Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Astounding Stories March 1933. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The End of Time
By Wallace West
"There is no doubt of it!" The little chemist pushed steel-bowedspectacles up on his high forehead and peered at his dinner guest withexcited blue eyes. "Time will come to an end at six o'clock thismorning."
Jack Baron, young radio engineer at the Rothafel Radio laboratories,and protégé of Dr. Manthis, his host, laughed heartily.
"What a yarn you spin, Doctor," he said. "Write it for the movies."
"But it's true," insisted the older man. "Something is paralyzing ourtime-sense. The final stroke will occur about daybreak."
"Bosh! You mean the earth will stop rotating, the stars blink out?"
"Not at all. Such things have nothing to do with time. You may knowyour short waves, but your general education has been sadlyneglected." The scientist picked up a weighty volume. "Maybe this willexplain what I mean. It's from Immanuel Kant's 'Critique of PureReason.' Listen:
'Time is not something which subsists of itself, or whichinheres in things as an objective determination, andtherefore, remains, when abstraction is made of thesubjective conditions of the intuition of things. For inthe former case it would be something real, yet withoutpresenting to any power of perception any real object. Inthe latter case, as an order of determination inherent inthings themselves, it could not be antecedent to things, astheir condition, nor discerned or intuited by means ofsynthetical propositions a priori. But all this is quitepossible when we regard time as merely the subjectivecondition under which all our intuitions take place.'
"There. Does that make it clear?"
"Clear as mud," grinned Baron. "Kant is too deep for me."
"I'll give you another proof," snapped Manthis. "Look at your watch."
The other drew out his timepiece. Slowly his face sobered.
"Why, I can't see the second hand," he exclaimed. "It's just a blur!"
"Exactly! Now look at the minute hand. Can you see it move?"
"Yes, quite clearly."
"What time is it?"
"Half past one. Great Scott! So that's why you spun that yarn." Baronhoisted his six feet one out of the easy chair. "It's way past yourbedtime. Didn't mean to keep you up." He stared again at his watch asif it had betrayed him. "It seems we just finished dinner. I must havedozed off...."
"Nonsense," sniffed Manthis. "You arrived at eight o'clock—an hourlate. You and I and my daughter had dinner. Then the two of us came inhere. We smoked a cigarette or two. Now it's half-past one. Do youneed more proof?"
"Your theory's all wet somewhere," the younger man protested with ashaky laugh. "If my watch isn't broken, time must be speeding up, notstopping."
"That comes from depending on your senses instead of yourintelligence. Think a minute. If the watch seems running double speedthat would indicate that your perception of its movements had sloweddown fifty per cent."
Baron sank back into his chair, leaned forward and gripped his curlyblack hair with trembling fingers. He felt dizzy and befuddled.
"June," called the doctor. Then to the agitated