Thirty Strange StoriesWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Science
Thirty Strange Stories
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Fantasy fiction, English; Science fiction, English; Short stories, English
So with a stately swiftness, in the profoundest silence, the solar
system fell from me, as it had been a garment, until the sun was a mere
star amid the multitude of stars, with its eddy of planet-specks lost in
the confused glittering of the remoter light. I was no longer a denizen
of the solar system: I had come to the Outer Universe, I seemed to grasp
and comprehend the whole world of matter. Ever more swiftly the stars
closed in about the spot where Antares and Vega had vanished in a
luminous haze, until that part of the sky had the semblance of a
whirling mass of nebulæ, and ever before me yawned vaster gaps of vacant
blackness, and the stars shone fewer and fewer. It seemed as if I moved
towards a point between Orion’s belt and sword; and the void about that
region opened vaster and vaster every second, an incredible gulf of
nothingness into which I was falling. Faster and ever faster the
universe rushed by, a hurry of whirling motes at last, speeding silently
into the void. Stars, glowing brighter and brighter, with their circling
planets catching the light in a ghostly fashion as I neared them, shone
out and vanished again into inexistence; faint comets, clusters of
meteorites, winking specks of matter, eddying light points whizzed past,
some perhaps a hundred millions of miles or so from me at most, few
nearer, travelling with unimaginable rapidity, shooting constellations,
momentary darts of fire through the black night. More than anything else
it was like a dusty draught, sunbeam-lit. Broader and wider and deeper
grew the starless space, the vacant Beyond, into which I was being
drawn. At last a quarter of the heavens was black and blank, and the
whole headlong rush of stellar universe closed in behind me like a veil
of light that is gathered together. It drove away from me like a
monstrous Jack-o’-lantern driven by the wind. I had come out into the
wilderness of space. Even the vacant blackness grew broader, until the
hosts of the stars seemed only like a swarm of fiery specks hurrying
away from me, inconceivably remote, and the darkness, the nothingness
and emptiness, was about me on every side. Soon the little universe of
matter, the cage of points in which I had begun to be, was dwindling,
now to a whirling disc of luminous glittering, and now to one minute
disc of hazy light. In a little while it would shrink to a point, and at
last would vanish altogether.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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