The reservoir that provides around 70% of water in Colombia&#x27;s capital is at less than 17% capacity.

Colombia drought: Four-minute showers - a parched Bogota rations water

Country had previously turned the tide on deforestation but armed rebels have revoked ban

Colombian Amazon deforestation surges as armed groups tighten grip | Colombia | The Guardian

Taps will be turned off for 24 hours at a time in zones across Bogotá as an El Niño-fueled drought pushes Colombia’s capital into a water crisis

One of the world’s highest cities starts rationing water as reservoirs fall to critical levels | CNN

An American living in Colombia distributed flyers and advertised on social media for tourists to attend a &quot;cannabis tour.&quot;

Colombia police arrest 73-year-old American for giving "cannabis tours" in his home - CBS News

Prosecutors announced this week they intended to pursue the right-wing Uribe on charges of witness tampering and fraud.

Former Colombian President Alvaro Uribe blasts impending criminal charges | Crime News | Al Jazeera

Olombria uses specific species of flies to supplement bees as primary pollinators

Olombria

Mathilda by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . CHAPTER XII here CHAPTER XII As I was perpetually haunted by these ideas, you may imagine that the influence of Woodville’s words was very temporary; and that although I did not again accuse him of unkindness, yet I soon became as unhappy as before. Soon after this incident we parted. He heard that his mother was ill, and he hastened to her. He came to take leave of me, and we walked together on the heath for the last time. He promised that he would come and see me again; and bade me take cheer, and to encourage what happy thoughts I could, untill time and fortitude should overcome my misery, and I could again mingle in society. “Above all other admonition on my part,” he said, “cherish and follow this one: do not despair. That is the most dangerous gulph on which you perpetually totter; but you must reassure your steps, and take hope to guide you. Hope, and your wounds will be already half healed: but if you obstinately despair, there never more will be comfort for you. Believe me, my dearest friend, that there is a joy that the sun and earth and all its beauties can bestow that you will one day feel. The refreshing bliss of Love will again visit your heart, and undo the spell that binds you to woe, untill you wonder how your eyes could be closed in the long night that burthens you. I dare not hope that I have inspired you with sufficient interest that the thought of me, and the affection that I shall ever bear you, will soften your melancholy and decrease the bitterness of your tears. But if my friendship can make you look on life with less disgust, beware how you injure it with suspicion. Love is a delicate sprite and easily hurt by rough jealousy. Guard, I entreat you, a firm persuasion of my sincerity in the inmost recesses of your heart out of the reach of the casual winds that may disturb its surface. Your temper is made unequal by suffering, and the tenor of your mind is, I fear, sometimes shaken by unworthy causes; but let your confidence in my sympathy and love be deeper far, and incapable of being reached by these agitations that come and go, and if they touch not your affections leave you uninjured.” These were some of Woodville’s last lessons. I wept as I listened to him; and after we had taken an affectionate farewell, I followed him far with my eyes until they saw the last of my earthly comforter. I had insisted on accompanying him across the heath towards the town where he dwelt: the sun was yet high when he left me, and I turned my steps towards my cottage. It was at the latter end of the month of September when the nights have become chill. But the weather was serene, and as I walked on I fell into no unpleasing reveries. I thought of Woodville with gratitude and kindness and did not, I know not why, regret his departure with any bitterness. It seemed that after one great shock all other change was trivial to me; and I walked on wondering when the time would come when we should all four, my dearest father restored to me, meet in some sweet Paradise. I pictured to myself a lovely river such as that on whose banks Dante describes Mathilda gathering flowers, which ever flows —— bruna, bruna,Sotto l’ombra perpetua, che maiRaggiar non lascia sole ivi, nè Luna. And then I repeated to myself all that lovely passage that relates the entrance of Dante into the terrestrial Paradise; and thought it would be sweet when I wandered on those lovely banks to see the car of light descend with my long lost parent to be restored to me. As I waited there in expectation of that moment, I thought how, of the lovely flowers that grew there, I would wind myself a chaplet and crown myself for joy: I would sing , my father’s favourite song, and that my voice gliding through the windless air would announce to him in whatever bower he sat expecting the moment of our union, that his daughter was come. Then the mark of misery would have faded from my brow, and I should raise my eyes fearlessly to meet his, which ever beamed with the soft lustre of innocent love. When I reflected on the magic look of those deep eyes I wept, but gently, lest my sobs should disturb the fairy scene. sul margine d’un rio I was so entirely wrapt in this reverie that I wandered on, taking no heed of my steps until I actually stooped down to gather a flower for my wreath on that bleak plain where no flower grew, when I awoke from my day dream and found myself I knew not where. The sun had set and the roseate hue which the clouds had caught from him in his descent had nearly died away. A wind swept across the plain, I looked around me and saw no object that told me where I was; I had lost myself, and in vain attempted to find my path. I wandered on, and the coming darkness made every trace indistinct by which I might be guided. At length all was veiled in the deep obscurity of blackest night; I became weary and knowing that my servant was to sleep that night at the neighbouring village, so that my absence would alarm no one; and that I was safe in this wild spot from every intruder, I resolved to spend the night where I was. Indeed I was too weary to walk further: the air was chill but I was careless of bodily inconvenience, and I thought that I was well inured to the weather during my two years of solitude, when no change of seasons prevented my perpetual wanderings. I lay upon the grass surrounded by a darkness which not the slightest beam of light penetrated—There was no sound for the deep night had laid to sleep the insects, the only creatures that lived on the lone spot where no tree or shrub could afford shelter to aught else—There was a wondrous silence in the air that calmed my senses yet which enlivened my soul, my mind hurried from image to image and seemed to grasp an eternity. All in my heart was shadowy yet calm, untill my ideas became confused and at length died away in sleep. When I awoke it rained: I was already quite wet, and my limbs were stiff and my head giddy with the chill of night. It was a drizzling, penetrating shower; as my dank hair clung to my neck and partly covered my face, I had hardly strength to part with my fingers, the long strait locks that fell before my eyes. The darkness was much dissipated and in the east where the clouds were least dense the moon was visible behind the thin grey cloud— The moon is behind, and at the fullAnd yet she looks both small and dull. Its presence gave me a hope that by its means I might find my home. But I was languid and many hours passed before I could reach the cottage, dragging as I did my slow steps, and often resting on the wet earth unable to proceed. I particularly mark this night, for it was that which has hurried on the last scene of my tragedy, which else might have dwindled on through long years of listless sorrow. I was very ill when I arrived and quite incapable of taking off my wet clothes that clung about me. In the morning, on her return, my servant found me almost lifeless, while possessed by a high fever I was lying on the floor of my room. I was very ill for a long time, and when I recovered from the immediate danger of fever, every symptom of a rapid consumption declared itself. I was for some time ignorant of this and thought that my excessive weakness was the consequence of the fever; But my strength became less and less; as winter came on I had a cough; and my sunken cheek, before pale, burned with a hectic fever. One by one these symptoms struck me; & I became convinced that the moment I had so much desired was about to arrive and that I was dying. I was sitting by my fire, the physician who had attended me ever since my fever had just left me, and I looked over his prescription in which digitalis was the prominent medecine. “Yes,” I said, “I see how this is, and it is strange that I should have deceived myself so long; I am about to die an innocent death, and it will be sweeter even than that which the opium promised.” sic I rose and walked slowly to the window; the wide heath was covered by snow which sparkled under the beams of the sun that shone brightly thro’ the pure, frosty air: a few birds were pecking some crumbs under my window. I smiled with quiet joy; and in my thoughts, which through long habit would for ever connect themselves into one train, as if I shaped them into words, I thus addressed the scene before me: “I salute thee, beautiful Sun, and thou, white Earth, fair and cold! Perhaps I shall never see thee again covered with green, and the sweet flowers of the coming spring will blossom on my grave. I am about to leave thee; soon this living spirit which is ever busy among strange shapes and ideas, which belong not to thee, soon it will have flown to other regions and this emaciated body will rest insensate on thy bosom “Rolled round in earth’s diurnal courseWith rocks, and stones, and trees. “For it will be the same with thee, who art called our Universal Mother, when I am gone. I have loved thee; and in my days both of happiness and sorrow I have peopled your solitudes with wild fancies of my own creation. The woods, and lakes, and mountains which I have loved, have for me a thousand associations; and thou, oh, Sun! hast smiled upon, and borne your part in many imaginations that sprung to life in my soul alone, and which will die with me. Your solitudes, sweet land, your trees and waters will still exist, moved by your winds, or still beneath the eye of noon, though what I have felt about ye, and all my dreams which have often strangely deformed thee, will die with me. You will exist to reflect other images in other minds, and ever will remain the same, although your reflected semblance vary in a thousand ways, changeable as the hearts of those who view thee. One of these fragile mirrors, that ever doted on thine image, is about to be broken, crumbled to dust. But everteeming Nature will create another and another, and thou wilt loose nought by my destruction. “Thou wilt ever be the same. Recieve then the grateful farewell of a fleeting shadow who is about to disappear, who joyfully leaves thee, yet with a last look of affectionate thankfulness. Farewell! Sky, and fields and woods; the lovely flowers that grow on thee; thy mountains & thy rivers; to the balmy air and the strong wind of the north, to all, a last farewell. I shall shed no more tears for my task is almost fulfilled, and I am about to be rewarded for long and most burthensome suffering. Bless thy child even even in death, as I bless thee; and let me sleep at peace in my quiet grave.” sic I feel death to be near at hand and I am calm. I no longer despair, but look on all around me with placid affection. I find it sweet to watch the progressive decay of my strength, and to repeat to myself, another day and yet another, but again I shall not see the red leaves of autumn; before that time I shall be with my father. I am glad Woodville is not with me for perhaps he would grieve, and I desire to see smiles alone during the last scene of my life; when I last wrote to him I told him of my ill health but not of its mortal tendency, lest he should conceive it to be his duty to come to me for I fear lest the tears of friendship should destroy the blessed calm of my mind. I take pleasure in arranging all the little details which will occur when I shall no longer be. In truth I am in love with death; no maiden ever took more pleasure in the contemplation of her bridal attire than I in fancying my limbs already enwrapt in their shroud: is it not my marriage dress? Alone it will unite me to my father when in an eternal mental union we shall never part. I will not dwell on the last changes that I feel in the final decay of nature. It is rapid but without pain: I feel a strange pleasure in it. For long years these are the first days of peace that have visited me. I no longer exhaust my miserable heart by bitter tears and frantic complaints; I no longer the reproach the sun, the earth, the air, for pain and wretchedness. I wait in quiet expectation for the closing hours of a life which has been to me most sweet & bitter. I do not die not having enjoyed life; for sixteen years I was happy: during the first months of my father’s return I had enjoyed ages of pleasure: now indeed I am grown old in grief; my steps are feeble like those of age; I have become peevish and unfit for life; so having passed little more than twenty years upon the earth I am more fit for my narrow grave than many are when they reach the natural term of their lives. sic Again and again I have passed over in my remembrance the different scenes of my short life: if the world is a stage and I merely an actor on it my part has been strange, and, alas! tragical. Almost from infancy I was deprived of all the testimonies of affection which children generally receive; I was thrown entirely upon my own resources, and I enjoyed what I may almost call unnatural pleasures, for they were dreams and not realities. The earth was to me a magic lantern and I a gazer, and a listener but no actor; but then came the transporting and soul-reviving era of my existence: my father returned and I could pour my warm affections on a human heart; there was a new sun and a new earth created to me; the waters of existence sparkled: joy! joy! but, alas! what grief! My bliss was more rapid than the progress of a sunbeam on a mountain, which discloses its glades & woods, and then leaves it dark & blank; to my happiness followed madness and agony, closed by despair. This was the drama of my life which I have now depicted upon paper. During three months I have been employed in this task. The memory of sorrow has brought tears; the memory of happiness a warm glow the lively shadow of that joy. Now my tears are dried; the glow has faded from my cheeks, and with a few words of farewell to you, Woodville, I close my work: the last that I shall perform. Farewell, my only living friend; you are the sole tie that binds me to existence, and now I break it. It gives me no pain to leave you; nor can our seperation give you much. You never regarded me as one of this world, but rather as a being, who for some penance was sent from the Kingdom of Shadows; and she passed a few days weeping on the earth and longing to return to her native soil. You will weep but they will be tears of gentleness. I would, if I thought that it would lessen your regret, tell you to smile and congratulate me on my departure from the misery you beheld me endure. I would say; Woodville, rejoice with your friend, I triumph now and am most happy. But I check these expressions; these may not be the consolations of the living; they weep for their own misery, and not for that of the being they have lost. No; shed a few natural tears due to my memory: and if you ever visit my grave, pluck from thence a flower, and lay it to your heart; for your heart is the only tomb in which my memory will be enterred. My death is rapidly approaching and you are not near to watch the flitting and vanishing of my spirit. Do not regret this; for death is a too terrible an object for the living. It is one of those adversities which hurt instead of purifying the heart; for it is so intense a misery that it hardens & dulls the feelings. Dreadful as the time was when I pursued my father towards the ocean, & found their only his lifeless corpse; yet for my own sake I should prefer that to the watching one by one his senses fade; his pulse weaken—and sleeplessly as it were devour his life in gazing. To see life in his limbs & to know that soon life would no longer be there; to see the warm breath issue from his lips and to know they would soon be chill—I will not continue to trace this frightful picture; you suffered this torture once; I never did. And the remembrance fills your heart sometimes with bitter despair when otherwise your feelings would have melted into soft sorrow. sic sic So day by day I become weaker, and life flickers in my wasting form, as a lamp about to loose it vivifying oil. I now behold the glad sun of May. It was May, four years ago, that I first saw my beloved father; it was in May, three years ago that my folly destroyed the only being I was doomed to love. May is returned, and I die. Three days ago, the anniversary of our meeting; and, alas! of our eternal seperation, after a day of killing emotion, I caused myself to be led once more to behold the face of nature. I caused myself to be carried to some meadows some miles distant from my cottage; the grass was being mowed, and there was the scent of hay in the fields; all the earth looked fresh and its inhabitants happy. Evening approached and I beheld the sun set. Three years ago and on that day and hour it shone through the branches and leaves of the beech wood and its beams flickered upon the countenance of him whom I then beheld for the last time. I now saw that divine orb, gilding all the clouds with unwonted splendour, sink behind the horizon; it disappeared from a world where he whom I would seek exists not; it approached a world where he exists not. Why do I weep so bitterly? Why my does my heart heave with vain endeavour to cast aside the bitter anguish that covers it “as the waters cover the sea.” I go from this world where he is no longer and soon I shall meet him in another. sic Farewell, Woodville, the turf will soon be green on my grave; and the violets will bloom on it. is my hope and my expectation; your’s are in this world; may they be fulfilled. There About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (2005). Mathilda. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/15238/pg15238-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The influence of Woodville’s words was very temporary

Astounding Stories of Super-Science, May 1930, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Vol. II, No. 2: Murder Madness, Chapter IV. Astounding Stories of Super-Science, May 1930: Vol. II, No. 2 - Murder Madness, Chapter IV Bell stepped out of a tall French window to a terrace, and from the terrace to the ground. There was a dull muttering in the sky to the east, and a speck appeared, drew nearer swiftly, grew larger, and became a small army biplane. It descended steeply to earth behind a tall planting of trees. Bell lighted a cigarette and moved purposelessly down an elaborately formalized garden. "More victims," he observed grimly to himself, of the plane. Ribiera lifted a pigmented hand to wave languidly from a shaded chair. There were women about him, three of them, and it sickened Bell to see the frightened assiduity with which they flattered him. Bell had met them, of course. Madame the wife of the State President of Bahia—in the United States of Brazil the states have presidents instead of governors—preferred the title of "Madame" because it was more foreign and consequently more aristocratic than Senhora. And Madame the wife of the General— "Senhor," called Ribiera blandly, "I have news for you." Bell turned and went toward him with an air of pleased expectancy. He noticed for the first time the third of the women. Young, in the first flush of youthful maturity, but with an expression of stark terror lingering behind a palpably assumed animation. "An acquaintance of yours, Senhor," said Ribiera, "is to be my guests." Bell steeled himself. "The Senhor Canalejas," said Ribiera, beaming, "and his daughter." Bell seemed to frown, and then seemed to remember. "Oh, yes," he said carelessly, "I met her in Washington. She was on the Almirante Gomez, coming down." The next instant he saw Ribiera's expression, and cursed himself for a fool. Ribiera's eyes had narrowed sharply. Then they half-closed, and he smiled. "She is charming," said Ribiera in drowsy contentment, "and I had thought you would be glad to improve her acquaintance. Especially since, as my friend, you may congratulate me. A contract of marriage is under discussion." Bell felt every muscle grow taut. The fat, pigmented man before him.... "Indeed," said Bell politely, "I do congratulate you." Ribiera looked at him with an expression in which a sardonic admiration mingled with something else less pleasant. "You are clever, Senhor Bell," he said heavily, seeming to sink more deeply into his chair. "Very clever." He shifted his eyes to the women who stood about him. "You may go," he said indifferently. His tone was exactly that of a despot dismissing his slaves. Two of them colored with instinctive resentment. His eyes lingered an instant on the third. Her face had showed only a passionate relief. "You, Senhora," he said heavily, "may wait nearby." The terror returned to her features, but she moved submissively to a spot a little out of earshot. Bell found his jaws clenched. There is a certain racial taint widespread in Brazil which leads to an intolerable arrogance when there is the slightest opportunity for its exercise. Ribiera had the taint, and Bell felt a sickening wrath at the terrified submission of the women. "Si," said Ribiera, suddenly adverting to insolence. "You are clever, Senhor Bell. Where did you learn of yagué?" Bell inhaled leisurely. His muscles were tense, but he gave no outward sign. Instead, he sat down comfortably upon the arm of a chair facing Ribiera's. The only way to meet insolence is with equal insolence and a greater calm. "Ah!" said Bell pleasantly. "So you found out it didn't work, after all!" Ribiera's eyes contracted. He became suddenly enraged. "You are trifling with me," he said furiously. "Do you know the penalty for that?" "Why, yes," said Bell, and smiled amiably. "A dose of—er—poison of The Master's private brand." It was a guess, but based on a good deal of evidence. Ribiera turned crimson, then pale. "What do you know?" he demanded in a deadly quietness. "You cannot leave this place. You are aware of that. The people here—guests and servants—are my slaves, the slaves of The Master. You cannot leave this place except also as my slave. I will have you bound and given yagué so that you cannot fail to tell me anything that I wish to know. I will have you tortured so that you will gladly say anything that I wish, in return for death. I will—" "You will," said Bell dryly, "drop dead with seven bullets in your body if you give a signal for anyone to attack me." Ribiera stared at him as his hand rested negligently in his coat pocket. And then, quite suddenly Ribiera began to chuckle. His rage vanished. He laughed, a monstrous, gross, cackling laughter. "You have been my guest for two days," he gasped, slapping his fat knees, "and you have not noticed that your pistol his been tampered with! Senhor Bell! Senhor Bell! My uncle will be disappointed in you!" It seemed to impress him as a victory that Bell had been depending upon an utterly futile threat for safety. It restored his good humor marvelously. "It does not matter," he said jovially. "Presently you will tell me all that I wish to know. More, perhaps. My uncle is pleased with you. You recall your little talk with the wireless operator on the Almirante Gomez? You tried to learn things from him, Senhor. He reported it. Of course. All our slaves report. He sent his report to my uncle, The Master, and I did not have it until to-day. I will admit that you deceived me. I knew you had talked with Ortiz, who was a fool. I thought that in his despair he might have spoken. I gave you yagué, as I thought, and informed my uncle that you knew nothing. And he is very much pleased with you. It was clever to deceive me about the yagué. My uncle has high praise for you. He has told me that he desires your services." Bell inhaled again. There was no question but that Ribiera was totally unafraid of the threat he had made. His gun must have been tampered with, the firing-pin filed off perhaps. So Bell said placidly: "Well? He desires my services?" ibiera chuckled, in his gross and horrible good humor. "He will have them. Senhor. He will have them. When you observe your hands writhing at the ends of your wrists, you will enter his service, through me. Of course. And he will reward you richly. Money, much money, such as I have. And slaves—such as I have. The Senhora...." Ribiera looked at the terrified girl standing thirty or forty feet away. He chuckled again. "My uncle desires that you should be induced to enter his service of your own will. So, Senhor, you shall see first what my uncle's service offers. And later, when you know what pleasures you may some day possess as my uncle's deputy in your own nation, why, then the fact that your hands are writhing at the ends of your wrists will be merely an added inducement to come to me. And I bear you no ill will for deceiving me. You may go." Bell rose. "And still," he said dryly, "I suspect that you are deceived. But now you deceive yourself." He heard Ribiera chuckling as he walked away. He heard him call, amusedly, "Senhora." He heard the little gasp of terror with which the girl obeyed. He passed her, stumbling toward the gross fat man with the light brown skin and curly hair. Her eyes were literally pools of anguish. Bell threw away his cigarette and began to fumble for another. He was beginning to feel the first twinges of panic, and fought them down. Ribiera had not lied. Bell had been at this fazenda of his—which was almost a miniature Versailles three hundred miles from Rio—for two days. In all that time he had not seen one person besides himself who did not display the most abject terror of Ribiera. Ribiera had made no idle boast when he said that everyone about, guests and servants, were slaves. They were. Slaves of a terror vastly greater than mere fear of death. It— "Senhor!... Oh, Dios!" It was the girl's voice, in despair. Ribiera laughed. Bell felt a red mist come before his eyes. He deliberately steadied his hands and lighted his cigarette. He heard stumbling footsteps coming behind him. A hand touched his arm. He turned to see the girl Ribiera had pointed out, her cheeks utterly, chalky white, trying desperately to smile. "Senhor!" she gasped. "Smile at me! For the love of God, smile at me!" In the fraction of a second, Bell was mad with rage. He understood, and he hated Ribiera with a corrosive hatred past conception. And then he was deathly calm, and wholly detached, and he smiled widely, and turned and looked at Ribiera, and Ribiera's whole gross bulk quivered as he chuckled. Bell took the girl's arm with an excessive politeness and managed—he never afterward understood how he managed it—to grin at Ribiera. "Senhora," he said in a low tone, "I think I understand. Stop being afraid. We can fool him. Come and walk with me and talk. The idea is that he must think you are trying to fascinate me, is it not?" She spoke through stiffened lips. "Ah, that I could die!" Bell had a horrible part to play while he walked the length of the formal garden with her, and found a pathway leading out of it, and led her out of sight. He stopped. "Now," he said sharply, "tell me. I am not yet his slave. He has ordered you...." She was staring before her with wide eyes that saw only despair. "I—I am to persuade you to be my lover," she said dully, "or I shall know the full wrath of The Master...." Bell asked questions, crisply, but as gently as he could. "We are his slaves," she told him apathetically. "I and mi Arturo—my husband. Both of us...." She roused herself little under Bell's insistent questioning. "We were guests at his house at dinner. Our friends, people high in society and in the Republic, were all about us. We suspected nothing. We had heard nothing. But two weeks later Arturo became irritable. He said that he saw red spots before his eyes. I also. Then Arturo's hands writhed at the ends of his wrists. He could not control them. His nerves were horrible. And mine. And we—we have a tiny baby.... And Senhor Ribiera called upon my husband. He was charming. He observed my husband's hands. He had a remedy, he said. He gave it to my husband. He became normal again. And then—my hands writhed. Senhor Ribiera told my husband that if he would bring me to him.... And I was relieved. We were grateful. We accepted the invitation of the Senhor Ribiera to this place. And he showed us a man, in chains. He—he went mad before our eyes. He was a member of the United States Secret Service.... And then the Senhor Ribiera told us that we faced the same fate if we did not serve him...." Bell had thrust aside rage as useless, now. He was deliberately cold. "And so?" "It is a poison," she said unsteadily. "A deadly, a horrible poison which drives men murder mad in two weeks from the time of its administration. The Senhor Ribiera has an antidote for it. But mixed with the antidote, which acts at once, is more of the horrible poison, which will act in two weeks more. So that we are entrapped. If we disobey him...." Bell began to smile slowly, and not at all mirthfully. "I think," he said softly, "that I shall gain a great deal of pleasure from killing the Senhor Ribiera." "Dios—" She strangled upon the word. "Do you not see, Senhor, that if he dies we—we—" She stopped and choked. "We—have a tiny baby, Senhor. We—we would...." Again sick rage surged up in Bell. To kill Ribiera meant to drive his slaves mad, and mad in the most horrible fashion that can be imagined. To kill Ribiera meant to have these people duplicate the death of Ortiz, as their greatest hope, or to fill madhouses with snarling animals lusting to kill.... "It is—it is not only I, Senhor," said the girl before him. She was utterly listless, and in the agony of despair. "It is Arturo, also. The Senhor Ribiera has said that if I do not persuade you, that both Arturo and I.... And our little baby, Senhor!... Our families also will be entrapped some day. He has said so.... He will give that poison to our baby.... And it will grow up either his slave, or—" Her eyes were pools of panic. "Oh, God!" said Bell very quietly. "And he's offering me this power! He's trying to persuade me to become like him. He's offering me pleasures!" He laughed unpleasantly. And then he went sick with helplessness. He could kill Ribiera, perhaps, and let only God know how many people go mad. Perhaps. Or perhaps Ribiera would merely be supplanted by another man. Ortiz had said that he killed The Master's deputy in Buenos Aires, but that another man had taken his place. And the thing went on. And The Master desired a deputy in the United States.... "Somehow," said Bell very softly, "this has got to be stopped. Somehow. Right away. That devilish stuff! Can you get hold of a bit of the antidote?" he asked abruptly. "The merest drop of it?" She shook her head. "No, Senhor. It is given in food, in wine. One never knows that one has had it. It is tasteless, and we have only Senhor Ribiera's word that it has been given." Bell's hands clenched. "So devilish clever.... What are we going to do?" The girl stuffed the corner of her handkerchief into her mouth. "I am thinking of my little baby," she said, choking. "I must persuade you, Senhor. I—I have been tearful. I—I am not attractive. I will try. If I am not attractive to you...." Bell cursed, deeply and savagely. It seemed to be the only possible thing to do. And then he spoke coldly. "Listen to me, Senhora. Ribiera talked frankly to me just now. He knows that so far I am not subdued. If I escape he cannot blame you. He cannot! And I am going to attempt it. If you will follow me...." "There is no escape for me," she said dully, "and if he thinks that I knew of your escape and did not tell him...." "Follow me," said Bell, smiling queerly. "I shall take care that he does not suspect it." He gazed about for an instant, orienting himself. The plane that had just landed—the last of a dozen or more that had arrived in the past two days—had dipped down on the private landing field to the north. There was a beautifully kept way running from the landing field to the house, and he went on through the thick shrubbery amid a labyrinth of paths, choosing the turnings most likely to lead him to it. He came out upon it suddenly, and faced toward the field. There were two men coming toward the house, on foot. One was a flying pilot, still in his flying clothes. The other was a tall man, for a Brazilian, with the lucent clarity of complexion that bespeaks uncontaminated white descent. He was white-haired, and his face was queerly tired, as if he were exhausted. Bell looked sharply. He seemed to see a resemblance to someone he knew in the tall man. He spoke quickly to the girl beside him. "Who is the man to the left?" "Senhor Canalejas," said the girl drearily. "He is the Minister of War. I suppose he, too...." Bell drew a deep breath. He walked on, confidently. As the two others drew near he said apologetically: "Senhores." They halted with the instinctive, at least surface, courtesy of the Brazilian. And Bell was fumbling with his handkerchief, rather nervously tying a knot in it. He held it out to Canalejas. "Observe." It was, of course, a recognition-knot such as may be given to an outsider by one in the Trade. The tall man's face changed. And Bell swung swiftly and suddenly and very accurately to the point of the other man's jaw. He collapsed. Senhor Canalejas," said Bell politely, "I am about to go and steal an airplane to take what I have learned to my companion for transmission. If you wish to go with me...." Canalejas stared for the fraction of a second. Then he said quietly: "But of course." He turned to retrace his steps. Bell turned to the girl. "If you are wise," he said gently, "you will go and give the alarm. If you are kind, you will delay it as much as you dare." She regarded him in agonized doubt for a moment, and nodded. She fled. "Now," said Bell casually, "I think we had better hasten. And I hope, Senhor Canalejas, that you have a revolver. We will need one. Mine has been ruined." Without a word, the white-haired man drew out a weapon and offered it to him. "I had intended," he said very calmly, "to kill the Senhor Ribiera. His last demand is for my daughter." They went swiftly. The plane Bell had seen alight some fifteen or twenty minutes before was just being approached by languid mechanics. It was, of course, still warm. Canalejas shouted and waved his arm imperiously. It is probable that he gave the impression of a man returning for some forgotten thing, left in the cockpit of the plane. What happened then, happened quickly. A few crisp words in a low tone. A minor hubbub began suddenly back at the house. Canalejas climbed into the passenger's seat as if looking for something. And Bell presented his now useless automatic pleasantly at the head of the nearest staring mechanic, and while he froze in horror, scrambled up into the pilot's cockpit. "Contact!" he snapped, and turned on the switch. The mechanic remained frozen with fear. "Damnation!" said Bell savagely. "I don't know the Portuguese for 'Turn her over'!" He fumbled desperately about in the cockpit. Something whirred. The propeller went over.... Canalejas shot with painstaking accuracy, twice. The motor caught with a spluttering roar. As a horde of running figures, servants and guests, running with the same desperation, came plunging out on the flying field from the shrubbery. Bell gave the motor the gun. The fast little plane's tail came up off the ground as she darted forward. Faster and faster, with many bumpings. The bumpings ceased. She was clear. And Bell zoomed suddenly to lift her over the racing, fear-ridden creatures who clutched desperately at the wheels, and then the little ship shot ahead, barely cleared the trees to the east of the field, and began to roar at her topmost speed toward Rio. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Astounding Stories. 2009. Astounding Stories of Super-Science, May 1930. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved May 2022 from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29809/29809-h/29809-h.htm#Page_166 This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

"More victims," He Observed Grimly to Himself, of the Plane

"Más víctimas", observó sombríamente para sí mismo, del avión

"Plus de victimes", observa-t-il sinistrement pour lui-même, à propos de l'avion

"अधिक पीड़ित," उन्होंने गंभीर रूप से खुद को विमान के बारे में देखा

「もっと多くの犠牲者がいる」と彼は自分自身に厳しく観察した、飛行機の

"Mais vítimas", ele observou severamente para si mesmo, do avião

"Nhiều nạn nhân hơn," Anh ấy nghiêm túc quan sát chiếc máy bay

“更多的受害者，”他冷酷地自言自语地观察到，飞机的

The Dark Souls franchise has received enough popularity to the point where it has formed its own genre: “souls-like” games. Characterized by its overall dark fantasy vibe, high-difficulty setting, and RPG elements, there’s a lot to love in Dark Souls. However, there are many fans that have played all Dark Souls games and are looking for other similar options. In this list, I will mention the five best soulslike games that you should try in 2023 if you enjoy the overall vibe of the Dark Souls franchise. Also, don’t forget to check out our list of . Most of these will apply to the games we’ll talk about below. five tips for appreciating and mastering Elden Ring List of games like Dark Souls: Hollow Knight Thymesia Ender Lilies Code Vein Nioh 2 Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree Might be 2023’s Best Soulslike Yet What Are Soulslike Games? Soulslike games are games that resemble the Dark Souls franchise . Thus, this list doesn’t include any Dark Souls games or other similar games developed by FromSoftware, such as Sekiro and Bloodborne. but aren’t developed by FromSoftware Without further delay, let’s dive straight into the five best soulslike games to try in 2023. 1. Hollow Knight (Metacritic Score: 87) Hollow Knight has been a fan-favorite soulslike game since its release in 2017, and it’s considered the platformer equivalent of Dark Souls. Similar to Dark Souls, it features a dark atmosphere, a high difficulty that will trigger your nerves, scary boss fights, and eerie scenery. The only difference is that it is a 2D indie game. With , Hollow Knight’s rich story and dark fantasy theme will offer an amazing experience to almost every fan of the Dark Souls series. one of the best soundtracks in the history of gaming If you’re still not convinced, the game has . Overwhelmingly Positive reviews on Steam, with 97% of its 247,624 player reviews being positive 2. Thymesia (Metacritic Score: 69) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HbZQ9KZD94&embedable=true Thymesia is a more recent addition to the genre since it was released on August 2022. It is an action RPG taking place in a dark fantasy world with a medieval horror vibe and an atmosphere that often leaves players in awe. The combat system in Thymesia is fast-paced and comes closer to Sekiro than Dark Souls, with a focus on parrying instead of dodging. Additionally, Thymesia has great replayability. Similar to Dark Souls, it has many available weapon builds and character upgrades (which work the same as attribute points) that allow players to respec and change their character builds for free at any point. Lastly, it’s currently available for only $24.99 on Steam, which is surprisingly cheap compared to what it’s worth. 3. Ender Lilies (Metacritic Score: 86) As a 2D dark fantasy action RPG, Ender Lilies is fairly similar to Hollow Knight and, thus, one of the best soulslike games. Similar to the Dark Souls games, the lore, music, and overall art style make Ender Lilies shine and give players serious chills during the more intense moments of a playthrough. With challenging boss fights and a dark and eerie atmosphere, this game strongly resembles Dark Souls in style. The main difference from Dark Souls–which can be either a con or a pro, depending on your taste–is its anime style. Keep in mind that Ender Lilies manages to perfectly combine the anime style with the overall dark aesthetic and feels very similar to Dark Souls. Additionally, the game features multiple endings, amazing character design, and unique enemies that will keep surprising you with their various moves. 4. Code Vein (Metacritic Score: 72) Code Vein is the anime version of Dark Souls. As a soulslike JRPG, Code Vein features a dark fantasy, post-apocalyptic world with enjoyable hack-and-slash combat. As many players argue, Code Vein is literally “Anime Dark Souls.” With similar combat, inventory, characters, and style, the main differences are the lower difficulty and the anime style. Check out the video below for a more detailed explanation to see if this game is for you. With an immersive storyline, great character design, and the ability to try different playstyles, Code Vein is a strong competitor in the soulslike genre. 5. Nioh 2 (Metacritic Score: 84) Nioh 2 is the 2021 sequel of the 2017 game Nioh, and it’s a JRPG with high difficulty taking place in a dark fantasy, story-rich scenario. Nioh 2 features a more emotional story compared to Dark Souls that will keep players immersed. It features similarly strategic combat, and its style feels closer to Bloodborne and Sekiro than Dark Souls 3. Additionally, the game has a clearer route of progression compared to Dark Souls games, as it includes a level-selection system. With an in-depth weapon system featuring multiple classes and stances, Nioh 2 allows players to play in any way they prefer and will be changing their gear almost constantly. If Sekiro was one of your favorite Dark Souls games, I highly recommend trying out Nioh 2. Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree Might be 2023’s Best Souslike Yet After almost one year of waiting, we’ve finally received official . news on Elden Ring’s DLC “Shadow of the Erdtree” being in development While we don’t know many details yet, players can expect new areas, bosses, characters, armor sets, weapons, and even spells and incantations. Elden Ring features an amazing and vast world, and an expansion on it is something worth getting excited about. As for its release date, it is expected to be revealed in E3 2023, which is in June, and the game should release in late 2023, around November. Wrapping up - Best Soulslike Games in 2023 To summarize, these are the five best soulslike games that you should try in 2023. Based on what you liked most from the Dark Souls franchise, you’ll definitely find something worth trying in this list. Of course, you can also try replaying Elden Ring, especially since we’re expecting a new DLC fairly soon. If you’re doing that, consider also checking out our guide on . how to summon spirits in Elden Ring and upgrade them What’s your favorite game within the Dark Souls genre? Do you have any other unique soulslike games to recommend? Let us know in the comments below.

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