Zarlah the Martian | Page 6

of responding to many
different vibrations, according to the light or shade of the object projected. This
accounted for the success I met with upon adopting the coated wires, and I concluded
thereupon that they were indispensable. But I now saw that the presence of wires in the
composition, though successful with light-waves, was inimical to sound-waves, and it
became evident that a firmer but highly sensitive surface was required. The film had not
brought good results, either from sound-waves or light-waves, but, it will be remembered,
there were wires running through it to give it rigidity, which, although necessary in my
original experiments, must be avoided in connection with sound vibrations. Clearly my
new film must not be rigid. I thereupon made a film of composition, as thin as possible,
and stretched it upon the frame of my instrument, as a diaphragm behind the wires,
hoping that the sound-waves would pass between the wires, and vibrate the diaphragm,
which, being made of composition, would undoubtedly glow, but not more than the film
had done. This, I concluded, would not interfere with the image on the wires, owing to
the brilliancy of the latter.
I was now hopeful of success, and anxiously waited for the day to close. Everything was
in readiness by noon, and I had at least eight hours to wait before Mars would be in a
position for wave contact. But now appeared an adversary with which I had not reckoned.
Clouds began to gather, thin and fleecy at first, but growing heavier as the afternoon
passed, until by evening the heavens were completely obscured. This was a condition that
might last for several days, and the dread of it filled me with despair. How could I wait
for days inactive, without seeing or even hearing from my friend in Mars?
It now occurred to me how absolutely absorbed I had become in the Martian investigation.
Ordinarily a sociable person, in the past week I had become a recluse. College friends
that I had seen almost daily since my return to Paris, I now completely neglected, even
shunned, lest they should call at my rooms some evening when I was in wave contact
with Mars. It also occurred to me that, as surely as my friendship and necessity for them
was declining, in like ratio was increasing an attachment for an inhabitant of another
world. I felt a strange soul kinship for this Martian, which seemed to spring up the
moment I saw his image portrayed on my instrument. And the feeling was not one of
ordinary friendship. I felt I was drawn to him by some mysterious power, that gave him
the place of a brother in my affections--a power that seemed to have brought us together,
and now united us with a great common and compelling interest. And yet as I pictured his
handsome, almost beautiful face, there was still another face I had seen--but where? The
Martian had been alone, yet I was conscious of a face that was wonderfully beautiful, that
seemed the goal for which I was striving. It led me to greater effort after failure; the face
which I yearned to see and yet strangely dreaded seeing.

It was useless for me to try to understand such thoughts, and to banish them from my
mind was impossible. I was overcome with a sense of loneliness. Looking at my watch, I
found that it was already past the hour when Mars would be visible through the window
on a clear night, but, alas, the sky showed no signs of clearing; though my instrument
stood ready, it was useless.
But, obeying some irresistible impulse, I decided to turn on the current and stand by the
instrument in case an opening in the clouds should occur, for even a moment. I therefore
turned the switch that controlled the current, and immediately, to my astonishment, the
surface of wires became as brilliant as on the previous evening under a clear sky. Turning
away for a moment, to allow my eyes to become accustomed to the brilliancy, I noticed
that the sky was still overcast with heavy rain clouds. My joy at the discovery that the
Martian projecting agent was not arrested by vapor was unbounded, for it meant that I
could be in wave-contact with Mars every night, during the period that the planet was
visible from Earth.
I approached the instrument with the intention of at once testing the diaphragm, but, to
my surprise, my Martian friend was not there to greet me. The room and its furnishings,
however, were depicted as clearly as before, and I now had an opportunity to note the
instruments, the large volumes of books, and the maps of the heavens which hung on the
wall. Everything pointed to this