Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (10 page)

"Certainly,"
said
the
Time
Traveller,
stooping
to
light
a
spill
at the
fire.
Then
he
turned,
lighting
his
pipe,
to
look
at
the
Psychologist's face.
(The
Psychologist,
to
show
that
he
was
not
unhinged,
helped himself
to
a
cigar
and
tried
to
light
it
uncut.)
"What
is
more,
I
have a
big
machine
nearly
finished
in
there"—he
indicated
the
laboratory— "and
when
that
is
put
together
I
mean
to
have
a
journey
on
my
own account."

"You
mean
to
say
that
that
machine
has
travelled
into
the
future?" said
Filby.

"Into
the
future
or
the
past—I
don't,
for
certain,
know
which." After
an
interval
the
Psychologist
had
an
inspiration.
"It
must
have gone
into
the
past
if
it
has
gone
anywhere,"
he
said. "Why?"
said
the
Time
Traveller.

"Because
I
presume
that
it
has
not
moved
in
space,
and
if
it travelled
into
the
future
it
would
still
be
here
all
this
time,
since it
must
have
travelled
through
this
time."

"But,"
said
I,
"if
it
travelled
into
the
past
it
would
have
been
visible when
we
came
first
into
this
room;
and
last
Thursday
when
we
were here;
and
the
Thursday
before
that;
and
so
forth!"

"Serious objections," remarked the
Provincial Mayor, with an air of impartiality, turning towards the Time
Traveller.

"Not
a bit," said the Time Traveller, and, to the Psychologist: "You
think. You can explain that. It's presentation below the threshold, you know,
diluted presentation."

"Of
course," said the Psychologist, and reassured us. "That's a simple
point of psychology. I should have thought of it. It's plain enough, and helps
the paradox delightfully. We cannot see it, nor can we appreciate this machine,
any more than we can the spoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through
the air. If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred times faster
than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the
impression it creates will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of
what it would make if it were not travelling in time. That's plain
enough." He passed his hand through the space in which the machine had
been. "You see?" he said, laughing.

We
sat and stared at the vacant table for a minute or so. Then the Time Traveller
asked us what we thought of it all.

"It
sounds plausible enough to-night," said the Medical Man; "but wait
until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning."

"Would
you like to see the Time Machine itself?" asked the Time Traveller. And
therewith, taking the lamp in his hand, he led the way down the long, draughty
corridor to his laboratory. I remember vividly the flickering light, his queer,
broad head in silhouette, the dance of the shadows, how we all followed him,
puzzled but incredulous, and how there in the laboratory we beheld a larger
edition of the little mechanism which we had seen vanish from before our eyes.
Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn
out of rock crystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twisted
crystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheets of drawings,
and I took one up for a better look at it. Quartz it seemed to be.

"Look here," said the Medical Man,
"are you perfectly serious? Or is this a trick—like that ghost you showed
us last Christmas?"

"Upon
that machine," said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, "I
intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my
life."

None of us quite knew how
to take it.

I
caught
Filby's
eye
over
the
shoulder
of
the
Medical
Man,
and he
winked
at
me
solemnly.

2 £fe>

I
think
that
at
that
time
none
of
us
quite
believed
in
the
Time Machine.
The
fact
is,
the
Time
Traveller
was
one
of
those
men
who are
too
clever
to
be
believed:
you
never
felt
that
you
saw
all
round him;
you
always
suspected
some
subtle
reserve,
some
ingenuity
in ambush,
behind
his
lucid
frankness.
Had
Filby
shown
the
model and
explained
the
matter
in
the
Time
Traveller's
words,
we
should have
shown
him
far
less
scepticism.
For
we
should
have
perceived his
motives:
a
pork
butcher
could
understand
Filby.
But
the
Time Traveller
had
more
than
a
touch
of
whim
among
his
elements,
and we
distrusted
him.
Tilings
that
would
have
made
the
fame
of
a
less clever
man
seemed
tricks
in
his
hands.
It
is
a
mistake
to
do
things too
easily.
The
serious
people
who
took
him
seriously
never
felt quite
sure
of
his
deportment:
they
were
somehow
aware
that
trusting their
reputations
for
judgment
with
him
was
like
furnishing
a nursery
with
egg-shell
china.
So
I
don't
think
any
of
us
said
very
much about
time
travelling
in
the
interval
between
that
Thursday
and
the next,
though
its
odd
potentialities
ran,
no
doubt,
in
most
of
our
minds: its
plausibility,
that
is,
its
practical
incredibleness,
the
curious
possibilities
of
anachronism
and
of
utter
confusion
it
suggested.
For
my own
part,
I
was
particularly
preoccupied
with
the
trick
of
the
model. lhat
I
remember
discussing
with
the
Medical
Man,
whom
I
met on
Friday
at
the
Linnasan.
He
said
he
had
seen
a
similar
thing
at Tubingen,
and
laid
considerable
stress
on
the
blowing
out
of
the candle.
But
how
the
trick
was
done
he
could
not
explain.