Sphere of the Never-Dead
By SAM CARSON
The Three Brains of Taval had spoken! Kenley
must die! The cheerful youth from an earlier
time-strata must enter Death-in-Life. Nothing less
than a cosmic revolt could postpone his decreed fate.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1940.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The warm, night air whipped Bob Winslow's face as he crossed theopen space before Kerla Research, Inc., to the car where Jim Kenley,his roommate and lifelong friend was waiting. A storm was roaring infrom the west, revealing the city's skyline at frequent intervalssilhouetted against a background of sheet lightning. Bob should havebeen elated to the point of near explosion, over the news he could giveJim. Bob was to be promoted for his achievements in polarization ofthe newly discovered Decka light stream, and for his development of theelectronoscope that had given astronomy a new universe to explore.
Instead, Bob had a sixth sense of actual fear, as if somethinginvisible—invincible, was trailing him. Recently this feeling hadcome, sometimes at night, arousing him abruptly, as if actuallytouched. All today, and now tonight, the feeling grew that a Presencewas at hand. Small matter if he was to be director of Kerla Research,Inc., at the age of twenty-six. Bob wondered if his nerves were shot.Maybe, but he felt steady enough.
The car was at the curb and Jim, as far removed from a world ofscientific research as one could imagine, swung open the door. "Meanstorm coming," he called. "Must be hail in it. Let's scram for home. Wecan listen in to that night ball game."
Water splashed Bob's face. He was thinking, as he crossed the pavement,that Jim lived as much in the world of sports as he in the field ofscientific investigation. Jim Kenley worked hard as an auditor inthe daytime. Off duty, it might be football, horse racing, tennis orbaseball. He liked all of them, and could hardly wait for the score, orresult of a standout event. Perhaps that was why Bob liked Jim so well.
Bob was at the car as the first wave of rain and wind, broken intoneedle point mist, obscured lights and broke over them. He saw that,and then more. He saw Jim catapulted from the car as if pushed byinvisible hands. Then Bob felt himself gripped, and felt, not chillrain, but absolute zero. It surely took no more time than the fractionof a second, before he plunged into a white world—a world withoutmotion, without sound. But in that flicker of time fading so swiftly,Bob saw men in strange raiment, at first opaque, then solidifying.He saw, too, an elongated, golden red craft without wheels; and fromit emerged a tall man with a silver skull cap. After that—absolutezero. It couldn't have been a point above. That was Bob's lastthought—absolute zero.
A tired sleeper arouses slowly, hovering between consciousness anddreamland because the mind dreads taking over mastership of the body.Such was the way Bob Winslow experienced his awakening. It was socomfortable, to rouse slightly, then plunge back into soft, warmslumber. At last voices disturbed his brain, and light beat againstclosed lids. With a sigh Bob opened his eyes.
After one startled look Bob closed them briefly. He wasn't in hisroom. He was in a strange place, a room with tinted, translucent wallsand concealed lights. The bed, sheet, everything about it, were odd.Bob started to get up. Sharp pains streaked along arms and legs.