Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth CenturyDonnelly, Ignatius
Science
Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century
Donnelly, Ignatius
Dystopias -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Twentieth century -- Fiction
Some of the troops advanced toward the barricade. Instantly the long
line of its top bristled with fire; the fire was returned; the rattle
was continuous and terrible, mingled with the rapid, grinding noise
of the machine guns. The sound spread in every direction. The
barricades were all attacked.
Suddenly the noise began to decrease. It was as if some noble orator
had begun to speak in the midst of a tumultuous assembly. Those
nearest him catch his utterances first, and become quiet; the wave of
silence spreads like a great ripple in the water; until at last the
whole audience is as hushed as death. So something--some
extraordinary thing--had arrested the battle; down, down, dropped the
tumult; and at last there were only a few scattering shots to be
heard, here and there; and then these, too, ceased.
I could see the soldiers looking to the west. I swept the sky with my
glass. Yes, something portentous had indeed happened! Instead of the
whole dark flight of thousands of airships for which the soldiers had
been looking, there came, athwart the sky, like a great black bird, a
single Demon.
As it approached it seemed to be signaling some one. Little flags of
different colors were run up and taken down. I turned and looked to
the barricaded district. And there on the top of a very high
building, in its midst, I could see a group of men. They, too, were
raising and lowering little flags. Nearer and nearer swept the great
bird; every eye and many a field-glass in all that great throng were
fastened upon it, with awe-struck interest--the insurgents rejoicing;
the soldiers perplexed. Nearer and nearer it comes.
Now it pauses right over the tall building; it begins to descend,
like a sea-gull about to settle in the waves. Now it is but a short
distance above the roof. I could see against the bright sky the
gossamer traces of a rope ladder, falling down from the ship to the
roof. The men below take hold of it and steady it. A man descends.
Something about him glitters in the rising sun. He is probably an
officer. He reaches the roof. They bow and shake hands. I can see him
wave his hand to those above him. A line of men descend; they
disappear in the building; they reappear; they mount the ladder;
again and again they come and go.
"They are removing the treasure," I explain to our party, gathering
around me.
Then the officer shakes hands again with the men on the roof; they
bow to each other; he reascends the ladder; the air-ship rises in the
air, higher and higher, like an eagle regaining its element; and away
it sails, back into the west.
An age of bribery terminates in one colossal crime of corruption!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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