The Lost Machine

THE CIRCUS

There followed one of those dark periods of quiet. The animal origin of human beings puts them under the disabi­lity of requiring fre­quent periods of recuperation and, since they cannot use the infra-red rays for sight, as we do, their rests take place at times when they are unable to see. With the return of sunlight came a commo­tion outside the door. Expostu­lations were being levelled at one named Tom – he who had led me here the previous day.

“You ain't really goin' to let it put?” one voice was asking nervously.

“ 'Course I am. Why not?” Tom replied.

“The thing don't look right to me. I wouldn't touch it,” said another.

“Scared, that's what you are,” Tom suggested.

“P'raps I am – and p'raps you'd 've been scared last night if you 'adn't been so far gone.”

“Well, it didn't do nothin' to me when I'd had a few,” argued Tom, “so why should it now?”

His words were confi­dent enough, but I could feel a trepi­da­tion in his mind.

“It's your own funeral,” said the other. “Don't say after­wards that I didn't warn you.”

I could hear the rest of them retire to what they consi­dered a safe distance. Tom approached, making a show of courage with his words.

“Of course I'm goin' to let it out. What's more, I'm takin' it to a place I know of – it ought to be worth a bit.”

“You'll never...”

“Oh, won't I?”

He rattled open the door and addressed me in a fierce voice which masked a threat­en­ing panic.

“Come on,” he ordered, “out of it.”

He almost turned to run as he saw me rise, but managed to master the impulse with an effort. Outwardly calm, he led the way to one of those machines which use the hard tracks, opened a rear door and pointed inside.

“In you get,” he said.

I doubt if ever a man was more relieved and sur­prised than he, when I did so.

With a grin of triumph he turned around, gave a mocking sweep with his cap to the rest, and climbed into the front seat.

My last sight as we roared away was of a crowd of open-mouthed men.

The sun was high when we reached our desti­nation. The limi­ta­tions of the machine were such that we had been delayed more than once to replenish fuel and water before we stopped, at last, in front of large gates set in a wooden fence.

Over the top could be seen the upper parts of pieces of white cloth tightly stretched over poles and deco­rated by further pieces of coloured cloth flapping in the wind. I had by this time given up the attempt to guess the purposes of third planet con­struc­tions, such incredi­ble things managed to exist on this primi­tive world that it was simpler to wait and find out.

From behind the fence a rhyth­mical braying noise persisted, then there came the sound of a man's voice shout­ing above the din:

“What do you want – main entrance is round the other side.”

“Where's the boss?” called Tom. “I got something for him.”

The doors opened to allow us to enter.

“Over there in his office,” said the man, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

As we approached I could see that the third planet mania for wheels had led them even to mount the ‘office’ thus.

Tom entered and re­ap­peared shortly, accom­panied by another man.

“There it is,” he said, pointing to me, “and there ain't another like it nowhere. The only all-metal animal in the world – how'll that look on the posters?”

The other regarded me with no enthu­siasm in his eyes and a deal of dis­be­lief in his mind.

“That long box thing?” he inquired.

“Sure, ‘that box thing’. Here, you,” he added to me, “get out of it.”

Both retreated a step as I advan­ced, the new man looked appre­hen­sively at my fore-rods.

“You're sure it's safe?” he asked ner­vously.

“Safe?” said Tom. “ 'Course it's safe.”

To prove it he came across and patted my case.

“I'm offer­ing you the biggest noise in the show busi­ness. It's worth ten times what I'm asking for it — I tell you, there ain't another one in the world.”

“Well, I ain't heard of another,” admitted the show­man grud­gingly. “Where'd you get it?”

“Made it,” said Tom blandly. “Spare time.”

The man con­ti­nued to regard me with little enthu­siasm.

“Can it do anything?” he asked at last.

“Can it—?” began Tom indignantly. “Here you,” he added, “fetch that lump of wood.”

When I brought it, the other looked a trifle less doubt­ful.

“What's inside it?” he deman­ded.

“Secrets,” said Tom shortly.

“Well, it's got to stop bein' a secret before I buy it. What sort of a fool do you take me for? Let's have a look at the thing's innards.”

“No,” said Tom, sending a ner­vous look side­ways at me. “Either you take it or leave it.”

“Ho, so that's your little game, is it? I'm to be the sucker who buys the thing and then finds the kid inside, workin' it. It wouldn't surprise me to find that the police'd like to know about this.”

“There ain't no kid inside,” denied Tom, “it's just – just secret works. That's what it is.”

“I'll believe you when I see.”

Tom waited a moment before he answered.

“All right,” he said desperately, “we'll get the blasted lid off of it... Here, hey, come back you.”

The last was a shout to me but I gave it no notice. It was one thing to observe the curious ways of these humans but it was quite a different matter to let them pry into my machi­nery. The clumsi­ness of such as Tom was capable of damaging my arrange­ments seriously.

“Stop it,” bawled Tom, behind me.

A man in my path landed a futile blow on my body case as I swept him aside. Before me was the biggest of all the cloth-covered erect­ions.

“Here,” I thought, “there will be plenty of room to hide.”

I was wrong. Inside, in a circular space, stood a line of four-footed ani­mals. They were unlike the others I had met, in that they had no spikes on their heads and were of a much slenderer build, but they were just as primi­tive. All around, in tier upon tier of rings, sat hundreds of human beings.

Just a glimpse, I had, and then the ani­mals saw me. They bolted in all direc­tions and shouts of terror arose from the crowd.

I don't remember clearly what happened to me, but some­where and some­how in the confu­sion which followed I found Tom in the act of start­ing his car. His first glance at me was one of pure alarm, then he seemed to think better of it.

“Get in,” he snapped, “we've got to get clear of this some­how – and quick.”

Although I could make far better speed than that prepos­terous machine, it seemed better to accom­pany him than to wander aim­lessly.