The Runaway Skyscraper | Page 4

the Fourth Dimension?"
Estelle shook her head hopelessly.
"Well, then, have you ever read anything by Wells? The 'Time
Machine,' for instance?"
Again she shook her head.
"I don't know how I'm going to say it so you'll understand, but time is
just as much a dimension as length and breadth. From what I can judge,
I'd say there has been an earthquake, and the ground has settled a little
with our building on it, only instead of settling down toward the center
of the earth, or side-wise, it's settled in this fourth dimension."
"But what does that mean?" asked Estelle uncomprehendingly.
"If the earth had settled down, we'd have been lower. If it had settled to
one side, we'd have been moved one way or another, but as it's settled
back in the Fourth Dimension, we're going back in time."
"Then--"
"We're in a runaway skyscraper, bound for some time back before the
discovery of America!"

III.
It was very still in the office. Except for the flickering outside
everything seemed very much as usual. The electric light burned
steadily, but Estelle was sobbing with fright and Arthur was trying

vainly to console her.
"Have I gone crazy?" she demanded between her sobs.
"Not unless I've gone mad, too," said Arthur soothingly. The
excitement had quite a soothing effect upon him. He had ceased to feel
afraid, but was simply waiting to see what had happened. "We're way
back before the founding of New York now, and still going strong."
"Are you sure that's what has happened?"
"If you'll look outside," he suggested, "you'll see the seasons following
each other in reverse order. One moment the snow covers all the
ground, then you catch a glimpse of autumn foliage, then summer
follows, and next spring."
Estelle glanced out of the window and covered her eyes.
"Not a house," she said despairingly. "Not a building. Nothing, nothing,
nothing!"
Arthur slipped, his arm about her and patted hers comfortingly.
"It's all right," he reassured her. "We'll bring up presently, and there
we'll be. There's nothing to be afraid of."
She rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed hopelessly for a little
while longer, but presently quieted. Then, suddenly, realizing that
Arthur's arm was about her and that she was crying on his shoulder, she
sprang away, blushing crimson.
Arthur walked to the window.
"Look there!" he exclaimed, but it was too late. "I'll swear to it I saw
the Half Moon, Hudson's ship," he declared excitedly. "We're way back
now, and don't seem to be slacking up, either."
Estelle came to the window by his side. The rapidly changing scene
before her made her gasp. It was no longer possible to distinguish night

from day.
A wavering streak, moving first to the right and then to the left, showed
where the sun flashed across the sky.
"What makes the sun wabble so?" she asked.
"Moving north and south of the equator," Arthur explained casually.
"When it's farthest south--to the left--there's always snow on the ground.
When it's farthest right it's summer. See how green it is?"
A few moments' observation corroborated his statement.
"I'd say," Arthur remarked reflectively, "that it takes about fifteen
seconds for the sun to make the round trip from farthest north to
farthest south." He felt his pulse. "Do you know the normal rate of the
heart-beat? We can judge time that way. A clock will go all to pieces,
of course."
"Why did your watch explode--and the clock?"
"Running forward in time unwinds a clock, doesn't it?" asked Arthur.
"It follows, of course, that when you move it backward in time it winds
up. When you move it too far back, you wind it so tightly that the
spring just breaks to pieces."
He paused a moment, his fingers on his pulse.
"Yes, it takes about fifteen seconds for all the four seasons to pass. That
means we're going backward in time about four years a minute. If we
go on at this rate another hour we'll be back in the time of the
Northmen, and will be able to tell if they did discover America, after
all."
"Funny we don't hear any noises," Estelle observed. She had caught
some of Arthur's calmness.
"It passes so quickly that though our ears hear it, we don't separate the
sounds. If you'll notice, you do hear a sort of humming. It's very

high-pitched, though."
Estelle listened, but could hear nothing.
"No matter," said Arthur. "It's probably a little higher than your ears
will catch. Lots of people can't hear a bat squeak."
"I never could," said Estelle. "Out in the country, where I come from,
other people could hear them, but I couldn't."
They stood a while in silence, watching.
"When are we going to stop?" asked Estelle uneasily.