The Ultimate Weird Tales Collection - 133 stories - Clark Ashton Smith (Trilogus Classics) (22 page)

Then came the astounding change. I had deferred taking the drug for some days, realizing that my health had suffered too heavily from its use and that death might soon follow if I persisted in further experiments. During that time I had experienced some strange mental states, which I could not recall clearly afterwards. Also, there had been several odd lapses of consciousness, lasting for several hours, which were always preceded by mental confusion and a preoccupation with thoughts remote from my usual trend. In particular, there would come to me the thought of an absolute vacuum, between the worlds, apart from time and place. Through superior, godlike will-power, it seemed to me, a being might enter this vacuum and thus insulate himself from the cosmic laws that would otherwise control his destiny. Such insulation seemed desirable to me, and I would find myself willing it intently just as consciousness deserted me. Thus alone could I divorce my actions from those of the otherworld being, and escape the doom which menaced us both through repeated use of the powerful compound drug.

Feeling still too weak and ill to go out, I made the next experiment with the drug in my laboratory, lying on the couch. The drug acted as usual, the vision clarifying itself till I saw once more the vessels and furniture of that alien laboratory beyond my own. But, to my amazement, the vast, many-cubed couch, on which I had thought to see a reclining figure, was vacant! I looked everywhere about the place, but in vain, for the companion of my visions.

Then, for the first time in my use of the super-drug, I experienced the sensation of hearing. A voice began to speak, low, toneless, coming from no direction — and yet from all directions. Sometimes I though it spoke in my own brain, rather than from any point in space. It said:

"Can you hear me? I am Abernarda Chameechamach, your twin in the four-dimensioned cosmos you have visioned."

"Yes, I can hear you," I replied. "Where are you?" Whether I spoke aloud, or merely thought the words, I am not sure.

"I have isolated myself in the vacuum of super-space," was the answer. "It is the only way in which I can break the rapport between our existences — which must be broken if I am to escape the death that threatens you. In this vacuum, all laws and all forces are inoperative, except those of thought and will. I can will myself into the vacuum and out of it again. My thoughts can pass to your world and become audible to you in your present state under the influence of the drug."

"But how can you do these things independently of me?" I asked.

"Because my will and my brain are superior to yours, though otherwise identical with them. Our worlds are twin, as you have realized; but mine, which has one more dimension than yours, is the primary one, the world of causes. Yours is the secondary world of effects. It was I who invented the super-drug, in my efforts to stimulate a new sense that would reveal cosmic reality. Your invention of it was the result of mine, just as your existence is the result of my existence. I alone of the people in this world, through the drug, have learned that there is a secondary sphere; and you alone, in yours, have visioned the primary sphere. My knowledge, through a law of the higher dimension, enables me to act now upon the secondary world through thought alone. Insulating myself in this vacuum, I have willed that you should perform actions from whose necessity I myself am exempt. Several times the only result was a loss of consciousness on your part, corresponding to my stay in the vacuum. But now I have triumphed. Y ou have taken the drug, while I stand aloof between the worlds, invisible, and apart from the chain of cause and effect."

"Since you have not used the drug," I asked, "how is it that you are conscious of me? Can you see me?"

"No, I cannot see you. But I am aware of you through a sense not dependent upon the drug: a sense that my very knowledge of your existence enables me to use. It is part of my superior mind power. I do not intend to use the drug again; but I wish that you shall continue to use it."

"Why?" I queried.

"Because you will soon die from the effects of such use. I, abstaining, will escape death. Such a thing, I believe, has never before happened in the history of the double cosmos. Death, in your world, like birth and everything else, has always been the concomitant of a like happening in mine. What the outcome will be, I am not quite sure. But, by breaking the nexus between us, and outliving you, it may be that I shall never die."

"But is my death possible without yours?" I questioned.

"I think that it is. It will result from the continuation of actions that would also cause my death, if I did not choose to interrupt them in myself. When your death approaches, I shall enter the vacuum again, where no cosmic cause or consequence can follow me. Thus I shall be doubly safe."

For several hours past, I have been writing this account at my laboratory desk. Whatever happens to me — whether death or something stranger than death — a record of my incredible experiences will at least remain when I am gone.

Since my conversation with the being who calls himself Abernarda Chameechamach, I have tried to abstain wholly from the super-drug and have several times delayed yielding to the impulse that makes me continue its use. I find myself wishing, willing intensely that Abernarda Chameechamach should take the drug while I refrain, and should perish in my stead.

During my few recent experiments with the drug, I have seen only the empty laboratory of my trans-dimensional twin. Apparently, on each occasion, that being has absented himself in super-space. He has not spoken to me again.

However, I have a strange feeling that I am closer to him than at any time during our mutual visions or our one conversation. My physical enfeeblement has progressed pace by pace with a remarkable strengthening and enlargement of my mental faculties. It seems, indescribably, that another dimension has been added to my mind. I feel myself the possessor of senses beyond the normal five and the one activated by the drug. I believe that the powers of Abernarda Chameechamach, though directed against me, have to some extent passed into me through a cosmic law that not even he is able to abrogate from his station beyond time and place. There is a balance that must right itself, even though temporarily disturbed by the unknown forces of a four-dimensioned mind.

His very volition had transferred itself to me, and has turned back against him, though I am subject to him in ways already indicated. I am possessed by the image of the cosmic vacuum in which he isolates himself. More and more I feel in myself the desire, the will and the power to project myself bodily into the vacuum, and thus escape the chain of consequences that began with the discovery of the super-drug. What, I wonder, will happen if I should escape in this manner before the drug kills me? What will happen to me, and to Abernarda Chameechamach, if we should meet face to face in that void between the worlds of our double cosmos?

Will the meeting mean annihilation for us both? Will we survive as two entities — or a single entity? I can only wait and conjecture. Does that other also doubt and wonder while he waits? Are there two of us — or is there only one?

FAKHREDDIN

Fakhreddin, Grand Vizier to Abdallah Harun Al-Raschid, seventh Caliph of the race of the Abassids, was a tall, handsome man, well versed in all the known sciences. He was well-beloved of his master, but in his secret heart, cherished that malignant monster, Jealousy. Yes, he was envious of the Caliph's great wealth and position. He was a cousin of Harun Al-Raschid.

Being of a secretive disposition, however, he had kept his envy strictly to himself, except on certain occasions when it had broken out in great fury.

A certain rich merchant of whom Fakreddin was purchasing a turban, extolled to him the praises of the Caliph.

"Our good Prince, Harun Al-Raschid," he said, in a sonorous voice which was meant to be impressive and was not, "is superior to all princes of this earth, living or dead, with the exception of Mahomet. He is wiser, kinder, wealthier, and more holy than any living ruler. He is richer than any of the emperors of Cathay, wiser than the wise men of China, and more holy than any of his predecessors, except the prophet himself."

"Perfidious liar! Dolt! Thou knowest not what thou sayest," cried Fahreddin, siezing the unlucky merchant by the throat and throwing him to the ground. Drawing his poignard he would have stabbed him (the merchant) dead, had not some people who had been standing nearby, interfered. They held back the furious Vizier, while the merchant, his face livid, staggered to his feet.

"Is it meet for the Grand Vizier of the Caliph to thus abuse his master?" he asked, still gasping for breath.

"I did not abuse the Caliph," said Fakhreddin, "I merely called you a liar and a dolt, and told you that you knew not what you said."

"You did, I'll admit that," said the merchant. "But all the same you meant that the qualities which I ascribed to the Caliph were not his. Everyone knows, who knows anything, that what I spoke was the truth."

"I'll say one thing for the Caliph," sneered Fakhreddin, "he's much better that Mahomet ever was!"

At this sacreligious utterance, coming from the lips of so illustrious a person as the Grand Vizier of the Vice-regent of God, the people who had collected in the bazaar drew back in horror and astonishment.

Finding that his captors had relinquished their hold upon him in their amazement, Fakhreddin drew his poignard and with a swift movement, stabbed the unhappy merchant to the heart.

The merchant fell without a sound, and the Grand Vizier made his escape during the confusion that followed. He reached the palace out of breath and immediately retired to his room.

Luckily for Fakhreddin, the Caliph was absent from Bagdad at the time and on his return, heard nothing of what had happened. Had it been otherwise than this the Vizier would assuredly have lost his head. But this, rest assured, was not the only occasion in which the malignant Fakhreddin displayed his hatred for the Caliph. It is not my purpose to weary the reader with an account of all that the Vizier did. I do not applaud his actions, for Harun Al-Raschid was the best of all the Caliphs, from Mahomet to the present Sultan of Turkey, who, tho he asserts himself to be viceregent of Allah, is not regarded in that light by the Arabians, and other Mohammedan peoples outside his own dominions.

It is sufficient for my purpose to recite one more of the Vizier's acts of jealously, if by doing so I give the reader a better comprehension of his (Fakhreddin's) feelings towards the Caliph. This I hope I shall do, but the final issue is left to the good judgment of the reader.

It happened, that one night, the Caliph, who made it his custom to pass thru the city every night to see that all was well, was taken sick with a slight illness, brought on by needless exposure. Fakhreddin, who always accompanied him on these nightly rambles, had this time to go alone.

The task was not at all to his taste, he having been wearied by a long day of hard and incessant work. The divan had been assembled several times and some hard thinking had been done.

The last of these councils had been assembled for the purpose of judging the Caliph's illness and what should be done about it. As no opinion was arrived at, the divan was broken up, and the Grand Vizier and the lesser viziers retired, much vexed by the gloomy disposition of the Caliph, who had ever been bright and happy.

And now, to return to Fakhreddin's journey. About ten o'clock that night he sallied forth from the palace disguised as a common eunuch. After traversing the city from end to end he hastened homeward, spurred on by the thought of a warm supper.

He passed by a large house thru the windows of which a light could be seen burning. This was strange, it seemed to the Vizier, so he ventured nearer for the purpose of making closer observations.

He walked noiselessly up to the door and listened. From within came the sound of music and singing, the latter decidedly feminine voices. The Vizier, curious to know the reason of this, stopped to think for a moment. As he was perfectly aware that the Caliph had forbidden entertainments later than ten at night, this particular one needed some investigation.

The Vizier knocked loudly upon the door, first making sure that his scimitar was ready for use. As he knew not what might happen as a result of his intrusion, he determined to be ready to meet all emergencies. The first result was that the music and singing immediately stopped, and that the light was blown out. The second was that no one came to admit him. Both were highly suspicious, inasmuch as they admitted that something was happening within, which the participants did not think it best to reveal to people whose intention they did not know.

Finding that the inmates entertained no intention of admitting him, Fakhreddin bestowed upon the door a heavy kick. The door was equally as heavy and was barred into the bargain. It was of mahogany, and evidently very thick.