The Other Log of Phileas Fogg

distant times. Gradually, Phileas had been shown the truth. And so he had grown up, Earthling by heredity but Eridanean by education, conditioning, and love. He had not known how much by love until his foster-father was brought home from Paris. The thought that he might die or remain paralyzed shocked Phileas. Yet, a few minutes later, he was acting as if nothing ever upset him. He had blocked off the trauma. And he was still paying for it. Sir Heraclitus, when well enough to understand what had happened to his foster-son, had almost had a relapse. Quickly, he described to Phileas the results if he did not start releasing the trauma. It would build up as other anxieties and shocks were added to it. One day, the suppressed hurts would flash forth in a devastating neural current.

What young Phileas had to do was to construct the mental equivalent of a trickle capacitor in his circuits. Thus, he could discharge the load slowly. This would hurt, but it would not be ruinous.

Phileas knew what a capacitor was. He had learned about it in the laboratory in the cellar of the manor. It was far advanced over the Leyden jar or condenser of the time, and he had been sworn to secrecy concerning it.

Phileas did as directed, though not always with one hundred percent control. Unfortunately, he had set up in his neural configurations a regenerative feedback. As fast as he bled off the traumas, these bred new energy. Sir Heraclitus was puzzled by this and finally called in Andrew Stuart. This was when Phileas was twelve, after the blood-sharing ceremony which made him a full-fledged Eridanean. It had also made him a sick one for a while, since the elder Fogg’s and Stuart’s corpuscles used vanadium, not iron, for oxygen-carriers.

Stuart had said that Phileas’ traumas were feeding off early, and as yet unapproachable, traumas. These had been caused by the desertion of his real father and his mother’s death. He had blocked these off through natural, though not desirable, means. And a natural block had, in a sense, to be tunneled to.

Meanwhile, Phileas was suffering the daily uneasiness, shocks, and hurts that all flesh, terrestrial or not, was heir to. Storing and discharging these occupied much of his time, and so he had never caught up with the main task. Though he had kept to a strict exterior or physical schedule these last four years, he was far behind on his interior, or psychic, timetable.

From twelve until twenty-one, he had been busy with his education. This was gotten from tutors, both human and conventional, and Eridanean and unconventional. After twenty-one, he was a full-time soldier in the war that had been raging quietly for two centuries.

At thirty-six he had completed a long campaign, though as a spy. He had almost drowned but had been picked up off the coasts of the Lofoten islands by a fisherman. He returned to Fogg Hall to convalesce and await further orders. While there he grew his beard as preparation for his reemergence into the world. His foster-father had become a casualty in the campaign. His bones were on the sea floor, which was just as well if he had to die. Any doctor or anthropologist who got a look at them would be filled with curiosity quenchable only by death.

And his death had been one more great trauma to store and to trickle off later.

Even while Phileas was growing his beard, Stuart was making his long-range plans. This involved Phileas at once, but it also required a schedule which would allow him time for rest and therapy.

Why did Phileas use his own name when he rented out No. 7, Savile Row? No one knows. But in all previous campaigns he had been in disguise and using assumed names. The Capelleans certainly knew nothing of the true nature of Fogg Hall. If they had, they would have raided it. It’s probable that Stuart foresaw that, when Fogg made his bet, he would be highly publicized. Fogg would not reveal his background to any inquiring person. But if some zealous reporter or keen detective backtracked, he might find out where he came from. Stuart did not particularly want anyone to uncover Fogg’s origins, but he did not care too much if they were. The humans would only find certain facts which would tell them nothing of Fogg’s unhuman connections. By the time the Capelleans found out, it would be too late for them.

This was why Passepartout had been sent to determine the whereabouts of Sir William Clayton. The old baronet was the only one in all the world, outside of a few Eridaneans, who could tell the press where Phileas came from and how he had gotten there. By the time that Sir William returned from Africa and heard the story of the famous dash, the Capelleans would be unable to do anything about it. They would be dead. Or else the Eridaneans would be dead. In either case, it did not matter.

7

As all the world knows, the story of the bet spread from the Reform Club to the newspapers. Except for The Daily Telegraph, the English papers declared Fogg’s project to be mad. Nevertheless, there were plenty of people who believed in him enough to put their money down on him, and greater faith has no man. The depth of this sincerity may be judged by the fact that “Phileas Fogg bonds” were issued on the Exchange. Verne goes into great detail about how Fogg’s stock rose and fell, so there is no need to repeat it here.

However, for those who have forgotten or who may have somehow missed Verne’s book, a week after Fogg had left, his stock dropped to zero.

Mr. Rowan, the commissioner of police, Scotland Yard, received a telegram from a Mr. Fix, a detective for the Peninsular and Oriental Company, a shipping and passenger-line…

I’VE FOUND THE BANK ROBBER, PHILEAS FOGG. SEND WITHOUT DELAY WARRANT OF ARREST TO BOMBAY.

The unbelieving commissioner procured a photograph of Fogg from the Reform Club. He compared it with the description of the man who had stolen fifty-five thousand pounds from the Bank of England. The resemblances were too close to be coincidental unless Fogg had a twin. The unknown origin and background of Fogg, his nongregarious lifestyle, and his rocket-like and totally unexpected departure from England reinforced the suspicions of the police. Fogg was the one.

Fogg’s train had taken the two from Charing Cross station to Dover. On the way, Passepartout suddenly recalled that he had left the gas jet in his room burning. Mr. Fogg coldly replied that it must burn-at Passepartout’s expense.

From Dover the two took a boat to Calais, and a train from there through France and Italy. At Brindisi, still on schedule, they boarded the P & O ship, the Mongolia. This luxurious liner, fed by coal, driven by steam, docked in Suez, at 11 a.m., Wednesday, the ninth of October, exactly on time. According to Fogg’s notebook, the journey thus far had taken 158? hours or six and a half days. For this period, the other log of Fogg contained only a few phrases, with some enigmatic references.

Stayed in the cabin. P-brought in the meals. Gave P-a description of N-, and P-is looking for him on the ship. Told P-that the color of N-’s eyes may be different. When I served under him, they were black. But they were covered by contact lenses. N-must have an ocular deficiency or he was wearing them to disguise the real color of his eyes. Latter seems improbable. Why would he need a disguise while aboard the N-? But he can’t conceal the extraordinarily wide spacing between his eyes unless he pretends to be injured in one eye and wears a bandage. Or, more likely, a large patch over one eye. Told P-to look for these.

Should have killed N-while aboard the N-and taken the consequences. But a thousand years are not easily thrown away. Not conscience but longevity doth make cowards of us all.

At Suez, the man who had sent the telegram to Scotland Yard was waiting on the dock. Mr. Fix was short and thin and had sharp intelligent-looking features, bright foxy eyes, and eyebrows incessantly rising and falling as if subject to shock waves. He was a detective who had been sent to Suez, to apprehend the Bank of England robber if he should be trying to escape via the Eastern route. Mr. Fix had been provided with a good description of the wanted man, but he did not need it. He had known beforehand that the thief and Mr. Fogg looked like twin brothers. He was cursing softly now because his superiors (Capellean, not police) had not permitted him to “find” and arrest Fogg the day after the theft. But no, they wanted to make it appear that Fix had “happened” to come across Fogg during his walk from his house to the Reform.

All must appear natural and unforced. The arrest could take place three or four days after the theft; there was no hurry. First, Mr. Fix must find an excuse for being in Fogg’s neighborhood. Then he would “accidentally” see Fogg, note the resemblance to the thief, and take him into custody. There was little chance of keeping him in jail long or of bringing him to trial. This seems to have been overlooked by Verne, though he was only one of many millions who did not consider carefully the weakness of the case against Fogg. Aside from the startling physical similarity of Fogg and the criminal, there were no grounds for charges. Mr. Fogg would have had his valet’s