The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

164 pushed back from the table. Those who had been eating were lying on couches, or were writhing in chairs, filled with a misery that found vent in heart-wrenching groans. Lumley grasped the situation in a moment. This was the result of de- cree 3165. These people of the period were trying to carry out the terms of the new law. For years they had sat at their golden grating, conversing pleasantly and absorbing their nutri- tion. Now they were trying to eat the solid, non-vaporized, non-deodorized food, and the result could not be other- wise than painful. Lumley’s heart went out to the suf- ferers, even as his indignation waxed strong against the dictators. It was a brutal decree. Famished as he was, however, the sight of that breakfast tempted him. Not one of the six mem- bers of the household paid him the slightest attention, and he descended quietly, drew up one of the chairs, and sat down at the table. He picked up a fragment of some- thing, tried to determine what it was by sight, and then by taste. It was hard and soggy and burned. He dropped it. Yes, he was hungrier than he had ever been in his life, but he couldn’t go that. ‘“ Rat it,” commanded a hollow voice. “It is called bread in the 1900 cook- book. You are from those distant times, and we ask a demonstration. Prove to us that the stuff 1s edible.”’ Lumley looked up. The man of the house evidently was standing before him. His absurd costume in nowise diminished the touching spectacle he presented. The pinched face and fe- verish eyes were mute evidences of starvation. “My dear friend,” returned Lum- ley with feeling, “ I would put up with a good deal of personal inconvenience to eat this bread,.if it were possible. But it isn’t. Your cook has made a botch of the baking.” “Try one of those chops,” begged the man; “ there, beside the bread.” THE ARGOSY. ‘ Chops?” echoed Lumley. ‘ These are not chops; they’re clinkers — burned to a cinder. No one could eat those things.” “ Have some of the coffee.’ Lumley tried it, and strangled. “I can't,” he sputtered. ‘“I’d like to oblige you if I could; but there’s a limit to what I can stand, even when I’m ravenous.” “So!” came from the other bitterly. “We are ordered by these usurpers to eat food that even they cannot endure, and they’ve always been eaters, while we have become absorbers. Our na- tures are delicately attuned to the beau- tiful and the progressive in life, and the coarseness of the act of mastication revolts us, even as the odors of the solid food is offensive. Mark my words: Decree 3165 will prove the undoing of these usurpers.”’ “Where did he come queried another voice. Lumley looked around. All the male members of the household — four of them—were on their feet. The mother and daughter had lifted themselves on their couches and were staring at Lum- ley with reproachful eyes. Lumley explained that he had been set down on the roof by a friend, and was to be picked up later. He was one of the recent arrivals. While on the roof he had heard groans, and out of a desire to relieve a fellow creature’s distress he had intruded into the tri- clinium. He hoped they would pardon him. He felt for them deeply, and was sorry he was powerless to be of any help. If th-y would excuse him, he would go back to the roof again and wait for his friend’s air-ship. One of the sons sprang to the wall and pulled a switch. The roof-door could be heard to close. “I opened that door,” said the young man, “so that we could get the air. Now it is closed and fastened.” “Well done!” exclaimed the head of the house. ‘‘ Send a transmit to the headquarters of the opposition one of from?” oO cComicbooks CO