Many writers of science fiction, who have not given the matter much
thought, assume that a man of intelligence from one planet would
meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another world. It is
assumed that people are everywhere educated, curious about other
worlds and other cultures, and eager to help a visitor from an
alien race.
Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is the case. Even
were the members of another race, on another world possessed of
education, there would be bound to be among them low and brutish
elements. And if a stranger from another world, dazed by new
conditions and unable to make his wants known, were to fall into
their hands his fate might not be happy.
We have read no story that pictures with such clarity and insight
the experiences of a man on another world than his own, than does
this present story. With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard
has worked up a simply marvelous story.
* * * * *
The rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of the sun in little,
shimmering waves. It reflected the sun's light blindingly throughout all
its visible expanse, with the exception of one spot where lay a circular
shadow. In the great steely-blue dome of the sky there were no clouds.
The shadow, although not large, was very dark and distinct. The curved,
even line of its circumference was precisely drawn.
In the air was a persistent rattle of sound--a series of closely spaced
explosions, ever rising in intensity.
Suddenly a small, uneven shadow detached itself from the circular one;
and floated swiftly across the sand. The rattling sound increased to a
tremendous booming roar, and the large shadow began to fade. At the same
time, the smaller one grew steadily darker.
High above the sand, a man was falling--much too swiftly.
The surface of the sand had been shaped into hills by the prevailing
winds. These long, ridge-like hills, or dunes, were convex and gradual
in slope on their windward sides, but on their lee sides they were
concave, and very steep.
It was near the top of one of these steep slopes that the man landed.
His frail legs and body crumpled under the weight of his head; he
pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to the bottom where he came
to rest more gently, the target of a small avalanche of sand.
Immediately, he began to struggle; and, failing in his attempts to
rise, stretched his slim arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing
cry, painfully prolonged. Far above him a spherical object rapidly
diminished in size. Fixedly he watched the sunlight glinting on its
polished grey sides; watched it shrink to a tiny ball, a point, and
then--nothing. He was alone.
The pressure was horrible. He buried his head in the hot sand, and
clapped his ears in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain. They must
have underestimated the weight of the Toonian atmosphere if they had
expected him to live long here! It did not hurt his body, but his head
was being crushed. He knew that he would soon die--and was glad. This
wild, senseless punishment would be at an end.
He opened his eyes again, and stared in growing fascination and wonder
at the great arched blue dome above him. Gradually the spectacle of this
weirdly beautiful canopy occupied his whole attention. It was like a
soft curtain of light blue material hiding the blackness of the sky and
the gleaming stars;--yet the sun shone through. For a moment he forgot
his loneliness, his pain, in rapt contemplation of the immense
perfection above him--but only for a moment. Then the explanation came
to him. That beautiful blue was the heavy atmosphere of Toon, which was
slowly crushing him to death! He closed his eyes.
The heat was terrific, but not as intense as he had expected. Toon was
nearer the Sun than was his own world--millions of miles nearer; yet he
was not badly burnt, and this puzzled him. The explanation must again
lie in the heavy atmosphere--serving as insulation, he finally
decided.... He didn't care.
"1113256065"
thought, assume that a man of intelligence from one planet would
meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another world. It is
assumed that people are everywhere educated, curious about other
worlds and other cultures, and eager to help a visitor from an
alien race.
Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is the case. Even
were the members of another race, on another world possessed of
education, there would be bound to be among them low and brutish
elements. And if a stranger from another world, dazed by new
conditions and unable to make his wants known, were to fall into
their hands his fate might not be happy.
We have read no story that pictures with such clarity and insight
the experiences of a man on another world than his own, than does
this present story. With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard
has worked up a simply marvelous story.
* * * * *
The rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of the sun in little,
shimmering waves. It reflected the sun's light blindingly throughout all
its visible expanse, with the exception of one spot where lay a circular
shadow. In the great steely-blue dome of the sky there were no clouds.
The shadow, although not large, was very dark and distinct. The curved,
even line of its circumference was precisely drawn.
In the air was a persistent rattle of sound--a series of closely spaced
explosions, ever rising in intensity.
Suddenly a small, uneven shadow detached itself from the circular one;
and floated swiftly across the sand. The rattling sound increased to a
tremendous booming roar, and the large shadow began to fade. At the same
time, the smaller one grew steadily darker.
High above the sand, a man was falling--much too swiftly.
The surface of the sand had been shaped into hills by the prevailing
winds. These long, ridge-like hills, or dunes, were convex and gradual
in slope on their windward sides, but on their lee sides they were
concave, and very steep.
It was near the top of one of these steep slopes that the man landed.
His frail legs and body crumpled under the weight of his head; he
pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to the bottom where he came
to rest more gently, the target of a small avalanche of sand.
Immediately, he began to struggle; and, failing in his attempts to
rise, stretched his slim arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing
cry, painfully prolonged. Far above him a spherical object rapidly
diminished in size. Fixedly he watched the sunlight glinting on its
polished grey sides; watched it shrink to a tiny ball, a point, and
then--nothing. He was alone.
The pressure was horrible. He buried his head in the hot sand, and
clapped his ears in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain. They must
have underestimated the weight of the Toonian atmosphere if they had
expected him to live long here! It did not hurt his body, but his head
was being crushed. He knew that he would soon die--and was glad. This
wild, senseless punishment would be at an end.
He opened his eyes again, and stared in growing fascination and wonder
at the great arched blue dome above him. Gradually the spectacle of this
weirdly beautiful canopy occupied his whole attention. It was like a
soft curtain of light blue material hiding the blackness of the sky and
the gleaming stars;--yet the sun shone through. For a moment he forgot
his loneliness, his pain, in rapt contemplation of the immense
perfection above him--but only for a moment. Then the explanation came
to him. That beautiful blue was the heavy atmosphere of Toon, which was
slowly crushing him to death! He closed his eyes.
The heat was terrific, but not as intense as he had expected. Toon was
nearer the Sun than was his own world--millions of miles nearer; yet he
was not badly burnt, and this puzzled him. The explanation must again
lie in the heavy atmosphere--serving as insulation, he finally
decided.... He didn't care.
The Martian
Many writers of science fiction, who have not given the matter much
thought, assume that a man of intelligence from one planet would
meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another world. It is
assumed that people are everywhere educated, curious about other
worlds and other cultures, and eager to help a visitor from an
alien race.
Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is the case. Even
were the members of another race, on another world possessed of
education, there would be bound to be among them low and brutish
elements. And if a stranger from another world, dazed by new
conditions and unable to make his wants known, were to fall into
their hands his fate might not be happy.
We have read no story that pictures with such clarity and insight
the experiences of a man on another world than his own, than does
this present story. With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard
has worked up a simply marvelous story.
* * * * *
The rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of the sun in little,
shimmering waves. It reflected the sun's light blindingly throughout all
its visible expanse, with the exception of one spot where lay a circular
shadow. In the great steely-blue dome of the sky there were no clouds.
The shadow, although not large, was very dark and distinct. The curved,
even line of its circumference was precisely drawn.
In the air was a persistent rattle of sound--a series of closely spaced
explosions, ever rising in intensity.
Suddenly a small, uneven shadow detached itself from the circular one;
and floated swiftly across the sand. The rattling sound increased to a
tremendous booming roar, and the large shadow began to fade. At the same
time, the smaller one grew steadily darker.
High above the sand, a man was falling--much too swiftly.
The surface of the sand had been shaped into hills by the prevailing
winds. These long, ridge-like hills, or dunes, were convex and gradual
in slope on their windward sides, but on their lee sides they were
concave, and very steep.
It was near the top of one of these steep slopes that the man landed.
His frail legs and body crumpled under the weight of his head; he
pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to the bottom where he came
to rest more gently, the target of a small avalanche of sand.
Immediately, he began to struggle; and, failing in his attempts to
rise, stretched his slim arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing
cry, painfully prolonged. Far above him a spherical object rapidly
diminished in size. Fixedly he watched the sunlight glinting on its
polished grey sides; watched it shrink to a tiny ball, a point, and
then--nothing. He was alone.
The pressure was horrible. He buried his head in the hot sand, and
clapped his ears in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain. They must
have underestimated the weight of the Toonian atmosphere if they had
expected him to live long here! It did not hurt his body, but his head
was being crushed. He knew that he would soon die--and was glad. This
wild, senseless punishment would be at an end.
He opened his eyes again, and stared in growing fascination and wonder
at the great arched blue dome above him. Gradually the spectacle of this
weirdly beautiful canopy occupied his whole attention. It was like a
soft curtain of light blue material hiding the blackness of the sky and
the gleaming stars;--yet the sun shone through. For a moment he forgot
his loneliness, his pain, in rapt contemplation of the immense
perfection above him--but only for a moment. Then the explanation came
to him. That beautiful blue was the heavy atmosphere of Toon, which was
slowly crushing him to death! He closed his eyes.
The heat was terrific, but not as intense as he had expected. Toon was
nearer the Sun than was his own world--millions of miles nearer; yet he
was not badly burnt, and this puzzled him. The explanation must again
lie in the heavy atmosphere--serving as insulation, he finally
decided.... He didn't care.
thought, assume that a man of intelligence from one planet would
meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another world. It is
assumed that people are everywhere educated, curious about other
worlds and other cultures, and eager to help a visitor from an
alien race.
Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is the case. Even
were the members of another race, on another world possessed of
education, there would be bound to be among them low and brutish
elements. And if a stranger from another world, dazed by new
conditions and unable to make his wants known, were to fall into
their hands his fate might not be happy.
We have read no story that pictures with such clarity and insight
the experiences of a man on another world than his own, than does
this present story. With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard
has worked up a simply marvelous story.
* * * * *
The rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of the sun in little,
shimmering waves. It reflected the sun's light blindingly throughout all
its visible expanse, with the exception of one spot where lay a circular
shadow. In the great steely-blue dome of the sky there were no clouds.
The shadow, although not large, was very dark and distinct. The curved,
even line of its circumference was precisely drawn.
In the air was a persistent rattle of sound--a series of closely spaced
explosions, ever rising in intensity.
Suddenly a small, uneven shadow detached itself from the circular one;
and floated swiftly across the sand. The rattling sound increased to a
tremendous booming roar, and the large shadow began to fade. At the same
time, the smaller one grew steadily darker.
High above the sand, a man was falling--much too swiftly.
The surface of the sand had been shaped into hills by the prevailing
winds. These long, ridge-like hills, or dunes, were convex and gradual
in slope on their windward sides, but on their lee sides they were
concave, and very steep.
It was near the top of one of these steep slopes that the man landed.
His frail legs and body crumpled under the weight of his head; he
pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to the bottom where he came
to rest more gently, the target of a small avalanche of sand.
Immediately, he began to struggle; and, failing in his attempts to
rise, stretched his slim arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing
cry, painfully prolonged. Far above him a spherical object rapidly
diminished in size. Fixedly he watched the sunlight glinting on its
polished grey sides; watched it shrink to a tiny ball, a point, and
then--nothing. He was alone.
The pressure was horrible. He buried his head in the hot sand, and
clapped his ears in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain. They must
have underestimated the weight of the Toonian atmosphere if they had
expected him to live long here! It did not hurt his body, but his head
was being crushed. He knew that he would soon die--and was glad. This
wild, senseless punishment would be at an end.
He opened his eyes again, and stared in growing fascination and wonder
at the great arched blue dome above him. Gradually the spectacle of this
weirdly beautiful canopy occupied his whole attention. It was like a
soft curtain of light blue material hiding the blackness of the sky and
the gleaming stars;--yet the sun shone through. For a moment he forgot
his loneliness, his pain, in rapt contemplation of the immense
perfection above him--but only for a moment. Then the explanation came
to him. That beautiful blue was the heavy atmosphere of Toon, which was
slowly crushing him to death! He closed his eyes.
The heat was terrific, but not as intense as he had expected. Toon was
nearer the Sun than was his own world--millions of miles nearer; yet he
was not badly burnt, and this puzzled him. The explanation must again
lie in the heavy atmosphere--serving as insulation, he finally
decided.... He didn't care.
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940015594812 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | SAP |
| Publication date: | 10/09/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 33 KB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
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