volting; but never had he sensed so sinister an aura as that which surrounded the quiet-voiced, mild-mannered scientist who droned of his hopes and accomplishments.
If only he had the desire to dedicate his brilliant discoveries to the cure of disease, to the alleviation of suffering, to the elevation of Mankind and the Glory of God!
But no! His purpose was to render null and void all that had inspired faith in spiritual reality since the dawn of human life on the earth.
"Your work is monstrous, Oliver!" he said. "No matter how good your intentions may be, you are preparing to foist on humanity something that they will abominate!"
Doctor Santurn spoke with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, which was pitched slightly higher and sounded somewhat strained.
"Since when are you a moralist, Gary?"
"Since this very moment, Oliver! You'll knock the props from under civilization and offer cold consolation in return. The sort of Immortality you believe in is no solace to the average man, even if your theories are entirely correct—which I am not prepared to admit."
"Stuff and nonsense! Do you really suppose, if you should die this minute, you'd go to a 'Hereafter' clad in celestial habiliments, but still appearing your present age—wrinkles, bald spot and all? Have you ever thought seriously of it Gary? What age would you be if you died and went to 'Heaven'? Would you dwell through Infinity agelessly, awaiting Gabriel's saxophone to clothe yourself again in the mortal clay you had left behind?
"You wouldn't find it, Gary! Not on Resurrection Day. You'd find that while you had strayed off, Nature had borrowed some of your very material molecules and employed them elsewhere in a most useful manner.
"Then the only recourse left you, if there should be a 'You', would be to appropriate unto yourself the Oriental belief in reincarnation, find yourself a new organism about to be born, and crawl into swaddling clothes for a new start—perhaps as a sacred cow, or a cat!
"Stuff and nonsense, Gary! How could you bring yourself expediently to believe in a 'heathen' doctrine?"
"Stop—stop it!" cried Mason, feeling as if some roiling hand had stirred up the mud of doubt on these very questions which had always secretly troubled him.
"On the other hand," went on the Doctor, as though Mason had not spoken, "Consider these benefits: Men and women born free of any taint—physically free from blemish, and psychologically exempt from the age-old inhibitions and fears that hamper them to-day. 'Religion' is responsible, basically, for most of these psychic handicaps."
"Will they all be soulless automatons?" interrupted Mason, rallying again to the attack. "All of one level of mediocrity or genius? All with the same tastes, desires and capabilities?
"Granting your so-called 'benefits', what becomes of man's age-old desire for perpetuation in the traits of his children? What of his innate urge for perpetuation after he ceases to walk among the living?
"Instead of a soul, you claim he becomes a completely damped impulse in the ether. Try and tell men that, and see whether reason or instinct prevails!
"At your peril attempt to ram your 'Brotherhood of Man' scheme down their throats in the manner you propose.
"Oh, yes! Just try!"
But the Doctor merely laughed, refused to be drawn into further argument, and prepared to retire.
A Feeling of Repulsion Begins to Grow
TIME stood still, up there on The Plateau; and the absence of newspapers, even of calendars, had its effect on Mason who lapsed quickly into the routine of the place.
Repelled by what he saw and heard, yet, nevertheless, fascinated by each step forward in the monstrous work, he spoke in a half-hearted manner of taking his departure, only to comply with the Doctor's cynically veneered proposal that he "stick it out."
What he bad witnessed during the first few hours following his arrival had created within him a deeper repugnance than he had believed himself capable of feeling. Gregarious by instinct, tolerant of the foibles and failings of the genus homo, and even indulgent of some of them personally, Mason brought to bear his best arguments to turn Doctor Santurn aside from the accomplishment of what he finally termed "Hellish desires."
The biologist bad indulged in another of his mild laughs at that; but if he had proclaimed his intention at the top of his voice, it could not have served better to convince Mason that wordy interference would be futile.
For the first time the archaeologist became aware of his own duality of nature. Ordinarily frank to the utmost, more comfortable as donor than as supplicant, there rose from his inner consciousness the knowledge that he would travel devious and subtle routes, if need be, to circumvent the Doctor. He was no longer in doubt as to the man's ability to create at will, many varieties of organisms.
Johnssen's charges became more numerous day by day, and whatever bad once been animated in the laboratories on The Plateau was jealously guarded and nurtured.
Each day had its definite assignment to be completed, the schedule being laid down on the preceding evening; and as Mason contributed an apparently eager curiosity, the Doctor and his staff soon grew used to his appearance in this laboratory or that. They even found amusement in directing him to push this button or throw that switch, and watching his amazement at the results.
They were playing with the Higher Science, and it is doubtful if they could have recalled the rudimentary principles upon which their discoveries were based, so accustomed had they become to manipulation of their super-devices, and the performance of their intricate experiments.
On the surface, Mason was apparently reconciled to the projects which he watched grow to fruition, from day to day. Within, however, his submerged nature was slowly gaining the ascendency.
Calm, rational, well-balanced mentally, ordinarily,
