Part 2 (2/2)
But what value was that to him, if he would die in a few days from lack of oxygen?
No, if he were to be rescued, it had to be soon. By the Venusian colonists? No hope lay there, either. The second planet was an infant world, and its people--even if they succeeded in making s.p.a.ce travel common--would be apt to avoid the Earth-Luna system like the--
He choked: There was no other word for it:--like the plague....
Again, he was conscious of his brief chill. It aroused some elusive connection in his brain with a piece of information he had nearly forgotten. What was it? Cerebration set in, as he sought to pin down the clue he wanted.... He felt his body chilling....
_Chilling_, he thought. That was it, _deep freezing_.
What cold was colder than the eternal absolute zero of outer s.p.a.ce?
Where could a person find temperatures lower than those in the celestial icebox that extended everywhere around him? Just outside his port window lurked enough chill to keep his body intact for a million years!
And in a million years, who knew what cultures would learn to pilot vessels through s.p.a.ce and come his way to revive him? Possibly alien cultures whom his superior genius for organizing would enable him to dominate. Already, the contemplation of such a possibility rendered the prospect so alluring he wondered why he was holding back. Why not step out of the airlock immediately?
It was calm reasoning that deterred him, the realization that if his scheme for survival were to meet success, he would have to lay his plans deep enough to meet every contingent possibility.
Two things became immediately apparent as essential: (1) He would have to adopt a method of self-freezing that would a.s.sure instantaneous cessation of his life activities without injuring his body cells by converting the water to ice. (2) He would have to leave behind him an explanation of what he had done and sufficient directions concerning his revivification that he would not be restored so slowly as to alter his molecular structure, a turn of affairs which would in fact make him unalterably dead long before he approached normal body warmth.
Now, thoroughly aroused by the possibility of escaping total death, Edwin Dollard fought his way back through the damaged compartments to the tuberoom. Here were vats of liquid helium, used in Collins engines to refrigerate the volatile rocket fuel. The helium, Dollard knew, was in turn kept super-cool by contact with magnetic salts, mostly iron ammonium sulphate, the magnetic field being generated by the s.h.i.+p's auxiliary dynamos when in operation, the s.h.i.+p's batteries at other times.
But if one were to open all ports or hatches, allowing the atmosphere to escape, the absolute zero s.p.a.ce would infiltrate the s.h.i.+p's interior making it unnecessary for either the helium to cool the fuel, or the salts to cool the helium. All would probably approach a state of absolute heat death. And the body of a man, immersed in the helium vat, would be preserved for eternity!
Dollard laughed. He would defy Garth yet!
He spent the following day in the most efficient of preparations.
Moving about the s.h.i.+p, he posted complete directions for his recovery in as many languages as he knew. Then, he drew with painstaking care a series of diagrams that repeated the information in pictograph form.
Finally he recorded directions on sound tape and hooked the reproducer to an electron eye so it would commence to play the moment the vessel was entered.
This task completed, he set about to prepare his own body. It was imperative that the suspension take place so speedily that none of the animal heat was retained. For this purpose, he imbibed a heavy amount of alcohol which served to flush his capillaries and distribute calories more equally through his system.
Next, he gathered wiring and rigged up a remote-control board that would enable him to open the s.h.i.+p's hatches from sanctuary inside the tuberoom. When finally ready, he stood by the helium vats, opened a switch on the jerry-built board and listened to the vessel's atmospheric envelope swoosh out in the pa.s.sages just beyond the sealed tuberoom hatch.
Now, the only air remaining inside the craft was that in the tuberoom itself.
At that moment, the s.h.i.+p circling the mother planet entered the shadow of Terra and chilled perceptibly in the absence of radiated sunlight.
Dollard stripped to his skin. His lips were blue and his limbs were trembling, despite their cus.h.i.+on of fat. He pressed the last b.u.t.ton and the pressure inside the room commenced to drop. He stood by the largest vat until all the oxygen was gone, except that remaining in his lungs. The outer hatch swung open, admitting the penetrating cold of complete vacuum.
The trapped industrialist exhaled his breath, counted three and dived into the tank.
His body sank and the atoms of helium temporarily left their random state with the influx of heat, but returned quickly as the magnetic field took up the slack, vaporizing the ammonium salts. All was quiet again--
The human brain and the secondary laws of thermodynamics had combined to thwart the will of a relentless universe.
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