From strange and distant worlds the master
beings came to Neeoorna, bringing with them
the science of the Universe. One by one
they fought the alien fire—and died. And
now Jonathan Morgan, the Earthling, whose
science was primitive compared to the others,
found himself facing the black flames.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He stood alone in the laboratory, frightened, staring at the tiny motesof dust that swirled lightly in the breeze. That dust had been a blockof solid lead a moment ago; before he had touched it, and concentrated.
Jonathan Morgan licked his lips with a dry tongue. Things like thisshouldn't happen to the assistant to the Chief of the NationalFoundation for Physics Research. It went against every law he hadstudied so absorbedly for the past twelve years, ever since he haddecided in high school to make physics his life work.
"I'm mad," he said to himself, knowing he was utterly sane; that waswhat frightened, knowing his sanity.
He removed a glass test-tube from a wooden rack before him, grasped itfirmly and furrowed his brows over his clear black eyes. If this works,he thought savagely, I can chuck every law of physics and organicchemistry into the junk heap, and become a tramp riding the rods of thefirst train out of town....
The glass in his hands stretched noticeably; grew and expanded to pintsize, to the size of a quart container.
"God!"
The glass shattered on the inlaid linoleum floor. Jonathan put out hisbig hands and clung to the edge of the sandstone tabletop until hismuscles bunched in big ridges all along his hairy forearms.
"Dr. Wooden!" he shouted hoarsely. "Dr. Wooden!"
A big man came and stood in the doorway, staring at him, clad in whitesmock with the sleeves rolled up to bare his wrists.
"Did you call—Jonathan! What's wrong?"
The Chief ran to him, his eyes intent in his white face, his featurestense.
"You've had a shock. Tell me, did the rays react as we'd hoped?"
"No, no. It isn't the rays. It's me. I—I'm infinite!"
Dr. Wooden smiled, saying, "Sit down, boy. You've been working toohard. You need a rest. Forget all about the calcatryte and how to bendthe rays it emanates. You need a change. Perhaps the shore. Or mymountain lodge in the Adirondacks."
Jonathan Morgan straightened, shaking his head, muttering, "No, no."His brain was clearing, and he knew with a grim sureness that somethingbig had happened to him, for a reason. He lifted another block of lead,and looked down at it.
"Watch it, Doctor. Watch the lead."
The lead block quivered strangely, undergoing some queertransformation. Its outlines became blurred and vague. It shrank,dissolved; became infinitesimal bits of dust in Morgan's palm. Jonathanbent and blew on the dust and it fluttered away.
He looked at Doctor Wooden with a wry smile.
"I can do anything, Doctor. I can grow or become small. I can destroyor I can—create!"
"Well," the Chief breathed gustily. "I almost believe you. Whew! Man,do you realize the vast vistas that are opening for you? With powersuch as that ... oh, my God! How trite I am after seeing—that!"
"Does sort of stun you," agreed Jonathan dryly. "Doctor, do you thinkthis gift was given to me for a—reason?"
The Chief glanced sharply at his assistant, then nodded slightly.
"Go on, Jonathan. Tell me what's on your mind."
Jonathan Morgan stalked up and down the laboratory aisle, his tallbody graceful as the stalking panth