the doliver romance and other pieces tales and sketches by nathaniel hawthorne time's portraiture being the carrier's address to the patrons of "the salem gazette" for the 1st of january, 1838. address. kind patrons:---we newspaper carriers are time's errand-boys; and all the year round, the old gentleman sends us from one of your doors to another, to let you know what he is talking about and what he is doing. we are a strange set of urchins; for, punctually on new year's morning, one and all of us are seized with a fit of rhyme, and break forth in such hideous strains, that it would be no wonder if the infant year, with her step upon the threshold, were frightened away by the discord with which we strive to welcome her. on these occasions, most generous patrons, you never fail to give us a taste of your bounty; but whether as a reward for our verses, or to purchase a respite from further infliction of them, is best known to your worshipful selves. moreover, we, time's errand-boys as aforesaid, feel it incumbent upon us, on the first day of every year, to present a sort of summary of our master's dealings with the world, throughout the whole of the preceding twelvemonth. now it has so chanced by a misfortune heretofore unheard of, that i, your present petitioner, have been altogether forgotten by the muse. instead of being able (as i naturally expected) to measure my ideas into six-foot lilies, and tack a rhyme at each of their tails, i find myself, this blessed morning, the same simple proser that i was yesterday, and shall probably be to-morrow. and to my further mortification, being a humble-minded little sinner, i feel no wise capable of talking to your worships with the customary wisdom of my brethren, and giving sage opinions as to what time has done right, and what he has done wrong, and what of right or wrong he means to do hereafter. such being my unhappy predicament, it is with no small confusion of face, that i make bold to present myself at your doors. yet it were surely a pity that my non-appearance should defeat your bountiful designs for the replenishing of my pockets. wherefore i have bethought me, that it might not displease your worships to hear a few particulars about the person and habits of father time, with whom, as being one of his errand-boys, i have more acquaintance than most lads of my years. for a great many years past, there has been a woodcut on the cover of the "farmer's almanac," pretending to be a portrait of father time. it represents that respectable personage as almost in a state of nudity, with a single lock of hair on his forehead, wings on his shoulders, and accoutred with a scythe and an hour-glass. these two latter symbols appear to betoken that the old fellow works in haying time, by the hour. but, within my recollection, time has never carried a scythe and an hour-glass, nor worn a pair of wings, nor shown himself in the half-naked condition that the almanac would make us believe. nowadays, he is the most fashionably dressed figure about town; and i take it to be his natural disposition, old as he is, to adopt every fashion of the day and of the hour. just at the present period, you may meet him in a furred surtout, with pantaloons strapped under his narrow-toed boots; on his head, instead of a single forelock, he wears a smart auburn wig, with bushy whiskers of the same hue, the whole surmounted by a german-lustre hat. he has exchanged his hour-glass for a gold patent-lever watch, which he carries in his vest-pocket; and as for his scythe, he has either thrown it aside altogether, or converted its handle into a cane not much stouter than a riding-switch. if you stare him full in the face, you will perhaps detect a few wrinkles; but, on a hasty glance, you might suppose him to be in the very heyday of life, as fresh as he was in the garden of eden. so much for the present aspect of time; but i by no means insure that the description shall suit him a month hence, or even at this hour tomorrow. it is another very common mistake, to suppose that time wanders among old ruins, and sits on mouldering walls and moss-grown stones, meditating about matters which everybody else has forgotten. some people, perhaps, would expect to find him at the burial-ground in broad street, poring over the half-illegible inscriptions on the tombs of the higginsons, the hathornes,--[not "hawthorne," as one of the present representatives of the family has seen fit to transmogrify a good old name.]--the holyokes, the brownes, the olivers, the pickmans, the pickerings, and other worthies, with whom he kept company of old. some would look for him on the ridge of gallows hill, where, in one of his darkest moods, he and cotton mather hung the witches. but they need not seek him there. time is invariably the first to forget his own deeds, his own history, and his own former associates. his place is in the busiest bustle of the world. if you would meet time face to face, you have only to promenade in essex street, between the hours of twelve and one; and there, among beaux and belles, you will see old father time, apparently the gayest of the gay. he walks arm in arm with the young men, talking about balls and theatres, and afternoon rides, and midnight merry-makings; he recommends such and such a fashionable tailor, and sneers at every garment of six months' antiquity; and, generally, before parting, he invites his friends to drink champagne,--a wine in which time delights, on account of its rapid effervescence. and time treads lightly beside the fair girls, whispering to them (the old deceiver!) that they are the sweetest angels he ever was acquainted with. he tells them that they have nothing to do but dance and sing, and twine roses in their hair, and gather a train of lovers, and that the world will always be like an illuminated ball-room. and time goes to the commercial news-room, and visits the insurance-offices, and stands at the corner of essex and st. peter's streets, talking with the merchants. however, time seldom has occasion to mention the gentleman's name, so that it is no great matter how he spells or pronounces it about the arrival of ships, the rise and fall of stocks, the price of cotton and breadstuffs, the prospects of the whaling-business, and the cod-fishery, and all other news of the day. and the young gentlemen, and the pretty girls, and the merchants, and all others with whom he makes acquaintance, are apt to think that there is nobody like time, and that time is all in all. but time is not near so good a fellow as they take him for. he is continually on the watch for mischief, and often seizes a sly opportunity to lay his cane over the shoulders of some middle-aged gentleman; and lo and behold! the poor man's back is bent, his hair turns gray, and his face looks like a shrivelled apple. this is what is meant by being "time-stricken." it is the worst feature in time's character, that he always inflicts the greatest injuries on his oldest friends. yet, shamefully as he treats them, they evince no desire to cut his acquaintance, and can seldom bear to think of a final separation. again, there is a very prevalent idea, that time loves to sit by the fireside, telling stories of the puritans, the witch persecutors, and the heroes of the old french war and the revolution; and that he has no memory for anything more recent than the days of the first president adams. this is another great mistake. time is so eager to talk of novelties, that he never fails to give circulation to the most incredible rumors of the day, though at the hazard of being compelled to eat his own words to-morrow. he shows numberless instances of this propensity while the national elections are in progress. a month ago, his mouth was full of the wonderful whig victories; and to do him justice, he really seems to have told the truth for once. whether the same story will hold good another year, we must leave time himself to show. he has a good deal to say, at the present juncture, concerning the revolutionary movements in canada; he blusters a little about the northeastern boundary question; he expresses great impatience at the sluggishness of our commanders in the florida war; he gets considerably excited whenever the subject of abolition is brought forward, and so much the more, as he appears hardly to have made up his mind on one side or the other. whenever this happens to be the case,--as it often does,--time works himself into such a rage, that you would think he were going to tear the universe to pieces; but i never yet knew him to proceed, in good earnest, to such terrible extremities. during the last six or seven months, he has been seized with intolerable sulkiness at the slightest mention of the currency; for nothing vexes time so much as to be refused cash upon the nail. the above are the chief topics of general interest which time is just now in the habit of discussing. for his more private gossip, he has rumors of new matches, of old ones broken off, with now and then a whisper of good-natured scandal; sometimes, too, he condescends to criticise a sermon, or a lyceum lecture, or performance of the glee-club; and, to be brief, catch the volatile essence of present talk and transitory opinions, and you will have time's gossip, word for word. i may as well add, that he expresses great approbation of mr. russell's vocal abilities, and means to be present from beginning to end of his next concert. it is not every singer that could keep time with his voice and instrument, for a whole evening. perhaps you will inquire, "what are time's literary tastes?" and here again there is a general mistake. it is conceived by many, that time spends his leisure hours at the athenaeum, turning over the musty leaves of those large worm-eaten folios, which nobody else has disturbed since the death of the venerable dr. oliver. so far from this being the case, time's profoundest studies are the new novels from messrs. ives and jewett's circulating library. he skims over the lighter articles in the periodicals of the day, glances at the newspapers, and then throws them aside forever, all except "the salem gazette," of which he preserves a file, for his amusement a century or two hence. we will now consider time as a man of business. in this capacity, our citizens are in the habit of complaining, not wholly without reason, that time is sluggish and dull. you may see him occasionally at the end of derby wharf, leaning against a post, or sitting on the breech of an iron cannon, staring listlessly at an unrigged east indiaman. or, if you look through the windows of the union marine insurance office, you may get a glimpse of him there, nodding over a newspaper, among the old weather-beaten sea-captains who recollect when time was quite a different sort of fellow. if you enter any of the dry-goods stores along essex street, you will be likely to find him with his elbows on the counter, bargaining for a yard of tape or a paper of pins. to catch him in his idlest mood, you must visit the office of some young lawyer. still, however, time does contrive to do a little business among us, and should not be denied the credit of it. during the past season, he has worked pretty diligently upon the railroad, and promises to start the cars by the middle of next summer. then we may fly from essex street to state street, and be back again before time misses us. in conjunction with our worthy mayor (with whose ancestor, the lord mayor of london, time was well acquainted more than two hundred years ago) he has laid the corner-stone of a new city hall, the granite front of which is already an ornament to court street. but besides these public affairs, time busies himself a good deal in private. just at this season of the year, he is engaged in collecting bills, and may be seen at almost any hour peregrinating from street to street, and knocking at half the doors in town, with a great bundle of these infernal documents. on such errands he appears in the likeness of an undersized, portly old gentleman, with gray hair, a bluff red face, and a loud tone of voice; and many people mistake him for the penny-post. never does a marriage take place, but time is present among the wedding-guests; for marriage is an affair in which time takes more interest than in almost any other. he generally gives away the bride, and leads the bridegroom by the hand to the threshold of the bridal chamber. although time pretends to be very merry on these occasions, yet, if you watch him well, you may often detect a sigh. whenever a babe is born into this weary world, time is in attendance, and receives the wailing infant in his arms. and the poor babe shudders instinctively at his embrace, and sets up a feeble cry. then again, from the birth-chamber, he must hurry to the bedside of some old acquaintance, whose business with time is ended forever, though their accounts remain to be settled at a future day. it is terrible, sometimes, to perceive the lingering reluctance, the shivering agony, with which the poor souls bid time farewell, if they have gained no other friend to supply the gray deceiver's place. how do they cling to time, and steal another and yet another glance at his familiar aspect! but time, the hard-hearted old fellow! goes through such scenes with infinite composure, and dismisses his best friends from memory the moment they are out of sight. others, who have not been too intimate with time, as knowing him to be a dangerous character, and apt to ruin his associates,--these take leave of him with joy, and pass away with a look of triumph on their features. they know, that, in spite of all his flattering promises, he could not make them happy, but that now they shall be so, long after time is dead and buried. for time is not immortal. time must die, and be buried in the deep grave of eternity. and let him die. from the hour when he passed forth through the gate of eden, till this very moment, he has gone to and fro about the earth, staining his hands with blood, committing crimes innumerable, and bringing misery on himself and all mankind. sometimes he has been a pagan; sometimes a persecutor. sometimes he has spent centuries in darkness, where he could neither read nor write. these were called the dark ages. there has hardly been a single year, when he has not stirred up strife among the nations. sometimes, as in france less than fifty years ago, he has been seized with fits of frenzy, and murdered thousands of innocent people at noonday. he pretends, indeed, that he has grown wiser and better now. trust him who will; for my part, i rejoice that time shall not live forever. he hath an appointed office to perform. let him do his task, and die. fresh and young as he would make himself appear, he is already hoary with age; and the very garments that he wears about the town were put on thousands of years ago, and have been patched and pieced to suit the present fashion. there is nothing new in him nor about him. were he to die while i am speaking, we could not pronounce it an untimely death. methinks, with his heavy heart and weary brain, time should himself be glad to die. meanwhile, gentle patrons, as time has brought round another new year, pray remember your poor petitioner. for so small a lad, you will agree that i talk pretty passably well, and have fairly earned whatever spare specie time has left in your pockets. be kind to me; and i have good hope that time will be kind to you. after all the hard things which i have said about him, he is really,--that is, if you take him for neither more nor less than he is worth, and use him as not abusing him,--time is really a very tolerable old fellow, and may be endured for a little while that we are to keep him company. be generous, kind patrons, to time's errand-boy. so may he bring to the merchant his ship safe from the indies; to the lawyer, a goodly number of new suits; to the doctor, a crowd of patients with the dyspepsia and fat purses; to the farmer, a golden crop and a ready market; to the mechanic, steady employment and good wages; to the idle gentleman, some honest business; to the rich, kind hearts and liberal hands; to the poor, warm firesides and food enough, patient spirits, and the hope of better days; to our country, a return of specie payments; and to you, sweet maid, the youth who stole into your dream last night! and next new year's day (if i find nothing better to do in the mean while) may time again bring to your doors your loving little friend, the carrier. the floater by kenneth o'hara _barton was unique--an absolutely self-sufficient human being. the biggest problem he had in space was holding on to his sanity. and he solved it by altering time itself to suit his needs...._ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from worlds of if science fiction, february 1957. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] as a watchman in a man-made kind of observational meteor floating millions of miles from nowhere out among the planets, barton had two main duties. to keep his sanity and to keep the watch. the second was simple. the gadgets all took care of themselves. all barton did was send in a report in case an alarm went off indicating something was wrong with some gadget or other. staying sane was supposed to be a watcher's big problem. barton couldn't figure out why they were so concerned, especially the neuropsychologist or whatever he was, von ulrich, who was always coming around in his clinical space boat, studying barton, asking him questions, giving him all kinds of tests. once something glinted like a mote in sunlight past the observation port and von ulrich said, "that's collins out there. collins was here only a week and he put on a pressure suit and jumped into space. he's still rotating round and round out there." "poor devil," barton said. "most of them don't even last a week out here, barton. six months is the maximum. you've been here almost a year and you're liable to start cracking any minute. i don't like the way things look." "i feel fine, sir." several months later, von ulrich dropped by again. "how are things going, barton?" "great, sir. just swell." "you feel comfortable, no anxiety?" "i feel fine." "you've done a fine job, barton--so far." "thank you, sir." "you manage to keep occupied?" "i just take it easy, sir." "i see." a few months later, von ulrich was back, watching barton moulding something out of clay, a sort of human shape without a face. there were other self-amusement gimmicks, wood-working, soap-carving, movies and the like, but barton preferred moulding things haphazardly out of clay, and sometimes reading one of the books he wasn't supposed to have brought along because books were no longer popular. "what were you thinking about when you moulded this thing?" von ulrich asked. "nothing much, sir." "you must have been thinking of something?" "i guess i was thinking of a man sleeping beside a river in green grass with nobody for miles around. something like that." "you weren't by any chance thinking about a dead man?" "i don't like death much." * * * * * later on sometime, von ulrich dropped around again on his therapeutic tour of basketballs, and martian bases, and other bases even more remote. barton wondered how anyone could find the basketball drifting in all that blackness. just a little ragged spheroid like a piece of dead slag, something like a cork bobbing in a black ocean too big even to bother thinking about. if no one ever found the basketball barton would have been happier, because the basketball was self-sustaining and could go on and on for years without supplies or any human contact. "getting a little lonely maybe?" von ulrich asked. "no sir." "don't miss having people around. your wife, your son?" barton wanted to laugh. "well, i'll be back to see you, barton. i may be gone a year this time." "happy new year," barton said. but it didn't seem like a year when von ulrich came back in his sleek little space-hopping clinic. it didn't seem like much of anything. "you don't find the absence of women irritating, barton?" "i can take them or leave them, sir." "not here. there simply aren't any at all." "i like something, but then if it isn't there, i don't miss it." "all right, barton," von ulrich would say after giving barton more brain-wave tests, word-association tests and making him look at ink-blots until his eyes turned red. "see you in a few months." "see you, sir," barton said. and sure enough, as though he had never really been away, von ulrich would show up again, with his testing devices, his cages of mice and guinea pigs, and his intense searching eyes. he had a folder of pictures and after ink-blot tests, he had barton look at the pictures, like the one of a man in deep shadow standing over a sleeping kid. "what do you see there, barton?" "a guy standing over a kid." "what's he doing there?" "i haven't any idea." "is the child sleeping?" "maybe it's just pretending." "pretending what?" "or maybe it's dead." von ulrich's thin face frowned intensely. "is the child pretending to be asleep, or is it dead?" "maybe it isn't a real kid. maybe it's a dummy." von ulrich's face reddened. "what's the man thinking?" "how should i know, sir." "you don't care?" "no, why should i give a damn what he's thinking?" "you tell me. why shouldn't you?" "because it's none of my business." * * * * * then there was another time, during some visit or other, when von ulrich pulled another word association test. "love." "it makes the world go round." "blackness." "sleep." "alone." "quiet." it went on for hours. von ulrich always seemed to be angrier because barton didn't crack up, or because he insisted on turning in a perfect service record in the basketball. "barton, for god's sake, don't you realize how important this watch is? this valuable information gathered by these recorders. think what it would mean if that data fell into the hands of the asians! what if you missed an alarm, or fouled up in some way, and one of these recorders destroyed all the data?" "haven't i been alert all the time, sir?" "yes! but you've been out here now for three years! three years. no one can possibly stand it longer than six months. and the fact that you've been here for three years only means some absolutely catastrophic crack-up is being prolonged, built up inside." "i don't feel a bit different, sir." "there are subtle ways of cracking up." "you _want_ me to have some sort of symptom or something?" "don't be ridiculous." * * * * * it must have been at least another year before von ulrich came back to barton's basketball, triumphantly equipped with new devices, and waving a spacegram in barton's sleepy face. barton read it, shrugged, and let it drift to the floor. von ulrich tried to control a look almost of fear. "as soon as the minimum time allowed, she married again," von ulrich said. "and you pretend it means nothing?" "she never did mean much of anything, sir. i mean, she was an interfering kind of woman. she wouldn't let a man live." "all right, barton. what about this? she was committing adulterous acts with this fellow, this major general woods. she was having an affair with him for two years before you volunteered for duty in the basketball." "i figured she was playing around." "you what?" "it figured." "you still pretend it meant nothing, that it means nothing now?" "i don't know what it means. what's it got to do with me now? it was all right, i guess. i could have gone on with it. but this is better." he dimly remembered jean bitching all the time of an evening because barton kept forgetting to take his officer's exam, and how she had to skimp along on an nco's lousy salary, and so on and so forth. very much the nagging kind. she wouldn't let him read either. he would tell her he was just sort of stupid, and had always been a drifter anyway, and just sort of fell into marriage and that he never had had any ambition particularly, and anyway big brass got ulcers and heart conditions. and then she would drag little joey, the big-headed little brat into it, and talk about how little joey didn't have the right kind of idealized image to assure him a respectable future, and little joey would stand there and nod his oversized head. "what about little joey's future?" jean would say. "you want him to be just another stupid nco? and what about his teeth? he's got to have his teeth straightened. they tease him at school, call him the squirrel." "yeah, dad. you want me to be personable and saleable and high on the success potential scale? what about my teeth protruding?" and when barton went into the bathroom and came back out, jean was throwing all those books he'd had such a hard time finding into the incinerator. barton volunteered the next day for basketball duty. it didn't even seem long ago to barton. it was oddly like a dream that might have been in the past, or the future, or never at all. von ulrich grabbed up the spacegram and walked stiffly erect out of the basketball. at some time in the future, von ulrich showed up again with even more complicated tests and questions. barton wasn't sure, but it seemed longer than usual that von ulrich was away these days. time didn't mean much. it didn't have any particular use to barton now. "yes, yes, you have a perfect service record, barton. never have missed turning in an alarm with alacrity. and we're so damned short of men capable of taking this kind of duty that i can't pull you out of here until you make an error--or crack up. just the same you're not fooling me much longer, and you won't be able to fool yourself either." sometime later there was the business about barton's mother. von ulrich had files on barton going clear back to pre-natal, and maybe even before that. "all right, barton, you were an only child, and you lived with your mother for 10 years after your father died. then you married. what about the fact that jean was a replacement for your mother?" "if she was, it never seemed that way to me." "you expected your wife to take care of you the way your mother did. and not demand anything of you. you expected to escape all responsibility and--barton, do you consider this basketball to be your mother?" "what's that, sir?" "deafness can be psychosomatic too, don't forget that. i said--but you heard me, answer me." "doctor von ulrich, maybe i'm not normal, but--" "then you admit the regression. that this basketball floating in space is a substitute for your mother's womb. you admit it!" "why, sir, i didn't--" "but you know it's true don't you?" "i didn't say anything about it. you said it." "i said it because it's a summation of years of careful diagnosis. look at the etiology. a man who never matured, never was able to accept responsibility as a mature adult. always just drifting along, into one job, out of it, into another job, out of that, never establishing roots anywhere, always floating about. unable to accept any responsibility for your marriage, wanting to escape it. never able to get close, get involved with others, only wanting to receive, never give. what does it add up to? a fix, a freeze in the pre-natal stage where you were floating free and completely irresponsible in your mother's amniotic fluid. that's why you're here in the basketball." von ulrich's intense eyes seemed to reach out like arms to enfold barton, then recoiled as barton shrugged and said: "so, it's like my ma's womb. what difference does it make what you call it as long as i'm happy in it and do my job?" von ulrich's lips moved soundlessly and then he pointed a finger into barton's nose. "it makes a helluva lot of difference what you call it. you may be doing an efficient job here, but for the wrong reasons. i wish i could recommend, on the basis of my diagnosis, that you agree to a month's checkup in the martian clinic but--" barton interrupted. "i'm glad you can't. i wouldn't like that as much as this. maybe your reports won't cut much ice as long as i keep up the perfect service record." von ulrich's jaws were ridged. "damn the military system! damn a system that says a man has to stay up here till he's dead or crazy or makes a mistake!" "but doc, i like it. i'm happier here, i think. maybe i wasn't normal on earth. maybe i'm not normal here, or maybe being abnormal on earth makes me normal here. i'm happy and i do my work." von ulrich backed away a few steps, then turned and ran out and slammed the sliding panel. he didn't say goodbye to barton this time, or that he would be back. but barton took no hope from von ulrich's lack of ceremony. von ulrich did come back, several times. barton was sleeping a great deal now. he didn't putter with the gimmicks much, not even the clay, and he'd about read the books out. he slept a lot and yet there was a funny heavy feeling as though he never did quite sleep or never quite woke up either. but it was a good feeling because when a man was too sound asleep he didn't enjoy it because he didn't know anything about it. this was sort of in-between, and barton loved it. sometimes he would blink his eyes and see von ulrich standing there, probably with some new testing device, or with a notebook open, or with a helmet with wires to attach to barton's skull to record something. another time he thought some stranger was there and then he realized that von ulrich's face was sagging and wrinkled and that his hair was thinner and gray. "why not have groups of watchers if you're so worried about one being alone?" "we tried that, it was worse, barton. they killed one another." "well, sir, my being alone is a good thing then, in that respect." "have you ever thought that you would kill yourself?" "why no, sir. why should i?" "because you hate yourself. in a society, people can externalize their self-hate. they can hate society, other people. you can only turn your hate inward, on yourself." "but i don't hate anything, sir." "you do!" "but, sir, i don't." "barton, i said you hate yourself. it's in all the charts, everything. we all hate ourselves to some extent, why should you be different from everybody else?" "why not, sir?" von ulrich pressed his hand over his eyes, and walked out. * * * * * it was like a dream with a shadow drifting in and out and in again, and it was von ulrich, looking so much older this time. "it's been almost fifteen years, barton. fifteen years." "so? fifteen years earth time. what does that mean here to me, sir?" barton smiled, closed his eyes. "what does time matter in your mother's womb?" "you've developed a definite measurable syndrome, barton. excessive lethargy and a sleeping compulsion. eventually it will destroy your efficiency as a watcher if it hasn't already." von ulrich set off an alarm and in less than four seconds barton was over there sending a report out to the authorities, a report von ulrich immediately canceled as being false. von ulrich seemed to dissolve in a haze of fading light. "is that you, von ulrich, sir?" "i'm afraid so, barton. back again." von ulrich sat down in the contour chair and filled a pipe. "remember, barton when you took your test for basketball duty? the dead man's float?" "i sort of remember it, sir. it was fun." von ulrich flinched. "fun? i've gone over that report on your test, barton. it doesn't make sense. what the hell are you anyway? a damned freak, a mutation, an alien in disguise?" the dead man's float had been pleasant for barton, that was all he could remember about it. they had taken off all barton's clothes so that nothing touched barton's body but a blacked-out head-mask through which to get air. he had been put in a tank of water at body temperature upside down and floated there. there was no sensation. it had been one of the happiest times of his life. like floating on air. hearing nothing, seeing nothing, feeling nothing except his own existence. not even able to tell which was right side up, or right side down, cross-wise or whatnot. he had been told to keep still, but nobody had needed to tell him to do that. "the first two or three hours of that dead man's float is a good test for basketball duty, barton. it's a kind of final isolation of the human organism. normal human beings can take a couple of hours of it usually. they like it. every human being to some extent likes to return to the womb. but after a couple of hours most human beings start going to pieces, short-circuiting. the reason is the deprivation of any outside stimuli. something has to feed in through some source--some reception source--the skin, ears, nose, the eyes. these things feeding in, they orient a person, tells him when he's thinking, feeling, gives him stimuli for additional thinking. with all these turned off, a person is simply left with a closed circuit. this begins to go round and round and distorts and magnifies and ruptures the whole thinking process. the floater becomes anxious, then very anxious, then he begins having hallucinations, finally becomes completely disoriented. all this happens to a normal human being inside, at the most, three or four hours. no human being should be able to remain sane after four hours of the dead man's float, barton. but remember how long you lay there in that tank?" "i didn't care how long it was." "three days," von ulrich said. "the neurophysiologist in charge there kept checking your reaction and finally he had to take you out of the tank, not because you were short-circuiting, but because he was. the impression was that you would have been delighted with the prospect of doing the dead man's float forever." "i don't remember it being any special time. it was like a dream, sir, you know." "i don't know, but i'm trying to find out." von ulrich sighed and looked through the spaceport at blackness. "out here i sometimes find myself wondering what normalcy really is. things sometimes veer toward the dangerously relativistic." he sat there in the pure one hundred percent silence of the basketball while it accumulated. "there's one thing we've always insisted no human being could tolerate, barton. isolation. sullivan said that a single minute of complete isolation would kill a human being. and you've been in a dead man's float for almost twenty-two years." "twenty-two years, sir?" "doesn't mean a thing to you does it?" "well, sir, it doesn't seem to have had any time in it. i was just here." * * * * * there was another time, like all the other times, except that von ulrich seemed much older, his hair thinner and now all of it gray. there seemed to be something tired about him, except for the brightness coming from behind his intense questioning eyes. suddenly he asked, "barton, what time is it?" barton glanced at the chrono. "quarter of four, sir." "keep looking." after a while barton said, "still quarter of four." "that chrono hasn't been working for three years. i stopped it three years ago. you haven't even noticed it, have you?" "i guess not, sir." "take a long look out there, barton. nothing to see but blackness. no feeling of distance. imagine your mind going out there, exploring, trying to fit in somewhere. you look out there, you project your thoughts out there, nothing comes back. so what time is it? where are you in all this? there was nothing out here until you came along, not even any meaningful kind of time out here. _but there has to be some feeling of time, barton!_" barton felt a tinge of uneasiness. he looked out. it looked cold. "what time is it, barton?" "what difference does it make?" "your body has to know. your body works on a timetable doesn't it? your lungs, expanding, contracting regularly. your heart beating so many times regularly--_every minute_. your blood circulating regularly. look here, barton. you're a product of a specific environment, on a big scale, call it earth, the solar system. you claim it means nothing, time means nothing. but your heart beats regularly so many times every minute and that's why you're alive. where did the arbitrary rhythm of that beat come from, barton? you were born with it. it isn't anything you control, or had anything to do with developing, is it? what's a minute? on earth, it has meaning. sixty seconds part of a minute. sixty minutes make up an hour. what's an hour but a segment of a 24 hour day. where does that figure come from? the earth, barton. it rotates on its axis approximately every 24 hours. 24 hours make a day, seven days a week, so many weeks in a month, twelve months make up a year. a year, barton, the earth rotates around the sun once a year." for the first time in the basketball, barton began to feel some discomfort. he closed his eyes and while they were closed he became acutely aware of his heart beating, and the expanding and contracting of his lungs. "you claim there is no earth any more, barton. no earth rotating on its axis, no earth rotating around the sun. no sun, no moon, no time. why should your heart go on beating regularly so many times a minute--when there's nothing out here that gives a minute any meaning? has time stopped here? is there any time here, barton, when there's nothing here to turn time into measurable segments? how can your heart beat so many times a minute, a year, a lifetime if there's no such thing here any more?" barton slowly opened his eyes. his hands felt wet. "this basketball doesn't rotate, barton. doesn't move toward, away from, or around anything. it's moving with the galaxy but that can't mean anything to you can it? listen, barton, your body operates largely on an unconscious level, but what if unconsciously your heart, your lungs, your bodily functions start to lose their conditioned memory of the earth's rotation, the regularity of its movement on its axis and around the sun that gave your birth? what will happen then, barton? what happens to your heart-beat if your heart begins to forget how long a minute is?" von ulrich leaned down close to barton's damp face. "what time is it, barton?" barton started to look out the spaceport again, but jerked his head in the other direction. he didn't want to look out. von ulrich waited, but barton didn't say anything. finally, with a tight smile on his face, von ulrich got up and went to the door. "i'll see you again, barton. some time." barton started. "wait--don't go," he started to say. but something constricted in his throat and he hardly even moved his lips, and no sound came out at all. he saw the cold streak flash past the view port. it was von ulrich's clinic. quickly he looked toward the wall. the chrono was gone. von ulrich had taken it with him. there was a watch, a wrist watch. barton ran around looking for the wrist watch, but he couldn't find it. when he lay down again and closed his eyes, he couldn't rest. he couldn't sleep. his heart beat got louder, and after a while that was all he could hear, and when he tried to figure out how many times a minute his heart was, or was not, beating, he couldn't. what time was it? * * * * * the war in which all of earth's outposts were involved, lasted thirty years. the basketballs were forgotten for a long time, and when they were remembered again, a special search was rewarded by finding only two of them. in the first basketball there was no trace of the watchman who had been abandoned in it almost half a century before, and no indication of what had happened to him. in the second one, von ulrich found barton still lying peacefully on the couch, looking hardly any different than when von ulrich had walked out and left him there. von ulrich, who had been retired for a long time and who was unable to get about except in a wheel-chair, had requested inclusion among the search boat's personnel. no one had figured out why because even if they found any basketballs, it was certain that no one would be alive on any of them, let alone anyone needing von ulrich's specialized talents. von ulrich had hoped that barton's basketball would be found and when it was found, he insisted on being carried through the interconnecting airlock into the spheroid that looked on the outside like a dead piece of slag. the ship's medical officer, a man young and rather stiff, was shocked at first to see barton lying there, but he had a ready explanation as he used his stethescope. "must have sprung a leak and let in preserving frigidity." "but then how did the leak repair itself and the temperature return to normal?" von ulrich asked as he studied barton's smooth, unaged face. "dead," the medical officer said, and he dropped the stethescope back into his case. von ulrich gripped the husks of his hands together to keep them from rattling, and he smiled slowly. "barton didn't like death much." zeiger the medical officer looked puzzled. "you know this man?" "a little. i tried to know him better but a war intervened. his name is harry barton and he was assigned to duty in this basketball fifty-three years and about four months ago." zeiger turned away as though to hide an embarrassed reaction. "you think i speak out of some mental senility, zeiger? you know this man isn't dead." "he has to be dead." "not barton. he would hardly approve of your diagnosis. he never cared much for diagnosis anyway. this is harry barton, and i've preserved--for personal reasons--his file. i have it with me. you want to check his fingerprints? you'll find it's the same man who was assigned to duty here fifty-three years ago." "there's no heart-beat," zeiger insisted, but not very enthusiastically. "better give barton a more thorough check," von ulrich said. * * * * * barton's heart was beating all right. once every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds. regularly, strongly, very slowly, but without a tremor. the electroencephalograph registered brain waves of regular rhythm, but of quite low amplitude. but with a frequency slowed to a point so far below normalcy that it took a week to establish recognizable delta, theta, alpha and higher frequency wave-forms. using the electronic stroboscope to induce changes in brain-wave reaction by flicker got results. but the frequency didn't change. when they forced barton's eyes open and used the stroboscope, a slight change in theta rhythm signified some irritation, but it was mild. "barton never hated anybody," von ulrich said. it was slow work though, testing barton's reactions. it was five days after the stroboscopic stimulation before the termination of the brain reactive crescendo. another week before theta rhythm returned to normal. "... so i finally decided," von ulrich told zeiger, "that barton was unique--he was the impossible. the absolutely self-sufficient human being, needing nothing but himself. i was getting older and i figured there was a chance i might not get back and the war threat and so forth. i was worried about leaving barton. but only for one reason." von ulrich explained his concern about what might have happened if barton's autonomic nervous system had lost its identification with the time factor that had conditioned it. "i figured barton was absolutely self-sufficient, except for the time factor. he had to have something outside himself relatively to which his organs could function in a necessary regularity." zeiger poured himself another shot of rum and drank it quickly. "so he's still here," zeiger said. "we'll have to take him to the martian base for observation." "why not leave him here? barton has a perfect service record. he's never missed an alarm." "but in this condition--" "let's see." von ulrich set off an alarm. barton moved, but it took him almost a week to move a few inches. "that's too slow," zeiger insisted. von ulrich said, "i'll turn in a complete report on barton. if the authorities want to have him removed, all right. but maybe they won't. maybe they'll decide they have a laboratory here for the study of a human being that's more important than whatever's being absorbed by those recorders. barton is the thing to watch. i call him the 'adaptable,' because i believe he can adapt to anything, fit himself into any situation, any kind of environmental circumstance, if he's not interfered with too much, if he's given even a slight chance. you see he altered his metabolism in order to relate to a different, highly personalized time. and he hasn't aged much either. god knows how long he will live, zeiger, with such a slowed metabolism. and not only that--who knows what unique kind of personalized time he's developing there inside himself? who knows if we can even make a human comparison?" "but how did he set this new arbitrary time of his? the heart beating every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds?" von ulrich looked through the spaceport, and then pointed when the pressure suit drifted past with the long-dead collins perfectly preserved in it and still looking out through the face plate. "that way," von ulrich said. "collins is our little human satellite out there, and he rotates around the basketball once every thirty-seven hours and fourteen seconds." "well i'll be damned," zeiger said. "of our time, that is," von ulrich said. "but our time doesn't mean anything to barton now." the day time stopped moving by bradner buckner _all dave miller wanted to do was commit suicide in peace. he tried, but the things that happened after he'd pulled the trigger were all wrong. like everyone standing around like statues. no st. peter, no pearly gate, no pitchforks or halos. he might just as well have saved the bullet!_ dave miller would never have done it, had he been in his right mind. the millers were not a melancholy stock, hardly the sort of people you expect to read about in the morning paper who have taken their lives the night before. but dave miller was drunk--abominably, roaringly so--and the barrel of the big revolver, as he stood against the sink, made a ring of coldness against his right temple. dawn was beginning to stain the frosty kitchen windows. in the faint light, the letter lay a gray square against the drain-board tiles. with the melodramatic gesture of the very drunk, miller had scrawled across the envelope: "this is why i did it!" [illustration: dave miller pushed with all his strength, but the girl was as unmovable as gibraltar.] he had found helen's letter in the envelope when he staggered into their bedroom fifteen minutes ago--at a quarter after five. as had frequently happened during the past year, he'd come home from the store a little late ... about twelve hours late, in fact. and this time helen had done what she had long threatened to do. she had left him. the letter was brief, containing a world of heartbreak and broken hopes. "i don't mind having to scrimp, dave. no woman minds that if she feels she is really helping her husband over a rough spot. when business went bad a year ago, i told you i was ready to help in any way i could. but you haven't let me. you quit fighting when things got difficult, and put in all your money and energy on liquor and horses and cards. i could stand being married to a drunkard, dave, but not to a coward ..." so she was trying to show him. but miller told himself he'd show her instead. coward, eh? maybe this would teach her a lesson! hell of a lot of help she'd been! nag at him every time he took a drink. holler bloody murder when he put twenty-five bucks on a horse, with a chance to make five hundred. what man wouldn't do those things? his drug store was on the skids. could he be blamed for drinking a little too much, if alcohol dissolved the morbid vapors of his mind? miller stiffened angrily, and tightened his finger on the trigger. but he had one moment of frank insight just before the hammer dropped and brought the world tumbling about his ears. it brought with it a realization that the whole thing was his fault. helen was right--he was a coward. there was a poignant ache in his heart. she'd been as loyal as they came, he knew that. he could have spent his nights thinking up new business tricks, instead of swilling whiskey. could have gone out of his way to be pleasant to customers, not snap at them when he had a terrific hangover. and even miller knew nobody ever made any money on the horses--at least, not when he needed it. but horses and whiskey and business had become tragically confused in his mind; so here he was, full of liquor and madness, with a gun to his head. then again anger swept his mind clean of reason, and he threw his chin up and gripped the gun tight. "run out on me, will she!" he muttered thickly. "well--this'll show her!" in the next moment the hammer fell ... and dave miller had "shown her." miller opened his eyes with a start. as plain as black on white, he'd heard a bell ring--the most familiar sound in the world, too. it was the unmistakable tinkle of his cash register. "now, how in hell--" the thought began in his mind; and then he saw where he was. the cash register was right in front of him! it was open, and on the marble slab lay a customer's five-spot. miller's glance strayed up and around him. he was behind the drug counter, all right. there were a man and a girl sipping cokes at the fountain, to his right; the magazine racks by the open door; the tobacco counter across from the fountain. and right before him was a customer. good lord! he thought. was all this a--a dream? sweat oozed out on his clammy forehead. that stuff of herman's that he had drunk during the game--it had had a rank taste, but he wouldn't have thought anything short of marihuana could produce such hallucinations as he had just had. wild conjectures came boiling up from the bottom of miller's being. how did he get behind the counter? who was the woman he was waiting on? what-the woman's curious stare was what jarred him completely into the present. get rid of her! was his one thought. then sit down behind the scenes and try to figure it all out. his hand poised over the cash drawer. then he remembered he didn't know how much he was to take out of the five. avoiding the woman's glance, he muttered: "let's see, now, that was--uh--how much did i say?" the woman made no answer. miller cleared his throat, said uncertainly: "i beg your pardon, ma'am--did i say--seventy-five cents?" it was just a feeler, but the woman didn't even answer to that. and it was right then that dave miller noticed the deep silence that brooded in the store. slowly his head came up and he looked straight into the woman's eyes. she returned him a cool, half-smiling glance. but her eyes neither blinked nor moved. her features were frozen. lips parted, teeth showing a little, the tip of her tongue was between her even white teeth as though she had started to say "this" and stopped with the syllable unspoken. muscles began to rise behind miller's ears. he could feel his hair stiffen like filings drawn to a magnet. his glance struggled to the soda fountain. what he saw there shook him to the core of his being. the girl who was drinking a coke had the glass to her lips, but apparently she wasn't sipping the liquid. her boy friend's glass was on the counter. he had drawn on a cigarette and exhaled the gray smoke. that smoke hung in the air like a large, elongated balloon with the small end disappearing between his lips. while miller stared, the smoke did not stir in the slightest. there was something unholy, something supernatural, about this scene! with apprehension rippling down his spine, dave miller reached across the cash register and touched the woman on the cheek. the flesh was warm, but as hard as flint. tentatively, the young druggist pushed harder; finally, shoved with all his might. for all the result, the woman might have been a two-ton bronze statue. she neither budged nor changed expression. panic seized miller. his voice hit a high hysterical tenor as he called to his soda-jerker. "pete! _pete!_" he shouted. "what in god's name is wrong here!" the blond youngster, with a towel wadded in a glass, did not stir. miller rushed from the back of the store, seized the boy by the shoulders, tried to shake him. but pete was rooted to the spot. miller knew, now, that what was wrong was something greater than a hallucination or a hangover. he was in some kind of trap. his first thought was to rush home and see if helen was there. there was a great sense of relief when he thought of her. helen, with her grave blue eyes and understanding manner, would listen to him and know what was the matter. * * * * * he left the haunted drug store at a run, darted around the corner and up the street to his car. but, though he had not locked the car, the door resisted his twisting grasp. shaking, pounding, swearing, miller wrestled with each of the doors. abruptly he stiffened, as a horrible thought leaped into his being. his gaze left the car and wandered up the street. past the intersection, past the one beyond that, on up the thoroughfare until the gray haze of the city dimmed everything. and as far as dave miller could see, there was no trace of motion. cars were poised in the street, some passing other machines, some turning corners. a street car stood at a safety zone; a man who had leaped from the bottom step hung in space a foot above the pavement. pedestrians paused with one foot up. a bird hovered above a telephone pole, its wings glued to the blue vault of the sky. with a choked sound, miller began to run. he did not slacken his pace for fifteen minutes, until around him were the familiar, reassuring trees and shrub-bordered houses of his own street. but yet how strange to him! the season was autumn, and the air filled with brown and golden leaves that tossed on a frozen wind. miller ran by two boys lying on a lawn, petrified into a modern counterpart of the sculptor's "the wrestlers." the sweetish tang of burning leaves brought a thrill of terror to him; for, looking down an alley from whence the smoke drifted, he saw a man tending a fire whose leaping flames were red tongues that did not move. sobbing with relief, the young druggist darted up his own walk. he tried the front door, found it locked, and jammed a thumb against the doorbell. but of course the little metal button was as immovable as a mountain. so in the end, after convincing himself that the key could not be inserted into the lock, he sprang toward the back. the screen door was not latched, but it might as well have been the steel door of a bank vault. miller began to pound on it, shouting: "helen! helen, are you in there? my god, dear, there's something wrong! you've got to--" the silence that flowed in again when his voice choked off was the dead stillness of the tomb. he could hear his voice rustling through the empty rooms, and at last it came back to him like a taunt: "_helen! helen!_" chapter ii _time stands still_ for dave miller, the world was now a planet of death on which he alone lived and moved and spoke. staggered, utterly beaten, he made no attempt to break into his home. but he did stumble around to the kitchen window and try to peer in, anxious to see if there was a body on the floor. the room was in semi-darkness, however, and his straining eyes made out nothing. he returned to the front of the house, shambling like a somnambulist. seated on the porch steps, head in hands, he slipped into a hell of regrets. he knew now that his suicide had been no hallucination. he was dead, all right; and this must be hell or purgatory. bitterly he cursed his drinking, that had led him to such a mad thing as suicide. suicide! he--dave miller--a coward who had taken his own life! miller's whole being crawled with revulsion. if he just had the last year to live over again, he thought fervently. and yet, through it all, some inner strain kept trying to tell him he was not dead. this was his own world, all right, and essentially unchanged. what had happened to it was beyond the pale of mere guesswork. but this one thing began to be clear: this was a world in which change or motion of any kind was a foreigner. * * * * * fire would not burn and smoke did not rise. doors would not open, liquids were solid. miller's stubbing toe could not move a pebble, and a blade of grass easily supported his weight without bending. in other words, miller began to understand, change had been stopped as surely as if a master hand had put a finger on the world's balance wheel. miller's ramblings were terminated by the consciousness that he had an acute headache. his mouth tasted, as herman used to say after a big night, as if an army had camped in it. coffee and a bromo were what he needed. but it was a great awakening to him when he found a restaurant and learned that he could neither drink the coffee nor get the lid off the bromo bottle. fragrant coffee-steam hung over the glass percolator, but even this steam was as a brick wall to his probing touch. miller started gloomily to thread his way through the waiters in back of the counter again. moments later he stood in the street and there were tears swimming in his eyes. "helen!" his voice was a pleading whisper. "helen, honey, where are you?" there was no answer but the pitiful palpitation of utter silence. and then, there was movement at dave miller's right! something shot from between the parked cars and crashed against him; something brown and hairy and soft. it knocked him down. before he could get his breath, a red, wet tongue was licking his face and hands, and he was looking up into the face of a police dog! frantic with joy at seeing another in this city of death, the dog would scarcely let miller rise. it stood up to plant big paws on his shoulders and try to lick his face. miller laughed out loud, a laugh with a throaty catch in it. "where'd you come from, boy?" he asked. "won't they talk to you, either? what's your name, boy?" there was a heavy, brass-studded collar about the animal's neck, and dave miller read on its little nameplate: "major." "well, major, at least we've got company now," was miller's sigh of relief. for a long time he was too busy with the dog to bother about the sobbing noises. apparently the dog failed to hear them, for he gave no sign. miller scratched him behind the ear. "what shall we do now, major? walk? maybe your nose can smell out another friend for us." they had gone hardly two blocks when it came to him that there was a more useful way of spending their time. the library! half convinced that the whole trouble stemmed from his suicide shot in the head--which was conspicuously absent now--he decided that a perusal of the surgery books in the public library might yield something he could use. * * * * * that way they bent their steps, and were soon mounting the broad cement stairs of the building. as they went beneath the brass turnstile, the librarian caught miller's attention with a smiling glance. he smiled back. "i'm trying to find something on brain surgery," he explained. "i--" with a shock, then, he realized he had been talking to himself. in the next instant, dave miller whirled. a voice from the bookcases chuckled: "if you find anything, i wish you'd let me know. i'm stumped myself!" * * * * * from a corner of the room came an elderly, half-bald man with tangled gray brows and a rueful smile. a pencil was balanced over his ear, and a note-book was clutched in his hand. "you, too!" he said. "i had hoped i was the only one--" miller went forward hurriedly to grip his hand. "i'm afraid i'm not so unselfish," he admitted. "i've been hoping for two hours that i'd run into some other poor soul." "quite understandable," the stranger murmured sympathetically. "but in my case it is different. you see--i am responsible for this whole tragic business!" "you!" dave miller gulped the word. "i--i thought--" the man wagged his head, staring at his note pad, which was littered with jumbled calculations. miller had a chance to study him. he was tall, heavily built, with wide, sturdy shoulders despite his sixty years. oddly, he wore a gray-green smock. his eyes, narrowed and intent, looked gimlet-sharp beneath those toothbrush brows of his, as he stared at the pad. "there's the trouble, right there," he muttered. "i provided only three stages of amplification, whereas four would have been barely enough. no wonder the phase didn't carry through!" "i guess i don't follow you," miller faltered. "you mean--something you did--" "i should think it was something i did!" the baldish stranger scratched his head with the tip of his pencil. "i'm john erickson--you know, the wanamaker institute." miller said: "oh!" in an understanding voice. erickson was head of wanamaker institute, first laboratory of them all when it came to exploding atoms and blazing trails into the wildernesses of science. * * * * * erickson's piercing eyes were suddenly boring into the younger man. "you've been sick, haven't you?" he demanded. "well--no--not really sick." the druggist colored. "i'll have to admit to being drunk a few hours ago, though." "drunk--" erickson stuck his tongue in his cheek, shook his head, scowled. "no, that would hardly do it. there must have been something else. the impulsor isn't _that_ powerful. i can understand about the dog, poor fellow. he must have been run over, and i caught him just at the instant of passing from life to death." "oh!" dave miller lifted his head, knowing now what erickson was driving at. "well, i may as well be frank. i'm--i committed suicide. that's how drunk i was. there hasn't been a suicide in the miller family in centuries. it took a skinful of liquor to set the precedent." erickson nodded wisely. "perhaps we will find the precedent hasn't really been set! but no matter--" his lifted hand stopped miller's eager, wondering exclamation. "the point is, young man, we three are in a tough spot, and it's up to us to get out of it. and not only we, but heaven knows how many others the world over!" "would you--maybe you can explain to my lay mind what's happened," miller suggested. "of course. forgive me. you see, mr.--" "miller. dave miller." "dave it is. i have a feeling we're going to be pretty well acquainted before this is over. you see, dave, i'm a nut on so-called 'time theories.' i've seen time compared to everything from an entity to a long, pink worm. but i disagree with them all, because they postulate the idea that time is constantly being manufactured. such reasoning is fantastic! "time exists. not as an ever-growing chain of links, because such a chain would have to have a tail end, if it has a front end; and who can imagine the period when time did not exist? so i think time is like a circular train-track. unending. we who live and die merely travel around on it. the future exists simultaneously with the past, for one instant when they meet." * * * * * miller's brain was humming. erickson shot the words at him staccato-fashion, as if they were things known from great primer days. the young druggist scratched his head. "you've got me licked," he admitted. "i'm a stranger here, myself." "naturally you can't be expected to understand things i've been all my life puzzling about. simplest way i can explain it is that we are on a train following this immense circular railway. "when the train reaches the point where it started, it is about to plunge into the past; but this is impossible, because the point where it started is simply the caboose of the train! and that point is always ahead--and behind--the time-train. "now, my idea was that with the proper stimulus a man could be thrust across the diameter of this circular railway to a point in his past. because of the nature of time, he could neither go ahead of the train to meet the future nor could he stand still and let the caboose catch up with him. but--he could detour across the circle and land farther back on the train! and that, my dear dave, is what you and i and major have done--almost." "almost?" miller said hoarsely. erickson pursed his lips. "we are somewhere partway across the space between present and past. we are living in an instant that can move neither forward nor back. you and i, dave, and major--and the lord knows how many others the world over--have been thrust by my time impulsor onto a timeless beach of eternity. we have been caught in time's backwash. castaways, you might say." an objection clamored for attention in miller's mind. "but if this is so, where are the rest of them? where is my wife?" "they are right here," erickson explained. "no doubt you could see your wife if you could find her. but we see them as statues, because, for us, time no longer exists. but there was something i did not count on. i did not know that it would be possible to live in one small instant of time, as we are doing. and i did not know that only those who are hovering between life and death can deviate from the normal process of time!" "you mean--we're dead!" miller's voice was a bitter monotone. "obviously not. we're talking and moving, aren't we? but--we are on the fence. when i gave my impulsor the jolt of high power, it went wrong and i think something must have happened to me. at the same instant, you had shot yourself. "perhaps, dave, you are dying. the only way for us to find out is to try to get the machine working and topple ourselves one way or the other. if we fall back, we will all live. if we fall into the present--we may die." "either way, it's better than this!" miller said fervently. "i came to the library here, hoping to find out the things i must know. my own books are locked in my study. and these--they might be cemented in their places, for all their use to me. i suppose we might as well go back to the lab." miller nodded, murmuring: "maybe you'll get an idea when you look at the machine again." "let's hope so," said erickson grimly. "god knows i've failed so far!" chapter iii _splendid sacrifice_ it was a solid hour's walk out to west wilshire, where the laboratory was. the immense bronze and glass doors of wanamaker institute were closed, and so barred to the two men. but erickson led the way down the side. "we can get in a service door. then we climb through transoms and ventilators until we get to my lab." major frisked along beside them. he was enjoying the action and the companionship. it was less of an adventure to miller, who knew death might be ahead for the three of them. two workmen were moving a heavy cabinet in the side service door. to get in, they climbed up the back of the rear workman, walked across the cabinet, and scaled down the front of the leading man. they went up the stairs to the fifteenth floor. here they crawled through a transom into the wing marked: "experimental. enter only by appointment." major was helped through it, then they were crawling along the dark metal tunnel of an air-conditioning ventilator. it was small, and took some wriggling. in the next room, they were confronted by a stern receptionist on whose desk was a little brass sign, reading: "have you an appointment?" miller had had his share of experience with receptionists' ways, in his days as a pharmaceutical salesman. he took the greatest pleasure now in lighting his cigarette from a match struck on the girl's nose. then he blew the smoke in her face and hastened to crawl through the final transom. john erickson's laboratory was well lighted by a glass-brick wall and a huge skylight. the sun's rays glinted on the time impulsor.[1] the scientist explained the impulsor in concise terms. when he had finished, dave miller knew just as little as before, and the outfit still resembled three transformers in a line, of the type seen on power-poles, connected to a great bronze globe hanging from the ceiling. "there's the monster that put us in this plight," erickson grunted. "too strong to be legal, too weak to do the job right. take a good look!" * * * * * with his hands jammed in his pockets, he frowned at the complex machinery. miller stared a few moments; then transferred his interests to other things in the room. he was immediately struck by the resemblance of a transformer in a far corner to the ones linked up with the impulsor. "what's that?" he asked quickly. "looks the same as the ones you used over there." "it is." "but-didn't you say all you needed was another stage of power?" "that's right." "maybe i'm crazy!" miller stared from impulsor to transformer and back again. "why don't you use it, then?" "using what for the connection?" erickson's eyes gently mocked him. "wire, of course!" the scientist jerked a thumb at a small bale of heavy copper wire. "bring it over and we'll try it." miller was halfway to it when he brought up short. then a sheepish grin spread over his features. "i get it," he chuckled. "that bale of wire might be the empire state building, as far as we're concerned. forgive my stupidity." erickson suddenly became serious. "i'd like to be optimistic, dave," he muttered, "but in all fairness to you i must tell you i see no way out of this. the machine is, of course, still working, and with that extra stage of power, the uncertainty would be over. but where, in this world of immovable things, will we find a piece of wire twenty-five feet long?" * * * * * there was a warm, moist sensation against miller's hand, and when he looked down major stared up at him commiseratingly. miller scratched him behind the ear, and the dog closed his eyes, reassured and happy. the young druggist sighed, wishing there were some giant hand to scratch him behind the ear and smooth _his_ troubles over. "and if we don't get out," he said soberly, "we'll starve, i suppose." "no, i don't think it will be that quick. i haven't felt any hunger. i don't expect to. after all, our bodies are still living in one instant of time, and a man can't work up a healthy appetite in one second. of course, this elastic-second business precludes the possibility of disease. "our bodies must go on unchanged. the only hope i see is--when we are on the verge of madness, suicide. that means jumping off a bridge, i suppose. poison, guns, knives--all the usual wherewithal--are denied to us." black despair closed down on dave miller. he thrust it back, forcing a crooked grin. "let's make a bargain," he offered. "when we finish fooling around with this apparatus, we split up. we'll only be at each other's throat if we stick together. i'll be blaming you for my plight, and i don't want to. it's my fault as much as yours. how about it?" john erickson gripped his hand. "you're all right, dave. let me give you some advice. if ever you do get back to the present ... keep away from liquor. liquor and the irish never did mix. you'll have that store on its feet again in no time." "thanks!" miller said fervently. "and i think i can promise that nothing less than a whiskey antidote for snake bite will ever make me bend an elbow again!" * * * * * for the next couple of hours, despondency reigned in the laboratory. but it was soon to be deposed again by hope. despite all of erickson's scientific training, it was dave miller himself who grasped the down-to-earth idea that started them hoping again. he was walking about the lab, jingling keys in his pocket, when suddenly he stopped short. he jerked the ring of keys into his hand. "erickson!" he gasped. "we've been blind. look at this!" the scientist looked; but he remained puzzled. "well--?" he asked skeptically. "there's our wire!" dave miller exclaimed. "you've got keys; i've got keys. we've got coins, knives, wristwatches. why can't we lay them all end to end--" erickson's features looked as if he had been electrically shocked. "you've hit it!" he cried. "if we've got enough!" with one accord, they began emptying their pockets, tearing off wristwatches, searching for pencils. the finds made a little heap in the middle of the floor. erickson let his long fingers claw through thinning hair. "god give us enough! we'll only need the one wire. the thing is plugged in already and only the positive pole has to be connected to the globe. come on!" scooping up the assortment of metal articles, they rushed across the room. with his pocket-knife, dave miller began breaking up the metal wrist-watch straps, opening the links out so that they could be laid end-to-end for the greatest possible length. they patiently broke the watches to pieces, and of the junk they garnered made a ragged foot and a half of "wire." their coins stretched the line still further. they had ten feet covered before the stuff was half used up. their metal pencils, taken apart, gave them a good two feet. key chains helped generously. with eighteen feet covered, their progress began to slow down. perspiration poured down miller's face. desperately, he tore off his lodge ring and cut it in two to pound it flat. from garters and suspenders they won a few inches more. and then--they stopped--feet from their goal. miller groaned. he tossed his pocket-knife in his hand. "we can get a foot out of this," he estimated. "but that still leaves us way short." abruptly, erickson snapped his fingers. "shoes!" he gasped. "they're full of nails. get to work with that knife, dave. we'll cut out every one of 'em!" * * * * * in ten minutes, the shoes were reduced to ragged piles of tattered leather. erickson's deft fingers painstakingly placed the nails, one by one, in the line. the distance left to cover was less than six inches! he lined up the last few nails. then both men were sinking back on their heels, as they saw there was a gap of three inches to cover! "beaten!" erickson ground out. "by three inches! three inches from the present ... and yet it might as well be a million miles!" miller's body felt as though it were in a vise. his muscles ached with strain. so taut were his nerves that he leaped as though stung when major nuzzled a cool nose into his hand again. automatically, he began to stroke the dog's neck. "well, that licks us," he muttered. "there isn't another piece of movable metal in the world." major kept whimpering and pushing against him. annoyed, the druggist shoved him away. "go 'way," he muttered. "i don't feel like--" suddenly then his eyes widened, as his touch encountered warm metal. he whirled. "there it is!" he yelled. "the last link. _the nameplate on major's collar!_" in a flash, he had torn the little rectangular brass plate from the dog collar. erickson took it from his grasp. sweat stood shiny on his skin. he held the bit of metal over the gap between wire and pole. "this is it!" he smiled brittlely. "we're on our way, dave. where, i don't know. to death, or back to life. but--we're going!" the metal clinked into place. live, writhing power leaped through the wire, snarling across partial breaks. the transformers began to hum. the humming grew louder. singing softly, the bronze globe over their heads glowed green. dave miller felt a curious lightness. there was a snap in his brain, and erickson, major and the laboratory faded from his senses. then came an interval when the only sound was the soft sobbing he had been hearing as if in a dream. that, and blackness that enfolded him like soft velvet. then miller was opening his eyes, to see the familiar walls of his own kitchen around him! someone cried out. "dave! oh, dave, dear!" it was helen's voice, and it was helen who cradled his head in her lap and bent her face close to his. "oh, thank god that you're alive--!" "helen!" miller murmured. "what--are--you--doing here?" "i couldn't go through with it. i--i just couldn't leave you. i came back and--and i heard the shot and ran in. the doctor should be here. i called him five minutes ago." "_five minutes_ ... how long has it been since i shot myself?" "oh, just six or seven minutes. i called the doctor right away." miller took a deep breath. then it _must_ have been a dream. all that--to happen in a few minutes-it wasn't possible! "how--how could i have botched the job?" he muttered. "i wasn't drunk enough to miss myself completely." helen looked at the huge revolver lying in the sink. "oh, that old forty-five of grandfather's! it hasn't been loaded since the civil war. i guess the powder got damp or something. it just sort of sputtered instead of exploding properly. dave, promise me something! you won't ever do anything like this again, if i promise not to nag you?" dave miller closed his eyes. "there won't be any need to nag, helen. some people take a lot of teaching, but i've had my lesson. i've got ideas about the store which i'd been too lazy to try out. you know, i feel more like fighting right now than i have for years! we'll lick 'em, won't we, honey?" helen buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and cried softly. her words were too muffled to be intelligible. but dave miller understood what she meant. * * * * * he had thought the whole thing a dream--john erickson, the "time impulsor" and major. but that night he read an item in the _evening courier_ that was to keep him thinking for many days. police investigate death of scientist here in laboratory john m. erickson, director of the wanamaker institute, died at his work last night. erickson was a beloved and valuable figure in the world of science, famous for his recently publicized "time lapse" theory. two strange circumstances surrounded his death. one was the presence of a german shepherd dog in the laboratory, its head crushed as if with a sledgehammer. the other was a chain of small metal objects stretching from one corner of the room to the other, as if intended to take the place of wire in a circuit. police, however, discount this idea, as there was a roll of wire only a few feet from the body. the end footnotes: [1] obviously this electric time impulsor is a machine in the nature of an atomic integrator. it "broadcasts" great waves of electrons which align all atomic objects in rigid suspension. that is to say, atomic structures are literally "frozen." living bodies are similarly affected. it is a widely held belief on the part of many eminent scientists that all matter, broken down into its elementary atomic composition, is electrical in structure. that being so, there is no reason to suppose why professor erickson may not have discovered a time impulsor which, broadcasting electronic impulses, "froze" everything within its range.--ed. transcriber's note: this etext was produced from _amazing stories_ april 1956 and was first published in _amazing stories_ october 1940. 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. tedric _by e. e. smith, ph. d._ _illustrated by j. allen st. john_ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from other worlds march 1953. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] aided by llosir, his strange, new god, tedric enters into battle with sarpedion, the sacrifice-demanding god of lomarr in this story of science and swash-buckling adventure which marks the return of "doc" smith, author of the skylark series, lensman series, etc. "_the critical point in time of mankind's whole existence is there--right there!" prime physicist skandos slashed his red pencil across the black trace of the chronoviagram. "why must man be so stupid? anyone with three brain cells working should know that for the strength of an individual he should be fed; not bled; that for the strength of a race its virgins should be bred, not sacrificed to propitiate figmental deities. and it would be so easy to straighten things out--nowhere in all reachable time does any other one man occupy such a tremendously--such a uniquely--key-stone position!_" _"easy, yes," his assistant furmin agreed. "it_ is _a shame to let tedric die with not one of his tremendous potentialities realized. it would be easy and simple to have him discover carburization and the necessary techniques of heat-treating. that freak meteorite need not lie there unsmelted for another seventy years. however, simple carburization was not actually discovered until two generations later, by another smith in another nation; and you know, skandos, that there can be no such thing as a minor interference with the physical events of the past. any such, however small-seeming, is bound to be catastrophically major."_ _"i know that." skandos scowled blackly. "we don't know enough about time. we don't know what would happen. we have known how to do it for a hundred years, but have been afraid to act because in all that time no progress whatever has been made on the theory."_ _he paused, then went on savagely: "but which is better, to have our entire time-track snapped painlessly out of existence--if the extremists are right--or to sit helplessly on our fat rumps wringing our hands while we watch civilization build up to its own total destruction by lithium-tritiide bombs? look at the slope of that curve--ultimate catastrophe is only one hundred eighty seven years away!"_ "_but the council would not permit it. nor would the school._" "_i know that, too. that is why i am not going to ask them. instead, i am asking you. we two know more of time than any others. over the years i have found your judgment good. with your approval i will act now. without it, we will continue our futile testing--number eight hundred eleven is running now, i believe?--and our aimless drifting._" "_you are throwing the entire weight of such a decision on_ me?" "_in one sense, yes. in another, only half, since i have already decided._" "_go ahead._" "_so be it._" * * * * * "tedric, awaken!" the lomarrian ironmaster woke up; not gradually and partially, like one of our soft modern urbanites, but instantaneously and completely, as does the mountain wild-cat. at one instant he lay, completely relaxed, sound asleep; at the next he had sprung out of bed, seized his sword and leaped half-way across the room. head thrown back, hard blue eyes keenly alert, sword-arm rock-steady he stood there, poised and ready. beautifully poised, upon the balls of both feet; supremely ready to throw into action every inch of his six-feet-four, every pound of his two-hundred-plus of hard meat, gristle, and bone. so standing, the smith stared motionlessly at the shimmering, almost invisible thing hanging motionless in the air of his room, and at its equally tenuous occupant. "i approve of you, tedric." the thing--apparition--whatever it was--did not speak, and the lomarrian did not hear; the words formed themselves in the innermost depths of his brain. "while you perhaps are a little frightened, you are and have been completely in control. any other man of your nation--yes, of your world--would have been scared out of what few wits he has." "you are not one of ours, lord." tedric went to one knee. he knew, of course, that gods and devils existed; and, while this was the first time that a god had sought him out personally, he had heard of such happenings all his life. since the god hadn't killed him instantly, he probably didn't intend to--right away, at least. hence: "no god of lomarr approves of me. also, our gods are solid and heavy. what do you want of me, strange god?" "i'm not a god. if you could get through this grill, you could cut off my head with your sword and i would die." "of course. so would sar ..." tedric broke off in the middle of the word. "i see. it is dangerous to talk?" "very. even though a man is alone, the gods and hence the priests who serve them have power to hear. then the man lies on the green rock and loses his brain, liver, and heart." "you will not be overheard. i have power enough to see to that." tedric remained silent. "i understand your doubt. think, then; that will do just as well. what is it that you are trying to do?" "i wonder how i can hear when there is no sound, but men cannot understand the powers of gods. i am trying to find or make a metal that is very hard, but not brittle. copper is no good, i cannot harden it enough. my soft irons are too soft, my hard irons are too brittle; my in-betweens and the melts to which i added various flavorings have all been either too soft or too brittle, or both." "i gathered that such was your problem. your wrought iron is beautiful stuff; so is your white cast iron; and you would not, ordinarily, in your lifetime, come to know anything of either carburization or high-alloy steel, to say nothing of both. i know exactly what you want, and i can show you exactly how to make it." "you can, lord?" the smith's eyes flamed. "and you will?" "that is why i have come to you, but whether or not i will teach you depends on certain matters which i have not been able entirely to clarify. what do you want it for--that is, what, basically, is your aim?" "our greatest god, sarpedion, is wrong and i intend to kill him." tedric's eyes flamed more savagely, his terrifically muscled body tensed. "wrong? in what way?" "in every way!" in the intensity of his emotion the smith spoke aloud. "what good is a god who only kills and injures? what a nation needs, lord, is _people_--people working together and not afraid. how can we of lomarr _ever_ attain comfort and happiness if more die each year than are born? we are too few. all of us--except the priests, of course--must work unendingly to obtain only the necessities of life." "this bears out my findings. if you make high-alloy steel, exactly what will you do with it?" "if you give me the god-metal, lord, i will make of it a sword and armor--a sword sharp enough and strong enough to cut through copper or iron without damage; armor strong enough so that swords of copper or iron cannot cut through it. they must be so because i will have to cut my way alone through a throng of armed and armored mercenaries and priests." "alone? why?" "because i cannot call in help; cannot let anyone know my goal. any such would lie on the green stone very soon. they suspect me; perhaps they know. i am, however, the best smith in all lomarr, hence they have slain me not. nor will they, until i have found what i seek. nor then, if by the favor of the gods--or by _your_ favor, lord--the metal be good enough." "it will be, but there's a lot more to fighting a platoon of soldiers than armor and a sword, my optimistic young savage." "that the metal be of proof is all i ask, lord," the smith insisted, stubbornly. "the rest of it lies in my care." "so be it. and then?" "sarpedion's image, as you must already know, is made of stone, wood, copper, and gold--besides the jewels, of course. i take his brain, liver, and heart; flood them with oil, and sacrifice them ..." "just a minute! sarpedion is not alive and never has been; does not, as a matter of fact, exist. you just said, yourself, that his image was made of stone and copper and ..." "don't be silly, lord. or art testing me? gods are spirits; bound to their images, and in a weaker way to their priests, by linkages of spirit force. life force, it could be called. when those links are broken, by fire and sacrifice, the god may not exactly die, but he can do no more of harm until his priests have made a new image and spent much time and effort in building up new linkages. one point now settled was bothering me; what god to sacrifice him to. i'll make an image for you to inhabit, lord, and sacrifice him to you, my strange new god. you will be my only god as long as i live. what is your name, lord? i can't keep on calling you 'strange god' forever." "my name is skandos." "s ... sek ... that word rides ill on the tongue. with your permission, lord, i will call you llosir." "call me anything you like, except a god. i am _not_ a god." "you are being ridiculous, lord llosir," tedric chided. "what a man sees with his eyes, hears with his ears--especially what a man hears _without_ ears, as i hear now--he knows with certain knowledge to be the truth. no mere man could possibly do what you have done, to say naught of what you are about to do." "perhaps not an ordinary man of your ..." skandos almost said "time," but caught himself "... of your culture, but i am ordinary enough and mortal enough in my own." "well, that could be said of all gods, everywhere." the smith's mien was quiet and unperturbed; his thought was loaded to saturation with unshakable conviction. skandos gave up. he could argue for a week, he knew, without making any impression whatever upon what the stubborn, hard-headed tedric knew so unalterably to be the truth. "but just one thing, lord," tedric went on with scarcely a break. "have i made it clear that i intend to stop human sacrifice? that there is to be no more of it, even to you? we will offer you anything else--_anything_ else--but not even your refusal to give me the god-metal will change my stand on that." "good! see to it that nothing ever does change it. as to offerings or sacrifices, there are to be none, of any kind. i do not need, i do not want, _i will not have_ any such. that is final. act accordingly." "yes, lord. sarpedion is a great and powerful god, but art _sure_ that his sacrifice alone will establish linkages strong enough to last for all time?" skandos almost started to argue again, but checked himself. after all, the proposed sacrifice was necessary for tedric and his race, and it would do no harm. "sarpedion will be enough. and as for the image, that isn't necessary, either." "art wrong, lord. without image and temple, everyone would think you a small, weak god, which thought can never be. besides, the image might make it easier for me to call on you in time of need." "you can't call me. even if i could receive your call, which is very doubtful, i wouldn't answer it. if you ever see me or hear from me again, it will be because i wish it, not you." skandos intended this for a clincher, but it didn't turn out that way. "wonderful!" tedric exclaimed. "all gods act that way, in spite of what they--through their priests--say. i am overwhelmingly glad that you are being honest with me. hast found me worthy of the god-metal, lord llosir?" "yes, so let's get at it. take that biggest chunk of 'metal-which-fell-from-the-sky'--you'll find it's about twice your weight ..." "but i have never been able to work that particular piece of metal, lord." "i'm not surprised. ordinary meteorites are nickel-iron, but this one carries two additional and highly unusual elements, tungsten and vanadium, which are necessary for our purpose. to melt it you'll have to run your fires a lot hotter. you'll also have to have a carburizing pot and willow charcoal and metallurgical coke and several other things. we'll go into details later. that green stone from which altars are made--you can secure some of it?" "any amount of it." "of it take your full weight. and of the black ore of which you have occasionally used a little, one-fourth of your weight ..." the instructions went on, from ore to finished product in complete detail, and at its end: "if you follow these directions carefully you will have a high-alloy-steel--chrome-nickel-vanadium-molybdenum-tungsten steel, to be exact--case-hardened and heat-treated; exactly what you need. can you remember them all?" "i can, lord. never have i dared write anything down, so my memory is good. every quantity you have given me, every temperature and step and process and item; they are all completely in mind." "i go, then. good-bye." "i thank you, lord llosir. good-bye." the lomarrian bowed his head, and when he straightened up his incomprehensible visitor was gone. tedric went back to bed; and, strangely enough, was almost instantly asleep. and in the morning, after his customary huge breakfast of meat and bread and milk, he went to his sprawling establishment, which has no counterpart in modern industry, and called his foreman and his men together before they began the day's work. "a strange god named llosir came to me in the night and showed me how to make better iron," he told them in perfectly matter-of-fact fashion, "so stop whatever you're doing and tear the whole top off of the big furnace. i'll tell you exactly how to rebuild it." the program as outlined by skandos went along without a hitch until the heat from the rebuilt furnace began to come blisteringly through the crude shields. then even the foreman, faithful as he was, protested against such unheard-of temperatures and techniques. "it _must_ be that way!" tedric insisted. "run more rods across, from there to there, to hold more hides and blankets. you four men fetch water. throw it over the hides and blankets and him who turns the blower. take shorter tricks in the hot places--here, i'll man the blower myself until the heat wanes somewhat." he bent his mighty back to the crank, but even in that raging inferno of heat he kept on talking. "knowst my iron sword, the one i wear, with rubies in the hilt?" he asked the foreman. that worthy did, with longing; to buy it would take six months of a foreman's pay. "this furnace must stay this hot all day and all of tonight, and there are other things as bad. but 'twill not take long. ten days should see the end of it"--actually seven days was the schedule, but tedric did not want the priests to know that--"but for those ten days matters _must_ go exactly as i say. work with me until this iron is made and i give you that sword. and of all the others who shirk not, each will be given an iron sword--this in addition to your regular pay. dost like the bargain?" they liked it. then, during the hours of lull, in which there was nothing much to do except keep the furious fires fed, tedric worked upon the image of his god. while the lomarrian was neither a phidias nor a praxiteles, he was one of the finest craftsmen of his age. he had not, however, had a really good look at skandos' face. thus the head of the image, although it was a remarkably good piece of sculpture, looked more like that of tedric's foreman than like that of the real skandos. and with the head, any resemblance at all to skandos ceased. the rest of the real skandos was altogether too small and too pitifully weak to be acceptable as representative of any lomarrian's god; hence the torso and limbs of the gleaming copper statue were wider, thicker, longer, bigger, and even more fantastically muscled than were tedric's own. also, the figure was hollow; filled with sand throughout except for an intricately-carved gray sandstone brain and red-painted hardwood liver and heart. * * * * * "they come, master, to the number of eleven," his lookout boy came running with news at mid-afternoon of the seventh day. "one priest in copper, ten tarkians in iron, a five each of bowmen and spearmen." tedric did not have to tell the boy where to go or what to do or to hurry about it; as both ran for the ironmaster's armor the youngster was two steps in the lead. it was evident, too, that he had served as squire before, and frequently; for in seconds the erstwhile half-naked blacksmith was fully clothed in iron. thus it was an armored knight, leaning negligently upon a fifteen-pound forging hammer, who waited outside the shop's door and watched his eleven visitors approach. the banner was that of a priest of the third rank. good--they weren't worried enough about him yet, then, to send a big one. and only ten mercenaries--small, short, bandy-legged men of tark--good enough fighters for their weight, but they didn't weigh much. this wouldn't be too bad. the group came up to within a few paces and stopped. "art in armor, smith?" the discomfited priest demanded. "why?" "why not? 'tis my habit to greet guests in apparel of their own choosing." there was a brief silence, then: "to what do i owe the honor of this visit, priest?" he asked, only half sarcastically. "i paid, as i have always paid, the fraction due." "true. 'tis not about a fraction i come. it is noised that a strange god appeared to you, spoke to you, instructed you in your art; that you are making an image of him." "i made no secret of any of these things. i hide nothing from the great god or his minions, nor ever have. i have nothing to hide." "perhaps. such conduct is very unseemly--decidedly ungodlike. he should not have appeared to you, but to one of us, and in the temple." "it is un-sarpedionlike, certainly--all that sarpedion has ever done for me is let me alone, and i have paid heavily for that." "what bargain did you make with this llosir? what was the price?" "no bargain was made. i thought it strange, but who am i, an ordinary man, to try to understand the actions or the reasonings of a god? there will be a price, i suppose. whatever it is, i will pay it gladly." "you will pay, rest assured; not to this llosir, but to great sarpedion. i command you to destroy that image forthwith." "you do? why? since when has it been against the law to have a personal god? most families of lomarr have them." "not like yours. sarpedion does not permit your llosir to exist." "sarpedion has nothing to say about it. llosir already exists. is the great god so weak, so afraid, so unable to defend himself against a one-man stranger that he...." "take care, smith--silence! that is rankest blasphemy!" "perhaps; but i have blasphemed before and sarpedion hasn't killed me yet. nor will he, methinks; at least until his priests have collected his fraction of the finest iron ever forged and which i only can make." "oh, yes, the new iron. tell me exactly how it is made." "you know better than to ask that question, priest. that secret will be known only to me and my god." "we have equipment and tools designed specifically for getting information out of such as you. seize him, men, and smash that image!" "hold!" tedric roared, in such a voice that not a man moved. "if anybody takes one forward step, priest, or makes one move toward spear or arrow, your brains will spatter the walls across the street. can your copper helmet stop this hammer? can your girl-muscled, fat-bellied priest's body move fast enough to dodge my blow? and most or all of those runty little slavelings behind you," waving his left arm contemptuously at the group, "will also die before they cut me down. and if i die now, of what worth is sarpedion's fraction of a metal that will never be made? think well, priest!" sarpedion's agent studied the truculent, glaring ironmaster for a long two minutes. then, deciding that the proposed victim could not be taken alive, he led his crew back the way they had come, trailing fiery threats. and tedric, going back into his shop, was thoroughly aware that those threats were not idle. so far, he hadn't taken too much risk, but the next visit would be different--very different. he was exceedingly glad that none of his men knew that the pots they were firing so fiercely were in fact filled only with coke and willow charcoal; that armor and sword and shield and axe and hammer were at that moment getting their final heat treatment in a bath of oil, but little hotter than boiling water, in the sanctum to which he retired, always alone, to perform the incantations which his men--and hence the priests of sarpedion--believed as necessary as any other part of the metallurgical process. that evening he selected a smooth, fine-grained stone and whetted the already almost perfect cutting edge of his new sword; an edge which in cross-section was rather more like an extremely sharp cold-chisel than a hollow-ground razor. he fitted the two-hand grip meticulously with worked and tempered rawhide, thrilling again and again as each touch of an educated and talented finger-tip told him over and over that here was some thing brand new in metal--a real god-metal. a piece of flat wrought iron, about three-sixteenths by five inches and about a foot long, already lay on a smooth and heavy hardwood block. he tapped it sharply with the sword's edge. the blade rang like a bell; the iron showed a bright new scar; that was all. then a moderately heavy two-handed blow, about as hard as he had ever dared swing an iron sword. still no damage. then, heart in mouth, he gave the god-metal its final test; struck with everything he had, from heels and toes to finger-tips. he had never struck such a blow before, except possibly with a war-axe or a sledge. there was a ringing clang, two sundered slabs of iron flew to opposite ends of the room, the atrocious blade went on, half an inch deep into solid oak. he wrenched the weapon free and stared at the unmarred edge. unmarred! for an instant tedric felt as though he were about to collapse; but sheerest joy does not disable. there was nothing left to do except make the links, hinge-pins, and so on for his armor, which did not take long. hence, when the minions of sarpedion next appeared, armored this time in the heaviest and best iron they had and all set to overwhelm him by sheer weight of numbers, he was completely ready. nor was there palaver or parley. the attackers opened the door, saw the smith, and rushed. but tedric, although in plain sight, had chosen the battleground with care. he was in a corner. at his back a solid-walled stairway ran up to the second floor. on his right the wall was solid for twenty feet. on his left, beyond the stairwell, the wall was equally solid for twice as far. they would have to come after him, and as he retreated, they would be fighting their way up, and not more than two at a time. this first swing, horizontal and neck-high, was fully as fierce-driven as the one that had cloven the test-piece and almost ruined his testing-block. the god-metal blade scarcely slowed as it went through armor and flesh and bone. in fact, the helmet and the head within it remained in place upon the shoulders for what seemed like seconds before the body toppled and the arteries spurted crimson jets. he didn't have to hit so hard, then. good. nobody could last very long, the way he had started out. wherefore the next blow, a vertical chop, merely split a man to the chin instead of to the navel: and the third, a back-hand return, didn't quite cut the victim's head clear off. and the blows his steel was taking, aimed at head or neck or shoulder, were doing no harm at all. in fact, except for the noise, they scarcely bothered him. he had been designing and building armor for five years, and this was his masterpiece. the helmet was heavily padded: the shoulders twice as much so. he had sacrificed some mobility--he could not turn his head very far in either direction--but the jointing was such that the force of any blow on the helmet, from whatever direction coming, was taken by his tremendously capable shoulders. the weapons of the mercenaries could not dent, could not even nick, that case-hardened high-alloy steel. swords bent, broke, twisted; hammers and axes bounced harmlessly off. nevertheless the attackers pressed forward; and, even though each blow of his devastating sword took a life, tedric was forced backward up the stairs, step by step. then there came about that for which he had been waiting. a copper-clad priest appeared behind the last rank of mercenaries, staring upward at something behind the ironmaster, beckoning frantically. the priest had split his forces; had sent part of them by another way to the second floor to trap him between two groups; had come in close to see the trap sprung. this was it. taking a couple of quick, upward, backward steps, he launched himself into the air with all the power of his legs. and when two hundred and thirty pounds of man, dressed in eighty or ninety or a hundred pounds of steel, leaps from a height of eight or ten feet upon a group of other men, those other men go down. righting himself quickly, tedric sprang toward the priest and swung; swung with all the momentum of his mass and speed and all the power of his giant frame; swung as though he were concentrating into the blow all his hatred of sarpedion and everything for which sarpedion stood--which in fact he was. and what such a saber-scimitar, so driven, did to thin, showy copper armor and to the human flesh beneath it, is simply nothing to dwell upon here. "hold!" he roared at the mercenaries, who hadn't quite decided whether or not to resume the attack, and they held. "bu ... bub ... but you're dead!" the non-com stuttered. "you _must_ be--the great sarpedion would...." "a right lively corpse i!" tedric snarled. "your sarpedion, false god and coward, drinker of blood and slayer of the helpless, is weak, puny, and futile beside my llosir. hence, under llosir's shield and at llosir's direction, i shall this day kill your foul and depraved god; shall send him back to the grisly hell from whence he came. "nor do i ask you to fight for me. nor would i so allow; for i trust you not, though you swore by all your gods. do you fight for pleasure or for pay?" a growl was the only answer, but that was answer enough. "he of sarpedion who paid your wages lies there dead. all others of his ilk will die ere this day's sunset. be advised, therefore; fight no more until you know who pays. wouldst any more of you be split like white-fish ere i go? time runneth short, but i would stay and oblige if pressed." he was not pressed. tedric whirled and strode away. should he get his horse, or not? no. he had never ridden mighty dreegor into danger wearing armor less capable than his own, and he wouldn't begin now. the temple of sarpedion was a tall, narrow building, with a far-flung outside staircase leading up to the penthouse-like excrescence in which the green altar of sacrifice was. tedric reached the foot of that staircase and grimly, doggedly, cut his way up it. it was hard work, and he did not want to wear himself out too soon. he might need a lot, and suddenly, later on, and it would be a good idea to have something in reserve. as he mounted higher and higher, however, the opposition became less and less instead of greater and greater, as he had expected. priests were no longer there--he hadn't seen one for five minutes. and in the penthouse itself, instead of the solid phalanx of opposition he had _known_ would bar his way, there were only half a dozen mercenaries, who promptly turned tail and ran. "the way is clear! hasten!" tedric shouted, and his youthful squire rushed up the ramp with his axe and hammer. and with those ultra-hard, ultra-tough implements tedric mauled and chopped the image of the god. * * * * * devann, sarpedion's high priest, was desperate. he believed thoroughly in his god. equally thoroughly, however, he believed in the actuality and in the power of tedric's new god. he had to, for the miracle he had performed spoke for itself. while sarpedion had not appeared personally in devann's lifetime, he had so appeared many times in the past; and by a sufficiently attractive sacrifice he could be persuaded to appear again, particularly since this appearance would be in self-defense. no slave, or any number of slaves, would do. nor criminals. no ordinary virgin of the common people. this sacrifice must be of supreme quality. the king himself? too old and tough and sinful. ah ... the king's daughter.... at the thought the pit of his stomach turned cold. however, desperate situations require desperate remedies. he called in his henchmen and issued orders. * * * * * thus it came about that a towering figure clad in flashing golden armor--the king himself, with a few courtiers scrambling far in his wake--dashed up the last few steps just as tedric was wrenching out sarpedion's liver. "tedric, attend!" the monarch panted. "the priests have taken rhoann and are about to give her to sarpedion!" "they can't, sire. i've just killed sarpedion, right here." "but they _can_! they've taken the holiest one from the innermost shrine; have enshrined him on the temple of scheene. slay me those traitor priests before they slay rhoann and you may...." tedric did not hear the rest of it, nor was his mind chiefly concerned with the plight of the royal maid. it was sarpedion he was after. with a blistering oath he dropped the god's liver, whirled around and leaped down the stairway. it would do no good to kill only one sarpedion. he would have to kill them both, especially since the holiest one was the major image. the holiest one ... the sarpedion never before seen except by first-rank priests ... of _course_ that would be the one they'd use in sacrificing a king's daughter. he should have thought of that himself, sooner, damn him for a fool! it probably wasn't too late yet, but the sooner he got there, the better would be his chance of winning. hence he ran; and, farther and farther behind him, came the king and the courtiers. reaching the temple of scheene, he found to his immense relief that he would not have to storm that heavily-manned rampart alone. a full company of the royal guard was already there. battle was in progress, but very little headway was being made against the close-packed defenders of the god, and tedric knew why. a man fighting against a god was licked before he started, and knew it. he'd have to build up their morale. but did he have time? probably. they couldn't hurry things too much without insulting sarpedion, for the absolutely necessary ceremonies took a lot of time. anyway, he'd have to take the time, or he'd never reach the god. "art lord tedric?" a burly captain disentangled himself from the front rank and saluted. "i'm tedric, yes. knewst i was coming?" "yes, lord. orders came by helio but now. you are in command; you speak with the voice of king phagon himself." "good. call your men back thirty paces. pick me out the twelve or fifteen strongest, to lead. "men of the royal guard!" he raised his voice to a volume audible not only to his own men, but also to all the enemy. "who is the most powerful swordsman among you?... stand forward.... this armor i wear is not of iron, but of god-metal, the metal of llosir, my personal and all-powerful god. that all here may see and know, i command you to strike at me your shrewdest, most effective, most powerful blow." the soldier, after a couple of false starts, did manage a stroke of sorts. "i said _strike_!" tedric roared. "think you ordinary iron can harm the personal metal of a god? strike where you please, at head or neck or shoulder or guts, but strike as though you meant it! strike to kill! shatter your sword! strike!" convulsively, the fellow struck, swinging for the neck, and at impact his blade snapped into three pieces. a wave of visible relief swept over the guardsmen; one of dismay and shock over the ranks of the foe. "i implore pardon, lord," the soldier begged, dropping to one knee. "up, man! 'tis nothing, and by my direct order. now, men, i can tell you a thing you would not have fully believed before. i have just killed half of sarpedion and he could not touch me. i am about to kill his other half--you will see me do it. come what may of god or devil you need not fear it, for i and all with me fight under llosir's shield. we men will have to deal only with the flesh and blood of those runty mercenaries of tark." he studied the enemy formation briefly. a solid phalanx of spearmen, with shields latticed and braced; close-set spears out-thrust and anchored. strictly defensive; they hadn't made a move to follow nor thrown a single javelin when the king's forces withdrew. this wasn't going to be easy, but it _was_ possible. "we will make the formation of the wedge, with me as point," he went on. "sergeant, you will bear my sword and hammer. the rest of you will ram me into the center of that phalanx with everything of driving force that in you lies. i will make and maintain enough of opening. we'll go up that ramp like a fast ship plowing through waves. make wedge! drive!" except for his armor of god-metal tedric would have been crushed flat by the impact of the flying wedge against the soldiery packed so solidly on the stair. several of the foe were so crushed, but the new armor held. tedric could scarcely move his legs enough to take each step, his body was held as though in a vise, but his giant arms were free; and by dint of short, savage, punching jabs and prods and strokes of his atrocious war-axe he made and maintained the narrow opening upon which the success of the whole operation depended. and into that constantly-renewed opening the smith was driven--irresistibly driven by the concerted and synchronized strength of the strongest men of lomarr's royal guard. the result was not exactly like that of a diesel-powered snowplow, but it was good enough. the mercenaries did not flow over the sides of the ramp in two smooth waves. however, unable with either weapons or bodies to break through the slanting walls of iron formed by the smoothly-overlapping shields of the guardsmen, over the edges they went, the living and the dead. the dreadful wedge drove on. as the guardsmen neared the top of the stairway the mercenaries disappeared--enough of that kind of thing was a great plenty--and tedric, after a quick glance around to see what the situation was, seized his sword from the bearer. old devann had his knife aloft, but in only the third of the five formal passes. two more to go. "kill those priests!" he snapped at the captain. "i'll take the three at the altar--you fellows take the rest of them!" when tedric reached the green altar the sacrificial knife was again aloft; but the same stroke that severed devann's upraised right arm severed also his head and his whole left shoulder. two more whistling strokes and a moment's study of the scene of action assured him that there would be no more sacrifice that day. the king's archers had followed close behind the guards; the situation was well in hand. he exchanged sword for axe and hammer, and furiously, viciously, went to work on the god. he yanked out the holiest one's brain, liver, and heart; hammered and chopped the rest of him to bits. that done, he turned to the altar--he had not even glanced at it before. stretched taut, spread-eagled by wrists and ankles on the reeking, blood-fouled, green horror-stone, the lady rhoann lay, her yard-long, thick brown hair a wide-flung riot. six priests had not immobilized rhoann of lomarr without a struggle. her eyes went from shattered image to blood-covered armored giant and back to image; her face was a study of part-horrified, part-terrified, part-worshipful amazement. he slashed the ropes, extended his mailed right hand. "art hurt, lady rhoann?" "no. just stiff." taking his hand, she sat up--a bit groggily--and flexed wrists and ankles experimentally, while, behind his visor, the man stared and stared. tall--wide but trim--superbly made--a true scion of the old blood--llosir's liver, what a woman! he had undressed her mentally more than once, but his visionings had fallen short, far short, of the entrancing, the magnificent truth. _what_ a woman! a virgin? huh! technically so, perhaps ... more shame to those pusillanimous half-breed midgets of the court ... if _he_ had been born noble.... she slid off the altar and stood up, her eyes still dark with fantastically mixed emotions. she threw both arms around his armored neck and snuggled close against his steel, heedless that breasts and flanks were being smeared anew with half-dried blood. he put an iron-clad arm around her, moved her arm enough to open his visor, saw sea-green eyes, only a few inches below his own, staring straight into his. the man's quick passion flamed again. gods of the ancients, what a woman! _there_ was a mate for a full-grown man! "thank the gods!" the king dashed up, panting, but in surprisingly good shape for a man of forty-odd who had run so far in gold armor. "thanks be to all the gods you were in time!" "just barely, sire, but in time." "name your reward, lord tedric. i will be glad to make you my son." "not that, sire, ever. if there's anything in this world or the next i _don't_ want to be, it's lady rhoann's brother." "make him lord of the marches, father," the girl said, sharply. "knowst what the sages said." "'twould be better," the monarch agreed. "tedric of old lomarr, i appoint you lord of the upper, the middle, and the lower marches, the highest of the high." tedric went to his knees. "i thank you, sire. have i your backing in wiping out what is left of sarpedion's power?" "if you will support the throne with the strength i so clearly see is to be yours, i will back you, with the full power of the throne, in anything you wish to do." "of course i will support you, sire, as long as i live and with all that in me lies. since time first was my blood has been vassal to yours, and ever will be. my brain, my liver, and my heart are yours." "i thank you, lord tedric. proceed." tedric snapped to his feet. his sword flashed high in air. his heavy voice rang out. "people of lomarr, listen to a herald of the throne! sarpedion is dead; llosir lives. human sacrifice--yes, all sacrifice except the one i am about to perform, of sarpedion himself to llosir--is done. that is and will be the law. to that end there will be no more priests, but a priestess only. i speak as herald for the throne of lomarr!" he turned to the girl, still clinging to his side. "i had it first in mind, lady rhoann, to make you priestess, but...." "not i!" she interrupted, vigorously. "no priestess i, lord tedric!" "by llosir's brain, girl, you're right--you've been wasted long enough!" * * * * * _in another time-track another skandos and another furmin, almost but not quite identical with those first so named, pored over a chronoviagram._ _"the key point in time is there," the prime physicist said, thoughtfully, placing the point of his pencil near one jagged peak of the trace. "the key figure is lord tedric of lomarr, the discoverer of the carburization of steel. he could be manipulated very easily ... but, after all, the real catastrophe is about three hundred eighteen years away; there is nothing alarming about the shape of the curve; and any interference with the actual physical events of the past would almost certainly prove calamitous. over the years i have found your judgment good. what is your thought on this matter, furmin?"_ "_i would say to wait, at least for a few weeks or months. even though eight hundred twelve fails, number eight hundred fifty or number nine hundred may succeed. at very worst, we will be in the same position then as now to take the action which has for a hundred years been specifically forbidden by both council and school._" "_so be it._" the end * * * * * _the people who make_ other worlds no. 11 edward e. smith born may 2, 1890; sheboygan, wisconsin. in december of the same year the family moved to spokane, washington, where we lived for about twelve years. i went to school through the sixth grade, sold newspapers, and so on--the routine life of a husky kid living on the wrong side of the tracks. in 1902 we moved to a homestead on the pend d'oreille river, in northern idaho. there, besides picking up (in rather sketchy fashion) three more years of schooling, i worked at clearing land, harvesting, hay-baling, ranching, and umpteen different jobs in lumbering: from swamping out logs in the woods clear through to planing finished lumber in the mills. deciding that i didn't like the woods, i let my older brother and sisters back me into a stiff collar and ship me to the prep school of the university of idaho. from 1907 until 1914 i was either in school or earning money to go back. mining, surveying, dozens of jobs in many lines--far too many to list here. in 1914 i graduated in chemical engineering. first job offered was in food work in the bureau of chemistry, washington, d. c. took it, and started studying organic and food chemistry at george washington university. married jeannie macdougall, of boise, idaho (formerly of glasgow, scotland) on oct. 5, 1915. three children--and, as of 1952, eight grandchildren. became a specialist in cereal technology. came the war. wanted to fly a jenny, but chemists were too scarce. (or were jennies too valuable?) so they gave me a commission in the reserve and loaned me to herbert hoover--for the duration, as it turned out. in pursuit of my m.s. and ph.d. degrees i worked under charles e. munroe, probably the greatest high-explosives man yet to live. got 'em--the m.s. in 1917, the ph.d. in 1918; both from george washington university. chief chemist f. w. stock & sons, hillsdale, mich., from 1919 to 1936; where i developed a line of fully-prepared cereal mixes; the most important of which turned out to be donut mixes. from 1936 to 1941 i was production manager for the dawn donut co., of jackson, mich. shortly after pearl harbor i went to kingsbury ordnance plant, laporte, ind., as chemical engineer on high explosives. (i was one year over age for reinstatement of my world war one commission). senior chemical engineer, assistant chief, chief. late in 1943 i was made head of the inspection division, and early in 1944 i was fired. most of 1944 and most of 1945 i worked in various capacities on light farm machinery and heavy tanks for allis-chalmers. on oct. 1, 1945, i came to chicago as manager of the cereal mix division of j. w. allen & co., which position i still hold. it's the biggest and best job i ever had. it has only one drawback--on it, unfortunately, i not only can't write stories on company time, but (since i have to concentrate my one-cylinder brain on sf in order to write sf) i can't write on my own time because the job gets in the way. thus, i haven't done much writing since 1945. however, i hope to do more of it from now on. for, although i am only an amateur--or at best, a semi-pro--author, i certainly do not want to become an ex-author! z by charles l. fontenay _time reversal exists at the sub-atomic level according to feynman's theory--and according to that same theory any entity can exist in three places at one time.... does this explain, the strange co-existence of summer, mark and wyn?_ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from worlds of if science fiction, june 1956. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] what scientific or supernatural principle is behind the mysterious appearances recorded some years ago by mr. charles fort, i'm sure i don't know. it could, of course, be the same as that behind the sudden appearance of wyndham storm in central park, but i don't believe i've heard of a case that exactly paralleled this one. i gather from a perusal of mr. fort's works that it is not uncommon for these unheralded visitors to come onstage without the formality of clothing; but i don't believe it's customary for them to bring their wives along. i got caught in a thunderstorm that night in central park--not new york's central park, but allertown's central park, which isn't as big. having no raincoat--the skies had appeared clear when i left home for the movies--i took refuge in the big octagonal bandstand. the storm was brief, but spectacular; one of those violent affairs that often mark the arrival of a cold front to dispel an unusually intense midsummer heat wave. the rain slashed across the park in wind-whipped sheets, managing to drench me even in my shelter. big trees bowed low and reluctantly hurled away leaves and limbs. thunder rolled incessantly and the lightning made an eerie daylight of the blackness. suddenly, there was a terrific clap of thunder and a fiery flash that blotted out everything around me. shaken, i picked myself up from the floor of the bandstand, still not sure i hadn't been struck. blue smoke was boiling away from a wrecked tree about thirty feet away, in the midst of a clump of charred, waving shrubbery. and like venus rising from the foam the naked woman stepped out of the shrubbery, followed by the naked man. my first impulse was to laugh at these two whom the storm had chased from their hiding place and to be astonished at their brashness in disrobing completely in the heart of the park. then it occurred to me that the lightning must have stripped them. they might be hurt. i jumped from the bandstand and walked swiftly over to them. to my utter amazement, the young woman promptly threw her arms around my neck and said: "whatever has just happened, don, i want you to know it's you i love." then she kissed me. "what on earth!" i exclaimed, disengaging myself. the man was looking from one to the other of us, mutely. "i'm summer storm and this is my husband, wyn storm, and we live at 138 march street," she said, all in a rush. "oh, don, i'm sorry you don't know us any more, but i should have known from the way wyn was acting and everything that's going to happen...." "wait a minute, wait a minute!" i interrupted. "i don't know you. how did you know my name?" she didn't answer, but just stood there, looking at me intently. i averted my eyes. i was beginning to recover from shock enough to be embarrassed. "how about this?" i asked the man. "why should i know you, and where do you come from?" "i'm afraid i don't know," he replied, sounding perfectly honest about it. "i'm afraid i don't remember anything. do you suppose i have amnesia?" "that's possible," i said. "but your wife seems not to be bothered with it. all right. summer storm and wyn storm it is--but the names are too trite in these circumstances not to be false. both of you had better get back in the shrubbery while i get some help." i found the policeman on the main street beat. as i thought, it was my old friend, gus adams. he accompanied me back to the park, the rain gleaming on his slicker. "they picked a good address to lie about," he said, when i had explained the situation to him on the way. "the house at 138 march street is vacant." "they're probably spooners who got caught by that lightning bolt and are too ashamed to give their right names," i said. "if they had any clothes, i don't know what happened to them. i didn't see any in those bushes." "what do you figure i ought to do with them, mr. gracey?" he asked. "they look like decent youngsters," i said. "if it's all right with you, we'll take them out to my house until they're ready to let me help them get back where they came from." "you're taking a chance," he grunted. but we wrapped the woman in his slicker and tied my best suit coat around the man's waist. gus called the town's only patrol car and had them drive us out to my house. i suppose nudists and doctors eventually reach the point where they look on nakedness as normal. but, to me, my "orphans of the storm" looked a lot more like human beings when i had them clothed in a couple of my old sweaters and some slacks. they might have been twins. for all i knew, they were, in spite of the woman's claim that they were man and wife. their eyes were an identical sky-blue, their hair an identical pale, wavy gold. her hair was cut short, his needed cutting, so they were a good match. i judged their ages to be about 23, although i've been over-estimating young women's ages since i passed 30. "now, suppose you tell me where you're from and what this is all about," i said sternly, when they had finished eating the meal i had rustled up for them. the man spread his hands and, for the first time, he smiled. it was the smile of an archangel. whatever the failure of his memory, his smile was that of wisdom and patience. i was to find, not much later, that the woman's smile was its feminine counterpart. "i'm afraid i don't remember anything before standing in the park in the rain," said the man. "what's wrong? what's wrong, don?" demanded the woman, a note of hysteria in her voice. "what's happening to us?" "it's just that i don't understand this situation at all," i said. "you say you're husband and wife. then you won't mind both sleeping here in the den, and tomorrow we'll see what we can find out." in this remarkable fashion began a remarkable fifteen years. * * * * * looking back on it, i suppose i loved summer storm from the time i saw her. i've been trying to decide what that makes me. incestuous? just narcissistic? or, perhaps, jovian? she was alone in the den when i looked in the next morning before breakfast. wyn--short for "wyndham," i learned later--was wandering around in the back yard, looking lost. summer had a pair of my scissors in her hand, evidently preparing to trim her hair. somewhat to my surprise, she looked contrite when she saw me. "i just thought i might look better with short hair," she explained. "good lord, it's too short now!" i exclaimed. "i like women with long hair." she hesitated, then reached up to begin clipping. somewhat nettled, i turned on my heel and walked out. that incident is noteworthy for its strange sequel. at breakfast, i was thunderstruck to observe that summer storm's hair was long--at least shoulder length, for it was done up in a neat bun behind her head. where in my house had she found a wig to match her own hair? and how long must the wig have been originally, for her to have cut from it the long tresses i found later in the wastebasket? after breakfast, i took wyn with me to check on the house at 138 march street. i left summer at home. although she claimed to remember things and wyn said he couldn't, i could make nothing of her "memories." there was a strangeness about talking with her, too, something i couldn't quite put my finger on yet. as gus had said, the house at 138 march street was vacant. it was for rent. the owner, old albert meecham, lived next door, and i made an impulsive decision on the spot. "your wife insists you live here, so you two must be connected with this address in some way," i told wyn. "i'll rent the place for you while we're trying to run down some information on your background. if you decide to stay in allertown, you can pay me back after you get a job." the only way i knew to probe the origins of wyn and summer was through the customary channels. that afternoon, i went down to the police station to talk with my friend, gus, before he started on his beat. the allertown police station is nothing but a room in the ancient city hall, a block off main street, but it does have a separate outside entrance. gus was sitting on a bench in the shade by the entrance, fanning himself with his cap. the perspiration pasted his dark blue shirt to his well-padded arms and chest. the relief the storm had brought hadn't lasted long. i sat down on the other end of the bench. "gus," i said, "can you fellows help me find out who those people are we picked up in the park last night? it's funny, but the man has amnesia, and i think the woman's a little strange in the head." gus looked at me a little reproachfully. he laid the cap down, to pull his handkerchief from his hip pocket and mop his brow. "you mean that story you told me was the truth?" he asked. "i thought they might be some relatives of yours, that had got into some sort of a scrape. both of them look a lot like you." "do they? well, they're no relatives of mine. i'd like to know just who they are. mr. and mrs. wyndham storm, she says." "they don't come from allertown," he said. "i'd know them if they was from allertown. but they was raised around in this country somewhere." "how do you know that?" "there's a way of talking folks have around here. you don't hear it outside these three or four counties, and you wouldn't notice it if you wasn't watching for it. take my word for it, those folks was born and raised not fifty miles from here." "well, just to be on the safe side, you'd better check to see that they're not wanted criminals," i said. "amnesia would make a good dodge for a criminal." "i've already done that," he said quietly. "they're not." wyn and summer weren't missing persons from anywhere in our section of the state, either. gus looked into that angle very thoroughly during the next few weeks, and reported failure. wyn got a job as clerk at mcclellan's dry goods store and, for reasons he did not confide to me, enrolled in night classes at slayden college. he and summer soon were established in the neighborhood as "that nice young couple that don gracey brought in from somewhere out west." how the townspeople got started on that western origin theory, i don't know; i suppose it's natural for people to tack some sort of an origin on strangers. i confess that their origin soon became a matter of minor importance to me, although i remained curious about it. i found wyn extremely likeable; we became very close friends, although i estimate that i am ten to fifteen years older than wyn. and, as i say, i was in love with summer, although it was a long time before i admitted that to myself. i told myself i felt about summer as i would my own daughter, if a bachelor like me could say such a thing; and i felt toward wyn as though he were my son. there was a good deal of accuracy to that description of my feelings, but there was a mystery about summer that drew me powerfully. i think the unattainable in woman is always irresistible. summer had the most peculiar air of unattainability about her i ever have experienced. it was as though, when i touched her, it was a fleeting touch; when i looked at her, i was constantly beset by the feeling that she would, the next instant, shimmer into insubstantiality. talking with her heightened this illusion, rather than lessening it. a conversation with summer was a unique experience. it was a little like two people trying to talk at once, each talking, then each hesitating to let the other have his say. our words crossed each other, like scissor blades that do not quite meet. she might answer a question before it was asked, or take the conversation off on tangent after tangent. disconnected, discontinuous--those adjectives describe our conversations. except for his amnesia, dating back to the night in the park, wyn was perfectly normal. after some time, he confided that he, too, was concerned about summer's strangeness. i got the impression from him--though he did not go into great detail--that it extended beyond her conversation, to her actions. "it seems to me that i ought to know what's wrong with summer," he told me, very puzzled about it. "i mean, it seems i ought to remember. but i don't. i've gone so far as to talk it over with her." "what did she say?" i asked. "she said she wasn't going to tell me now. she said she'd tell me one of these days, but that when she did, i'd leave her. she smiled all the time she was saying it, in the strangest way." well, we had summer examined. old doctor lodge is no psychiatrist, but a man isn't a general practitioner for as long as he's been at it without learning something about the way a person's mind ticks. he said there was nothing wrong with summer, mentally. "she acts like she's still suffering a little from some sort of shock," he said. "if she was right next to a lightning bolt when it struck, i'm not surprised. it's lasting a little longer than such things usually do, but it'll clear up." it didn't clear up, but wyn and i got used to it. amateurs, they say, shouldn't fool around with hypnosis, and i suppose there's a sound reason behind that admonition. but i'm a little better than the average amateur hypnotist. i've not only done a good deal of it at club benefits and what not, but i've read pretty heavily in psychology. i decided to see if hypnotizing wyn would give me any clue to his past and summer's. summer sat beside me that night at their home, as i went through the familiar motions and wyn sank into hypnotic trance. under hypnosis, wyn recalled easily everything that had happened since that night in the park. but attempts to regress him past that night brought only a death-like silence, in which he sat pale and immobile. i tried several times, and at last succeeded in getting him in an extremely deep hypnotic state. suddenly, summer interrupted with an exclamation. "that's me!" she exclaimed. "that's what i told him four years ago!" "quiet, summer," i commanded, looking at her curiously. "i think i may be able to get something out of wyn now." despite total lack of response when regressed to ages 22 and 20, i regressed him to age 18. he stirred and murmured. his eyelids fluttered. "what do you see?" i asked eagerly. "what are you doing?" "wyn?" he exclaimed. his voice was clear and treble, the voice of a woman, as he called his own name. he clenched his fists, and moved his head from side to side. "wyn, i'm going to have a baby!" "what!" i exploded, amazed. "wyn, what do you see?" he opened his eyes. "why, i see you, don," he said in his normal hearty voice. "what else should i see?" with a suddenness i never have seen before or since, he had come out of the hypnotic state. i was afraid to delve any deeper. i didn't try hypnosis again. * * * * * during these first few years, wyn and summer gradually lost that identity of appearance which had made them look so much like twins the night i found them in the park. wyn aged, not excessively but as any adult man would age in a few years. summer, on the other hand, seemed to have found the secret of eternal youth. she grew ever more delicate and beautiful, and her fair skin seemed to take on a translucent glow. i was a close friend of the couple, and i found that i was alone with summer a good deal. summer had shown an interest in schooling, too. she started in college with wyn, then dropped back to high school, and finally fell back on studying at home. it wasn't that she wasn't bright. she seemed to recognize the facts she was studying almost at once, but tests and examinations were her downfall. she never could remember enough of the things she had studied to make a passing grade. so i went to the house at 138 march street often in the early evenings, to help summer in her studies. their son was born about six years after they came to allertown. it was a peculiar thing. there was no noticeable sign of pregnancy. summer was sure she was pregnant, but doctor lodge scoffed at her, right up to the time of the birth. "sure, she has milk," he told wyn and me, tugging at his white mustache and giving us a wise smile. "it's not unusual. she isn't carrying a child, though. it's a false pregnancy." but the child was born. then doctor lodge reversed himself and insisted she was carrying an unborn twin. again he was wrong. summer gradually but steadily recovered from the effects of the birth and regained her slender figure. i still do not attempt to excuse wyn for leaving his wife and newborn son. he was overwrought, it's true, but he should have taken them with him. instead, he came to me, his suitcase packed, when the child was about a month old. his face showed his agitation. "don, i'm leaving summer," he said abruptly. "wyn! why? what's happened?" "i found out yesterday why she acts and talks so strangely. she told me. i couldn't sleep last night, and i've decided i must leave allertown. somewhere there may be people who can help me, but i can't find the help i need here." "was it so terrible?" i asked, trying to calm him. "what did she tell you, wyn?" he leaned forward intensely, pointing a finger at me, and opened his mouth to speak. then he shut it and sat back. he shook his head. "no," he said. "maybe it wouldn't affect you as it has me, but you couldn't feel comfortable about it. all i want from you, don, is the promise that you'll take care of summer and little mark for me until i come back." "you know i'll do that. they can move in here right away. but i think you're making a mistake, running away from whatever it is." "i'm not running away," he replied. "i told you, i've got to have help." that's all he would say. he left on the mid-afternoon train for mayer city, and i went around to 138 march street to help move his wife and child into my own home. i didn't recall until three days later that summer had predicted--or so wyn had said--that when she told him why she acted as she did, he would leave her. * * * * * if i can't excuse wyn for leaving his wife and child, i have even less excuse for becoming his wife's lover. the fact that the interlude may have been necessary to his very existence--and hers--is no justification, for i did not know that then. nor do i know it certainly now. but picture the plight of a man who has in his home a young and beautiful woman, the realization growing on him, day by day, that he has loved her for six years. and it was summer's fault, as much as my own. perhaps more. despite wyn's words, i could not be sure that he would return to her, and certainly she must have known that he would. despite this, she did more than merely encourage me. i have wondered often about the philosophical implications of this fact. if summer had not encouraged me, i wouldn't have been bold enough to make any advances on my own account ... and where would that have left summer? on the other hand, it was the most natural thing in the world that summer should encourage me. she knew. wyn had been away only about two months when summer, rousing herself from a deeply pensive mood one night, sat down by my side on the sofa and snuggled up close to me. i couldn't bring myself to pull away from her, but i exclaimed: "summer, this isn't right. what about wyn?" "i don't understand this coolness toward me, don," she said, laying her head on my shoulder. "people who love each other shouldn't act so aloof." i was thunderstruck at this admission. but i couldn't help saying what i said then. "i do love you, summer," i confessed, almost choking. at once she arose and left me. i thought i had offended her, and i was almost relieved that i had. it was best that she should be discouraged about any ideas she might have about me. but thirty minutes later she gave me a smile that made me not so sure she was offended. and the incident seemed to increase, rather than dampen, the warmth of her attitude toward me. it was unpardonable, with wyn gone so short a time, but i had no strength to resist the inexorable attentions of a woman i loved. when she came to me in negligee late one night a week later, i became summer's lover. i have said it was partly summer's fault, and the sequence of events would make it appear almost entirely her fault. this is not true; and i found out several years later why it is not true. my inexcusable affair with summer lasted for about a year, before the conversation occurred which caused me to terminate it abruptly. i had just entered the parlor, where summer was curled in a big chair, reading. "i don't see any reason for our not loving each other, if we really do, don," she said petulantly. "wyn says he's my husband, but i don't feel that he is. why should i be tied by a marriage ceremony i don't know anything about yet?" i could not answer, for i was looking at her through new eyes. her tone of voice had been so like that of an indignant child that it awakened me to something i should have seen before. how like an adolescent girl she was, really! the pale gold hair framed a young face. despite the rondures of her figure, there was a looseness about the way her legs were attached to her pelvis, giving her frame that impression of hollowness that is frequent among slender young virgins. in the seven years i had known her, how could i ever have built up in my mind the picture of her as a mature woman? when i thought about that sudden protestation of hers, made after we had lived as man and wife for a year, it seemed to me that it could only have arisen from remorse at such a situation. but it was neither this nor the fact that i was wronging her and wyn that caused me to resolve then and there that never again would i so much as kiss her. it was that she was too young! i did not waver in that resolve, from that time on. but i thought a great deal about this matter: i had known summer for seven years and she had been a woman when i first saw her. yet her youthful appearance now made it impossible that she should have been adult then. surely my memory did not play me wrong in picturing the summer storm i had seen that night in the park; indeed, the picture of her was burned indelibly on my mind. she must have, in the interim, become slighter, even smaller. oddly, this slenderizing process, once i noticed it, seemed reluctant to stop. the bathroom scales proved that she was losing weight slowly, but in her appearance the decline progressed much more rapidly. she began to get leggy and angular and she completely lost the once-voluptuous contours of her body, despite all the milk and starchy foods i could feed her. nor was it that she lost appetite. she ate voraciously. at the same time, i became convinced she was losing her memory. chance remarks dropped at odd times indicated that her recollection of wyn, of the events before mark's birth, of all her past life in allertown, was extremely faulty; she never had shown signs of remembering any events before she came to allertown. as a matter of fact, it became increasingly apparent that she no longer accepted mark as her son. the boy was growing out of babyhood with that speed which is so remarkable in children. she cared for him solicitously, but seemed to look on him as her little brother. of course, i took her to doctor lodge. he, in turn, went with us to consult doctors at mayer city. he could find nothing wrong with summer physically, nor could they. they seemed to think we were faking. they heard my assurances, and those of doctor lodge, that summer must be approaching the age of thirty, with obvious skepticism. "there is nothing wrong with this girl except an unfortunate emotional aberration," one doctor told me flatly. "physiologically she is a girl of about fourteen, and it is difficult for me to believe that her chronological age is any higher." "as i told you before, she has a son nearly four years old," i said. "i don't say that's impossible at her age, for it isn't," he retorted. "but this girl has never been a mother. she's a virgin." i should have realized what all this meant. i believe there have been such cases in medical history before. but i suppose i was too close to it. i didn't understand, even when summer reposed childish confidence in me. "i know what's going to happen, you know, because it's already happened to me," she said. she was a skinny girl now, with enormous blue eyes. "you know what's happened, because it's already happened to you. isn't it funny?" fortunately, wyn returned not long after that. wyn had the answer to the questions that had been puzzling me. * * * * * wyn gave no warning of his return. he just walked into the house one afternoon, carrying a suitcase and smoking a pipe. when i found wyn and summer in the park, they had appeared to be twins. during wyn's absence his hair had begun to gray--prematurely, i'm sure--and now he looked like summer's father. the change in her must have been even more noticeable to him than it was to me, because he had been separated from her during its most remarkable development. but he showed no surprise at it. "i knew what the trouble was before i left," he said soberly. "you see, as summer's husband i was much closer to her than you could be, even since she and the boy have been living with you." i could feel my ears turning red. i asked hurriedly: "what is wrong with summer, wyn?" "she lives backwards," he said. "time is reversed for her. it isn't only a physiological reversal. everything goes backwards in time for her. the future is the past to summer, and the past is the unknown future. she remembers the future, don--she remembers it, because she has seen it happen." "that's impossible!" i exclaimed. "how can she? it hasn't happened yet!" "to her it has," he replied. "it may upset your conception of the future as a fluid thing of limitless possibilities, but summer's experience is pretty good evidence that it is as frozen and stable as the past. as the orientals say, what is to be will be." i thought about that, and i thought i detected a flaw. "oh, no!" i said. "wait a minute here, wyn. if she can't remember the past even a minute ahead, you couldn't even talk with her. she'd remember what you were going to say, instead of what you had said. not only that, she'd talk backward! you'd never be able to understand her." "people are adaptable," he replied. "she evidently learned to talk backward--to her; correctly, to us. people learn to talk so others can understand them. and as for conversation, do you remember summer ever answering a question directly?" i started to say i did, for it seemed that i did. but a moment's reflection changed my mind. not a direct question; and her participation in a conversation always had been a jumpy and disturbing thing. "but we can talk with summer," i protested. "for years we've been able to understand each other." "like writing letters that cross in the mails," he said. "and i think people do have some knowledge of the immediate future, even you and i. summer would develop that faculty more than the average person." certainly. no wonder she had been so affectionate to me that it had been impossible for me to resist her. to her, at that time, we had already been lovers. by the same token, my own knowledge when the affair was concluded that we had been lovers must have created in me an attitude that was a strong incentive for her to yield to me at the end of our relationship--the beginning, to her. what a way to live! always trying to guess, from the conversation of those around her, what (to her) was going to happen, so she could react intelligently. "but," i protested, still unwilling to accept it, "if the past is the future to her, her actions could affect the past." "exactly," he said. "i told you, this means you have to accept the principle that the past is just as mallable as the future, and the future is no more mallable than the past." wyn had known all this before he left. he had gone, not just to avoid seeing his wife revert to childhood before his eyes, but to delve into studies on the nature of time itself. where he had been, how he had supported himself i didn't know. i still don't know. summer, her age now about thirteen, was old enough to understand that she was wyn's wife, but he did not resume his position as husband to her. instead, he acted toward her and mark both as a father. me? i suppose i was something in the nature of a benevolent uncle now. as a matter of fact, wyn plunged so deeply into work that the task devolved upon me to be both father and mother to summer and her child. mark, developing apace into a vigorous young specimen, looked like both his parents--since their features were so much alike, he could not be said to resemble one more than the other. wyn did not return with his family to the house at 138 march street. it had long been occupied by someone else. he moved in with us and, with my tacit consent, made my home both his home and the headquarters for his work. his work actually was double. he got a good job, this time as engineer at the allertown mill industries. during all his spare time, he worked at converting my precious den and my basement into something completely beyond my understanding. there are some people who accept misfortune and live with it--or die with it. others battle it angrily to the bitter end, even when there is no evidence that anyone ever conquered their particular misfortune before. admittedly, there was little precedent for summer's case; and this made the prognosis even less optimistic. still, wyn was constitutionally the latter type of person. "i don't know how much longer she lived in the past before you found us," he told me. "nothing i could do has helped my amnesia for that period. she may have lived to a ripe old age, for all i know. "but we know that she has only a few years to live, the way she is now--perhaps twelve or thirteen. that's her physical age, and she is living backwards toward babyhood." "what will she do?" i asked curiously. "just fade away?" "she has to be born," he answered solemnly. "my guess is that, a few years in the future, there will occur the most unique birth ever known to man--a birth in reverse. some couple, somewhere--perhaps someone we know here in allertown--will live through the experience of the daughter they never knew reentering the mother's womb and retracing her steps through the embryo stage to the moment of conception." "fantastic!" i exclaimed. "it must be true;" he insisted. "it has to be true, unless she reversed ... will reverse ... her direction in time after birth. in that case, perhaps some baby girl here even now is summer, living coexistently with her reversed self." "if you're going to reverse her direction in time again and make her live normally," i said, for he already had told me this was his aim, "i don't see how you can prevent a paradox. she has already lived in the past as an adult woman. if you reverse her existence at this stage, then she can't be born, because she'd be living from her present age on, both forward and backward in time." he shook his head. "i don't know," he said. "perhaps it can't be done. perhaps it would involve a parallel time stream, if there is such a thing. all i know is that i must try. if i can, she might still consent to be my wife later, if the difference in our ages isn't too great. that would be up to her." "i don't see how you even know where to start on such a project," i confessed. "the chances are slim," he admitted, "but i have some hope. the only actual time reversal we know, scientifically, is at the sub-atomic level. the theory was advanced by feynman that annihilation of an electron-positron pair upon contact might be, not actual annihilation, but a 'time reversal' of the electron. the emission of a photon of energy, in such cases, is powerful enough to cause a recoil in time, and the positron is merely the electron traveling backward through time after the energy explosion." i looked extremely blank. "look," said wyn, taking up a pencil. he drew a big "z" on a piece of scrap paper, labelling the two arms "e" and the connecting line "p". the angles he marked "a" and "b:" * * * * * "the flow of time is from left to right," he explained. "at left is the past, at right the future. this electron, e, is moving normally along at the top of the diagram when it runs into an energy explosion at a. it reverses itself, going back through time as the positron, p, until it hits another energy explosion at b. then it is reversed again into the right time direction, continuing as the electron e, at the bottom. you follow the line, as the pencil point does in making the z, and it's a single body." e -------- /a / / /p / / / e b --------"but," and he drew a vertical line through the z, "we move always forward in time. to us, the energy explosion at b happens before the one at a. suddenly at b, a positron and an electron are created out of nothing. the electron at the top apparently has nothing to do with either of them. but the positron moves along and collides with it at a, leaving nothing there again--except, once more, an apparently unrelated electron, the one at the bottom of the diagram." "but you're saying the same thing can exist in three places at once," i objected. "exactly, but in one of those places, it's traveling backward in time. so, if summer's time reversal occurred or will occur after birth, she may be existing somewhere else, as a younger girl, right now; besides being here in the house with us." "your example is, as you say, at the atomic level," i said. "how can you transfer that into terms of human beings?" "the only thing i know to do," he said, "is to create an energy explosion which i know won't hurt summer physically, but may reverse her back to a normal direction. it would be like the energy explosion that meets the positron at b and forces it to continue existence as an electron." "it appears to me," i said slowly, trying to grasp the concept, "that your explosion at b would have to have happened already if it were going to happen at all." the amazing thing about it is that wyn, the man who had studied all this thoroughly, apparently didn't understand what i meant. it just goes to show that he must have been right, when he said the future is as fixed as the past. * * * * * it took wyn four years to get his equipment ready for a test. he explained to me what it was supposed to do, but i never did get more than a general idea of the principle involved. the heart of the thing was a heavily wired chamber in the basement. "the human body can take a lot of electricity, if it's administered in the right way," he said. "if it's administered in the wrong way, you've electrocuted somebody. "i still don't know whether i've probed the secrets of the space-time fabric deeply enough to make this work, but i think it will reverse the charge of every atomic particle in the body of whatever is in that cubicle. i'm going to put a cat in it, as our first time-traveler. "we may turn up with a cat and an anti-cat, the latter traveling backward in time. we may end with no cat at all. if so, maybe we've created an anti-cat in the past or maybe we've just electrocuted a cat." "i don't see how you expect to interpret your results," i commented drily. "if there's no cat, i won't risk it," he answered. "if we double our cats, i think we're on the way to something that may help summer." we picked our way through the mess of wiring and went upstairs. he had torn my bookcases out of one wall of the den and installed a control board with a television screen where the fireplace had been. "the experiment will be controlled from here," he said. "the energies that are going to run around all over the basement would make it pretty dangerous for anyone down there. i'm sorry you can't watch, but somebody's got to keep the children away from here." when he said "children," he meant summer and mark. summer now looked as much a twin to her nine-year-old son as she had looked to her husband when i first saw them. at the last two christmases, we had bought toys for both of them, and she played happily with mark. she called wyn "daddy" and me "uncle don," just as mark did. making them look even more like twins as we entered the living room on the day of wyn's experiment was the fact that they were dressed alike. she wore a pair of mark's overalls, and both had on t-shirts. at the moment, the two were trying to put doll clothes on thomas, the stray yellow cat wyn had picked up for his experiment. we had had thomas about six months now. wyn and i had dubbed the animal "tom," unaware of its sex--it had borne kittens during its stay with us--but the children thought the cat too dignified for the nickname. it was, except when they were trying out their various original ideas on it. "thomas is our first heroine--or martyr," said wyn, and swept the cat up from the floor. over the protests of the children, he stripped off the doll clothing. "you youngsters go out on the side lawn and play. uncle don will take care of you for a while." caring for the children had been my chore for so long i was accustomed to the peculiarities involved. mark was as much a problem as any normal, active boy--no more. but summer's reverse living, her reverse memory, made her even more difficult to deal with as she reverted to childish habits and attitudes. for some weeks now, she had indulged in the fantasy that she was mark and mark was she, a game mark rebelled at strenuously. at the same time, her manner of speaking had become so confused and tangled that it was often incoherent. if wyn failed in his experiment, the next nine years threatened to be trying indeed. the children left the house with me docilely enough, but as soon as we reached the lawn mark burst into tears. "what's the matter with you, young fellow?" i asked in surprise. "what's daddy going to do to thomas?" he demanded. "daddy's going to hurt thomas!" "don't worry, thomas isn't going to be hurt," i reassured him, aware that i might not be telling the truth. the boy looked at me straight. "i know what a martyr is," he said indignantly, his sobs subsiding. "i studied joan of arc in school." "daddy ... thomas in big furnace put," summer informed us in her labored fashion. "thomas all burnt up was going to. him ... but i him saved. saved him, summer and i." "neither one of you is going to do anything about thomas right now," i said brusquely, recognizing summer's use of the past tense as an expression of intention. "when daddy's through with thomas, you may play with him again." mark subsided, but he retained on his face a rebellious expression which had by now become familiar to me. summer, although she said nothing for a few moments, became more excited. she alternately flushed and paled, breathing hard, until i began to fear she was ill. now a deep, powerful hum arose from the house. wyn had switched on the power and was ready for his experiment. it was a tremendous volume of sound, a physical thing that throbbed through the ground under our feet and caused the leaves of the trees to tremble as in a breeze. an electric tension filled the air and seemed to intensify summer's agitation. her eyes dilated in fright and her teeth began to chatter. "away got i but!" she cried suddenly in a shrill voice. "up blew it before away ran he and thomas saved i! me with up blew it and fire of full furnace big a was it! furnace a in thomas had they!" "here, child!" i shouted above the increasing roar of the generators. "you're hysterical. nothing's going to happen to thomas." she quieted abruptly, glaring at mark in affright. he stared back, equally alarmed. "he isn't, summer he's?" she asked me plaintively. "boy a be summer could how? mark i'm know i." i didn't understand this at all, especially when summer began feeling her arms and legs and inspecting herself all over, carefully. the sound of the machinery in the basement reached a shrieking crescendo that must have put the teeth of everyone in the neighborhood on edge. mark came to life. his eyes shining fiercely, he grasped summer by the arm. "are they going to hurt thomas?" he demanded intently. "are they, summer?" she looked at me, not the boy, and suddenly she was calm as though in the grip of profound shock. i could hardly hear her quiet, childish voice through the noise from the basement. "where ... know ... don't," she began haltingly. "gone ... summer's but. furnace the in him had they. thomas saved i." her voice trailed to a gurgle and then she began to chant, "burn thomas burn thomas burn thomas...." the boy suddenly broke from her and began to run for the house. and, backward, she ran after him. caught by surprise, it was a moment before i could gather my wits and follow, shouting at them. they had disappeared around the corner of the house, and i rounded it in time to see them tug open the outside basement door and vanish inside. an eerie blue light flickered from the open door. trying to run too fast, i tripped over the garden hose and fell. i got to my feet, momentarily dazed. the explosion knocked me flat on my back, blinded by the flash that burst from the basement windows and through the cracking walls. the blast tilted the den up from the bottom. its metal and concrete floor, reinforced for the experiment, buckled but remained unbroken, like a giant slide. down that slide, through the smashed walls, wyn catapulted, to fall unhurt into the grass. but the rest of the house crumpled in on the basement and caught fire. under the blazing piles of ruins, i could only surmise, were trapped the children, both mother and son. * * * * * i wept frantically. at my age, i must have been a pitiful spectacle. neighbors put their arms around my shoulders, tried to comfort me. in contrast, wyn was remarkably calm as he reported to gus adams. "every precaution was taken, mr. adams," he said, staring morosely into the smoking embers of the house. "both of them ran into the basement just before the explosion. there was nothing anyone could do after that." "too bad, mr. storm, to lose your wife and son all at once," said gus sympathetically, writing in his report book. we had kept summer pretty well concealed behind the high board fence in recent years, so few people were aware of her retrogression. "if there's anything i can do to help, let me know." i upbraided wyn for his apparent callousness when we got to a room at the city hotel. "you may be right," he said. "but, first, i want to know something." he had me relate to him everything that had transpired with the children after we left the house. he made me repeat several points and questioned me closely. he was interested particularly in what summer had said, how she had said it and how she had acted. the whole thing was so clearly impressed on my mind, as it is today, that i'm sure i made few errors. "well," he said, when i had finished, "we'll never see either of them again, but i think i can say definitely they weren't killed in that explosion." "i don't see how you can say that!" i exclaimed. "you remember what i told you--that if summer's existence had been reversed in time after she was born, she was existing somewhere else at the same time? living normally as a younger child in one place, and as we knew her in reverse?" i did remember it. "well, she was. but we thought she'd be a girl in both instances. when her time direction was reversed, so was her sex. _mark and summer were the same person!_" i gasped. wyn took a piece of hotel stationery from the rickety desk and scratched a zigzag on it with his pen. it was a figure like the one he had drawn in the library of our home, except that the top arm of this z was very short. he labelled the top arm of the z "mark," and the diagonal "summer." "my mistake was that i thought my energy explosion would be at b, throwing summer back into a normal time direction. instead, it was at a, reversing the time direction of mark's existence: and the reversed mark was summer." "but mark was summer's son." i exclaimed. "curious, isn't it?" he agreed, smiling strangely. "she gave birth to herself, like the phoenix. nor is that all. she conceived herself!" with a firm hand, he wrote "wyn" above the bottom arm of the z! the diagram looked like this: mark ------- /explosion / / /summer / / / wyn storm -----------"the re-reversal!" his blue eyes were a little self conscious as they looked at me now. "don, i was born mark storm. this explosion today reversed my time direction and i became summer storm, to give birth to myself nine years ago. and in a terrific burst of natural energy that you yourself saw, a crucible so fiery that it could wrench the very inner fabric and physical form of the body, the time flow for me was twisted back to its proper direction that night in the park and i became myself--to father myself six years later! "i was my mother. i am my own father and my own son!" * * * * * there it is. wyn believes he sprang from nothingness, from himself. amid the wreckage of the laws of cause and effect that this whole thing involves, it's possible, i suppose. but a couple of details still bother me, details i haven't mentioned to wyn. oh, it isn't the coincidences. if the future is fixed as is the past, they wouldn't necessarily be coincidences: things like summer--in the reversed time in which she lived--stripping off her clothes, donning gus adams' raincoat over her nakedness and going with us out to the park, to that rendezvous with the lightning and wyn. one of the details i can't take is that it's hard to believe that, even in such strange twistings and turnings of time, any creature can initiate itself and, in effect, spring from nothing--though wyn says it's done at the sub-atomic level in simple terms of conversion of energy to matter. but how about the fact that such a complicated creature as man is built by the action of the genes and chromosomes? the other is that year that i was summer's lover. if she was living backward biologically, wouldn't that apply, too, to the growth of an unborn child while it was still part of her. and wyn left allertown right after mark's birth. i've heard of virgin mothers. i'd rather believe in a "virgin father" than human creation from nothingness. i once had hair, and it was blond. my eyes are blue. i look in the mirror, and then i look at wyn lounging at ease behind his newspaper. my son? my motherless son? transcriber's note this etext was produced from the september 1960 issue of if. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u. s. copyright on this publication was renewed. obvious printer's and punctuation errors have been fixed. original page numbers have been retained. [illustration] the six fingers of time [illustration] _time is money. time heals all wounds. given time, anything is possible. and now he had all the time in the world!_ by r. a. lafferty illustrated by gaughan he began by breaking things that morning. he broke the glass of water on his night stand. he knocked it crazily against the opposite wall and shattered it. yet it shattered slowly. this would have surprised him if he had been fully awake, for he had only reached out sleepily for it. nor had he wakened regularly to his alarm; he had wakened to a weird, slow, low booming, yet the clock said six, time for the alarm. and the low boom, when it came again, seemed to come from the clock. he reached out and touched it gently, but it floated off the stand at his touch and bounced around slowly on the floor. and when he picked it up again it had stopped, nor would shaking start it. he checked the electric clock in the kitchen. this also said six o'clock, but the sweep hand did not move. in his living room the radio clock said six, but the second hand seemed stationary. "but the lights in both rooms work," said vincent. "how are the clocks stopped? are they on a separate circuit?" he went back to his bedroom and got his wristwatch. it also said six; and its sweep hand did not sweep. "now this could get silly. what is it that would stop both mechanical and electrical clocks?" he went to the window and looked out at the clock on the mutual insurance building. it said six o'clock, and the second hand did not move. "well, it is possible that the confusion is not limited to myself. i once heard the fanciful theory that a cold shower will clear the mind. for me it never has, but i will try it. i can always use cleanliness for an excuse." the shower didn't work. yes, it did: the water came now, but not like water; like very slow syrup that hung in the air. he reached up to touch it there hanging down and stretching. and it shattered like glass when he touched it and drifted in fantastic slow globs across the room. but it had the feel of water, wet and pleasantly cool. and in a quarter of a minute or so it was down over his shoulders and back, and he luxuriated in it. he let it soak his head and it cleared his wits at once. "there is not a thing wrong with me. i am fine. it is not my fault that the water is slow this morning and other things awry." he reached for the towel and it tore to pieces in his hands like porous wet paper. now he became very careful in the way he handled things. slowly, tenderly, and deftly he took them so that they would not break. he shaved himself without mishap in spite of the slow water in the lavatory also. then he dressed himself with the greatest caution and cunning, breaking nothing except his shoe laces, a thing that is likely to happen at any time. "if there is nothing the matter with me, then i will check and see if there is anything seriously wrong with the world. the dawn was fairly along when i looked out, as it should have been. approximately twenty minutes have passed; it is a clear morning; the sun should now have hit the top several stories of the insurance building." but it had not. it was a clear morning, but the dawn had not brightened at all in the twenty minutes. and that big clock still said six. it had not changed. yet it had changed, and he knew it with a queer feeling. he pictured it as it had been before. the hour and the minute hand had not moved noticeably. but the second hand had moved. it had moved a third of the dial. so he pulled up a chair to the window and watched it. he realized that, though he could not see it move, yet it did make progress. he watched it for perhaps five minutes. it moved through a space of perhaps five seconds. "well, that is not my problem. it is that of the clock maker, either a terrestrial or a celestial one." but he left his rooms without a good breakfast, and he left them very early. how did he know that it was early since there was something wrong with the time? well, it was early at least according to the sun and according to the clocks, neither of which institutions seemed to be working properly. he left without a good breakfast because the coffee would not make and the bacon would not fry. and in plain point of fact the fire would not heat. the gas flame came from the pilot light like a slowly spreading stream or an unfolding flower. then it burned far too steadily. the skillet remained cold when placed over it; nor would water even heat. it had taken at least five minutes to get the water out of the faucet in the first place. he ate a few pieces of leftover bread and some scraps of meat. in the street there was no motion, no real motion. a truck, first seeming at rest, moved very slowly. there was no gear in which it could move so slowly. and there was a taxi which crept along, but charles vincent had to look at it carefully for some time to be sure that it was in motion. then he received a shock. he realized by the early morning light that the driver of it was dead. dead with his eyes wide open! slowly as it was going, and by whatever means it was moving, it should really be stopped. he walked over to it, opened the door, and pulled on the brake. then he looked into the eyes of the dead man. was he really dead? it was hard to be sure. he felt warm. but, even as vincent looked, the eyes of the dead man had begun to close. and close they did and open again in a matter of about twenty seconds. this was weird. the slowly closing and opening eyes sent a chill through vincent. and the dead man had begun to lean forward in his seat. vincent put a hand in the middle of the man's chest to hold him upright, but he found the forward pressure as relentless as it was slow. he was unable to keep the dead man up. so he let him go, watching curiously; and in a few seconds the driver's face was against the wheel. but it was almost as if it had no intention of stopping there. it pressed into the wheel with dogged force. he would surely break his face. vincent took several holds on the dead man and counteracted the pressure somewhat. yet the face was being damaged, and if things were normal, blood would have flowed. the man had been dead so long however, that (though he was still warm) his blood must have congealed, for it was fully two minutes before it began to ooze. "whatever i have done, i have done enough damage," said vincent. "and, in whatever nightmare i am in, i am likely to do further harm if i meddle more. i had better leave it alone." he walked on down the morning street. yet whatever vehicles he saw were moving with an incredible slowness, as though driven by some fantastic gear reduction. and there were people here and there frozen solid. it was a chilly morning, but it was not that cold. they were immobile in positions of motion, as though they were playing the children's game of statues. "how is it," said charles vincent, "that this young girl (who i believe works across the street from us) should have died standing up and in full stride? but, no. she is not dead. or, if so, she died with a very alert expression. and--oh, my god, she's doing it too!" for he realized that the eyes of the girl were closing, and in the space of no more than a quarter of a second they had completed their cycle and were open again. also, and this was even stranger, she had moved, moved forward in full stride. he would have timed her if he could, but how could he when all the clocks were crazy? yet she must have been taking about two steps a minute. he went into the cafeteria. the early morning crowd that he had often watched through the windows was there. the girl who made flapjacks in the window had just flipped one and it hung in the air. then it floated over as if caught by a slight breeze, and sank slowly down as if settling in water. the breakfasters, like the people in the street, were all dead in this new way, moving with almost imperceptible motion. and all had apparently died in the act of drinking coffee, eating eggs, or munching toast. and if there were only time enough, there was even a chance that they would get the drinking, eating, and munching done with, for there was the shadow of movement in them all. the cashier had the register drawer open and money in her hand, and the hand of the customer was outstretched for it. in time, somewhere in the new leisurely time, the hands would come together and the change be given. and so it happened. it may have been a minute and a half, or two minutes, or two and a half. it is always hard to judge time, and now it had become all but impossible. "i am still hungry," said charles vincent, "but it would be foolhardy to wait for service here. should i help myself? they will not mind if they are dead. and if they are not dead, in any case it seems that i am invisible to them." he wolfed several rolls. he opened a bottle of milk and held it upside down over his glass while he ate another roll. liquids had all become perversely slow. but he felt better for his erratic breakfast. he would have paid for it, but how? he left the cafeteria and walked about the town as it seemed still to be quite early, though one could depend on neither sun nor clock for the time any more. the traffic lights were unchanging. he sat for a long time in a little park and watched the town and the big clock in the commerce building tower; but like all the clocks it was either stopped or the hand would creep too slowly to be seen. it must have been just about an hour till the traffic lights changed, but change they did at last. by picking a point on the building across the street and watching what moved past it, he found that the traffic did indeed move. in a minute or so, the entire length of a car would pass the given point. he had, he recalled, been very far behind in his work and it had been worrying him. he decided to go to the office, early as it was or seemed to be. he let himself in. nobody else was there. he resolved not to look at the clock and to be very careful of the way he handled all objects because of his new propensity for breaking things. this considered, all seemed normal there. he had said the day before that he could hardly catch up on his work if he put in two days solid. he now resolved at least to work steadily until something happened, whatever it was. for hour after hour he worked on his tabulations and reports. nobody else had arrived. could something be wrong? certainly something was wrong. but this was not a holiday. that was not it. just how long can a stubborn and mystified man plug away at his task? it was hour after hour after hour. he did not become hungry nor particularly tired. and he did get through a lot of work. "it must be half done. however it has happened, i have caught up on at least a day's work. i will keep on." he must have continued silently for another eight or ten hours. he was caught up completely on his back work. "well, to some extent i can work into the future. i can head up and carry over. i can put in everything but the figures of the field reports." and he did so. "it will be hard to bury me in work again. i could almost coast for a day. i don't even know what day it is, but i must have worked twenty hours straight through and nobody has arrived. perhaps nobody ever will arrive. if they are moving with the speed of the people in the nightmare outside, it is no wonder they have not arrived." he put his head down on his arms on the desk. the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the misshapen left thumb that he had always tried to conceal a little by the way he handled his hands. "at least i know that i am still myself. i'd know myself anywhere by that." then he went to sleep at his desk. jenny came in with a quick click-click-click of high heels, and he wakened to the noise. "what are you doing dozing at your desk, mr. vincent? have you been here all night?" "i don't know, jenny. honestly i don't." "i was only teasing. sometimes when i get here a little early i take a catnap myself." the clock said six minutes till eight and the second hand was sweeping normally. time had returned to the world. or to him. but had all that early morning of his been a dream? then it had been a very efficient dream. he had accomplished work that he could hardly have done in two days. and it was the same day that it was supposed to be. he went to the water fountain. the water now behaved normally. he went to the window. the traffic was behaving as it should. though sometimes slow and sometimes snarled, yet it was in the pace of the regular world. the other workers arrived. they were not balls of fire, but neither was it necessary to observe them for several minutes to be sure they weren't dead. "it did have its advantages," charles vincent said. "i would be afraid to live with it permanently, but it would be handy to go into for a few minutes a day and accomplish the business of hours. i may be a case for the doctor. but just how would i go about telling a doctor what was bothering me?" now it had surely been less than two hours from his first rising till the time that he wakened to the noise of jenny from his second sleep. and how long that second sleep had been, or in which time enclave, he had no idea. but how account for it all? he had spent a long while in his own rooms, much longer than ordinary in his confusion. he had walked the city mile after mile in his puzzlement. and he had sat in the little park for hours and studied the situation. and he had worked at his own desk for an outlandish long time. well, he would go to the doctor. a man is obliged to refrain from making a fool of himself to the world at large, but to his own lawyer, his priest, or his doctor he will sometimes have to come as a fool. by their callings they are restrained from scoffing openly. dr. mason was not particularly a friend. charles vincent realized with some unease that he did not have any particular friends, only acquaintances and associates. it was as though he were of a species slightly apart from his fellows. he wished now a little that he had a particular friend. but dr. mason was an acquaintance of some years, had the reputation of being a good doctor, and besides vincent had now arrived at his office and been shown in. he would either have to--well, that was as good a beginning as any. "doctor, i am in a predicament. i will either have to invent some symptoms to account for my visit here, or make an excuse and bolt, or tell you what is bothering me, even though you will think i am a new sort of idiot." "vincent, every day people invent symptoms to cover their visits here, and i know that they have lost their nerve about the real reason for coming. and every day people do make excuses and bolt. but experience tells me that i will get a larger fee if you tackle the third alternative. and, vincent, there is no new sort of idiot." vincent said, "it may not sound so silly if i tell it quickly. i awoke this morning to some very puzzling incidents. it seemed that time itself had stopped, or that the whole world had gone into super-slow motion. the water would neither flow nor boil, and fire would not heat food. the clocks, which i first believed had stopped, crept along at perhaps a minute an hour. the people i met in the streets appeared dead, frozen in lifelike attitudes. and it was only by watching them for a very long time that i perceived that they did indeed have motion. one car i saw creeping slower than the most backward snail, and a dead man at the wheel of it. i went to it, opened the door, and put on the brake. i realized after a time that the man was not dead. but he bent forward and broke his face on the steering wheel. it must have taken a full minute for his head to travel no more than ten inches, yet i was unable to prevent his hitting the wheel. i then did other bizarre things in a world that had died on its feet. i walked many miles through the city, and then i sat for hours in the park. i went to the office and let myself in. i accomplished work that must have taken me twenty hours. i then took a nap at my desk. when i awoke on the arrival of the others, it was six minutes to eight in the morning of the same day, today. not two hours had passed from my rising, and time was back to normal. but the things that happened in that time that could never be compressed into two hours." "one question first, vincent. did you actually accomplish the work of many hours?" "i did. it was done, and done in that time. it did not become undone on the return of time to normal." "a second question. had you been worried about your work, about being behind?" "yes. emphatically." "then here is one explanation. you retired last night. but very shortly afterward you arose in a state of somnambulism. there are facets of sleepwalking which we do not at all understand. the time-out-of-focus interludes were parts of a walking dream of yours. you dressed and went to your office and worked all night. it is possible to do routine tasks in a somnambulistic state rapidly and even feverishly, with an intense concentration--to perform prodigies. you may have fallen into a normal sleep there when you had finished, or you may have been awakened directly from your somnambulistic trance on the arrival of your co-workers. there, that is a plausible and workable explanation. in the case of an apparently bizarre happening, it is always well to have a rational explanation to fall back on. they will usually satisfy a patient and put his mind at rest. but often they do not satisfy me." "your explanation very nearly satisfies me, dr. mason, and it does put my mind considerably at rest. i am sure that in a short while i will be able to accept it completely. but why does it not satisfy you?" "one reason is a man i treated early this morning. he had his face smashed, and he had seen--or almost seen--a ghost: a ghost of incredible swiftness that was more sensed than seen. the ghost opened the door of his car while it was going at full speed, jerked on the brake, and caused him to crack his head. this man was dazed and had a slight concussion. i have convinced him that he did not see any ghost at all, that he must have dozed at the wheel and run into something. as i say, i am harder to convince than my patients. but it may have been coincidence." "i hope so. but you also seem to have another reservation." "after quite a few years in practice, i seldom see or hear anything new. twice before i have been told a happening or a dream on the line of what you experienced." "did you convince your patients that it was only a dream?" "i did. both of them. that is, i convinced them the first few times it happened to them." "were they satisfied?" "at first. later, not entirely. but they both died within a year of their first coming to me." "nothing violent, i hope." "both had the gentlest deaths. that of senility extreme." "oh. well, i'm too young for that." "i would like you to come back in a month or so." "i will, if the delusion or the dream returns. or if i do not feel well." after this charles vincent began to forget about the incident. he only recalled it with humor sometimes when again he was behind in his work. "well, if it gets bad enough i may do another sleepwalking act and catch up. but if there is another aspect of time and i could enter it at will, it might often be handy." charles vincent never saw his face at all. it is very dark in some of those clubs and the coq bleu is like the inside of a tomb. he went to the clubs only about once a month, sometimes after a show when he did not want to go home to bed, sometimes when he was just plain restless. citizens of the more fortunate states may not know of the mysteries of the clubs. in vincent's the only bars are beer bars, and only in the clubs can a person get a drink, and only members are admitted. it is true that even such a small club as the coq bleu had thirty thousand members, and at a dollar a year that is a nice sideline. the little numbered membership cards cost a penny each for the printing, and the member wrote in his own name. but he had to have a card--or a dollar for a card--to gain admittance. but there could be no entertainments in the clubs. there was nothing there but the little bar room in the near darkness. the man was there, and then he was not, and then he was there again. and always where he sat it was too dark to see his face. "i wonder," he said to vincent (or to the bar at large, though there were no other customers and the bartender was asleep), "i wonder if you have ever read zurbarin on the relationship of extradigitalism to genius?" "i have never heard of the work nor of the man," said vincent. "i doubt if either exists." "i am zurbarin," said the man. vincent hid his misshapen left thumb. yet it could not have been noticed in that light, and he must have been crazy to believe there was any connection between it and the man's remark. it was not truly a double thumb. he was not an extradigital, nor was he a genius. "i refuse to become interested in you," said vincent. "i am on the verge of leaving. i dislike waking the bartender, but i did want another drink." "sooner done than said." "what is?" "your glass is full." "it is? so it is. is it a trick?" "trick is the name for anything either too frivolous or too mystifying for us to comprehend. but on one long early morning of a month ago, you also could have done the trick, and nearly as well." "could i have? how would you know about my long early morning--assuming there to have been such?" "i watched you for a while. few others have the equipment to watch you with when you're in the aspect." so they were silent for some time, and vincent watched the clock and was ready to go. "i wonder," said the man in the dark, "if you have read schimmelpenninck on the sexagintal and the duodecimal in the chaldee mysteries?" "i have not and i doubt if anyone else has. i would guess that you are also schimmelpenninck and that you have just made up the name on the spur of the moment." "i am schimm, it is true, but i made up the name on the spur of a moment many years ago." "i am a little bored with you," said vincent, "but i would appreciate it if you'd do your glass-filling trick once more." "i have just done so. and you are not bored; you are frightened." "of what?" asked vincent, whose glass was in fact full again. "of reentering a dread that you are not sure was a dream. but there are advantages to being both invisible and inaudible." "can you be invisible?" "was i not when i went behind the bar just now and fixed you a drink?" "how?" "a man in full stride goes at the rate of about five miles an hour. multiply that by sixty, which is the number of time. when i leave my stool and go behind the bar, i go and return at the rate of three hundred miles an hour. so i am invisible to you, particularly if i move while you blink." "one thing does not match. you might have got around there and back, but you could not have poured." "shall i say that mastery over liquids is not given to beginners? but for us there are many ways to outwit the slowness of matter." "i believe that you are a hoaxer. do you know dr. mason?" "i know that you went to see him. i know of his futile attempts to penetrate a certain mystery. but i have not talked to him of you." "i still believe that you are a phony. could you put me back into the state of my dream of a month ago?" "it was not a dream. but i could put you again into that state." "prove it." "watch the clock. do you believe that i can point my finger at it and stop it for you? it is already stopped for me." "no, i don't believe it. yes, i guess i have to, since i see that you have just done it. but it may be another trick. i don't know where the clock is plugged in." "neither do i. come to the door. look at every clock you can see. are they not all stopped?" "yes. maybe the power has gone off all over town." "you know it has not. there are still lighted windows in those buildings, though it is quite late." "why are you playing with me? i am neither on the inside nor the outside. either tell me the secret or say that you will not tell me." "the secret isn't a simple one. it can only be arrived at after all philosophy and learning have been assimilated." "one man cannot arrive at that in one lifetime." "not in an ordinary lifetime. but the secret of the secret (if i may put it that way) is that one must use part of it as a tool in learning. you could not learn all in one lifetime, but by being permitted the first step--to be able to read, say, sixty books in the time it took you to read one, to pause for a minute in thought and use up only one second, to get a day's work accomplished in eight minutes and so have time for other things--by such ways one may make a beginning. i will warn you, though. even for the most intelligent, it is a race." "a race? what race?" "it is a race between success, which is life, and failure, which is death." "let's skip the melodrama. how do i get into the state and out of it?" "oh, that is simple, so easy that it seems like a gadget. here are two diagrams i will draw. note them carefully. this first, envision it in your mind and you are in the state. now this second one, envision, and you are out of it." "that easy?" "that deceptively easy. the trick is to learn why it works--if you want to succeed, meaning to live." so charles vincent left him and went home, walking the mile in a little less than fifteen normal seconds. but he still had not seen the face of the man. there are advantages intellectual, monetary, and amorous in being able to enter the accelerated state at will. it is a fox game. one must be careful not to be caught at it, nor to break or harm that which is in the normal state. vincent could always find eight or ten minutes unobserved to accomplish the day's work. and a fifteen-minute coffee break could turn into a fifteen-hour romp around the town. there was this boyish pleasure in becoming a ghost: to appear and stand motionless in front of an onrushing train and to cause the scream of the whistle, and to be in no danger, being able to move five or ten times as fast as the train; to enter and to sit suddenly in the middle of a select group and see them stare, and then disappear from the middle of them; to interfere in sports and games, entering a prize ring and tripping, hampering, or slugging the unliked fighter; to blue-shot down the hockey ice, skating at fifteen hundred miles an hour and scoring dozens of goals at either end while the people only know that something odd is happening. there was pleasure in being able to shatter windows by chanting little songs, for the voice (when in the state) will be to the world at sixty times its regular pitch, though normal to oneself. and for this reason also he was inaudible to others. there was fun in petty thieving and tricks. he would take a wallet from a man's pocket and be two blocks away when the victim turned at the feel. he would come back and stuff it into the man's mouth as he bleated to a policeman. he would come into the home of a lady writing a letter, snatch up the paper and write three lines and vanish before the scream got out of her throat. he would take food off forks, put baby turtles and live fish into bowls of soup between spoonfuls of the eater. he would lash the hands of handshakers tightly together with stout cord. he unzippered persons of both sexes when they were at their most pompous. he changed cards from one player's hand to another's. he removed golf balls from tees during the backswing and left notes written large "you missed me" pinned to the ground with the tee. or he shaved mustaches and heads. returning repeatedly to one woman he disliked, he gradually clipped her bald and finally gilded her pate. with tellers counting their money, he interfered outrageously and enriched himself. he snipped cigarettes in two with a scissors and blew out matches, so that one frustrated man broke down and cried at his inability to get a light. he removed the weapons from the holsters of policemen and put cap pistols and water guns in their places. he unclipped the leashes of dogs and substituted little toy dogs rolling on wheels. he put frogs in water glasses and left lighted firecrackers on bridge tables. he reset wrist watches on wrists, and played pranks in men's rooms. "i was always a boy at heart," said charles vincent. also during those first few days of the controlled new state, he established himself materially, acquiring wealth by devious ways, and opening bank accounts in various cities under various names, against a time of possible need. nor did he ever feel any shame for the tricks he played on unaccelerated humanity. for the people, when he was in the state, were as statues to him, hardly living, barely moving, unseeing, unhearing. and it is no shame to show disrespect to such comical statues. and also, and again because he was a boy at heart, he had fun with the girls. "i am one mass of black and blue marks," said jenny one day. "my lips are sore and my front teeth feel loosened. i don't know what in the world is the matter with me." yet he had not meant to bruise or harm her. he was rather fond of her and he resolved to be much more careful. yet it was fun, when he was in the state and invisible to her because of his speed, to kiss her here and there in out-of-the-way places. she made a nice statue and it was good sport. and there were others. "you look older," said one of his co-workers one day. "are you taking care of yourself? are you worried?" "i am not," said vincent. "i never felt better or happier in my life." but now there was time for so many things--time, in fact, for everything. there was no reason why he could not master anything in the world, when he could take off for fifteen minutes and gain fifteen hours. vincent was a rapid but careful reader. he could now read from a hundred and twenty to two hundred books in an evening and night; and he slept in the accelerated state and could get a full night's sleep in eight minutes. he first acquired a knowledge of languages. a quite extensive reading knowledge of a language can be acquired in three hundred hours world time, or three hundred minutes (five hours) accelerated time. and if one takes the tongues in order, from the most familiar to the most remote, there is no real difficulty. he acquired fifty for a starter, and could always add any other any evening that he found he had a need for it. and at the same time he began to assemble and consolidate knowledge. of literature, properly speaking, there are no more than ten thousand books that are really worth reading and falling in love with. these were gone through with high pleasure, and two or three thousand of them were important enough to be reserved for future rereading. history, however, is very uneven; and it is necessary to read texts and sources that for form are not worth reading. and the same with philosophy. mathematics and science, pure or physical, could not, of course, be covered with the same speed. yet, with time available, all could be mastered. there is no concept ever expressed by any human mind that cannot be comprehended by any other normal human mind, if time is available and it is taken in the proper order and context and with the proper preparatory work. and often, and now more often, vincent felt that he was touching the fingers of the secret; and always, when he came near it, it had a little bit the smell of the pit. for he had pegged out all the main points of the history of man; or rather most of the tenable, or at least possible, theories of the history of man. it was hard to hold the main line of it, that double road of rationality and revelation that should lead always to a fuller and fuller development (not the fetish of progress, that toy word used only by toy people), to an unfolding and growth and perfectibility. but the main line was often obscure and all but obliterated, and traced through fog and miasma. he had accepted the fall of man and the redemption as the cardinal points of history. but he understood now that neither happened only once, that both were of constant occurrence; that there was a hand reaching up from that old pit with its shadow over man. and he had come to picture that hand in his dreams (for his dreams were especially vivid when in the state) as a six-digited monster reaching out. he began to realize that the thing he was caught in was dangerous and deadly. very dangerous. very deadly. one of the weird books that he often returned to and which continually puzzled him was the relationship of extradigitalism to genius, written by the man whose face he had never seen, in one of his manifestations. it promised more than it delivered, and it intimated more than it said. its theory was tedious and tenuous, bolstered with undigested mountains of doubtful data. it left him unconvinced that persons of genius (even if it could be agreed who or what they were) had often the oddity of extra fingers and toes, or the vestiges of them. and it puzzled him what possible difference it could make. yet there were hints here of a corsican who commonly kept a hand hidden, or an earlier and more bizarre commander who wore always a mailed glove, of another man with a glove between the two; hints that the multiplex-adept, leonardo himself, who sometimes drew the hands of men and often those of monsters with six fingers, may himself have had the touch. there was a comment of caesar, not conclusive, to the same effect. it is known that alexander had a minor peculiarity; it is not known what it was; this man made it seem that this was it. and it was averred of gregory and augustine, of benedict and albert and acquinas. yet a man with a deformity could not enter the priesthood; if they had it, it must have been in vestigial form. there were cases for charles magnut and mahmud, for saladin the horseman and for akhnaton the king; for homer (a seleuciad-greek statuette shows him with six fingers strumming an unidentified instrument while reciting); for pythagoras, for buonarroti, santi, theotokopolous, van rijn, robusti. zurbarin catalogued eight thousand names. he maintained that they were geniuses. and that they were extradigitals. charles vincent grinned and looked down at his misshapen or double thumb. "at least i am in good though monotonous company. but what in the name of triple time is he driving at?" and it was not long afterward that vincent was examining cuneiform tablets in the state museum. these were a broken and not continuous series on the theory of numbers, tolerably legible to the now encyclopedic charles vincent. and the series read in part: "on the divergence of the basis itself and the confusion caused--for it is five, or it is six, or ten or twelve, or sixty or a hundred, or three hundred and sixty or the double hundred, the thousand. the reason, not clearly understood by the people, is that six and the dozen are first, and sixty is a compromise in condescending to the people. for the five, the ten are late, and are no older than the people themselves. it is said, and credited, that people began to count by fives and tens from the number of fingers on their hands. but before the people the--by the reason that they had--counted by sixes and twelves. but sixty is the number of time, divisible by both, for both must live together in time, though not on the same plane of time--" much of the rest was scattered. and it was while trying to set the hundreds of unordered clay tablets in proper sequence that charles vincent created the legend of the ghost in the museum. for he spent his multi-hundred-hour nights there studying and classifying. naturally he could not work without light, and naturally he could be seen when he sat still at his studies. but as the slow-moving guards attempted to close in on him, he would move to avoid them, and his speed made him invisible to them. they were a nuisance and had to be discouraged. he belabored them soundly and they became less eager to try to capture him. his only fear was that they would some time try to shoot him to see if he were ghost or human. he could avoid a seen shot, which would come at no more than two and a half times his own greatest speed. but an unperceived shot could penetrate dangerously, even fatally, before he twisted away from it. he had fathered legends of other ghosts, that of the central library, that of university library, that of the john charles underwood jr. technical library. this plurality of ghosts tended to cancel out each other and bring believers into ridicule. even those who had seen him as a ghost did not admit that they believed in the ghosts. he went back to dr. mason for his monthly checkup. "you look terrible," said the doctor. "whatever it is, you have changed. if you can afford it, you should take a long rest." "i have the means," said charles vincent, "and that is just what i will do. i'll take a rest for a year or two." he had begun to begrudge the time that he must spend at the world's pace. from now on he was regarded as a recluse. he was silent and unsociable, for he found it a nuisance to come back to the common state to engage in conversation, and in his special state voices were too slow-pitched to intrude into his consciousness. except that of the man whose face he had never seen. "you are making very tardy progress," said the man. once more they were in a dark club. "those who do not show more progress we cannot use. after all, you are only a vestigial. it is probable that you have very little of the ancient race in you. fortunately those who do not show progress destroy themselves. you had not imagined that there were only two phases of time, had you?" "lately i have come to suspect that there are many more," said charles vincent. "and you understand that only one step cannot succeed?" "i understand that the life i have been living is in direct violation of all that we know of the laws of mass, momentum, and acceleration, as well as those of conservation of energy, the potential of the human person, the moral compensation, the golden mean, and the capacity of human organs. i know that i cannot multiply energy and experience sixty times without a compensating increase of food intake, and yet i do it. i know that i cannot live on eight minutes' sleep in twenty-four hours, but i do that also. i know that i cannot reasonably crowd four thousand years of experience into one lifetime, yet unreasonably i do not see what will prevent it. but you say i will destroy myself." "those who take only the first step destroy themselves." "and how does one take the second step?" "at the proper moment you will be given the choice." "i have the most uncanny feeling that i will refuse the choice." "from present indications, you will refuse it. you are fastidious." "you have a smell about you, old man without a face. i know now what it is. it is the smell of the pit." "are you so slow to learn that?" "it is the mud from the pit, the same from which the clay tablets were formed, from the old land between the rivers. i've dreamed of the six-fingered hand reaching up from the pit and overshadowing us all. and i have read: 'the people first counted by fives and tens from the number of fingers on their hands. but before the people--for the reason that they had--counted by sixes and twelves.' but time has left blanks in those tablets." "yes, time in one of its manifestations has deftly and with a purpose left those blanks." "i cannot discover the name of the thing that goes in one of those blanks. can you?" "i am part of the name that goes into one of those blanks." "and you are the man without a face. but why is it that you overshadow and control people? and to what purpose?" "it will be long before you know those answers." "when the choice comes to me, it will bear very careful weighing." after that a chill descended on the life of charles vincent, for all that he still possessed his exceptional powers. and he seldom now indulged in pranks. except for jennifer parkey. it was unusual that he should be drawn to her. he knew her only slightly in the common world and she was at least fifteen years his senior. but now she appealed to him for her youthful qualities, and all his pranks with her were gentle ones. for one thing this spinster did not frighten, nor did she begin locking her doors, never having bothered about such things before. he would come behind her and stroke her hair, and she would speak out calmly with that sort of quickening in her voice: "who are you? why won't you let me see you? you are a friend, aren't you? are you a man, or are you something else? if you can caress me, why can't you talk to me? please let me see you. i promise that i won't hurt you." it was as though she could not imagine that anything strange would hurt her. or again when he hugged her or kissed her on the nape, she would call: "you must be a little boy, or very like a little boy, whoever you are. you are good not to break my things when you move about. come here and let me hold you." it is only very good people who have no fear at all of the unknown. when vincent met jennifer in the regular world, as he more often now found occasion to do, she looked at him appraisingly, as though she guessed some sort of connection. she said one day: "i know it is an impolite thing to say, but you do not look well at all. have you been to a doctor?" "several times. but i think it is my doctor who should go to a doctor. he was always given to peculiar remarks, but now he is becoming a little unsettled." "if i were your doctor, i believe i would also become a little unsettled. but you should find out what is wrong. you look terrible." he did not look terrible. he had lost his hair, it is true, but many men lose their hair by thirty, though not perhaps as suddenly as he had. he thought of attributing it to the air resistance. after all, when he was in the state he did stride at some three hundred miles an hour. and enough of that is likely to blow the hair right off your head. and might that not also be the reason for his worsened complexion and the tireder look that appeared in his eyes? but he knew that this was nonsense. he felt no more air pressure when in his accelerated state than when in the normal one. he had received his summons. he chose not to answer it. he did not want to be presented with the choice; he had no wish to be one with those of the pit. but he had no intention of giving up the great advantage which he now held over nature. "i will have it both ways," he said. "i am already a contradiction and an impossibility. the proverb was only the early statement of the law of moral compensation: 'you can't take more out of a basket than it holds.' but for a long time i have been in violation of the laws and balances. 'there is no road without a turning,' 'those who dance will have to pay the fiddler,' 'everything that goes up comes down,' but are proverbs really universal laws? certainly. a sound proverb has the force of universal law; it is but another statement of it. but i have contradicted the universal laws. it remains to be seen whether i have contradicted them with impunity. 'every action has its reaction.' if i refuse to deal with them, i will provoke a strong reaction. the man without a face said that it was always a race between full knowing and destruction. very well, i will race them for it." they began to persecute him then. he knew that they were in a state as accelerated from his as his was from the normal. to them he was the almost motionless statue, hardly to be told from a dead man. to him they were by their speed both invisible and inaudible. they hurt him and haunted him. but still he would not answer the summons. when the meeting took place, it was they who had to come to him, and they materialized there in his room, men without faces. "the choice," said one. "you force us to be so clumsy as to have to voice it." "i will have no part of you. you all smell of the pit, of that old mud of the cuneiforms of the land between the rivers, of the people who were before the people." "it has endured a long time, and we consider it as enduring forever. but the garden which was in the neighborhood--do you know how long the garden lasted?" "i don't know." "that all happened in a single day, and before nightfall they were outside. you want to throw in with something more permanent, don't you." "no. i don't believe i do." "what have you to lose?" "only my hope of eternity." "but you don't believe in that. no man has ever really believed in eternity." "no man has ever either entirely believed or disbelieved in it," said charles vincent. "at least it cannot be proved," said one of the faceless men. "nothing is proved until it is over with. and in this case, if it is ever over with, then it is disproved. and all that time would one not be tempted to wonder, 'what if, after all, it ends in the next minute?'" "i imagine that if we survive the flesh we will receive some sort of surety," said vincent. "but you are not sure either of such surviving or receiving. now _we_ have a very close approximation of eternity. when time is multiplied by itself, and that repeated again and again, does that not approximate eternity?" "i don't believe it does. but i will not be of you. one of you has said that i am too fastidious. so now will you say that you'll destroy me?" "no. we will only let you be destroyed. by yourself, you cannot win the race with destruction." after that charles vincent somehow felt more mature. he knew he was not really meant to be a six-fingered thing of the pit. he knew that in some way he would have to pay for every minute and hour that he had gained. but what he had gained he would use to the fullest. and whatever could be accomplished by sheer acquisition of human knowledge, he would try to accomplish. and he now startled dr. mason by the medical knowledge he had picked up, the while the doctor amused him by the concern he showed for vincent. for he felt fine. he was perhaps not as active as he had been, but that was only because he had become dubious of aimless activity. he was still the ghost of the libraries and museums, but was puzzled that the published reports intimated that an old ghost had replaced a young one. he now paid his mystic visits to jennifer parkey less often. for he was always dismayed to hear her exclaim to him in his ghostly form: "your touch is so changed. you poor thing! is there anything at all i can do to help you?" he decided that somehow she was too immature to understand him, though he was still fond of her. he transferred his affections to mrs. milly maltby, a widow at least thirty years his senior. yet here it was a sort of girlishness in her that appealed to him. she was a woman of sharp wit and real affection, and she also accepted his visitations without fear, following a little initial panic. they played games, writing games, for they communicated by writing. she would scribble a line, then hold the paper up in the air whence he would cause it to vanish into his sphere. he would return it in half a minute, or half a second by her time, with his retort. he had the advantage of her in time with greatly more opportunity to think up responses, but she had the advantage over him in natural wit and was hard to top. they also played checkers, and he often had to retire apart and read a chapter of a book on the art between moves, and even so she often beat him; for native talent is likely to be a match for accumulated lore and codified procedure. but to milly also he was unfaithful in his fashion, being now interested (he no longer became enamored or entranced) in a mrs. roberts, a great-grandmother who was his elder by at least fifty years. he had read all the data extant on the attraction of the old for the young, but he still could not explain his successive attachments. he decided that these three examples were enough to establish a universal law: that a woman is simply not afraid of a ghost, though he touches her and is invisible, and writes her notes without hands. it is possible that amorous spirits have known this for a long time, but charles vincent had made the discovery himself independently. when enough knowledge is accumulated on any subject, the pattern will sometimes emerge suddenly, like a form in a picture revealed where before it was not seen. and when enough knowledge is accumulated on all subjects, is there not a chance that a pattern governing all subjects will emerge? charles vincent was caught up in one last enthusiasm. on a long vigil, as he consulted source after source and sorted them in his mind, it seemed that the pattern was coming out clearly and simply, for all its amazing complexity of detail. "i know everything that they know in the pit, and i know a secret that they do not know. i have not lost the race--i have won it. i can defeat them at the point where they believe themselves invulnerable. if controlled hereafter, we need at least not be controlled by them. it is all falling together now. i have found the final truth, and it is they who have lost the race. i hold the key. i will now be able to enjoy the advantage without paying the ultimate price of defeat and destruction, or of collaboration with them. "now i have only to implement my knowledge, to publish the fact, and one shadow at least will be lifted from mankind. i will do it at once. well, nearly at once. it is almost dawn in the normal world. i will sit here a very little while and rest. then i will go out and begin to make contact with the proper persons for the disposition of this thing. but first i will sit here a little while and rest." and he died quietly in his chair as he sat there. dr. mason made an entry in his private journal: "charles vincent, a completely authenticated case of premature aging, one of the most clear-cut in all gerontology. this man was known to me for years, and i here aver that as of one year ago he was of normal appearance and physical state, and that his chronology is also correct, i having also known his father. i examined the subject during the period of his illness, and there is no question at all of his identity, which has also been established for the record by fingerprinting and other means. i aver that charles vincent at the age of thirty is dead of old age, having the appearance and organic condition of a man of ninety." then the doctor began to make another note: "as in two other cases of my own observation, the illness was accompanied by a certain delusion and series of dreams, so nearly identical in the three men as to be almost unbelievable. and for the record, and no doubt to the prejudice of my own reputation, i will set down the report of them here." but when dr. mason had written that, he thought about it for a while. "no, i will do no such thing," he said, and he struck out the last lines he had written. "it is best to let sleeping dragons lie." and somewhere the faceless men with the smell of the pit on them smiled to themselves in quiet irony. end https://archive.org/details/discoveryoffutur00welliala the discovery of the future by h. g. wells [illustration] new york b. w. huebsch 1913 copyright, 1913, by b. w. huebsch printed in u. s. a. the discovery of the future[1] by h. g. wells [1] a discourse delivered at the royal institution. it will lead into my subject most conveniently to contrast and separate two divergent types of mind, types which are to be distinguished chiefly by their attitude toward time, and more particularly by the relative importance they attach and the relative amount of thought they give to the future. the first of these two types of mind, and it is, i think, the predominant type, the type of the majority of living people, is that which seems scarcely to think of the future at all, which regards it as a sort of blank non-existence upon which the advancing present will presently write events. the second type, which is, i think, a more modern and much less abundant type of mind, thinks constantly and by preference of things to come, and of present things mainly in relation to the results that must arise from them. the former type of mind, when one gets it in its purity, is retrospective in habit, and it interprets the things of the present, and gives value to this and denies it to that, entirely with relation to the past. the latter type of mind is constructive in habit, it interprets the things of the present and gives value to this or that, entirely in relation to things designed or foreseen. while from that former point of view our life is simply to reap the consequences of the past, from this our life is to prepare the future. the former type one might speak of as the legal or submissive type of mind, because the business, the practice, and the training of a lawyer dispose him toward it; he of all men must constantly refer to the law made, the right established, the precedent set, and consistently ignore or condemn the thing that is only seeking to establish itself. the latter type of mind i might for contrast call the legislative, creative, organizing, or masterful type, because it is perpetually attacking and altering the established order of things, perpetually falling away from respect for what the past has given us. it sees the world as one great workshop, and the present is no more than material for the future, for the thing that is yet destined to be. it is in the active mood of thought, while the former is in the passive; it is the mind of youth, it is the mind more manifest among the western nations, while the former is the mind of age, the mind of the oriental. things have been, says the legal mind, and so we are here. the creative mind says we are here because things have yet to be. now i do not wish to suggest that the great mass of people belong to either of these two types. indeed, i speak of them as two distinct and distinguishable types mainly for convenience and in order to accentuate their distinction. there are probably very few people who brood constantly upon the past without any thought of the future at all, and there are probably scarcely any who live and think consistently in relation to the future. the great mass of people occupy an intermediate position between these extremes, they pass daily and hourly from the passive mood to the active, they see this thing in relation to its associations and that thing in relation to its consequences, and they do not even suspect that they are using two distinct methods in their minds. but for all that they are distinct methods, the method of reference to the past and the method of reference to the future, and their mingling in many of our minds no more abolishes their difference than the existence of piebald horses proves that white is black. i believe that it is not sufficiently recognized just how different in their consequences these two methods are, and just where their difference and where the failure to appreciate their difference takes one. this present time is a period of quite extraordinary uncertainty and indecision upon endless questions--moral questions, æsthetic questions, religious and political questions--upon which we should all of us be happier to feel assured and settled; and a very large amount of this floating uncertainty about these important matters is due to the fact that with most of us these two insufficiently distinguished ways of looking at things are not only present together, but in actual conflict in our minds, in unsuspected conflict; we pass from one to the other heedlessly without any clear recognition of the fundamental difference in conclusions that exists between the two, and we do this with disastrous results to our confidence and to our consistency in dealing with all sorts of things. but before pointing out how divergent these two types or habits of mind really are, it is necessary to meet a possible objection to what has been said. i may put that objection in this form: is not this distinction between a type of mind that thinks of the past and a type of mind that thinks of the future a sort of hair-splitting, almost like distinguishing between people who have left hands and people who have right? everybody believes that the present is entirely determined by the past, you say; but then everybody believes also that the present determines the future. are we simply separating and contrasting two sides of everybody's opinion? to which one replies that we are not discussing what we know and believe about the relations of past, present, and future, or of the relation of cause and effect to each other in time. we all know the present depends for its causes on the past, and the future depends for its causes upon the present. but this discussion concerns the way in which we approach things upon this common ground of knowledge and belief. we may all know there is an east and a west, but if some of us always approach and look at things from the west, if some of us always approach and look at things from the east, and if others again wander about with a pretty disregard of direction, looking at things as chance determines, some of us will get to a westward conclusion of this journey, and some of us will get to an eastward conclusion, and some of us will get to no definite conclusion at all about all sorts of important matters. and yet those who are travelling east, and those who are travelling west, and those who are wandering haphazard, may be all upon the same ground of belief and statement and amid the same assembly of proven facts. precisely the same thing, divergence of result, will happen if you always approach things from the point of view of their causes, or if you approach them always with a view to their probable effects. and in several very important groups of human affairs it is possible to show quite clearly just how widely apart the two methods, pursued each in its purity, take those who follow them. i suppose that three hundred years ago all people who thought at all about moral questions, about questions of right and wrong, deduced their rules of conduct absolutely and unreservedly from the past, from some dogmatic injunction, some finally settled decree. the great mass of people do so to-day. it is written, they say. "thou shalt not steal," for example--that is the sole, complete, sufficient reason why you should not steal, and even to-day there is a strong aversion to admit that there is any relation between the actual consequences of acts and the imperatives of right and wrong. our lives are to reap the fruits of determinate things, and it is still a fundamental presumption of the established morality that one must do right though the heavens fall. but there are people coming into this world who would refuse to call it right if it brought the heavens about our heads, however authoritative its sources and sanctions, and this new disposition is, i believe, a growing one. i suppose in all ages people in a timid, hesitating, guilty way have tempered the austerity of a dogmatic moral code by small infractions to secure obviously kindly ends, but it was, i am told, the jesuits who first deliberately sought to qualify the moral interpretation of acts by a consideration of their results. to-day there are few people who have not more or less clearly discovered the future as a more or less important factor in moral considerations. to-day there is a certain small proportion of people who frankly regard morality as a means to an end, as an overriding of immediate and personal considerations out of regard to something to be attained in the future, and who break away altogether from the idea of a code dogmatically established forever. most of us are not so definite as that, but most of us are deeply tinged with the spirit of compromise between the past and the future; we profess an unbounded allegiance to the prescriptions of the past, and we practise a general observance of its injunctions, but we qualify to a vague, variable extent with considerations of expediency. we hold, for example, that we must respect our promises. but suppose we find unexpectedly that for one of us to keep a promise, which has been sealed and sworn in the most sacred fashion, must lead to the great suffering of some other human being, must lead, in fact, to practical evil? would a man do right or wrong if he broke such a promise? the practical decision most modern people would make would be to break the promise. most would say that they did evil to avoid a greater evil. but suppose it was not such very great suffering we were going to inflict, but only some suffering? and suppose it was a rather important promise? with most of us it would then come to be a matter of weighing the promise, the thing of the past, against this unexpected bad consequence, the thing of the future. and the smaller the overplus of evil consequences the more most of us would vacillate. but neither of the two types of mind we are contrasting would vacillate at all. the legal type of mind would obey the past unhesitatingly, the creative would unhesitatingly sacrifice it to the future. the legal mind would say, "they who break the law at any point break it altogether," while the creative mind would say, "let the dead past bury its dead." it is convenient to take my illustration from the sphere of promises, but it is in the realm of sexual morality that the two methods are most acutely in conflict. and i would like to suggest that until you have definitely determined either to obey the real or imaginary imperatives of the past, or to set yourself toward the demands of some ideal of the future, until you have made up your mind to adhere to one or other of these two types of mental action in these matters, you are not even within hope of a sustained consistency in the thought that underlies your acts, that in every issue of principle that comes upon you, you will be entirely at the mercy of the intellectual mood that happens to be ascendent at that particular moment in your mind. in the sphere of public affairs also these two ways of looking at things work out into equally divergent and incompatible consequences. the legal mind insists upon treaties, constitutions, legitimacies, and charters; the legislative incessantly assails these. whenever some period of stress sets in, some great conflict between institutions and the forces in things, there comes a sorting out of these two types of mind. the legal mind becomes glorified and transfigured in the form of hopeless loyalty, the creative mind inspires revolutions and reconstructions. and particularly is this difference of attitude accentuated in the disputes that arise out of wars. in most modern wars there is no doubt quite traceable on one side or the other a distinct creative idea, a distinct regard for some future consequence; but the main dispute even in most modern wars and the sole dispute in most mediæval wars will be found to be a reference, not to the future, but to the past; to turn upon a question of fact and right. the wars of plantagenet and lancastrian england with france, for example, were based entirely upon a dummy claim, supported by obscure legal arguments, upon the crown of france. and the arguments that centered about the late war in south africa ignored any ideal of a great united south african state almost entirely, and quibbled this way and that about who began the fighting and what was or was not written in some obscure revision of a treaty a score of years ago. yet beneath the legal issues the broad creative idea has been apparent in the public mind during this war. it will be found more or less definitely formulated beneath almost all the great wars of the past century, and a comparison of the wars of the nineteenth century with the wars of the middle ages will show, i think, that in this field also there has been a discovery of the future, an increasing disposition to shift the reference and values from things accomplished to things to come. yet though foresight creeps into our politics and a reference to consequence into our morality, it is still the past that dominates our lives. but why? why are we so bound to it? it is into the future we go, to-morrow is the eventful thing for us. there lies all that remains to be felt by us and our children and all those that are dear to us. yet we marshal and order men into classes entirely with regard to the past; we draw shame and honor out of the past; against the rights of property, the vested interests, the agreements and establishments of the past the future has no rights. literature is for the most part history or history at one remove, and what is culture but a mold of interpretation into which new things are thrust, a collection of standards, a sort of bed of king og, to which all new expressions must be lopped or stretched? our conveniences, like our thoughts, are all retrospective. we travel on roads so narrow that they suffocate our traffic; we live in uncomfortable, inconvenient, life-wasting houses out of a love of familiar shapes and familiar customs and a dread of strangeness; all our public affairs are cramped by local boundaries impossibly restricted and small. our clothing, our habits of speech, our spelling, our weights and measures, our coinage, our religious and political theories, all witness to the binding power of the past upon our minds. yet we do not serve the past as the chinese have done. there are degrees. we do not worship our ancestors or prescribe a rigid local costume; we dare to enlarge our stock of knowledge, and we qualify the classics with occasional adventures into original thought. compared with the chinese we are distinctly aware of the future. but compared with what we might be, the past is all our world. the reason why the retrospective habit, the legal habit, is so dominant, and always has been so predominant, is of course a perfectly obvious one. we follow a fundamental human principle and take what we can get. all people believe the past is certain, defined, and knowable, and only a few people believe that it is possible to know anything about the future. man has acquired the habit of going to the past because it was the line of least resistance for his mind. while a certain variable portion of the past is serviceable matter for knowledge in the case of everyone, the future is, to a mind without an imagination trained in scientific habits of thought, non-existent. all our minds are made of memories. in our memories each of us has something that without any special training whatever will go back into the past and grip firmly and convincingly all sorts of workable facts, sometimes more convincingly than firmly. but the imagination, unless it is strengthened by a very sound training in the laws of causation, wanders like a lost child in the blankness of things to come and returns empty. many people believe, therefore, that there can be no sort of certainty about the future. you can know no more about the future, i was recently assured by a friend, than you can know which way a kitten will jump next. and to all who hold that view, who regard the future as a perpetual source of convulsive surprises, as an impenetrable, incurable, perpetual blankness, it is right and reasonable to derive such values as it is necessary to attach to things from the events that have certainly happened with regard to them. it is our ignorance of the future and our persuasion that that ignorance is absolutely incurable that alone gives the past its enormous predominance in our thoughts. but through the ages, the long unbroken succession of fortune-tellers--and they flourish still--witnesses to the perpetually smoldering feeling that after all there may be a better sort of knowledge--a more serviceable sort of knowledge than that we now possess. on the whole there is something sympathetic for the dupe of the fortune-teller in the spirit of modern science; it is one of the persuasions that come into one's mind, as one assimilates the broad conception of science, that the adequacy of causation is universal; that in absolute fact--if not in that little bubble of relative fact which constitutes the individual life--in absolute fact the future is just as fixed and determinate, just as settled and inevitable, just as possible a matter of knowledge as the past. our personal memory gives us an impression of the superior reality and trustworthiness of things in the past, as of things that have finally committed themselves and said their say, but the more clearly we master the leading conceptions of science the better we understand that this impression is one of the results of the peculiar conditions of our lives, and not an absolute truth. the man of science comes to believe at last that the events of the year a.d. 4000 are as fixed, settled, and unchangeable as the events of the year 1600. only about the latter he has some material for belief and about the former practically none. and the question arises how far this absolute ignorance of the future is a fixed and necessary condition of human life, and how far some application of intellectual methods may not attenuate even if it does not absolutely set aside the veil between ourselves and things to come. and i am venturing to suggest to you that along certain lines and with certain qualifications and limitations a working knowledge of things in the future is a possible and practicable thing. and in order to support this suggestion i would call your attention to certain facts about our knowledge of the past, and more particularly i would insist upon this, that about the past our range of absolute certainty is very limited indeed. about the past i would suggest we are inclined to overestimate our certainty, just as i think we are inclined to underestimate the certainties of the future. and such a knowledge of the past as we have is not all of the same sort or derived from the same sources. let us consider just what an educated man of to-day knows of the past. first of all he has the realest of all knowledge--the knowledge of his own personal experiences, his memory. uneducated people believe their memories absolutely, and most educated people believe them with a few reservations. some of us take up a critical attitude even toward our own memories; we know that they not only sometimes drop things out, but that sometimes a sort of dreaming or a strong suggestion will put things in. but for all that, memory remains vivid and real as no other knowledge can be, and to have seen and heard and felt is to be nearest to absolute conviction. yet our memory of direct impressions is only the smallest part of what we know. outside that bright area comes knowledge of a different order--the knowledge brought to us by other people. outside our immediate personal memory there comes this wider area of facts or quasi facts told us by more or less trustworthy people, told us by word of mouth or by the written word of living and of dead writers. this is the past of report, rumor, tradition, and history--the second sort of knowledge of the past. the nearer knowledge of this sort is abundant and clear and detailed, remoter it becomes vaguer, still more remotely in time and space it dies down to brief, imperfect inscriptions and enigmatical traditions, and at last dies away, so far as the records and traditions of humanity go, into a doubt and darkness as blank, just as blank, as futurity. and now let me remind you that this second zone of knowledge outside the bright area of what we have felt and witnessed and handled for ourselves--this zone of hearsay and history and tradition--completed the whole knowledge of the past that was accessible to shakespeare, for example. to these limits man's knowledge of the past was absolutely confined, save for some inklings and guesses, save for some small, almost negligible beginnings, until the nineteenth century began. besides the correct knowledge in this scheme of hearsay and history a man had a certain amount of legend and error that rounded off the picture in a very satisfactory and misleading way, according to bishop ussher, just exactly 4004 years b.c. and that was man's universal history--that was his all--until the scientific epoch began. and beyond those limits--? well, i suppose the educated man of the sixteenth century was as certain of the non-existence of anything before the creation of the world as he was, and as most of us are still, of the practical non-existence of the future, or at any rate he was as satisfied of the impossibility of knowledge in the one direction as in the other. but modern science, that is to say the relentless systematic criticism of phenomena, has in the past hundred years absolutely destroyed the conception of a finitely distant beginning of things; has abolished such limits to the past as a dated creation set, and added an enormous vista to that limited sixteenth century outlook. and what i would insist upon is that this further knowledge is a new kind of knowledge, obtained in a new kind of way. we know to-day, quite as confidently and in many respects more intimately than we know sargon or zenobia or caractacus, the form and the habits of creatures that no living being has ever met, that no human eye has ever regarded, and the character of scenery that no man has ever seen or can ever possibly see; we picture to ourselves the labyrinthodon raising its clumsy head above the water of the carboniferous swamps in which he lived, and we figure the pterodactyls, those great bird lizards, flapping their way athwart the forests of the mesozoic age with exactly the same certainty as that with which we picture the rhinoceros or the vulture. i doubt no more about the facts in this farther picture than i do about those in the nearest. i believe in the megatherium which i have never seen as confidently as i believe in the hippopotamus that has engulfed buns from my hand. a vast amount of detail in that farther picture is now fixed and finite for all time. and a countless number of investigators are persistently and confidently enlarging, amplifying, correcting, and pushing farther and farther back the boundaries of this greater past--this prehuman past--that the scientific criticism of existing phenomena has discovered and restored and brought for the first time into the world of human thought. we have become possessed of a new and once unsuspected history of the world--of which all the history that was known, for example, to dr. johnson is only the brief concluding chapter; and even that concluding chapter has been greatly enlarged and corrected by the exploring archæologists working strictly upon the lines of the new method--that is to say, the comparison and criticism of suggestive facts. i want particularly to insist upon this, that all this outer past--this non-historical past--is the product of a new and keener habit of inquiry, and no sort of revelation. it is simply due to a new and more critical way of looking at things. our knowledge of the geological past, clear and definite as it has become, is of a different and lower order than the knowledge of our memory, and yet of a quite practicable and trustworthy order--a knowledge good enough to go upon; and if one were to speak of the private memory as the personal past, of the next wider area of knowledge as the traditional or historical past, then one might call all that great and inspiring background of remoter geological time the inductive past. and this great discovery of the inductive past was got by the discussion and rediscussion and effective criticism of a number of existing facts, odd-shaped lumps of stone, streaks and bandings in quarries and cliffs, anatomical and developmental detail that had always been about in the world, that had been lying at the feet of mankind so long as mankind had existed, but that no one had ever dreamed before could supply any information at all, much more reveal such astounding and enlightening vistas. looked at in a new way they became sources of dazzling and penetrating light. the remoter past lit up and became a picture. considered as effects, compared and criticised, they yielded a clairvoyant vision of the history of interminable years. and now, if it has been possible for men by picking out a number of suggestive and significant looking things in the present, by comparing them, criticising them, and discussing them, with a perpetual insistence upon "why?" without any guiding tradition, and indeed in the teeth of established beliefs, to construct this amazing searchlight of inference into the remoter past, is it really, after all, such an extravagant and hopeless thing to suggest that, by seeking for operating causes instead of for fossils, and by criticising them as persistently and thoroughly as the geological record has been criticised, it may be possible to throw a searchlight of inference forward instead of backward, and to attain to a knowledge of coming things as clear, as universally convincing, and infinitely more important to mankind than the clear vision of the past that geology has opened to us during the nineteenth century? let us grant that anything to correspond with the memory, anything having the same relation to the future that memory has to the past, is out of the question. we cannot imagine, of course, that we can ever know any personal future to correspond with our personal past, or any traditional future to correspond with our traditional past; but the possibility of an inductive future to correspond with that great inductive past of geology and archæology is an altogether different thing. i must confess that i believe quite firmly that an inductive knowledge of a great number of things in the future is becoming a human possibility. i believe that the time is drawing near when it will be possible to suggest a systematic exploration of the future. and you must not judge the practicability of this enterprise by the failures of the past. so far nothing has been attempted, so far no first-class mind has ever focused itself upon these issues; but suppose the laws of social and political development, for example, were given as many brains, were given as much attention, criticism, and discussion as we have given to the laws of chemical combination during the last fifty years, what might we not expect? to the popular mind of to-day there is something very difficult in such a suggestion, soberly made. but here, in this institution (the royal institution of london) which has watched for a whole century over the splendid adolescence of science, and where the spirit of science is surely understood, you will know that as a matter of fact prophecy has always been inseparably associated with the idea of scientific research. the popular idea of scientific investigation is a vehement, aimless collection of little facts, collected as a bower bird collects shells and pebbles, in methodical little rows, and out of this process, in some manner unknown to the popular mind, certain conjuring tricks--the celebrated "wonders of science"--in a sort of accidental way emerge. the popular conception of all discovery is accident. but you will know that the essential thing in the scientific process is not the collection of facts, but the analysis of facts. facts are the raw material and not the substance of science. it is analysis that has given us all ordered knowledge, and you know that the aim and the test and the justification of the scientific process is not a marketable conjuring trick, but prophecy. until a scientific theory yields confident forecasts you know it is unsound and tentative; it is mere theorizing, as evanescent as art talk or the phantoms politicians talk about. the splendid body of gravitational astronomy, for example, establishes itself upon the certain forecast of stellar movements, and you would absolutely refuse to believe its amazing assertions if it were not for these same unerring forecasts. the whole body of medical science aims, and claims the ability, to diagnose. meteorology constantly and persistently aims at prophecy, and it will never stand in a place of honor until it can certainly foretell. the chemist forecasts elements before he meets them--it is very properly his boast--and the splendid manner in which the mind of clerk maxwell reached in front of all experiments and foretold those things that marconi has materialized is familiar to us all. all applied mathematics resolves into computation to foretell things which otherwise can only be determined by trial. even in so unscientific a science as economics there have been forecasts. and if i am right in saying that science aims at prophecy, and if the specialist in each science is in fact doing his best now to prophesy within the limits of his field, what is there to stand in the way of our building up this growing body of forecast into an ordered picture of the future that will be just as certain, just as strictly science, and perhaps just as detailed as the picture that has been built up within the last hundred years of the geological past? well, so far and until we bring the prophecy down to the affairs of man and his children, it is just as possible to carry induction forward as back; it is just as simple and sure to work out the changing orbit of the earth in the future until the tidal drag hauls one unchanging face at last toward the sun as it is to work back to its blazing and molten past. until man comes in, the inductive future is as real and convincing as the inductive past. but inorganic forces are the smaller part and the minor interest in this concern. directly man becomes a factor the nature of the problem changes, and our whole present interest centers on the question whether man is, indeed, individually and collectively incalculable, a new element which entirely alters the nature of our inquiry and stamps it at once as vain and hopeless, or whether his presence complicates, but does not alter, the essential nature of the induction. how far may we hope to get trustworthy inductions about the future of man? well, i think, on the whole, we are inclined to underrate our chance of certainties in the future, just as i think we are inclined to be too credulous about the historical past. the vividness of our personal memories, which are the very essence of reality to us, throws a glamor of conviction over tradition and past inductions. but the personal future must in the very nature of things be hidden from us so long as time endures, and this black ignorance at our very feet--this black shadow that corresponds to the brightness of our memories behind us--throws a glamor of uncertainty and unreality over all the future. we are continually surprising ourselves by our own will or want of will; the individualities about us are continually producing the unexpected, and it is very natural to reason that as we can never be precisely sure before the time comes what we are going to do and feel, and if we can never count with absolute certainty upon the acts and happenings even of our most intimate friends, how much the more impossible is it to anticipate the behavior in any direction of states and communities. in reply to which i would advance the suggestion that an increase in the number of human beings considered may positively simplify the case instead of complicating it; that as the individuals increase in number they begin to average out. let me illustrate this point by a comparison. angular pit-sand has grains of the most varied shapes. examined microscopically, you will find all sorts of angles and outlines and variations. before you look you can say of no particular grain what its outline will be. and if you shoot a load of such sand from a cart you cannot foretell with any certainty where any particular grain will be in the heap that you make; but you can tell--you can tell pretty definitely--the form of the heap as a whole. and further, if you pass that sand through a series of shoots and finally drop it some distance to the ground, you will be able to foretell that grains of a certain sort of form and size will for the most part be found in one part of the heap and grains of another sort of form and size will be found in another part of the heap. in such a case, you see, the thing as a whole may be simpler than its component parts, and this i submit is also the case in many human affairs. so that because the individual future eludes us completely that is no reason why we should not aspire to, and discover and use, safe and serviceable, generalizations upon countless important issues in the human destiny. but there is a very grave and important-looking difference between a load of sand and a multitude of human beings, and this i must face and examine. our thoughts and wills and emotions are contagious. an exceptional sort of sand grain, a sand grain that was exceptionally big and heavy, for example, exerts no influence worth considering upon any other of the sand grains in the load. they will fall and roll and heap themselves just the same whether that exceptional grain is with them or not; but an exceptional man comes into the world, a cæsar or a napoleon or a peter the hermit, and he appears to persuade and convince and compel and take entire possession of the sand heap--i mean the community--and to twist and alter its destinies to an almost unlimited extent. and if this is indeed the case, it reduces our project of an inductive knowledge of the future to very small limits. to hope to foretell the birth and coming of men of exceptional force and genius is to hope incredibly, and if, indeed, such exceptional men do as much as they seem to do in warping the path of humanity, our utmost prophetic limit in human affairs is a conditional sort of prophecy. if people do so and so, we can say, then such and such results will follow, and we must admit that that is our limit. but everybody does not believe in the importance of the leading man. there are those who will say that the whole world is different by reason of napoleon. there are those who will say that the world of to-day would be very much as it is now if napoleon had never been born. other men would have arisen to make napoleon's conquests and codify the law, redistribute the worn-out boundaries of europe and achieve all those changes which we so readily ascribe to napoleon's will alone. there are those who believe entirely in the individual man and those who believe entirely in the forces behind the individual man, and for my own part i must confess myself a rather extreme case of the latter kind. i must confess i believe that if by some juggling with space and time julius cæsar, napoleon, edward iv., william the conqueror, lord rosebery, and robert burns had all been changed at birth it would not have produced any serious dislocation of the course of destiny. i believe that these great men of ours are no more than images and symbols and instruments taken, as it were, haphazard by the incessant and consistent forces behind them; they are the pen-nibs fate has used for her writing, the diamonds upon the drill that pierces through the rock. and the more one inclines to this trust in forces the more one will believe in the possibility of a reasoned inductive view of the future that will serve us in politics, in morals, in social contrivances, and in a thousand spacious ways. and even those who take the most extreme and personal and melodramatic view of the ways of human destiny, who see life as a tissue of fairy godmother births and accidental meetings and promises and jealousies, will, i suppose, admit there comes a limit to these things--that at last personality dies away and the greater forces come to their own. the great man, however great he be, cannot set back the whole scheme of things; what he does in right and reason will remain, and what he does against the greater creative forces will perish. we cannot foresee him; let us grant that. his personal difference, the splendor of his effect, his dramatic arrangement of events will be his own--in other words, we cannot estimate for accidents and accelerations and delays; but if only we throw our web of generalization wide enough, if only we spin our rope of induction strong enough, the final result of the great man, his ultimate surviving consequences, will come within our net. such, then, is the sort of knowledge of the future that i believe is attainable and worth attaining. i believe that the deliberate direction of historical study and of economic and social study toward the future and an increasing reference, a deliberate and courageous reference, to the future in moral and religious discussion, would be enormously stimulating and enormously profitable to our intellectual life. i have done my best to suggest to you that such an enterprise is now a serious and practicable undertaking. but at the risk of repetition i would call your attention to the essential difference that must always hold between our attainable knowledge of the future and our existing knowledge of the past. the portion of the past that is brightest and most real to each of us is the individual past--the personal memory. the portion of the future that must remain darkest and least accessible is the individual future. scientific prophecy will not be fortune-telling, whatever else it may be. those excellent people who cast horoscopes, those illegal fashionable palm-reading ladies who abound so much to-day, in whom nobody is so foolish as to believe, and to whom everybody is foolish enough to go, need fear no competition from the scientific prophets. the knowledge of the future we may hope to gain will be general and not individual; it will be no sort of knowledge that will either hamper us in the exercise of our individual free will or relieve us of our personal responsibility. and now, how far is it possible at the present time to speculate on the particular outline the future will assume when it is investigated in this way? it is interesting, before we answer that question, to take into account the speculations of a certain sect and culture of people who already, before the middle of last century, had set their faces toward the future as the justifying explanation of the present. these were the positivists, whose position is still most eloquently maintained and displayed by mr. frederic harrison, in spite of the great expansion of the human outlook that has occurred since comte. if you read mr. harrison, and if you are also, as i presume your presence here indicates, saturated with that new wine of more spacious knowledge that has been given the world during the last fifty years, you will have been greatly impressed by the peculiar limitations of the positivist conception of the future. so far as i can gather, comte was, for all practical purposes, totally ignorant of that remoter past outside the past that is known to us by history, or if he was not totally ignorant of its existence, he was, and conscientiously remained, ignorant of its relevancy to the history of humanity. in the narrow and limited past he recognized men had always been like the men of to-day; in the future he could not imagine that they would be anything more than men like the men of to-day. he perceived, as we all perceive, that the old social order was breaking up, and after a richly suggestive and incomplete analysis of the forces that were breaking it up he set himself to plan a new static social order to replace it. if you will read comte, or, what is much easier and pleasanter, if you will read mr. frederic harrison, you will find this conception constantly apparent--that there was once a stable condition of society with humanity, so to speak, sitting down in an orderly and respectable manner; that humanity has been stirred up and is on the move, and that finally it will sit down again on a higher plane, and for good and all, cultured and happy, in the reorganized positivist state. and since he could see nothing beyond man in the future, there, in that millennial fashion, comte had to end. since he could imagine nothing higher than man, he had to assert that humanity, and particularly the future of humanity, was the highest of all conceivable things. all that was perfectly comprehensible in a thinker of the first half of the nineteenth century. but we of the early twentieth, and particularly that growing majority of us who have been born since the origin of species was written, have no excuse for any such limited vision. our imaginations have been trained upon a past in which the past that comte knew is scarcely more than the concluding moment. we perceive that man, and all the world of men, is no more than the present phase of a development so great and splendid that beside this vision epics jingle like nursery rhymes, and all the exploits of humanity shrivel to the proportion of castles in the sand. we look back through countless millions of years and see the will to live struggling out of the intertidal slime, struggling from shape to shape and from power to power, crawling and then walking confidently upon the land, struggling generation after generation to master the air, creeping down into the darkness of the deep; we see it turn upon itself in rage and hunger and reshape itself anew; we watch it draw nearer and more akin to us, expanding, elaborating itself, pursuing its relentless, inconceivable purpose, until at last it reaches us and its being beats through our brains and arteries, throbs and thunders in our battleships, roars through our cities, sings in our music, and flowers in our art. and when, from that retrospect, we turn again toward the future, surely any thought of finality, any millennial settlement of cultured persons, has vanished from our minds. this fact that man is not final is the great unmanageable, disturbing fact that arises upon us in the scientific discovery of the future, and to my mind, at any rate, the question what is to come after man is the most persistently fascinating and the most insoluble question in the whole world. of course we have no answer. such imaginations as we have refuse to rise to the task. but for the nearer future, while man is still man, there are a few general statements that seem to grow more certain. it seems to be pretty generally believed to-day that our dense populations are in the opening phase of a process of diffusion and aeration. it seems pretty inevitable also that at least the mass of white population in the world will be forced some way up the scale of education and personal efficiency in the next two or three decades. it is not difficult to collect reasons for supposing--and such reasons have been collected--that in the near future, in a couple of hundred years, as one rash optimist has written, or in a thousand or so, humanity will be definitely and conscientiously organizing itself as a great world state--a great world state that will purge from itself much that is mean, much that is bestial, and much that makes for individual dullness and dreariness, grayness and wretchedness in the world of to-day; and although we know that there is nothing final in that world state, although we see it only as something to be reached and passed, although we are sure there will be no such sitting down to restore and perfect a culture as the positivists foretell, yet few people can persuade themselves to see anything beyond that except in the vaguest and most general terms. that world state of more vivid, beautiful, and eventful people is, so to speak, on the brow of the hill, and we cannot see over, though some of us can imagine great uplands beyond and something, something that glitters elusively, taking first one form and then another, through the haze. we can see no detail, we can see nothing definable, and it is simply, i know, the sanguine necessity of our minds that makes us believe those uplands of the future are still more gracious and splendid than we can either hope or imagine. but of things that can be demonstrated we have none. yet i suppose most of us entertain certain necessary persuasions, without which a moral life in this world is neither a reasonable nor a possible thing. all this paper is built finally upon certain negative beliefs that are incapable of scientific establishment. our lives and powers are limited, our scope in space and time is limited, and it is not unreasonable that for fundamental beliefs we must go outside the sphere of reason and set our feet upon faith. implicit in all such speculations as this is a very definite and quite arbitrary belief, and that belief is that neither humanity nor in truth any individual human being is living its life in vain. and it is entirely by an act of faith that we must rule out of our forecasts certain possibilities, certain things that one may consider improbable and against the chances, but that no one upon scientific grounds can call impossible. one must admit that it is impossible to show why certain things should not utterly destroy and end the entire human race and story, why night should not presently come down and make all our dreams and efforts vain. it is conceivable, for example, that some great unexpected mass of matter should presently rush upon us out of space, whirl sun and planets aside like dead leaves before the breeze, and collide with and utterly destroy every spark of life upon this earth. so far as positive human knowledge goes, this is a conceivably possible thing. there is nothing in science to show why such a thing should not be. it is conceivable, too, that some pestilence may presently appear, some new disease, that will destroy, not 10 or 15 or 20 per cent. of the earth's inhabitants as pestilences have done in the past, but 100 per cent.; and so end our race. no one, speaking from scientific grounds alone, can say, "that cannot be." and no one can dispute that some great disease of the atmosphere, some trailing cometary poison, some great emanation of vapor from the interior of the earth, such as mr. shiel has made a brilliant use of in his "purple cloud," is consistent with every demonstrated fact in the world. there may arise new animals to prey upon us by land and sea, and there may come some drug or a wrecking madness into the minds of men. and finally, there is the reasonable certainty that this sun of ours must radiate itself toward extinction; that, at least, must happen; it will grow cooler and cooler, and its planets will rotate ever more sluggishly until some day this earth of ours, tideless and slow moving, will be dead and frozen, and all that has lived upon it will be frozen out and done with. there surely man must end. that of all such nightmares is the most insistently convincing. and yet one doesn't believe it. at least i do not. and i do not believe in these things because i have come to believe in certain other things--in the coherency and purpose in the world and in the greatness of human destiny. worlds may freeze and suns may perish, but there stirs something within us now that can never die again. do not misunderstand me when i speak of the greatness of human destiny. if i may speak quite openly to you, i will confess that, considered as a final product, i do not think very much of myself or (saving your presence) my fellow-creatures. i do not think i could possibly join in the worship of humanity with any gravity or sincerity. think of it! think of the positive facts. there are surely moods for all of us when one can feel swift's amazement that such a being should deal in pride. there are moods when one can join in the laughter of democritus; and they would come oftener were not the spectacle of human littleness so abundantly shot with pain. but it is not only with pain that the world is shot--it is shot with promise. small as our vanity and carnality make us, there has been a day of still smaller things. it is the long ascent of the past that gives the lie to our despair. we know now that all the blood and passion of our life were represented in the carboniferous time by something--something, perhaps, cold-blooded and with a clammy skin, that lurked between air and water, and fled before the giant amphibia of those days. for all the folly, blindness, and pain of our lives, we have come some way from that. and the distance we have travelled gives us some earnest of the way we have yet to go. why should things cease at man? why should not this rising curve rise yet more steeply and swiftly? there are many things to suggest that we are now in a phase of rapid and unprecedented development. the conditions under which men live are changing with an ever-increasing rapidity, and, so far as our knowledge goes, no sort of creatures have ever lived under changing conditions without undergoing the profoundest changes themselves. in the past century there was more change in the conditions of human life than there had been in the previous thousand years. a hundred years ago inventors and investigators were rare scattered men, and now invention and inquiry are the work of an unorganized army. this century will see changes that will dwarf those of the nineteenth century, as those of the nineteenth dwarf those of the eighteenth. one can see no sign anywhere that this rush of change will be over presently, that the positivist dream of a social reconstruction and of a new static culture phase will ever be realized. human society never has been quite static, and it will presently cease to attempt to be static. everything seems pointing to the belief that we are entering upon a progress that will go on, with an ever-widening and ever more confident stride, forever. the reorganization of society that is going on now beneath the traditional appearance of things is a kinetic reorganization. we are getting into marching order. we have struck our camp forever and we are out upon the roads. we are in the beginning of the greatest change that humanity has ever undergone. there is no shock, no epoch-making incident--but then there is no shock at a cloudy daybreak. at no point can we say, "here it commences, now; last minute was night and this is morning." but insensibly we are in the day. if we care to look, we can foresee growing knowledge, growing order, and presently a deliberate improvement of the blood and character of the race. and what we can see and imagine gives us a measure and gives us faith for what surpasses the imagination. it is possible to believe that all the past is but the beginning of a beginning, and that all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn. it is possible to believe that all that the human mind has ever accomplished is but the dream before the awakening. we cannot see, there is no need for us to see, what this world will be like when the day has fully come. we are creatures of the twilight. but it is out of our race and lineage that minds will spring, that will reach back to us in our littleness to know us better than we know ourselves, and that will reach forward fearlessly to comprehend this future that defeats our eyes. all this world is heavy with the promise of greater things, and a day will come, one day in the unending succession of days, when beings, beings who are now latent in our thoughts and hidden in our loins, shall stand upon this earth as one stands upon a footstool, and shall laugh and reach out their hands amid the stars. the art _of_ life series edward howard griggs, editor "the aim of this series of brief books is to illuminate the never-to-be-finished art of living. there is no thought of solving the problems or giving dogmatic theories of conduct. rather the purpose is to bring together in brief form the thoughts of some wise minds and the insight and appreciation of some deep characters, trained in the actual world of experience but attaining a vision of life in clear and wide perspective. such books should act as a challenge to the reader's own mind, bringing him to a clearer recognition of the problems of his life and the laws governing them, deepening his insight into the wonder and meaning of life and developing an attitude of appreciation that may make possible the wise and earnest facing of the deeps, dark or beautiful, in the life of the personal spirit.--_from the editor's introduction to the series, printed in full in "the use of the margin."_ _volumes ready:_ where knowledge fails by earl barnes the sixth sense. its cultivation and use. by charles h. brent the burden of poverty. what to do. by charles f. dole human equipment. its use and abuse. by edward howard griggs the use of the margin by edward howard griggs things worth while by thomas wentworth higginson self-measurement. a scale of human values with directions for personal application. by william dewitt hyde the super race. an american problem. by scott nearing product and climax by simon nelson patten latter day sinners and saints by edward alsworth ross each 50 cents net; by mail, 55 cents _to be had of all booksellers or the publisher_ b. w. huebsch 225 fifth avenue new york * * * * * * transcriber's note: this text has been preserved as in the original, including archaic and inconsistent spelling, punctuation and grammar, except that obvious printer's errors have been corrected. mask of death by paul ernst [transcriber note: this etext was produced from weird tales august-september 1936. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [sidenote: _a weird and uncanny tale about a strange criminal who called himself doctor satan, and the terrible doom with which he struck down his enemies_] _1. the dread paralysis_ on one of the most beautiful bays of the maine coast rested the town that fourteen months before had existed only on an architect's drawing-board. around the almost landlocked harbor were beautiful homes, bathing-beaches, parks. on the single main street were model stores. small hotels and inns were scattered on the outskirts. streets were laid, radiating from the big hotel in the center of town like spokes from a hub. there was a waterworks and a landing-field; a power house and a library. it looked like a year-round town, but it wasn't. blue bay, it was called; and it was only a summer resort.... only? it was the last word in summer resorts! the millionaires backing it had spent eighteen million dollars on it. they had placed it on a fine road to new york. they ran planes and busses to it. they were going to clean up five hundred per cent on their investment, in real estate deals and rentals. on this, its formal opening night, the place was wide open. in every beautiful summer home all lights were on, whether the home in question was tenanted or not. the stores were open, whether or not customers were available. the inns and small hotels were gay with decorations. but it was at the big hotel at the hub of the town that the gayeties attendant on such a stupendous opening night were at their most complete. every room and suite was occupied. the lobby was crowded. formally dressed guests strolled the promenade, and tried fruitlessly to gain admission to the already overcrowded roof garden. here, with tables crowded to capacity and emergency waiters trying to give all the de luxe service required, the second act of the famous blue bay floor show was going on. in the small dance floor at the center of the tables was a dancer. she was doing a slave dance, trying to free herself from chains. the spotlight was on; the full moon, pouring its silver down on the open roof, added its blue beams. the dancer was excellent. the spectators were enthralled. one elderly man, partially bald, a little too stout, seemed particularly engrossed. he sat alone at a ringside table, and had been shown marked deference all during the evening. for he was mathew weems, owner of a large block of stock in the blue bay summer resort development, and a very wealthy man. weems was leaning forward over his table, staring at the dancer with sensual lips parted. and she, quite aware of his attention and his wealth, was outdoing herself. a prosaic scene, one would have said. opening night of a resort de luxe; wealthy widower concentrating on a dancer's whirling bare body; people applauding carelessly. but the scene was to become far indeed from prosaic--and the cause of its change was to be weems. * * * * * among the people standing at the roof-garden entrance and wishing they could crowd in, there was a stir. a woman walked among them. she was tall, slender but delicately voluptuous, with a small, shapely head on a slender, exquisite throat. the pallor of her clear skin and the largeness of her intensely dark eyes made her face look like a flower on an ivory stalk. she was gowned in cream-yellow, with the curves of a perfect body revealed as her graceful walk molded her frock against her. many people looked at her, and then, questioningly, at one another. she had been registered at the hotel only since late afternoon, but already she was an object of speculation. the register gave her name as madame sin, and the knowing ones had hazarded the opinion that she, and her name, were publicity features to help along with the resort opening news. madame sin entered the roof garden, with the assurance of one who has a table waiting, and walked along the edge of the small dance floor. she moved silently, obviously not to distract attention from the slave dance. but as she walked, eyes followed her instead of the dancer's beautiful moves. she passed weems' table. with the eagerness of a man who has formed a slight acquaintance and would like to make it grow, weems rose from his table and bowed. the woman known as madame sin smiled a little. she spoke to him, with her exotic dark eyes seeming to mock. her slender hands moved restlessly with the gold-link purse she carried. then she went on, and weems sat down again at his table, with his eyes resuming their contented scrutiny of the dancer's convolutions. the dancer swayed toward him, struggling gracefully with her symbolic chains. weems started to raise a glass of champagne abstractedly toward his lips. he stopped, with his hand half-way up, eyes riveted on the dancer. the spotlight caught the fluid in his upraised glass and flicked out little lights in answer. the dancer whirled on. and weems stayed as he was, staring at the spot where she had been, glass poised half-way between the table and his face, like a man suddenly frozen--or gripped by an abrupt thought. the slave-girl whirled on. but now as she turned, she looked more often in weems' direction, and a small frown of bewilderment began to gather on her forehead. for weems was not moving; strangely, somehow disquietingly, he was staying just the same. several people caught the frequence of her glance, and turned their eyes in the same direction. there were amused smiles at the sight of the stout, wealthy man seated there with his eyes wide and unblinking, and his hand raised half-way between table and lips. but soon those who had followed the dancer's glances saw, too. weems was holding that queer attitude too long. the dancer finished her almost completed number and whirled to the dressing-room door. the lights went on. and now everyone near weems was looking at him, while those farther away were standing in order to see the man. he was still sitting as he had been, as if frozen or paralyzed, with staring eyes glued to the spot where the dancer had been, and with hand half raised holding the glass. * * * * * a friend got up quickly and hastened to the man's table. "weems," he said sharply, resting his hand on the man's shoulder. weems made no sign that he had heard, or had felt the touch. on and on he sat there, staring at nothing, hand half raised to drink. "weems!" sharp and frightened the friend's voice sounded. and all on the roof garden heard it. for all were now silent, staring with gradually more terrified eyes at weems. the friend passed his hand slowly, haltingly before weems' staring eyes. and those eyes did not blink. "weems--for god's sake--what's the matter with you?" the friend was trembling now, with growing horror on his face as he sensed something here beyond his power to comprehend. hardly knowing what he was doing, following only an instinct of fear at the unnatural attitude, he put his hand on weems' half-raised arm and lowered it to the table. the arm went down like a mechanical thing. the champagne glass touched the table. a woman at the next table screamed and got to her feet with a rasp of her chair that sounded like a thin shriek of fear. for weems' arm, when it was released, went slowly up again to the same position it had assumed when the man suddenly ceased becoming an animate being, and became a thing like a statue clad in dinner clothes with a glass in its hand. "_weems!_" yelled the friend. and then the orchestra began to play, loudly, with metallic cheerfulness, as the head waiter sensed bizarre tragedy and moved to conceal it as such matters are always concealed at such occasions. weems sat on, eyes wide, hand half raised to lips. he continued to hold that posture when four men carried him to the elevators and down to the hotel doctor's suite. he was still holding it when they sat him down in an easy chair, bent forward a bit as though a table were still before him, eyes staring, hand half raised to drink. the champagne glass was empty now, with its contents spotting his clothes and the roof garden carpets, spilled when the four had borne him from the table. but it was still clenched in his rigid hand, and no effort to get it from his oddly set fingers was successful.... * * * * * the festivities of the much-heralded opening night went on all over the new-born town of blue bay. on the roof garden were several hundred people who were still neglecting talk, drinking and dancing while their startled minds reviewed the strange thing they had seen; but aside from their number, the celebrants were having a careless good time, with no thought of danger in their minds. however, there was no sign of gayety in the tower office suite atop the mammoth blue bay hotel and just two floors beneath the garden. the three officers of the blue bay company sat in here, and in their faces was frenzy. "what in the world are we going to do?" bleated chichester, thin, nervous, dry-skinned, secretary and treasurer of the company. "weems is the biggest stockholder. he is nationally famous. his attack of illness here on the very night of opening will give us publicity so unfavorable that it might put blue bay in the red for months. you know how a disaster can sometimes kill a place." "most unfortunate," sighed heavy-set, paunchy martin gest, gnawing his lip. gest was president of the company. "unfortunate, hell!" snapped kroner, vice president. kroner was a self-made man, slightly overcolored, rather loud, with dinner clothes cut a little too modishly. "it's curtains if anything more should happen." "hasn't the doctor found out yet what's the matter with weems?" quavered chichester. kroner swore. "you heard the last report, same as the rest of us. doctor grays has never seen anything like it. weems seems to be paralyzed; yet there are none of the symptoms of paralysis save lack of movement. there is no perceptible heart-beat--yet he certainly isn't dead; the complete absence of rigor mortis and the fact that there is a trace of blood circulation prove that. he simply stays in that same position. when you move arm or hand, it moves slowly back to the same position again on being released. he has no reflex response, doesn't apparently hear or feel or see." "like catalepsy," sighed gest. kroner nodded and moistened his feverish lips. "just like catalepsy. only it isn't. grays swears to that. but what it is, he can't say." chichester fumbled in his pocket. "you two laughed at me this evening when i got worried about getting that note. you talked me down again a few minutes ago. but i'm telling you once more, i believe there's a connection. i believe whoever wrote the note really has made weems like he is--not that the note was penned by a crank and that weems' illness is coincidence." "nonsense!" said gest. "the note was either written by a madman, or by some crook who adopted a crazy, melodramatic name." "but he predicted what happened to weems," faltered chichester. "and he says there will be more--much more--enough to ruin blue bay for ever if we don't meet his demands----" "nuts!" said kroner bluntly. "weems just got sick, that's all. something so rare that most doctors can't spot it, but normal just the same. we can keep it quiet, and have him treated secretly by grays. that'll stop publicity." he rapped with heavy, red knuckles on the note which chichester had laid on the conference table. "this is a fraud, a thin-air idea of some small shot to get money out of us." he turned to the telephone to call doctor grays' suite again for a later report on weems' condition. the other two bent near to listen. a breath of air came in the open window. it stirred the note on the table, partially unfolded it. "... disaster and horror shall be the chief, though uninvited, guests at your opening unless you comply with my request. mathew weems shall be only the first if you do not signify by one a. m. whether or not you will meet my demand...." the note closed as the breeze died, flipped open again so that the signature showed, flipped shut once more. the signature was: doctor satan! _2. the living dead_ at two in the morning, two hours and a half after the odd seizure of mathew weems, and while gest and kroner and chichester were in doctor grays' suite anxiously looking at the stricken man, eight people were in the sleek, small roulette room of the blue bay hotel on the fourteenth floor. the eight, four men and four women, were absorbed by the wheel. their bets were scattered over the numbered board, and some of the bets were high. the croupier, with all bets placed, spun the little ivory ball into the already spinning wheel, and all watched. at the door, a woman stood. she was tall, slender but voluptuously proportioned, with a face like a pale flower on her long, graceful throat. madame sin. she came into the room with a little smile on her red, red lips. in her tapering fingers was held a gold-link purse. she did not open this to buy chips, simply walked to the table. there, with a smile, two men moved over a little to make a place for her. "thank you so much," she acknowledged the move. her voice was as exotically attractive as the rest of her; low, clear, a little throaty. "i am merely going to watch a little while, however. i do not intend to play." the wheel stopped. the ball came to rest in the slot marked nineteen. but the attention of those at the table was divided between it and the woman who was outrageous enough, or had sense of humor enough, to call herself madame sin. in the men's eyes was admiration. in the women's eyes was the wariness that always appears when another woman comes along whose attractions are genuinely dangerous to male peace of mind. "make your plays," warned the croupier dispassionately, holding the ball between pallid thumb and forefinger while he prepared to spin the wheel again. the four couples placed bets. madame sin watched out of dark, exotic eyes. she turned slowly, with her gold-link purse casually held in her left hand; turned so that she made a complete, leisurely circle, as though searching for someone. then, with her red lips still shaped in a smile, she faced the table again. the croupier spun the wheel, snapped the ball into it. the eight players leaned to watch it.... and in that position they remained. there was no movement of any sort from any one of them. it was as though they had been frozen to blocks of ice by a sudden blast of the cold of outer space; or as though a motion picture had been stopped on its reel so that abruptly it became a still-life, with all the actors in mid-move and with half-formed expressions on their faces. a tall blond girl was bent far over the table, with her left hand hovering over her bet, on number twenty-nine. beside her a man had a cigarette in his lips and a lighter in his left hand which he had been about to flick. two other men were half facing each other with the lips of one parted for a remark he had begun to make. the rest of the eight were gazing at the wheel with arms hanging beside them. and exactly in these positions they remained, for minute after minute. during that time madame sin looked at them; and her smile now was a thing to chill the blood. you couldn't have told why. her face was as serene-looking as ever, and there were no tangible lines of cruelty in evidence in her face. yet she looked like a she-fiend as she stared around. she walked to the croupier, who stood gazing at his wheel, with his mouth open in the beginning of a yawn. down the hall came the clang of elevator doors, and the sound of laughter and voices. madame sin glided toward the door. there she paused, then went purposefully back to the table. she went swiftly from one to another of the frozen, stark figures in their life-like but utterly rigid positions, then back to the door. smiling, she left the room, passing five or six people who were about to enter it for a little gambling. she was almost to the elevator shafts when she heard a woman's scream knife the air, followed by a man's hoarse shout that expressed almost as much horror as the scream had done. still smiling, utterly composed, she stepped into an elevator--and the elevator boy shivered a bit as he stared at her. he had not heard the scream, did not know that anything was wrong. he only knew that something in this lovely woman's smile sent cold fingers up and down his spine. * * * * * it was a grim, white-faced trio that sat in the conference room of the blue bay hotel at eleven next morning. chichester nor gest nor kroner--none had had a moment's sleep all night. they had been in doctor grays' suite with weems when a shivering man--a well-known young clubman, too, which was unfortunate--stumbled up to tell of the dreadful thing to be seen in the roulette room. with horror mounting in their breasts, half knowing already what they would see, the three had gone there. nine more, counting the croupier, in a state like that which weems was in! nine more people with all life, all movement, arrested in mid-motion! ten now with some kind of awful paralysis gripping them in which they did not move nor seemingly breathe--ten who were dead by every test known to science, but who, as even laymen could see at a glance, were yet indubitably alive! "blue bay development is ruined," ground out kroner. it had been said a dozen times by every one of the three; but the words made the other two look at him in frantic denial just the same. "if we can keep it quiet--just for a little while--just until----" "until what?" snapped kroner. "if we only had an idea when this mysterious sickness would leave these people! we could stall the news perhaps for a day, or even two days--_if_ we could have some assurance that at the end of twenty-four or forty-eight hours they'd be all right again. but we haven't. they may be like that for months before they die--may even die in a few hours. grays can't tell. this is all beyond his medical experience. so it seems to me we might as well make public announcements now, face ruin on the resort development, and get it over with." chichester spoke, almost in a whisper. "this doctor satan, whoever he is, gives us assurance in his note. he says that if we pay what he demands, the ten will recover, and everything will be all right." "and if we pay what he demands, we'll be ruined just the same as though we'd been killed by publicity," objected gest. kroner glared at the wizened treasurer. "i'm surprized you'd even suggest that, chichester. but you've not only suggested it--you've pled for it all night long! do you get a cut from doctor satan or something?" "gentlemen," soothed gest, as chichester half rose from his chair. "we're in too serious a jam to indulge in petty quarrels. we've got to decide what to do----" "i move we call in the police," growled kroner. "i still can't believe that any human being could induce such a state of catalepsy, or living death, or whatever you want to call it, in other human beings. not unless he's a wizard or something. nevertheless, in view of this threat note from doctor satan, there may be a definite criminal element here that the cops should know about." "let's wait on the police," objected gest. "we have already done better than that in summoning this ascott keane to help us." chichester's dry skin flushed faintly. "i still say that that was a stupid move!" he snapped. "ascott keane? who is he, anyhow? he has no reputation for detective work or any other kind of work. a rich man's son--loafer--dilettante. what we should have done was contact doctor satan after his first note, after weems was stricken. then we would have saved the nine in the roulette room, and at the same time saved our project here." "you'd pay this crook our entire surplus?" snarled kroner. "you'd give him a million eight hundred thousand in cold cash, when you don't even know that he has had a hand in what ails the ten?" "it's worth a million eight hundred thousand to save our stake in blue bay," said chichester obstinately. "as for doctor satan's having a hand in the horrible fate of weems and the rest--he told you beforehand that it would happen, didn't he?" "please," sighed gest as for a second time the florid vice-president and the wizened treasurer snarled at each other. "we----" the door of the office suite banged open. the assistant manager of the hotel staggered into the room. his blue eyes were blazing with excitement. his youngish face was contorted with it. "i've just found out something that i think is of vital importance!" he gasped. "something in the roulette room! i've been in there all night, as you know, looking around to see if i could find poison needles fastened to table or chairs, or anything like that, and quite by chance i noticed something else. the maddest thing! the roulette wheel! it's----" he stopped. "go on, go on!" urged kroner. "what about the roulette wheel? and what possible connection could it have with what happened to the people in that room?" he stared at the young assistant manager, as did gest and chichester, with his hands clenched with suspense. and the assistant manager slowly, like a falling tree, pitched forward on his face. "my god----" "what happened to him?" the three got to him together. they rolled him over, lifted his head, began chafing his hands. but it was useless. and in a moment that was admitted in their faces as they looked at each other. "another victory for doctor satan," whispered chichester, shuddering as though with palsy. "he's--dead!" gest opened his mouth as though to deny it, but closed his lips again. for palpably the assistant manager was dead, struck down an instant before he could tell them some vital news he had uncovered. he had died as though struck by lightning, at just the right time to save disclosure. it was as though the being who called himself doctor satan were there, in that office, and had acted to protect himself! shivering, chichester glanced fearfully around. and gest said: "god--if ascott keane were here----" _3. the stopped watch_ down at the lobby door, a long closed car slid to a stop. from it stepped two people. one was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a high-bridged nose, long, strong jaw, and pale gray eyes under heavy black eyebrows. the other was a girl, equally tall for her sex, beautifully formed, with reddish brown hair and dark blue eyes. the two walked to the registration desk in the lobby. "ascott keane," the man signed. "and secretary, beatrice dale." "your suite is ready for you, mr. keane," the clerk said obsequiously. "but we had no word of your secretary's coming. shall we----" "a suite for her on the same floor if possible," keane said crisply. "is mr. gest in the hotel?" "yes, sir. he is in the tower office." "have the boy take my things up. i'll go to the office first. send word up there what suite you've given miss dale." keane nodded to beatrice, and walked to the elevators. "secretary!" snorted the key clerk to the head bellhop. "what's he want a secretary for? he's never done any work in his life. inherited umpteen million bucks, and plays around all the time. wish i was ascott keane." the head bellhop nodded. "pretty soft for him, all right. hardest job he has is to clip coupons...." which would have made keane smile a little if he could have heard, for the clerk and the bellhop shared the opinion of him held by the rest of the world; an opinion he carefully fostered. few knew of his real interest in life, which was that of criminal detection. he tensed as he swung into the anteroom of the office suite. gest, one of the rare persons who knew of his unique detective work, had babbled something of a doctor satan when he phoned long distance. doctor satan! the mention of that name was enough to bring keane instantly from wherever he was, with his powers pitched to their highest and keenest point in an effort to crush at last the unknown individual who lived for outlawed thrills. as soon as he opened the door, it was apparent that something was wrong. there was no one sitting at the information desk, and from closed doors beyond came the hum of excited voices. keane went to the door where the hum sounded loudest and opened that. he stared in at three men bending over a fourth who lay on the floor, stark and motionless--obviously dead! keane strode to them. "who are you, sir?" grated kroner. "what the devil----" "keane!" breathed gest. "thank god you're here! there has just been a murder. i'm sure it's murder--though how it was done, and who did it, are utterly beyond me." "this is your ascott keane?" said kroner, in a slightly different tone. his eyes gained a little respect as they rested on keane's light gray, icily calm eyes. "yes. keane--kroner, vice president. and this is chichester, treasurer and secretary." keane nodded, and stared at the dead man. "and this?" "wilson, assistant manager. he came in a minute or two ago, saying he had something of the utmost importance to tell us about the players in the roulette room...." keane nodded. he had been told of that just before he took a plane for blue bay. gest swallowed painfully and went on: "wilson had just started to explain. he said something about the roulette wheel, and then fell dead. literally. he fell forward on his face as though he had been shot. but he wasn't. there isn't a mark on his body. and he couldn't have been poisoned before he came in here. no poison could act so exactly, striking at the precise second to keep him from disclosing his find." "doctor's report?" said keane. "grays, house physician, is on his way up now. we sent the information girl to get him. didn't want to telephone. you know how these things spread. we didn't want the switchboard girls to hear of this just yet." keane's look of acknowledgment was grim. "the publicity. of course. we'll have to move fast to save blue bay." "if you can save it, now," muttered chichester. * * * * * the door opened, and doctor grays stepped in, with consternation in his brown eyes as he saw the man on the floor. they left him to examine the body, and the three officials told keane all the details they knew of the strange tragedy that had overtaken weems and, two and a half hours later, the nine in the roulette room. they returned to the conference room. grays faced them. "wilson died of a heart attack," he said. "the symptoms are unmistakable. his death seems normal...." "normal--but beautifully timed," murmured keane. "right," nodded the doctor. "we'll want an autopsy at once. the police are on their way here. they're indirectly in our employ, as are all in blue bay; but they won't be able to keep this out of the papers for very long!" "where are weems and the rest?" "in my suite." "i'd like to see them, please." in doctor grays' suite, keane stared with eyes that for once had lost some of their calm, at the weird figures secluded in the bedroom. this room was kept locked against the possibility of a chambermaid or other hotel employee coming in by mistake. an unwarned person might well have gone at least temporarily insane at the sudden sight of the ten in that bedroom. in a chair near the door sat weems. he was bent forward a little as though leaning over a table. he stared unwinkingly at space. in his hand was still a champagne glass, raised near his lips. standing around the room were the nine others, each in the position he or she had been in when rigidity overtook them in the roulette room. they stared wide-eyed ahead of them, motionless, expressionless. it was like walking into a wax-works museum, save that these statuesque figures were of flesh and blood, not wax. "they're all dead as far as medical tests show," grays said. there was awe and terror in his voice. "yet--they're not dead! a child could tell that at a glance. i don't know what's wrong." "why don't you put them to bed?" said keane. "we can't. each of the ten seems to be in some kind of spell that makes it impossible for his body to take any but that one position. we've laid them down--and in a moment they're up again and in the former position, moving like sleep-walkers, like dead things! look." he gently pulled weems' arm down. slowly, it raised again till the champagne glass was near his lips. meanwhile the man's eyes did not even blink. he was as oblivious of the touch as if really dead. "horrible!" quavered chichester. "maybe it's some new kind of disease." "i think not," said keane, voice soft but bleak. he looked at a night table, heaped with jewelry, handkerchiefs, wallets, small change. "that collection?" "the personal effects of these people," said gest, wiping sweat from his pale face. keane went to the pile, and sorted it over. he was struck at once by a curious lack. he couldn't place it for an instant; then he did. "their watches!" he said. "where are they?" "watches?" said gest. "i don't know. hadn't thought of it." "there are ten people here," said keane. "and only one watch! normally at least eight of them would have had them, including the women with their jeweled trinkets. but there's only one.... do you remember who owned this, and where he wore it?" he picked up the watch, a man's with no chain. "that's weems' watch. he had it in his trousers pocket." "odd place for it," said keane. "i see it has stopped." he wound the watch. but the little second hand did not move, and he could only turn the winding-stem a little, proving that it had not run down. the hands said eleven thirty-one. "that was the time weems was--paralyzed?" said keane. gest nodded. "funny. his watch stopped just when he did!" "very funny," said keane expressionlessly. "send this to a jeweler right away and have him find out what's wrong with it. now, you say your assistant manager was struck dead just as he said something about the roulette wheel?" "yes," said gest. "it was as though this doctor satan were right there with us and killed him with a soundless bullet just before he could talk." keane's eyes glittered. "i'd like to look over the roulette room." "the police are here," said grays, turning from his phone. keane stared at gest. "keep them out of the roulette room for a few minutes." he strode out to the elevators.... * * * * * his first concern, after locking himself into the room where nine people had been stricken with something which, if it persisted, was worse than any death, was the thing the assistant manager had mentioned before death hit him. the roulette wheel. he bent over this, with a frown of concentration on his face. and his quick eyes caught at once a thing another person might have overlooked for quite a while. the wheel was dish-shaped, as all roulette wheels are. in its rounded bottom were numbered slots, where the little ivory ball was to end its journey and proclaim gambler's luck. but the little ball was not in one of the bottom slots! the tiny ivory sphere was half up the rounded side of the wheel, like a pea clinging alone high up on the slant of a dish! an exclamation came from keane's lips. he stared at the ball. what in heaven's name kept it from rolling down the steep slant and into the rounded bottom? why would a sphere stay on a slant? it was as if a bowl of water had been tilted--and the water's surface had taken and retained the tilt of the vessel it was in instead of remaining level! he lifted the ball from the sloping side of the wheel. it came away freely, but with an almost intangible resistance, as if an unseen rubber band held it. when he released it, it went back to the slope. he rolled it down to the bottom of the wheel. released, it rolled back up to its former position, like water running up-hill. keane felt a chill touch him. the laws of physics broken! a ball clinging to a slant instead of rolling down it! what dark secret of nature had doctor satan mastered now? but the query was not entirely unanswered in his mind. already he was getting a vague hint of it. and a little later the hint was broadened. the phone rang. he answered it. "mr. keane? this is doctor grays. the autopsy on wilson has been begun, and already a queer thing has been disclosed. it's about his heart." "yes," said keane, gripping the phone. "his heart is ruptured in a hundred places--as though a little bomb had exploded in it! don't ask me why, because i can't even give a theory. it's unique in medical history." "i won't ask you why," keane said slowly. "i think--in a little while--i'll tell you why." he hung up and strode toward the door. but at the roulette table he paused and stared at the wheel with his gray eyes icily blazing. _it seemed to him the wheel had moved a little!_ he had unconsciously lined up the weirdly clinging ball with the knob on the outer door, as he examined it awhile ago. now, as he stood in the same place, the ball was not quite in that line. as if the wheel had rotated a fraction of an inch! "yes, i think that's it," he whispered, with his face a little paler than usual. and a little later the words changed in his brain to: "i _know_ that's it. a fiend's genius.... this is the most dangerous thing doctor satan has yet mastered!" he was talking on the phone to the jeweler to whom weems' watch had been sent. "what did you do to that watch?" the jeweler was saying irritably. "why?" parried keane. "there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it. and yet it simply won't go. and i can't make it go." "there's nothing wrong with it at all?" "as far as i can find out--no." * * * * * keane hung up. he had been studying for the dozenth time the demand note doctor satan had written the officials: "gentlemen of the blue bay development: this is to request that you pay me the sum of one million, eight hundred and two thousand, five hundred and forty dollars and forty-eight cents at a time and place to be specified later. as a sample of what will happen if you disregard this note, i shall strike at one of your guests, mathew weems, within a few minutes after you read this. i guarantee that disaster and horror shall be the chief, though uninvited, guests at your opening unless you comply with my request. mathew weems shall be only the first if you do not signify by one a. m. whether or not you will meet my demand. doctor satan." keane gave the note back to blue bay's police chief, who fumbled uncertainly with it for a moment and then stuck it in his pocket. normally a competent man, he was completely out of his depth here. one man with a heart that seemed to have been exploded internally; ten people who were dead, yet lived, and who stood or sat like frozen statues.... he looked pleadingly at ascott keane, whom he had never heard of but who wore authority and competence like a mantle. but keane said nothing to him. "an odd extortion amount," he said to gest. "one million, eight hundred and two thousand, five hundred and forty dollars and forty-eight cents! why not an even figure?" he was talking more to himself than to the president of blue bay. but gest answered readily. "that happens to be the precise sum of the cash reserve of blue bay development." keane glanced at him sharply. "is your financial statement made public?" gest shook his head. "it's strictly confidential. only the bank, and ourselves, know that cash reserve figure. i can't imagine how this crook who signs himself doctor satan found it out." _4. the shell_ the house was serene and beautiful on the bay shore. the sun beat back from its white walls, and glanced in at the windows of the rear terrace. it shone on a grotesque figure there; a man with the torso of a giant, but with no legs--a figure that hitched itself along on the backs of calloused hands, using muscular arms as a means of locomotion. but this figure was not as bizarre as the one to be found within the house, behind shades drawn to keep out any prying eyes. here, in a dim room identifiable as a library, a tall man stood beside a flat-topped desk. but all that could be told of the figure was that it was male. for it was cloaked from heels to head in a red mantle. the hands were covered by red rubber gloves. the face was concealed by a red mask, and over the head was drawn a red skull-cap with two small projections in mocking imitation of lucifer's horns. doctor satan! in the red-gloved hands was a woman's gold-link purse. doctor satan opened it. from the purse he drew a thing that defied analysis and almost defied description. it was of metal. it seemed to be a model in gleaming steel of a problem in solid geometry: it was an angular small cage, an inch wide by perhaps three and a half inches square. that is, at first it seemed square. but a closer look revealed that no two corresponding sides of the little cage were quite parallel. each angle, each line was subtly different. doctor satan pointed it at the library wall. the end he pointed was a trifle wider than the end heeled in the palm of his hand. on this wider end was one bar that was fastened only at one end. the red-covered fingers moved this bar experimentally, slowly, so that it formed a slightly altered angle with the sides.... the library wall was mist, then nothingness. the street outside was not a street. a barren plain stood there, strewn with rocky shale, like a landscape on the moon. the little bar was moved back, and the library wall was once more in place. a chuckle came from the red-masked lips; a sound that would have made a hearer shiver a little. then it changed to a snarl. "perfect! but again ascott keane interferes. this time i've got to succeed in removing him. an exploded heart...." he put the mysterious small cage back in the gold-link purse, and opened the desk drawer. from it he took a business letterhead. it was a carbon copy, with figures on it. "bostiff...." on the rear terrace the legless giant stirred at the call. he moved on huge arms to the door and into the library.... * * * * * in his tower suite, keane paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind him. beatrice dale watched him with quiet, intelligent eyes. he was talking, not to her, but to himself; listing aloud the points uncovered since his arrival here. "a few seconds after talking with madame sin, weems was stricken. also, the lady with the odd name was seen coming from the roulette room at about the time when a party entered and found the croupier and eight guests turned from people into statues. but she was nowhere around when wilson died in the conference room." he frowned. "the watches were taken from all the sufferers from this strange paralysis, save weems. by whom? madame sin? weems' watch is absolutely in good order, but it won't run. the ball on the roulette wheels stays on a slant instead of rolling down into a slot as it should when the wheel is motionless. but the wheel doesn't seem to be quite motionless. it apparently moved a fraction of an inch in the forty-five minutes or so that i was in the room." "you're sure you didn't touch it, and set it moving?" said beatrice. "those wheels are delicately balanced." "not that delicately! i barely brushed it with my fingers as i examined the ivory ball. no, i didn't move it. but i'm sure it did move...." there was a tap at the door. he went to it. gest was in the corridor. "here's the master key," he said, extending a key to keane. "i got it from the manager. but--you're sure it is necessary to enter madame sin's rooms?" "very," said keane. "she is in now," said the president. "could you--just to avoid possible scandal--inasmuch as you don't intend to knock before entering----" he glanced at beatrice. keane smiled. "i'll have miss dale go in first. if madame sin is undressed or--entertaining--miss dale can apologize and retreat. but i am sure madame sin will be unaware of intrusion. in spite of the conviction of your key clerk that she is in, i am quite sure that, at least figuratively, she is out." "_figuratively_ out?" echoed gest. "i don't understand." "you will later--unless this is my fated time to lose in the fight i have made against the devil who calls himself doctor satan. are chichester and kroner in the hotel?" gest shook his head. "kroner is in the turkish bath two blocks down the street. chichester went home ten minutes ago." "madame sin will be unaware of intrusion," keane repeated enigmatically and with seeming irrelevance. he turned to beatrice, and the two went to the woman's rooms. * * * * * keane softly closed madame sin's hall door behind him after beatrice had entered first and reported that the woman was alone and in what seemed a deep sleep. at first, with a stifled scream, she had called out that madame sin was dead; then she had pronounced it sleep.... keane went at once to the central figure of the living-room: the body of madame sin, on a chaise-lounge near the window. the woman was in a blue negligee, with her shapely legs bare and her arms and throat pale ivory against the blue silk. her eyes were not quite closed. her breast rose and fell, very slowly, almost like the breathing of a chloroformed person. keane touched her bare shoulder. she did not stir. there was no alteration of the deep, slow breathing. he lifted one of her eyelids. the eye beneath stared blindly at him, the lid went nearly closed again at the cessation of his touch. "trance," keane said. "and the most profound one i have ever seen. it's about what i had expected." "i've seen her somewhere before," said beatrice suddenly. keane nodded. "you have. she is a movie extra, working now and then for the long island picture company. but i'm not much interested in this beautiful shell. for that's all she is at the moment--a shell, now emptied and unhuman. we'll look around. you give me your impressions as they come to you, and we'll see if they match mine." they went to the bedroom of the apartment. bedroom was like living-room in that it was impersonal, a standard chamber in a large hotel. but this seemed almost incredibly impersonal! there was not one picture, not one feminine touch. in the bath there were scarcely any toilet articles; and in the closet there was only an overnight bag and a suitcase by way of luggage, with neither of them entirely emptied of their contents. "one impression i get is that these rooms have not been lived in even for twenty-four hours!" said beatrice. keane nodded. "if madame sin retreated here only to fall into that deep trance, and did not wake again till it was time for her to venture out, the rooms would have just this look. and i think that is exactly what she has done!" beatrice looked deftly through madame sin's meager wardrobe. keane searched dresser and table and bureau drawers. he wasn't looking for anything definite, just something that might prove the final straw to point him definitely toward the incredible goal he was more and more convinced was near. he found it in the top of the woman's suitcase. his fingers were tense as he unfolded a business letterhead. it was a carbon copy, filled with figures. and a glance told him what it was. it was a duplicate of the financial statement of the blue bay development company--that statement which was held highly confidential, and which no one was supposed to have seen save the three blue bay officials, and a bank officer or two. keane strode to madame sin's phone, and got gest on the wire. "gest, can you tell me if kroner and chichester are still out of the hotel?" gest's voice came back promptly. "kroner is here with me now. i guess chichester is still at his home on ocean boulevard; at any rate he isn't in the hotel----" "ascott!" beatrice said tensely. keane hung up and turned to her. "the woman--madame sin!" beatrice said, pointing toward the still, lovely form on the chaise-lounge. "i thought i saw her eyes open a little--thought i saw her look at you!" keane's own eyes went down a bit to veil the sudden glitter in them from beatrice. "probably you were mistaken," he said easily. "probably you only thought you saw her eyelids move.... i'm going to wind this up now, i think. you go back to your suite, and watch the time. if i'm not back here in two hours, go with the police to the home of chichester, the treasurer of this unlucky resort development. and go fast," he added, in a tone that slowly drained the blood from beatrice's anxious face. _5. death's lovely mask_ chichester's home sat on a square of lawn between the new boulevard and the bay shore like a white jewel in the sun. it looked prosperous, prosaic, serene. but to keane's eyes, at least, it seemed covered with the psychic pall that had come to be associated in his mind with the dreaded doctor satan. he walked toward the blandly peaceful-looking new home with the feeling of one who walks toward a tomb. "a feeling that might be well founded," he shrugged grimly, as he reached the porch. he could feel the short hair at the base of his skull stir a little as he reached the door of this place he believed to be the latest lair of the man who was amused to call himself doctor satan. and it stirred still more as he tried the knob. the door was unlocked. he looked at it for several minutes. a lock wouldn't have mattered to keane, and satan knew that as well as keane himself. nevertheless, to leave the door invitingly open like this was almost too obliging! he opened the door and stepped in, bracing himself for instant attack. but no attack of any kind was forthcoming. the front hall in which he found himself was deserted. indeed, the whole house had that curiously breathless feeling encountered in homes for the moment untenanted. down the hall was an open double doorway. keane stared that way. he himself could not have told how he knew, but know he did, that beyond that doorway lay what he had come to find. he walked toward it. behind him, the street door opened again, very slowly and cautiously. an eye was put close to the resultant crack. the eye was dark, exotically lovely. it fastened on keane's back. keane stared in through the doorway. he was gazing into a library, dimmed by drawn shades. he entered it, with every nerve-end in his body silently shrieking of danger. the street door softly closed after admitting a figure that moved on soundless feet. a woman, with a face like a pale flower on an exquisite throat. madame sin. her face was as serenely lovely as ever. not by a line had it changed. and yet, subtly, it had become a mask of beautiful death. her eyes were death's dark fires as she moved without a sound down the hall toward the library. in her tapering hands was the gold-link bag. * * * * * in the library, keane stood with beating heart over two stark, still bodies that lay on the thick carpet near a flat-topped desk. one was wizened, lank, a little undersized, with dry-looking skin. it was the body of chichester. at first it seemed a corpse, but then keane saw the chest move with slow, deep breaths, as the breast of the woman back at the hotel had moved. but it was not this figure that made keane's heart thud and his hands clench. it was the other. this was a taller figure, lying on its back with hands folded. the hands were red-gloved. the face was concealed by a red mask. the body was draped by a red cloak. from the head sprang two little knobs, or projections, like lucifer's horns. doctor satan himself! "it's my chance," whispered keane. "satan--sending his soul and mind and spirit from his own shell--into that of others--madame sin--chichester. now his body lies here empty! if i killed that----" exotically beautiful dark eyes--with death in their loveliness--watched him from the library doorway as he bent over the red-robed figure. sardonic death in lovely eyes! "no wonder gest thought that wilson was killed in the conference room, just before he could tell of the roulette wheel, as if doctor satan had been there himself! satan _was_ there! and he was on the roof garden earlier, and in the roulette room! a trance for the woman, the crowding of satan's black spirit into her body--and she becomes madame sin, with satan peering from her eyes and moving in her mantle of flesh! a trance for the unfortunate chichester--and satan talks with gest and kroner as the blue bay treasurer, and can strike down wilson when he comes to report! chichester and madame sin--both doctor satan--becoming lifeless, trance-held shells when satan's soul has left them!" but here was satan's physical shell, lying in a coma at his feet, to be killed at a stroke! his deadly enemy, the enemy of all mankind, delivered helpless to him! "but if i do kill the body," keane whispered, "will i kill the spirit too, or banish it from the material world so that humanity won't again be troubled? satan's spirit, the essential man, is abroad in another body. if i kill this red-robed body, will it draw the spirit out of mortal affairs with it? or would it simply deprive it of its original housing so that i'd have to seek satan's soul in body after body, as i have till now sought him in the flesh in lair after lair? that would be--horrible!" he drove away the grim thought. it was probable that with the death of his body, doctor satan in entirety would die, or at least pass out of mortal knowledge through the gateway called death. and the mechanics of forcing him through that gateway was to kill the body. behind him, madame sin crept closer and closer on soundless feet. her red lips were set in a still smile. the gold-link purse was extended a little toward keane. her forefinger searched for the movable bar that changed angles of the queer, metal cage within. keane's hand raised to strike. his eyes burned down at the red-clad figure of the man at his feet, who was mankind's enemy. behind him, madame sin's finger found the little bar.... it was not till then that keane felt the psychic difference caused by the entrance of another into a room that had been deserted save for himself. another person would not have felt that difference at all, but keane had developed his psychic perceptions as ordinary men exercise and develop their biceps. with an inarticulate cry he whirled, and leaped far to the side. [illustration: "the wall behind the spot where he had been disappeared."] the wall behind the spot where he had been disappeared as the gold-link bag continued to point that way. the woman, snarling like a tigress, swung her bag toward keane in his new position. but keane was not waiting. he sprang for her. his hand got her wrist and wrenched to get the gold-link purse away from her. it turned toward her, back again toward him, with the little bar moving as her hand was constricted over the thing in the purse. it was a woman's body he struggled with. but there was strength in the fragile flesh beyond the strength of any woman! it took all his steely power to tear from her grasp the gold-link purse with its enclosed device. as he got it, he heard the woman's shrill cry of pain and terror, felt her sag in his arms. and then he heard many voices and stared around like a sleepwalker who has waked in a spot different from that in which he had begun his sleep--a comparison so exact that for one wild moment he thought it must be true! he was in a familiar room.... yes, doctor grays' room at the blue bay hotel. the people around him were familiar.... there was gest. there were kroner and doctor grays, and--beatrice. there were the blue bay chief of police, and two men. but the limp feminine form he held in his arms was madame sin, the fury he had been fighting in chichester's library! and in his hand was still the gold link bag he had wrenched from her! the woman in his arms stirred. she looked blankly up at him, stared around. a cry came from her lips. "where--am i? who are you all? what are you doing in my room? but this isn't my room!" her face was different, younger-looking, less exotic. she wasn't madame sin; she was a frightened, puzzled girl. keane's brain had slipped back into gear, and into comprehension of what had happened. "where do you think you are?" he said gently. "and what is your name?" "i'm sylvia crane," she said. "and i'm in a new york hotel room. at least i was the last i knew, when i opened the door and the man in the red mask came in...." she buried her face in her hands. "after that--i don't know what happened----" "nor do any of us," quavered gest. "for god's sake, keane, give us some idea of what has happened here, if you can!" * * * * * it was over an hour later when beatrice and keane entered the door of his suite. it had taken that long to explain to the people in doctor grays' rooms. even then the explanation had been but partial, and most of it had been frenziedly and stubbornly disbelieved even though proof was there. keane's shoulders were bowed a little and his face wore a bitter look. he had thwarted doctor satan in his attempt to extort a fortune from the resort. but once more his deadly enemy had got away from him. he had failed. beatrice shook her head. "don't look like that. the fact that you're here alive is a miracle that makes up for his escape. if you could have seen yourself, and that girl, when the police brought you back from chichester's house! as soon as they set you down in the doctor's rooms, you and the girl came together. you fought again for her purse, as you say you started to do in chichester's house ten hours ago. but you moved with such horrible slowness! it was like watching a slow-motion picture. it took you hours to raise your arm, hours to take the purse from her hand. and your expression changed with equal slowness.... i can't tell you how dreadful it was!" "all due, as i said, to this," keane sighed. he stared at the little metal cage he had taken from the purse. "the latest product of doctor satan's warped genius. a time-diverter, i suppose you might call it." "i didn't understand your explanation in grays' rooms, after you'd brought those people out of their dreadful coma," said beatrice. "i'll try again." keane held up the geometric figure. "time has been likened to a river. we don't know precisely what it is, but it seems that the river simile must be apt. very well, we and all around us float on this river at the same speed. if there were different currents in the same river, we might have the spectacle of seeing those nearby move with lightning rapidity or with snail-like slowness as their time-environment differed from ours. normally there is no such difference, but with this fantastic thing doctor satan has succeeded in producing them artificially. "he has succeeded in working out several sets of angles which, when opposed against each other as this geometric figure opposes them, can either speed up or slow down the time-stream of whatever it is pointed at. the final angle is formed by this movable bar in its relation to the whole. by its manipulation, time can be indefinitely retarded or hastened. he utilized the bizarre creation in this way: "in new york he contacted a quite innocent party by the name of sylvia crane. he hypnotized her, and forced his spirit into her body while hers was held in abeyance. then 'madame sin' registered here. she made acquaintance with weems. on the roof garden, she pointed the infernal figure at him, with the little bar turned to retard time. the result was that weems suddenly lived and moved at immensely retarded speed. it took about twenty-four hours for his arm to raise the champagne glass to his lips, though he thought it took a second. our actions were so swift by comparison that they didn't register on his consciousness at all. he confessed after i'd brought him out of his odd time-state with the device, that he seemed to raise his glass while in the roof garden, and start to lower it when he found himself abruptly in doctor grays' bedroom. he didn't know how he got there or anything else. it was the same with the nine in the roulette room. they came back to normal speed only a second or two after being retarded in the roulette room. but it was hours to us, and meanwhile they seemed absolutely motionless." "how on earth did you ever get a hint of such a thing as this?" said beatrice. "weems' watch gave a pointer. it was all right, the jeweler said, but it wouldn't run. well, it did run--but at a speed so slow that it could not be recorded. the roulette wheel was another. the ivory ball did not roll down the side of the wheel because the wheel was rotating--with infinite slowness after being retarded by the same thing that made the people look like frozen statues. satan, as madame sin, couldn't do anything about the wheel. but he--or 'she'--could and did take the watches from all concerned, to guard against discovery that way. however, there was no chance to get weems' watch; there were always people around." "you said doctor satan moved in the body of chichester as he did in the girl's body." "yes. i got a hint of that when i observed that chichester and madame sin never seemed to be in evidence at the same time. also because the exact sum of blue bay's cash reserve was so readily learned. again when wilson was killed in a room where only the three officials sat. he was killed by chichester, who was at the moment animated by satan's soul. he was killed, by the way, by a _speeding-up_ of time. the rest were retarded and suffered nothing but nerve shock. wilson was killed when the speed of his time-stream was multiplied by a million: you can stop a heart without injuring it, but you can't suddenly accelerate a heart, or any other machine, a million times, without bursting it. that's why his heart looked as though it had blown up in his chest." keane stopped. the bitter look grew in his eyes. "this failure was wholly my own fault," he said in a low tone. "i knew when i found the duplicate financial statement in madame sin's rooms that it was a trap to draw me to chichester's home. doctor satan would never have been so careless as to leave a thing like that behind inadvertently. knowing it was a trap, i entered it, and found satan's soulless body. if i'd destroyed it immediately.... but i didn't dream that madame sin would follow me so quickly." * * * * * beatrice's hand touched keane's fleetingly. he was looking at the geometric figure and did not see the look in her eyes. "the world can thank heaven you're alive," she said softly. "with you dead, doctor satan could rule the earth----" there was a knock at the door. gest was in the hall. "keane," he said. "i suppose this will sound like a small thing after all you've done. you've saved us from bankruptcy and saved lord knows how many people from a living death from that time-business you tried to explain to us. now there's one more thing. workmen in chichester's home tell us that they can't build up one of the walls of the library, which is non-existent for some reason. there the room is, with one wall out, and it can't be blocked up! do you suppose you----" keane nodded, with a little of his bitterness relieved by a smile. "i remember. the time-diverter was pointed at that wall for an instant as the girl and i struggled. evidently it was set for maximum acceleration, to burst my heart as it did wilson's. it got the library wall, which is gone because in the point of the future which it almost instantly reached, there is no library or home or anything else on that spot. i'll bring it back to the present, and to existence again, so you won't have a physical impossibility to try to explain to nervous guests of blue bay resort." "and after that," he added to himself, "i'll destroy this invention of hell. and i wish its destruction would annihilate its inventor along with it--before he contrives some new and even more terrible toy!" lord tedric _by edward e. smith, ph. d._ _illustrated by lawrence_ time is the strangest of all mysteries. relatively unimportant events, almost unnoticed as they occur, may, in hundreds of years, result in ultimate catastrophe. on time track number one, that was the immutable result. but on time track number two there was one little event that could be used to avert it--the presence of a naked woman in public. so, skandos one removed the clothing from the lady rhoann and after one look, lord tedric did the rest! _skandos one (the skandos of time track number one, numbered for reasons which will become clear) showed, by means of the chronoviagraph, that civilization would destroy itself in one hundred eighty-seven years. to prevent this catastrophe he went back to the key point in time and sought out the key figure--one tedric, a lomarrian ironmaster who had lived and died a commoner; unable, ever, to do anything about his fanatical detestation of human sacrifice._ _skandos one taught tedric how to make one batch of super-steel; watched him forge armor and arms from that highly anachronistic alloy. he watched him do things that tedric of time track one had never done._ _time, then_, did _fork. time track one was probably no longer in existence. he must have been saved by his "traction" on the reality of time track two. he'd snap back up to his own time and see what the situation was. if he found his assistant furmin alone in the laboratory, the extremists would have been proved wrong. if not...._ _furmin was not alone. instead, skandos two and furmin two were at work on a tri-di of tedric's life: so like, and yet so wildly unlike, the one upon which skandos one and furmin one had labored so long!_ _shaken and undecided, skandos one held his machine at the very verge of invisibility and watched and listened._ _"but it's so maddeningly incomplete!" skandos two snorted. "when it goes into such fine detail on almost everything else, why can't we get how he stumbled onto one lot, and never any other, of high-alloy steel--chrome-nickel-vanadium-molybdenum-tungsten steel--mortensen's super-steel, to be specific--which wasn't rediscovered for thousands of years?"_ _"why, it was revealed to him by his personal god llosir--don't you remember?" furmin snickered._ _"poppycock!"_ _"to us, yes; but not to them. hence, no detail, and you know why we can't go back and check."_ _"of course. we simply don't know enough about time ... but i would so like to study this lord of the marches at first hand! nowhere else in all reachable time does any other one entity occupy such a uniquely key position!"_ _"so would i, chief. if we knew just a_ little _more i'd say go. in the meantime, let's run that tri-di again, to see if we've overlooked any little thing!"_ _in the three-dimensional, full-color projection armsmaster lord tedric destroyed the principal images of the monstrous god sarpedion and killed sarpedion's priests. he rescued lady rhoann, king phagon's eldest daughter, from the sacrificial altar. the king made him lord of the marches, the highest of the high._ _"this part i like." furmin pressed a stud; the projector stopped. a blood-smeared armored giant and a blood-smeared naked woman stood, arms around each other, beside a blood-smeared altar of green stone. "talk about being stacked! if i hadn't checked the data myself i'd swear you went overboard there, chief."_ _"exact likenesses--life size," skandos two grunted. "tedric: six-four, two-thirty, muscled just like that. rhoann: six feet and half an inch, one-ninety. the only time she ever appeared in the raw in public, i guess, but she didn't turn a hair."_ _"what a couple!" furmin stared enviously. "we don't have people like that any more."_ _"fortunately, no. he could split a full-armored man in two with a sword; she could strangle a tiger bare-handed. so what? all the brains of the whole damned tribe, boiled down into one, wouldn't equip a half-wit."_ _"oh, i wouldn't say that," furmin objected. "phagon was a smooth, shrewd operator."_ _"in a way--sometimes--but committing suicide by wearing gold armor instead of high-alloy steel doesn't show much brain-power."_ _"i'm not sure i'll buy that, either. there were terrific pressures ... but say phagon had worn steel, that day at middlemarch castle, and lived ten or fifteen years longer? my guess is that tedric would have changed the map of the world. he wasn't stupid, you know; just bull-headed, and phagon could handle him. he would have pounded a lot of sense into his skull, if he had lived."_ _"however, he didn't live," skandos returned dryly, "and so every decision tedric ever made was wrong. but to get back to the point, did you see anything new?"_ _"not a thing."_ _"neither did i. so go and see how eight twelve is doing."_ _for time test number eight hundred eleven had failed; and there was little ground for hope that number eight hundred twelve would be any more productive._ _and the lurking skandos one who had been studying intensively every aspect of the situation, began to act. it was crystal clear that time track two could hold only one skandos. one of them would have to vanish--completely, immediately, and permanently. although in no sense a killer, by instinct or training, only one course of action was possible if his own life--and, as a matter of fact, all civilization--were to be conserved. wherefore he synchronized, and shot his unsuspecting double neatly through the head. the living skandos changed places with the dead. a timer buzzed briefly. the time-machine disappeared; completely out of synchronization with any continuum that a world's keenest brain and an ultra-fast calculator could compute._ _this would of course make another fork in time, but that fact did not bother skandos one at all--now. as for tedric; since the big, dumb lug couldn't be made to believe that he, skandos one, was other than a god, he'd_ be _a god--in spades!_ _he'd build an image of flesh-like plastic exactly like the copper statue tedric had made, and go back and announce himself publicly as the god llosir. he'd come back--along time-track three, of course--and do away with skandos three. there might have to be another interference, too, to get tedric started along the right time-track. he could tell better after seeing what time-track three looked like. if so, it would necessitate the displacement of skandos four._ _so what? he had never had any qualms; and, now that he had done it once, he had no doubt whatever as to his ability to do it twice more._ * * * * * of the three standing beside sarpedion's grisly altar, king phagon was the first to become conscious of the fact that something should be done about his daughter's nudity. "flasnir, your cloak!" he ordered sharply; and the lady rhoann, unclamping her arms from around tedric's armored neck and disengaging his steel-clad arm from around her waist, covered herself with the proffered garment. partially covered, that is; for, since the cloak had come only to mid-thigh on the courtier and since she was a good seven inches taller than he, the coverage might have seemed, to a prudish eye, something less than adequate. "chamberlain schillan--captain sciro," the king went on briskly. "haul me this carrion to the river and dump it in--put men to cleaning this place--'tis not seemly so." the designated officers began to bawl orders, and tedric turned to the girl, who was still just about as close to him as she could get; awe, wonder, and relieved shock still plain on her expressive face. "one thing, lady rhoann, i understand not. you seem to know me; act as though i were an old, tried friend. 'tis vast honor, but how? you of course i know; have known and honored since you were a child; but me, a commoner, you know not. nor, if you did, couldst know who it was neath all this iron?" "art wrong, lord tedric--nay, not 'lord' tedric; henceforth you and i are tedric and rhoann merely--i have known you long and well; would recognize you anywhere. the few of the old, true blood stand out head and shoulders above the throng, and you stand out, even among them. who else could it have been? who else hath the strength of arm and soul, the inner and the outer courage? no coward i, tedric, nor ever called so, but on that altar my very bones turned jelly. i could not have swung weapon against sarpedion. i tremble yet at the bare thought of what you did; i know not how you could have done it." "you feared the god, lady rhoann, as do so many. i hated him." "'tis not enough of explanation. and 'rhoann' merely, tedric, remember?" "rhoann ... thanks, my lady. 'tis an honor more real than your father's patent of nobility ... but 'tis not fitting. i feel as much a commoner...." "commoner? bah! i ignored that word once, tedric, but not twice. you are, and deservedly, the highest of the high. my father the king has known for long what you are; he should have ennobled you long since. thank sarp ... thank all the gods he had the wit to put it off no longer! 'tis blood that tells, not empty titles. the throne can make and unmake nobility at will, but no power whatever can make true-bloods out of mongrels, nor create real _manhood_ where none exists!" tedric did not know what to say in answer to that passionate outburst, so he changed the subject; effectively, if not deftly. "in speaking of the marches to your father the king, you mentioned the sages. what said they?" "at another time, perhaps." lady rhoann was fast recovering her wonted cool poise. "'tis far too long to go into while i stand here half naked, filthy, and stinking. let us on with the business in hand; which, for me, is a hot bath and clean clothing." rhoann strolled away as unconcernedly as though she were wearing full court regalia, and tedric turned to the king. "thinkst the lady trycie is nearby, sire?" "if i know the jade at all, she is," phagon snorted. "and not only near. she's seen everything and heard everything; knows more about everything than either of us, or both of us together. why? thinkst she'd make a good priestess?" "the best. much more so, methinks, than the lady rhoann. younger. more ... umm ... more priestess-like, say?" "perhaps." phagon was very evidently skeptical, but looked around the temple, anyway. "trycie!" he yelled. "yes, father?" a soft voice answered--right behind them! the king's second daughter was very like his first in size and shape, but her eyes were a cerulean blue and her hair, as long and as thick as rhoann's own, had the color of ripe wheat. "aye, daughter. wouldst like to be priestess of llosir?" "oh, yes!" she squealed; but sobered quickly. "on second thought ... perhaps not ... no. if sobeit sacrifice is done i intend to marry, some day, and have six or eight children. but ... perhaps ... could i take it now, and resign later, think you?" "'twould not be necessary, sire and lady trycie," tedric put in, while phagon was still thinking the matter over. "llosir is not at all like sarpedion. llosir wants abundance and fertility and happiness, not poverty and sterility and misery. llosir's priestess marries as she pleases and has as many children as she wants." "your priestess i, then, sirs! i go to have cloth-of-gold robes made at once!" the last words came floating back over her shoulder as trycie raced away. "lord tedric, sir." unobserved, sciro had been waiting for a chance to speak to his superior officer. "yes, captain?" "'tis the men ... the cleaning ... they ... we, i mean ..." sciro of old lomarr would not pass the buck. "the bodies--the priests, you know, and so on--were easy enough; and we did manage to handle most of the pieces of the god. but the ... the heart, and so on, you know ... we know not where you want them taken ... and besides, we fear ... wilt stand by and ward, lord tedric, while i pick them up?" "'tis my business, captain sciro; mine alone. i crave pardon for not attending to it sooner. hast a bag?" "yea." the highly relieved officer held out a duffle-bag of fine, soft leather. tedric took it, strode across to the place where sarpedion's image had stood, and--not without a few qualms of his own, now that the frenzy of battle had evaporated--picked up sarpedion's heart, liver, and brain and deposited them, neither too carefully nor too carelessly, in the sack. then, swinging the burden up over his shoulder-"i go to fetch the others," he explained to his king. "then we hold sacrifice to end all human sacrifice." "hold, tedric!" phagon ordered. "one thing--or two or three, methinks. 'tis not seemly to conduct a thing so; lacking order and organization and plan. where dost propose to hold such an affair? not in your ironworks, surely?" "certainly not, sire." tedric halted, almost in midstride. he hadn't got around yet to thinking about the operation as a whole, but he began to do so then. "and certainly not on this temple or sarpedion's own. lord llosir is clean: all our temples are foul in every stone and timber...." he paused. then, suddenly: "i have it, sire--the amphitheater!" "the amphitheater? 'tis well. 'tis of little enough use, and a shrine will not interfere with what little use it has." "wilt give orders to build...?" "the lord of the marches issues his own orders. hola, schillan, to me!" the monarch shouted, and the chamberlain of the realm came on the run. "lord tedric speaks with my voice." "i hear, sire. lord tedric, i listen." "have built, at speed, midway along the front of the amphitheater, on the very edge of the cliff, a table of clean, new-quarried stone; ten feet square and three feet high. on it mount lord llosir so firmly that he will stand upright forever against whatever may come of wind or storm." the chamberlain hurried away. so did tedric, with his bag of spoils. first to his shop, where his armor was removed and where he scratched himself vigorously and delightfully as it came off. thence to the temple of sarpedion, where he collected the other, somewhat-lesser-hallowed trio of the great one's vital organs. then, and belatedly, to home and to bed. a little later, while the new-made lord of the marches was sleeping soundly, the king's messengers rode furiously abroad, spreading the word that ten days hence, at the fourth period after noon, in lompoar's amphitheater, great sarpedion would be sacrificed to llosir, lomarr's new and ultra-powerful god. * * * * * the city of lompoar, lomarr's capital, lying on the south bank of the lotar some fifty miles inland from the delta, nestled against the rugged breast of the coast range. just outside the town's limit and some hundreds of feet above its principal streets there was a gigantic half-bowl, carved out of the solid rock by an eddy of some bye-gone age. this was the amphitheater, and on the very lip of the stupendous cliff descending vertically to the river so far below, llosir stood proudly on his platform of smooth, clean granite. "'tis not enough like a god, methinks." king phagon, dressed now in cloth-of-gold, eyed the gleaming copper statue very dubiously. "'tis too much like a man, by far." "'tis exactly as i saw him, sire," tedric replied, firmly. nor was he, consciously, lying: by this time he believed the lie himself. "llosir is a man-god, remember, not a beast-god, and 'tis better so. but the time i set is here. with your permission, sire, i begin." both men looked around the great bowl. near by, but not too near, stood the priestess and half a dozen white-clad fifteen-year-old girls; one of whom carried a beaten-gold pitcher full of perfumed oil, another a flaring open lamp wrought of the same material. slightly to one side were rhoann--looking, if the truth must be told, as though she did not particularly enjoy her present position on the side-lines--her mother the queen, the rest of the royal family, and ranks of courtiers. and finally, much farther back, at a very respectful distance from their strange new god, arranged in dozens of more or less concentric, roughly hemispherical rows, stood everybody who had had time to get there. more were arriving constantly, of course, but the flood had become a trickle; the narrow way, worming upward from the city along the cliffs stark side, was almost bare of traffic. "begin, lord tedric," said the king. tedric bent over, heaved the heavy iron pan containing the offerings up onto the platform, and turned. "the oil, priestess lady trycie, and the flame." the acolyte handed the pitcher to trycie, who handed it to tedric, who poured its contents over the twin hearts, twin livers, and twin brains. then the lamp; and as the yard-high flames leaped upward the armored pseudo-priest stepped backward and raised his eyes boldly to the impassive face of the image of his god. then he spoke--not softly, but in parade-ground tones audible to everyone present. "take, lord llosir, all the strength and all the power and all the force that sarpedion ever had. use them, we beg, for good and not for ill." he picked up the blazing pan and strode toward the lip of the precipice; high-mounting, smoky flames curling backward around his armored figure. "and now, in token of sarpedion's utter and complete extinction, i consign these, the last vestiges of his being, to the rushing depths of oblivion." he hurled the pan and its fiercely flaming contents out over the terrific brink. this act, according to tedric's plan, was to end the program--but it didn't. long before the fiery mass struck water his attention was seized by a long, low-pitched, moaning gasp from a multitude of throats; a sound the like of which he had never before even imagined. he whirled--and saw, shimmering in a cage-like structure of shimmering bars, a form of seeming flesh so exactly like the copper image in every detail of shape that it might well have come from the same mold! "lord llosir--in the _flesh_!" tedric exclaimed, and went to one knee. so did the king and his family, and a few of the bravest of the courtiers. most of the latter, however, and the girl acolytes and the thronging thousands of spectators, threw themselves flat on the hard ground. they threw themselves flat, but they did not look away or close their eyes or cover their faces with their hands. on the contrary, each one stared with all the power of his optic nerves. the god's mouth opened, his lips moved; and, although no one could hear any sound, everyone felt words resounding throughout the deepest recesses of his being. "i have taken all the strength, all the power, all the force, all of everything that made sarpedion what he was," the god began. in part his pseudo-voice was the resonant clang of a brazen bell; in part the diapason harmonies of an impossibly vast organ. "i will use them for good, not for ill. i am glad, tedric, that you did not defile my hearth--for this is a hearth, remember, and in no sense an altar--in making this, the first and the _only_ sacrifice ever to be made to me. you, trycie, are the first of my priestesses?" the girl, shaking visibly, gulped three times before she could speak. "yea, my--my--lord llosir," she managed finally. "th--that is--if--if i please you, lord sir." "you please me, trycie of lomarr. nor will your duties be onerous; being only to see to it that your maidens keep my hearth clean and my statue bright." "to you, my lord--llo--llosir, sir, all thanks. wilt keep...." trycie raised her downcast eyes and stopped short in mid-sentence; her mouth dropping ludicrously open and her eyes becoming two round o's of astonishment. the air above the yawning abyss was as empty as it had ever been; the flesh-and-blood god had disappeared as instantaneously as he had come! tedric's heavy voice silenced the murmured wave of excitement sweeping the bowl. "that is all!" he bellowed. "i did not expect the lord llosir to appear in the flesh at this time; i know not when or ever he will deign to appear to us again. but this i know--whether or not he ever so deigns, or when, you all know now that our great lord llosir lives. is it not so?" "'tis so! long live lord llosir!" tumultuous yelling filled the amphitheater. "'tis well. in leaving this holy place all will file between me and the shrine. first our king, then the lady priestess trycie and her maids, then the family, then the court, then the rest. all men as they pass will raise sword-arms in salute, all women will bow heads. will be naught of offerings or of tribute or of fractions; lord llosir is a _god_, not a huckstering, thieving, murdering trickster. king phagon, sire, wilt lead?" unhelmed now, tedric stood rigidly at attention before the image of his god. the king did not march straight past him, but stopped short. taking off his ornate head-piece and lifting his right arm high, he said: "to you, lord llosir, my sincere thanks for what hast done for me, for my family, and for my nation. while 'tis not seemly that lomarr's king should beg, i ask that you abandon us not." then trycie and her girls. "we engage, lord sir," the lady priestess said, at a whispered word from tedric, "to keep your hearth scrupulously clean; your statue shining bright." then the queen, followed by the lady rhoann--who, although she bowed her head meekly enough, was shooting envious glances at her sister, so far ahead and so evidently the cynosure of so many eyes. the rest of the family--the court--the thronging spectators--and, last of all, tedric himself. helmet tucked under left arm, he raised his brawny right arm high, executed a stiff "left face," and march proudly at the rear of the long procession. and as the people made their way down the steep and rugged path, as they debouched through the city of lompoar, as they traversed the highways and byways back to the towns and townlets and farms from which they had come, it was very evident that llosir had established himself as no other god had ever been established throughout the long history of that world. great llosir had appeared in person. everyone there had seen him with his own eyes. everyone there had heard his voice; a voice of a quality impossible for any mortal being, human or otherwise, to produce; a voice heard, not with the ears, which would have been ordinary enough, but by virtue of some hitherto completely unknown and still completely unknowable inner sense or ability evocable only by the god. everyone there had heard--sensed--him address the lord armsmaster and the lady priestess by name. other gods had appeared personally in the past ... or had they, really? nobody had ever seen any of them except their own priests ... the priests who performed the sacrifices and who fattened on the fractions.... llosir, now, wanted neither sacrifices nor fractions; and, powerful although he was, had appeared to and had spoken to everyone alike, of however high or low degree, throughout the whole huge amphitheater. _everyone!_ not to the priestess only; not only to those of the old blood; not only to citizens or natives of lomarr; but to _everyone_--down to mercenaries, chance visitors, and such! long live lord llosir, our new and plenipotent god! * * * * * king phagon and tedric were standing at a table in the throne-room of the palace-castle, studying a map. it was crudely drawn and sketchy, this map, and full of blank areas and gross errors; but this was not an age of fine cartography. "tark, first, is still my thought, sire," tedric insisted, stubbornly. "'tis closer, our lines shorter, a victory there would hearten all our people. too, 'twould be unexpected. lomarr has never attacked tark, whereas your royal sire and his sire before him each tried to loose sarlon's grip and, in failing, but increased the already heavy payments of tribute. too, in case of something short of victory, hast only the one pass and the great gorge of the lotar to hold 'gainst reprisal. 'tis true such course would leave the marches unheld, but no more so than they have been for four years or more." "nay. _think_, man!" phagon snorted, testily. "'twould fail. four parts of our army are of tark--thinkst not their first act would be to turn against us and make common cause with their brethren? too, we lack strength, they outnumber us two to one. nay. sarlon first. then, perhaps, tark; but not before then." "but sarlon outnumbers us too, sire, especially if you count those barbarian devils of the devossian steppes. since taggad of sarlon lets them cross his lands to raid the marches--for a fraction of the loot, no doubt--'tis certain they'll help him against us. also, sire, your father and your grandfather both died under sarlonian axes." "true, but neither of them was a strategist. i am; i have studied this matter for many years. they did the obvious; i shall not. nor shall sarlon pay tribute merely; sarlon must and shall become a province of my kingdom!" so argument raged, until phagon got up onto his royal high horse and declared it his royal will that the thing was to be done his way and no other. whereupon, of course, tedric submitted with the best grace he could muster and set about the task of helping get the army ready to roll toward the marches, some three and a half hundreds of miles to the north. tedric fumed. tedric fretted. tedric swore sulphurously in lomarrian, tarkian, sarlonian, devossian, and all the other languages he knew. all his noise and fury were, however, of very little avail in speeding up what was an intrinsically slow process. between times of cursing and urging and driving, tedric was wont to prowl the castle and its environs. so doing, one day, he came upon king phagon and the lady rhoann practicing at archery. lifting his arm in salute to his sovereign and bowing his head politely to the lady, he made to pass on. "hola, tedric!" rhoann called. "wouldst speed a flight with us?" tedric glanced at the target. rhoann was beating her father unmercifully--her purple-shafted arrows were all in or near the gold, while his golden ones were scattered far and wide--and she had been twitting him unmercifully about his poor marksmanship. phagon was in no merry mood; this was very evidently no competition for any outsider--least of all lomarr's top-ranking armsmaster--to enter. "crave pardon, my lady, but other matters press...." "your evasions are so transparent, my lord; why not tell the truth?" rhoann did not exactly sneer at the man's obvious embarrassment, but it was very clear that she, too, was in a vicious temper. "mindst not beating _me_ but never the _throne_? and any armsmaster who threwest not arrows by hand at this range to beat both of us should be stripped of badge?" tedric, quite fatuously, leaped at the bait. "wouldst permit, sire?" "_no!_" the king roared. "by my head, by the throne, by llosir's liver and heart and brain and guts--no! 'twould cost the head of any save you to insult me so--shoot, sir, and shoot your best!" extending his own bow and a full quiver of arrows. tedric did not want to use the royal weapon, but at the girl's quick, imperative gesture he smothered his incipient protest and accepted it. "one sighting shot, sire?" he asked, and drew the heavy bow. nothing whatever could have forced him to put an arrow nearer the gold than the farthest of the king's; to avoid doing so--without transparently missing the target completely--would take skill, since one golden arrow stood a bare three inches from the edge of the target. his first arrow grazed the edge of the butt and was an inch low; his second plunged into the padding exactly half way between the king's wildest arrow and the target's rim. then, so rapidly that it seemed as though there must be at least two arrows in the air at once, arrow crashed on arrow; wood snapping as iron head struck feathered shaft. at end, the rent in the fabric through which all those arrows had torn their way could have been covered by half of one of rhoann's hands. "i lose, sire," tedric said, stiffly, returning bow and empty quiver. "my score is zero." phagon, knowing himself in the wrong but unable to bring himself to apologize, did what he considered the next-best thing. "i used to shoot like that," he complained. "knowst how lost i my skill, tedric? 'tis not my age, surely?" "'tis not my place to say, sire." then, with more loyalty than sense--"and i split to the teeth any who dare so insult the throne." "what!" the monarch roared. "by my...." "hold, father!" rhoann snapped. "a king you--act it!" hard blue eyes glared steadily into unyielding eyes of green. neither the thoroughly angry king nor the equally angry princess would give an inch. she broke the short, bitter silence. "say naught, tedric--he is much too fain to boil in oil or flay alive any who tell him unpleasantnesses, however true. but _me_, father, you boil not, nor flay, nor seek to punish otherwise, or i split this kingdom asunder like a melon. 'tis time--yea, long past time--that _someone_ told you the unadorned truth. hence, my rascally but well-loved parent, here 'tis. hast lolled too long on too many too soft cushions, hast emptied too many pots and tankards and flagons, hast bedded too many wenches, to be of much use in armor or with any style of weapon in the passes of the high umpasseurs." the flabbergasted and rapidly-deflating king tried to think of some answer to this devastating blast, but couldn't. he appealed to tedric. "wouldst have said such? surely not!" "not i, sire!" tedric assured him, quite truthfully. "and even if true, 'tis a thing to remedy itself. before we reach the marches wilt regain arm and eye." "perhaps," the girl put in, her tone still distinctly on the acid side. "if he matches you, tedric, in lolling and wining and wenching, yes. otherwise, no. how much wine do _you_ drink, each day?" "one cup, usually--sometimes--at supper." "on the march? think carefully, friend." "nay--i meant in town. in the field, none, of course." "seest, father?" "what thinkst me, vixen, a spineless cuddlepet? from this minute 'til return here i match your paragon youngblade loll for loll, cup for cup, wench for wench. is it what you've been niggling at me to say?" "aye, father and king, exactly--for as you say, you do." she hugged him so fervently as almost to lift him off the ground, kissed him twice, and hurried away. "a thing i would like to talk to you about, sire," tedric said quickly, before the king could bring up any of the matters just past. "armor. there was enough of the god-metal to equip three men fully, and headnecks for their horses. you, sire, and me, and sciro of your guard. break precedent, sire, i beg, and wear me this armor of proof instead of the gold; for what we face promises to be worse than anything you or i have yet seen." "i fear me 'tis true, but 'tis impossible, nonetheless. lomarr's king wears gold. he fights in gold; at need he dies in gold." and that was, tedric knew, very definitely that. it was senseless, it was idiotic, but it was absolutely true. no king of lomarr could possibly break that particular precedent. to appear in that spectacularly conspicuous fashion, one flashing golden figure in a sea of dull iron-gray, was part of the king's job. the fact that his father and his grandfather and so on for six generations back had died in golden armor could not sway him, any more than it could have swayed tedric himself in similar case. but there might be a way out. "but need it be _solid_ gold, sire? wouldst not an overlay of gold suffice?" "yea, lord tedric, and 'twould be a welcome thing indeed. i yearn not, nor did my father nor his father, to pit gold 'gainst hard-swung axe; e'en less to hide behind ten ranks of iron while others fight. but simply 'tis not possible. if the gold be thick enough for the rivets to hold, 'tis too heavy to lift. if thin enough to be possible of wearing, the gold flies off in sheets at first blow and the fraud is revealed. hast ideas? i listen." "i know not, sire...." tedric thought for minutes. "i have seen gold hammered into thin sheets ... but not thin enough ... but it might be possible to hammer it thin enough to be overlaid on the god-metal with pitch or gum. wouldst wear it so, sire?" "aye, my tedric, and gladly: just so the overlay comes not off by handsbreadths under blow of sword or axe." "handsbreadths? nay. scratches and mars, of course, easily to be overlaid again ere next day's dawn. but handsbreadths? nay, sire." "in that case, try; and may great llosir guide your hand." tedric went forthwith to the castle and got a chunk of raw, massy gold. he took it to his shop and tried to work it into the thin, smooth film he could visualize so clearly. and tried--and tried--and tried. and failed--and failed--and failed. he was still trying--and still failing--three weeks later. time was running short; the hours that had formerly dragged like days now flew like minutes. his crew had done their futile best to help; bendon, his foreman, was still standing by. the king was looking on and offering advice. so were rhoann and trycie. sciro and schillan and other more or less notable persons were also trying to be of use. tedric, strained and tense, was pounding carefully at a sheet of his latest production. it was a pitiful thing--lumpy in spots, ragged and rough, with holes where hammer had met anvil through its substance. the smith's left hand twitched at precisely the wrong instant, just as the hammer struck. the flimsy sheet fell into three ragged pieces. completely frustrated, tedric leaped backward, swore fulminantly, and hurled the hammer with all his strength toward the nearest wall. and in that instant there appeared, in the now familiar cage-like structure of shimmering, interlaced bars, the form of flesh that was llosir the god. high in the air directly over the forge the apparition hung, motionless and silent, and stared. everyone except tedric gave homage to the god, but he merely switched from the viciously corrosive devossian words he had been using to more parliamentary lomarrian. "is it possible, lord sir, for any human being to do anything with this foul, slimy, salvy, perverse, treacherous, and generally-bedamned stuff?" "it is. definitely. not only possible, but fairly easy and fairly simple, if the proper tools, apparatus, and techniques are employed," llosir's bell-toned-organ pseudo-voice replied. "ordinarily, in your lifetime, you would come to know nothing of gold leaf--although really _thin_ gold leaf is not required here--nor of gold-beater's skins and membranes and how to use them, nor of the adhesives to be employed and the techniques of employing them. the necessary tools and materials are, or can very shortly be made, available to you; you can now absorb quite readily the required information and knowledge. "for this business of beating out gold leaf, your hammer and anvil are both completely wrong. listen carefully and remember. for the first, preliminary thinning down, you take ..."[a] * * * * * lomarr's army set out at dawn. first the wide-ranging scouts: lean, hard, fine-trained runners, stripped to clouts and moccasins and carrying only a light bow and a few arrows apiece. then the hunters. they, too, scattered widely and went practically naked: but bore the hundred-pound bows and the savagely-tearing arrows of their trade. then the heavy horse, comparatively few in number, but of the old blood all, led by tedric and sciro and surrounding glittering phagon and his standard-bearers. it took a lot of horse to carry a full-armored knight of the old blood, but the horse-farmers of the middle marches bred for size and strength and stamina. next came century after century of light horse--mounted swordsmen and spearmen and javelineers--followed by even more numerous centuries of foot-slogging infantry. last of all came the big-wheeled, creaking wagons: loaded, not only with the usual supplies and equipment of war, but also with thousands of loaves of bread--hard, flat, heavy loaves made from ling, the corn-like grain which was the staple cereal of the region. "bread, sire?" tedric had asked, wonderingly, when phagon had first broached the idea. men on the march lived on meat--a straight, unrelieved diet of meat for weeks and months on end--and all too frequently not enough of that to maintain weight and strength. they expected nothing else; an occasional fist-sized chunk of bread was sheerest luxury. "bread! a whole loaf each man a day?" "aye," phagon had chuckled in reply. "all farmsmen along the way will have ready my fraction of ling, and schillan will at need buy more. to each man a loaf each day, and all the meat he can eat. 'tis why we go up the midvale, where farmsmen all breed savage dogs to guard their fields 'gainst hordes of game. such feeding will be noised abroad. canst think of a better device to lure taggad's ill-fed mercenaries to our standards?" tedric couldn't. there is no need to dwell in detail upon the army's long, slow march. leaving the city of lompoar, it moved up the lotar river, through the spectacularly scenic gorge of the coast range, and into the middle valley; that incredibly lush and fertile region which, lying between the low umpasseurs on the east and the coast range on the west, comprised roughly a third of lomarr's area. into and through the straggling hamlet of bonoy, lying at the junction of the midvale river with the lotar. then straight north, through the timberlands and meadows of the midvale's west bank. game was, as phagon had said, incredibly plentiful; out-numbering by literally thousands to one both domestic animals and men. buffalo-like lippita, moose-like rolatoes, pig-like accides--the largest and among the tastiest of lomarr's game animals--were so abundant that one good hunter could kill in half an hour enough to feed a century for a day. hence most of the hunters' time was spent in their traveling dryers, preserving meat against a coming day of need. on, up the bluely placid lake midvale, a full day's march long and half that in width. past the chain lakes, strung on the river like beads on a string. past lake ardo, and on toward lake middlemarch and the middlemarch castle which was to be tedric's official residence henceforth. as the main body passed the head of the lake, a couple of scouts brought in a runner bursting with news. "thank sarpedion, sire, i had not to run to lompoar to reach you!" he cried, dropping to his knees. "middlemarch castle is besieged! hurlo of the marches is slain!" and he went on to tell a story of onslaught and slaughter. "and the raiders worn iron," phagon remarked, when the tale was done. "sarlonian iron, no doubt?" "aye, sire, but how couldst ..." "no matter. take him to the rear. feed him." "you _expected_ this raid, sire," tedric said, rather than asked, after scouts and runner had disappeared. "aye. 'twas no raid, but the first skirmish of a war. no fool, taggad of sarlon; nor issian of devoss, barbarian though he is. they knew what loomed, and struck first. the only surprise was hurlo's death ... he had my direct orders not to do battle 'gainst any force, however slight-seeming, but to withdraw forthwith into the castle, which was to be kept stocked to withstand a siege of months ... this keeps me from boiling him in oil for stupidity, incompetence, and disloyalty." phagon frowned in thought, then went on: "were there forces that appeared not...? surely not--taggad would not split his forces at all seriously: 'tis but to annoy me ... or perhaps they are mostly barbarians despite the sarlonian iron ... to harry and flee is no doubt their aim, but for lomarr's good not one of them should escape. knowst the upper midvale, tedric, above the lake?" "but little, sire; a few miles only. i was there but once." "'tis enough. take half the royal guard and a century of bowmen. cross the midvale at the ford three miles above us here. go up and around the lake. the upper midvale is fordable almost anywhere at this season, so stay far enough away from the lake that none see you. cross it, swing in a wide circle toward the peninsula on which sits middlemarch castle, and in three days...?" "three days will be ample, sire." "three days from tomorrow's dawn, exactly as the top rim of the sun clears the meadow, make your charge out of the covering forest, with your archers spread to pick off all who seek to flee. i will be on this side of the peninsula; between us they'll be ground like ling. none shall get away!" phagon's assumptions, however, were slightly in error. when tedric's riders charged, at the crack of the indicated dawn, they did not tear through a motley horde of half-armored, half-trained barbarians. instead, they struck two full centuries of sarlon's heaviest armor! and phagon the king fared worse. at first sight of that brilliant golden armor a solid column of armored knights formed as though by magic and charged it at full gallop! phagon fought, of course; fought as his breed had always fought. at first on horse, with his terrible sword, under the trenchant edge of which knight after knight died. his horse dropped, slaughtered; his sword was knocked away; but, afoot, the war-axe chained to his steel belt by links of super-steel was still his. he swung and swung and swung again; again and again; and with each swing an enemy ceased to live; but sheer weight of metal was too much. finally, still swinging his murderous weapon, phagon of lomarr went flat on the ground. at the first assault on their king, tedric with his sword and sciro with his hammer had gone starkly berserk. sciro was nearer, but tedric was faster and stronger and had the better horse. "dreegor!" he yelled, thumping his steed's sides with his armored legs and rising high in his stirrups. nostrils flaring, the mighty beast raged forward and tedric struck as he had never struck before. eight times that terrific blade came down, and eight men and eight horses died. then, suddenly--tedric never did know how it happened, since dreegor was later found uninjured--he found himself afoot. no place for sword, this, but made to order for axe. hence, driving forward as resistlessly as though a phalanx of iron were behind him, he hewed his way toward his sovereign. thus he was near at hand when phagon went down. so was doughty sciro; and by the time the sarlonians had learned that sword nor axe nor hammer could cut or smash that gold-seeming armor fury personified was upon them. tedric straddled his king's head, sciro his feet; and, back to back, two of lomarr's mightiest armsmasters wove circular webs of flying steel through which it was sheerest suicide to attempt to pass. thus battle raged until the last armored foeman was down. "art hurt, sire?" tedric asked anxiously as he and sciro lifted phagon to his feet. "nay, my masters-at-arms," the monarch gasped, still panting for breath. "bruised merely, and somewhat winded." he opened his visor to let more air in; then, as he regained control, he shook off the supporting hands and stood erect under his own power. "i fear me, tedric, that you and that vixen daughter of mine were in some sense right. methinks i may be--oh, the veriest trifle!--out of condition. but the battle is almost over. did any escape?" none had. "'tis well. tedric, i know not how to honor...." "honor me no farther, sire, i beg. hast honored me already far more than i deserved, or ever will.... or, at least, at the moment ... there may be later, perhaps ... that is, a thing ..." he fell silent. "a thing?" phagon grinned broadly. "i know not whether rhoann will be overly pleased at being called so, but 'twill be borne in mind nonetheless. now you, sciro; lord sciro now and henceforth, and all your line. lord of what i will not now say; but when we have taken sarlo you and all others shall know." "my thanks, sire, and my obeisance," said sciro. "schillan, with me to my pavilion. i am weary and sore, and would fain rest." as the two lords of the realm, so lately commoners, strode away to do what had to be done: "neither of us feels any nobler than ever, i know," sciro said, "but in one way 'tis well--very well indeed." "the lady trycie, eh? the wind does set so, then, as i thought." "aye. for long and long. it wondered me often, your choice of the lady rhoann over _her_. howbeit, 'twill be a wondrous thing to be your brother-in-law as well as in arms." tedric grinned companionably, but before he could reply they had to separate and go to work. the king did not rest long; the heralds called tedric in before half his job was done. "what thinkst you, tedric, should be next?" phagon asked. "first punish devoss, sire!" tedric snarled. "back-track them--storm high pass if defended--raze half the steppes with sword and torch--drive them the full length of their country and into northern sound!" "interesting, my impetuous youngblade, but not at all practical," phagon countered. "hast considered the matter of time--the avalanches of rocks doubtless set up and ready to sweep those narrow paths--what taggad would be doing while we cavort through the wastelands?" tedric deflated almost instantaneously. "nay, sire," he admitted sheepishly. "i thought not of any such." "'tis the trouble with you--you know not _how_ to think." phagon was deadly serious now. "'tis a hard thing to learn; impossible for many; but learn it you must if you end not as hurlo ended. also, take heed: disobey my orders but once, as hurlo did, and you hang in chains from the highest battlement of your own castle middlemarch until your bones rot apart and drop into the lake." his monarch's vicious threat--or rather, promise--left tedric completely unmoved. "'tis what i would deserve, sire, or less; but no fear of that. stupid i may be, but disloyal? nay, sire. your word always has been and always will be my law." "not stupid, tedric, but lacking in judgment, which is not as bad; since the condition is, if you care enough to make it so, remediable. you _must_ care enough, tedric. you _must_ learn, and quickly; for much more than your own life is at hazard." the younger man stared questioningly and the king went on: "my life, the lives of my family, and the future of all lomarr," he said quietly. "in that case, sire, wilt learn, and quickly," tedric declared; and, as days and weeks went by, he did. * * * * * "all previous attempts on the city of sarlo were made in what seemed to be the only feasible way--crossing the tegula at lower ford, going down its north bank through the gorge to the west branch, and down that to the sarlo." phagon was lecturing from a large map, using a sharp stick as pointer; tedric, sciro, schillan, and two or three other high-ranking officers were watching and listening. "the west branch flows into sarlo only forty miles above sarlo bay. the city of sarlo is here, on the north bank of the sarlo river, right on the bay, and is five-sixths surrounded by water. the sarlo river is wide and deep, uncrossable against any real opposition. thus, sarlonian strategy has always been not to make any strong stand anywhere along the west branch, but to fight delaying actions merely--making their real stand on the north bank of the sarlo, only a few miles from sarlo city itself. the sarlo river, gentlemen, is well called 'sarlo's shield.' it has never been crossed." "how do you expect to cross it, then, sire?" schillan asked. "strictly speaking, we cross it not, but float down it. we cross the tegula at upper ford, not lower...." "_upper_ ford, sire? above the terrible gorge of the low umpasseurs?" "yea. that gorge, undefended, is passable. 'tis rugged, but passage can be made. once through the gorge our way to the lake of the spiders, from which springs the middle branch of the sarlo, is clear and open." "but 'tis held, sire, that middle valley is impassable for troops," a grizzled captain protested. "we traverse it, nonetheless. on rafts, at six or seven miles an hour, faster by far than any army can march. but 'tis enough of explanation. lord sciro, attend!" "i listen, sire." "at earliest dawn take two centuries of axemen and one century of bowmen, with the wagonload of wood-workers' supplies about which some of you have wondered. strike straight north at forced march. cross the tegula. straight north again, to the lake of the spiders and the head of the middle branch. build rafts, large enough and of sufficient number to bear our whole force; strong enough to stand rough usage. the rafts should be done, or nearly, by the time we get there." "i hear, sire, and i obey." tedric, almost stunned by the novelty and audacity of this, the first amphibian operation in the history of his world, was dubious but willing. and as the map of that operation spread itself in his mind, he grew enthusiastic. "we attack then, not from the south but from the north-east!" "aye, and on solid ground, not across deep water. but to bed, gentlemen--tomorrow the clarions sound before dawn!" dawn came. sciro and his force struck out. the main army marched away, up the north bank of the upper midvale, which for thirty or forty miles flowed almost directly from the north-east. there, however, it circled sharply to flow from the south-east and the lomarrians left it, continuing their march across undulating foothills straight for upper ford. from the south, the approach to this ford, lying just above (east of) the low umpasseur mountains, at the point where the middle marches mounted a stiff but not abrupt gradient to become the upper marches, was not too difficult. nor was the entrapment of most of the sarlonians and barbarians on watch. the stream, while only knee-deep for the most part, was wide, fast, and rough; the bottom was made up in toto of rounded, mossy, extremely slippery rocks. there were enough men and horses and lines, however, so that the crossing was made without loss. then, turning three-quarters of a circle, the cavalcade made slow way back down the river, along its north bank, toward the forbidding gorge of the low umpasseurs. the north bank was different, vastly different, from the south one. mountains of bare rock, incredible thousands of feet higher than the plateau forming the south bank, towered at the rushing torrent's very edge. what passed for a road was narrow, steep, full of hair-pin turns, and fearfully rugged. but this, too, was passed--by dint of what labor and stress it is not necessary to dwell upon--and as the army debouched out onto the sparsely-wooded, gullied and eroded terrain of the high barren valley and began to make camp for the night. tedric became deeply concerned. sciro's small force would have left no obvious or lasting traces of its passing; but such blatant disfigurements as these.... he glanced at the king, then stared back at the broad, trampled, deep-rutted way the army had come. "south of the river our tracks do not matter," he said, flatly. "in the gorge they exist not. but _those_ traces, sire, matter greatly and are not to be covered or concealed." "tedric, i approve of you--you begin to think!" much to the young man's surprise, phagon smiled broadly. "how wouldst handle the thing, if decision yours?" "a couple of fives of bowmen to camp here or nearby, sire," tedric replied promptly, "to put arrows through any who come to spy." "'tis a sound idea, but not enough by half. here i leave _you_; and a full century each of our best scouts and hunters. see to it, my lord captain, that none sees this our trail from here to the lake of the spiders; or, having seen it, lives to tell of the seeing." tedric, after selecting his sharp-shooters and watching them melt invisibly into the landscape, went down the valley about a mile and hid himself carefully in a cave. these men knew the business in hand a lot better than he did, and he would not interfere. what he was for was to take command in an emergency; if the operation were a complete success he would have nothing whatever to do! he was still in the cave, days later, when word came that the launching had begun. rounding up his guerillas, he led them at a fast pace to the lake of the spiders, around it, and to the place where the lomarrian army had been encamped. four fifty-man rafts were waiting, and tedric noticed with surprise that a sort of house had been built on the one lying farthest down-stream. this luxury, he learned, was for him and his squire rahlion and their horses and armor! the middle branch was wide and swift; and to tedric and his bowmen, landlubbers all, it was terrifyingly rough and boisterous and full of rocks. tedric, however, did not stay a landlubber long. he was not the type to sit in idleness when there was something physical to do, something new to learn. and learning to be a riverman was so much easier than learning to be king phagon's idea of a strategist! thus, stripped to clout and moccasins, tedric reveled in pitting his strength and speed at steering-oar or pole against the raft's mass and the river's whim. "a good man, him," the boss boatman remarked to one of his mates. then, later, to tedric himself: "'tis shame, lord, that you got to work at this lord business. wouldst make a damn good riverman in time." "my thanks, sir, and 'twould be more fun, but king phagon knows best. but this 'bend' you talk of--what is it?" "'tis where this middle branch turns a square angle 'gainst solid rock to flow west into the sarlo; the roughest, wickedest bit of water anybody ever tried to run a raft over. canst try it with me if you like." "'twould please me greatly to try." well short of the bend, each raft was snubbed to the shore and unloaded. when the first one was bare, the boss riverman and a score of his best men stepped aboard. so did tedric. "what folly this?" phagon yelled. "tedric, ashore!" "canst swim, lord tedric?" the boss asked. "like an eel," tedric admitted modestly, and the riverman turned to the king. "'twill save you rafts, sire, if he works with us. he's quick as a cat and strong as a bull, and knows more of white water already than half my men." "in that case ..." phagon waved his hand and the first raft took off. many of the rafts were lost, of course; and tedric had to swim in icy water more than once, but he loved every exhausting, exciting second of the time. nor were the broken logs of the wrecked rafts allowed to drift down the river as tell-tales. each bit was hauled carefully ashore. below the bend, the middle branch was wide and deep, hence the reloaded rafts had smooth sailing; and the sarlo itself was of course wider and deeper still. in fact, it would have been easily navigable by an 80,000-ton modern liner. the only care now was to avoid discovery--which matter was attended to by several centuries of far-ranging scouts and by scores of rivermen in commandeered boats. moyla's landing, the predetermined point of debarkation, was a scant fifteen miles from the city of sarlo. it was scarcely a hamlet, but even so any one of its few inhabitants could have given the alarm. hence it was surrounded by an advance force of bowmen and spearmen, and before those soldiers set out phagon voiced the orders he was to repeat so often during the following hectic days. "no burning and no wanton killing! none must know we come, but nonetheless sarlon is to be a province of lomarr my kingdom and _i will not have its people or its substance destroyed_! to that end i swear by my royal head, by the throne, by great llosir's heart and brain and liver, that any man of whatever rank who slays or burns without my express permission will be flayed alive and then boiled in oil!" hence the taking of moyla's landing was very quiet, and its people were held under close guard. all that day and all the following night the army rested. phagon was pretty sure that taggad knew nothing of the invasion as yet; but it would be idle to hope to get much closer without being discovered. every mile gained, however, would be worth a century of men. therefore, long before dawn, the supremely ready lomarrian forces rolled over the screening bluff and marched steadily toward sarlo. not fast, note; thirteen miles is a long haul when there is to be a full-scale battle at the end of it. plodding slowly along on mighty dreegor at the king's right, tedric roused himself from a brown study and, gathering his forces visibly, spoke: "knowst i love the lady rhoann, sire?" "aye. no secret that, nor has been since the fall of sarpedion." "hast permission, then, to ask her to be my wife, once back in lompoar?" "mayst ask her sooner than that, if you like. wilt be here tomorrow--with the family, the court, and an image of great llosir--for the triumph." tedric's mouth dropped open. "but sire," he managed finally, "how couldst be _that_ sure of success? the armies are too evenly matched." "in seeming only. they have no body of horse or foot able to stand against my royal guard; they have nothing to cope with you and sciro and your armor and weapons. therefore i have been and am certain of lomarr's success. well-planned and well-executed ventures do not fail. this has been long in the planning, but only your discovery of the god-metal made it possible of execution." then, as tedric glanced involuntarily at his gold-plated armor: "yea, the overlay made it possible for me to live--although i may die this day, being the center of attack and being weaker and of lesser endurance that i thought--but my life matters not beside the good of lomarr. a king's life is of import only to himself, to his family, and to a few--wouldst be surprised to learn how _very_ few--real friends." "your life matters to me, sire--and to sciro!" "aye, tedric my almost-son, that i know. art in the forefront of those few i spoke of. and take this not _too_ seriously, for i expect fully to live. but in case i die, remember this: kings come and kings go; but as long as it holds the loyalty of such as you and sciro and your kind, the throne of lomarr endures!" * * * * * taggad of sarlon was not taken completely by surprise. however, he had little enough warning, and so violent and hasty was his mobilization that the sarlonians were little if any fresher than the lomarrians when they met, a couple of miles outside the city's limit. there is no need to describe in detail the arrangement of the centuries and the legions, nor to dwell at length upon the bloodiness and savagery of the conflict as a whole nor to pick out individual deeds of derring-do, of heroism, or of cowardice. of prime interest here is the climactic charge of lomarr's heavy horse--the royal guard--that ended it. there was little enough of finesse in that terrific charge, led by glittering phagon and his two alloy-clad lords. the best their middlemarch horses could do in the way of speed was a lumbering canter, but their tremendous masses--a middlemarch warhorse was not considered worth saving unless he weighed at least one long ton--added to the weight of man and armor each bore, gave them momentum starkly irresistible. into and through the ranks of sarlonian armor the knights of lomarr's old blood crashed; each rising in his stirrups and swinging down with all his might, with sword or axe or hammer, upon whatever luckless wight was nearest at hand. then, re-forming, a backward smash; then another drive forward. but men were being unhorsed; horses were being hamstrung or killed; of a sudden king phagon himself went down. unhorsed, but not out--his god-metal axe, scarcely stoppable by iron, was taking heavy toll. as at signal, every mounted guardsman left his saddle as one; and every guardsman who could move drove toward the flashing golden figure of his king. "where now, sire?" tedric yelled, above the clang of iron. "taggad's pavilion, of course--where else?" phagon yelled back. "guardsmen, to me!" tedric roared. "make wedge, as you did at sarpedion's temple!" and the knights who could not hear him were made by signs to understand what was required. "to that purple tent we ram phagon our king. elbows in, sire. short thrusts only, and never mind your legs. now, men--_drive!_" with three giants in impregnable armor at point--tedric and sciro were so close beside and behind the king as almost to be one with him--that flying wedge simply could not be stopped. in little over a minute it reached the pavilion and its terribly surprised owner. golden tigers seemed to leap and creep as the lustrous silk of the tent rippled in the breeze; magnificent golden tigers adorned the sarlonian's purple-enameled armor. "yield, taggad of sarlon, or die!" phagon shouted. "if i yield, oh phagon of lomarr, what...." taggad began a conciliatory speech, but even while speaking he whirled a long and heavy sword out from behind him, leaped, and struck--so fast that neither phagon nor either of his lords had time to move; so viciously hard that had lomarr's monarch been wearing anything but super-steel he would have joined his fathers then and there. as it was, however, the fierce-driven heavy blade twisted, bent double, and broke. phagon's counter-stroke was automatic. his axe, swung with all his strength and speed, crashed to the helve through iron and bone and brain; and, as soon as the heralds with their clarions could spread the news that phagon had killed taggad in hand to hand combat, all fighting ceased. "captain sciro, kneel!" with the flat of his sword phagon struck the steel-clad back a ringing blow. "rise, lord sciro of sarlon!" _"so be it," skandos one murmured gently, and took up the life and the work of skandos four._ _ultimate catastrophe was five hundred twenty-nine years away._ the end * * * * * [footnote a: see encyclopedia britannica (plug). e.e.s.] * * * * * transcriber's note: this etext was produced from universe science fiction march 1954. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the numerous original illustrations. see 44838-h.htm or 44838-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44838/44838-h/44838-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44838/44838-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/timeitsmeasureme00arth transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). the notation "_{n}" means that n is a subscript. small capital text has been converted to all uppercase. time and its measurement by james arthur reprinted from popular mechanics magazine copyright, 1909, by h. h. windsor chicago, 1909 contents chapter i historic outline time as an abstraction. -ancient divisions of day and night. -night watches of the old testament. -quarter days and hours of the new testament. -shadow, or sun time. -noon mark dials. -ancient dials of herculaneum and pompeii. -modern dials. - equation of time. -three historic methods of measuring time. - "time-boy" of india. -chinese clepsydra. -ancient weather and time stations. -tower of the winds, athens, greece page 13 chapter ii japanese clocks chinese and japanese divisions of the day. -hours of varying length. -setting clocks to length of daylight. -curved line dials. -numbering hours backwards and strange reasons for same. -daily names for sixty day period. -japanese clock movements practically dutch. -japanese astronomical clock. - decimal numbers very old chinese. -original vertical dials founded on "bamboo stick" of chinese clepsydra. -mathematics and superstition. -mysterious disappearance of hours 1, 2, 3. -eastern mental attitude towards time. -japanese methods of striking hours and half hours page 25 chapter iii modern clocks de vick's clock of 1364. -original "verge" escapement. - "anchor" and "dead beat" escapements. -"remontoir" clock. - the pendulum. -jeweling pallets. -antique clock with earliest application of pendulum. -turkish watches. -correct designs for public clock faces. -art work on old watches. -24-hour watch. -syrian and hebrew hour numerals. -correct method of striking hours and quarters. -design for 24-hour dial and hands. -curious clocks. -inventions of the old clock-makers page 37 chapter iv astronomical foundation of time astronomical motions on which our time is founded. -reasons for selecting the sidereal day as a basis for our 24-hour day. -year of the seasons shorter than the zodiacal year. - precession of the equinoxes. -earth's rotation most uniform motion known to us. -time stars and transits. -local time. -the date line. -standard time. -beginning and ending of a day. -proposed universal time. -clock dial for universal time and its application to business. -next great improvement in clocks and watches indicated. -automatic recording of the earth's rotation. -year of the seasons as a unit for astronomers. -general conclusions page 53 illustrations page portrait of james arthur 8 interpretation of chinese and japanese methods of time keeping 15 portable bronze sundial from the ruins of herculaneum 16 noon-mark sundials 17 modern horizontal sundial for latitude 40°-43´ 18 the earth, showing relation of dial styles to axis 18 modern sundial set up in garden 18 "time-boy" of india 19 "hon-woo-et-low," or "copper jars dropping water"--canton, china 19 modern sand glass or "hour glass" 20 tower of the winds, athens, greece 20 key to japanese figures 25 japanese dials set for long and short days 25 japanese striking clock with weight and short pendulum 26 japanese striking clock with spring, fusee and balance 26 japanese clock with vertical dial, weight and balance 27 japanese clock with vertical dial having curved lines, weight and balance 27 japanese vertical dials 28 japanese striking clock with two balances and two escapements 29 "twelve horary branches" and "10 celestial stems" as used in clocks 30 key to "12 horary branches" and "10 celestial stems" 30 dial of japanese astronomical clock 31 use of "yeng number" and animal names of hours 32 public dial by james arthur 37 dial of philadelphia city hall clock 37 verge escapement 37 de vick's clock of 1364 38 anchor escapement 38 american anchor escapement 39 dead beat escapement 39 remontoir clock by james arthur 40 remontoir clock movement 40 antique clock, entirely hand-made 41, 42 double-case watch of repoussé work 42 triple-case turkish watches 43 watch showing dutch art work 43 triple-case turkish watch 44 watches showing art work 45 antique watch cock 46 "chinese" watch 46 musical watch, repeating hours and quarters 47 syrian dial 47 hebrew numerals 48 twenty-four hour watch 48 domestic dial by james arthur 49 local time--standard time--beginning and ending of the day 57 universal time dial set for four places 61 [illustration: james arthur mr. arthur is an enthusiastic scientist, a successful inventor and extensive traveler, who has for years been making a study of clocks, watches, and time-measuring devices. he is not only a great authority on this subject, but his collection of over 1500 timepieces gathered from all parts of the globe has been pronounced the finest collection in the world. mr. arthur is a pleasing exception to the average business man, for he has found time to do a large amount of study and research along various scientific lines in addition to conducting an important manufacturing business in new york city, of which he is president. mr. arthur is 67 years of age.--h. h. windsor.] chapter i historic outline time as an abstraction. -ancient divisions of day and night. -night watches of the old testament. -quarter days and hours of the new testament. -shadow or sun time. -noon mark dials. -ancient dials of herculaneum and pompeii. -modern dials. - equation of time. -three historic methods of measuring time. - "time-boy" of india. -chinese clepsydra. -ancient weather and time stations. -tower of the winds, athens, greece. time, as a separate entity, has not yet been defined in language. definitions will be found to be merely explanations of the sense in which we use the word in matters of practical life. no human being can tell how long a minute is; only that it is longer than a second and shorter than an hour. in some sense we can think of a longer or shorter period of time, but this is merely comparative. the difference between 50 and 75 steps a minute in marching is clear to us, but note that we introduce motion and space before we can get a conception of time as a succession of events, but time, in itself, remains elusive. in time measures we strive for a uniform motion of something and this implies equal spaces in equal times; so we here assume just what we cannot explain, for space is as difficult to define as time. time cannot be "squared" or used as a multiplier or divisor. only numbers can be so used; so when we speak of "the square of the time" we mean some number which we have arbitrarily assumed to represent it. this becomes plain when we state that in calculations relating to pendulums, for example, we may use seconds and inches--minutes and feet--or seconds and meters and the answer will come out right in the units which we have assumed. still more, numbers themselves have no meaning till they are applied to something, and here we are applying them to time, space and motion; so we are trying to explain three abstractions by a fourth! but, happily, the results of these assumptions and calculations are borne out in practical human life, and we are not compelled to settle the deep question as to whether fundamental knowledge is possible to the human mind. those desiring a few headaches on these questions can easily get them from kant and spencer--but that is all they will get on these four necessary assumptions. evidently, man began by considering the day as a unit and did not include the night in his time keeping for a long period. "and the evening and the morning were the first day" gen. 1, 5; "evening and morning and at noonday," ps. lv, 17, divides the day ("sun up") in two parts. "fourth part of a day," neh. ix, 3, shows another advance. then comes, "are there not twelve hours in a day," john xi, 9. the "eleventh hour," matt. xx, 1 to 12, shows clearly that sunset was 12 o'clock. a most remarkable feature of this 12-hour day, in the new testament, is that the writers generally speak of the third, sixth and ninth hours, acts ii, 15; iii, 1; x, 9. this is extremely interesting, as it shows that the writers still thought in quarter days (neh. ix, 3) and had not yet acquired the 12-hour conception given to them by the romans. they thought in quarter days even when using the 12-hour numerals! note further that references are to "hours;" so it is evident that in new testament times they did not need smaller subdivisions. "about the third hour," shows the mental attitude. that they had no conception of our minutes, seconds and fifth seconds becomes quite plain when we notice that they jumped down from the hour to nowhere, in such expressions as "in an instant--in the twinkling of an eye." before this, the night had been divided into three watches, judges vii, 19. poetry to this day uses the "hours" and the "watches" as symbols. this 12 hours of daylight gave very variable hours in latitudes some distance from the equator, being long in summer and short in winter. the amount of human ingenuity expended on time measures so as to divide the time from sunrise to sunset into 12 equal parts is almost beyond belief. in constantinople, to-day, this is used, but in a rather imperfect manner, for the clocks are modern and run 24 hours uniformly; so the best they can do is to set them to mark twelve at sunset. this necessitates setting to the varying length of the days, so that the clocks appear to be sometimes more and sometimes less than six hours ahead of ours. a clock on the tower at the sultan's private mosque gives the impression of being out of order and about six hours ahead, but it is running correctly to their system. hotels often show two clocks, one of them to our twelve o'clock noon system. evidently the jewish method of ending a day at sunset is the same and explains the command, "let not the sun go down upon thy wrath," which we might read, do not carry your anger over to another day. i venture to say that we still need that advice. this simple line of steps in dividing the day and night is taken principally from the bible because everyone can easily look up the passages quoted and many more, while quotations from books not in general use would not be so clear. further, the neglect of the bible is such a common complaint in this country that if i induce a few to look into it a little some good may result, quite apart from the matter of religious belief. some chinese and japanese methods of dividing the day and night are indicated in fig. 1. the old japanese method divides the day into six hours and the night also into six, each hour averaging twice as long as ours. in some cases they did this by changing the rate of the clock, and in others by letting the clock run uniformly and changing the hour marks on the dial, but this will come later when we reach japanese clocks. it is remarkable that at the present time in england the "saving daylight" agitation is virtually an attempt to go back to this discarded system. "john bull," for a long period the time-keeper of the world with headquarters at greenwich, and during that time the most pretentious clock-maker, now proposes to move his clocks backward and forward several times a year so as to "fool" his workmen out of their beds in the mornings! why not commence work a few minutes earlier each fortnight while days are lengthening and the reverse when they are shortening? this reminds me of a habit which was common in scotland,--"keeping the clock half an hour forward." in those days work commenced at six o'clock, so the husband left his house at six and after a good walk arrived at the factory at six! don't you see that if his clock had been set right he would have found it necessary to leave at half past five? but, you say he was simply deceiving himself and acting in an unreasonable manner. certainly, but the average man is not a reasonable being, and "john bull" knows this and is trying to fool the average englishman. [illustration: fig. 1--interpretation of chinese and japanese methods of time keeping] now, as to the methods of measuring time, we must use circumstantial evidence for the pre-historic period. the rising and the going down of the sun--the lengthening shadows, etc., must come first, and we are on safe ground here, for savages still use primitive methods like setting up a stick and marking its shadow so that a party trailing behind can estimate the distance the leaders are ahead by the changed position of the shadow. men notice their shortening and lengthening shadows to this day. when the shadow of a man shortens more and more slowly till it appears to be fixed, the observer knows it is noon, and when it shows the least observable lengthening then it is just past noon. now, it is a remarkable fact that this crude method of determining noon is just the same as "taking the sun" to determine noon at sea. noon is the time at which the sun reaches his highest point on any given day. at sea this is determined generally by a sextant, which simply measures the angle between the horizon and the sun. the instrument is applied a little before noon and the observer sees the sun creeping upward slower and slower till a little tremor or hesitation appears indicating that the sun has reached his height,--noon. oh! you wish to know if the observer is likely to make a mistake? yes, and when accurate local time is important, several officers on a large ship will take the meridian passage at the same time and average their readings, so as to reduce the "personal error." all of which is merely a greater degree of accuracy than that of the man who observes his shadow. [illustration: fig. 2--portable bronze sundial from the ruins of herculaneum] the gradual development of the primitive shadow methods culminated in the modern sundial. the "dial of ahas," isa. xxxviii, 8, on which the sun went back 10 "degrees" is often referred to, but in one of the revised editions of the unchangeable word the sun went back 10 "steps." this becomes extremely interesting when we find that in india there still remains an immense dial built with steps instead of hour lines. figure 2 shows a pocket, or portable sundial taken from the ruins of herculaneum and now in the museo national, naples. it is bronze, was silver plated and is in the form of a ham suspended from the hock joint. from the tail, evidently bent from its original position, which forms the gnomon, lines radiate and across these wavy lines are traced. it is about 5 in. long and 3 in. wide. being in the corner of a glass case i was unable to get small details, but museum authorities state that names of months are engraved on it, so it would be a good guess that these wavy lines had something to do with the long and short days. in a restored flower garden, within one of the large houses in the ruins of pompeii, may be seen a sundial of the armillary type, presumably in its original position. i could not get close to it, as the restored garden is railed in, but it looks as if the plane of the equator and the position of the earth's axis must have been known to the maker. both these dials were in use about the beginning of our era and were covered by the great eruption of vesuvius in 79 a.d., which destroyed pompeii and herculaneum. modern sundials differ only in being more accurately made and a few "curiosity" dials added. the necessity for time during the night, as man's life became a little more complicated, necessitated the invention of time machines. the "clepsydra," or water clock, was probably the first. a french writer has dug up some old records putting it back to hoang-ti 2679 b.c., but it appears to have been certainly in use in china in 1100 b.c., so we will be satisfied with that date. in presenting a subject to the young student it is sometimes advisable to use round numbers to give a simple comprehension and then leave him to find the overlapping of dates and methods as he advances. keeping this in mind, the following table may be used to give an elementary hint of the three great steps in time measuring: shadow time, 2000 to 1000 b. c. dials and water clocks, 1000 b. c. to 1000 a. d. clocks and watches, 1000 to 2000 a. d. i have pushed the gear wheel clocks and watches forward to 2000 a.d., as they may last to that time, but i have no doubt we will supersede them. at the present time science is just about ready to say that a time measurer consisting of wheels and pinions--a driving power and a regulator in the form of a pendulum or balance, is a clumsy contrivance and that we ought to do better very soon; but more on this hoped-for, fourth method when we reach the consideration of the motion on which we base all our time keeping. it is remarkable how few are aware that the simplest form of sundial is the best, and that, as a regulator of our present clocks, it is good within one or two minutes. no one need be without a "noon-mark" sundial; that is, every one may have the best of all dials. take a post or any straight object standing "plumb," or best of all the corner of a building as in fig. 3. in the case of the post, or tree trunk, a stone (shown in solid black) may be set in the ground; but for the building a line may often be cut across a flagstone of the footpath. many methods may be employed to get this noon mark, which is simply a north and south line. viewing the pole star, using a compass (if the local variation is known) or the old method of finding the time at which the shadow of a pole is shortest. but the best practical way in this day is to use a watch set to local time and make the mark at 12 o'clock. [illustration: fig. 3--noon-mark sundials] on four days of the year the sun is right and your mark may be set at 12 on these days, but you may use an almanac and look in the column marked "mean time at noon" or "sun on meridian." for example, suppose on the bright day when you are ready to place your noon mark you read in this column 11:50, then when your watch shows 11:50 make your noon mark to the shadow and it will be right for all time to come. owing to the fact that there are not an even number of days in a year, it follows that on any given yearly date at noon the earth is not at the same place in its elliptical orbit and the correction of this by the leap years causes the equation table to vary in periods of four years. the centennial leap years cause another variation of 400 years, etc., but these variations are less than the error in reading a dial. sun on noon mark, 1909 ------------------------------------------------------ clock clock clock date time date time date time ------------------------------------------------------ jan. 2 12:04 may 1 11:57 sep. 30 11:50 " 4 12:05 " 15 11:56 oct. 3 11:49 " 7 12:06 " 28 11:57 " 6 11:48 " 9 12:07 june 4 11:58 " 10 11:47 " 11 12:08 " 10 11:59 " 14 11:46 " 14 12:09 " 14 12:00 " 19 11:45 " 17 12:10 " 19 12:01 " 26 11:44 " 20 12:11 " 24 12:02 nov. 17 11:45 " 23 12:12 " 29 12:03 " 22 11:46 " 28 12:13 july 4 12:04 " 25 11:47 feb. 3 12:14 " 10 12:05 " 29 11:48 " 26 12:13 " 19 12:06 dec. 1 11:49 mar. 3 12:12 aug. 11 12:05 " 4 11:50 " 8 12:11 " 16 12:04 " 6 11:51 " 11 12:10 " 21 12:03 " 9 11:52 " 15 12:09 " 25 12:02 " 11 11:53 " 18 12:08 " 28 12:01 " 13 11:54 " 22 12:07 " 31 12:00 " 15 11:55 " 25 12:06 sep. 4 11:59 " 17 11:56 " 28 12:05 " 7 11:58 " 19 11:57 apr. 1 12:04 " 10 11:57 " 21 11:58 " 4 12:03 " 12 11:56 " 23 11:59 " 7 12:02 " 15 11:55 " 25 12:00 " 11 12:01 " 18 11:54 " 27 12:01 " 15 12:00 " 21 11:53 " 29 12:02 " 19 11:59 " 24 11:52 " 31 12:03 " 24 11:58 " 27 11:51 ------------------------------------------------------ the above table shows the variation of the sun from "mean" or clock time, by even minutes. [illustration: fig. 4--12-inch modern horizontal sundial for latitude 40°-43´] [illustration: fig. 5--the earth, showing relation of dial styles to axis] the reason that the table given here is convenient for setting clocks to mean time is that a minute is as close as a dial can be read, but if you wish for greater accuracy, then the almanac, which gives the "equation of time" to a second for each day, will be better. the reason that these noon-mark dials are better than ordinary commercial dials is that they are larger, and still further, noon is the only time that any dial is accurate to sun time. this is because the sun's rays are "refracted" in a variable manner by our atmosphere, but at noon this refraction takes place on a north and south line, and as that is our noon-mark line the dial reads correctly. so, for setting clocks, the corner of your house is far ahead of the most pretentious and expensive dial. in fig. 4 is shown a modern horizontal dial without the usual confusing "ornamentation," and in fig. 5 it is shown set up on the latitude of new york city for which it is calculated. this shows clearly why the edge fg of the style which casts the shadow must be parallel to the earth's axis and why a horizontal dial must be made for the latitude of the place where it is set up. figure 6 is the same dial only the lines are laid out on a square dial plate, and it will give your young scientific readers a hint of how to set up a dial in the garden. in setting up a horizontal dial, consider only noon and set the style, or 12 o'clock line, north and south as described above for noon-mark dials. [illustration: fig. 6--modern sundial set up in garden] a whole issue of popular mechanics could be filled on the subject of dials and even then only give a general outline. astronomy, geography, geometry, mathematics, mechanics, as well as architecture and art, come in to make "dialing" a most charming scientific and intellectual avocation. during the night and also in cloudy weather the sundial was useless and we read that the priests of the temples and monks of more modern times "went out to observe the stars" to make a guess at the time of night. the most prominent type after the shadow devices was the "water clock" or "clepsydra," but many other methods were used, such as candles, oil lamps and in comparatively late times, the sand glass. the fundamental principle of all water clocks is the escape of water from a vessel through a small hole. it is evident that such a vessel would empty itself each time it is filled in very nearly the same time. the reverse of this has been used as shown in fig. 7, which represents the "time-boy" of india. he sits in front of a large vessel of water and floats a bronze cup having a small hole in its bottom in this large vessel, and the leakage gradually lowers this cup till it sinks, after which he fishes it up and strikes one or more blows on it as a gong. this he continues and a rude division of time is obtained,--while he keeps awake! [illustration: fig. 7--"time-boy" of india] [illustration: fig. 8--"hon-woo-et-low" or "copper jars dropping water"--canton, china] the most interesting of all water clocks is undoubtedly the "copper jars dropping water," in canton, china, where i saw it in 1897. referring to the simple line sketch, which i make from memory, fig. 8, and reading four chinese characters downwards the translation is "canton city." to the left and still downwards,--"hon-woo-et-low," which is,--"copper jars dropping water." educated chinamen inform me that it is over 3,000 years old and had a weather vane. as they speak of it as "the clock of the street arch" this would look quite probable; since the little open building, or tower in which it stands is higher than surrounding buildings. it is, therefore, reasonably safe to state that the chinese had a _weather and time station_ over 1,000 years before our era. it consists of four copper jars partially built in masonry forming a stair-like structure. commencing at the top jar each one drops into the next downward till the water reaches the solid bottom jar. in this lowest one a float, "the bamboo stick," is placed and indicates the height of the water and thus in a rude way gives the time. it is said to be set morning and evening by dipping the water from jar 4 to jar 1, so it runs 12 hours of our time. what are the uses of jars 2 and 3, since the water simply enters them and drips out again? no information could be obtained, but i venture an explanation and hope the reader can do better, as we are all of a family and there is no jealousy. when the top jar is filled for a 12-hour run it would drip out too fast during the first six hours and too slow during the second six hours, on account of the varying "head" of water. now, the spigot of jar 2 could be set so that it would gain water during the first six hours, and lose during the second six hours and thus equalize a little by splitting the error of jar 1 in two parts. similarly, these two errors of jar 2 could be again split by jar 3 making four small variations in lowest jar, instead of one large error in the flow of jar 1. this could be extended to a greater number of jars, another jar making eight smaller errors, etc., etc. but i am inclined to credit our ancient chinese inventor with the sound reasoning that a human attendant, being very fallible and limited in his capacity, would have all he could properly do to adjust four jars, and that his record would average better than it would with a greater number. remember, this man lived thousands of years before the modern mathematician who constructed a bell-shaped vessel with a small hole in the bottom, and proportioned the varying diameter in such a manner that in emptying itself the surface of the water sank equal distances in equal times. the sand glass, fig. 9, poetically called the "hour glass," belongs to the water-clock class and the sand flows from one bulb into the other, but it gives no subdivisions of its period, so if you are using one running an hour it does not give you the half hour. the sand glass is still in use by chairmen, and when the oldest inhabitant gets on his feet, i always advise setting a 20-minute glass "on him." [illustration: fig. 9--modern sand glass or "hour glass"] [illustration: fig. 10--"tower of the winds"--athens, greece] in the "tower of the winds" at athens, greece (fig. 10), we have a later "weather bureau" station. it is attributed to the astronomer andronicos, and was built about 50 b. c. it is octagonal in plan and although 27 ft. in diameter and 44 ft. high, it looks like a sentry box when seen from one of the hills of athens. it had a bronze weather vane and in later times sundials on its eight sides, but all these are gone and the tower itself is only a dilapidated ruin. in making the drawing for this cut, from a photograph of the tower, i have sharpened the weathered and chipped corners of the stones so as to give a view nearly like the structure as originally built; but nothing is added. under the eaves it has eight allegorical sculptures, representing wind and weather. artists state that these sculptures are inferior as compared with grecian art of an older period. but the most interesting part is inside, and here we find curious passages cut in solid stone, and sockets which look as if they had contained metal bearings for moving machinery. circumstantial evidence is strong that it contained a complicated water clock which could have been kept running with tolerable accuracy by setting it daily to the dials on the outside. probably during a few days of cloudy weather the clock would "get off quite a little," but business was not pressing in those days. besides, the timekeeper would swear by his little water wheel, anyway, and feel safe, as there was no higher authority wearing an american watch. some very interesting engravings of japanese clocks and a general explanation of them, as well as a presentation of the japanese mental attitude towards "hours" and their strange method of numbering them may be expected in the next chapter. chapter ii japanese clocks chinese and japanese divisions of the day. -hours of varying length. -setting clocks to length of daylight. -curved line dials. -numbering hours backwards and strange reasons for same. -daily names for sixty day period. -japanese clock movements practically dutch. -japanese astronomical clock. - decimal numbers very old chinese. -original vertical dials founded on "bamboo stick" of chinese clepsydra. -mathematics and superstition. -mysterious disappearance of hours 1, 2, 3. -eastern mental attitude towards time. -japanese methods of striking hours and half hours. the ancient methods of dividing day and night in china and japan become more hazy as we go backwards and the complications grow. the three circles in fig. 1 (chapter i) are all taken from japanese clocks, but the interpretation has been obtained from chinese and japanese scholars. the japanese obtained a great deal from the chinese, in fact nearly everything relating to the ancient methods of time keeping and the compiling of calendars. i have not been able to find any chinese clocks constructed of wheels and pinions, but have a number of japanese. these have a distinct resemblance to the earlier dutch movements, and while made in japan, they are practically dutch, so far as the "works" are concerned, but it is easy to see from the illustrations that they are very japanese in style and ornamentation. the dutch were the leaders in opening japan to the european nations and introduced modern mathematics and clocks from about 1590 a. d. the ancient mathematics of japan came largely from china through corea. in fig. 11 are given the japanese figures beside ours, for the reader's use as a key. the complete day in japan was divided into twice six hours; that is, six for daylight and six for night, and the clocks are set, as the days vary in length, so that six o'clock is sunrise and sunset. the hour numerals on fig. 12 are on little plates which are movable, and are shown set for a long day and a short night. [illustration: fig. 11] [illustration: fig. 12 fig. 13. japanese dials set for long and short days] in fig. 13 they are set for short days and long nights. the narrow plates shown in solid black are the half-hour marks. in this type the hand is stationary and always points straight upward. the dial rotates, as per arrow, once in a full day. this style of dial is shown on complete clocks, fig. 14 being a weight clock and fig. 15 a spring clock with chain and fusee. the hours are 9 to 4 and the dials rotate to make them read backwards. the six hours of daylight are 6, 5, 4, 9, 8, 7, 6 and the same for night, so these hours average twice as long as ours. note that nine is mid-day and mid-night, and as these do not change by long and short days they are stationary on the dial, as you can easily see by comparing figs. 12 and 13, which are the same dial set for different seasons. between these extremes the dial hours are set as often as the owner wishes; so if he happens to correspond with our "time crank" he will set them often and dispute with his neighbors about the time. figure 16 shows a clock with the hour numerals on a vertical series of movable plates and it is set for uniform hours when day and night are equal at the equinox. the ornamental pointer is fastened to the weight through the vertical slit, plainly visible in illustration, and indicates the time as it descends. this clock is wound up at sunset, so the six on the top of the dial is sunset the same as the six on the bottom. figure 17 shows how this type of dial is set for long and short days and explains itself, but will become plainer as we proceed. this dial is virtually a continuation of the old method of marking time by the downward motion of the water in the clepsydras and will be noticed later. [illustration: fig. 14--japanese striking clock with weight and short pendulum] [illustration: fig. 15--japanese striking clock with spring, fusee and balance] figure 18 represents a clock which is a work of art and shows great refinement of design in providing for the varying lengths of days. the bar lying across the dial is fastened to the weight through the two slits running the whole length of the dial. on this cross bar is a small pointer, which is movable by the fingers, and may be set to any one of the thirteen vertical lines. the numerous characters on the top space of dial indicate the dates on which the pointer is to be set. this clock is wound up at sunset, and it is easy to see that as the little pointer is set towards the right, the night hours at the top of the dial become shorter and the day hours longer on the lower part. the left edge of the dial gives the hours, reading downwards, and as the pointer touches any one of the curved lines the hour is read at the left-hand end. the curved lines formed of dots are the half-hours. the right-hand edge of the dial has the "twelve horary characters" which will be explained later. for dividing the varying days into six hours' sunshine it would be difficult to think of a more artistic and beautiful invention than this. it is a fine example of great ingenuity and constant trouble to operate a system which is fundamentally wrong according to our method of uniform hours at all seasons. clocks having these curved lines for the varying lengths of days--and we shall find them on circular dials as we go on--must be made for a certain latitude, since the days vary more and more as you go farther from the equator. this will become plain when you are reminded that a japanese clock at the equator would not need any adjustment of hour numerals, because the days and nights are equal there all the year. so after such infinite pains in forming these curved lines the clock is only good in the latitude for which it was made and must not be carried north or south! our clocks are correct from pole to pole, but all clocks must be set to local time if they are carried east or west. as this is a rather fascinating phase of the subject it might be worth pointing out that if you go north till you have the sun up for a month in the middle of summer--and there are people living as far up as that--the japanese system would become absurd and break down; so there is no danger of any of our polar expeditions carrying japanese clocks. [illustration: fig. 16--japanese clock with vertical dial, weight and balance.] [illustration: fig. 17--japanese vertical dials] [illustration: fig. 18--japanese clock with vertical dial having curved lines, weight and balance.] figure 19 shows a very fine clock in which the dial is stationary and the hand moves just as on our dials. this hour hand corresponds to the single hand of the old dutch clocks. when the japanese reached the point of considering the application of minute and second hands to their clocks they found that these refinements would not fit their old method and they were compelled to lay aside their clocks and take ours. on this dial, fig. 19, nine is noon, as usual, and is on top side of dial. hand points to three quarters past _seven_, that is, a quarter to _six_, near sunset. between the bell and the top of the clock body two horizontal balances, having small weights hung on them, are plainly shown, and the clock has two verge escapements--one connected with each balance, or "foliot." let us suppose a long day coming to a close at sunset, just as the hand indicates. the upper balance, which is the slow one, has been swinging backwards and forwards measuring the long hours of the day. when the clock strikes six, at sunset, the top balance is thrown out of action and the lower one, which is the fast one, is thrown into action and measures the short night hours. at sunrise this is thrown out and the top one in again to measure the next day's long hours. as the days vary in length, the balances, or foliots, can be made to swing faster or slower by moving the weights inwards or outwards a notch or two. the balance with small weights for regulation is the oldest known and was used in connection with the verge escapement, just as in this clock, by the dutch about 1364. all the evidence i can find indicates that the japanese clocks are later than this date. in design, ornamentation and methods for marking varying days, however, the japanese have shown great artistic taste and inventiveness. it is seen that this dial in addition to the usual six hours, twice over, has on the outside circle of dial, the "twelve horary branches" called by the japanese the "twelve honorary branches," thus indicating the whole day of twelve japanese hours, six of them for day and six for night. by this means they avoided repeating the same hours for day and night. when it is pointed out that these "twelve horary branches" are very old chinese, we are not in a position to boast about our twenty-four hour system, because these branches indicate positively whether any given hour is day or night. when we print a time table in the twenty-four hour system so as to get rid of our clumsy a. m. and p. m., we are thousands of years behind the chinese. more than that, for they got the matter right without any such pressure as our close running trains have brought to bear on us. these branches have one syllable names and the "ten celestial stems" have also one syllable names, all as shown on fig. 20. refer now to fig. 21 where two disks are shown, one having the "twelve horary branches" and the other the "ten celestial stems." these disks are usually put behind the dial so that one "branch" and one "stem" can be seen at the same time through two openings. the clock moves these disks one step each night, so that a new pair shows each day. running in this manner, step by step, you will find that it takes sixty moves, that is sixty days, to bring the same pair around again. each has a single syllable name, as shown on fig. 20, and we thus get sixty names of two syllables by reading them together to the left. the two openings may be seen in the dials of figs. 15 and 19. so the japanese know exactly what day it is in a period of sixty which they used in their old calendars. these were used by the chinese over four thousand years ago as the names of a cycle of sixty years, called the "sexagenary." the present chinese year 4606 is yu-ki which means the year 46 of the 76th "sexagenary." that is, 76×60+46 = 4,606. in fig. 20, we read tsu-kiah, or the first year. if you will make two disks like fig. 21 and commence with tsu-kiah and move the two together you will come to yu-ki on the 46th move. but there is another way which you might like better, thus: write the twelve "branches," or syllables, straight downwards, continuously five times; close to the right, write the ten "stems" six times. now you have sixty words of two syllables and the 46th, counting downwards, will be yu-ki. besides, this method gives you the whole sixty names of the "sexagenary" at one view. always read _left_, that is, pronounce the "stem" syllable first. [illustration: fig. 19--japanese striking clock with two balances and two escapements; dial stationary, hand moves] calendars constitute a most interesting and bewildering part of time measuring. we feel that we have settled the matter by determining the length of the year to within a second of time, and keeping the dates correctly to the nearest day by a leap year every fourth and every fourth century, established by pope gregory xiii in 1582, and known as the "gregorian calendar." in simple words, our "almanac" is the "gregorian." we are in the habit of saying glibly that any year divisible by four is a leap year, but this is far from correct. any year leaving out the _even hundreds_, which is divisible by four is a leap year. _even hundreds_ are leap when divisible by four. this explains why 1900 was a common year, because _19 hundreds_ is not divisible by four; 2000 will be a leap because _20 hundreds_ is divisible by four; therefore 2100, 2200 and 2300 will be common years and 2400 a leap, etc., to 4000 which must be made common, to keep things straight, in spite of the fact that it is divisible by four both in its hundreds and thousands. but for practical purposes, during more than two thousand years to come, we may simplify the rule to: _years_ and _even hundreds_ divisible by four are leaps. but great confusion still exists as a result of several countries holding to their own old methods. the present chinese year has 384 days, 13 months and 13 full moons. compared with our 1909 it begins on january 21st and will end on february 8, 1910. last year the china-japan calendar had 12 months, or moons, but as that is too short they must put in an extra every thirtieth month. we only allow the error to reach one day and correct it with our leap years, but they are not so particular and let the error grow till they require another "moon." the old testament is full of moons, and even with all our "modernity" our "feasts" and holy days are often "variable" on account of being mixed up with moons. in japan the present year is the 42nd of meiji, that is, the 42nd of the present emperor's reign. the present is the jewish 5669. these and others of varying lengths overlap our year in different degrees, so that in trade matters great confusion exists. the chinese and japanese publish a trade almanac in parallel columns with ours to avoid this. it is easy to say that we ought to have a uniform calendar all over the world, but the same remark applies just as much to money, weights, measures, and even to language itself. finally, the difficulty consists in the facts that there are not an even number of days in a year--or in a moon--or moons in a year. "these many moons" is a survival in our daily speech of this old method of measuring by moons. just a little hint as to the amount of superstition still connected with "new moon" will be enough to make clear the fact that we are not yet quite so "enlightened" as we say we are. while our calendar, or almanac, may be considered as final, we must remember that custom and religion are so mixed up with the matter in the older countries of the east that they will change very slowly. strictly, our "era" is arbitrary and christian; so we must not expect nations which had some astronomical knowledge and a working calendar, thousands of years before us, to change suddenly to our "upstart" methods. [illustration: fig. 20--key to "12 horary branches" and "10 celestial stems"] [illustration: fig. 21--"12 horary branches" and "10 celestial stems" as used in clocks] [illustration: fig. 22--dial of japanese astronomical clock] in fig. 22 we have the dial of a very complicated astronomical clock. this old engraved brass dial did not photograph well, so i made a copy by hand to get clean lines. commencing at the centre, there is a small disk, b, numbered from 1 to 30, giving days of the moon's age. the moon rises at a and sets at aa, later each day, of course. her age is shown by the number she touches on disk b, as this disk advances on the moon one number each day. her phases are shown by the motion of a black disk over her face; so we have here three motions for the moon, so differentiated as to show _phase_, _ascension_ and _age_. still further, as she is represented on the dial when below the horizon, it can be seen when she will rise, and "moonlight" parties may be planned. just outside the moon's course is an annulus having japanese numbers 1 to 12, indicating months. note the recurring character dividing the months in halves, which means "middle," and is much used. if you will carefully read these numbers you will find a character where _one_ would come; this means "beginning" or "primary" and is often used instead of one. the clock hand is the heavy arrow and sweeps the dial once in a whole day, same direction as our clocks. this circle of the months moves along with the hand, but a little faster, so as to gain one number in a month. as shown on the figure it is about one week into the sixth month. next outward is the broad band having twelve curved lines for the hours ending outwardly in a ring divided into 100 parts, marked off in tens by dots. these curved lines are numbered with the japanese numerals for hours which you must now be able to read easily. these hour lines, and the dotted lines for half hours, are really the same as the similar lines on fig. 18 which you now understand. as the hand sweeps the dial daily it automatically moves outward a little each day, so it shortens the nights and lengthens the days, just as previously explained for fig. 18. but there is one difference, for you will notice that the last night hour, on which the arrow hand now stands, is longer than the other night hours before it, and that it is divided into _three_ by the dotted lines. the last day hour, on the left of dial, is also long and divided into _three_. that is, while all the dials previously described have equal hours for any given day, or night, this dial has a _last long hour_ in each case, divided into three instead of the usual half-hours. this is a curious and interesting point having its origin long before clocks. in the early days of the clepsydra in china, a certain time was allowed to dip up the water from the lowest jar, each morning and evening about five o'clock of our time, see fig. 8 (chapter 1). during this operation the clepsydra was not marking time, and the oriental mind evidently considered it in some sense outside of the regular hours, and like many other things was retained till it appeared absurdly on the earlier clocks. this wonderful feat of putting an interval between two consecutive hours has always been impossible to modern science; yet president roosevelt performed it easily in his "constructive" interregnum! referring to the canton clepsydra, fig. 8, we find that the float, or "bamboo stick," was divided into 100 parts. at one season 60 parts for the day and 40 parts for the night, gradually being changed to the opposite for short days. the day hours were beaten on a drum and the night hours blown on a trumpet. later the hour numerals were made movable on the "bamboo stick." this is virtually a vertical dial with movable hour plates, so their idea of time measuring at that date, was of something moving up or down. this was put on the first clocks by the japanese; so that the dial of fig. 16 is substantially the float of the chinese clepsydra. further, in this "bamboo stick" of 100 parts, we have our present system of decimal numbers, so we can afford to be a little modest here too. before leaving fig. 22 note the band, or annulus, of stars which moves with the month circle. i cannot make these stars match our twelve signs of the zodiac, but as i have copied them carefully the reader can try and make order out of them. the extreme outer edge of the dial is divided into 360 parts, the tens being emphasized, as in our decimal scales. as we are getting a little tired of these complicated descriptions, let us branch off for a few remarks on some curiosities of eastern time keeping. they evidently think of an hour as a _period of time_ more specifically than we do. when we say "6 o'clock" we mean a point of time marked by the striking of the clock. we have no names for the hour periods. we must say "from 5 to 6" or "between 5 and 6" for an hour period. the "twelfth hour" of the new testament, i understand to mean a whole hour ending at sunset; so we are dealing with an oriental attitude of mind towards time. i think we get that conception nearly correct when we read of the "middle watch" and understand it to mean _during_ the middle third of the night. secondly, why do the japanese use no 1, 2, 3 on their dials? these numbers were sacred in the temples and must not be profaned by use on clocks, and they mentally deducted these from the clock hours, but ultimately became accustomed to 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4. thirdly, why this reading of the hours backwards? let us suppose a toiler commencing at sunrise, or six. when he toiled one hour he felt that there was one less to come and he called it five. this looks quite logical, for the diminishing numbers indicated to him how much of his day's toil was to come. another explanation which is probably the foundation of "secondly" and "thirdly" above, is the fact that mathematics and superstition were closely allied in the old days of japan. if you take the numbers 1 to 6, fig. 23, and multiply them each into the uncanny "yeng number," or nine, you will find that the last digits, reading downwards, give 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4. stated in other words: when 1 to 6 are multiplied into "three times three" the last figures are 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, and _1, 2, 3, have disappeared_; so the common people were filled with fear and awe. some of the educated, even now, are mystified by the strange results produced by using three and nine as factors, and scientific journals often give space to the matter. we know that these results are produced by the simple fact that nine is one less than the "radix" of our decimal scale of numbers. nine is sometimes called the "indestructible number," since adding the digits of any of its powers gives an even number of nines. but in those days it was a mystery and the common people feared the mathematicians, and i have no doubt the shrewd old fellows took full advantage of their power over the plebeians. in japan, mathematics was not cleared of this rubbish till about 700 a. d. [illustration: fig. 23--use of "yeng number" and animal names of hours] on the right-hand side of fig. 23 are given the animal names of the hours, so the day and night hours could not be mistaken. in selecting the _rat_ for night and the _horse_ for day they showed good taste. their forenoon was "before horse" and their afternoon "after horse." japanese clocks are remarkable for variety. it looks as if they were always made to order and that the makers, probably urged by their patrons, made extreme efforts to get in wonderful motions and symbols relating to astronomy and astrology. anyone examining about fifty of them would be likely to conclude that it was almost hopeless to understand them all. remember, this is the old japanese method. nearly all the clocks and watches i saw in japan were american. it will now be necessary to close this chapter with a few points on the curious striking of japanese clocks. in those like figs. 14, 15, 19, the bell and hammer can be seen. in the type of fig. 16, the whole striking mechanism is in the weight. in fact, the striking part of the clock is the weight. on each of the plates, having the hour numerals, fig. 16, a pin projects inwards and as the weight containing the striking mechanism, descends, a little lever touches these and lets off the striking just when the pointer is on the hour numeral. keeping this in mind, it is easy to see that the clock will strike correctly when the hour is indicated by the pointer, no matter how the hour plates are set for long or short days. similar pins project inwards from movable plates on figs. 12, 13, 14, 15, so they strike correctly as each hour plate comes to the top just under the point of the fixed hand. in fig. 19, the striking is let off by a star wheel just as in old dutch clocks. clocks like figs. 18-22 do not strike. in all cases the hours are struck backwards, but the half-hours add another strange feature. the _odd_ numbered hours, 9, 7, 5, are followed by one blow at the half hour; and the _even_ hours, 8, 6, 4 by two blows, or stated altogether- 9_{1} 8_{2} 7_{1} 6_{2} 5_{1} 4_{2}. here the large figures are the hours and the small ones the half-hours. only one bell is used, because there being no one and two among the hours, the half-hours cannot be mistaken. this is not all, for you can tell what half hour it is within two hours. for example, suppose you know approximately that it is somewhere between 9 and 7 and you hear the clock strike 2, then you know it is half past 8. see the large and small figures above. this is far superior to our method of one at each half-hour. by our method the clock strikes _one_ three times consecutively, between 12 and 2 o'clock and thus mixes up the half hours with one o'clock. some interesting methods of striking will be explained in the third chapter when we deal with modern time keeping. chapter iii modern clocks devick's clock of 1364. -original "verge" escapement. - "anchor" and "dead beat" escapements. -"remontoir" clock. -the pendulum. -jeweling pallets. -antique clock with earliest application of pendulum. -turkish watches. -correct designs for public clock faces. -art work on old watches. - twenty-four hour watch. -syrian and hebrew hour numerals. - correct method of striking hours and quarters. -design for twenty-four hour dial and hands. -curious clocks. -inventions of the old clockmakers. [illustration: public dial by james arthur dial of philadelphia city hall clock fig. 24] modern clocks commence with de vick's of 1364 which is the first unquestioned clock consisting of toothed wheels and containing the fundamental features of our present clocks. references are often quoted back to about 1000 a. d., but the words translated "clocks" were used for bells and dials at that date; so we are forced to consider the de vick clock as the first till more evidence is obtained. it has been pointed out, however, that this clock could hardly have been invented all at once; and therefore it is probable that many inventions leading up to it have been lost to history. the part of a clock which does the ticking is called the "escapement" and the oldest form known is the "verge," fig. 25, the date of which is unknown, but safely 300 years before de vick. the "foliot" is on the vertical verge, or spindle, which has the pallets a b. as the foliot swings horizontally, from rest to rest, we hear one tick, but it requires two of these single swings, or two ticks, to liberate one tooth of the escape wheel; so there are twice as many ticks in one turn of the escape wheel as it has teeth. we thus see that an escapement is a device in which something moves back and forth and allows the teeth of an "escape wheel" to escape. while this escapement is, in some respects, the simplest one, it has always been difficult to make it plain in a drawing, so i have made an effort to explain it by making the side of the wheel and its pallet b, which is nearest the eye, solid black, and farther side and its pallet a, shaded as in the figure. the wheel moves in the direction of the arrow, and tooth d is very near escaping from pallet b. the tooth c on the farther side of wheel is moving left, so it will fall on pallet a, to be in its turn liberated as the pallets and foliot swing back and forth. it is easy to see that each tooth of the wheel will give a little push to the pallet as it escapes, and thus keep the balance swinging. this escapement is a very poor time-keeper, but it was one of the great inventions and held the field for about 600 years, that is, from the days when it regulated bells up to the "onion" watches of our grandfathers. scattered references in old writings make it reasonably certain that from about 1,000 to 1,300 bells were struck by machines regulated with this verge escapement, thus showing that the striking part of a clock is older than the clock itself. it seems strange to us to say that many of the earlier clocks were strikers, only, and had no dials or hands, just as if you turned the face of your clock to the wall and depended on the striking for the time. keeping this action of the verge escapement in mind we can easily understand its application, as made by de vick, in fig. 26, where i have marked the same pallets a b. a tooth is just escaping from pallet b and then one on the other side of the wheel will fall on pallet a. foliot, verge and pallets form one solid piece which is suspended by a cord, so as to enable it to swing with little friction. for the purpose of making the motions very plain i have left out the dial and framework from the drawing. the wheel marked "twelve hours," and the pinion which drives it, are both outside the frame, just under the dial, and are drawn in dash and dot. the axle of this twelve-hour wheel goes through the dial and carries the hand, which marks hours only. the winding pinion and wheel, in dotted lines, are inside the frame. now follow the "great wheel"--"intermediate"--"escape wheel" and the two pinions, all in solid lines, and you have the "train" which is the principal part of all clocks. this clock has an escapement, wheels, pinions, dial, hand, weight, and winding square. we have only added the pendulum, a better escapement, the minute and second hands in over 500 years! the "anchor" escapement, fig. 27, came about 1680 and is attributed to dr. hooke, an englishman. it gets its name from the resemblance of the pallets to the flukes of an anchor. this anchor is connected to the pendulum and as it swings right and left, the teeth of the escape wheel are liberated, one tooth for each two swings from rest to rest, the little push on the pallets a b, as the teeth escape, keeping the pendulum going. it is astonishing how many, even among the educated, think that the pendulum drives the clock! the pendulum must always be driven by some power. [illustration: fig. 25--verge escapement] [illustration: fig. 26--de vick's clock of 1364] [illustration: fig. 27--anchor escapement] [illustration: fig. 28--american anchor escapement] this escapement will be found in nearly all the grandfather clocks in connection with a seconds pendulum. it is a good time-keeper, runs well, wears well, stands some rough handling and will keep going even when pretty well covered with dust and cobwebs; so it is used more than all the numerous types ever invented. figure 28 gives the general american form of the "anchor" which is made by bending a strip of steel; but it is not the best form, as the acting surfaces of the pallets are straight. it is, therefore, inferior to fig. 27 where the acting surfaces are curved, since these curves give an easier "recoil." this recoil is the slight motion _backwards_ which the escape wheel makes at each tick. the "dead beat" escapement is shown in fig. 29, and is used in clocks of a high grade, generally with a seconds pendulum. it has no recoil as you can easily see that the surfaces o o on which the teeth fall, are portions of a circle around the center p. the beveled ends of these pallets are called the impulse surfaces, and a tooth is just giving the little push on the right-hand pallet. it is found in good railroad clocks, watch-makers' regulators and in many astronomical clocks. these terms are merely comparative, a "regulator" being a good clock and an "astronomical," an extra good one. figure 30 gives the movement of a "remontoir" clock in which the dead beat shown is used. the upper one of the three dials indicates seconds, and the lever which crosses its center carries the large wheel on the left. [illustration: fig. 29--dead beat escapement] [illustration: fig. 31--remontoir clock by james arthur] [illustration: fig. 30--remontoir clock movement] this wheel makes the left end of the lever heavier than the right, and in sinking it drives the clock for one minute, but at the sixtieth second it "remounts" by the action of the clock weight; hence the name, "remontoir." note here that the big weight does not directly drive the clock; it only rewinds it every minute. the minutes are shown on the dial to the right and its hand jumps forward one minute at each sixtieth second as the lever remounts; so if you wish to set your watch to this clock the proper way is to set it to the even minute "on the jump." the hour hand is on the dial to the left. by this remounting, or rewinding, the clock receives the same amount of driving force each minute. the complete clock is shown in fig. 31, the large weight which does the rewinding each minute being plainly visible. the pendulum is compensated with steel and aluminum, so that the rate of the clock may not be influenced by hot and cold weather. was built in 1901 and is the only one i can find room for here. it is fully described in "machinery," new york, for nov., 1901. i have built a considerable number, all for experimental purposes, several of them much more complicated than this one, but all differing from clocks for commercial purposes. pallets like o o in fig. 29 are often made of jewels; in one clock i used agates and in another, running thirteen months with one winding, i used pallets jeweled with diamonds. this is done to avoid friction and wear. those interested in the improvement of clocks are constantly striving after light action and small driving weights. conversely, the inferior clock has a heavy weight and ticks loud. the "gravity escapement" and others giving a "free" pendulum action would require too much space here, so we must be satisfied with the few successful ones shown out of hundreds of inventions, dozens of them patented. the pendulum stands at the top as a time measurer and was known to the ancients for measuring short periods of time just as musicians now use the metronome to get regular beats. galileo is credited with noticing its regular beats, but did not apply it to clocks, although his son made a partially successful attempt. the first mathematical investigation of the pendulum was made by huyghens about 1670, and he is generally credited with applying it to clocks, so there is a "huyghens" clock with a pendulum instead of the foliot of de vick's. mathematically, the longer and heavier the pendulum the better is the time-keeping, but nature does not permit us to carry anything to the extreme; so the difficulty of finding a tower high enough and steady enough, the cumbersomeness of weight, the elasticity of the rod, and many other difficulties render very long and heavy pendulums impracticable beyond about 13 ft. which beats once in two seconds. "big ben" of westminster, london, has one of this length weighing 700 lb. and measuring, over all, 15 ft. it runs with an error under one second a week. this is surpassed only by some of the astronomical clocks which run sometimes two months within a second. this wonderful timekeeping is done with seconds pendulums of about 39 in., so the theoretical advantage of long pendulums is lost in the difficulties of constructing them. fractions are left out of these lengths as they would only confuse the explanations. at the naval observatory in washington, d. c., the standard clocks have seconds pendulums, the rods of which are nickel steel, called "invar," which is little influenced by changes of temperature. these clocks are kept in a special basement, so they stand on the solid earth. the clock room is kept at a nearly uniform temperature and each clock is in a glass cylinder exhausted to about half an atmosphere. they are electric remontoirs, so no winding is necessary and they can be kept sealed up tight in their glass cylinders. nor is any adjustment of their pendulums necessary, or setting of the hands, as the correction of their small variations is effected by slight changes in the air pressure within the glass cylinders. when a clock runs fast they let a little air into its cylinder to raise the resistance to the pendulum and slow it down, and the reverse for slow. don't forget that we are now considering variations of less than a second a week. the clock room has double doors, so the outer one can be shut before the inner one is opened, to avoid air currents. visitors are not permitted to see these clocks because the less the doors are opened the better; but the commander will sometimes issue a special permit and detail a responsible assistant to show them, so if you wish to see them you must prove to him that you have a head above your shoulders and are worthy of such a great favor. [illustration: fig. 32--antique clock, entirely hand-made] [illustration: fig. 33--antique clock, entirely hand-made] [illustration: fig. 34--triple-case turkish watches] the best thing the young student could do at this point would be to grasp the remarkable fact that the clock is not an old machine, since it covers only the comparatively short period from 1364 to the present day. compared with the period of man's history and inventions it is of yesterday. strictly speaking, as we use the word clock, its age from de vick to the modern astronomical is only about 540 years. if we take the year 1660, we find that it represents the center of modern improvements in clocks, a few years before and after that date includes the pendulum, the anchor and dead beat escapements, the minute and second hands, the circular balance and the hair spring, along with minor improvements. since the end of that period, which we may make 1700, no fundamental invention has been added to clocks and watches. this becomes impressive when we remember that the last 200 years have produced more inventions than all previous known history--but only minor improvements in clocks! the application of electricity for winding, driving, or regulating clocks is not fundamental, for the timekeeping is done by the master clock with its pendulum and wheels, just as by any grandfather's clock 200 years old. this broad survey of time measuring does not permit us to go into minute mechanical details. those wishing to follow up the subject would require a large "horological library"--and dr. eliot's five-foot shelf would be altogether too short to hold the books. a good idea of the old church clocks may be obtained from fig. 32 which is one of my valued antiques. tradition has followed it down as the "english blacksmith's clock." it has the very earliest application of the pendulum. the pendulum, which i have marked by a star to enable the reader to find it, is less than 3 in. long and is hung on the verge, or pallet axle, and beats 222 per minute. this clock may be safely put at 250 years old, and contains nothing invented since that date. wheels are cast brass and all teeth laboriously filed out by hand. pinions are solid with the axles, or "staffs," and also filed out by hand. it is put together, generally by mortise, tenon and cotter, but it has four original screws all made by hand with the file. how did he thread the holes for these screws? probably made a tap by hand as he made the screws. but the most remarkable feature is the fact that no lathe was used in forming any part--all staffs, pinions and pivots being filed by hand. this is simply extraordinary when it is pointed out that a little dead center lathe is the simplest machine in the world, and he could have made one in less than a day and saved himself weeks of hard labor. it is probable that he had great skill in hand work and that learning to use a lathe would have been a great and tedious effort for him. so we have a complete striking clock made by a man so poor that he had only his anvil, hammer and file. the weights are hung on cords as thick as an ordinary lead pencil and pass over pulleys having spikes set around them to prevent the cords from slipping. the weights descend 7 ft. in 12 hours, so they must be pulled up--not wound up--twice a day. the single hour hand is a work of art and is cut through like lace. public clocks may still be seen in europe with only one hand. many have been puzzled by finding that old, rudely made clocks often have fine dials, but this is not remarkable when we state that art and engraving had reached a high level before the days of clocks. it is worthy of note that clocks in the early days were generally built in the form of a church tower with the bell under the dome and figs. 32, 33 show a good example. it is highly probable that the maker of this clock had access to some old church clock--a wonderful machine in those days--and that he laboriously copied it. it strikes the hours, only, by the old "count wheel" or "locking plate" method. between this and our modern clocks appeared a type showing quarter hours on a small dial under the hour dial. no doubt this was at that time a great advance and looked like cutting time up pretty fine. as the hand on the quarter dial made the circuit in an hour the next step was easy, by simply dividing the circle of quarters into sixty minutes. the old fellows who thought in hours must have given it up at this point, so the seconds and fifths seconds came easily. [illustration: fig. 35--triple-case turkish watch] [illustration: fig. 36--double-case watch of repoussé work] the first watches, about 1500, had the foliot and verge escapement, and in some early attempts to govern the foliot a hog's bristle was used as a spring. by putting a ring around the ends of the foliot and adding the hair spring of dr. hooke, about 1640, we have the verge watches of our grandfathers. this balance wheel and hair spring stand today, but the "lever" escapement has taken the place of the verge. it is a modification of the dead beat, fig. 29, by adding a lever to the anchor, and this lever is acted on by the balance, hence the name "lever watch." all this you can see by opening your watch, so no detailed explanation is necessary. figure 34 shows two triple-cased turkish watches with verge escapements, the one to the left being shown partly opened in fig. 35. the watch with its inner case, including the glass, is shown to the right. this inner case is complete with two hinges and has a winding hole in the back. the upper case, of "chased" work, goes on next, and then the third, or outer case, covered with tortoise shell fastened with silver rivets, goes on outside the other two. when all three cases are opened and laid on the table, they look like a heap of oyster shells, but they go easily together, forming the grand and dignified watch shown to the left in fig. 34. oliver cromwell wore an immense triple-case watch of this kind, and the poor plebeians who were permitted to examine such a magnificent instrument were favored! [illustration: fig. 37--watches showing art work] [illustration: fig. 38--watch showing dutch art work] [illustration: fig. 39--antique watch cock] [illustration: fig. 40--"chinese" watch] our boys' watches costing one dollar keep much better time than this type of watch. comparing the syrian dial, fig. 42, with that on fig. 35, it is evident that the strange hour numerals on both are a variation of the same characters. these, so-called, "turkish watches" were made in europe for the eastern trade. first-class samples of this triple-case type are getting scarce, but i have found four, two of them in constantinople. figure 36 shows the double-case style, called "pair cases," the outer case thin silver, the figures and ornaments being hammered and punched up from the inside and called "repoussé." before we leave the old watches, the question of art work deserves notice, for it looks as if ornamentation and time-keeping varied inversely in those days--the more art the worse the watch. i presume, as they could not make a good time-keeper at that date, the watch-maker decided to give the buyer something of great size and style for his money. in fig. 37 four old movements are shown, and there is no doubt about the art, since the work is purely individual and no dies or templates used. in examining a large number of these watches, i have never found the art work on any two of them alike. note the grotesque faces in these, and in fig. 39 which is a fine example of pierced, engraved work. figure 38 is a fine example of pierced work with animals and flowers carved in relief. figure 40 is a "chinese" watch but made in europe for the chinese market. in fig. 41 we have what remains of a quarter repeater with musical attachment. each of the 24 straight gongs, commencing with the longest one, goes a little nearer the center of the large wheel, so a circle of pins is set in the wheel for each gong, or note, and there is plenty of room for several tunes which the wearer can set off at pleasure. figure 43 is a modern watch with hebrew hour numerals. figure 44 is a modern 24-hour watch used on some railroads and steamship lines. i have a pretty clean-cut recollection of one event in connection with the 24-hour system, as i left messina between 18 and 19 o'clock on the night of the earthquake! dials and hands constitute an important branch of the subject. the general fault of hands is that they are too much alike; in many instances they are the same, excepting that the minute hand is a little longer than the hour. the dial shown on the left of fig. 24 was designed by me for a public clock and can be read twice as far away as the usual dial. just why we should make the worst dials and hands for public clocks in the united states is more than i can find out, for there is no possible excuse, since the "spade and pointer" hands have been known for generations. figure 45 is offered as a properly designed dial for watches and domestic clocks, having flat-faced gothic figures of moderate height, leaving a clear center in the dial, and the heavy "spade" hour hand reaching only to the inner edges of the figures. for public clocks the arabic numerals are the worst, for at a distance they look like twelve thumb marks on the dial; while the flat-faced roman remain distinct as twelve clear marks. [illustration: fig. 41--musical watch, repeating hours and quarters] do you know that you do not read a public clock by the figures, but by the position of the hands? this was discovered long ago. lord grimthorp had one with twelve solid marks on the dial and also speaks of one at the athenæum club, both before 1860. the philadelphia city hall clock has dials of this kind as shown on right side of fig. 24. it has also good hands and can be read at a great distance. very few persons, even in philadelphia, know that it has no hour numerals on its dials. still further, there is no clock in the tower, the great hands being moved every minute by air pressure which is regulated by a master clock set in a clock room down below where the walls are 10 ft. thick. call and see this clock and you will find that the city hall officials sustain the good name of philadelphia for politeness. generally, we give no attention to the hour numerals, even of our watches, as the following proves. when you have taken out your watch and looked at the time, for yourself, and put it back in your pocket, and when a friend asks the time you take it out again to find the time for him! why? because, for yourself, you did not read hours and minutes, but only got a mental impression from the position of the hands; so we only read hours and minutes when we are called on to proclaim the time. [illustration: fig. 42--syrian dial] we must find a little space for striking clocks. the simplest is one blow at each hour just to draw attention to the clock. striking the hours and also one blow at each half hour as well as the quarter double blow, called "ting tong" quarters, are too well known to need description. the next stage after this is "chiming quarters" with three or more musical gongs, or bells. one of the best strikers i have has three trains, three weights and four bells. it strikes the hour on a large bell and two minutes after the hour it strikes it again, so as to give you another chance to count correctly. at the first quarter it repeats the last hour followed by a musical chord of three bells, which we will call _one triple blow_: at the second quarter the hour again and two triple blows and at the third quarter, the hour again and three triple blows. suppose a sample hour's striking from four o'clock, this is what you hear, and there can be no mistake. "four" and in two minutes "four"--"four and one quarter"--"four and two quarters"--"four and three quarters," and the same for all other hours. this is definite, for the clock proclaims the hour, or the hour and so much past. it can be set silent, but that only stops it from striking automatically, and whether so set or not, it will repeat by pulling a cord. you awake in the night and pull the cord, and then in mellow musical tones, almost as if the clock were speaking, you hear--"four and two quarters." this i consider a perfect striking clock. it is a large movement of fine workmanship and was made in the department of the jura, france. when a clock or watch only repeats, i consider the old "five-minute repeater" the best. i used this method in a clock which, on pulling the cord, strikes the hour on a large bell and if that is all it strikes, then it is less than five minutes past. if more than five minutes past it follows the hour by one blow on a small bell for every five minutes. this gives the time within five minutes. it is fully described and illustrated in "machinery," new york, for march, 1905. just one more. an old dutch clock which i restored strikes the hour on a large bell; at the first quarter it strikes one blow on a small bell; at the half hour it strikes the last hour over again on the small bell; at the third quarter it strikes one blow on the large bell. but this in spite of its great ingenuity, only gives definite information at the hour and half hour. [illustration: fig. 43--hebrew numerals] [illustration: fig. 44--24-hour watch] of curious clocks there is no end, so i shall just refer to one invented by william congreve, an englishman, over one hundred years ago, and often coming up since as something new. a plate about 8 in. long and 4 in. wide has a long zigzag groove crosswise. this plate is pivoted at its center so either end can be tipped up a little. a ball smaller than a boy's marble will roll back and forth across this plate till it reaches the lower end, at which point it strikes a click and the mainspring of the clock tips the plate the other way and the ball comes slowly back again till it strikes the disk at the other end of the plate, etc. every time the plate tips, the hands are moved a little just like the remontoir clock already described. clocks of this kind are often used for deceptive purposes and those ignorant of mechanics are deceived into the belief that they see perpetual motion. the extent to which modern machine builders are indebted to the inventions of the ancient clock-maker, i think, has never been appreciated. [illustration: fig. 45--domestic dial by james arthur] in its earlier stages the clock was almost the only machine containing toothed gearing, and the "clock tooth" is still necessary in our delicate machines. it is entirely different from our standard gear tooth as used in heavy machines. the clock-makers led for a long time in working steel for tools, springs and wearing surfaces. they also made investigations in friction, bearings, oils, etc., etc. any one restoring old clocks for amusement and pleasure will be astonished at the high-class mechanics displayed in them--nearly always by unknown inventors. here is an example: the old clock-maker found that when he wished to drill a hole in a piece of thick wire so as to make a short tube of it, he could only get the hole central and straight by rotating the piece and holding the drill stationary. by this method the drill tends to follow the center line of rotation; and our great guns as well as our small rifles are bored just that way to get bores which will shoot straight. the fourth and last chapter will deal with the astronomical motions on which our time-keeping is founded, our present hour zones of time, and close with suggestions for a universal time system over the whole world. chapter iv astronomical foundation of time astronomical motions on which our time is founded. -reasons for selecting the sidereal day as a basis for our 24-hour day. -year of the seasons shorter than the zodiacal year. - precession of the equinoxes. -earth's rotation most uniform motion known to us. -time stars and transits. -local time. -the date line. -standard time. -beginning and ending of a day. -proposed universal time. -clock dial for universal time and its application to business. -next great improvement in clocks and watches indicated. -automatic recording of the earth's rotation. -year of the seasons as a unit for astronomers. -general conclusions. the mystery of time encloses all things in its folds, and our grasp of its infinite bearings is measured by our limitations. as there are no isolated facts in the universe, we can never get to the end of our subject; so we know only what we have capacity to absorb. in considering the foundation on which all our time measuring is based, we are led into the fringe of that elysian field of science--astronomy. a science more poetical than poetry--more charming than the optimistic phantasies of youth. that science which leaves our imagination helpless; for its facts are more wonderful than our extremest mental flights. the science of vastness and interminable distances which our puny figures fail to express. "the stars sang together for joy," might almost be placed in the category of facts; while the music of the spheres may now be considered a mathematical reality. our time keeping is inevitably associated with these motions, and we must select one which has periods not too long. that is, no _continuous_ motion could be used, unless it passed some species of milestones which we could observe. consequently, our clocks do not--in the strict sense--measure time; but are adjusted to _divide_ periods which they do not determine. we are constantly correcting their errors and never entirely succeed in getting them to run accurately to _periods of time_ which exist entirely outside of such little things as men and clocks. so a clock is better as it approximates or bears a regular _relation_ to some motion in nature. the sidereal clock of the astronomer _does_ run to a regular motion; but our 24-hour clocks _do not_, as we shall see later. now consider the year, or the sun's apparent motion in the zodiac, from any given star around to the same one again. this is altogether too long to be divided by clocks, as we cannot make a clock which could be depended on for anywhere near a year. the next shorter period is that of a "moon." this is also a little too long, is not easily observed, and requires all sorts of corrections. observations of the moon at sea are so difficult and subject to error that mariners use them only as a last resort. if a little freedom of language is permissible, i would say that the moon has a bad character all around, largely on account of her long association with superstition, false theology and heathen feasts. she has not purged herself even to this day! the ancients were probably right when they called erratic and ill-balanced persons "luny." now we come to the day and find that it is about the right practical length--but what kind of a day? as there are five kinds we ought to be able to select one good enough. they are:- 1st. the solar day, or noon to noon by the sun. 2nd. an imaginary sun moving uniformly in the ecliptic. 3rd. a second imaginary sun moving uniformly parallel to the equator at all seasons of the year. 4th. one absolute rotation of the earth. 5th. one rotation of the earth measured from the node, or point, of the spring equinox. the difference between 1st and 2nd is that part of the sun's error due to the elliptical orbit of the earth. the other part of the sun's error--and the larger--between 2nd and 3rd is that due to the obliquity of the ecliptic to the equator. the whole error between 1st and 3rd is the "equation of time" as shown for even minutes in the first chapter under the heading, "sun on noon mark 1909." stated simply, for our present purpose, 1st is sundial time, and 3rd our 24-hour clock time. this 2nd day is therefore a refinement of the astronomers to separate the two principal causes of the sun's error, and i think we ought to handle it cautiously, or my friend, professor todd, might rap us over the knuckles for being presumptuous. this 5th day is the sidereal day of the astronomers and is the basis of our time, so it is entitled to a little attention. i shall confine "sidereal day" to this 5th to avoid confusion with 4th. if you will extend the plane of the equator into the star sphere, you have the celestial equator. when the center of the sun passes through this plane on his journey north, in the spring, we say, "the sun has crossed the line." this is a distant point in the zodiac which can be determined for any given year by reference to the fixed stars. to avoid technicalities as much as possible we will call it the point of the spring equinox. this is really the point which determines the common year, or year of the seasons. using popular language, the seasons are marked by four points,--spring equinox--longest day--; autumnal equinox--shortest day. this would be very simple if the equinoctial points would stay in the same places in the star sphere; but we find that they creep westward each year to the extent of 50 seconds of arc in the great celestial circle of the zodiac. this is called the precession of the equinoxes. the year is measured from spring equinox to spring equinox again; but each year it comes 50 seconds of arc less than a full revolution of the earth around the sun. therefore _if we measured our year by a full revolution_ we would displace the months with reference to the seasons till the hot weather would come in january and the cold weather in july in about 13,000 years; or a complete revolution of the seasons back to where we are, in 26,000 years. leaving out fractions to make the illustration plain, we have:- (1) 360 degrees of zodiac } -------------------- = 26,000 years } 50 seconds of arc } } (2) 1 day of time } ------------ = 26,000 years } 3-1/3 seconds } all } approximate (3) 1 year of time } ------------- = 26,000 years } 20-1/3 minutes } } (4) 3-1/3 seconds } ------------ = 1/110 of a second} days in a year } in (1) we see that a "precession" of 50 seconds of arc will bring the spring equinox around in 26,000 years. in (2) we see, as 50 seconds of arc represents the distance the earth will rotate in 3-1/3 seconds, a difference of one day will result in 26,000 years. that is since the clock regulated by the stars, or absolute rotations of the earth, would get behind 3-1/3 seconds per year, it would be behind a day in 26,000 years, as compared with a sidereal clock regulated by the spring equinoctial point. in (3) we see that as 50 seconds of arc is traversed by the earth, in its annual revolution, in 20-1/3 minutes, a complete circle of the zodiac will be made in 26,000 years. in (4) we see that as the difference between the year of the seasons and the zodiacal year is 3-1/3 seconds of the earth's rotation, it follows that if this is divided by the number of days in a year we have the amount which a sidereal day is less than 4th, or an absolute rotation of the earth. that is, any meridian passes the spring equinoctial point 1/110 of a second sooner than the time of one absolute rotation. these four equations are all founded on the precession of the equinoxes, and are simply different methods of stating it. absolutely and finally, our time is regulated by the earth's rotation; but strange as it may appear, we do not take one rotation as a unit. as shown above, we take a rotation to a _movable point_ which creeps the 1/110 of a second daily. but after all, it is the _uniform_ rotation which governs. this is the one "dependable" motion which has not been found variable, and is the most easily observed. when we remember that the earth is not far from being as heavy as a ball of iron, and that its surface velocity at the equator is about 17 miles per minute, it is easy to form a conception of its uniform motion. against this, however, we may place the friction of the tides, forcing up of mountain ranges, as well as mining and building skyscrapers--all tending to slow it. mathematicians moving in the ethereal regions of astronomy lead us to conclude that it _must_ become gradually slower, and that _it is_ slowing; but the amount may be considered a vanishing quantity even compared with the smallest errors of our finest clocks; so for uncounted generations past--and to come--we may consider the earth's rotation uniform. having now found a uniform motion easily observed and of convenient period, why not adopt it as our time unit? the answer has been partially given above in the fact that we are compelled to use a year, measured from the spring equinoctial point, so as to keep our seasons in order; and therefore as we must have some point where the sidereal clocks and the meantime clocks coincide, we take the same point, and that point is the spring equinox. now we have three days:- 1st. a sidereal day 1/110 of a second less than one rotation of the earth. 2nd. one rotation of the earth in 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4 seconds, nearly, of clock time. 3rd. one mean time clock day of 24 hours, which has been explained previously. now, isn't it remarkable that our 24-hour day is purely artificial, and that nothing in nature corresponds to it? our real day of 24 hours is a _theoretical_ day. still more remarkable, this theoretical day is the unit by which we express motions in the solar system. a lunar month is days--hours--minutes--and seconds of this theoretical day, and so for planetary motions. and still more remarkable, the earth's rotation which is _itself_ the foundation is expressed in this imaginary time! this looks like involution involved, yet our 24-hour day is as real as reality; and the man has not yet spoken who can tell whether a mathematical conception, sustained in practical life, is less real than a physical fact. our legal day of practical life is therefore deduced from the day of a fraction _less_ than one earth rotation. in practice, however, the small difference between this and a rotation is often ignored, because as the tenth of a second is about as near as observations can be made it is evident that for single observations 1/110 of a second does not count, but for a whole year it does, and amounts to 3-1/3 seconds. now as to the setting of our clocks. while the time measured by the point of the spring equinox is what we must find it is found by noting the transits of fixed stars, because _the relation_ of star time to equinoctial time is known and tabulated. remember we cannot take a transit of the equinoctial point, because there is nothing to see, and that _nothing_ is moving! but it can be observed yearly and astronomers can tell where it is, at any time of the year, by calculation. the stars which are preferred for observation are called "time stars" and are selected as near the celestial equator as possible. the earth's axis has a little wabbling motion called "nutation" which influences the _apparent_ motion of the stars near the pole; but this motion almost disappears as they come near the equator, because nutation gives the plane of the equator only a little "swashplate" motion. the positions of a number of "time stars" with reference to the equinoctial point, are known, and these are observed and the observations averaged. the distance of any time star from the equinoctial point, _in time_, is called its "right ascension." astronomers claim an accuracy to the twentieth part of a second when such transits are carefully taken, but over a long period, greater exactness is obtained. really, the time at which any given star passes the meridian is taken, _in practical life_, from astronomical tables in the nautical almanacs. those tables are the result of the labors of generations of mathematicians, are constantly subject to correction, and cannot be made simple. remember, the earth's rotation is the only uniform motion, all the others being subject to variations and even compound variations. this very subject is the best example of the broad fact that science is a constant series of approximations; therefore, nothing is exact, and nothing is permanent but change. but you say that mathematics is an exact science. yes, but it is a _logical abstraction_, and is therefore only the universal solvent in physical science. with our imaginary--but real--time unit of 24 hours we are now ready to consider "local time." keeping the above explanation in mind, we may use the usual language and speak of the earth rotating in 24 hours clock time; and since motion is relative, it is permissible to speak of the motion of the sun. in the matter of the sun's apparent motion we are compelled to speak of his "rising," "setting," etc., because language to express the motion in terms of the earth's rotation has not been invented yet. for these reasons we will assume that in fig. 47 the sun is moving as per large arrow and also that the annulus, half black and half white, giving the 24 hours, is fastened to the sun by a rigid bar, as shown, and moves around the earth along with him. in such illustrations the sun must always be made small in proportion, but this rather tends to plainness. for simplicity, we assume that the illustration represents an equinox when the sun is on the celestial equator. imagine your eye in the center of the sun's face at a, and you would be looking on the meridian of greenwich at 12 noon; then in one hour you would be looking on 15° west at 12 noon; but this would bring 13 o'clock to greenwich. continue till you look down on new york at 12 noon, then it is 17 o'clock at greenwich (leaving out fractions for simplicity) etc. if you will make a simple drawing like fig. 47 and cut the earth separate, just around the inside of the annulus, and stick a pin at the north pole for a center, you may rotate the earth as per small arrow and get the actual motion, but the result will be just the same as if you went by the big arrow. we thus see that every instant of the 24 hours is represented, at some point, on the earth. that is, the earth has an infinity of local times; so it has every conceivable instant of the 24 hours at some place on the circle. suppose we set up 1,410 clocks at uniform distances on the equator, then they would be about 17 miles apart and differ by minutes. now make it 86,400 clocks, they would be 1,500 feet apart and differ by seconds. with 864,000 clocks they would be 150 feet apart and vary by tenths of seconds. it is useless to extend this, since you could always imagine more clocks in the circle; thus establishing the fact that there are an infinity of times at an infinity of places always on the earth. it is necessary to ask a little patience here as i shall use this local time and its failure later in our talk. strictly, local time has never been used, because it has been found impracticable in the affairs of life. this will be plain when we draw attention to the uniform time of london, which is greenwich time; yet the british museum is 30 seconds slow of greenwich, and other places in london even more. this is railroad time for great britain; but it is 20 minutes too fast for the west of england. this led to no end of confusion and clocks were often seen with two minute hands, one to local and the other to railroad time. this mixed up method was followed by "standard time," with which we are all pretty well acquainted. simply, standard time consists in a uniform time for each 15° of longitude, but this is theoretical to the extreme, and is not even approached in practice. the first zone commences at greenwich and as that is near the eastern edge of the british islands, their single zone time is fast at nearly all places, especially the west coast of ireland. when we follow these zones over to the united states we find an attempt to make the middle of each zone correct to local time, so at the hour jumping points, we pass from half an hour slow to half an hour fast, or the reverse. we thus see that towns about the middle of these four united states zones have sunrise and sunset and their local day correct, but those at the eastern and western edges average half an hour wrong. as a consequence of this disturbance of the working hours depending on the light of the day, many places keep two sets of clocks and great confusion results. even this is comprehensible; but it is a mere fraction of the trouble and complication, because the hour zones are not separated by meridians in practice, but by zig-zag lines of great irregularity. look at a time map of the united states and you will see the zones divided by lines of the wildest irregularity. now question one of the brightest "scientific chaps" you can find in one of the great railroad offices whose lines touch, or enter, canada and mexico. please do not tell me what he said to you! so great is the confusion that no man understands it all. the amount of wealth destroyed in printing time tables, _and failing to explain them_, is immense. the amount of human life destroyed by premature death, as a result of wear and tear of brain cells is too sad to contemplate. and all by attempting the impossible; for local time, _even if it was reduced to hourly periods_ is not compatible with any continental system of time and matters can only get worse while the attempt continues. for the present, banish this zone system from your mind and let us consider the beginning and ending of a day, using strictly local time. [illustration: fig. 47--local time--standard time--beginning and ending of the day] a civil, or legal, day ends at the instant of 24 o'clock, midnight, and the next day commences. the time is continuous, the last instant of a day touching the first instant of the next. this is true for all parts of the earth; but something _in addition_ to this happens at a certain meridian called the "date line." refer again to fig. 47 which is drawn with 24 meridians representing hours. as we are taking greenwich for our time, the meridians are numbered from 0°, on which the observatory of greenwich stands. when you visit greenwich you can have the pleasure of putting your foot on "the first meridian," as it is cut plainly across the pavement. degrees of longitude are numbered east and west, meeting just opposite at 180°, which is the "date line." our day begins at this line, so far as _dates_ are concerned; but the _local day_ begins everywhere at midnight. let us start to go around the world from the date line, westward. when we arrive at 90° we are one quarter around and it takes the sun 6 hours longer to reach us. at 0° (greenwich) we are half around and 12 hours ahead of the sun motion. at 90° west, three quarters, or 18 hours, and when back to 180° we have _added_ to the length of all days of our journey enough to make one day; therefore our date must be one day behind. try this example to change the wording:--let us start from an island b, just west of the date line. these islanders have their 24-hour days, commencing at midnight, like all other places. as we move westward our day commences later and later than theirs, as shown above. suppose we arrive at the eastern edge of the 180° line on saturday at 12 o'clock, but before we cross it we call over to the islanders,--what day is it? we would get answer, "sunday;" because all our days have been longer, totalling one day in the circuit of the globe. so if we step over the line at 12 o clock saturday, presto, it is 12 o'clock sunday. it looks like throwing out 24 hours, but this is not so, since we have lived exactly the same number of hours and seconds as the islanders. in this supposition we have all the _dates_, however, but have jumped half of saturday and half of sunday, which equals one day. in practice this would not have been the method, for if the ship was to call at the island, the captain would have changed date on friday night and thrown saturday out, all in one piece, and would have arrived on their sunday; so his log for that week would have contained only 6 days. it is not necessary to go over the same ground for a circuit of the globe eastward, but if you do so you will find that you _shorten_ your days and on arriving at the date line would have a day too much; so in this case you would _double_ a date and have 8 days in that week. in both cases this is caused by compounding your motion with that of the sun; going with him westward and lengthening your days, or eastward meeting him and shortening them. figure 47 shows greenwich noon, we will say on monday, and at that instant, monday only, exists from 0 to 24 o'clock on the earth; but the next instant, tuesday begins at 180° b. in one hour it is noon of monday at 15° west, and midnight at 165° east; so tuesday is one hour old and there is left 23 hours of monday. monday steadily declines to 0 as tuesday steadily grows to 24 hours; so that, except at the instant of greenwich noon, there are always two days on the world at once. if we said that there are _always_ two days on the world at once, we could not be contradicted; since there is no conceivable time between monday and tuesday; it is an instantaneous change. as we cannot conceive of _no time_, the statement that there is only one day on the earth at greenwich noon is not strictly permissible. since there are always two days on the world at once let us suppose that these two are december 31st and january 1st; then we have _two years_ on the world at once for a period of 24 hours. nine years ago we had the 19th and 20th centuries on the world at once, etc. as a mental exercise, you may carry this as far as you please. suppose there was an impassable sea wall built on the 180° meridian, then there would be two days on the world, just as explained above; but, _practically_, there would be no date line, since in sailing west to this wall we would "lengthen our days," and then shorten them the same amount coming around east to the other side of the wall, but would never jump or double a date. this explanation is founded, as it ought to be, on uniform local time, and is the simplest i can give. the date line is fundamentally simple, but is difficult to explain. when it is complicated by the standard time--or jumping hour system--and also with the fact that some islands count their dates from the wrong side of the line for their longitudes, scientific paradoxes arise, such as having three dates on the world at once, etc.; but as these things are of no more value than wasting time solving chinese puzzles, they are left out. ships change date on the nearest night to the date line; but if they are to call at some island port in the pacific, they may change either sooner or later to correspond with its date. here is a little irish date line wit printed for the first time,--i was telling my bright friend about turning in on saturday night and getting up for breakfast on monday morning. "oh," said he, "i have known gentlemen to do as good as that without leaving new york city!" as what is to follow relates to the growing difficulties of local time and a proposed method of overcoming them, let us recapitulate:- 1st. local time has never been kept, and the difficulties of using it have increased as man advanced, reaching a climax of absurdity on the advent of the railroad; so it broke down and became impractical. 2nd. to make the irregular disorder of local time an orderly confusion, the "standard time"--jumping by hours--has helped a little, but only because we can tell how much it is wrong at any given place. this is its only advantage over the first method, where we had no means of knowing what to expect on entering any new territory. that is, we have improved things by throwing out local time to the extent of an hour. my proposal is to throw local time out _totally_ and establish one, invariable, _universal time_. greenwich time being most in use now, and meridians numbered from it, may be taken in preference to any other. still another reason is that the most important timekeepers in modern life--ship's chronometers--are set to greenwich time. universal time--no local time--only local day and night. our 24-hour system is all right, so do not disturb it, as it gets rid of a.m. and p.m. and makes the day our unit of time. our railroad time now throws out local time to the extent of one hour; but i propose to throw it out entirely and never change the clock hands from greenwich time. the chronometers do that now, so let us conduct all business to that time. now refer to fig. 46, in which greenwich is taken as universal time. the annulus, half white and half black, indicates the average day and night, and is a separate ring in the dial which can be set so that "noon" is on the meridian of the place, as shown for four places in the illustration. it is the same dial in all four cases set to local day and night. strictly, the local time conception is dropped and the local day left for regulating working and sleeping time. all business would have the same time. in traveling east we would not have the short hours; or west, the long hours. all clocks and watches would show the same time as ship's chronometers do now. the only change would be the names of the hours for the parts of the local day. this is just the difficulty, for we are so accustomed to _associate_ a certain number, as seven, with the morning and breakfast time. suppose breakfast time in london is 7 o'clock, then according to the local day it would be 12 o'clock breakfast time in new york; but in both cases it would be the same time with reference to the _local daylight_. let it be distinctly understood that our association of _12 o'clock_ with _noon_ is not necessary. the japanese called it "horse" and "nine"--the ancient romans, the new testament writers, and the turks called it the "sixth hour"--the astronomers now call it 24 o'clock, and the chinese represent it by several characters; but, in all cases, it is simply the middle of the day at any place. by the proposed universal time, morning, noon, and evening would be--_at any given place_--the same hours. there would be no necessity of establishing legal noon with exactness to the meridian, because that would only regulate labor, meals, etc., and would not touch universal time. this is an important part of the proposal and is worth elaborating a little. sections in manufacturing districts could make their working hours correspond at pleasure and no confusion would result. that is, local working hours to convenience but by the same universal time. note how perfectly this would work in traveling,--you arrive in chicago from the effete east and your watch corresponds all along with the railroad clocks. as you leave the station you glance up at the clock and see that chicago noon is 17.30, so you set the day and night ring of your watch to match the same ring on the clock, but no disturbance of the hands. as you register at the hotel you ask,--dinner? and get answer, 24.30--then breakfast, 12.30. these questions are necessary now, so i do not add complication here. when you arrive in a strange city you must ask about meals, business hours, theater hours, "doors open" hours, etc., etc.; so all this remains the same. let us put the matter forcibly,--while we count days, or _dates_, _something_ must vary with east and west; i propose the fixing of hours for business and sleep to suit each locality, but an invariable time. get rid of the idea that a certain number, as 7 o'clock, represents the age of the day _at all places_. see how this would wipe out the silly proposal to "save daylight" by setting the clock back and forward. suppose workmen commenced at 12.30 in new york; for the long summer days make it 11.30, but no change in universal time. as this is the only difference from our present time system, keep the central conception, firmly,--universal time--local day and night. [illustration: fig. 46--universal time dial set for four places] suppose chicago decided that "early to bed and early to rise" was desirable; then it could establish its legal noon as 17.30, which would be about 20 minutes early for its meridian. you could do business with chicago for a lifetime and not find this out, unless you looked up the meridian of chicago and found that it was 17.50 o'clock. none of the railroads or steamship lines of the city would need to know this, except as a matter of scientific curiosity, for the time tables would all be printed in universal time. for hiring labor, receiving and delivering goods, etc., they would only need to know chicago _business hours_. to state the matter in different words,--chicago would only need to decide what portion of the universal 24 hours would suit it best for its day and which for its night, and if it decided, as supposed above, to place its working day forward a little to give some daylight after labor, nothing would be disturbed and only the scientific would ever know. certainly, "save daylight," but do not make a fool of the clock! having shown the great liberty which localities could take without touching the working of the system, the same remarks apply to ultra-scientific localities. a city might establish its noon to the instant; so it is possible--even if a little improbable--that the brilliant and scientific aldermen of new york might appoint a commission with proper campfollowers and instrument bearers to determine the longitude of the city to the nth of a second and tell us where we "are at." the glory of this achievement--and especially its total cost--would be all our own and incorruptible time would be untouched! we thus see that great local freedom and great accuracy are alike possible. with our present system, accuracy in local time is impracticable and has never even been attempted, and is confusion confused since we added the railroad hour jumps. why did we nurse this confusion till it has become almost intolerable? because man has always been a slave to _mental associations, and habits_. primitive man divided the local day into parts and gave them names and this mental attitude sticks to us after it has served its day. the advantages of universal time could hardly be enumerated, yet we can have them all by dropping our childish association of 7 o'clock with breakfast time! another example,--you visit a friend for a few days and on retiring the first night you ask "what is your breakfast hour"--"8 o'clock." you have to ask this question and recollect the answer. now tell me what difference it would make if the answer had been 13 o'clock? none whatever, unless, perhaps, that is, you do not like thirteen! you ask, how about ships? ships now carry universal time and only change the clock on deck to please the simple minded passengers. how about the date line? no change whatever, so long as we use _dates_ which means numbering local days. it is useless multiplying examples; all difficulties disappear, as if by magic, the moment we can free our minds of local time and the association of the _same hour_ with the _same portion_ of the day at _all places_. the great interest at present manifested in the attempts to reach the north pole calls for some consideration of universal time in the extreme north. commencing at the equator, it is easy to see that the day and night ring, fig. 46, would represent the days and nights of 12 hours at all seasons. as we go north, however, this ring represents the _average_ day and night. when we reach the polar circle, still going north, the _daily_ rising and setting of the sun gradually ceases till we reach the great one-year day at the pole, consisting of six months darkness and six months light. let us now assume that an astronomical observatory is established here and the great equatorial placed precisely on the pole. at this point, _local time_, _day and night_, and _the date line_, almost cease to have a meaning. for this very reason universal time would be the only practical method; therefore, it _more_ than stands the test of being carried to the extreme. universal time would regulate working and sleeping here the same as at all other places. strictly local time in this observatory would be an absurdity, because in walking around the telescope (pole) you would be in all instants of the 24 hours within five seconds! at the pole the day would commence at the same instant as at some assumed place, and the day and night ring would represent working and sleeping as at that place. suppose this observatory to be in telegraphic communication with new york, then it would be best for the attendants to set their day and night to new york, so as to correspond with its business hours. many curious suppositions might be made about this polar observatory with its "great night" and equally "great day." it is evident that to keep count of itself it would be compelled to note _dates_ and 24-hour _days_ to keep in touch with us; so it would be forced to adopt the local day of some place like new york. this choice would be free, because a polar observatory would stand on all the meridians of the earth at once. we are now in a position to consider the next possible--and even probable--improvement in our clocks and watches. to minimize the next step it might be well to see what we can do now. clocks are often regulated by electric impulses over wires. electricians inform me that they can do this by wireless; but that owing to the rapid attenuation of the impulses it cannot be done commercially, over great distances. in the history of invention the first step was _to do something_ and then find a way of doing it cheaply enough for general use. so far as i know, the watch in the wearer's pocket has not yet been regulated by wireless; but i am willing to risk the statement that the editor of popular mechanics can name more than one electrician who can do this. a watch to take these impulses might be larger than our present watches, but it would not stay larger and would ultimately become much smaller. you know what has happened since the days of the big "onions" described in the third chapter. fig. 34; so get your electric watch and make it smaller at your leisure. we have made many things commercially practicable, which looked more revolutionary than this. now throw out the mainspring, wheels, pinions, etc., of our watches and reduce the machinery part to little more than dial and hands and do the driving by wireless, say, once every minute. i feel certain that i am restraining the scientific imagination in saying that the man lives among us who can do this. i repeat, that we now possess the elementary knowledge--which if collated and applied--would produce such a watch. now i have a big question to ask--the central note of interrogation in this little scientific conversation with you,--does the man live who can make the earth automatically record its rotation? do not be alarmed, for i am prepared to make a guess as to this possibility. a _direct_ mechanical record of the earth's rotation seems hopeless, but let us see what can be done. you are aware that some of the fixed stars have a distinct spectrum. it is not unreasonable to suppose that an instrument could be made to record the passage of such a star over the meridian. ah, but you say, there is no mechanical force in this. do not hurry, for we have long been acquainted with the fact that things which, apparently, have no force can be made to liberate something which manifests mechanical force. we could now start or stop the greatest steam engine by a gleam of sunlight, and some day we might be able to do as much by the lately discovered pressure of light. that is, we can now liberate the greatest forces by the most infinitesimal, by steps; the little force liberating one greater than itself, and that one another still greater. a good example is the stopping of an electric train, from a distance, by wireless. the standard clock in philadelphia, previously referred to, is a delicate instrument and its most delicate part, having the least force, moves a little valve every minute, and by several steps liberates the air pressure, 200 feet higher in the tower, to move the four sets of great hands. i am not traveling beyond the record when i say that the invisible actinic rays could be used to liberate a great force; therefore what is there unreasonable in the supposition that the displacement of the sodium line in the spectrum of a star might be made to record the earth's rotation? so i say to the electrician--the optician--the photographer--the chemist and the mechanic.--get together and produce this watch. permit me, with conventional and intentional modesty, to name the new timepiece _chroncosmic_. for pocket use, it would be _cosmic watch_. in the first chapter i allowed to the year 2,000 for the production of this watch, but it is likely we will not need to wait so long. having stated my proposal for universal time as fully as space will permit and given my guess as to the coming cosmic watch, let us in this closing paragraph indulge in a little mental exercise. suppose we copy the old time lecturer on astronomy and "allow our minds to penetrate into space." blessed be his memory, he was a doer of good. how impressive as he repeatedly dropped his wooden pointer, and lo! it always moved straight to the floor; thus triumphantly vindicating universal gravitation!!! we can think of a time system which would discard months, weeks and days. what is the meaning of the financial almanac in which the days are numbered from 1 to 365 or 366? simply a step in the right direction, _away from the months and weeks_, so that the distance between any two dates may be seen at a glance. we would really be better without months and weeks. now let us consider the year of the seasons as a unit--long since proposed by the astronomers--and divide it into 3,000 chrons. clocks regulated by star transits, as at present, would divide this decimally, the fourth place being near enough to make the new pendulums of convenient length. this would throw out months, weeks and days, local time and the date line. each of these chrons would represent the same time in the year, permanently. for example, 464.6731 would mark to a _dixmilliemechron_ (a little more than one second) the point reached in the year; while the date does not, as i have shown in the first chapter. but you still object that this is a great number of figures to use in fixing a point in the year. let us see what it takes to fix a point in the year now, _august 24th, 11-16-32 p. m., new york standard time_. a pretty long story, but it does not fix the point of the year even then; for it would require the assistance of an astronomer to fix such a point in _any given_ year, say 1909. but 464.6731 would be eternally right in _absolute time_ of the seasons, and has only one meaning, with no qualifications for any year whatever. i believe the astronomers should use a method something like this. ah, but there is a difficulty in applying this to the affairs of daily life which looks insurmountable. this is caused by the fact that the _day_ and _year_ are incommeasurable. one of them cannot be exactly expressed in terms of the other. they are like the diagonal and side of a square. the day is now the unit and therefore the year has an interminable fraction; conversely, if we make the year the unit, then the day becomes an endless fraction. this brings us face to face with the local day which we ignored in our scientific year unit. we _must_ regulate our labors, in this world, to day and night and, with the year unit, the chrons would bear no fixed relation to day and night, even for two days in succession. so the year unit and absolute time must be left to the astronomers; but the _day unit_ and the uniform world day of _universal time_ as explained in connection with fig. 46 i offer as a practical system. i am satisfied that all attempts to measure the year and the day by the same _time yard stick_ must fail and keep us in our present confusion. therefore separate them once for all time. brought down to its lowest terms my final proposal is:- 1st. an equinoctial year unit for the astronomers, divided somewhat as suggested, but no attempt to make the divisions even approximate to days and hours. this would fix all astronomical events, absolutely. a variation in the length of the year would not disturb this system, since the year _itself_ would be the unit. in translating this astronomical, or year unit time, into clock time, no difficulties would be added, as compared with our present translation of sidereal time into clock time. deal with the _year unit_ and _day unit_ separately and convert them mutually when necessary. 2nd. a universal mean time day of 24 hours, as now kept at greenwich, all human business being regulated by this time. dates and the date line as well as leap years all being retained as at present. 3rd. weight and spring clocks and watches to be superseded by the cosmic clocks and watches regulated by wireless impulses from central time stations, all impulses giving the same invariable time for all places. 4th. automatic recording of the earth's rotations to determine this time. to avoid any possibility of misunderstanding, i would advise never counting a unit till it is completed. we do this correctly with our hours, as we understand 24 o'clock to be the same as 0 o'clock. but we do not carry this out logically, for we say 24.30. how can this be so, since there is nothing more than 24 o'clock? it ought to be simply 30 minutes, or 0 hour 30 minutes. how can there be any _hour_ when a new day is only 30 minutes old? this brings up the acrimonious controversy, of some years ago, as to whether there was any "year one." one side insisted that till one year was completed there could only be months and days. the other side argued that the "year one" commenced at 0 and that the month and date showed how much of it had passed. test yourself,--is this the year 1909, of which only 8 months have passed; or is it 1909 and 8 months more? regarding the centuries there appears to be no difference of opinion that 1900 is completed, and that we are in the 20th century. but can you tell whether we are 8 years and 8 months into the 20th century or 9 years and 8 months? it ought to be, logically 1909 years _complete_ and 8 months of the next year, which we must not count till it is completed. take a carpenter's rule, we say 1/4 in.--1/2 in.--3/4 in., but do not count an inch till we complete it. when the ancients are quoted,--"about the middle of the third hour" there is no mistake, because that means 2-1/2 hours since sunrise. if we said the 1909th year that would be definite too, and mean some distance into that year. popular language states that greenwich is on the "first meridian"; strictly, it is on the zero meridian, or 0°. these matters are largely academic and i do not look on them as serious subjects of discussion; but they are good thought producers. bidding you good-bye, for the present, it might be permissible to state that this conversational article on time was intended to be readable and somewhat instructive; but especially to indicate the infinity of the subject, that thought and investigation might be encouraged. * * * * * * transcriber's note: original spelling and grammar have mostly been retained. however, on page 31, "clepsydral" was changed to "clepsydra". figures were moved from within paragraphs to between paragraphs. in addition, some figures were originally out of numerical sequence; they are now in sequence. eastern standard tribe cory doctorow copyright 2004 cory doctorow doctorow@craphound.com http://www.craphound.com/est tor books, march 2004 isbn: 0765307596 -======= blurbs: ======= "utterly contemporary and deeply peculiar -a hard combination to beat (or, these days, to find)." william gibson, author of neuromancer -"cory doctorow knocks me out. in a good way." pat cadigan, author of synners -"cory doctorow is just far enough ahead of the game to give you that authentic chill of the future, and close enough to home for us to know that he's talking about where we live as well as where we're going to live; a connected world full of disconnected people. one of whom is about to lobotomise himself through the nostril with a pencil. funny as hell and sharp as steel." warren ellis, author of transmetropolitan -======================= a note about this book: ======================= last year, in january 2003, my first novel [ http://craphound.com/down ] came out. i was 31 years old, and i'd been calling myself a novelist since the age of 12. it was the storied dream-of-a-lifetime, come-true-at-last. i was and am proud as hell of that book, even though it is just one book among many released last year, better than some, poorer than others; and even though the print-run (which sold out very quickly!) though generous by science fiction standards, hardly qualifies it as a work of mass entertainment. the thing that's extraordinary about that first novel is that it was released under terms governed by a creative commons [ http://creativecommons.org ] license that allowed my readers to copy the book freely and distribute it far and wide. hundreds of thousands of copies of the book were made and distributed this way. *hundreds* of *thousands*. today, i release my second novel, and my third [ http://www.argosymag.com/nextissue.html ], a collaboration with charlie stross is due any day, and two [ http://www.fantasticmetropolis.com/show.html?fn.preview_doctorow ] more [ http://www.craphound.com/usrbingodexcerpt.txt ] are under contract. my career as a novelist is now well underway -in other words, i am firmly afoot on a long road that stretches into the future: my future, science fiction's future, publishing's future and the future of the world. the future is my business, more or less. i'm a science fiction writer. one way to know the future is to look good and hard at the present. here's a thing i've noticed about the present: more people are reading more words off of more screens than ever before. here's another thing i've noticed about the present: fewer people are reading fewer words off of fewer pages than ever before. that doesn't mean that the book is *dying* -no more than the advent of the printing press and the de-emphasis of bible-copying monks meant that the book was dying -but it does mean that the book is changing. i think that *literature* is alive and well: we're reading our brains out! i just think that the complex social practice of "book" -of which a bunch of paper pages between two covers is the mere expression -is transforming and will transform further. i intend on figuring out what it's transforming into. i intend on figuring out the way that some writers -that *this writer*, right here, wearing my underwear -is going to get rich and famous from his craft. i intend on figuring out how *this writer's* words can become part of the social discourse, can be relevant in the way that literature at its best can be. i don't know what the future of book looks like. to figure it out, i'm doing some pretty basic science. i'm peering into this opaque, inscrutable system of publishing as it sits in the year 2004, and i'm making a perturbation. i'm stirring the pot to see what surfaces, so that i can see if the system reveals itself to me any more thoroughly as it roils. once that happens, maybe i'll be able to formulate an hypothesis and try an experiment or two and maybe -just maybe -i'll get to the bottom of book-in-2004 and beat the competition to making it work, and maybe i'll go home with all (or most) of the marbles. it's a long shot, but i'm a pretty sharp guy, and i know as much about this stuff as anyone out there. more to the point, trying stuff and doing research yields a non-zero chance of success. the alternatives -sitting pat, or worse, getting into a moral panic about "piracy" and accusing the readers who are blazing new trail of "the moral equivalent of shoplifting" -have a *zero* percent chance of success. most artists never "succeed" in the sense of attaining fame and modest fortune. a career in the arts is a risky long-shot kind of business. i'm doing what i can to sweeten my odds. so here we are, and here is novel number two, a book called eastern standard tribe, which you can walk into shops all over the world and buy [ http://craphound.com/est/buy.php ] as a physical artifact -a very nice physical artifact, designed by chesley-award-winning art director irene gallo and her designer shelley eshkar, published by tor books, a huge, profit-making arm of an enormous, multinational publishing concern. tor is watching what happens to this book nearly as keenly as i am, because we're all very interested in what the book is turning into. to that end, here is the book as a non-physical artifact. a file. a bunch of text, slithery bits that can cross the world in an instant, using the internet, a tool designed to copy things very quickly from one place to another; and using personal computers, tools designed to slice, dice and rearrange collections of bits. these tools demand that their users copy and slice and dice -rip, mix and burn! -and that's what i'm hoping you will do with this. not (just) because i'm a swell guy, a big-hearted slob. not because tor is run by addlepated dot-com refugees who have been sold some snake-oil about the e-book revolution. because you -the readers, the slicers, dicers and copiers -hold in your collective action the secret of the future of publishing. writers are a dime a dozen. everybody's got a novel in her or him. readers are a precious commodity. you've got all the money and all the attention and you run the word-of-mouth network that marks the difference between a little book, soon forgotten, and a book that becomes a lasting piece of posterity for its author, changing the world in some meaningful way. i'm unashamedly exploiting your imagination. imagine me a new practice of book, readers. take this novel and pass it from inbox to inbox, through your im clients, over p2p networks. put it on webservers. convert it to weird, obscure ebook formats. show me -and my colleagues, and my publisher -what the future of book looks like. i'll keep on writing them if you keep on reading them. but as cool and wonderful as writing is, it's not half so cool as inventing the future. thanks for helping me do it. here's a summary of the license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0 attribution. the licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work. in return, licensees must give the original author credit. no derivative works. the licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display and perform only unaltered copies of the work -not derivative works based on it. noncommercial. the licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work. in return, licensees may not use the work for commercial purposes -unless they get the licensor's permission. and here's the license itself: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0-legalcode the work (as defined below) is provided under the terms of this creative commons public license ("ccpl" or "license"). the work is protected by copyright and/or other applicable law. any use of the work other than as authorized under this license is prohibited. by exercising any rights to the work provided here, you accept and agree to be bound by the terms of this license. the licensor grants you the rights contained here in consideration of your acceptance of such terms and conditions. 1. definitions a. 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agreement, such provision shall be reformed to the minimum extent necessary to make such provision valid and enforceable. c. no term or provision of this license shall be deemed waived and no breach consented to unless such waiver or consent shall be in writing and signed by the party to be charged with such waiver or consent. d. this license constitutes the entire agreement between the parties with respect to the work licensed here. there are no understandings, agreements or representations with respect to the work not specified here. licensor shall not be bound by any additional provisions that may appear in any communication from you. this license may not be modified without the mutual written agreement of the licensor and you. -dedication for my parents. for my family. for everyone who helped me up and for everyone i let down. you know who you are. sincerest thanks and most heartfelt apologies. cory -1. i once had a tai chi instructor who explained the difference between chinese and western medicine thus: "western medicine is based on corpses, things that you discover by cutting up dead bodies and pulling them apart. chinese medicine is based on living flesh, things observed from vital, moving humans." the explanation, like all good propaganda, is stirring and stilted, and not particularly accurate, and gummy as the hook from a top-40 song, sticky in your mind in the sleep-deprived noontime when the world takes on a hallucinatory hypperreal clarity. like now as i sit here in my underwear on the roof of a sanatorium in the back woods off route 128, far enough from the perpetual construction of boston that it's merely a cloud of dust like a herd of distant buffalo charging the plains. like now as i sit here with a pencil up my nose, thinking about homebrew lobotomies and wouldn't it be nice if i gave myself one. deep breath. the difference between chinese medicine and western medicine is the dissection versus the observation of the thing in motion. the difference between reading a story and studying a story is the difference between living the story and killing the story and looking at its guts. school! we sat in english class and we dissected the stories that i'd escaped into, laid open their abdomens and tagged their organs, covered their genitals with polite sterile drapes, recorded dutiful notes *en masse* that told us what the story was about, but never what the story *was*. stories are propaganda, virii that slide past your critical immune system and insert themselves directly into your emotions. kill them and cut them open and they're as naked as a nightclub in daylight. the theme. the first step in dissecting a story is euthanizing it: "what is the theme of this story?" let me kill my story before i start it, so that i can dissect it and understand it. the theme of this story is: "would you rather be smart or happy?" this is a work of propaganda. it's a story about choosing smarts over happiness. except if i give the pencil a push: then it's a story about choosing happiness over smarts. it's a morality play, and the first character is about to take the stage. he's a foil for the theme, so he's drawn in simple lines. here he is: 2. art berry was born to argue. there are born assassins. bred to kill, raised on cunning and speed, they are the stuff of legend, remorseless and unstoppable. there are born ballerinas, confectionery girls whose parents subject them to rigors every bit as intense as the tripwire and poison on which the assassins are reared. there are children born to practice medicine or law; children born to serve their nations and die heroically in the noble tradition of their forebears; children born to tread the boards or shred the turf or leave smoking rubber on the racetrack. art's earliest memory: a dream. he is stuck in the waiting room of one of the innumerable doctors who attended him in his infancy. he is perhaps three, and his attention span is already as robust as it will ever be, and in his dream -which is fast becoming a nightmare -he is bored silly. the only adornment in the waiting room is an empty cylinder that once held toy blocks. its label colorfully illustrates the blocks, which look like they'd be a hell of a lot of fun, if someone hadn't lost them all. near the cylinder is a trio of older children, infinitely fascinating. they confer briefly, then do *something* to the cylinder, and it unravels, extruding into the third dimension, turning into a stack of blocks. aha! thinks art, on waking. this is another piece of the secret knowledge that older people possess, the strange magic that is used to operate cars and elevators and shoelaces. art waits patiently over the next year for a grownup to show him how the blocks-from-pictures trick works, but none ever does. many other mysteries are revealed, each one more disappointingly mundane than the last: even flying a plane seemed easy enough when the nice stew let him ride up in the cockpit for a while en route to new york -art's awe at the complexity of adult knowledge fell away. by the age of five, he was stuck in a sort of perpetual terrible twos, fearlessly shouting "no" at the world's every rule, arguing the morals and reason behind them until the frustrated adults whom he was picking on gave up and swatted him or told him that that was just how it was. in the easter of his sixth year, an itchy-suited and hard-shoed visit to church with his gran turned into a raging holy war that had the parishioners and the clergy arguing with him in teams and relays. it started innocently enough: "why does god care if we take off our hats, gran?" but the nosy ladies in the nearby pews couldn't bear to simply listen in, and the argument spread like ripples on a pond, out as far as the pulpit, where the priest decided to squash the whole line of inquiry with some half-remembered philosophical word games from descartes in which the objective truth of reality is used to prove the beneficence of god and vice-versa, and culminates with "i think therefore i am." father ferlenghetti even managed to work it into the thread of the sermon, but before he could go on, art's shrill little voice answered from within the congregation. amazingly, the six-year-old had managed to assimilate all of descartes's fairly tricksy riddles in as long as it took to describe them, and then went on to use those same arguments to prove the necessary cruelty of god, followed by the necessary nonexistence of the supreme being, and gran tried to take him home then, but the priest -who'd watched jesuits play intellectual table tennis and recognized a natural when he saw one -called him to the pulpit, whence art took on the entire congregation, singly and in bunches, as they assailed his reasoning and he built it back up, laying rhetorical traps that they blundered into with all the cunning of a cabbage. father ferlenghetti laughed and clarified the points when they were stuttered out by some marble-mouthed rhetorical amateur from the audience, then sat back and marveled as art did his thing. not much was getting done vis-a-vis sermonizing, and there was still the communion to be administered, but god knew it had been a long time since the congregation was engaged so thoroughly with coming to grips with god and what their faith meant. afterwards, when art was returned to his scandalized, thin-lipped gran, father ferlenghetti made a point of warmly embracing her and telling her that art was welcome at his pulpit any time, and suggested a future in the seminary. gran was amazed, and blushed under her sunday powder, and the clawed hand on his shoulder became a caress. 3. the theme of this story is choosing smarts over happiness, or maybe happiness over smarts. art's a good guy. he's smart as hell. that's his schtick. if he were a cartoon character, he'd be the pain-in-the-ass poindexter who is all the time dispelling the mysteries that fascinate his buddies. it's not easy being art's friend. which is, of course, how art ("not his real name") ended up sitting 45 stories over the woodsy massachusetts countryside, hot august wind ruffling his hair and blowing up the legs of his boxers, pencil in his nose, euthanizing his story preparatory to dissecting it. in order to preserve the narrative integrity, art ("not his real name") may take some liberties with the truth. this is autobiographical fiction, after all, not an autobiography. call me art ("not my real name"). i am an agent-provocateur in the eastern standard tribe, though i've spent most of my life in gmt-9 and at various latitudes of zulu, which means that my poor pineal gland has all but forgotten how to do its job without that i drown it in melatonin precursors and treat it to multi-hour nine-kilolumen sessions in the glare of my travel lantern. the tribes are taking over the world. you can track our progress by the rise of minor traffic accidents. the sleep-deprived are terrible, terrible drivers. daylight savings time is a widowmaker: stay off the roads on leap forward day! here is the second character in the morality play. she's the love interest. was. we broke up, just before i got sent to the sanatorium. our circadians weren't compatible. 4. april 3, 2022 was the day that art nearly killed the first and only woman he ever really loved. it was her fault. art's car was running low on lard after a week in the benelux countries, where the residents were all high-net-worth cholesterol-conscious codgers who guarded their arteries from the depredations of the frytrap as jealously as they squirreled their money away from the taxman. he was, therefore, thrilled and delighted to be back on british soil, greenwich+0, where grease ran like water and his runabout could be kept easily and cheaply fuelled and the vodka could run down his gullet instead of into his tank. he was in the kensington high street on a sleepy sunday morning, gmt0300h -2100h back in edt -and the gps was showing insufficient data-points to even gauge traffic between his geoloc and the camden high where he kept his rooms. when the gps can't find enough peers on the relay network to color its maps with traffic data, you know you've hit a sweet spot in the city's uber-circadian, a moment of grace where the roads are very nearly exclusively yours. so he whistled a jaunty tune and swilled his coffium, a fad that had just made it to the uk, thanks to the loosening of rules governing the disposal of heavy water in the eu. the java just wouldn't cool off, remaining hot enough to guarantee optimal caffeine osmosis right down to the last drop. if he was jittery, it was no more so than was customary for estalists at gmt+0, and he was driving safely and with due caution. if the woman had looked out before stepping off the kerb and into the anemically thin road, if she hadn't been wearing stylish black in the pitchy dark of the curve before the royal garden hotel, if she hadn't stepped *right in front of his runabout*, he would have merely swerved and sworn and given her a bit of a fright. but she didn't, she was, she did, and he kicked the brake as hard as he could, twisted the wheel likewise, and still clipped her hipside and sent her ass-over-teakettle before the runabout did its own barrel roll, making three complete revolutions across the kensington high before lodging in the royal garden hotel's shrubs. art was covered in scorching, molten coffium, screaming and clawing at his eyes, upside down, when the porters from the royal garden opened his runabout's upside-down door, undid his safety harness and pulled him out from behind the rapidly flacciding airbag. they plunged his face into the ornamental birdbath, which had a skin of ice that shattered on his nose and jangled against his jawbone as the icy water cooled the coffium and stopped the terrible, terrible burning. he ended up on his knees, sputtering and blowing and shivering, and cleared his eyes in time to see the woman he'd hit being carried out of the middle of the road on a human travois made of the porters' linked arms of red wool and gold brocade. "assholes!" she was hollering. "i could have a goddamn spinal injury! you're not supposed to move me!" "look, miss," one porter said, a young chap with the kind of fantastic dentition that only an insecure teabag would ever pay for, teeth so white and flawless they strobed in the sodium streetlamps. "look. we can leave you in the middle of the road, right, and not move you, like we're supposed to. but if we do that, chances are you're going to get run over before the paramedics get here, and then you certainly *will* have a spinal injury, and a crushed skull besides, like as not. do you follow me?" "you!" she said, pointing a long and accusing finger at art. "you! don't you watch where you're going, you fool! you could have killed me!" art shook water off his face and blew a mist from his dripping moustache. "sorry," he said, weakly. she had an american accent, californian maybe, a litigious stridency that tightened his sphincter like an alum enema and miraculously flensed him of the impulse to argue. "sorry?" she said, as the porters lowered her gently to the narrow strip turf out beside the sidewalk. "sorry? jesus, is that the best you can do?" "well you *did* step out in front of my car," he said, trying to marshal some spine. she attempted to sit up, then slumped back down, wincing. "you were going too fast!" "i don't think so," he said. "i'm pretty sure i was doing 45 -that's five clicks under the limit. of course, the gps will tell for sure." at the mention of empirical evidence, she seemed to lose interest in being angry. "give me a phone, will you?" mortals may be promiscuous with their handsets, but for a tribalist, one's relationship with one's comm is deeply personal. art would have sooner shared his underwear. but he *had* hit her with his car. reluctantly, art passed her his comm. the woman stabbed at the handset with the fingers of her left hand, squinting at it in the dim light. eventually, she clamped it to her head. "johnny? it's linda. yes, i'm still in london. how's tricks out there? good, good to hear. how's marybeth? oh, that's too bad. want to hear how i am?" she grinned devilishly. "i just got hit by a car. no, just now. five minutes ago. of course i'm hurt! i think he broke my hip -maybe my spine, too. yes, i can wiggle my toes. maybe he shattered a disc and it's sawing through the cord right now. concussion? oh, almost certainly. pain and suffering, loss of enjoyment of life, missed wages..." she looked up at art. "you're insured, right?" art nodded, miserably, fishing for an argument that would not come. "half a mil, easy. easy! get the papers going, will you? i'll call you when the ambulance gets here. bye. love you too. bye. bye. bye, johnny. i got to go. bye!" she made a kissy noise and tossed the comm back at art. he snatched it out of the air in a panic, closed its cover reverentially and slipped it back in his jacket pocket. "c'mere," she said, crooking a finger. he knelt beside her. "i'm linda," she said, shaking his hand, then pulling it to her chest. "art," art said. "art. here's the deal, art. it's no one's fault, ok? it was dark, you were driving under the limit, i was proceeding with due caution. just one of those things. but *you* did hit *me*. your insurer's gonna have to pay out -rehab, pain and suffering, you get it. that's going to be serious kwan. i'll go splits with you, you play along." art looked puzzled. "art. art. art. art, here's the thing. maybe you were distracted. lost. not looking. not saying you were, but maybe. maybe you were, and if you were, my lawyer's going to get that out of you, he's going to nail you, and i'll get a big, fat check. on the other hand, you could just, you know, cop to it. play along. you make this easy, we'll make this easy. split it down the middle, once my lawyer gets his piece. sure, your premiums'll go up, but there'll be enough to cover both of us. couldn't you use some ready cash? lots of zeroes. couple hundred grand, maybe more. i'm being nice here -i could keep it all for me." "i don't think --" "sure you don't. you're an honest man. i understand, art. art. art, i understand. but what has your insurer done for you, lately? my uncle ed, he got caught in a threshing machine, paid his premiums every week for forty years, what did he get? nothing. insurance companies. they're the great satan. no one likes an insurance company. come on, art. art. you don't have to say anything now, but think about it, ok, art?" she released his hand, and he stood. the porter with the teeth flashed them at him. "mad," he said, "just mad. watch yourself, mate. get your solicitor on the line, i were you." he stepped back as far as the narrow sidewalk would allow and fired up his comm and tunneled to a pseudonymous relay, bouncing the call off a dozen mixmasters. he was, after all, in deep cover as a gmtalist, and it wouldn't do to have his enciphered packets' destination in the clear -a little traffic analysis and his cover'd be blown. he velcroed the keyboard to his thigh and started chording. trepan: any uk solicitors on the channel? gink-go: lawyers. heh. kill 'em all. specially eurofag fixers. junta: hey, i resemble that remark trepan: junta, you're a uk lawyer? gink-go: use autocounsel, dude. l{ia|awye}rs suck. channel #autocounsel. chatterbot with all major legal systems on the backend. trepan: whatever. i need a human lawyer. trepan: junta, you there? gink-go: off raping humanity. gink-go: fuck lawyers. trepan: /shitlist gink-go ##gink-go added to trepan's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again gink-go: <shitlisted> gink-go: <shitlisted> gink-go: <shitlisted> gink-go: <shitlisted> ##gink-go added to junta's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again ##gink-go added to thomas-hawk's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again ##gink-go added to opencolon's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again ##gink-go added to jackyardbackoff's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again ##gink-go added to freddy-kugel's shitlist. use '/unshit gink-go' to see messages again opencolon: trolls suck. gink-go away. gink-go: <shitlisted> gink-go: <shitlisted> gink-go: <shitlisted> ##gink-go has left channel #est.chatter junta: you were saying? ##junta (private) (file transfer) ##received credential from junta. verifying. credential identified: "solicitor, registered with the law society to practice in england and wales, also registered in australia." trepan: /private junta i just hit a woman while driving the kensington high street. her fault. she's hurt. wants me to admit culpability in exchange for half the insurance. advice? ##junta (private): i beg your pardon? trepan: /private junta she's crazy. she just got off the phone with some kinda lawyer in the states. says she can get $5*10^5 at least, and will split with me if i don't dispute. ##junta (private): bloody americans. no offense. what kind of instrumentation recorded it? trepan: /private junta my gps. maybe some secams. eyewitnesses, maybe. ##junta (private): and you'll say what, exactly? that you were distracted? fiddling with something? trepan: /private junta i guess. ##junta (private): you're looking at three points off your licence. statutory increase in premiums totalling eu 2*10^5 over five years. how's your record? ##transferring credential "driving record" to junta. receipt confirmed. ##junta (private): hmmm. ##junta (private): nothing outrageous. _were_ you distracted? trepan: /private junta i guess. maybe. ##junta (private): you guess. well, who would know better than you, right? my fee's 10 percent. stop guessing. you _were_ distracted. overtired. it's late. regrettable. sincerely sorry. have her solicitor contact me directly. i'll meet you here at 1000h gmt/0400h edt and go over it with you, yes? agreeable? trepan: /private junta agreed. thanks. ##junta (private) (file transfer) ##received smartcontract from junta. verifying. smartcontract "representation agreement" verified. trepan: /join #autocounsel counselbot: welcome, trepan! how can i help you? ##transferring smartcontract "representation agreement" to counselbot. receipt confirmed. trepan: /private counselbot what is the legal standing of this contract? ##counselbot (private): smartcontract "representation agreement" is an iso standard representation agreement between a client and a solicitor for purposes of litigation in the uk. ##autocounsel (private) (file transfer) ##received "representation agreement faq uk 2.3.2 2jan22" from autocounsel. trepan: /join #est.chatter trepan: /private junta it's a deal ##transferring key-signed smartcontract "representation agreement" to junta. receipt confirmed. trepan: /quit gotta go, thanks! ##trepan has left channel #est.chatter "gotta go, thanks!" 5. once the messy business of negotiating eu healthcare for foreign nationals had been sorted out with the emts and the casualty intake triage, once they'd both been digested and shat out by a dozen diagnostic devices from x-rays to mris, once the harried house officers had impersonally prodded them and presented them both with hardcopy faqs for their various injuries (second-degree burns, mild shock for art; pelvic dislocation, minor kidney bruising, broken femur, whiplash, concussion and mandible trauma for linda), they found themselves in adjacent beds in the recovery room, which bustled as though it, too, were working on gmt-5, busy as a 9pm restaurant on a saturday night. art had an iv taped to the inside of his left arm, dripping saline and tranqs, making him logy and challenging his circadians. still, he was the more mobile of the two, as linda was swaddled in smartcasts that both immobilized her and massaged her, all the while osmosing transdermal antiinflammatories and painkillers. he tottered the two steps to the chair at her bedside and shook her hand again. "don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell," he said. she smiled. her jaw made an audible pop. "get a picture, will you? it'll be good in court." he chuckled. "no, seriously. get a picture." so he took out his comm and snapped a couple pix, including one with nightvision filters on to compensate for the dimmed recovery room lighting. "you're a cool customer, you know that?" he said, as he tucked his camera away. "not so cool. this is all a coping strategy. i'm pretty shook up, you want to know the truth. i could have died." "what were you doing on the street at three am anyway?" "i was upset, so i took a walk, thought i'd get something to eat or a beer or something." "you haven't been here long, huh?" she laughed, and it turned into a groan. "what the hell is wrong with the english, anyway? the sun sets and the city rolls up its streets. it's not like they've got this great tradition of staying home and surfing cable or anything." "they're all snug in their beds, farting away their lentil roasts." "that's it! you can't get a steak here to save your life. mad cows, all of 'em. if i see one more gray soy sausage, i'm going to kill the waitress and eat *her*." "you just need to get hooked up," he said. "once we're out of here, i'll take you out for a genuine blood pudding, roast beef and oily chips. i know a place." "i'm drooling. can i borrow your phone again? uh, i think you're going to have to dial for me." "that's ok. give me the number." she did, and he cradled his comm to her head. he was close enough to her that he could hear the tinny, distinctive ringing of a namerican circuit at the other end. he heard her shallow breathing, heard her jaw creak. he smelled her shampoo, a free-polymer new-car smell, smelled a hint of her sweat. a cord stood out on her neck, merging in an elegant vee with her collarbone, an arrow pointing at the swell of her breast under her paper gown. "toby, it's linda." a munchkin voice chittered down the line. "shut up, ok. shut up. shut. i'm in the hospital." more chipmunk. "got hit by a car. i'll be ok. no. shut up. i'll be fine. i'll send you the faqs. i just wanted to say. . ." she heaved a sigh, closed her eyes. "you know what i wanted to say. sorry, all right? sorry it came to this. you'll be ok. i'll be ok. i just didn't want to leave you hanging." she sounded groggy, but there was a sob there, too. "i can't talk long. i'm on a shitload of dope. yes, it's good dope. i'll call you later. i don't know when i'm coming back, but we'll sort it out there, all right? ok. shut up. ok. you too." she looked up at art. "my boyfriend. ex-boyfriend. not sure who's leaving who at this point. thanks." she closed her eyes. her eyelids were mauve, a tracery of pink veins. she snored softly. art set an alarm that would wake him up in time to meet his lawyer, folded up his comm and crawled back into bed. his circadians swelled and crashed against the sides of his skull, and before he knew it, he was out. 6. hospitals operate around the clock, but they still have their own circadians. the noontime staff were still overworked and harried but chipper and efficient, too, without the raccoon-eyed jitters of the night before. art and linda were efficiently fed, watered and evacuated, then left to their own devices, blinking in the weak english sunlight that streamed through the windows. "the lawyers've worked it out, i think," art said. "good. good news." she was dopamine-heavy, her words lizard-slow. art figured her temper was drugged senseless, and it gave him the courage to ask her the question that'd been on his mind since they'd met. "can i ask you something? it may be offensive." "g'head. i may be offended." "do you do. . .this. . .a lot? i mean, the insurance thing?" she snorted, then moaned. "it's the los angeles lottery, dude. i haven't done it before, but i was starting to feel a little left out, to tell the truth." "i thought screenplays were the la lotto." "naw. a good lotto is one you can win." she favored him with half a smile and he saw that she had a lopsided, left-hand dimple. "you're from la, then?" "got it in one. orange county. i'm a third-generation failed actor. grandpa once had a line in a hitchcock film. mom was the ditzy neighbor on a three-episode fox sitcom in the 90s. i'm still waiting for my moment in the sun. you live here?" "for now. since september. i'm from toronto." "canadia! goddamn snowbacks. what are you doing in london?" his comm rang, giving him a moment to gather his cover story. "hello?" "art! it's fede!" federico was another provocateur in gmt. he wasn't exactly art's superior -the tribes didn't work like that -but he had seniority. "fede -can i call you back?" "look, i heard about your accident, and i wouldn't have called, but it's urgent." art groaned and rolled his eyes in linda's direction to let her know that he, too, was exasperated by the call, then retreated to the other side of his bed and hunched over. "what is it?" "we've been sniffed. i'm four-fifths positive." art groaned again. fede lived in perennial terror of being found out and exposed as an estribesman, fired, deported, humiliated. he was always at least three-fifths positive, and the extra fifth was hardly an anomaly. "what's up now?" "it's the vp of hr at virgin/deutsche telekom. he's called me in for a meeting this afternoon. wants to go over the core hours recommendation." fede was a mckinsey consultant offline, producing inflammatory recommendation packages for fortune 100 companies. he was working the lazy-euro angle, pushing for extra daycare, time off for sick relatives and spouses. the last policy binder he'd dumped on v/dt had contained enough obscure leave-granting clauses that an employee who was sufficiently lawyer-minded could conceivably claim 450 days of paid leave a year. now he was pushing for the abolishment of "core hours," corporate eurospeak for the time after lunch but before afternoon naps when everyone showed up at the office, so that they could get some face-time. enough of this, and gmt would be the laughingstock of the world, and so caught up in internecine struggles that the clear superiority of the stress-feeding est ethos would sweep them away. that was the theory, anyway. of course, there were rival tribalists in every single management consulting firm in the world working against us. management consultants have always worked on old-boys' networks, after all -it was a very short step from interning your frat buddy to interning your tribesman. "that's it? a meeting? jesus, it's just a meeting. he probably wants you to reassure him before he presents to the ceo, is all." "no, i'm sure that's not it. he's got us sniffed -both of us. he's been going through the product-design stuff, too, which is totally outside of his bailiwick. i tried to call him yesterday and his voicemail rolled over to a boardroom in o'malley house." o'malley house was the usability lab, a nice old row of connected victorian townhouses just off picadilly. it was where art consulted out of. also, two-hundred-odd usability specialists, product designers, experience engineers, cog-psych cranks and other tinkerers with the mind. they were the hairface hackers of art's generation, unmanageable creative darlings -no surprise that the vp of hr would have cause to spend a little face-time with someone there. try telling fede that, though. "all right, fede, what do you want me to do?" "just -just be careful. sanitize your storage. i'm pushing a new personal key to you now, too. here, i'll read you the fingerprint." the key would be an unimaginably long string of crypto-gibberish, and just to make sure that it wasn't intercepted and changed en route, fede wanted to read him a slightly less long mathematical fingerprint hashed out of it. once it arrived, art was supposed to generate a fingerprint from fede's new key and compare it to the one that fede wanted him to jot down. art closed his eyes and reclined. "all right, i've got a pen," he said, though he had no such thing. fede read him the long, long string of digits and characters and he repeated them back, pretending to be noting them down. paranoid bastard. "ok, i got it. i'll get you a new key later today, all right?" "do it quick, man." "whatever, fede. back off, ok?" "sorry, sorry. oh, and feel better, all right?" "bye, fede." "what was *that*?" linda had her neck craned around to watch him. he slipped into his cover story with a conscious effort. "i'm a user-experience consultant. my coworkers are all paranoid about a deadline." she rolled her eyes. "not another one. god. look, we go out for dinner, don't say a word about the kerb design or the waiter or the menu or the presentation, ok? ok? i'm serious." art solemnly crossed his heart. "who else do you know in the biz?" "my ex. he wouldn't or couldn't shut up about how much everything sucked. he was right, but so what? i wanted to enjoy it, suckitude and all." "ok, i promise. we're going out for dinner, then?" "the minute i can walk, you're taking me out for as much flesh and entrails as i can eat." "it's a deal." and then they both slept again. 7. met cute, huh? linda was short and curvy, dark eyes and pursed lips and an hourglass figure that she thought made her look topheavy and big-assed, but i thought she was fabulous and soft and bouncy. she tasted like pepper, and her hair smelled of the abstruse polymers that kept it hanging in a brusque bob that brushed her firm, long jawline. i'm getting a sunburn, and the pebbles on the roof are digging into my ass. i don't know if i'm going to push the pencil or not, but if i do, it's going to be somewhere more comfortable than this roof. except that the roof door, which i had wedged open before i snuck away from my attendants and slunk up the firecode-mandated stairwell, is locked. the small cairn of pebbles that i created in front of it has been strewn apart. it is locked tight. and me without my comm. ah, me. i take an inventory of my person: a pencil, a hospital gown, a pair of boxer shorts and a head full of bad cess. i am 450' above the summery, muggy, verdant massachusetts countryside. it is very hot, and i am turning the color of the barbie aisle at fao schwartz, a kind of labial pink that is both painful and perversely cheerful. i've spent my life going in the back door and coming out the side door. that's the way it is now. when it only takes two years for your job to morph into something that would have been unimaginable twenty-four months before, it's not really practical to go in through the front door. not really practical to get the degree, the certification, the appropriate experience. i mean, even if you went back to university, the major you'd need by the time you graduated would be in a subject that hadn't been invented when you enrolled. so i'm good at back doors and side doors. it's what the tribe does for me -provides me with entries into places where i technically don't belong. and thank god for them, anyway. without the tribes, *no one* would be qualified to do *anything* worth doing. going out the side door has backfired on me today, though. oh. shit. i peer over the building's edge, down into the parking lot. the cars are thinly spread, the weather too fine for anyone out there in the real world to be visiting with their crazy relatives. half a dozen beaters are parked down there, methane-breathers that the estalists call fartmobiles. i'd been driving something much the same on that fateful leap forward day in london. i left something out of my inventory: pebbles. the roof is littered, covered with a layer of gray, round riverstones, about the size of wasabi chickpeas. no one down there is going to notice me all the way up here. not without that i give them a sign. a cracked windshield or two ought to do it. i gather a small pile of rocks by the roof's edge and carefully take aim. i have to be cautious. careful. a pebble dropped from this height -i remember the stories about the penny dropped from the top of the cn tower that sunk six inches into the concrete below. i select a small piece of gravel and carefully aim for the windshield of a little blue sony veddic and it's bombs away. i can only follow the stone's progress for a few seconds before my eyes can no longer disambiguate it from the surrounding countryside. what little i do see of its trajectory is disheartening, though: the wind whips it away on an almost horizontal parabola, off towards boston. forgetting all about newton, i try lobbing and then hurling the gravel downward, but it gets taken away, off to neverneverland, and the windscreens remain whole. i go off to prospect for bigger rocks. you know the sort of horror movie where the suspense builds and builds and builds, partially collapsed at regular intervals by something jumping out and yelling "boo!" whereupon the heroes have to flee, deeper into danger, and the tension rises and rises? you know how sometimes the director just doesn't know when to quit, and the bogeymen keep jumping out and yelling boo, the wobbly bridges keep on collapsing, the small arms fire keeps blowing out more windows in the office tower? it's not like the tension goes away -it just get boring. boring tension. you know that the climax is coming soon, that any minute now our hero will face down the archvillain and either kick his ass or have his ass kicked, the whole world riding on the outcome. you know that it will be satisfying, with much explosions and partial nudity. you know that afterward, our hero will retire to the space-bar and chill out and collect kisses from the love interest and that we'll all have a moment to get our adrenals back under control before the hand pops out of the grave and we all give a nervous jump and start eagerly anticipating the sequel. you just wish it would *happen* already. you just wish that the little climaces could be taken as read, that the director would trust the audience to know that our hero really does wade through an entire ocean of shit en route to the final showdown. i'm bored with being excited. i've been betrayed, shot at, institutionalized and stranded on the roof of a nuthouse, and i just want the fucking climax to come by and happen to me, so that i can know: smart or happy. i've found a half-brick that was being used to hold down the tar paper around an exhaust-chimney. i should've used that to hold the door open, but it's way the hell the other side of the roof, and i'd been really pleased with my little pebbly doorstop. besides, i'm starting to suspect that the doorjamb didn't fail, that it was sabotaged by some malevolently playful goon from the sanatorium. an object lesson or something. i heft the brick. i release the brick. it falls, and falls, and falls, and hits the little blue fartmobile square on the trunk, punching a hole through the cheap aluminum lid. and the fartmobile explodes. first there is a geyser of blue flame as the tank's puncture wound jets a stream of ignited assoline skyward, and then it blows back into the tank and *boom*, the fartmobile is in one billion shards, rising like a parachute in an updraft. i can feel the heat on my bare, sun-tender skin, even from this distance. explosions. partial nudity. somehow, though, i know that this isn't the climax. 8. linda didn't like to argue -fight: yes, argue: no. that was going to be a problem, art knew, but when you're falling in love, you're able to rationalize all kinds of things. the yobs who cornered them on the way out of a bloody supper of contraband, antisocial animal flesh were young, large and bristling with testosterone. they wore killsport armor with strategic transparent panels that revealed their steroid-curdled muscles, visible through the likewise transparent insets they'd had grafted in place of the skin that covered their abs and quads. there were three of them, grinning and flexing, and they boxed in art and linda in the tiny, shuttered entrance of a boots pharmacy. "evening, sir, evening, miss," one said. "hey," art muttered and looked over the yob's shoulder, trying to spot a secam or a cop. neither was in sight. "i wonder if we could beg a favor of you?" another said. "sure," art said. "you're american, aren't you?" the third said. "canadian, actually." "marvelous. bloody marvelous. i hear that canada's a lovely place. how are you enjoying england?" "i live here, actually. i like it a lot." "glad to hear that, sir. and you, miss?" linda was wide-eyed, halfway behind art. "it's fine." "good to hear," the first one said, grinning even more broadly. "now, as to that favor. my friends and i, we've got a problem. we've grown bored of our wallets. they are dull and uninteresting." "and empty," the third one interjected, with a little, stoned giggle. "oh yes, and empty. we thought, well, perhaps you visitors from abroad would find them suitable souvenirs of england. we thought perhaps you'd like to trade, like?" art smiled in spite of himself. he hadn't been mugged in london, but he'd heard of this. ever since a pair of manchester toughs had been acquitted based on the claim that their robbery and menacing of a pakistani couple had been a simple cross-cultural misunderstanding, crafty british yobs had been taking off increasingly baroque scores from tourists. art felt the familiar buzz that meant he was about to get into an argument, and before he knew it, he was talking: "do you really think that'd hold up in court? i think that even the dimmest judge would be able to tell that the idea of a canadian being mistaken about trading two wallets full of cash for three empty ones was in no way an error in cross-cultural communication. really now. if you're going to mug us --" "mug you, sir? dear oh dear, who's mugging you?" the first one said. "well, in that case, you won't mind if we say no, right?" "well, it would be rather rude," the first said. "after all, we're offering you a souvenir in the spirit of transatlantic solidarity. genuine english leather, mine is. belonged to my grandfather." "let me see it," art said. "beg pardon?" "i want to see it. if we're going to trade, i should be able to examine the goods first, right?" "all right, sir, all right, here you are." the wallet was tattered and leather, and it was indeed made in england, as the frayed tag sewn into the billfold attested. art turned it over in his hands, then, still smiling, emptied the card slot and started paging through the id. "lester?" lester swore under his breath. "les, actually. hand those over, please -they don't come with the wallet." "they don't? but surely a real british wallet is hardly complete without real british identification. maybe i could keep the nhs card, something to show around to americans. they think socialized medicine is a fairy tale, you know." "i really must insist, sir." "fuck it, les," the second one said, reaching into his pocket. "this is stupid. get the money, and let's push off." "it's not that easy any more, is it?" the third one said. "fellow's got your name, les. 'sbad." "well, yes, of course i do," art said. "but so what? you three are hardly nondescript. you think it'd be hard to pick your faces out of a rogues gallery? oh, and wait a minute! isn't this a trade? what happened to the spirit of transatlantic solidarity?" "right," les said. "don't matter if you've got my name, 'cos we're all friends, right, sir?" "right!" art said. he put the tattered wallet in his already bulging jacket pocket, making a great show of tamping it down so it wouldn't come loose. once his hand was free, he extended it. "art berry. late of toronto. pleased to meetcha!" les shook his hand. "i'm les. these are my friends, tony and tom." "fuck!" tom, the second one, said. "les, you stupid cunt! now they got our names, too!" the hand he'd put in his pocket came out, holding a tazer that sparked and hummed. "gotta get rid of 'em now." art smiled, and reached very slowly into his pocket. he pulled out his comm, dislodging les's wallet so that it fell to the street. les, tom and tony stared at the glowing comm in his hand. "could you repeat that, tom? i don't think the 999 operator heard you clearly." tom stared dumbfounded at the comm, watching it as though it were a snake. the numbers "999" were clearly visible on its display, along with the position data that pinpointed its location to the meter. les turned abruptly and began walking briskly towards the tube station. in a moment, tony followed, leaving tom alone, the tazer still hissing and spitting. his face contorted with frustrated anger, and he feinted with the tazer, barking a laugh when art and linda cringed back, then he took off at a good run after his mates. art clamped the comm to his head. "they've gone away," he announced, prideful. "did you get that exchange? there were three of them and they've gone away." from the comm came a tight, efficient voice, a male emergency operator. the speech was accented, and it took a moment to place it. then art remembered that the overnight emergency call-centers had been outsourced by the english government to low-cost cube-farms in manila. "yes, mr. berry." his comm had already transmitted his name, immigration status and location, creating a degree of customization more typical of fast-food delivery than governmental bureaucracies. that was bad, art thought, professionally. gmt polezeidom was meant to be a solid wall of oatmeal-thick bureaucracy, courtesy of some crafty, anonymous pdtalist. "please, stay at your current location. the police will be on the scene shortly. very well done, sir." art turned to linda, triumphant, ready for the traditional, postrhetorical accolades that witnesses of his verbal acrobatics were wont to dole out, and found her in an attitude of abject terror. her eyes were crazily wide, the whites visible around the irises -something he'd read about but never seen firsthand. she was breathing shallowly and had gone ashen. though they were not an actual couple yet, art tried to gather her into his arms for some manly comforting, but she was stiff in his embrace, and after a moment, planted her palms on his chest and pushed him back firmly, even aggressively. "are you all right?" he asked. he was adrenalized, flushed. "*what if they'd decided to kill us*?" she said, spittle flying from her lips. "oh, they weren't going to hurt us," he said. "no guts at all." "god*dammit*, you didn't know that! where do you get off playing around with *my* safety? why the hell didn't you just hand over your wallet, call the cops and be done with it? macho fucking horseshit!" the triumph was fading, fast replaced by anger. "what's wrong with you? do you always have to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory? i just beat off those three assholes without raising a hand, and all you want to do is criticize? christ, ok, next time we can hand over our wallets. maybe they'll want a little rape, too -should i go along with that? you just tell me what the rules are, and i'll be sure and obey them." "you fucking *pig*! where the fuck do you get off raising your voice to me? and don't you *ever* joke about rape. it's not even slightly funny, you arrogant fucking prick." art's triumph deflated. "jesus," he said, "jesus, linda, i'm sorry. i didn't realize how scared you must have been --" "you don't know what you're talking about. i've been mugged a dozen times. i hand over my wallet, cancel my cards, go to my insurer. no one's ever hurt me. i wasn't the least bit scared until you opened up your big goddamned mouth." "sorry, sorry. sorry about the rape crack. i was just trying to make a point. i didn't know --" he wanted to say, *i didn't know you'd been raped*, but thought better of it -"it was so...*personal* for you --" "oh, christ. just because i don't want to joke about rape, you think i'm some kind of *victim*, that *i've* been raped" -art grimaced -"well, i haven't, shithead. but it's not something you should be using as a goddamned example in one of your stupid points. rape is serious." the cops arrived then, two of them on scooters, looking like meter maids. art and linda glared at each other for a moment, then forced smiles at the cops, who had dismounted and shed their helmets. they were young men, in their twenties, and to art, they looked like kids playing dress up. "evening sir, miss," one said. "i'm pc mcgivens and this is pc demoss. you called emergency services?" mcgivens had his comm out and it was pointed at them, slurping in their identity on police override. "yes," art said. "but it's ok now. they took off. one of them left his wallet behind." he bent and picked it up and made to hand it to pc demoss, who was closer. the cop ignored it. "please sir, put that down. we'll gather the evidence." art lowered it to the ground, felt himself blushing. his hands were shaking now, whether from embarrassment, triumph or hurt he couldn't say. he held up his now-empty palms in a gesture of surrender. "step over here, please, sir," pc mcgivens said, and led him off a short ways, while pc blaylock closed on linda. "now, sir," mcgivens said, in a businesslike way, "please tell me exactly what happened." so art did, tastefully omitting the meat-parlor where the evening's festivities had begun. he started to get into it, to evangelize his fast-thinking bravery with the phone. mcgivens obliged him with a little grin. "very good. now, again, please, sir?" "i'm sorry?" art said. "can you repeat it, please? procedure." "why?" "can't really say, sir. it's procedure." art thought about arguing, but managed to control the impulse. the man was a cop, he was a foreigner -albeit a thoroughly documented one -and what would it cost? he'd probably left something out anyway. he retold the story from the top, speaking slowly and clearly. pc mcgivens aimed his comm artwards, and tapped out the occasional note as art spoke. "thank you sir. now, once more, please?" art blew out an exasperated sigh. his feet hurt, and his bladder was swollen with drink. "you're joking." "no sir, i'm afraid not. procedure." "but it's stupid! the guys who tried to mug us are long gone, i've given you their descriptions, you have their *identification* --" but they didn't, not yet. the wallet still lay where art had dropped it. pc mcgivens shook his head slowly, as though marveling at the previously unsuspected inanity of his daily round. "all very true, sir, but it's procedure. worked out by some clever lad using statistics. all this, it increases our success rate. 'sproven." here it was. some busy tribalist provocateur, some compatriot of fede, had stirred the oats into her majesty's royal constabulary. art snuck a look at linda, who was no doubt being subjected to the same procedure by pc demoss. she'd lost her rigid, angry posture, and was seemingly -amazingly -enjoying herself, chatting up the constable like an old pal. "how many more times have we got to do this, officer?" "this is the last time you'll have to repeat it to me." art's professional instincts perked up at the weasel words in the sentence. "to you? who else do i need to go over this with?" the officer shook his head, caught out. "well, you'll have to repeat it three times to pc demoss, once he's done with your friend, sir. procedure." "how about this," art says, "how about i record this last statement to you with my comm, and then i can *play it back* three times for pc demoss?" "oh, i'm sure that won't do, sir. not really the spirit of the thing, is it?" "and what *is* the spirit of the thing? humiliation? boredom? an exercise in raw power?" pc mcgivens lost his faint smile. "i really couldn't say, sir. now, again if you please?" "what if i don't please? i haven't been assaulted. i haven't been robbed. it's none of my business. what if i walk away right now?" "not really allowed, sir. it's expected that everyone in england -hm's subjects *and her guests* -will assist the police with their inquiries. required, actually." reminded of his precarious immigration status, art lost his attitude. "once more for you, three more times for your partner, and we're done, right? i want to get home." "we'll see, sir." art recited the facts a third time, and they waited while linda finished her third recounting. he switched over to pc demoss, who pointed his comm expectantly. "is all this just to make people reluctant to call the cops? i mean, this whole procedure seems like a hell of a disincentive." "just the way we do things, sir," pc demoss said without rancor. "now, let's have it, if you please?" from a few yards away, linda laughed at something pc mcgivens said, which just escalated art's frustration. he spat out the description three times fast. "now, i need to find a toilet. are we done yet?" "'fraid not, sir. going to have to come by the station house to look through some photos. there's a toilet there." "it can't wait that long, officer." pc demoss gave him a reproachful look. "i'm sorry, all right?" art said. "i lack the foresight to empty my bladder before being accosted in the street. that being said, can we arrive at some kind of solution?" in his head, art was already writing an angry letter to the *times*, dripping with sarcasm. "just a moment, sir," pc demoss said. he conferred briefly with his partner, leaving art to stare ruefully at their backs and avoid linda's gaze. when he finally met it, she gave him a sunny smile. it seemed that she -at least -wasn't angry any more. "come this way, please, sir," pc demoss said, striking off for the high street. "there's a pub 'round the corner where you can use the facilities." 9. it was nearly dawn before they finally made their way out of the police station and back into the street. after identifying les from an online rogues' gallery, art had spent the next six hours sitting on a hard bench, chording desultorily on his thigh, doing some housekeeping. this business of being an agent-provocateur was complicated in the extreme, though it had sounded like a good idea when he was living in san francisco and hating every inch of the city, from the alleged pizza to the fucking! drivers! -in new york, the theory went, drivers used their horns by way of shouting "ole!" as in, "ole! you changed lanes!" "ole! you cut me off!" "ole! you're driving on the sidewalk!" while in san francisco, a honking horn meant, "i wish you were dead. have a nice day. dude." and the body language was all screwed up out west. art believed that your entire unconscious affect was determined by your upbringing. you learned how to stand, how to hold your face in repose, how to gesture, from the adults around you while you were growing up. the pacific standard tribe always seemed a little bovine to him, their facial muscles long conditioned to relax into a kind of spacey, gullible senescence. beauty, too. your local definition of attractive and ugly was conditioned by the people around you at puberty. there was a pacific "look" that was indefinably off. hard to say what it was, just that when he went out to a bar or got stuck on a crowded train, the girls just didn't seem all that attractive to him. objectively, he could recognize their prettiness, but it didn't stir him the way the girls cruising the chelsea antiques market or lounging around harvard square could. he'd always felt at a slight angle to reality in california, something that was reinforced by his continuous efforts in the tribe, from chatting and gaming until the sun rose, dragging his caffeine-deficient ass around to his clients in a kind of fog before going home, catching a nap and hopping back online at 3 or 4 when the high-octane nyc early risers were practicing work-avoidance and clattering around with their comms. gradually, he penetrated deeper into the tribe, getting invites into private channels, intimate environments where he found himself spilling the most private details of his life. the tribe stuck together, finding work for each other, offering advice, and it was only a matter of time before someone offered him a gig. that was fede, who practically invented tribal agent-provocateurs. he'd been working for mckinsey, systematically undermining their gmt-based clients with plausibly terrible advice, creating achilles' heels that their east-coast competitors could exploit. the entire european trust-architecture for relay networks had been ceded by virgin/deutsche telekom to a scrappy band of at&t labs refugees whose new jersey headquarters hosted all the cellular reputation data that euros' comms consulted when they were routing their calls. the jersey clients had funneled a nice chunk of the proceeds to fede's account in the form of rigged winnings from an offshore casino that the tribe used to launder its money. now v/dt was striking back, angling for a government contract in massachusetts, a fat bit of pork for managing payments to rightsholders whose media was assessed at the masspike's tollbooths. rights-societies were a fabulous opportunity to skim and launder and spindle money in plenty, and virgin's massive repertoire combined with deutsche telekom's teutonic attention to detail was a tough combination to beat. needless to say, the route 128-based tribalists who had the existing contract needed an edge, and would pay handsomely for it. london nights seemed like a step up from san francisco mornings to art -instead of getting up at 4am to get nyc, he could sleep in and chat them up through the night. the euro sensibility, with its many nap-breaks, statutory holidays and extended vacations seemed ideally suited to a double agent's life. but art hadn't counted on the tribalists' hands-on approach to his work. they obsessively grepped his daily feed of spreadsheets, whiteboard-output, memos and conversation reports for any of ten thousand hot keywords, querying him for deeper detail on trivial, half-remembered bullshit sessions with the v/dt's user experience engineers. his comm buzzed and blipped at all hours, and his payoff was dependent on his prompt response. they were running him ragged. four hours in the police station gave art ample opportunity to catch up on the backlog of finicky queries. since the accident, he'd been distracted and tardy, and had begun to invent his responses, since it all seemed so trivial to him anyway. fede had sent him about a thousand nagging notes reminding him to generate a new key and phone with the fingerprint. christ. fede had been with mckinsey for most of his adult life, and he was superparanoid about being exposed and disgraced in their ranks. art's experience with the other mckinsey people around the office suggested that the notion of any of those overpaid buzzword-slingers sniffing their traffic was about as likely as a lightning strike. heaving a dramatic sigh for his own benefit, he began the lengthy process of generating enough randomness to seed the key, mashing the keyboard, whispering nonsense syllables, and pointing the comm's camera lens at arbitrary corners of the police station. after ten minutes of crypto-tourette's, the comm announced that he'd been sufficiently random and prompted him for a passphrase. jesus. what a pain in the ass. he struggled to recall all the words to the theme song from a cbc sitcom he'd watched as a kid, and then his comm went into a full-on churn as it laboriously re-ciphered all of his stored files with the new key, leaving art to login while he waited. trepan: afternoon! colonelonic: hey, trepan. how's it going? trepan: foul. i'm stuck at a copshop in london with my thumb up my ass. i got mugged. colonelonic: yikes! you ok? ballgravy: shit! trepan: oh, i'm fine -just bored. they didn't hurt me. i commed 999 while they were running their game and showed it to them when they got ready to do the deed, so they took off. ##colonelonic laughs ballgravy: britain==ass. lon-dong. colonelonic: sweet! trepan: thanks. now if the cops would only finish the paperwork... colonelonic: what are you doing in london, anyway? ballgravy: ass ass ass colonelonic: shut up, bgravy ballgravy: blow me trepan: what's wrong with you, ballgravy? we're having a grown-up conversation here ballgravy: just don't like brits. trepan: what, all of them? ballgravy: whatever -all the ones i've met have been tight-ass pricks ##colonelonic: (private) he's just a troll, ignore him private colonelonic: watch this trepan: how many? ballgravy: how many what? trepan: have you met? ballgravy: enough trepan: > 100? ballgravy: no trepan: > 50? ballgravy: no trepan: > 10? ballgravy: around 10 trepan: where are you from? ballgravy: queens trepan: well, you're not going to believe this, but you're the tenth person from queens i've met -and you're all morons who pick fights with strangers in chat-rooms colonelonic: queens==ass trepan: ass ass ass ballgravy: fuck you both ##ballgravy has left channel #est.chatter colonelonic: nicely done colonelonic: he's been boring me stupid for the past hour, following me from channel to channel colonelonic: what are you doing in london, anyway? trepan: like i said, waiting for the cops colonelonic: but why are you there in the first place trepan: /private colonelonic it's a work thing. for est. ##colonelonic: (private) no shit? trepan: /private colonelonic yeah. can't really say much more, you understand ##colonelonic: (private) cool! any more jobs? one more day at merril-lynch and i'm gonna kill someone trepan: /private colonelonic sorry, no. there must be some perks though. ##colonelonic: (private) i can pick fights with strangers in chat rooms! also, i get to play with lexus-nexus all i want trepan: /private colonelonic that's pretty rad, anyway ##ballgravy has joined channel #est.chatter ballgravy: homos trepan: oh christ, are you back again, queens? colonelonic: i've gotta go anyway trepan: see ya ##colonelonic has left channel #est.chatter ##trepan has left channel #est.chatter art stood up and blinked. he approached the desk sergeant and asked if he thought it would be much longer. the sergeant fiddled with a comm for a moment, then said, "oh, we're quite done with you sir, thank you." art repressed a vituperative response, counted three, then thanked the cop. he commed linda. "what's up?" "they say we're free to go. i think they've been just keeping us here for shits and giggles. can you believe that?" "whatever -i've been having a nice chat with constable mcgivens. constable, is it all right if we go now?" there was some distant, english rumbling, then linda giggled. "all right, then. thank you so much, officer! "art? i'll meet you at the front doors, all right?" "that's great," art said. he stretched. his ass was numb, his head throbbed, and he wanted to strangle linda. she emerged into the dawn blinking and grinning, and surprised him with a long, full-body hug. "sorry i was so snappish before," she said. "i was just scared. the cops say that you were quite brave. thank you." art's adrenals dry-fired as he tried to work up a good angry head of steam, then he gave up. "it's all right." "let's go get some breakfast, ok?" 10. the parking-lot is aswarm with people, fire engines and ambulances. there's a siren going off somewhere down in the bowels of the sanatorium, and still i can't get anyone to look up at the goddamned roof. i've tried hollering myself hoarse into the updrafts from the cheery blaze, but the wind's against me, my shouts rising up past my ears. i've tried dropping more pebbles, but the winds whip them away, and i've learned my lesson about half-bricks. weirdly, i'm not worried about getting into trouble. i've already been involuntarily committed by the tribe's enemies, the massed and devious forces of the pacific daylight tribe and the greenwich mean tribe. i am officially not responsible. confused and prone to wandering. coo-coo for coco-puffs. it's not like i hurt anyone, just decremented the number of roadworthy fartmobiles by one. i got up this morning at four, awakened by the tiniest sound from the ward corridors, a wheel from a pharmaceuticals tray maybe. three weeks on medically prescribed sleepytime drugs have barely scratched the surface of the damage wrought by years of circadian abuse. i'd been having a fragile shadow of a dream, the ghost of a rem cycle, and it was the old dream, the dream of the doctor's office and the older kids who could manage the trick of making a picture into reality. i went from that state to total wakefulness in an instant, and knew to a certainty that i wouldn't be sleeping again any time soon. i paced my small room, smelled the cheerful flowers my cousins brought last week when they visited from toronto, watched the horizon for signs of a breaking dawn. i wished futilely for my comm and a nice private channel where i could sling some bullshit and have some slung in my direction, just connect with another human being at a nice, safe remove. they chide me for arguing on the ward, call it belligerence and try to sidetrack me with questions about my motivations, a tactic rating barely above ad hominems in my book. no one to talk to -the other patients get violent or nod off, depending on their medication levels, and the staff just patronize me. four am and i'm going nuts, hamsters in my mind spinning their wheels at a thousand rpm, chittering away. i snort -if i wasn't crazy to begin with, i'm sure getting there. the hamsters won't stop arguing with each other over all the terrible errors of judgment i've made to get here. trusting the tribe, trusting strangers. argue, argue, argue. god, if only someone else were around, i could argue the definition of sanity, i could argue the ethics of involuntary committal, i could argue the food. but my head is full of argument and there's nowhere to spill it and soon enough i'll be talking aloud, arguing with the air like the schizoids on the ward who muttergrumbleshout through the day and through the night. why didn't i just leave london when i could, come home, move in with gran, get a regular job? why didn't i swear off the whole business of secrecy and provocation? i was too smart for my own good. i could always argue myself into doing the sexy, futuristic thing instead of being a nice, mundane, nonaffiliated individual. too smart to settle down, take a job and watch tv after work, spend two weeks a year at the cottage and go online to find movie listings. too smart is too restless and no happiness, ever, without that it's chased by obsessive maundering moping about what comes next. smart or happy? the hamsters have hopped off their wheels and are gnawing at the blood-brain barrier, trying to get out of my skull. this is a good sanatorium, but still, the toilets are communal on my floor, which means that i've got an unlocked door that lights up at the nurses' station down the corridor when i open the door, and goes berserk if i don't reopen it again within the mandated fifteen-minute maximum potty-break. i figured out how to defeat the system the first day, but it was a theoretical hack, and now it's time to put it into practice. i step out the door and the lintel goes pink, deepens toward red. once it's red, whoopwhoopwhoop. i pad down to the lav, step inside, wait, step out again. i go back to my room -the lintel is orange now -and open it, move my torso across the long electric eye, then pull it back and let the door swing closed. the lintel is white, and that means that the room thinks i'm inside, but i'm outside. you put your torso in, you take your torso out, you do the hokey-pokey and you shake it all about. in the corridor. i pad away from the nurses' station, past the closed doors and through the muffled, narcotized groans and snores and farts that are the twilight symphony of night on the ward. i duck past an intersection, head for the elevator doors, then remember the tattletale i'm wearing on my ankle, which will go spectacularly berserk if i try to leave by that exit. also, i'm in my underwear. i can't just walk nonchalantly into the lobby. the ward is making wakeful sounds, and i'm sure i hear the soft tread of a white-soled shoe coming round the bend. i double my pace, begin to jog at random -the hamsters, they tell me i'm acting with all the forethought of a crazy person, and why not just report for extra meds instead of all this *mishegas*? there's definitely someone coming down a nearby corridor. the tread of sneakers, the squeak of a wheel. i've seen what they do to the wanderers: a nice chemical straightjacket, a cocktail of pills that'll quiet the hamsters down for days. time to get gone. there's an exit sign glowing over a door at the far end of the corridor. i pant towards it, find it propped open and the alarm system disabled by means of a strip of surgical tape. stepping through into the emergency stairwell, i see an ashtray fashioned from a wadded up bit of tinfoil, heaped with butts -evidence of late-night smoke breaks by someone on the ward staff. massachusetts's harsh antismoking regs are the best friend an escaping loony ever had. the stairwell is gray and industrial and refreshingly hard-edged after three padded weeks on the ward. down, down is the exit and freedom. find clothes somewhere and out i go into boston. from below, then: the huffing, laborious breathing of some goddamned overweight, middle-aged doc climbing the stairs for his health. i peer down the well and see his gleaming pate, his white knuckles on the railing, two, maybe three flights down. up! up to the roof. i'm on the twentieth floor, which means that i've got twenty-five more to go, two flights per, fifty in total, gotta move. up! i stop two or three times and pant and wheeze and make it ten stories and collapse. i'm sweating freely -no air-conditioning in the stairwell, nor is there anything to mop up the sweat rolling down my body, filling the crack of my ass, coursing down my legs. i press my face to the cool painted cinderblock walls, one cheek and then the other, and continue on. when i finally open the door that leads out onto the pebbled roof, the dawn cool is balm. fingers of light are hauling the sunrise up over the horizon. i step onto the roof and feel the pebbles dig into the soft soles of my feet, cool as the bottom of the riverbed whence they'd been dredged. the door starts to swing shut heavily behind me, and i whirl and catch it just in time, getting my fingers mashed against the jamb for my trouble. i haul it back open again against its pneumatic closure mechanism. using the side of my foot as a bulldozer, i scrape up a cairn of pebbles as high as the door's bottom edge, twice as high. i fall into the rhythm of the work, making the cairn higher and wider until i can't close the door no matter how i push against it. the last thing i want is to get stuck on the goddamn roof. there's detritus mixed in with the pebbles: cigarette butts, burnt out matches, a condom wrapper and a bright yellow eberhard pencil with a point as sharp as a spear, the eraser as pink and softly resilient as a nipple. i pick up the pencil and twiddle it between forefinger and thumb, tap a nervous rattle against the roof's edge as i dangle my feet over the bottomless plummet until the sun is high and warm on my skin. the hamsters get going again once the sun is high and the cars start pulling into the parking lot below, rattling and chittering and whispering, yes o yes, put the pencil in your nose, wouldn't you rather be happy than smart? 11. art and linda in linda's miniscule joke of a flat. she's two months into a six-month house-swap with some friends of friends who have a fourth-storey walkup in kensington with a partial (i.e. fictional) view of the park. the lights are on timers and you need to race them to her flat's door, otherwise there's no way you'll fit the archaic key into the battered keyhole -the windows in the stairwell are so grimed as to provide more of a suggestion of light than light itself. art's ass aches and he paces the flat's three wee rooms and drinks hormone-enhanced high-energy liquid breakfast from the half-fridge in the efficiency kitchen. linda's taken dibs on the first shower, which is fine by art, who can't get the hang of the goddamned-english-plumbing, which delivers an energy-efficient, eat-your-vegetables-and-save-the-planet trickle of scalding water. art has switched off his comm, his frazzled nerves no longer capable of coping with its perennial and demanding beeping and buzzing. this is very nearly unthinkable but necessary, he rationalizes, given the extraordinary events of the past twenty-four hours. and fede can go fuck himself, for that matter, that paranoid asshole, and then he can fuck the clients in jersey and the whole of v/dt while he's at it. the energy bev is kicking in and making his heart race and his pulse throb in his throat and he's so unbearably hyperkinetic that he turns the coffee table on its end in the galley kitchen and clears a space in the living room that's barely big enough to spin around in, and starts to work through a slow, slow set of tai chi, so slow that he barely moves at all, except that inside he can feel the moving, can feel the muscles' every flex and groan as they wind up release, move and swing and slide. single whip slides into crane opens wings and he needs to crouch down low, lower than his woolen slacks will let him, and they're grimy and gross anyway, so he undoes his belt and kicks them off. down low as white crane opens wings and brush knee, punch, apparent closure, then low again, creakingly achingly low into wave hands like clouds, until his spine and his coccyx crackle and give, springing open, fascia open ribs open smooth breath rising and falling with his diaphragm smooth mind smooth and sweat cool in the mat of his hair. he moves through the set and does not notice linda until he unwinds into a slow, ponderous lotus kick, closes again, breathes a moment and looks around slowly, grinning like a holy fool. she's in a tartan housecoat with a threadbare towel wrapped around her hair, water beading on her bony ankles and long, skinny feet. "art! god*damn*, art! what the hell was that?" "tai chi," he says, drawing a deep breath in through his nostrils, feeling each rib expand in turn, exhaling through his mouth. "i do it to unwind." "it was beautiful! art! art. art. that was, i mean, wow. inspiring. something. you're going to show me how to do that, art. right? you're gonna." "i could try," art says. "i'm not really qualified to teach it -i stopped going to class ten years ago." "shut, shut up, art. you can teach that, damn, you can teach that, i know you can. that was, wow." she rushes forward and takes his hands. she squeezes and looks into his eyes. she squeezes again and tugs his hands towards her hips, reeling his chest towards her breasts tilting her chin up and angling that long jawline that's so long as to be almost horsey, but it isn't, it's strong and clean. art smells shampoo and sandalwood talc and his skin puckers in a crinkle that's so sudden and massive that it's almost audible. they've been together continuously for the past five days, almost without interruption and he's already conditioned to her smell and her body language and the subtle signals of her face's many mobile bits and pieces. she is afire, he is afire, their bodies are talking to each other in some secret language of shifting centers of gravity and unconscious pheromones, and his face tilts down towards her, slowly with all the time in the world. lowers and lowers, week-old whiskers actually tickling the tip of her nose, his lips parting now, and her breath moistens them, beads them with liquid condensed out of her vapor. his top lip touches her bottom lip. he could leave it at that and be happy, the touch is so satisfying, and he is contented there for a long moment, then moves to engage his lower lip, moving, tilting. his comm rings. his comm, which he has switched off, rings. shit. "hello!" he says, he shouts. "arthur?" says a voice that is old and hurt and melancholy. his gran's voice. his gran, who can override his ringer, switch on his comm at a distance because art is a good grandson who was raised almost entirely by his saintly and frail (and depressive and melodramatic and obsessive) grandmother, and of course his comm is set to pass her calls. not because he is a suck, but because he is loyal and sensitive and he loves his gran. "gran, hi! sorry, i was just in the middle of something, sorry." he checks his comm, which tells him that it's only six in the morning in toronto, noon in london, and that the date is april 8, and that today is the day that he should have known his grandmother would call. "you forgot," she says, no accusation, just a weary and disappointed sadness. he has indeed forgotten. "no, gran, i didn't forget." but he did. it is the eighth of april, 2022, which means that it is twenty-one years to the day since his mother died. and he has forgotten. "it's all right. you're busy, i understand. tell me, art, how are you? when will you visit toronto?" "i'm fine, gran. i'm sorry i haven't called, i've been sick." shit. wrong lie. "you're sick? what's wrong?" "it's nothing. i -i put my back out. working too hard. stress. it's nothing, gran." he chances to look up at linda, who is standing where he left her when he dived reflexively for his comm, staring disbelievingly at him. her robe is open to her navel, and he sees the three curls of pubic hair above the knot in its belt that curl towards her groin, sees the hourglass made by the edges of her breasts that are visible in the vee of the robe, sees the edge of one areole, the left one. he is in a tee shirt and bare feet and boxers, crouching over his trousers, talking to his gran, and he locks eyes with linda and shakes his head apologetically, then settles down to sit cross-legged, hunched over an erection he didn't know he had, resolves to look at her while he talks. "stress! always stress. you should take some vacation time. are you seeing someone? a chiropractor?" he's entangled in the lie. "yes. i have an appointment tomorrow." "how will you get there? don't take the subway. take a taxi. and give me the doctor's name, i'll look him up." "i'll take a cab, it'll be fine, he's the only one my travel insurance covers." "the only one? art! what kind of insurance do you have? i'll call them, i'll find you a chiropractor. betty melville, she has family in london, they'll know someone." god. "it's fine, gran. how are you?" a sigh. "how am i? on this day, how am i?" "how is your health? are you keeping busy?" "my health is fine. i keep busy. father ferlenghetti came to dinner last night at the house. i made a nice roast, and i'll have sandwiches today." "that's good." "i'm thinking of your mother, you know." "i know." "do you think of her, art? you were so young when she went, but you remember her, don't you?" "i do, gran." he remembers her, albeit dimly. he was barely nine when she died. "of course -of course you remember your mother. it's a terrible thing for a mother to live longer than her daughter." his gran says this every year. art still hasn't figured out how to respond to it. time for another stab at it. "i'm glad you're still here, gran." wrong thing. gran is sobbing now. art drops his eyes from linda's and looks at the crazy weft and woof of the faded old oriental rug. "oh, gran," he says. "i'm sorry." in truth, art has mourned and buried his mother. he was raised just fine by his gran, and when he remembers his mother, he is more sad about not being sad than sad about her. "i'm an old lady, you know that. you'll remember me when i go, won't you art?" this, too, is a ritual question that art can't answer well enough no matter how he practices. "of course, gran. but you'll be around for a good while yet!" "when are you coming back to toronto?" he'd ducked the question before, but gran's a master of circling back and upping the ante. *now that we've established my imminent demise...* "soon as i can, gran. maybe when i finish this contract. september, maybe." "you'll stay here? i can take the sofa. when do you think you'll arrive? my friends all want to see you again. you remember mrs. tomkins? you used to play with her daughter alice. alice is single, you know. she has a good job, too -working at an insurance company. maybe she can get you a better health plan." "i don't know, gran. i'll *try* to come back after i finish my contract, but i can't tell what'll be happening then. i'll let you know, ok?" "oh, art. please come back soon -i miss you. i'm going to visit your mother's grave today and put some flowers on it. they keep it very nice at mount pleasant, and the trees are just blooming now." "i'll come back as soon as i can, gran. i love you." "i love you too, arthur." "bye, gran." "i'll call you once i speak to betty about the chiropractor, all right?" "all right, gran." he is going to have to go to the chiropractor now, even though his back feels as good as it has in years. his gran will be checking up on it. "bye, arthur. i love you." "bye, gran." "bye." he shakes his head and holsters the comm back in his pants, then rocks back and lies down on the rug, facing the ceiling, eyes closed. a moment later, the hem of linda's robe brushes his arm and she lies down next to him, takes his hand. "everything ok?" "it's just my gran." and he tells her about this date's significance. "how did she die?" "it was stupid. she slipped in the tub and cracked her skull on the tap. i was off at a friend's place for the weekend and no one found her for two days. she lived for a week on life support, and they pulled the plug. no brain activity. they wouldn't let me into the hospital room after the first day. my gran practically moved in, though. she raised me after that. i think that if she hadn't had to take care of me, she would have just given up, you know? she's pretty lonely back home alone." "what about your dad?" "you know, there used to be a big mystery about that. gran and mom, they were always tragic and secretive when i asked them about him. i had lots of stories to explain his absence: ran off with another woman, thrown in jail for running guns, murdered in a bar fight. i used to be a bit of a celeb at school -lots of kids didn't have dads around, but they all knew where their fathers were. we could always kill an afternoon making up his who and where and why. even the teachers got into it, getting all apologetic when we had to do a genealogy project. i found out the truth, finally, when i was nineteen. just looked it up online. it never occurred to me that my mom would be that secretive about something that was so easy to find out, so i never bothered." "so, what happened to him?" "oh, you know. he and mom split when i was a kid. he moved back in with his folks in a little town in the thousand islands, near ottawa. four or five years later, he got a job planting trees for a summer up north, and he drowned swimming in a lake during a party. by the time i found out about him, his folks were dead, too." "did you tell your friends about him, once you found out?" "oh, by then i'd lost touch with most of them. after elementary school, we moved across town, to a condo my grandmother retired into on the lakeshore, out in the suburbs. in high school, i didn't really chum around much, so there wasn't anyone to talk to. i did tell my gran though, asked her why it was such a big secret, and she said it wasn't, she said she'd told me years before, but she hadn't. i think that she and mom just decided to wait until i was older before telling me, and then after my mom died, she just forgot that she hadn't told me. we got into a big fight over that." "that's a weird story, dude. so, do you think of yourself as an orphan?" art rolls over on his side, face inches from hers, and snorts a laugh. "god, that's so -*dickensian*. no one ever asked me that before. i don't think so. you can't really be an adult and be an orphan -you're just someone with dead parents. and i didn't find out about my dad until i was older, so i always figured that he was alive and well somewhere. what about your folks?" linda rolls over on her side, too, her robe slipping off her lower breast. art is aroused by it, but not crazily so -somewhere in telling his story, he's figured out that sex is a foregone conclusion, and now they're just getting through some nice foreplay. he smiles down at her nipple, which is brown as a bar of belgian chocolate, aureole the size of a round of individual cheese and nipple itself a surprisingly chunky square of crinkled flesh. she follows his eyes and smiles at him, then puts his hand over her breast, covers it with hers. "i told you about my mom, right? wanted to act -who doesn't? but she was too conscious of the cliche to mope about it. she got some little parts -nothing fab, then went on to work at a sony dealership. ten years later, she bought a franchise. dad and second-wife run a retreat in west hollywood for sexually dysfunctional couples. no sibs. happy childhood. happy adolescence. largely unsatisfying adulthood, to date." "wow, you sound like you've practiced that." she tweaks his nose, then drapes her arm across his chest. "got me. always writing my autobiography in my head -gotta have a snappy opener when i'm cornered by the stalkerazzi." he laces his fingers in hers, moves close enough to smell her toothpaste-sweet breath. "tell me something unrehearsed about growing up." "that's a stupid request." her tone is snappish, and her fingers stiffen in his. "why?" "it just is! don't try to get under my skin, ok? my childhood was fine." "look, i don't want to piss you off. i'm just trying to get to know you. because... you know... i like you. a lot. and i try to get to know the people i like." she smiles her lopsided dimple. "sorry, i just don't like people who try to mess with my head. my problem, not yours. ok, something unrehearsed." she closes her eyes and treats him to the smooth pinkness of her eyelids, and keeps them closed as she speaks. "i once stole a veddic series 7 off my mom's lot, when i was fifteen. it had all the girly safety features, including a tracker and a panic button, but i didn't think my mom would miss it. i just wanted to take it out for a drive. it's la, right? no wheels, no life. so i get as far as venice beach, and i'm cruising the boardwalk -this was just after it went topless, so i was swinging in the breeze -and suddenly the engine dies, right in the middle of this clump of out-of-towners, frat kids from kansas or something. mom had called in a dealer override and sony shut down the engine by radio." "wow, what did you do?" "well, i put my shirt back on. then i popped the hood and poked randomly at the engine, pulling out the user-servicables and reseating them. the thing was newer than new, right? how could it be broken already? the fratboys all gathered around and gave me advice, and i played up all bitchy, you know, 'i've been fixing these things since i was ten, get lost,' whatever. they loved it. i was all spunky. a couple of them were pretty cute even, and the attention was great. i felt safe -lots of people hanging around, they weren't going to try anything funny. only i was starting to freak out about the car -it was really dead. i'd reseated everything, self-tested every component, double-checked the fuel. nothing nothing nothing! i was going to have to call a tow and my mom was going to kill me. "so i'm trying not to let it get to me, trying to keep it all cool, but i'm not doing a great job. the frat guys are all standing too close and they smell like beer, and i'm not trying to be perky anymore, just want them to stay! away! but they won't back off. i'm trying not to cry. "and then the cops showed up. not real cops, but sony's vehicle recovery squad. all dressed up in vaio gear, stylish as a pepsi ad, packing lots of semilethals and silvery aeorosol shut-up-and-be-still juice, ready to nab the bad, bad perp who boosted this lovely veddic series 7 from mom's lot. part of the franchise package, that kind of response. it took me a second to figure it out -mom didn't know it was *me* who had the car, so she'd called in a theft and bam, i was about to get arrested. the frat rats tried to run away, which is a bad idea, you just don't ever run from cops -stupid, stupid, stupid. they ended up rolling around on the ground, screaming and trying to pull their faces off. it took, like a second. i threw my hands in the air. 'don't shoot!' they gassed me anyway. "so then *i* was rolling around on the ground, feeling like my sinuses were trying to explode out of my face. feeling like my eyeballs were melting. feeling like my lungs were all shriveled up into raisins. i couldn't scream, i couldn't even breathe. by the time i could even roll over and open my eyes, they had me cuffed: ankles and wrists in zapstraps that were so tight, they felt like piano wire. i was a cool fifteen year old, but not that cool. i started up the waterworks, boohoohoo, couldn't shut it down, couldn't even get angry. i just wanted to die. the sony cops had seen it all before, so they put a tarp down on the veddic's backseat upholstery, threw me in it, then rolled it into their recovery truck and drove me to the police station. "i puked on the tarp twice before they got me there, and almost did it a third time on the way to booking. it got up my sinuses and down my throat, too. i couldn't stop gagging, couldn't stop crying, but by now i was getting pissed. i'd been raised on the whole sony message: 'a car for the rest of us,' gone with mom to their empowerment seminars, wore the little tee shirts and the temporary tats and chatted up the tire-kickers about the sony family while mom was busy. this wasn't the sony family i knew. "i was tied up on the floor beside the desk sergeant's counter, and a sony cop was filling in my paperwork, and so i spat out the crud from my mouth, stopped sniveling, hawked back my spit and put on my best voice. 'this isn't necessary, sir,' i said. 'i'm not a thief. my mother owns the dealership. it was wrong to take the car, but i'm sure she didn't intend for this to happen. certainly, i don't need to be tied up in here. please, take off the restraints -they're cutting off my circulation.' the sony cop flipped up his goofy little facemask and squinted at me, then shook his head and went back to his paperwork. "'look,' i said. 'look! i'm not a criminal. this is a misunderstanding. if you check my id and call my mother, we can work this all out. look!' i read his name off his epaulettes. 'look! officer langtree! just let me up and we'll sort this out like adults. come on, i don't blame you -i'm glad! -you were right to take me in. this is my mom's merchandise; it's good that you went after the thief and recovered the car. but now you know the truth, it's my mother's car, and if you just let me up, i'm sure we can work this out. please, officer langtree. my wallet's in my back pocket. just get it out and check my id before you do this.' "but he just went on filling in the paperwork. 'why? why won't you just take a second to check? why not?' "he turned around again, looked at me for a long time, and i was sure he was going to check, that it was all going to be fine, but then he said, 'look, i've had about as much of your bullshit as i'm going to take, little girl. shut your hole or i'll gag you. i just want to get out of here and back to my job, all right?' "'what?' i said, and it sounded like a shriek to me. 'what did you say to me? what the hell did you say to me? didn't you hear what i said? that's my *mother's car* -she owns the lot i took it off of. do you honestly think she wants you to do this? this is the stupidest goddamned thing --' "'that's it,' he said, and took a little silver micropore hood off his belt, the kind that you cinch up under the chin so the person inside can't talk? i started squirming away then, pleading with him, and i finally caught the desk sergeant's eye. 'he can't do this! please! don't let him do this! i'm in a *police station* -why are you letting him do this?' "and the cop smiled and said, 'you're absolutely right, little girl. that's enough of that.' the sony cop didn't pay any attention. he grabbed my head and stuffed it into the hood and tried to get the chin strap in place. i shook my head as best as i could, and then the hood was being taken off my head again, and the sony cop looked like he wanted to nail the other cop, but he didn't. the desk sergeant bent down and cut my straps, then helped me to my feet. "'you're not going to give me any trouble, are you?' he said, as he led me around to a nice, ergo office chair. "'no sir!' "'you just sit there, then, and i'll be with you in a moment.' "i sat down and rubbed my wrists and ankles. my left ankle was oozing blood from where it had been rubbed raw. i couldn't believe that the sony family could inflict such indignities on my cute little person. i was so goddamn self-righteous, and i know i was smirking as the desk sergeant chewed out the sony cop, taking down his badge number and so on so that i'd have it. "i thanked the cop profusely, and i kept on thanking him as he booked me and printed me and took my mug shots. i was joking and maybe even flirting a little. i was a cute fifteen-year-old and i knew it. after the nastiness with the sony cops, being processed into the criminal justice system seemed mild and inoffensive. it didn't really occur to me that i was being *arrested* until my good pal the cop asked me to turn out my pockets before he put me in the cell. "'wait!' i said. 'sergeant lorenzi, wait! you don't have to put me in a *cell*, do you, sergeant lorenzi? sergeant lorenzi! i don't need to go into a cell! let me call my mom, she'll come down and drop the charges, and i can wait here. i'll help out. i can get coffee. sergeant lorenzi!' "for a second, it looked like he was going to go through with it. then he relented and i spent the next couple hours fetching and filing and even running out for coffee -that's how much he trusted me -while we waited for mom to show up. i was actually feeling pretty good about it by the time she arrived. of course, that didn't last too long. "she came through the door like yosemite sam, frothing at the chops and howling for my blood. she wanted to press charges, see me locked up to teach me a lesson. she didn't care how the sony cops had gassed and trussed me -as far as she was concerned, i'd betrayed her and nothing was going to make it right. she kept howling for the sergeant to give her the papers to sign, she wanted to swear out a complaint, and he just let her run out of steam, his face perfectly expressionless until she was done. "'all right then, mrs. walchuk, all right. you swear out the complaint, and we'll hold her overnight until her bail hearing. we only got the one holding cell, though, you understand. no juvenile facility. rough crowd. a couple of biowar enthusiasts in there right now, caught 'em trying to thrax a bus terminal; a girl who killed her pimp and nailed his privates to the door of his hotel room before she took off; a couple of hard old drunks. no telling what else will come in today. we take away their knives and boots and purses, but those girls like to mess up fresh young things, scar them with the bars or their nails. we can't watch them all the time.' he was leaning right across the desk at my mom, cold and still, and then he nudged my foot with his foot and i knew that he was yanking her chain. "'is that what you want, then, ma'am?' "mom looked like she wanted to tell him yes, go ahead, call his bluff, but he was too good at it. she broke. 'no, it's not,' she said. 'i'll take her home and deal with her there.' "'that's fundamentally sound,' he said. 'and linda, you give me a call if you want to file a complaint against sony. we have secam footage of the boardwalk and the station house if you need it, and i have that guy's badge id, too.' "mom looked alarmed, and i held out my raw, bruisey wrists to her. 'they gassed me before they took me in.' "'did you run? you *never* run from the cops, linda, you should have known better --' "i didn't run. i put my arms in the air and they gassed me and tied me up and took me in.' "'that can't be, linda. you must have done *something* --' mom always was ready to believe that i deserved whatever trouble i got into. she was the only one who didn't care how cute i was. "'no mom. i put my hands in the air. i surrendered. they got me anyway. they didn't care. it'll be on the tape. i'll get it from sergeant lorenzi when i file my complaint.' "'you'll do no such thing. you stole a car, you endangered lives, and now you want to go sniveling to the authorities because sony played a little rough when they brought you in? you committed a *criminal act*, linda. you got treated like a criminal.' "i wanted to smack her. i knew that this was really about not embarrassing her in front of the sony family, the nosy chattery ladies with the other franchises that mom competed against for whuffie and bragging rights. but i'd learned something about drawing flies with honey that afternoon. the sergeant could have made things very hard on me, but by giving him a little sugar, i turned it into an almost fun afternoon. "mom took me home and screamed herself raw, and i played it all very contrite, then walked over to the minimall so that i could buy some saline solution for my eyes, which were still as red as stoplights. we never spoke of it again, and on my sixteenth birthday, mom gave me the keys to a veddic series 8, and the first thing i did was download new firmware for the antitheft transponder that killed it. two months later, it was stolen. i haven't driven a sony since." linda smiles and then purses her lips. "unrehearsed enough?" art shakes his head. "wow. what a story." "do you want to kiss me now?" linda says, conversationally. "i believe i do," art says, and he does. linda pulls the back of his head to hers with one arm, and with the other, she half-shrugs out of her robe. art pulls his shirt up to his armpits, feels the scorching softness of her chest on his, and groans. his erection grinds into her mons through his jockey shorts, and he groans again as she sucks his tongue into her mouth and masticates it just shy of hard enough to hurt. she breaks off and reaches down for the waistband of his jockeys and his whole body arches in anticipation. then his comm rings. again. "fuck!" art says, just as linda says, "shit!" and they both snort a laugh. linda pulls his hand to her nipple again and art shivers, sighs, and reaches for his comm, which won't stop ringing. "it's me," fede says. "jesus, fede. what *is it*?" "what is it? art, you haven't been to the office for more than four hours in a week. it's going on noon, and you still aren't here." fede's voice is hot and unreasoning. art feels his own temper rise in response. where the hell did fede get off, anyway? "so fucking *what*, fede? i don't actually work for you, you know. i've been taking care of stuff offsite." "oh, sure. art, if you get in trouble, i'll get in trouble, and you know *exactly* what i mean." "i'm not *in* trouble, fede. i'm taking the day off -why don't you call me tomorrow?" "what the hell does that mean? you can't just 'take the day off.' i *wrote* the goddamned procedure. you have to fill in the form and get it signed by your supervisor. it needs to be *documented*. are you *trying* to undermine me?" "you are so goddamned *paranoid*, federico. i got mugged last night, all right? i've been in a police station for the past eighteen hours straight. i am going to take a shower and i am going to take a nap and i am going to get a massage, and i am *not* going into the office and i am *not* going to fill in any forms. this is not about you." fede pauses for a moment, and art senses him marshalling his bad temper for another salvo. "i don't give a shit, art. if you're not coming into the office, you tell me, you hear? the vp of hr is going berserk, and i know exactly what it's about. he is on to us, you hear me? every day that you're away and i'm covering for your ass, he gets more and more certain. if you keep this shit up, we're both dead." "hey, fuck you, fede." art is surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth, but once they're out, he decides to go with them. "you can indulge your paranoid fantasies to your heart's content, but don't drag me into them. i got mugged last night. i had a near-fatal car crash a week ago. if the vp of hr wants to find out why i haven't been in the office, he can send me an email and i'll tell him exactly what's going on, and if he doesn't like it, he can toss my goddamned salad. but i don't report to you. if you want to have a discussion, you call me and act like a human goddamned being. tomorrow. good-bye, fede." art rings the comm off and snarls at it, then switches it off, switches off the emergency override, and briefly considers tossing it out the goddamned window onto the precious english paving stones below. instead, he hurls it into the soft cushions of the sofa. he turns back to linda and makes a conscious effort to wipe the snarl off his face. he ratchets a smile onto his lips. "sorry, sorry. last time, i swear." he crawls over to her on all fours. she's pulled her robe tight around her, and he slides a finger under the collar and slides it aside and darts in for a kiss on the hollow of her collarbone. she shies away and drops her cheek to her shoulder, shielding the affected area. "i'm not --" she starts. "the moment's passed, ok? why don't we just cuddle, ok?" 12. art was at his desk at o'malley house the next day when fede knocked on his door. fede was bearing a small translucent gift-bag made of some cunning combination of rough handmade paper and slick polymer. art looked up from his comm and waved at the door. fede came in and put the parcel on art's desk. art looked askance at fede, and fede just waved at the bag with a go-ahead gesture. art felt for the catch that would open the bag without tearing the materials, couldn't find it immediately, and reflexively fired up his comm and started to make notes on how a revised version of the bag could provide visual cues showing how to open it. fede caught him at it and they traded grins. art probed the bag's orifice a while longer, then happened upon the release. the bag sighed apart, falling in three petals, and revealed its payload: a small, leather-worked box with a simple brass catch. art flipped the catch and eased the box open. inside, in a fitted foam cavity, was a gray lump of stone. "it's an axe-head," fede said. "it's 200,000 years old." art lifted it out of the box carefully and turned it about, admiring the clean tool marks from its shaping. it had heft and brutal simplicity, and a thin spot where a handle must have been lashed once upon a time. art ran his fingertips over the smooth tool marks, over the tapered business end, where the stone had been painstakingly flaked into an edge. it was perfect. now that he was holding it, it was so obviously an axe, so clearly an axe. it needed no instruction. it explained itself. i am an axe. hit things with me. art couldn't think of a single means by which it could be improved. "fede," he said, "fede, this is incredible --" "i figured we needed to bury the hatchet, huh?" "god, that's awful. here's a tip: when you give a gift like this, just leave humor out of it, ok? you don't have the knack." art slapped him on the shoulder to show him he was kidding, and reverently returned the axe to its cavity. "that is really one hell of a gift, fede. thank you." fede stuck his hand out. art shook it, and some of the week's tension melted away. "now, you're going to buy me lunch," fede said. "deal." they toddled off to picadilly and grabbed seats at the counter of a south indian place for a businessmen's lunch of thali and thick mango lassi, which coated their tongues in alkaline sweetness that put out the flames from the spiced veggies. both men were sweating by the time they ordered their second round of lassi and art had his hands on his belly, amazed as ever that something as insubstantial as the little platter's complement of veggies and naan could fill him as efficiently as it had. "what are you working on now?" fede asked, suppressing a curry-whiffing belch. "same shit," art said. "there are a million ways to make the service work. the rights-societies want lots of accounting and lots of pay-per-use. masspike hates that. it's a pain in the ass to manage, and the clickthrough licenses and warnings they want to slap on are heinous. people are going to crash their cars fucking around with the 'i agree' buttons. not to mention they want to require a firmware check on every stereo system that gets a song, make sure that this week's copy-protection is installed. so i'm coopering up all these user studies with weasels from the legal departments at the studios, where they just slaver all over this stuff, talking about how warm it all makes them feel to make sure that they're compensating artists and how grateful they are for the reminders to keep their software up to date and shit. i'm modeling a system that has a clickthrough every time you cue up a new song, too. it's going to be perfect: the rights-societies are going to love it, and i've handpicked the peer review group at v/dt, stacked it up with total assholes who love manuals and following rules. it's going to sail through approval." fede grunted. "you don't think it'll be too obvious?" art laughed. "there is no such thing as too obvious in this context, man. these guys, they hate the end user, and for years they've been getting away with it because all their users are already used to being treated like shit at the post office and the tube station. i mean, these people grew up with *coin-operated stoves*, for chrissakes! they pay television tax! feed 'em shit and they'll ask you for second helpings. beg you for 'em! so no, i don't think it'll be too obvious. they'll mock up the whole system and march right into masspike with it, grinning like idiots. don't worry about a thing." "ok, ok. i get it. i won't worry." art signalled the counterman for their bill. the counterman waved distractedly in the manner of a harried restaurateur dealing with his regulars, and said something in korean to the busgirl, who along with the vietnamese chef and the congolese sous chef, lent the joint a transworld sensibility that made it a favorite among the painfully global darlings of o'malley house. the bus-girl found a pad and started totting up numbers, then keyed them into a point-of-sale terminal, which juiced art's comm with an accounting for their lunch. this business with hand-noting everything before entering it into the pos had driven art to distraction when he'd first encountered it. he'd assumed that the terminal's ui was such that a computer-illiterate busgirl couldn't reliably key in the data without having it in front of her, and for months he'd cited it in net-bullshit sessions as more evidence of the pervasive user-hostility that characterized the whole damned gmt. he'd finally tried out his rant on the counterman, one foreigner to another, just a little briton-bashing session between two refugees from the colonial jackboot. to his everlasting surprise, the counterman had vigorously defended the system, saying that he liked the pos data-entry system just fine, but that the stack of torn-off paper stubs from the busgirl's receipt book was a good visualization tool, letting him eyeball the customer volume from hour to hour by checking the spike beside the till, and the rubberbanded stacks of yellowing paper lining his cellar's shelves gave him a wonderfully physical evidence of the growing success of his little eatery. there was a lesson there, art knew, though he'd yet to codify it. user mythology was tricky that way. every time art scribbled a tip into his comm and squirted it back at the pos, he considered this little puzzle, eyes unfocusing for a moment while his vision turned inwards. as his eyes snapped back into focus, he noticed the young lad sitting on the long leg of the ell formed by the counter. he had bully short hair and broad shoulders, and a sneer that didn't quite disappear as he shoveled up the dhal with his biodegradable bamboo disposable spork. he knew that guy from somewhere. the guy caught him staring and they locked eyes for a moment, and in that instant art knew who the guy was. it was tom, whom he had last seen stabbing at him with a tazer clutched in one shaking fist, face twisted in fury. tom wasn't wearing his killsport armor, just nondescript athletic wear, and he wasn't with lester and tony, but it was him. art watched tom cock his head to jog his memory, and then saw tom recognize him. uh-oh. "we have to go. now," he said to fede, standing and walking away quickly, hand going to his comm. he stopped short of dialing 999, though -he wasn't up for another police-station all-nighter. he got halfway up picadilly before looking over his shoulder, and he saw fede shouldering his way through the lunchtime crowd, looking pissed. a few paces behind him came tom, face contorted in a sadistic snarl. art did a little two-step of indecision, moving towards fede, then away from him. he met tom's eyes again, and tom's ferocious, bared teeth spurred him on. he turned abruptly into the tube station, waved his comm at a turnstile and dove into the thick of the crowd heading down the stairs to the elephant and castle platform. his comm rang. "what is *wrong* with you, man?" fede said. "one of the guys who mugged me," he hissed. "he was sitting right across from us. he's a couple steps behind you. i'm in the tube station. i'll ride a stop and catch a cab back to the office." "he's behind me? where?" art's comm lit up with a grainy feed from fede's comm. it jiggled as fede hustled through the crowd. "jesus, fede, stop! don't go to the goddamned tube station -he'll follow you here." "where do you want me to go? i got to go back to the office." "don't go there either. get a cab and circle the block a couple times. don't lead him back." "this is stupid. why don't i just call the cops?" "don't bother. they won't do shit. i've been through this already. i just want to lose that guy and not have him find me again later." "christ." art squeaked as tom filled his screen, then passed by, swinging his head from side to side with saurian rage. "what?" fede said. "that was him. he just walked past you. he must not know you're with me. go back to the office, i'll meet you there." "that dipshit? art, he's all of five feet tall!" "he's a fucking psycho, fede. don't screw around with him or he'll give you a tesla enema." fede winced. "i hate tazers." "the train is pulling in. i'll talk to you later." "ok, ok." art formed up in queue with the rest of the passengers and shuffled through the gas chromatograph, tensing up a little as it sniffed his personal space for black powder residue. once on board, he tore a sani-wipe from the roll in the ceiling, ignoring the v/dt ad on it, and grabbed the stainless steel rail with it, stamping on the drifts of sani-wipe mulch on the train's floor. he made a conscious effort to control his breathing, willed his heart to stop pounding. he was still juiced with adrenaline, and his mind raced. he needed to do something constructive with his time, but his mind kept wandering. finally, he gave in and let it wander. something about the counterman, about his slips of paper, about the masspike. it was knocking around in his brain and he just couldn't figure out how to bring it to the fore. the counterman kept his slips in the basement so that he could sit among them and see how his business had grown, every slip a person served, a ring on the till, money in the bank. drivers on the masspike who used traffic jams to download music from nearby cars and then paid to license the songs. only they didn't. they circumvented the payment system in droves, running bootleg operations out of their cars that put poor old napster to shame for sheer volume. some people drove in promiscuous mode, collecting every song in every car on the turnpike, cruising the tunnels that riddled boston like mobile pirate radio stations, dumping their collections to other drivers when it came time to quit the turnpike and settle up for their music at the toll booth. it was these war-drivers that masspike was really worried about. admittedly, they actually made the system go. your average fartmobile driver had all of ten songs in his queue, and the short-range, broadband connection you had on masspike meant that if you were stuck in a jam of these cars, your selection would be severely limited. the war-drivers, though, were mobile jukeboxes. the highway patrol had actually seized cars with over 300,000 tracks on their drives. without these fat caches on the highway, masspike would have to spend a fortune on essentially replicating the system with their own mobile libraries. the war-drivers were the collective memory of the masspike's music-listeners. ooh, there was a tasty idea. the collective memory of masspike. like dark ages scholars, memorizing entire texts to preserve them against the depredations of barbarism, passing their collections carefully from car to car. he'd investigated the highway patrol reports on these guys, and there were hints there, shadowy clues of an organized subculture, one with a hierarchy, where newbies tricked out their storage with libraries of novel and rare tuneage in a bid to convince the established elite that they were worthy of joining the collective memory. thinking of war-drivers as a collective memory was like staring at an optical illusion and seeing the vase emerge from the two faces. art's entire perception of the problem involuted itself in his mind. he heard panting and realized it was him; he was hyperventilating. if these guys were the collective memory of the masspike, that meant that they were performing a service, reducing masspike's costs significantly. that meant that they were tastemakers, injecting fresh music into the static world of boston drivers. mmmm. trace that. find out how influential they were. someone would know -the masspike had stats on how songs migrated from car to car. even without investigating it, art just *knew* that these guys were offsetting millions of dollars in marketing. so. so. so. so, *feed* that culture. war-drivers needed to be devoted to make it into the subculture. they had to spend four or five hours a day cruising the freeways to accumulate and propagate their collections. they couldn't *leave* the masspike until they found someone to hand their collections off to. what if masspike *rewarded* these guys? what if masspike charged *nothing* for people with more than, say 50,000 tunes in their cache? art whipped out his comm and his keyboard and started making notes, snatching at the silver rail with his keyboard hand every time the train jerked and threatened to topple him. that's how the tube cops found him, once the train reached elephant and castle and they did their rounds, politely but firmly rousting him. 13. i am already in as much trouble as i can be, i think. i have left my room, hit and detonated some poor cafeteria hash-slinger's fartmobile, and certainly damned some hapless secret smoker to employee hades for his security lapses. when i get down from here, i will be bound up in a chemical straightjacket. i'll be one of the ward-corner droolers, propped up in a wheelchair in front of the video, tended twice daily for diaper changes, feeding and re-medication. that is the worst they can do, and i'm in for it. this leaves me asking two questions: 1. why am i so damned eager to be rescued from my rooftop aerie? i am sunburned and sad, but i am more free than i have been in weeks. 2. why am i so reluctant to take further action in the service of getting someone up onto the roof? i could topple a ventilator chimney by moving the cinderblocks that hold its apron down and giving it the shoulder. i could dump rattling handfuls of gravel down its maw and wake the psychotics below. i could, but i won't. maybe i don't want to go back just yet. they cooked it up between them. the jersey customers, fede, and linda. i should have known better. when i landed at logan, i was full of beans, ready to design and implement my war-driving scheme for the jersey customers and advance the glorious cause of the eastern standard tribe. i gleefully hopped up and down the coast, chilling in manhattan for a day or two, hanging out with gran in toronto. that linda followed me out made it all even better. we rented cars and drove them from city to city, dropping them off at the city limits and switching to top-grade est public transit, eating top-grade est pizza, heads turning to follow the impeccably dressed, buff couples that strolled the pedestrian-friendly streets arm in arm. we sat on stoops in brooklyn with old ladies who talked softly in the gloaming of the pollution-tinged sunsets while their grandchildren chased each other down the street. we joined a pickup game of street-hockey in boston, yelling "car!" and clearing the net every time a fartmobile turned into the cul-de-sac. we played like kids. i got commed during working hours and my evenings were blissfully devoid of buzzes, beeps and alerts. it surprised the hell out of me when i discovered fede's treachery and linda's complicity and found myself flying cattle class to london to kick fede's ass. what an idiot i am. i have never won an argument with fede. i thought i had that time, of course, but i should have known better. i was hardly back in boston for a day before the men with the white coats came to take me away. they showed up at the novotel, soothing and grim, and opened my room's keycard reader with a mental-hygiene override. there were four of them, wiry and fast with the no-nonsense manner of men who have been unexpectedly hammered by outwardly calm psychopaths. that i was harmlessly having a rare cigarette on the balcony, dripping from the shower, made no impression on them. they dropped their faceplates, moved quickly to the balcony and boxed me in. one of them recited a miranda-esque litany that ended with "do you understand." it wasn't really a question, but i answered anyway. "no! no i don't! who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my fucking hotel room?" in my heart, though, i knew. i'd lived enough of my life on the hallucinatory edge of sleepdep to have anticipated this moment during a thousand freakouts. i was being led away to the sanatorium, because someone, somewhere, had figured out about the scurrying hamsters in my brain. about time. as soon as i said the f-word, the guns came out. i tried to relax. i knew intuitively that this could either be a routine and impersonal affair, or a screaming, kicking, biting nightmare. i knew that arriving at the intake in a calm frame of mind would make the difference between a chemical straightjacket and a sleeping pill. the guns were nonlethals, and varied: two kinds of nasty aerosol, a dart-gun, and a tazer. the tazer captured my attention, whipping horizontal lightning in the spring breeze. the tesla enema, they called it in london. supposedly club-kids used them recreationally, but everyone i knew who'd been hit with one described the experience as fundamentally and uniquely horrible. i slowly raised my hands. "i would like to pack a bag, and i would like to see documentary evidence of your authority. may i?" i kept my voice as calm as i could, but it cracked on "may i?" the reader of the litany nodded slowly. "you tell us what you want packed and we'll pack it. once that's done, i'll show you the committal document, all right?" "thank you," i said. they drove me through the route 128 traffic in the sealed and padded compartment in the back of their van. i was strapped in at the waist, and strapped over my shoulders with a padded harness that reminded me of a rollercoaster restraint. we made slow progress, jerking and changing lanes at regular intervals. the traffic signature of 128 was unmistakable. the intake doctor wanded me for contraband, drew fluids from my various parts, and made light chitchat with me along the way. it was the last time i saw him. before i knew it, a beefy orderly had me by the arm and was leading me to my room. he had a thick eastern european accent, and he ran down the house rules for me in battered english. i tried to devote my attention to it, to forget the slack-eyed ward denizens i'd passed on my way in. i succeeded enough to understand the relationship of my legcuff, the door frame and the elevators. the orderly fished in his smock and produced a hypo. "for sleepink," he said. panic, suppressed since my arrival, welled up and burst over. "wait!" i said. "what about my things? i had a bag with me." "talk to doctor in morning," he said, gesturing with the hypo, fitting it with a needle-and-dosage cartridge and popping the sterile wrap off with a thumbswitch. "now, for sleepink." he advanced on me. i'd been telling myself that this was a chance to rest, to relax and gather my wits. soon enough, i'd sort things out with the doctors and i'd be on my way. i'd argue my way out of it. but here came boris badinoff with his magic needle, and all reason fled. i scrambled back over the bed and pressed against the window. "it's barely three," i said, guessing at the time in the absence of my comm. "i'm not tired. i'll go to sleep when i am." "for sleepink," he repeated, in a more soothing tone. "no, that's all right. i'm tired enough. long night last night. i'll just lie down and nap now, all right? no need for needles, ok?" he grabbed my wrist. i tried to tug it out of his grasp, to squirm away. there's a lot of good, old-fashioned dirty fighting in tai chi -eye-gouging, groin punches, hold-breaks and come-alongs -and they all fled me. i thrashed like a fish on a line as he ran the hypo over the crook of my elbow until the vein-sensing led glowed white. he jabbed down with it and i felt a prick. for a second, i thought that it hadn't taken effect -i've done enough chemical sleep in my years with the tribe that i've developed quite a tolerance for most varieties -but then i felt that unmistakable heaviness in my eyelids, the melatonin crash that signalled the onslaught of merciless rest. i collapsed into bed. i spent the next day in a drugged stupor. i've become quite accustomed to functioning in a stupor over the years, but this was different. no caffeine, for starters. they fed me and i had a meeting with a nice doctor who ran it down for me. i was here for observation pending a competency hearing in a week. i had seven days to prove that i wasn't a danger to myself or others, and if i could, the judge would let me go. "it's like i'm a drug addict, huh?" i said to the doctor, who was used to non sequiturs. "sure, sure it is." he shifted in the hard chair opposite my bed, getting ready to go. "no, really, i'm not just running my mouth. it's like this: *i* don't think i have a problem here. i think that my way of conducting my life is perfectly harmless. like a speedfreak who thinks that she's just having a great time, being ultraproductive and coming out ahead of the game. but her friends, they're convinced she's destroying herself -they see the danger she's putting herself in, they see her health deteriorating. so they put her into rehab, kicking and screaming, where she stays until she figures it out. "so, it's like i'm addicted to being nuts. i have a nonrational view of the world around me. an *inaccurate* view. you are meant to be the objective observer, to make such notes as are necessary to determine if i'm seeing things properly, or through a haze of nutziness. for as long as i go on taking my drug -shooting up my craziness -you keep me here. once i stop, once i accept the objective truth of reality, you let me go. what then? do i become a recovering nutcase? do i have to stand ever-vigilant against the siren song of craziness?" the doctor ran his hands through his long hair and bounced his knee up and down. "you could put it that way, i guess." "so tell me, what's the next step? what is my optimum strategy for providing compelling evidence of my repudiation of my worldview?" "well, that's where the analogy breaks down. this isn't about anything demonstrable. there's no one thing we look for in making our diagnosis. it's a collection of things, a protocol for evaluating you. it doesn't happen overnight, either. you were committed on the basis of evidence that you had made threats to your coworkers due to a belief that they were seeking to harm you." "interesting. can we try a little thought experiment, doctor? say that your coworkers really *were* seeking to harm you -this is not without historical precedent, right? they're seeking to sabotage you because you've discovered some terrible treachery on their part, and they want to hush you up. so they provoke a reaction from you and use it as the basis for an involuntary committal. how would you, as a medical professional, distinguish that scenario from one in which the patient is genuinely paranoid and delusional?" the doctor looked away. "it's in the protocol -we find it there." "i see," i said, moving in for the kill. "i see. where would i get more information on the protocol? i'd like to research it before my hearing." "i'm sorry," the doctor said, "we don't provide access to medical texts to our patients." "why not? how can i defend myself against a charge if i'm not made aware of the means by which my defense is judged? that hardly seems fair." the doctor stood and smoothed his coat, turned his badge's lanyard so that his picture faced outwards. "art, you're not here to defend yourself. you're here so that we can take a look at you and understand what's going on. if you have been set up, we'll discover it --" "what's the ratio of real paranoids to people who've been set up, in your experience?" "i don't keep stats on that sort of thing --" "how many paranoids have been released because they were vindicated?" "i'd have to go through my case histories --" "is it more than ten?" "no, i wouldn't think so --" "more than five?" "art, i don't think --" "have *any* paranoids ever been vindicated? is this observation period anything more than a formality en route to committal? come on, doctor, just let me know where i stand." "art, we're on your side here. if you want to make this easy on yourself, then you should understand that. the nurse will be in with your lunch and your meds in a few minutes, then you'll be allowed out on the ward. i'll speak to you there more, if you want." "doctor, it's a simple question: has anyone ever been admitted to this facility because it was believed he had paranoid delusions, and later released because he was indeed the center of a plot?" "art, it's not appropriate for me to discuss other patients' histories --" "don't you publish case studies? don't those contain confidential information disguised with pseudonyms?" "that's not the point --" "what *is* the point? it seems to me that my optimal strategy here is to repudiate my belief that fede and linda are plotting against me -*even* if i still believe this to be true, even if it *is* true -and profess a belief that they are my good and concerned friends. in other words, if they are indeed plotting against me, i must profess to a delusional belief that they aren't, in order to prove that i am not delusional." "i read *catch-22* too, art. that's not what this is about, but your attitude isn't going to help you any here." the doctor scribbled on his comm briefly, tapped at some menus. i leaned across and stared at the screen. "that looks like a prescription, doctor." "it is. i'm giving you a mild sedative. we can't help you until you're calmer and ready to listen." "i'm perfectly calm. i just disagree with you. i am the sort of person who learns through debate. medication won't stop that." "we'll see," the doctor said, and left, before i could muster a riposte. i was finally allowed onto the ward, dressed in what the nurses called "day clothes" -the civilian duds that i'd packed before leaving the hotel, which an orderly retrieved for me from a locked closet in my room. the clustered nuts were watching slackjaw tv, or staring out the windows, or rocking in place, fidgeting and muttering. i found myself a seat next to a birdy woman whose long oily hair was parted down the middle, leaving a furrow in her scalp lined with twin rows of dandruff. she was young, maybe twenty-five, and seemed the least stuporous of the lot. "hello," i said to her. she smiled shyly, then pitched forward and vomited copiously and noisily between her knees. i shrank back and struggled to keep my face neutral. a nurse hastened to her side and dropped a plastic bucket in the stream of puke, which was still gushing out of her mouth, her thin chest heaving. "here, sarah, in here," the nurse said, with an air of irritation. "can i help?" i said, ridiculously. she looked sharply at me. "art, isn't it? why aren't you in group? it's after one!" "group?" i asked. "group. in that corner, there." she gestured at a collection of sagging sofas underneath one of the ward's grilled-in windows. "you're late, and they've started without you." there were four other people there, two women and a young boy, and a doctor in mufti, identifiable by his shoes -not slippers -and his staff of office, the almighty badge-on-a-lanyard. throbbing with dread, i moved away from the still-heaving girl to the sofa cluster and stood at its edge. the group turned to look at me. the doctor cleared his throat. "group, this is art. glad you made it, art. you're a little late, but we're just getting started here, so that's ok. this is lucy, fatima, and manuel. why don't you have a seat?" his voice was professionally smooth and stultifying. i sank into a bright orange sofa that exhaled a cloud of dust motes that danced in the sun streaming through the windows. it also exhaled a breath of trapped ancient farts, barf-smell, and antiseptic, the *parfum de asylum* that gradually numbed my nose to all other scents on the ward. i folded my hands in my lap and tried to look attentive. "all right, art. everyone in the group is pretty new here, so you don't have to worry about not knowing what's what. there are no right or wrong things. the only rules are that you can't interrupt anyone, and if you want to criticize, you have to criticize the idea, and not the person who said it. all right?" "sure," i said. "sure. let's get started." "well, aren't you eager?" the doctor said warmly. "ok. manuel was just telling us about his friends." "they're not my friends," manuel said angrily. "they're the reason i'm here. i hate them." "go on," the doctor said. "i already *told* you, yesterday! tony and musafir, they're trying to get rid of me. i make them look bad, so they want to get rid of me." "why do you think you make them look bad?" "because i'm better than them -i'm smarter, i dress better, i get better grades, i score more goals. the girls like me better. they hate me for it." "oh yeah, you're the cat's ass, pookie," lucy said. she was about fifteen, voluminously fat, and her full lips twisted in an elaborate sneer as she spoke. "lucy," the doctor said patiently, favoring her with a patronizing smile. "that's not cool, ok? criticize the idea, not the person, and only when it's your turn, ok?" lucy rolled her eyes with the eloquence of teenagedom. "all right, manuel, thank you. group, do you have any positive suggestions for manuel?" stony silence. "ok! manuel, some of us are good at some things, and some of us are good at others. your friends don't hate you, and i'm sure that if you think about it, you'll know that you don't hate them. didn't they come visit you last weekend? successful people are well liked, and you're no exception. we'll come back to this tomorrow -why don't you spend the time until then thinking of three examples of how your friends showed you that they liked you, and you can tell us about it tomorrow?" manuel stared out the window. "ok! now, art, welcome again. tell us why you're here." "i'm in for observation. there's a competency hearing at the end of the week." linda snorted and fatima giggled. the doctor ignored them. "but tell us *why* you think you ended up here." "you want the whole story?" "whatever parts you think are important." "it's a tribal thing." "i see," the doctor said. "it's like this," i said. "it used to be that the way you chose your friends was by finding the most like-minded people you could out of the pool of people who lived near to you. if you were lucky, you lived near a bunch of people you could get along with. this was a lot more likely in the olden days, back before, you know, printing and radio and such. chances were that you'd grow up so immersed in the local doctrine that you'd never even think to question it. if you were a genius or a psycho, you might come up with a whole new way of thinking, and if you could pull it off, you'd either gather up a bunch of people who liked your new idea or you'd go somewhere else, like america, where you could set up a little colony of people who agreed with you. most of the time, though, people who didn't get along with their neighbors just moped around until they died." "very interesting," the doctor said, interrupting smoothly, "but you were going to tell us how you ended up here." "yeah," lucy said, "this isn't a history lesson, it's group. get to the point." "i'm getting there," i said. "it just takes some background if you're going to understand it. now, once ideas could travel more freely, the chances of you finding out about a group of people somewhere else that you might get along with increased. like when my dad was growing up, if you were gay and from a big city, chances were that you could figure out where other gay people hung out and go and --" i waved my hands, "be *gay*, right? but if you were from a small town, you might not even know that there was such a thing as being gay -you might think it was just a perversion. but as time went by, the gay people in the big cities started making a bigger and bigger deal out of being gay, and since all the information that the small towns consumed came from big cities, that information leaked into the small towns and more gay people moved to the big cities, built little gay zones where gay was normal. "so back when the new world was forming and sorting out its borders and territories, information was flowing pretty well. you had telegraphs, you had the pony express, you had thousands of little newspapers that got carried around on railroads and streetcars and steamers, and it wasn't long before everyone knew what kind of person went where, even back in europe and asia. people immigrated here and picked where they wanted to live based on what sort of people they wanted to be with, which ideas they liked best. a lot of it was religious, but that was just on the surface -underneath it all was aesthetics. you wanted to go somewhere where the girls were pretty in the way you understood prettiness, where the food smelled like food and not garbage, where shops sold goods you could recognize. lots of other factors were at play, too, of course -jobs and jim crow laws and whatnot, but the tug of finding people like you is like gravity. lots of things work against gravity, but gravity always wins in the end -in the end, everything collapses. in the end, everyone ends up with the people that are most like them that they can find." i was warming to my subject now, in that flow state that great athletes get into when they just know where to swing their bat, where to plant their foot. i knew that i was working up a great rant. "fast-forward to the age of email. slowly but surely, we begin to mediate almost all of our communication over networks. why walk down the hallway to ask a coworker a question, when you can just send email? you don't need to interrupt them, and you can keep going on your own projects, and if you forget the answer, you can just open the message again and look at the response. there're all kinds of ways to interact with our friends over the network: we can play hallucinogenic games, chat, send pictures, code, music, funny articles, metric fuckloads of porn... the interaction is high-quality! sure, you gain three pounds every year you spend behind the desk instead of walking down the hall to ask your buddy where he wants to go for lunch, but that's a small price to pay. "so you're a fish out of water. you live in arizona, but you're sixteen years old and all your neighbors are eighty-five, and you get ten billion channels of media on your desktop. all the good stuff -everything that tickles you -comes out of some clique of hyperurban club-kids in south philly. they're making cool art, music, clothes. you read their mailing lists and you can tell that they're exactly the kind of people who'd really appreciate you for who you are. in the old days, you'd pack your bags and hitchhike across the country and move to your community. but you're sixteen, and that's a pretty scary step. "why move? these kids live online. at lunch, before school, and all night, they're comming in, talking trash, sending around photos, chatting. online, you can be a peer. you can hop into these discussions, play the games, chord with one hand while chatting up some hottie a couple thousand miles away. "only you can't. you can't, because they chat at seven am while they're getting ready for school. they chat at five pm, while they're working on their homework. their late nights end at three am. but those are their *local* times, not yours. if you get up at seven, they're already at school, 'cause it's ten there. "so you start to f with your sleep schedule. you get up at four am so you can chat with your friends. you go to bed at nine, 'cause that's when they go to bed. used to be that it was stock brokers and journos and factory workers who did that kind of thing, but now it's anyone who doesn't fit in. the geniuses and lunatics to whom the local doctrine tastes wrong. they choose their peers based on similarity, not geography, and they keep themselves awake at the same time as them. but you need to make some nod to localness, too -gotta be at work with everyone else, gotta get to the bank when it's open, gotta buy your groceries. you end up hardly sleeping at all, you end up sneaking naps in the middle of the day, or after dinner, trying to reconcile biological imperatives with cultural ones. needless to say, that alienates you even further from the folks at home, and drives you more and more into the arms of your online peers of choice. "so you get the tribes. people all over the world who are really secret agents for some other time zone, some other way of looking at the world, some other zeitgeist. unlike other tribes, you can change allegiance by doing nothing more that resetting your alarm clock. like any tribe, they are primarily loyal to each other, and anyone outside of the tribe is only mostly human. that may sound extreme, but this is what it comes down to. "tribes are *agendas*. aesthetics. ethos. traditions. ways of getting things done. they're competitive. they may not all be based on time-zones. there are knitting tribes and vampire fan-fiction tribes and christian rock tribes, but they've always existed. mostly, these tribes are little more than a sub-culture. it takes time-zones to amplify the cultural fissioning of fan-fiction or knitting into a full-blown conspiracy. their interests are commercial, industrial, cultural, culinary. a tribesman will patronize a fellow tribesman's restaurant, or give him a manufacturing contract, or hire his taxi. not because of xenophobia, but because of homophilia: i know that my tribesman's taxi will conduct its way through traffic in a way that i'm comfortable with, whether i'm in san francisco, boston, london or calcutta. i know that the food will be palatable in a tribal restaurant, that a book by a tribalist will be a good read, that a gross of widgets will be manufactured to the exacting standards of my tribe. "like i said, though, unless you're at ground zero, in the tribe's native time zone, your sleep sched is just *raped*. you live on sleepdep and chat and secret agentry until it's second nature. you're cranky and subrational most of the time. close your eyes on the freeway and dreams paint themselves on the back of your lids, demanding their time, almost as heavy as gravity, almost as remorseless. there's a lot of flaming and splitting and vitriol in the tribes. they're more fractured than a potsherd. tribal anthropologists have built up incredible histories of the fissioning of the tribes since they were first recognized -most of 'em are online; you can look 'em up. we stab each other in the back routinely and with no more provocation than a sleepdep hallucination. "which is how i got here. i'm a member of the eastern standard tribe. we're centered around new york, but we're ramified up and down the coast, boston and toronto and philly, a bunch of montreal anglos and some wannabes in upstate new york, around buffalo and schenectady. i was doing tribal work in london, serving the eastern standard agenda, working with a couple of tribesmen, well, one tribesman and my girlfriend, who i thought was unaffiliated. turns out, though, that they're both double agents. they sold out to the pacific daylight tribe, lameass phonies out in la, slick silicon valley bizdev sharks, pseudo hipsters in san franscarcity. once i threatened to expose them, they set me up, had me thrown in here." i looked around proudly, having just completed a real fun little excursion through a topic near and dear to my heart. mount rushmore looked back at me, stony and bovine and uncomprehending. "baby," lucy said, rolling her eyes again, "you need some new meds." "could be," i said. "but this is for real. is there a comm on the ward? we can look it up together." "oh, *that*'all prove it, all right. nothing but truth online." "i didn't say that. there're peer-reviewed articles about the tribes. it was a lead story on the cbc's social science site last year." "uh huh, sure. right next to the sasquatch videos." "i'm talking about the cbc, lucy. let's go look it up." lucy mimed taking an invisible comm out of her cleavage and prodding at it with an invisible stylus. she settled an invisible pair of spectacles on her nose and nodded sagely. "oh yeah, sure, really interesting stuff." i realized that i was arguing with a crazy person and turned to the doctor. "you must have read about the tribes, right?" the doctor acted as if he hadn't heard me. "that's just fascinating, art. thank you for sharing that. now, here's a question i'd like you to think about, and maybe you can tell us the answer tomorrow: what are the ways that your friends -the ones you say betrayed you -used to show you how much they respected you and liked you? think hard about this. i think you'll be surprised by the conclusions you come to." "what's that supposed to mean?" "just what i said, art. think hard about how you and your friends interacted and you'll see that they really like you." "did you hear what i just said? have you heard of the tribes?" "sure, sure. but this isn't about the tribes, art. this is about you and --" he consulted his comm, "fede and linda. they care about you a great deal and they're terribly worried about you. you just think about it. now," he said, recrossing his legs, "fatima, you told us yesterday about your mother and i asked you to think about how *she* feels. can you tell the group what you found out?" but fatima was off in med-land, eyes glazed and mouth hanging slack. manuel nudged her with his toe, then, when she failed to stir, aimed a kick at her shin. the doctor held a hand out and grabbed manuel's slippered toe. "that's all right, let's move on to lucy." i tuned out as lucy began an elaborate and well-worn rant about her eating habits, prodded on by the doctor. the enormity of the situation was coming home to me. i couldn't win. if i averred that fede and linda were my boon companions, i'd still be found incompetent -after all, what competent person threatens his boon companions? if i stuck to my story, i'd be found incompetent, and medicated besides, like poor little fatima, zombified by the psychoactive cocktail. either way, i was stuck. stuck on the roof now, and it's getting very uncomfortable indeed. stuck because i am officially incompetent and doomed and damned to indefinite rest on the ward. stuck because every passing moment here is additional time for the hamsters to run their courses in my mind, piling regret on worry. stuck because as soon as i am discovered, i will be stupified by the meds, administered by stern and loving and thoroughly disappointed doctors. i still haven't managed to remember any of their names. they are interchangeable, well shod and endowed with badges on lanyards and soothing and implacable and entirely unappreciative of my rhetorical skills. stuck. the sheet-metal chimneys stand tall around the roof, unevenly distributed according to some inscrutable logic that could only be understood with the assistance of as-built drawings, blueprints, mechanical and structural engineering diagrams. surely though, they are optimized to wick hot air out of the giant brick pile's guts and exhaust it. i move to the one nearest the stairwell. it is tarred in place, its apron lined with a double-row of cinderblocks that have pools of brackish water and cobwebs gathered in their holes. i stick my hand in the first and drag it off the apron. i repeat it. now the chimney is standing on its own, in the middle of a nonsensical cinderblock-henge. my hands are dripping with muck and grotendousness. i wipe them off on the pea gravel and then dry them on my boxer shorts, then hug the chimney and lean forward. it gives, slowly, slightly, and springs back. i give it a harder push, really give it my weight, but it won't budge. belatedly, i realize that i'm standing on its apron, trying to lift myself along with the chimney. i take a step back and lean way forward, try again. it's awkward, but i'm making progress, bent like an ell, pushing with my legs and lower back. i feel something pop around my sacrum, know that i'll regret this deeply when my back kacks out completely, but it'll be all for naught if i don't keep! on! pushing! then, suddenly, the chimney gives, its apron swinging up and hitting me in the knees so that i topple forward with it, smashing my chin on its hood. for a moment, i lie down atop it, like a stupefied lover, awestruck by my own inanity. the smell of blood rouses me. i tentatively reach my hand to my chin and feel the ragged edge of a cut there, opened from the tip and along my jawbone almost to my ear. the cut is too fresh to hurt, but it's bleeding freely and i know it'll sting like a bastard soon enough. i go to my knees and scream, then scream again as i rend open my chin further. my knees and shins are grooved with deep, parallel cuts, gritted with gravel and grime. standing hurts so much that i go back to my knees, holler again at the pain in my legs as i grind more gravel into my cuts, and again as i tear my face open some more. i end up fetal on my side, sticky with blood and weeping softly with an exquisite self-pity that is more than the cuts and bruises, more than the betrayal, more than the foreknowledge of punishment. i am weeping for myself, and my identity, and my smarts over happiness and the thought that i would indeed choose happiness over smarts any day. too damned smart for my own good. 14. "i just don't get it," fede said. art tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "it's simple," he said. "it's like a car radio with a fast-forward button. you drive around on the masspike, and your car automatically peers with nearby vehicles. it grabs the current song on someone else's stereo and streamloads it. you listen to it. if you don't hit the fast-forward button, the car starts grabbing everything it can from the peer, all the music on the stereo, and cues it up for continued play. once that pool is exhausted, it queries your peer for a list of its peers -the cars that it's getting its music from -and sees if any of them are in range, and downloads from them. so, it's like you're exploring a taste-network, doing an automated, guided search through traffic for the car whose owner has collected the music you most want to listen to." "but i hate your music -i don't want to listen to the stuff on your radio." "fine. that's what the fast-forward button is for. it skips to another car and starts streamloading off of its drive." fede started to say something, and art held up his hand. "and if you exhaust all the available cars, the system recycles, but asks its peers for files collected from other sources. you might hate the songs i downloaded from al, but the songs i got from bennie are right up your alley. "the war-drivers backstop the whole system. they've got the biggest collections on the freeway, and they're the ones most likely to build carefully thought-out playlists. they've got entire genres -the whole history of the blues, say, from steel cylinders on -on their drives. so we encourage them. when you go through a paypoint -a toll booth -we debit you for the stuff that you didn't fast-forward, the stuff you listened to and kept. unless, that is, you've got more than, say, 10,000 songs onboard. then you go free. it's counterintuitive, i know, but just look at the numbers." "ok, ok. a radio with a fast-forward button. i think i get it." "but?" "but who's going to want to use this? it's unpredictable. you've got no guarantee you'll get the songs you want to hear." art smiled. "exactly!" fede gave him a go-on wave. "don't you see? that's the crack-cocaine part! it's the thrill of the chase! nobody gets excited about beating traffic on a back road that's always empty. but get on the m-5 after a hard day at work and drive it at 100 km/h for two hours without once touching your brakes and it's like god's reached down and parted the red seas for you. you get a sense of *accomplishment*! most of the time, your car stereo's gonna play the same junk you've always heard, just background sound, but sometimes, ah! sometimes you'll hit a sweet spot and get the best tunes you've ever heard. if you put a rat in a cage with a lever that doesn't give food pellets, he'll push it once or twice and give up. set the lever to always deliver food pellets and he'll push it when he gets hungry. set it to *sometimes* deliver food pellets and he'll bang on it until he passes out!" "heh," fede said. "good rant." "and?" "and it's cool." fede looked off into the middle distance a while. "radio with a fast-forward button. that's great, actually. amazing. stupendous!" he snatched the axe-head from its box on art's desk and did a little war dance around the room, whooping. art followed the dance from his ergonomic chair, swiveling around as the interface tchotchkes that branched from its undersides chittered to keep his various bones and muscles firmly supported. his office was more like a three-fifths-scale model of a proper office, in lilliputian london style, so the war dance was less impressive than it might have been with more room to express itself. "you like it, then," art said, once fede had run out of steam. "i do, i do, i do!" "great." "great." "so." "yes?" "so what do we do with it? should i write up a formal proposal and send it to jersey? how much detail? sketches? code fragments? want me to mock up the interface and the network model?" fede cocked an eyebrow at him. "what are you talking about?" "well, we give this to jersey, they submit the proposal, they walk away with the contract, right? that's our job, right?" "no, art, that's not our job. our job is to see to it that v/dt submits a bad proposal, not that jersey submits a good one. this is big. we roll this together and it's bigger than masspike. we can run this across every goddamned toll road in the world! jersey's not paying for this -not yet, anyway -and someone should." "you want to sell this to them?" "well, i want to sell this. who to sell it to is another matter." art waved his hands confusedly. "you're joking, right?" fede crouched down beside art and looked into his eyes. "no, art, i am serious as a funeral here. this is big, and it's not in the scope of work that we signed up for. you and me, we can score big on this, but not by handing it over to those shitheads in jersey and begging for a bonus." "what are you talking about? who else would pay for this?" "you have to ask? v/dt for starters. anyone working on a bid for masspike, or tollpass, or fastpass, or europass." "but we can't sell this to just *anyone*, fede!" "why not?" "jesus. why not? because of the tribes." fede quirked him half a smile. "sure, the tribes." "what does that mean?" "art, you know that stuff is four-fifths' horseshit, right? it's just a game. when it comes down to your personal welfare, you can't depend on time zones. this is more job than calling, you know." art squirmed and flushed. "lots of us take this stuff seriously, fede. it's not just a mind-game. doesn't loyalty mean anything to you?" fede laughed nastily. "loyalty! if you're doing all of this out of loyalty, then why are you drawing a paycheck? look, i'd rather that this go to jersey. they're basically decent sorts, and i've drawn a lot of pay from them over the years, but they haven't paid for this. they wouldn't give us a free ride, so why should we give them one? all i'm saying is, we can offer this to jersey, of course, but they have to bid for it in a competitive marketplace. i don't want to gouge them, just collect a fair market price for our goods." "you're saying you don't feel any fundamental loyalty to anything, fede?" "that's what i'm saying." "and you're saying that i'm a sucker for putting loyalty ahead of personal gain -after all, no one else is, right?" "exactly." "then how did this idea become 'ours,' fede? i came up with it." fede lost his nasty smile. "there's loyalty and then there's loyalty." "uh-huh." "no, really. you and i are a team. i rely on you and you rely on me. we're loyal to something concrete -each other. the eastern standard tribe is an abstraction. it's a whole bunch of people, and neither of us like most of 'em. it's useful and pleasant, but you can't put your trust in institutions -otherwise you get nazism." "and patriotism." "blind patriotism." "so there's no other kind? just jingoism? you're either loyal to your immediate circle of friends or you're a deluded dupe?" "no, that's not what i'm saying." "so where does informed loyalty leave off and jingoism begin? you come on all patronizing when i talk about being loyal to the tribe, and you're certainly not loyal to v/dt, nor are you loyal to jersey. what greater purpose are you loyal to?" "well, humanity, for starters." "really. what's that when it's at home?" "huh?" "how do you express loyalty to something as big and abstract as 'humanity'?" "well, that comes down to morals, right? not doing things that poison the world. paying taxes. change to panhandlers. supporting charities." fede drummed his fingers on his thighs. "not murdering or raping, you know. being a good person. a moral person." "ok, that's a good code of conduct. i'm all for not murdering and raping, and not just because it's *wrong*, but because a world where the social norms include murdering and raping is a bad one for me to live in." "exactly." "that's the purpose of morals and loyalty, right? to create social norms that produce a world you want to live in." "right! and that's why *personal* loyalty is important." art smiled. trap baited and sprung. "ok. so institutional loyalty -loyalty to a tribe or a nation -that's not an important social norm. as far as you're concerned, we could abandon all pretense of institutional loyalty." art dropped his voice. "you could go to work for the jersey boys, sabotaging virgin/deutsche telekom, just because they're willing to pay you to do it. nothing to do with tribal loyalty, just a job." fede looked uncomfortable, sensing the impending rhetorical headlock. he nodded cautiously. "which means that the jersey boys have no reason to be loyal to you. it's just a job. so if there were an opportunity for them to gain some personal advantage by selling you out, turning you into a patsy for them, well, they should just go ahead and do it, right?" "uh --" "don't worry, it's a rhetorical question. jersey boys sell you out. you take their fall, they benefit. if there was no institutional loyalty, that's where you'd end up, right? that's the social norm you want." "no, of course it isn't." "no, of course not. you want a social norm where individuals can be disloyal to the collective, but not vice versa." "yes --" "yes, but loyalty is bidirectional. there's no basis on which you may expect loyalty from an institution unless you're loyal to it." "i suppose." "you know it. i know it. institutional loyalty is every bit as much about informed self-interest as personal loyalty is. the tribe takes care of me, i take care of the tribe. we'll negotiate a separate payment from jersey for this -after all, this is outside of the scope of work that we're being paid for -and we'll split the money, down the middle. we'll work in a residual income with jersey, too, because, as you say, this is bigger than masspike. it's a genuinely good idea, and there's enough to go around. all right?" "are you asking me or telling me?" "i'm asking you. this will require both of our cooperation. i'm going to need to manufacture an excuse to go stateside to explain this to them and supervise the prototyping. you're going to have to hold down the fort here at v/dt and make sure that i'm clear to do my thing. if you want to go and sell this idea elsewhere, well, that's going to require my cooperation, or at least my silence -if i turn this over to v/dt, they'll pop you for industrial espionage. so we need each other." art stood and looked down at fede, who was a good ten centimeters shorter than he, looked down at fede's sweaty upper lip and creased brow. "we're a good team, fede. i don't want to toss away an opportunity, but i also don't want to exploit it at the expense of my own morals. can you agree to work with me on this, and trust me to do the right thing?" fede looked up. "yes," he said. on later reflection, art thought that the *yes* came too quickly, but then, he was just relieved to hear it. "of course. of course. yes. let's do it." "that's just fine," art said. "let's get to work, then." they fell into their traditional division of labor then, art working on a variety of user-experience plans, dividing each into subplans, then devising protocols for user testing to see what would work in the field; fede working on logistics from plane tickets to personal days to budget and critical-path charts. they worked side by side, but still used the collaboration tools that art had grown up with, designed to allow remote, pseudonymous parties to fit their separate work components into the same structure, resolving schedule and planning collisions where it could and throwing exceptions where it couldn't. they worked beside each other and each hardly knew the other was there, and that, art thought, when he thought of it, when the receptionist commed him to tell him that "linderrr" -freakin' teabags -was there for him, that was the defining characteristic of a tribalist. a norm, a modus operandi, a way of being that did not distinguish between communication face-to-face and communication at a distance. "linderrr?" fede said, cocking an eyebrow. "i hit her with my car," art said. "ah," fede said. "smooth." art waved a hand impatiently at him and went out to the reception area to fetch her. the receptionist had precious little patience for entertaining personal visitors, and linda, in track pants and a baggy sweater, was clearly not a professional contact. the receptionist glared at him as he commed into the lobby and extended his hand to linda, who took it, put it on her shoulder, grabbed his ass, crushed their pelvises together and jammed her tongue in his ear. "i missed you," she slurped, the buzz of her voice making him writhe. "i'm not wearing any knickers," she continued, loud enough that he was sure that the receptionist heard. he felt the blush creeping over his face and neck and ears. the receptionist. dammit, why was he thinking about the receptionist? "linda," he said, pulling away. introduce her, he thought. introduce them, and that'll make it less socially awkward. the english can't abide social awkwardness. "linda, meet --" and he trailed off, realizing he didn't actually know the receptionist's name. the receptionist glared at him from under a cap of shining candy-apple red hair, narrowing her eyes, which were painted in high style with kubrick action-figure faces. "my *name* is tonaishah," she hissed. or maybe it was *tanya iseah*, or *taneesha*. he still didn't know her goddamned name. "and this is linda," he said, weakly. "we're going out tonight." "and won't you have a dirty great time, then?" tonaishah said. "i'm sure we will," he said. "yes," tonaishah said. art commed the door and missed the handle, then snagged it and grabbed linda's hand and yanked her through. "i'm a little randy," she said, directly into his ear. "sorry." she giggled. "someone you have to meet," he said, reaching down to rearrange his pants to hide his boner. "ooh, right here in your office?" linda said, covering his hand with hers. "someone with *two* eyes," he said, moving her hand to his hip. "ahh," she said. "what a disappointment." "i'm serious. i want you to meet my friend fede. i think you two will really hit it off." "wait," linda said. "isn't this a major step? meeting the friends? are we getting that serious already?" "oh, i think we're ready for it," art said, draping an arm around her shoulders and resting his fingertips on the upper swell of her breast. she ducked out from under his arm and stopped in her tracks. "well, i don't. don't i get a say in this?" "what?" art said. "whether it's time for me to meet your friends or not. shouldn't i have a say?" "linda, i just wanted to introduce you to a coworker before we went out. he's in my office -i gotta grab my jacket there, anyway." "wait, is he a friend or a coworker?" "he's a friend i work with. come on, what's the big deal?" "well, first you spring this on me, then you change your story and tell me he's a coworker, now he's a friend again. i don't want to be put on display for your pals. if we're going to meet your friends, i'll dress for it, put on some makeup. this isn't fair." "linda," art said, placating. "no," she said. "screw it. i'm not here to meet your friends. i came all the way across town to meet you at your office because you wanted to head back to your place after work, and you play headgames with me like this?" "all right," art said. "i'll show you back out to the lobby and you can wait with tonaishah while i get my jacket." "don't take that tone with me," she said. "what tone?" art said. "jesus christ! you can't wait in the hall, it's against policy. you don't have a badge, so you have to be with me or in the lobby. i don't give a shit if you meet fede or not." "i won't tell you again, art," she said. "moderate your tone. i won't be shouted at." art tried to rewind the conversation and figure out how they came to this pass, but he couldn't. was linda really acting *this* nuts? or was he just reading her wrong or pushing her buttons or something? "let's start over," he said, grabbing both of her hands in his. "i need to get my jacket from my office. you can come with me if you want to, and meet my friend fede. otherwise you can wait in the lobby, i won't be a minute." "let's go meet fede," she said. "i hope he wasn't expecting anything special, i'm not really dressed for it." he stifled a snotty remark. after all that, she was going to go and meet fede? so what the hell were they arguing about? on the other hand, he'd gotten his way, hadn't he? he led her by the hand to his office, and beyond every doorway they passed was a v/dt experience designer pretending not to peek at them as they walked by, having heard every word through the tricky acoustics of o'malley house. "fede," he said, stiffly, "this is linda. linda, this is fede." fede stood and treated linda to his big, suave grin. fede might be short and he might have paranoid delusions, but he was trim and well groomed, with the sort of finicky moustache that looked like a rotting caterpillar if you didn't trim it every morning. he liked to work out, and had a tight waist and a gut you could bounce a quarter off of, and liked to wear tight shirts that showed off his overall fitness, made him stand out among the spongy mouse-potatoes of the corporate world. art had never given it much thought, but now, standing with fede and linda in his tiny office, breathing in fede's lilac vegetal and linda's new-car-smell shampoo, he felt paunchy and sloppy. "ah," fede said, taking her hand. "the one you hit with your car. it's a pleasure. you seem to be recovering nicely, too." linda smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, a few strands of her bobbed hair sticking to his moustache like cobwebs as she pulled away. "it was just a love tap," she said. "i'll be fine." "fede's from new york," art said. "we colonials like to stick together around the office. and linda's from los angeles." "aren't there any, you know, british people in london?" linda said, wrinkling her nose. "there's tonaishah," art said weakly. "who?" fede said. "the receptionist," linda said. "not a very nice person." "with the eyes?" fede said, wriggling his fingers around his temples to indicate elaborate eye makeup. "that's her," linda said. "nasty piece of work," fede said. "never trusted her." "*you're* not another ue person, are you?" linda said, sizing fede up and giving art a playful elbow in the ribs. "who, me? nah. i'm a management consultant. i work in chelsea mostly, but when i come slumming in piccadilly, i like to comandeer art's office. he's not bad, for a ue-geek." "not bad at all," linda said, slipping an arm around art's waist, wrapping her fingers around the waistband of his trousers. "did you need to grab your jacket, honey?" art's jacket was hanging on the back of his office door, and to get at it, he had to crush himself against linda and maneuver the door shut. he felt her breasts soft on his chest, felt her breath tickle his ear, and forgot all about their argument in the corridor. "all right," art said, hooking his jacket over his shoulder with a finger, feeling flushed and fluttery. "ok, let's go." "lovely to have met you, fede," linda said, taking his hand. "and likewise," fede said. 15. vigorous sex ensued. 16. art rolled out of bed at dark o'clock in the morning, awakened by circadians and endorphins and bladder. he staggered to the toilet in the familiar gloom of his shabby little rooms, did his business, marveled at the tenderness of his privates, fumbled for the flush mechanism -"british" and "plumbing" being two completely opposite notions -and staggered back to bed. the screen of his comm, nestled on the end table, washed the room in liquid-crystal light. he'd tugged the sheets off of linda when he got up, and there she was, chest rising and falling softly, body rumpled and sprawled after their gymnastics. it had been transcendent and messy, and the sheets were coarse with dried fluids. he knelt on the bed and fussed with the covers some, trying for an equitable -if not chivalrously so -division of blankets. he bent forward to kiss at a bite-mark he'd left on her shoulder. his back went "pop." somewhere down in the lumbar, somewhere just above his tailbone, a deep and unforgiving *pop*, ominous as the cocking of a revolver. he put his hand there and it felt ok, so he cautiously lay back. three-quarters of the way down, his entire lower back seized up, needles of fire raced down his legs and through his groin, and he collapsed. he *barked* with pain, an inhuman sound he hadn't known he could make, and the rapid emptying of his lungs deepened the spasm, and he mewled. linda opened a groggy eye and put her hand on his shoulder. "what is it, hon?" he tried to straighten out, to find a position in which the horrible, relentless pain returned whence it came. each motion was agony. finally, the pain subsided, and he found himself pretzelled, knees up, body twisted to the left, head twisted to the right. he did not dare budge from this posture, terrified that the pain would return. "it's my back," he gasped. "whah? your back?" "i -i put it out. haven't done it in years. i need an icepack, ok? there're some headache pills in the medicine cabinet. three of those." "seriously?" "look, i'd get 'em myself, but i can't even sit up, much less walk. i gotta ice this down now before it gets too inflamed." "how did it happen?" "it just happens. tai chi helps. please, i need ice." half an hour later, he had gingerly arranged himself with his knees up and his hips straight, and he was breathing deeply, willing the spasms to unclench. "thanks," he said. "what now? should i call a doctor?" "he'd just give me painkillers and tell me to lose some weight. i'll probably be like this for a week. shit. fede's going to kill me. i was supposed to go to boston next friday, too." "boston? what for? for how long?" art bunched the sheets in his fists. he hadn't meant to tell her about boston yet -he and fede hadn't worked out his cover story. "meetings," he said. "two or three days. i was going to take some personal time and go see my family, too. goddamnit. pass me my comm, ok?" "you're going to *work* now?" "i'm just going to send fede a message and send out for some muscle-relaxants. there's a twenty-four-hour chemist's at paddington station that delivers." "i'll do it, you lie flat." and so it began. bad enough to be helpless, weak as a kitten and immobile, but to be at the whim of someone else, to have to provide sufficient excuse for every use of his comm, every crawl across the flat... christ. "just give me my comm, please. i can do it faster than i can explain how to do it." in thirty-six hours, he was ready to tear the throat out of anyone who tried to communicate with him. he'd harangued linda out of the flat and crawled to the kitchen floor, painstakingly assembling a nest of pillows and sofa cushions, close to the icemaker and the painkillers and toilet. his landlady, an unfriendly chinese lady who had apparently been wealthy beyond words in hong kong and clearly resented her reduced station, agreed to sign for the supply drops he commed to various retailers around london. he was giving himself a serious crick in his neck and shoulder from working supine, comm held over his head. the painkillers weighted his arms and churned his guts, and at least twice an hour, he'd grog his way into a better position, forgetting the tenderness in his back, and bark afresh as his nerves shrieked and sizzled. two days later and he was almost unrecognizable, a gamey, unshaven lump in the tiny kitchen, his nest gray with sweat and stiff with spilled take-away curry. he suspected that he was overmedicating, forgetting whether he'd taken his tablets and taking more. in one of his more lucid moments, he realized that there was a feedback cycle at play here -the more pills he took, the less equipped he was to judge whether he'd taken his pills, so the more pills he took. his mind meandered through a solution to this, a timer-equipped pillcase that reset when you took the lid off and chimed if you took the lid off again before the set interval had elapsed. he reached for his comm to make some notes, found it wedged under one of his hocks, greasy with sweat, batteries dead. he hadn't let his comm run down in a decade, at least. his landlady let linda in on the fourth day, as he was sleeping fitfully with a pillow over his face to shut out the light from the window. he'd tried to draw the curtains a day -two days? -before, but had given up when he tried to pull himself upright on the sill only to collapse in a fresh gout of writhing. linda crouched by his head and stroked his greasy hair softly until he flipped the pillow off his face with a movement of his neck. he squinted up at her, impossibly fresh and put together and incongruous in his world of reduced circumstances. "art. art. art. art! you're a mess, art! jesus. why aren't you in bed?" "too far," he mumbled. "what would your grandmother say? dear-oh-dearie. come on, let's get you up and into bed, and then i'm going to have a doctor and a massage therapist sent in. you need a nice, hot bath, too. it'll be good for you and hygienic besides." "no tub," he said petulantly. "i know, i know. don't worry about it. i'll sort it out." and she did, easing him to his feet and helping him into bed. she took his house keys and disappeared for some unknowable time, then reappeared with fresh linen in store wrappers, which she lay on the bed carefully, making tight hospital corners and rolling him over, nurse-style, to do the other side. he heard her clattering in the kitchen, running the faucets, moving furniture. he reminded himself to ask her to drop his comm in its charger, then forgot. "come on, time to get up again," she said, gently peeling the sheets back. "it's ok," he said, waving weakly at her. "yes, it is. let's get up." she took his ankles and gradually turned him on the bed so that his feet were on the floor, then grabbed him by his stinking armpits and helped him to his feet. he stumbled with her into his crowded living room, dimly aware of the furniture stacked on itself around him. she left him hanging on the door lintel and then began removing his clothes. she actually used a scissors to cut away his stained tee shirt and boxer shorts. "all right," she said, "into the tub." "no tub," he said. "look down, art," she said. he did. an inflatable wading pool sat in the middle of his living room, flanked by an upended coffee table and his sofa, standing on its ear. the pool was full of steaming, cloudy water. "there's a bunch of eucalyptus oil and epsom salts in there. you're gonna love it." that night, art actually tottered into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water, one hand pressed on his lower back. the cool air of the apartment fanned the mentholated liniment on his back and puckered goose pimples all over his body. after days of leaden limbs, he felt light and clean, his senses singing as though he was emerging from a fever. he drank the water, and retrieved his comm from its cradle. he propped several pillows up on his headboard and fired up his comm. immediately, it began to buzz and hum and chatter and blink, throwing up alerts about urgent messages, pages and calls pending. the lightness he'd felt fled him, and he began the rotten business of triaging his in-box. one strong impression emerged almost immediately: fede wanted him in boston. the jersey clients were interested in the teasers that fede had forwarded to them. the jersey clients were obsessed with the teasers that fede had forwarded to them. the jersey clients were howling for more after the teasers that fede had forwarded to them. fede had negotiated some big bucks on approval if only art would go and talk to the jersey clients. the jersey clients had arranged a meeting with some of the masspike decision-makers for the following week, and now they were panicking because they didn't have anything *except* the teasers fede had forwarded to them. you should really try to go to boston, art. we need you in boston, art. you have to go to boston, art. art, go to boston. boston, art. boston. linda rolled over in bed and peered up at him. "you're *not* working again, are you?" "shhh," art said. "it's less stressful if i get stuff done than if i let it pile up." "then why is your forehead all wrinkled up?" "i have to go to boston," he said. "day after tomorrow, i think." "jesus, are you insane? trying to cripple yourself?" "i can recover in a hotel room just as well as i can recover here. it's just rest from here on in, anyway. and a hotel will probably have a tub." "i can't believe i'm hearing this. you're not going to *recover* in boston. you'll be at meetings and stuff. christ!" "i've got to do this," art said. "i just need to figure out how. i'll go business class, take along a lumbar pillow, and spend every moment that i'm not in a meeting in a tub or getting a massage. i could use a change of scenery about now, anyway." "you're a goddamned idiot, you know that?" art knew it. he also knew that here was an opportunity to get back to est, to make a good impression on the jersey clients, to make his name in the tribe and to make a bundle of cash. his back be damned, he was sick of lying around anyway. "i've got to go, linda." "it's your life," she said, and tossed aside the covers. "but i don't have to sit around watching you ruin it." she disappeared into the hallway, then reemerged, dressed and with her coat on. "i'm out of here." "linda," art said. "no," she said. "shut up. why the fuck should i care if you don't, huh? i'm going. see you around." "come on, let's talk about this." east-coast pizza. flat boston twangs. the coeds rushing through harvard square and oh, maybe a side trip to new york, maybe another up to toronto and a roti at one of the halal guyanese places on queen street. he levered himself painfully out of bed and hobbled to the living room, where linda was arguing with a taxi dispatcher over her comm, trying to get them to send out a cab at two in the morning. "come on," art said. "hang that up. let's talk about this." she shot him a dirty look and turned her back, kept on ranting down the comm at the dispatcher. "linda, don't do this. come on." "i am on the phone!" she said to him, covering the mouthpiece. "shut the fuck up, will you?" she uncovered the mouthpiece. "hello? hello?" the dispatcher had hung up. she snapped the comm shut and slammed it into her purse. she whirled to face art, snorting angry breaths through her nostrils. her face was such a mask of rage that art recoiled, and his back twinged. he clasped at it and carefully lowered himself onto the sofa. "don't do this, ok?" he said. "i need support, not haranguing." "what's there to say? your mind's already made up. you're going to go off and be a fucking idiot and cripple yourself. go ahead, you don't need my permission." "sit down, please, linda, and talk to me. let me explain my plan and my reasons, ok? then i'll listen to you. maybe we can sort this out and actually, you know, come to understand each other's point of view." "fine," she said, and slammed herself into the sofa. art bounced and he seized his back reflexively, waiting for the pain, but beyond a low-grade throbbing, he was ok. "i have a very large opportunity in boston right now. one that could really change my life. money, sure, but prestige and profile, too. a dream of an opportunity. i need to attend one or two meetings, and then i can take a couple days off. i'll get fede to ok a first-class flight -we get chits we can use to upgrade to virgin upper; they've got hot tubs and massage therapists now. i'll check into a spa -they've got a bunch on route 128 -and get a massage every morning and have a physiotherapist up to the room every night. i can't afford that stuff here, but fede'll spring for it if i go to boston, let me expense it. i'll be a good lad, i promise." "i still think you're being an idiot. why can't fede go?" "because it's my deal." "why can't whoever you're meeting with come here?" "that's complicated." "bullshit. i thought you wanted to talk about this?" "i do. i just can't talk about that part." "why not? are you afraid i'll blab? christ, art. give me some credit. who the hell would i blab *to*, anyway?" "look, linda, the deal itself is confidential -a secret. a secret's only a secret if you don't tell it to anyone, all right? so i'm not going to tell you. it's not relevant to the discussion, anyway." "art. art. art. art, you make it all sound so reasonable, and you can dress it up with whatever words you want, but at the end of the day, we both know you're full of shit on this. there's no *way* that doing this is better for you than staying here in bed. if fede's the problem, let me talk to him." "jesus, no!" "why not?" "it's not appropriate, linda. this is a work-related issue. it wouldn't be professional. ok, i'll concede that flying and going to meeting is more stressful than not flying and not going to meetings, but let's take it as a given that i *really* need to go to boston. can't we agree on that, and then discuss the ways that we can mitigate the risks associated with the trip?" "jesus, you're an idiot," she said, but she seemed to be on the verge of smiling. "but i'm *your* idiot, right?" art said, hopefully. "sure, sure you are." she *did* smile then, and cuddle up to him on the sofa. "they don't have fucking *hot tubs* in virgin upper, do they?" "yeah," art said, kissing her earlobe. "they really do." 17. once the blood coursing from my shins slows and clots, i take an opportunity to inspect the damage more closely. the cuts are relatively shallow, certainly less serious than they were in my runamuck imagination, which had vivid slashes of white bone visible through the divided skin. i cautiously pick out the larger grit and gravel and turn my attention spinewards. i have done a number on my back, that much is certain. my old friends, the sacroiliac joints, feel as tight as drumheads, and they creak ominously when i shift to a sitting position with my back propped up on the chimney's upended butt, the aluminum skirting cool as a kiss on my skin. they're only just starting to twinge, a hint of the agonies to come. my jaw, though, is pretty bad. my whole face feels swollen, and if i open my mouth the blood starts anew. you know, on sober reflection, i believe that coming up to the roof was a really bad idea. i use the chimney to lever myself upright again, and circle it to see exactly what kind of damage i've done. there's a neat circular hole in the roof where the chimney used to be, gusting warm air into my face as i peer into its depths. the hole is the mouth of a piece of shiny metal conduit about the circumference of a basketball hoop. when i put my head into it, i hear the white noise of a fan, somewhere below in the building's attic. i toss some gravel down the conduit and listen to the report as it *ping*s off the fan blades down below. that's a good, loud sound, and one that is certain to echo through the building. i rain gravel down the exhaust tube by the handful, getting into a mindless, shuffling rhythm, wearing the sides of my hands raw and red as i scrape the pebbles up into handy piles. soon i am shuffling afield of the fallen chimney, one hand on my lumbar, crouched over like a chimp, knees splayed in an effort to shift stress away from my grooved calves. i'm really beating the shit out of that poor fan, i can tell. the shooting-gallery rattle of the gravel ricocheting off the blades is dulling now, sometimes followed by secondary rattles as the pebbles bounce back into the blades. not sure what i'll do if the fan gives out before someone notices me up here. it's not an issue, as it turns out. the heavy fire door beyond the chimney swings open abruptly. a hospital maintenance gal in coveralls, roly-poly and draped with tool belts and bandoliers. she's red-faced from the trek up the stairs, and it gives her the aspect of a fairy tale baker or candy-seller. she reinforces this impression by putting her plump hands to her enormous bosom and gasping when she catches sight of me. it comes to me that i am quite a fucking sight. bloody, sunburnt, wild-eyed, with my simian hunch and my scabby jaw set at a crazy angle to my face and reality both. not to mention my near nudity, which i'm semipositive is not her idea of light entertainment. "hey," i say. "i, uh, i got stuck on the roof. the door shut." talking reopens the wound on my jaw and i feel more blood trickling down my neck. "unfortunately, i only get one chance to make a first impression, huh? i'm not, you know, really *crazy,* i was just a little bored and so i went exploring and got stuck and tried to get someone's attention, had a couple accidents... it's a long story. hey! my name's art. what's yours?" "oh my lord!" she said, and her hand jumps to the hammer in its bandolier holster on her round tummy. she claws at it frantically. "please," i say, holding my hands in front of me. "please. i'm hurt is all. i came up here to get some fresh air and the door swung shut behind me. i tripped when i knocked over the chimney to get someone's attention. i'm not dangerous. please. just help me get back down to the twentieth floor -i think i might need a stretcher crew, my back is pretty bad." "it's caitlin," she says. "i beg your pardon?" "my name is caitlin," she says. "hi, caitlin," i said. i extend my hand, but she doesn't move the ten yards she would have to cross in order to take it. i think about moving towards her, but think better of it. "you're not up here to jump, are you?" "jump? christ, no! just stuck is all. just stuck." linda's goddamned boyfriend was into all this flaky getting to yes shit, subliminal means of establishing rapport and so on. linda and i once spent an afternoon at the children's carousel uptown in manhattan, making fun of all his newage theories. the one that stood out in my mind as funniest was synching your breathing -"what you resist persists, so you need to turn resistance into assistance," linda recounted. you match breathing with your subject for fifteen breaths and they unconsciously become receptive to your suggestions. i have a suspicion that caitlin might bolt, duck back through the door and pound down the stairs on her chubby little legs and leave me stranded. so i try it, match my breath to her heaving bosom. she's still panting from her trek up the stairs and fifteen breaths go by in a quick pause. the silence stretches, and i try to remember what i'm supposed to do next. lead the subject, that's it. i slow my breathing down gradually and, amazingly, her breath slows down along with mine, until we're both breathing great, slow breaths. it works -it's flaky and goofy california shit, but it works. "caitlin," i say calmly, making it part of an exhalation. "yes," she says, still wary. "have you got a comm?" "i do, yes." "can you please call downstairs and ask them to send up a stretcher crew? i've hurt my back and i won't be able to handle the stairs." "i can do that, yes." "thank you, caitlin." it feels like cheating. i didn't have to browbeat her or puncture her bad reasoning -all it took was a little rapport, a little putting myself in her shoes. i can't believe it worked, but caitlin flips a ruggedized comm off her hip and speaks into it in a calm, efficient manner. "thank you, caitlin," i say again. i start to ease myself to a sitting position, and my back gives way, so that i crash to the rooftop, mewling, hands clutched to my spasming lumbar. and then caitlin's at my side, pushing my hands away from my back, strong thumbs digging into the spasming muscles around my iliac crests, soothing and smoothing them out, tracing the lines of fire back to the nodes of the joints, patiently kneading the spasms out until the pain recedes to a soft throbbing. "my old man used to get that," she said. "all us kids had to take turns working it out for him." i'm on my back, staring up over her curves and rolls and into her earnest, freckled face. "oh, god, that feels good," i say. "that's what the old man used to say. you're too young to have a bad back." "i have to agree," i say. "all right, i'm going to prop your knees up and lay your head down. i need to have a look at that ventilator." i grimace. "i'm afraid i did a real number on it," i say. "sorry about that." she waves a chubby pish-tosh at me with her freckled hand and walks over to the chimney, leaving me staring at the sky, knees bent, waiting for the stretcher crew. when they arrive, caitlin watches as they strap me onto the board, tying me tighter than is strictly necessary for my safety, and i realize that i'm not being tied *down*, i'm being tied *up*. "thanks, caitlin," i say. "you're welcome, art." "good luck with the ventilator -sorry again." "that's all right, kid. it's my job, after all." 18. virgin upper's hot tubs were more theoretically soothing than actually so. they had rather high walls and a rather low water level, both for modesty's sake and to prevent spills. art passed through the miniature sauna/shower and into the tub after his massage, somewhere over newfoundland, and just as the plane hit turbulence, buffeting him with chlorinated water that stung his eyes and got up his nose and soaked the magazine on offshore investing that he'd found in the back of his seat pocket. he landed at jfk still smelling of chlorine and sandalwood massage oil and the cantaloupe-scented lotion in the fancy toilets. tension melted away from him as he meandered to the shuttle stop. the air had an indefinable character of homeliness, or maybe it was the sunlight. amateur tribal anthropologists were always thrashing about light among themselves, arguing about the sun's character varying from latitude to latitude, filtered through this city's pollution signature or that. the light or the air, the latitude or the smog, it felt like home. the women walked with a reassuring, confident *clack clack clack* of heel on hard tile; the men talked louder than was necessary to one another or to their comms. the people were a riot of ethnicities and their speech was a riotous babel of accents, idioms and languages. aggressive pretzel vendors vied with aggressive panhandlers to shake down the people waiting on the shuttle bus. art bought a stale, sterno-reeking pretzel that was crusted with inedible volumes of yellowing salt and squirted a couple bucks at a panhandler who had been pestering him in thick jamaican patois but thanked him in adenoidal brooklynese. by the time he boarded his connection to logan he was joggling his knees uncontrollably in his seat, his delight barely contained. he got an undrinkable can of watery budweiser and propped it up on his tray table alongside his inedible pretzel and arranged them in a kind of symbolic tableau of all things estian. he commed fede from the guts of the tunnels that honeycombed boston, realizing with a thrill as fede picked up that it was two in the morning in london, at the nominal gmt+0, while here at gmt-5 -at the default, plus-zero time zone of his life, livelihood and lifestyle -it was only 9pm. "fede!" art said into the comm. "hey, art!" fede said, with a false air of chipperness that art recognized from any number of middle-of-the-night calls. there was a cheap malaysian comm that he'd once bought because of its hyped up de-hibernate feature -its ability to go from its deepest power-saving sleepmode to full waking glory without the customary thirty seconds of drive-churning housekeeping as it reestablished its network connection, verified its file system and memory, and pinged its buddy-list for state and presence info. this malaysian comm, the crackler, had the uncanny ability to go into suspended animation indefinitely, and yet throw your workspace back on its display in a hot instant. when art actually laid hands on it, after it meandered its way across the world by slow boat, corrupt gmt+8 posts and telegraphs authorities, over-engineered courier services and revenue canada's customs agents, he was enchanted by this feature. he could put the device into deep sleep, close it up, and pop its cover open and poof! there were his windows. it took him three days and an interesting crash to notice that even though he was seeing his workspace, he wasn't able to interact with it for thirty seconds. the auspicious crash revealed the presence of a screenshot of his pre-hibernation workspace on the drive, and he realized that the machine was tricking him, displaying the screenshot -the illusion of wakefulness -when he woke it up, relying on the illusion to endure while it performed its housekeeping tasks in the background. a little stopwatch work proved that this chicanery actually added three seconds to the overall wake-time, and taught him his first important user-experience lesson: perception of functionality trumps the actual function. and here was fede, throwing up a verbal screenshot of wakefulness while he churned in the background, housekeeping himself into real alertness. "fede, i'm here, i'm in boston!" "good art, good. how was the trip?" "wonderful. virgin upper was fantastic -dancing girls, midget wrestling, hash brownies..." "good, very good." "and now i'm driving around under boston through a land-yacht regatta. the boats are mambo, but i think that banana patch the hotel soon." "glad to hear it." art heard water running dimly, realized that fede was taking a leak. "meeting with the jersey boys tomorrow. we're having brunch at a strip club." "ok, ok, very funny," fede said. "i'm awake. what's up?" "nothing. i just wanted to check in with you and let you know i arrived safe and sound. how're things in london?" "your girlfriend called me." "linda?" "you got another girlfriend?" "what did she want?" "she wanted to chew me out for sending you overseas with your 'crippling back injury.' she told me she'd hold me responsible if you got into trouble over there." "god, fede, i'm sorry. i didn't put her up to it or anything --" "don't worry about it. i'm glad that there's someone out there who cares about you. we're getting together for dinner tonight." "fede, you know, i think linda's terrific, but she's a little, you know, volatile." "art, everyone in o'malley house knows just how volatile she is. 'i won't tell you again, art. moderate your tone. i won't be shouted at.'" "christ, you heard that, too?" "don't worry about it. she's cool and i like her and i can stand to be shouted at a little. when did you say you were meeting with perceptronics?" the word shocked him. they never mentioned the name of the jersey clients. it started as a game, but soon became woven into fede's paranoid procedures. now they had reached the endgame. within a matter of weeks, they'd be turning in their resignations to v/dt and taking the final flight across the atlantic and back to gmt-5, provocateurs no longer. "tomorrow afternoon. we're starting late to give me time to get a full night's sleep." the last conference call with perceptronics had gone fantastically. his normal handlers -sour men with nasty minds who glommed onto irrelevancies in v/dt's strategy and teased at them until they conjured up shadowy and shrewd conspiracies where none existed -weren't on that call. instead, he'd spent a rollicking four hours on the line with the sharp and snarky product designers and engineers, bouncing ideas back and forth at speed. even over the phone, the homey voices and points of view felt indefinably comfortable and familiar. they'd been delighted to start late in the day for his benefit, and had offered to work late and follow up with a visit to a bar where he could get a burger the size of a baby's head. "we're meeting at perceptronics' branch office in acton tomorrow and the day after, then going into masspike. the perceptronics guys sound really excited." just saying the name of the company was a thrill. "that's really excellent, art. go easy, though --" "oh, don't worry about me. my back's feeling miles better." and it was, loose and supple the way it did after a good workout. "that's good, but it's not what i meant. we're still closing this deal, still dickering over price. i need another day, maybe, to settle it. so go easy tomorrow. give me a little leverage, ok?" "i don't get it. i thought we had a deal." "nothing's final till it's vinyl, you know that. they're balking at the royalty clause" -fede was proposing to sell perceptronics an exclusive license on the business-model patent he'd filed for using art's notes in exchange for jobs, a lump-sum payment and a royalty on every sub-license that perceptronics sold to the world's toll roads -"and we're renegotiating. they're just playing hardball, is all. another day, tops, and i'll have it sorted." "i'm confused. what do you want me to do?" "just, you know, *stall* them. get there late. play up your jetlag. leave early. don't get anything, you know, *done*. use your imagination." "is there a deal or isn't there, fede?" "there's a deal, there's a deal. i'll do my thing, you'll do your thing, and we'll both be rich and living in new york before you know it. do you understand?" "not really." "ok, that'll have to be good enough for now. jesus, art, i'm doing my best here, all right?" "say hi to linda for me, ok?" "don't be pissed at me, art." "i'm not pissed. i'll stall them. you do your thing. i'll take it easy, rest up my back." "all right. have a great time, ok?" "i will, fede." art rang off, feeling exhausted and aggravated. he followed the tunnel signs to the nearest up-ramp, wanting to get into the sunlight and architecture and warm himself with both. a miniscule bmw flea blatted its horn at him when he changed lanes. had he cut the car off? he was still looking the wrong way, still anticipating oncoming traffic on the right. he raised a hand in an apologetic wave. it wasn't enough for the flea's driver. the car ran right up to his bumper, then zipped into the adjacent lane, accelerated and cut him off, nearly causing a wreck. as it was, art had to swerve into the parking lane on mass ave -how did he get to mass ave? god, he was lost already -to avoid him. the flea backed off and switched lanes again, then pulled up alongside of him. the driver rolled down his window. "how the fuck do you like it, jackoff? don't *ever* fucking cut me off!" he was a middle aged white guy in a suit, driving a car that was worth a year's wages to art, purple-faced and pop-eyed. art felt something give way inside, and then he was shouting back. "when i want your opinion, i'll squeeze your fucking head, you sack of shit! as it is, i can barely contain my rage at the thought that a scumbag like you is consuming *air* that the rest of us could be breathing! now, roll up your goddamned window and drive your fucking bourge-mobile before i smash your fucking head in!" he shut his mouth, alarmed. what the hell was he saying? how did he end up standing here, outside of his car, shouting at the other driver, stalking towards the flea with his hands balled into fists? why was he picking a fight with this goddamned psycho, anyway? a year in peaceful, pistol-free london had eased his normal road-rage defense systems. now they came up full, and he wondered if the road-rager he'd just snapped at would haul out a second-amendment special and cap him. but the other driver looked as shocked as art felt. he rolled up his window and sped off, turning wildly at the next corner -brookline, art saw. art got back into his rental, pulled off to the curb and asked his comm to generate an optimal route to his hotel, and drove in numb silence the rest of the way. 19. they let me call gran on my second day here. of course, linda had already called her and briefed her on my supposed mental breakdown. i had no doubt that she'd managed to fake hysterical anxiety well enough to convince gran that i'd lost it completely; gran was already four-fifths certain that i was nuts. "hi, gran," i said. "arthur! my god, how are you?" "i'm fine, gran. it's a big mistake is all." "a mistake? your lady friend called me and told me what you'd done in london. arthur, you need help." "what did linda say?" "she said that you threatened to kill a coworker. she said you threatened to kill *her*. that you had a knife. oh, arthur, i'm so worried --" "it's not true, gran. she's lying to you." "she told me you'd say that." "of course she did. she and fede -a guy i worked with in london -they're trying to get rid of me. they had me locked up. i had a business deal with fede, we were selling one of my ideas to a company in new jersey. linda talked him into selling to some people she knows in la instead, and they conspired to cut me out of the deal. when i caught them at it, they got me sent away. let me guess, she told you i was going to say this, too, right?" "arthur, i know --" "you know that i'm a good guy. you raised me. i'm not nuts, ok? they just wanted to get me out of the way while they did their deal. a week or two and i'll be out again, but it will be too late. do you believe that you know me better than some girl i met a month ago?" "of *course* i do, arthur. but why would the hospital take you away if --" "if i wasn't crazy? i'm in here for observation -they want to find *out* if i'm crazy. if *they're* not sure, then you can't be sure, right?" "all right. oh, i've been sick with worry." "i'm sorry, gran. i need to get through this week and i'll be free and clear and i'll come back to toronto." "i'm going to come down there to see you. linda told me visitors weren't allowed, is that true?" "no, it's not true." i thought about gran seeing me in the ward amidst the pukers and the screamers and the droolers and the *fondlers* and flinched away from the phone. "but if you're going to come down, come for the hearing at the end of the week. there's nothing you can do here now." "even if i can't help, i just want to come and see you. it was so nice when you were here." "i know, i know. i'll be coming back soon, don't worry." if only gran could see me now, on the infirmary examination table, in four-point restraint. good thing she can't. a doctor looms over me. "how are you feeling, art?" "i've had better days," i say, with what i hope is stark sanity and humor. aren't crazy people incapable of humor? "i went for a walk and the door swung shut behind me." "well, they'll do that," the doctor says. "my name is szandor," he says, and shakes my hand in its restraint. "a pleasure to meet you," i say. "you're a *doctor* doctor, aren't you?" "an md? yup. there're a couple of us around the place." "but you're not a shrink of any description?" "nope. how'd you guess?" "bedside manner. you didn't patronize me." dr. szandor tries to suppress a grin, then gives up. "we all do our bit," he says. "how'd you get up on the roof without setting off your room alarm, anyway?" "if i tell you how i did it, i won't be able to repeat the trick," i say jokingly. he's swabbing down my shins now with something that stings and cools at the same time. from time to time, he takes tweezers in hand and plucks loose some gravel or grit and plinks it into a steel tray on a rolling table by his side. he's so gentle, i hardly feel it. "what, you never heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?" "is that thing still around?" "oh sure! we had a mandatory workshop on it yesterday afternoon. those are always a lot of fun." "so, you're saying that you've got professional expertise in the keeping of secrets, huh? i suppose i could spill it for you, then." and i do, explaining my little hack for tricking the door into thinking that i'd left and returned to the room. "huh -now that you explain it, it's pretty obvious." "that's my job -figuring out the obvious way of doing something." and we fall to talking about my job with v/dt, and the discussion branches into the theory and practice of ue, only slowing a little when he picks the crud out of the scrape down my jaw and tugs through a couple of quick stitches. it occurs to me that he's just keeping me distracted, using a highly evolved skill for placating psychopaths through small talk so that they don't thrash while he's knitting their bodies back together. i decide that i don't care. i get to natter on about a subject that i'm nearly autistically fixated on, and i do it in a context where i know that i'm sane and smart and charming and occasionally mind-blowing. "...and the whole thing pays for itself through ezpass, where we collect the payments for the music downloaded while you're on the road." as i finish my spiel, i realize *i've* been keeping *him* distracted, standing there with the tweezers in one hand and a swab in the other. "wow!" he said. "so, when's this all going to happen?" "you'd use it, huh?" "hell, yeah! i've got a good twenty, thirty thousand on my car right now! you're saying i could plunder anyone else's stereo at will, for free, and keep it, while i'm stuck in traffic, and because i'm a -what'd you call it, a super-peer? -a super-peer, it's all free and legal? damn!" "well, it may be a while before you see it on the east coast. it'll probably roll out in la first, then san francisco, seattle..." "what? why?" "it's a long story," i say. "and it ends with me on the roof of a goddamned nuthouse on route 128 doing a one-man tribute to the three stooges." 20. three days later, art finally realized that something big and ugly was in the offing. fede had repeatedly talked him out of going to perceptronics's offices, offering increasingly flimsy excuses and distracting him by calling the hotel's front desk and sending up surprise massage therapists to interrupt art as he stewed in his juices, throbbing with resentment at having been flown thousands of klicks while injured in order to check into a faceless hotel on a faceless stretch of highway and insert this thumb into his asshole and wait for fede -*who was still in fucking london!* -to sort out the mess so that he could present himself at the perceptronics acton offices and get their guys prepped for the ever-receding meeting with masspike. "jesus, federico, what the fuck am i *doing* here?" "i know, art, i know." art had taken to calling fede at the extreme ends of circadian compatibility, three am and eleven pm and then noon on fede's clock, as a subtle means of making the experience just as unpleasant for fede as it was for art. "i screwed up," fede yawned. "i screwed up and now we're both paying the price. you handled your end beautifully and i dropped mine. and i intend to make it up to you." "i don't *want* more massages, fede. i want to get this shit done and i want to come home and see my girlfriend." fede tittered over the phone. "what's so funny?" "nothing much," fede said. "just sit tight there for a couple minutes, ok? call me back once it happens and tell me what you wanna do, all right?" "once what happens?" "you'll know." it was linda, of course. knocking on art's hotel room door minutes later, throwing her arms -and then her legs -around him, and banging him stupid, half on and half off the hotel room bed. riding him and then being ridden in turns, slurping and wet and energetic until they both lay sprawled on the hotel room's very nice persian rugs, dehydrated and panting and art commed fede, and fede told him it could take a couple weeks to sort things out, and why didn't he and linda rent a car and do some sight-seeing on the east coast? that's exactly what they did. starting in boston, where they cruised cambridge, watching the cute nerdyboys and geekygirls wander the streets, having heated technical debates, lugging half-finished works of technology and art through the sopping summertime, a riot of townie accents and highbrow engineerspeak. then a week in new york, where they walked until they thought their feet would give out entirely, necks cricked at a permanent, upward-staring angle to gawp at the topless towers of manhattan. the sound the sound the sound of manhattan rang in their ears, a gray and deep rumble of cars and footfalls and subways and steampipes and sirens and music and conversation and ring tones and hucksters and schizophrenic ranters, a veritable las vegas of cacophony, and it made linda uncomfortable, she who was raised in the white noise susurrations of la's freeway forests, but it made art feel *wonderful*. he kept his comm switched off, though the underfoot rumble of the subway had him reaching for it a hundred times a day, convinced that he'd left it on in vibe-alert mode. they took a milk-run train to toronto, chuffing through sleepy upstate new york towns, past lakes and rolling countryside in full summer glory. art and linda drank ginger beer in the observation car, spiking it with rum from a flask that linda carried in a garter that she wore for the express purpose of being able to reach naughtily up her little sundress and produce a bottle of body-temperature liquor in a nickel-plated vessel whose shiny sides were dulled by the soft oil of her thigh. canada customs and immigration separated them at the border, sending art for a full inspection -a privilege of being a canadian citizen and hence perennially under suspicion of smuggling goods from the tax havens of the us into the country -and leaving linda in their little pullman cabin. when art popped free of the bureaucracy, his life thoroughly peered into, he found linda standing on the platform, leaning against a pillar, back arched, one foot flat against the bricks, corresponding dimpled knee exposed to the restless winds of the trainyard. from art's point of view, she was a gleaming vision skewered on a beam of late day sunlight that made her hair gleam like licorice. her long and lazy jaw caught and lost the sun as she talked animatedly down her comm, and art was struck with a sudden need to sneak up behind her and run his tongue down the line that began with the knob of her mandible under her ear and ran down to the tiny half-dimple in her chin, to skate it on the soft pouch of flesh under her chin, to end with a tasting of her soft lips. thought became deed. he crept up on her, smelling her new-car hair products on the breeze that wafted back from her, and was about to begin his tonguing when she barked, "fuck *off*! stop calling me!" and closed her comm and stormed off trainwards, leaving art standing on the opposite side of the pillar with a thoroughly wilted romantic urge. more carefully, he followed her into the train, back to their little cabin, and reached for the palm-pad to open the door when he heard her agitated comm voice. "no, goddamnit, no. not yet. keep calling me and not *ever*, do you understand?" art opened the door. linda was composed and neat and sweet in her plush seat, shoulders back, smile winning. "hey honey, did the bad customs man finally let you go?" "he did! that sounded like a doozy of a phone conversation, though. what's wrong?" "you don't want to know," she said. "all right," art said, sitting down opposite her, knee-to-knee, bending forward to plant a kiss on the top of her exposed thigh. "i don't." "good." he continued to kiss his way up her thigh. "only..." "yes?" "i think i probably do. curiosity is one of my worst failings of character." "really?" "quite so," he said. he'd slid her sundress right up to the waistband of her cotton drawers, and now he worried one of the pubic hairs that poked out from the elastic with his teeth. she shrieked and pushed him away. "someone will see!" she said. "this is a border crossing, not a bordello!" he sat back, but inserted a finger in the elastic before linda straightened out her dress, so that his fingertip rested in the crease at the top of her groin. "you are *naughty*," she said. "and curious," art agreed, giving his fingertip a playful wiggle. "i give up. that was my fucking ex," she said. "that is how i will refer to him henceforth. 'my fucking ex.' my fucking, pain-in-the-ass, touchy-feely ex. my fucking ex, who wants to have the talk, even though it's been months and months. he's figured out that i'm stateside from my calling times, and he's offering to come out to meet me and really work things out, once and for all." "oh, my," art said. "that boy's got too much la in him for his own good. there's no problem that can't be resolved through sufficient dialog." "we never really talked about him," art said. "nope, we sure didn't." "did you want to talk about him now, linda?" "'did you want to talk about him now, linda?' why yes, art, i would. how perceptive of you." she pushed his hand away and crossed her arms and legs simultaneously. "wait, i'm confused," art said. "does that mean you want to talk about him, or that you don't?" "fine, we'll talk about him. what do you want to know about my fucking ex?" art resisted a terrible urge to fan her fires, to return the vitriol that dripped from her voice. "look, you don't want to talk about him, we won't talk about him," he managed. "no, let's talk about my fucking ex, by all means." she adopted a singsong tone and started ticking off points on her fingers. "his name is toby, he's half-japanese, half-white. he's about your height. your dick is bigger, but he's better in bed. he's a user-experience designer at lucas-sgi, in studio city. he never fucking shuts up about what's wrong with this or that. we dated for two years, lived together for one year, and broke up just before you and i met. i broke it off with him: he was making me goddamned crazy and he wanted me to come back from london and live with him. i wanted to stay out the year in england and go back to my own apartment and possibly a different boyfriend, and he made me choose, so i chose. is that enough of a briefing for you, arthur?" "that was fine," art said. linda's face had gone rabid purple, madly pinched, spittle flecking off of her lips as she spat out the words. "thank you." she took his hands and kissed the knuckles of his thumbs. "look, i don't like to talk about it -it's painful. i'm sorry he's ruining our holiday. i just won't take his calls anymore, how about that?" "i don't care, linda, honestly, i don't give a rat's ass if you want to chat with your ex. i just saw how upset you were and i thought it might help if you could talk it over with me." "i know, baby, i know. but i just need to work some things out all on my own. maybe i will take a quick trip out west and talk things over with him. you could come if you want -there are some wicked bars in west hollywood." "that's ok," art said, whipsawed by linda's incomprehensible mood shifts. "but if you need to go, go. i've got plenty of old pals to hang out with in toronto." "you're so understanding," she cooed. "tell me about your grandmother again -you're sure she'll like me?" "she'll love you. she loves anything that's female, of childbearing years, and in my company. she has great and unrealistic hopes of great-grandchildren." "cluck." "cluck?" "just practicing my brood-hen." 21. doc szandor's a good egg. he's keeping the shrinks at bay, spending more time with me than is strictly necessary. i hope he isn't neglecting his patients, but it's been so long since i had a normal conversation, i just can't bear to give it up. besides, i get the impression that szandor's in a similar pit of bad conversation with psychopaths and psychotherapists and is relieved to have a bit of a natter with someone who isn't either having hallucinations or attempting to prevent them in others. "how the hell do you become a user-experience guy?" "sheer orneriness," i say, grinning. "i was just in the right place at the right time. i had a pal in new york who was working for a biotech company that had made this artificial erectile tissue." "erectile tissue?" "yeah. synthetic turtle penis. small and pliable and capable of going large and rigid very quickly." "sounds delightful." "oh, it was actually pretty cool. you know the joke about the circumcisionist's wallet made from foreskins?" "sure, i heard it premed -he rubs it and it becomes a suitcase, right?" "that's the one. so these guys were thinking about making drawbridges, temporary shelters, that kind of thing out of it. they even had a cute name for it: 'ardorite.'" "ho ho ho." "yeah. so they weren't shipping a whole lot of product, to put it mildly. then i spent a couple of weeks in manhattan housesitting for my friend while he was visiting his folks in wisconsin for thanksgiving. he had a ton of this stuff lying around his apartment, and i would come back after walking the soles off my shoes and sit in front of the tube playing with it. i took some of it down to madison square park and played with it there. i liked to hang out there because it was always full of these very cute icelandic *au pairs* and their tots, and i was a respectable enough young man with about 200 words of icelandic i'd learned from a friend's mom in high school and they thought i was adorable and i thought they were blond goddesses. i'd gotten to be friends with one named marta, oh, marta. bookmark marta, szandor, and i'll come back to her once we're better acquainted. "anyway, marta was in charge of machinery and avarice, the spoiled monsterkinder of a couple of bbd&o senior managers who'd vaulted from art school to vpdom in one year when most of the gray eminences got power-thraxed. machinery was three and liked to bang things against other things arythmically while hollering atonally. avarice was five, not toilet trained, and prone to tripping. i'd get marta novelty coffee from the stinkbucks on twenty-third and we'd drink it together while machinery and avarice engaged in terrible, life-threatening play with the other kids in the park. "i showed marta what i had, though i was tactful enough not to call it *synthetic turtle penis*, because while marta was earthy, she wasn't *that* earthy and, truth be told, it got me kinda hot to watch her long, pale blue fingers fondling the soft tissue, then triggering the circuit that hardened it. "then machinery comes over and snatches the thing away from marta and starts pounding on avarice, taking unholy glee in the way the stuff alternately softened and stiffened as he squeezed it. avarice wrestled it away from him and tore off for a knot of kids and by the time i got there they were all crowded around her, spellbound. i caught a cab back to my buddy's apartment and grabbed all the ardorite i could lay hands on and brought it back to the park and spent the next couple hours running an impromptu focus group, watching the kids and their bombshell nannies play with it. by the time that marta touched my hand with her long cool fingers and told me it was time for her to get the kids home for their nap, i had twenty-five toy ideas, about eight different ways to use the stuff for clothing fasteners, and a couple of miscellaneous utility uses, like a portable crib. "so i ran it down for my pal that afternoon over the phone, and he commed his boss and i ended up eating thanksgiving dinner at his boss's house in westchester." "weren't you worried he'd rip off your ideas and not pay you anything for them?" szandor's spellbound by the story, unconsciously unrolling and re-rolling an ace bandage. "didn't even cross my mind. of course, he tried to do just that, but it wasn't any good -they were engineers; they had no idea how normal human beings interact with their environments. the stuff wasn't self-revealing -they added a million cool features and a manual an inch thick. after prototyping for six months, they called me in and offered me a two-percent royalty on any products i designed for them." "that musta been worth a fortune," says szandor. "you'd think so, wouldn't you? actually, they folded before they shipped anything. blew through all their capital on r&d, didn't have anything left to productize their tech with. but my buddy *did* get another gig with a company that was working on new kitchen stuff made from one-way osmotic materials and he showed them the stuff i'd done with the ardorite and all of a sudden i had a no-fooling career." "damn, that's cool." "you betcha. it's all about being an advocate for the user. i observe what users do and how they do it, figure out what they're trying to do, and then boss the engineers around, getting them to remove the barriers they've erected because engineers are all basically high-functioning autistics who have no idea how normal people do stuff." the doctor chuckles. "look," he says, producing a nicotine pacifier, one of those fake cigs that gives you the oral fix and the chemical fix and the habit fix without the noxious smoke, "it's not my area of specialty, but you seem like a basically sane individual, modulo your rooftop adventures. certainly, you're not like most of the people we've got here. what are you doing here?" doctor szandor is young, younger even than me, i realize. maybe twenty-six. i can see some fancy tattoo-work poking out of the collar of his shirt, see some telltale remnant of a fashionable haircut in his grown-out shag. he's got to be the youngest staff member i've met here, and he's got a fundamentally different affect from the zombies in the lab coats who maintain the zombies in the felt slippers. so i tell him my story, the highlights, anyway. the more i tell him about linda and fede, the dumber my own actions sound to me. "why the hell did you stick with this linda anyway?" szandor says, sucking on his pacifier. "the usual reasons, i guess," i say, squirming. "lemme tell you something," he says. he's got his feet up on the table now, hands laced behind his neck. "it's the smartest thing my dad ever said to me, just as my high-school girl and me were breaking up before i went away to med school. she was nice enough, but, you know, *unstable.* i'd gotten to the point where i ducked and ran for cover every time she disagreed with me, ready for her to lose her shit. "so my dad took me aside, put his arm around me, and said, 'szandor, you know i like that girlfriend of yours, but she is crazy. not a little crazy, really crazy. maybe she won't be crazy forever, but if she gets better, it won't be because of you. trust me, i know this. you can't fuck a crazy girl sane, son.'" i can't help smiling. "truer words," i say. "but harsh." "harsh is relative," he says. "contrast it with, say, getting someone committed on trumped-up evidence." it dawns on me that doc szandor believes me. "it dawns on me that you believe me." he gnaws fitfully at his pacifier. "well, why not? you're not any crazier than i am, that much is clear to me. you have neat ideas. your story's plausible enough." i get excited. "is this your *professional* opinion?" "sorry, no. i am not a mental health professional, so i don't have professional opinions on your mental health. it is, however, my amateur opinion." "oh, well." "so where are you at now, vis-a-vis the hospital?" "well, they don't tell me much, but as near as i can make out, i am stuck here semipermanently. the court found me incompetent and ordered me held until i was. i can't get anyone to explain what competency consists of, or how i achieve it -when i try, i get accused of being 'difficult.' of course, escaping onto the roof is a little beyond difficult. i have a feeling i'm going to be in pretty deep shit. do they know about the car?" "the car?" "in the parking lot. the one that blew up." doc szandor laughs hard enough that his pacifier shoots across the room and lands in a hazmat bucket. "you son of a bitch -that was you?" "yeah," i say, and drum my feet against the tin cupboards under the examination table. "that was *my fucking car*!" "oh, christ, i'm sorry," i say. "god." "no no no," he says, fishing in his pocket and unwrapping a fresh pacifier. "it's ok. insurance. i'm getting a bike. vroom, vroom! what a coincidence, though," he says. coincidence. he's making disgusting hamster-cage noises, grinding away at his pacifier. "szandor, do you sometimes sneak out onto the landing to have a cigarette? use a bit of tinfoil for your ashtray? prop the door open behind you?" "why do you ask?" "'cause that's how i got out onto the roof." "oh, shit," he says. "it's our secret," i say. "i can tell them i don't know how i got out. i'm incompetent, remember?" "you're a good egg, art," he says. "how the hell are we going to get you out of here?" "hey what?" "no, really. there's no good reason for you to be here, right? you're occupying valuable bed space." "well, i appreciate the sentiment, but i have a feeling that as soon as you turn me loose, i'm gonna be doped up to the tits for a good long while." he grimaces. "right, right. they like their meds. are your parents alive?" "what? no, they're both dead." "aha. died suddenly?" "yeah. dad drowned, mom fell --" "ah ah ah! shhh. mom died suddenly. she was taking haldol when it happened, a low antianxiety dose, right?" "huh?" "probably she was. probably she had a terrible drug interaction. sudden death syndrome. it's hereditary. and you say she fell? seizure. we'll sign you up for a pet scan, that'll take at least a month to set up. you could be an epileptic and not even know it. shaking the radioisotopes loose for the scan from the aec, woah, that's a week's worth of paperwork right there! no thorazine for you young man, not until we're absolutely sure it won't kill you dead where you stand. the hospital counsel gave us all a very stern lecture on this very subject not a month ago. i'll just make some notes in your medical history." he picked up his comm and scribbled. "never woulda thought of that," i say. "i'm impressed." "it's something i've been playing with for a while now. i think that psychiatric care is a good thing, of course, but it could be better implemented. taking away prescription pads would be a good start." "or you could keep public stats on which doctors had prescribed how much of what and how often. put 'em on a chart in the ward where the patients' families could see 'em." "that's *nasty*!" he says. "i love it. we're supposed to be accountable, right? what else?" "give the patients a good reason to wear their tracking bracelets: redesign them so they gather stats on mobility and vitals and track them against your meds and other therapies. create a dating service that automatically links patients who respond similarly to therapies so they can compare notes. ooh, by comparing with location data from other trackers, you could get stats on which therapies make people more sociable, just by counting the frequency with which patients stop and spend time in proximity to other patients. it'd give you empirical data with which you track your own progress." "this is great stuff. damn! how do you do that?" i feel a familiar swelling of pride. i like it when people understand how good i am at my job. working at v/dt was hard on my ego: after all, my job there was to do a perfectly rotten job, to design the worst user experiences that plausibility would allow. god, did i really do that for two whole goddamned years? "it's my job," i say, and give a modest shrug. "what do you charge for work like that?" "why, are you in the market?" "who knows? maybe after i figure out how to spring you, we can go into biz together, redesigning nuthatches." 22. linda's first meeting with art's gran went off without a hitch. gran met them at union station with an obsolete red cap who was as ancient as she was, a vestige of a more genteel era of train travel and bulky luggage. just seeing him made art's brain whir with plans for conveyor systems, luggage escalators, cart dispensers. they barely had enough luggage between the two of them to make it worth the old man's time, but he dutifully marked their bags with a stub of chalk and hauled them onto his cart, then trundled off to the service elevators. gran gave art a long and teary hug. she was less frail than she'd been in his memory, taller and sturdier. the smell of her powder and the familiar acoustics of union station's cavernous platform whirled him back to his childhood in toronto, to the homey time before he'd gotten on the circadian merry-go-round. "gran, this is linda," he said. "oh, it's so *nice* to meet you," gran said, taking linda's hands in hers. "call me julie." linda smiled a great, pretty, toothy smile. "julie, art's told me all about you. i just *know* we'll be great friends." "i'm sure we will. are you hungry? did they feed you on the train? you must be exhausted after such a long trip. which would you rather do first, eat or rest?" "well, *i'm* up for seeing the town," linda said. "your grandson's been yawning his head off since buffalo, though." she put her arm around his waist and squeezed his tummy. "what a fantastic couple you make," gran said. "you didn't tell me she was so *pretty*, arthur!" "here it comes," art said. "she's going to ask about great-grandchildren." "don't be silly," gran said, cuffing him gently upside the head. "you're always exaggerating." "well *i* think it's a splendid idea," linda said. "shall we have two? three? four?" "make it ten," art said, kissing her cheek. "oh, i couldn't have ten," linda said. "but five is a nice compromise. five it will be. we'll name the first one julie if it's a girl, or julius if it's a boy." "oh, we *are* going to get along," gran said, and led them up to the curb, where the red cap had loaded their bags into a cab. they ate dinner at lindy's on yonge street, right in the middle of the sleaze strip. the steakhouse had been there for the better part of a century, and its cracked red-vinyl booths and thick rib eyes smothered in horseradish and hp sauce were just as art had remembered. riding up yonge street, the city lights had seemed charming and understated; even the porn marquees felt restrained after a week in new york. art ate a steak as big as his head and fell into a postprandial torpor whence he emerged only briefly to essay a satisfied belch. meanwhile, gran and linda nattered away like old friends, making plans for the week: the zoo, the island, a day trip to niagara falls, a ride up the cn tower, all the touristy stuff that art had last done in elementary school. by the time art lay down in his bed, belly tight with undigested steak, he was feeling wonderful and at peace with the world. linda climbed in beside him, wrestled away a pillow and some covers, and snuggled up to him. "that went well," art said. "i'm really glad you two hit it off." "me too, honey," linda said, kissing his shoulder through his tee shirt. he'd been able to get his head around the idea of sharing a bed with his girlfriend under his grandmother's roof, but doing so nude seemed somehow wrong. "we're going to have a great week," he said. "i wish it would never end." "yeah," she said, and began to snore into his neck. the next morning, art woke stiff and serene. he stretched out on the bed, dimly noted linda's absence, and padded to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. he thought about crawling back into bed, was on the verge of doing so, when he heard the familiar, nervewracking harangue of linda arguing down her comm. he opened the door to his old bedroom and there she was, stark naked and beautiful in the morning sun, comm in hand, eyes focused in the middle distance, shouting. "no, goddamnit, no! not here. jesus, are you a moron? i said *no*!" art reached out to touch her back, noticed that it was trembling, visibly tense and rigid, and pulled his hand back. instead, he quietly set about fishing in his small bag for a change of clothes. "this is *not* a good time. i'm at art's grandmother's place, all right? i'll talk to you later." she threw her comm at the bed and whirled around. "everything all right?" art said timidly. "no, goddamnit, no it isn't." art pulled on his pants and kept his eyes on her comm, which was dented and scratched from a hundred thousand angry hang ups. he hated it when she got like this, radiating anger and spoiling for a fight. "i'm going to have to go, i think," she said. "go?" "to california. that was my fucking ex again. i need to go and sort things out with him." "your ex knows who i am?" she looked blank. "you told him you were at my grandmother's place. he knows who i am?" "yeah," she said. "he does. i told him, so he'd get off my back." "and you have to go to california?" "today. i have to go to california today." "jesus, today? we just got here!" "look, you've got lots of catching up to do with your gran and your friends here. you won't even miss me. i'll go for a couple days and then come back." "if you gotta go," he said. "i gotta go." he explained things as best as he could to gran while linda repacked her backpack, and then saw linda off in a taxi. she was already savaging her comm, booking a ticket to la. he called fede from the condo's driveway. "hey, art! how's toronto?" "how'd you know i was in toronto?" art said, but he knew, he *knew* then, though he couldn't explain how he knew, he knew that linda and fede had been talking. he *knew* that linda had been talking to fede that morning, and not her fucking ex (god, he was thinking of the poor schmuck that way already, "fucking ex"). christ, it was *five in the morning* on the west coast. it couldn't be the ex. he just knew. "lucky guess," fede said breezily. "how is it?" "oh, terrific. great to see the old hometown and all. how're things with perceptronics? when should i plan on being back in boston?" "oh, it's going all right, but slow. hurry up and wait, right? look, don't worry about it, just relax there, i'll call you when the deal's ready and you'll go back to boston and we'll sort it out and it'll all be fantastic and don't worry, really, all right?" "fine, fede." art wasn't listening any more. fede had gone into bullshit mode, and all art was thinking of was why linda would talk to fede and then book a flight to la. "how're things in london?" he said automatically. "fine, fine," fede said, just as automatically. "not the same without you, of course." "of course," art said. "well, bye then." "bye," fede said. art felt an unsuspected cunning stirring within him. he commed linda, in her cab. "hey, dude," he said. "hey," she said, sounding harassed. "look, i just spoke to my gran and she's really upset you had to go. she really liked you." "well, i liked her, too." "great. here's the thing," he said, and drew in a breath. "gran made you a sweater. she made me one, too. she's a knitter. she wanted me to send it along after you. it looks pretty good. so, if you give me your ex's address, i can fedex it there and you can get it." there was a lengthy pause. "why don't i just pick it up when i see you again?" linda said, finally. *gotcha*, art thought. "well, i know that'd be the *sensible* thing, but my gran, i dunno, she really wants me to do this. it'd make her so happy." "i dunno -my ex might cut it up or something." "oh, i'm sure he wouldn't do that. i could just schedule the delivery for after you arrive, that way you can sign for it. what do you think?" "i really don't think --" "come on, linda, i know it's nuts, but it's my gran. she *really* likes you." linda sighed. "let me comm you the address, ok?" "thanks, linda," art said, watching the address in van nuys scroll onto his comm's screen. "thanks a bunch. have a great trip -don't let your ex get you down." now, armed with linda's fucking ex's name, art went to work. he told gran he had some administrative chores to catch up on for an hour or two, promised to have supper with her and father ferlenghetti that night, and went out onto the condo's sundeck with his keyboard velcroed to his thigh. trepan: hey! colonelonic: trepan! hey, what's up? i hear you're back on the east coast! trepan: true enough. back in toronto. how's things with you? colonelonic: same as ever. trying to quit the dayjob. trepan: /private colonelonic are you still working at merril-lynch? ## colonelonic (private): yeah. trepan: /private colonelonic still got access to lexus-nexus? ## colonelonic (private): sure -but they're on our asses about abusing the accounts. every search is logged and has to be accounted for. trepan: /private colonelonic can you get me background on just one guy? ## colonelonic (private): who is he? why? trepan: /private colonelonic it's stupid. i think that someone i know is about to go into biz with him, and i don't trust him. i'm probably just being paranoid, but... ## colonelonic (private): i don't know, man. is it really important? trepan: /private colonelonic oh, crap, look. it's my girlfriend. i think she's screwing this guy. i just wanna get an idea of who he is, what he does, you know. ## colonelonic (private): heh. that sucks. ok -check back in a couple hours. there's a guy across the hall who never logs out of his box when he goes to lunch. i'll sneak in there and look it up on his machine. trepan: /private colonelonic kick ass. thanks. ##transferring addressbook entry "toby ginsburg" to colonelonic. receipt confirmed. trepan: /private colonelonic thanks again! ## colonelonic (private): check in with me later -i'll have something for you then. art logged off, flushed with triumph. whatever fede and linda were cooking up, he'd get wise to it and then he'd nail 'em. what the hell was it, though? 23. my cousins visited me a week after i arrived at the nuthouse. i'd never been very close to them, and certainly our relationship had hardly blossomed during the week i spent in toronto, trying to track down linda and fede's plot. i have two cousins. they're my father's sister's kids, and i didn't even meet them until i was about twenty and tracking down my family history. they're ottawa valley kids, raised on government-town pork, aging hippie muesli, and country-style corn pone. it's a weird mix, and we've never had a conversation that i would consider a success. ever met a violent, aggressive hippie with an intimate knowledge of whose genitals one must masticate in order to get a building permit or to make a pot bust vanish? it ain't pretty. cousin the first is audie. she's a year older than me, and she's the smart one on that side of the family, the one who ended up at queen's university for a bs in electrical engineering and an ma in poli sci, and even so finished up back in ottawa, freelancing advice to clueless mps dealing with taiwanese and sierra leonese oem importers. audie's married to a nice fella whose name i can never remember and they're gonna have kids in five years; it's on a timetable that she actually showed me once when i went out there on biz and stopped in to see her at the office. cousin the second is alphie -three years younger than me, raised in the shadow of his overachieving sister, he was the capo of ottawa valley script kiddies, a low-rent hacker who downloaded other people's code for defeating copyright use-control systems and made a little biz for himself bootlegging games, porn, music and video, until the wipo bots found him through traffic analysis and busted his ass, bankrupting him and landing him in the clink for sixty days. audie and alfie are blond and ruddy and a little heavyset, all characteristics they got from their father's side, so add that to the fact that i grew up without being aware of their existence and you'll understand the absence of any real fellow-feeling for them. i don't dislike them, but i have so little in common with them that it's like hanging out with time travelers from the least-interesting historical era imaginable. but they came to boston and looked me up in the nuthatch. they found me sitting on the sofa in the ward, post-group, arms and ankles crossed, dozing in a shaft of sunlight. it was my habitual napping spot, and i found that a nap between group and dinner was a good way to sharpen my appetite and anasthetize my taste buds, which made the mealtime slop bearable. audie shook my shoulder gently. i assumed at first that she was one of the inmates trying to get me involved in a game of martian narco-checkers, so i brushed her hand away. "they've probably got him all doped up," audie said. the voice was familiar and unplaceable and so i cracked my eyelid, squinting up at her silhouette in the afternoon sun. "there he is," she said. "come on, up and at 'em, tiger." i sat up abruptly and scrubbed at my eyes. "audie?" i asked. "yup. and alphie." alphie's pink face hove into view. "hi, art," he mumbled. "jesus," i said, getting to my feet. audie put out a superfluous steadying hand. "wow." "surprised?" audie said. "yeah!" i said. audie thrust a bouquet of flowers into my arms. "what are you doing here?" "oh, your grandmother told me you were here. i was coming down to boston for work anyway, so i flew in a day early so i could drop in. alphie came down with me -he's my assistant now." i almost said something about convicted felons working for government contractors, but i held onto my tongue. consequently, an awkward silence blossomed. "well," audie said, at last. "well! let's have a look at you, then." she actually took a lap around me, looking me up and down, making little noises. "you look all right, art. maybe a little skinny, even. alphie's got a box of cookies for you." alphie stepped forward and produced the box, a family pack of president's choice ridiculous chocoholic extra chewies, a canadian store brand i'd been raised on. within seconds of seeing them, my mouth was sloshing with saliva. "it's good to see you, audie, alphie." i managed to say it without spitting, an impressive feat, given the amount of saliva i was contending with. "thanks for the care package." we stared at each other blankly. "so, art," alphie said, "so! how do you like it here?" "well, alphie," i said. "i can't say as i do, really. as far as i can tell, i'm sane as i've ever been. it's just a bunch of unfortunate coincidences and bad judgment that got me here." i refrain from mentioning alphie's propensity for lapses in judgment. "wow," alphie said. "that's a bummer. we should do something, you know, audie?" "not really my area of expertise," audie said in clipped tones. "i would if i could, you know that, right art? we're family, after all." "oh, sure," i say magnanimously. but now that i'm looking at them, my cousins who got into a thousand times more trouble than i ever did, driving drunk, pirating software, growing naughty smokables in the backyard, and got away from it unscathed, i feel a stirring of desperate hope. "only..." "only what?" alphie said. "only, maybe, audie, do you think you could, that is, if you've got the time, do you think you could have a little look around and see if any of your contacts could maybe set me up with a decent lawyer who might be able to get my case reheard? or a shrink, for that matter? something? 'cause frankly it doesn't really seem like they're going to let me go, ever. ever." audie squirmed and glared at her brother. "i don't really know anyone that fits the bill," she said at last. "well, not *firsthand,* sure, why would you? you wouldn't." i thought that i was starting to babble, but i couldn't help myself. "you wouldn't. but maybe there's someone that someone you know knows who can do something about it? i mean, it can't hurt to ask around, can it?" "i suppose it can't," she said. "wow," i said, "that would just be fantastic, you know. thanks in advance, audie, really, i mean it, just for trying, i can't thank you enough. this place, well, it really sucks." there it was, hanging out, my desperate and pathetic plea for help. really, there was nowhere to go but down from there. still, the silence stretched and snapped and i said, "hey, speaking of, can i offer you guys a tour of the ward? i mean, it's not much, but it's home." so i showed them: the droolers and the fondlers and the pukers and my horrible little room and the scarred ping-pong table and the sticky decks of cards and the meshed-in tv. alphie actually seemed to dig it, in a kind of horrified way. he started comparing it to the new kingston pen, where he'd done his six-month bit. after seeing the first puker, audie went quiet and thin-lipped, leaving nothing but alphie's enthusiastic gurgling as counterpoint to my tour. "art," audie said finally, desperately, "do you think they'd let us take you out for a cup of coffee or a walk around the grounds?" i asked. the nurse looked at a comm for a while, then shook her head. "nope," i reported. "they need a day's notice of off-ward supervised excursions." "well, too bad," audie said. i understood her strategy immediately. "too bad. nothing for it, then. guess we should get back to our hotel." i planted a dry kiss on her cheek, shook alphie's sweaty hand, and they were gone. i skipped supper that night and ate cookies until i couldn't eat another bite of rich chocolate. # "got a comm?" i ask doc szandor, casually. "what for?" "wanna get some of this down. the ideas for the hospital. before i go back out on the ward." and it *is* what i want to do, mostly. but the temptation to just log on and do my thing -oh! "sure," he says, checking his watch. "i can probably stall them for a couple hours more. feel free to make a call or whatever, too." doc szandor's a good egg. 24. father ferlenghetti showed up at art's gran's at 7pm, just as the sun began to set over the lake, and art and he shared lemonade on gran's sunporch and watched as the waves on lake ontario turned harshly golden. "so, arthur, tell me, what are you doing with your life?" the father said. he had grown exquisitely aged, almost translucent, since art had seen him last. in his dog collar and old-fashioned aviator's shades, he looked like a waxworks figure. art had forgotten all about the father's visit until gran stepped out of her superheated kitchen to remind him. he'd hastily showered and changed into fresh slacks and a mostly clean tee shirt, and had agreed to entertain the priest while his gran finished cooking supper. now, he wished he'd signed up to do the cooking. "i'm working in london," he said. "the same work as ever, but for an english firm." "that's what your grandmother tells me. but is it making you happy? is it what you plan to do with the rest of your life?" "i guess so," art said. "sure." "you don't sound so sure," father ferlenghetti said. "well, the *work* part's excellent. the politics are pretty ugly, though, to tell the truth." "ah. well, we can't avoid politics, can we?" "no, i guess we can't." "art, i've always known that you were a very smart young man, but being smart isn't the same as being happy. if you're very lucky, you'll get to be my age and you'll look back on your life and be glad you lived it." gran called him in for dinner before he could think of a reply. he settled down at the table and gran handed him a pen. "what's this for?" he asked. "sign the tablecloth," she said. "write a little something and sign it and date it, nice and clear, please." "sign the tablecloth?" "yes. i've just started a fresh one. i have everyone sign my tablecloth and then i embroider the signatures in, so i have a record of everyone who's been here for supper. they'll make a nice heirloom for your children -i'll show you the old ones after we eat." "what should i write?" "it's up to you." while gran and the father looked on, art uncapped the felt-tip pen and thought and thought, his mind blank. finally, he wrote, "for my gran. no matter where i am, i know you're thinking of me." he signed it with a flourish. "lovely. let's eat now." art meant to log in and see if colonelonic had dredged up any intel on linda's ex, but he found himself trapped on the sunporch with gran and the father and a small stack of linen tablecloths hairy with embroidered wishes. he traced their braille with his fingertips, recognizing the names of his childhood. gran and the father talked late into the night, and the next thing art knew, gran was shaking him awake. he was draped in a tablecloth that he'd pulled over himself like a blanket, and she folded it and put it away while he ungummed his eyes and staggered off to bed. audie called him early the next morning, waking him up. "hey, art! it's your cousin!" "audie?" "you don't have any other female cousins, so yes, that's a good guess. your gran told me you were in canada for a change." "yup, i am. just for a little holiday." "well, it's been long enough. what do you do in london again?" "i'm a consultant for virgin/deutsche telekom." he has this part of the conversation every time he speaks with audie. somehow, the particulars of his job just couldn't seem to stick in her mind. "what kind of consultant?" "user experience. i help design their interactive stuff. how's ottawa?" "they pay you for that, huh? well, nice work if you can get it." art believed that audie was being sincere in her amazement at his niche in the working world, and not sneering at all. still, he had to keep himself from saying something snide about the lack of tangible good resulting from keeping mps up to date on the poleconomy of semiconductor production in pacrim sweatshops. "they sure do. how's ottawa?" "amazing. and why london? can't you find work at home?" "yeah, i suppose i could. this just seemed like a good job at the time. how's ottawa? "seemed, huh? you going to be moving back, then? quitting?" "not anytime soon. how's ottawa?" "ottawa? it's beautiful this time of year. alphie and enoch and i were going to go to the trailer for the weekend, in calabogie. you could drive up and meet us. swim, hike. we've built a sweatlodge near the dock; you and alphie could bake up together." "wow," art said, wishing he had audie's gift for changing the subject. "sounds great. but. well, you know. gotta catch up with friends here in toronto. it's been a while, you know. well." the image of sharing a smoke-filled dome with alphie's naked, cross-legged, sweat-slimed paunch had seared itself across his waking mind. "no? geez. too bad. i'd really hoped that we could reconnect, you and me and alphie. we really should spend some more time together, keep connected, you know?" "well," art said. "sure. yes." relations or no, audie and alphie were basically strangers to him, and it was beyond him why audie thought they should be spending time together, but there it was. *reconnect, keep connected.* hippies. "we should. next time i'm in canada, for sure, we'll get together, i'll come to ottawa. maybe christmas. skating on the canal, ok?" "very good," audie said. "i'll pencil you in for christmas week. here, i'll send you the wish lists for alphie and enoch and me, so you'll know what to get." xmas wishlists in july. organized hippies! what planet did his cousins grow up on, anyway? "thanks, audie. i'll put together a wishlist and pass it along to you soon, ok?" his bladder nagged at him. "i gotta run now, all right?" "great. listen, art, it's been, well, great to talk to you again. it really makes me feel whole to connect with you. don't be a stranger, all right?" "yeah, ok! nice to talk to you, too. bye!" "safe travels and wishes fulfilled," audie said. "you too!" 25. now i've got a comm, i hardly know what to do with it. call gran? call audie? call fede? login to an est chat and see who's up to what? how about the jersey clients? there's an idea. give them everything, all the notes i built for fede and his damned patent application, sign over the exclusive rights to the patent for one dollar and services rendered (i.e., getting me a decent lawyer and springing me from this damned hole). my last lawyer was a dickhead. he met me at the courtroom fifteen minutes before the hearing, in a private room whose fixtures had the sticky filthiness of a bus-station toilet. "art, yes, hello, i'm allan mendelson, your attorney. how are you? he was well over 6'6", but weighed no more than 120 lbs and hunched over his skinny ribs while he talked, dry-washing his hands. his suit looked like the kind of thing you'd see on a piccadilly station homeless person, clean enough and well-enough fitting, but with an indefinable air of cheapness and falsehood. "well, not so good," i said. "they upped my meds this morning, so i'm pretty logy. can't concentrate. they said it was to keep me calm while i was transported. dirty trick, huh?" "what?" he'd been browsing through his comm, tapping through what i assumed was my file. "no, no. it's perfectly standard. this isn't a trial, it's a hearing. we're all on the same side, here." he tapped some more. "your side." "good," art said. "my grandmother came down, and she wants to testify on my behalf." "oooh," the fixer said, shaking his head. "no, not a great idea. she's not a mental health professional, is she?" "no," i said. "but she's known me all my life. she knows i'm not a danger to myself or others." "sorry, that's not appropriate. we all love our families, but the court wants to hear from people who have qualified opinions on this subject. your doctors will speak, of course." "do i get to speak?" "if you *really* want to. that's not a very good idea, either, though, i'm afraid. if the judge wants to hear from you, she'll address you. otherwise, your best bet is to sit still, no fidgeting, look as sane and calm as you can." i felt like i had bricks dangling from my limbs and one stuck in my brain. the new meds painted the world with translucent whitewash, stuffed cotton in my ears and made my tongue thick. slowly, my brain absorbed all of this. "you mean that my gran can't talk, i can't talk, and all the court hears is the doctors?" "don't be difficult, art. this is a hearing to determine your competency. a group of talented mental health professionals have observed you for the past week and they've come to some conclusions based on those observations. if everyone who came before the court for a competency hearing brought out a bunch of irrelevant witnesses and made long speeches, the court calendar would be backlogged for decades. then other people who were in for observation wouldn't be able to get their hearings. it wouldn't work for anyone. you see that, right?" "not really. i really think it would be better if i got to testify on my behalf. i have that right, don't i?" he sighed and looked very put-upon. "if you insist, i'll call you to speak. but as your lawyer, it's my professional opinion that you should *not* do this." "i really would prefer to." he snapped his comm shut. "i'll meet you in the courtroom, then. the bailiff will take you in." "can you tell my gran where i am? she's waiting in the court, i think." "sorry. i have other cases to cope with -i can't really play messenger, i'm afraid." when he left the little office, i felt as though i'd been switched off. the drugs weighted my eyelids and soothed my panic and outrage. later, i'd be livid, but right then i could barely keep from folding my arms on the grimy table and resting my head on them. the hearing went so fast i barely even noticed it. i sat with my lawyer and the doctors stood up and entered their reports into evidence -i don't think they read them aloud, even, just squirted them at the court reporter. my gran sat behind me, on a chair that was separated from the court proper by a banister. she had her hand on my shoulder the whole time, and it felt like an anvil there to my dopey muscles. "all right, art," my jackass lawyer said, giving me a prod. "here's your turn. stand up and keep it brief." i struggled to my feet. the judge was an asian woman about my age, a small round head set atop a shapeless robe and perched on a high seat behind a high bench. "your honor," i said. i didn't know what to say next. all my wonderful rhetoric had fled me. the judge looked at me briefly, then went back to tapping her comm. maybe she was playing solitaire or looking at porn. "i asked to have a moment to address the court. my lawyer suggested that i not do this, but i insisted. "here's the thing. there's no way for me to win here. there's a long story about how i got here. basically, i had a disagreement with some of my coworkers who were doing something that i thought was immoral. they decided that it would be best for their plans if i was out of the way for a little while, so that i couldn't screw them up, so they coopered this up, told the london police that i'd gone nuts. "so i ended up in an institution here for observation, on the grounds that i was dangerously paranoid. when the people at the institution asked me about it, i told them what had happened. because i was claiming that the people who had me locked up were conspiring to make me look paranoid, the doctors decided that i *was* paranoid. but tell me, how could i demonstrate my non-paranoia? i mean, as far as i can tell, the second i was put away for observation, i was guaranteed to be found wanting. nothing i could have said or done would have made a difference." the judge looked up from her comm and gave me another once-over. i was wearing my best day clothes, which were my basic london shabby chic white shirt and gray wool slacks and narrow blue tie. it looked natty enough in the uk, but i knew that in the us it made me look like an overaged door-to-door mormon. the judge kept looking at me. *call to action,* i thought. *end your speeches with a call to action*. it was another bit of goofy west coast vulcan mind control, courtesy of linda's fucking ex. "so here's what i wanted to do. i wanted to stand up here and let you know what had happened to me and ask you for advice. if we assume for the moment that i'm *not* crazy, how should i demonstrate that here in the court?" the judge rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder, making glossy black waterfalls of her hair. the whole hearing is very fuzzy for me, but that hair! who ever heard of a civil servant with good hair? "mr. berry," she said, "i'm afraid i don't have much to tell you. it's my responsibility to listen to qualified testimony and make a ruling. you haven't presented any qualified testimony to support your position. in the absence of such testimony, my only option is to remand you into the custody of the department of mental health until such time as a group of qualified professionals see fit to release you." i expected her to bang a gavel, but instead she just scritched at her comm and squirted the order at the court reporter and i was led away. i didn't even have a chance to talk to gran. 26. ##received address book entry "toby ginsburg" from colonelonic. ## colonelonic (private): this guy's up to something. flew to boston twice this week. put a down payment on a house in orange county. _big_ house. _big_ down payment. a car, too: vintage t-bird convertible. a gas burner! bought co2 credits for an entire year to go with it. trepan: /private colonelonic huh. who's he working for? ## colonelonic (private): himself. he federally incorporated last week, something called "tunepay, inc." he's the chairman, but he's only a minority shareholder. the rest of the common shares are held by a dummy corporation in london. couldn't get any details on that without using a forensic accounting package, and that'd get me fired right quick. trepan: /private colonelonic it's ok. i get the picture. i owe you one, all right? ## colonelonic (private): sweat.value==0 are you going to tell me what this is all about someday? not some bullshit about your girlfriend? trepan: /private colonelonic heh. that part was true, actually. i'll tell you the rest, maybe, someday. not today, though. i gotta go to london. art's vision throbbed with his pulse as he jammed his clothes back into his backpack with one hand while he booked a ticket to london on his comm with the other. sweat beaded on his forehead as he ordered the taxi while scribbling a note to gran on the smart-surface of her fridge. he was verging on berserk by the time he hit airport security. the guard played the ultrasound flashlight over him and looked him up and down with his goggles, then had him walk through the chromatograph twice. art tried to breathe calmly, but it wasn't happening. he'd take two deep breaths, think about how he was yup, calming down, pretty good, especially since he was going to london to confront fede about the fact that his friend had screwed him stabbed him in the back using his girlfriend to distract him and meanwhile she was in los angeles sleeping with her fucking ex who was going to steal his idea and sell it as his own that fucking prick boning his girl right then almost certainly laughing about poor old art, dumbfuck stuck in toronto with his thumb up his ass, oh fede was going to pay, that's right, he was -and then he'd be huffing down his nose, hyperventilating, really losing his shit right there. the security guard finally asked him if he needed a doctor. "no," art said. "that's fine. i'm just upset. a friend of mine died suddenly and i'm flying to london for the funeral." the guard seemed satisfied with this explanation and let him pass, finally. he fought the urge to get plastered on the flight and vibrated in his seat instead, jiggling his leg until his seatmate -an elderly businessman who'd spent the flight thus far wrinkling his brow at a series of spreadsheets on his comm -actually put a hand on art's knee and said, "switch off the motor, son. you're gonna burn it out if you idle it that high all the way to gatwick." art nearly leapt out of his seat when the flight attendant wheeled up the duty-free cart, bristling with novelty beakers of fantastically old whiskey shaped like jigging scotchmen and drunken leprechauns swinging from lampposts. by the time he hit uk customs he was supersonic, ready to hammer an entire packet of player's filterless into his face and light them with a blowtorch. it wasn't even 0600h gmt, and the sikh working the booth looked three-quarters asleep under his turban, but he woke right up when art stepped past the red line and slapped both palms on the counter and used them as a lever to support him as he pogoed in place. "your business in england, sir?" "i work for virgin/deutsche telekom. let me beam you my visa." his hands were shaking so badly he dropped his comm to the hard floor with an ominous clatter. he snatched it up and rubbed at the fresh dent in the cover, then flipped it open and stabbed at it with a filthy fingernail. "thank you, sir. door number two, please." art took one step towards the baggage carousel when the words registered. customs search! godfuckingdammit! he jittered in the private interview room until another customs officer showed up, overrode his comm and read in his id and credentials, then stared at them for a long moment. "are you quite all right, sir?" "just a little wound up," art said, trying desperately to sound normal. he thought about telling the dead friend story again, but unlike a lowly airport security drone, the customs man had the ability and inclination to actually verify it. "too much coffee on the plane. need to have a slash like you wouldn't believe." the customs man grimaced slightly, then chewed a corner of his little moustache. "everything else is all right, though?" "everything's fine. back from a business trip to the states and canada, all jetlagged. you know. can you believe the bastards actually expect me at the office today?" this might work. piss and moan about the office until he gets bored and lets him go. "i mean, you work your guts out, fly halfway around the world and do it some more, get strapped into a torture seat -you think virgin springs for business-class tickets for its employees? hell no! -for six hours, then they want you at the goddamned office." "virgin?" the customs man said, eyebrows going up. "but you flew in on ba, sir." shit. of course he hadn't booked a virgin flight. that's what fede'd be expecting him to do, he'd be watching for art to use his employee discount and hop a flight back. "yes, can you believe it?" art thought furiously. "they called me back suddenly, wouldn't even let me wait around for one of their own damned planes. one minute i'm eating breakfast, the next i'm in a taxi heading for the airport. i forgot half of my damned underwear in the hotel room! you'd think they could cope with *one little problem* without crawling up my cock, wouldn't you?" "sir, please, calm down." the customs man looked alarmed and art realized that he'd begun to pace. "sorry, sorry. it just sucks. bad job. time to quit, i think." "i should think so," the customs man said. "welcome to england." traffic was early-morning light and the cabbie drove like a madman. art kept flinching away from the oncoming traffic, already unaccustomed to driving on the wrong side of the road. england seemed filthy and gray and shabby to him now, tiny little cars with tiny, anal-retentive drivers filled with self-loathing, vegetarian meat-substitutes and bad dentistry. in his rooms in camden town, art took a hasty and vengeful census of his stupid belongings, sagging rental furniture and bad art prints hanging askew (not any more, not after he smashed them to the floor). bad english clothes (toss 'em onto the floor, looking for one thing he'd be caught dead wearing in nyc, and guess what, not a single thing). stupid keepsakes from the camden market, funny novelty lighters, retro rave flyers preserved in glassine envelopes. he was about to overturn his ugly little pressboard coffee table when he realized that there was something on it. a small, leather-worked box with a simple brass catch. inside, the axe-head. two hundred thousand years old. heavy with the weight of the ages. he hefted it in his hand. it felt ancient and lethal. he dropped it into his jacket pocket, instantly deforming the jacket into a stroke-y left-hanging slant. he kicked the coffee table over. time to go see fede. 27. i have wished for a comm a hundred thousand times an hour since they stuck me in this shithole, and now that i have one, i don't know who to call. not smart. not happy. i run my fingers over the keypad, think about all the stupid, terrible decisions that i made on the way to this place in my life. i feel like i could burst into tears, like i could tear the hair out of my head, like i could pound my fists bloody on the floor. my fingers, splayed over the keypad, tap out the old nervous rhythms of the phone numbers i've know all my life, my first house, my mom's comm, gran's place. gran. i tap out her number and hit the commit button. i put the phone to my head. "gran?" "arthur?" "oh, gran!" "arthur, i'm so worried about you. i spoke to your cousins yesterday, they tell me you're not doing so good there." "no, no i'm not." the stitches in my jaw throb in counterpoint with my back. "i tried to explain it all to father ferlenghetti, but i didn't have the details right. he said it didn't make any sense." "it doesn't. they don't care. they've just put me here." "he said that they should have let you put your own experts up when you had your hearing." "well, of *course* they should have." "no, he said that they *had* to, that it was the law in massachusetts. he used to live there, you know." "i didn't know." "oh yes, he had a congregation in newton. that was before he moved to toronto. he seemed very sure of it." "why was he living in newton?" "oh, he moved there after university. he's a harvard man, you know." "i think you've got that wrong. harvard doesn't have a divinity school." "no, this was *after* divinity school. he was doing a psychiatry degree at harvard." oh, my. "oh, my." "what is it, arthur?" "do you have father ferlenghetti's number, gran?" 28. tonaishah's kubrick-figure facepaint distorted into wild grimaces when art banged into o'malley house, raccoon-eyed with sleepdep, airline crud crusted at the corners of his lips, whole person quivering with righteous smitefulness. he commed the door savagely and yanked it so hard that the gas-lift snapped with a popping sound like a metal ruler being whacked on a desk. the door caromed back into his heel and nearly sent him sprawling, but he converted its momentum into a jog through the halls to his miniature office -the last three times he'd spoken to fede, the bastard had been working out of his office -stealing his papers, no doubt, though that hadn't occurred to art until his plane was somewhere over ireland. fede was halfway out of art's chair when art bounded into the office. fede's face was gratifyingly pale, his eyes thoroughly wide and scared. art didn't bother to slow down, just slammed into fede, bashing foreheads with him. art smelled a puff of his own travel sweat and fede's spicy lilac vegetal, saw blood welling from fede's eyebrow. "hi, pal!" he said, kicking the door shut with a crash that resounded through the paper-thin walls. "art! jesus fucking christ, what the hell is wrong with you?" fede backed away to the far corner of the office, sending art's chair over backwards, wheels spinning, ergonomic adjustment knobs and rods sticking up in the air like the legs of an overturned beetle. "tunepay, inc.?" art said, booting the chair into fede's shins. "is that the best fucking name you could come up with? or did toby and linda cook it up?" fede held his hands out, palms first. "what are you talking about, buddy? what's wrong with you?" art shook his head slowly. "come on, fede, it's time to stop blowing smoke up my cock." "i honestly have no idea --" "*bullshit!*" art bellowed, closing up with fede, getting close enough to see the flecks of spittle flying off his lips spatter fede's face. "i've had enough bullshit, fede!" abruptly, fede lurched forward, sweeping art's feet out from underneath him and landing on art's chest seconds after art slammed to the scratched and splintered hardwood floor. he pinned art's arms under his knees, then leaned forward and crushed art's windpipe with his forearm, bearing down. "you dumb sack of shit," he hissed. "we were going to cut you in, after it was done. we knew you wouldn't go for it, but we were still going to cut you in -you think that was your little whore's idea? no, it was mine! i stuck up for you! but not anymore, you hear? not anymore. you're through. jesus, i gave you this fucking job! i set up the deal in cali. fuck-off heaps of money! i'm through with you, now. you're done. i'm ratting you out to v/dt, and i'm flying to california tonight. enjoy your deportation hearing, you dumb canuck boy-scout." art's vision had contracted to a fuzzy black vignette with fede's florid face in the center of it. he gasped convulsively, fighting for air. he felt his bladder go, and hot urine stream down his groin and over his thighs. an instant later, fede sprang back from him, face twisted in disgust, hands brushing at his urine-stained pants. "damn it," he said, as art rolled onto his side and retched. art got up on all fours, then lurched erect. as he did, the axe head in his pocket swung wildly and knocked against the glass pane beside his office's door, spiderwebbing it with cracks. moving with dreamlike slowness, art reached into his pocket, clasped the axe head, turned it in his hand so that the edge was pointing outwards. he lifted it out of his pocket and held his hand behind his back. he staggered to fede, who was glaring at him, daring him to do something, his chest heaving. art windmilled his arm over his head and brought the axe head down solidly on fede's head. it hit with an impact that jarred his arm to the shoulder, and he dropped the axe head to the floor, where it fell with a thud, crusted with blood and hair for the first time in 200,000 years. fede crumpled back into the office's wall, slid down it into a sitting position. his eyes were open and staring. blood streamed over his face. art looked at fede in horrified fascination. he noticed that fede was breathing shallowly, almost panting, and realized dimly that this meant he wasn't a murderer. he turned and fled the office, nearly bowling tonaishah over in the corridor. "call an ambulance," he said, then shoved her aside and fled o'malley house and disappeared into the piccadilly lunchtime crowd. 29. i am: sprung. father ferlenghetti hasn't been licensed to practice psychiatry in massachusetts for forty years, but the court gave him standing. the judge actually winked at me when he took the stand, and stopped scritching on her comm as the priest said a lot of fantastically embarrassing things about my general fitness for human consumption. the sanitarium sent a single junior doc to my hearing, a kid so young i'd mistaken him for a hospital driver when he climbed into the van with me and gunned the engine. but no, he was a doctor who'd apparently been briefed on my case, though not very well. when the judge asked him if he had any opinions on father ferlenghetti's testimony, he fumbled with his comm while the father stared at him through eyebrows thick enough to hide a hamster in, then finally stammered a few verbatim notes from my intake interview, blushed, and sat down. "thank you," the judge said, shaking her head as she said it. gran, seated beside me, put one hand on my knee and one hand on the knee of doc szandor's brother-in-law, a hotshot harvard law post-doc whom we'd retained as corporate counsel for a new limited liability corporation. we'd signed the articles of incorporation the day before, after group. it was the last thing doc szandor did before resigning his post at the sanitarium to take up the position of chief medical officer at humancare, llc, a corporation with no assets, no employees, and a sheaf of shitkicking ideas for redesigning mental hospitals using off-the-shelf tech and a little bit of ue mojo. 30. art was most of the way to the tube when he ran into lester. literally. lester must have seen him coming, because he stepped right into art's path from out of the crowd. art ploughed into him, bounced off of his dented armor, and would have fallen over had lester not caught his arm and steadied him. "art, isn't it? how you doin', mate?" art gaped at him. he was thinner than he'd been when he tried to shake art and linda down in the doorway of the boots, grimier and more desperate. his tone was just as bemused as ever, though. "jesus christ, lester, not now, i'm in a hurry. you'll have to rob me later, all right?" lester chuckled wryly. "still a clever bastard. you look like you're having some hard times, my old son. maybe that you're not even worth robbing, eh?" "right. i'm skint. sorry. nice running into you, now i must be going." he tried to pull away, but lester's fingers dug into his biceps, emphatically, painfully. "hear you ran into tom, led him a merry chase. you know, i spent a whole week in the nick on account of you." art jerked his arm again, without effect. "you tried to rob me, les. you knew the job was dangerous when you took it, all right? now let me go -i've got a train to catch." "holidays? how sweet. thought you were broke, though?" a motorized scooter pulled up in the kerb lane beside them. it was piloted by a smart young policewoman with a silly foam helmet and outsized pads on her knees and elbows. she looked like the kid with the safety-obsessed mom who inflicts criminally dorky fashions on her daughter, making her the neighborhood laughingstock. "everything all right, gentlemen?" lester's eyes closed, and he sighed a put-upon sigh that was halfway to a groan. "oh, yes, officer," art said. "peter and i were just making some plans to see our auntie for supper tonight." lester opened his eyes, then the corners of his mouth incremented upwards. "yeah," he said. "'sright. cousin alphonse is here all the way from canada and auntie's mad to cook him a proper english meal." the policewoman sized them up, then shook her head. "sir, begging your pardon, but i must tell you that we have clubs in london where a gentleman such as yourself can find a young companion, legally. we thoroughly discourage making such arrangements on the high street. just a word to the wise, all right?" art blushed to his eartips. "thank you, officer," he said with a weak smile. "i'll keep that in mind." the constable gave lester a hard look, then revved her scooter and pulled into traffic, her arm slicing the air in a sharp turn signal. "well," lester said, once she was on the roundabout, "*alphonse*, seems like you've got reason to avoid the law, too." "can't we just call it even? i did you a favor with the law, you leave me be?" "oh, i don't know. p'raps i should put in a call to our friend pc mcgivens. he already thinks you're a dreadful tosser -if you've reason to avoid the law, mcgivens'd be bad news indeed. and the police pay very well for the right information. i'm a little financially embarrassed, me, just at this moment." "all right," art said. "fine. how about this: i will pay you 800 euros, which i will withdraw from an instabank once i've got my ticket for the chunnel train to calais in hand and am ready to get onto the platform. i've got all of fifteen quid in my pocket right now. take my wallet and you'll have cabfare home. accompany me to the train and you'll get a month's rent, which is more than the police'll give you." "oh, you're a villain, you are. what is it that the police will want to talk to you about, then? i wouldn't want to be aiding and abetting a real criminal -could mean trouble." "i beat the piss out of my coworker, lester. now, can we go? there's a plane in paris i'm hoping to catch." 31. i have a brand-new translucent sony veddic, a series 12. i bought it on credit -not mine, mine's sunk; six months of living on plastic and kiting balance-payments with new cards while getting the patents filed on the eight new gizmos that constitute humancare's sole asset has blackened my good name with the credit bureaus. i bought it with the company credit card. the *company credit card*. our local baby amex rep dropped it off himself after doc szandor faxed over the signed contract from the bureau of health. half a million bucks for a proof-of-concept install at the very same route 128 nuthatch where i'd been "treated." if that works, we'll be rolling out a dozen more installs over the next year: smart doors, public drug-prescription stats, locator bracelets that let "clients" -i've been learning the nuthouse jargon, and have forcibly removed "patient" from my vocabulary -discover other clients with similar treatment regimens on the ward, bells and whistles galore. i am cruising the masspike with humancare's first-ever employee, who is, in turn, holding onto humancare's first-ever paycheck. caitlin's husband has been very patient over the past six months as she worked days fixing the ailing machinery at the sanitarium and nights prototyping my designs. he's been likewise patient with my presence on his sagging living-room sofa, where i've had my nightly ten-hour repose faithfully since my release. caitlin and i have actually seen precious little of each other considering that i've been living under her roof. (doc szandor's cambridge apartment is hardly bigger than my room at the hospital, and between his snoring and the hard floor, i didn't even last a whole night there.) we've communicated mostly by notes commed to her fridge and prototypes left atop my suitcase of day-clothes and sharp-edged toiletries at the foot of my makeshift bed when she staggered in from her workbench while i snored away the nights. come to think of it, i haven't really seen much of doc szandor, either -he's been holed up in his rooms, chatting away on the est channels. i am well rested. i am happy. my back is loose and my chi is flowing. i am driving my few belongings to a lovely two-bedroom -one to sleep in, one to work in -flat overlooking harvard square, where the pretty co-eds and their shaggy boyfriends tease one another in the technical argot of a dozen abstruse disciplines. i'm looking forward to picking up a basic physics, law, medicine and business vocabulary just by sitting in my window with my comm, tapping away at new designs. we drive up to a toll plaza and i crank the yielding, human-centric steering wheel toward the ezpass lane. the dealer installed the transponder and gave me a brochure explaining the sony family's approach to maximum driving convenience. but as i approach the toll gate, it stays steadfastly down. the veddic's hud flashes an instruction to pull over to the booth. a bored attendant leans out of the toll booth and squirts his comm at me, and the hud comes to life with an animated commercial for the new, improved tunepay service, now under direct masspike management. the tunepay scandal's been hot news for weeks now. bribery, corruption, patent disputes -i'd been gratified to discover that my name had been removed from the patent applications, sparing me the nightly hounding fede and linda and her fucking ex had been subjected to on my comm as the legal net tightened around them. i end up laughing so hard that caitlin gets out of the car and walks around to my side, opens the door, and pulls me bodily to the passenger side. she serenely ignores the blaring of the horns from the aggravated, psychotic boston drivers stacked up behind us, walks back to the driver's side and takes the wheel. "thanks," i tell her, and lay a hand on her pudgy, freckled arm. "you belong in a loony bin, you know that?" she says, punching me in the thigh harder than is strictly necessary. "oh, i know," i say, and dial up some music on the car stereo. -acknowledgements this novel was workshopped by the cecil street irregulars, the novelettes and the gibraltar point gang, and received excellent feedback from the first readers on the est-preview list (especially pat york). likewise, i'm indebted to all the people who read and commented on this book along the way. thanks go to my editor, patrick nielsen hayden, for reading this so quickly -minutes after i finished it! likewise to my agent, don maass, thank you. thanks to irene gallo and shelley eshkar for knocking *two* out of the park with their cover-designs for my books. thanks to my co-editors at boing boing and all the collaborators i've written with, who've made me a better writer. thanks, i suppose, to the villains in my life, who inspired me to write this book rather than do something ugly that i'd regret. thanks to paul boutin for commissioning the *wired* article of the same name. thanks to the readers and bloggers and tribespeople who cared enough to check out my first book and liked it enough to check out this one. thanks to creative commons for the licenses that give me the freedom to say "some rights reserved." -bio cory doctorow (www.craphound.com) is the author of down and out in the magic kingdom, a place so foreign and eight more, and the complete idiot's guide to publishing science fiction (with karl schroeder). he was raised in toronto and lives in san francisco, where he works for the electronic frontier foundation (www.eff.org), a civil liberties group. he's a journalist, editorialist and blogger. boing boing (boingboing.net), the weblog he co-edits, is the most linked-to blog on the net, according to technorati. he won the john w. campbell award for best new writer at the 2000 hugos. you can download this book for free from craphound.com/est. -========================== machine-readable metadata: ========================== <rdf:rdf xmlns="http://web.resource.org/cc/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"> <work rdf:about="http://craphound.com/est"> <dc:title>eastern standard tribe</dc:title> <dc:date>2004-2-9</dc:date> <dc:description>a novel by cory doctorow </dc:description> <dc:creator><agent> <dc:title>cory doctorow</dc:title> </agent></dc:creator> <dc:rights><agent> <dc:title>cory doctorow</dc:title> </agent></dc:rights> <dc:type rdf:resource="http://purl.org/dc/dcmitype/text" /> <license rdf:resource="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0" /> </work> <license rdf:about="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0"> <requires rdf:resource="http://web.resource.org/cc/attribution" /> <permits rdf:resource="http://web.resource.org/cc/reproduction" /> <permits rdf:resource="http://web.resource.org/cc/distribution" /> <prohibits rdf:resource="http://web.resource.org/cc/commercialuse" /> <requires rdf:resource="http://web.resource.org/cc/notice" /> </license> </rdf:rdf> eof international conference held at washington for the purpose of fixing a prime meridian and a universal day. october, 1884. protocols of the proceedings. washington, d. c. gibson bros., printers and bookbinders. 1884. table of contents. page i. protocol, october 1, 1884 1 ii. protocol, october 2, 1884 13 iii. protocol, october 6, 1884 35 iv. protocol, october 13, 1884 73 v. protocol, october 14, 1884 113 vi. protocol, october 20, 1884 151 vii. protocol, october 22, 1884 195 viii. protocol, november 1, 1884 205 final act 199 act of congress authorizing the president of the united states to invite the conference (annex i) 209 act of congress making appropriation for expenses (annex ii) 209 circular to united states representatives abroad bringing the subject to the attention of foreign governments (annex iii) 210 circular to united states ministers extending invitation to foreign governments (annex iv) 211 international meridian conference held in the city of washington. i. session of october 1, 1884. the delegates to the international meridian conference, who assembled in washington upon invitation addressed by the government of the united states to all nations holding diplomatic relations with it, "for the purpose of fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the globe," held their first conference to-day, october 1, 1884, in the diplomatic hall of the department of state. the following delegates were present: on behalf of austria-hungary- baron ignatz von schæffer, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of brazil- dr. luiz cruls, _director of the imperial observatory of rio janeiro_. on behalf of colombia- commodore s. r. franklin, _u. s. navy_, _superintendent u. s. naval observatory_. on behalf of costa rica- mr. juan francisco echeverria, _civil engineer_. on behalf of france- mr. a. lefaivre, _minister plenipotentiary and consul-general_. mr. janssen, _of the institute_, _director of the physical observatory of paris_. on behalf of germany- baron h. von alvensleben, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of great britain- captain sir f. j. o. evans, _royal navy_. prof. j. c. adams, _director of the cambridge observatory_. lieut.-general strachey, _member of the council of india_. mr. sandford fleming, _representing the dominion of canada_. on behalf of guatemala- m. miles rock, _president of the boundary commission_. on behalf of hawaii- hon. w. d. alexander, _surveyor-general_. hon. luther aholo, _privy counsellor_. on behalf of italy- count albert de foresta, _first secretary of legation_. on behalf of japan- professor kikuchi, _dean of the scientific dep't of the university of tokio_. on behalf of mexico- mr. leandro fernandez, _civil engineer_. mr. angel anguiano, _director of the national observatory of mexico_. on behalf of paraguay- captain john stewart, _consul-general_. on behalf of russia- mr. c. de struve, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. major-general stebnitzki, _imperial russian staff_. mr. j. de kologrivoff, _conseiller d'état actuel_. on behalf of san domingo- mr. m. de j. galvan, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of salvador- mr. antonio batres, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of spain, mr. juan valera, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. mr. emilio ruiz del arbol, _naval attaché to the spanish legation_. mr. juan pastorin, _officer of the navy_. on behalf of sweden- count carl lewenhaupt, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of switzerland- colonel emile frey, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of the united states- rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, _u. s. navy_. mr. lewis m. rutherfurd. mr. w. f. allen, _secretary railway time conventions_. commander w. t. sampson, _u. s. navy_. professor cleveland abbe, _u. s. signal office_. on behalf of venezuela- señor dr. a. m. soteldo, _chargé d'affaires_. the following delegates were not present: on behalf of chili- mr. francisco vidal gormas, _director of the hydrographic office_. mr. alvaro bianchi tupper, _assistant director_. on behalf of denmark- mr. carl steen andersen de bille, _minister resident and consul-general_. on behalf of germany- mr. hinckeldeyn, _attaché of the german legation_. on behalf of liberia- mr. william coppinger, _consul-general_. on behalf of the netherlands- mr. g. de weckherlin, _envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary_. on behalf of turkey- rustem effendi, _secretary of legation_. the delegates were formally presented to the secretary of state of the united states, the honorable frederick t. frelinghuysen, in his office at 12 o'clock. upon assembling in the diplomatic hall, he called the conference to order, and spoke as follows: gentlemen: it gives me pleasure, in the name of the president of the united states, to welcome you to this congress, where most of the nations of the earth are represented. you have met to discuss and consider the important question of a prime meridian for all nations. it will rest with you to give a definite result to the preparatory labors of other scientific associations and special congresses, and thus make those labors available. wishing you all success in your important deliberations, and not doubting that you will reach a conclusion satisfactory to the civilized world, i, before leaving you, take the liberty to nominate, for the purpose of a temporary organization, count lewenhaupt. it will afford this department pleasure to do all in its power to promote the convenience of the congress and to facilitate its proceedings. by the unanimous voice of the conference the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, took the chair, and said that, for the purpose of proceeding to a permanent organization, it was necessary to elect a president, and that he had the honor to propose for that office the chairman of the delegation of the united states of america, admiral c. r. p. rodgers. the conference agreed unanimously to the proposition thus made, whereupon admiral rodgers took the chair as president of the conference, and made the following address: gentlemen: i beg you to receive my thanks for the high honor you have conferred upon me in calling me, as the chairman of the delegation from the united states, to preside at this congress. to it have come from widely-separated portions of the globe, delegates renowned in diplomacy and science, seeking to create a new accord among the nations by agreeing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time reckoning throughout the world. happy shall we be, if, throwing aside national preferences and inclinations, we seek only the common good of mankind, and gain for science and for commerce a prime meridian acceptable to all countries, and secured with the least possible inconvenience. having this object at heart, the government of the united states has invited all nations with which it has diplomatic relations to send delegates to a congress to assemble at washington to-day, to discuss the question i have indicated. the invitation has been graciously received, and we are here this morning to enter upon the agreeable duty assigned to us by our respective governments. broad as is the area of the united states, covering a hundred degrees of longitude, extending from 66° 52' west from greenwich to 166° 13' at our extreme limit in alaska, not including the aleutian islands; traversed, as it is, by railway and telegraph lines, and dotted with observatories; long as is its sea coast, of more than twelve thousand miles; vast as must be its foreign and domestic commerce, its delegation to this congress has no desire to urge that a prime meridian shall be found within its confines. in my own profession, that of a seaman, the embarrassment arising from the many prime meridians now in use is very conspicuous, and in the valuable interchange of longitudes by passing ships at sea, often difficult and hurried, sometimes only possible by figures written on a black-board, much confusion arises, and at times grave danger. in the use of charts, too, this trouble is also annoying, and to us who live upon the sea a common prime meridian will be a great advantage. within the last two years we have been given reason to hope that this great desideratum may be obtained, and within a year a learned conference, in which many nations were represented, expressed opinions upon it with singular unanimity, and in a very broad and catholic spirit. i need not trespass further upon your attention, except to lay before you the subject we are invited to discuss: the choice of "a meridian to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time reckoning throughout the world;" and i shall beg you to complete our organization by the election of a vice-president, and the proper secretaries necessary to the verification of our proceedings. mr. lefaivre, delegate from france, stated that on behalf of his colleague he would suggest that all motions and addresses made in english should be translated into french. the president inquired whether the proposition made by the delegate for france met with the approval of the conference, when it was unanimously agreed to. the president thereupon said that he was ready to lay before the conference the subject of the election of vice-president. count lewenhaupt, the delegate of sweden, stated that elections in such large bodies were always difficult, and inquired whether it was necessary to have a vice-president. he further said that for his part he had every reason to hope and to expect that the services of a vice-president would not be required. it was thereupon agreed that a vice-president should be dispensed with. the president then stated that the next business was the election of secretaries; but suggested, in view of the proceedings already had, and of the necessity of some consultation in regard to the matter, that the election might be postponed till to-morrow. mr. valera, delegate of spain, stated that he saw no reason why the nomination of secretaries could not be made just as well at present as at any future time. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, inquired what would be the functions of the secretaries. the president in reply said that an acting secretary had been appointed by the secretary of state, who was at the same time a stenographer, and that the principal labor of keeping the records of the conference would devolve upon him; that nevertheless regular secretaries of the conference had to be appointed, for the purpose of examining and verifying the protocols from day to day, which would be the more important in the event of the records of the conference being made in two or three different languages, and that these secretaries ought no doubt to be members of the conference, in order to give the requisite authenticity to the acts thereof, and, in view of the character of the proceedings, should be specialists and informed as to the subjects under discussion. mr. soteldo, delegate of venezuela, said that he thought the conference should adjourn until to-morrow, as they had done already enough to-day in settling its organization; that by adjourning over it would give an opportunity to the delegates to consult as to the functions of the secretaries, and who would be most likely to be qualified for those functions; that there were gentlemen from different countries who were not familiar with the english language, and by to-morrow the conference could determine as to the languages in which the proceedings should be had, although, as it seemed to him, that the proceedings should be recorded in french and english. he then moved that the conference adjourn until to-morrow. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, stated that he agreed with what had been said by the president, that the conference should have secretaries who were specialists, and that the proceedings should be recorded in two languages. by adjourning till to-morrow he thought that the delegates would have an opportunity to reflect upon the subject, and to come back prepared to vote upon it. the president then stated that if any delegates wished to make propositions in regard to the proceedings to-morrow it would be in the power of the conference to proceed to the consideration of those subjects after the election of the secretaries, and he suggested to the delegate of venezuela (mr. soteldo) that the motion to adjourn be withdrawn for the present. the delegate of venezuela thereupon withdrew his motion. mr. frey, delegate of switzerland, said that, in his opinion, the order of proceedings to-morrow should be first a general discussion. mr. valera, delegate of spain, stated that he thought the proceedings should be recorded in two languages at least, and that secretaries conversant with these languages and specially acquainted with the subject matter pending before the conference should be selected; that, in order to have the record of the proceedings accurate, officers qualified in this way were requisite, and that it would be preferable to elect these officers after consultation among the members of the conference, which could be had between now and the meeting to-morrow. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden, said that he saw no difficulty in deciding now that the order of proceedings to-morrow would be first the election of the secretaries and then a general discussion, and he moved that this proposition be adopted. the conference then unanimously agreed to the proposition. professor abbe, delegate of the united states, inquired whether it would not facilitate the action of the conference to-morrow if the president appointed a committee now who could nominate the secretaries. the president replied by asking whether it would not be better to select this committee at a subsequent meeting, rather than at the first meeting, which was held to-day. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, then gave notice that at the session to-morrow he would bring before the conference the question whether the meetings shall be open to the public or not, and that he would, at the proper time, also make a motion for the purpose of determining the sense of the conference as to the propriety of inviting distinguished scientists, some of whom are now in washington, and who may desire to be present at the meetings of this conference, to take part in the discussion of the questions pending. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, stated that in regard to the first proposition--that is, as to making the proceedings public, he would object, inasmuch as he thought that by opening the doors of this conference to the public nothing could be gained, while the proceedings might be embarrassed or delayed by such a course. professor adams, delegate of england, stated that he did not favor the first proposition to make the proceedings of this conference public, but he did agree with the second proposition, and thought it was a very important and valuable one. the president remarked that the propositions made by the delegate of the united states of america were merely in the nature of a notice, and that they were not before the conference at the present time, and, consequently, were not the subject of discussion; still he thought that much good could be elicited from this interchange of opinions in a preliminary way. captain stewart, delegate of paraguay, said that he thought that it would be a very good thing, in view of the proposition to make the meetings public, to invite all the world to the capitol for the discussion of these subjects. professor abbe, delegate of the united states, stated that it would be perfectly practicable to have the discussions of the conference printed in full from day to day for our own official use, and that the public might thereby be made familiar with the proceedings if it were necessary. the president announced that arrangements had been made by the state department whereby the proceedings of each day would be printed and furnished in time for the examination of the members of the conference before the next meeting, and that they would be printed in two languages, french and english; but that these records or protocols could not be regularly verified until the conference shall have appointed duly authorized secretaries. baron von schæffer, delegate of austro-hungary, asked that a list of the delegates be presented to each of the members of the conference. the president replied that he would instruct the acting secretary (mr. peddrick) to have the list prepared. upon the motion of mr. de struve, delegate of russia, the conference then adjourned until to-morrow, (thursday,) the second instant, at one o'clock p. m. ii. session of october 2, 1884. the conference met pursuant to adjournment in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at one o'clock p. m. present: austria-hungary: baron ignatz von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. colombia: commodore s. r. franklin. costa rica: mr. juan francisco echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre, mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben, mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. c. adams, lieut.-general strachey, mr. sandford fleming. guatemala: mr. miles rock. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander, hon. luther aholo. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez, mr. ansel anguiano. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, mr. kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. de j. galvan. salvador: mr. antonio batres. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilio ruiz del arbol, and mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. switzerland: col. emile frey, professor hirsch. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherford, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, professor cleveland abbe. venezuela: señor dr. a. m. soteldo. absent: chili: mr. f. v. gormas and mr. a. b. tupper. denmark: mr. o. s. a. de bille. liberia: mr. wm. coppinger. netherlands: mr. g. de weckherlin. turkey: rustem effendi. the president stated that the first business before the conference was the election of secretaries. mr. de struve, delegate of russia, stated that it was his opinion that it would be very difficult to elect secretaries by a direct vote, and he proposed that the selection of the secretaries be left to a committee to be appointed by the president; that the committee present the names of the officers selected to the conference, and that these secretaries be four in number. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden, stated that it was generally understood among the delegates that mr. hirsch, one of the delegates from switzerland, should be elected a secretary, as he was a secretary of the conference held at rome, but as he has not yet arrived, he proposed that the conference elect only three secretaries to-day. mr. de struve, delegate of russia, stated that he believed that mr. hirsch would soon arrive, and he accepted the amendment just offered. the original motion, as modified by the amendment, was thereupon unanimously agreed to. the chair appointed the delegate of russia, mr. de struve, the delegate from spain, mr. valera, the delegate from france, mr. lefaivre, and the delegate from sweden, count lewenhaupt, as the committee to select the secretaries. the conference thereupon took a recess, to enable the committee to consult and report. upon the reassembling of the conference, the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, announced that the committee had selected for secretaries the delegate from great britain, lieut.-general strachey, the delegate of france, mr. janssen, and the delegate from brazil, dr. cruls. the report of the committee was then unanimously adopted by the conference, and the delegates named as secretaries signified their acceptance of the office. mr. de struve, delegate of russia, moved that the president direct the acting secretary to arrange the seats of the delegates according to the alphabetical order of the countries represented. he added that it would be a great convenience to the members to have their seats permanently fixed. the motion was unanimously agreed to. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, then presented the following resolution: _resolved_, that the congress invite prof. newcomb, superintendent of the united states nautical almanac; prof. hildgard, superintendent of the united states coast and geodetic surveys; professor a. hall; professor de valentiner, director of the observatory at karlsruhe; and sir william thomson, to attend the meetings of this congress. general strachey, delegate of england, stated that, as he understood this resolution, it would not necessarily authorize the parties invited to take any part in the discussions. the president stated that the resolution seems merely to invite the gentlemen to be present. general strachey, delegate of great britain, stated that he thought it necessary to clear up this matter a little; that if the gentlemen invited could not address the conference, it seemed very little use to have them invited; that it was not for their own advantage but for that of the conference that the invitations were extended to those scientific gentlemen, and therefore he thought it was the intention in inviting them to have the benefit of any information which they might desire from time to time to express on the subjects before the congress. he thought that if any remarks on the part of these gentlemen were presented to the conference, with the assent of the congress, through the president, that would doubtless meet all the requirements of the case. the president inquired whether the delegate of great britain meant that the remarks should be presented in writing. general strachey, delegate of great britain, replied that that would not necessarily be the case. prof. abbe, delegate of the united states, inquired whether the persons named in the resolution were the only ones to be invited. the president replied that it was so, so far as the chair was informed, but that it would be in order at any time to add new names in the same way. prof. abbe, delegate of the united states, stated that this was a matter which he had very much at heart, and he would like to observe that some of the nations which were invited to send delegates to this conference had failed to do so, and that it would be a courtesy to invite persons of those nations to be present. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, stated that after consulting with a number of the delegates he drew the resolution, and that it was suggested to him this very morning that possibly there might be a difference of opinion as to whether these gentlemen should take part in the discussion, and that that was the reason why the first resolution merely proposed to invite them to be present. he stated that he proposed subsequently to submit another resolution authorizing these gentlemen to take part in the discussion; that he thought that the original intention was to confer an honor on certain distinguished scientists, and that it would be well for the conference to limit the invitation to gentlemen of that character. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, stated that he was opposed to the proposition to admit to the deliberations of this conference gentlemen, no matter how distinguished or eminent they might be, who were not specially delegated by their governments as members of this body. he questioned the power of the conference to admit to its discussions persons who were not regularly appointed to vote upon the subject at issue; that this was an international conference created for the purpose of obtaining an interchange of views from the representatives of the different governments; that it would extend the scope of the work before this body to entertain the views and opinions of persons not authorized to speak for the governments whose delegates are here; that there would be a great divergence of opinion among such men, and the result would be rather to embarrass than to help this conference to an accord. he insisted that the matter was exclusively governmental, and, while he would be happy to extend any courtesy to men distinguished in science, such as the gentlemen who are proposed to be invited, he felt constrained to oppose the proposition under the circumstances. the president stated that he understood that the resolution did not propose to confer a vote upon the gentlemen invited, but simply to enable them to lay any information before the conference which they might have upon the matter at issue. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, contended that the resolution was intended to authorize these gentlemen to deliberate, and he thought that the inconvenience would be very great of extending this privilege to persons not authorized to represent their governments. he did not think it was reasonable or fair that his opinions should be questioned or opposed by the opinions of men not authorized to speak for their governments. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain, said that as he had taken upon himself to make some remarks both as to the manner in which the gentlemen should be invited and the extent of their rights when invited, he wished to say that while he agreed with much that had been said by the delegate of france, he held that these gentlemen should have an opportunity of expressing their views; that they were not to come here merely to listen to the proceedings, but that they should themselves be heard. the president directed that the resolution be read in french, and then put it to the vote, when it was unanimously adopted. commander sampson. delegate of the united states, then offered the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the gentlemen who have just been invited to attend the meetings of the conference be permitted to take part in the discussion of all scientific questions." mr. lefaivre, delegate for france, then stated that it was not in accordance with the object of this conference that private individuals, not authorized by their respective governments, should be permitted to influence the decision of this body, and that, while it was very proper to extend courtesy to such learned gentlemen as were invited, it surely was never intended that they should participate in our proceedings. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain, said that it would, perhaps, save trouble if he stated his views on the point under discussion, which he apprehended were generally in accordance with those of the representative from france. he said that, if he were permitted, he would read a resolution, which he suggested might be accepted as a substitute for that pending before the conference, and it was as follows: "_resolved_, that the president be authorized, with the concurrence of the delegates, to request an expression of the opinions of the gentlemen invited to attend the congress on any subject on which their opinion may be likely to be valuable." the president inquired in what way they would express it. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain, stated that it would be orally. the president replied that the resolution undoubtedly read that way. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain, stated that the language, "to take part in the discussion," employed in the resolution of commander sampson, would mean that the persons invited would be in a position, of their own motion, either to reply to remarks made, or to state their own views, or to take part in the discussion just as the delegates are entitled to do. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, stated that he hoped that the proposition of the delegate of great britain would not be pressed until a vote was had upon the original resolution. the president then put the resolution to a vote; but, being unable to determine from the _viva voce_ vote whether it was carried or not, he stated that the roll would be called. mr. frey, delegate of switzerland, stated that he thought before the vote was taken a decision should be had upon the question, how the delegates were to vote--whether as nations or as individuals. the president announced that it had been the custom in all such conferences to vote as nations, each nation casting one vote, and that no other way seemed practicable; and that in conformity with this ruling the roll would be called and the vote taken by nations. the roll was then called, when the following states voted in the affirmative: costa rica, guatemala, italy, mexico, san domingo, salvador, switzerland, venezuela. and the following in the negative: austria-hungary, brazil, colombia, france, germany, great britain, hawaii, japan, paraguay, russia, spain, sweden. united states, the president then announced that the ayes were 8 and the noes 13, and that the resolution was lost. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain, then renewed his resolution, which was as follows: "_resolved_, that the president be authorized, with the concurrence of the delegates, to request an expression of the opinions of the gentlemen invited to attend the congress on any subject on which their opinion may be likely to be valuable." no discussion arose upon this resolution, and it was adopted. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, then offered the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the meetings of this congress be open to interested visitors." mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, stated that he considered this a subject of grave importance; that this was an official and confidential body; scientific, it was true, but also diplomatic; that it was empowered to confer about matters with which the general public have now nothing to do; that to admit the public to the meetings would destroy their privacy and subject the conference to the influence of an outside pressure which might prove very prejudicial to its proceedings, and that he would object to this resolution absolutely. no further discussion being had, the president, after a _viva voce_ vote of doubtful result, ordered the roll to be called, when the following states voted in the affirmative: colombia, costa rica, guatemala, paraguay, salvador, spain. venezuela, and the following states in the negative. austria-hungary, brazil, france, germany, great britain, hawaii, italy, japan, mexico, russia, san domingo, sweden, switzerland, united states. the president then announced that the ayes were 7 and the noes 14, and that the resolution was therefore lost. the president then said that there would doubtless be some preliminary general discussion on the subject before the conference, and suggested that if delegates desired to be heard upon the subject it would be expedient to give an intimation to the secretary. prof. abbe, delegate of the united states, then said: i have been requested to present to the conference the communication that i hold in my hand, and in doing so wish to offer the following resolution: "whereas several persons desire to submit to this conference inventions, devices, and systems of universal time: therefore, "_resolved_, that the conference will acknowledge the receipt of such communications, but will abstain from any expression of opinion as to their respective merits." professor adams, delegate of great britain, said that the conference should be very cautious in admitting the devices and schemes of people who have no connection with this body; that there are, no doubt, many inventors and many people who have plans and schemes which they wish to press upon the conference, and that it was probable that the conference would be subjected to very great inconvenience if they took upon themselves even the burden of acknowledging the receipt of these communications. the president stated that he had received several communions of this character, one proposing that jerusalem should be taken as the prime meridian. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, proposed that the conference should appoint a committee to examine the different papers submitted by outside parties, and to make such suggestions as they might deem proper after examining the papers. mr. valera, delegate of spain, said that it seemed to him the proper course of proceeding for the conference was to take up the subject article by article, and treat it in that order; that there were presented to the conference certain well-defined propositions, and that besides these there were the resolutions which had been adopted by the conference at rome, which could be used as a basis for the discussions of this conference; that in that way the delegates would have before them some precise subject-matter, and after discussion, if any proposition needed to be altered or amended it would be in the power of the conference to do so, but that unless some regular method of proceeding were adopted the sessions would be prolonged indefinitely, and the conference would be confused by a multitude of irrelevant propositions that might be presented to them. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, stated that it seemed to him that to invite a general discussion upon the subject, which has undoubtedly a great many heads, the best method would be the one just suggested; that by having a well-defined course much time would be saved, and there would be a precision in the proceedings, which undoubtedly is always valuable; that in this way the discussion could be kept within bounds, but unless there is some proposition pending before the conference it is impossible to say whether any discussion is in order or out of order; that it seemed to him there should be some well-defined propositions laid before the conference, and those propositions could easily be gathered, not only from what has gone before, not only from the conference which has been held in rome, but from the acts of congress and the circulars of the secretary of state, under which this body has been organized. the president stated that if these communications from outside parties were brought before the conference it would entail a great deal of labor. the resolution of the delegate of the united states, prof. abbe, was then put to the vote, and was negatived. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, then presented the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes to the governments represented the adoption as a standard meridian that of greenwich passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich." mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, remarked that the proposed resolution seemed to him out of order, and that his colleague, mr. janssen, desired to address the conference on the subject. he went on to say: the competence of the conference can give rise to no long debate among us. let us remark, in the first place, that no previous engagement exists, on the part of the governments, to adopt the results of our discussions, and that consequently our decisions cannot be compared to those of a deliberative congress or an international commission acting according to definite powers. we have no definite powers, or rather, we have no executive power, since our decisions cannot be invoked executively by one government towards others. does this mean that our decisions will be wholly unauthoritative? an assembly which numbers so many eminent delegates, and in which there is so much scientific knowledge, must certainly be regarded with profound respect by all the powers of the world. its powers, however, must be of a wholly moral character, and will have to be balanced against rights and interests no less worthy of consideration, leaving absolutely intact the independence of each individual state. under these circumstances, gentlemen, it seems to me that our course is already marked out for us. from our conference is to be elicited the expression of a collective wish, a draft of a resolution, which is to be adopted by the majority of this assembly, and afterwards submitted to the approval of our respective governments. this is our mission. it is a great one, and has a lofty international bearing. we must, however, realize its extent from the very outset, and not go beyond its limits. an appeal has been made to the decisions of the conference held at rome. but, gentlemen, i beg leave to remark that that conference was composed entirely of specialists, and that it did not meet for the purpose of examining the question in an international point of view. this conference is composed of various elements, among which are scientists of the highest standing, but also functionaries of high rank, who are not familiar with scientific subjects, and who are charged with an examination of this question from a political stand-point. it is, moreover, our privilege to be philosophers and cosmopolitans, and to contemplate the interests of mankind not only for the present, but for the most distant future. you see, gentlemen, that we enjoy absolute freedom, and that we are in nowise bound by the decisions of the conference held at rome. it is even desirable that those precedents should be appealed to as little as possible, inasmuch as we have scientists among us who are regarded as authorities in both the old and the new world, and who are perfectly capable of directing us in technical matters, and of furnishing all the information that we can desire. i will say even more than this: the results of the conference held at rome are by no means regarded as possessing official authority by the governments that have accredited us; for if those results had been taken as a starting point, there would be no occasion for our conference, and our governments would simply have to decide with regard to the acceptance or rejection of the resolutions adopted by the geodetic congress at rome. everything, however, is intact, even the scientific side of the question, and that is the reason why we have so many delegates possessing technical knowledge among us. the president stated that he considered the resolution entirely in order, and likely to bring about a discussion upon the very point for which this conference was called together; that the resolution was open to any amendment that might be offered, could be altered from time to time if necessary, and, if it did not meet the sense of the conference, could be defeated. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, inquired whether this proposition did not demand an immediate solution. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, replied that no such thing was contemplated. prof. janssen, delegate of france, then spoke as follows: gentlemen: i formally request that the resolution just proposed by my eminent colleague and friend, mr. rutherford, be held in reserve, and that it may not now be pressed for discussion. it is wholly undesirable that a proposition of so grave a character, which forestalls one of the most important resolutions that we shall be called upon to adopt, should be put to the vote while our meeting has scarcely been organized, and before any discussion relative to the true merits of the questions to be considered has taken place. this would be inverting the proper order of things and reaching a conclusion before having examined the subject before us. before discussing the question of the selection of a meridian which is to serve as a common zero of longitude for all the nations of the world, (if the congress shall think proper to discuss that point,) it is evident that we must first decide the question of principle which is to govern all our proceedings; that is to say, whether it is desirable to fix upon a common zero of longitude for all nations. i therefore formally ask for the withdrawal of mr. rutherford's proposition. the president stated that as something had been said about the conference at rome, he desired to say that he had carefully abstained from any allusion to it, and that the delegation of the united states found no allusions to it in their instructions; that, so far as the chair understood the resolution offered by the delegate of the united states, it was simply to bring before the conference the consideration of the subject of a prime meridian; that he did not understand that even the delegate who presented the motion offered it as an expression of his own opinion on the subject, but that he had carefully stated, when he had brought the resolution before the conference, that it was for the purpose of enabling the delegates to proceed to an immediate discussion. he added, further, that the resolution was quite open to amendment in case the delegates from france desired to amend it. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, stated that he wished to offer the following as a substitute for the resolution already pending: "_resolved_, that it is the opinion of this congress that it is desirable to adopt a single prime meridian for all nations in place of the multiplicity of initial meridians which now exist." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, then announced that he accepted this substitution in place of the first resolution. general strachey, delegate of england, stated that if he rightly understood the remarks made by the delegate of france, mr. lefaivre, he thought that it was intended to call attention to the ultimate form in which the resolutions of this congress should be recorded. he referred to the address which the secretary of state of the united states (mr. frelinghuysen) made to the delegates on their assembling, in which he said: "you have met to discuss and consider the important question of a prime meridian for all nations. it will rest with you to give a definite result to the preparatory labors of other scientific associations and special congresses, and thus make those labors available." he added that the object at which they should aim was to put together a series of resolutions which could be presented to the various governments whose representatives are here present, with a view to inducing them to accept the decision which may be arrived at by this conference, and, finally, to put that decision in a diplomatic form--a form which shall be more definite and precise than the mere resolutions which would be adopted by a purely scientific body; this he understood to be the position to be adopted by the delegates to this conference. he then said that it seemed to him that it would be necessary, after settling the original shape of the resolutions, that they should be reconsidered and afterwards put together in an orderly way, in a manner which would give a regular and satisfactory record of the proceedings; that it appeared almost certain to him that the discussions would be desultory in their nature, but that ultimately a revision would be had after the rough-hewing of the blocks out of which the edifice was to be formed; that he had no wish, at the present stage of the discussion, to go into the merits of the question presented; that, for his part, he thought it more prudent to abstain, but that with reference to the remarks of his honorable friends from france, he could not agree that they should set aside what occurred at rome; that the discussions at rome were most valuable; they went thoroughly into the whole question, and he apprehended that every gentleman in the conference was possessed of the records of what occurred there. he continued by saying that he thought that the delegate from france, mr. lefaivre, went a little beyond what was strictly right in saying that we should shut our eyes to what occurred there; that, for his own part, he was obliged to pay attention to what occurred there; that some of the most eminent scientific men to be found in any country met there and fully discussed the questions now before us, and that the delegates here present were now called upon to revise what occurred there. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, said that the delegate from france, mr. lefaivre, in his remarks, insisted that we should first establish for what purpose the delegates were here assembled; that he wished to refer to the circulars sent out by the government of the united states, under which this conference was called together. he said that he could assert, without fear of contradiction, that in those communications the president stated that it was believed to be a foregone conclusion that a prime meridian was desirable; that that was the basis on which the president acted in giving his invitation; that how he came to that conclusion he does not state--whether or not the proceedings at rome had anything to do with it, but he thought that they had a great influence on the mind of the president; that, doubtless, his action was not determined solely by that, and, therefore, that the secretary of state first made a tentative application to see whether a proposition for another conference was acceptable, and that he found all countries here represented answering the circular in the affirmative; that they agreed with him that a conference for this purpose was desirable. he continued by saying that the secretary of state then sent a second invitation to the different nations to send delegates, who were to assemble here on the first of october, 1884, for the purpose of establishing a prime meridian and a universal time. he added that it seemed to him a great loss of time to go over the question whether a prime meridian was or was not desirable; that the delegates were sent here for the purpose of agreeing upon a prime meridian. he then asked why this conference should lose time in discussing that question. the resolution offered by the delegate of the united states, commander sampson, was then unanimously adopted as follows: "_resolved_, that it is the opinion of this congress that it is desirable to adopt a single prime meridian for all nations in place of the multiplicity of initial meridians which now exist." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, then renewed his original resolution, as follows: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes to the governments represented the adoption as a standard meridian that of greenwich, passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich." mr. janssen, delegate of france, stated that he wished to reiterate the objections that he had already offered to the first resolution, and spoke as follows: gentlemen: mr. lefaivre, my honorable colleague, and i are of the opinion that the mission of this congress is chiefly to examine questions of principle. i consider that we shall do a very important thing if we proclaim the principle of the adoption of a meridian which shall be the same for all nations. the advantages of such a meridian have been felt by the geographers and navigators of all ages. france might claim the honor of having sought to accomplish this reform as early as the seventeenth century. it is not to be expected, therefore, that france, at this late day, will seek to place any obstacles in the way of the adoption of an improvement which would by this time have been adopted if the use of the meridian which she proposed, and which she had caused to be generally accepted, had been continued. we therefore fully agree with you, gentlemen, as to the principle of a common international meridian, impartially defined and wisely applied, and we think that if the congress should cause a useful reform, which has been so long expected, to be finally adopted, it would render a great service to the world, and one that would do us the highest honor. this point being gained, is it proper for us to proceed to the adoption of such a meridian? we think not, unless we are assured by a previous declaration as to the principle which is to govern the selection of that meridian. without such a declaration, we should have no power to begin a discussion on an undefined subject, and we are not authorized to pledge ourselves. i must even add that our acquiescence in the principle of an international meridian could not be maintained if the congress proceeded to a choice at variance with the exclusively scientific principles which we are instructed to maintain. thus, in the very interest of the great principle which we all desire to see adopted, it would, to my way of thinking, be wiser to confine ourselves to a general declaration which, by uniting the opinions of all, would sustain the principle with all the authority possible. the principle having once been adopted, our governments would subsequently convoke a conference of a more technical character than this, at which questions of application would be more thoroughly examined. mr. valera, delegate of spain, stated that it seemed to him the order of proceeding for this conference was very well laid down in the invitations addressed by the president of the united states to the different countries and in the articles which were formulated at rome; that if these were taken up one after the other and discussed there would be a clearly-defined line of action for the delegates; that if an article was not satisfactory it could be altered or amended, or could be rejected; but if the propositions were taken up one at a time and the discussions directed to these propositions, the conference would be more likely to reach a definite result than in any general discussion. the president stated that, so far as he understood the proposition, there was no desire to press it to an immediate vote; that it was quite proper for the delegate from france to offer any other proposition, as suggested by the delegate of spain, in lieu of the motion now pending; that so far as the chair was concerned it seemed to him that the conference could at once proceed to the discussion of the general subject of a prime meridian under the pending resolution; that if the delegate from france desires to make any other proposition, or offer anything else in a distinct form, he will be listened to with great attention and with profound respect. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, remarked that the delegate from france, his learned friend, mr. janssen, had expressed the opinion that the delegates had not the power to decide upon any particular meridian, but that they were sent here merely to discuss this principle, namely, whether a general meridian was desirable. he added that he was, of course, not in possession of the instructions which the delegates from france received from their own government, but that he found among the instructions received by the delegates of the united states from their government a copy of one of the communications made by the president of the united states to france, as well as to the other nations, through the secretary of state, in which was this language: "i am accordingly directed by the president to request you to bring the matter to the attention of the government of ----, through the minister for foreign affairs, with a view to learning, whether its appreciation of the benefits to accrue to the intimate intercourse of civilized peoples from the consideration and adoption of the suggested common standard of time, so far coincides with that of this government as to lead it to accept an invitation to participate in an international conference at a date to be designated in the near future." the delegate of the united states continued by saying that the whole object of this conference was not to establish the principle that it is desirable to have a prime meridian, but to fix that prime meridian; that that was the object of the meeting, and that it seemed to him that there must be some misapprehension on the part of the learned gentleman from france in thinking that this conference has not the power to fix upon a prime meridian; that as to our organization, the delegate of france (mr. lefaivre) spoke of its not being sufficiently complete to take up this subject at present, but that it seemed to him that the delegates undoubtedly were ready to hear and express arguments _pro_ and _con_ in regard to that question; that he supposed that every delegate had studied this matter before coming here, and that he did not think that any delegate would be likely to come here unless he knew, or thought he knew, some thing about this matter. mr. valera, delegate from spain, announced that he had no power to pledge his country on this subject; that his authority merely extended to the power of recommending to his government such resolutions as this conference might adopt. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden, then said: "i desire to state in the protocol that i have no power to engage my government by my votes on the different questions which will be submitted to this conference, and that, therefore, these votes must only be considered as an engagement on my part to recommend to my government the decisions for which i vote." general strachey, delegate of great britain, said that in the name of the delegates of great britain he wished to state that they were in the same position, but that would not prevent them or this conference from forming an opinion and expressing it. the president stated that on behalf of the delegates from the united states they had no power except that of discussion and recommendation. mr. de struve made, on behalf of the delegates of russia, a declaration identical with that made by the delegate of sweden. baron von alvensleben, delegate from germany, made the same announcement on behalf of his government. mr. fernandez, delegate from mexico, made the same announcement. mr. valera, delegate of spain, remarked that this conference was called together not merely to discuss the subject of a prime meridian, but to determine, so far as these delegates were concerned, the propriety of adopting a particular prime meridian, and that his government would decide afterwards whether it would accept what this conference should recommend. dr. cruls, delegate of brazil, stated that his government authorized him to take part in the discussion, but not to commit his government to the adoption of any particular proposition. mr. fleming, delegate of great britain, said that he would like to call the attention of the conference to the language of the act of congress calling this conference together, and that language runs as follows: "that the president of the united states be authorized and requested to extend to the governments of all nations in diplomatic relations with our own an invitation to appoint delegates to meet delegates from the united states in the city of washington, at such time as he may see fit to designate, for the purpose of fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the globe." he added that he thought the object of the conference clearly was to determine and to recommend; that although the word "recommend" was not used in the body of the resolution, it was certainly understood, and, as a matter of fact, the title of the joint resolution passed by congress contains the word "recommend." it reads as follows: "an act to authorize the president of the united states to call an international conference to fix on and recommend for universal adoption a common prime meridian, to be used in the reckoning of longitude and in the regulation of time throughout the world." baron von schæffer, delegate of austria-hungary, then moved that the conference adjourn until monday, the 6th instant, at one o'clock, to enable delegates to confer on this subject. the proposition of the delegate of austria-hungary was then agreed to, and the conference adjourned to monday, october 6, 1884, at 1 o'clock, p. m. iii. session of october 6, 1884. the conference met pursuant to adjournment in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at one o'clock p. m. present: austro-hungary: baron ignatz von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. colombia: commodore s. r. franklin. costa rica: mr. juan francisco echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre, mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben, mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: capt. sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. c. adams, lieut.-general strachey, mr. sandford fleming. guatemala: mr. miles rook. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander, hon. luther aholo. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez, mr. angel arguiano. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, mr. kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. de j. galvan. salvador: mr. antonio batres. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilio ruiz del arbol, mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. turkey: rustem effendi. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherfurd, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, professor cleveland abbe. venezuela: dr. a. m. soteldo. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, said that the resolution offered by him at the last meeting omitted to state that the proposed meridian was for longitude, and he would offer the following as a substitute therefor: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes to the governments here represented the adoption of the meridian passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich as the standard meridian for longitude." the president then asked if the conference would permit the substitution to be made, and it was unanimously agreed to. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, stated that he did not propose to press the resolution to an early vote, but that it was offered simply to elicit the opinions of delegates on the subject. he further stated that, having heard that the delegates of france, mr. lefaivre and mr. janssen, desired to present certain propositions, he would, for that purpose, move to withdraw for the time being the resolution offered by him. no objection being made, the resolution was temporarily withdrawn. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, then made the following statement: our colleague, mr. rutherfurd, having withdrawn his motion for the adoption of the meridian of greenwich, we, the delegates of france, after consultation with him, submit the following motion: "_resolved_, that the initial meridian should have a character of absolute neutrality. it should be chosen exclusively so as to secure to science and to international commerce all possible advantages, and in particular especially should cut no great continent--neither europe nor america." sir f. j. o. evans, delegate of great britain, then stated that he presumed the conference could hardly pass by the important meeting held at rome, where twelve of the thirty-eight delegates were directors of national observatories, and where the subject of the conditions which should attach to a prime meridian were discussed without reference to any particular nationality; that these learned gentlemen came to the conclusion (which he thought was a very wise one) that the necessity existed for a prime meridian that it should pass through an astronomical observatory of the first order; that modern science demanded such precision, and therefore they excluded all ideas of a meridian being established on an island, in a strait, on the summit of a mountain, or as indicated by a monumental building. looking at the subject in its various aspects, they came to the conclusion that there were only four great observatories which in their minds combined all the conditions, and this decision was unanimously received by that conference. those great observatories were paris, berlin, greenwich, and washington. he stated further that, having this in view, he thought this conference should be particularly guarded, looking at the question from a scientific point of view, not to depart from the conditions laid down by the conference at rome; that he had no desire to advocate any one of the places enumerated, but merely mentioned them as satisfying all the conditions of science, which was so brilliantly represented at rome. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, then said: i can only attempt to anticipate the arguments which may be advanced by the learned delegate from france in support of his resolution to adopt a neutral meridian. but it is our simple duty, in our present judicial capacity, to examine the question of a prime meridian from all points of view. with the object, then, of considering the question from another stand-point, i ask your attention for one moment. this congress, at its last meeting, by a unanimous vote, declared its opinion that it was desirable to adopt a single prime meridian for the purpose of reckoning longitude. further, it is fair to assume that the delegates here assembled, in answer to a specific invitation from the government of the united states, and for a stated purpose, have come empowered by their respective governments to act upon the questions submitted for their consideration in the invitation. at the last meeting, the delegates from france left us somewhat in doubt regarding their views upon this important question of the powers of the delegates, or at least of their own delegation. but as they have to-day advocated the adoption of a neutral meridian, we may conclude that they have the necessary delegated power to fully consider and determine the main question before us--the selection of a prime meridian. in the absence of any declared opinion to the contrary, we may take it for granted that the delegates from all states here represented are deputed to "fix upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude throughout the globe," and to recommend the same for adoption to their respective governments. if, then, we are of one mind as to the desirability of a single prime meridian, and if we are fully empowered to make the selection, which may be taken as another way of saying that we are directed by our respective governments to make the selection, we may proceed directly to the performance of this duty. in the choice of a prime meridian, there is no physical feature of our earth which commends itself above others as the best starting point; nor does the form of the earth itself present any peculiarity which might be used as an initial point. if the refinements of geodesy should finally lead to the conclusion that the figure of the earth is an ellipsoid with three axes, yet the question of the direction of either of the equatorial axes must remain to such a degree uncertain that the extremity of the axis could not be assumed as the point of departure for counting longitude. indeed, as an initial meridian must above all things be fixed in position, it would not answer to make its position depend upon any physical constant which is itself in the slightest degree uncertain; for in these days, when refinements in physical measurements are constantly leading to more and more accurate results, each advance in accuracy would necessitate an annoying change in the initial meridian, or, what would more probably result, the retention of the first chosen meridian, which would thus lose its dependence upon the original definition, and become as arbitrary as if taken by chance in the first instance. we may then say that, from a purely scientific point of view, any meridian may be taken as the prime meridian. but from the standpoint of convenience and economy there is undoubtedly much room for a choice. considering this question of convenience in connection with the necessary condition of fixity already referred to, the prime meridian should pass through some well-established national observatory. in making the choice of a prime meridian which is to serve for a great period of time, it is important to so fix and define it that the natural changes of time may not render it in the least degree uncertain. to this end, the nation within whose borders the chosen point may fall should engage to establish it in the most enduring manner, and protect it against all possible causes of change or destruction. when taken in connection with other requirements, to be mentioned hereafter, this character of permanence will be best secured by making the adopted meridian pass through an observatory which is under the control of the government. such observatory should be in telegraphic communication with the whole world, in order that the differences of longitude from the prime meridian may be determined for any point. these conditions of convenience are so important that they may fairly be considered imperative. to fulfil them one of the national meridians now in use should be selected. to select any other than one of these meridians, or a meridian directly dependent upon one of them, and defined simply by its angular distance from one of these national meridians, would be to introduce endless confusion into all charts and maps now in use. to select as a prime meridian one which shall be a defined angular distance from one of the national meridians, must have for its object either to remove some inconvenience which results from the use of the national meridian itself, or it must be to satisfy a desire to deprive the selected meridian of any nationality. the inconvenience of east and west longitudes, which results from having the prime meridian pass through a thickly populated portion of the world, will be removed by reckoning the longitude continuously from o° to 360°. at the same time an important advantage is secured by having the prime meridian occupy a central position with regard to the most densely populated part of the earth; because the distances which will then separate the various points from the central observatory marking the initial meridian will be a minimum, and consequently less liable to error in determination. the selection of a meridian by calculation, defined as a certain number of degrees east or west of one of the national meridians, would not thereby deprive the meridian thus selected of a national character; for though we may reckon longitude from a meridian passing through the atlantic or pacific ocean, yet the initial point from which all measurements of longitude must be made would still remain one of the national meridians. again, if any other than one of the national meridians were selected, or a meridian dependent upon one of them, as, for example, a neutral meridian in the atlantic or pacific ocean, it would necessitate a change in all charts and maps. it is hardly necessary to say that no scientific or practical advantage is to be secured by adopting the meridian of the great pyramid, or by attempting to establish permanent meridian marks over a great length of the selected meridian, for even in the present advanced condition of astronomical and geodetic science it is not practicable to establish two points on the same meridian at a considerable distance from each other with such a degree of accuracy as would warrant the use of them indifferently as the initial point. as a matter of economy as well as convenience that meridian should be selected which is now in most general use. this additional consideration of economy would limit our choice to the meridian of greenwich, for it may fairly be stated upon the authority of the distinguished delegate from canada that more than 70 per cent. of all the shipping of the world uses this meridian for purposes of navigation. the charts constructed upon this meridian cover the whole navigable globe. the cost of the plates from which these charts are printed is probably 75 per cent. of the cost of all plates in the world for printing mariners' charts, and is probably not less than ten millions of dollars. as a matter of economy, then, to the world at large, it would be better to permit those plates to remain unchanged which are engraved for the meridian of greenwich and to make the necessary changes in all plates engraved for other meridians. a very natural pride has led the great nations to establish by law their own prime meridian within their own borders, and into this error the united states was led about 35 years ago. should any of us now hesitate in the adoption of a particular meridian, or should any nation covet the honor of having the selected meridian within its own borders, it is to be remembered that when the prime meridian is once adopted by all it loses its specific name and nationality, and becomes simply the prime meridian. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, stated that he did not propose to take up much of the time of the conference; that he had listened with great pleasure to the exhaustive speech of his colleague, commander sampson, but that he wished to say a few words about the conditions of permanence in the prime meridian to which allusion had just been made. he said that he would call attention to the fact that the observatory at paris stands within the heart of a large and populous city; that it has already been thought by many of the principal french astronomers that it should no longer remain there; that it has been, interfered with by the tremors of the earth and emanations in the air, which prevent it from fulfilling its usefulness; that for several years past strenuous efforts have been made to remove the observatory from paris to some other place where it may be free to follow out its course of usefulness, and that the only thing which keeps it there is the remembrance of the honorable career of that observatory in times past. he added that he was sure that there was no one here who failed to recognize its claims to distinction; that there was no one here acquainted with the past history of astronomy but looks with pride upon the achievements of the human intellect effected there. at the same time, however, if a change is to be made, if sentiment should give way to practical reason, a locality, no doubt, will be found which may be calculated to fulfil the requirements of a prime meridian better than that one. as to the fitness of greenwich, he said that the observatory was placed in the middle of a large park under the control of the government, so that no nuisance can come near it without their consent, and that it was in a position which speaks for itself; that he would only add one word more in regard to this matter, and that is, that the adoption of the meridian of greenwich as the prime meridian has not been sought after by great britain; that it was not her proposition, but that she consented to it after it had been proposed by other portions of the civilized world. mr. janssen, delegate of france, said: we do not put forward the meridian of the observatory of paris as that to be chosen for the prime meridian; but if it were chosen, and we wished to compare it with that of greenwich as to the accuracy with which it is actually connected with the other observatories of europe, it would not lose by the comparison. the latest observations of the differences of longitude made by electricity by the bureau of longitudes of france and our officers have given very remarkable results of great accuracy. it is well known that what is important for a starting point in reckoning longitude is, above all things, that it should be accurately connected with points whose positions have been precisely fixed, such as the great observatories. there is, therefore, a slight confusion on the part of my eminent colleague, namely, that of not distinguishing between the conditions which require the exact connection of the starting point of longitudes with observatories, and the merits of the position of such a point in an astronomical aspect, which is here a matter of secondary importance. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france, said that he did not not know if his observation was well founded, but it seemed to him that what the delegates of france had proposed had not been contested, but that the arguments used had rather been those in favor of the adoption of the meridian of greenwich. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, said that the observations which he had made were merely to be regarded as a negative of the proposition made by the delegates of france, and not as a statement of the arguments in favor of the adoption of greenwich. the president said that the remarks of the delegate of the united states were not out of order, inasmuch as they were intended to combat the proposition brought forward by the delegate of france. mr. janssen, delegate of france, then spoke as follows: gentlemen: at the last session, when a proposition was made by my eminent colleague and friend, mr. rutherfurd, to discuss and vote upon the adoption of the meridian of greenwich as the common prime meridian, i thought it necessary to say that the proposal appeared to me prematurely made, and that we could not agree to the discussion proceeding in that manner. mr. rutherfurd has informed me that he would withdraw his proposition for the present, in order to permit me to direct the discussion, in the first place, to the principle which should direct the choice of a common prime meridian. i here take the opportunity of thanking mr. rutherfurd for his courtesy, and i no longer object to proceeding with the debate. what we ask is, that after the general declaration of the second session as to the utility of a common prime meridian, the congress should discuss the question of the principle which should guide the choice of that meridian. being charged to maintain before you, gentlemen, the principle of the neutrality of the prime meridian, it is evident that if that principle was rejected by the congress it would be useless for us to take part in the further discussion of the choice of the meridian to be adopted as the point of departure in reckoning longitude. we think, gentlemen, that if this question of the unification of longitude is again taken up after so many unsuccessful attempts to settle it as are recorded in history, there will be no chance of its final solution unless it be treated upon an exclusively geographical basis, and that at any cost all national competition should be set aside. we do not advocate any particular meridian. we put ourselves completely aside in the debate, and thus place ourselves in a position of far greater freedom for expressing our opinion, and discussing the question exclusively in view of the interests affected by the proposed reform. the history of geography shows us a great number of attempts to establish a uniformity of longitude, and when we look for the reasons which have caused those attempts (many of which were very happily conceived) to fail, we are struck with the fact that it appears due to two principal causes--one of a scientific and the other of a moral nature. the scientific cause was the incapacity of the ancients to determine exactly the relative positions of different points on the globe, especially if it was a question of an island far from a continent, and which consequently could not be connected with that continent by itinerary measurements. for example, the first meridian of marinus of tyre and ptolemy, placed on the fortunate isles, in spite of its being so well chosen at the western extremity of the then known world, could not continue to be used on account of the uncertainty of the point of departure. that much to be regretted obstacle caused the method to be changed. it became necessary to fall back on the continent. but then, in place of a single common origin of longitude indicated by nature, the first meridians were fixed at capitals of countries, at remarkable places, at observatories. the second cause to which i just now alluded, the cause of a moral nature--national pride--has led to the multiplication of geographical starting-points where the nature of things would have required, on the contrary, their reduction to a single one. in the seventeenth century, cardinal richelieu, in view of this confusion, desired to take up again the conception of marinus of tyre, and assembled at paris french and foreign men of science, and the famous meridian of the island of ferro was the result of their discussions. here, gentlemen, we find a lesson which should not be lost sight of. this meridian of ferro, which at first had the purely geographical and neutral character which could alone establish and maintain it as an international first meridian, was deprived of its original characteristic by the geographer delisle, who, to simplify the figures, placed it at 20 degrees in round numbers west of paris. this unfortunate simplification abandoned entirely the principle of impersonality. it was no longer then an independent meridian; it was the meridian of paris disguised. the consequences were soon felt. the meridian of ferro, which has subsequently been considered as a purely french meridian, aroused national susceptibilities, and thus lost the future which was certainly in store for it if it had remained as at first defined. this was a real misfortune for geography. our maps, while being perfected, would have preserved a common unit of origin, which, on the contrary, has altered more and more. if, as soon as astronomical methods had been far enough advanced to permit the establishment of relative positions with that moderate accuracy which is sufficient for ordinary geography, (and that could have been done at the end of the 17th century,) we had again taken up the just and geographical conception of marinus of tyre, the reform would have been accomplished two centuries sooner, and to-day we should have been in the full enjoyment of it. but the fault was committed of losing sight of the essential principles of the question, and the establishment of numerous observatories greatly contributed to this. furnishing naturally very accurate relative positions, each one of these establishments was chosen by the nation to which it belonged as a point of departure for longitude, so that the intervention of astronomy in these questions of a geographical nature, an intervention which, if properly understood, should have been so useful, led us further away from the object to be attained. in fact, gentlemen, the study of these questions tends to show that there is an essential distinction between meridians of a geographical or hydrographical nature and meridians of observatories. the meridians of observatories should be considered essentially national. their function is to permit observatories to connect themselves one with another for the unification of the observations made at them. they serve also as bases for geodetic and topographical operations carried on around them. but their function is of a very special kind, and should be generally limited to the country to which they belong. on the contrary, initial meridians for geography need not be fixed with quite such a high degree of accuracy as is required by astronomy; but, in compensation, their operation must be far reaching, and while it is useful to increase as much as possible the number of meridians of observatories, it is necessary to reduce as much as we can the starting points for longitudes in geography. further, it may be said that as the position of an observatory should be chosen with reference to astronomical considerations, so an initial meridian in geography should only be fixed for geographical reasons. gentlemen, have these two very different functions been always well understood, and has this necessary distinction been preserved? in no wise. as observatories, on account of the great accuracy of their operations, furnish admirable points of reference, each nation which was in a condition to do it connected with its principal observatory not only the geodetic or topographical work which was done at home--a very natural thing--but also general geographical or hydrographical work which was executed abroad, a practice which contained the germ of all the difficulties with which we are troubled to-day. thus, as maps accumulated, the need of uniformity, especially in those that referred to general geography, was felt more and more. this explains why this question of a single meridian as a starting point has been so often raised of late. among the assemblies which have occupied themselves with this question, the one which principally calls for our attention is that which was held at rome last year; indeed, for many of our colleagues the conclusions adopted by the congress of rome settle the whole matter. these conclusions must, therefore, receive our special attention. in reading the reports of the discussions of that congress, i was struck with the fact that in an assembly of so many learned men and eminent theorists it was the practical side of the question that was chiefly considered, and which finally determined the character of the resolutions adopted. thus, instead of laying down the great principle that the meridian to be offered to the world as the starting-point for all terrestrial longitudes should, have above all things, an essentially geographical and impersonal character, the question was simply asked, which one of the meridians in use among the different observatories has (if i may be allowed to use the expression) the largest number of clients? in a matter which interests geography much more than hydrography, as most sailors acknowledge, because there exist really but two initial hydrographic meridians, greenwich and paris, a prime meridian has been taken, the reign (practical influence) of which is principally over the sea; and this meridian, instead of being chosen with reference to the configuration of the continents, is borrowed from an observatory; that is to say, that it is placed on the globe in a hap-hazard manner, and is very inconveniently situated for the function that it is to perform. finally, instead of profiting by the lessons of the past, national rivalries are introduced in a question that should rally the good-will of all. well, gentlemen, i say that considerations of economy and of established custom should not make us lose sight of the principles which must be paramount in this question, and which alone can lead to the universal acceptance and permanence of its settlement. furthermore, gentlemen, these motives of economy and of established custom, which have been appealed to as a decisive argument, exist, it is true, for the majority in behalf of which they have been put forward, but exist for them only, and leave to us the whole burden of change in customs, publications, and material. since the report considers us of so little weight in the scales, allow me, gentlemen, to recall briefly the past and the present of our hydrography, and for that purpose i can do no better than to quote from a work that has been communicated to me, and which emanates from one of our most learned hydrographers. "france," he says, "created more than two centuries ago the most ancient nautical ephemerides in existence. she was the first to conceive and execute the great geodetic operations which had for their object the construction of civil and military maps and the measurement of arcs of the meridian in europe, america, and africa. all these operations were and are based on the paris meridian. nearly all the astronomical tables used at the present time by the astronomers and the navies of the whole world are french, and calculated for the paris meridian. as to what most particularly concerns shipping, the accurate methods now used by all nations for hydrographic surveys are of french origin, and our charts, all reckoned from the meridian of paris, bear such names as those of bougainville, la pérouse, fleurieu, borda, d'entrecasteaux, beautemps, beaupré, duperrey, dumont d'urville, daussy, to quote only a few among those who are not living. "our actual hydrographic collections amount to more than 4,000 charts. by striking off those which the progress of explorations have rendered useless, there still remain about 2,600 charts in use. of this number more than half represent original french surveys, a large part of which foreign nations have reproduced. amongst the remainder, the general charts are the result of discussions undertaken in the bureau of the marine, by utilizing all known documents, french as well as foreign, and there are relatively few which are mere translations of foreign works. our surveys are not confined to the coasts of france and of its colonies; there is scarcely a region of the globe for which we do not possess original work--newfoundland, the coasts of guiana, of brazil, and of la plata, madagascar, numerous points of japan and of china, 187 original charts relative to the pacific. we must not omit the excellent work of our hydrographic engineers on the west coast of italy, which was honored by the international jury with the great medal of honor at the universal exhibition of 1867. the exclusive use of the paris meridian by our sailors is justified by reference to a past of two centuries, which we have thus briefly recalled. "if another initial meridian had to be adopted, it would be necessary to change the graduation of our 2,600 hydrographic plates; it would be necessary to do the same thing for our nautical instructions, (sailing directions,) which exceed 600 in number. the change would also necessarily involve a corresponding change in the _connaissance des temps_." these are titles to consideration of some importance. well, if under these circumstances the projected reform, instead of being directed by the higher principles which ought to govern the subject, should take solely for its base the respect due to the established customs of the largest number and the absence on their part of all sacrifice, reserving to us alone the burden of the change and the abandonment of a valued and glorious past, are we not justified in saying that a proposition thus made would not be acceptable? when france, at the end of the last century, instituted the metre, did she proceed thus? did she, as a measure of economy and in order to change nothing in her customs, propose to the world the "pied de roi" as a unit of measure? you know the facts. the truth is, everything with us was overthrown--both the established methods and instruments for measurement; and the measure adopted being proportioned only to the dimensions of the earth, is so entirely detached from everything french that in future centuries the traveller who may search the ruins of our cities may inquire what people invented the metrical measure that chance may bring under his eyes. permit me to say that it is thus a reform should be made and becomes acceptable. it is by setting the example of self-sacrifice; it is by complete self-effacement in any undertaking, that opposition is disarmed and true love of progress is proved. i now hasten to say that i am persuaded that the proposition voted for at rome was neither made nor suggested by england, but i doubt whether it would render a true service to the english nation if it be agreed to. an immense majority of the navies of the world navigate with english charts; that is true, and it is a practical compliment to the great maritime activity of that nation. when this freely admitted supremacy shall be transformed into an official and compulsory supremacy, it will suffer the vicissitudes of all human power, and that institution, (the common meridian,) which by its nature is of a purely scientific nature, and to which we would assure a long and certain future, will become the object of burning competition and jealousy among nations. all this shows, gentlemen, how much wiser it would be to take for the origin of terrestrial longitude a point chosen from geographical considerations only. upon the globe, nature has so sharply separated the continent on which the great american nation has arisen, that there are only two solutions possible from a geographical point of view, both of them very natural. the first solution would consist in returning, with some small modification, to the solution of the ancients, by placing our meridian near the azores; the second by throwing it back to that immense expanse of water which separates america from asia, where on its northern shores the new world abuts on the old. these two solutions may be discussed; this has been often done, and again quite recently, by one of our ablest geologists, m. de chancourtois. each of these meridians combine the fundamental conditions which geography demands and upon which there has always been an agreement when national meridians are set aside from the discussion. as to the determination of the position of the point which may be adopted, the present excellent astronomical methods will give it with a degree of exactness as great as that which geography requires. but what is the necessity for a special and costly determination of the longitude of a point which can be fixed arbitrarily, provided this be done within certain limits, as for instance by satisfying the conditions of passing through a strait or an island. we may be content with fixing the position of the point adopted in an approximate manner. the position thus obtained would be connected with certain of the great observatories selected for the purpose from their being accurately connected one with another, and the relative positions thus ascertained would supply the definition of the first meridian. as to any material mark on the globe, if one be desired, though it is in no manner necessary, it would be established in conformity with this definition, and its position should be changed until it exactly complied with it. as to the question of the changes to be introduced in existing maps and charts which, by our proposition, would be imposed upon everybody, they could be very much reduced, especially if it were agreed--which would be sufficient at first--to draw upon existing charts only a subsidiary additional scale of graduation which would permit immediate use of the international meridian. later, and as new charts were engraved, a more complete scale of graduation would be given; but i think that it would always be desirable to preserve in the manner now done in many atlases both systems of reckoning longitude--the national and international. if it be necessary at the present time to facilitate the external relations of all nations, it is also well to preserve among them all manifestations of personal life, and to respect the symbols which represent their traditions and past history. gentlemen, i do not propose to dwell upon the details of the establishment of such a meridian. we have only to advocate before you the principle of its acceptance. if this principle be admitted by the congress, we are instructed to say that you will find in it a ground for agreement with france. without doubt, on account of our long and glorious past, of our great publications, of our important hydrographic works, a change of meridian would cause us heavy sacrifices. nevertheless, if we are approached with offers of self-sacrifice, and thus receive proofs of a sincere desire for the general good, france has given sufficient proofs of her love of progress to make her co-operation certain. but we shall have to regret that we are not able to join a combination which to protect the interests of one portion of the contracting parties would sacrifice the more weighty scientific character of the meridian to be adopted, a character which in our eyes is indispensable to justify its imposition upon all, and to assure it permanent success. prof. j. c. adams, delegate of great britain, stated that if he were allowed to offer a few observations upon the eloquent address made by his colleague, the representative of france, mr. janssen, he would remark that, so far as he could follow that discourse, it seemed to him to turn almost entirely on sentimental considerations; that it appeared to him that the delegate of france had overlooked one great point which was correctly laid down by the president in his opening address, viz., that one of the main objects to be kept in view in the deliberations of this conference would be, how best to secure the aggregate convenience of the world at large--how we should choose a prime meridian which would cause the least inconvenience by the change that would take place. of course, any change would necessarily be accompanied by a certain amount of inconvenience, but our object, as he understood it, was to take care that that inconvenience should be as small in its aggregate amount as possible. he stated that if that were taken as the ground of consideration by this conference, it appeared to him that the question was narrowed to one of fact rather than to be one of sentiment, which latter would admit of no solution whatever; for it was quite clear that if all the delegates here present were guided by merely sentimental considerations, or by considerations of _amour propre_, the conference would never arrive at any conclusion, because each nation would put its own interests on a level with those of every other. he added that if the conference should be able to agree in the opinion that the adoption of one meridian (for his part he did not undertake to say what meridian) would be accompanied by a greater amount of convenience in the aggregate than the adoption of any other, he thought that this should be the predominant consideration in guiding the decision of this conference, on the question referred to them, and it appeared to him that this is a consideration which the delegate of france has not put before this conference, at least not in a prominent way. it is clear that the inconvenience caused to any one nation by the adoption of a new neutral meridian would not be lessened by the fact that all other nations would suffer the same inconvenience. with respect to the question of a neutral meridian, professor adams wished to call the attention of the congress to the fact that the delegates here present are not a collection of representatives of belligerents; that they are all neutral as men should be in a matter purely scientific, or in any other matter which affects the convenience of the world at large, and that this conference is not met here at the end of a war to see how territory should be divided, but in a friendly way, representing friendly nations. he stated that he hoped the delegates would be guided in their decision by the main consideration, which was, what will tend to the greatest practical convenience of the world? that he need not address a word to the other part of the argument which he thought at first of commenting upon a little, for the delegate of the united states, commander sampson, who spoke first, had put his views so clearly before the conference that he (professor adams) would not detain it longer. he would add, however, that if the conference is to take a neutral meridian they must either erect an observatory on the point selected, which might be very inconvenient if they should choose such a point as is alluded to by the delegate of france, or if some such place was not selected, we should merely have a zero of longitude by a legal fiction, and that would not be a real zero at all; that they would have to select their zero with reference to a known observatory, and that, for instance, supposing they took a point for zero twenty degrees west of paris, of course that would be really adopting paris as the prime meridian; that it would not be so nominally, but in reality it would be, and he thought that we now-a-days should get rid of legal fictions as much as possible, and call things by their right names. mr. janssen, delegate of france, said: my eminent colleague, whose presence is an honor to this congress, professor adams, thinks that i overlook too much the practical side of the question; namely, how a prime meridian can be established so as to cause the least inconvenience. he says that i pay too much attention to what he calls a question of sentiment, and he concludes by expressing the hope that all nations will lay aside their national pride and only be guided by this consideration: what meridian offers the greatest practical advantages? my reply is that i intend no more than professor adams to place the question upon the ground of national pride; but it is one thing to speak in the name of national pride and another to foresee that this sentiment common to all men, may show itself, and that we should avoid conclusions likely to arouse it, or we may compromise our success. that is all our argument; and the history of the great nation to which professor adams belongs furnishes us with examples of considerable significance, for the french meridian of ferro was never adopted by the english, notwithstanding its happy geographical situation, and we all still awaiting the honor of seeing the adoption of the metrical system for common use in england. but let us put aside these questions which i would not have been the first to touch upon, and place ourselves upon the true ground of the importance of the proposed reform, which is the only one worthy of ourselves or of this discussion. we do not refuse to enter into an agreement on account of a mere question, of national pride, and the statement of the changes and expenses to which we should have to submit in order to accomplish the agreement is a sufficient proof of this. but we consider that a reform which consists in giving to a geographical question one of the worst solutions possible, simply on the ground of practical convenience, that is to say, the advantage to yourselves and those you represent, of having nothing to change, either in your maps, customs, or traditions--such a solution, i say, can have no future before it, and we refuse to take part in it. prof. abbe, delegate of the united states, stated that the delegate of france, mr. janssen, had made a very important proposition to the conference: that the meridian adopted should be a neutral one. he said that he had endeavored to determine what a neutral meridian is. on what principle shall the conference fix upon a neutral meridian, and what is a neutral meridian? shall it be historical, geographical, scientific, or arithmetical? in what way shall it be fixed upon? he looked back a little into the history of an important system adopted some years ago. france determined to give us a neutral system of weights and measures, and the world now thanks her for it. she determined that the base of this neutral system should be the ten-millionth part of a quadrant of the meridian. she fixed it by measurement, and to-day we use the metre as the standard in all important scientific work; but is that metre part of a neutral system? is our metric system neutral? it was intended to be, but it is not; we are using a french system. had the english, or the germans, or the americans taken the ten-millionth part of the quadrant of the meridian, they would have arrived at a slightly different measure, and there would have been an english, a german, and an american measure. we are using the french metric system. it was intended to be a neutral system, but it is a french system. we adopt it because it deserves our admiration, but it is not a neutral system. the various nations of the world might meet and agree upon some slight modification of this metric system which would agree with the results of all scientific investigations, and thus make it international instead of french; but we do not care to do that, and are willing to adopt one system, taking the standard of paris as our standard. how shall we determine a neutral system of longitude? the expression "neutral system of longitude" is a myth, a fancy, a piece of poetry, unless you can tell precisely how to do it. he would vote for a neutral system if the french representatives can tell the conference clearly how to decide that it is neutral, and satisfy them that it is not national in any way. mr. janssen, delegate of france, said: i perfectly understand the objection of my honorable colleague, prof. abbe. he asks what is a neutral meridian, and adds that the metre itself does not appear to him to be a neutral measure, but to be a french measure. he relies upon the consideration that if the english, the americans, and germans, in adopting a definition of the metre, had measured it for themselves, they would have arrived each at a slightly different result, which would have given us an english, american, and german metre; nevertheless, he adds, we use the french metre, because we find it so admirable. i would answer, first, that the metre, as far as the measure is derived from the dimensions of the earth, is not french, and it was precisely to take away this character of nationality that those who fixed on the metre sought to establish it on the dimensions of the earth itself. what is french is the particular metre of our national archives, which exhibits a very slight difference from that which our actual geodesy would have given us. also, i think that if, at the time of the adoption of the convention du mêtre, in which the nations of europe participated, we had slightly changed the length of our standard to make it agree with the result of actual geodetic measurements, we should have done an excellent thing in depriving this measure of any shadow of nationality. i agree with my honorable colleague that if a few slight changes adopted by common accord could perfect the metrical system, we french ought to have no motive for opposing it. we have the honor of having invented a system of measures which, being based upon considerations of a purely scientific nature, has been accepted by all. therefore if it can be said with truth that the metre of the archives of paris is french, (not intentionally, but because it bears the mark of an error of french origin,) it is an international metre, by the same title that the discovery of the satellites of mars made by my friend, prof. asaph hall, whom i have the pleasure of seeing here, is scientific and of a universal nature. the metre--equal to the ten-millionth part of the distance from the equator to the pole--is no more french than that distance itself, and, nevertheless, if the americans, english, or germans had measured it, they would each have arrived at a slightly different metre. now, my honorable colleague adds that a neutral meridian appears to him a myth, a fancy, a piece of poetry, so long as we have not exactly settled the method of determining it. i shall disregard the expressions which my honorable colleague has thus introduced into the discussion, because this discussion should be serious. it is plain that prof. abbe did not thoroughly apprehend the explanations which i gave of the proper methods of fixing the initial meridian, and of the conditions which make a meridian neutral; but i return to them, since i am invited to do so. our meridian will be neutral if, in place of taking one of those which are fixed by the existing great observatories, to which, consequently, the name of a nation is attached, and which by long usage is identified with that nation, we choose a meridian based only upon geographical considerations, and upon the uses for which we propose to adopt it. do you want a striking example of what differentiates a neutral meridian from a national meridian? in order to avoid the confusion which existed in geography at the beginning of the seventeenth century, on account of the multiplicity of initial meridians then in use, a congress of learned men, assembled in paris at the instance of richelieu to select a new common meridian, fixed its choice on the most eastern point of the island of ferro. this was a purely geographical meridian, being attached to no capital, to no national observatory, and consequently neutral, or, if you please, purely geographical. later, le père feuillet, sent in 1724 by the academy of sciences to determine the exact longitude of the initial point, having given the figure 19° 55' 3" west of paris, the geographer, delisle, for the sake of simplicity, adopted the round number 20°; and, as i stated a little while ago, this alteration completely changed the character of this prime meridian. it ceased to be neutral, and became merely the meridian of paris disguised, as has been truly said, and the english, notably, never adopted it. here is the difference, gentlemen, between a neutral meridian and a national meridian. and, parenthetically, you see, gentlemen, how dangerous it is to awaken national susceptibilities on a subject of a purely scientific nature. now allow me to add that, if in 1633 it was possible to find a neutral meridian, a purely geographical meridian, an independent meridian, it may easily be done in 1884 if we wish to do so; and that a point chosen on purely geographical considerations, either in behring's strait or in the azores, could be much better determined now than was possible to father feuillet in 1724, and could take the position which the meridian of ferro would not have lost had it not been confounded with the meridian of paris. professor j. c. adams, delegate of great britain, stated that he merely desired to refer to one subject touched on by the delegate of france, mr. janssen, whose opinion he thought could hardly be supported, and that was that the question of longitude was purely one of geography. he desired to controvert that, and to hold that the question of longitude was purely one of astronomical observation. the difference of longitude between two places could not be determined by geodetic observations, because to do this you must take hypothesis as to the figure of the earth, and the figure of the earth is not a simple figure. you may take as hypothesis that the figure of the earth is spheroidal, and that the ratio of the axes is exactly defined. now, in the first place, we are not agreed as to the exact ratio of the axes, nor are we agreed as to the exact figure of the earth. if an attempt is made to measure the difference of longitude between two points on the earth's surface, especially when they are a considerable distance from each other, it is necessary to depend upon astronomical observations. in attempting to deduce the difference of longitude from geodetic measures, you must assume that the true figure and dimensions of the earth are known, which is far from being the case. the theory that the prime meridian is a matter purely of a geographical nature is liable to the fatal objection that the determination of the difference of longitude between one place and the other is really the determination of the difference of time of the passage of a star across the meridian of the two places concerned. that is very definite. you observe the transit of the star at one place, and you observe the transit of the star at the other place, and by means of telegraphic communications you are able to determine their difference of longitude independent of the figure of the earth. he said, in conclusion, that he thought the honorable delegate of france was mistaken upon the main point which he had just referred to, if, indeed, he had rightly understood him. m. janssen, delegate of france, replied as follows: i think that m. adams entirely misunderstands me. i agree with him absolutely in thinking that longitudes cannot be determined, especially of places far apart, except by astronomical methods. geodesy can only furnish it for short distances; in such cases, it is true, it supplies it with a degree of accuracy which meridianal observations cannot attain. so, if the question be to determine rigorously the difference of longitude in time between two places on the earth at considerable distances apart, it becomes one of astronomy, because here it is astronomy which gives the quickest and most accurate solution. for these reasons if, for instance, we should wish to connect a given observatory with a point situated on the other side of the ocean which had been chosen as the starting point of longitudes, it would become a question of astronomy. astronomy here is an admirable instrument for the solution, but it should only be the instrument. on the contrary, the question becomes geographical, if it be that of determining where it will be most convenient to fix the origin of terrestrial longitudes. if the question be, for instance, to select one or another point, in some one or other ocean, astronomy has nothing to do with it, and when it wishes to impose upon us one of its observatories to fulfil such a function it tends to give an inaccurate solution. at first sight it may seem that any point might become a starting point for terrestial longitudes, but when we study the question a little more we see there may be great advantages in choosing some one point in preference to some other. hence it is that all geographers have agreed to place initial meridians, when possible, in the oceans. the president stated that, in accordance with the decision of the conference, he had sent to the scientists named by them invitations to a seat upon this floor. the chair sees several of these gentlemen here to-day, notably one of the most eminent astronomers of this country, to whom his countrymen are always ready to do homage, professor newcomb, superintendent of the united states nautical almanac. if it be the pleasure of the congress, the chair will now request professor newcomb to give us his views upon the resolution now under discussion. no objection being made to the proposition of the president, professor newcomb arose and said: that in reference to the remarks of the distinguished delegate of france, professor janssen, he would prefer, if the conference would consent, to study his arguments more carefully when they should be in print. he remarked that some points raised by that argument have been already replied to, and he wished now more particularly to request that professor janssen would define precisely what he meant by "a neutral meridian;" that he had partially answered this question in reply to professor abeé; but that there was a more fundamental point, one of practice, which must be brought in and kept in mind at every step, and which was raised by commander sampson's paper, to which he had listened with great interest. commander sampson held that it would be necessary to have a fixed observatory on the chosen prime meridian, but he (professor newcomb) did not concur in that view, but rather agreed to a limited extent with what professor janssen had said on that question. in choosing a meridian from which to count longitude, you meet a difficult problem. you have a point on the globe defined as the first meridian. this would be taken as the initial point of departure, and you are to determine the longitude of a certain place from that point. now, doubtless, there is no other way to do this than to have an astronomical instrument and telegraphic communication. and if they chose the azores or behring's strait, in neither case could they mount a transit instrument or have a system of telegraphic communication. nor could we make a determination of longitude from a single fixed observatory in any case. he then stated that it was impracticable under any circumstances to have an absolutely neutral prime meridian; that the definition of the prime meridian must practically depend upon subsidiary considerations, no matter where it might be located. in the practical work of determining longitudes a connection with the prime meridian cannot be made in each case. what is really determined is the longitude from some intermediate point, generally in the same country, and in telegraphic communication with the place whose longitude we wish to know. this intermediate point would, for the time, be the practical prime meridian. but the longitude of this point itself must always be uncertain. science is continually advancing in accuracy, and we find that we continually need to correct the longitude of our intermediate meridian, and hence of all points determined from it. how can this difficulty of constantly changing longitudes be avoided? he replied that each system of connected longitudes must rest upon its own basis. it must be referred to an assumed prime meridian, and the measurements must be made from that, even if it be found to be somewhat in error. if some such system had been adopted thirty or forty years ago, we would have avoided the confusion arising from the fact that the longitudes given on many maps do not refer at all to any absolute meridian. all that is known is that the astronomers determined the longitude of the place, and then the maps had to be corrected accordingly. the longitude of one place would be determined from cambridge, and perhaps in the neighborhood is another place determined from the observatory at washington. in either case we know nothing of the longitude of cambridge or washington which the observer assumed in his calculations. generally, in determining longitude, the country adopts the principal place within its confines as a subsidiary prime meridian, and the assumed longitude of this place is necessarily selected somewhat arbitrarily. the longitude, for instance, of washington was, thirty years ago, known to be nearly 5 hours 8 minutes and 12 seconds west from greenwich. had we adopted this difference by law, it would have amounted to choosing for our prime meridian a point 5 hours 8 minutes and 12 seconds east of washington, whether we happened to strike the transit instrument at greenwich or not. this would have fixed an assumed longitude for the cambridge observatory and for all points within our telegraphic net-work. we should have had a practical system, which might, however, require to be corrected from time to time, if some slight error were found in the assumed longitude of washington. in the present state of astronomical observation these little errors are of no consequence except in some very refined astronomical discussions. for all geographical and perhaps geodetical purposes the error may be regarded as zero, and it may be said, in regard to astronomical work, that it will always be independent of any meridian that might be chosen. but even if this difficulty were avoided, he could not see how they could have any place which would come within the definition of a neutral meridian. supposing they took the azores, they belong to portugal; then certainly they would have a portuguese prime meridian, belonging to the portuguese nation. thus they would no longer have a neutral point, if he (professor newcomb) rightly understood the meaning of professor janssen. he said that the delegate of great britain, professor adams, had expressed very clearly his (professor newcomb's) ideas, and the difficulty we have in meeting the propositions of the french delegates; that what he had said would apply very properly to any neutral meridian that might be chosen in accordance with the plans of professor janssen. whatever that meridian might be, we must always assume for it a certain number of degrees from the capital of the country, where the place to be determined is located, and then take that imaginary meridian instead of a real point on the surface of the globe. it is true that this is perfectly practicable, and on that theory there might not be any necessity of having an astronomical observatory. but why we should go to this trouble and expense mr. janssen did not make very clear; his considerations were purely sentimental, as was remarked by the delegate of great britain, professor adams, and he (prof. newcomb) did not see what advantage would be gained by a neutral meridian in preference to one fixed by convenience. in order that a discussion may proceed, it is necessary to agree on a given basis from which to start, and it is extremely difficult to agree upon a basis if there are considerations of sentiment introduced, because such considerations are peculiar to each person. he therefore wished to propose this question again to the delegate of france, namely, what advantages can we derive from fixing upon a neutral meridian? mr. janssen, delegate of france, said: professor newcomb asks me to point out the advantages of a neutral meridian. these advantages are of two kinds--they are of a geographical nature and a moral nature. let us examine the first. by placing the initial meridian between asia and america, we get away from the centres of population, which is almost indispensable in view of the change of dates. we divide the world into two parts, the old world and the new. the advantage of drawing the prime meridian through the ocean has always been understood, and it was precisely for this reason that marinus of tyre, during the first century, placed it at the fortunate isles, west of the african continent. it is idle to urge the difficulty of fixing such a meridian as an objection. astronomy is so far advanced in our day as to enable us to make this calculation with all desirable accuracy. as to the methods of obtaining this meridian exactly, there are several. i have already spoken of them, but i return to the subject, since more details are desired. these methods fall under two principal heads. we can, and that is the ancient idea, choose some remarkable physical point--as, for instance, the extremity of an island, a strait, the summit of a mountain--and determine approximately the distance in longitude of this point from the points of reference, which are at present the observatories. this method, if all the precision that science can now attain is required, would be costly in certain cases. for the azores the expense would be small, because of the proximity of the telegraphic cables; it would be much greater for behring straits. on the hypothesis of the employment of this method, it would evidently be necessary to place our meridian at the azores. according to the other method, it is not the physical point which is fixed, but simply the distance of the assumed origin from the points of comparison. for example, admit that the general definition of our prime meridian was that it should pass through the middle of behring straits. to obtain its theoretical definition, we should obtain a position of this point, either by summary observations of the nature of hydrographic surveys, or by the aid of existing information, and the longitude thus obtained would be connected with the observatories best connected with each other. a list of the differences of longitude would become the definition of our meridian, and not the physical point in the sea which marks the exact middle of the strait. if, now, we absolutely wished for a physical point, we have the island of st. lawrence, which is cut towards its eastern part by such a meridian, and we could put a point of reference there, subject to the condition that the position of this point should conform to the definition, and that it should be removed, in one direction or the other, until it did conform to it. as to the very slight errors which might still affect the relative positions of the great observatories actually connected by electricity, they do not concern geography. if i am not mistaken, the eminent superintendent of the american nautical almanac acknowledges that we could thus avoid the difficulties which might result from the changes to which the perfecting of science would in the course of time give rise in the statement of longitudes. in this manner the expense would be nothing or small. thus, also, the meridian would be truly neutral, both by reason of its position in the ocean between the continents, and by reason of its definition, since the zero of longitude would then be so placed as to occupy a point not identified with any nation. this illustration appears to me to answer the demands of professor newcomb. i have taken it only for that reason, for i maintain no particular method, but only the principle of neutrality. finally, i must return again to those sentimental reasons which my eminent and friendly opponents so often call to my attention. if i do not err, the very warmth of these interesting discussions shows me that the honor of being personally connected with a great reform touches us more than we are willing to admit, or than practical interests alone could effect. professor adams himself supplies an illustration of this. he should remember the lively discussions of the english and french press on the occasion of the magnificent discovery of neptune, and on the claims of the two illustrious competitors who were then the objects of universal admiration. if we go back in history, do we not see the friends of newton and of leibnitz equally contesting with asperity the discovery of the infinitesimal calculus. the love of glory is one of the noblest motives of men; we must bow before it, but we must also be careful not to permit it to produce bad fruits. when our men of science sought, a hundred years ago, to determine a new measure of length, some one proposed the length of the seconds pendulum at paris. this measure was rejected, because it introduced the idea of time in a measure of length, and also because it was peculiar to paris, and because a measure acceptable to the whole world was desired. it is important not to introduce questions of national rivalries into a scientific reform intended to be accepted by all, and history shows us precisely on this question of prime meridians what active rivalries there are. there was a time when almost every nation which had a large observatory had a meridian, and that meridian was considered an object of national pride. there were the meridians of paris, of rome, of florence, of london, and so on, and no nation was willing to abandon its meridian for that of another. if you please to adopt either the meridian of greenwich, washington, paris, berlin, pulkowa, vienna, or rome, our reform may be accepted for the moment, especially if it offers immediate advantages in economy; but it will contain within it a vice which will prevent its becoming definitive, and we are not willing to participate in action which will not be definitive. whatever we may do, the common prime meridian will always be a crown to which there will be a hundred pretenders. let us place the crown on the brow of science, and all will bow before it. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, said that he thought that the delegate of france, professor janssen, had explained very fully the advantages of a neutral meridian, but he thought that he had not explained how we are to determine the neutral meridian. he added that he quite agreed with professor adams and professor newcomb, that to establish a prime meridian it is necessary to refer its position to an astronomical observatory. he stated further that if a meridian were selected passing through the atlantic or pacific ocean, it must be referred to some initial point whose longitude is known, and the consequence of that would be, it seemed to him, that the prime meridian selected would still be dependent upon some national observatory, and that to select a meridian at random without reference to any observatory would lead to the utmost confusion, and, he had no doubt, would not be entertained by any one. prof. janssen, delegate of france. when my honorable colleague, commander sampson, reads the remarks which i have just made, he will see that i have very fully shown what characterizes a neutral or geographical meridian, as contradistinguished from those meridians which, passing through capitals and observatories of different countries, bear the names of nations, whilst geographical meridians bear geographical names, such as the meridian of ferro, of the azores, behring's strait, &c. of course it would be necessary to connect the places selected with observatories, either by calculation or in some other effective manner. i said all this a few moments ago. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, then remarked that in addition to what had been said he would merely call attention to the fact that after that neutral point had been established it would cease to be a neutral meridian; that if the azores be chosen they belong to portugal, and he did not know any island in the pacific which would serve the purpose, and at the same time not be subject to this objection; that perhaps behring's strait, mentioned by the french delegate, might be less objectionable than any other place. he added that it is absolutely necessary that there should be some means of determining the difference between this adopted place and the other places, or else no use could be made of it. we must know how far other places are from the prime meridian, and for that reason it is necessary that it should be on land. now, that land must belong to some country, and after we have fixed upon it it would cease to be a neutral meridian, and it would have to be connected by telegraphic wires with all the great observatories in the world. prof. janssen, delegate of france. my honorable friend, mr. rutherfurd, says that from the time the prime meridian was chosen it would cease to be neutral. i reply that he confounds a scientific principle with a question of property in the soil. if, for reasons of a geographical nature, we should fix upon a point in the azores, that meridian would be neutral, because it would have been chosen on scientific grounds alone. the equator is neutral because geographical conditions give it that character; and, nevertheless, the countries along it belong to various nations, do they not? as to the manner of connecting the prime meridian with the system of observatories, i have already explained how this may be done in my former speech. general strachey, delegate of england, remarked that he had rather hesitated about saying anything on the subject, after the expression of so many opinions of persons better qualified to speak than himself, but he felt that he ought to make a few remarks as to the distinction which prof. janssen had attempted to establish between astronomical and geographical longitude. it appeared to him that longitude was longitude. it would never do if, for geographic purposes, we are to have a second or third-class longitude and for astronomical purposes a first-class longitude. he said that as a geographer he repudiated any such idea. when you come to the practical application of the determination of longitude at sea for maritime purposes, it is true that a much less accurate determination suffices than would suffice for the determination of longitude for astronomical observatories; but, for all that, what is the object of a ship desiring to know what its place at sea is? obviously to arrive at the port to which it is destined, and the object to be obtained is such a determination of the longitude as to enable that ship to arrive at its port without danger. you obtain a comparatively imperfect determination of longitude, but it is sufficiently accurate to prevent you from striking on the solid earth. but how is the longitude of the port to be determined? certainly, as has been properly said, by astronomical observations, which can only be made with certainty on the earth. consequently, it seemed to him that it is absolutely essential for fixing an initial meridian for the determination of longitude that it should be placed at an astronomical observatory which can be connected with other places by astronomical observations and by telegraph wires, and that the idea of fixing a neutral meridian is nothing more than the establishment of an ideal meridian really based upon some point at which there is located an observatory. this has been repeated once or twice before, and i need not enlarge upon it. prof. janssen, delegate of france. my honorable colleague, general strachey, thinks that longitude is longitude, and that there is not an astronomical longitude and a geographical longitude. i answer, that this is, nevertheless, what the nature of things indicates. the longitude of observatories, or rather the difference of longitude between those establishments, must be fixed with an accuracy which is never sufficiently great. in the bureau of longitude of france we are occupied with the differences of longitude of european observatories, and we adopt for these calculations all the latest scientific improvements, and especially the employment of electricity. geography, especially for general purposes, does not require this great accuracy, which could not be expressed on maps. all geographers agree upon that subject. a statement of the longitude is like the statement of a weight, of a measure, or of anything, and its precision must vary according to the purpose to which it is applied. is not a weighing necessary to determine a chemical equivalent of an entirely different kind from that of a commercial weighing? yet it is still a weight. is it necessary to insist on this further? it is entirely a secondary question. if general strachey, whom i had the pleasure of meeting in india, demands that the prime meridian should be connected with observatories with rigorous accuracy, this can be done if it be desired; the astronomical and electrical methods at our disposal will permit of it. prof. abbe, delegate of the united states, said that he was quite interested in the determination, if possible, of what is a neutral meridian. we are precisely in the condition in which we were years ago, when the french institute determined that the basis of the metric system should be the one ten-millionth of the quadrant of the globe. having settled upon that ideal basis, they spent years of labor, and finally legalized a standard metre, which is still preserved at paris. we have now the same problem to solve. we have before us the idea of a neutral meridian, and, if it be adopted, we must see that there be embodied in the system the distance of certain other important places with reference to it. the only suggestion given as to the location of this neutral meridian is behring's strait. this is said to be a neutral meridian, because it lies between russia and america; but how long will it remain so? perhaps a year or two, or perhaps fifty years. who knows when russia will step over and reconquer the country on this side of behring's strait? who knows when america will step over and purchase half of siberia? at any rate, that point is not cosmopolitan; something must be found which is fixed, either within the sphere of the earth or in the stars above the earth--something that is above all human considerations--otherwise we shall fail in securing a neutral meridian. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, said that he would like to ask the delegate from france, mr. janssen, where he would place the neutral meridian. the president said that the delegate of the united states, commander sampson, puts a question which seems to be somewhat categorical. at this point in the proceedings the president stated that it would be convenient if the conference would take a short recess to enable the secretaries, with himself, to consult upon the subject of the preparation and approval of the protocols. a recess was thereupon taken. after the recess, the delegate from france, prof. janssen, presented the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the decision upon the motion of the french delegates, in regard to the choice of a neutral meridian, be postponed to the next meeting of the conference." he said that as he must speak french, and as several of his colleagues could, perhaps, not entirely grasp the meaning of the discussion, he asked for the adjournment of the vote until the next meeting, so that the protocol of this meeting may be printed and distributed to the members of the conference. the president stated that as far as he understood this resolution it merely amounted to this: that no vote shall be taken upon the original resolution of the french delegate--namely, as to the adoption of a neutral meridian--until the next meeting of the conference, when the protocols in both languages will have been printed and distributed. commander sampson, delegate of the united states, inquired whether, if this resolution were adopted, it would be necessary to vote upon the original question at the next meeting. the president replied that was not necessarily the case. the delegate of france simply desires that no vote shall be taken to-day. the original subject will come up and be open for debate at the next meeting, but it seemed to the chair that it should be as far as possible exhausted to-day, so that the delegates could have the whole matter before them at the next meeting. mr. lefaivre, delegate from france, said that the arguments already presented will require time for careful consideration. consequently he asked for the adjournment of the vote, and he hoped that none of his colleagues would object to it. the president stated that he would venture to suggest, for the purpose of preventing delay, that so far as was possible any arguments that are to be offered should be made now, so that in the protocol of this day's proceedings, which will be of considerable length, these arguments may be incorporated. mr. rustem effendi, delegate of turkey, stated that it would be impossible to prepare a proper protocol of this conference without the assistance of a french stenographer, and he therefore suggested that such a stenographer be secured as early as possible. the president stated that efforts had been made to obtain a french stenographer, but without success, and that if any delegate knows of such a stenographer and will communicate with the chair it will be happy to take the necessary steps to secure his services. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden, then made the following statement: i beg to propose that the conference adjourn at the call of the president, that the time and hour for the next meeting be communicated to the delegates 24 hours before the meeting, and that at the same time a proof-copy of the protocols of the present meeting be forwarded. he added that by giving the delegates 24 hours after the protocols are printed time would be allowed them to revise the protocols and make such corrections as they thought necessary, and those corrections could be reported to the secretaries and made in the printed text. the protocol can then be finally and definitively printed and approved at the beginning of the next meeting of the conference. the proposition of the delegate of sweden was then adopted. the conference then adjourned at 5 o'clock p. m., subject to the call of the president. iv. session of october 13, 1884. the conference met pursuant to adjournment in the diplomatic hall, in the state department, at one o'clock p. m. present: austria-hungary: baron i. von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. chili: mr. f. v. gormas and mr. a. b. tupper. colombia: commodore franklin. costa rica: mr. j. f. echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre and mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben and mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. c. adams, lieut. general strachey, and mr. sandford fleming. guatemala: mr. miles rock. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander and hon. luther aholo. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. liberia: mr. william coppinger. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez and mr. angel anguiano. netherlands: mr. g. de weckherlin. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, and mr. j. de kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. m. de j. galvan. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilio ruiz del arbol, and mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. switzerland: col. emile frey. turkey: mr. rustem effendi. venezuela: dr. a. m. soteldo. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherfurd, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, and prof. cleveland abbe. absent: denmark: mr. c. s. a. de bille. salvador: mr. a. batres. the president. in view of the many communications addressed to the president of this conference, having reference to the business before it, presenting statements and arguments in relation thereto, the chair asks that a committee be appointed, to which shall be referred all such communications, and that the committee be instructed to make such report upon them as it may deem advisable. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. i beg leave to propose to the conference that the appointment of this committee be left to the president. mr. soteldo, delegate of venezuela. i second the motion of the delegate of sweden. mr. de struve, delegate of russia. i entertain the same opinion, and i support the motion. the motion was then unanimously adopted. the president. i will name as the members of the committee the delegate of great britain, professor adams; the delegate of germany, mr. hinckeldeyn; the delegate of the united states, professor abbe; the delegate of japan, mr. kikuchi; and the delegate of costa rica, mr. echeverria. president. alter a discussion of only three hours this conference adjourned a week ago to-day, subject to the call of its president. owing to the want of a french stenographer to report the words that were spoken in french, there has been much delay in preparing the protocol, which has not yet been completed. fortunately, an experienced french stenographer has been procured through the kind intervention of mr. sandford fleming, of the delegation from great britain, and mr. william smith, deputy minister of marine for the dominion of canada. we may now hope to have a fairly accurate report of what is said, both in french and english, needing only slight verbal corrections, and the chair trusts that delegates may find it convenient to make the corrections very promptly, so that the protocols may be printed and verified as speedily as possible. should any delegate, who has not yet spoken, desire to address the conference upon the resolution of the delegate from france, his remarks will now be received, and when the mover of the resolution shall close the debate, the vote will be taken, if such be the pleasure of the conference. mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain. i have listened with great attention and deep interest to the remarks which have fallen from the several gentlemen who have spoken, and i desire your kind indulgence for a few moments while i explain the views i have formed on the motion of the distinguished delegates from france. i feel that the important question which this conference has to consider must be approached in no narrow spirit. it is one which affects every nationality, and we should endeavor, in the common interest, to set aside any national or individual prejudices we possess, and view the subject as members of one community--in fact, as citizens of the world. acting in this broad spirit, we cannot fail to arrive at conclusions which will promote the common good of mankind. in deliberating on the important subject before us, it seems to me there are two essential points which we should constantly bear in mind. 1. we should consider what will best promote the general advantage, not now only, but for all future years, while causing at the present time as little individual and national inconvenience as possible. 2. we should, in coming to a determination on the main question for which this conference is called, leave nothing undone to avoid offence, now or hereafter, to the sensitiveness of individual nations. the motion is, that the initial meridian to be chosen should be selected on account of its neutrality. this undoubtedly involves the selection of an entirely new meridian, one which has never previously been used by any nation, as all initial meridians in use are more or less national, and, as such, would not be considered neutral in the sense intended by the honorable delegates from france. let us suppose that this conference adopted the motion. let us suppose, further, that we found a meridian quite independent of and unrelated to any existing initial meridian. would we then have accomplished the task for which we are met? i ask, would the twenty-six nations here represented accept our recommendation to adopt the neutral meridian? i greatly fear that the passing of the resolution would not in the least promote the settlement of the important question before the conference. the world has already at least eleven different first meridians. the adoption of the new meridian contemplated by the delegates from france would, i apprehend, simply increase the number and proportionately increase the difficulty which so many delegates from all parts of the earth are assembled here to remove. this would be the practical effect of the passing of the resolution. if it had any effect, it would increase the difficulty, and i need not say that is not the object which the different governments had in view when they sent delegates to this conference. the president has well pointed out in his opening address the advantages which would be gained, and the great dangers which, at times, would be avoided by seafaring vessels having one common zero of longitude. besides the benefits which would accrue to navigation, there are advantages of equal importance in connection with the regulation of time, to spring, i trust, from our conclusions. it does not appear to me that the adoption of the motion would in any way advance these objects. i do not say that the principle of a neutral meridian is wrong, but to attempt to establish one would, i feel satisfied, be productive of no good result. a neutral meridian is excellent in theory, but i fear it is entirely beyond the domain of practicability. if such be the case, it becomes necessary to consider how far it would be practicable to secure the desired advantages by adopting as a zero some other meridian which, while related to some existing first meridian, would not be national in fact, and would have the same effect as a perfectly neutral meridian in allaying national susceptibilities. the selection of an initial meridian related to meridians now in use gives us a sufficiently wide choice. allow me to read the following list, showing the number and the total tonnage of vessels using the several meridians named, in ascertaining their longitude. ====================================================================== | ships of all kinds. | per cent. initial meridians. +---------------------+------------------- | number. | tonnage. | ships. | tonnage. ---------------------------+---------+-----------+--------+----------greenwich..................| 37,663 |14,600,972 | 65 | 72 paris......................| 5,914 | 1,735,083 | 10 | 8 cadiz......................| 2,468 | 666,602 | 5 | 3 naples.....................| 2,263 | 715,448 | 4 | 4 christiana.................| 2,128 | 695,988 | 4 | 3 ferro......................| 1,497 | 567,682 | 2 | 3 pulkova....................| 987 | 298,641 | 11/2 | 11/2 stockholm..................| 717 | 154,180 | 11/2 | 1 lisbon.....................| 491 | 164,000 | 1 | 1 copenhagen.................| 435 | 81,888 | 1 | 1/2 rio de janeiro.............| 253 | 97,040 | 1/2 | 1/2 miscellaneous..............| 2,881| 534,569 | 41/2 | 21/2 |---------+-----------+--------+---------- total ...............| 57,697|20,312,093 | 100 | 100 ---------------------------+---------+-----------+--------+----------it thus appears that one of these meridians, that of greenwich, is used by 72 per cent. of the whole floating commerce of the world, while the remaining 28 per cent. is divided among ten different initial meridians. if, then, the convenience of the greatest number alone should predominate, there can be no difficulty in a choice; but greenwich is a national meridian, and its use as an international zero awakens national susceptibilities. it is possible, however, to a great extent, to remove this objection by taking, for a zero of longitude and time, the meridian farthest distant from greenwich. this being on the same great circle as greenwich, it would not require the establishment of a new observatory; its adoption would produce no change in charts or nautical tables, beyond the notation of longitude. it would possess all the advantage claimed for the greenwich meridian in connection with navigation, and as a zero for regulating time it would be greatly to be preferred to the greenwich meridian. this pacific meridian being accepted as the common zero, and longitude being reckoned continuously in one direction, there would be an end to the necessity of any nation engraving on its charts the words "longitude east or west of greenwich." the one word "longitude" would suffice. the zero meridian would be international and in no respect national. even on british charts all reference to greenwich would disappear. this view of the question is sustained by many distinguished men. i shall only ask permission to read the opinion of mr. otto struvé, director of the imperial observatory at pulkova, than whom there is no higher authority. "the preference given to the greenwich meridian was based, on one side, on the historical right of the royal observatory of england, acquired by eminent services rendered by this establishment during the course of two centuries, to mathematical geography and navigation; on the other side, considering that the great majority of charts now in use upon all the seas are made according to this meridian, and about 90 per cent. of the navigators of long standing are accustomed to take their longitude from this meridian. however, an objection against this proposition is, that the meridian of greenwich passes through two countries of europe, and thus the longitude would be reckoned by different signs in different portions of our own continent and also of africa. "moreover, the close proximity of the meridian of paris, to which, perhaps, some french geographers and navigators of other nations would still hold to, from custom, from a spirit of contradiction or from national rivalry, might easily cause sad disaster. to obviate these inconveniences, i have proposed to choose as prime meridian another meridian, situated at an integral number of hours east or west of greenwich, and among the meridians meeting this condition, i have indicated, in the first place, the meridian proposed to-day by scientific americans, as that which would combine the most favorable conditions for its adoption. thus the meridian situated 180° from greenwich presents the following advantages:-"1. it does not cross any continent but the eastern extremity of the north of asia, inhabited by people very few in number and little civilized, called tschouktschis. "2. it coincides exactly with that line where, after the custom introduced by a historical succession of maritime discoveries, the navigator makes a change of one unit in the date, a difference which is made near a number of small islands in the pacific ocean, discovered during the voyages made to the east and west. thus the commencement of a new date would be identical with that of the hours of cosmopolitan time. "3. it makes no change to the great majority of navigators and hydrographers, except the very simple addition of twelve hours, or of 180° to all longitudes. "4. it does not involve any change in the calculations of the ephemerides most in use amongst navigators, viz., the english nautical almanac, except turning mid-day into midnight, and _vice versa_. in the american nautical almanac there would be no other change to introduce. with a cosmopolitan spirit, and in the just appreciation of a general want, the excellent ephemerides published at washington, record all data useful to navigators calculated from the meridian of greenwich. "for universal adoption, as proposed by the canadian institute, it recommends itself to the inhabitants of all civilized countries, by reason of the great difference in longitude, thus removing all the misunderstandings and uncertainties concerning the question, as to whether, in any case, cosmopolitan or local time was used. "in answer to the first question offered by the institute at toronto, i would, therefore, recommend the academy to pronounce without hestation in favor of the universal adoption of the meridian situated 180° from greenwich, as prime meridian of the globe." i quote from the report of m. otto struvé to the imperial academy of sciences of st. petersburg, 30th sept., 1880. i respectfully submit, we have thus the means of solving the problem presented to us, without attempting to find such a meridian as that contemplated in the motion of the honorable delegates. whatever its origin, the pacific meridian referred to would soon be recognized as being as much neutral as any meridian could possibly be. if, on the other hand, we adopt the motion, i very greatly fear that the great object of this conference will be defeated, and the settlement of a question so pregnant with advantages to the world will be indefinitely postponed. dr. cruls, delegate of brazil. gentlemen. since the opening of this discussion more authoritative voices than mine--among others that of the honorable mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain, who has just expressed his opinion upon the question--have been heard upon the important subject which we are now called upon to discuss, and of which we should endeavor to find a full and final solution. the various aspects of the projected reform--viz., the unification of longitude, which numerous international interests recommend to our care--appear to me to have been examined, and that relieves me of the task of taking up again the question in its details, and permits me to abridge very much the considerations which i think it is my duty to present in order to explain my vote. upon to the present moment we have settled one point, gentlemen, and it is one of great importance; that is, the necessity of adopting a common prime meridian. this point has obtained the support of all the delegates present at the conference. this necessity being recognized, it is proper to take another step towards the solution of the problem presented to us, and to decide what that meridian shall be. it is this choice, gentlemen, which at this moment forms the subject of our discussion, and upon which we have to decide. my honorable colleague, mr. rutherfurd, the delegate of the united states, has presented a motion proposing the adoption of the meridian of greenwich, a motion which is again made, having been withdrawn temporarily from our discussion with the consent of its proposer. the motion which was presented at the last session, and which has formed the subject of numerous interesting discussions is that made by my honorable colleague, mr. janssen, delegate of france, who proposes that the meridian adopted should have a neutral character, and should not cross either of the great continents of europe or america. this proposition, gentlemen, has been strongly resisted by the delegates of great britain and the united states, and firmly maintained by the delegates of france, and the debates which followed gave us an opportunity of being present at a scientific tournament of the highest interest. the speakers whom we have had the honor of hearing seem to me to have exhausted all the arguments for and against, and at the present stage of the discussion i presume that these debates have permitted each one of us to form, with a full knowledge of the case, an opinion upon the question on which we are called to vote. for my part, gentlemen, i desire to state clearly the attitude that brazil, in my opinion, must take in this conference. that attitude is one of absolute neutrality, inasmuch as the question is whether or not to choose a national meridian which may provoke among certain nations very legitimate rivalries. from the point of view only of the interests of brazil, the choice of one meridian rather than any other is recommended to me by no consideration. our local charts are referred to the nearest meridian, that of the observatory of rio janeiro, which is the point of departure in the geodetic or hydrographic operations in course of execution in brazil, and which all are connected with that same meridian. the marine charts of the coast most in use are the result of the hydrographic works executed by the commandant mouchez, now admiral and director of the observatory of paris. as to the telegraphic determination of the longitude of the observatory of rio, we owe it to the american commission, directed by commandant green, of the united states navy. now, gentlemen, up to the day on which the conference met for the first time, i had hoped that these discussions entered upon under the influence of a generous rivalry, and having for their only purpose the establishment of a measure, the necessity of which is strongly sought by many interests of a diverse nature, would lead to a complete and final solution of the problem. unfortunately, and i regret to be obliged to add it, the differences of opinion which have manifested themselves in this congress permit scarcely a hope of this result. for my part, gentlemen, i cannot lose sight of the fact that it is indispensable that the question for which this congress is assembled should receive a complete settlement; if not, the purpose of the congress will not be attained. since the delegates of france have manifested from the begining of our discussions their opposition to the adoption of any meridian which had a national character, which has given rise to the motion presented by mr. janssen, it follows that every measure voted by the congress tending to the adoption of a national meridian, will be, by the very fact of the abstention of france, an incomplete measure, and which will not answer the purpose sought by the conference. i hasten to add, in order to avoid all erroneous interpretations which could be given to my words, that it would be the same, if, for instance, the meridian of paris was proposed, and any great maritime nation, such as england, the united states, or any other, should abstain from voting for its adoption. in that case, also, the measure adopted would not be complete, and in that case, also, my line of conduct would be the same. to resume, i would say that the great benefits that the whole world will receive from the adoption of a common prime meridian will not be fully produced unless the measure is unanimously accepted by all the most important maritime nations. in any other event, i am, for my part, absolutely convinced that the measure adopted will be partly inefficacious, its adoption not being general, and everything will have to be done over again in the not distant future. the discussions at which we have been present abundantly prove to me that it will always be so, as long as the meridian of some great nation is proposed. in the face of this difficulty, which appears to me insurmountable, the only solution which, by its very nature, will not raise exciting questions of national pride is that of a meridian having a character of absolute neutrality. if the adoption of such a meridian was admitted in principle, i am certain that a discussion based upon pure science, and following the best conditions which it should realize, would conduct us rapidly to a practical settlement of the question. in such a discussion the arguments which ought to prevail should be, before everything, drawn from science, the only source of truth which alone can enlighten us, so as to permit us to form a sound judgment, and to decide solely upon considerations of a purely scientific nature. in addition to these considerations, i am not ignorant that there are others. i refer to questions of economy of which it is necessary to take count. as to political interests, if there are any, our eminent colleagues who represent so worthily the diplomatic element in this assembly would see that they had due weight, and, thanks to this assembly of men distinguished, some in science and others in diplomacy, there was every reason to hope that the final practical solution of the question which we are seeking would not be long in being made clear to us all by the discussions. moreover, this practical solution appears to me already to follow from what our honorable colleague, m. janssen, has told us on that subject. the principle of the neutral meridian once adopted, there would still to be discussed the conditions which it should fulfil and the determination of its position. two things must be considered, either the meridian will be exclusively over the ocean, and then, by its very nature, it will be neutral, or it will cut some island, and in that case nothing would prevent an international diplomatic convention making neutral the plot of land on which it was desirable to establish an observatory, which would in reality be a very small matter. of these two solutions, both of which satisfy the conditions which the meridian ought to fulfil in its character of neutrality and by the requirements of science, i prefer the second. i wish merely to suggest by what i have said how it would be possible to arrive at a practical solution of the question, since now i am only speaking of the adoption of the principle of the neutral meridian. i conclude, gentlemen, by declaring that i shall vote in favor of the adoption of a meridian with a character of absolute neutrality, and in doing so i hope to contribute my share to giving our resolutions such a character of independence as is necessary to make them generally acceptable in the future, and to unite in their support, at present, scientific men without distinction of nationality who are now awaiting our decision. professor janssen, delegate of france. gentlemen, i have listened with a great deal of attention to the discourse of the delegate of england, mr. fleming, and if we had not had such an exhaustive discussion last session, at which, i believe, all the reasons for and against were given, i would certainly have asked permission to answer it. but i believe that on all sides we are sufficiently enlightened on the question, and i desire above all to declare that it is not our intention of making this debate eternal. it is now for you, gentlemen, to decide. i am the more inclined to act thus, as my honorable colleague, the delegate of brazil, dr. l. cruls, who is an astronomer like myself, appears to me to have recapitulated the question with a loftiness of views, and in such happy language, that, in truth, we may take his arguments as our own. before concluding, i wish to thank my colleagues for the kind attention that they have been good enough to accord me. the president. the question recurs upon the resolution offered by the delegates of france. the resolution is as follows: "_resolved_, that the initial meridian should have a character of absolute neutrality. it should be chosen exclusively so as to secure to science and to international commerce all possible advantages, and especially should cut no great continent--neither europe nor america." the president. is the conference ready for the question? no objection being made, the roll was called, with the following result: _ayes_. brazil, san domingo. france, _noes_. austria, germany, chili, great britain, colombia, guatemala, costa rica, hawaii, italy, spain, japan, sweden, liberia, switzerland, mexico, turkey, netherlands, united states, paraguay, venezuela. russia, twenty-one noes and three ayes. the president. the resolution is, therefore, lost. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, in presenting again the resolution which was withdrawn by me to give place to the resolution offered by our colleagues from france, having taken the advice from several members of the conference with whom i consulted, it was thought best to offer a system of resolutions which should be responsive to the mandate under which we act. with the view of bringing the subject to the notice of all the members of the conference, i caused copies of the resolutions which i hold in my hand to be sent to them. i have since heard that is has been held that these resolutions had been irregularly so communicated; that is, that the communication was made in a semi-official manner. i beg to express an entire disclaimer of anything of that sort. it was merely my individual action, and i desired to give notice of certain resolutions, with the sole view of having them fully understood before we met and to save time. i hope, therefore, that this excuse and explanation will be understood and accepted. these resolutions are founded, as far as may be, upon those adopted at rome. they differ from them only in two points. in the counting of longitude the conference at rome proposed that it should take place around the globe in one direction. this counting was to be in the direction from west to east. very singularly, i find in the report of the proceedings of the roman conference no discussion on that subject. no questions were asked, nor were any reasons given, why it should be so counted, and yet it was an entire divergence from the usage of the world at that time. the wording of the resolution of the conference at rome is substantially this: that the counting of longitude should take place from the meridian of greenwich in the single direction of west to east. it being my desire to avail myself, as far as possible, of the work of the conference at rome, i consulted with my colleagues here, and found that there was a great diversity of opinion. in the first place, some said we have always counted longitude both ways, east to west and west to east. shall we cease to do that? those who claimed that it was a more scientific way to count all around the globe immediately differed on the direction in which the longitude should be counted. without going into any argument as to which of these methods would be the best or most convenient, i propose, by the second resolution, that we should go on in the old way, and count longitude from the initial meridian in each direction. one of the objects of the third resolution is to make the new universal day coincide with the civil day rather than with the astronomical day. in the conference at rome the universal day was made to coincide with the astronomical day. it seems to me that the inconvenience of that system would be so great that we ought to hesitate before adopting it. for us in america, perhaps the inconvenience would not be so very great, but for such countries as france and england, and those lying about the initial meridian, the inconvenience would be very great, for the morning hours would be one day, and the afternoon hours would be another day. that seems to me to be a very great objection. it was simply, therefore, to obviate this difficulty that this resolution was offered. i hope, notwithstanding, that some day, not far distant, all these conflicting days, the local, the universal, the nautical, and the astronomical, may start from some one point. this hope i have the greater reason to cherish since i have communicated with the distinguished gentlemen who are here present, and it was with that hope before me that i framed the resolution so that the beginning of the day should be the midnight at the initial meridian, and not the mid-day. with this explanation, i now again move the adoption of the first resolution, which is as follows: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes to the governments here represented the adoption of the meridian passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich as the initial meridian for longitude." the president. the conference has heard the resolution. any remarks are now in order. mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain. i think, sir, the resolution goes a little too far at a single leap. i beg leave, therefore, to move an amendment in harmony with the resolution, at the same time leaving it to be settled by a subsequent resolution, whether the zero be at greenwich or at the other side of the globe. "that a meridian proper, to be employed as a common zero in the reckoning of longitude and the regulation of time throughout the world, should be a great circle passing through the poles and the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich." prof. adams, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i desire merely to state, in reference to the amendment brought forward by one of our delegates, that the remaining delegates of great britain are by no means of the opinion expressed in that amendment, and that it is their intention, if it should come to a vote, to vote against it. the proposition to count longitude from a point 180 degrees from the meridian of greenwich appears to them not to be accompanied by any advantage whatever. on the contrary, it must lead to inconvenience. you do not, by adopting the meridian opposite greenwich, get rid of the nationality of the meridian. if there is objection to the meridian of greenwich on account of its nationality, the meridian of 180 degrees from greenwich is subject to the same objection. the one half is just as national as the other half. the president. the chair would say that no specific meridian is mentioned in the amendment. prof. adams, delegate of great britain. that is true, but, at the same time, it should be said that the meridian described is ambiguous. it is the meridian that passes through the poles and the centre of the transit instrument of the observatory of greenwich. that is the language of the amendment. but it is intended to apply to only one-half of the great circle passing through the poles, that is to the distant half of the meridian rather than to the nearer half. unless it defines which half it is intended to take, the amendment is ambiguous, and it is not proper to be voted on. mr. miles rock, delegate of guatemala. mr. president, it may be well to hear the words of the original resolution, in order that we can clearly see the relation of the amendment to that resolution. the original resolution of the delegate of the united states was then read. baron von alvensleben, delegate of germany. mr. president, i think that in this amendment offered by the delegate of great britain two questions are mixed up together. the first thing for us to do is to fix upon a prime meridian; the second thing to settle is the question whether the adoption of a universal day is desirable or not. if we adopt this amendment, these two questions are involved in one vote. therefore, i think that they should be divided, for they are not appropriate in the form in which they are presented. mr. valera, delegate of spain. i ask permission to speak, in order to explain my vote. the government which i represent here has told me to accept the greenwich meridian as the international meridian for longitudes, but i think it my duty to say that, though the question does not arise in this debate, that spain accepts this in the hope that england and the united states will accept on their part the metric system as she has done herself. i only wish to state this, and i have no intention of making it a subject of discussion. i shall only add that i believe italy is similarly situated with spain in this matter. the president. the chair would say with great deference to the distinguished delegate from spain that the question of weights and measures is beyond the scope of this conference. the invitation given by the government of the united states to the nations here represented was for a distinct and specific purpose, the selection of a prime meridian, a zero of longitude throughout the world and a standard of time-reckoning. so far as the chair is informed, it would not be in order at this conference to discuss a question of metric system. mr. juan valera, delegate of spain. my only intention in making these remarks was to verify a fact. i know very well that we have not to discuss that question. besides, the government which i represent expresses only a hope, and i know we do not insert any hopes in our protocols; but i thought it my duty to make this declaration. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france. i desire to make some remarks on the question when it is put to a vote; for the time being i shall only say a few words on the remarks of my honorable colleague, the delegate of spain, mr. valera. i believe that though the question of weights and measures is not before the conference, it is allowable for a member to state, in the name of his government, the conditions to which his vote has been subordinated. even though the question is not under discussion, it may appear from such an explanation that the vote is conditional, instead of being a simple affirmation. if my honorable colleague has received from his government instructions to subordinate his vote to such or such a condition, even when the question to which it is subordinated is not submitted to the conference, it follows from it, according to me, and everybody will admit it, that the consequences of that vote are at least conditional. mr. valera, delegate of spain. my government has charged me to express here its hopes and desires, but the vote which i have given is not, in my opinion, conditional; for i have received instructions to pronounce in favor of the greenwich meridian to measure the degrees of longitude. however, it was necessary for me to say at the same time that it was with the hope that england and the united states would adopt the french weights and measure. general strachey, delegate of great britain. while i entirely agree with the view which the chair has taken of the question whether the adoption of metrical weights and measures is before this conference--namely, that it is beyond our competence to discuss it--yet i am glad to have the opportunity of saying that i am authorized to state that great britain, after considering the opinions which were expressed at rome, has desired that it may be allowed to join the convention du mètre. the arrangements for that purpose, when i left my country, were either completed, or were in course of completion, so that, as a matter of fact, great britain henceforth will be, as regards its system of weights and measures, exactly in the same position as the united states. in great britain the use of metrical weights and measures is authorized by law. contracts can be made in which they are used, and the department which regulates the weights and measures of great britain is charged, consequently, with the duty of providing properly authenticated standard metric weights and measures for purposes of verification. it is quite true that the government of england does not hold out any expectation that she will adopt the compulsory use of the metric system, either at the present time, or, so far as that goes, at any future time; but it is a well known fact--and in saying this i shall be supported, i have no doubt, by the views of the eminent scientific men of my own country who are here present--that there is a strong feeling on the part of scientific men of england that, sooner or later, she will be likely to join in the use of that system, which, no doubt, is an extremely good one, and which, so far as purely scientific purposes are concerned, is largely in use at the present time. mr. valera, delegate of spain. i desire to thank the honorable delegate of england, general strachey, for the friendly words which he has just pronounced, and to felicitate myself for having manifested the desire and hope of my government that england should accept the weights and measures which have been accepted in spain and in other parts of the european continent. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france. mr. chairman, i cannot pretend to make any suggestion of any technical value on the question now before us. i only rise to add a few words to the views which have been so authoritatively expounded to you by prof. janssen, in order to explain clearly the situation of the french government in this important discussion. it is henceforth evident, after the instructive debate at which we have just assisted, that the meridian of greenwich is not a scientific one, and that its adoption implies no progress for astronomy, geodesy, or navigation; that is to say, for all the branches and pursuits of human activity interested in the unification at which we aim. thus, science is absolutely disinterested in the selection which we are now discussing and that fact i wish to emphasize particularly, as we are about to take a vote which we can easily anticipate by the one we had a few minutes ago, in order that the opponents of the resolution may not be accused of obstructing progress and the great aims of science for private interests. if, on the contrary, any conclusion is to be drawn from the instructive debate at which we have assisted, it is that the principal, i will say more, the only merit of the greenwich meridian--and our colleague from great britain just now reminded us of it by enumerating with complacency the tonnage of british and american shipping--is that there are grouped around it, interests to be respected, i will acknowledge it willingly, by their magnitude, their energy, and their power of increasing, but entirely devoid of any claim on the impartial solicitude of science. to strengthen my assertion, gentlemen, i fall back upon the arguments brought forward by mr. hirsch in his remarkable report to the geodetic conference at rome, arguments that evidently carried the vote of that assembly. the greenwich meridian, says that report, corresponds to an empire that embraces twenty million square kilometres and a population of two hundred and fifty millions. her merchant marine, which counts 40,000 ships of a tonnage from six to nine million tons, and crews of 370,000 men, surpasses in importance all the other marines put together. other states, equally important by their merchant marine, especially the united states, make use of the greenwich meridian. well, gentlemen, if we weigh these reasons--the only ones that have been set forth, the only ones that at present militate for the greenwich meridian--is it not evident that these are material superiorities, commercial preponderances that are going to influence your choice? science appears here only as the humble vassal of the powers of the day to consecrate and crown their success. but, gentlemen, nothing is so transitory and fugitive as power and riches. all the great empires of the world, all financial, industrial, and commercial prosperities of the world, have given us a proof of it, each in turn. so long as there are not in polities or commerce any scientific means by which to fix, to enchain fortune, i see no reason to fix, to enchain, to subordinate, so to say, science to their fate. the character of the proposed determination of the initial meridian is so evident, that the reporter of the conference at rome, mr. hirsch, admits it implicitly, for recognizing that the adoption of the meridian of greenwich is a sacrifice for france, he asks that england should respond by a similar concession, by favoring the definitive adoption of the metric system, and by acceding to the convention of the metre which furnishes to all states metric standards rigorously compared. thus, mr. hirsch, in a spirit of justice, wished to make for each a balance of profit and loss--evident proof that the question was of a commercial, and of no scientific advantage. i am not aware, and my mission is not to discover, whether the bargain might have been accepted by france. however, it is with great pleasure that i heard our colleague from england declare that his government was ready to join the international metric convention, but i notice, with sorrow, that our situation in this congress is not as favorable as that of rome, since the total abandonment of our meridian is proposed without any compensation. at rome the adoption of the metric system of weights and measures, of which france had the glorious initiative, was held out to us, but here we are simply invited to sacrifice traditions dear to our navy, to national science, by adding to that immolation pecuniary sacrifices. we are assuredly very much flattered that there should be attributed to us sufficient abnegation to elevate us to that double heroism. we wish that we were able to justify such a flattering opinion, and especially we should like to be encouraged by examples. there are at this very moment magnificent transformations to be realized for the progress of science, and of the friendly relations of nations--unification of weights and measures, adoption of a common standard of moneys, and many other innovations of a well recognized utility, infinitely more pressing and more practical than that of meridians. when the discussion of these great questions is begun, let each nation come and bring its share of sacrifices for this international progress. france, according to her usage, i may say so without vain glory as without false modesty, france will not remain behind. for the present we decline the honor of immolating ourselves alone for progress of a problematic, and eminently secondary order; and it is with perfect tranquillity of conscience that we declare that we do not concur in the adoption of the meridian of greenwich, persuaded as we are that france does not incur the reproach of retarding and of obstructing the march of science by abstaining from participating in this decision. the president. unless some other delegate desires to speak, the question will be put upon the amendment of the delegate of great britain, mr. fleming. the question was then put, and the amendment was lost. the president. the chair sees upon the floor to-day, as the guest of this conference, one of the most distinguished scientists, who was invited to be present at our meetings, sir william thomson, whose name is known the world over in connection with subjects kindred to this we are now discussing. if it be the pleasure of the conference to ask sir william thomson briefly to express his views, the chair would be very happy to make the invitation. the chair, hearing no dissent, takes pleasure in introducing sir william thomson. sir william thomson. mr. president and gentlemen, i thank you for permitting me to be present on this occasion, and i thank you also for giving me the opportunity of expressing myself in reference to the subject under discussion. i only wish that the permission which you have so kindly given me may conduce to the objects of this conference more than i can hope any words of mine can do. the question immediately under discussion is, i understand, the proposal that the meridian passing through the centre of the instrument at the observatory of greenwich shall be adopted as the initial meridian of longitude, and it does seem to me that this is a practical question; that this resolution expresses a practical conclusion that it is expected by the world the present conference may reach. it is expected that the resolutions adopted will be for the general convenience, and not for the decision of a scientific question. it is the settlement of a question which is a matter of business arrangement. the question is, what will be most convenient, on the whole, for the whole world. it cannot be said that one meridian is more scientific than another, but it can be said that one meridian is more convenient for practical purposes than another, and i think that this may be said pre-eminently of the meridian of greenwich. i do most sincerely and fervently hope that the delegates from france and from the other nations who voted for the preceding resolution will see their way to adopt the resolution that is now before the conference. it does seem to me that it is a question of sacrifice, and i do trust that the honorable delegate from france who spoke last, mr. lefaivre, will see that france is not being asked to make any sacrifice that it was not prepared to make. in the admirable and interesting addresses which mr. janssen has given to this conference, (which i had not the pleasure or satisfaction of hearing, but which i have read with great interest,) the readiness of france to make a much greater sacrifice than that which is now proposed was announced. the amount of sacrifice involved in making any change from an existing usage must always be more or less great, because it cannot be said that it is a matter of no trouble to make such a change; but what i may be allowed to suggest is that the sacrifice which france was ready to make would be very much greater than that which would be made by adopting the resolution now pending. if the resolution for a neutral meridian had been adopted, all nations would have to make the sacrifice necessary for a change to a meridian not actually determined, and the relations of which could not be so convenient with those meridians already adopted as are the relations between the meridians now in use with that of greenwich. it does seem to me that if the delegates of france could see their way to adopt this resolution, they would have no occasion whatever to regret it. i sympathize deeply with what has been said in regard to a common metrical system. i have a very strong opinion upon this subject, which i will not express, however, if it meets any objection from the chair; but it seems to me that england is making a sacrifice in not adopting the metrical system. the question, however, cannot be put in that way. we are not here to consider whether england would gain or lose by adopting the metrical system. that is not the way to view this question at all, because whether england should adopt the metrical system is a matter for its own convenience and use, and whether it adopts it or not, other nations are not affected by its course. it would not at all be for the benefit or the reverse of other nations. the president. the chair would be very glad to hear sir wm. thomson's views on this subject if it were before the conference for discussion, but it is not. sir william thomson. i beg pardon for having mentioned it. i would repeat that the adoption of the meridian of greenwich is one of convenience. the difference of other meridians from it is readily ascertained, and therefore it seems to me that the minimum of trouble will be entailed on the world by the general adoption of the meridian of greenwich. this would require the minimum of change, and, furthermore, the changes which would be necessary are already wholly ascertained. i would inquire of the chair whether it would be in order for me to allude to the resolutions number 2 and 3, which have been read? the president. i think that we must confine ourselves to the subject immediately under discussion--the adoption of a prime meridian. sir william thomson. then i have only to thank you and the delegates for allowing me to speak, and to express my very strong approbation of the resolution that has been proposed. sir f. j. o. evans, delegate of great britain, then made the following remarks: in view of the interesting information furnished to the congress by m. janssen on the hydrographic labors of france, past and present, and of the results as represented by the number of government charts; it has appeared to myself--as having held the office of hydrographer to the admiralty of great britain for many years--in which opinion i am supported by my colleagues, that i should place at the disposal of the congress certain statistical facts bearing on the great interests of navigation and commerce, as illustrated by the number of marine charts, of sailing directions, and of nautical almanacs annually produced under the authority of the british government, and of their distribution. i would wish to disclaim any comparison in this respect with the labors of other countries. from personal knowledge i am aware that all nations--with only one or two exceptions--are, and especially so in the last few years, diligent in the development of hydrography, and that a cordial interchange of the results unfettered by any conditions is steadily being pursued. with this preface i would lay before you the following statements, observing that the shores of the whole navigable parts of the globe are embraced in the series of admiralty charts referred to: the number of copper chart plates in constant use is between 2,850 and 2,900. this number keeps up steadily. about 60 new plates are added every year. average number of copper plates annually receiving correction amount to 2,700. total number of charts annually printed for the daily use of the ships of her majesty's fleet in commission, and for sale to the general public, has for some years ranged between 180,000 and 230,000. the sale of admiralty charts to the public through an authorized agent, both in london and at other commercial ports in the kingdom, has been for the last seven years as follows: 1877................................104,562 1878................................109,881 1879................................103,943 1880................................114,430 1881................................118,542 1882................................131,801 1883................................157,325 of these numbers, about one-fifth have been purchased by the governments or agents of austria, france, germany, italy, russia, turkey, and the united states. the appended list, which was furnished to me by the admiralty chart agent during the present year, gives the more precise particulars. +-------+-------+------+-------+------+-------+-------+--------+-------+ | | |ger |united | | | | | | |years. |france.|many. |states.|italy.|russia.|turkey.|austria.|total. | +-------+-------+------+-------+------+-------+-------+--------+-------+ |1877 ..| 2,039 | 5,184| 2,067 | 1,518| 11,763| | | 22,561| |1878 ..| 5,741 | 3,381| 2,641 | 2,645| 5,651| | 600 | 20,529| |1879 ..| 3,340 | 6,425| 5,185 | 802| 9,354| | 641 | 25,747| |1880 ..| 5,793 | 5,280| 1,879 | 797| 10,145| 519 | 376 | 24,788| |1881 ..| 4,418 | 3,640| 1,273 | 2,694| 3,406| 1,160 | 996 | 17,587| |1882 ..| 7,454 | 5,656| 1,716 | 2,569| 4,245| 115 | 1,197 | 22,952| |1888 ..| 5,592 | 7,882| 6,174 | 2,607| 6,280| 2,368 | 2,158 | 32,961| |1884 | | | | | | | | | |(1st | | | | | | | | | |quar.) | 1,367 | 2,261| 2,942 | 908| 2,186| 429 | 677 | 10,670| | +-------+------+-------+------+-------+-------+--------+-------+ | |35,741 |39,679|23,867 |14,440| 52,930| 4,591 | 6,544 |177,795| +-------+-------+------+-------+------+-------+-------+--------+-------+ but the chart resources of the british admiralty, great as they are, do not suffice to meet the requirements of the smaller class ships of the mercantile marine of great britain. there are three commercial firms in london who publish special charts, based, however, on admiralty documents, to satisfy this demand. on inquiry i found that these firms publish 640 charts, which, from their large size, require about 930 copper plates. i am not able to furnish the number of charts sold by these firms, but it is large. supplementary to the admiralty charts, there are 51 volumes of sailing directions. several of these volumes exceed 500 pages, and have passed through several editions. private commercial firms also, in addition to their charts, publish directions for many parts of the globe. these include regions with which the admiralty have not yet, notwithstanding great diligence, been able to deal. the annual sales of nautical almanacs for the past seven years have been: 1877................................18,439 1878................................16,408 1879................................16,290 1880................................14,561 1881................................15,870 1882................................15,071 1883................................15,535 i think, sir, that these are salient points, which will assist the conference in coming to a clearer view of the great interest which navigation and commerce have in the charts of a particular country. the question was then put on the adoption of the resolution offered by the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd, as follows: "that the conference proposes to the governments here represented the adoption of the meridian passing through the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich as the initial meridian for longitude." the roll was called, and the different states voted as follows: in the affirmative- austria, mexico, chili, netherlands, costa rica, paraguay, columbia, russia, germany, spain, great britain, sweden, guatemala, switzerland, hawaii, turkey, italy, venezuela, japan, united states. liberia, in the negative- san domingo. abstaining from voting- brazil, france. the result was then announced, as follows: ayes, 21; noes, 1; abstaining from voting, 2. the president then announced that the resolution was passed. mr. de struve, delegate of russia. in the name of the delegates for russia i have now, at this point of the discussion, to say a few words. if we had to consider the scientific side alone of the questions, which have already been discussed and resolved by the prominent scientists of the different countries at the general conference of the international geodetical association at rome, in 1883, we might as well simply adhere to the resolutions of the roman conference, and limit our work to the shaping of these resolutions into the form of a draft of an international convention, to be submitted for approbation to our respective governments. but, as we have, besides, to consider the application of the intended reform to practical life, we beg to submit the following suggestions to the kind attention of the conference. it is important to find for the more densely populated countries the simplest mode possible of transition from local to universal time, and _vice versa_; and we believe, therefore, that it would be convenient for the practical purposes of the question to adopt for the beginning of the universal day the midnight of greenwich, and not the noon, as was deemed advisable by the conference of rome. this modification would offer for the whole of europe and for the greatest part of america the advantage of avoiding the double date in local and universal time during the principal business hours of the day, and would afford great facilities in the transition from local time to universal. in adopting the universal time for the astronomical almanacs and for astronomical ephemerides, and in counting the beginning of the day from the midnight of greenwich, there would be, it is true, a modification of the astronomical chronology, as heretofore used; but we think it easier for the astronomers to change the starting point, and to make allowance for these 12 hours of difference in their calculations, than it would be for the public and for the business men, if the date for the universal time began at noon, and not at midnight. the conference at rome proposes to count the longitudes from o° to 360° in the direction from west to east. it seems to us that this system can lead to misunderstanding in the local and universal chronology for the countries beyond the 180° east of greenwich. we believe that a more practical result of the reform could be easily obtained by modifying the clause iv of the resolutions of the roman conference, and by maintaining the system already in use for a long time, which is to count the longitudes from 0° to 180° to east and west, adopting the sign + for eastern longitudes, and the sign for western longitudes thus the transition from universal to local time could be exactly expressed by the formula: universal time = local time longitude. the adoption of this modification would necessitate that the change of the day of the week, historically established on or about the anti-meridian of greenwich, should henceforth take place exactly on that meridian. we are in favor of the adoption of the universal time (clause v of the resolutions of the roman conference) side by side with the local time, for international telegraphic correspondence, and for through international lines by railroads and steamers. we fully accept the resolution of the roman conference concerning the introduction of the system of counting the hours of the universal day from 0 to 24; and we think it desirable that the same system should be introduced for counting the hours in ordinary life. this would greatly contribute to the disappearance of the arbitrary division of the day into two parts, a. m. and p. m., and to an easier transition from local to universal time. we think it advisable to mark on all general maps the meridians in time as well as in degrees of longitude, which would render the reform familiar to the public, and facilitate its introduction in the education of the young. on maritime charts the longitudes ought to be given in degrees, as these are necessary for the determination of distances in maritime miles. the topographical maps may maintain temporarily their national meridian, in consequence of the difficulties of the modification of the co-ordinates for plates already engraved; but it would be necessary to mark on every sheet the difference between the national and the initial universal meridian in degrees of longitude. it would be most desirable to have in all new geographical catalogues of astronomical and geodetical points the longitudes given in degrees as well as in time, and that in these new catalogues the new initial meridian be taken as the starting point for the longitudes. the president. the chair has listened with great interest and pleasure to the paper which has just been read by the delegate of russia, mr. de struve, but the chair begs to state that there is no resolution before the conference. the president. the chair will now direct the second resolution to be read. the resolution was read, as follows: "from this meridian" (_i.e._, the meridian passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory at greenwich) "longitude shall be counted in two directions up to 180 degrees, east longitude being plus and west longitude minus." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, in submitting this resolution to the conference, i wish to say that the remarks of the delegate of russia have increased my confidence in the belief of its propriety. mr. w. f. allen, delegate of the united states. mr. president, the establishment of a prime meridian has, from the force of circumstances, become of practical importance to certain interests entrusted with vast responsibilities for the safety of life and property. these interests bear an important relation to the commerce of the world, and especially to the internal commerce of an extent of country embracing within its limits about sixty-five degrees of longitude. exactness of time reckoning is an imperative necessity in the conduct of business. on november 18, 1883, the several railway companies of the united states and the dominion of canada united in the adoption of the mean local times of the seventy-fifth, ninetieth, one hundred and fifth, and one hundred and twentieth meridians, west from greenwich, as the standards of time for the operation of their roads. the system under which they have since been working has proved satisfactory. they have no desire to make any further change. a large majority of the people in the several sections of the country through which the railways pass have either by mutual consent or special legislation adopted for their local use, for all purposes, the standards of time employed by the adjacent roads. upon the public and working railway time-tables generally the fact has been published that the trains are run by the time of the seventy-fifth or ninetieth, etc., meridians, as the case may be. the same standards are used by the railway mail service of the united states post-office department, which had previously used washington time exclusively for through schedules. it will at once be apparent how undesirable any action would be to the transportation interests of this country, which should so locate the prime meridian as to require these time-standard meridians to be designated by other than exact degrees of longitude. that these standard meridians should continue to be designated as even multiples of fifteen degrees from greenwich is regarded as decidedly preferable. to change to different standards, based upon exact degrees of some other prime meridian, would require an amount of legislation very difficult to obtain. at a convention of the managers of many important railway lines which control through their connections fully three-fourths of the entire railway system of this country, held in philadelphia on october 9, 1884, certain action was taken, of which i have the honor to present a duly attested copy. "at a meeting of the _general railway time convention_, held in _philadelphia, october 9th, 1884_, the following minute was unanimously adopted: "_whereas_, an international conference is now in session at washington, d. c., for the purpose of fixing upon a prime meridian and standard of time-reckoning; and "_whereas_, the railway companies of the united states and canada have adopted a system of time standards based, respectively, upon the mean local times of the 75th, 90th, 105th, and 120th meridians west from greenwich, and this system has proved so satisfactory in its working as to render any further change inexpedient and unnecessary; therefore "_resolved_, that it is the opinion of this convention that the selection of any prime meridian which would change the denomination of these governing meridians from even degrees and make them fractional in their character would be disturbing in no small measure to the transportation lines of the united states and canada. "_resolved_, that a duly attested copy of these resolution be presented to the conference." p. p. wright, _chairman._ attest: henry b. stone, _secretary pro tempore_. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. mr. president, i propose as an amendment to the resolution just offered the fourth resolution adopted by the congress at rome: "it is proper to count longitude from the meridian of greenwich in one direction from west to east." baron h. von alvensleben, delegate of germany. mr. president, i beg to state that i think that this is only a question of detail; and, if the question is put to the conference, i shall not be able to vote, and i shall abstain from voting. the president. may i ask the delegate from germany whether his remark applies to the amendment? baron h. von alvensleben, delegate of germany. yes, sir; to the amendment, and to the resolution, also. prof. adams, delegate of england. mr. president, i must say that i am very much inclined to agree with the delegate of germany in the opinion that this is only a question of detail. it is a mere matter of convenience whether we count longitudes in one direction only, or in two opposite directions, considering longitudes measured in one direction as positive and in the opposite direction as negative. these two methods are nominally different from each other, but in reality there is no contradiction between them. in the mathematical reckoning of angles we may agree to begin at zero, and reckon in one direction round the entire circumference of 360 degrees, but this does not prevent a mathematician, if he finds it convenient for any purpose, from reckoning angles as positive when measured in one direction, and negative when measured in the opposite direction. if angles be considered positive when reckoned towards the east, it is quite consistent with this usage that they should be considered negative when reckoned towards the west. it is much more convenient to consider all angles as positive in astronomical tables, but for other purposes it may be more convenient to employ negative angles also, especially when, by so doing, you avoid the use of large numbers. in comparatively small countries, like great britain for instance, it is more convenient when giving the longitude of a place in the west of england to consider it as being a few degrees west of greenwich, rather than 350 and some degrees to the east of that meridian. commander sampson, delegate of the united states. mr. president, while i think the question of reckoning longitude is a matter of detail, i think it devolves upon us to decide it one way or the other. navigators are more interested in the question than mathematicians, and the longitudes must be engraved upon our hydrographic charts. now, as the learned delegate of great britain, prof. adams, who has just spoken, has stated, the principle involved is the same, whether we reckon east or west, or reckon continuously in the same direction. it seems to me, however, that when we come to consider the reckoning of longitude in connection with the adoption of a universal day, we should then make a decided choice in favor of counting longitude from zero to 360 degrees. if we adopt the resolution which my friend, the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd, has offered, it will be in perfect conformity with the habits of the world. for that reason, and it is a very strong reason, i think it might be adopted; but a little consideration will show that if we reckon the longitude from zero to 360 degrees, east to west, then we will change the existing practice of reckoning longitude; but, of course, only in one hemisphere, and that will be eastward of the prime meridian; but, as we shall all remember, to the eastward of the prime meridian we have the main portions of the continents of asia, europe, and africa, and in all the navigable water lying in the other hemisphere the longitude will continue to be reckoned as now. to navigators of the water lying to the eastward of the prime meridian there will be a change in the method of counting longitude both ways, it would be necessary to adopt two different rules for converting local into universal time. prof. adams, delegate of great britain. oh! no; by no means. commander sampson, delegate of the united states. for although one rule would answer, by having regard to the algebraical sign affecting the longitude, it must be remembered that this rule is to be applied by many who are not accustomed to distinguishing east and west longitudes by a difference of sign, and who would therefore require one rule when the longitude is east and another when it is west. if, however, we adopt the method of reckoning from zero to 360 degrees, from east to west, the relation existing between the local and the universal time becomes the simplest possible. to obtain the universal date and hour, under these circumstances, it only becomes necessary to add the longitude to the local time, understanding by local time the local date as well as the local hour. i think, for this reason, it will be preferable to reckon the longitude in one direction from east to west, instead of west to east. sir frederick evans, delegate of great britain. i would like to present a few words on behalf of seamen. there is clearly an important change proposed by the amendment. in the resolution before us it is simply a question of the reckoning of longitude as now employed by seamen of all nations, and i think it would be well to keep that fact separate from the reckoning of time. the president. the chair begs to state that the discussion is now upon the amendment of the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, to adopt the fourth resolution of the congress at rome. sir frederick evans, delegate of great britain. then i consider that, in the interest of seamen, it would be very undesirable to accept the amendment. we must recollect that an immense deal of the world's traffic is carried around the world entirely by sea, and that this proposed dislocation of the methods of seamen by reckoning longitude in one direction only would, to say the least, be extremely inconvenient, and it would require considerable time for them to get into the habit of doing so. i think, however, that as to the question of time, there would be no difference of opinion; doubtless, it is the easier method; but, as we have to look at the practical side of this calculation of longitude, i must certainly disagree with the amendment and vote for the original resolution. mr. juan pastorin, delegate of spain, then presented the following amendment: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes to the governments here represented that longitude shall be counted from the prime meridian westward, in the direction opposite to the terrestrial rotation, and reckoned from zero degrees to 360 degrees, and from zero hours to 24 hours." the president. the question before the conference now is the amendment of the delegate of sweden. if the delegate of spain desires to offer his resolution as an amendment to the amendment already offered, the chair will place it before the conference. mr. juan pastorin, delegate of spain. i am in accord with the views expressed by our colleague, commander sampson, and i propose the resolution which i have just presented. mr. valera, the delegate of spain. i believe the amendment proposed by my colleague, mr. pastorin, delegate of spain, does not apply to the amendment of the delegate of sweden, but to the original resolution. in order to avoid all ambiguity it would be much better to discuss them one after the other. therefore let us decide the question whether it is better to count up to 180° in each direction or up to 360° continuously. then we can go on to something else. the president. in order to meet the views expressed by mr. valera, the delegate of spain, mr. pastorin will withdraw his amendment, and the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, will propose the substance of his original resolution so modified in form that its details may be considered separately. mr. juan pastorin, delegate of spain. in conformity with the statement of the president, i now withdraw my amendment. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. i beg to offer the following propositions in the form of amendments to the original resolution offered by the delegate of the united states; these may be discussed in succession: "1. that from this prime meridian (the greenwich meridian) longitude shall be counted in one direction." "2. that such longitude shall be counted from west to east." or, in place of no. 2- "3. that such longitude shall be counted from east to west." the president. the delegates from sweden and spain have agreed as to the first part of the resolution, that longitude shall be counted in one direction--that is, from zero to 360 degrees. the question before the conference is now upon the first clause of the resolution, and the other two will be subsequently discussed. general strachey, delegate of great britain. i think it is impossible to proceed to a vote upon these propositions without bearing in mind what is to be decided as to the universal day. that day, as it appears to me, will have to be determined with reference to the initial meridian in such manner as to prevent, as far as possible, inconvenience from discontinuity of local time and date in passing around the world. no matter how longitude is calculated, you must necessarily arrive at discontinuity at some point in passing around the great circle of the earth. it seems to me that the most convenient way of counting both longitude and time is that the discontinuity in both shall take place on the same point on the earth. now, certainly, as was observed at rome, it will be far less inconvenient if the discontinuity of date takes place on the meridian of 180 degrees from greenwich. then the reckoning of local time all around the world, going from west to east in the direction of the earth's rotation, will be continuous. in any other way, as far as i can see, there will be a discontinuity at some point on the inhabited part of the earth. if the discontinuity were to take place on the meridian of greenwich, as has been proposed by the conference at rome, the dates will change there during the daytime. that, as it appears to me, will be extremely inconvenient. in order to harmonize what i have called the discontinuity of date with the discontinuity in the reckoning of longitude, it appears to me that it will be best to reckon the longitude in both directions. there will be no discontinuity then except on the 180th meridian. it would be very inconvenient for a great part of the civilized world if the resolution which has been offered should be adopted, if, as i presume it would do, it caused discontinuity both in longitude and local time in europe. after all, what are we here to endeavor to do? notwithstanding what has been said in the other direction, for my part i must say that the great object before us is to secure the greatest convenience of the whole civilized world, and it seems to me that we should try to obtain it. if there is no very strong reason for altering the existing system of counting longitudes, it appears to me that this is a very excellent reason in favor of maintaining it. i do not see myself that, for any practical purpose, anything would be gained by reckoning longitude from zero to 360 degrees. there may be some special scientific purposes for which it may be convenient, but the object which this resolution is intended to meet is of another character. what we want is longitude for ordinary purposes, and on that hangs the reckoning of universal time, which, of course, should be for the general use of the whole world. professor adams, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i doubt whether i should trouble the conference in reference to this point. i think, however, that it is a matter of little importance whether we consider longitude as positive, when reckoned toward the east, and negative, when reckoned to the west, or go on in one direction from zero to 360 degrees; it amounts, mathematically speaking, to the same thing. we never can consider mathematical lines or angles as positive in one direction, without implying that in the opposite direction they are negative. one of these is merely the complement of the other. for myself, i would say that there is no use in the conference resolving that we should count longitude only in the eastwardly direction. the conference may say that if longitude is reckoned towards the east, it shall be considered positive, and, if reckoned towards the west, negative; and that is all we should say. i do not think it is within the competence of the conference to say that mathematicians shall reckon longitude only in one direction. whether you choose to reckon right through to 360 degrees or not is a matter of detail, and of no importance in a scientific point of view. you can adopt one style or the other, according to which is found the more convenient in practice. mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain. i would suggest that this matter of detail can very well be discussed and arranged by a committee, otherwise, it may take up the whole time of the conference. i move, therefore, that a committee be appointed to take up this matter and report upon it at the next meeting. the president. the chair desires only to carry out the wish of the conference, but it does not see clearly what we should gain by a committee. still, if it be the desire of the conference to order a committee, then the question will arise as to the organization of that committee, and the chair would feel some hesitation in appointing it. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, if this was a new question, in regard to which we had heard no discussion, it would be eminently proper that we should put it into the hands of a committee to formalize and thereby to shorten our deliberations; but it seems to me that the appointment of a committee now would not help us at all. when the report of that committee came in, we should have to proceed exactly as we do now. there are only three questions before the conference, and they come within very narrow limits. first, shall we count longitude both ways? second, shall we count it all around the 360 degrees? third, if so, in which direction is the counting to take place? these are the only three questions, and, after all, they are questions of convenience. we are just as capable of voting upon these propositions now as we should be after the appointment of a committee. baron von schæffer, delegate of austria-hungary. mr. president, i move that we adjourn until to-morrow at one o'clock p.m. the question upon the motion to adjourn was then put and adopted, and the conference accordingly adjourned at 3.45 p.m. until tuesday, the 14th inst., at one o'clock p.m. v. session of october 14, 1884. the conference met, pursuant to adjournment, in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at one o'clock p. m. present: austro-hungary: baron ignatz von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. chili: mr. f. v. gormas and mr. s. r. franklin. costa rica: mr. juan francisco echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre, mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben, mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. o. adams, lieut.-general strachey, mr. sandford fleming. guatemala: mr. miles rock. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander, hon. luther aholo. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. liberia: mr. wm. coppinger. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez, mr. angel anguiano. netherlands: mr. g. de weckherlin. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, mr. kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. de j. galvan. salvador: mr. atonio batres. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilo ruiz del arbol, mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. switzerland: mr. emile frey. turkey: rustem effendi. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherfurd, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, professor cleveland abbe. venezuela: señor dr. a. m. soteldo. absent: denmark: mr. c. s. a. de bille. the president: the chair begs leave to announce that, in the regular order of business, the first matter before the conference to-day would have been the proposition of the delegate of great britain, mr. sandford fleming, that a committee be appointed to consider a report upon the resolution offered by him yesterday. the chair understood, however, from mr. fleming this morning that he had no desire to press that proposition, and, therefore, it may be considered as withdrawn. the question then would be upon the amendment offered by the delegate of spain, mr. juan pastorin, and if that amendment be withdrawn upon the amendment offered by the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt. the chair understands that both of those gentlemen desire to withdraw their propositions temporarily, and, in that event, the first action to be taken will be upon the resolution offered by the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd. mr. rustem effendi, delegate of turkey. in voting yesterday in favor of the resolutions proposed by the hon. delegate of the united states, i wish to have it well understood that my vote does not bind my government. i am, indeed, obliged to vote against any proposition which would tend to bind it in any way, for i desire to leave it free to act in the matter. i engage to submit to my government the result of our deliberations and to recommend their adoption, but that is all. in other words, i have only voted "_ad referendum_," and i ask that my statement be entered in the protocol. the president. the chair would inform the delegate who has just spoken that the same statement was made by several delegates at a former meeting of the conference. m. janssen, delegate of france. i believe that the very correct doctrine just enunciated by the delegate of turkey, mr. rustem effendi, is the one adopted by all the members of the congress, and that we have all voted "_ad referendum_." the president. the chair so understood the general sense of the conference as expressed at one of our former meetings, when many of the delegates made the same declaration. mr. antonio batres, delegate of salvador. mr. president, i could not be present yesterday, on account of illness, and i now request permission to register my name in favor of the resolution adopting the meridian of greenwich as the prime meridian. the president. the delegate of salvador, mr. batres, informs the chair that he was not able to be present yesterday, on account of illness, and he desires that his name may be recorded as voting for the meridian of greenwich. if there be no objection to the request of the delegate to salvador, his vote will be so entered. no objection being made, the president instructed the secretary to make the proper entry in the protocol. the president. the delegate of spain, mr. pastorin, has withdrawn his amendment, and the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, has also withdrawn the amendment which he offered to the resolution of the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd. the resolution originally offered will now be read. the secretary then read the resolution, as follows: "_resolved_, that from this meridian [_i.e._, the meridian of greenwich] longitude shall be counted in two directions up to 180 degrees, east longitude being plus, and west longitude minus." mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain, representing the dominion of canada. i wish to offer some observations on the resolution before the conference, but i am unable to separate the particular question from the general question. to my mind, longitude and time are so related that they are practically inseparable, and when i consider longitude, my thoughts naturally revert to time, by which it is measured. i trust, therefore, i may be permitted to extend my remarks somewhat beyond the immediate scope of the resolution. i agree with those who think that longitude should be reckoned in one direction only, and i am disposed to favor a mode of notation differing in other respects from that commonly followed. if a system of universal time be brought into use, advantages would result from having the system of time and the system of terrestrial longitude in complete harmony. the passage of time is continuous, and, therefore, i think longitude should be reckoned continuously. to convey my meaning fully, however, it is necessary that i should enter into explanations at some length. ten days back i ventured informally to place my views, with a series of recommendations on this subject, before the delegates. i hope i may now be permitted to submit them to the conference. the president. the chair would inquire of the conference whether the recommendations and remarks which were sent in print to the delegates a few days ago by mr. sandford fleming, the delegate of great britain, may be entered upon the protocol as presented to-day. each member was, it is understood, furnished with a copy of these papers. mr. tupper, delegate of chili. the delegates of chili have not received them. the president. the chair will take care that they are sent. no objection was made to the request of the delegate of great britain, mr. sandford fleming, who continued as follows: the adoption of a prime meridian, common to all nations, admits of the establishment of a system of reckoning time equally satisfactory to our reason and our necessities. at present we are without such a system. the mode of notation followed by common usage from time immemorial, whatever its applicability to limited areas, when extended to a vast continent, with a net-work of lines of railway and telegraph, has led to confusion and created many difficulties. further, it is insufficient for the purposes of scientific investigation, so marked a feature of modern inquiry. taking the globe as a whole, it is not now possible precisely to define when a year or a month or a week begins. there is no such interval of time as the commonly defined day everywhere and invariable. by our accepted definition, a day is local; it is limited to a single meridian. at some point on the earth's surface one day is always at its commencement and another always ending. thus, while the earth makes one diurnal revolution, we have continually many days in different stages of progress on our planet. necessarily the hours and minutes partake of this normal irregularity. clocks, the most perfect in mechanism, disagree if they differ in longitude. indeed, if clocks are set to true time, as it is now designated, they must, at least in theory, vary not only in the same state or county, but to some extent in the same city. as we contemplate the general advance in knowledge, we cannot but feel surprised that these ambiguities and anomalies should be found, especially as they have been so long known and felt. in the early conditions of the human race, when existence was free from the complications which civilization has led to; in the days when tribes followed pastoral pursuits and each community was isolated from the other; when commerce was confined to few cities, and intercommunication between distant countries rare and difficult; in those days there was no requirement for a common system of uniform time. no inconvenience was felt in each locality having its own separate and distinct reckoning. but the conditions under which we live are no longer the same. the application of science to the means of locomotion and to the instantaneous transmission of thought and speech have gradually contracted space and annihilated distance. the whole world is drawn into immediate neighborhood and near relationship, and we have now become sensible to inconveniences and to many disturbing influences in our reckoning of time utterly unknown and even unthought of a few generations back. it is also quite manifest that, as civilization advances, such evils must greatly increase rather than be lessened, and that the true remedy lies in changing our traditional usages in respect to the notation of days and hours, whatever shock it may give to old customs and the prejudices engendered by them. in countries of limited extent, the difficulty is easily grappled with. by general understanding, an arrangement affecting the particular community may be observed, and the false principles which have led to the differences and disagreements can be set aside. in great britain the time of the observatory at greenwich is adopted for general use. but this involves a departure from the principles by which time is locally determined, and hence, if these principles be not wrong, every clock in the united kingdom, except those on a line due north and south from greenwich, must of necessity be in error. on the continent of north america efforts have recently been made to adjust the difficulty. the steps taken have been in a high degree successful in providing a remedy for the disturbing influences referred to, and, at the same time, they are in harmony with principles, the soundness of which is indisputable. when we examine into time in the abstract, the conviction is forced upon us that it bears no resemblance to any sort of matter which comes before our senses; it is immaterial, without form, without substance, without spiritual essence. it is neither solid, liquid, nor gaseous. yet it is capable of measurement with the closest precision. nevertheless, it may be doubted if anything measurable could be computed on principles more erroneous than those which now prevail with regard to it. what course do we follow in reckoning time? our system implies that there are innumerable conceptions designated "time." we speak of solar, astronomical, nautical, and civil time, of apparent and mean time. moreover, we assign to every individual point around the surface of the earth separate and distinct times in equal variety. the usages inherited by us imply that there is an infinite number of times. is not all this inconsistent with reason, and at variance with the cardinal truth, that there is one time only? time may be compared to a great stream forever flowing onward. to us, nature, in its widest amplitude, is a unity. we have but one earth, but one universe, whatever its myriad component parts. that there is also but one flow of time is consistent with the plain dictates of our understanding. that there can be more than one passage of time is inconceivable. from every consideration, it is evident that the day has arrived when our method of time-reckoning should be reformed. the conditions of modern civilization demand that a comprehensive system should be established, embodying the principle that time is one abstract conception, and that all definite portions of it should be based on, or be related to, one unit measure. on these grounds i feel justified in respectfully asking the consideration of the conference to the series of recommendations which i venture to submit. the matter is undoubtedly one in which every civilized nation is interested. indeed, it may be said that, more or less, every human being is concerned in it. the problem is of universal importance, and its solution can alone be found in the general adoption of a system grounded on principles recognized as incontrovertible. such principles are embodied in the recommendations which i am permitted to place before the conference. they involve, as an essential requirement, the determination of a unit of measurement, and it is obvious that such a unit must have its origin in the motion of the heavenly bodies. no motion is more uniform than the motion of the earth on its axis. this diurnal revolution admits of the most delicate measurement, and, in all respects, is the most available for a unit measure. it furnishes a division of time definite and precise, and one which, without difficulty, can be made plain and manifest. a revolution of the earth, denoted by the mean solar passage at the prime or anti-prime meridian, will be recognizable by the whole world as a period of time common to all. by general agreement this period may be regarded as the common unit by which time may be everywhere measured for every purpose in science, in commerce, and in every-day life. the scheme set forth in the recommendations has in view three principal objects, viz: 1. to define and establish an universal day for securing chronological accuracy in dates common to the whole world. 2. to obtain a system of universal time on a basis acceptable to all nations, by which, everywhere, at the same time, the same instant may be observed. 3. to establish a sound and rational system of reckoning time which may eventually be adopted for civil purposes everywhere, and thus secure uniformity and accuracy throughout the globe. but, in the inauguration of a scheme affecting so many individuals, it is desirable not to interfere with prevailing customs more than necessary. such influences as arise from habit are powerful and cannot be ignored. the fact must be recognized that it will be difficult to change immediately the usages to which the mass of men have been accustomed. in daily life we are in the habit of eating, sleeping, and following the routine of our existence at certain periods of the day. we are familiar with the numbers of the hours by which these periods are known, and, doubtless, there will be many who will see little reason in any attempt to alter their nomenclature, especially those who take little note of cause and effect, and who, with difficulty, understand the necessity of a remedy to some marked irregularity which, however generally objectionable, does not bear heavily upon them individually. for the present, therefore, we must adapt a new system, as best we are able, to the habits of men and women as we find them. provision for such adaptation is made in the recommendations by which, while local reckoning would be based on the principles laid down, the hours and their numbers need not appreciably vary from those with which we are familiar. thus, time-reckoning in all ordinary affairs in every locality may be made to harmonize with the general system. standard time throughout the united states and canada has been established in accord with this principle. its adoption has proved the advantages which may be attained generally by the same means. on all sides these advantages have been widely appreciated, and no change intimately bearing upon common life was ever so unanimously accepted. certainly, it is an important step towards the establishment of one system of universal time, or, as it is designated in the recommendations, cosmic time. the alacrity and unanimity with which the change has been accepted in north america encourages the belief that the introduction of cosmic time in every-day life is not unattainable. the intelligence of the people will not fail to discover, before long, that the adoption of correct principles of time-reckoning will in no way change or seriously affect the habits they have been accustomed to. it will certainly sweep away nothing valuable to them. the sun will rise and set to regulate their social affairs. all classes will soon learn to understand the hour of noon, whatever the number on the dial, whether six, as in scriptural times, or twelve, or eighteen, or any other number. people will get up and retire to bed, begin and end work, take breakfast and dinner at the same periods of the day as at present, and our social habits and customs will remain without a change, depending, as now, on the daily returning phenomena of light and darkness. the one alteration will be in the notation of the hours, so as to secure uniformity in every longitude. it is to be expected that this change will at first create some bewilderment, and that it will be somewhat difficult to be understood by the masses. the causes for such a change to many will appear insufficient or fanciful. in a few years, however, this feeling must pass away, and the advantages to be gained will become so manifest that i do not doubt so desirable a reform will eventually commend itself to general favor, and be adopted in all the affairs of life. be that as it may, it seems to me highly important that a comprehensive time system should be initiated to facilitate scientific observations, and definitely to establish chronological dates; that it should be designed for general use in connection with railways and telegraphs, and for such other purposes for which it may be found convenient. the cosmic day set forth in the recommendations would be the date for the world recognizable by all nations. it would theoretically and practically be the mean of all local days, and the common standard to which all local reckoning would be referable. with regard to the reckoning of longitude, i submit that longitude and time are so intimately related that they may be expressed by a common notation. longitude is simply the angle formed by two planes passing through the earth's axis, while time is the period occupied by the earth in rotating through that angle. if we adopt the system of measuring time by the revolution of the earth from a recognized zero, one of these planes--that through the zero--may be considered fixed; the other--that through the meridian of the place--being movable, the longitudinal angle is variable. obviously the variable angle ought to be measured from the fixed plane as zero, and as the motion of the earth by which the equivalent time of the angle is measured is continuous, the longitude ought to be reckoned continuously in one direction. the direction is determined by the notation of the hour meridians, viz., from east to west. if longitude be so reckoned and denoted by the terms used in the notation of cosmic time, the time of day everywhere throughout the globe would invariably denote the precise longitude of the place directly under the mean sun. conversely, at the epoch of mean solar passage at any place, the longitude being known, cosmic time would be one and the same with the longitude of the place. the advantages of such a system of reckoning and nomenclature, as suggested in the recommendations which i now submit, will be, i think, self-evident. recommendations for the regulation of time and the reckoning of longitude 1. _that a system of universal time be established, with the view of facilitating synchronous scientific observations, for chronological reckonings, for the purpose of trade and commerce by sea and land, and for all such uses to which it is applicable._ 2. _that the system be established for the common observance of all peoples, and of such a character that it may be adopted by each separate community, as may be found expedient._ 3. _that the system be based on the principle that for all terrestrial time reckonings there be one recognized unit of measurement only, and that all measured intervals of time be directly related to the one unit measure._ 4. _that the unit measure be the period occupied by the diurnal revolution of the earth, defined by the mean solar passage at the meridian twelve hours from the prime meridian established through greenwich._ 5. _that the unit measure defined as above be held to be a day absolute, and designated a cosmic day._ 6. _that such cosmic day be held as the chronological date of the earth, changing with the mean solar passage at the anti-meridian of greenwich._ 7. _that all divisions and multiples of the cosmic day be known as cosmic time._ 8. _that the cosmic day be divided into hours, numbered in a single series, one to twenty-four, (1 to 24,) and that the hours be subdivided, as ordinary hours, into minutes and seconds. note.--as an alternative means of distinguishing the cosmic hours from the hours in local reckonings, they may be denoted by the letters of the alphabet, which, omitting i and v, are twenty-four in number._ 9. _that until cosmic time be admitted as the recognized means of reckoning in the ordinary affairs of life, it is advisable to assimilate the system to present usages and to provide for the easy translation of local reckonings into cosmic time, and vice versa; that, therefore, in theory, and as closely as possible in practice, local reckonings be based on a known interval in advance or behind cosmic time._ 10. _that the surface of the globe be divided by twenty-four equidistant hour meridians, corresponding with the hours of the cosmic day._ 11. _that, as far as practicable, the several hour meridians be taken according to the longitude of the locality, to regulate local reckonings, in a manner similar to the system in use throughout north america._ 12. _that, in all cases where an hour meridian is adopted as the standard for regulating local reckonings, in a particular section or district, the civil day shall be held to commence twelve hours before and end twelve hours after the mean solar passage of such hour meridian._ 13. _that the civil day, based on the prime meridian of greenwich, shall coincide and be one with the cosmic day. that civil days on meridians east of greenwich shall be (according to the longitude) a known number of hours, or hours and minutes in advance of cosmic time, and to the west of greenwich the contrary._ 14. _that the surface of the globe being divided by twenty-four equidistant meridians (fifteen degrees apart) corresponding with the hours of the cosmic day, it is advisable that longitude be reckoned according to these hour meridians._ 15. _that divisions of longitude less than an hour (fifteen degrees) be reckoned in minutes and seconds and parts of seconds._ 16. _that longitude be reckoned continuously towards the west, beginning with zero at the anti-prime meridian, twelve hours from greenwich._ 17. _that longitude, generally, be denoted by the same terms as those applied to cosmic time._ i submit these recommendations suggestively, and without any desire unduly to press them. i shall be content if the leading principles laid down be recognized by the conference. with regard to the more immediate question, i have come to the firm conviction that extreme simplicity of reckoning and corresponding benefits would result if longitude be notated in the same manner, and denoted by the same terms as universal time. if, therefore, the conference adopts the motion of the distinguished delegate of the united states, which, i apprehend, is designed to cause as little change as possible in the practices of sea-faring men, i trust the claims of other important interests will not be overlooked. i refer to all those interests, so deeply concerned in securing accurate time on land, and in having easy means provided for translating any one local reckoning into any other local reckoning, or into the standard universal time. in this view i trust the conference will give some expression of opinion in favor of extending around the globe the system of hour meridians which has proved so advantageous in north america. in an educational aspect alone it seems to me important that the hour meridians, one to twenty-four, numbered from the anti-prime meridian continuously toward the west, should be conspicuously marked on our maps and charts. prof. adams, delegate of great britain. i wish, mr. president, to express my entire adhesion to the proposition which has been made by the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd. it seems to me to satisfy one of the principal conditions that we have had before us to guide our decision; that is, that we should pursue a course which will produce the least possible inconvenience. now, i think if we keep that in mind, we shall have very little difficulty in coming to the conclusion that we should reckon longitude eastward, as positive or plus, and westward as negative or minus. this mode of reckoning would be attended with the least inconvenience; in fact, it will not be attended with any inconvenience at all, because it will keep to the present mode of reckoning. for my part, i see no adequate reason for changing that. there is no scientific reason, and certainly there is no practical reason. there is no scientific reason, because, as i stated yesterday, if in mathematics you measure from the zero a distance in one direction and consider that positive, you must, by the very nature of the case, consider the distance measured in the opposite direction from the same zero as negative. one follows mathematically and necessarily from the other, and by adopting this resolution you thus include both in one general formula. it seems to me quite as scientific, to say the least, to start from zero and go in both directions, distinguishing the longitudes by the signs plus and minus, according as the directions are taken east or west, as to reckon longitudes in one direction only from zero to 360 degrees. it is, i say, just as scientific to do this, and practically it is more convenient. because if you go on reckoning from zero to 360 degrees continuously, you have to make a break at 360 degrees. you do not count on after you have completed one revolution, but have to drop the 360 degrees and start again at zero. but this is attended with great inconvenience, because this break in counting occurs in countries which are thickly inhabited. the longitude would be a little less than 360 degrees on one side of the prime meridian, and on the other side the longitude would be a small angle. this seems to me very inconvenient. on the other hand, if you count longitudes in one direction from zero to 180 degrees as positive, and in the opposite direction from zero to 180 degrees as negative, you are, no doubt, obliged to make a break in passing abruptly from plus 180 degrees to minus 180 degrees. but the break would then occur where it would cause the least inconvenience, viz., in mid-ocean, where there is very little land and very few inhabitants, and where we are accustomed to make the break now. this will require no change in the habits and customs of the people, and no inconvenience whatever would be caused by the action of the conference if it decides on this method, which also has the minor advantage of not requiring the use of such large numbers as the other. but to adopt the reckoning of longitude from zero to 360 degrees would involve a very considerable change, and i think it may be doubted whether it would be generally accepted. under the circumstances, i think the resolution contains the most expedient course for us to adopt. i do not object to anybody who chooses to do so reckoning on, for certain purposes, from zero to 360 degrees, but i do not think it would be well to make it compulsory. with regard to the proposal of the delegate of great britain, mr. fleming, i would say that it would be attended with great inconvenience, because it departs from the usages and habits now existing. that, to my mind, is a very great and insuperable objection, and i do not see any countervailing advantage. with regard to the subject of time that mr. fleming is anxious to take into consideration, i think that nothing can be simpler, if i may be allowed to deal with the question of time, than the relation between time and longitude which is proposed to be created by the resolution of mr. rutherfurd. by that resolution the longitude indicates the relation between the local time and the universal time in the simplest possible way. what can be easier than the method involved in the resolution of mr. rutherfurd? it is this: local time at any place is equal to universal time plus the longitude of the place, plus being understood always in a mathematical sense. the longitude is to be added to the universal time if it is positive, and subtracted if it is negative. that is very simple, the whole being involved in one general formula. now, i think it is perfectly impossible for mr. fleming to make a more simple formula than that. the formula laid down in the proceedings of the roman conference was far less simple, as it involved an odd twelve hours. you got the universal time equal to the local time, minus the longitude, plus twelve hours. this is far from simple. it makes the calculation more complicated, and it seems to me that for other reasons it is objectionable. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i do not propose to take up the time of the conference in reiterating the very conclusive remarks in favor of this resolution made by the delegate of great britain. i wish, however, to allude, for a moment, to another view of this question. suppose we do not adopt this resolution. what is the course before the conference? we shall then be called upon, no doubt, to decide that longitude shall be counted all around the world from zero to 360 degrees. that general proposition is one which would not probably meet with violent opposition, but the next point is one that will divide us very materially, and perhaps disastrously. which way shall we count? shall it be towards the east or towards the west? my conversations with the gentlemen here present have lead me to know that there is a very great difference of opinion upon this point, and i believe that if we should not adopt this resolution and should decide to count longitude from zero to 360 degrees, a preference to count it in one direction rather than the other would be established only by a very close vote, nearly annulling the whole moral influence of the conference, and we should go back to our governments without much, if any, authority on the point in question. and i doubt whether our resolutions would be accepted by these governments if we show ourselves to be divided upon a question of so much practical importance. it is simply a question of practice--of convenience. we all bowed to the rule of convenience in selecting the meridian of greenwich. and why? because seven-tenths of the civilized nations of the world use this meridian, not that it was intrinsically better than the meridian of paris, or washington, or berlin, or st. petersburg. nobody claimed any scientific preference among these meridians. it was simply because seven-tenths of the civilized world were already using the meridian of greenwich. if we accept this argument in favor of the first resolution for selecting the initial meridian, why should we not be equally inclined to recognize the fact that all the civilized world count longitude in both ways? there is no difference of opinion on that point. there is no difference of usage. shall we break that usage? shall we introduce a new system, which may or may not be found practical or agreeable? shall we not rather adopt the rule of all nations, already in use among their practised astronomers and navigators, by saying continue to do as you have already done? sir frederick evans, delegate of great britain. having for many years mixed among the practical seamen of more than one nation, i confess i look with some dismay on any other system for the notation of longitude being adopted than the one proposed in this resolution. my colleague, mr. fleming, made the remark that he could not disassociate longitude from time. if he had mixed with seamen, he would have found out that there is very frequently a well-defined difference between the two in their minds. longitude with seamen means, independently of time, space, distance. it indicates so many miles run in an east or west direction. consequently, i am not able to look upon longitude and time as being identical. under these circumstances, this resolution also, as i understand it, should be considered on practical grounds. the question of universal time will come on for consideration hereafter, and how that may be settled seems to me a matter of indifference compared with the decision on this resolution. i question, for myself, whether any other plan than that it proposes would be generally accepted. that is what i am afraid of. whatever respect nations may have for this conference, public opinion would be very strong upon the point now at issue. when you further recollect that all around the globe, in all these various seas, there are colonies with histories; that their geographical positions and boundaries were originally recorded by longitude according to the notation of which i have spoken, i think it is to be over sanguine to expect that those colonies will accept a new notation of longitude without greater proof of the positive necessity of the change. it would not be the fiat of this conference, or the fiat of any government, that would bring about the change. i say this with all deference to the opinions of those who have advocated a change. general strachey, delegate of great britain. at the risk of repeating somewhat my remarks made to the congress when we last met, i would add a few words to what has now been said. it is our wish that the points of real difference should, as far as possible, be clearly brought out before the conference comes to a vote. as regards the counting of longitude in two directions, and the degree of advantage or disadvantage that may arise in starting from zero and treating east longitude as positive or plus, and west longitude as negative or minus, let me ask the attention of the congress to the fact that longitude is already counted in these two directions, and that, as a matter of fact also, latitude is counted in the same way, in both directions from the equator, north latitude being plus and south latitude minus. nobody, so far as i have heard, has ever proposed that we should abolish this method of reckoning latitude, and substitute for it north or south polar distance, to be counted right round the earth; and yet there is the same _quasi_ scientific objection to the present method of counting in the one case as in the other. as already stated, it seems to me that, for purposes of practical convenience, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to separate the ideas on which the reckoning of longitude must be based, from those which must regulate the reckoning of time, and especially the reckoning of time in the sense of adopting a universal day over the whole world. now, it appears to me that, as regards the acceptance of the universal day, it certainly will be anything but convenient, if it begins and ends otherwise than when the sun passes the 180th meridian. on the contrary, i think it will be extremely inconvenient. i think that if the world were to adopt the meridian of greenwich as the origin of longitude, the natural thing for it to do would be to have the international day, the universal day, begin from the 180th meridian from greenwich--that is, to coincide with the greenwich civil day. that meridian passes, as i said before, outside of new zealand, and outside of the fijee islands; it goes over only a very small portion of inhabited country. it appears to me, therefore, that inasmuch as there must be an absolute break or discontinuity in time in passing round the earth--a break of twenty-four hours--it is much more convenient that this break should take place in the uninhabited part of the earth than in the very centre of civilization. if we adopt the universal day which coincides with the civil day at greenwich, then you will be able to have complete continuity of local time over the whole earth, in harmonious relation with the universal day, except at the break which necessarily takes place on the 180th meridian. otherwise this will not be possible. for instance, according to the system proposed by the resolution, the local time corresponding, say, to 0 hours of monday at greenwich, would, in passing round the earth to the eastward from the 180th meridian, gradually change from 12 hours of sunday to 12 hours of monday; and, on returning to that meridian, the break of time would occur, and one day would appear to be lost. but complete continuity both in the days and hours, and harmony with the universal day, that is, the greenwich civil day, would be preserved for the whole earth, excepting on crossing the 180th meridian. the result of the system which was proposed at rome would be to cause the break of dates to take place at greenwich at noon, so that the morning hours of the civil day would have a different universal date from the afternoon hours, and this would be the case all over europe. but if the universal day be made to correspond to the civil day of greenwich, and the longitude is counted east in one direction and west in another direction to the 180th meridian, these difficulties would be overcome, and a perfectly simple rule would suffice for converting local into universal time. as regards what was said upon the subject of longitude being plus or minus, according as you move to the east or west, it appears to me that there is a positive, clear, and rational reason for calling longitude eastward plus and longitude westward minus. the time is later to the east, and therefore the hour is indicated by a higher number. in converting universal into local time, if the place is east of greenwich, you add the longitude to the universal time, and therefore increase the number of the hour; if the place be west of greenwich, you subtract the longitude, and therefore diminish the number of the hour. it is natural, therefore, to call east longitude positive and the other negative. it appears to me also that the passage of the sun over the meridian is, in reality, what may be called the index of the day, the day consisting of 24 hours, distributed equally on either side of the meridian. noon of the universal day would thus coincide with the time of the sun passing the initial meridian. there is perfect consistency, therefore, in adopting the reckoning of longitude and time that is proposed in the resolution before us. it is a rational and symmetrical method. mr. juan pastorin, the delegate of spain. i listened with great pleasure to the observations which our honorable colleague, the delegate of england, general strachey, has just made. i am not sufficiently acquainted with the english tongue to make a speech, though i know it well enough to follow the debate. moreover, as i had beforehand studied the subject which is now before us, i have quite well understood all that has been said on this point. i proposed an amendment yesterday, in order to obtain what i consider the most simple formula for converting local time into cosmical time. this formula is not, perhaps, the most suitable for astronomers and sailors, but they form the minority, and it is, i am sure, the easiest for the mass of the people. this formula would be based on the considerations which are now under discussion. i am not sufficiently familiar with the language to give the reasons upon which i based my amendment, but, as i demonstrated in the pamphlet which i had the honor of addressing to my learned colleagues, the means, in my opinion, of obtaining the simplest and the most suitable formula is to make the beginning of civil time and of dates on the first meridian coincide with the cosmical time and date, and to count longitude continuously in the same direction from the initial meridian. this is what i proposed to obtain by my amendment. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. mr. president, i now propose that the conference take a recess for a few moments before a vote is taken upon the resolution. no objection being made to the motion, the president announced that a recess would be taken until the chair called the conference to order. the president, having called the conference to order, said. the recess has given an opportunity for an interchange of opinion upon the subject pending, and if the conference be ready the vote will now be taken. commander sampson, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i think that the informal discussion which we have had upon this question of the method of counting longitude must lead to the conclusion that there is a great difference of opinion. so far as i have been able to learn, many of the delegates have come here instructed to favor the resolution adopted by the roman conference. it is my own opinion that the recommendation to count longitude continuously from the prime meridian from west to east, as recommended by the conference at rome, is not so good as the proposition now before us. personally, however, i would prefer to see it counted continuously from east to west, as being more in conformity with present usage among astronomers. but, as it appears that so many delegates are instructed by their governments to favor counting in the opposite direction, and as, if this congress adopts any other plan than that proposed by the conference at rome, they will have to lay before their governments as the action of this congress something that will be opposed to the recommendation of the roman conference, and as these two recommendations would naturally tend to neutralize each other, i would favor the proposition which is now before us as being the most expedient. i would suggest, however, that, instead of making a positive declaration upon the question, we leave it as it now stands; that is to say, that longitude shall be counted east and west from the prime meridian, without specifying which direction shall be considered positive, and declare it to be the opinion of this congress that it is not expedient to change the present method of counting longitude both ways from the prime meridian. count lewenhaupt, delegate from sweden. in my opinion the delegates have not undertaken to recommend the resolutions adopted by a majority of the conference, but only the resolutions for which they have themselves voted. as regards the fact that there may be great differences of opinion concerning the questions which remain for our consideration, i am unable to see in it any reason for our not proceeding to vote upon them. on the contrary it will be of great interest to our governments to know the exact position taken by each of the delegates, and even if any delegate should abstain from voting, such abstention would be of interest in the event of future negotiations on the subject. i am therefore of opinion that we should proceed to vote on the remaining resolutions. the vote was then taken upon the resolution of the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd, which is as follows: "_resolved_, that from this meridian (_id est_, greenwich) longitude shall be counted in two directions up to 180 degrees, east longitude being plus and west longitude minus." the following states voted in the affirmative: chili, liberia, colombia, mexico, costa rica, paraguay, great britain, russia, guatemala, salvador, hawaii, united states, japan, venezuela. the following states voted in the negative: italy, sweden, netherlands, switzerland. spain, the following states abstained from voting: austria-hungary, germany, brazil, san domingo, france, turkey. ayes, 14; noes, 5; abstaining, 6. the president then announced that the resolution was adopted. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i now propose to read the third resolution from the printed circular which has been furnished to the delegates. it is as follows: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the use of local time where desirable. this universal day is to be a mean solar day; is to begin for all the world at the moment of midnight of the initial meridian coinciding with the beginning of the civil day and date of that meridian, and is to be counted from zero up to twenty-four hours." this resolution is somewhat complex, and in order to facilitate debate, i propose that we first occupy ourselves only with the first clause, namely: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the use of local time where desirable." after having disposed of that clause we can proceed to dispose of the other parts of the resolution. the president. you propose, then, to divide the resolution as printed in the circular into two resolutions, and you now offer the first part for consideration. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. if that is the more convenient form of putting it, it meets my views. it will be more easy to discuss the subject, more easy to arrive at a decision, in that form. m. le comte albert de foresta, delegate of italy. i propose as an amendment the fifth resolution of the roman conference, which reads as follows: "the conference recognizes, for certain scientific needs and for the internal service of great administrations of ways of communications, such as those of railroads, lines of steamships, telegraphic and postal lines, the utility of adopting a universal time, in connection with local or national times, which will necessarily continue to be employed in civil life." the president. the question is now upon the amendment offered by the delegate of italy. professor abbe, delegate of the united states. i would like to ask whether this amendment adds anything substantially to the resolution. i think it does not. it simply specifies the details of the resolution pending before us. that resolution "proposes the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient." that is general. the amendment merely specifies certain of these purposes. that is a matter of detail. mr. allen, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i desire to offer an amendment to the amendment, as follows: "civil or local time is to be understood as the mean time of the approximately central meridian of a section of the earth's surface, in which a single standard of time may be conveniently used." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, it does not seem to me that it is within the competence of this conference to define what is local time. that is a thing beyond us. mr. w. f. allen, delegate of the united states, then said: mr. president and gentlemen, all efforts to arrive at uniformity in scientific or every-day usage originate in a desire to attain greater convenience in practice. the multiplicity of coins of which the relative value can only be expressed by fractions, the various common standards of weights and of measures, are inconvenient both to the business man and the scientist. alike inconvenient to both are the diverse standards of time by which the cities of the world are governed, differing, as they do, by all possible fractions of hours. all coins have a relative and interchangeable value based upon their weight and fineness. weights and measures remain the same by whatever unit they may be expressed; but, primarily, time can only be measured by a standard actually or apparently in motion. absolutely accurate mean local time, varying, as it does, by infinitesimal differences at every point in the circuit of the earth, may be shown on a stationary object, but cannot in general be kept by an individual or object in motion. the mean local time of some fixed point in each locality must be taken as the standard for practical use. the important question to be determined is, over what extent of territory, measuring east and west from such fixed point, its mean time may be employed for all ordinary purposes without inconvenience. this can be absolutely determined only by practical experience. careful study of this phase of this subject led, perhaps, more directly than any one single cause, to the proposal of the detailed system of standard time which now satisfactorily controls the operations of one hundred and twenty thousand miles of railway in the united states and canada, and governs the movements of fifty millions of people. before the recent change there were a number of localities where standards of time were exclusively employed which varied as much as thirty minutes, both on the east and the west, from mean local time, without appreciable inconvenience to those using them. from this fact the conclusion was inevitable that within those limits a single standard might be employed. the result has proved this conclusion to have been well founded. no public reform can be accomplished unless the evil to be remedied can be made plainly apparent. that an improvement will be effected must be clearly demonstrated, or the new status of affairs which will exist after the change, must be shown to have been already successfully tried. here, as in law, custom and precedent are all powerful. it would be a difficult task to secure the general adoption of any system of time-reckoning which cannot be employed by all classes of the community. business men would refuse to regard as a reform any proposition which introduced diversity where uniformity now exists, nor would railway managers consent to adopt for their own use a standard of time not coinciding with or bearing a ready relation to the standard employed in other business circles. to adopt the time of a universal day for all transportation purposes throughout the world, and to use it collaterally with local time, would simply restore, and possibly still more complicate, the very condition of things in this country which the movement of last year was intended to and did to a great extent obviate. railway managers desire that the time used in their service shall be either precisely the same as that used by the public, or shall differ from it at as few points as possible, and then by the most readily calculated differences. the public, on the other hand, have little use for absolutely accurate time, except in connection with matters of transportation, but will refuse to adopt a standard which would materially alter their accustomed habits of thought and of language in every-day life. that this position is absurd may be argued, and, perhaps, admitted, but it is a fact, and one which cannot be disregarded. the adoption of the universal day or any system of time-reckoning based upon infrequent--such as the great quadrant--meridians, to be used by transportation lines collaterally with local time, is, therefore, practically impossible. shall it, then, be concluded that there is no hope of securing uniformity in time-reckoning for practical purposes? or does the proposition for the general division of the earth's surface into specified sections, governed by standards based upon meridians fifteen degrees or one hour apart, supply the remedy? objections have been urged against this proposition on account of difficulties encountered, or supposed to be encountered, in the vicinity of the boundary lines between the sections. it is argued that the contact of two sections with standards of time differing by one hour will cause numerous and insuperable difficulties. in railway business, in which time is more largely referred to than in any other, the experience of the past year has proved this fear to be groundless. it is true that the approximate local time of a number of cities near the boundary lines between the eastern and central sections in the united states is still retained. a curious chapter of incidents could be related which led to this retention, not affecting, however, the merits of the case; but the fact serves to show that changes much greater than thirty minutes from local time would not be acceptable. adjacent to and on either side of all national boundary lines the inhabitants become accustomed to the standards of weights, measures, and money of both countries, and constantly refer to and use them without material inconvenience. in the readjustment of a boundary upon new lines of demarcation it must be expected that some temporary difficulties in business transactions will be encountered, but all history shows that such difficulties soon adjust themselves. legal enactments will finally determine the precise boundaries of the several sections. if different laws respecting many other affairs of life may exist on either side of a state or national boundary line, with positive advantage or without material inconvenience, why should laws respecting time-reckoning be an exception? coins and measures are distinguished by their names. so, also, may standards of time be distinguished. the adoption of standard time for all purposes of daily life, based upon meridians fifteen degrees apart, would practically abolish the use of exact local time, except upon those meridians. numerous circumstances might be related demonstrating how very inaccurate and undetermined was the local time used in many cities in this country before the recent change. except for certain philosophical purposes, does the inherent advantage claimed in the use of even approximately accurate local time really exist? would the proposed change affect any custom of undoubted value to the community? these questions have been answered in the negative by the experience of great britain since january 13, 1848, of sweden since january 1, 1879, and of the united states and canada since november 18, 1883. greenwich time is exclusively used in great britain, and differs from mean local time about eight minutes on the east and about twenty-two and a half minutes on the west. in sweden the time of the fifteenth degree of east longitude is the standard for all purposes. it differs from mean local time about thirty-six and a half minutes on the east and about sixteen minutes on the west. in the united states the standards recently adopted are used exclusively in cities like portland, me., (33,800 inhabitants,) and atlanta, ga., (37,400 inhabitants,) of which the local times are, respectively, nineteen minutes and twenty two minutes faster than the standard, and at omaha, neb., (30,500 inhabitants,) and houston, tex., (16,500 inhabitants,) each twenty-four minutes slower. at ellsworth, me., a city of six thousand inhabitants, a change of twenty-six minutes has been made. nearly eighty-five per cent. of the total number of cities in the united states of over ten thousand inhabitants have adopted the new standard time for all purposes, and it is used upon ninety-seven and a half per cent. of all the miles of railway lines. let us now consider whether insuperable practical difficulties owing to geographical peculiarities will prevent the adoption of this system throughout the world. a table has been prepared, and accompanies this paper, upon which are designated the several governing meridians and names suggested for the corresponding sectional times. for the use of this table i am indebted to mr. e. b. elliott, of this city. on the north american continent, in the united states and canada, the 75th, 90th, 105th, and 120th west greenwich meridians now govern time. in mexico the 105th west meridian is approximately central, except for yucatan, which is traversed by the 90th. for guatemala, salvador, and costa rica, the 90th west meridian is approximately central. san domingo closely approaches and cuba touches the 75th. in south america--the united states of columbia, ecuador, peru, the western portion of bolivia, and chili would use the time of the 75th west meridian, while venezuela, guiana, western brazil, including the amazon river region, eastern bolivia, paraguay, uruguay, and the argentine republic, would be governed by the time of the 60th meridian. in eastern brazil the 45th west meridian would govern. passing to europe, we find great britain already governed by the zero meridian time, which can also be used in the netherlands, belgium, france, spain, and portugal. the 15th east meridian, which is about as far east of berlin as west of vienna, and no more distant from rome than from stockholm, now governs all time in sweden. this time could also be advantageously used in denmark, germany, austria-hungary, switzerland, italy, and servia. the time of the 30th east meridian, which is nearly the mean between constantinople and st. petersburg times, could be used in western russia, turkey, roumania, bulgaria, east roumelia, and greece. when the development of eastern russia in europe shall require it, the division of that great country between the times of the 30th and 45th east meridians, upon lines of convenience similar to those employed in the united states, can doubtless be arranged. the governing meridians for africa appear to present some advantages, especially for egypt, and no insuperable difficulties; but for continents where the boundaries of countries are so loosely defined, the limits of time-reckoning cannot well and need not now be shown. they would ultimately adjust themselves. in asia the 60th east meridian passes through khiva. bombay would use the 75th and calcutta the 90th. the 105th east meridian touches siam, the 120th is near shanghai, and the 135th passes through japan and near corea. the 150th meridian of west longitude is sufficiently near hawaii. in australia the 150th, 135th, and 120th meridians of east longitude are admirably located for governing, respectively, the time of the eastern, central, and western divisions of that continent. in none of the localities defined or mentioned, would the standards proposed vary more from mean local time than has already been demonstrated to be practicable without detriment to any material interest. convenience of use, based largely upon the direction of greater commercial intercourse, would determine the action of communities other than those mentioned, and probably somewhat modify the schedule proposed. that no practical difficulty of usage would prevent the universal adoption of the hour-section system of time-reckoning is apparent. its convenience has been abundantly realized. in adopting it, practically no expense whatever is incurred. the alteration of the works or faces of watches or clocks is not required. their hands are simply set to the new standard, and the desired result is accomplished. by the adoption of this system, the exact hours of time-reckoning, although called by different names in the several sections for every-day life, but specifically designated, if desired, for scientific purposes, would be indicated at the same moment of time at all points. the minutes and seconds would everywhere agree. the absolute time of the occurrence of any event could, therefore, be readily determined. the counting of the hour meridians should begin where the day begins at the transition line. it would then be one of the possibilities of the powers of electricity that the pendulum of a single centrally located clock, beating seconds, could regulate the local time-reckoning of every city on the face of the earth. _table of standards governing the hour-section system of time-reckoning._ ====================================================================== longitude | hour meridians. |simultaneous from |----------------------------------------------| hours in greenwich.| | | the several |proposed names of sectional times. | numbers. | sections. ----------+-----------------------------------+----------+-----------_degrees._| | | ----------| | | 180 |transition time | 0 or 24th|12 midnight 165 west |alaskan | 1st......| 1 a. m. 150 |hawaii | 2d ......| 2 135 |sitka | 3d ......| 3 120 |pacific (adopted in u.s. and can.)| 4th......| 4 105 |mountain " " | 5th......| 5 90 |central (american) time " " | 6th......| 6 75 |eastern (or coastwise) " " | 7th......| 7 60 |la plata | 8th......| 8 45 |brazilian | 9th......| 9 30 |central atlantic |10th......|10 15 |west african |11th......|11 0 |int'l or unvs'l (used in gt. brit.)|12th......|12 noon. 15 east |continental (used in sweden.) |13th......| 1 p. m. 30 |bosporus |14th......| 2 45 |caucasus |15th......| 3 60 |ural |16th......| 4 75 |bombay |17th......| 5 90 |central asian |18th......| 6 105 |siam |19th......| 7 120 |east asian |20th......| 8 135 |japan |21st......| 9 150 |east australian |22d.......|10 165 |new caledonian |23d.......|11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------i have no desire, however, to press on the conference the consideration of the question of local time reckoning. but, as the system adopted in the united states and canada has proved successful, and is now firmly established, i have deemed it proper that a statement of this fact and of the possibilities of the application of the system to other parts of the world should be made to the congress. i will now, therefore, withdraw my amendment. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. the delegate of italy has moved, as an amendment to the first part of the resolution offered by me, the fifth resolution adopted in the conference at rome. really, in spirit and in substance, there is little or no difference between them, except that the conference at rome has specified that the objects they had in view as suitable for regulation by universal time were these, namely: "for the internal service of the great administrations of means of communication, such as railways, steamships, telegraphs, and post-offices." now, i submit that in the words used in my resolution all this is embraced, and a good deal more, for this universal day is to be adopted "for all purposes for which it may be found convenient." if it were desirable that every purpose for which the universal day may be found convenient should be specified, it would make a very long resolution. on the other hand, however, we might find in the end that we had omitted some of the purposes for which it was eminently convenient. it appears, also, that in this same fifth roman resolution all questions of chronology of universal date, etc., are omitted, although they are brought forward and appear in the sixth resolution. it seems to me, mr. president, that nothing would be gained by the adoption of this amendment, for everything that is embraced there is more comprehensively embraced in the original resolution. general strachey, delegate of great britain. in explanation of the amendment offered by the delegate of italy, let me call attention to what really passed at the roman conference. i find, first of all, in the report of the roman conference, in the abstract of the discussion before the special committee, these words, (p. 49 of the reprint:) "the fourth resolution, in favor of a universal hour for certain scientific and practical purposes, is unanimously adopted." there appears no discussion whatever upon it; not a word seems to have been said as to how it should be defined or acted upon. i then turn back to the report of the committee which prepared the resolutions, and there we see what, in reality, they had in their minds when they drew up that resolution. it is perfectly evident that they had no intention of tying the hands of anybody. this is what they say on page 26 of the report: "the administrations of railroads, of the great steamship lines, telegraph lines, and postal routes, which would thus secure for their relations with each other a uniform time, excluding all complication and error, could nevertheless not entirely avoid the use of local time in their relations with the public. they would probably use the universal time only in their internal service, for the rules of the road, for the time-tables of their engineers and conductors, for the connection of trains at frontiers, etc.; but the time-tables for the use of the public could hardly be expressed otherwise than in local or national time. the depots or stations of the railroads, post-offices, and telegraph offices, and the waiting-rooms, could exhibit outwardly clocks showing local or national time, while within the offices there would be, besides, clocks indicating universal time. telegraphic dispatches could show in future the time of despatch and of receipt, both in local and universal time." now, i think that the subject of universal time is dealt with in a better manner in the proposition offered by mr. rutherfurd than in the proposition which emanated from the congress at rome. this conference cannot designate positively the manner in which local time may be best reckoned. we are concerned now only with universal time. it may, however, be proper that the resolution offered by mr. rutherfurd in regard to the employment of universal time should be supplemented by something more specific--something, for instance, of this sort: the conference will not designate the system on which local time may best be reckoned so as to conform, as far as possible, to universal time; this should be determined by each nation to suit its convenience. the arrangements for adopting universal time for the use of international telegraphs will be left for regulation by the telegraph international congress. this last idea was expressed, i forget now by whom, but by one of the delegates since the conference met, and it appears to me that inasmuch as there is an international congress specially appointed to regulate all matters of international telegraphy, this subject can be left to them with the firm belief that it will be regulated satisfactorily. the question was then put to the vote; and upon the amendment offered by the delegate of italy the following states voted in the affirmative: colombia, paraguay, italy, spain, netherlands, sweden. the following in the negative: brazil, liberia, chili, mexico, costa rica, russia, france, salvador, germany, san domingo, great britain, switzerland, guatemala, turkey, hawaii, united states, japan, venezuela. austria-hungary abstained from voting. ayes, 6; noes, 18; abstaining, 1. so the amendment was lost. the question then recurred upon the original resolution. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, it has been represented to me that it may, perhaps, be found advantageous in different countries and different localities to use a time that would not be accurately described as local time. in one place the standard of time may be strictly local time; in another place it may be national time; in another place it may be railroad time. in order to meet this condition of things, i propose to alter the phraseology of the original resolution in this way: by inserting the words "or other," so that it shall read "which shall not interfere with the use of local or _other_ time where desirable." professor adams, delegate of great britain. may it not be better to put it in this way: "which shall not interfere with the use of local or other _standard_ time where desirable." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. i accept the amendment offered by the delegate of great britain. mr. jean valera, delegate of spain. as i consider that both the amendment which was just rejected and the present proposition really signify the same thing, i shall vote for the proposition, as i before did for the amendment. the president. the question is now upon the resolution, as modified. it will be read. the resolution was then read, as follows: "_resolved_, that the conference proposes the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the use of local or other standard time where desirable." the following states voted in the affirmative: austria-hungary, mexico, brazil, netherlands, chili, paraguay, colombia, russia, costa rica, salvador, france, spain, great britain, sweden, guatemala, switzerland, hawaii, turkey, italy, united states, japan, venezuela. liberia, there were no negative votes. germany and san domingo abstained from voting. ayes, 23; noes, 0; abstaining, 2. so the resolution was carried. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i now propose to offer the other portion of the resolution, or rather i propose to offer the other portion in the form of a distinct resolution. it will run as follows: "_resolved_, that this universal day is to be a mean solar day; is to begin for all the world at the moment of midnight of the initial meridian, coinciding with the beginning of the civil day and date of that meridian; and is to be counted from zero up to twenty-four hours." this is, in substance, the resolution adopted by the conference at rome, with the exception that the conference at rome proposed that the universal day should coincide with the astronomical day instead of the civil day, and begin at greenwich noon, instead of greenwich midnight. professor adams, delegate of great britain. i desire to make one remark merely. would it not be a little more correct if we said "at the moment of mean midnight?" i think i have mentioned this before, but, to be clear, i think it should be made. mr. rutherfurd accepted professor adams's suggestion. mr. juan valera, delegate of spain. mr. president, i wish to call special attention to the proposition now before us, on which we are called upon to vote, as it is of very great importance. as for me, i acknowledge that my mission is already fulfilled. the government of spain had directed me to admit the necessity or the usefulness of a common prime meridian, and also to accept the meridian of greenwich as the universal meridian. i have attended to these directions. we have now to deal with a scientific question on which i cannot well express an opinion, as i do not feel that i am competent in such matters; besides, i am not authorized to do so. this may be due to my ignorance in matters of this kind, but i fear that extraordinary difficulties may arise in the adoption of this proposition, and if we proceed with too great haste, we run the risk of placing ourselves in contradiction to common sense. all the popular ideas of men for thousands of years past will, perhaps, be overturned. it may happen that when the day begins at greenwich it will be 23 hours later at berlin. the east will be confounded with the west, and the west with the east. if we made the day begin at the anti-meridian these questions would be avoided, and we should at one be with the rest of the human race. i believe that it would be better to adjourn till to-morrow to give us time to reflect; in this way we shall not risk by our devotion to science drawing upon ourselves popular criticism. i propose, therefore, that the vote on this question be put off till to-morrow. m. lefaivre, delegate of france. not to-morrow. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. i beg to propose as an amendment the sixth resolution adopted by the conference at rome, which is as follows: the conference recommends as initial point for the universal hour and the cosmic day the mean midday of greenwich, coinciding with the moment of midnight or the beginning of the civic day at the meridian 12 hours or 180° from greenwich. the universal hours are to be counted from 0 up to 24 hours. the president. the chair quite concurs with the delegate of spain in thinking that it would be very proper for us to take some time to consider this matter. a motion to adjourn would be in order, but before that motion is made, the chair would like to read a communication which he has just received from the assistant secretary of state. it is this: "the president of the united states will receive the members of the conference on thursday, the 16th instant, at 12 o'clock, at the white house." the assistant secretary of state proposes that we shall meet here at a quarter before 12, and go to the white house from this hall. the president. if the delegate of spain will withdraw his motion to adjourn for one moment, the delegate of sweden desires to offer a resolution. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden, then read the following proposal: hereafter the reports of the speeches, whether in english or french, will be sent as soon as possible to the delegates who made them, and the proofs should be corrected and returned by them without delay to the secretary. no correction will be allowed afterward, except such as are considered necessary by the secretaries, who will meet as soon as possible after the first corrections shall have been printed to prepare the protocols for the approval of the conference. the motion being put to a vote by the president, was unanimously carried. the president. the chair would very informally state that he has received to-day a letter from sir william thomson, the distinguished scientist who addressed the conference yesterday, expressing his regret that he did not then say something which he had in his mind and which he wished to say, namely, that the meridian of greenwich passes directly through the great commercial port of havre. mr. janssen, delegate of france. since the chairman refers to this subject, i may state to my colleagues that i have received a telegram from sir william thomson, in which he makes certain propositions of the nature described. yet it is not possible to make out precisely, by this telegram, what are sir william thomson's ideas. all that i can say is, that whatever proceeds from such an eminent man should be treated with great consideration, and that is a reason for asking sir w. thomson to be good enough to explain to me his ideas more fully. if we could adjourn to monday, i think that it would be better. the preparation of the protocols is very much behind-hand, and it is desirable that the members of the conference be kept fully acquainted with all the discussions. i would, therefore, suggest that we adjourn till monday. the president. there are several propositions to adjourn to different days. the chair will take them up in order and will first put the question upon the motion to adjourn until monday. the motion was carried, and at four o'clock the conference adjourned until monday, the 20th instant, at one o'clock p. m. vi. session of october 20, 1884. the conference met, pursuant to adjournment, in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at one o'clock p. m. present: austro-hungary: baron ignatz von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. chili: mr. f. v. gormas and mr. a. b. tupper. colombia: commodore s. r. franklin. costa rica: mr. juan francisco echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre, mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben, mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. c. adams, lieut.-general strachey, mr. sandford fleming. gautemala: mr. miles rock. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. liberia: mr. wm. coppinger. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez, mr. angel anguiano. netherlands: mr. g. de weckherlin. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, mr. j. de kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. de j. galvan. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilo ruiz del arbol, mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. switzerland: col. emile frey. turkey: rustem effendi. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherfurd, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, professor cleveland abbe. venezuela: dr. a. m. soteldo. absent: denmark: mr. c. s. a. de bille. hawaii: hon. luther aholo. salvador: mr. antonio batres. the president. some days ago a committee was appointed to report on communications addressed to the conference through the chair. all communications that have been received from time to time, and they have been numerous, have been referred to this committee, of which the delegate from england, prof. adams, is the chairman. he now informs the chair that he is prepared to make a report. the delegate of england, prof. adams, then read the following report: _letter from the president of the conference._ international meridian conference, department of state, washington, _oct. 14, 1884_. sir: i have the honor to submit to the committee of which you are the chairman the following communications: no. 1. letters from mr. roumanet du cailland, through mr. hunter, ass't sec. of state. no. 2. letter and communication from mr. c. m. raffensparger. no. 3. letter from mr. a. s. de chancourtois, accompanying books from paris. no. 4. letter from mr. a. w. spofford, enclosing letter of mr. j. w. stolting, of dobbs' ferry. no. 5. letter from mr. b. aycrigg, passaic, n. j. no. 6. letter from j. t. field, st. louis, mo. no. 7. letter and two enclosures from mr. theodor pæsche. no. 8. description of the universal time-piece of dr. a. m. cory. no. 9. letter and enclosure from mr. e. r. knorr. no. 10. letter from mr. j. e. hilgard, of the u. s. coast survey and geodetic survey. no. 11. arguments by committee of new york and new jersey branch, and other papers relating to weights and measures. no. 12. letter from lt. c. a. s. totten, u.s.a., in relation to a standard meridian. no. 13. letter from mr. j. p. merritt, in relation to the metric system. no. 14. postal card from w. h. yates, in relation to the mercator projection. no. 15. a new system of mensuration, by lawrence s. benson. no. 16. letter of t. c. octman, of hope mills, n. c., calling attention to the fact that the meridian of greenwich passes through havre. no. 17. letter from dr. h. k. whitner, explaining his notation of 24 hours. i am, sir, with great respect, your obedient servant, c. r. p. rodgers, _president international meridian conference_. prof. j. c. adams. _report of the committee._ the committee on communications respectfully reports as follows: we have carefully examined all of the communications referred to us, as enumerated in the letter of president rodgers, with the following results: no. 1 recommends that the meridian of bethlehem be adopted as the initial meridian. this question has been already disposed of by the conference; therefore further consideration of the proposition is unnecessary. no. 2 refers to an invention, the author of which states that "a patent has been applied for," consequently your committee does not feel called upon to express any opinion upon it. no. 3 is a letter from m. de chancourtois, accompanying a work by him which contains an elaborate program of a system of geography based on decimal measures, both of time and of angles, and on the adoption of an international meridian. the work also contains copious historical notices on the metric system and on the initial meridian. a copy of this work was presented to each of the delegates prior to the discussions of the conference with regard to the choice of an initial meridian, and therefore no special report of the author's views on this subject appears to your committee to be necessary. these views are nearly identical with those which were so ably laid before the conference by professor janssen, but which failed to meet with their approval. the author further proposes to supersede the present mode of measuring both angles and time by a system in which the entire circumference and the length of the day should each be first divided into four equal parts, and then each of these parts should be subdivided decimally. however deserving of consideration these proposals may be, in the abstract, your committee are clearly of the opinion that they do not fall within the limits indicated by the instructions which we have received from our respective governments, and that, therefore, any discussion of them would only be of a purely academical character, and could lead to no practical result. such a discussion would be sure to elicit great differences of opinion, and would, therefore, occupy a considerable time. hence, your committee think that it would be very undesirable for the conference to enter upon it. no. 4 is a letter from mr. spofford, librarian of congress, including a communication of mr. j. w. stolting, dobbs' ferry, n. y. the author recommends the adoption of the meridian 162° w. from greenwich as the prime meridian; he proposes further, not to say east or west, but first or second half, and also recommends the adoption of a universal time, not to interfere with local or other standard time, and to reckon from "1 to 24." he expresses no opinion as to whether the day should begin at noon or midnight. there seems to be nothing in the communication to influence the decisions of the conference. no. 5. see report as to letter no. 1. no. 6 suggests that the prime meridian should be 180° from greenwich, and that longitude should be reckoned from 0° to 360°. this proposition has been already considered and rejected by the conference. no. 7. this communication proposes "to adopt as the prime meridian the frontier line between russia and the united states, as defined in the treaty of march 30, 1867." as the initial meridian has already been agreed to by the conference, this proposition needs no further notice. no. 8. this communication refers to an invention which has no bearing on the question before the conference. the committee therefore abstain from expressing an opinion as to its merits. no. 9. two letters from mr. e. r. knorr, of washington, d.c., advocating the advisability of reckoning longitude "westward from 0° to 359°," and marking them on charts by time instead of by degrees. the conference has already taken action on the question involved. no. 10. a letter from prof. hilgard, enclosing a pamphlet by lt. c. a. s. totten on the metrology of the great pyramid, a subject which does not fall within the scope of the subjects presented for the consideration of this conference. in the enclosing letter prof. hilgard says: "i am purely and squarely for greenwich midnight as the beginning of the universal day, and an east and west count of longitude; that is, 180° each way." no. 11 advocates the preservation of the anglo-saxon system of weights and measures. this subject being foreign to the questions under consideration by this conference, the committee deems further comment unnecessary. no. 12. a letter from lieut. c. a. s. totten, u.s.a., advocating a prime meridian through the great pyramid. the proposition involved has already been decided by the conference. no. 13 recommends redistribution of time according to the decimal system. as already remarked under no. 3, this proposition is clearly not within the limits indicated by the instructions which we have received from our respective governments. no. 14 states that the author has a plan by which "chronometers will record the longitude equably." this proposition is foreign to the subjects under consideration by the conference. no. 15 proposes a new system of mensuration; and, therefore, this does not fall within the subjects for consideration by the conference. no. 16. this communication suggests that as the prime meridian passes through havre, it should be allowable to call it by that name. this committee recommends that the prime meridian be not named after the localities through which it passes, but be called simply "the prime meridian." no. 17 is the subject of a patent. the committee does not feel called upon to express an opinion respecting it. this report is respectfully submitted to the conference. j. c. adams, _chairman committee on communications._ washington, _oct. 18th, 1884_. the president. the report of the committee is before the conference. mr. rutherfurd, the delegate of the united states. i move that the report be accepted, and its conclusions adopted. there being no objection, the report was adopted. the president. in the regular order of business to-day, the first subject before the conference is the resolution offered on saturday by the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd, with the amendment offered by the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt. the resolution is as follows: "_resolved_, that this universal day is to be a mean solar day, is to begin for all the world at the moment of mean midnight of the initial meridian coinciding with the beginning of the civil day and date of that meridian, and is to be counted from zero up to twenty-four hours." the amendment offered is as follows: "the conference recommends as initial point for the universal hour and the cosmic day the mean mid-day of greenwich, coinciding with the moment of midnight or the beginning of the civil day at the meridian 12 hours or 180° from greenwich. "the universal hours are to be counted from 0 up to 24 hours." mr. valera, the delegate of spain, said that he thought that the amendment of the delegate of sweden should be first discussed. mr. janssen, the delegate of france. at the last session i informed the congress that i had received a telegram from sir william thomson upon the question of the meridian. since then, that illustrious foreign member of the institute of france has written me a very kind letter upon the subject, in which he expresses his complete appreciation of the disinterested attitude taken by france in this congress. i thank sir william thomson for his sentiments towards france, and i am persuaded that, with such excellent feelings, we should arrive at an understanding, upon scientific bases, in which the moral and material interests of all would be equitably adjusted, as we have always understood them. but the question is not open now, and this congress would, doubtless, not be disposed to reopen it. sir william thomson will understand, therefore, that in the present condition of affairs we have only to maintain the attitude which we have taken and the votes which we have given. the president. the chair will simply say to the conference that he very informally alluded to the letter that he had received from sir william thomson, and the chair would also say in answer to the spanish minister that the rule in this conference, a simple one, is to discuss the last amendment offered and dispose of it, instead, as suggested by the delegate of spain, of taking up the one most important in its character. it would be somewhat difficult for the chair to decide on all occasions which amendment is the most important. i think, therefore, as chairman, that i will pursue the rule in force in this country, and, unless the conference order otherwise, shall present the amendment which is the last offered. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. mr. chairman, the spanish minister has not referred to the most important amendment, but to the most radical. for instance, here there are several propositions to select a meridian; one of them must be considered, and it seems to me that my amendment, which is the most radical, is the one to be first presented to the conference. the president. unless the conference shall direct otherwise, the chair must pursue the principle on which it has acted hitherto, taking the amendments in the order in which they are offered, and presenting them inversely for the action of the conference. the proposition before the conference, therefore, is the amendment offered by the delegate of spain, mr. arbol, which is as follows: "having accepted the meridian of greenwich to account the longitudes, as a general need for practical purposes, but thinking that the introduction of any new system of time-reckoning is far more scientific and important, and liable to great difficulties and confusion in the future, we propose the following resolution: "_resolved_, the congress, taking in consideration that there is already a meridian tacitly accepted by almost all the civilized nations as the origin of dates, the anti-meridian of rome, abstains from designating any other meridian to reckon the universal time." mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. it is proposed to introduce an absolute universal or cosmopolitan system of time-reckoning, which, it is hoped, will, at a more or less distant day, be generally adopted, not only for scientific purposes, but for all the ordinary purposes of life for which it can possibly be used; and it is further proposed to designate a meridian at which this cosmopolitan time-reckoning is to begin. what i have to state is, that this method of absolute time-reckoning already exists, (although we do not use it,) as does this universal meridian which has been tacitly chosen by almost all civilized nations--that is to say, by all such as have adopted the julian calendar, with or without the gregorian correction. thus it is that anything involving even a slight modification of our present system is nothing more than a chronological reform, which i do not feel certain that it will be well for us to introduce or recommend, and with regard to which i have my doubts whether it will be received with unanimous or hearty approval. in fact, gentlemen, all nations that have adopted the julian and gregorian systems of time-reckoning have necessarily accepted their consequences, and these consequences are, as rome told us in the time of caesar and in that of gregory xiii, that we must reckon our days according to certain fixed dates; some part of the world had to reckon their dates before all the rest, and as rome consented that countries situated to the east of it should reckon their date before it and countries situated to the west after it, it is evident that both reckonings had to meet at some point on some meridian, which was and could be no other than the anti-meridian of rome. nature itself seems to have lent its sanction to this, since the anti-meridian of rome crosses no continent, and, probably, no land whatever. let us suppose, for the sake of illustration, that it were agreed to abandon the gregorian system of reckoning at a given moment, and to adopt another; that it were agreed to abandon it at all points on the globe when the hour should be twelve o'clock at noon at greenwich, on the first day of january, 1885; and let us suppose that for historical or scientific purposes we were interested in knowing exactly how long the gregorian system had been in use. is it possible to ascertain this? it is; and very easily. using that system of universal time-reckoning which it is proposed to establish, but logically referring it to the origin of that cosmopolitan reckoning which really exists, that is to say, to the anti-meridian of rome, we shall find that 1885 years have been reckoned according to the gregorian system, plus the difference of longitude between the anti-meridians of greenwich and rome. nothing is more certain than this, and there is no other way of solving the problem. as i have already shown, when the gregorian correction was made, the day which, according to the old mode of reckoning, would have been the 5th of october, was called the 15th of october, 1582; the countries situated to the east of rome had, however, previously begun to reckon according to the new system (previously in absolute time i mean,) and the countries situated to the west adopted it successively afterwards. now, then, as that portion of the globe which lies to the east of any given point or meridian is nothing more or less than one hemisphere, and as that which lies to the west is another hemisphere, it is evident that, at the anti-meridian of rome, the two meridians, which constantly differ by one day in their dates, are confounded, and that the anti-meridian of rome, being the first one in the world that adopted the julian and the gregorian systems of reckoning, is the prime meridian of the world, the meridian by which we now reckon, and ought to reckon universal time, until the establishment of a different system. if we had, at the present time, to settle any question depending on dates, in the region where there is some confusion in regard to them, we should have to do so on this principle. if we desired to compel the entire world to keep a regular and logical account of dates, we should have to do so by compelling all the nations to the west of the anti-meridian of rome to go on reckoning their dates uninterruptedly after they have begun to be reckoned at the said anti-meridian, and by forbidding all the nations to the east of it to reckon any date until it has been reckoned at the anti-meridian of rome. for this reason i say that the express designation, for the reckoning of universal time, of the meridian of greenwich or of any other than the anti-meridian of rome, involves a chronological reform, inasmuch as it will involve the abandonment of the system to which we now adhere, and which we now use by common consent. this reform will cause a change of nearly 13 hours--that is to say, 12 hours plus the difference of longitude between rome and greenwich, if the meridian of greenwich is designated as the new initial point of the universal date. i do not believe, however, that you will adopt this choice irrevocably, since its curious and strange consequences may be shown by one example, which i will adduce: this table is of about sufficient extent to allow the difference between the geographical longitude of its two ends to be observed and appreciated. let us suppose that these sessions were held at greenwich, and that the table were placed east and west, so that the meridian intersected it lengthwise; let us further suppose that we had agreed to reckon the new universal time by this meridian--that is to say, by that of greenwich--and that, in signing the protocol, we wished to set an example to the world by using the universal date, the present civil date and the future civil date, which, by the daily use of the universal date, the nations will or may finally accept, to the exclusion of all others, for the ordinary purposes of life. well, now, gentlemen, we should bring our own choice into discredit. we could not sign, according to these three dates. as regards the last, we should find that half the table and half the congress were under one date, and the other half under another; even our chairman, if seated in the middle, would find that he had been presiding over our sessions with his right side in one day and his left in the next. i may be told that this would happen, whatever might be the meridian chosen, but we could afford to allow it to happen at sea, or in some isolated and uninhabited region where congresses never sit, and where no ray of civilization ever penetrates. but to return to the reform, what are you going to do? i will say that if, instead of the meridian of greenwich, you designate the anti-meridian for the reckoning of universal time and for the initial point of cosmopolitan dates for the present, but for the future as the initial point also of local dates, the reform will amount to about an hour only, but it will still be a reform. in a word, the anti-meridian of rome is the one which now furnishes dates to the entire world, and you propose to make the meridian of greenwich or the anti-meridian do so in future. i therefore tell you, if you desire a common hour for postal and commercial purposes, designate no meridian at all; let the railway and telegraph companies, the postal authorities and the governments make an arrangement and select an artificial hour, so to speak, whatever it be the hour of rome, london, paris, or even that of greenwich, but do not make a premature declaration which will be an authoritative one as emanating from this congress, an apparently insignificant reform, but in reality one of very great importance, since, giving the preference to determinate localities in the face of what is scientific, historical, and logical, you render difficult, in the future, the adoption of that very reform, which will, perhaps, then be more necessary, and which can perhaps then be introduced more intelligently. you see that i am not speaking in behalf of any special meridian, not even that of rome, since i admit that the reform may be necessary. you see, and i assure you, that i have not the slightest wish that the meridian which is to be the initial point of universal time should bear the name of any observatory or place in spain, although that nation discovered the new world in which this congress is holding its sessions, and although it may be said of that nation that it discovered those very meridians concerning which we are now speaking, inasmuch as terrestial meridians were indefinite and unknown lines, and were even without form until one was given them by sebastian elcano. i therefore hope that if you do not honor my proposition by accepting it, you will at least do justice to my intentions. prof. adams, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i shall be very short in any remarks which i may make upon the proposition before us. as far as i understand it, it is that, although we have adopted the meridian of greenwich as a prime meridian from which to count longitudes, we should begin to count our time according to the meridian at rome. i cannot consent to that proposition. it appears to me to be wanting in every element of simplicity, which should be our chief aim in this conference. to count longitude from one meridian and time from another, is something that will never be adopted. i do not understand that that was at all the proposition recommended by the roman conference. on the contrary, i think that it was quite a different one. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. mr. president, i do not in reality propose to adopt the meridian or anti-meridian of rome. what i have been contending for is that we should abstain at present from adopting any meridian as a point of departure for the calculation of time; otherwise, we introduce a new element of confusion for the future. we should change the chronological reckoning which is now in vogue, and i contend that we have no right, scientific or historical, to make that change now. according to my views, the meridian of longitude is relatively an unimportant affair. it is a practical one; it cannot be changed in twenty years, probably, and it will take that time to correct all existing charts. but if you adopt a meridian for time, it will be very difficult to alter it in the future. i cannot now clearly see what the difficulties will be, but i apprehend that the application of this new principle to the various details of scientific and civil matters will necessarily be attended with great inconvenience, and may result in proving to be quite impracticable. i understand it very well that it is proposed to confine this principle to certain subjects, and that it is adopted for the purpose of avoiding dangers in communications, in navigation, in railways, and in transmitting telegrams, &c.; but this is purely an administrative matter, and can be left for settlement to other bodies. the president. the chair would remind the delegate of spain, mr. ruiz del arbol, that at its last session the conference resolved, with singular unanimity, that it was expedient to adopt "a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the local or other standard time where desirable." the chair would politely suggest that the subject now under consideration is the adoption of the proposition recommended by the conference at rome, and which has been presented here by the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. my proposition is to abstain from the adoption of any one meridian, and that we leave the matter to some other congress, organized with the special object of regulating this question. commander sampson, delegate of the united states. mr. president, as near as i can follow the delegate of spain, he seems to be under the apprehension that by the adoption of the universal day, which has been proposed here, we should either gain or lose time in our chronology; that we should skip 12 hours, more or less. but, of course, that is not the case. any event which has occurred, or which will occur, at the time of the adoption of the universal day will be expressed just as exactly with reference to time as if the time had been calculated from the beginning of the christian era. there will not only be no confusion, but it seems to me the adoption of the universal day will tend to avoid confusion hereafter, because confusion must exist where we have so many standards of time. now, if any event which is taking place, or has taken place at any past time in the history of the world, is referred to the prime meridian, or is expressed in the time of any locality or of several localities, these times will all be different. the adoption of the universal day is to avoid any difficulty of that sort, and any event which has transpired will, when expressed in the time of the universal day--that is, according to the universal method--represent exactly the interval of time which has elapsed since the beginning of the christian era. nothing is gained or lost. general strachey, delegate of great britain. it seems to me that the congress having accepted the resolution to which reference was made a little while ago, adopting the universal day, it is incumbent upon us, in the nature of things, to determine when that universal day shall begin. the resolution presented by the delegate of the united states proposes to define how that universal day shall be reckoned; that is, when it shall begin and how its hours shall be counted. it was explained by him that the difference between his proposition and the proposition made at rome consisted in altering the time of the commencement of the so-called universal day from noon at greenwich to the commencement of the civil day. certainly what commander sampson just said is perfectly true. the adoption of this so-called universal day will not interfere in the smallest degree with any purpose for which time is employed in civil life. the two objects are entirely distinct. it is obvious that the conception of the necessity of having a universal day has arisen from the more clear conception of the fact that time on the globe is essentially local; that the time upon any given line (supposing it to be a meridian) is not the time at the same moment on either side of that line, however small the departure from it may be; and for scientific accuracy it has, therefore, been thought desirable to have some absolute standard to which days and hours can be referred. up to the present time it has been the practice to say, in an indefinite way, that an event happened, say, on the 1st of january at 6 o'clock in the morning, and such a statement of the time has been considered sufficient; but, in truth, this does not completely describe a definite epoch of time, for if the event occurred at madrid and was so reported, that report would not designate the same moment as a report of an event which was described to have occurred at precisely the same date and hour at greenwich, or rome, or washington. what is required and desired is that we should have an absolute and definite standard for reckoning events of a certain description, for which complete precision is desirable. i consider, therefore, that the delegate of spain leads us astray in the proposition which he has offered, by which he virtually proposes to nullify the resolution already adopted. we have already decided that a universal day was expedient, and it is for the conference to settle now when that universal day shall begin. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. i understand that the consequences, perhaps, would not be troublesome at first; but who can look into the future and say, if we take the meridian of greenwich as the standard of time, what difficulties we may be driven into? every country will be obliged to count both ways. they will have to use civil time and universal time. perhaps all countries may get accustomed to this radical change sooner or later, but we cannot foresee the difficulty now. i have here a treatise (a book) on "analytic chronology," showing the rules by which to bring into accord different dates of different calendars and eras, and i do not know how they would be affected by this universal time; but it is unnecessary for me to speak of that, as i think you are acquainted with the subject. mr. juan pastorin, delegate of spain. the congress has already come to very important decisions on the subject of the reckoning of longitude, and it will also certainly approve to-day those which have just been submitted on the subject of the universal day. i say certainly, because the result of the former votes being already known, it cannot be doubted on which side the majority will be, and because, from a scientific point of view, having chosen greenwich as the prime meridian for the calculation of longitude, and having decided to reckon longitude in two directions from zero hours to twenty-four hours, with the sign plus towards the east and minus towards the west, it will be advantageous to make the civil day of greenwich coincide with the universal day, if we would have an easy formula for passing from local to cosmic time. so many of the resolutions submitted to the congress by mr. rutherfurd having been approved one after another, the plan that our colleague has carefully studied will be accepted in its entirety; but it will be impossible for the conference to know in all their details other plans which, perhaps, would not be less worthy of attention. is the resolution adopted by a majority of the congress the best? should we reach the end of the reform in complete harmony with the hopes of all the governments represented here? on the contrary hypothesis, it seems to me, that the sessions of this congress will only be another step towards that reform, but not the reform itself. if the majority of the congress, in accordance with the logical consequence of its work, adopts as the cosmic time the civil time of greenwich, that decision will be contrary to the most ancient ideas of the human race. for many centuries the day has been reckoned as starting from the east, and the world will not easily abandon the traditions of its predecessors. the civil day of the world commences near the anti-meridian of rome, greenwich, or paris. therefore it is not natural that one of these meridians should be chosen as the point of departure of dates. really, one phenomenon cannot be the commencement of a series of phenomena if there is another which precedes it periodically. if the majority, as is logical, adopts the formula, "cosmic time=local time-longitude," and applies in the calculation longitude with the signs plus and minus, according as the longitude is east and west, the system will be source of frequent mistakes, and those, in their turn, will be the cause of disastrous accidents, especially on railroads. let us take the 31st of december, for instance. it is three o'clock at a point nine hours east of greenwich; at the same moment they will count at greenwich eighteen civil hours of the 30th of the same month, after the actual manner of reckoning the civil day, and that civil time of greenwich will be the cosmic time. apply to the proposed example the formula which i suppose the majority of the congress will adopt, and the result will be a negative quantity, minus six hours--a result not sufficiently comprehensible in itself, and one that could not be easily applied by the general public. can a majority prevail in questions, such as those we are speaking of, simply by the force of numbers? the whole world for several centuries thought that the earth was the centre of our planetary system; in fact, until an insignificant minority rose against this theory, for a long time considered by their ancestors indisputable. i will conclude by expressing my opinion upon the subject with which the congress is occupied. my opinion is not new, in spite of its having been modified in the course of our sitting. the works of our eminent colleague and indefatigable propagandist, mr. sandford fleming, the resolution of the conference at rome, the valuable opinions of messrs. faye, otto struve, beaumont de boutiller, hugo gyldén, the scientific work of monsieur chancourtois, and the report which m. gaspari has just presented to the academy of sciences of paris are the text upon which i base the simplest and most practical method of solving the problem, namely, to adopt as the prime meridian for cosmic time and longitude a meridian near the point at which our dates change, and to reckon longitude from zero hours to twenty-four hours towards the west, contrary to the movement of the earth. the formula would be then: cosmic time = local time + longitude. i think that the best way of finding cosmic time in relation to local time and longitude is to add a quantity to the civil hour of each point of the globe. but as the majority of this congress, so worthy of respect, admits no modifications of the system which we may call greenwich, let us lay aside the question of longitude and consider cosmic time separately. i have the honor, therefore, to present the following resolutions, and i ask the congress to consider them, and to accept them as a means of compromise: i. we agree to choose as the prime meridian for cosmic time that meridian near which the civil day of the world commences, namely, the anti-meridian of rome, greenwich, or havre. ii. the cosmic day consists of twenty-four hours, and commences at midnight of the prime meridian. iii. the earth is divided from the initial meridian into twenty-four hour-spaces, counted in a direction contrary to the movement of the earth from _0h._ to _24h_. we shall, then, have the following formula: t = t + r, where r represents the difference reckoned from _0h._ to _24h_. between the local time of the prime meridian and the local time of each point of the globe; t the cosmic time and t the local time. the president. the chair would ask the delegate of spain, mr. pastorin, whether he offers his resolution as an amendment to that offered by his colleague, mr. ruiz del arbol. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. mr. chairman, the amendment last offered is not intended to interfere with my proposition. the president then put the question to the conference upon the amendment offered by the delegate of spain, mr. ruiz del arbol. upon a vote being taken, the amendment was lost. the president. the question now recurs upon the amendment offered by the delegate of spain, mr. pastorin. that amendment runs as follows: "i. we agree to choose as the prime meridian for cosmic time that meridian near which the civil day of the world commences, namely, the anti-meridian of greenwich or havre. "ii. the cosmic day consists of twenty-four hours, and commences at midnight of the prime meridian. "iii. the earth is divided from the initial meridian into twenty-four hour spaces, counted in a direction contrary to the movement of the earth. "we shall, then, have the following formula: f = a + r where r represents the difference reckoned from 0h. to 24h. between the local time of the prime meridian and the local time of each point of the globe; f the cosmic time, and a the local time." the president. in order that this amendment may be presented more clearly to the conference, i would propose a recess for a few minutes. if there be no objection, a recess will be taken. no objection being made, the conference took a recess. * * * * * the president having called the conference to order stated that, unless further remarks were presented, the vote would be taken upon the resolution offered by the delegate of spain, mr. pastorin. no objection being made, the vote was then taken upon the amendment, and it was lost. the president. the question now recurs upon the resolution offered by the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, which will again be read. the resolution is as follows: "the conference recommends as initial point for the universal hour and the cosmic day the mean mid-day of greenwich, coinciding with the moment of midnight or the beginning of the civil day at the meridian 12 hours or 180° from greenwich. the universal hours are to be counted from 0 up to 24 hours." professor adams, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i intended to speak on the resolution offered by the delegate of the united states, mr. rutherfurd, but the remarks which i have put together apply equally well to the amendment to that resolution now offered by the delegate of sweden, which is identical with one of the recommendations of the conference at rome, because, in fact, in my remarks i discuss these propositions alternatively. therefore, with your permission, i will lay before you the observations which i wish to make. i beg leave to express my entire approval of the resolution which has been laid before the conference by mr. rutherfurd. there is only one point involved in the resolution which seems to call for or even to admit of any discussion. it appears evident that the universal day and date should coincide with the day and date of the initial meridian. the only question, therefore, which we have now to decide is, when shall this day of the initial meridian be considered to commence? and the proper answer to be given to this question does not appear to me in any degree doubtful. in modern times it is the universal practice to reckon dates by _days_ and not by _nights_. the word "day" is used in two different significations, being sometimes applied to the period of daylight and sometimes to the period of 24 hours, including both day and night; but in whichever of these senses the word _day_ is employed, the term mid-day has one and the same signification, viz., the instant of noon or of the sun's passage over the meridian. in the present case, where we are concerned with mean time, mid-day means the instant of mean noon, or of the passage of the mean sun over the meridian. accordingly, the civil day, by which all the ordinary affairs of life are regulated, begins and ends at midnight, and has its middle or mid-day at noon. it appears, then, most natural that the universal day should follow this example, and should begin and end at the instant of mean midnight on the initial meridian, and should have its middle at the instant of mean noon on the same meridian. i fail, therefore, to see the force of the reasons which induced the conference at rome to recommend that the universal day should commence at _noon_ on the initial meridian. the only ground for making this recommendation is that astronomers, instead of adopting the use of the civil day, like the rest of the world, are accustomed to employ a so-called astronomical day, which begins at noon. the advantage thus gained is that they avoid the necessity of changing the date in the course of the night, which is the time of their greatest activity; but this advantage is surely very small when compared with the inconvenience of having two conflicting methods of reckoning dates, and of being obliged to specify, in giving any date, which mode of reckoning is adopted. if this diversity is to disappear, it is plain that it is the astronomers who will have to yield. they are few in number compared with the rest of the world. they are intelligent, and could make the required change without any difficulty, and with very slight or no inconvenience. the requisite changes in the astronomical and nautical ephemerides would be easily made. as these ephemerides are published several years in advance, there would be plenty of time for navigators to become familiar with the proposed change in time-reckoning before they were called upon to employ it in their calculations. i believe that they would soon come to think it more convenient and natural to reckon according to civil time than according to the present astronomical time. i am told that this practice is already universally adopted in keeping the log on board ship. to avoid any chance of mistake, it should be prominently stated on each page of the ephemerides that mean time reckoned from mean _midnight_ is kept throughout. whether or not astronomers agree to adopt the civil reckoning, i think we ought to adopt the instant of midnight on the initial meridian as the commencement of the universal day. the relation between the local time at any place and the universal time would then be expressed by the simple formula: local time = universal time + longitude. whereas, if the proposition of the roman conference were adopted, we should have to employ the less simple formula: local time = universal time + longitude 12 hours. in recommending the mean noon at greenwich as the commencement of the universal day and of cosmopolitan dates, the roman conference refers to this instant as coinciding with the instant of midnight, or with the commencement of the civil day, under the meridian situated at 12 h. or 180° from greenwich. now, this reference to the civil day and date on the meridian opposite to greenwich appears not only to be unnecessary and to be wanting in simplicity, but it may also lead to ambiguity in the date, as expressed in universal days, unless this ambiguity be avoided by making an arbitrary assumption. no doubt the greenwich mean noon of january 1 coincides with midnight on the meridian 12 h. from greenwich, but with what midnight. what shall be its designation and the corresponding date given to the universal day? shall we call the instant above defined the commencement of the universal day denoted by january 1 or by january 2? each of these dates has equal claims to be chosen, and the choice between them must clearly be an arbitrary one, and may, therefore, lead to ambiguity. by adopting greenwich mean midnight as the commencement of the universal day, bearing the same designation as the corresponding greenwich civil day, all ambiguity is avoided, and there is no need to refer to the opposite meridian at all. those are the ideas i wish to express with regard to the commencement of the universal day. i may mention in connection with this subject that professor valentiner is one of the gentlemen who were invited, a week or two ago, to attend the meetings of this conference, in order that, if requested, they might express their opinions from a scientific standpoint upon the questions before it; but as professor valentiner had to leave washington before our sessions were at an end, i thought it would be expedient to ask him for his opinion in writing upon the matter which is now pending before this conference. he has written a letter in german, expressing his opinion. i have caused that letter to be translated into english, and if the conference allows me i will read it. the president. if there be no objection to the proposition of the delegate of great britain the letter will be read. no objection being made, professor adams continued: it is well known that professor valentiner is an eminent practical astronomer, and i think that any opinion coming from him on this subject, which interests astronomers very much, will be considered of great weight. the letter runs as follows: charlottesville, va., _october 12th, 1884_. honored sir: you had the kindness to ask me for my views as to the choice of the moment for the beginning of the day. as i cannot remain longer in washington, i allow myself thus briefly to write to you. when, as in the present case, the object is to introduce uniformity in the time-reckoning of the astronomical and the civil world, i am of the opinion that it is the astronomer only that must give way. for all purposes of civil life one cannot begin the day in the middle of the day-light--that is to say, in the middle of that interval during which work is prosecuted. in general it appears to me natural that the middle of the day, and not the beginning of the day, should be indicated by the highest position of the sun which governs all civil life. in fact, it would in civil life be simply impossible to bring about a change of date in the middle of the daylight. for the astronomer there certainly exist difficulties. his activity occurs mostly in the civil night, and he, therefore, has to make the change of date in the midst of his observations; and this difficulty is increased, since he almost exclusively observes according to sidereal time, so that often a computation must be made in order to ascertain whether the observations were made before or after the midnight or moment of change of date. however, this difficulty can be overcome by habit, and i believe that scarcely any doubt will occur as soon as a uniformnity of expression has established itself through the astronomical world. as regards the ephemerides, we already employ, in fact, the beginning of the date at midnight, since the places of planets and comets, are generally computed for 12 o'clock midnight of berlin or greenwich or other places. but these are points that have themselves long since been discussed. i scarcely need to say anything further. i would not hesitate for a moment to give the preference to making the change of date take place at midnight, according to civil reckoning, in order to establish a uniformity with the customs of civil life. it, perhaps, may be important to remark that we could not introduce this change immediately, since the ephemerides are already computed and published for three or four years in advance. it would, therefore, be well to fix the epoch of change of normal dates to some distant time, such as 1890. i remain, very respectfully yours, w. valentiner. i may also mention that the practice that prevails among astronomers at the present time of reckoning the day from noon is by no means without exceptions. there are very important astronomical tables which reckon the day from midnight; for instance, in delambre's tables of the sun; in burg's, burckhardt's and damoiseau's tables of the moon; in bouvard's tables of jupiter, saturn, and uranus, and in damoiseau's tables of jupiter's satellites, mean midnight is employed as the epoch of the tables. i may also mention that laplace, in his mécanique celeste, adopts the mean midnight of paris as the origin from which his day is reckoned. hence there are great authorities, even among astronomers, in favor of commencing the day at midnight. general strachey, delegate of great britain. sir, i observe that a very eminent american authority is present in this room, i mean professor hilgard. as he was invited to attend the meeting of this conference, i suggest that the views of the conference may be taken, whether he may not be invited to express his opinion on the point now under consideration. the president. with the concurrence of the conference, the chair will be most happy to ask professor hilgard to do us the favor to give us his opinion upon the question now before the conference. no objection was made to the proposition of the president. professor hilgard arose and said. i thank you and the conference very much for this invitation, and general strachey for having proposed it to the conference, but my opinion has been squarely expressed both in french and english in the report of a certain committee, that i am in favor of midnight at greenwich as the beginning of the universal day, and of longitude being calculated both ways from greenwich. i really cannot add anything to what has been said in the arguments already presented by professor adams, and i do not think that i ought to detain this conference a moment by repeating the opinion he has expressed to all the experts in this matter. i beg you will excuse me for not further ventilating my views. absence from the city, i regret, has prevented me from availing myself of the invitation earlier. sir frederick evans, delegate of great britain. i have the honor to address the conference once more upon the practical aspect of the subject before us as affecting the large body of navigators. i wish to say upon this point that there appears to me, in the address of my colleague, professor adams, somewhat of a mixing together of two subjects. the question immediately before us, as i understand it, is whether the commencement of the universal day shall be midnight or noon of the initial meridian. that is what we practically have to decide. now, i gather from professor adams' remarks that upon this question the ephemerides which we now employ have some important bearing. i do not think that that should influence us, for this reason, that the next resolution which will come before the conference "expresses the hope that as soon as may be practicable the astronomical and nautical days will be arranged everywhere to begin at midnight." this resolution, so far as i understand it, will be the warning to astronomers to begin to make the changes growing out of this resolution which may be necessary for seamen. therefore, i consider that we may at once proceed to vote upon the question whether the day is to commence at midnight or noon, without any reference to the practice or interests of navigation. in reality, it does not appear to me to affect that subject at all. i have given some consideration to the practical bearings of this question--whether it should be midnight or noon. what we ought to decide is what will be the least inconvenience to the world at large. i have ascertained from two of my colleagues, who have given this matter the greatest consideration, that the adoption of midnight will really cause less confusion than noon, for this reason, that all the great colonies of the world would be less affected; that is to say, that the times they are using now would be less affected by midnight than by noon. that being so, it appears to me to be an essential point in coming to a settlement of this question. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. i have only to say that i have listened to the remarks about navigators changing the reckoning of time. i do not know whether there are many navigators here, but it is a fact that seamen reckon the day from noon. the president. i beg the pardon of the delegate of spain; but, in the united states navy, we reckon the day from midnight. mr. ruiz del arbol, delegate of spain. i am speaking generally. now, there is some reason for this rule among seamen, for the only way to find out the position of a ship is to observe the meridian altitude of the sun; and everybody requires to know, at sea, what has taken place in the course of every day, from the beginning to the last moment of the day; and i think that whatever the rule may be in the united states navy, navigators generally will count their time as they count it now. i think that navigators will not change the rule now in force, no matter what we may adopt in this conference. commander sampson, delegate of the united states. i think, mr. president and gentlemen, that the change to the adoption of the universal day, beginning at midnight, would be a very decided advantage to navigators. the quantities as now given in the nautical ephemerides are for noon of the meridian for which they are computed, as washington, greenwich, &c. it is very evident that every navigator, in making use of the quantities given in the nautical almanac, must find the corresponding time at greenwich, wherever he may be on the surface of the earth. consequently, if we suppose that navigators are pretty equally distributed, one-half on one side of the earth and one-half on the other side, the greenwich day for one portion would be the local night for the other. the usual observations made by navigators at sea consist in a meridian observation of the sun for latitude, and a morning and possibly afternoon observation of the sun near the prime vertical for longitude. consequently all navigators, when in the vicinity of the initial meridian, might have their day's work occurring in two astronomical days. on the other hand, those navigators who were in the neighborhood of the 180th meridian would have all their work of one day occurring in the same astronomical day. the first would have the advantage of interpolating for short intervals only, while the second would be obliged to interpolate for much larger intervals. consequently, on the whole, it would make no difference to navigators whether the quantities given in the nautical almanacs were for noon or midnight of the initial meridian. another consideration, however, would make it very advantageous to have the quantities given for midnight. that consideration is this: if midnight were chosen, then the universal day would be identical with the nautical almanac day, and navigators would have only ship time and universal time to deal with, while, if the quantities were given for noon, they would have astronomical time, in addition to the other two. this consideration i think a very important one. the president. the question will be on the amendment offered by the delegate of sweden, count lewenhaupt, which has been read. the vote was then taken, as follows: states voting in the affirmative: austria, sweden, italy, switzerland, netherlands, turkey. in the negative: brazil, japan, chili, liberia, colombia, mexico, costa rica, paraguay, great britain, russia, guatemala, united states, hawaii, venezuela. abstaining from voting: france, san domingo, germany, spain. ayes, 6; noes, 14; abstaining from voting, 4. the president then announced that the amendment was lost. the question then recurred on the original resolution offered by the delegate of the united states. rustem effendi, delegate of turkey. mr. president, i have listened with a great deal of interest and attention to the learned arguments bearing upon the proposition under discussion offered by the hon. mr. rutherfurd, the delegate of the united states for the adoption of a universal hour. this question is of such high importance, and of such interest to every one, that i consider it my duty to make a few remarks upon the subject, as i wish to state clearly the position my government proposes to take in the matter. i do not pretend to discuss scientifically this subject, which has already been so ably treated by several of the gentlemen present. my task is of a different and inferior order. i merely propose to briefly examine the manner in which the proposition ought to be made, in order that it may be adopted by our respective governments. the question of a universal hour is not of equal interest and importance to all. the united states of america, although comparatively a young nation, have done so much in the pursuit of science and scientific investigation that they must have more than a common interest on the subject. the vast expanse of their country, stretching over sixty degrees of longitude, with a difference of time of more than four hours, almost compels them to adopt a universal hour. the thousands of miles of railroad tracts covering this continent, facilitating the intercourse between distant places, necessitate a uniform system to avoid confusion. it was, therefore, natural that the united states and canada should have taken the lead in proposing such a reform, which would likewise benefit other countries, as, for instance, the british empire, russia, and germany. but there are, at the same time, other countries, like france, spain, italy, scandinavia, etc., that may content themselves with a national hour, owing to the small difference in time within their dominion. for them, the adoption of a universal hour would only be of secondary importance, because it would only affect their international relations. i hope i may be permitted to remind you of the conclusions arrived at by a commission consisting of scientists, railroad and telegraph officials, &c., appointed by the french government to express their opinion upon this subject. if i am not mistaken, they recommended a universal hour, stating, however, at the same time, that the benefit to be derived from such an hour would be only of secondary importance for their country. the learned delegate from france, professor janssen, will probably be kind enough to inform us whether i am right or not. the few remarks i have made bring me to the point i wanted to consider more specially. i mean that the originators of the pending proposition, and those directly interested in it, should be induced to modify their proposition somewhat if they wish it to be adopted by other countries. in other words, to leave to each country the greatest latitude possible in adopting a universal hour. with regard to the ottoman empire, i must state that it is placed in a somewhat exceptional position in this respect, and is, therefore, obliged to ask for more latitude even than the other countries concerned. in our country we have two modes of reckoning time: one from noon to noon, or from midnight to midnight, as everywhere else, (heure à la franque), the other (heure à la turque) from sundown to sundown. in this latter case the hours count from the moment when the disk of the sun is bisected by the horizon, and we count twice from _0h._ to _12h._, instead of counting without any interruption from _0h._ to _24h._ we are well aware of the inconveniences this system of counting produces, because _0h._ necessarily varies from day to day, for the interval of time between one sunset and the one following is not exactly 24 hours. according to the season the sun will set earlier or later, and our watches and clocks at constantinople will be at most about three minutes fast or slow from day to day, according to the season. reasons of a national and religious character prevent us, however, from abandoning this mode of counting our time. the majority of our population is agricultural, working in the fields, and prefer to count to sunset; besides, the hours for the moslem prayers are counted from sundown to sundown. therefore it is impossible for us to abandon our old system of time, although in our navy we generally use the customary reckoning or "heure à la franque." finally, permit me to state that i am ready to cast my vote in favor of a universal hour, with the precise understanding that the universal hour will have to be limited to international transactions, and that will not interfere with the rules up to now in force in my own country. before resuming my seat i wish to thank the president and the members of the conference for their kind indulgence in having listened to my remarks. the president, the chair would remind the delegate of turkey that the following resolution was passed at our last session: "_resolved_, that the conference propose the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the use of local or other standard time where desirable." the very difficulty which the delegate of turkey anticipates was thus carefully provided for in the resolution just read. mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain. to my mind it is of very great importance that this resolution should be adopted. i have already given generally my views on this question, and therefore i do not intend to trespass on the attention of the conference beyond saying a very few words. from what i have already ventured to submit, it will be obvious that i hold that all our usages in respect to the reckoning of time are arbitrary. of one thing there can be no doubt. there is only one, and there can only be one flow of time, although our inherited usages have given us a chaotic number of arbitrary reckonings of this one conception. there can be no doubt of another matter; the progress of civilization requires a simple and more rational system than we now have. we have, it seems to me, reached a stage when a unification of the infinite number of time-reckonings is demanded. this unification will be, to a large extent, accomplished if the resolution be adopted, and by adopting it, it seems to me to be in the power of the conference to confer lasting benefits on the world. universal time will in no way interfere with local time. each separate community may continue the usages of the past in respect to local time, or may accept whatever change the peculiar conditions in each case may call for. but the use of universal time will not necessarily involve a change; it will rather be something added to what all now possess. it will be a boon to those who avail themselves of it. to the east of the prime meridian all possible local days will be in advance; to the west all possible days will be behind the universal day. the universal day, as defined by the resolution, will at once be the mean of all possible local days, and the standard to which they will all be related by a certain known interval, that interval being determined by the longitude. in my judgment, the resolution is an exceedingly proper one, and the conference will act wisely in passing it. the president. in taking the vote upon the resolution, it is requested that the roll be called. the following states voted in the affirmative: brazil, liberia, chili, mexico, colombia, netherlands, costa rica, paraguay, great britain, turkey, guatemala, united states, hawaii, venezuela. japan, states voting in the negative: austria-hungary, spain. abstaining from voting: france, san domingo, germany, sweden, italy, switzerland. netherlands, ayes, 15; noes, 2; abstained, 7. the president then announced that the resolution was passed. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i now present for the consideration of the conference the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the conference expresses the hope that as soon as may be practicable the astronomical and nautical days will be arranged everywhere to begin at midnight." before action is taken upon this resolution, i would make a verbal correction. i think that the word "_mean_" ought to be introduced before the word "_midnight_" and i therefore alter my resolution in that way. the vote was then taken upon the resolution just offered, and it was carried without division. the president. the chair begs leave to state that the protocols in french and in english of the first and second sessions of the conference, have been examined, and are now before the conference for adoption. if any delegate wishes to make any correction in these protocols, he can submit it to the conference, and, if approved, it can be immediately made. no objection was raised, and the president put the question to the conference on the adoption of the protocols of the first and second sessions in french and english, and they were unanimously adopted. m. janssen, delegate of france. mr. president, we have been directed to present for the approval of the congress the desire that studies relative to the application of the decimal system to the division of angular space and of time should be resumed in order that this application may be extended to all cases--and they are numerous and important--where it presents real advantages. i would say that a similar desire upon the same subject was expressed by the conference at rome. you are aware, gentlemen, that at the time of the establishment of the metrical system the decimal division had been extended to the measurement of angular space and of time. numerous instruments were even made according to the new system. as to time, the reform was introduced too abruptly, and, we might say, without enough discretion, and it came into conflict with old habits and was quickly abandoned; but as to the division of angular space, in which the decimal division presented many advantages, the reform sustained itself much better, and is still used for certain purposes. so, the division of the circumference into 400 parts was adopted by laplace, and we find it constantly employed in the mécanique celeste. delambre and mechain used, for the measurement of the are of the meridian from which the metre was derived, repeating circles divided into "_grades_." finally, in our own time, colonel perrier, chief of the geographical division of our department of war, has used instruments decimally divided, and at the present time logarithmic tables appropriate to that method of division are in course of calculation. but it is especially when it is a question of making long calculations of angular space that the decimal system presents great advantages. in this respect we find, so to speak, only one opinion expressed by scientists. the conference at rome, which brought together so many astronomers, geodetists, eminent topographers--that is to say, the men most competent and most interested in the question--expressed in respect to it a desire, the high authority of which it is impossible to mistake. it is, therefore, now evident that the decimal system, which has already done such good service in the measurements of length, volume, and weight, is called upon to render analagous services in the domain of angular dimensions and of time. i know that this question of the decimal division encounters legitimate doubts, principally as to its application to the measurement of time. it is feared that we want to destroy habits fixed for centuries, and upset established usages. in this respect, gentlemen, i think that we ought to be fully satisfied. the teachings of the past will be respected. it will be perceived that if we failed at the time of the revolution, it is because we put forward a reform which was not limited to the domain of science, but which did violence to the habits of daily life. it is necessary to take the question up again, but with due regard to the limits which common sense and experience would prescribe to wise and well-informed men. i think that the character of the reform would be well defined by saying that it is intended especially to make a new effort towards the application of the decimal system in scientific matters. but, gentlemen, i have not to discuss here the bearing of the reforms which the study of this question will lead to. it is sufficient for me to show that there is in that direction an indispensable step to be made, and to ask you to express the desire that the question should be studied. i do not think that there is anybody here who would desire to oppose a request which does not in truth commit us to any specific solution of the question, and which appears so opportune at the present time. i would ask the president to be so kind as to submit the following proposition to the conference: "_resolved_, that the conference expresses the hope that the studies designed to regulate and extend the application of the decimal system to the division of angular space and of time shall be resumed, so as to permit the extension of this application to all cases where it presents real advantages." the president. the chair is of opinion that the conference was called for a special and somewhat narrow purpose, and the consideration of the decimal system, proposed by the delegate of france, seems to it foreign to that purpose and beyond the scope of the conference. the president, however, simply acts for the conference, and if the conference shall decide to take the matter up, he will acquiesce, but it strikes the chair that the resolution is out of order. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain. sir, i desire to express my personal views on this subject. i should be very happy to join the delegate of france in voting for such a resolution, but i fear that there is a feeling among many of the delegates that it is not within our competence to discuss it. if that is so, i would suggest whether it might not be better that it should not be pressed to a vote. it would be a pity if there should be on the records of the proceedings of this conference anything in the shape of a vote against the subject-matter of this resolution. i consequently think that if delegates have formed any decided opinion on the subject, they might express their opinion without voting; but i repeat that it would be a great pity if a negative vote should be taken on the subject of the decimal system of dividing the circle and time, particularly as it was received with unanimity in the conference at rome. prof. adams, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i may say that while i agree with gen. strachey in thinking that i should not like to vote against the proposition brought forward by our eminent colleague, mr. janssen, yet i feel it is somewhat beyond the scope of the subjects which we have to discuss, and, therefore, i should abstain from voting. i quite recognize that, for certain purposes, the decimal division of the circle is very valuable. the president. unless the conference decides to entertain this proposition, the chair suggests that no discussion shall take place. if any member present desires to bring the matter up, he can do so by taking an appeal from the decision just made. gen. strachey, delegate of great britain. do i understand, sir, that the subject is dropped? the president. the chair has decided that the resolution offered by the delegate of france is out of order, and unless a difference of opinion is expressed by the conference, the subject will be dropped. the chair wishes to treat with the most distinguished deference the delegate of france, because we are all most happy to do honor to him in every way. does the chair understand that the delegate of france appeals from its decision, and wishes to take the sense of the conference upon it? mr. janssen, delegate of france, replied in the affirmative. commodore franklin, delegate of colombia. mr. president, i would like hear the resolution read again. if it be merely a suggestion to consider the subject of the decimal system, i should like to know it. the vote was then taken upon the appeal of the delegate of france from the decision of the chair. states voting in favor of the appeal: austria-hungary, netherlands, brazil, san domingo, chili, spain, france, switzerland, italy, turkey, japan, venezuela. mexico, states voting against the appeal: colombia, hawaii, costa rica, liberia, germany, paraguay, great britain, united states. guatemala, abstaining from voting: russia, sweden. ayes, 13; noes, 9; abstained, 2. the president. the appeal from the decision of the chair is sustained, and the proposition offered by the delegate of france is now before the conference. if no delegate wishes to speak upon the resolution, the vote will be taken. mr. janssen, delegate of france. mr. president, before the definitive vote i desire to again call my colleague's attention to the fact that it is a question here of the much-needed extension of the decimal system, an extension desired by a large number of the highest scientific authorities and of the most distinguished observers. as i said only a moment ago, the congress at rome, whose high authority in the matters which have occupied us is acknowledged, was a still higher authority as to astronomy, geodesy, topography; that is to say, in the domain to which our proposition relates. at rome a wish, similar to that which we ask you to formulate, was expressed. besides, if we observe that it is a question here only of expressing the desire that studies should be resumed upon the matter in question, is there anyone among us who would wish to oppose the liberal proposition which prejudges nothing in the solution of the question, but which will surely lead to important progress. i do not doubt, then, that all our colleagues will desire to unite in a resolution, which by its object and by the manner in which it is expressed, ought, it appears to me, to unite the suffrages of all. no further remarks were made upon the resolution, and the vote was accordingly taken on the question whether it should be adopted. states voting in the affirmative: austria-hungary, mexico, brazil, netherlands, chili, paraguay, colombia, russia, costa rica, san domingo, france, spain, great britain, switzerland, hawaii, turkey, italy, united states, japan, venezuela. liberia, states voting in the negative: none. abstained from voting: germany, sweden. guatemala, ayes, 21; noes, 0; abstained, 3. the president. the resolution of the delegate of france is, therefore, adopted. general strachey, delegate of great britain. sir, before concluding the session to-day, i hope that the delegates will be in a position to listen to the two resolutions which i now desire to propose, and which i think will tend to clear up a good deal of the discussion which we have had. the first of these resolutions is as follows: "the conference adopts the opinion that, for the purposes of civil life, it will be convenient to reckon time, according to the local civil time at successive meridians destributed round the earth, at time-intervals of either ten minutes, or some integral multiple of ten minutes, from the prime meridian; but that the application of this principle be left to the various nations or communities concerned by it." this resolution, as it stands, embraces all the practical suggestions which have been made on the subject up to the present time. the only limitation it proposes to put upon the adoption of what may be called local standard time is that the breaks shall be at definite intervals of ten minutes or more. the second resolution which i propose is a very simple one. it is this: "the arrangements for adopting the universal day in international telegraphy should be left for the consideration of the international telegraph congress." there has been established by an international arrangement a congress which meets every two years to settle questions of international telegraphy, and i think that the precise manner in which universal time may be adapted to telegraphy would very properly be left to that congress. mr. de struve, delegate of russia. on behalf of the delegates of russia, i beg to make the following remarks: we have already expressed the opinion that the universal time could be properly used for international postal, railway, and telegraphic communications. but it is to be understood that local or any other standard time, which is intimately connected with daily life, will necessarily be used side by side with the universal time. it has been proposed, in order to establish an easier connection between local and universal time, to accept twenty-four meridians at equal distances of 1 hour or 15°, or to divide the whole circumference of the earth by meridians at distances of 10 minutes of time or 21/2°. this question not yet having been made the subject of special and thorough investigation by the respective governments, and not having been discussed at the international conference at rome, we believe that it would as yet be difficult to express, in regard to europe, any positive opinion on the practical convenience of the above mentioned or other possible methods of dividing the globe into equal time-zones. we would suggest to recommend that the system of counting the hours of the universal day from 0 to 24, which probably will be adopted for the universal day, might also be introduced for counting the local time side by side with the old method of counting the hours of 0 to 12 a. m. and 0 to 12 p. m. count lewenhaupt, delegate of sweden. i have had the honor to transmit to the members of the conference a résumé of a report on this subject made by professor gyldén, an eminent swedish astronomer, whose name, no doubt, is familiar to many of the delegates. the system proposed by mr. gyldén is similar to the one now proposed by the delegate for great britain. the only difference is that mr. gyldén, in explaining the system, recommends the adoption of equidistant meridians, separated by intervals of 21/2°, or 10 minutes of time, while the proposition of the delegate for great britain is so worded that this distance may be greater than 10 minutes. this difference is, however, only a question of detail. the basis of mr. gyldén's system is that time meridians should be separated from the standard initial meridian by either 10 or some integral multiple of 10 minutes. therefore, i shall, with pleasure, vote for the resolution of the delegate from great britain. i beg only permission of the conference to insert mr. gyldén's report as part of my remarks: _résumé of a report read before the swedish geographical society by hugo gyldén, professor of astronomy and member of the academy of sciences in stockholm, concerning the use of equidistant meridians for the fixation of the hour._ if we suppose the meridian passing through the observatory of greenwich extended round the globe, this grand circle will cut the equator, at 180° from greenwich, at some place a little east of new zealand. this meridian falls almost entirely in the ocean, and cuts, in any case, not more than a few small islands in the pacific. if we suppose, further, another great circle at 90° from the meridian of greenwich, the western half touches very nearly new orleans, and the eastern half passes a few minutes from calcutta. if, now, the hour is fixed according to these four meridians, we have four cardinal times--one european, one american, one asiatic, and one oceanic. it will, however, be necessary to fix much more than one civil time for europe. therefore i suppose for europe a whole system of meridians, which, however, ought not to be closer together than 21/2°. the difference of time between these meridians is then only 10 minutes, which, in general, can be considered as an insignificant difference between the civil and the true solar time. the starting point of this system is the meridian of greenwich. to the west the system ought to extend 30 minutes; to the east 21/2 hours, or to a meridian passing near moscow. i suppose as time zero the meridian of greenwich. the next meridian to the east is meridian 1. this meridian will not pass far from the observatory of paris, because the difference between this meridian 1 and the meridian of paris is only 40 seconds, an insignificant difference in civil life. the meridian 1 can be called the meridian of paris, or french meridian. the second meridian (to the east of greenwich) does not touch utrecht, but will pass so close that the time of this city could, without the least inconvenience, be regulated as if the difference of time between greenwich and utrecht were exactly 20 minutes. the second meridian would also pass almost as close to amsterdam, (22s.,) and would not be far from marseilles, (1m. 29s.) in the vicinity of the third meridian we have, first, bern, (16s.;) next, a little further, turin, (42s.) the fourth meridian is close to hamburg, altona, and gottingen, (respectively 6s. and 14s.) not far from the same meridian is christiania, although at a distance of a little over 2 minutes. the fifth meridian passes also close to three large cities--rome, (5s.,) leipzig, (26s.,) and copenhagen, (20s.) the sixth meridian does not touch any city of importance, but it coincides very nearly with the meridian adopted for the normal civil time in sweden; the difference amounts only to 15 seconds. the seventh meridian touches the little town of brieg, in the vicinity of breslau, and königsberg is situated two minutes from the eighth. the ninth meridian passes less than one minute to the west of abo, and is situated at a distance of only a few seconds from mistra, a town in greece. the tenth meridian almost touches helsingfors in finland. as regards the eleventh meridian, i have not been able to find any locality of importance exactly so situated that it merits a place in this list, but i can, however, mention the cities of minsk and jassy. the twelfth meridian is situated 1m. 14s. to the west of the academy of sciences, in st. petersburg, and the distance from kiew is about the same. it is not necessary to continue the enumeration of the other meridians to the east by intervals of 10 minutes, but i will mention that moscow is situated _2h. 30m. 17s._ to the east of greenwich, and in consequence the system would be convenient with regard to this city. if we pass to the west of greenwich, we will find that the first meridian west touches the little town of almeria, in the south of spain, which country extends to equal distances on both sides of this meridian, east and west, and the situation of portugal is the same with regard to the third meridian west. then, in all the towns and localities given above, of which the greater part are of some importance, the local time coincides so closely with times differing from the greenwich time, by whole multiples of 10 minutes, that there is no reason to fear any real inconvenience if these times were taken to regulate local reckonings. if the different countries in europe should decide to adopt the system which i have explained, the following system of normal times would, perhaps, be found convenient: east of greenwich. 1st meridian, france. 2d " holland and belgium. 3d " switzerland. 4th " norway, (and western germany.) 5th " denmark, germany, and italy. 6th " sweden and austria. 7th " eastern germany. 8th " hungary. 9th " poland and greece. 10th " finland, roumania, and bulgaria, 11th " european turkey. 12th " western russia. west of greenwich. 1st meridian, spain. 3d " portugal. it is, however, not at all necessary that each country should adopt a single civil time for the whole of its territory. if several normal times should be adopted, it is still possible to use the system, provided only the several times differ from greenwich time by 10 minutes, 20 minutes, &c.; but it would be necessary that the clocks should indicate the times adopted with great precision, and that the difference did not amount to even a few seconds, because otherwise the advantages of the adoption of the system would be materially reduced. this circumstance, that it is possible for each country to adopt the system, and at the same time to maintain a certain independence with regard to the adoption of the most convenient normal times, is of considerable importance with regard to the possibility of introducing a system of this kind. in fact, it is possible to arrive at the application of the system in such a way that the transition would hardly be observed by the great majority of the population. as regards railroads and telegraphs, the advantages would be the same as if the local times were everywhere identical, because it is easy to remember the multiple of 10 minutes which ought to be added to the time of a given country for translation into the time of another country. the difference of time between sweden and denmark would, for instance, be 10 minutes--a circumstance which everybody would soon learn to remember. a traveller leaving sweden would then know that his watch, if correct, shows exactly 10 minutes more than the clocks of the danish railroad stations, and if he continued his voyage to paris, he would know that the clocks of paris are exactly 50 minutes behind the clocks in sweden. i have tried to explain the advantages of this system for the countries in europe. i am not able to judge if similar systems can be considered necessary in america and asia. it is possible that north america could be satisfied with one single normal time, which, if america connects this time with the european system, ought to be fixed exactly 6 hours behind greenwich. while starting from this normal meridian, it is possible to establish a more or less elaborate system of equidistant times analogous to the system which has been proposed for europe. the same can be said of the civil times of asia, which ought to be connected with a normal time 6 hours in advance of the time of greenwich. africa ought to belong to the european system. the french civil time could be adopted for algeria and tunis; the time of denmark, germany, and italy for tripoli; for egypt the time of russia; the spanish time for morocco; at the mouth of the congo where, no doubt, sooner or later, an important centre of civilization will rise, the meridian of sweden and austria could be used; the meridian of hungary could be adopted for the cape of good hope. it will not be possible to connect south america and australia with any of the four cardinal times mentioned, but some other combination, into which it is not necessary to enter on this occasion, can easily be found. the president. if the chair hears no objection, the pamphlet referred by the delegate of sweden will be printed as proposed. mr. lefaivre, delegate of france. mr. president, i move that the conference adjourn until wednesday, at one o'clock p. m. the motion was put and agreed to, and the conference thereupon adjourned at 4:30 p. m. until wednesday, the 22d inst., at one o'clock p. m. vii. session of october 22, 1884. the conference met pursuant to adjournment in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at one o'clock p. m. present: austria-hungary: baron ignatz von schæffer. brazil: dr. luiz cruls. chili: mr. f. y. gormas and mr. a. b. tupper. colombia: commodore s. e. franklin. costa rica: mr. juan francisco echeverria. france: mr. a. lefaivre, mr. janssen. germany: baron h. von alvensleben, mr. hinckeldeyn. great britain: sir f. j. o. evans, prof. j. c. adams, lieut.-general strachey, mr. sandford fleming. guatemala: mr. miles book. hawaii: hon. w. d. alexander, hon. luther aholo. italy: count albert de foresta. japan: professor kikuchi. liberia: mr. wm. coppinger. mexico: mr. leandro fernandez, mr. angel anguiano. netherlands: mr. g. de weckherlin. paraguay: capt. john stewart. russia: mr. c. de struve, major-general stebnitzki, mr. j. de kologrivoff. san domingo: mr. de j. galvan. spain: mr. juan valera, mr. emilio ruiz del arbol, and mr. juan pastorin. sweden: count carl lewenhaupt. switzerland: col. emile frey. turkey: rustem effendi. united states: rear-admiral c. r. p. rodgers, mr. lewis m. rutherfurd, mr. w. f. allen, commander w. t. sampson, professor cleveland abbe. venezuela: dr. a. m. soteldo. absent: denmark: mr. c. s. a. de bille. salvador: mr. antonio batres. the president. the first business before the conference to-day is the resolutions offered by the delegate of great britain, general strachey; but before we proceed the delegate of san domingo, mr. galvan, asks permission, as a matter of privilege, to read a communication to the conference. mr. galvan, the delegate of san domingo. before the sessions of the conference come to a close, i feel compelled to make a declaration which will be a tribute to the illustrious scientists who have directed the decisions of the majority of the conference, and at the same time a reservation of future freedom of action to the country which i have the honor to represent. the negative vote of san domingo on the principal question was entirely in consequence of the proposal by the delegates of france of a neutral international meridian, which was rejected by the conference. san domingo, which had no part in the various important interests connected with the meridian of greenwich, was bound to regard equity alone on the occurrence of the disagreement produced by the proposal of the delegates of france, a nation renowned for being one of the first in intellectual progress. at the last session i was glad that another proposal of the delegates of france was accepted almost unanimously by the conference. that fact should be considered as a good omen of a more complete and unanimous agreement at some future time in behalf of the general interest of science. that day will be saluted with a cordial _hosanna_ by the republic of san domingo, which is always ready freely to give its assent to the progress of civilization. the president. the resolutions offered by the delegate of great britain, general strachey, are now before the conference, and will be read. the resolutions were then read, as follows: "1. the conference adopts the opinion that, for the purposes of civil life, it will be convenient to reckon time according to the local civil time at successive meridians distributed round the earth, at time-intervals of either ten minutes, or some integral multiple of ten minutes, from the prime meridian; but that the application of this principle be left to the various nations or communities concerned by it." "2. the arrangements for the use of the universal day in international telegraphy should be left for the consideration of the international telegraph congress." general strachey, delegate of great britain. in consequence of the opinions i have heard expressed regarding the resolutions which i brought forward at our last meeting, i feel constrained to say that i am not disposed to ask the congress to proceed to a vote upon them. i find that, although i had reason to think that those resolutions, in substance, that is in their main features, would be acceptable, still there is extreme difficulty in finding precise expressions that shall meet the views of everybody, and there are divisions of opinion as to the exact manner in which these resolutions should be modified. my object in bringing forward the resolutions was mainly to obtain a decided expression of opinion on the part of the congress, that the method of counting local time, so as to harmonize as far as possible with universal time, should be left for settlement locally; and that, at the utmost, all the congress could do would be to suggest some general principle such as that embodied in my resolution. there was, of course, never any intention of employing the universal day so as to interfere with the use of local standard time; and as i shall, no doubt, elicit a further clear expression of opinion on the part of the delegates, that there is no intention of bringing about this interference, i will now, with the permission of the conference, withdraw the resolutions. mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states. mr. president, i think that all of us appreciate the desire which moved the delegate of great britain to present these resolutions. there is a wish on his part that we should not seem, in any way, by our action here, to interfere with the convenience of the world in the use of its present civil time, or any other time which it may be found convenient to adopt, while he recognizes that some of the proposals made as to local time are such as could not be objected to. still, i cannot refrain from expressing my satisfaction that he has come to the conclusion that these resolutions are not necessary. i think the whole question is covered by the resolutions already adopted by this congress; that our universal day is for those purposes only for which it may be found convenient, and that it is not to interfere in any way with the use of civil or other standard time where that may be found convenient. this seems to me to be so fully embodied in our resolutions that it is unnecessary to enunciate again in a negative form the same idea, and i therefore express my satisfaction that the resolutions are withdrawn. mr. sandford fleming, delegate of great britain. mr. president, i have a few words bearing on the subject before the conference which i wish to express before any action is taken. the president. there will be no subject before the congress if the resolutions of general strachey are withdrawn, and the chair understands that the object of general strachey in withdrawing these resolutions was to avoid a discussion upon a subject that could hardly lead to any satisfactory conclusion. if, however, mr. fleming desires to address the conference, he will be at liberty to do so. mr. fleming, delegate of great britain. i do not wish to intrude any new matter upon the conference. what i had to say had a bearing upon the subject, but, if the resolutions are withdrawn and the conference desires to end the matter, i shall not insist upon speaking. no objection being made, the resolutions offered by general strachey at the last session of the conference were then withdrawn. count lewenhaupt, delegate for sweden, then proposed that the resolutions passed by the conference should be formally recorded in a final act, stating the votes on each resolution that was adopted. the conference took a recess, in order to allow the delegates to examine the draft of the final act. after the recess the final act was unanimously adopted, as follows: final act. the president of the united states of america, in pursuance of a special provision of congress, having extended to the governments of all nations in diplomatic relations with his own, an invitation to send delegates to meet delegates from the united states in the city of washington on the first of october, 1884, for the purpose of discussing, and, if possible, fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the whole world, this international meridian conference assembled at the time and place designated; and, after careful and patient discussion, has passed the following resolutions: i. "that it is the opinion of this congress that it is desirable to adopt a single prime meridian for all nations, in place of the multiplicity of initial meridians which now exist." this resolution was unanimously adopted. ii. "that the conference proposes to the governments here represented the adoption of the meridian passing through the centre of the transit instrument at the observatory of greenwich as the initial meridian for longitude." the above resolution was adopted by the following vote: in the affirmative: austria-hungary, mexico, chili, netherlands, colombia, paraguay, costa rica, russia, germany, salvador, great britain, spain, guatemala, sweden, hawaii, switzerland, italy, turkey, japan, united states, liberia, venezuela. in the negative: san domingo. abstaining from voting: brazil, france. ayes, 22; noes, 1; abstaining, 2. iii. "that from this meridian longitude shall be counted in two directions up to 180 degrees, east longitude being plus and west longitude minus." this resolution was adopted by the following vote: in the affirmative: chili, liberia, colombia, mexico, costa rica, paraguay, great britain, russia, guatemala, salvador, hawaii, united states, japan, venezuela. in the negative: italy, sweden, netherlands, switzerland. spain, abstaining from voting: austria-hungary, germany, brazil, san domingo, france, turkey. ayes, 14; noes, 5; abstaining, 6. iv. "that the conference proposes the adoption of a universal day for all purposes for which it may be found convenient, and which shall not interfere with the use of local or other standard time where desirable." this resolution was adopted by the following vote: in the affirmative: austria-hungary, mexico, brazil, netherlands, chili, paraguay, colombia, russia, costa rica, salvador, france, spain, great britain, sweden, guatemala, switzerland, hawaii, turkey, italy, united states, japan, venezuela. liberia, abstaining from voting: germany, san domingo. ayes, 23; abstaining, 2. v. "that this universal day is to be a mean solar day; is to begin for all the world at the moment of mean midnight of the initial meridian, coinciding with the beginning of the civil day and date of that meridian; and is to be counted from zero up to twenty-four hours." this resolution was adopted by the following vote: in the affirmative: brazil, liberia, chili, mexico, colombia, paraguay, costa rica, russia, great britain, turkey, guatemala, united states, hawaii, venezuela. japan, in the negative: austria-hungary, spain. abstaining from voting: france, san domingo, germany, sweden, italy, switzerland. netherlands, ayes, 15; noes, 2; abstaining, 7. vi. "that the conference expresses the hope that as soon as may be practicable the astronomical and nautical days will be arranged everywhere to begin at mean midnight." this resolution was carried without division. vii. "that the conference expresses the hope that the technical studies designed to regulate and extend the application of the decimal system to the division of angular space and of time shall be resumed, so as to permit the extension of this application to all cases in which it presents real advantages." the motion was adopted by the following vote: in the affirmative: austria-hungary, mexico brazil, netherlands, chili, paraguay, colombia, russia, costa rica, san domingo, france, spain, great britain, turkey, hawaii, united states, italy, venezuela. japan, abstaining from voting: germany, sweden. guatemala, ayes, 21; abstaining, 3. done at washington, the 22d of october, 1884. c. r. p. rodgers, _president_. r. strachey, j. janssen, l. cruls, _secretaries._ the following resolution was then adopted unanimously: "that a copy of the resolutions passed by this conference shall be communicated to the government of the united states of america, at whose instance and within whose territory the conference has been convened." mr. rutherfurd, delegate of the united states, then presented the following resolution: "_resolved_, that the conference adjourn, to meet upon the call of the president, for the purpose of verifying the protocols." this resolution was then unanimously carried, and the conference adjourned at half past three, to meet upon the call of the president. viii. session of november 1, 1884. the conference met at the call of the president for the approval of the protocols, as arranged at the last meeting, in the diplomatic hall of the department of state, at 1 o'clock p. m. the president having called the conference to order, said: the protocols in french and english, having been examined by the secretaries of the conference, have been submitted to all of the delegates for perusal. if any delegate should desire to make any observation on them the opportunity is now given for his doing so. rustem effendi, delegate of turkey, stated that he desired to change his vote on the fifth resolution of the final act, providing for the commencement of the universal day, from the affirmative to the negative. no objection being made, the change was ordered to be made. the president then said: no further observations having been made on the protocols, they will now be signed by the secretaries and the president. mr. de struve, delegate of russia. before the conference terminates, i beg to express, in the name of my colleagues, our sincere gratitude for the hospitality extended to the conference by the government of the united states, and i beg to express our heartiest thanks to you, mr. president, for the able and impartial manner in which you have presided over our deliberations. when we elected you, we unanimously elected the first delegate of the united states. if we had to begin again, the personal feelings of all the delegates would supply powerful additional reasons for making the election equally unanimous. mr. de struve's observation met with the unanimous approval of the delegates. the president. gentlemen, i am greatly honored by the kind expression of your good feeling towards me as the president of this conference, and i thank you very heartily for it. the duty assigned to us all has not been free from difficulty, but our meetings and discussions have been characterized by great courtesy and kindness, and by a conciliatory spirit. with patience and devotion the delegates to this congress have sought to discharge the trust committed to them, and, as your chairman, i beg you to receive my most cordial thanks for the courteous consideration i have received at your hands. the president of the united states and the secretary of state desire me to renew to you their thanks for your presence here, and their best wishes for your safe and happy return each to his own home. i shall esteem myself very happy hereafter whenever i shall have the good fortune to meet any of my colleagues of the international meridian conference. mr. rutherfurd, the delegate of the united states. mr. president and gentlemen, i am sure that you will all unite with me in passing the resolution which i now propose to read: "_resolved_, that the thanks of the conference be presented to the secretaries for the able manner in which they have discharged their arduous duties." the resolution was unanimously adopted. general strachey, delegate of great britain. i wish, sir, as one of the secretaries, to express my thanks for the manner in which my labors have been esteemed by the delegates present. all that i can say on the subject is, that however troublesome the duties of the secretaries have been, i have not the least doubt that anybody else named instead of myself would equally have bestowed his best attention on the discharge of those duties. mr. janssen, delegate of france, then said: before the dissolution of the conference, mr. cruls and i desire specially to thank our colleagues for the honor they have done us by entrusting to us the revision of the french version of the protocols. in order that we might fully respond to that honor, we have examined with all possible care the french translations of the remarks of our colleagues. our only regret is that, in consequence of the desire of several of them to quit washington, we have been obliged to leave portions of the translations, particularly of the last protocols, much in the state in which we received them from the official translators, not having had the time to correct these translations as we would have desired. upon motion of mr. janssen, delegate of france, the conference passed a vote of thanks to the delegate of turkey for the aid he has rendered the secretaries in the revision of the protocols. the president then said: before our final adjournment i desire to express a very high appreciation of the ability, fidelity, and zeal with which mr. w. f. peddrick, the secretary attached by the department of state to this conference, has performed his difficult duties, and to thank him for his services. the conference expressed its cordial assent to these observations. the president then declared that the business of the conference having been concluded, it would adjourn _sine die_. c. r. p. rodgers, _president._ r. strachey, j. janssen, l. cruls, _secretaries._ annex i. an act to authorize the president of the united states to call an international conference to fix on and recommend for universal adoption a common prime meridian, to be used in the reckoning of longitude and in the regulation of time throughout the world. _be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the united states of america in congress assembled_, that the president of the united states be authorized and requested to extend to the governments of all nations in diplomatic relations with our own an invitation to appoint delegates to meet delegates from the united states in the city of washington, at such time as he may see fit to designate, for the purpose of fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the globe, and that the president be authorized to appoint delegates, not exceeding three in number, to represent the united states in such international conference. approved august 3, 1882. * * * * * annex ii. an act making appropriations for sundry civil expenses of the government for the fiscal year ending june thirtieth, eighteen hundred and eighty-five, and for other purposes. _be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the united states of america in congress assembled_, that the following sums be, and the same are hereby, appropriated for the objects hereinafter expressed for the fiscal year ending june thirtieth, eighteen hundred and eighty-five, namely: under the state department: for expenses of the international conference for fixing a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning, including cost of printing and translations, to be expended under the direction of the secretary of state, five thousand dollars; and the president is hereby authorized to appoint two delegates to represent the united states at said international conference, in addition to the number authorized by the act approved august third, eighteen hundred and eighty-two, and who shall serve without compensation. approved july 7, 1884. annex iii. circular.] department of state washington, _october 23, 1882_. sir: on the 3d of august last the president approved an act of congress, in the following words: "_be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the united states of america in congress assembled_, that the president of the united states be authorized and requested to extend to the governments of all nations in diplomatic relations with our own an invitation to appoint delegates to meet delegates from the united states in the city of washington, at such time as he may see fit to designate, for the purpose of fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the globe, and that the president be authorized to appoint delegates, not exceeding three in number, to represent the united states in such international conference." it may be well to state that, in the absence of a common and accepted standard for the computation of time for other than astronomical purposes, embarrassments are experienced in the ordinary affairs of modern commerce; that this embarrassment is especially felt since the extension of telegraphic and railway communications has joined states and continents possessing independent and widely separated meridional standards of time; that the subject of a common meridian has been for several years past discussed in this country and in europe by commercial and scientific bodies, and the need of a general agreement upon a single standard recognized; and that, in recent european conferences especially, favor was shown to the suggestion that, as the united states possesses the greatest longitudinal extension of any country traversed by railway and telegraph lines, the initiatory measures for holding an international convention to consider so important a subject should be taken by this government. the president, while convinced of the good to flow eventually from the adoption of a common time unit, applicable throughout the globe, thinks, however, that the effort now to be made should be to reach by consultation a conclusion as to the advisability of assembling an international congress with the object of finally adopting a common meridian. he, therefore, abstains from extending an invitation for a meeting at an assigned day, until he has ascertained the views of the leading governments of the world as to whether such international conference is deemed desirable. i am accordingly directed by the president to request you to bring the matter to the attention of the government of ----, through the minister of foreign affairs, with a view to learning whether its appreciation of the benefits to accrue to the intimate intercourse of civilized peoples from the consideration and adoption of the suggested common standard of time so far coincides with that of this government as to lead it to accept an invitation to participate in an international conference at a date to be designated in the near future. you may leave a copy of this instruction with the minister for foreign affairs, and request the views of his government thereon, at as early a day as may be conveniently practicable. i am, sir, your obedient servant, fred'k t. frelinghuysen. * * * * * annex iv. circular.] department of state, washington, _december 1, 1883_. sir: by a circular instruction of october 23, 1882, you were made acquainted with (the language of) an act of congress, approved august 3, 1882, authorizing and requesting the president to extend to other governments an invitation to appoint delegates to meet in the city of washington for the purpose of fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the world; and you were instructed to bring the matter to the attention of the government to which you are accredited and to inform it that the president deemed it advisable to abstain from the issuance of the formal invitation contemplated, until through preliminary consultation the views of the leading governments of the world as to the desirability of holding such an international conference could be ascertained. in the year that has since elapsed this government has received from most of those in diplomatic relations with the united states the approval of the project, while many have in terms signified their acceptance and even named their delegates. besides this generally favorable reception of the suggestion so put forth, interest in the proposed reform has been shown by the geographical conference held at rome in october last, which very decisively expressed its opinion in favor of the adoption of the meridian of greenwich as the common zero of time longitude, and adjourned, leaving the discussion and final adoption of this or other equivalent unit, and the framing of practical rules for such adoption, to the international conference to be held at washington. the president therefore thinks the time has come to call the convention referred to in my instruction of october 23, 1882. i am accordingly directed by the president to instruct you to tender to the government of ----, through its minister for foreign affairs, an invitation to be represented by one or more delegates (not exceeding three) to meet delegates from the united states and other nations in an international conference to be held in the city of washington on the first day of october next, 1884, for the purpose of discussing and, if possible, fixing upon a meridian proper to be employed as a common zero of longitude and standard of time-reckoning throughout the globe. you will seek the earliest convenient occasion to bring this invitation to the attention of the minister of foreign affairs of ---by handing him a copy hereof and requesting that the answer of his government may be made known to you. i am, sir, your obedient servant, fred'k t. frelinghuysen. 