The Greatest SF Classics of Stanley G. Weinbaum. Stanley G. Weinbaum
of some peaceful farm dwelling. Evanie relieved Jan, and then Connor, pleading his acquaintance with ancient automobiles, drove for a while, to the expressed admiration of the other two.
"You ancients must have been amazing!" said Jan.
"What paving is this?" asked Connor as they darted along.
"Same stuff as our tires. Rubrum. Synthetic rubber."
"Paved by whom?"
"By Urbs," said Jan sourly. "Out of our taxes."
"Well isn't that one answer to your objections? No taxes, no roads."
"The road through Ormon is maintained without taxes, simply by the cooperation of the people."
Connor smiled, remembering that rutted clay road.
"Is it possible to alienate any of the Master's troops?" he asked. "Trained men would help our chances."
"No," Jan said positively. "The man has a genius for loyalty. Such an attempt would be suicide."
"Humph! Do you know—the more I hear of the Master, the more I like him? I can't see why you hate him so! Apparently, he's a good ruler."
"He is a good ruler, damn his clever soul! If he weren't, I told you everybody'd be on our side." Jan turned to Evanie. "See how dangerous the Master is? His charm strikes even through the words of his enemies!"
When they finally stopped for refreshments, Evanie described for Connor other wonders of the Master's world empire. She told him of the hot–house cities of Antarctica under their crystal domes, and especially Austropolis, of the great mining city in the shadow of the Southern Pole, and of Nyx, lying precariously on the slopes of the volcano Erebus.
She had a wealth of detail gleaned from the vision screen, but Jan Orm had traveled there, and added terse comment. All traffic and freight came in by rocket, the Triangles of Urbs, a means too expensive for general use, but the mines produced the highly–prized metal, platinum.
Evanie spoke, too, of the "Urban pond," the new sea formed in the Sahara Desert by the blasting of a passage through the Atlas Mountains to the Mediterranean.
That had made of Algeria and Tripoli fertile countries, and by the increased surface for evaporation, it had changed even the climate of the distant Arabian Desert.
And there was Eartheye on the summit of sky–piercing Everest, the great observatory whose objective mirror was a spinning pool of mercury a hundred feet across, and whose images of stellar bodies were broadcast to students around the world. In this gigantic mirror, Betelgeuse showed a measurable disc, the moon was a pitted plain thirty yards away, and even Mars glowed cryptically at a distance of only two and a half miles.
Connor learned that the red planet still held its mystery. The canals had turned out to be illusion, but the seasonal changes still argued life, and a million tiny markings hinted at some sort of civilization.
"But they've been to the moon," Evanie said, continuing the discussion as they got under way again. "There's a remnant of life there, little crystalline flowers that the great ladies of Urbs sometimes wear. Moon orchids; each one worth a fortune."
"I'd like to give you one some day," murmured Connor.
"Look, Tom!" Evanie cried sharply. "A Triangle!"
He saw it in the radiance of early dawn. It was in fact a triangle with three girders rising from its points to an apex, whence the blast struck down through the open center. At once he realized the logic of the construction, for it could neither tip nor fall while the blast was fed.
How large? He couldn't tell, since it hung at an unknown height. It seemed enormous, at least a hundred feet on a side. And then a lateral blast flared, and it moved rapidly ahead of them into the south.
"Were they watching us, do you suppose?" Evanie asked tensely. "But—of course not! I guess I'm just nervous. Look, Tom, there's Kaatskill, a suburb of the City."
The town was one of magnificent dwellings and vast lawns.
"Kaatskill!" mused Connor. "The home of Rip van Winkle."
Evanie did not get the meaning of that.
"If he lives in Kaatskill I never heard of him," she said. "It is a place where many wealthy Sleepers have settled to enjoy their wealth."
The road widened suddenly, then they topped the crest of a hill. Connor's eyes widened in astonishment as the scene unfolded.
A valley lay before them and, cupped in the hills as in the palm of a colossal hand, lay such a hive of mammoth buildings that for a moment reason refused to accept it. Urbs! Connor knew instantly that only the world capital could stretch in such reaches across to the distant blue hills beyond.
He stared at sky–piercing structures, at tiered streets, at the curious steel web where a monorail car sped like a spider along its silken strand.
"There! Urbs Minor!" whispered Evanie. "Lesser Urbs!"
"Lesser Urbs?"
"Yes, Urbs Major is beyond. See? Toward the hills."
He saw. He saw the incredible structures that loomed Gargantuan. He saw a fleecy cloud drift across one, while behind it twin towers struck yet higher toward the heavens.
"The spires of the Palace," murmured Evanie.
They sped along the topmost of three tiers, and the vast structures were blotted out by nearer ones. For an hour and a half they passed along that seemingly endless street. The morning life of Urbs was appearing, traffic flowed, pedestrians moved in and out of doorways.
The dress of the city had something military about it, with men and women alike garbed in metallic–scaled shirts and either kirtles or brief shorts, with sandaled feet. They were slight in build, as were the Ormon folk, but they had none of the easy–going complacency of the villagers. They were hectic and hurried, and the sight struck a familiar note across the centuries.
Urbs was city incarnate. Connor felt the brilliance, the glamour, the wickedness, that is a part of all great cities from Babylon to Chicago. Here were all of them in one, all the great cities that ever were, all in this gigantic metropolis. Babylon reborn—Imperial Rome made young again!
They crossed, suddenly, a three–tiered viaduct over brown water.
"The canal that makes Urbs a seaport," Evanie explained.
Beyond, rising clifflike from the bank, soared those structural colossi Connor had seen in the blue distance, towering unbelievably into the bright sky. He felt pygmy–like, crushed, stifled, so enormous was the mass. He did not need Evanie's whisper:
"Across the water is Greater Urbs."
Those mountainous piles could be nothing less.
On the crowded sidewalks brilliantly costumed people flowed by, many smoking black cigarettes. That roused a longing in Tom Connor for his ancient pipe, now disintegrated a thousand years. He stared at the bold Urban women with their short hair and metallic garb. Now and again one stared back, either contemptuously, noting his Weed clothing, or in admiration of his strong figure.
Jan Orm guided the car down a long ramp, past the second tier and down into the dusk of the ground level. They cut into a solid line of thunderous trucks, and finally pulled up at the base of one of the giant buildings. Jan drew a deep sigh.
"We're here," he said. "Urbs!"
Connor made no reply. In his mind was only the stunning thought that this colossus called Urbs was the city they were to attempt to conquer with their Weed army—a handful of less than twenty–five thousand!
Revolution
With the cessation of the car's movement a blanket of humid heat closed down on them. The ground