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Jeff Wayne
The Eve Of The War
[ Neznan ]
JOURNALIST: No one would have believed, in the last
years of the
nineteenth century, that human affairs were being
watched from the timeless worlds
of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as
someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of
water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across
the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with
envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us.
At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of
luminous gas erupted from Mars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million miles
of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to
bring so much calamity to Earth.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was
another missile, starting on its way.
And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare,
spurting out from Mars - bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it - a beautiful, but
somehow disturbing sight. Ogilvy,
the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger. He was
convinced there could be no
living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they
come!'
JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile
approached Earth. It was thought
to be an ordinary falling star, but next day there was a
huge crater in the middle of the
Common, and Ogilvy came to examine what lay there: a
cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming
from within.
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing, and
Ogilvy feared there was a
man inside, trying to escape. he rushed to the cylinder,
but the intense heat stopped him
before he could burn himself on the metal.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still
come!'
'Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a
million to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still come!'
It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone
spent that evening as
though it were just like any other. From the railway
station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost
into melody by the distance. It all
seemed so safe and tranquil.
years of the
nineteenth century, that human affairs were being
watched from the timeless worlds
of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as
someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of
water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across
the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with
envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us.
At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of
luminous gas erupted from Mars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million miles
of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to
bring so much calamity to Earth.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was
another missile, starting on its way.
And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare,
spurting out from Mars - bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it - a beautiful, but
somehow disturbing sight. Ogilvy,
the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger. He was
convinced there could be no
living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they
come!'
JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile
approached Earth. It was thought
to be an ordinary falling star, but next day there was a
huge crater in the middle of the
Common, and Ogilvy came to examine what lay there: a
cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming
from within.
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing, and
Ogilvy feared there was a
man inside, trying to escape. he rushed to the cylinder,
but the intense heat stopped him
before he could burn himself on the metal.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still
come!'
'Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a
million to one,' he said.
'The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still come!'
It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone
spent that evening as
though it were just like any other. From the railway
station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost
into melody by the distance. It all
seemed so safe and tranquil.
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