Challenger, Professor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Science fiction
Everybody was alive once more! Had it all been a delusion? Was it
conceivable that this whole poison belt incident had been an elaborate
dream? For an instant my startled brain was really ready to believe it.
Then I looked down, and there was the rising blister on my hand where it
was frayed by the rope of the city bell. It had really been so, then.
And yet here was the world resuscitated--here was life come back in an
instant full tide to the planet. Now, as my eyes wandered all over the
great landscape, I saw it in every direction--and moving, to my
amazement, in the very same groove in which it had halted. There were
the golfers. Was it possible that they were going on with their game?
Yes, there was a fellow driving off from a tee, and that other group upon
the green were surely putting for the hole. The reapers were slowly
trooping back to their work. The nurse-girl slapped one of her charges
and then began to push the perambulator up the hill. Everyone had
unconcernedly taken up the thread at the very point where they had
dropped it.
I rushed downstairs, but the hall door was open, and I heard the voices
of my companions, loud in astonishment and congratulation, in the yard.
How we all shook hands and laughed as we came together, and how Mrs.
Challenger kissed us all in her emotion, before she finally threw herself
into the bear-hug of her husband.
"But they could not have been asleep!" cried Lord John. "Dash it all,
Challenger, you don't mean to believe that those folk were asleep with
their staring eyes and stiff limbs and that awful death grin on their
faces!"
"It can only have been the condition that is called catalepsy," said
Challenger. "It has been a rare phenomenon in the past and has
constantly been mistaken for death. While it endures, the temperature
falls, the respiration disappears, the heartbeat is indistinguishable--in
fact, it _is_ death, save that it is evanescent. Even the most
comprehensive mind"--here he closed his eyes and simpered--"could hardly
conceive a universal outbreak of it in this fashion."
"You may label it catalepsy," remarked Summerlee, "but, after all, that
is only a name, and we know as little of the result as we do of the
poison which has caused it. The most we can say is that the vitiated
ether has produced a temporary death."
Austin was seated all in a heap on the step of the car. It was his
coughing which I had heard from above. He had been holding his head in
silence, but now he was muttering to himself and running his eyes over
the car.
"Young fat-head!" he grumbled. "Can't leave things alone!"
"What's the matter, Austin?"
"Lubricators left running, sir. Someone has been fooling with the car.
I expect it's that young garden boy, sir."
Lord John looked guilty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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