Dystopias -- Fiction; Science fiction; Time travel -- Fiction
The thing the Time Traveller held in his hand was a glittering metallic
framework, scarcely larger than a small clock, and very delicately
made. There was ivory in it, and some transparent crystalline
substance. And now I must be explicit, for this that follows—unless
his explanation is to be accepted—is an absolutely unaccountable
thing. He took one of the small octagonal tables that were scattered
about the room, and set it in front of the fire, with two legs on the
hearthrug. On this table he placed the mechanism. Then he drew up a
chair, and sat down. The only other object on the table was a small
shaded lamp, the bright light of which fell full upon the model. There
were also perhaps a dozen candles about, two in brass candlesticks upon
the mantel and several in sconces, so that the room was brilliantly
illuminated. I sat in a low arm-chair nearest the fire, and I drew
this forward so as to be almost between the Time Traveller and the
fireplace. Filby sat behind him, looking over his shoulder. The Medical
Man and the Provincial Mayor watched him in profile from the right,
the Psychologist from the left. The Very Young Man stood behind the
Psychologist. We were all on the alert. It appears incredible to me
that any kind of trick, however subtly conceived and however adroitly
done, could have been played upon us under these conditions.
The Time Traveller looked at us, and then at the mechanism. “Well?”
said the Psychologist.
“This little affair,” said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows upon
the table and pressing his hands together above the apparatus, “is only
a model. It is my plan for a machine to travel through time. You will
notice that it looks singularly askew, and that there is an odd
twinkling appearance about this bar, as though it was in some way
unreal.” He pointed to the part with his finger. “Also, here is one
little white lever, and here is another.”
The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into the thing.
“It’s beautifully made,” he said.
“It took two years to make,” retorted the Time Traveller. Then, when we
had all imitated the action of the Medical Man, he said: “Now I want
you clearly to understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends
the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the
motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveller. Presently
I am going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. It will
vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the
thing. Look at the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no
trickery. I don’t want to waste this model, and then be told I’m a
quack.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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