The Plattner Story, and OthersWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Science
The Plattner Story, and Others
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories, English
The girl in brown, with the brown eyes, had come into the laboratory,
and stood on the other side of the table behind him, with her rolled-up
apron in one hand, looking over her shoulder, listening to the
discussion. She did not notice the hunchback, because she was glancing
from Hill to his interlocutor. Hill's consciousness of her presence
betrayed itself to her only in his studious ignorance of the fact; but
she understood that, and it pleased her. "I see no reason," said he,
"why a man should live like a brute because he knows of nothing beyond
matter, and does not expect to exist a hundred years hence."
"Why shouldn't he?" said the fair-haired student.
"Why _should_ he?" said Hill.
"What inducement has he?"
"That's the way with all you religious people. It's all a business of
inducements. Cannot a man seek after righteousness for righteousness'
sake?"
There was a pause. The fair man answered, with a kind of vocal padding,
"But--you see--inducement--when I said inducement," to gain time. And
then the hunchback came to his rescue and inserted a question. He was
a terrible person in the debating society with his questions, and they
invariably took one form--a demand for a definition. "What's your
definition of righteousness?" said the hunchback at this stage.
Hill experienced a sudden loss of complacency at this question,
but even as it was asked, relief came in the person of Brooks, the
laboratory attendant, who entered by the preparation-room door,
carrying a number of freshly killed guineapigs by their hind legs.
"This is the last batch of material this session," said the youngster,
who had not previously spoken. Brooks advanced up the laboratory,
smacking down a couple of guineapigs at each table. The rest of the
class, scenting the prey from afar, came crowding in by the lecture
theatre door, and the discussion perished abruptly as the students who
were not already in their places hurried to them to secure the choice
of a specimen. There was a noise of keys rattling on split rings as
lockers were opened and dissecting instruments taken out. Hill was
already standing by his table, and his box of scalpels was sticking out
of his pocket. The girl in brown came a step towards him, and, leaning
over his table, said softly, "Did you see that I returned your book,
Mr. Hill?"
During the whole scene she and the book had been vividly present in his
consciousness; but he made a clumsy pretence of looking at the book and
seeing it for the first time. "Oh yes," he said, taking it up. "I see.
Did you like it?"
"I want to ask you some questions about it--some time."
"Certainly," said Hill. "I shall be glad." He stopped awkwardly. "You
liked it?" he said.
"It's a wonderful book. Only some things I don't understand."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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