The War of the WenusesLucas, E. V. (Edward Verrall)
Science
The War of the Wenuses
Lucas, E. V. (Edward Verrall)
Science fiction; Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 1866-1946 -- Parodies, imitations, etc.
When I returned to the Gardens the sun was at his zenith. The crowd
around the Crinoline had increased and some sort of a struggle seemed to
be going on. As I drew near I heard Lee-Bigge's voice:
"Keep back! keep back!"
A boy came running towards me.
"It's a-movin'," he said to me as he passed; "a-blowin' and a-blowin'
out. Now we shan't be long!" Passing on, I saw that it was indeed
expanding. The ribs were more distended and the covering more tightly
stretched. The hissing had ceased and a creaking noise had taken its
place. There was evidently great pressure within. Once something
resembling an _en tout cas_ was thrust through the top, making what was
presumably an attempt to dislodge Lee-Bigge, and then suddenly the
Crinoline burst, revealing a wision of ultra-mundane loveliness.
I shall not attempt exhaustively to describe the indescribable. It is
enough to assure the sober reader that, grotesque and foolish as it may
seem, this is absolutely true, and to record that after the glimpse I
had of the Wenuses emerging from the Crinoline in which they had come to
the earth from their planet, a kind of fascination paralysed my actions.
All other men in the crowd seemed to be similarly affected. We were
battle-grounds of love and curiosity. For the Wenuses were gorgeous:
that is the sum of the matter.
Those who have never seen a living Wenus (there is a specimen in fairly
good spirits in the Natural History Museum) can scarcely imagine the
strange beauty of their appearance. The peculiar W-shaped mouth, the
incessant nictitation of the sinister eyelid, the naughty little twinkle
in the eye itself, the glistening glory of the arms, each terminating in
a fleshy digitated Handling Machine resembling more than anything else a
Number 6 glove inflated with air (these members, by the way, have since
been named rather aptly by that distinguished anatomist and original
dog, Professor Howes, the _hands_)--all combined to produce an effect
akin to stupefaction. I stood there ecstatic, unprogressive, immoderate;
while swiftly and surely ungovernable affection for all Wenuses gripped
me.
Meanwhile I heard inarticulate exclamations on all sides.
"Shameless hussies!" cried a woman near me.
"By Jove, that's something like!" said a young man who had been reading
Captain Coe's finals, swinging round towards the Crinoline, with one
foot arrested in mid-air.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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