Chapter 4

Inside the Sphere

6 min

“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat across the edge of the manhole, and looked down into the black interior of the sphere. We two were alone. It was evening, the sun had set, and the stillness of the twilight was upon everything.

“Go on,” said Cavor, as I sat on the edge of the manhole and looked down into the sphere’s dark interior. We were alone. It was evening, the sun had set, and everything was still in the twilight.

I drew my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of the sphere, then turned to take the cans of food and other impedimenta from Cavor. The interior was warm, the thermometer stood at eighty, and as we should lose little or none of this by radiation, we were dressed in shoes and thin flannels. We had, however, a bundle of thick woollen clothing and several thick blankets to guard against mischance.

I pulled my other leg inside and slid down the smooth glass to the bottom of the sphere. Then I turned to take the cans of food and other supplies from Cavor. The interior was warm, and the thermometer read eighty degrees. We expected to lose little or none of that warmth through radiation, so we wore shoes and thin flannels. However, we had a bundle of thick woolen clothes and several thick blankets in case anything went wrong.

By Cavor’s direction I placed the packages, the cylinders of oxygen, and so forth, loosely about my feet, and soon we had everything in. He walked about the roofless shed for a time seeking anything we had overlooked, and then crawled in after me. I noted something in his hand.

Following Cavor’s directions, I placed the packages, oxygen cylinders, and other things loosely around my feet. Soon we had everything inside. He walked around the roofless shed for a while, looking for anything we had missed. Then he crawled in after me. I noticed something in his hand.

“What have you got there?” I asked.

“Haven’t you brought anything to read?”

“Didn’t you bring anything to read?”

“Good Lord! No.”

“I forgot to tell you. There are uncertainties— The voyage may last— We may be weeks!”

“I forgot to tell you. There are some uncertainties. The trip may take... We may be gone for weeks!”

“But—”

“But...”

“We shall be floating in this sphere with absolutely no occupation.”

“We’ll be floating in this sphere with absolutely nothing to do.”

“I wish I’d known—”

“I wish I’d known...”

He peered out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s something there!”

He looked out of the manhole. “Look!” he said. “There’s something there!”

“Is there time?”

“We shall be an hour.”

“We'll be an hour.”

I looked out. It was an old number of Tit-Bits that one of the men must have brought. Farther away in the corner I saw a torn Lloyd’s News. I scrambled back into the sphere with these things. “What have you got?” I said.

I looked out. It was an old issue of Tit-Bits that one of the men must have brought. Farther away, in the corner, I saw a torn copy of Lloyd’s News. I scrambled back into the sphere with them. “What have you got?” I said.

I took the book from his hand and read, “The Works of William Shakespeare”.

He coloured slightly. “My education has been so purely scientific—” he said apologetically.

He blushed slightly. “My education has been entirely scientific...” he said apologetically.

“Never read him?”

“Have you never read him?”

“Never.”

“He knew a little, you know—in an irregular sort of way.”

“He knew a little, you know, but his knowledge was patchy.”

“Precisely what I am told,” said Cavor.

“Exactly what I'm told,” said Cavor.

I assisted him to screw in the glass cover of the manhole, and then he pressed a stud to close the corresponding blind in the outer case. The little oblong of twilight vanished. We were in darkness. For a time neither of us spoke. Although our case would not be impervious to sound, everything was very still. I perceived there was nothing to grip when the shock of our start should come, and I realised that I should be uncomfortable for want of a chair.

I helped him screw in the glass cover over the manhole. Then he pressed a button to close the matching shutter in the outer case. The small rectangle of twilight disappeared. We were in darkness. For a while, neither of us spoke. Although the case would not block out sound, everything was very still. I noticed there was nothing to hold on to when we felt the shock of starting. I also realized I would be uncomfortable without a chair.

“Why have we no chairs?” I asked.

“Why don't we have any chairs?” I asked.

“I’ve settled all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t need them.”

“I’ve taken care of all that,” said Cavor. “We won’t need them.”

“Why not?”

“You will see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to talk.

“You’ll see,” he said, in the tone of a man who refuses to say more.

I became silent. Suddenly it had come to me clear and vivid that I was a fool to be inside that sphere. Even now, I asked myself, is to too late to withdraw? The world outside the sphere, I knew, would be cold and inhospitable enough for me—for weeks I had been living on subsidies from Cavor—but after all, would it be as cold as the infinite zero, as inhospitable as empty space? If it had not been for the appearance of cowardice, I believe that even then I should have made him let me out. But I hesitated on that score, and hesitated, and grew fretful and angry, and the time passed.

I fell silent. Suddenly, it became clear to me that I was a fool to be inside the sphere. Was it too late to back out, even now? I knew the world outside the sphere would be cold and unwelcoming enough for me. For weeks, I had been living on money from Cavor. But would the world be as cold as absolute zero, as unwelcoming as empty space? If I had not been afraid of seeming like a coward, I believe I would have made him let me out even then. But I hesitated because of that fear. I kept hesitating and grew restless and angry, and the time passed.

There came a little jerk, a noise like champagne being uncorked in another room, and a faint whistling sound. For just one instant I had a sense of enormous tension, a transient conviction that my feet were pressing downward with a force of countless tons. It lasted for an infinitesimal time.

There was a small jerk, a sound like champagne being uncorked in another room, and a faint whistle. For an instant, I felt enormous tension. I briefly believed my feet were pressing downward with a force of countless tons. The feeling lasted only a tiny fraction of a second.

But it stirred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, “my nerve’s in rags. I don’t think—”

But it spurred me to action. “Cavor!” I said into the darkness, “my nerves are shot. I don’t think...”

I stopped. He made no answer.

I stopped. He didn't answer.

“Confound it!” I cried; “I’m a fool! What business have I here? I’m not coming, Cavor. The thing’s too risky. I’m getting out.”

“Damn it!” I cried. “I’m a fool! What am I doing here? I’m not coming, Cavor. It’s too risky. I’m getting out.”

“You can’t,” he said.

“Can’t! We’ll soon see about that!”

“Can’t! We’ll see about that!”

He made no answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to quarrel now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. Already we are flying as swiftly as a bullet up into the gulf of space.”

He did not answer for ten seconds. “It’s too late for us to argue now, Bedford,” he said. “That little jerk was the start. We are already flying up into the vastness of space as fast as a bullet.”

“I—” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what happened. For a time I was, as it were, stunned; I had nothing to say. It was just as if I had never heard of this idea of leaving the world before. Then I perceived an unaccountable change in my bodily sensations. It was a feeling of lightness, of unreality. Coupled with that was a queer sensation in the head, an apoplectic effect almost, and a thumping of blood vessels at the ears. Neither of these feelings diminished as time went on, but at last I got so used to them that I experienced no inconvenience.

“I...” I said, and then it didn’t seem to matter what happened. For a while, I was stunned, as it were. I had nothing to say. It was as if I had never heard of the idea of leaving the world before. Then I noticed a strange change in how my body felt. I felt light, as if things weren’t real. Along with that, I had a strange feeling in my head, almost like a stroke. I could also feel the blood vessels throbbing at my ears. Neither feeling grew weaker over time. But at last I got so used to them that they no longer bothered me.

I heard a click, and a little glow lamp came into being.

I heard a click, and a small lamp lit up.

I saw Cavor’s face, as white as I felt my own to be. We regarded one another in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made him seem as though he floated in a void.

I saw Cavor’s face. It was as white as I felt my own face was. We looked at each other in silence. The transparent blackness of the glass behind him made him look as if he were floating in a void.

“Well, we’re committed,” I said at last.

“Yes,” he said, “we’re committed.”

“Don’t move,” he exclaimed, at some suggestion of a gesture. “Let your muscles keep quite lax—as if you were in bed. We are in a little universe of our own. Look at those things!”

“Don’t move,” he exclaimed as I began to make a gesture. “Keep your muscles completely relaxed, as if you were in bed. We’re in a little universe of our own. Look at those things!”

He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the blankets in the bottom of the sphere. I was astonished to see that they were floating now nearly a foot from the spherical wall. Then I saw from his shadow that Cavor was no longer leaning against the glass. I thrust out my hand behind me, and found that I too was suspended in space, clear of the glass.

He pointed to the loose cases and bundles that had been lying on the blankets at the bottom of the sphere. I was amazed to see them floating nearly a foot away from the curved wall. Then Cavor’s shadow showed me that he was no longer leaning against the glass. I reached behind me and found that I too was floating in space, away from the glass.

I did not cry out nor gesticulate, but fear came upon me. It was like being held and lifted by something—you know not what. The mere touch of my hand against the glass moved me rapidly. I understood what had happened, but that did not prevent my being afraid. We were cut off from all exterior gravitation, only the attraction of objects within our sphere had effect. Consequently everything that was not fixed to the glass was falling—slowly because of the slightness of our masses—towards the centre of gravity of our little world, which seemed to be somewhere about the middle of the sphere, but rather nearer to myself than Cavor, on account of my greater weight.

I did not cry out or wave my arms, but I became afraid. It felt as if something was holding and lifting me, and I did not know what. Just touching the glass with my hand sent me moving rapidly. I understood what had happened, but I was still afraid. We were cut off from all outside gravity. Only the attraction of objects inside our sphere had any effect. As a result, everything not fixed to the glass was falling toward the center of gravity of our little world. Everything fell slowly because our masses were so slight. The center of gravity seemed to be somewhere near the middle of the sphere. But it was closer to me than to Cavor because I weighed more.

“We must turn round,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, with the things between us.”

“We need to turn around,” said Cavor, “and float back to back, with the things between us.”

It was the strangest sensation conceivable, floating thus loosely in space, at first indeed horribly strange, and when the horror passed, not disagreeable at all, exceeding restful; indeed, the nearest thing in earthly experience to it that I know is lying on a very thick, soft feather bed. But the quality of utter detachment and independence! I had not reckoned on things like this. I had expected a violent jerk at starting, a giddy sense of speed. Instead I felt—as if I were disembodied. It was not like the beginning of a journey; it was like the beginning of a dream.

Floating so freely in space was the strangest sensation imaginable. At first, it was horribly strange. But once the horror passed, it was not unpleasant at all. It was extremely restful. The closest thing I know to it on Earth is lying on a very thick, soft feather bed. But the feeling of complete detachment and independence! I had not expected anything like it. I had expected a violent jerk as we set off, and a dizzying sense of speed. Instead, I felt as if I had no body. It was not like the beginning of a journey. It was like the beginning of a dream.