Part 2

Unmistakably, it was a man. Clad in clothes and undeniably human. Its features were perfectly normal, bore the flush of life. The feet and entire body were set in attitude as if in the act of taking a step. But it was motionless.

"Some statue!" breathed Opp. "I would swear it was a real man."

"It is a real man," said Barth, softly. He bent close to the face. "It has the pores and tiny hairs that can only be on a true body."

"Then he must have been alive once," murmured Weber. "What do you suppose happened to him? Is he petrified or only frozen solid?"

"Frozen, I think," said Barth. "Yet, it is very strange. His flesh is still soft and resilient; it is not natural."

"A land of frozen people!" Captain Wanderman's words struck a chilling note in all of them. Quickly they investigated the other figures. Some men, some women, some old, some young. All kinds and types; all apparently had been frozen solid in the middle of their normal activities. None showed any sign of being aware that death had struck. When the terrible freezing occurred it must have happened so swiftly, instantaneously, as to have caught all unaware.

They moved on, saying little. There was that same eerie atmosphere that one finds in a wax museum while passing about among the realistic but silent and motionless figures of apparently ordinary people. Add to that the grim knowledge that the figures they now saw had been alive, that in effect the explorers were in a monstrous, planet-wide graveyard.

They went on, coming to wide roads down which lines of marching men stood silently in attitudes startlingly like some paintings of men marching to war. Undoubtedly they were soldiers. Once or twice along the line, the Earthmen saw huge projector-like instruments mounted on wheels, being taken along with the marchers.

"Say, look at this scene!" called out Rokesmith.

He was standing before an open gate, staring in at the courtyard of a large, pretentious stone building. Before the gate stood two guards who evidently had been frozen just as they were turning about to stare in through the entrance. On their faces was a look of aroused inquiry. Inside the courtyard was a dramatic tableau.

* * * * *

A young woman of great beauty was fixed in the posture of running. Her foot was lifted from the ground, her body thrust forward, her face strained, hair flowing backwards as if the wind were brushing it back. In one hand, tightly grasped, was a scroll.

Directly behind her stood a young man with a look of astonishment and anger on a face that was cruel and evil. His hand was still held outstretched as if to grasp after the scroll that the woman was fleeing with. All about, in similar positions of astonishment and anxiety, were other men, some of whom had started forward as if about to commence a pursuit.

"Some scene, eh?" murmured Barth. "Looks real dramatic. I wish we could know what it was all about."

"That's an idea!" burst from Wanderman. "Why didn't I think of it sooner? Barth! We can use the mentascope on these frozen people--with the attachments that are used to read the minds of the newly dead, can't we?"

"I think we can, Captain. These people are perfectly preserved; there's no reason why we can't shoot a current through their brains and get the information stored there."

They turned, commenced to retrace their steps to the ship. It took them about ten minutes to reach the street by which they had entered the city and come to the vessel. Once inside, they hastened to unpack the mentascope and its attendant apparatus. When at last they were ready, they left the airlock and started back; the return to the ship had taken them about twenty minutes.

They entered the street of the city they had first chanced upon. As they passed the first figure, Weber suddenly whirled around and stared at it.

"Look! Stop and look at this man!"

The others gathered around.

"Does he look the same to you? It seems to me that it was his other leg which was being put forward when last we saw him. I'm sure his arms were in a different position."

They stared amazedly. The figure certainly was not in the identical posture as before. Weber's observations had been correct.

"All the rest of them seem to be planted in slightly different postures, too."

Captain Wanderman bent down, studied the arm of the man carefully. He remained silent for some time, then he stood up. There was a tone of awe and bewilderment in his voice when he spoke.

"It has moved, and what is more, it is still moving. I saw that hand pass a given point on the body of the person in a few minutes. It's like watching the hands of a clock. At first, they do not seem to move at all, but if you watch closely enough for a time, you can observe the motion."

"Do you mean this fellow is still alive?"

"It would seem so."

"But why the slow motion?" asked Opp.

"I think," said the captain slowly, "that the mentascope can help us answer the whole business."

They came to the courtyard of the running woman. The tableau had changed; it seemed as if a few seconds had passed since they left. Now the figure of the woman was closer to the gate; the two guards from outside had passed through and were going forward to seize her, while the men behind were in full running appearance, as if, having recovered from a surprise move, they were taking to pursuit.

"All right men: set down the apparatus."

Two men set down a small battery, attached it to wires leading from a large metal helmet which another was placing over the head of the still woman-figure. Other wires were attached to the space-suit helmet worn by Captain Wanderman. Through the glassite panes it could be seen that he was wearing a somewhat similar helmet himself, having donned this while back on the ship.

* * * * *

A current of electrical energy was passed from an electrode pressed against one particular part of the woman's head through to another leading out. In passing through the brain of the woman, this current picked up the last and deepest occurrences in the life of the person subjected to it. It activated the cells on which these events were recorded in a form much like that of a charged body. Passing out of the brain, it carried these impressions with it and brought them to the mind of the operator as distinct thoughts. Since basic thoughts are not expressed in any language save impressions and pictures, the operator finds that he has suddenly acquired the knowledge of the other.

Thus, in a brief time, Wanderman told the men of the story concerning Nimbor and Toom, of the _mataiya's_ part in the drama. The men stood in wonder, staring at the figures; Opp calmly walked over to Aald and tweaked his nose. The Nimborian's expression did not change.

"I still can't grasp why these people are all like frozen statues," exclaimed Barth. "How can they live and act like everyday terrestrials when this planet is so lacking in heat and light?"

"I think I can explain," said Wanderman. "It sounds fantastic, but it is not impossible. And it would account for all the factors. I'll tell you when we get back to the ship: right now we have work to do."

"What work?"

"We can't stand around and do nothing while this woman is captured. And I, for one, do not care to see these sneering degenerates win this war.

"So I think we'll take over events on this planet for a while and fix things to suit ourselves. We can easily move these figures if we adjust our gravity belt to take care of the extra weight. Every man grab one person; I'll take Oomith. Rokesmith, you take Aald; Weber, grab the emperor, and you others pick out those who look important, who appear like staff officers. And don't forget the mentascope."

In a moment each man was burdened with a native of Planet P swinging over his shoulder. Thus burdened they marched through the center of Nimbor, through the columns of the motionless army, back to the spaceship. Several times they would have to halt and rest because of the irrepressible laughter that broke out, among them. Imagine earthly problems being solved like this!

In the ship, they dumped the Nimborians in a spare storehouse, while the _mataiya_ was propped up on a seat in one of the cabins. The ship's course was set for the general direction of Toom.

* * * * *

"You men understand what is meant by time?" began Wanderman as the crew gathered around. "It is the flow of events. It is the way we conceive things happening. We place an arbitrary measurement of time by using the period it takes our planet to rotate once on its axis. That is a day. Dividing the day into sections, we get hours, minutes, and seconds. To us, a second is a very short space of time.

"We move and live at a certain rate of speed: our heart pumps about 72 beats per minute. Our senses perceive a thing in a certain space of time. Small as it may appear, it actually requires time for your eye to see an object or for your hearing to function. Also for an impression of feeling to travel from the skin to the brain and to be recognized.

"To these people of Planet P, their world appears as one delightful to live in. For them a bright warm sun shines in a blue sky. For them life moves at as quick a pace as it does for us on Earth. Their day is approximately 24 hours also. To us, it may appear to be as long as 656 Earth days, since their world requires 656 Earth days to complete one of its days, and I am figuring in proportion. To them, a day is no longer than to us. Ten and four-fifths hours to us is only one of their minutes.

"That is why they live so slowly; they are living at a different time-rate than ours. Time moves for them exactly 656 times more slowly than it does for us.

"They could not possibly live at our pace. For, to us, Planet P is terribly cold; the sun is but little more than a bright star. But when they see the sun, it takes 656 times longer before they observe it. Thus, they actually get a time exposure. You know that if you want to take a picture at night you must leave the lens open for a long time; the longer it is open, the brighter the picture appears. Thus with them: they see the sun as a brilliant ball; they see objects as highly illuminated because their eyes are absorbing so much more light than are ours.

"Thus their bodies are not cold and frozen: of a makeup to conform with the time-rate on this planet, their bodies absorb and hold the heat radiated by the sun until it appears to be hot. If you examine any of these bodies now without your gloves, you will notice that they are as warm as ours.

"These people seem to be motionless, or at least moving extremely slowly. To them, they are moving at a normal pace. Here is where the size of this planet comes in: under the huge gravity of this world, they could not move fast. Their bodies must normally weigh a terrific amount. That was another factor working in their evolution toward the strange rate of time-flow."

Wanderman left the room. He went back to where he had placed Oomith seated upright in a cabin. Seating himself directly before her eyes, he stared into them. He fixed himself motionless as possible, remained unmoving until the ship was ready to come to a halt at its destination. Before he left, he had the satisfaction of noticing the _mataiya's_ pupils had finally focused on his; he felt certain that some impression would be carried back with her.

* * * * *

Landing at Toom, they placed Oomith where she was later to regain control of her senses. They carried Aald and the others down to the dungeons, imprisoning them there. Then they returned to the ship.

One more task remained: the war machines of Nimbor. Cruising over the enemy lines, they dropped cables whenever they saw a projector and attached them. Then they swung them up into the air, letting them hang below until all had been thus captured. Once more they returned to Toom, this time to place the projectors where they would be found quickly.

The nature of the "burning death" of Nimbor they found to be simple. It was nothing more or less than electric heaters, such as are sold in winter on Earth. A polished reflector sent a beam of heat from the wire coil in the center. To a terrestial, of course, this was nothing more than a pleasantly warm current; but to a native of Planet P, with their slower perceptions and great absorption of tiny amounts of heat, it was a ray of pure destruction.

Thus, for a brief instant in the history of the cosmos, two similar races and life forms met, the one greatly altering the course of development the other would take. Although a few well-guarded expeditions to Planet P have been made since, the Terrestial Council is slow to permit these, inasmuch as the gross difference in time-rate cannot permit fair intercourse with its people. It is felt in scientific circles that for them to learn of the existence of a race such as ours would be a crushing psychological blow to them; to interfere, however well-meaningly, in their development would condemn them to superstition, for they could arrive at no logical, scientific explanation of such interference.

Planet P is not needed for the comfort or well-being of Earth. The Patrol is there watching, ready to step in in cases of natural cosmic emergency, but at other times gives the world a wide berth.

And Captain Wanderman will always remember the tableau in the courtyard, and a beautiful woman running.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Planet That Time Forgot, by Donald A. Wollheim