THE MAN ON THE METEOR By RAY CUMMINGS (_Author of “Tarrano, the Conqueror”, “The Exile of Time”, etc._) Illustration by Hannes Bok. First published _Science and Invention_, in 9 parts, 1924. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Future combined with Science Fiction, October 1941. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] _Alone on this strange little world in the orbit of Saturn, the man who knew himself as Nemo, and the golden haired girl who called herself Nona, lived the lives of simple primitives. But weird was this planetoid where rocks burned and the water was fit to breathe, yet no less fantastic than the meteor itself was the bizarre Marinoid people who dwelt deep in its waters! A tale to remember._ CHAPTER I I do not know where I was born. I am ignorant of the country—I do not even know on which world it was. I shall tell you my history exactly as I remember it. The first recollection that I have was when I was a young man at the full height of my physical strength. Let us say, I was twenty, with dark hair and eyes, a slender body, but muscular and powerful. The day I have in mind is clear to my memory now—but everything that happened to me before it is a blank. I found myself lying on the ground. It was dark and there was a sky full of stars and strange flashing lights. I sat up, stiff and sore, and bruised all over. I was encased in some sort of a rubber suit, with a pack on my back; my head was enclosed in a helmet of transparent, rigid material. I felt as though I were smothering; and I tore off the helmet and flung it from me. I drank in a deep breath of the night air. It was pure and sweet, but heady. It made my senses reel like some potent wine. I say that I sat up. That is not strictly true. I pushed my elbow against the ground, and my whole body went into the air. I floated back to a sitting posture. I was light as a feather! The night was calm without a breath of air stirring—— Lucky for me for I would have blown away had there been any wind! I sat there puzzling over my very existence. I knew nothing, not even my own name. I have since named myself Nemo. This place where I found myself that starry night showed a barren landscape with only a few queerly-shaped, stunted trees. The horizon was very close to me—almost at hand, in fact—for the ground was curved with an enormous convexity. It was, indeed, as though I were clinging to the top of a ball, whirling through Space. The stars were swinging across the sky with visible movement.