Lost Art
By George O. Smith
Illustrated by Orban
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, December 1943.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Sargon of Akkad was holding court in all of his splendor in theMesopotamia area, which he thought to be the center of the Universe.The stars to him were but holes in a black bowl which he called thesky. They were beautiful then, as they are now, but he thought thatthey were put there for his edification only; for was he not the rulerof Akkadia?
After Sargon of Akkad, there would come sixty centuries of climbingbefore men reached the stars and found not only that there had been menupon them, but that a civilization on Mars had reached its peak fourthousand years before Christ and was now but a memory and a wealth ofpictographs that adorned the semipreserved Temples of Canalopsis.
And sixty centuries after, the men of Terra wondered about theideographs and solved them sufficiently to piece together the wondersof the long-dead Martian Civilization.
Sargon of Akkad did not know that the stars that he beheld carried onthem wonders his mind would not, could not, accept.
Altas, the Martian, smiled tolerantly at his son. The young man boastedon until Altas said: "So you have memorized the contents of my manual?Good, Than, for I am growing old and I would be pleased to have myson fill my shoes. Come into the workshop that I may pass upon yourproficiency."
Altas led Than to the laboratory that stood at the foot of the greattower of steel; Altas removed from a cabinet a replacement element fromthe great beam above their heads, and said: "Than, show me how to hookthis up!"
Than's eyes glowed. From other cabinets he took small auxiliary parts.From hooks upon the wall, Than took lengths of wire. Working with abrilliant deftness that was his heritage as a Martian, Than spent anhour attaching the complicated circuits. After he was finished, Thanstepped back and said: "There—and believe it or not, this is the firsttime you have permitted me to work with one of the beam elements."
"You have done well," said Altas with that same cryptic smile. "But nowwe shall see. The main question is: Does it work?"
"Naturally," said Than in youthful pride. "Is it not hooked up exactlyas your manual says? It will work."
"We shall see," repeated Altas. "We shall see."
Barney Carroll and James Baler cut through the thin air of Mars in adriver-wing flier at a terrific rate of speed. It was the only kindof flier that would work on Mars with any degree of safety since itdepended upon the support of its drivers rather than the wing surface.They were hitting it up at almost a thousand miles per hour on theirway from Canalopsis to Lincoln Head; their trip would take an hour anda half.
As they passed over the red sand of Mars, endlessly it seemed, a glintof metal caught Barney's eye, and he shouted.
"What's the matter, Barney?" asked Jim.
"Roll her over and run back a mile or so," said Barney. "I sawsomething down there that didn't belong in this desert."
Jim snapped the plane around in a sharp loop that nearly took theirheads off, and they ran back along their course.
"Yop," called Barney, "there she is!"
"What?"
"See that glint of shiny metal? That doesn't belong in this mess oferosion. Might be a crash."
"Hold tight," laughed Jim. "We're going down."
They did. Jim's piloting had all of the aspects of a daredevil racingpilot's, and