Issue 1.4, July 1926

Fiction Versus Facts editorial by Hugo Gernsback

Station X, chapters 1-6, by G. McLeod Winsor

The Man Who Could Work Miracles, by H.G. Wells

The Feline Light and Power Company Is Organized, by Jacque Morgan

The Moon Metal, by Garrett P. Serviss

The Eggs from Lake Tanganyika, by Curt Siodmak

The Magnetic Storm, by Hugo Gernsback

The Sphinx, by Edgar Allan Poe

A Trip to the Center of the Earth, chapters 36-44, by Jules Verne

The Secret of the Invisible Girl, by Clement Fezandié

OUR COVER sorta comes from the story “The Eggs from Lake Tanganyika,” though it doesn’t take place at sea, at all. Since I’ve not found the contents page from issue 4 on the internet, I can’t tell you what precisely was said about it in that issue. —K.W.L.

Fiction Versus Facts

by Hugo Gernsback, F.R.S.
July 1926 (1.4) p. 291.

A few letters have come to the Editor’s desk from some readers who wish to know what prompts us to so frequently preface our stories in our introductory remarks with the statement that this or that scientific plot is not impossible, but quite probable.

These readers seem to have the idea that we try to impress our friends with the fact that whatever is printed in Amazing Stories is not necessarily pure fiction, but could or can be fact.

That impression is quite correct. We do wish to do so, and have tried to do so ever since we started Amazing Stories. As a matter of fact, our editorial policy is built upon this structure and will be so continued indefinitely.

Station X, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 1-6

by G. McLeod Winsor
First published in 1919
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 292-311.

INTRODUCTION. We are beginning in this issue Station X, which we consider by far the greatest radio story that was ever written. At least we have never read or seen a better one. Lest you believe that it is impossible for one being to interchange his mind with that of another and thereby control him physically, please consider the following:

In 1923 the publishers of this magazine, in conjunction with Station WHN, of New York City, then located at Ridgewood, L.I., and Mr. Joseph H. Dunninger, performed the following experiment:

On the morning of July 14, 1923, a subject was placed in front of the loud speaker in Radio News Laboratories at 53 Park Place, New York City. Mr. Dunninger was at the broadcast station WHN, and by commanding the subject, a young man, Mr. Leslie B. Duncan, to fall asleep, he impressed his will upon the subject, from a distance of over 15 miles, until the latter fell into a hypnotic trance.

The subject was examined by over 12 newspaper reporters assembled at 53 Park Place. Long needles were stuck through the subject’s arm, (drawing no blood) and then Dunninger, from a distance, commanded Duncan to fall into a cataleptic state, which prevailed for about half an hour. The subject finally was brought again to his senses by Mr. Dunninger’s commands issuing out of the loudspeaker.

Hypnotizing by radio was therefore proclaimed a success. A full account of the experiment may be found in the September 1923 issue of Science and Invention.

1. The New Post

As Alan Macrae watched the last hues of the sunset from Plymouth Hoe pale over Mount Edgcumbe, he stood out in marked contrast to the stolid West Country types around him. His tall loose-limbed figure, his brooding gaze, his nervous highly-strung manner, marked him as a stranger. A touch on the arm recalled him from his apparently somber thoughts—the touch of a girl who had approached him unobserved.

At the sight of her his melancholy vanished.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Alan,” she cried gaily, “but the manager had a fit.”

“A fit?” questioned Macrae.

“Yes, of work,” exclaimed the girl; “and he kept me doing letters, quite indifferent to the fact that this is our last night together. Let’s walk, shall we?”

As they walked slowly along the Hoe, the contrast between the two was remarkable. The brisk alertness of May Treherne seemed to accentuate her companion’s moodiness and psychic gloom.

The Man Who Could Work Miracles

by H.G. Wells
First published in The Illustrated London News, Summer 1898
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 312-318, 380.

INTRODUCTION. When you start reading this story by the famous author you begin to wonder why such seeming nonsense ever was committed to paper. You begin to doubt if it was really written by H.G. Wells, and as you proceed the thought dawns upon you that he probably wrote it before he was 10 years old.

This thought gains conviction until the final denouement, when the author fully reveals himself, and you have the sinking feeling that the joke is on you.

This interesting story should be read at least twice, in order to get the fullest enjoyment from it, and, incidentally, although this story was written before the recognition of the Einstein theory, it is an excellent illustration of the modern conception of time-space.

Personally we consider it a masterpiece and heartily recommend it to our readers.

1

It is doubtful whether the gift was innate. For my own part, I think it came to him suddenly. Indeed, until he was 30 he was a skeptic, and did not believe in miraculous powers. And here, since it is the most convenient place, I must mention that he was a little man, and had eyes of a hot brown, very erect red hair, a mustache with ends that he twisted up, and freckles. His name was George McWhirter Fotheringay—not the sort of name by any means to lead to any expectation of miracles—and he was clerk at Gomshott’s. He was greatly addicted to assertive argument. It was while he was asserting the impossibility of miracles that he had his first intimation of his extraordinary powers. This particular argument was being held in the bar of the Long Dragon, and Toddy Beamish was conducting the opposition by a monotonous but effective “So you say,” that drove Mr. Fotheringay to the very limit of his patience.

There were present, besides these two, a very dusty cyclist, landlord Cox, and Miss Maybridge, the perfectly respectable and rather portly barmaid of the Dragon. Miss Maybridge was standing with her back to Mr. Fotheringay, washing glasses; the others were watching him, more or less amused by the present ineffectiveness of the assertive method. Goaded by the Torres Vedras tactics of Mr. Beamish, Mr. Fotheringay determined to make an unusual rhetorical effort. “Looky here, Mr. Beamish,” said Mr. Fotheringay. “Let us clearly understand what a miracle is. It’s something contrariwise to the course of nature, done by power of will, something what couldn’t happen without being specially willed.”

“So you say,” said Mr. Beamish, repulsing him.

The Feline Light and Power Company Is Organized

by Jacque Morgan
From The Scientific Adventures of Mr. Fosdick
First published in Modern Electrics, October 1912
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 319-321, 383.

INTRODUCTION. Science is not the dry thing that some people would like us to believe. Mr. Fosdick, in this captivating tale, demonstrates this most aptly. Did you ever stroke a cat in the dark, and watch the sparks leap between your hand and the cat’s fur? Perhaps you did. But it remained for the illustrious Fosdick to commercialize thus great inherent power. The results were most amazing, as the readers will soon find out.

Starting with a single cat, highly charged with electricity, see what a catastrophe—no pun intended—he brings upon himself. There is only one point we missed and that is “What electrode in the experiment was the CAThode?”

Jason Q. Fosdick closed the book that he had received by mail that morning, Electricity at a Glance, and for a long time stared at the blank wall of the tinshop. Mr. Fosdick was thinking. Mr. Fosdick spent a great deal of his time in thought—probably most of his time. It was a common saying in Whiffleville that “When Mr. Fosdick gets through his thinking something is going to happen!” And in this the citizens were never disappointed, for invariably when Mr. Fosdick did get through his thinking something always did happen. Everybody liked the homely little man with the kindly face and the mild blue eyes, and in all the countryside none enjoyed a greater confidence and respect than Mr. Fosdick, for he was an inventor and genius. In all matters pertaining to science he was the village authority—even a greater authority than old Professor Snooks, the fiercely bewhiskered savant of Doolittle College up on the hill. Snooks had once called him “a doddering tinker,” but this Mr. Fosdick attributed to jealousy as did all the inhabitants of Whiffleville, for the Professor was a pompous man and an unpopular one. No fair-minded person could doubt Mr. Fosdick’s versatility in the arts and crafts, for upon the signboard that hung over the sidewalk, in front of the door of the tinshop, was lettered his many accomplishments:

JASON QUINCY FOSDICK

Tinsmith, Key-Fitter and Scissors-Grinder

The Moon Metal

by Garrett P. Serviss
First published in 1900
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 322-345, 381.

INTRODUCTION. One of the finest pieces of scientifiction ever written is The Moon Metal. This classic, by the well-known Professor Garrett P. Serviss, contains a tremendous amount of excellent science. While this story was written at the close of the 19th century no one in this latter day of transmission of radio over great distances, and the actual accomplishment of transmutation of gases and the like, can find fault or can question that such a scheme, as propounded by the author—that is, of extracting ore or metal from a distant body without intervening physical means—can some day be accomplished.

The story keeps up a tremendous interest, because you are not permitted to know, for quite a long stretch, just how the moon metal was extracted from the moon. The illustrious author has long enjoyed a reputation as a popularizer of natural science. Here we see him as a true scientific storyteller.

1. South Polar Gold

When the news came of the discovery of gold at the south pole, nobody suspected that the beginning had been reached of a new era in the world’s history. The newsboys cried “Extra!” as they had done a thousand times for murders, battles, fires, and Wall Street panics, but nobody was excited. In fact, the reports at first seemed so exaggerated and improbable that hardly anybody believed a word of them. Who could have been expected to credit a despatch, forwarded by cable from New Zealand, and signed by an unknown name, which contained such a statement as this:

“A seam of gold which can be cut with a knife has been found within 10 miles of the south pole.”

The discovery of the pole itself had been announced three years before, and several scientific parties were known to be exploring the remarkable continent that surrounds it. But while they had sent home many highly interesting reports, there had been nothing to suggest the possibility of such an amazing discovery as that which was now announced. Accordingly, most sensible people looked upon the New Zealand despatch as a hoax.

But within a week, and from a different source, flashed another despatch which more than confirmed the first. It declared that gold existed near the south pole in practically unlimited quantity. Some geologists said this accounted for the greater depth of the Antarctic Ocean. It had always been noticed that the southern hemisphere appeared to be a little overweighted. People now began to prick up their ears, and many letters of inquiry appeared in the newspapers concerning the wonderful tidings from the south. Some asked for information about the shortest route to the new gold fields.

In a little while several additional reports came, some via New Zealand, others via South America, and all confirming in every respect what had been sent before. Then a New York newspaper sent a swift steamer to the Antarctic, and when this enterprising journal published a four-page cable describing the discoveries in detail, all doubt vanished and the rush began.

Some time I may undertake a description of the wild scenes that occurred when, at last, the inhabitants of the northern hemisphere were convinced that boundless stores of gold existed in the unclaimed and uninhabited wastes surrounding the south pole. But at present I have something more wonderful to relate.

Let me briefly depict the situation.

The Eggs from Lake Tanganyika

by Curt Siodmak
First published as “Die Eier vom Tanganjika-See” in Scherl’s Magazin, April 1926
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 346-349, 384.

INTRODUCTION. We consider this extraordinary story a classic, and certainly the best scientifiction story so far for 1926.

How large can insects grow? Is there any limit to their size? Frankly, no one knows. We have almost microscopically small flies, and in some of the tropical countries we have some almost as large as the fist. Is it possible to have still larger flies, and could monstrous flies such as are depicted in this story, be bred at some future date? The author of this brilliant tale evidently thinks so.

Anyway, we trust he is mistaken, as we should not like to meet such monsters. The science of entomology presented in this story is excellent, and will arouse your imagination.

Professor Meyer-Maier drew a sharp needle out of the cushion, carefully picked up with the pincers the fly lying in front of him, and stuck it carefully upon a piece of white paper. He looked over the rim of his glasses, dipped his pen in the ink, and wrote under the specimen:

“Glossina palpalis, specimen from Tsetse-fly River. In the aboriginal language termed nsi-nsi. Usually found on river courses and lakes in West Africa. Bearer of the malady Negana (Tsetse sickness—sleeping sickness).

He laid down the pen and took up a powerful magnifying glass for a closer examination. “A horrible creature,” he murmured, and shivered involuntarily. On each side of the head of the flying horror, there was a monstrous eye surrounded by many sharp lashes and divided up into 100,000 flashing facets. An ugly proboscis thickly studded with curved barbs or hooks grew out of the lower side of the head. The wings were small and pointed, the legs armed with thorns, spines, and claws. The thorax was muscular, like that of a prize fighter. The abdomen was thin and looked like india rubber. It could take in a great quantity of blood and expand like a balloon. On the whole, the flying horror, resembling a prehistoric flying dragon, was not very pleasant looking. Prof. Meyer-Maier took a pin and transfixed the body of the fly. It seemed to him that a vicious sheen of light emanated from the eyes and that the proboscis rolled up. Quickly he picked up the magnifying glass, but it was an optical illusion—the thing was dead, with all its poison still within its body.

With a deep sigh he laid aside pincers and magnifying glass and sank into a deep reverie. The clock struck 12. 1-2-3-4-5, counted Professor Meyer-Maier.

In Udjidji, a village on Lake Tanganyika, the natives had told him of gigantic flies inhabiting the interior further north. These monsters were three times as big as the giants composing the giant bodyguard of the Prince of Ssuggi, who all had to be of at least standard height. Meyer-Maier laughed over this Negro fable, but the Negroes were obstinate. They refused to follow him to the northern part of Lake Tanganyika. Even Msu-uru, his Black servant, who otherwise made an intelligent impression, trembled with excitement and begged to be left out of the expedition—because there enormous flies and bees were to be found, that let no man approach. They drank the river dry and guarded the valley of the elephants. “The Valley of the Elephants” was a fabled place where the old pachyderms withdrew to die. “It is inexplicable,” soliloquized Meyer-Maier, “that no one ever found a dead elephant.”

The clock struck 6-7-8.

The Magnetic Storm

by Hugo Gernsback
First published in Electrical Experimenter, August 1918
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 350-356, 384.

INTRODUCTION. This story was written during the world war, long before the death ray was ever “invented.”

It is believed in some quarters that here we have the original germ of the death ray. In fact, the means chosen by the author to bring down enemy airplanes by means of electricity were exploited a number of years later by Grindell Matthews, although he admits today that the death ray was pure fiction. Nevertheless at some future date it will be possible to do just what the author tells us in this story.

Nikola Tesla, who read the original proofs of this story, endorses the idea. He himself was able to burn out electrical amateurs 13 miles from his famous Colorado power plant, in 1892, when he was also able to light electric lamps at this distance, without wires.

“Why” Sparks had stopped reading the New York Evening World. He contemplated his old meerschaum pipe meditatively while with his long and lanky index finger, stained by many acids, he carefully rubbed a long, thin, and quivering nose. This was always a sign of deep, concentrated thought of the nose’s owner. It also, as a rule, induced the birth of a great idea.

Again, and very slowly, he re-read the article, which millions that same day had read casually, without a quiver, let alone a nose quiver. The newspaper item was simple enough:

NEW YORK, Aug. 10, 1917—An electromagnetic storm of great violence swept over the eastern section of the United States last night. Due to a brilliant Aurora Borealis—the Northern Lights—telegraph and long distance telephone, as well as cable communications, were interrupted for hours. No telegraphic traffic was possible between New York and points west. It was impossible to work any of the transatlantic cables between 12:15 A.M. and 9:15 A.M., every one of them having “gone dead.” The Aurora Borealis disturbance affected all telegraph and telephone lines extending between Chicago and the eastern cities. On telegraph wires of the Postal Telegraph Co. without regular battery being applied at terminal offices, grounded lines showed a potential of 425 volts positive, varying to 225 volts negative; the disturbance continuing between 12:15 A.M. and 9:15 A.M.

At Newark, N.J., in the Broad Street office a Western Union operator was severely shocked, trying to operate the key, while long sparks played about his instruments.

Sparks rose excitedly and began pacing the cement floor of the vast Tesla laboratory, totally oblivious to the fact that he was sucking a cold pipe. The more he paced about, the more excited he became. Finally he flung himself into a chair and began feverishly to make sketches on big white sheets of drawing paper.

The Sphinx

by Edgar Allan Poe
First published in Arthur’s Ladies Magazine, January 1846
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 357-359.

INTRODUCTION. This little-known classic by Edgar Allan Poe is chiefly interesting because it once more shows us how our senses are sometimes fooled and how nature often contrives to play some huge joke on us.

In this story Poe takes as his vehicle the science of optics, and with his usual facile pen he manages to excite your interest to a high pitch. The denouement is as simple as it is startling.

During the dread reign of the cholera in New York, I had accepted the invitation of a relative to spend a fortnight with him in the retirement of his cottage orné on the banks of the Hudson. We had here around us all the ordinary means of summer amusement; and what with rambling in the woods, sketching, boating, fishing, bathing, music, and books, we should have passed the time pleasantly enough, but for the fearful intelligence which reached us every morning from the populous city. Not a day elapsed which did not bring us news of the decease of some acquaintance. Then, as the fatality increased, we learned to expect daily the loss of some friend. At length we trembled at the approach of every messenger. The very air from the south seemed to us redolent with death. That palsying thought, indeed, took entire possession of my soul. I could neither speak, think, nor dream of anything else. My host was of a less excitable temperament, and, although greatly depressed in spirits, exerted himself to sustain my own. His richly philosophical intellect was not at any time affected by unrealities. To the substances of terror he was sufficiently alive, but of its shadows he had no apprehension.

His endeavors to arouse me from the condition of abnormal gloom into which I had fallen were frustrated in great measure, by certain volumes which I had found in his library. These were of a character to force into germination whatever seeds of hereditary superstition lay latent in my bosom. I had been reading these books without his knowledge, and thus he was often at a loss to account for the forcible impressions which had been made upon my fancy.

A Trip to the Center of the Earth, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 36-44

by Jules Verne
Published in French as Voyage au centre de la Terre, 1864
Published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 360-375, 384.

INTRODUCTION. Jules Verne’s great romance is concluded in this issue. It is possible that some of our readers may find fault with the vehicle that Verne chose to bring back the travelers from the earth’s interior. But it should be remembered that back they had to come, and we know of no better method than the one which Verne chose. At least it is logical, although the chances are that our heroes would not have survived such an ordeal. But we should not be too critical on such points, for the story certainly is and remains one of the great classics of scientifiction. Some of the most breathless and hair-raising episodes occur in the closing chapters.

WHAT WENT BEFORE. Professor Hardwigg, chemist, philosopher, mineralogist, etc., while delighting in a rare, old book by a famous Iceland author, comes upon a mysterious parchment containing a secret message. The Professor and his nephew Harry have deciphered it: “Descend into the crater of the Yokul of Sneffels, which the shade of Scartaris covers before the kalends of July, audacious traveler, and you will reach the center of the earth. I did it.—Arne Saknussem.”

The professor and Harry (in the case of the latter, much against his will and better judgment) start for Iceland and Mount Sneffels, with the good wishes of Gretchen, the professor’s ward and Harry’s fiancée. In Iceland they very fortunately obtain the services of Hans, a true Icelandic guide—calm, stolid and dependable. After numerous adventures and many interesting encounters and difficult climbing, they reach Mt. Sneffels and descend into its crater. THey go deeper and deeper, lowering themselves into the bigger shafts by means of sturdy ropes doubled over the rocks above.

Once now, they were reassured of the validity of the mysterious message when they noticed the inscription “Arne Saknussem” on some rocks. Also, they see all kinds of rock formations, gypsum, stalactites and stalagmites, etc. In their desperate search for a spring, they hear and tap a tremendous torrent of hot water, which for a time also acts as a guide to them in their descent. Then, to cap it all, Harry strays from his companions and in his attempt to rejoin them gets hopelessly lost. When he has about given up all hope of finding his companions or of being found, he hears voices and discovers a “whispering gallery.” Thus they are able to communicate with each other and after some calculation, they effect a reunion.

They continue on their way until they come to an enormous expanse of water—the Central Sea. Hans succeeds in building a raft and they start off for another shore. But they meet some huge sea monsters among other dangers, and after many days on the water cannot see any signs of a shore. And then by means of a terrific hurricane and storm they are very rudely brought back to a point on the same side from which they started. There was lots of time lost, but they are not discouraged. While Hans is repairing the raft, Professor Hardwigg and Harry go off on a tour of further discovery and they are not disappointed. New wonders unfold themselves at every turn.

36. What Is It?

For a long and weary hour we tramped over this great bed of bones. We advanced regardless of everything, drawn on by ardent curiosity. What other marvels did this great cavern contain—what other wondrous treasures for the scientific man? My eyes were quite prepared for any number of surprises, my imagination lived in expectation of something new and wonderful.

The borders of the great Central Ocean had for some time disappeared behind the hills that were scattered over the ground occupied by the plain of bones. The imprudent and enthusiastic Professor, who did not care whether he lost himself or not, hurried me forward. We advanced silently, bathed in waves of electric fluid. The light illumined equally the sides of every hill and rock. The appearance presented was that of a tropical country at midday in summer—in the midst of the equatorial regions and under the vertical rays of the sun. The rocks, the distant mountains, some confused masses of far-off forests, assumed a weird and mysterious aspect under this equal distribution of the luminous fluid! We resembled, to a certain extent, the mysterious personage in one of Hoffmann’s fantastic tales—the man who lost his shadow.¹ ¹Error. The author was Adelbert van Chamisso.

After we had walked about a mile farther, we came to the edge of a vast forest, not, however, one of the vast mushroom forests we had discovered near Port Gretchen.vIt was the glorious and wild vegetation of the tertiary period, in all its superb magnificence. Huge palms, of a species now unknown, superb palmacites—a genus of fossil palms from the coal formation—pines, yews, cypress, and conifers or cone-bearing trees, the whole bound together by an inextricable and complicated mass of creeping plants. A beautiful carpet of mosses and ferns grew beneath the trees. Pleasant brooks murmured beneath umbrageous boughs, little worthy of this name, for no shade did they give. Upon their borders grew small treelike shrubs, such as are seen in the hot countries on our own inhabited globe.

The Secret of the Invisible Girl

by Clement Fezandié
One of Dr. Hackensaw’s Secrets
First published in Amazing Stories, July 1926, pp. 376-379, 384.

INTRODUCTION. Making oneself invisible has always been one of the great fascinations to the human race. And no wonder! Imagine all the mischief we could make, all the eavesdropping we could do, and all the secrets we could unravel!

Scientifically speaking, it is not impossible to make a body invisible. Recent experiments made by a New England professor of chemistry show that when certain liquids are injected into organic tissues, they become practically transparent. The professor succeeded in making small animals entirely transparent and practically invisible. Who knows that in the future, by some means of chemicals, combined with certain rays, it may not be possible for us to make ourselves entirely invisible?

We are sure you will enjoy the latest Dr. Hackensaw exploit of the Invisible Girl. How would you catch an invisible person? But nothing is impossible to Dr. Hackensaw, so see how he did it!

1. A Strange Offer

“Doctor Hackensaw, I’m looking for a place.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but we have no vacancy at present.”

“My name is Phessenden Keene. Although I left school at the age of 15, I have studied at home and have the equivalent of a college education. I am very anxious to study inventing, and having heard a great deal about your marvelous inventions, I should like very much to work for you.”

“I’m sorry, but as I said before, there is no vacancy at present. In fact, this is the dull season and I have more men on hand now than I know what to do with.”

Phessenden Keene smiled. “I know,” said he, “that you have no vacancy for an ordinary man, but I am sure you have one for me!”

Doctor Hackensaw looked up in surprise at this conceited statement and was about to make an angry reply, but a look at the clean-cut, intelligent features of the young man before him, caused him to hold his tongue. The young fellow evidently had a strong will, for he continued:

“I know my own value better than you know it. I am so sure that you have a vacancy for me that I am willing to come to work for you for nothing.”