The Whispering Spheres | Page 8

If the spheres are mixtures of energies, like we are mixtures of chemicals, death means extinction, just as biological death means the extinction of the chemical action in our lives. Theologians say we don't die--that there's a change and we go on existing in a spiritual life. Now let's take a peep at what science tells us about energy: Newton says energy is never extinguished. When it ceases in one form, it changes to another. What happens when you run electricity through a resistance coil?"
"It turns to heat, of course!"
"And when you enclose light where it can't escape?"
"It turns to heat!" Masters' face brightened. "And if you pen up heat, it turns to light. I learned that in school. Resistance causes a change. But what do the spheres turn to?"
"Radio energy, Masters! Something absolutely harmless to man. These living, energy spheres will change to radio energy when they meet resistance. Frustration is resistance. Frustration is an emotion. An overwhelming emotion for the spheres! The sphere is frustrated--meets resistance--it disappears. In other words, it dies!"
* * * * *
From the city came screams and cries. The spheres had attacked at last.
The men in the wooded field could see the darting balls sending their searing bolts down on the heads of hapless victims. The crashing roar of the slaughter sounded like distant thunderstorms.
Streets were jammed with panic-stricken human beings, fleeing from the unknown menace which slashed with bolts of heat energy.
From the hole in the factory roof poured more spheres to join the destruction.
"They breed fast, the devils!" said Masters.
A figure in khaki approached Taylor. It was Pember with blood running from a cut on the side of his head. He saluted briskly.
"Norden escaped, sir!" he blurted. "The dirty so-and-so cracked me over the head with the trench tool and got away!"
"I never thought he'd turn yellow," Masters said. "Well, maybe it's a good thing he's gone. I never trusted him anyhow."
"Which way did he go?" Taylor asked.
"He went toward the factory, sir!" Pember replied. "He didn't knock me out. Just a glancing blow. I was too dazed to stop him, but I saw him running toward the factory."
"He'd rather take it that way than the firing squad, I guess," Masters decided.
"Masters," Taylor said. "We overlooked something. Norden knows something we don't know. He was around Orkins most of the time after we left the plant. He listened to what Orkins said. Orkins was in the factory when the spheres first appeared. I overlooked Orkins as having an answer to the problem. I thought I knew it all, but I was wrong! Orkins knew more than I know about the spheres."
"Sure! I should have thought of it, too. How did Orkins get away when everyone else got killed? I never asked that. I just took it for granted that he got away by accident. Orkins might have known enough to help Norden get the spheres on his side!"
Taylor already was running toward the factory. At his heels came Masters and Pember.
CHAPTER VI
INFERNO
They found no sign of Norden as they approached the factory. Several times they had to take cover in ditches and weeds as whispering spheres floated overhead in search of prey. But they escaped the electrical feelers which stirred the grass and brush around them.
Pember recovered his Garand rifle, which had been left near the sentry box during the retreat.
Taylor led the group into the tunnel, with Masters following and Pember bringing up the rear.
The din of the slaughter in the town and the shrill whistle of the spheres was blotted out underground. They reached the far end, where the ladder led upward to the sphere-haunted factory.
Taylor ascended. He could hear the shrill whistle of spheres dinning through the bleak building. He peeped into the forge room. The first flush of dawn was streaming through the windows.
Norden was there, creeping along the barrels of some naval guns toward the casting room.
Norden halted at the door. He took a deep breath. From his lips came a shrill, whispering whistle, a close imitation of the call of the spheres.
An orange light was reflected from the room beyond.
Still whistling, Norden stepped back a few paces. Through the door, floating toward the spy came an orange sphere.
Taylor watched, expecting to see a bolt of heat lash out toward the spy. But the sphere pulsed slowly, as if half pleased by the sound Norden made with his lips.
So this is how Orkins escaped from the plant, Taylor thought. Orkins had imitated the creatures. They had spared him as a pet, like a man keeps a talking parrot.
Norden stood very still, whistling while the sphere approached. A little tentacle of flame reached out toward him.
Taylor expected to see Norden disappear in a flash of fire, but the flame seemed to caress. A soft glow seemed to diffuse