THE MISTAKE OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS By Jules Archer If someone told you the world was flat you'd laugh and call him a fool. But if he proved it--and you believed him--who'd have the last laugh? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy September 1951 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The man who discovered that the world was flat, after all, was an Australian hermit named Herbert Fitzgrone. He was a thoughtful man with a glass eye and a metal plate in his head, both obtained during the Boer War. In the bush shanty where he had lived for forty years, he studied the riddle of the universe. One day, shortly after he had turned sixty, he made his astonishing discovery. He went to Sydney, and found his way to the office of the editor of the _Sydney Sun_. He opened the door and went in. "The world, sir," he said simply, "is flat." Those historic words were the first inkling of the scientific storm that was to burst without warning on a complacently globular world. Unfortunately, the editor was not there to hear them. It was 11:00 A.M., Pacific time, and the Sydney pubs were open. Herbert Fitzgrone, a patient man to whom years were as seconds, sat down in the empty office to wait. When the editor showed up at 4:35 P.M., he seemed a trifle confused. He hung his hat on Fitzgrone's head, and sat down in the waste paper basket. The man of science then stood erect and said it again. "The world, sir, is flat." "That so?" said the editor. "You know, I always had a secret hunch it was." He was an amiable man, with four children and a glass fountain pen that flashed a light in the top when he used it. At that moment he wasn't quite sure whether Herbert Fitzgrone was alone or at the head of a delegation. "I expected you to scoff," Herbert Fitzgrone said, a shade of disappointment in his tone. "After all, when Columbus and Magellan said the world was round, everybody scoffed. I came here prepared to be scoffed at." "I don't like to scoff at anybody," the editor said. "I once scoffed at a man in a pub, and he hit me in the eye." "Well, if you won't," the scientist said, vexed, "you won't. Anyhow, I want to show you my proof that the earth as a globe is a monstrous impossibility. Look here." He spread out some sheets of paper on the editor's desk. "My," said the editor. "Impressive, all right. What is it?" "Trigonometry. Do you understand it?" "No, but I'm very fond of it. All those big numbers and everything. Very impressive." "Well, my calculations prove that the earth couldn't be a globe, because two lines of latitude can't possibly be at the same level. Do you realize what that means?" "My God," said the editor in awe.