panes.
‘Could have been an experimental one gone astray?’ she suggested.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, and her father’s head looked in.
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked, unnecessarily. ‘A small meteor, I fancy. I thought I saw a dim flash in the field beyond the orchard.’ He withdrew. Sally made after him. Graham, following more leisurely, found her firmly grasping her father’s arm.
‘No!’ she was saying, decisively. ‘I’m not going to have my dinner kept waiting and spoiled. Whatever it is, it will keep.’
Mr Fontain looked at her, and then at Graham.
‘Bossy; much too bossy. Always was. Can’t think what you want to marry her for,’ he said.
After dinner they went out to search with electric lamps. There was not much trouble in locating the scene of the impact. A small crater, some eight feet across, had appeared almost in the middle of the field. They regarded it without learning much, while Sally’s
terrier, Mitty, sniffed over the newly turned earth. Whatever had caused it had presumably buried itself in the middle.
‘A small meteorite, without a doubt,’ said Mr Fontain. ‘We’ll set a gang on digging it out tomorrow.’
Extract from Onns’s Journal:
As an introduction to the notes which I intend to keep, I can scarcely do better than give the gist of the address given to us on the day preceding our departure from Forta * by His Excellency Cottafts. In contrast to our public farewell, this meeting was deliberately made as informal as a gathering of several thousands can be.
His Excellency emphasized almost in his opening words that though we had leaders for the purposes of administration, there was, otherwise, no least amongst us.
‘There is not one of you men and women † who is not a volunteer,’ looking slowly round his huge audience. ‘Since you are individuals, the proportions of the emotions which led you to volunteer may differ quite widely, but, however personal, or however altruistic your impulses may have been, there is a common denominator for all – and that is the determination that our race shall survive.
‘Tomorrow the Globes will go out.
‘Tomorrow, God willing, the skill and science of Forta will break through the threats of Nature.
‘Civilization is, from its beginning, the ability to co-ordinate and direct natural forces – and once that direction has been started, it must be constantly maintained. There have been other dominant species on Forta before ours: they were not civilized, they did not direct Nature: they dwindled and died as conditions changed. But we, so far, have been able to
meet
conditions as they have changed, and we flourish.
‘We flourish, moreover, in such numbers as undirected Nature could never have sustained. In the past we have surmounted problem after problem to make this possible, but now we find ourselves faced with the gravest problem yet. Forta, our world, is becoming senile, but we are not. We are like spirits that are still young, trapped in a failing body …
‘For centuries we have kept going, adapted, substituted, patched, but now the trap is closing faster, and there is little left to prop it open with. So it is now, while we are still healthy and strong, that we must escape and find ourselves a new home.
‘I do not doubt that great-grandchildren of the present generation’s great-grandchildren will be born on Forta, but life will be harder for them: they will have to spend much more labour simply to keep alive. That is why the Globes must go now, while we have strength and wealth to spare.
‘And for you who go in them – what? Even guesses are vain. The Globes will set out for the four corners of the heavens, and where they land they may find anything – or nothing. All our arts and skills will set you on your courses. But, once you have left, we can do no more than pray that you, our seed, will find fruitful soil.’
He paused, lengthily. Then he went on:
‘Your charge you know, or
‘Could have been an experimental one gone astray?’ she suggested.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, and her father’s head looked in.
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked, unnecessarily. ‘A small meteor, I fancy. I thought I saw a dim flash in the field beyond the orchard.’ He withdrew. Sally made after him. Graham, following more leisurely, found her firmly grasping her father’s arm.
‘No!’ she was saying, decisively. ‘I’m not going to have my dinner kept waiting and spoiled. Whatever it is, it will keep.’
Mr Fontain looked at her, and then at Graham.
‘Bossy; much too bossy. Always was. Can’t think what you want to marry her for,’ he said.
After dinner they went out to search with electric lamps. There was not much trouble in locating the scene of the impact. A small crater, some eight feet across, had appeared almost in the middle of the field. They regarded it without learning much, while Sally’s
terrier, Mitty, sniffed over the newly turned earth. Whatever had caused it had presumably buried itself in the middle.
‘A small meteorite, without a doubt,’ said Mr Fontain. ‘We’ll set a gang on digging it out tomorrow.’
Extract from Onns’s Journal:
As an introduction to the notes which I intend to keep, I can scarcely do better than give the gist of the address given to us on the day preceding our departure from Forta * by His Excellency Cottafts. In contrast to our public farewell, this meeting was deliberately made as informal as a gathering of several thousands can be.
His Excellency emphasized almost in his opening words that though we had leaders for the purposes of administration, there was, otherwise, no least amongst us.
‘There is not one of you men and women † who is not a volunteer,’ looking slowly round his huge audience. ‘Since you are individuals, the proportions of the emotions which led you to volunteer may differ quite widely, but, however personal, or however altruistic your impulses may have been, there is a common denominator for all – and that is the determination that our race shall survive.
‘Tomorrow the Globes will go out.
‘Tomorrow, God willing, the skill and science of Forta will break through the threats of Nature.
‘Civilization is, from its beginning, the ability to co-ordinate and direct natural forces – and once that direction has been started, it must be constantly maintained. There have been other dominant species on Forta before ours: they were not civilized, they did not direct Nature: they dwindled and died as conditions changed. But we, so far, have been able to
meet
conditions as they have changed, and we flourish.
‘We flourish, moreover, in such numbers as undirected Nature could never have sustained. In the past we have surmounted problem after problem to make this possible, but now we find ourselves faced with the gravest problem yet. Forta, our world, is becoming senile, but we are not. We are like spirits that are still young, trapped in a failing body …
‘For centuries we have kept going, adapted, substituted, patched, but now the trap is closing faster, and there is little left to prop it open with. So it is now, while we are still healthy and strong, that we must escape and find ourselves a new home.
‘I do not doubt that great-grandchildren of the present generation’s great-grandchildren will be born on Forta, but life will be harder for them: they will have to spend much more labour simply to keep alive. That is why the Globes must go now, while we have strength and wealth to spare.
‘And for you who go in them – what? Even guesses are vain. The Globes will set out for the four corners of the heavens, and where they land they may find anything – or nothing. All our arts and skills will set you on your courses. But, once you have left, we can do no more than pray that you, our seed, will find fruitful soil.’
He paused, lengthily. Then he went on:
‘Your charge you know, or
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