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author: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-03-03 05:03:19 -0800
committer: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-03-03 05:03:19 -0800
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+<title>THE ROTIFERS</title>
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+<meta content="The Rotifers" name="PG.Title"/>
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+<meta content="Frank van Drogen" name="PG.Producer"/>
+<meta content="Greg Weeks" name="PG.Producer"/>
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+<meta content="Robert Abernathy" name="DC.Creator"/>
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 35879 ***</div>
+<div class="document" id="the-rotifers">
+<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">THE ROTIFERS</h1>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em">
+</div>
+<div class="container" id="pg-produced-by">
+<p class="noindent pfirst">Produced by Frank van Drogen, Greg Weeks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>.</p>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em">
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled center figure" style="margin-left: 22%; width: 56%">
+<img class="center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="images/cover.jpg" src="images/cover.jpg" width="100%"/>
+</div>
+<!--  -->
+<blockquote><div>
+<div class="line-block outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="x-large">THE ROTIFERS</span></div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+<div class="line">BY Robert Abernathy</div>
+<div class="line"> </div>
+<div class="line"><em class="italics">Beneath the stagnant water shadowed by water lilies Harry found the fascinating world of the rotifers—but it was their world, and they resented intrusion.</em></div>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Illustrated by Virgil Finlay</em></p>
+</div></blockquote>
+<p class="pfirst">Henry Chatham knelt by
+the brink of his garden pond,
+a glass fish bowl cupped in his thin,
+nervous hands. Carefully he dipped
+the bowl into the green-scummed
+water and, moving it gently, let
+trailing streamers of submerged
+water weeds drift into it. Then he
+picked up the old scissors he had
+laid on the bank, and clipped the
+stems of the floating plants, getting
+as much of them as he could in the
+container.</p>
+<p class="pnext">When he righted the bowl and
+got stiffly to his feet, it contained, he
+thought hopefully, a fair cross-section
+of fresh-water plankton. He
+was pleased with himself for remembering
+that term from the book
+he had studied assiduously for the
+last few nights in order to be able
+to cope with Harry's inevitable
+questions.</p>
+<p class="pnext">There was even a shiny black
+water beetle doing insane circles on
+the surface of the water in the fish
+bowl. At sight of the insect, the eyes
+of the twelve-year-old boy, who
+had been standing by in silent expectation,
+widened with interest.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"What's that thing, Dad?" he
+asked excitedly. "What's that crazy
+bug?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I don't know its scientific name,
+I'm afraid," said Henry Chatham.
+"But when I was a boy we used to
+call them whirligig beetles."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"He doesn't seem to think he has
+enough room in the bowl," said
+Harry thoughtfully. "Maybe we
+better put him back in the pond,
+Dad."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I thought you might want to
+look at him through the microscope,"
+the father said in some surprise.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I think we ought to put him
+back," insisted Harry.
+Mr. Chatham held the dripping
+bowl obligingly. Harry's hand, a
+thin boy's hand with narrow sensitive
+fingers, hovered over the water,
+and when the beetle paused for a
+moment in its gyrations, made a
+dive for it.</p>
+<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="margin-left: 23%; width: 53%">
+<img style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="images/im1.jpg" src="images/im1.jpg" width="100%"/>
+</div>
+<p class="pfirst">But the whirligig beetle saw the
+hand coming, and, quicker than a
+wink, plunged under the water and
+scooted rapidly to the very bottom
+of the bowl.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry's young face was rueful;
+he wiped his wet hand on his trousers.
+"I guess he wants to stay," he
+supposed.</p>
+<p class="pnext">The two went up the garden
+path together and into the house,
+Mr. Chatham bearing the fish bowl
+before him like a votive offering.
+Harry's mother met them at the
+door, brandishing an old towel.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Here," she said firmly, "you
+wipe that thing off before you bring
+it in the house. And don't drip any
+of that dirty pond water on my good
+carpet."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"It's not dirty," said Henry Chatham.
+"It's just full of life, plants
+and animals too small for the eye
+to see. But Harry's going to see
+them with his microscope." He accepted
+the towel and wiped the
+water and slime from the outside of
+the bowl; then, in the living-room,
+he set it beside an open window,
+where the life-giving summer sun
+slanted in and fell on the green
+plants.</p>
+<hr class="docutils"/>
+<p class="pfirst">The brand-new microscope
+stood nearby, in a good light. It
+was an expensive microscope, no
+toy for a child, and it magnified
+four hundred diameters. Henry
+Chatham had bought it because he
+believed that his only son showed a
+desire to peer into the mysteries of
+smallness, and so far Harry had not
+disappointed him; he had been ecstatic
+over the instrument. Together
+they had compared hairs from their
+two heads, had seen the point of a
+fine sewing needle made to look
+like the tip of a crowbar by the
+lowest power of the microscope,
+had made grains of salt look like
+discarded chunks of glass brick, had
+captured a house-fly and marvelled
+at its clawed hairy feet, its great
+red faceted eyes, and the delicate
+veining and fringing of its wings.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry was staring at the bowl of
+pond water in a sort of fascination.
+"Are there germs in the water,
+Dad? Mother says pond water is
+full of germs."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I suppose so," answered Mr.
+Chatham, somewhat embarrassed.
+The book on microscopic fresh-water
+fauna had been explicit about
+<em class="italics">Paramecium</em> and <em class="italics">Euglena</em>, diatomes
+and rhizopods, but it had
+failed to mention anything so vulgar
+as germs. But he supposed that
+which the book called Protozoa, the
+one-celled animalcules, were the
+same as germs.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He said, "To look at things in
+water like this, you want to use a
+well-slide. It tells how to fix one in
+the instruction book."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He let Harry find the glass slide
+with a cup ground into it, and another
+smooth slip of glass to cover
+it. Then he half-showed, half-told
+him how to scrape gently along the
+bottom sides of the drifting leaves,
+to capture the teeming life that
+dwelt there in the slime. When the
+boy understood, his young hands
+were quickly more skillful than his
+father's; they filled the well with a
+few drops of water that was promisingly
+green and murky.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Already Harry knew how to adjust
+the lighting mirror under the
+stage of the microscope and turn
+the focusing screws. He did so, bent
+intently over the eyepiece, squinting
+down the polished barrel in the
+happy expectation of wonders.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham's eyes wandered
+to the fish bowl, where the whirligig
+beetle had come to the top again
+and was describing intricate patterns
+among the water plants. He
+looked back to his son, and saw that
+Harry had ceased to turn the screws
+and instead was just looking—looking
+with a rapt, delicious fixity.
+His hands lay loosely clenched on
+the table top, and he hardly seemed
+to breathe. Only once or twice his
+lips moved as if to shape an exclamation
+that was snatched away
+by some new vision.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Have you got it, Harry?" asked
+his father after two or three minutes
+during which the boy did not move.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry took a last long look, then
+glanced up, blinking slightly.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"You look, Dad!" he exclaimed
+warmly. "It's—it's like a garden in
+the water, full of funny little people!"</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham, not reluctantly,
+bent to gaze into the eyepiece. This
+was new to him too, and instantly
+he saw the aptness of Harry's simile.
+There was a garden there, of weird,
+green, transparent stalks composed
+of plainly visible cells fastened end
+to end, with globules and bladders
+like fruits or seed-pods attached to
+them, floating among them; and in
+the garden the strange little people
+swam to and fro, or clung with odd
+appendages to the stalks and
+branches. Their bodies were transparent
+like the plants, and in them
+were pulsing hearts and other organs
+plainly visible. They looked a
+little like sea horses with pointed
+tails, but their heads were different,
+small and rounded, with big, dark,
+glistening eyes.</p>
+<p class="pnext">All at once Mr. Chatham realized
+that Harry was speaking to
+him, still in high excitement.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"What are they, Dad?" he
+begged to know.</p>
+<p class="pnext">His father straightened up and
+shook his head puzzledly. "I don't
+know, Harry," he answered slowly,
+casting about in his memory. He
+seemed to remember a microphotograph
+of a creature like those in the
+book he had studied, but the name
+that had gone with it eluded him.
+He had worked as an accountant
+for so many years that his memory
+was all for figures now.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He bent over once more to immerse
+his eyes and mind in the
+green water-garden on the slide.
+The little creatures swam to and
+fro as before, growing hazy and
+dwindling or swelling as they swam
+out of the narrow focus of the lens;
+he gazed at those who paused in
+sharp definition, and saw that, although
+he had at first seen no visible
+means of propulsion, each creature
+bore about its head a halo of
+thread-like, flickering cilia that
+lashed the water and drew it forward,
+for all the world like an airplane
+propeller or a rapidly turning
+wheel.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I know what they are!" exclaimed
+Henry Chatham, turning
+to his son with an almost boyish excitement.
+"They're rotifers! That
+means 'wheel-bearers', and they
+were called that because to the first
+scientists who saw them it looked
+like they swam with wheels."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry had got down the book
+and was leafing through the pages.
+He looked up seriously. "Here they
+are," he said. "Here's a picture
+that looks almost like the ones in
+our pond water."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Let's see," said his father. They
+looked at the pictures and descriptions
+of the Rotifera; there was a
+good deal of concrete information
+on the habits and physiology of
+these odd and complex little animals
+who live their swarming lives
+in the shallow, stagnant waters of
+the Earth. It said that they were
+much more highly organized than
+Protozoa, having a discernible
+heart, brain, digestive system, and
+nervous system, and that their reproduction
+was by means of two
+sexes like that of the higher orders.
+Beyond that, they were a mystery;
+their relationship to other life-forms
+remained shrouded in doubt.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"You've got something interesting
+there," said Henry Chatham
+with satisfaction. "Maybe you'll
+find out something about them that
+nobody knows yet."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He was pleased when Harry
+spent all the rest of that Sunday
+afternoon peering into the microscope,
+watching the rotifers, and
+even more pleased when the boy
+found a pencil and paper and tried,
+in an amateurish way, to draw and
+describe what he saw in the green
+water-garden.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Beyond a doubt, Henry thought,
+here was a hobby that had captured
+Harry as nothing else ever had.</p>
+<hr class="docutils"/>
+<p class="pfirst">Mrs. Chatham was not so
+pleased. When her husband
+laid down his evening paper and
+went into the kitchen for a drink of
+water, she cornered him and hissed
+at him: "I told you you had no
+business buying Harry a thing like
+that! If he keeps on at this rate,
+he'll wear his eyes out in no time."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham set down his
+water glass and looked straight at
+his wife. "Sally, Harry's eyes are
+young and he's using them to learn
+with. You've never been much worried
+over me, using my eyes up
+eight hours a day, five days a week,
+over a blind-alley bookkeeping job."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He left her angrily silent and
+went back to his paper. He would
+lower the paper every now and then
+to watch Harry, in his corner of the
+living-room, bowed obliviously over
+the microscope and the secret life
+of the rotifers.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Once the boy glanced up from
+his periodic drawing and asked,
+with the air of one who proposes a
+pondered question: "Dad, if you
+look through a microscope the
+wrong way is it a telescope?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham lowered his paper
+and bit his underlip. "I don't think
+so—no, I don't know. When you
+look through a microscope, it
+makes things seem closer—one way,
+that is; if you looked the other way,
+it would probably make them seem
+farther off. What did you want to
+know for?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Oh—nothing," Harry turned
+back to his work. As if on after-thought,
+he explained, "I was wondering
+if the rotifers could see me
+when I'm looking at them."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham laughed, a little
+nervously, because the strange
+fancies which his son sometimes
+voiced upset his ordered mind. Remembering
+the dark glistening eyes
+of the rotifers he had seen, however,
+he could recognize whence
+this question had stemmed.</p>
+<p class="pnext">At dusk, Harry insisted on setting
+up the substage lamp which
+had been bought with the microscope,
+and by whose light he could
+go on looking until his bedtime,
+when his father helped him arrange
+a wick to feed the little glass-covered
+well in the slide so it would
+not dry up before morning. It was
+unwillingly, and only after his
+mother's strenuous complaints, that
+the boy went to bed at ten o'clock.</p>
+<p class="pnext">In the following days his interest
+became more and more intense. He
+spent long hours, almost without
+moving, watching the rotifers. For
+the little animals had become the
+sole object which he desired to
+study under the microscope, and
+even his father found it difficult to
+understand such an enthusiasm.</p>
+<p class="pnext">During the long hours at the office
+to which he commuted, Henry
+Chatham often found the vision of
+his son, absorbed with the invisible
+world that the microscope had
+opened to him, coming between
+him and the columns in the ledgers.
+And sometimes, too, he envisioned
+the dim green water-garden where
+the little things swam to and fro,
+and a strangeness filled his thoughts.</p>
+<p class="pnext">On Wednesday evening, he
+glanced at the fish bowl and noticed
+that the water beetle, the
+whirligig beetle, was missing. Casually,
+he asked his son about it.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I had to get rid of him," said
+the boy with a trace of uneasiness
+in his manner. "I took him out and
+squashed him."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Why did you have to do that?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"He was eating the rotifers and
+their eggs," said Harry, with what
+seemed to be a touch of remembered
+anger at the beetle. He
+glanced toward his work-table,
+where three or four well-slides with
+small green pools under their glass
+covers now rested in addition to the
+one that was under the microscope.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"How did you find out he was
+eating them?" inquired Mr. Chatham,
+feeling a warmth of pride at
+the thought that Harry had discovered
+such a scientific fact for himself.</p>
+<p class="pnext">The boy hesitated oddly. "I—I
+looked it up in the book," he answered.</p>
+<p class="pnext">His father masked his faint disappointment.
+"That's fine," he
+said. "I guess you find out more
+about them all the time."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Uh-huh," admitted Harry, turning
+back to his table.</p>
+<p class="pnext">There was undoubtedly something
+a little strange about Harry's
+manner; and now Mr. Chatham
+realized that it had been two days
+since Harry had asked him to
+"Quick, take a look!" at the newest
+wonder he had discovered. With
+this thought teasing at his mind,
+the father walked casually over to
+the table where his son sat hunched
+and, looking down at the litter of
+slides and papers—some of which
+were covered with figures and scribblings
+of which he could make nothing.
+He said diffidently, "How
+about a look?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry glanced up as if startled.
+He was silent a moment; then he
+slid reluctantly from his chair and
+said, "All right."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham sat down and bent
+over the microscope. Puzzled and
+a little hurt, he twirled the focusing
+vernier and peered into the eyepiece,
+looking down once more into
+the green water world of the rotifers.</p>
+<hr class="docutils"/>
+<p class="pfirst">There was a swarm of them
+under the lens, and they swam
+lazily to and fro, their cilia beating
+like miniature propellers. Their
+dark eyes stared, wet and glistening;
+they drifted in the motionless
+water, and clung with sucker-like
+pseudo-feet to the tangled plant
+stems.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Then, as he almost looked away,
+one of them detached itself from
+the group and swam upward, toward
+him, growing larger and blurring
+as it rose out of the focus of the
+microscope. The last thing that remained
+defined, before it became a
+shapeless gray blob and vanished,
+was the dark blotches of the great
+cold eyes, seeming to stare full at
+him—cold, motionless, but alive.</p>
+<p class="pnext">It was a curious experience.
+Henry Chatham drew suddenly
+back from the eyepiece, with an involuntary
+shudder that he could not
+explain to himself. He said haltingly,
+"They look interesting."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Sure, Dad," said Harry. He
+moved to occupy the chair again,
+and his dark young head bowed
+once more over the microscope. His
+father walked back across the room
+and sank gratefully into his arm-chair—after
+all, it had been a hard
+day at the office. He watched Harry
+work the focusing screws as if trying
+to find something, then take his
+pencil and begin to write quickly
+and impatiently.</p>
+<p class="pnext">It was with a guilty feeling of
+prying that, after Harry had been
+sent reluctantly to bed, Henry Chatham
+took a tentative look at those
+papers which lay in apparent disorder
+on his son's work table. He
+frowned uncomprehendingly at the
+things that were written there; it
+was neither mathematics nor language,
+but many of the scribblings
+were jumbles of letters and figures.
+It looked like code, and he remembered
+that less than a year ago,
+Harry had been passionately interested
+in cryptography, and had
+shown what his father, at least, believed
+to be a considerable aptitude
+for such things.... But what did
+cryptography have to do with
+microscopy, or codes with—rotifers?</p>
+<p class="pnext">Nowhere did there seem to be a
+key, but there were occasional
+words and phrases jotted into the
+margins of some of the sheets. Mr.
+Chatham read these, and learned
+nothing. "Can't dry up, but they
+can," said one. "Beds of germs,"
+said another. And in the corner of
+one sheet, "1—Yes. 2—No." The
+only thing that looked like a translation
+was the note: "rty34pr is the
+pond."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham shook his head bewilderedly,
+replacing the sheets
+carefully as they had been. Why
+should Harry want to keep notes on
+his scientific hobby in code? he
+wondered, rationalizing even as he
+wondered. He went to bed still
+puzzling, but it did not keep him
+from sleeping, for he was tired.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Then, only the next evening, his
+wife maneuvered to get him alone
+with her and burst out passionately:</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Henry, I told you that microscope
+was going to ruin Harry's
+eyesight! I was watching him today
+when he didn't know I was watching
+him, and I saw him winking
+and blinking right while he kept on
+looking into the thing. I was
+minded to stop him then and there,
+but I want you to assert <em class="italics">your</em> authority
+with him and tell him he
+can't go on."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham passed one nervous
+hand over his own aching eyes.
+He asked mildly, "Are you sure it
+wasn't just your imagination, Sally?
+After all, a person blinks quite normally,
+you know."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"It was not my imagination!"
+snapped Mrs. Chatham. "I know
+the symptoms of eyestrain when I
+see them, I guess. You'll have to
+stop Harry using that thing so
+much, or else be prepared to buy
+him glasses."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"All right, Sally," said Mr. Chatham
+wearily. "I'll see if I can't persuade
+him to be a little more moderate."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He went slowly into the living-room.
+At the moment, Harry was
+not using the microscope; instead,
+he seemed to be studying one of his
+cryptic pages of notes. As his father
+entered, he looked up sharply and
+swiftly laid the sheet down—face
+down.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Perhaps it wasn't all Sally's imagination;
+the boy did look nervous,
+and there was a drawn, white look
+to his thin young face. His father
+said gently, "Harry, Mother tells
+me she saw you blinking, as if your
+eyes were tired, when you were
+looking into the microscope today.
+You know if you look too much, it
+can be a strain on your sight."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry nodded quickly, too quickly,
+perhaps. "Yes, Dad," he said. "I
+read that in the book. It says there
+that if you close the eye you're looking
+with for a little while, it rests
+you and your eyes don't get tired.
+So I was practising that this afternoon.
+Mother must have been
+watching me then, and got the
+wrong idea."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Oh," said Henry Chatham.
+"Well, it's good that you're trying
+to be careful. But you've got your
+mother worried, and that's not so
+good. I wish, myself, that you
+wouldn't spend all your time with
+the microscope. Don't you ever
+play baseball with the fellows any
+more?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I haven't got time," said the
+boy, with a curious stubborn twist
+to his mouth. "I can't right now,
+Dad." He glanced toward the
+microscope.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Your rotifers won't die if you
+leave them alone for a while. And
+if they do, there'll always be a new
+crop."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"But I'd lose track of them," said
+Harry strangely. "Their lives are so
+short—they live so awfully fast. You
+don't know how fast they live."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I've seen them," answered his
+father. "I guess they're fast, all
+right." He did not know quite what
+to make of it all, so he settled himself
+in his chair with his paper.</p>
+<p class="pnext">But that night, after Harry had
+gone later than usual to bed, he
+stirred himself to take down the
+book that dealt with life in pond-water.
+There was a memory pricking
+at his mind; the memory of the
+water beetle, which Harry had
+killed because, he said, he was eating
+the rotifers and their eggs. And
+the boy had said he had found that
+fact in the book.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham turned through the
+book; he read, with aching eyes, all
+that it said about rotifers. He
+searched for information on the
+beetle, and found there was a whole
+family of whirligig beetles. There
+was some material here on the characteristics
+and habits of the Gyrinidae,
+but nowhere did it mention the
+devouring of rotifers or their eggs
+among their customs.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He tried the topical index, but
+there was no help there.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry must have lied, thought his
+father with a whirling head. But
+why, why in God's name should he
+say he'd looked a thing up in the
+book when he must have found it
+out for himself, the hard way?
+There was no sense in it. He went
+back to the book, convinced that,
+sleepy as he was, he must have
+missed a point. The information
+simply wasn't there.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He got to his feet and crossed the
+room to Harry's work table; he
+switched on the light over it and
+stood looking down at the pages of
+mystic notations. There were more
+pages now, quite a few. But none
+of them seemed to mean anything.
+The earlier pictures of rotifers
+which Harry had drawn had given
+way entirely to mysterious figures.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Then the simple explanation occurred
+to him, and he switched off
+the light with a deep feeling of relief.
+Harry hadn't really <em class="italics">known</em>
+that the water beetle ate rotifers;
+he had just suspected it. And, with
+his boy's respect for fair play, he
+had hesitated to admit that he had
+executed the beetle merely on suspicion.</p>
+<p class="pnext">That didn't take the lie away, but
+it removed the mystery at least.</p>
+<hr class="docutils"/>
+<p class="pfirst">Henry Chatham slept badly
+that night and dreamed distorted
+dreams. But when the alarm
+clock shrilled in the gray of morning,
+jarring him awake, the dream
+in which he had been immersed
+skittered away to the back of his
+mind, out of knowing, and sat there
+leering at him with strange, dark,
+glistening eyes.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He dressed, washed the flat
+morning taste out of his mouth with
+coffee, and took his way to his train
+and the ten-minute ride into the
+city. On the way there, instead of
+snatching a look at the morning paper,
+he sat still in his seat, head
+bowed, trying to recapture the
+dream whose vanishing made him
+uneasy. He was superstitious about
+dreams in an up-to-date way, believing
+them not warnings from
+some Beyond outside himself, but
+from a subsconscious more knowing
+than the waking conscious mind.</p>
+<p class="pnext">During the morning his work
+went slowly, for he kept pausing,
+sometimes in the midst of totalling
+a column of figures, to grasp at
+some mocking half-memory of that
+dream. At last, elbows on his desk,
+staring unseeingly at the clock on
+the wall, in the midst of the subdued
+murmur of the office, his mind
+went back to Harry, dark head
+bowed motionless over the barrel of
+his microscope, looking, always
+looking into the pale green water-gardens
+and the unseen lives of the
+beings that....</p>
+<p class="pnext">All at once it came to him, the
+dream he had dreamed. <em class="italics">He</em> had
+been bending over the microscope,
+<em class="italics">he</em> had been looking into the unseen
+world, and the horror of what
+he had seen gripped him now and
+brought out the chill sweat on his
+body.</p>
+<p class="pnext">For he had seen his son there in
+the clouded water, among the
+twisted glassy plants, his face turned
+upward and eyes wide in the agonized
+appeal of the drowning; and
+bubbles rising, fading. But around
+him had been a swarm of the weird
+creatures, and they had been dragging
+him down, down, blurring out
+of focus, and their great dark eyes
+glistening wetly, coldly....</p>
+<p class="pnext">He was sitting rigid at his desk,
+his work forgotten; all at once he
+saw the clock and noticed with a
+start that it was already eleven a.m.
+A fear he could not define seized on
+him, and his hand reached spasmodically
+for the telephone on his
+desk.</p>
+<p class="pnext">But before he touched it, it began
+ringing.</p>
+<p class="pnext">After a moment's paralysis, he
+picked up the receiver. It was his
+wife's voice that came shrilly over
+the wires.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Henry!" she cried. "Is that
+you?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Hello, Sally," he said with stiff
+lips. Her voice as she answered
+seemed to come nearer and go farther
+away, and he realized that his
+hand holding the instrument was
+shaking.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Henry, you've got to come home
+right now. Harry's sick. He's got a
+high fever, and he's been asking for
+you."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He moistened his lips and said,
+"I'll be right home. I'll take a taxi."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Hurry!" she exclaimed. "He's
+been saying queer things. I think
+he's delirious." She paused, and
+added, "And it's all the fault of that
+microscope <em class="italics">you</em> bought him!"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I'll be right home," he repeated
+dully.</p>
+<hr class="docutils"/>
+<p class="pfirst">His wife was not at the door
+to meet him; she must be upstairs,
+in Harry's bedroom. He
+paused in the living room and
+glanced toward the table that bore
+the microscope; the black, gleaming
+thing still stood there, but he
+did not see any of the slides, and
+the papers were piled neatly together
+to one side. His eyes fell on
+the fish bowl; it was empty, clean
+and shining. He knew Harry hadn't
+done those things; that was Sally's
+neatness.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Abruptly, instead of going
+straight up the stairs, he moved to
+the table and looked down at the
+pile of papers. The one on top was
+almost blank; on it was written several
+times: rty34pr ... rty34pr....
+His memory for figure combinations
+served him; he remembered what
+had been written on another page:
+"rty34pr is the pond."</p>
+<p class="pnext">That made him think of the
+pond, lying quiescent under its
+green scum and trailing plants at
+the end of the garden. A step on the
+stair jerked him around.</p>
+<p class="pnext">It was his wife, of course. She
+said in a voice sharp-edged with apprehension:
+"What are you doing
+down here? Harry wants you. The
+doctor hasn't come; I phoned him
+just before I called you, but he
+hasn't come."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He did not answer. Instead he
+gestured at the pile of papers, the
+empty fish bowl, an imperative
+question in his face.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I threw that dirty water back in
+the pond. It's probably what he
+caught something from. And he
+was breaking himself down, humping
+over that thing. It's <em class="italics">your</em> fault,
+for getting it for him. Are you coming?"
+She glared coldly at him,
+turning back to the stairway.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I'm coming," he said heavily,
+and followed her upstairs.</p>
+<p class="pnext">Harry lay back in his bed, a low
+mound under the covers. His head
+was propped against a single pillow,
+and his eyes were half-closed, the
+lids swollen-looking, his face hotly
+flushed. He was breathing slowly as
+if asleep.</p>
+<p class="pnext">But as his father entered the
+room, he opened his eyes as if with
+an effort, fixed them on him, said,
+"Dad ... I've got to tell you."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Mr. Chatham took the chair by
+the bedside, quietly, leaving his wife
+to stand. He asked, "About what,
+Harry?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"About—things." The boy's eyes
+shifted to his mother, at the foot of
+his bed. "I don't want to talk to
+her. <em class="italics">She</em> thinks it's just fever. But
+you'll understand."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham lifted his gaze to
+meet his wife's. "Maybe you'd better
+go downstairs and wait for the
+doctor, Sally."</p>
+<p class="pnext">She looked hard at him, then
+turned abruptly to go out. "All
+right," she said in a thin voice, and
+closed the door softly behind her.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Now what did you want to tell
+me, Harry?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"About <em class="italics">them</em> ... the rotifers,"
+the boy said. His eyes had drifted
+half-shut again but his voice was
+clear. "They did it to me ... on
+purpose."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Did <em class="italics">what</em>?"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"I don't know.... They used one
+of their cultures. They've got all
+kinds: beds of germs, under the
+leaves in the water. They've been
+growing new kinds, that will be
+worse than anything that ever was
+before.... They live so fast, they
+work so fast."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham was silent, leaning
+forward beside the bed.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"It was only a little while, before
+I found out they knew about me. I
+could see them through my microscope,
+but they could see me too....
+And they kept signaling, swimming
+and turning.... I won't tell you how
+to talk to them, because nobody
+ought to talk to them ever again.
+Because they find out more than
+they tell.... They know about us,
+now, and they hate us. They never
+knew before—that there was anybody
+but them.... So they want to
+kill us all."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"But why should they want to do
+that?" asked the father, as gently as
+he could. He kept telling himself,
+"He's delirious. It's like Sally says,
+he's been wearing himself out,
+thinking too much about—the rotifers.
+But the doctor will be here
+pretty soon, the doctor will know
+what to do."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"They don't like knowing that
+they aren't the only ones on Earth
+that can think. I expect people
+would be the same way."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"But they're such little things,
+Harry. They can't hurt us at all."</p>
+<p class="pnext">The boy's eyes opened wide,
+shadowed with terror and fever. "I
+told you, Dad—They're growing
+germs, millions and billions of them,
+<em class="italics">new</em> ones.... And they kept telling
+me to take them back to the pond,
+so they could tell all the rest, and
+they could all start getting ready—for
+war."</p>
+<p class="pnext">He remembered the shapes that
+swam and crept in the green water
+gardens, with whirling cilia and
+great, cold, glistening eyes. And he
+remembered the clean, empty fish
+bowl in the window downstairs.</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Don't let them, Dad," said
+Harry convulsively. "You've got to
+kill them all. The ones here and the
+ones in the pond. You've got to kill
+them good—because they don't
+mind being killed, and they lay lots
+of eggs, and their eggs can stand almost
+anything, even drying up. <em class="italics">And
+the eggs remember what the old
+ones knew.</em>"</p>
+<p class="pnext">"Don't worry," said Henry Chatham
+quickly. He grasped his son's
+hand, a hot limp hand that had
+slipped from under the coverlet.
+"We'll stop them. We'll drain the
+pond."</p>
+<p class="pnext">"That's swell," whispered the
+boy, his energy fading again. "I
+ought to have told you before, Dad—but
+first I was afraid you'd laugh,
+and then—I was just ... afraid...."</p>
+<p class="pnext">His voice drifted away. And his
+father, looking down at the flushed
+face, saw that he seemed asleep.
+Well, that was better than the sick
+delirium—saying such strange, wild
+things—</p>
+<p class="pnext">Downstairs the doctor was saying
+harshly, "All right. All right. But
+let's have a look at the patient."</p>
+<p class="pnext">Henry Chatham came quietly
+downstairs; he greeted the doctor
+briefly, and did not follow him to
+Harry's bedroom.</p>
+<p class="pnext">When he was left alone in the
+room, he went to the window and
+stood looking down at the microscope.
+He could not rid his head of
+strangeness: A window between
+two worlds, our world and that of
+the infinitely small, a window that
+looks both ways.</p>
+<p class="pnext">After a time, he went through the
+kitchen and let himself out the back
+door, into the noonday sunlight.</p>
+<p class="pnext">He followed the garden path, between
+the weed-grown beds of vegetables,
+until he came to the edge of
+the little pond. It lay there quiet in
+the sunlight, green-scummed and
+walled with stiff rank grass, a lone
+dragonfly swooping and wheeling
+above it. The image of all the stagnant
+waters, the fertile breeding-places
+of strange life, with which it
+was joined in the end by the tortuous
+hidden channels, the oozing
+pores of the Earth.</p>
+<p class="pnext">And it seemed to him then that
+he glimpsed something, a hitherto
+unseen miasma, rising above the
+pool and darkening the sunlight
+ever so little. A dream, a shadow—the
+shadow of the alien dream of
+things hidden in smallness, the dark
+dream of the rotifers.</p>
+<p class="pnext">The dragonfly, having seized a
+bright-winged fly that was sporting
+over the pond, descended heavily
+through the sunlit air and came to
+rest on a broad lily pad. Henry
+Chatham was suddenly afraid. He
+turned and walked slowly, wearily,
+up the path toward the house.</p>
+<p class="center pnext"><strong class="bold">END</strong></p>
+<div class="center line-block noindent outermost">
+<div class="line"><span class="small-caps">Transcribers note</span>: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</div>
+</div>
+<div class="vspace" style="height: 5em">
+</div>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 35879 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-03-03 05:03:19 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-03-03 05:03:19 -0800
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