‘All right,’ I said, wishing to be thought generous.
‘Well, I had to get it into the record. What’s it about, eh?’
I said painfully (time, time!), ‘Mr. Hagsworth, I have testified the Russians also wish the ship from Aldebaran. And it is coming close. Soon it will land.’
‘Good,’ he said, smiling and rubbing his hands, Very good! And you will bring them to us ?’
‘I will do,’ I said, ‘the best I can,’ ambiguously, but that was enough to satisfy him, and recess was over.
Q. (Mr. Hagsworth.) Mr. Smith, do I understand that you have some knowledge of the proposed movements of the voyagers from Aldebaran?
A. Yes.
Q. Can you tell us what you know?
A. I can. Certainly. Even now an Aldebaranian rocket ship is approaching the Earth. Through certain media of communication which I cannot discuss in open hearing, as you understand, certain proposals have been made to them on behalf of this country.
Q. And their reaction to these proposals, Mr. Smith?
A. They have agreed to land in the United States for discussions.
Oh, happy commotion, the idiots. The flash bulbs went like mad. Only the clock was going, going, and I commenced to worry, where was the ship? Was forty lousy million miles so much? But no, it was not so much; and when the messenger came racing in the door I knew it was time. One messenger, first. He ran wildly down among the seats, searching, then stopping at the seat on the aisle where Pierce Truman sat regarding me with an ophidian eye, stopped and whispered. Then a couple more, strangers, hatless and hair flying, also messengers, came hurrying in - and more - to the committee, to the newsmen -the word had got out.
‘Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!’ It was Senator Loveless, he was shouting; some one person had whispered in his ear and he could not wait to tell his news. But everyone had that news, you see, it was no news to the chairman, he already had a slip of paper in his hand.
He stood up and stared blindly into the television cameras, without smile now, the gold tooth not flashing. He said: “Gentlemen, I -’ And stopped for a moment to catch his breath and to shake his head. ‘Gentlemen.’ he said, ‘gentlemen, I have here a report,’ staring incredulously at the scrawled slip of paper. In the room was quickly silence; even Senator Loveless, and Pierce Truman stopped at the door on his way out to listen. This report,’ he said, ‘comes from the Arlington Naval Observatory - in, gentlemen, my own home state, the Old Dominion, Virginia -’ He paused and shook himself, yes, and made himself look again at the paper. ‘From the Arlington Naval Observatory, where the radio telescope experts inform us that an object of unidentified origin and remarkable speed has entered the atmosphere of the Earth from outer space.!’
Cries. Sighs. Shouts. But he stopped them, yes, with a hand. ‘But gentlemen, that is not all! Arlington has tracked this object and it has landed. Not in our country, gentlemen! Not even in Russia! But -’ he shook the paper before him - ‘in Africa, gentlemen! In the desert of Algeria!’
Oh, much commotion then, but not joyous. ‘Double-cross!’ shouted someone, and I made an expression of astonishment. Adjourned, banged the gavel of the chairman, and only just in time; the clock said nearly twelve and my cosmetic bomb was set for one-fifteen. Oh, I had timed it close. But now was danger and I had to leave, which I did hardly. But I could not evade Mr. Hagsworth, who rode with me in taxi to hotel, chattering, chattering. I did not listen.
5
Now, this is how it was, an allegory or parable. Make a chemical preparation, you see? Take hydrogen and take oxygen - very pure in both cases - blend them and strike a spark. Nothing happens. They do not burn! It is true, though you may not believe me.
But with something added, yes, they burn. For instance let the spark be a common match, with so tiny you can hardly detect it, a quarter-droplet of water bonded into its substance -Yes, with the water they will burn - more than burn - kerblam, the hydrogen and oxygen fiercely unite. Water, it is the catalyst which makes it go.
Similarly, I reflected (unhearing the chatter of Mr. Hagsworth), it is a catalyst which is needed on Earth, and this catalyst I have made, my cosmetic appliance, my bomb. The chemicals were stewing together nicely. There was a ferment of suspicion in Russia, of fear in America, of jealousy in France where I had made the ship land. Oh, they were jumpy now! I could feel forces building around me; even the driver of the cab, half-watching the crowded streets, half listening to the hysterical cries of his little radio. To the Mayflower, hurrying. All the while the city was getting excited around us. That was the ferment, end by my watch the catalyst was quite near.
‘Wait,’ said Mr. Hagsworth pleading, in the lobby, ‘come have a drink, Smith.’
‘I don’t drink.’
‘I forgot,’ he apologized. ‘Well, would you like to sit for a moment in the bar with me? I’d like to talk to you. This is all happening too fast’
‘Come along to my room,’ I said, not wanting him, no, but what harm could he do? And I did not want to be away from my purple armchair, not at all.
So up we go and there is still time, I am glad. Enough time. The elevator could have stuck, my door could have somehow been locked against me, by error I could have gone to the wrong floor - no, everything was right. We were there and there was time.
I excused myself a moment (though it could have been forever) and walked into the inner room of this suite. Yes, it was there, ready. It squatted purple, and no human would think to look at it that it was anything but an armchair, but it was much more and if I wished I could go to it, - z-z-z-z-zit, I would be gone.
A man spoke.
I turned, looking. Out of the door to the tiled room spoke to me a man, smiling, red-faced, in blue coveralls. Well. For a moment I felt alarm. (I remembered, e.g., what I had left bound in the closet.) But on this man’s face was only smile and he said with apology: ‘Oh, hello, sir. Sorry. But we had a complaint from the floor below, plumbing leak. I’ve got it nearly fixed.’
Oh, all right. I shrugged for him and went back to Air. Hagsworth. In my mind had been - well, I do not know what had been in my mind. Maybe z-z-z-z-zit to the George V and telephone Duplessin to make sure they would not allow Russians or Americans near the ship, no, not if the ambassadors made of his life a living hell. Maybe to Metropole to phone Tadjensevitch (not the Marshal, he would not speak on telephone to me) to urge him also on. Maybe farther, yes.
But I went back to Mr. Hagsworth. It was not needed, really it was not. It was only insurance, in the event that somehow my careful plans went wrong, I wished to be there until the very end. Or nearly. But I need not have done it.
But I did. Z-z-z-z-zit and I could have been away, but I stayed, very foolish, but I did.
Mr. Hagsworth was on telephone, his eyes bright and angry, I thought I knew what he was hearing. I listened to hear if there were, perhaps, muffled kickings, maybe groans, from a closet, but there were none; hard as it was, I had tied well, surely. And then Mr. Hagsworth looked up.
He said, bleak: ‘I have news, Smith. It’s started.’
‘Started?’
‘Oh,’ he said without patience, ‘you know what I’m talking about, Smith. The trouble’s started. These Aldebaranians of yours, they’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest, and now the stinging has begun. I just talked to the White House. There’s a definite report of a nuclear explosion in the Mojave desert.’