Adventure Magazine Cover — page 79: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“ir ws ~~ Se: SECS = pn Sa a he | They would not destroy a butterfly, and they might reason that the butterfly was more wonderful than our civilization, be- cause man had made civilization but could _ not make the butterfly. The aeroplane had gone, leaving me in a silence like that of a vast tomb. It is im- possible to describe that silence, so strange after the noise and bustle of everyday Seattle. Even at night the city had never been quite silent; there had been the dis- tant rattle of an all-night street-car, always some auto, the whistle of a steamer in the harbor. But now, not a sound save the chirp of an occasional sparrow. Iam lucky in having accustomed myself to loneliness, but, even so, I feel it. . It’s a strange thought, this, that I am the last man of our civilization. The last man! - Why? Just because I repeated over and over a few simple words? But why should I be the only man to see the need of those words? Also, why has this dreadful curse fallen upon the world? It will be better to leave such questions unasked. I can never answer them, for one thing, and to dabble in the depths of metaphysics is dangerous. No, if I am to exist in this loneliness and preserve my sanityy I must cultivate a common-sense attitude, avoid introspection and find some interesting occupation. I shall have to break into the public library, because the library people locked it up when they left. Had any one told me years ago that I should one day find myself in this situation, and had I believed it, I should have ex- pected myself to have most wonderful thoughts—Hamlet-like soliloquies raised to the mth power. Now that this thing has come to pass, I don’t have them. If any- thing, my mind is mostly occupied with making sure of my future food supply, with the idea of that bath nudging my elbow. There is also a desire to get out, find an auto and explore the deserted town. One thing, however, I must attend to, and that is keeping track of time. Of course I could find it again if I lost it, but I may as well keep track. Then, I suppose, the years will pass, and IT must do my best to rescue any children that may be born to those who were once men and women. The continuity of the germ plasma will save them from inheriting such an acquired characteristic as the hyp- noe state—or will it? If Weismann was eee = ARES ears a altogether correct, it should, but will not the rigors and lack of proper food preclude the possibility of any births? Well, that remains to be seen. At any rate, I must do my best. If only a few hundred children can be saved and they are not affected by the hypnosis, I may cheat the Hindus before I die and . civilization may not entirely fall. But what if those devils have implanted in the minds of their victims the command to kill their young ones at birth? The Hindus were capable of such a thing. I may as well state here that later on T found conclusive evidence that such a com- ° mand had been given. Only at the time of birth, through the agency of some very unlikely chance, will it be possible to save and rear a single child as the nucleus of a future civilization. THE ABOVE WAS WRITTEN BEFORE I TOOK THE AUTOMOBILE RIDE ABOUT THE DESERTED STREETS OF SEATTLE. Note on the margin of M.S. prior to going out of my rooms—I did not go out that first day, not because I was afraid of meet- ing any lurking Hindu, but because I did not feel like going out. Indeed, I wished I could find a Hindu or two. I could easily get a rifle and a revolver before I venture> into the streets. I FOUND a fine car;just outside the apartment, well supplied with gas, ese and there was the whole city’s gaso- line stock to draw upon. At first I had intended to blow the horn as I went along, in the hope of finding another saved man, but I did not, because the mere noise of the motor emphasized my loneliness far too much as it was, and I felt I must train myself to forget that loneliness. I drove slowly down-town to Second Avenue. I can not describe the weirdness of seeing Second Avenue empty in the middle of a sunlit day, for Second had been Seattle’s busiest street. Here and there the window of a jewelry store was smashed, but whether the Hindus had done this to get diamonds—the only things of value they could take with them in the aeroplane —or whether it had beeri done by crazed hoodlums during the last dreadful night, I could not tell. I was puzzled at seeing 1 ‘no dead. So are Se gets te Poll Ow eS — ere Be =f -comi GDOOKS IG \ : pase or » " ’ ar) * 4 : saga La - nS . 4 ~ + 2. tae ‘ ad net ga an Ba at OD eA ee ere IA /