THE MISTAKE OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
By Jules Archer
If someone told you the world was flat you'd
laugh and call him a fool. But if he proved it—and
you believed him—who'd have the last laugh?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
September 1951
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The man who discovered that the world was flat, after all, was anAustralian hermit named Herbert Fitzgrone. He was a thoughtful man witha glass eye and a metal plate in his head, both obtained during theBoer War. In the bush shanty where he had lived for forty years, hestudied the riddle of the universe.
One day, shortly after he had turned sixty, he made his astonishingdiscovery. He went to Sydney, and found his way to the office of theeditor of the Sydney Sun. He opened the door and went in. "The world,sir," he said simply, "is flat."
Those historic words were the first inkling of the scientific stormthat was to burst without warning on a complacently globular world.Unfortunately, the editor was not there to hear them. It was 11:00A.M., Pacific time, and the Sydney pubs were open. Herbert Fitzgrone, apatient man to whom years were as seconds, sat down in the empty officeto wait.
When the editor showed up at 4:35 P.M., he seemed a trifle confused.He hung his hat on Fitzgrone's head, and sat down in the waste paperbasket. The man of science then stood erect and said it again. "Theworld, sir, is flat."
"That so?" said the editor. "You know, I always had a secret hunch itwas." He was an amiable man, with four children and a glass fountainpen that flashed a light in the top when he used it. At that moment hewasn't quite sure whether Herbert Fitzgrone was alone or at the head ofa delegation.
"I expected you to scoff," Herbert Fitzgrone said, a shade ofdisappointment in his tone. "After all, when Columbus and Magellan saidthe world was round, everybody scoffed. I came here prepared to bescoffed at."
"I don't like to scoff at anybody," the editor said. "I once scoffed ata man in a pub, and he hit me in the eye."
"Well, if you won't," the scientist said, vexed, "you won't. Anyhow,I want to show you my proof that the earth as a globe is a monstrousimpossibility. Look here." He spread out some sheets of paper on theeditor's desk.
"My," said the editor. "Impressive, all right. What is it?"
"Trigonometry. Do you understand it?"
"No, but I'm very fond of it. All those big numbers and everything.Very impressive."
"Well, my calculations prove that the earth couldn't be a globe,because two lines of latitude can't possibly be at the same level. Doyou realize what that means?"
"My God," said the editor in awe.
"Exactly! Suppose you had two ships in Sydney Harbor, one seven milesnorth of the other. According to the globular theory, the northern shipwould also be four miles higher!"
The editor lurched in his swivel chair. "Stop the presses!" he yelledinto the phone, as he had seen editors do in American films. "And getme the Hatson Line quickly!"
He waited for his connection. Then he said, "This is the editor of theSun. Listen and listen carefully. Hold all sailings until furthernotice! I've just learned that the earth is flat! Flat, do youunderstand? God help the ships at sea!"
He hung up, wan and shaken. Then he rushed for the door to get thestory on the presses. He was already through the doo