The Metal Monster (9 page)

Messages were coming in over the radiovisiphone. Everywhere the Teks, globes, domes and equipment were being destroyed by the simple means we had discovered, and the Snal overlords were being killed or captured. In New York fireboats had sprayed brine on the great dome that dominated Manhattan from its place on the Battery. Everywhere globes and Teks had been destroyed with brine-filled shells and hollow projectiles filled with wet salt.

In Chicago the fire department had melted away the huge dome that squatted in the center of the Loop, by using chlorinated water. The metal shackles were dropping from the world. Millions of human slaves were being set free to return to homes and families.

While we were seated in President Monteiro’s office, listening to the radiovisiphone announcements, a tall, huge-headed Snal prisoner was brought in. He had been riding in a flying globe, shot down by a band of Misskito Indians. To my surprise I recognized Hax, chief scientist of the Snals, who had been on a tour of inspection.

“So,” he said, eyeing me coolly as I stared at him in surprise, “you discovered the secret of the metal. You have done well for a small-brained creature.”

“The tears of a woman revealed it to me,” I replied. “I don’t profess to understand the thing now.”

“The power of Zet is destroyed,” he said, “nor do I greatly care. I was opposed to this conquest from the beginning. Now I am cut off from my world forever. I am willing to trade my scientific knowledge for a chance to live and continue my experiments.”

“I believe the Associated Governments of the Earth will grant you that,” said President Monteiro.

“I can make you flying globes,” said Hax, “that will utilize the terrific power of the Earth’s magnetic lines of force. I can show you how to construct metal servants —Teks—that will respond to your thought waves as readily as your own bodies. I can make you—”

“I doubt,” said the president, dryly, “whether the world will want any of these. We’ll see.”

“One thing I can’t understand,” I said, “is why the crater of Coseguina cooled so rapidly.”

“I’ll explain that,” said Hax, blinking at me through his huge lens. “We had always suspected the existence of the outer world, but never were we able to reach it. Our borings invariably entered strata of molten rock too hot to work. We had experienced many earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, but ours were always above, rather than below us. The vents always sealed themselves eventually by the slow cooling of the lava. But after the terrific eruption of Coseguina, which had poured out millions of tons of hot lava on the surface of our world, forming an immense cone that reached almost to the vault, our investigating scientists noticed that the vent did not seal itself after the lava flow ceased, and that our atmospheric pressure had increased as if another atmosphere had been superimposed on it.

“The vent was, at first, too hot for the Snals to investigate, but we sent our proxies, the Teks, in flying globes. Having ascertained that it led to an outer world, we cooled it swiftly with a spray of liquid helium—then lined it with a metal shaft impervious to further incursions of hot lava. What happened later was inevitable.

“As soon as we discovered that there were living, intelligent creatures in the outer world, Zet, ambitious conqueror of our world, laid his plans to conquer yours. I objected, but I was overruled.

“You know the rest, and I am hungry, thirsty and weary.”

The president signed to the guards, who took him away.

*     *     *

Two years have passed since those events took place, yet I can see them as clearly as if they had occurred but yesterday. For three months after the canal was blasted through the wall of Coseguina, the Pacific continued to flow into the shaft. Then the whirlpool disappeared, and a level crater lake was formed. Hax told us that it was impossible for the nether world to have been completely filled with water in that time—that its inhabitants must have found some way to stem the flow.

He may be right. I do not know, nor do I care much, so long as its slimy intelligences are kept where they belong—in the dank, musty regions where they were evolved. For then I will feel more assurance about the future of a certain little curly-headed, brown-eyed fellow Dolores has just brought to my study, pajama-clad, to say “good night” to his daddy.

The years pass quickly, and it will not be long before Wallace, Jr., must shift for himself in the world that was saved by his mother’s tears.

Note — Mycetozoan is formed from two Greek words, the first meaning “fungus” and the other meaning “animal.” This won an old name for the fungus, myxomycetes, which was considered by some authorities to be an animal. The name myomycetes means slime fungus; the idea of the animal relationship is generally thrown out, although some still consider the fungus as belonging to the lowest order of animals. The dispute indicated is an old one. The English language name is slime moulds. They increase by division and finally aggregate or fuse into masses of protoplasm, called plasmodia. These masses are often found on decaying logs.

The End