Sunday, March 16, 2025

Introduction and story index

Welcome to the Chrononauts blogspot page, where we'll be posting obscure science fiction works in the public domain that either have not been digitized in plaintext, or have not been translated into English. It should be noted that all translations are amateur fan translations and should not meant to be taken as definitive, but we hope we can at least produce something readable that resembles the spirit of the original. 

We will also be posting transcriptions of our episodes here.

Discussions of these works can be found on our podcast - works that have not yet been discussed that are posted here will be discussed some point in the future.

We welcome feedback, comments, corrections, etc. You can contact us at chrononautspodcast@gmail.com

Translations:

Russian Empire/Soviet Union:

Latin America and Spain:
Italy:
Germany:
Previously undigitized texts:
Bibliography and other features
Episode transcriptions and links to online stories

Below is a list of stories we've covered in podcast order. Transcripts will be posted when available and links to the stories, when available online, will be posted. We'll be posting links to stories from upcoming episodes when we announce them so you can read them before we discuss them. While we'll be transcribing future episodes going forward, we're pausing on regular transcribing the backlog of earlier episodes for now, but will be happy to generate one on request, so if there is any episode you are particularly interested in seeing a transcription of, please email us. These were edited from the OpenAI transcription software, Whisper, so some of these may contain transcription errors that we missed during the editing process. 

If you would like to see an index of stories we've covered by author last name, scroll down to the bottom of this page.

Regular content episodes:
Bonus episodes:

Index of stories covered, by author last name:
  1. Abbott Edwin Abbott - "Flatland" (1884): 19
  2. Adolph, Anna - "Arqtiq: A Story of the Marvels at the North Pole" (1899): 22
  3. Aligheri, Dante - "Divine Comedy" (1308-20): 1 
  4. Andersen, Hans Christian - "In a Thousand Years" (1852): 16
  5. Anderson, Poul - "The Man Who Came Early" (1956): 34
  6. Anonymous - "Arabian Nights" (800-1300):1
  7. Anonymous - "Urashima Tarō" (8th - 15th c folklore): 6
  8. Anonymous/authorship disputed - "Symzonia: A Voyage of Discovery" (1820): 8
  9. Arelsky, Graal - "Tales of Mars" (1925): 37
  10. Asimov, Isaac - "Nightfall" (1941): 47
  11. Asimov, Isaac - "Trends" (1939): 40
  12. Bacon, Francis - "New Atlantis" (1628): 1
  13. Balzac, Honoré de - "Gambara" (1837): 4
  14. Balzac, Honoré de - "Ursule Mirouët" (1841): 11
  15. Barnard, Charles - "Kate - An Electro-mechanical Romance" (1877): 20
  16. Barkova, Anna - "A Steel Husband" (1926): 43
  17. Bates, Harry - "Alas, All Thinking!" (1935): 38
  18. Bellamy, Elizabeth W. - "Ely's Automatic Housemaid" (1899): 35
  19. Belsky, S. - "Under the Comet" (1910): 47
  20. Belyaev, Alexander - "Professor Dowell's Head" (1925): 29
  21. Bergerac, Cyrano de - "Comical History of the States and Empires of the Moon" (1657): 1
  22. Bergerac, Cyrano de - "The States and Empires of the Sun" (1662): 1 
  23. Berman, Ruth - "Star Drek" (1968): 39
  24. Blackwood, Algernon - "The Pikestaffe Case" (1924): 27
  25. Blish, James - "Pursuit into Nowhere: Adopted from the Annals of Space Patrol" (1936): 39
  26. Bond, Nelson S. - "Lightship, Ho!" (1939): 40
  27. Bose, Jagadish Chandra - "Runaway Cyclone" (1896/1921): 15
  28. Brackett, Leigh - "No Man's Land in Space" (1941): 31
  29. Bulgakov, Mikhail - "A Dog's Heart" (1925): 28
  30. Bulwer-Lytton, Edward - "The Coming Race" (1871): 8
  31. Burroughs, Edgar Rice - "At the Earth's Core" (1912): 9
  32. Butler, Octavia E. - "Kindred" (1979): 32
  33. Butler, Samuel - "Erewhon" (1872): 35
  34. Campbell, John W. - "Who Goes There?" (1938): 38
  35. Cavendish, Margaret - "The Description of a New World, Called The Blazing-World" (1666): 10
  36. Čapek, Karel - "Rossum's Universal Robots" (1920): 36
  37. Chambers, Robert W. - "The Repairer of Reputations" (1895): 15
  38. Chesney, George Tomkyns - "The Battle of Dorking" (1871): 25
  39. Clarín - "Future Story" (1892): 15
  40. Clarín - "Goodbye, Lamb!" (1893): 20
  41. Corelli, Marie - "A Romance of Two Worlds" (1886): 12
  42. Cridge, Annie Denton - "Man's Rights; Or, How Would You Like It?" (1870): 10
  43. De Camp, L. Sprague - "Lest Darkness Fall" (1939): 34
  44. Defontenay, C.I. - "Star ou Psi de Cassiopée" (1854): 3
  45. Dick, Philip K. - "The Last of the Masters" (1954): 47
  46. Dodd, Anna Bowman - "The Republic of the Future: or, Socialism a Reality" (1887): 10
  47. Doyle, Arthur Conan - "The Parasite" (1894): 11
  48. Doyle, Arthur Conan - "The Captain of the Pole-Star" (1890): 22
  49. Doyle, Arthur Conan - "The Maracot Deep" (1928-29): 18
  50. Duane, Diane - "The Wounded Sky" (1983): 41
  51. Du Bois, W.E.B. - "The Comet" (1920): 47
  52. Dutt, Kylas Chunder - "A Journal of 48 Hours In The Year 1945" (1835): 46
  53. Dyachkov, Semyon - "A Trip to the Moon in a Wonderful Machine With a Description of the Countries There, Customs and Various Rarities" (1844): 4
  54. Dyalhis, Nictzin - "The Sea-Witch" (1937): 24
  55. Dyalhis, Nictzin - "When the Green Star Waned" (1925): 15
  56. Ellis, Edward S. - "The Steam Man of the Prairies" (1868): 7
  57. Ellis, Sophie Wenzel - "Creatures of the Light" (1930): 38
  58. Ellison, Harlan - "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream" (1967): 46
  59. Epheyre, Charles - "Professor Bakermann's Microbe" (1890): 15
  60. Fabra, Nilo María - "Teitan the Proud - Tale of Things to Come" (1895): 15
  61. Farley, Ralph Milne - "The Rexmel" (1935): 39
  62. Forster, E.M. - "The Machine Stops" (1909): 36
  63. Forster, E.M. - "Little Imber" (1961): 44
  64. Fuller, Alice W. - "A Wife Manufactured to Order" (1895): 35
  65. Gallun, Raymond Z. - "Old Faithful" (1934): 38
  66. Garin-Mikhailovskii, Nikolai Georgievich - "The Genius" (1901): 19
  67. Gaspar y Rimbau, Enrique Lucio Eugenio - "El Anacronópete" (1887): 6
  68. Gilman, Charlotte Perkins - "Herland" (1915): 10
  69. Godwin, Francis - "The Man in the Moone" (1638): 1
  70. Gorriti, Juana Manuela - "He Who Listens May Hear — To His Regret: Confidence of a Confidence" (1865): 11
  71. Gorriti, Juana Manuela - "Herbs and Pins" (1876): 11
  72. Griffith, George - "The Angel of the Revolution" (1893): 17
  73. Griffith, Mary - "Three Hundred Years Hence" (1836): 10
  74. Grunert, Carl - "Mr. Vivacius Style" (1908): 29
  75. Grunert, Carl - "The Martian Spy" (1908): 26
  76. Hamm, George - Cluck Rogers in Astounding (1936): 39
  77. Hansen, Lucile Taylor - "The Undersea Tube" (1929): 31
  78. Harris, Clare Winger - "A Runaway World" (1926): 25
  79. Harris, Clare Winger - "The Fate of the Poseidonia" (1927): 26
  80. Hawthorne, Nathaniel - "Dr. Heidegger's Experiment" (1837): 4
  81. Hawthorne, Nathaniel - "Rappacini's Daughter" (1844): 4
  82. Hering, Henry A. - "Silas P. Cornu's Dry Calculator" (1898): 19
  83. Hinton, Charles H. - "An Unfinished Communication" (1885): 27
  84. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Derelict" (1912): 23
  85. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Find" (1947): 30
  86. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Gateway of the Monster" (1910): 30
  87. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Haunted Jarvee" (1929): 30
  88. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Hog" (1947): 30
  89. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Horse of the Invisible" (1910): 30
  90. Hodgson, William Hope - "The House Among the Laurels" (1910): 30
  91. Hodgson, William Hope - "The House on the Borderland" (1908): 27
  92. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Searcher of the End House" (1910): 30
  93. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Thing Invisible" (1912): 30
  94. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Voice in the Night" (1907): 23
  95. Hodgson, William Hope - "The Whistling Room" (1910): 30
  96. Hoevenbergh, Henry Van - "Into the Jaws of Death, A Telegraph Operator's Story" (1877): 20
  97. Hoffmann, E.T.A - "The Automata" (1814): 7
  98. Hoffmann, E.T.A. - "The Sandman" (1816): 4
  99. Holberg, Ludvig - "Niels Klim's Journey Under the Ground" (1741): 8
  100. Holmberg, Eduardo Ladislao - "Horacio Kalibang or the Automata" (1879): 7
  101. Holmberg, Eduardo Ladislao - "The Marvelous Voyage of Mr. Nic-Nac" (1875-76): 12
  102. Hossain, Rokeya Sakhawat - "Sultana's Dream" (1905): 10
  103. Irving, Minna - "The Moon Woman" (1929): 31
  104. James, Henry - "In the Cage" (1898): 20
  105. James, P.D. - "Children of Men" (1992): 44
  106. Jarry, Alfred - "Exploits and Opinions of Dr. Faustroll, Pataphysician" (1898): 19
  107. Kardynalovska, Yelyzaveta - "Death of the Happy City" (1926): 43
  108. Keller, David, MD - "Unto us a Child is Born" (1933): 44
  109. Kepler, Johannes - "Somnium" (1608): 1 
  110. Kersh, Gerald - "The Brighton Monster" (1948): 46
  111. Kipling, Rudyard - "As Easy as A.B.C." (1912): 17
  112. Kipling, Rudyard - "Wireless" (1902): 20
  113. Kipling, Rudyard - "With the Night Mail" (1905): 17
  114. Komatsu, Sakyo - "The Savage Mouth" (1979): 46
  115. Kuppord, Skelton - "A Fortune From the Sky" (1903): 25
  116. Lang, Herrmann - "The Air Battle" (1859): 16
  117. Latimer, Elizabeth Wormeley - "The Sirdar's Chess-Board" (1885): 19
  118. Leiber, Fritz - "The Big Time" (1958): 42 
  119. Leiber, Fritz - "No Great Magic" (1963): 42
  120. Leiber, Fritz - "The Oldest Soldier" (1960): 42
  121. Leiber, Fritz - "Knight to Move" (1965): 42
  122. Leiber, Fritz - "Damnation Morning" (1959): 42
  123. Leiber, Fritz - "Try and Change the Past" (1958): 42
  124. Leiber, Fritz - "A Deskful of Girls" (1958): 42
  125. Leinster, Murray - "Sidewise in Time" (1934): 38
  126. Lewis, C.S. - "Out of the Silent Planet" (1938): 14
  127. Lindsay, David - "A Voyage to Arcturus" (1920): 13
  128. Locke, Richard - "The Great Moon Hoax" (1835): 5
  129. Long, Amelia Reynolds - "When the Half Gods Go" (1939): 40
  130. Long, Frank Belknap - "The Hounds of Tindalos" (1929): 24
  131. Lovecraft, H.P. - "Dagon" (1917): 24
  132. Lovecraft, H.P. - "Herbert West - Reanimator" (1922): 29
  133. Lucian - "A True Story" (~150): 1
  134. Lugones, Leopoldo - "An Inexplicable Phenomenon" (1906): 12
  135. Lugones, Leopoldo - "The Omega Force" (1906): 25
  136. Lugones, Leopoldo - "The Psychon" (1906): 12
  137. MacInnes, Helen - "Above Suspicion" (1941): 26
  138. Martinson, Harry - "Aniara" (1956): 37
  139. McLandburgh, Florence - "The Automaton Ear" (1876): 7
  140. Meade, L. T. and Eustace, Robert - "Where the Air Quivered" (1898): 15
  141. Meek, Captain S. P. - "The Cave of Horror" (1930): 38
  142. Merrill, Judith - "That Only a Mother" (1948): 44
  143. Mitchell, Edward Page - "Old Squids and Little Speller" (1885): 28
  144. Mitchell, Edward Page - "The Ablest Man in the World" (1879): 36
  145. Mitchell, Edward Page - "The Clock that Went Backward" (1881): 6
  146. Mitchell, Edward Page - "The Inside of the Earth: A Big Hole through the Planet from Pole to Pole" (1876): 9
  147. Mitchell, Edward Page - "The Man Without a Body" (1877): 45
  148. Mitchell, Edward Page - "The Tachypomp" (1873): 19
  149. Moore, C. L. and Henry Kuttner - "Vintage Season" (1946): 34
  150. Moore, C. L. - "Greater Than Gods" (1939): 40
  151. Morrison, Arthur - "The Case of the Dixon Torpedo" (1894): 26
  152. Morrow, W.C. - "The Monster Maker" (1887): 45
  153. Mortimore, Jim - "The Eye of Heaven" (1998): 41
  154. Moskowitz, Sam - "Why Doesn't Our Ship Move" (1937): 39
  155. Nervo, Amado - "The Last War"(~1906): 47
  156. Nervo, Amado - "The Soul Giver" (1899): 28
  157. Nichols, Joel Martin, Jr. - "The Devil-Ray" (1926): 25
  158. O'Brien, Fitz-James - "The Wondersmith" (1859): 36
  159. O'Brien, Fitz-James - "The Diamond Lens" (1858): 4
  160. Odoevsky, Vladimir - "The Year 4338: The Petersburg Letters" (1835): 4
  161. Orlovsky, Vladimir - "Steckerite" (1929): 43
  162. Peake, Richard Brinsley - "Presumption; or, the Fate of Frankenstein" (1823): 2 
  163. Penrose, Margaret - "The Radio Girls of Roselawn; or, A Strange Message from the Air" (1922): 20
  164. Pestriniero, Renato - "A Night of 21 Hours" (1960): 37
  165. Poe, Edgar Allan - "Mesmeric Revelation" (1844): 11
  166. Poe, Edgar Allan - "Tale of the Ragged Mountains" (1844): 11
  167. Poe, Edgar Allan - "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar" (1845): 11
  168. Poe, Edgar Allan - "The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym" (1838): 22
  169. Poe, Edgar Allan - "The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall" (1835): 5
  170. Pohl, Frederik - "We Purchased People" (1974): 46
  171. Pope, Ralph - "$1,000 Reward — My Foot Race with a Telegram" (1877): 20
  172. Ray, Jean - "The Mainz Psalter" (1930): 24
  173. Reade, Philip - "Tom Edison, jr.'s Electric Sea Spider; or, the Wizard of the Submarine World" (1892): 21
  174. Rocklynne, Ross - "The Moth" (1939): 40
  175. Rosny, J.-H. - "Tornadres" (1888): 15
  176. Ross, Ronald - "The Vivisector Vivisected" (1882): 45
  177. Schachner, Nat - "City of the Cosmic Rays" (1939): 40
  178. Scheerbart, Paul - "Malvu the Helmsman: A Story of Vesta" (1912): 27
  179. Schuyler, George - "The Beast of Bradhurst Avenue" (1934): 28
  180. Senarens, Luis - "Frank Reade Jr., and His New Steam Man, or the Young Inventor's Trip to the Far West" (1892?): 21
  181. Serviss, Garrett - "Edison's Conquest of Mars" (1898): 21
  182. Shelley, Mary - "Frankenstein" (1818): 2
  183. Shelley, Mary - "The Last Man" (1826): 2
  184. Shelley, Percy - "The Magnetic Lady to Her Patient" (1822): 11
  185. Shunrō, Oshikawa - "The Undersea Warship" (1900): 18
  186. Sigov, Dmitry - "Journey to the Sun and the Planet Mercury and All the Visible and Invisible Worlds" (1832): 4
  187. Sigov, Dmitry - "The Talk of Moscow Citizens about the Comet of 1832" (1832): 4
  188. Smith, Clark Ashton - "The Primal City" (1934): 39
  189. Spofford, Harriet Elizabeth Prescott - "The Ray of Displacement" (1903): 15
  190. Spofford, Harriet Elizabeth Prescott - "The Moonstone Mass" (1868): 22
  191. Stapledon, Olaf - "Sirius" (1944): 29
  192. Stevens, Francis - "Claimed!" (1920): 24
  193. Stone, Leslie F. - "Out of the Void" (1929): 31
  194. Strobl, Karl Hans - "The Triumph of Mechanics" (1907): 35
  195. Sturgeon, Theodore - "Ether Breather" (1939): 20
  196. Tiptree, James, jr. - "The Girl Who Was Plugged In" (1973): 46
  197. Toombs, Robert - "Electric Bob's Big Black Ostrich; or, Lost on the Desert" (1893): 21
  198. Tsiolkovsky, Konstantin - "On the Moon" (1893): 5
  199. Twain, Mark - "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court" (1889): 33
  200. Two Women of the West - "Unveiling a Parallel: A Romance" (1893): 10
  201. Unamuno, Miguel de - "Mechanopolis" (1913): 15
  202. van Vogt, A. E.  - "Black Destroyer" (1939): 40
  203. Verne, Jules - "Around the Moon" (1869): 5
  204. Verne, Jules - "From the Earth to the Moon" (1865): 5
  205. Verne, Jules - "Journey to the Center of the Earth" (1864): 9
  206. Verne, Jules - "The Sphinx of the Ice Realm" (1897): 22
  207. Verne, Jules - "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas: A World Tour Underwater" (1869-70): 18
  208. Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, Jean-Marie-Mathias-Philippe-Auguste, comte de - "Tomorrow's Eve" (1886): 7
  209. Visiak, E.H. - "Medusa" (1929): 23
  210. Vladko, Volodymyr - "The Defeat of Jonathan Govers" (1929): 36
  211. Volkov, Alexey Matveyevich  - "Aliens" (1928): 43
  212. Voltaire - "Micromegas" (1752): 1
  213. Webb, Jane - "The Mummy! A Tale of the Twenty-Second Century" (1827): 3
  214. Wells, H.G. - "The Chronic Argonauts" (1888): 6
  215. Wells, H.G. - "The First Men in the Moon" (1901): 5
  216. Wells, H.G. - "The Island of Doctor Moreau" (1896): 45
  217. Wells, H.G. - "The New Accelerator" (1901): 31
  218. Wells, H.G. - "The Time Machine" (1895): 6
  219. Wells, H.G. - "The War in the Air" (1908): 16
  220. Wells, H.G. - "Under the Knife" (1896): 45
  221. Whelpley, James Davenport - "The Atoms of Chladni" (1860): 4
  222. Wilkins, Mary E. - "An Old Arithmetician" (1885): 19
  223. Williamson, Jack - "The Prince of Space" (1931): 31
  224. Zuev-Ordynets, Mikhail - "The Lord of Sound" (1926): 43

at No comments:

Antonio Ribera - "The Deadly Planet" (1956)

INTRODUCTION

Antonio Ribera (15 Jan 1920 - 24 Sept 2001) was a prolific Spanish essayist, playwright, poet, translator and science fiction author, writing in Catalan and Spanish. For his science fiction output, he has one novel, "The Mystery of the Fish Men" (1955) and more than twenty stories, which have been republished over three short story collections.

"The Deadly Planet" appeared in the August 1956 issue (#39) of the Argentine magazine Más Allá (Beyond) and was illustrated by Eusevi. For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

THE DEADLY PLANET


 
The planet lay in front of the spaceship, immense and brilliant. Zrill turned to Oinos, his companion.

- "Well, here we are," he said. "So far, everything has gone according to plan. We'll see what happens later."

Oinos kept silent. Then he slowly observed:

- "Yes, the voyage won't be the worst thing. We already know that. The voyage offered us nothing new. On the other hand..."

And he vaguely gestured toward the enormous virgin planet.

The spaceship silently glided through the void, heading toward a hypothetical point situated on the western side of the planet. Oinos and Zrill, settled in their seats, restricted themselves to gazing out of the large transparent dome, in which the stars looked like tiny, pinned, burning fireflies. The ship, governed by perfect electronic brains, navigated on autopilot, making the necessary course corrections to enter a landing ellipse. For some time now, its velocity was only supersonic. Superluminal velocity was only good for intergalactic navigation, or for use during short stretches of travel within a solar system. And they hadn't left the solar system that they were exploring.

In one corner of the cockpit, there was a dim shadow, some sort of rectangular, leaden box. Zrill looked at it, and his companion followed the direction of his gaze.

- "Let's see how it works," Oinos said, voicing his thoughts aloud. "If it fails, we'll return without any sort of protest. But if it succeeds, as we hope, we'll be able to offer a new planet to our government."

- "It worked perfectly in the atmospheres of three other planets," Zrill said. "Of course, they weren't atmospheres as deadly as this one. For this one, the device needs to completely change the atmospheric components and replace them with our own, the only ones suitable for intelligent life."

Oinos scanned the brilliant surface of the planet running beneath them.

- "It's a deadly planet. It's almost hard to conceive of its atmosphere. Nitrogen and oxygen! Although relatively small in proportion, the oxygen present is already sufficient for impeding all life."

- "Life will be possible when we've completely replaced it with methane," Zrill observed. "But what I'm most curious about is the presence of water in a liquid state! Imagine... and covering almost three quarters of the planet. Fortunately, we have means of protecting ourselves from excessive heat. This planet is too close to the star... for my taste. Anyway, I think we can make it habitable despite all that."

A moment of silence reigned between the two astronauts. Suddenly, Oinos shuddered.

- "Look, Zrill. What's that?" - and he pointed towards the planet. - "I mean those little white specks, that seem to be stuck to the surface."

Zrill focused the handheld analyzer on them.

- "It's water vapor floating in that cursed atmosphere," Oinos - and Zrill shuddered at the same time.

- "Water in a gaseous state! That's extraordinary, Zrill."

And Oinos stroked the corner of his fifth eye with his sixth right claw, a gesture that denoted great excitement.

at No comments:

Juan Pedro Edmunds - "Discovery" (1956)

INTRODUCTION

Juan Pedro Edmunds was a Mexican author, cited by Rachel Haywood Ferreira to be the only Mexican author to appear in the Argentinian magazine Más Allá. "Discovery" is the only story credited under his name, which appeared in the April 1956 issue of Más Allá (#35), and was illustrated by Olmos.

For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

DISCOVERY

SUSPENDED in the blue-black of the stratosphere, the exploration spacecraft floated above the vast spheroid of the unknown planet, like a gigantic celestial finger raised in a sign of admonition.

Suddenly a discolored flame erupted from the exhaust, and with barely a murmur from its powerful engines, the ship executed a slow maneuver in the air, descending gently and landing tail-first on the unknown soil of the planet.

For some time, there was no movement. The spaceship, like a fantastic tower raised above the plain, reflected the weak reddish light of the sunset in the glow on its hull. Amid the profound ancient silence that reigned in that unknown world, the loud creaking and clicking sounds produced by the metal mass as it cooled resounded with increasing violence.

All of a sudden, a small motor began to hum inside the ship, and the heavy valve of an airlock in the lower part of the main hull opened. Through the black mouth of the airlock, a sort of metallic globe fitted with glass windows appeared, which descended lightly and silently, supported by two strong cables, until it touched the ground.

After a brief pause, during which not only the microcosm of the ship seemed to be waiting, but also all of that recently discovered world, the elevator door folded back, revealing two grotesque and extraordinary, bulky figures in thick atmospheric suits with enormous, transparent plastic helmets that completely covered their heads.

As if afraid of advancing and setting foot on land, thus so easily breaking the charm of the millennia of mystery or oblivion enclosed in the unknown planet, the two visitors from extreme space remained motionless for a while inside the elevator, looking at the sterile desert landscape of the new world that awaited them.

The land was flat, inhospitable, without trees, without elevation. Its monotonous plain extended uninterruptedly around the ship, until it was lost in the thick fog that covered the horizon and advanced slowly, carried by an imperceptible breeze. In the distance, the only variation in that uniform landscape that could be seen was the placid waters of a great lake or dead sea.

The faint crepuscular light was already fading, and only the glow of the stars remained to illuminate the panorama. The silence of that seemingly dead world was like a heavy blanket descending upon the two adventurers, crushing them, depressing them.

- "Did you notice that one detail?" - Wilyas's rough and humorous voice broke the silence - "This planet's much smaller than ours. You see? You can observe the curvature with the naked eye."

- "You're right" - Pers answered him seriously, fixing his gaze on the tranquil waters of the lake, which gleamed like a cape of obsidian under the illumination of the stars. - "Come on!" - he continued in a decisive tone. - "We have to do it."

The two of them stepped out of the elevator and onto the ground, the first to do so (was it possible?) in the entire history of the universe. Their heavy magnetic boots sank into the light ground, and they felt like the muscles in their bodies possessed much more strength than usual, due to the low gravity. They adjusted their enormous helmets, put a hand on their pistols, and stood for a moment listening and looking around them.

* * *

There was nothing to be heard. The plain and the lake remained devoid of any sign of life. A gust of mist, driven by the light breeze, passed over their feet, covering the ground.

It was the meeting of two worlds: one unknown, perhaps old, perhaps new; the other, well-known, modern, familiar, with its advanced technology that had discovered everything, invented everything already, completely eliminating the unknown, the hidden, and leaving nothing to the imagination. The two newcomers were the representatives of that old, familiar world, who with their cold, analytical gaze, came to tear the mysterious veil away, that had until then covered this new world. They were the advance troops of a civilization who came to conquer another little piece of the universe, discovering all its secrets and converting it into a dry shell of what it once was. They came under the banner of civilization to destroy enchantments, legends and dreams.

- "It seems to be quite desolate," Wilyas said, scanning the landscape. "What monstrous beings await us here?"

Pers smiled dryly. "I think you've read too many science fiction stories," he replied. "Perhaps there's no life on this planet. At least, judging by the silence, that's probably the case."

- "It's very possible," Wilyas admitted, "but there is some plant life. If I'm not mistaken, those dark patches over there to the left must be patches of grass or lichen."

- "We'll soon see," Pers replied. They began to walk towards the lake: two strange and grotesque figures in the bidimensional world of the plain, cautiously moving away from the imposing mass of the ship, which remained enshrouded in silence and gave no sign of any activity.

- "There's some elevation over there. Looks like a mountain range," said Wilyas, signalling with the metallic fingers of his glove to the dark mass of a hill or plateau that rose in the distance in the darkness.

- "Yes," Pers replied, "but let's go this way first. I see to find out if the lake contains water, and if so, whether or not it's potable. I'd imagine it should contain water, as there's not a lot of gravity here and the temperature's not high enough to allow large deposits of other substances in a liquid state."

- "Don't you think it'd be better to look for a source of fresh water in those mountains?" Wilyas asked. "It's more likely that..."

With an angry gesture, Pers pressed a button on the small transceiver's control panel he wore on his chest. Instantly, Wilyas stopped talking and began to howl in anguish, trying to hold his head with both hands through the thick transparent helmet. He staggered like a drunk, bending and straightening his body, then fell to his knees on the ground.

Pers pressed the transmitter's button again.

- "Let's go!" he said coldly. "I want to get to the lake without wasting any more time."

He resumed his march without noticing whether his companion was following him or not.

Wilyas stood up, shook his head, and quickly ran after him until he managed to catch up.

- "Forgive me, explorer," he said in a submissive voice. "I said it without thinking."

Pers instructs him without turning his head.

- "Instinctive obedience is an integral part of discipline, and the success of any exploration is dependent on discipline; therefore every aspiring explorer must be obedient and disciplined."

* * *

THEY continued walking in silence towards the edge of the lake.

- "I'm going to probe the atmosphere," Pers said suddenly, stopping again. "If it allows for normal breathing, we can take off our helmets."

- "With this cold, I think I'll stay as I am" - Wilyas smiled and patted the transparent globe that covered his head. "Uncomfortable but warm."

Pers, without answering, took a small plastic box from one of his voluminous pockets, fitted with a luminous dial and several graduated knobs attached to its cover. He made some adjustments to the knobs and studied the dial.

- "There's no chance," he said. "It's a very strange atmosphere, and it contains a measurable percentage of poisonous gases. We'd asphyxiate in a few minutes if we tried to breathe it. There we have it, that's why there are no signs of animal life on this planet. Perhaps there's aquatic life, but I don't think it would be very developed. Algae and amoebas would be the most advanced forms of life. This is a primitive world, born dead."

They began to walk again. The cold was intense; it penetrated through the plastic and metal fabrics of their thick spacesuits.

- "With your permission, I'd like to quicken my pace," said Wilyas, rubbing his arms to get the blood flowing.

- "I think that's a good idea," replied the other. "We need some physical exercise after being cooped up in the ship for six months."

The two of them began to run in tandem. Their heavy boots sank into the muddy ground, raising a small shower of dirt behind their rapid feet as they flew over the ground. They bent and straightened their legs effortlessly; each step they took was an enormous leap. Their bodies felt light, airy, as if they were in a vacuum.

Wilyas laughed, elated by the ease with which he moved his powerful body.

- "How marvelous!" he cried. "If I could run like this normally, I'd go into athletics. I'd be a champion, a phenomenon!"

- "No doubt," Pers replied dryly.

With some difficulty, they stopped walking when they reached the lake shore. Their breathing had become slightly labored.

Pers knelt down on the edge of the lake and extracted a second small plastic device from another of his pockets, with several metal cables hanging from it. Bending over the water, so that the ends of the cables were submerged, he made some adjustments to the control knobs and studied the luminous dial.

- "Good, that's one less problem" - he said after finishing these magical maneuvers - "This water is potable" - and he stood up again, putting the analyzer in his pocket.

- "Thank goodness," said Wilyas, who was following the operation with great interest. "Let's see if luck will be as favorable to us regarding the problem of finding food."

- "I think there's no hope for that," Pers replied, "but we have a year's supply of rations on the ship, and if we supplement these with the products of the artificial cultures that the biologist grows, there will be absolutely no problem."

He pressed a button on his transceiver and Wilyas saw that he was still moving his lips in conversation, but he didn't feel anything else. He must be reporting to the commander on the events of the exploration they conducted, he thought, without being surprised in the least.

While waiting for his companion to finish speaking, Wilyas began to walk slowly along the lake shore, under the huge inverted canopy of the star-studded night sky. To his left, the silent, deserted terrain stretched out to the horizon like a vast brown carpet, and to his right lay the calm basaltic waters of the lake. All was quiet and peaceful.

* * *


Suddenly he stopped and, bending down, began to scrutinize something he saw on the ground. Then he quickly stood up, turned his head towards his companion and began to call out to him:

- "Explorer, explorer, come here... come here..."

- "Don't shout," Pers' even voice replied. "Distance doesn't affect volume."

Running at full speed, he made three or four enormous leaps and arrived at his subordinate's side.

- "What's wrong?" - he asked.

- "Look," Wilyas said, pointing with his hand, a slight note of excitement in his voice. "They seem to be little bugs; little bugs of light."

- "Certainly," said Pers, crouching down and watching some lumiscent spots moving around on the ground at his feet. "Some species of firefly, no doubt."

- "Ouch!" Wilyas suddenly cried, slapping his calf hard with his hand.

- "What's wrong with you?" Pers asked, astonished.

- "Something bit me. Ouch! There it goes again. Damn, they're attacking me! Look!"

Pers reached for the flashlight attached to his belt and shone it on the spot where his feet were planted. He let out a gasp of surprise when he and his companion were surrounded by a swarming mass of miniscule beetle-like insects that were flying and crawling all around them.

At that precise instant, he felt a sharp sting on his leg. Stifling a curse under his breath, rapidly standing straight, he pressed the contact button on his transmitter and said hurriedly:

- "Hello, ship! Beacon, please! Beaa... con... !"

A second later, a brilliant beam of light, illuminating the entire scene with the intensity of a small sun, burst forth from the highest point of the spaceship, shining its bright light on the two explorers, who stood out in view like two grotesque monsters performing a strange ritual dance.

- "Good heavens!" Wilyas cried, waving his arms and beating himself like a maniac. "It's an anthill! Look!"

Sure enough, Pers' horrified eyes revealed that he and his companion were in the midst of a vast nest or hive of the little insects, teeming with thousands running and flying about them. Startled, like those who accidentally step on an ordinary anthill, Pers and Wilyas began to paw and stamp frantically, crushing hundreds of the insects with each step, leaving them crushed among the devastated branches of the huge nest.

They destroyed the city of Bahía Blanca in five minutes.

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Juan Fernández Oviedo - "Professor Particular" (1953)

INTRODUCTION

Juan Fernández Oviedo was an Argentine author who also published a translation of the Tao Te Ching in 1976. "Professor Particular" was published in the September 1953 (#4) issue of Más Allá (Beyond) and was illustrated by Salva. For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)", "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures" and Carlos Abraham's "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

PROFESSOR PARTICULAR


The fat woman opened the door decorated with the words: "Private Employment Agency - General Manager", and entered the luxurious office. The manager stood up to greet her with an elegant bow of his well-dressed body, and with a recently manicured hand, indicated an auto-anatomical chair to her:

- "At your service, madam" - he said in English, with a slight Spanish accent.

- "I loathe to bother you, Manager, sir," the woman replied, looking at his handsome features with approbation. The chair, meanwhile, adjusted with difficulty to her obese back and adjacencies until it provided her with maximum comfort. "The employee who attended to me said she couldn't answer me and said I should talk to you. Is she a... robot?"

This last bit was added with a slight grimace of displeasure.

- "Indeed, madam; our entire sales staff is composed of class B robots. That is why a case out of the ordinary, such as yours, is no longer within the reach of their limited electrobrains."

- "But, what's so strange about my case?" the woman protested. "I'm only looking for a good Spanish teacher for my son, since my husband hopes to remain an ambassador to the Republic of South America for many years to come."

* * *


The manager ran his hand across his chin before answering.

- "It's that here, madam, you can learn a language in fifteen days..."

- "Really?" she interrupted. "No wonder that they say South America is such an advanced country! But that's not a problem, on the contrary..."

- "I haven't explained myself well. A South American can learn, for example, English in fifteen days because they've already had a lengthy education in general linguistics: semantics, philology, syntax; and that, together with a solid foundation in anthropology, history and epistemology, which makes learning much easier. Your son, on the other hand, is a special case..."

* * *


The ambassador's wife impassively endured this explanation, which sounded like Greek to her; but the allusion to her son's ignorance made her reply:

- "It shall be as you say. But one of your super-geniuses will be able to teach my son Spanish using the old methods, right? Especially with the salary I'm willing to pay."

- "It cannot be, madam, I'm terribly sorry! Did you not know that human servitude has been abolished for many years in South America? That's what robots are for! We need to construct a special robot for your son."

- "A robot?" - she repeated in the tone of someone who wouldn't tolerate any stupid jokes. - "And you want me to believe that a machine can teach my son Spanish?"

- "Why not, madam? The employee who attended you before is a robot, and you only noticed because you had been informed of such, assuredly. In South America, robots are manufactured for all kinds of service: maids, cooks, gardeners... You only notice that they're not human if you talk to them about issues outside their specialty, or..."

- "Or what?" - the woman asked.

- "Or if you see them when they're feeding," the manager replied reluctantly, blushing slightly.

- "Indeed? Why is that? How do robots feed themselves? It never occurred to me that they needed to."

- "They have to replenish the energy they expend working somehow, madam. Instead of a stomach, they have a small atomic engine that runs on iron 62. This iron comes in pills that the robots take by..."

- "...mouth?" - the woman automatically completed the sentence.

- "No, through the navel. It's a much shorter route, and likewise, a human's serves in this purpose before one's birth..."

The ambassador's wife stood up from her chair, virtuously indignant.

- "What audacity! Where have you ever heard of such things being discussed in front of a lady? You are no gentleman!"

- "No, madam" - the manager admitted.

She walked across the office, and sent off with another reprimand from the door.

- "And, by the way, don't you think that you've fooled me with this story about robot language teachers! You South Americans can think of nothing better than deceiving foreigners with your lies, but I know you well. As if a machine could converse intelligently with a human!"

And she left intending to slam the door, which was thwarted by the door stopper.

* * *


The manager philosophically shrugged his shoulders as he pulled a small pill out of a box marked "Fe 62."

- "She didn't give me time to explain what class A robots are like" - he muttered.

And unbuttoning his shirt around his navel, he inserted the pill, gently pushing it in with his little finger.

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Julio Aníbal Portas - "The Jump" (1955)

INTRODUCTION

Julio Aníbal Portas (8 Feb 1915 - 10 Dec 1984) was an Argentine fiction author, historian and bibliographer. For his science fiction output, he published four short stories that appeared in Más Allá ("Beyond"), an Argentinian science fiction magazine, three under the pseudonym Julián de Córdoba; the short stories "Raw Material" (#20, January 1955), "The Jump" (#22, March 1955) and the novella "Rino's Fantasies" (#46, April 1957), and one under the pseudonym Julio Almada, "Time Disintegrated" (#8, January 1954). "The Jump" was illustrated by Ornay.

For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)", "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures" and Carlos Abraham's "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

THE JUMP

"The monster boarded the tram from the front platform and looked at the conductor. He stared through him to the back of his head with inhuman firmness. His brain waves, concentrated in a narrow, powerful beam, penetrated the man's cerebellum. The vehicle was about to come to a bend in the road. But it didn't follow the rail's curvature. Smoothly, without jolting, the tram, with the conductor, the guard and forty-eight seated passengers, continued its perfectly straight movement. Encountering a curvature in space, it didn't bend, and crossed the barrier that separated it from the other dimension..."

"The appearance of the monster..."

- "Wait a minute" - I said to myself - "I need to properly define its appearance, so that what happened to me that one time I was talking about bony legs doesn't happen to me again, when it turned out that two pages earlier I described the intergalactic visitor as a nebulous and incorporeal being... When one dedicates oneself to writing science fiction stories, one has to be careful of these details."

- "What should this monster be like?"... - I muttered. - How are we going to describe our dear little monster? Because I'm never insulting. When I'm aggressive, I distribute diminutives.

It's more delicate and effective. Anyone can try it on a large man, one who's very muscular and virile. Just say to him: "poor little guy!" to be convinced of the effectiveness of my system...

If only I had an electronic superbrain at my disposal, a robot interloper, or some such gadget, the sort I've invented by the dozens, and explained in great detail to my readers!

The mild air of a beautiful summer night crept in through the half-open door. A locust crept in too. It flew, jumped, struck the walls with great force, jumped again, and lay motionless on my table.

It had bulging eyes. One section of its very long legs was a perfect saw. The shell of its...

- "Magnificent," I said to myself. "Beautiful big locust, you've saved me. There's no monster more monstrous than a genuine locust, if I can describe it with my colorful imagination."

I relegated the hatred I felt for orthopterans from the attic of my subconscious. That very day, a swarm of locusts had taken my garden for a restaurant. They came by the thousands, ate my plants and my flowers, and then left without paying.

The locust hadn't moved. Its inscrutable eyes remained fixed on my manuscript. I don't like a common locust who's only just arrived to be criticizing my works. With my index finger and thumb, I took it by the legs and began to examine it in detail. There were several elements that could be useful in my description of the monster. The shape of the massive head, the iridescent colors, the ethereal weave of the wings...

The monster... I mean the locust, lay motionless beneath my fingers. If I had grasped only one of its legs, it would probably have struggled free, abandoning a limb as spoils of war. Joints are these creatures' weak area. And that's their strength.

It looked at me. I thought I saw a glint of malevolence in its little eyes, but it's possible it was just my imagination. Imagination is my strong area. That's my weakness.

Were there thoughts inside that armored skull? Or were they just photographic visions of green foliage and beautiful single locusts? For a moment, I thought my prisoner was of the female sex. When we see an animal other than a cow or a chicken, we tend to assume it's a male creature. It's silly, but it's so.

I wondered if my langosto would be capable of having any opinions, for example, about my person, or only violent but confusing emotions, like a taxi driver during rush hour.[Translator's note: The word for locust, "langosta" is female in gender, in this sentence, the male form 'langosto' is used. This gendering is also used near the end of the story.]

- "If I could just get inside that little head for a moment", I said, filled with insane curiosity...

...my knees ached. I felt dull stabbing pains in my abdomen where my legs were pressing against me. I tried to move them, but I couldn't. Then I made an effort to open my eyes. That wasn't possible either; they were open.

Before my blurry vision, a huge mass rose. It looked like a monument in a London square, on a winter's day. But it couldn't be London, because I'm not stupid; I knew very well that I was in Argentina, and in the summer. In any case, it was probably Pisa, not London, because the monument was leaning visibly to one side. But in central Italy, there's no fog, and furthermore, the leaning tower doesn't have an egg-shaped pedestal. Little by little I could focus better and the fog disappeared.

The monument was a bombilla, and the pedestal, naturally, was a mate gourd. My mate. The one my great-aunt Amparo gave me. She sent it to me from Spain for my birthday. With straw and everything. 14K gold mouthpiece. "Made in Barcelona."

The impact was terrible. If my mate was so big, I must've been very small. More or less like... a locust...

Terrified, I tried to escape from reality and let my thoughts wander and I had visions of immense trees with flowers that looked like dahlias. Vast meadows that looked like pumpkin leaves. I again felt the sensation of intense pleasure that I experienced when I was wandering through that Eden. And the fear. The horrible terror that a gigantic being inspired in me, that shook the trees as I might shake a blade of grass. It shook them with the movable appendages of its long legs, so that I couldn't enjoy its succulent leaves.

It must have been a nightmare, because I was never attracted to dahlia leaves, no matter how big they are. I confess that I like grilled kidneys, sirloin steak with champignon sauce, and many other things, but not dahlia leaves. I swear.

To escape from the nightmare, I fell into another one. There stood the giant, with his legs outstretched. Two of his movable appendages held my knees. My vision had cleared and without moving my eyes I could see perfectly behind me.

The giant was looking at me. I thought I saw in his huge eyes, a flash of malevolence...

I was beginning to understand. And a shiver would've ran through me if an insect's circulatory system allowed it to feel shivers. My self, my individual personality, was locked in the locust's skull. I wanted this exact thing!

The memories, the primal instincts, the reflexes, were those of the insect, but the self was mine. And then, in my body would the locust's self be found?

I didn't want to think about it. If the locust decided to squeeze my hand, I was done for. If my human reflexes ordered me to apply more pressure to both fingers, I was done for, too.

My self had my memory, as well as the memory of the insect. So there was some intangible contact between my self and my brain. It was likely that the self of the locust that reigned over my body was operating the same way.

My fear was that the bug would remember the giant who pursued it. In its hatred, it might crush the body that was now sheltering it. My self would die, certainly, and the locust's self would remain master of my body forever. I imagined what would happen. They would lock me up, that is, they would lock it up in a mental asylum...

Suddenly I felt it, like a blow from a hammer. It wasn't hate. It was love. A love so primitive, so overwhelmingly grand, that it was almost cruel. I wish a woman would love me like that someday, with that intensity.

My small, cold body was filled with this love that tried to envelop me like an octopus envelops its prey. My conscience tried to escape the embrace and couldn't. I was cornered in that narrow brain.

That very acute feeling, who was it for?

It couldn't be anything else. It was for me!

The langosta was not a langosto. It was a señorita langosta. He who has never been loved by a locust cannot imagine how terrible it is.

Crazed with horror, I suddenly vaulted and was freed from my fingers. I felt the giant rise, probably to chase me.

With two well-aimed jumps, I got out through the half-open door and hid behind some leaves. It was a tomato plant. I recognized it and had an idea.

The giant, with his clumsy human senses, was still searching around the room for me.

My strong jaws began to gnaw at a stem, and, resisting the urge to devour the juicy pulp, I had soon snapped off a twig. It was enormous to me, but with superhuman strength (that of a locust) I dragged it inside. I dropped the vine on the ground and jumped back into the darkness of the garden. There I stayed, watching.

The giant, attracted by the movement, looked down and saw the tomato vine. Bending down, he quickly grabbed it and brought it to his mouth.

His locust conscience longed for the tasty delicacy, but his human palate rejected it in disgust.

Exactly as I planned it! The locust, for a moment, wished he were a locust to savor that morsel, and I took advantage of this brief instant.

The feeling of relief upon returning to my body was like breathing again after being underwater for three minutes.

I slammed the door shut and the locust was left outside in the darkness. Let it eat my garden. It would be welcome if it did!

Sometimes I think it was nothing more than a nightmare. I try to convince myself that it was nothing more, anyway. And I continue writing stories, because that's my profession and I have to live... But I assure you sometimes I get scared...

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Jorge and Héctor Germán Oesterheld - "Boomerang" (1953)

INTRODUCTION

"Boomerang" was published under the pseudonym Jorge Mora, who according to Héctor Germán Oesterheld, was the pseudonym of his brother Jorge Oesterheld (1917-1994), and that Héctor helped in what Rachel Haywood Ferreira describes as "trimming down and focusing this story" for Jorge.

"Boomerang" was published in the December 1953 (#7) issue of the Argentine science fiction magazine "Más Allá" ("Beyond") and illustrated by Olmos. For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".

For complete scans of Más Allá, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

BOOMERANG

WE HAVE two weeks of oxygen left, which means we'll live until our inexorable limit of 336 hours... And no more. Maybe a few extra minutes of agony for those who decide to wait until the end.

Spencer is pensively seated, staring into space through a small window of the spaceship. For a moment he seems overwhelmed by a feeling of renunciation, of failure. But only for a second, a mere flash of weakness. He immediately regains his usual calm composure.

Rocky, standing with his hands in his pockets, stares blankly at the complicated control panel. Something like contempt is evident in his expression.

I, Barry, am lying in my bunk, watching them absentmindedly. I think of the minutes we're losing; of time, which in this immutable stillness seems to be the only thing with a life of its own.

Total silence envelops us; impossible, material silence. In contrast, the slightest movement provokes a noise that alleviates the nerves.

But we can't constantly make noise. The moment comes when silence returns to dominate us, like a physical enemy. It seems to be an accomplice of Time. And it envelops us. And little by little, feeling more incapable of beating it, we resigned to accepting our defeat.


* * *

TODAY marks one month since we departed. Ours was the third human attempt to reach Mars. Nothing was ever heard from the previous two. Nothing will be heard from us either.

We left Mindex, near San Francisco, a month ago. The same place where Spencer joined me on my first voyage to the Moon; a perfect voyage, carried out with mathematical precision, without the slightest setback. That's how it seemed to us this time, at first, until we established our position.

And now we find ourselves condemned, enveloped by this void...

I look at my two comrades. As men of science, we are three friends, three brothers.

Spencer is already a veteran of these launches. He's made four voyages to the Moon, and is responsible for the most advanced calculations and projects which culminated in the recent establishment of a stable base on the satellite. He left his wife and three children on Earth.

Rocky is a debutante. This is his first voyage, and it will be his last. Fortunately for him, he has no family. But as a talented physicist, it will be a long time before anyone can replace him.

And I, Barry, am the inventor of the procedure for regulating the rate of disintegration of new uranium 313 atoms. Every starship to date uses this power source for its initial thrust. What I call my family is reduced to Fadi, my dog, and Adams, my assistant. I miss both them in their absence and I think of Spencer.

* * *

WE EAT. Nature continues to impose its will.

We exchange few words. The worst thing is the inactivity, combined with the certainty of being prisoners and hopelessly condemned to death within a fixed term...

Now Rocky is writing, scribbling at great speed in his notebook.

Spencer amuses himself by playing like a child, monotonously throwing a sharp paper knife, which sticks, shaking, into a board.

I, always lying down, am thinking. On Earth everyone dreams about space; now, here, my thoughts always go back...

* * *

WE didn't realize it. I had thought about it too, but I didn't think it was possible for any of my comrades. And I was just sitting there writing...

His death was instantaneous. He must have foreseen that this might happen and brought a suicide capsule with him.

We clearly heard his death rattle. When we got him up, he was already dead.

In a note he told us: "Friends, goodbye forever! I'm leaving you and giving you both seven days of life. I've calculated our updated position and discovered we were wrong. We'll begin to feel Mars' attraction and will be diverted from the dead, drifting orbit that we're in. According to my new calculations, we'll make it to Mars in 612 hours, 35 minutes. Unfortunately, you both have 504 hours, or 21 days now to live, and that's not enough for you to arrive together. Instead, *just one* will be able to land on Mars on day 26 following this trajectory, starting today. I'll leave the problem to you. I've solved mine. Rocky."

* * *

WE looked at each other in silence. Words failed us. Death immediately proposed itself to us in order to save our comrade's life.

I never for a moment thought about his death. And I'm sure he never thought about mine either. But...

- "Wait a minute, Barry," Spencer said in his deep, calm voice, "let's leave 'that' for later. Let's verify Rocky's claim first."

We laid our friend down and set ourselves up at the work table.

After a minute, I caught a quick glance from Spencer and saw the sharp paper knife, stuck there on the table, within reach of his hand... A suspicion crossed my mind, disturbing my thoughts...

The calculation we were about to do normally takes fifteen minutes. At his request, we agreed to do it separately in order to compare the results. But my thoughts were gone. My instinct for self-preservation was screaming, warning me...

I no longer thought of dying by my own hand to save him. The conviction crept into my mind that the same petty instinct of self-preservation was gnawing, like a worm, at my comrade's noble soul. At times, I began to feel the fatal blow in my body...

It's obstructing my work. It's poor. I start over. And Spencer seems to be finished already... Will I let him kill me? But why?... What if I... I'm struggling with the evil that wants to envelop me... I'm exhausted, there, trembling, while he... Now he's made a very slight movement; I feel his gaze upon me... I slowly close my eyes... My body would like to defend itself, but no... no...

And suddenly I felt the blow.

I saw him fall, still holding the dagger that was stuck in his chest. He looked at me smiling, with infinite peace in his expression.

- "Go on, Barry; I didn't do the calculations... it wasn't worth it. And you'll get to Mars... You'll be the first..."

* * *

SPENCER'S ultimate sacrifice had been in vain.

Rocky was wrong. I'll come close to Mars, but passing tangentially through its zone of attraction. Due to the enormous velocity, my course will be only deviated by almost 30°, and I'll continue onwards, towards the unfathomable mystery, incorporated into a fixed orbit around the Sun.

* * *

TWO days have passed. Or should I say, 48 hours, as in this monotonous solitude there aren't even nights.

Still under this impression, I've periodically repeated the position calculations and finally discovered a deficiency in the automatic pilot control apparatus. As we had suspected, there must have been a fault at the start, which set the voyage back by several days. The initial thrust was insufficient and our subsequent efforts exhausted the reserves and weren't enough to compensate for them. Because of the delay, our expected landing will never take place.

* * *


EVERYTHING happened as I've predicted. I passed close to Mars and with my telescope, I could see its immense cities, its fantastic canals and the great inhabited expanses, but covered by eternal ice.

Then I started to fly away. And powerless to avoid it, I verified a deviation of 28° 55' 37" and a fraction.

* * *

I have barely an hour left to live.

For several days, to distract myself, I've been doing calculations, and more calculations, and I've arrived at an incredible result: in 1,478 years, my orbit will cross that of Earth's. By an irony of fate, I'll return to my departure point. Although a little late...

Perhaps by that distant time, my dream will come true from my nights spent looking at the stars. In my beloved garden, there, in the suburbs of San Francisco, I dreamt of a time in the future when spaceships will depart daily to these regions, following fixed routes with the utmost safety.

Was I right?

Goodbye!! See you later!!

* * *

This diary was found next to a perfectly preserved body, in the interior of an ancient spaceship that landed on Earth in 3463, thanks to its automatic braking device.

As if prepared for a long journey, the body was lying on a bunk bed, fastened in with a seat belt. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Perhaps he didn't want to hope either...

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Luis Rodríguez Torres - "Nothing But Earthlings" (1956)

INTRODUCTION

Carlos Abraham in "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción" believes Luis Rodríguez Torres is a pseudonym, possibly of a Spanish author. "Nothing but Earthlings" was published in the June 1956 issue of Más Allá ("Beyond") (#37) and was illustrated by Eusevi. For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)" and "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/

NOTHING BUT EARTHLINGS


OUTSIDE, the stars were shining. Inside, in the central chamber, there were three beings. One of them was referred to as a trilobe. The others were simple. They were inside the acceleration tanks, submerged in a colorless liquid. Only their vibrating membranes were slightly visible.

- "I didn't like that treaty with the colony," said the trilobe; "I didn't like it from the first moment."

- "But it's like they didn't really know what it was, or what it meant to us."

- "Yes. They knew it, Two-Three. The thing is, they just think themselves very clever."

- "They think themselves very superior," said Seven-Three.

- "That's right, but they're not."

- "Oh no! They're just some earthling swine."

- "Swine, you say?" asked Two-Three.

- "Yes. And filthy, too."

Two-Three briefly fluttered his upper vibrapods.

- "I don't understand," he said.

- "It's a metaphor," the trilobe explained.

- "A terrestrial metaphor, I suppose, right?"

- "Yes, terrestrial. They use a very peculiar language, don't you think?"

- "Very peculiar indeed," said Seven-Three, without fluttering his vibrapods, though he had a hard time containing himself.

A light flashed on the dashboard.

- "Engines," a voice announced. "Coordinates C-H-M."

The light went out.

- "Give me gyrocontrol," the trilobe ordered.

Two-Three turned a dial. A light flashed on the dashboard.

- "Gyrocontrol," someone said.

- "Set for JS," the trilobe ordered.

The light went out. The acceleration tanks tilted as gravity shifted to what had been a wall.

- "Give me engines, Two-Three."

A light flashed.

- "Engines."

- "Accelerate to zw, coordinates C-L-M."

The light went out. The colorless liquid briefly covered the membranes in the acceleration tanks. When it returned to its normal level, Two-Three asked:

- "Have you been there, Sicos?"

- "Yes" - the trilobe said - "I was there after Dietz."

- "That Dietz was as much of a swine as the others," said Seven-Three.

- "No, not that much. He was a swine, but he was smart."

- "Yes, very smart to do what he did."

- "It wasn't his fault. He didn't know it was a colony," said Two-Three.

- "No, of course he didn't. He'll know now, won't he, Sicos?"

- "Yes," said Sicos, "I think so."

The others fluttered their vibrapods. They were very amused.

- "Filthy earthlings!" said Seven-Three.

- "I can't get used to them."

- "I've already explained to you that was a metaphor, Two-Three" - said Sicos.

- "I know; but I can't get used to it. It disgusts me."

- "Yes, all of them disgust me."

- "It's just that they're distinct. You'll never get used to being different. Remember, Two-Three, that everything is different and that nothing is the same, or even similar. Much less two races."

- "Yes, but all this disgusts me. I can't stand it."

- "Me neither," said Seven-Three, "ever since I've seen them."

- "They're different, that's all," said Sicos. "They don't understand it. But we can't stand them. That time, after the one with Dietz, we could hardly speak."

- "Are they really that disgusting?" Two-Three asked.

- "Much more so," Seven-Three said, trying to restrain his vibrapods with difficulty.

- "Especially that which they value most."

- "What's that?"

- "Women" - said Sicos - "That's what they call them: women."

- "It's very interesting, Two-Three. They're a vital phenomenon for them. They need them."

- "To reproduce, you know? - explained Sicos.

- "Exactly. They're always with women. They're like themselves, and I can't explain any difference that there may be. They're always mixed, earthlings and women.

- "Stop" - said Two-Three.

- "Oh, you don't like it!" Seven-Three continued, unfurling a vibrapod and bending it gracefully. "Look, women and earthlings are always together. It's very interesting and vital."

- "It's disgusting. Stop, Seven-Three. Don't say such things."

- "Don't you understand, Two-Three? They consider it natural. It's vital."

- "It's disgusting. How can one live without a prudent separation between individuals? I don't understand. Vital, you say? It's disgusting! Stop, Seven-Three."

- "It's vital for them. If you think about it that way, you won't find it so disgusting. It's simply vital. Think about how vital it is. Look: women and earthlings always together; very close together, Two-Three; very close together, almost without any separation."

- "Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop!"

- "It's fine, Two-Three. I was just trying to explain how vital it is to them. They're always together; women and earthlings; although they're the same thing and there's no difference."

- "Stop."

- "They're all earthlings! How vital!... very vital; essential."

- "Stop! I can't stand it! Oh, enough already!" - Two-Three fluttered in the liquid, his vibrapods curling spasmodically.

- "Enough!" he said. "Enough, Seven-Three! You're overstepping your bounds."

- "Enough already, Seven-Three," said Sicos. "You already know it, Two-Three. Are you aware?"

- "I'm aware, Sicos. Now I understand why we're going there."

- "To explain to them that they mustn't destroy our colonies," said Seven-Three. "Filthy earthlings!"

- "Don't say it like that."

- "It's just a metaphor; you know that."

- "It's disgusting."

- "I believe it already! I was there with Sicos, after Dietz, right, Sicos?"

- "Yes. I believe we were there after Dietz."

The others rejoiced and fluttered their vibrapods. Two-Three was very happy and had unfurled almost all of his vibrapods.

A light started flashing.

- "Servocontrol" - a voice announced-. "Meteor cloud."

The light went out, and a buzzer sounded. Liquid covered the vibrating membranes, and the acceleration tanks shifted. The colorless liquid stirred a little. Then, the gravity was as it was before, and the liquid returned to its normal level.

The light flashed again.

- "Servocontrol. En route," the voice announced.

- "That's efficiency, said Seven-Three. "Almost earthling efficiency."

- "Almost," said Sicos.

The others fluttered their vibrapods. They were very amused.

- "They're very curious and they control each other with a very special control system" - said Sicos.

- "Do you mean that they control others amongst themselves? - asked Two-Three."

- "Exactly. It's not quite control, but it could be considered as such."

- "That's terrible!"

- "For them it's not," - Seven-Three explained. - "Look, you control someone else. But I'm stronger, so I can control both of you. Do you understand?"

- "It's astonishing."

- "They don't consider it to be." - said Sicos-. "They're used to it. The strongest always controls."

- "It's terrible! And don't they notice the capabilities of each person, their ideas, their mental control, their lobes?"

- "Oh, no!" said Seven-Three. "They're just earthlings. They don't notice anything. The strongest is always in control. If someone, through his abilities or his ideas, tries to control someone, someone stronger always comes along and controls him in turn. Two or more will also unite to control those who are weak."

- "I don't understand."

- "It can't be understood," said Sicos. "Suppose you, Two-Three, that you join with Seven-Three against me."

Two-Three fluttered his vibrapods.

- "Against you, Sicos?"

- "Yes. Let's suppose, I said."

- "Impossible. It couldn't be."

- "They do it," Seven-Three said. Two-Three did not answer. His vibrapods submerged into the acceleration tank. Everyone was silent for a moment, only the faint hum of the engines could be heard.

- "Several join together, and that makes them strong" - explained Sicos - "You, Two-Three, could join together with Seven-Three against me."

- "Stop, Sicos; it disgusts me!"

- "It's like that, Two-Three, it's like that."

- "We're going to have to explain ourselves to them very well" - said Seven-Three.

- "I think so" - said Sicos-. "I'm almost sure of it."

The others fluttered their vibrapods. Sicos knew how to keep them in a permanent state of joy. They felt very happy and content to be with Sicos. He always had phrases that produced a great deal of joy in them. He was very comical.

- "I suppose they have Colonies, too," said Two-Three.

- "Yes, they have them on the planets of their star."

- "Are we going to use the weapon against their planet?"

- "Ask Seven-Three."

- "The weapon against their planet?" Seven-Three said, forgetting to control his vibrapods. "Against their planet, you say? Look here: you and Sicos are a couple of filthy earthlings!"

Sicos and Two-Three fluttered their vibrapods happily. They were very amused and happy.

- "You're a filthy earthling; and you, Sicos, are what the earthlings call a captain!"

The others were becoming more and more amused; they got along very well with each other, it's true, and Two-Three had unfurled all his vibrapods.

- "Very good," said Sicos. "Very good, Seven-Three. I'm a captain, but you're a lieutenant."

Seven-Three suddenly lost control. He was so amused that he couldn't answer anything.

- "And me?" asked Two-Three, without lowering his vibrapods for a moment.

- "You?" said Seven-Three, getting a reaction. "You're just a filthy earthling!"

Sicos and Two-Three felt very satisfied. Two-Three was no longer impressed by the term and forgot to lower his vibrapods.

- "Very good!" said Sicos. "And so, Lieutenant, you're not in favor of using the weapon against the planet, are you?"

- "No, Captain, I'm not in favor of it at all. I'm going to use the weapon against the star."

- "Against the star?" - said Two-Three.

- "Yes, filthy earthling. Remember that they have colonies on some planets."

- "But they won't be able to live long in their colonies, will they? Seven-Three?"

- "No, filthy earthling, they won't be able to live after their star is gone."

- "Very good, lieutenant" - said Sicos-. "Use your weapon as you wish."

- "Yes, captain; as I wish."

A light flashed.

- "Engines" - announced a voice. - "Coordinates C - L - M."

The light went out.

- "Give me observation" - Sicos ordered.

- "Yes, Captain," said Two-Three.

- "Observation," someone said.

- "Connect to the central chamber."

The lights dimmed, and the acceleration tanks spun on their axis. A screen lit up, presenting a view of outer space thick with stars.

- "Filthy earthling" - Sicos ordered -, "give me gyrocontrol."

- "Gyrocontrol" - a voice said.

- "Full rotation."

The stars began to move on the screen.

- "Observation, filthy earthling."

A light flashed.

- "Observation."

- "Locate the star," Sicos said.

The stars spun. Suddenly a bright glow illuminated the chamber.

- "Give me gyrocontrol" - Sicos ordered.

- "Gyrocontrol."

- "Cease rotation! There you have it; it's yours, Lieutenant."

- "Very good, give me engines, filthy earthling" - said Seven-Three.

A light flashed.

- "Engines" - a voice announced.

- "To a critical distance. Advance."

The tanks turned, and the star began to slowly enlarge.

A light flashed, and the star stopped approaching.

- "Engines," the voice said. "Critical distance."

- "Very interesting, Lieutenant."

- "Yes, Captain. But it will be much more interesting very soon."

Sicos and Two-Three fluttered their vibrapods. Their happiness was very contagious. Seven-Three couldn't control himself and unfurled almost all of his vibrapods.

- "Give me power," he said to Two-Three.

A light flashed.

- "Power," someone said.

- "You talk like an earthling."

- "What did you say?"

- "Nothing. Ready weapons!"

Another light flashed.

- "Power" - the voice announced -. "Ready to make contact."

- "Wait a minute."

The lights went out.

- "Very interesting, Lieutenant. What are you waiting for?"

- "Your order, Captain. You're in command."

- "Ah! I've forgotten. Whenever you like, Lieutenant."

- "Yes, Captain. Filthy earthling!"

- "Lieutenant?"

- "Give me power."

The lights flashed.

- "Power. Ready to make contact."

- "Still talking like an earthling?"

- "What do you mean?"

- "Nothing. Contact!"

The lights went out. On the screen, the star began to glow more and more intensely, until it extinguished the others with its brightness.

- "Give me observation" - Sicos ordered.

- "Observation" - a voice announced.

- "Disconnect."

The light went out. An instant later the screen went dark, and the chamber lights flashed normally.

- "What a disgusting glow!" said Seven-Three. "It seems that everything about them is disgusting."

- "Filthy earthling!"

- "Captain?"

- "Give me engines."

- "Engines," someone said.

- "Accelerate to zw, coordinates C-H-M."

The liquid briefly covered the membranes. When it returned to its normal level, Seven-Three said:

- "I suppose you liked it, filthy earthlings."

The others fluttered their vibrapods happily.

- "I can't get used to the glow," said Two-Three.

- "Yes, Lieutenant; a bit too strong, this glow."

- "Disgusting. It seems like everything about them was disgusting. In every way they're always the same."

- "Do you think so?" said Sicos. "Remember that there's nothing that's equal, not even similar."

- "I'd like to know what they must have thought," said Two-Three.

Seven-Three could hardly control himself.

- "Can you imagine one time they actually ever thought?" he said before lowering his vibrapods.

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