My hopes were more than confirmed, as I soon ascertained in the privacy of my rooms. The book was huge — the size of a large ledger, and very thick, the covers edged all around with metal. The binding was of a black faded fabric unfamiliar to me, and the yellowed pages proved also to be of some strange, resilient texture. The pages were covered with strange, angular symbols, long and narrow and strictly perpendicular. I looked for a keyword, or key-symbol, but there was none; so I stared at the pages, wondering how I was to decipher them.
And then a strange thing happened, which was to be only the first of many strange events that evening. As I stared and continued to stare at those bewildering pages I thought I saw one of the symbols move, ever so slightly; and as I peered intently at the page it became apparent that the symbols did indeed move as my eyes ran across the lines — rearranging themselves ever so minutely, writhing and twisting like so many tiny snakes. And with this queer writhing movement I no longer wondered at the meaning of those symbols, for they became suddenly clear and vivid and meaningful, impressing themselves upon my consciousness as so many words and sentences. I knew that I had indeed stumbled upon something very great.
The book seemed to exude an invisible aura of evil which at first unnerved me and then pleased me, and I determined to lose no time in plunging into my task.
Seated at one end of a library table, I spread the book before me and pulled a lamp nearer. So comforted by a blazing log fire at my right, I turned to the very first page and began the most fantastic, I might almost say insane, document I have ever read; yet in consequence of what happened, I can never be sure whether it was the document or I who was insane.
But here it is, almost word for word as I so clearly remember it:
PREFACE
to the most Damnable Book
ever loosed
upon an unsuspecting Cosmos
Whoso comes in possession of this book should be warned, and this Preface is to serve that purpose. The possessor of this book should be wise to flee from it — but will not. His curiosity is already aroused, and reading even these few words of warning, he will not be deterred from reading on; and reading on, he will be enmeshed, become a part of the Plot, and will learn too late that there is left but a single sorrowful alternative of escape.
Such is the awful damnability of it. But how They must chuckle with glee!
Know, then, whoso should read this, that I, Tlaviir of Vhoorl, do hereby subscribe the history and origin of the Book, so that all manner of men in all time to come may consider carefully before succumbing to the curiosity that is inherent in all men throughout the universe. I had no such warning; and by reason of my folly am fated to be the first guardian. I myself know not — yet — what that may portend; for, try as I might, I cannot forget my friend, Kathulhn, who all unknowingly launched this horrible jest of the gods, and the fate that was his.
Kathulhn had always been something of a puzzle to all who knew him, except, perhaps, to me. Even as a boy he had professed an insatiable wonderment of those profound mysteries of time and space which the Wise Men of Vhoorl said were not for mere man to know or to seek out.
Kathulhn could not understand why this should be.
We grew up together and entered the university together, and there Kathulhn became such an avid student of the sciences, particularly of complex mathematics, that he was a perpetual astonishment to the professors.
We left the university together, I to enter into my father’s business, and Kathulhn, having been awarded an assistant-professorship, to continue with certain of his studies.
I can never understand why he confided in me as he would in no one else, unless it was because I listened to his theories with true seriousness. I was fascinated by certain of his lines of thought. Nevertheless, I cannot but admit that he sounded rather wild at times.
“Here we are,” he would say, vibrantly, “tiny motes upon the surface of the planet Vhoorl, deep in the twenty-third nebula. The great scientists have told us that much as to our present locality. But what of our destination — the ultimate? Here we have our spinning planet, our revolving system, our drifting nebula — but one among millions that go to make what we call the universe-a universe we should say, for it is only a particle, rushing onward with other particles — whither? and to what destiny? and for what purpose?… For whose purpose, perhaps we should say.
“And are we never to know; must we remain ever chained to this miserable little planet? I think not, Tlaviir. Man in a million years may master the stars. But that will not come in my time; and I cannot wait; and besides, my greed is greater than mere mastery of stars. Look, Tlaviir: suppose that one could discover a way to project himself out, not among the stars, but beyond — outside of the cosmic globe of stars! To attain a point entirely outside… from there to watch the working of the cosmic dust in the fluid of time. Why, there is no time, after all, is there? — must not space and time be one and the same thing, co-existent and correlative, one to the other? Do you not see? And to project one’s self quite outside of it — would not that be the realization of our vaunted immortality? And rest assured, there is a way.”
I could not quite digest this fantastic bit of reasoning, but did not deny the possible truth of his theories. There were several old books to which he often made reference, and I think it was these books which caused his theorizing at times to take a somewhat tangential trend:
“What of those superstitions, Tlaviir, that have come down to us from the ancients who inhabited Vhoorl eons ago? And why must we say superstitions and myths? Why must man scoff at that which he cannot understand? It is only logical that these superstitions and myths had a definite reason for being: my perusal of certain ancient manuscripts has convinced me of that. Who knows? — perhaps probing fingers from outside reached in and touched Vhoorl ages ago, thus giving rise to those tales that we know very well could not have had birth in mere imagination. That, Tlaviir, is why I sometimes think I may be wrong in seeking the way outside; perhaps it were best for man not to try: he might learn things that it is best not to know.”
But these latter reflections of his came only seldom. More often
he would show me sheafs of paper covered with calculations, and others filled with geometrical drawings, infinite angles and curves such as I had never before seen, some of which seemed so diabolically distorted as to leap from the paper out at me! When he would try to explain his calculus I was never quite able to follow his reasoning beyond a certain point, although his explanation plus his enthusiasm made it all seem quite logical.
So far as I was able to grasp it, there exists an almost infinite number of space-dimensions, some of which impinge on our own and might be used as catapults if one could but penetrate the invisible and tenuous boundary between our space and these hyperspaces. I had never given much credence to any dimensions beyond our familiar three, but Kathulhn seemed very certain.
“There must be a way, Tlaviir. I have ascertained that beyond doubt. And I am sure now that I am working toward the correct solution. I shall find it before long.”
Aye, he found it. He found it indeed, and went further than any mortal has ever gone or will ever go again. He could not have known….
It was but shortly after my last conversation with him that he disappeared, without trace or reason: was given up as dead, and even I, to whom he had confided all his hopes, did not suspect that I was ever to see him again. But I did.