth over all the earth, when the sun would shine +bleakly between unending intervals of dim, twilight snow and sleet. + +Slowly the Ice pursued us down the earth, until all the feeble remains +of civilization were gathered in Egypt and India and South America. The +deserts flowered again, but the frost would come always to bite the tiny +crops. For still the Ice came. All the world now, but for a narrow strip +about the equator, was one great silent desolate vista of stark +ice-plains, ice that brooded above the hidden ruins of cities that had +endured for hundreds of thousands of years. It was terrible to imagine +the awful solitude and the endless twilight that lay on these places, +and the grim snow, sailing in silence over all.... + +It surrounded us on all sides, until life remained only in a few +scattered clearings all about that equator of the globe, with an eternal +fire going to hold away the hungry Ice. Perpetual winter reigned now; +and we were becoming terror-stricken beasts that preyed on each other +for a life already doomed. Ah, but I, I the archaic survival, I had my +revenge then, with my great physique and strong jaws--God! Let me think +of something else. Those men who lived upon each other--it was horrible. +And I was one. + + * * * * * + +So inevitably the Ice closed in.... One day the men of our tiny clearing +were but a score. We huddled about our dying fire of bones and stray +logs. We said nothing. We just sat, in deep, wordless, thoughtless +silence. We were the last outpost of Mankind. + +I think suddenly something very noble must have transformed these +creatures to a semblance of what they had been of old. I saw, in their +eyes, the question they sent from one to another, and in every eye I saw +that the answer was, Yes. With one accord they rose before my eyes and, +ignoring me as a baser creature, they stripped away their load of +tattered rags and, one by one, they stalked with their tiny shrivelled +limbs into the shivering gale of swirling, gusting snow, and +disappeared. And I was alone.... + +So am I alone now. I have written this last fantastic history of myself +and of Mankind upon a substance that will, I know, outlast even the snow +and the Ice--as it has outlasted Mankind that made it. It is the only +thing with which I have never parted. For is it not irony that I should +be the historian of this race--I, a savage, an "archaic survival?" Why +do I write? God knows, but some instinct prompts me, although there will +never be men to read. + +I have been sitting here, waiting, and I have thought often of Sir John +and Alice, whom I loved. Can it be that I am feeling again, after all +these ages, some tiny portion of that emotion, that great passion I once +knew? I see her face before me, the face I have lost from my thoughts +for eons, and something is in it that stirs my blood again. Her eyes are +half-closed and deep, her lips are parted as though I could crush them +with an infinity of wonder and discovery. O God! It is love again, love +that I thought was lost! They have often smiled upon me when I spoke of +God, and muttered about my foolish, primitive superstitions. But they +are gone, and I am left who believe in God, and surely there is purpose +in it. + +I am cold, I have written. Ah, I am frozen. My breath freezes as it +mingles with the air, and I can hardly move my numbed fingers. The Ice +is closing over me, and I cannot break it any longer. The storm cries +weirdly all about me in the twilight, and I know this is the end. The +end of the world. And I--I, the last man.... + +The last man.... + +... I am cold--cold.... + +But is it you, Alice? Is it you? + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Coming of the Ice, by G. 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