Aeronautics -- Fiction; Cities and towns -- Fiction; Science fiction; War stories
It was that knowledge that made our despair most deep. For though there
was now a lull, apparently, in the great war's course, the European and
Asiatic forces preparing for their final giant blow, and the Americans
gathering their own forces apprehensively to resist the next attack,
we knew that it was but the lull before the final terrible storm that
was to settle the fate of earth's three mighty nations. And we knew,
too, that it was the fate of our own American Federation that would be
sealed in that gigantic attack, unless Connell could make his way soon
to our land with his great secret. And that he could not do so, that he
could not even escape from the little cell in which we were prisoned,
was all so clear to us that almost I wished that death had come to me
in the cruiser's crash to spare me the torture of mind that I and all
of us were now undergoing.
It was a torture accentuated, I think, by the complete emptiness and
eventlessness of those hours and days. Save for what we could see from
our high window upon the city around us, we were as cut off from the
world as though upon the moon. Twice each day, at dawn and at dusk, our
door was opened by the guards that brought our food, that food being as
in our own air-cities the paste-like synthetic compounds of artificial
proteins and fats and carbohydrates which had decades before replaced
the old natural foods. But though our door was thus flung open twice
each day, there was no hope of escape for us in that fact. For the two
guards who brought our food in to us carried their heat-pistols always
in one hand, and always, night and day, there watched in the corridor
outside a full score of similarly armed guards by whom one could not
hope to pass living toward the cage-lifts. It seemed indeed, as Connell
had said, that weeks of frenzied meditation could never disclose any
plausible plan of escape, and so I lapsed with him into a state of
half-lassitude that had been induced by our utter despair.
And so days passed. Not even the prospect of our own deaths which I
knew to be looming before us, was sufficient to rouse me from that
lassitude, not even the fact that at the end of that fortnight, as I
had guessed, the great attack of the air-cities was to be launched
upon the American Federation, and that it was for that reason that our
captors had given us that time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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