Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Comet, July 1941. Extensive research didnot uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publicationwas renewed.
An alien life-form—metallic sinister—threatening all mankindwith annihilation.
The factory saw-toothed the horizon with its hideous profile asthe moon rose in the east. The red glow of the furnaces bathedthe tall buildings, the gigantic scaffolds, the cord-likeelevated pipelines and the columnar smokestacks in the crimson ofanger. Even the moon seemed to fade as the long-fingeredsmokestacks reached toward it belching their pollution. The air,which should have been clean, was filled with the reek ofunfamiliar odors.
From the machine shop, where giant cannon were forged intosmooth, sleek instruments of death, came noise: unchecked,unmuffled, blasphemous din. But something odd was afoot. Therewas a sudden hush. It seemed as if a giant hand had covered themetal city to muffle its screams.
In the nearby city of box-like houses, where the workers lived,there was an echoing stir. Lights glowed in the windows of thetiny homes. People were awakened in the night by the suddencessation of din.
Something was wrong in the factory.
But there couldn't be anything wrong. The factory was enclosed bya high, electrified fence. There were guards on duty night andday, armed to the teeth and ready to shoot an intruder who failedto give an account of himself. There were wars and rumors of warson the face of the earth and there was need for the uninterruptedproduction of sleek cannon.
But, if something were wrong, why didn't the whistle blow? Therewere signals: three short blasts, repeated many times, meantfire; one long blast meant a breakdown; five toots meant alayoff. But now the whistle was silent.
Heads popped from the windows of the houses in the city. Theylistened. Was it a whistle that the workers heard? No. It was awhispering, barely audible at first, then louder. It was thewhisper of tongues of flame. But no flames were visible. Only thered glow of the furnaces lighted up the factory's profile.
One by one the lights of the city went out as workers went backto bed, to toss restlessly. Without noise there could be nosleep.
The tongues of flame still whispered.
A car moved rapidly through the streets of the city. At the wheelwas a man dressed in a captain's uniform. The machine whirledonto the highway that led toward the factory. A barricade,lighted by torch-lanterns, barred his path. A sentry with abayoneted gun stood to one side, signaling a halt.
The car slowed.
"Captain Ted Taylor, ordnance department!" the captain said,extending his pass toward the sentry.
The sentry signaled him on.
The car came within a stone's throw of the factory, where itturned into a parking lot. The officer climbed out, noiselessly,and moved into the shadows.
Once Captain Taylor had been a scientist, but that was long ago,before wars had made biology very unexciting.
Out of the shadows a second figure mo