The Moon Terror/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
THE DICTATOR OF DESTINY
BY the next morning the entire civilized world knew of the strange and threatening communication from the self-styled "dictator of human destiny."
The members of the scientific congress had sought to keep the matter secret, but all the larger wireless stations of North America had picked up the message, and thence it found its way into the newspapers.
Ordinarily, such a communication would have attracted nothing more than laughter, as a harmless prank; but the increasing menace of the earthquakes had wrought a state of nervous tension that was ready to clothe the whole affair with sinister significance.
It was an alarmed and hysterical public that gathered in the streets of all the great cities soon after daylight. One question was on every tongue:
Who was this mysterious "KWO," and was his message actually a momentous declaration to the human race, or merely a hoax perpetrated by some person with an over-vivid imagination?
Even the signature to the communication was such as to arouse curiosity. Was it a name? Or a combination of initials? Or a title, like "Rex" signifying king? Or a nom de plume? Or the name of a place?
No one could say.
Anyone capable of discovering the secrets of the earth's internal forces, and harnessing those forces for his own ends, unquestionably was the most wonderful scientist the world had ever seen; but, though every important nation of the globe was represented at the scientific congress in Washington, not one of those representatives had ever heard of successful experiments along this line, or knew any prominent scientist named KWO, or one possessing initials that would make up that word. The name sounded Oriental, but certainly no country of the Orient had produced a scientist of sufficient genius to accomplish this miracle.
It was a problem concerning which the best-informed persons knew no more than the most untutored child, but one which was of paramount importance to the group of savants assembled in Washington. Until more light could be shed on this subject they were powerless to form any conclusions. Accordingly, their first effort was to get into further communication with their unknown correspondent.
All through the night the operator at the naval observatory's wireless plant in Washington sat at his key, calling over and over again the three letters that constituted mankind's only knowledge of its adversary:
"KWO—KWO—KWO!"
But there was no answer. Absolute silence enveloped the menacing power. "KWO" had spoken. He would not speak again. And after twelve hours even the most persistent members of the scientific body—who had remained constantly in the wireless room throughout the night—reluctantly desisted from further attempts at communication.
Even this failure found its way into the newspapers and helped to divide public opinion. Many persons and influential papers insisted that "KWO'S" threat was nothing more than a hoax. Others, however, were inclined to accept the message as the serious declaration of a human being with practically supernatural powers. In advancing this opinion they were supported by the undeniable fact that from the time the mysterious "KWO" began his efforts to communicate with the head of the scientific congress, until his message had been completed, the strange wireless signals accompanying the earth tremors had ceased entirely—a thing that had not happened before. When he was through speaking, the signals had resumed their clocklike recurrence. It was as if some power had deliberately cleared the ether for the transmission of this proclamation of mankind.
A feeling of dread—of monstrous uncertainty—hung over everyone and increased as the day wore on. Ordinary affairs were neglected, while the crowds in public places steadily increased.
By nightfall of Thursday even the loudest scoffers at the genuineness of the "dictator's" threat began to display symptoms of the general uneasiness.
Would the earthquakes begin to subside at midnight?
Upon the answer to this question hung the fate of the world.
It was an exceedingly hot night in most parts of the United States. Scarcely anywhere was a breath of air stirring; the whole country was blanketed by a suffocating wave of humidity. Low clouds that presaged rain—but never brought it—added to the general feeling of apprehension. It was as if all nature had conspired to furnish a dramatic setting for the events about to be enacted.
As midnight drew near the excitement became intense. In Europe, as well as in America, vast throngs filled the streets in front of the newspaper offices, watching the bulletin boards. The Consolidated News Syndicate had arranged special radio service from various scientific institutions—notably the Washington naval observatory, where savants were watching the delicate instruments for recording earth shocks—and any variation or subsidence in the tremors would be flashed to newspapers everywhere.
When the hands of the clocks reached a point equivalent to two minutes of midnight, Washington time, a vast hush fell upon the assembled thousands. The very atmosphere became aquiver with suspense.
But if the scene in the streets was exciting, that within the instrument room of the United States naval observatory, where the members of the international scientific congress waited, was dramatic beyond description.
About the room sat the scientists and a couple of representatives from the Consolidated News. Professor Whiteman himself was stationed at the seismographs, while at his elbow sat Professor James Frisby, in direct telephone communication with the wireless operator in another part of the grounds.
The light was shaded and dim. The heat was stifling. Not a word was spoken. Scarcely a muscle moved. All were painfully alert.
Every eleven minutes and six seconds the building was shaken by a subterranean shock. The windows rattled. The floor creaked. Even the chairs seemed to lift and heave. It had been that way for weeks. But would this night see the end?
With maddening slowness, the hands of the clock on the wall—its face illuminated by a tiny electric lamp—drew toward 12 o'clock.
Suddenly there came one of the earthquakes, that, while no different from its predecessors, heightened the tension like the crack of a whip.
All eyes flew to the timepiece. It registered thirty-four seconds past 11:49 o'clock.
Therefore, the next tremor would occur at precisely forty seconds after midnight.
If the unknown "KWO" were an actual being, and kept his word—at that time the shocks would begin to subside!
The suspense became terrible. The faces of the scientists were drawn and pale. Beads of perspiration stood out on every brow. The minutes passed.
The electric correcting-device on the clock gave a sharp click, denoting midnight. Forty seconds more! The suffocating atmosphere seemed almost to turn cold under the pressure of anxiety.
Then, almost before any one could realize it, the earthquake had come and gone! And not one particle of diminution in its violence had been felt!
A sigh of relief involuntarily passed around the room. Few moved or spoke, but there was a lessening of the strain on many faces. It was too soon yet, of course, to be sure, but—in most hearts there began to dawn a faint ray of hope that, after all, this "dictator of human destiny" might be a myth.
But suddenly Professor Frisby raised his hand to command quiet, and bent more intently over his telephone.
A short silence followed. Then he turned to the gentlemen and announced in a voice that seemed curiously dry:
"The operator reports that no wireless signal accompanied this last earthquake."
Again the nerve tension in the assembly leaped like an electric spark. Several more minutes passed in silence.
Then came another quake.
Had there been a decrease in its force? Opinion was divided.
All eyes sped to Professor Whiteman, but he remained absorbed at his seismographs.
In this silence and keen suspense eleven minutes and six seconds again dragged by. Another earthquake came and went. Once more Professor Frisby announced that there had been no wireless signal attending the tremor. The savants began to settle themselves for a further wait, when—
Professor Whiteman left his instrument and came slowly forward. In the dim light his face looked lined and gray. Before the rows of seats he stopped and faltered a moment. Then he said:
"Gentlemen, the earthquakes are beginning to subside!"
For a moment the scientists sat as if stunned. Everyone was too appalled to speak or move. Then the tension was broken by the rush of the Consolidated News men from the room to get their momentous tidings out to the world.
After that the ground shocks died out with increasing rapidity. In an hour they had ceased entirely, and the tortured planet once more was still.
But the tumult among the people had only started!
With a sudden shock the globe's inhabitants realized, that they were in the grip of an unknown being endowed with supernatural power. Whether he were man or demigod, sane or mad, well-disposed or malignant—no one could guess. Where was his dwelling-place, whence the source of his power, what would be the first manifestation of his authority, or how far would he seek to enforce his control? Only time could answer.
As this situation dawned upon men, their fears burst all bounds. Frantic excitement took possession of the throngs.
Only at the naval observatory in Washington was there calmness and restraint. The gathering of scientists spent the night in earnest deliberation of the course to be followed.
Finally it was decided that nothing should be done for the present; they would merely await events. When it had suited the mysterious "KWO" to announce himself to the world he had done so. Thereafter, communication with him had been impossible. Doubtless when he was ready to speak again he would break his silence—not before. It was reasonable to suppose that, now be had proved his power, he would not be long in stating his wishes or commands.
Events soon showed this surmise was correct.
Promptly at noon the next day—there having in the meantime been no recurrence of the earthquakes or electrical disturbances of the ether—the wireless at the naval observatory again received the mysterious call for the presiding officer of the scientific congress.
Professor Whiteman had remained at the observatory, in anticipation of such a summons, and soon he, with other leading members of the scientific assembly, was at the side of the operator in the wireless room.
Almost immediately after the call:
"KWO— KWO—KWO"
went forth into the ether, there came a response and the operator started writing:
"To the Presiding Officer of the International Scientific Congress:
"Communicate this to the various governments of the earth:
"As a preliminary to the establishment of my sole rule throughout the world, the following demands must be complied with:
"First: All standing armies shall be disbanded, and every implement of warfare, of whatsoever nature, destroyed.
"Second: All war vessels shall be assembled—those of the Atlantic fleets midway between New York and Gibraltar, those of the Pacific fleets midway between San Francisco and Honolulu—and sunk.
"Third: One-half of all the monetary gold supply of the world shall be collected and turned over to my agents at places to be announced later.
"Fourth: At noon on the third day after the foregoing demands have been complied with, all the existing governments shall resign and surrender their powers to my agents, who will be on hand to receive them.
"In my next communication I will fix the date for the fulfillment of these demands.
"The alternative is the destruction of the globe. "KWO."
It was on the evening of this eventful day that Dr. Gresham and I returned from Labrador. A little after 10 o'clock we landed in New York and, taking a taxicab at the pier, started for our bachelor quarters in apartments near each other west of Central Park.
As we reached the center of town we were amazed at the excited crowds that filled the streets and at the prodigious din raised by newsboys selling extras.
We stopped the car and bought papers. Huge black headings told the story at a glance. Also, at the bottom of the first page, we found a brief chronological summary of all that had happened, from the very beginning of the mysterious wireless signals three months before. We scanned it eagerly.
When I finished the newspaper article I turned to my companion—and was struck with horror at the change in his appearance!
He was crumpled down upon the seat of the taxi, and his face had taken on a ghastly hue. At first I though he had suffered a stroke. Only his eyes held a sign of life, and they seemed fixed on something far away—something too terrifying to be a part of the world around us.
Seizing him by the shoulders, I tried to arouse him, exclaiming:
"For heaven's sake! What is the matter?"
My words had no effect, so I shook him roughly.
Then he slowly began to come to his senses. His lips moved, without any sound passing them. But presently he found voice to murmur, as if talking in his sleep:
"It has come! The Seuen-H'sin—the terrible Seuen-H'sin!"
An instant later, with a great effort, he drew himself together and spoke sharply to the chauffeur:
"Quick! Never mind those addresses we gave you! Rush us to the Grand Central Station! Hurry!"
As the car suddenly swerved into a side street, I turned to the doctor.
"What's the matter? Where are you going?" I asked.
"To Washington!" he snapped in reply. "As fast as we can get there!"
"In connection with this earthquake terror?"
"Yes!" he told me; "for—"
There was a pause, and then he finished in a strange, awed voice:
"What the world has seen of this devil 'KWO' is only the faintest prelude to what may come—events so terrible, so utterly opposed to all human experience, that they would stagger the imagination! This is the beginning of the dissolution of our planet!"