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
As we neared the shore we could see that the beaches, wharves and
tongues of sand were everywhere black with people, who struggled like
madmen to secure the few boats or ships that remained. With such
weapons as they had hurriedly collected they fought back the
better-armed masses of wild and desperate men who hung upon their
skirts, plying the dreadful trade of murder. Some of the agonized
multitude shrieked to us for help. Our hearts bled for them, but we
could do nothing. Their despairing hands were held up to us in
supplication as the air-ship darted over them.
But why dilate upon the dreadful picture that unrolled beneath us?
Hamlets, villages, towns, cities, blackened and smoking masses of
ruin. The conflicts were yet raging on every country road and city
street; we could hear the shrieks of the flying, the rattle of rifles
and pistols in the hands of the pursuers. Desolation was everywhere.
Some even rushed out and fired their guns viciously at us, as if
furious to see anything they could not destroy. Never before did I
think mankind was so base. I realized how much of the evil in human
nature had been for ages suppressed and kept in subjection by the
iron force of law and its terrors. Was man the joint product of an
angel and a devil? Certainly in this paroxysm of fate he seemed to be
demoniacal.
We turned southward over the trampled gardens and vineyards of
France. A great volcanic lava field of flame and ashes--burning,
smoking--many miles in extent--showed where Paris had been. Around it
ragged creatures were prowling, looking for something to eat, digging
up roots in the fields. At one place, in the open country, I
observed, ahead of us, a tall and solitary tree in a field; near it
were the smouldering ruins of a great house. I saw something white
moving in the midst of the foliage, near the top of the tree. I
turned my glass upon it. It was a woman, holding something in her
arms.
"Can we not take her up?" I asked the captain of the airship.
"We cannot stop the vessel in that distance--but we might return to
it," he replied.
"Then do so, for God's sake," I said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account