“Here it comes,” Jiam exclaimed as he threw himself flat. 

     His companion, Professor Corolius, followed his example.  A solid iron planet roared over them.  From the ground, they watched its spherical contours tower into the sky as it passed.

     Throwing themselves flat had been purely a conditioned action.  Rule 9476 of the TRAVELER’S MANUAL prescribed this as the best method of survival.  The metal asteroid had been visible for some time before its passage over them and they knew that its periphery would miss them by a comfortable margin.  Still, rules were rules, and they followed the prescribed routine faithfully.

     If the planet had traveled over them on its periphery, no rule or procedure in the world would have saved them.  The mass weighed into the billions and its sloping sides went upward and upwards till they lost themselves from sight in the heavens.

     The two watched it crash from pylon to pylon as it pursued a southward course down the great declivity.  At each impact, there was the outrageous clangor and rumble of gargantuan machinery deep beneath the surface of Rhumla and fantastic lights illuminated the skies.

     “Second one today,” Professor Corolius said, sounding shaky.

     The metal monster, traveling at great speed, despite its almost continuous collisions with the pylons, was becoming smaller as it approached the horizon.  Suddenly, it appeared to trip and it wobbled drunkenly in a semi-circle.  Simultaneously, the southern declivity became the northern incline.  This was accompanied by a violent side-to-side motion of the entire land surface and the metallic leviathan began to retrace its course toward them.   They would have been knocked off their feet if they had not already been laying down.   As it was, they rolled first one way, then the other, like two peas in a pan.  Jiam groaned, “The Horrido Effect”.

     The “Effect” also confused direction.  Most of the time, Rhumlas terrain sloped downward.  A traveler could follow the decline all day and then camp for the night.  Upon resumption of his journey the next day, he was just as apt eventually to find himself back at his starting point, if he continued to follow the downward gradient.  Experienced travelers carried a pointed tool which they lay on the ground to indicate the direction they wished to resume if forced to interrupt their travels by nightfall.

     The side-to-side motion ceased and then the horizon reversed itself.  The southern declivity sloped southward once more and the gargantuan sphere disappeared through the surface with a crash.

     The two, from their prone position, picked up the vibrations of the terrible impact with their bodies.  There was a moment of stillness and then they could feel the monstrous globe resume its southward course on a subterranean level.  Finally, in the vast distance, they could feel it strike another of its kind.  The jar was repeated three or four times, each successfully diminishing in intensity.  Finally, silence.

     “That’s old number four,” sighed Professor Corolius.

     Jiam was skeptical.  “Are you sure?  Number four was observed by the Caslon Party just two days ago.  It’s difficult to believe that it worked its way north in such a short period of time.”

     The Professor was positive.  “When you have a little more experience under your belt, you won’t have any difficulty distinguishing one from another.  Three has a tarnished area that resembles a question mark.  Two, a spatter effect on its sides.  One has an almost square discoloration and four is pitted more deeply than the others from its more frequent collisions.  Five and six have been observed rarely as they seem to frequent the more deserted land mass.  However, the seismograph boys have picked them up on their instruments.  There are unconfirmed rumors of a seventh planetoid but, to date, we haven’t been able to gather any data on this one.”

     Jiam looked at his timepiece.  “Anyway, in another couple of hours, we’ll be safe.  They are inactive at night, which to my way of thinking lends a great deal of credence to the Pastorik Theory of Light Propulsion.”

     “If Pastorik wasn’t a sorcerer, I’d have a great deal  more respect for his opinions.  The theologicians are just as bad with their ‘Cosmic Giant’ theory.”

     “You don’t think, then, Professor, that there is anything to the idea of the planetoids recharging their energy reserves at night and that they are again activated by the first light of day?”

     “I don’t think there is anything to it at all,” affirmed Professor Corolius.  “Recharging of energy reserves implies an organic nature which I believe they are not.  Their pattern of travel from north to south indicates they are motivated purely by gravity.  To my way of thinking, if the Horrido Effect positioned Rhumla in a perfectly flat plane, they would become motionless once their momentum expired.”

     Jiam disagreed.  “Too radical an idea and they do make their way north somehow against the pull of gravity.  Although it has never been observed, logic compels you to believe this.  It’s as simple as one and one.  If there were no south to north shift, there would not be one from north to south.”

     “As a fellow scientist, I agree on that and some day we will prove it, given time.”  Professor Corolius sighed and repeated, “Given enough time.”

     As predicted, the sky turned black.  It occurred in the wink of an eye.  There was no intermediate process.  Both breathed a sigh of relief.  They were now safe from the rolling menaces.

     “We are protected from the terrors of outer space by a clear but solid layer of unknown composition.  It lets in the light and darkness but keeps out demons and other space predators,” one of Jiam’s instructors had once explained.  “Further,” continued the learned man, “this layer has only recently been discovered by the Elrock Mountain Observatory, using the world’s newest and most powerful telescope.”

     Rhumla had no sun and its satellites rumbled over its surface during the daylight hours.  To have light but no sun seemed both logical and natural to Jiam and Professor Corolius.  This was as it had always been.

     The sky was a phenomenon which puzzled the finest of scientific minds.  No one could conjecture what held it up.  Even the awe-inspiring pylons that could so easily withstand the massive collisions with the planetoids did not reach that high.  The pylons themselves were sources of speculation.  Again the theory held sway that they were the abandoned cities of ancient civilizations.  To date, no means of entrance had been discovered.

     The two turned on the lanterns built into their hats.  Professor Corolius inspected a map.  “Pylon number seven should be in that direction,” he indicated after first consulting his compass.

     All reference points on Rhumla were artificial.  Trails were blazed and markers left by pioneers.  Others followed, elaborating on their predecessors’ efforts.  A traveler faced south, set his compass against a known marker, and then rotated the indicator so many points in accordance with the instructions contained on his map to obtain the desired direction of travel.

     “It’s a pity we cannot continue at night when it is safer.”

     Jiam agreed.  They had to rest to be able to evade the massive spheres during the daylight hours.  To have slept during the day was tantamount to tempting a premature death by crushing.

     With the aid of their lights, they could avoid the huge bottomless craters that swallowed up the planetoids.  These holes were so wide that the other side could not be discerned even with the aid of powerful optical instruments.  How deep they were, no one could guess.

     Several had been charted.  “These are natural phenomena,” Jiam’s old teacher lectured him in his memory.  “They are perfectly circular and spaced evenly apart.  There isn’t a shred of difference as regards shape, size or distance from each other.  Irregularities do not occur in nature.”

     Professor Corolius turned his head so that the beam from his light shone on the ground.  “I thought so,” he grumbled.  “This is the correct route to that stupid wizard Roaring Jak.”  A painted index finger pointed to a southeasterly direction.

     The professor was smarting over the purpose of the two-man expedition.  Fourteen years the foremost astronomer on Rhumla.  Author of five books and eleven treatises which were regarded as standard works of reference.  Holder of nine degrees and seven honors.   It was too much.  His humiliation welled up and overflowed.

     “And the Board of Education orders me to surrender research rights to a sorcerer.”  The tone was one of a person disgraced beyond all redemption.

     “But, sir,” Jiam protested, “science has not been able to come up with a solution of the Horrido Effect.  According to the terms of the Jonoyse Agreement, we were permitted to try for twenty-five years, and, if unsuccessful, the problem plus our researches are to be turned over to the Department of Preturnatural Experiments, an elaborate name for magic.”

     Professor Corolius gritted his teeth.  “The only thing I like about them is their acronym.  I only hope to live to see the day when Roaring Jak is forced to admit defeat and has to, in turn, hand the problem over to theology.”

     Jiam gathered that Professor Corolius had more reasons for disliking the wizard than those a brilliant scientific mind would harbor for a witch doctor.  The two arranged their belongings on the ground and the professor began to chop down the wild varnish which would comprise their meal.  It grew everywhere and there was no need to carry foodstuffs on their expeditions.  This was fortunate as the Rhumlans ate their own weight in varnish every day.  Cooking was unknown.  Jiam and the professor flavored their food by sprinkling dust on it.

     Professor Corolius hooked the ax back onto his belt and he and Jiam squatted on the ground with their legs crossed under them.  The Professor continued to talk as they ate.

     “Twenty-five years of the most exacting research.  Twenty-five years of the most patient and painstaking of observations and evaluations.  Twenty-five years of the application of logic by the finest and most qualified minds on Rhumla and for what?  We have to fall back on superstition, everything is thrown away.”  Professor Corolius was understandably bitter.  “If only there were some way we could secrete everything we’ve accomplished and continue to work secretly, free of the interference from those nitwitted politicians who love to meddle.”

     “But we can’t,” Jiam pointed out.  “Even if no one interfered, even if we were accountable to no one, we still could not function without the state subsidies.  All they have to do is vote against our appropriation or pare it down, and the project is dead.”

     “I know, I know, you don’t have to lecture me on basic economics.  What I object to is the absurdity of our entire governing system.  They reject because they do not understand the results of our efforts.  Roaring Jak will tell them that he has already solved the cause behind the Horrido Effect.  It is caused by a cosmic giant shaking Rhumla from side to side.” 

     Professor Corolius was unwittingly repeating the theological viewpoint.  “This they will believe because they are incapable of assimilating scientific information.  If Jak were to tell them the world is round, they’d believe that, too.”

     Jiam tried to shake the professor free of his gloom.  “Perhaps we’ll not be able to locate him.  Perhaps in the twenty-five years since his last public appearance, he has died.  We can admit defeat and return to the university.  The Board of Education will then dispatch someone else and at least you will be spared the personal degradation.”

     If Jiam’s words kindled any hope in the professor, the hope was short lived.  Abruptly, they were surrounded by frenzied motes of brilliant light.  The motes dashed around them barking and snarling at the tops of their lungs.  Corolius hurled a large piece of varnish.

     Evidently the missile struck a target.  One of the barkings turned into yelps of pain and retreated.  “They’re his damned watch photons.”  Jiam had already guessed it.

     If any hope survived for the professor, it was now completely blasted by a voice exploding at them.  It was so loud that they were almost bowled over.

     “I didn’t need the photons to tell me you were here.  I can smell a stupid scientist a mile off.”  Roaring Jak lived up to his name.  “Down Dasher, down  Prancer, down Vixen, down Heathcliffe,” he bellowed at the photons.  The motes ceased their excitement and sat down happily wagging their tails and lolling their tongues.  Jiam and the professor looked in all directions.  “Down by your feet, you imbeciles.”

     They glanced down.  The wizard’s head was sticking out of the ground as if he had been growing there.  A closer scrutiny revealed that Roaring Jak was standing on a ladder leading down to an underground burrow.

     The head disappeared.  “Come down,” the voice ordered.  Jak continued to talk as they descended.  “I know why you’re here.  You’re whipped, aren’t you?  You’ve got to turn the problem over to me, don’t you?”  And he laughed.  His laugh was so loud that it was like trying to work their way down against a geyser.

     “Down below” was an agreeable surprise.  Subconsciously, Jiam had prepared himself to expect a bone-littered cavern floor.  Instead, it was neat, comfortable and well-lighted.   A pleasant lava-like smell came from a large stone burning in a homey fireplace.

     Professor Corolius unhitched his knapsack and let it slide to the floor.  His ax and utility belt followed.  Jak’s voice dropped to a more endurable level.  He removed his head and set it on a convenient stand.  His head continued to speak.  “Make yourselves comfortable.  We don’t have to waste a lot of time on long-winded explanations as to why you’re here.”  The rest of Roaring Jak sat down in an easy chair.

     Jiam was stupefied.  “The Board of Education had him beheaded two hundred and forty years ago for heresy,” explained the professor.  “It was the only practical function they’ve ever performed and it looks as if they bungled that.”

     “Before they were forced to agree to the twenty-five year rotation pact,” added the head.  “They were supposed to have made me a new head but the incompetents never quite got around to it.”  Jak’s hands lighted a cigar from a handy brazier.  Then he inserted it into his windpipe.  Particularly disconcerting to Jiam were the smoke rings he emitted from his neck.

     “A drink?” invited the wizard.

     Professor Corolius refused.  “I’d like to keep this on a purely business level.”  He began to open his knapsack.

     “That’s good enough for me,” agreed the wizard.  “What are you looking for?”

     “This knapsack contains the results of twenty-five years of research into the Horrido Effect.”

     The head was derisive.  “You could have saved yourself the trouble of carting that load of fertilizer.  There’s no mystery about the Horrido Effect.”

     Corolius bristled and he fought a curtain of red which strove to envelop his emotions.  “These are the results of a quarter of a century of the most exact studies by the finest minds on Rhumla,” he grated.  “It is a pity that the political considerations of an intellectually enfeebled group of senile directors are forcing me to surrender them to a witch doctor.  If it were up to me, I would cheerfully behead you again.”

     “You still stand in awe of that marvelous brain of yours, don’t you?” jeered the wizard.

     This was particularly disconcerting to Jiam because while the head was speaking, the rest of the wizard was choking from having inhaled smoke the wrong way.

     “Suppose you tell me what you think causes the Horrido Effect.”  The professor’s invitation was delivered in a dangerous tone.

     “Not only will I tell you, I’ll show you.  The Horrido Effect is caused by cosmic giants shaking our planet from side to side.”  Jiam and the professor almost did not believe what they were hearing.

     “Look into the fireplace,” ordered the wizard.

     They looked.  Roaring Jak gestured and the smoke from the burning stone cleared away.  They watched themselves being carried away, out of the room.

     At first, all that was visible was the surface of Rhumla.  Then they were above the pylons.  They passed through the solid crystal ionosphere and were in a strange galaxy.  They looked down on Rhumla.  Jiam and the professor found one scientific theory confirmed.  Rhumla was square.

     Two bipeds that almost dwarfed their planet were occupying a significant portion of the galaxy.  One of the incredibilities drew back a rod protruding from their world and released it.  The rod flew back inside and old number four came hurtling out of a tunnel to begin its northward journey at an almost unbelievable speed.

     They watched the satellite achieve its northernmost position and begin the long journey down the great decline.  As it struck a pylon, they could see a cosmic billboard at Rhumla’s head light up.  The colored lights were reflected through Rhumla’s clear, solid ionosphere.

     As old number four threatened to miss a particular crater, one of the creatures picked up an end of their planet and began to work it from side to side, the Horrido Effect.  Number four disappeared into the crater.  Rhumla was replaced on its stand.

     They were back in the wizard’s den.  “Rhumla is a game played by galactic giants,” sneered the head.  “They call it pinball.”

     Jiam and the professor were still in a trancelike state and the head continued.  “Creation is a creature of caprice.  Imagine, life and a civilization developing under these conditions.  In turn, the very puzzles you may attempt to piece together as a pastime may contain life and intelligence on a plane far surpassing our own.”

     “This can’t be,” gasped the professor.  “This can’t be.”

     “Ah!  But it can be,” the wizard assured them.  “What’s the matter?  Can’t a scientific mind absorb a fact?”

     The awful disclosure had completely disoriented the professor intellectually.  Numbly, his hand closed about the handle of his axe.  With a swing, he clove Roaring Jack’s head again.  Then he went to work on the body.  When he finished, Roaring Jak was scattered in pieces all over the den.  Maddeningly, the pieces continued to whoop and cackle.  “Help me,” Corolius ordered Jiam.  They began to pick up the pieces and hurl them into the fireplace.  It was not until the completion of their task that Jiam began to come out of his daze.

     “Why did you do that?” he asked.  “Roaring Jak was speaking the truth.”

     “It is not the purpose of science to provide the truth,” Corolius informed him grandly.  “It is the purpose of science to provide a plausible explanation and nothing more.”

     He was thinking of the five books and eleven treatises which would not now need revising.

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