Війна світів
The Eve of the War
Isawit. Areddishflashattheedge,theslightestprojectionoftheoutlinejustasthechronometerstruckmidnight; andatthatItoldOgilvyandhetookmyplace.
ThenightwaswarmandIwasthirsty, andIwentstretchingmylegsclumsilyandfeelingmywayinthedarkness,tothelittletablewherethesiphonstood,whileOgilvyexclaimedatthestreamerofgasthatcameouttowardsus.
ThatnightanotherinvisiblemissilestartedonitswaytotheearthfromMars,justasecondorsoundertwentyfourhoursafterthefirstone. IrememberhowIsatonthetablethereintheblackness,withpatchesofgreenandcrimsonswimmingbeforemyeyes. IwishedIhadalighttosmokeby,littlesuspectingthemeaningoftheminutegleamIhadseenandallthatitwouldpresentlybringme. Ogilvywatchedtillone,andthengaveitup; andwelitthelanternandwalkedovertohishouse. DownbelowinthedarknesswereOttershawandChertseyandalltheirhundredsofpeople,sleepinginpeace.
HewasfullofspeculationthatnightabouttheconditionofMars,andscoffedatthevulgarideaofitshavingin-habitantswhoweresignallingus. Hisideawasthatmeteoritesmightbefallinginaheavyshowerupontheplanet,orthatahugevolcanicexplosionwasinprogress. Hepointedouttomehowunlikelyitwasthatorganicevolutionhadtakenthesamedirectioninthetwoadjacentplanets.
‘ThechancesagainstanythingmanlikeonMarsareamilliontoone,’hesaid.
Hundredsofobserverssawtheflamethatnightandthenightafteraboutmidnight,andagainthenightafter; andsofortennights,aflameeachnight.
