Backteria and Other Improbable Tales (21 page)

He paused, an ironic twist to his narrow-lipped face.

“And, if for
one moment
,” he said, “These minuscules of life decided that they would rather look elsewhere for a home – that, simply, would
be the end of gravity
.”

“No!” I cried.

“Yes!” he cried in answer, “Null-g, then, would only be an interplanetary nomadic urge on the part of the Elements.”

Silence for a moment as I stared in wonder. Then I said,

“You say there are differences between Elements?” I asked.

“Well, of course!” Leslie said, almost indignantly, “Should they be all the same? Should they not be as fully variegated in idea, impulse and philosophy as man himself?”

“I…”

“Well, of course,” said Leslie, “Of course. And is there not
proof
of this truism in physical objectivity? Consider electrostatics, all phenomena of attraction and repulsion. What
are
they but conclusive evidence that the Elements, like anyone else, also have their likes and their dislikes.”

He enumerated.

“One,” he said, “Physical differences. Greater mass in motion ceased said motion sooner than a lesser mass. Why? Because of friction? Balderdash! Because one community of Elements gets tired sooner than another. The larger the community the greater proportion of invalids and young. The larger the increment of fatigue!”

He held up a second finger.

“Two: mental differences. Why do some liquids boil before others, some solids melt before others, some gases ignite before others? Difference in temper, no more nor less. Some Elements are more emotionally unstable than others.

Leslie paused.

“And here,” he said, “We come to the crux of the matter. Namely, that man does not realize what he is tampering with!”

He looked grimly at me.

“These Elements never forget! In most experiments I think that, somehow, these Elements realize they are being preyed upon in
ignorance
. And not with deliberate intent.
However…
!”

Leslie flashed a premonitional eye.

“We
can
overdo ourselves,” he said, “As in, for a glaring instance, the atomic bombs.”

“But how?” I said nervously.

“What is the atomic bomb?” queried Leslie, “But a mass of tortured Elements suffering complete nervous breakdown?”

I shuddered. At the thought.

“The purpose, the
goal
of my pronouncement on the Elements,” Leslie expounded, “Is a request, nay a
plea
to cease from this hideous mangling of Elements!”

He leaned forward.

“How would you feel?” he asked me, “If some monster entity came along, took your home, melted it to slag and then reformed it into a guided missile?”

I swallowed.

“I should not like it,” I said.

“Much less should they like it!” stormed Leslie, “They who were here long before man crawled out of the mud!”

Leslie raised a menacing finger.

“We are in danger,” he said in a hollow, emotion-spent voice, “If we continue making of this world a
torture-chamber
for the Elements - they will revolt! They do not forget –
poor suffering masses…
!”

At that he fell sobbing on his bed.

I stood there shaken to the core. As his broken sobs scalpeled into my brain I fumbled through his papers, reading from logical beginning to stunning conclusion his theory on the Elements.

Some day I will make them all known.

But not now. Tragic entireties dwarf mere details. As tradition-shattering as those details are.

But I have now to make a terrible revelation. Were I of different caliber I might hide it from the world, preferring rather to let it remember Leslie only as the discoverer of the Elements.

But I must be frank, as unkind as it may seem. For so confident am I of the lasting import of Leslie’s discovery that mere personality cannot overshadow it.

That night I tossed fretfully on my pillow unable to sleep, the in- credibleness of Leslie’s discovery mounting in volume until the very idea threatened to engulf me.

Then morning came somehow and I left Leslie sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. I went to class and spent a restless morning listening to lectures, the content of which remains lost to me to this day.

Then, at noon I returned to our room.

To find poor Leslie –
dead
.

The cause seemed simple, though horrifying enough. Leslie, never the practical thinker, had heated a can of beans without punching air holes. Death from shrapnel had been merciless.

But that is not the end. How shall I tell it? It tears my heart out yet to reveal the truth.

The truth which I found in the last page of his experiments on the Elements. I quote it verbatim, awful as it is.

I sit here dying. My life ebbs away quickly. I must make this confession. I have fought the horrible realization but I know, at last, that it is too true
.

I did it deliberately. I heated the Elements in the can until, driven mad by fear and pain, they combusted and…it is just…killed me
.

I am dying. Forgive me, Elements, I have no right to live
.

I know you will never forget
.