Under the Skin — Text and Context

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In Category - Other Worlds

Authors: Perri, Leslie, 1920-1970, Engle, Robert, 1928-1989 [Illustrator] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2022 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Science fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Human-alien encounters -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 13,249

Reading time 58 min

Text sections 2

For Under the Skin — Text and Context, the stored edition analysis reports 13,249 words, 58 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 12.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Science fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #67580

A journalist recalls a Martian disaster story he never wrote, involving a remote mining colony, a mysterious woman, and a tense flight to Ul. The narrative intertwines media ethics, alien customs, and a brewing conspiracy aboard a spacecraft.

Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg67580

Read the Text

Disaster had struck a small community of Martians in the Ul Mountains--a mining region, remote and inaccessible to the Martian land machines. Power failure threatened the colony of 2,000 with extinction. Intense cold was slowly, inexorably moving in from the cheerless sandstone hills from which Ul had been carved.

It was top news as it stood, but there was an additional detail that made it a real 72-point type headline, a screamer. Ul was the seat of Martian diranium mining operations. And Mars ran on diranium ore and whatever it was that the Martians did with it.

We didn't know anything about diranium then and the Martians kept it that way. We had nothing like it and it drew the con boys like a magnet. But fruitlessly. Ambassador Ferne, a real level guy with the Martians, made sure nothing like diranium ever left in anyone's carpet bag. Our relations with the Martians were smooth, as a result. There was really nothing else we wanted from them.

Except maybe to see what their women looked like, and, oh yes, their children. No ancient system of purdah was ever stricter. They were inflexible on the subject. They had not only instituted elaborate precautions for keeping their women invisible, it was, also, distinctly a breach of good manners to mention them. We had been given a rough idea of the methods the Martians employed in rearing children, but while it excited a lot of psychologist chaps with its novelty, we were still frustrated and speculative about their female relations. Who must have been a pretty attractive and exotic lot, to judge by their men.

But you couldn't, if you were decent, do anything but defer to the Martians in the matter. They were wonderful people, honest, friendly and with no ax to grind. They invariably brought out your best without any seeming effort. They made you examine into your motives, and the darker nooks and crannies of your far-from-perfect-soul.

Consequently, the Ul disaster packed a real wallop for us.

When the Martian authorities got the news from Ul they appealed to Ferne for assistance. The U.F.S. Rocket Auxiliary was the fastest transportation available on Mars, faster than anything the Martians had. The Ambassador ordered the rocket fleet to assist in the immediate evacuation of stricken Ulans to Marsport medical stations.

In addition a team of Martian and Earth Federation technicians boarded the lead ship, _Electra_. Equipment, food and medical supplies were crowded into the remaining ships. And a large fleet of Martian land machines went into action. The land machines were like enormous onyx bowling balls, rolling heavily but smoothly on bands of gripper treads. They would go as far as they could into the hills, and the clumsy, short-hop Martian _wings_ would make the rest of the trip to Ul.

Of course the monster maw of public interest on Earth devoured the first news like a cocktail sandwich and clamored hungrily for more. In those days news from Mars took priority. The New York bureau of Universal News was explicit about wanting full coverage--and pictures.

And this was where Deborah Wayne first came into the picture--unfortunately. Deborah was a nice girl, a bright girl, and brilliant with her super-speed, super-sensitive cameras. But I think, now, that the psychologist who screened her for that career was drunk. She was supposed to be ready to cope with the rigors and exigencies of the frontier. But in the showdown she turned out to be a sentimental slob who all but got us kicked off Mars.

I didn't think about Debby when the news first broke. I might never have thought of her myself, but the New York bureau did. When their orders came in on the Spacetron, the message link between Earth and Marsport, I was alone in our office with Charley Ray of Galactic News. I read him the tape as it came off the machine.

QUOTE PROSTEVELASKER EXWILSON COLON UNPICKLE SELF AND SUBQUOTE TALENT UNSUBQUOTE FOR FULLEST DISASTER COVERAGE WITH PICTURES PERIOD OFFER WAYNE BONUS IF DANGEROUS PERIOD REQUIRE LEAD FOR BLUELINE CASTS AND FULLEST UL BACKGROUNDING END UNQUOTE

"And where do you suppose Debby is?" Charley said. "To think I could have forgotten her!"

"Debby!" I said. "Pictures!" I was thinking that the insatiable human glut for horror and tragedy was a pretty sad and unchanging constant in our Earth civilization.

"They want a real production," I said bitterly. "With a gallon count on the blood running in the streets."

"And you get paid for counting it accurately," Charley said. "We got an hour. Feel noble when we're comfortable. And on our way. With Debby. I won't go without her. Mad about the girl."

Continue Reading →

The narrator, a journalist for Universal News, opens by reflecting on a photograph of a Martian diplomat's wife that looks indistinguishable from any human woman. This observation triggers a flashback to his early days on Mars with his colleague Deborah, covering a disaster in the Ul Mountains—a diranium mining colony threatened by power failure and extreme cold. The story he never wrote, he hints, illustrates a point he tries to make when he can.

The excerpts reveal a first-person voice that is wry and self-aware, punctuated by banter with his friend Charley. The setting is a spacecraft en route to Ul, where the narrator grows suspicious of the pilot Vechi and the locked control room. The narrative tension builds through dialogue and small details, such as Charley's hidden gun and a game of stud king used to discuss their predicament.

Voice and Narrative Frame

The narrator’s voice is distinctive: cynical, reflective, and occasionally self-deprecating. He describes the Martians as “friendly and grateful but aloof and paternally amused by our energies,” a phrasing that captures both human presumption and Martian inscrutability. The story is framed as a confession—a story he never wrote but is now ready to break. This frame gives the narrative a retrospective urgency, as if the events have been waiting for the right moment to be told.

The excerpts show a preference for indirect revelation. The narrator does not state outright that something is wrong; instead, he lets details accumulate: the locked control room, the absence of pilots, Charley’s unease. The dialogue between the narrator and Charley is laced with sarcasm (“Master Brain,” “No man of action, I!”) that masks their growing anxiety. This technique keeps the reader alert to subtext.

The Martian Enigma

The catalog subjects list “Martians” and “Human-alien encounters,” but the excerpts offer a more nuanced picture. The Martians are not exotic monsters; they are described as polite, secretive, and inscrutable. The narrator notes that “no ancient system of purdah was ever stricter” regarding Martian women and children, whom humans have never seen. This secrecy is a source of frustration and fascination.

The disaster at Ul is a mining crisis, but the Martians control the diranium ore and its uses, keeping humans in the dark. The narrator admits, “We didn’t know anything about diranium then and the Martians kept it that way.” This dynamic—human eagerness to help versus Martian reserve—creates a tension that is more cultural than confrontational. The story’s conflict may hinge on what the Martians are hiding, not what humans are doing.

Suspense and the Unreliable Journey

The journey to Ul occupies much of the excerpted text, and it is here that the story’s suspense is built. The narrator, Charley, and Deborah are passengers on the Starfish, a spacecraft piloted by the enigmatic Vechi and his crew. The locked control room, the absence of pilots, and Charley’s discovery of a hidden gun all point to a possible hijacking or conspiracy.

The narrator’s internal monologue reveals his doubts: “I had the uneasy feeling that something would prevent it.” The game of stud king becomes a cover for planning, with coded phrases like “Heads” and “Son of a space cook” signaling their need to communicate secretly. The excerpts end before the resolution, leaving the reader uncertain whether the threat is real or imagined. This ambiguity is a deliberate narrative choice, forcing the reader to share the narrator’s uncertainty.

The excerpts from Under the Skin offer a tightly focused narrative that blends journalism, alien contact, and suspense. Readers should pay attention to the narrator’s framing—he is telling a story he never wrote, which suggests that the events may have consequences he is only now ready to reveal. The cultural barriers between humans and Martians are as central as the plot’s immediate dangers. The story rewards close reading of dialogue and small details, as the narrator often communicates more through implication than direct statement.

There’s a particular hush in both—the way an unspoken secret can shape a whole world. That reporter’s unfinished tale, with its uneasy silences aboard the ship, reminds me of the quiet gap between words in The Toy — A Closer Reading. It asks what we notice, and what we choose to leave unsaid.