Leinster, Murray - The.Fifth-Dimension.Catapult

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The Fifth-Dimension Catapult
BY MURRAY LEINSTER
FOREWORD
THIS STORY has no normal starting place, because there are too many places where it might be said
to begin. One might commence when Professor Denham, Ph.D., MA., etc., isolated a metal that
scientists have been talking about for many years without ever being able to smelt. Or it might
start with his first experimental use of that metal
with entirely impossible results. Or it might very plausibly begin with an interview between a
celebrated leader of gangsters in the city of Chicago and a spectacled young laboratory assistant
who had turned over to him a peculiar heavy object of solid gold and very nervously explained, and
finally managed to prove, where it came from. With also impossible results, because it turned
ãKingä Jacaro, lord of vice-
resorts and rum-runners, into a passionate enthusiast in nonEuclidean geometry. The whole story
might be said to begin with the moment of that interview.
But that leaves out Smithers, and especially it leaves out Tommy Reames. So, on the whole,
it is best to take up the narrative at the moment of Tommyâs first entrance into the course of
events.
CHAPTER I
He came to a stop in a cloud of dust that swirled up to and all about the big roadster and
surveyed the gate of the private road. The gate was rather impressive. At its top was a sign,
ãKeep Out!ä Halfway down was another sign, ãPrivate Property. Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.ä On
one gate-post was another notice, ãLive Wires Within,ä and on the other a defiant placard, ãSavage
Dogs At Large Within This Fence.ä
The fence itself was all of seven feet high and made of the heaviest of woven-wire
construction. It was topped with barbed wire, and went all the way down both sides of a narrow
right of way until it vanished in the distance.
Tommy got out of the car and opened the gate. This fitted the description of his
destination, as given him by a brawny, red-headed filling-station attendant in the village some
two miles back. He drove the roadster through the gate, got out and closed it piously, got back in
the car and shot it ahead.
He went humming down the narrow private road at forty-five miles an hour. That was Tommy
Reamesâs way. He looked totally unlike the conventional description of a scientist of any sort÷as
much unlike a scientist as his sport roadster looked unlike a scientistâs customary means of
transit÷and ordinarily he acted quite unlike one. As a matter of fact, most of the people Tommy
associated with hadnât the faintest inkling of his taste for science as an avocation. There was
Peter Daizell, for instance, who would have held up his hands in holy horror at the idea of Tommy
Reamesâs being the author of that article in the Philosophical Journal, ãOn the Mass and Inertia
of the Tesseract,ä which had caused such a controversy.
And there was one Mildred Holmes÷of no importance in the matter of the Fifth-Dimension
Catapult÷who would have lifted beautifully arched eyebrows in bored unbelief if anybody had
suggested
that Tommy Reames was that Thomas Reames whose ãAdditions to Herglotzâs Mechanics of Continuaä
produced such diversities of opinion in scientific circles. She intended to make Towmy propose to
her some day, and thought she knew all about him. And everybody, everywhere, would have been
incredulous of his present errand.
Gliding down the narrow, fenced-in road, Tommy was a trifle dubious about this errand
himself. A yellow telegraph-form in his pocket read rather like a hoax, but was just plausible
enough to have brought him away from a rather important tennis match. The telegram read:
PROFESSOR DENHAM IN EXTREME DANGER THROUGH EXPERIMENT
BASED ON YOUR ARTICLE ON DOMINANT COORDINATES YOU ALONE CAN
HELP HIM IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY COME AT ONCE.
A. VON HOLTZ.
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The fence went on past the car. A mile, a mile and a half of narrow lane, fenced in and
made as nearly intruder-proof as possible.
ãWonder what Iâd do,ä said Tommy Reames, ãif another car came along from the other end?ä
He deliberately tried not to think about the telegram any more. He didnât believe it. He
couldnât believe it. But he couldnât ignore it, either. Nobody could; few scientists, and no human
being with a normal amount of curiosity. Because the article on dominant coordinates had appeared
in the Journal of Physics and had dealt with a state of things in which the normal coordinates of
everyday existence were assumed to have changed their functions; when the coordinates of time, the
vertical, the horizontal and the lateral changed places and a man went east to go up and west to
go down and ran his street numbers in a fourth dimension. It was mathematical foolery, from one
standpoint, but it lead to some fascinating if abstruse conclusions.
But his brain would not remain away from the subject of the telegram, even though a
chicken appeared in the fenced-in lane ahead of him and went flapping wildly on before the car. It
rose in midair, the car overtook it as it rose above the level of the hood, and there was a
rolling, squawking bundle of shedding feathers tumbling over and over along the hood until it
reached the slanting windshield. There it spun wildly upward, left a cloud of feathers fluttering
about Tommyâs head, and fell still squawking into the road behind. By the back-view
mirror, Tommy could see it picking itself up and staggering dizzily back to the side of the road.
ãMy point was,ä said Tommy vexedly to himself, speaking of the article the telegram
referred to, ãthat a man can only recognize three dimensions of space and one of time. So that if
he got shot out of this cosmos altogether he wouldnât know the difference. Heâd still seem to be
in a three-dimensioned universe. And what is there in that stuff to get Denham in trouble?ä
A house appeared ahead. A low, rambling sort of bungalow with a huge brick barn behind it.
The house of Professor Denham, very certainly, and that barn was the laboratory in which he made
his experiments.
Instinctively, Tommy stepped on the gas. The car leaped ahead. And then he was breaking
frantically. A pipe-framed gate with thinner, unpainted wire mesh filling its surface loomed
before him, much too late for him to stop. There was a minor shock, a crashing and squeaking, and
then a crash and shattering of glass. Tommy bent low as the top bar of the gate hit his
windshield. The double glass cracked and crumpled and bent, but did not fly to bits. And the car
came to a halt with its wheels intricately entangled in torn-away fence wire. The gate had been
torn from its hinges and was draped rakishly over the roadster. A tire went flat with a loud
hissing noise, and Tommy Reames swore softly under his breath and got out to inspect the damage.
He was deciding that nothing irreparable was wrong when a man came bursting out of the
brick building behind the house. A tall, lean, youngish man who waved his arms emphatically and
approached shouting, ãYou had no right to come in here! You must go away at once! You have damaged
property! I will tell the Professor! You must pay for the damage! You must֊
ãDamn!ä said Tommy Reames. He had just seen that his radiator was punctured. A spout of
ruddy, rusty water was pouring out on the grass.
The youngish man came up furiously. A pale young man, Tommy noticed. A young man with
bristling, close-cropped hair and hornrimmed spectacles before weak-looking eyes. His mouth was
very full and very red, in marked contrast to the pallor of his cheeks.
ãDid you not see the sign upon the gate?ä he demanded angrily, in curiously stilted
English. ãDid you not see that trespassers are forbid-
den? You must go away at once! You will be prosecuted! You will be imprisoned! You֊
Tommy said irritably, ãAre you Von Holtz? My name is Reames. You telegraphed me.ä
The waving, lanky arms stopped in the middle of an excited gesture. The weak-looking eyes
behind the lenses widened. A pink tongue licked the too-full, too-red lips.
ãReames? The Herr Reames?ä Von Holtz stammered. Then he said suspiciously, ãBut you are
not÷you cannot be the Herr Reames of the article on dominant coordinates!ä
ãI donât know why not,ä said Tommy annoyedly. ãIâm also the Herr Reames of several other
articles, such as on the mechanics of continua and the mass and inertia of the tesseract. And I
believe the current Philosophical Journal֊
He surveyed the spouting red stream from the radiator and shrugged ruefully.
ãI wish youâd telephone the village to have somebody come out and fix my car,ä he said
shortly, ãand then tell me if this telegram is a joke or not.ä
He pulled out a yellow form and offered it. He had taken an instinctive dislike to the
lean figure before him, but suppressed the feeling.
Von Holtz took the telegram and read it, and smoothed it out, and said agitatedly, ãBut I
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thought the Herr Reames would be÷would be a venerable gentleman! I thought÷ä
ãYou sent that wire,ä said Tommy. ãIt puzzled me just enough to make me rush out here. And
I feel like a fool for having done it. Whatâs the matter? Is it a joke?ä
Von Holtz shook his head violently, even as he bit his lips.
ãNo! No!ä he protested. ãThe Herr Professor Denham is in the most terrible, most deadly
danger! I÷I have been very nearly mad, Herr Reames. The Ragged Men may seize him! . . . I
telegraphed to you. I have not slept for four nights. I have worked! I have racked my brains! I
have gone nearly insane, trying to resuce the Herr Professor! And I֊
Tommy stared. ãFour days?ä he said. ãThe thing, whatever it is, has been going on for four
days?ä
ãFive,ä said Von Holtz nervously. ãIt was only today that I thought of you, Herr Reames.
The Herr Professor Denham had
praised your articles highly. He said that you were the only man who would be able to understand
his work. Five days ago֊
Tommy grunted. ãIf heâs been in danger for five days,ä he said skeptically, ãheâs not in
such a bad fix or itâd have been over. Will you phone for a repairman? Then weâll see what itâs
all about.ä
The lean arms began to wave again as Von Holtz said desperately, ãBut Herr Reames, it is
urgent! The Herr Professor is in deadly danger!ä
ãWhatâs the matter with him?ä
ãHe is marooned,ä said Von Holtz. Again he licked his lips. ãHe is marooned, Herr Reames,
and you alone֊
ãMarooned?ä said Tommy more skeptically still. ãIn the middle of New York State? And I
alone can help him? You sound more and more as if you were playing a rather elaborate and not very
funny practical joke. Iâve driven sixty miles to get here. What is the joke, anyhow?ä
Von Holtz said despairingly, ãBut it is true, Herr Reames! He is marooned. He has changed
hix coordinates. It was an experiment. He is marooned in the fifth dimension!ä
There was dead silence. Tommy Reames stared blankly. Then his gorge rose. He had taken an
instinctive dislike to this lean young man, anyhow. So he stared at him, and grew very angry, and
would undoubtedly have gotten into his car and turned it about and driven it away again if it had
been in any shape to run. But it wasnât. One tire was flat, and the last ruddy drops from the
radiator were dripping slowly on the grass. So he pulled out a cigarette case and lighted a
cigarette and said sardonically, ãThe fifth dimension? That seems rather extreme. Most of us get
along very well with three dimensions. Four seems luxurious. Why pick on the fifth?ä
Von Holtz grew pale with anger in his turn. He waved his arms, stopped, and said with
stiff formality, ãIf the Herr Reames will follow me into the laboratory I will show him Professor
Denham and convince him of the Herr Professorâs extreme danger.ä
Tommy had a sudden~startling conviction that Von Holtz was in earnest. He might be mad,
but he was in earnest. And there was undoubtedly a Professor Denham, and this was undoubtedly his
home and laboratory.
ãIâll look, anyway,ä said Tommy less skeptically. ãBut it is rather incredible, you know.ä
ãIt is impossible,ä said Von Holtz stiffly. ãYou are right, Herr Reames. It is quite
impossible. But it is a fact.ä
He turned and stalked toward the big brick barn behind the house. Tommy went with him,
wholly unbelieving and yet beginning to wonder if, just possibly, there was actually an emergency
of a more normal and ghastly nature in being. Von Holtz might be a madman. He might.
Gruesome, grisly thoughts ran through Tommyâs head. A madman dabbling in science might do
incredible things, horrible things, and then demand assistance to undo an unimaginable murder.
Tommy was tense and alert as Von Holtz opened the door of the barnlike laboratory. He
waved the lean young man on ahead.
ãAfter you,ä he said curtly.
He felt almost a shiver as he entered. But the interior of the laboratory displayed no
gruesome scene. It was a huge, high-ceilinged room with a concrete floor. A monster dynamo stood
in one corner, coupled to a matter-of-fact four-cylinder crude-oil engine, to which was also
coupled by a clutch an inexplicable windlass-drum with several hundred feet of chain wrapped
around it. There were ammeters and voltmeters on a control panel, and one of the most delicate of
dynamometers on its own stand, and there were work benches and a motor-driven lathe and very
complete equipment for the working of metals. And there was an electric furnace, with splashes of
solidified metal on the floor beside it, and there was a miniature casting-floor, and at the far
end of the monster room was a gigantic solenoid which evidently had once swung upon gymbals and
just as evidently was now broken, because it lay toppled askew upon its supports.
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