THE NEW ADAM (2)
By:
July 25, 2025
The New Adam is a 1926 proto-sf novel by the Swiss author Hélène Dufour Pittard (writing as “Noëlle Roger”). The book concerns, one reads in the Science Fiction Encyclopedia, “a wholly logical and unpleasant Superman created by gland transplants.” HILOBROW is pleased to serialize Book IV from The New Adam in Josh Glenn’s translation, from the original serialized in the 23 February 1924 issue of the journal La Petite Illustration.
THE NEW ADAM: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10.
— Come on, this is an absurd situation! Chambaz interposed with authority. Saint-Blaise collapsed because of an earthquake, I can tell you, I who came from Paris expressly to study the seismic activity in this region!
— If Saint-Blaise had bounced [sauté], you would have heard the explosion, Fléchère protested very quickly.
— So, what is that, then? the guard asked, shaken, pointing to the box.
— A new drug to poison rats! replied Silenrieux, making a joking face at the old guard. Try to taste it, and you’ll see!
— Don’t try to get a rise out of me! [Ne vous payez me tête!] the man shouted, angrily.
— Examine them, then! Don’t you see that these are simple grains of lead? Silenrieux said soothingly.
With the calm of a teacher giving a demonstration, he took them out of the box one by one and kept them in the palm of his hand.
— Simple grains of lead which will be used in an experiment… too complicated to explain to you, he repeated. And my assistant, who puts them through a chemical preparation, often has some on his person…
Finally Jacques Dupont, impressed by Chambaz’s declarations and Silenrieux’s calm, spoke:
— The guard may have acted too quickly in doing his duty. There are so many strange things happening here…
— Earthquakes are happening, Professor Chambaz declared. And I will submit to the Institute a conclusive report, definitive, in my opinion…
— Earthquakes which panic the population, added Michel de Javerne.
— Apologize to Monsieur Silenrieux, as well as to his friend Doctor Fléchère and his assistant, Chambaz ordered.
— I regret this misunderstanding… said the policeman.
He bowed to Silenrieux who continued to laugh, made a sign to the sheepish guards and all three went out.
There were overlapping protests. Chambaz showed violent indignation. Silenrieux’s nimble fingers were still playing with the little metal balls.
— This shot could become an explosive, he finally murmured thoughtfully, a terrible explosive… the day we discover the intra-atomic decomposition of lead.
He raised a face towards them that suddenly beamed.
— If the atoms constituting each of these lead bullets suddenly decomposed, releasing their formidable energy, this handful of shot would be enough to blow up a city…
— You say… stammered Fléchère, turning pale and staring at him.
The others smiled.
— Science fiction [Utopie]! Chambaz exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders.
— Yes, gentlemen, science fiction today… replied Hervé in a low and rapid voice. But tomorrow?
— Tomorrow, which is to say in a century, or two, or three, who knows? cried Michel de Javerne. Physicists disagree in their predictions [pronostics]…
— Maybe before then… whispered Silenrieux.
The limousine sped along the road to Saint-Blaise, outpacing groups of dismayed peasants. The rigid face of Doctor Fléchère worried Michel de Javerne, who tried in vain to obtain a word from his friend. As they rounded the Saint-Blaise spur, the driver slowed down, uttered an exclamation and they saw a man sretched across the road.
— Stop! ordered Javerne.
Everyone got out. The man was dead and already cold.
— He is the rural guard of Saint-Blaise, said Silenrieux. Since the last troubles [accidents], he has remained on guard at this place in hopes of discovering the assassin…
— Died a victim of his duty… Fléchère articulated with difficulty.
And the sound of his voice was so changed that everyone turned to him.
— But how did he die? cried Chambaz. No rubble has reached here!
— From shock, perhaps… suggested de Javerne, leaning over the corpse.
He raised his pensive face.
— How strange it all is! he whispered.
Come on, come on! gentlemen, shouted Chambaz impatiently as he opened the door.
The heavy machine crested the hill.
A nightmare… It is the memory of a nightmare that Doctor Fléchère will never forget from the hour that followed…
The rubble multiplies underfoot as if to forbid entry… Littered with stones, debris of furniture and utensils… Could one ever have believed that so many stones, bricks, and plaster were needed to make a village? The street that we are seeking in this chaos, the sections of wall that remain standing, which threaten… And then, the infernal vision… The bodies lying on the thresholds, fallen here and there, in the randomness of flight… Some half-crushed, arms, legs sticking out. And others… many others, intact, lying in the gardens, lying on the main square, couples, clusters of women and children. And here is a group of schoolchildren who still have their schoolbags in their arms, arranged around the overturned fountain, good kids who are taking a nap [qui font dodo], offering passers-by their round faces without a scratch… And what silence! No calls, no moans… Is there not one survivor? A silence so oppressive that Fléchère is relieved when he hears around him resume the interminable discussion: geological faults… fumaroles… noxious gases… until the moment when the abominable cry tore the silence… Yes, the harvesters, coming up from the fields, on the other side of the hill, their sickles in their hands, pour like an unleashed torrent into the square. Will this hullabaloo never end? It dwells in the ears and resounds in every fiber of the flesh. The teacher of Silenrieux continues to hear him through the tremor of the engine when he finds himself half lying in the car, Michel de Javerne leaning over him…
Late in the evening, when he had examined the dead that the carts continued to bring to Puybronde, when he himself had seen to the housing of the survivors, Doctor Fléchère joined Hervé in his laboratory.
The white walls, brightly lit by electric lamps, shimmered like ice. Silenrieux, at a table, was writing. He stood up when he saw his superior enter.
A look at Fléchère’s decomposed features warned him. He brought forward an armchair and waited, standing, his head slightly bowed, his arms crossed.
Fléchère began, his voice trembling:
— Perhaps you’re waiting for me to congratulate you?
— Why, Master? asked Silenrieux.
Fléchère continued bitterly:
— While you were playing with your explosives, I finally saw the light… I stopped being your dupe. I saw through this odious comedy of earthquakes!
Once again there was bursting, short laughter.
— You said the word, Master, a comedy! And what actors! The undulatory earthquakes, the breaks, the folds… Don’t you think that your God, if he exists, must have fun in his sky by listening to the vain talk of men!
But Fléchère continued, as if he had not heard:
— The intra-atomic decomposition you were talking about… you’ve discovered it! You’ve already used this explosive several times… including today!
— Master… you are a mind-reader [devin]!
— And you’re going to continue… you’re going to blow up entire cities to measure your power, certain of impunity, since you knew how to invent such an alibi… And I… I who know and who cannot prevent anything… I whom you drag after you in your crimes… what must I do, my God!
— There is nothing to be done, Master, and you are not responsible, replied Hervé gently.
— Not responsible! repeated Fléchère, walking up and down, possessed by his revolt and his terror. You know very well that I am responsible and that, if you are ever convicted, I will hand myself in with you!
— What a trial! the young man murmured, the judges would lose their minds…
FRENCH PROTO-SF TRANSLATIONS BY JOSH GLENN: Raymond Roussel’s LOCUS SOLUS [excerpt] | Noëlle Roger’s THE NEW ADAM [excerpt] | Alfred Jarry’s THE SUPERMALE [excerpt] | Jean de La Hire’s THE MYSTERY OF THE XV [excerpt].
RADIUM AGE PROTO-SF: “Radium Age” is Josh Glenn’s name for the nascent sf genre’s c. 1900–1935 era, a period which saw the discovery of radioactivity, i.e., the revelation that matter itself is constantly in movement — a fitting metaphor for the first decades of the 20th century, during which old scientific, religious, political, and social certainties were shattered. More info here.
SERIALIZED BY HILOBOOKS: James Parker’s Cocky the Fox | Annalee Newitz’s “The Great Oxygen Race” | Matthew Battles’s “Imago” | & many more original and reissued novels and stories.