Page:Amazing Stories Volume 01 Number 12.djvu/24

1102 If the creature has no language at all, you still receive its impressions.”

Y this time even Pethwick, who disliked the fellow almost to the point of hatred, realized that the stranger was wonderful indeed. The engineer decided Mr. Three came from some unknown country, which, he reluctantly admitted to himself, seemed to be more highly cultured than England or America. So, by accepting these facts, Pethwick, in a way, prepared himself not to be too surprised at anything.

“Do all your countrymen understand ‘mentage’ or mind-language?” enquired the engineer.

“It is our national mode of communication. I observe you move your hands when you talk—gestures, you call it. In One, we speak a word now and then to accent our thoughts—verbal gestures. Some of our population, who are nervous, sometimes speak several words, or even complete sentences. Often it is an affectation, unless, of course,” he added politely as if to exempt his companions, “their minds are not strong enough to converse without words.

“On the other hand, a few well-placed words make speeches, and especially orations, very impressive. Still, some of our greatest orators never utter a sound. But I consider this too much repression, in fact rather an academic thing to do. What you would call a —a—a highbrow. Thank you, Mr. Standifer, for thinking me the term.”

“It would be a great saving of time,” mused Pethwick.

“Yes, indeed; in One, a person can present a whole thought, or a whole series of thoughts, in a single flash of the brain, if the thinker's brain is sufficiently strong. It is almost instantaneous.”

Standifer smiled blissfully.

“Think of instantaneous sermons. Let's get to that place!”

Pethwick and the professor did not share in Standifer's badinage but sat amazed at this being whose name was a number. The engineer realized the futility of all the questions he could ask. Turn the idea about. Suppose Mr. Three should ask Pethwick to explain American civilization in a casual talk. It would be impossible. So it was impossible for Mr. Three to give Mr. Pethwick much idea of the land of One.

Mr. Demetriovich took up the questioning:

“Have you been using radium for a long time, Mr. Three?”

“For centuries. We are in the midst of a Radium Age. It was developed out of the Uranium Age. And that out of the Aluminum Age. All this arose out of a prehistoric Steel Age, a very heavy clumsy metal, I have heard archaeologists say.”

“You don't mean your mechanical appliances are made out of radium?”

“No, radium is our source of power. It has changed our mechanics from molecular mechanics to atomic mechanics. The first men of One could utilize only molecular energy, such as steam and gasolene. With the aid of radium, we soon developed the enormous force that lies concentrated in the atom. This gives my countrymen unlimited power. It can be derived from any sort of matter, because all matter is composed of atoms and our force is generated through the destruction of atoms.”

All this time Mr. Three's voice was growing weaker and wéaker until finally he said—

“You will have to excuse me from any further conversation, gentlemen; my throat is not accustomed to much talking.”

He tapped it with an apologetic smile. As he did so, he glanced about and his eyes lit on the chess-board and men which Pethwick and M. Demetriovich had been using the previous evening.

“What is that?”   “A game.”

“Who plays it? Ah, M. Demetriovich and Mr. Pethwick. I would not object to a party if you feel disposed.”

“Professor and I will try a consultation game against you,” suggested Pethwick, moving a stool over to the table.

“I don't understand the game, but if you will just think how the pieces are moved,” requested the mind-reader, “I dare say I will soon learn.”

The engineer framed the demonstration in his mind and Mr. Three nodded.

“I see. It seems to be a sort of rudimentary stage of a game we call ‘cube’ in First. However, ‘cube’ is an entirely mental game, although young children are given material boards and pieces to assist them in focusing their attention.

“ ‘Cube’ has eight boards such as this, superimposed upon one another. Each board has thirty-two pieces on it, thus giving two-hundred and fifty-six pieces in all, each player controlling one hundred and twenty-eight. All the major pieces can move up or down, forward or backward, but the pawns can only advance, or go higher. As no real boards are used, the whole play must be kept in mind. The game becomes a contest of intricacy, that is, until one player grows confused, makes an incoherent move and is checkmated. It is a very pleasant amusement for persons who have nothing more serious to think about.”

“I have seen mental chess-players in America,” observed Standifer, “but they use only one board. I suppose more would complicate it. I don't play myself.”

The chess-players made no answer to this remark, but set up the men. Mr. Three defeated the scientists' combined skill in a game of ten moves.

S this extraordinary party was brought to a conclusion, Pablo Pasca entered the tent with breakfast on a tray. When the thief saw the guest, he almost dropped the food, but after a moment came in and placed the dishes on the table. As he did so, he looked meaningly at Pethwick, nodded faintly and retired.

The engineer excused himself and followed the Indian. He found Pablo in the kitchen tent, shaken out of his ordinary stoicism.

“Do you know who he is, señor?” he asked in a low voice.

“His name is Three,” said Pethwick, involuntarily guarding his own tone.

“No, I mean, do you know he is the man who murdered Cesare Ruano?” asked the thief earnestly.

The engineer nodded.