﻿The Project Gutenberg eBook of Eyes That Watch, by Raymond Z. Gallun

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
using this eBook.

Title: Eyes That Watch

Author: Raymond Z. Gallun

Release Date: March 13, 2021 [eBook #64812]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed
             Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES THAT WATCH ***




                            EYES THAT WATCH

                         by RAYMOND Z. GALLUN

             _The Guardians of Space Keep Constant Vigil._

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                          Comet December 40.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


He, Sam Conway, was back from Mars now. Back from red, ferric deserts
no Earthly boot had ever touched before. Back from bitter cold
and aching dryness. Back from dazzling yellow hazes of dust and
suspended ice crystals. No more need to wear oxygen armor in a thin,
ozone-tainted atmosphere now. Back from solitude, and the endless
fight to keep alive out there. Back from the enigma of Martian
civilization's extinction, uncounted ages ago.... Back, back, back....

Home, now! From the window Sam Conway could see a row of maples, orange
and golden in the autumn warmth. Kids were playing football in the
street. Sam's oxy-hydrogen rocket ship, blued and battered and burnt,
was suspended for all time from massive girders in the Smithsonian
Institution. But even that was far away from Bryton, here. It should
have been finished, now--the adventure. Sam Conway should have relaxed.
Even Ellen Varney was beside him now. That should have helped. It did,
a little. Yet only for moments at a time.

Those twenty months of exploration on another world, had become like
a phantom in Sam's thoughts. Faded, distant, contrasting; yet starkly
vivid too. Every hour had been a struggle. Extracting food substances
from the tissues and juices of strange plants. Roasting native
potassium chlorate in a small sun-furnace to extract oxygen from it,
and compressing the precious gas into steel flasks. All this had been
necessary, the dying Martian atmosphere contained only a low percentage
of oxygen.

It had been a strange hand-to-mouth existence out there--a kind of
game in which a fellow tried always to keep one small jump ahead of
Death.

Hauling a crude little metal wagon, in which his supplies were packed,
across the sand for miles and miles at a time, until his brain had
reeled. Sleeping in a tiny airtight tent, when afield from his
rocket.... Sam had never expected to survive those experiences. But
he had, somehow; and it had done something to his soul--hardened it,
and maybe killed part of it; and maybe beautified another part. For
in spite of everything, those vast, ghostly solitudes of Mars _were_
beautiful--

And there was more. Climbing the steep wall of an ancient artificial
gorge not far from the south polar cap; gripping at odd prickly vines
to keep from falling into the hardy thickets below, where tough-shelled
worms crawled sluggishly, he had found something in a small,
sand-drifted cell that was part of a ruin. Something that meant power.

What kind of power? All kinds, perhaps. Scientific learning greater
than that of Earth. Power like that of gold and jewels, but far
exceeding it. Power to wreck and to create, power to destroy worlds.
Power, maybe, to sway minds. Sam still could not guess how far it might
extend, or how deep--

No the adventure was not over, yet. It was just beginning. It wasn't
just nostalgia that tied the consciousness of Sam Conway to a planet,
millions of miles away, whose people had perished in a strange travail
ages ago--a catastrophe whose marks lay in fused, glassy ruins, and in
machines melted and rusted beyond recognition.

Sam had that secret of power hidden away now in a little aluminum box
that had once contained concentrated food rations. And having that
secret--though it thrilled him--still made him wish nervously that he
also had eyes in the back of his head....

Ellen Varney's slim fingers tightened on his arm.

"Sam!" she said almost sharply. "You're dreaming again. What is it?"

He looked at her almost furtively, conscious of the familiar room
around him, the old bookcase, the piano with a shaft of sunlight
touching it gently; the radio and television cabinet. The colonial rag
rugs, bright colored and homey....

Sam wondered wistfully if sometime soon his power would enable him to
preserve in timeless youth the fragile beauty of Ellen Varney. Dark
wavy hair, and an earnest face whose wisdom one could never forget.
Maybe now even immortality would be possible.

Sam was nervous. Haste and preoccupation pressed him. But he put on a
good show for the girl's sake. The lines of worry dissolved around his
grey, deep-set eyes. He ran stubby fingers through his stiff mop of
ash-blond hair, and the tightness of his lips and jaw relaxed into a
sheepish grin.

"Sure I'm dreamin', Honey," he chuckled. "What man in my shoes
wouldn't? Three years back I was nobody, working my way as a student
engineer. Then Joe Nichols and his experts found out that my reflexes
were better than those of anybody they'd tested. And that my brains
and my emotional stability were okay. So pretty soon I was flying out
there toward Mars--all for the glory of giving the Joe Nichols Food
Products a publicity splurge. And now--well don't get the wrong idea
of how I feel about it, Ellen--they've made a big-shot out of me. The
newspapers, the radio, the scientists. I've got a lot to do. I--you
know!"

Ellen Varney was perhaps sure she did know. She smiled faintly, like
the Mona Lisa smiling at the naïveté of men, and their little-boy
vanities. But there was a shadow of worry in her eyes, too.

"You won't stay here for supper, then, with the folks and me, Sam," she
said wistfully. "Like old times...."

Sam couldn't think of anything nicer. But the pull of something else
was much more strong.

"No, Honey," he said. "I--"

"Don't stumble, Sam," the girl returned. "Tomorrow night, then?"

"Maybe. I hope...."

He kissed her. A moment later he was out in the golden afternoon. He
avoided the kids playing football out there in the street just as he
used to play. He would have liked to talk to them. But--not now.

He climbed into his car. There he sat quietly for a moment, thinking.
The autumn shadows, cast by the houses and trees, were long and blue.
They reminded him of the shadows on Mars; and he felt a slight, not
unpleasant, chill of loneliness and mystery plucking at his nerves. The
sound of the wind wasn't so very different here either! Only out there
it was shriller and much fainter and more sad, in the thin air, and
through the muffling fabric of his oxygen suit.

Not so long ago Sam had seen those Martian winds shredding plumes of
rusty red dust from the desert. He'd seen them blow balled masses of
dried, prickly vegetation, like tumbleweeds, across the undulating red
plain, and into the deep machine-dug gorges, all but waterless now,
that on Earth were called the "canals."

He'd seen those dried bundles of weeds collected in rows against
the granite masonry of walls that were cold and crumbled in their
ancientness but which looked fused along their low crests, like old
lava, telling a story of violent and enigmatic calamity.

Thus Sam Conway's reveries became unpleasant once more. He wanted to
hurry again. He started the car, and drove swiftly out of the village.
The tires crunched in dead leaves as he swung into the driveway that
led down by the lake. Premonition must have been working in him,
accentuating his caution and his haste.

There was a fair-sized brick building there, an old garage. He unlocked
the heavy door and went inside. The large main room of the structure
was to be his laboratory; the office, his living quarters.

He surveyed the dingy interior critically. Everything, so far as he
could see, was exactly as he had left it except for a small smear of
ash on the floor in the office room. Driveway ash. Part of a man's
footprint. His own? With the panic of a disturbed miser, Sam Conway
thought back carefully. It could be his own footprint; but he couldn't
remember--couldn't be sure!

His heart began to throb in mounting anxiety at the thought that the
lair of his secret might have been entered during his absence. He
pulled the shades carefully. Then he clawed his way through the clutter
of paraphernalia in the little room--mostly boxes of new laboratory
equipment, as yet unpacked. And a few glass jars containing plant
samples, and specimens of odd Martian fauna--souvenirs he hadn't been
required to turn over to the scientists.

He was sweating profusely from panic when he reached the carefully
fitted mopboard in the corner after pulling aside a small desk. He
pressed part of the wooden ornamentation, and a section of the mopboard
turned on hinges. Feverishly he drew his precious aluminum box from the
hiding place he had contrived, and unfastened its lid. From within came
a reassuring, cryptic gleam; and Sam Conway almost wilted with relief.

But he wasn't satisfied yet. His fear of possible burglary wasn't the
result of miserliness alone. He was afraid to have so gigantic a secret
as he possessed get beyond himself--yet. And he was well aware that man
would kill to own what he owned--and distrusted, withholding it from
Nichols and his scientists.

Carefully he put the aluminum container back, and searched the
premises. The windows. The doors. Everything. But he found no telltale
marks of intrusion. The footprints, then, in the office room must have
been his own. But he'd bar the windows tomorrow. He'd put alarms on the
entrances, and he'd find a safer place for his aluminum box.

Now he prepared to work, getting his notebooks ready, putting a little
collapsible table in the center of the office room, securing the heavy
wood shutters of the windows, turning on the lights, and taking the
aluminum box, which was his storehouse of miracles, once more from
hiding.

As he sat down at the table, he placed a loaded pistol within easy
reach at his elbow. Thus prepared, he lifted his treasure from its
homely metal container, and set it lovingly before him. A cube, perhaps
four inches square. Like glass. Almost crystal in its transparency,
except for a dim misting of pearl. Crowning the cube was a metal
pyramid, much tarnished with age, and a dial. That was all. But Sam's
gaze was almost gloating, as his mind filled with mighty visions of his
own future. He was no different from any other man in this respect, for
the touch of power was on him.

He turned the dial of the Martian apparatus. Within the cube spots
of fire began to move, around and around a glowing center that
was composed of myriad parts. It was all like a three-dimensional
cinema--illustrating, in this instance, some mystery of the atom--its
revolving planetary electrons, its nucleus of neutrons, positrons....

In a strange eight-fingered hand, which left the rest of its eon-dead
owner's anatomy unpictured, a metal pointer was lifted, indicating this
and that. It was like being in school on old Mars, whose people had
been extinct for untold millions of years.... Maybe this apparatus,
which held, in pictured, illustrated form, all the scientific lore of
another time and world, had been a kind of school book.

Sam didn't understand much of this first lesson--yet. There were soft
clinking noises--perhaps speech--which accompanied the fading, waxing,
moving illustrations; but those music-box notes were perhaps forever
beyond him as far as meaning went.

The atomic structure views were replaced at last by pictures of
machines and apparatus--and that was a little better. Before his eyes
Sam saw complicated pieces of apparatus taken apart and reassembled. He
saw complicated processes actually carried out step by step.

Sam Conway's concentration was like a frozen hypnosis, and his brain
was quick. But in the corners of the room there were faint shadows,
and he was conscious of them. Still he took notes, and made drawings
feverishly until the strain began to tell. Of course he could always
refer back to the machine, repeating the views if necessary.

It was a month before he began to build. And then his first effort was
only to produce a furnace and an alloy; the latter a product of the
former. It was harder and more flexible than any steel yet produced.
And it was worth money, providing the means to carry on his study and
his work.

Work.... Sam seldom saw Ellen Varney now. He saw little of anybody. He
told lies to be alone, and to continue his solitary efforts. His sense
of struggle was like being on Mars again fighting for life, plodding
through a thin feathery fall of snow there, in the dazing cold, close
to the polar regions. And he dreamed of gigantic altruisms--the
remaking of civilization.

In four months after his beginning, he had achieved things. Under a
beam of specialized vibrations he saw a mouse do amazing tricks, its
brain stimulated temporarily to an intelligence far beyond normal.
It was awesome, and frightening too, watching that tiny animal
turn--without error, and after it had been shown how only once--the
complicated combination lock of a small door beyond which lay food.

Sam thrilled to the spectacle of the rodent laboring so keenly with its
teeth and forepaws. What if the same waves were applied to the brain of
a man? He would have tried those waves on himself, but his enthusiasm
changed to dread when, with the removal of the beam, the mouse
shuddered into a convulsion and died, its nervous system exhausted.

Biology revealed further mysteries and possibilities. In a glass
flask, packed in a radioactive compound, and filled with water to
which food substances had been added, Sam grew huge amoebae, whose
ancestors had been microscopic. But these creatures were translucent
globules, almost a quarter-inch in diameter. Somewhere here, perhaps,
lay hidden the secret of life itself. But the amoebae died of a strange
disease, the germs of which were perhaps generated out of those same
life processes.... To be sure of safety, Sam poured sulphuric acid into
the culture flask.

He changed his direction now, back to the atom. Eight weeks more, and
he was ready for another test. The main room of the old garage was
crowded with apparatus. Then, one night, Sam closed a switch cautiously.

The result was not much different than the shorting of a high-tension
electric current across a broad arc. A snap. An avalanche of rattling
blue flame, whose glare made everything look sharp and unreal. Then
wires glowed to white heat and crumpled. A huge vacuum tube exploded
into an incandescent puff of metallic vapors, superheated. The current
was dead now--cut off. The experiment was a failure.

There were perhaps ten seconds like this--a sort of unsuspected
bang--like that of a rifle cartridge whose defective primer cap fails
to ignite the powder immediately when the firing pin strikes it.
The garage interior was still illuminated, for the lights were on a
different circuit. Smoke was blue along the raftered roof, and the red
glow had faded from heated metal.

Then, at a moment beyond all expectation, a searing glare leaped out
from between two close-pressed copper electrodes which had been the
center of Sam's experiment. A wave of rays and heat, and stunning
electrical emanations. Sam Conway's mind was far too slow for him to
grasp just what happened. He only remembered a little when, battered
and scorched, he picked himself up from the concrete pavement after a
minute or more.

The points of the electrodes were shattered, but they still glared,
incandescent, providing the only light now, for the light bulbs were
shattered. Staring from aching, ray-reddened eyes, Sam saw only
that glow, for he was temporarily all but blinded. But there were
little pits in that hot copper--pits out of which the metal must have
literally exploded.

[Illustration: _The crackling continued--like a delayed explosion. His
numbed brain sensed that something was terribly wrong._]

He wasn't afraid right away. Not until his brain recalled did he
realize. That bang, after his apparatus had burnt itself out, then that
flash, or whatever you wanted to call it, was atoms breaking down more
violently than they had ever done in the crude experimental atomic
engines so far developed on earth.

Now there was another flash from one of those electrodes--just a tiny,
incredibly brilliant speck--like a spark that flares and dies, failing
to ignite tinder. Almost though. Almost an inconceivable conflagration,
that might have spread and spread, from one atom to others.

Sam's sore eyes could see the broken roof now, and the springtime stars
shining calmly through its splintered rifts. The sky itself was dimly
luminous as with diffused light. Suddenly he was afraid of those stars,
for they were like watching eyes; watching and inscrutable. And there
was ozone--triatomic oxygen--metallically tanging in the atmosphere,
mingled with the odor of burnt insulation. Sam wanted to leave the
building, to go out into the night and cool his dizzied senses and his
blistered body. Yet he had to keep guard to be sure to note anything
further that might happen, for he knew what had just taken place.

Yes, he knew all right! Nature had been probed in its darkest lair by
a clumsy hand. Nature had growled back threateningly. It had almost
bitten. Almost...? Sam Conway's ribs seemed to shrink about his wildly
pounding heart.

He leaned against the cracked brick wall, trembling. In memory he was
on Mars again seeing those ruined buildings, sheered off, buried by the
dust--smelling the metallic reek of ozone that had seeped back through
the breath-vent of his oxygen helmet. Even as here, now. Ozone built up
from the commoner form of oxygen by electrical discharges!

And by swift suggestion, Sam's thoughts went beyond Mars itself.
Outside of the Martian orbit was the Path of Minor Planets--the
asteroids. Broken up fragments. Perhaps a single world, once, that had
been caught in catastrophe....

There was more, too. What were the rings of Saturn? What cataclysmic
circumstance had made them? Atlantis and Mu, the lost continents.
Why had they sunk beneath the sea, taking with them their splendid
civilizations? And there were the novae far out in interstellar space;
normal stars suddenly blazing forth in spectacular ruin. Yes there must
be many other inhabited worlds in the universe, other folk, studying,
learning to control and curb matter and energy. Sometimes knowledge
must get dangerously ahead of itself, lacking a sound foundation of
understanding. And then?

There was silence outside the building. So the crunch of hurrying
footsteps in the cinders of the driveway penetrated easily to Sam's
eardrums and excited nerves. A loud knock sounded at the outside door
of Sam's sleeping room.

He staggered back from his ruined laboratory. From a small chemical
cabinet he procured a flashlight. And he drew the pistol he always
carried now, from his pocket, before he unfastened the heavy bar of the
door.

It was Ellen Varney out there in the dark. Sam hadn't seen her in
almost a week. He had never permitted her to come here when he was
busy. To the rear, down the driveway, the headlamps of the girl's car
made a white lantern-glimmer through the bushes.

For one frightening instant Ellen saw the pistol muzzle levelled toward
her before Sam was able to recognize her and lower the weapon. But she
didn't ask the reason for the gun at all.

"Sam," she stammered. "I couldn't sleep and I heard a funny, sharp
explosion. It seemed to be in this direction. And when I looked out
of the window I saw a glow in the sky--very faint. But it was in this
direction too. I guess I had a hunch, so I drove out here. All the way
I could smell ozone in the air. You can hardly see the phosphorescence
in the sky from up close at all. But it's right over. What's wrong,
Sam? What have you _really_ been doing?"

The girl's tense fears, strong enough to make her come here, after
midnight, to his laboratory, emphasized Sam's own private anxieties.

"I haven't been doing much, Honey," he told her hesitantly, and not too
convincingly. "You'd better just run along home to bed. Research causes
accidents once in a while. I'll get everything straightened out all
right."

But in the reflected rays of the flashlight, the girl's face and eyes
were determined.

"I won't go, Sam," she said very definitely, "until I find out that
everything is all right. First place, you're hurt, and I'd be stubborn
for your sake. But there's more. That glow in the sky. That smell of
ozone--not only here, but everywhere here.... What does it all mean,
Sam?"

Conway looked nervously toward the heavens. Yes, he could see a halo
of light, sure enough. He had thought it was only the diffusion of
starshine by the moisture in the atmosphere. Now he knew better. It was
a little too bright and too low to be an aurora. It could be _like_ an
aurora, of course, something electrical and yet not quite the real,
normal thing.

The breeze outside bore a slight yet unmistakable pungence of ozone
too. It was just as Ellen had said. The gas was not only in the lab.
It was here, too, as though all the atmosphere in the neighborhood had
been affected by some electrical process.

"Listen!" Ellen said suddenly.

Sam strained his ears. At first he could detect nothing at all. Then he
noticed a dim, lonely humming, that seemed to emanate from the ground,
and from the bricks of the laboratory.

The sound seemed to be getting gradually louder. It made Sam shudder
with the mystery of hidden things. And he began to feel, too, a sharp
ache in his muscles, quite distinct from the soreness of his minor
injury.

Suspicion grew on him again; suspicion that his latest experiment had
been not entirely without lasting effect. Something _had_ happened!
Something had been started after all!

Sam grasped Ellen by the arm. "Come inside, Ellen," he said. "I've got
to make a few tests."

He did this very quickly, working in the beam of his flashlight, which
the girl held for him. Meanwhile he made a complete confession, telling
her what he'd found on Mars and what he'd been doing.

He found now that he couldn't keep an electroscope charged. This
meant that the air was ionized--that it would promptly conduct away
any electrical charge that the instrument might hold. And atmospheric
ionization meant, or could mean, the presence of radioactivity--of
atomic disturbances.

He tried exposing a bit of photographic film in the dark. In the
developing fluids it turned entirely black. There were strong invisible
rays then, to affect it; rays coming from the walls, the ground,
the very air itself perhaps. Rays probably from bursting atoms. The
sound--the humming--must be some incidental phenomenon of their
breakdown.

Dully Sam felt of the walls. Their temperature was already higher than
that of the air and they vibrated distinctly with that steady hum.
Sam's whole body felt hot, as though a strange flame was blazing in his
own flesh.

He was sure, then. He had started a slow, progressive form of atomic
disintegration in all the materials around him. In his own body too!
It hadn't been the sudden fire of violent incandescence. That _might_
have come. It had just been missed. The igniting spark hadn't been
quite strong enough. Instead there was only a sort of smouldering.
But, undeniably, atomic power was being released in a deadly, and
uncontrollable if gradual, form.

The flashlight lay on the table shedding its white beam. Sam saw that
Ellen's face was pale and her eyes glassy.

Sam had not the faintest idea of what he might do to check what he had
started. "Get out of here, Ellen," he growled thickly. "Beat it! I've
gone and tried to play God. And now hell's broken loose! Tell everybody
to scram away from here!"

Very unsteadily the girl arose from the chair where she had seated
herself. "I don't want to go, Sam," she stammered. "I can't leave you
now."

He had to stumble forward then, to catch her before she fell. Her face
was hot and damp with a weird fever. Her body had been affected too,
by coming into the zone of influence. Sam Conway winced with an awful
anguish as he picked Ellen up and tried to carry her toward the open
door, and the safer night air outside.

It was only then that he realized how weak and sick he was himself.
Strange rays were tearing at his nerves and brain. His very flesh
was slowly--very slowly--giving up its atomic power, in a gradual
radioactive decay!

He stumbled at his first step and fell crashing to the floor. Paralysis
rushed over him, and that droning sound was like a death-dirge in his
ears. He tried to drag Ellen's unconscious form toward the door, but
the effort was useless. He couldn't even crawl. He just lay there,
panting torturedly, his hot brain working in a chaos of fever. He
understood now.

The death of Mars all over again. The fused walls. The melted machines.
The ozone in the air. A slow, creeping smouldering destruction had
burnt itself out at last; perhaps when a new balance had been reached
in the atoms of the Martian crust. A crust. A cancerous disease moving
in an irregular path, depleting air and water. But there still must be
a tiny part of the old process of atomic breakdown continuing on Mars
today, maintaining, by electrical disturbances, the ozone in the air.

And he, Sam Conway, had started that same creeping horror here on
Earth. It would go along now, spreading and spreading. The walls around
him would soon be melting. And there was nothing a man could do to stop
it. Not even the science of Mars had been able to save the world that
had given it birth. Only in scattered places where the erratic horror
had not reached, perhaps in deep crevices in the rocks, had a few
plants and low animals been able to survive for a new beginning after
most of the fires had died.

Sam Conway cursed himself for his eagerness and lust for power. He'd
been like an old gold miner, he thought savagely, ready almost to
kill his own brother to preserve his secret until he could use it for
himself. There were too many men like that. And now Ellen and all the
rest of the world had to suffer.

Mu. Atlantis. The asteroids that had perhaps once been a plant,
destroyed, maybe, by a much more violent form of atomic breakdown.
But who knew just what accidents might have caused these respective
catastrophes? Science must sometimes get ahead of itself, without even
outside influence. There was always a risk.

       *       *       *       *       *

Sam's mind began to fade out, toward the nothingness of oblivion.

Then the real miracle began to happen. The violence of it jarred his
brain swiftly back toward a semblance of awareness. Suddenly everything
around him was spouting blue electric flame. The table, the chairs, the
walls, even the grass and trees beyond the open doorway rippled with a
sort of aura. The phenomenon lasted for only two seconds. It snapped
and growled like the first dash of some gigantic code signal. Then it
broke off. Then it began again.

Once more it stopped. And started.

Sam, even had his mind been clear, could not have guessed how
widespread the phenomenon was. He could not have known that, within a
twenty mile radius fuses were blowing out, transformers were smoking in
their oil-baths and generators were groaning under a terrific overload,
as though their armatures had been gripped by an invisible colossus.

But Sam could guess some of the might of the new phenomenon. His body
convulsed like the body of a condemned culprit in an electric chair as
shocks ripped through him. He could not imagine the origin of what was
happening now, unless the forces he had unleashed had entered a new
phase of destruction.

Yet this did not seem to be true, for after the first spurt of unknown
power had passed, that sonorous hum of doom had been completely
strangled. Before the second spurt stopped there was a violent ripping
explosion and the tinkling of broken window panes in the adjoining
laboratory room. And that constricting paralysis and heat were gone
from Sam's body. There were five bursts of strange energy, in all. Then
it was over.

Prodded by sheer startlement Sam got to his feet and found that, in
spite of weakness, he could stand. His brain was clearer, too. Ellen
Varney, unconscious before, was trying to rise. He helped her up and
supported her against him.

They stared out of the doorway at the sky. The auroral glow was gone.
But they saw, for just an instant, a huge phosphorescent shape, hanging
high against the stars. It was a little like a colossal image of a man,
but it couldn't have been solid. It was like the aurora itself--as
tenuous, as luminous--a kind of gigantic photograph projected in the
air. The arm of the vapory figure extended; then the whole image
vanished, as if at a speed far exceeding that of light, to some
colossal distance.

Sam didn't even speak of the being right away. He helped the girl out
of the building into the open.

"Wait here for a few seconds, Ellen," he said in a tone that trembled
with awe.

Then he stumbled back into the old garage. All electrical devices were
dead, even his flashlight. He had to find his way to the laboratory by
burning matches. Every bit of apparatus was in fused ruins now, faintly
reddened with heat. But there was no ominous hum in the hot, black
stillness. Something deadly had been burned out of diseased substances
by counter fire. Even Sam's own flesh had submitted to a curative force.

He found his way to one corner of the room, where, beneath a heavy
block of concrete, he had prepared a new hiding place for his aluminum
box, and the Martian demonstration apparatus it contained. Tugging
the block of concrete free, he looked below it, lighting another
match. Somehow the lid of the box had been blown off. Within, the
Martian machine was the same as before, except that the crystal cube
was no longer clear. Instead it was blackened all the way through,
like a black diamond. And there were cracks in it that destroyed its
usefulness forever. It, too, had been touched by those counter waves
of energy. Touching the cube with his fingers, Sam found that it was
hot.

He left the thing in its hole and returned to Ellen, his mind full of
colossal realizations.

The girl's voice quavered with awe as she spoke there under the quiet
stars.

"We had help, didn't we, Sam?" she stammered, remembering the cloud
in the sky, and what Sam had told her about his work. "Somebody from
another world. But who? Where...?"

"I don't know, Honey," Sam answered raggedly. "It wasn't Martian help.
As far as I know, all Martians are dead. Besides, I've seen their
bones. Manlike, but very slender. The being--pictured in the sky was
heavily built."

Sam nodded significantly toward the sky.

"Lots of planets up there," he continued. "In other solar systems. Lots
of different kinds of beings. I suppose some of those races, on planets
of the older stars, have really grown up mentally and scientifically,
till they know all about time and space and dimensions and energy,
and how to handle and conquer them. And I suppose that somehow they
keep careful watch across the awful distance because they've learned
by experience that it may be safer. It's not just to save the necks
of lesser beings but to guard themselves, too. I was messing around
with something pretty big, Ellen. You can't tell how far a danger may
sometimes go. A whole universe may be thrown into chaos--"

Sam's fists were clenching and unclenching absently. It was better for
science to develop gradually, with a race. And even then there would
sometimes be mistakes. Atlantis. Mu. The asteroids. Maybe some of the
novae--

"We'd better get back into town, Sam," Ellen offered practically.
"There may be damage done there--with all that's been happening. We'd
better see."

A chuckle found its way through Sam Conway's awe. "Yeah," he said.
"Like your car. I see the headlights have gone out. Good thing it's
a diesel, with no electrical ignition to blow, and with a cartridge
starter on the motor."

But Sam was too grateful over the miraculous escape from final tragedy
he'd just witnessed, to worry much about damage suits over ruined
electrical equipment.

And he was very grateful for Ellen, too. He might fly out to Mars
some time again, or even farther. But when he touched the girl's warm
shoulder he knew that he was truly home at last.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EYES THAT WATCH ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the
United States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
1.E.8.

1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
  United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
  you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
provided that:

* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
  Literary Archive Foundation."

* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
  works.

* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
  receipt of the work.

* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without
widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
