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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. 

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Roboto Lora
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