Issue 1.7, October 1926

Imagination and Reality, editorial by Hugo Gernsback

Beyond the Pole, chapters 1-5, by A Hyatt Verrill

1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5

A Columbus of Space, chapters 16-24, by Garrett P. Serviss

16B · 17 · 18 · 19 · 20 · 21 · 22 · 23 · 24

The Purchase of the North Pole, chapters 8-20, by Jules Verne

8B · 9 · 10 · 11 · 12 · 13 · 14 · 15 · 16 · 17 · 18 · 19 · 20

The Island of Dr. Moreau, chapters 1-13, by H.G. Wells

1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5 · 6 · 7 · 8 · 9 · 10 · 11 · 12 · 13 ·

Blasphemer’s Plateau, by Alexander Snyder

OUR COVER depicts the story from “Beyond the Pole,” by A. Hyatt Verill, wherein one of the fearful, lobster-like creatures is shown investigating the, to them, strange, human creature which has so suddenly burst into their domain.

Imagination and Reality

by Hugo Gernsback, F.R.S.
October 1926 (1.7) p. 579.

When reading one of our scientifiction stories in which the author gives free rein to his imagination, providing he is a good storyteller, we not infrequently find ourselves deeply thrilled. The reason is that our imagination is fired to the nth degree, and we thus obtain a real satisfaction from the time spent in reading the story, improbable as it often appears at first. I should like to point out here how important this class of literature is to progress and to the race in general.

The human mind is a tremendously complex machine, which often works in a very strange manner. A man sets out to invent a certain house appliance, and while engaged in his experimental work, gets a certain stimulus that takes him in an entirely different direction, so that the first thought of the house appliance may end in the invention of a factory labor-saving device, or perhaps something even more important.

When Alexander Graham Bell was a young man, he occupied himself by devising means of enabling the deaf to hear. This led him into electrical research work, and the apparatus, far from becoming a device by which the deaf can hear, became the present telephone. To be sure, loud-speaking telephones are made today for the use of the deaf, but this is only a byproduct and not at all the actual and more important use of the instrument.

Hundreds and thousands of similar instances could be cited. An author, in one of his fantastic scientifiction stories, may start some one thinking along the suggested lines which the author had in mind, whereas the inventor in the end will finish up with something totally different, and perhaps much more important. But the fact remains that the author provided the stimulus in the first place, which is a most important function to perform.

Beyond the Pole, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 1–5

by A. Hyatt Verrill
First published in Amazing Stories, October 1926, pp. 580–595.

INTRODUCTION. Here is one of the most gripping stories that it has ever been our good fortune to read. At the same time, it is one of the best scientifiction works of the modern school that we have lately seen. It is easily the best scientifiction story of this year.

The author, in choosing a civlization of lobster-like people, should not be accused of sketching an impossibility. Indeed, it is impossible to say, at this moment, in what form an intelligent reasoning creature might or might not exist. Just because we have never met a reasoning creature different from a human being tells nothing, and we certainly should not be so arrogant as to think that intelligence, as we know it, combined with reasoning, exists solely in the human type.

So far we have not been able to penetrate the secrets of ant life, or of the bee life, despite our so-called “intelligence,” so we should not judge too harshly what is and what is not possible, when it comes to reasoning intelligence.

In nature we know that everything is repeated—not only once, but thousands of times. Why should reasoning intelligence be represented only in one species?

At any rate, we know that somehow you will feel that “Beyond the Pole” is a real story, where real facts are given to you for what they are worth. It is an engrossing story that cannot fail to grip you from start to finish.

Introductory note by Dr. Abbott E. Lyman

Before giving this really marvelous tale to the world, I feel that it is important to offer a few lines of explanation, as well as a brief sketch or synopsis of the events that led to my discovery of the manuscript relating the incredible adventures of this writer.

As a naturalist specializing in ornithology, I had long been attracted to the regions of the little-known Antarctic as a rich field for my studies. Very largely, perhaps, my interest in Antarctic ornithology was due to the fact that I resided in New Bedford, a town famous in former years for the number of its whaling vessels, many of which sailed annually for the southern oceans in search of sea-elephant oil. From the officers of these vessels I obtained many specimens of birds’ skins and eggs brought back by the obliging whalemen. Such specimens were, however, more or less unsatisfactory for scientific study, and I at last made up my mind to visit the Antarctic in person in order to observe and study that avifauna in its own habitat.

It thus happened that I secured passage upon a whaleship bound for the South Atlantic and South Indian oceans, and, after an uneventful voyage of several months, I found myself gazing from tho bark’s deck at the frowning mountain peaks of Kerguelen, or as it is also called, Desolation Island.

A Columbus of Space, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 16-24

by Garrett P. Serviss.
First published in 1909
Published in Amazing Stories, October 1926, pp. 596-615, 669.

WHAT WENT BEFORE. The hero of the story, Edmund Stonewall, has discovered how to utilize atomic energy. He constructs a car that can traverse interplanetary space, actuated by this energy, and with two friends starts on a trip to the planet Venus, not disclosing to them his intention at first. He reaches a rather desolate part of the planet, where daylight never appears, sees the almost apelike inhabitants, cave dwellers, who wish to sacrifice one of them to the gods, and they rescue the proposed victim only by killing the High Priest. They get in among the valleys in a mountain of ice, on the edge of the dark face of the planet, taking with them some of the cave dwellers on sleds. The car with sleds fastened alongside and all but one of the cave dwellers upon them, is carried now along a sort of glacial stream, but soon sleds and the unfortunate occupants disappear, and our travelers are left with only one of the apelike cave dwellers, Juba, as company. Now they reach the warm regions of Venus, where there is perpetual day, and there find a highly developed race who communicate with each other by a species of telepathy, and our travelers are enchanted by the beautiful appearance of the beings, who are superior in every way to terrestrial mankind.

As they fly, a terrible catastrophe is narrowly averted, Edmund shooting the steersman on a threatening airplane. A beautiful woman, Ala, the heroine of the story, saves them from the wrath of the moo by her influence; she and Edmund fall in love with each other. Edmund has a rival, Ingra, in his claims on Ala, and the plotting and deeds of Ingra are directed to getting rid of the earthly visitors. They explore the country, are threatened by a huge monster, and at last get into a true Eden on the planet. The story leaves them with Ingra and his party in the midst of an attack upon the earthly visitors and upon Ala’s escort.

INTRODUCTION. In the concluding chapters of this charming interplanetarian tale, we find our heroes beset by many new and extraordinary dangers. There is hardly a page of the concluding chapters in which excitement does not run high. We are not going to tell you the end of the story, because we do not wish to spoil it for you.

As in the previous installments, Professor Garrett P. Serviss has given an accurate scientific analysis of what may be found on Venus should the planet ever be explored.

16B. Turning the Tables, continued

Our assailants retreated into the bashes as we threatened them with the pistols, but Edmund would not allow Ingra to escape with the others. The fellow was completely cowed, knowing the deadly power of our pistols, and he obeyed Edmund’s commands with a dejected air, occasionally glancing at Ala, who disdained to return his look.

Edmund backed him into the open door of the car, and we all entered, after hunting up the maid who, half scared to death, had concealed herself in the bushes. Then Edmund closed the door and turned to the machinery, leaving to us the care of guarding our prisoner.

The latter sat quietly enough on a bench, Jack on one side of him and I on the other, while Ala placed herself as far from him as she could get.

I wondered at the fellow’s audacity. Surely no man in his senses would have thought of winning a woman’s heart by violence, but evidently his passionate nature had overcome all scruples of reason, and as for conscience, he had none.

Ala’s detestation of him was written on her every feature.

After we had got out of the wild tangle of branches, vines, and flowers, the car rose to a considerable elevation, and Edmund circled about to get his bearings. Then Ala went to his side.

Conversing together, they looked out of the windows, and she indicated the direction that we were to pursue. First we darted high in the air, and then set off at a great rate. It now became evident at what a vast distance from the capital, and from the inhabited lands of Venus, we had landed in our wild descent from the cloud dome.

But for Ala’s topographical knowledge, we should have been long in finding the proper route.

The way once pointed out, however, we never swerved aside, and Edmund worked up the speed to as high a point as he deemed safe in that dense atmosphere, which seemed to flow in translucent waves about the sides of the rushing car. At last I asked Edmund what he intended to do with the prisoner.

“I’ll put him behind bars,” he replied grimly, “if I have to construct them myself.”

The Purchase of the North Pole, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 8–20

by Jules Verne
Published in French as Sans dessus dessous in 1889
Published in Amazing Stories, October 1926, pp. 616-635.

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE. Jules Verne has taken us to America. A rich widow in love with the mathematician backs a proposition to change the inclination of the earth’s axis to the ecliptic, so as to bring it vertical thereto, then there will be no change of seasons; only day and night will be left. They anticipate that the North Pole will then be accessible and that they will find there great coal deposits. There is the usual shareholders’ meeting and everything seems in a fair way to progress in great triumph. But a lightning stroke upsets the mathematical calculations.

INTRODUCTION. In the second and final installment we find our favorite author continuing this classic tale in a lighter vein. Is it possible for the earth’s axis to be changed by any human agency? Evidently our hero, Mr. J.T. Maston, one of the world’s greatest mathematicians, ought to know, because was it not he who successfully made the careful calculations of the projectile that took a number of travelers on a trip from the earth to the moon, and around it?

Indeed, J.T. Maston was not wrong. He knew his mathematics. But then, on the other hand, there are many other things in the universe outside of mathematics, and Jules Verne, in his inimitable manner, shows us all of these in his concluding chapters.

Excellent science, excellent humor, and an excellent author make a combination hard to beat.

8B. What Causes the Seasons?

In the first place, during the diurnal rotation of Jupiter, which occupies nine hours, 55 minutes, the days are always equal to the nights in all latitudes; that is to say, the Jovian day is four hours, 57 minutes long, and the Jovian night lasts also four hours and 57 minutes.

“There,” said the admirers of Jovian existence, “you have something suited to people of regular habits. They will be delighted to submit to such regularity.”

That is what would happen to the Earth if Barbicane did what he promised, only as the new axis would make no difference in the time of rotation, 24 hours would still separate the successive noons, and our spheroid would be blessed with nights and days each 12 hours long, and we should live in a perpetual equinox.

“But the climatal phenomena would be much more curious; and no less interesting,” said the enthusiasts, “would be the absence of the seasons.”

Owing to the inclination of the axis to the plane of the orbit, we have the annual changes known as spring, summer, autumn, and winter. The Jovians could know nothing of these things, and the Terrestrians would know them no more. The moment the new axis became perpendicular to the ecliptic there would be neither frigid zones nor torrid zones, but the whole Earth would rejoice in a temperate climate.

Why was this?

What is the torrid zone? It is that part of the Earth comprised between the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn. Every place within this zone has the Sun in the zenith twice a year.

What are the temperate zones? The part comprised between the tropics and the polar circles; between 23°28′ and 66°32′ of latitude, and in which the Sun never rises to the zenith, but is above the horizon on every day in the year.

What are the frigid zones? That part of the circumpolar regions in which the Sun does not rise above the horizon on every day in the year; while at the pole itself he does not rise for six months at a time.

The height of the Sun above the horizon is the cause of the excessive heat of the torrid zone, the moderate heat of the temperate zone, and the excessive cold within the polar circles.

When the axis became perpendicular these things would be different. The Sun would remain on the plane of the equator. All the year round he would pursue his imperturbable 12-hour course, and rise to a distance from the zenith according to the latitude of the place. In countries of 20 degrees of latitude he would rise 70 degrees above the horizon; in countries of 49 degrees of latitude he would rise 41; in places of 84 degrees he would rise six, and of 90 degrees (the pole), he would just peep half his diameter above the horizon. The days would be perfectly regular, and the Sun would rise at the same time, and also at the same point on the horizon, throughout the year.

“Look at the advantages!” said the friends of Barbicane. “Every man, according to his temperament, can choose his own climate, which will be invariable!”

The Island of Dr. Moreau, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 1–13

by H.G. Wells
First published in 1896.
Published in Amazing Stories, October 1926, pp. 636-655, 671.

INTRODUCTION. Here is a tremendous story by our well-known author, a story which, for gripping and human interest, probably has no parallel in the annals of our whole modern literature. It is, frankly, not a very pleasant story to read, but it is certainly the most daring and unusual piece of literature in existence today.

Mr. Wells himself calls the story “A Possibility.” We do not wish to disagree with him here, but it is our opinion that Mr. Wells has tried to sketch a travesty upon human beings, and in this he has more than succeeded. The thin veneer of civilization with which we humans are covered is ruthlessly torn aside in Mr. Wells’ analogy of the human race, and it leaves us much as we really are without the veneer.

This is a really engrossing story, superb all the way through.

Introduction

On February the First 1887, the Lady Vain was lost by collision with a derelict when about in latitude 1°S. and longitude 107°W.

On January the Fifth, 1888—that is 11 months and four days after—my uncle, Edward Prendick, a private gentleman, who certainly went aboard the Lady Vain at Callao, and who had been considered drowned, was picked up in latitude 5°3′ S. and longitude 101°W. in a small open boat of which the name was illegible, but which is supposed to have belonged to the missing schooner Ipecacuanha. He gave such a strange account of himself that he was supposed demented. Subsequently he alleged that his mind was a blank from the moment of his escape from the Lady Vain. His case was discussed among psychologists at the time as a curious instance of the lapse of memory consequent upon physical and mental stress. The following narrative was found among his papers by the undersigned, his nephew and heir, but unaccompanied by any definite request for publication.

The only island known to exist in the region in which my uncle was picked up is Noble’s Isle, a small volcanic islet and uninhabited. It was visited in 1891 by H.M.S. Scorpion. A party of sailors then landed, but found nothing living thereon except certain curious white moths, some hogs and rabbits, and some rather peculiar rats. So that this narrative is without confirmation in its most essential particular. With that understood, there seems no harm in putting this strange story before the public in accordance, as I believe, with my uncle’s intentions. There is at least this much in its behalf: my uncle passed out of human knowledge about latitude 5°S. and longitude 105°E., and reappeared in the same part of the ocean after a space of 11 months. In some way he must have lived during the interval. And it seems that a schooner called the Ipecacuanha with a drunken captain, John Davies, did start from Africa with a puma and certain other animals aboard in January, 1887, that the vessel was well known at several ports in the South Pacific, and that it finally disappeared from those seas (with a considerable amount of copra aboard), sailing to its unknown fate from Bayna in December, 1887, a date that tallies entirely with my uncle’s story.

CHARLES EDWARD PRENDICK.

(The Story written by Edward Prendick.)

Blasphemers’ Plateau

by Alexander Snyder
First published in Amazing Stories, October 1926, pp. 656–668.

INTRODUCTION. This new author to whom we now introduce to our readers, has written not only a dramatic, but a tremendously gripping story, that will hold your interest from beginning to end. Modern science is woven all through it, and the end comes as dramatic as a sudden thunderclap. Here we see a scientist gone drunk with power, until at the climax of his achievement he acclaims himself to be God. But read and see what happens!

“Is he expecting you?” asked the hack driver hopefully, extending a gnarled hand for the bag of the elderly newcomer who had just alighted from the late afternoon train.

“Not exactly,” Mason informed him, relinquishing the bag. “I just wrote I’d ‘drop in on him’ one of these days, and receiving no answer to that, I supposed it would be all right for me to come on. Why? What is it?” noting the driver’s air of disappointment.

“We can’t do business then, I guess, Mister. Leastwise, ’twouldn’t he right for me to drive you up there and then have to bring you right back; now would it?”

Mason eyed the shabby old fellow of the delicate scruples with surprise.

“Do you mean to tell me I can’t get in unless I’m expected?”

The driver nodded. “Not after dark you can’t, Mister. It’d be that by the time we covered the four miles to his place.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the crow-beit standing dejectedly between the shafts of an ancient vehicle. “The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be,” he apologized.

“You’re right,” agreed Mason, glancing at the horse. “She’s no descendant of Pegasus, to judge by externals. Well—what am I to do then, if you’re so positive there’s no use going up there tonight? Where shall I stay? There’s no sense taking the next train out, that is, supposing there is one before morning.”

The driver appraised him swiftly. “Well, now, Mister, you could stop up to the Travelers’ Hotel for the night, and travel on up in the morning. How’d that suit you? Hotel’s a mile in the other direction.”

Mason shrugged his shoulders resignedly, “ ‘Needs must, when the devil drives’—Oh! I beg your pardon! I meant nothing personal,” he amended, at the driver’s laugh. “All right, then. The Hotel it shall he.”

He climbed into the hack agilely enough for one of his apparent years, and settled into the seat next the driver’s, while the latter untied the looped reins from around the stock of the whip, resting in its socket, slapped them up and down, and clucked to the mare.

“Are you a native here?” asked Mason, as they backed away from the station and lurched into the road.

“I be’n horn and brought up here, Mister,” responded the driver, glad of an opportunity to while away the trip ahead.

“Then you probably know Doctor Santurn?”

“No sir! I can’t say I do—nor does anyone else ’round about. He’s been a mystery here since he built, up on the Plateau, nigh onto 10 year ago. Beats all how he keeps to himself. Folks do say though—” he stopped apprehensively.