Humanity’s Sunset

“A queer thing I soon discovered about my little hosts, and that was their lack of interest. They would come to me with eager cries of astonishment, like children, but, like children they would soon stop examining me, and wander away after some other toy. The dinner and my conversational beginnings ended, I noted for the first time that almost all those who had surrounded me at first were gone. It is odd, too, how speedily I came to disregard these little people. I went out through the portal into the sunlit world again as soon as my hunger was satisfied. I was continually meeting more of these men of the future, who would follow me a little distance, chatter and laugh about me, and, having smiled and gesticulated in a friendly way, leave me again to my own devices.

“I soon discovered something strange about my little hosts: their lack of interest. They would approach me with eager cries of surprise, like children. But, like children, they would soon stop studying me and wander off to some other toy. When dinner and my first attempts at conversation were over, I noticed something for the first time. Almost everyone who had initially gathered around me had gone. It is odd, too, how quickly I began to pay these little people no attention. As soon as I had satisfied my hunger, I went through the doorway into the sunlit world again. I kept meeting more of these men of the future. They would follow me a short distance, chattering and laughing about me. After smiling and making friendly gestures, they would leave me to do as I pleased again.

“The calm of evening was upon the world as I emerged from the great hall, and the scene was lit by the warm glow of the setting sun. At first things were very confusing. Everything was so entirely different from the world I had known—even the flowers. The big building I had left was situated on the slope of a broad river valley, but the Thames had shifted, perhaps, a mile from its present position. I resolved to mount to the summit of a crest, perhaps a mile and a half away, from which I could get a wider view of this our planet in the year Eight Hundred and Two Thousand Seven Hundred and One, A.D. For that, I should explain, was the date the little dials of my machine recorded.

“The world was calm in the evening as I came out of the great hall. The setting sun lit the scene with a warm glow. At first, everything was very confusing. Everything was completely different from the world I had known, even the flowers. The large building I had left stood on the slope of a broad river valley. But the Thames had shifted perhaps a mile from its present position. I decided to climb to the top of a ridge, perhaps a mile and a half away. From there, I could get a wider view of our planet in the year 802,701 A.D. I should explain that this was the date shown on my machine’s little dials.”

“As I walked I was watching for every impression that could possibly help to explain the condition of ruinous splendour in which I found the world—for ruinous it was. A little way up the hill, for instance, was a great heap of granite, bound together by masses of aluminium, a vast labyrinth of precipitous walls and crumpled heaps, amidst which were thick heaps of very beautiful pagoda-like plants—nettles possibly—but wonderfully tinted with brown about the leaves, and incapable of stinging. It was evidently the derelict remains of some vast structure, to what end built I could not determine. It was here that I was destined, at a later date, to have a very strange experience—the first intimation of a still stranger discovery—but of that I will speak in its proper place.

“As I walked, I watched for every detail that might help explain the ruined splendour of the world around me. For the world was certainly in ruins. A little way up the hill, for instance, stood a great heap of granite held together by masses of aluminium. It formed a vast maze of steep walls and collapsed heaps. Among the ruins grew thick clusters of very beautiful plants shaped like pagodas. They were possibly nettles, but their leaves had wonderful brown tints, and they could not sting. These were clearly the abandoned remains of some vast structure, but I could not tell what purpose it had served. Here, at a later date, I was to have a very strange experience. That experience would give me the first hint of an even stranger discovery. But I will speak of that in its proper place.

“Looking round, with a sudden thought, from a terrace on which I rested for a while, I realised that there were no small houses to be seen. Apparently the single house, and possibly even the household, had vanished. Here and there among the greenery were palace-like buildings, but the house and the cottage, which form such characteristic features of our own English landscape, had disappeared.

“I looked around from a terrace where I had stopped to rest, and a thought suddenly struck me. I realised there were no small houses in sight. Apparently, individual houses had vanished, and possibly even households. Here and there among the greenery stood palace-like buildings. But houses and cottages, such distinctive features of our own English landscape, had disappeared.

“‘Communism,’ said I to myself.

“‘Communism,’ I said to myself.

“And on the heels of that came another thought. I looked at the half-dozen little figures that were following me. Then, in a flash, I perceived that all had the same form of costume, the same soft hairless visage, and the same girlish rotundity of limb. It may seem strange, perhaps, that I had not noticed this before. But everything was so strange. Now, I saw the fact plainly enough. In costume, and in all the differences of texture and bearing that now mark off the sexes from each other, these people of the future were alike. And the children seemed to my eyes to be but the miniatures of their parents. I judged then that the children of that time were extremely precocious, physically at least, and I found afterwards abundant verification of my opinion.

“And right after that, another thought came to me. I looked at the six little figures following me. Suddenly, I realized they all wore the same kind of clothing. They all had the same soft, hairless faces and the same rounded, girlish limbs. It may seem strange, perhaps, that I had not noticed these similarities before. But everything was so strange. Now I could see the similarities clearly enough. These people of the future were alike in their clothing, their physical features, and the way they carried themselves. None of the differences that now distinguish the sexes were apparent. And to my eyes, the children seemed to be miniature versions of their parents. I concluded then that children in that time developed unusually early, physically at least. Later, I found plenty of evidence to confirm my view.

“Seeing the ease and security in which these people were living, I felt that this close resemblance of the sexes was after all what one would expect; for the strength of a man and the softness of a woman, the institution of the family, and the differentiation of occupations are mere militant necessities of an age of physical force. Where population is balanced and abundant, much childbearing becomes an evil rather than a blessing to the State; where violence comes but rarely and offspring are secure, there is less necessity—indeed there is no necessity—for an efficient family, and the specialisation of the sexes with reference to their children’s needs disappears. We see some beginnings of this even in our own time, and in this future age it was complete. This, I must remind you, was my speculation at the time. Later, I was to appreciate how far it fell short of the reality.

“Seeing how comfortably and safely these people lived, I felt their close resemblance across the sexes was only to be expected. A man’s strength, a woman’s softness, the family, and separate occupations are needed only in an age of physical force. Where the population is stable and plentiful, having many children becomes a harm rather than a blessing to the State. Where violence is rare and children are safe, there is less need for a family that functions effectively. Indeed, there is no need for one. Under those conditions, the distinct roles of the sexes in meeting their children’s needs disappear. We see some beginnings of these changes even in our own time. In this future age, the changes were complete. I must remind you that these were my theories at the time. Later, I would understand how far my theories fell short of reality.”

“While I was musing upon these things, my attention was attracted by a pretty little structure, like a well under a cupola. I thought in a transitory way of the oddness of wells still existing, and then resumed the thread of my speculations. There were no large buildings towards the top of the hill, and as my walking powers were evidently miraculous, I was presently left alone for the first time. With a strange sense of freedom and adventure I pushed on up to the crest.

“While I was thinking about these things, a pretty little structure caught my attention, like a well beneath a dome. I briefly thought how odd it was that wells still existed, then returned to my train of thought. There were no large buildings near the top of the hill. And since my ability to walk was clearly considered miraculous, I soon found myself alone for the first time. With a strange sense of freedom and adventure, I continued up to the crest.

“There I found a seat of some yellow metal that I did not recognise, corroded in places with a kind of pinkish rust and half smothered in soft moss, the arm-rests cast and filed into the resemblance of griffins’ heads. I sat down on it, and I surveyed the broad view of our old world under the sunset of that long day. It was as sweet and fair a view as I have ever seen. The sun had already gone below the horizon and the west was flaming gold, touched with some horizontal bars of purple and crimson. Below was the valley of the Thames, in which the river lay like a band of burnished steel. I have already spoken of the great palaces dotted about among the variegated greenery, some in ruins and some still occupied. Here and there rose a white or silvery figure in the waste garden of the earth, here and there came the sharp vertical line of some cupola or obelisk. There were no hedges, no signs of proprietary rights, no evidences of agriculture; the whole earth had become a garden.

“There I found a seat made of a yellow metal I did not recognize. It had patches of pinkish rust and was half covered in soft moss. Its armrests had been cast and filed into the shape of griffins’ heads. I sat down and looked out over the broad view of our old world at sunset on that long day. The view was as lovely and peaceful as any I have ever seen. The sun had already sunk below the horizon. The western sky blazed gold, crossed by a few horizontal bands of purple and crimson. Below lay the valley of the Thames, with the river like a strip of polished steel. I have already mentioned the great palaces scattered among the varied greenery, some in ruins and some still occupied. Here and there, a white or silvery figure rose in the earth’s untended garden. Here and there, a dome or obelisk formed a sharp vertical line. There were no hedges, no signs of property ownership, and no evidence of farming. The whole earth had become a garden.”

“So watching, I began to put my interpretation upon the things I had seen, and as it shaped itself to me that evening, my interpretation was something in this way. (Afterwards I found I had got only a half truth—or only a glimpse of one facet of the truth.)

“As I watched, I began to make sense of what I had seen. The explanation I developed that evening went something like this. (Later I found I had grasped only half the truth, or only glimpsed one aspect of the truth.)

“It seemed to me that I had happened upon humanity upon the wane. The ruddy sunset set me thinking of the sunset of mankind. For the first time I began to realise an odd consequence of the social effort in which we are at present engaged. And yet, come to think, it is a logical consequence enough. Strength is the outcome of need; security sets a premium on feebleness. The work of ameliorating the conditions of life—the true civilising process that makes life more and more secure—had gone steadily on to a climax. One triumph of a united humanity over Nature had followed another. Things that are now mere dreams had become projects deliberately put in hand and carried forward. And the harvest was what I saw!

“It seemed to me that I had stumbled upon humanity in decline. The red sunset made me think of the sunset of humankind. For the first time, I began to realize a strange consequence of our present efforts to improve society. Yet, on reflection, the consequence was logical enough. Strength grows out of need, while security rewards weakness. The work of improving living conditions had continued steadily to its peak. This was the true process of civilization, making life more and more secure. A united humanity had achieved one victory over Nature after another. Things we now only dream of had become projects that people deliberately began and carried forward. And what I saw was the harvest!”

“After all, the sanitation and the agriculture of today are still in the rudimentary stage. The science of our time has attacked but a little department of the field of human disease, but, even so, it spreads its operations very steadily and persistently. Our agriculture and horticulture destroy a weed just here and there and cultivate perhaps a score or so of wholesome plants, leaving the greater number to fight out a balance as they can. We improve our favourite plants and animals—and how few they are—gradually by selective breeding; now a new and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter and larger flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improve them gradually, because our ideals are vague and tentative, and our knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy and slow in our clumsy hands. Some day all this will be better organised, and still better. That is the drift of the current in spite of the eddies. The whole world will be intelligent, educated, and co-operating; things will move faster and faster towards the subjugation of Nature. In the end, wisely and carefully we shall readjust the balance of animal and vegetable life to suit our human needs.

“After all, today’s sanitation and farming are still in their early stages. The science of our time has tackled only a small part of human disease. Even so, its work expands steadily and persistently. Our farming and gardening remove a weed here and there and grow perhaps twenty or so useful plants. We leave most plants to compete and find whatever balance they can. We gradually improve our favorite plants and animals through selective breeding. And how few of them there are! Sometimes we produce a new and better peach, sometimes a seedless grape. Sometimes we produce a sweeter, larger flower, or a breed of cattle better suited to our needs. We improve these plants and animals gradually because our goals are vague and uncertain, and our knowledge is very limited. Nature, too, is reluctant and slow to respond to our clumsy efforts. Someday all this work will be better organized, and then better still. Despite the swirling eddies, that is the direction of the current. The whole world will be intelligent, educated, and cooperative. Progress toward bringing Nature under our control will move faster and faster. In the end, we will wisely and carefully readjust the balance of animal and plant life to meet our needs.

“This adjustment, I say, must have been done, and done well; done indeed for all Time, in the space of Time across which my machine had leapt. The air was free from gnats, the earth from weeds or fungi; everywhere were fruits and sweet and delightful flowers; brilliant butterflies flew hither and thither. The ideal of preventive medicine was attained. Diseases had been stamped out. I saw no evidence of any contagious diseases during all my stay. And I shall have to tell you later that even the processes of putrefaction and decay had been profoundly affected by these changes.

“As I say, this adjustment must have been made, and made well. Indeed, it must have been made to last forever, during the span of time my machine had leapt across. The air was free of gnats, and the earth was free of weeds or fungi. Everywhere there were fruits and sweet, delightful flowers. Brilliant butterflies flew here and there. The ideal of preventive medicine had been achieved. Diseases had been wiped out. I saw no evidence of any contagious diseases throughout my stay. And I will have to tell you later how these changes had profoundly affected even rotting and decay.

“Social triumphs, too, had been effected. I saw mankind housed in splendid shelters, gloriously clothed, and as yet I had found them engaged in no toil. There were no signs of struggle, neither social nor economical struggle. The shop, the advertisement, traffic, all that commerce which constitutes the body of our world, was gone. It was natural on that golden evening that I should jump at the idea of a social paradise. The difficulty of increasing population had been met, I guessed, and population had ceased to increase.

“Social progress, too, had been achieved. I saw humanity living in magnificent homes and wearing beautiful clothes. So far, I had found no one doing any hard work. There were no signs of struggle, either social or economic. Shops, advertisements, traffic, all the commerce that forms the body of our world had disappeared. On that golden evening, I naturally jumped to the idea that I had found a social paradise. The problem of population growth had been solved, I guessed, and the population had stopped increasing.

“But with this change in condition comes inevitably adaptations to the change. What, unless biological science is a mass of errors, is the cause of human intelligence and vigour? Hardship and freedom: conditions under which the active, strong, and subtle survive and the weaker go to the wall; conditions that put a premium upon the loyal alliance of capable men, upon self-restraint, patience, and decision. And the institution of the family, and the emotions that arise therein, the fierce jealousy, the tenderness for offspring, parental self-devotion, all found their justification and support in the imminent dangers of the young. Now, where are these imminent dangers? There is a sentiment arising, and it will grow, against connubial jealousy, against fierce maternity, against passion of all sorts; unnecessary things now, and things that make us uncomfortable, savage survivals, discords in a refined and pleasant life.

“But changes in conditions inevitably bring adaptations to those changes. Unless biological science is full of errors, what causes human intelligence and energy? Hardship and freedom. Under these conditions, the active, strong, and clever survive, while the weaker are pushed aside. These conditions reward loyal cooperation among capable men, along with self-control, patience, and decisiveness. And the family, and the emotions within it, all found their justification and support in the immediate dangers facing children. These emotions included fierce jealousy, tenderness toward children, and parents’ selfless devotion. Now, where are these immediate dangers? A feeling is growing, and will grow stronger, against jealousy between spouses, against fierce maternal protectiveness, against passions of every kind. Such feelings are now unnecessary and make us uncomfortable. They are remnants of savagery, clashing with a refined and pleasant life.

“I thought of the physical slightness of the people, their lack of intelligence, and those big abundant ruins, and it strengthened my belief in a perfect conquest of Nature. For after the battle comes Quiet. Humanity had been strong, energetic, and intelligent, and had used all its abundant vitality to alter the conditions under which it lived. And now came the reaction of the altered conditions.

“I thought about the people’s frail bodies, their lack of intelligence, and the many huge ruins. These things strengthened my belief that humanity had completely conquered Nature. For after the battle comes peace. Humanity had been strong, energetic, and intelligent. It had used all its abundant energy to change its living conditions. And now those changed conditions were having their effect on humanity.

“Under the new conditions of perfect comfort and security, that restless energy, that with us is strength, would become weakness. Even in our own time certain tendencies and desires, once necessary to survival, are a constant source of failure. Physical courage and the love of battle, for instance, are no great help—may even be hindrances—to a civilised man. And in a state of physical balance and security, power, intellectual as well as physical, would be out of place. For countless years I judged there had been no danger of war or solitary violence, no danger from wild beasts, no wasting disease to require strength of constitution, no need of toil. For such a life, what we should call the weak are as well equipped as the strong, are indeed no longer weak. Better equipped indeed they are, for the strong would be fretted by an energy for which there was no outlet. No doubt the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw was the outcome of the last surgings of the now purposeless energy of mankind before it settled down into perfect harmony with the conditions under which it lived—the flourish of that triumph which began the last great peace. This has ever been the fate of energy in security; it takes to art and to eroticism, and then come languor and decay.

“Under the new conditions of perfect comfort and safety, the restless energy that makes us strong would become a weakness. Even in our own time, certain instincts and desires once needed for survival are a constant source of failure. Physical courage and a love of battle, for instance, are little help to a civilized person. They may even be obstacles. And with physical needs met and safety assured, strength of mind and body would be out of place. I judged that for countless years there had been no danger of war or violence by individuals. There had been no danger from wild beasts, no disease that weakened the body and demanded a strong constitution. There had been no need for hard work. For such a life, those we would call weak are as well equipped as the strong. Indeed, they are no longer weak. They are actually better equipped, because the strong would be troubled by energy with no outlet. No doubt the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw came from humanity’s last bursts of now purposeless energy. These bursts came before humanity settled into perfect harmony with its living conditions. The buildings were a final flourish celebrating the triumph that began the last great peace. This has always been the fate of energy when life is secure. It turns to art and sexual pleasure, followed by listlessness and decay.

“Even this artistic impetus would at last die away—had almost died in the Time I saw. To adorn themselves with flowers, to dance, to sing in the sunlight: so much was left of the artistic spirit, and no more. Even that would fade in the end into a contented inactivity. We are kept keen on the grindstone of pain and necessity, and it seemed to me that here was that hateful grindstone broken at last!

“Even this urge to create art would eventually die out. It had almost died out in the time I saw. Decorating themselves with flowers, dancing, and singing in the sunlight: that was all that remained of their artistic spirit. Even those pleasures would eventually fade into contented inactivity. Pain and necessity keep us sharp, like a grindstone. And it seemed to me that here, at last, that hateful grindstone had been broken!

“As I stood there in the gathering dark I thought that in this simple explanation I had mastered the problem of the world—mastered the whole secret of these delicious people. Possibly the checks they had devised for the increase of population had succeeded too well, and their numbers had rather diminished than kept stationary. That would account for the abandoned ruins. Very simple was my explanation, and plausible enough—as most wrong theories are!

“As I stood there in the growing darkness, I thought my simple explanation had solved the problem of this world. I had uncovered the whole secret of these delightful people. Perhaps their measures to limit population growth had worked too well. Their numbers might have fallen instead of staying steady. That decline would explain the abandoned ruins. My explanation was very simple, and it seemed plausible enough, as most wrong theories do!