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Horizons, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, October 1940

Page 8

8     HORIZONS
EVOLUTION - MAYBE

by

RONALD HOLMES

     The July sun beat down upon the roof of the veranda beneath which I was resting after mowing the lawn. I lay back at ease in the depths of the easy chair and gazed with half-closed eyes at the shimmering heat-waves that made the even lines of grass upon the lawn dance and curve like so many snakes. A feeling of well being prevailed over me, and with a sigh I allowed myself to be lost in contemplation.
     I must have fallen into a doz, for the next thing I knew was the click. It wasn't the harsh click on of a light switch, but more so if it were felt than heard. I raised my heavy eyelids, then closed them again with a startled yelp. I opened them again, slowly, taking in the scene before me slowly, allowing my fuddled brain to grasp the events with slow realisation. Yes, it was still there.
     The lawn, which so recently was naught but vacant, well cut grass now held a shimmering platform of some strange substance which scintillated in the sunlight. But wait--what was that--striding toward me across the lawn? It was a short, large-headed, red-skinned man. His eyes protruded from his head and his limbs were thin that they gave him the semblance of a potato mounted upon a matchstick.
     The unknown reached the foot of the veranda steps and proceeded to mount them, and with an almost benevolent smile crossed to the chair beside me and lowered himself into it with a grateful sigh. Seated he seemed even more ridiculous, like Humpty Dumpty seated on his fabulous wall, and seemed ever in danger of falling from his seemingly precarious perch.
     It took me some time to regain my powers of speech, but when I did, I weakly demanded to know who this being was who walked into my house and seated himself as calmly as a guest. For a few moments the unknown was silent; he seemed to be gathering his faculties for the purpose of answering. At last he spoke, in perfect English but with a slightly nasal sound.
     "Pray let me apologize for my unseemly interference," he said and indicated himself with his almost talon-like hand. "I am Teztos of the city of Paset, Mars. Your greeting has been very gratifying."
     "Gratifying?" I asked startled, for my only words to him up to that moment were few and harsh.
     "Yes," he replied, "gratifying, not the words you have spoken, but your thoughts. The moment you saw me you gave out thought radiations of mild surprise and now you look upon me with interest. Since I have been on your planet I have received nothing but fear, disbelief and hatred. Can you explain why you alone have looked upon me with such kindness?"
     I laughed and airily waved my hand toward the open window through which bookshelf upon bookshelf of science fiction could be seen. "For years I have read about Martians, until they are an everyday thing to my subconscious mind. Surely I should react to the real thing with nothing more than surprise. I am not the only one who would have reacted the same way; there must be millions of science fiction fans in the world," I replied. "But this is an honour, Sir, what is your purpose on this planet? Can I order you refreshment?"
     "Your words are kind," replied Teztos, "but within your mind you think of nothing but the fame of knowing the first Martian to reach earth. I can read your thoughts, my friend. You mean well, but you cannot conceal those baser thoughts from me, those thoughts which naturally a being on such a low scale of evolution as yourself must have.
     "Yes, my friend," he went on, reading my involuntary thoughts, "you are on a lower scale than I, for did not your race spring from Mars?"

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8 HORIZONS EVOLUTION - MAYBE by RONALD HOLMES The July sun beat down upon the roof of the veranda beneath which I was resting after mowing the lawn. I lay back at ease in the depths of the easy chair and gazed with half-closed eyes at the shimmering heat-waves that made the even lines of grass upon the lawn dance and curve like so many snakes. A feeling of well being prevailed over me, and with a sigh I allowed myself to be lost in contemplation. I must have fallen into a doz, for the next thing I knew was the click. It wasn't the harsh click on of a light switch, but more so if it were felt than heard. I raised my heavy eyelids, then closed them again with a startled yelp. I opened them again, slowly, taking in the scene before me slowly, allowing my fuddled brain to grasp the events with slow realisation. Yes, it was still there. The lawn, which so recently was naught but vacant, well cut grass now held a shimmering platform of some strange substance which scintillated in the sunlight. But wait--what was that--striding toward me across the lawn? It was a short, large-headed, red-skinned man. His eyes protruded from his head and his limbs were thin that they gave him the semblance of a potato mounted upon a matchstick. The unknown reached the foot of the veranda steps and proceeded to mount them, and with an almost benevolent smile crossed to the chair beside me and lowered himself into it with a grateful sigh. Seated he seemed even more ridiculous, like Humpty Dumpty seated on his fabulous wall, and seemed ever in danger of falling from his seemingly precarious perch. It took me some time to regain my powers of speech, but when I did, I weakly demanded to know who this being was who walked into my house and seated himself as calmly as a guest. For a few moments the unknown was silent; he seemed to be gathering his faculties for the purpose of answering. At last he spoke, in perfect English but with a slightly nasal sound. "Pray let me apologize for my unseemly interference," he said and indicated himself with his almost talon-like hand. "I am Teztos of the city of Paset, Mars. Your greeting has been very gratifying." "Gratifying?" I asked startled, for my only words to him up to that moment were few and harsh. "Yes," he replied, "gratifying, not the words you have spoken, but your thoughts. The moment you saw me you gave out thought radiations of mild surprise and now you look upon me with interest. Since I have been on your planet I have received nothing but fear, disbelief and hatred. Can you explain why you alone have looked upon me with such kindness?" I laughed and airily waved my hand toward the open window through which bookshelf upon bookshelf of science fiction could be seen. "For years I have read about Martians, until they are an everyday thing to my subconscious mind. Surely I should react to the real thing with nothing more than surprise. I am not the only one who would have reacted the same way; there must be millions of science fiction fans in the world," I replied. "But this is an honour, Sir, what is your purpose on this planet? Can I order you refreshment?" "Your words are kind," replied Teztos, "but within your mind you think of nothing but the fame of knowing the first Martian to reach earth. I can read your thoughts, my friend. You mean well, but you cannot conceal those baser thoughts from me, those thoughts which naturally a being on such a low scale of evolution as yourself must have. "Yes, my friend," he went on, reading my involuntary thoughts, "you are on a lower scale than I, for did not your race spring from Mars?"