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I stopped, on hands and knees, for we had come to the bushes.
«Fly!»
«Yes,» he said, «fly.»
I went on into a little bower, and sat down.
«It is all over with humanity,» I said. «If they can do that they will simply go round the world.»
He nodded.
«They will. But – It will relieve things over here a bit. And besides–» He looked at me. «Aren't you satisfied it is up with humanity? I am. We're down; we're beat.»
I stared. Strange as it may seem, I had not arrived at this fact – a fact perfectly obvious so soon as he spoke. I had still held a vague hope; rather, I had kept a lifelong habit of mind. He repeated his words, «We're beat.» They carried absolute conviction.
«It's all over,» he said. «They've lost one – just one. And they've made their footing good and crippled the greatest power in the world. They've walked over us. The death of that one at Weybridge was an accident. And these are only pioneers. They kept on coming. These green stars – I've seen none these five or six days, but I've no doubt they're falling somewhere every night. Nothing's to be done. We're under! We're beat!»
I made him no answer. I sat staring before me, trying in vain to devise some countervailing thought.
«This isn't a war,» said the artilleryman. «It never was a war, any more than there's war between man and ants.»
Suddenly I recalled the night in the observatory.
«After the tenth shot they fired no more – at least, until the first cylinder came.»
«How do you know?» said the artilleryman. I explained. He thought. «Something wrong with the gun,» he said. «But what if there is? They'll get it right again. And even if there's a delay, how can it alter the end? It's just men and ants. There's the ants builds their cities, live their lives, have wars, revolutions, until the men want them out of the way, and then they go out of the way. That's what we are now – just ants. Only–»
«Yes,» I said.
«We're eatable ants.»
We sat looking at each other.
«And what will they do with us?» I said.
«That's what I've been thinking,» he said; «that's what I've been thinking. After Weybridge I went south – thinking. I saw what was up. Most of the people were hard at it squealing and exciting themselves. But I'm not so fond of squealing. I've been in sight of death once or twice; I'm not an ornamental soldier, and at the best and worst, death – it's just death. And it's the man that keeps on thinking comes through. I saw everyone tracking away south. Says I, 'Food won't last this way,' and I turned right back. I went for the Martians like a sparrow goes for man. All round» – he waved a hand to the horizon – «they're starving in heaps, bolting, treading on each other…»
He saw my face, and halted awkwardly.
«No doubt lots who had money have gone away to France,» he said. He seemed to hesitate whether to apologise, met my eyes, and went on: «There's food all about here. Ca
I assented.
«It is; I've thought it out. Very well, then – next; at present we're caught as we're wanted. A Martian has only to go a few miles to get a crowd on the run. And I saw one, one day, out by Wandsworth, picking houses to pieces and routing among the wreckage. But they won't keep on doing that. So soon as they've settled all our guns and ships, and smashed our railways, and done all the things they are doing over there, they will begin catching us systematic, picking the best and storing us in cages and things. That's what they will start doing in a bit. Lord! They haven't begun on us yet. Don't you see that?»
«Not begun!» I exclaimed.
«Not begun. All that's happened so far is through our not having the sense to keep quiet – worrying them with guns and such foolery. And losing our heads, and rushing off in crowds to where there wasn't any more safety than where we were. They don't want to bother us yet. They're making their things – making all the things they couldn't bring with them, getting things ready for the rest of their people. Very likely that's why the cylinders have stopped for a bit, for fear of hitting those who are here. And instead of our rushing about blind, on the howl, or getting dynamite on the chance of busting them up, we've got to fix ourselves up according to the new state of affairs. That's how I figure it out. It isn't quite according to what a man wants for his species, but it's about what the facts point to. And that's the principle I acted upon. Cities, nations, civilisation, progress – it's all over. That game's up. We're beat.»
«But if that is so, what is there to live for?»
The artilleryman looked at me for a moment.
«There won't be any more blessed concerts for a million years or so; there won't be any Royal Academy of Arts, and no nice little feeds at restaurants. If it's amusement you're after, I reckon the game is up. If you've got any drawing-room ma
«You mean–»
«I mean that men like me are going on living – for the sake of the breed. I tell you, I'm grim set on living. And if I'm not mistaken, you'll show what insides you've got, too, before long. We aren't going to be exterminated. And I don't mean to be caught either, and tamed and fattened and bred like a thundering ox. Ugh! Fancy those brown creepers!»
«You don't mean to say–»
«I do. I'm going on, under their feet. I've got it pla
I stared, astonished, and stirred profoundly by the man's resolution.
«Great God!» cried I. «But you are a man indeed!» And suddenly I gripped his hand.
«Eh!» he said, with his eyes shining. «I've thought it out, eh?»
«Go on,» I said.
«Well, those who mean to escape their catching must get ready. I'm getting ready. Mind you, it isn't all of us that are made for wild beasts; and that's what it's got to be. That's why I watched you. I had my doubts. You're slender. I didn't know that it was you, you see, or just how you'd been buried. All these – the sort of people that lived in these houses, and all those damn little clerks that used to live down that way – they'd be no good. They haven't any spirit in them – no proud dreams and no proud lusts; and a man who hasn't one or the other – Lord! What is he but funk and precautions? They just used to skedaddle off to work – I've seen hundreds of 'em, bit of breakfast in hand, ru