The Poison Belt (Professor Challenger 2)

"In that remark, sir, you betray your own very pronounced limitations,"said Challenger severely. "The true scientific mind is not to be tieddown by its own conditions of time and space. It builds itself anobservatory erected upon the border line of present, which separates theinfinite past from the infinite future. From this sure post it makes itssallies even to the beginning and to the end of all things. As to death,the scientific mind dies at its post working in normal and methodicfashion to the end. It disregards so petty a thing as its own physicaldissolution as completely as it does all other limitations upon the planeof matter. Am I right, Professor Summerlee?"

Summerlee grumbled an ungracious assent.

"With certain reservations, I agree," said he.

"The ideal scientific mind," continued Challenger--"I put it in the thirdperson rather than appear to be too self-complacent--the ideal scientificmind should be capable of thinking out a point of abstract knowledge inthe interval between its owner falling from a balloon and reaching theearth. Men of this strong fibre are needed to form the conquerors ofnature and the bodyguard of truth."

"It strikes me nature's on top this time," said Lord John, looking out ofthe window. "I've read some leadin' articles about you gentlemencontrollin' her, but she's gettin' a bit of her own back."

"It is but a temporary setback," said Challenger with conviction. "A fewmillion years, what are they in the great cycle of time? The vegetableworld has, as you can see, survived. Look at the leaves of that planetree. The birds are dead, but the plant flourishes. From this vegetablelife in pond and in marsh will come, in time, the tiny crawlingmicroscopic slugs which are the pioneers of that great army of life inwhich for the instant we five have the extraordinary duty of serving asrear guard. Once the lowest form of life has established itself, thefinal advent of man is as certain as the growth of the oak from theacorn. The old circle will swing round once more."

"But the poison?" I asked. "Will that not nip life in the bud?"

"The poison may be a mere stratum or layer in the ether--a mephitic GulfStream across that mighty ocean in which we float. Or tolerance may beestablished and life accommodate itself to a new condition. The merefact that with a comparatively small hyperoxygenation of our blood we canhold out against it is surely a proof in itself that no very great changewould be needed to enable animal life to endure it."

The smoking house beyond the trees had burst into flames. We could seethe high tongues of fire shooting up into the air.

"It's pretty awful," muttered Lord John, more impressed than I had everseen him.

"Well, after all, what does it matter?" I remarked. "The world is dead.Cremation is surely the best burial."

"It would shorten us up if this house went ablaze."

"I foresaw the danger," said Challenger, "and asked my wife to guardagainst it."

"Everything is quite safe, dear. But my head begins to throb again.What a dreadful atmosphere!"

"We must change it," said Challenger. He bent over his cylinder ofoxygen.

"It's nearly empty," said he. "It has lasted us some three and a halfhours. It is now close on eight o'clock. We shall get through the nightcomfortably. I should expect the end about nine o'clock to-morrowmorning. We shall see one sunrise, which shall be all our own."

He turned on his second tube and opened for half a minute the fanlightover the door. Then as the air became perceptibly better, but our ownsymptoms more acute, he closed it once again.

"By the way," said he, "man does not live upon oxygen alone. It's dinnertime and over. I assure you, gentlemen, that when I invited you to myhome and to what I had hoped would be an interesting reunion, I hadintended that my kitchen should justify itself. However, we must do whatwe can. I am sure that you will agree with me that it would be folly toconsume our air too rapidly by lighting an oil-stove. I have some smallprovision of cold meats, bread, and pickles which, with a couple ofbottles of claret, may serve our tu

rn. Thank you, my dear--now as everyou are the queen of managers."

It was indeed wonderful how, with the self-respect and sense of proprietyof the British housekeeper, the lady had within a few minutes adorned thecentral table with a snow-white cloth, laid the napkins upon it, and setforth the simple meal with all the elegance of civilization, including anelectric torch lamp in the centre. Wonderful also was it to find thatour appetites were ravenous.

"It is the measure of our emotion," said Challenger with that air ofcondescension with which he brought his scientific mind to theexplanation of humble facts. "We have gone through a great crisis. Thatmeans molecular disturbance. That in turn means the need for repair.Great sorrow or great joy should bring intense hunger--not abstinencefrom food, as our novelists will have it."

"That's why the country folk have great feasts at funerals," I hazarded.

"Exactly. Our young friend has hit upon an excellent illustration. Letme give you another slice of tongue."

"The same with savages," said Lord John, cutting away at the beef. "I'veseen them buryin' a chief up the Aruwimi River, and they ate a hippo thatmust have weighed as much as a tribe. There are some of them down NewGuinea way that eat the late-lamented himself, just by way of a last tidyup. Well, of all the funeral feasts on this earth, I suppose the one weare takin' is the queerest."

"The strange thing is," said Mrs. Challenger, "that I find it impossibleto feel grief for those who are gone. There are my father and mother atBedford. I know that they are dead, and yet in this tremendous universaltragedy I can feel no sharp sorrow for any individuals, even for them."

"And my old mother in her cottage in Ireland," said I. "I can see her inmy mind's eye, with her shawl and her lace cap, lying back with closedeyes in the old high-backed chair near the window, her glasses and herbook beside her. Why should I mourn her? She has passed and I ampassing, and I may be nearer her in some other life than England is toIreland. Yet I grieve to think that that dear body is no more."

"As to the body," remarked Challenger, "we do not mourn over the paringsof our nails nor the cut locks of our hair, though they were once part ofourselves. Neither does a one-legged man yearn sentimentally over hismissing member. The physical body has rather been a source of pain andfatigue to us. It is the constant index of our limitations. Why thenshould we worry about its detachment from our psychical selves?"

"If they can indeed be detached," Summerlee grumbled. "But, anyhow,universal death is dreadful."

"As I have already explained," said Challenger, "a universal death mustin its nature be far less terrible than a isolated one."

"Same in a battle," remarked Lord John. "If you saw a single man lyingon that floor with his chest knocked in and a hole in his face it wouldturn you sick. But I've seen ten thousand on their backs in the Soudan,and it gave me no such feelin', for when you are makin' history the lifeof any man is too small a thing to worry over. When a thousand millionpass over together, same as happened to-day, you can't pick your ownpartic'lar out of the crowd."