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Because little Fur-Ball over there talks with ultrasonics that approximate thirty million cycles.'
The cigar traveled east to west.
'High frequency sound can be directed in narrow beams, reflected like light, controlled. Most of our control has been
in liquids. We know that a dense medium is necessary for the best control of ultrasonics. Get high frequency sound in
a medium like air and it breaks down fast, dissipates. That is, up to twenty million cycles, as far as we have gone.
'But thirty million cycles, apparently, can be controlled in air, in a medium less dense than our atmosphere. Just what
the difference is I can't imagine, although there must be an explanation. Something like that would be needed for
audible communication on a place like Mars, where the atmosphere must be close to a vacuum.'
'Fur-Ball used thirty million cycle stuff to talk with,' said Jack, 'That much is clear. What's the connection?'
'This.' said Gilmer. 'Although sound reaching that frequency can't be heard in the sense that your auditory nerves
will pick it up and relay it to your brain, it apparently can make direct impact on the brain. When it does that it must do
something to the brain. It must disarrange the brain, give it a murderous complex, drive the entity of the brain insane.'
Jack leaned forward breathlessly.
'Then that was what happened on the _Hello Mars IV_. That is what happened down in the park today.'
Gilmer nodded, slowly, sadly.
'It wasn't malicious,' he said. 'I am sure of that. Fur-Ball didn't want to hurt anything. He was just lonesome and a little
frightened. He was trying to contact some intelligence. Trying to talk with something. He was asleep or at least
physiologically dormant when I took him from the ship. Probably he fell into his sleep just in time to save Cooper from
the full effects of the ultrasonics. Maybe he would sleep a lot. Good way to conserve energy.
'He woke up sometime yesterday, but it seemed to take some time for him to get fully awake. I detected slight
vibrations from him all day yesterday. This morning the vibrations became stronger. I had put several different
assortments of food in the cage, hoping he would choose one or more to eat, give me some clue to his diet. But he
didn't do any eating, although he moved around a little bit. Pretty slow, although I imagine it was fast for him. The
vibrations kept getting stronger. That was when the real hell broke out in the zoo. He seems to be dozing off again now
and things have quieted down.'
Gilmer picked up a box-like instrument to which was attached a set of headphones.
'Borrowed these from Appleman down in the sound laboratory,' he said. 'The vibrations had me stumped at first.
Couldn't determine their nature. Then I hit on sound. These things are a toy of Appleman's. Only half-developed yet.
They let you 'hear' ultrasonics. Not actual hearing, of course, but an impression of tonal quality, a sort of
psychological study of ultrasonics, translation of ultrasonics into what they would be like if you could hear them.'
 He handed the head-set to Woods and carried the box to the glass cage. He set it on the cage and moved it slowly
back and forth, trying to intercept the ultrasonics emanating from the little Martian animal.
Woods slipped on the phones, sat waiting breathlessly.
He had expected to hear a high, thin sound, but no sound came. Instead a dreadful sense of loneliness crept over
him, a sense of bafflement, lack of understanding, frustration. Steadily the feeling mounted in his brain, a voiceless wail
of terrible loneliness and misery - a heart-wrenching cry of home-sickness.
He knew he was listening to the wailing of the little Martian animal, was 'hearing' its cries, like the whimperings of a
lost puppy on a storm-swept street.
His hands went up and swept the phones from his head.
He stared at Gilmer, half in horror.
'It's lonesome,' he said. 'Crying for Mars. Like a lost baby.'
Gilmer nodded.
'It's not trying to talk to anyone now,' he said. 'Just lying there, crying its heart out. Not dangerous now. Never
intentionally dangerous, but dangerous just the same.'
'But,' cried Woods, 'you were here all afternoon. It didn't bother you. You didn't go insane.'
Gilmer shook his head. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]