The Machine

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 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 object the Time Traveller held in his hand was a glittering metal framework, barely larger than a small clock. It was very delicately made, with ivory and some transparent, crystal-like material. Now I must be precise about what follows. Unless we accept his explanation, what happened next is completely inexplicable. He took one of the small eight-sided tables scattered around the room and set it in front of the fire. Two of its legs rested on the hearthrug. He placed the mechanism on the table. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down. The only other object on the table was a small shaded lamp, whose bright light fell on the model. There were also perhaps a dozen candles around the room. Two stood in brass candlesticks on the mantel, and several were in wall sconces, so the room was brightly lit. I sat in a low armchair nearest the fire. I pulled my chair forward until I was almost between the Time Traveller and the fireplace. Filby sat behind him, looking over his shoulder. The Medical Man and the Provincial Mayor watched the Time Traveller from his right, seeing him in profile. The Psychologist watched from his left. The Very Young Man stood behind the Psychologist. We were all watching closely. I find it incredible that anyone could have tricked us under these conditions, however cleverly planned or skillfully performed.

The Time Traveller looked at us, and then at the mechanism. “Well?” said the Psychologist.

The Time Traveller looked at us, then at the machine. “Well?” asked 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.”

“This little device,” said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his hands together above the apparatus, “is only a model. It shows my design for a machine that can travel through time. You’ll notice that the model looks strangely crooked. And this bar has an odd shimmer, as though it were somehow unreal.” He pointed to the bar 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.

The Medical Man stood up from 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.”

“It took two years to make,” shot back the Time Traveller. Then, when we had all copied what the Medical Man had done, he said: “Now I want you to understand clearly. Pushing this lever over sends the machine gliding into the future. This other lever reverses the motion. This saddle represents a time traveller’s seat. In a moment, I’m going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. The machine will vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Take a good look at the machine. Look at the table too, and make sure there’s no trickery. I don’t want to waste this model and then be called a fraud.”

There was a minute’s pause perhaps. The Psychologist seemed about to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller put forth his finger towards the lever. “No,” he said suddenly. “Lend me your hand.” And turning to the Psychologist, he took that individual’s hand in his own and told him to put out his forefinger. So that it was the Psychologist himself who sent forth the model Time Machine on its interminable voyage. We all saw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as a ghost for a second perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glittering brass and ivory; and it was gone—vanished! Save for the lamp the table was bare.

There was a pause of perhaps a minute. The Psychologist seemed about to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller reached his finger toward the lever. “No,” he said suddenly. “Lend me your hand.” He turned to the Psychologist, took his hand, and told him to extend his index finger. So it was the Psychologist himself who sent the model Time Machine on its endless voyage. We all saw the lever move. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a puff of wind, and the lamp flame flickered. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly spun around. The machine grew indistinct. For perhaps a second, it looked ghostly, like a swirl of faintly glittering brass and ivory. Then it was gone. Vanished! Except for the lamp, the table was bare.

Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was damned.

Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he’d be damned.

The Psychologist recovered from his stupor, and suddenly looked under the table. At that the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. “Well?” he said, with a reminiscence of the Psychologist. Then, getting up, he went to the tobacco jar on the mantel, and with his back to us began to fill his pipe.

The Psychologist recovered from his daze and suddenly looked under the table. At that, the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. “Well?” he said, echoing the Psychologist. Then he got up and went to the tobacco jar on the mantel. With his back to us, he began to fill his pipe.

We stared at each other. “Look here,” said the Medical Man, “are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe that that machine has travelled into time?”

We stared at each other. “Listen,” said the Medical Man, “are you serious about this? Do you really believe that machine has travelled through time?”

“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.”

“Certainly,” said the Time Traveller, bending down to light a thin strip of wood in the fire. Then, as he lit his pipe, he turned to look at the Psychologist’s face. (To show he was not rattled, the Psychologist helped himself to a cigar and tried to light it without cutting the end.) “What’s more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there.” He pointed to the laboratory. “And when the machine is put together, I intend to take a journey myself.”

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

“You mean that machine has traveled into the future?” said Filby.

“Into the future or the past—I don’t, for certain, know which.”

“Into the future or the past. I’m not sure which.”

After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. “It must have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere,” he said.

After a while, the Psychologist had an idea. “It must have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere,” he said.

“Why?” said the Time Traveller.

“Why?” asked 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.”

“Because I assume it hasn't moved in space. And if it travelled into the future, it would still be here all this time. That's because it must have passed 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!”

“But,” I said, “if it travelled into the past, we would have seen it when we first entered this room. And when we were here last Thursday. And the Thursday before that, and so on!”

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

“Serious objections,” said the Provincial Mayor, sounding impartial as he turned 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.”

“Not at all,” said the Time Traveller, then turned to the Psychologist: “Think about it. You can explain that. It’s an impression below the threshold of awareness, you know, a weakened impression.”

“Of course,” said the Psychologist, and reassured us. “That’s a simple point in 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.

“Of course,” said the Psychologist, reassuring us. “That’s a simple point in psychology. I should have thought of it. The explanation is clear enough, and makes the paradox delightfully convincing. We cannot see or make out this machine, just as we cannot see a spinning wheel’s spoke or a flying bullet. Suppose the machine is travelling through time fifty or a hundred times faster than we are. Suppose it passes through a minute while we pass through a second. Then, of course, the impression it makes will be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth as strong as if it weren’t travelling through time. That’s clear enough.” He passed his hand through the space where 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.

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

“It sounds plausible enough tonight,” said the Medical Man; “but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.”

“It sounds believable enough tonight,” said the Medical Man. “But wait until tomorrow. Wait for morning to bring back common sense.”

“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.

“Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?” asked the Time Traveller. With that, he picked up the lamp and led us down the long, drafty corridor to his laboratory. I vividly remember the flickering light, his odd, broad head in silhouette, and the dancing shadows. We all followed him, puzzled but still disbelieving. There in the laboratory, we saw a larger version of the little mechanism we had seen vanish before our eyes. Some parts were nickel, some were ivory, and some had certainly been filed or sawn from rock crystal. The machine was mostly complete, but the twisted crystal bars lay unfinished on the workbench beside some drawings. I picked up one of the bars for a closer look. The bar seemed to be quartz.

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

“Listen,” said the Medical Man, “are you completely 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.”

“I plan to use that machine to explore time,” said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp high. “Is my plan clear? I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

None of us quite knew how to take it.

None of us quite knew what to make of it.

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

I caught Filby’s eye over the Medical Man’s shoulder. He gave me a solemn wink.