A Sudden Shock

“As I stood there musing over this too perfect triumph of man, the full moon, yellow and gibbous, came up out of an overflow of silver light in the north-east. The bright little figures ceased to move about below, a noiseless owl flitted by, and I shivered with the chill of the night. I determined to descend and find where I could sleep.

“As I stood there thinking about humanity’s too-perfect triumph, the full moon rose in the northeast. It was yellow and almost round, rising out of a flood of silver light. The bright little figures below stopped moving about. An owl flew silently past, and I shivered in the cold night air. I decided to go down and find a place to sleep.

“I looked for the building I knew. Then my eye travelled along to the figure of the White Sphinx upon the pedestal of bronze, growing distinct as the light of the rising moon grew brighter. I could see the silver birch against it. There was the tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, and there was the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queer doubt chilled my complacency. ‘No,’ said I stoutly to myself, ‘that was not the lawn.’

“I looked for the building I knew. Then my gaze moved to the figure of the White Sphinx on its bronze pedestal. The figure became clearer as the rising moon grew brighter. I could see the silver birch against the Sphinx. There was the tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, and there was the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A strange doubt shook my confidence. ‘No,’ I told myself firmly, ‘that was not the lawn.’

“But it was the lawn. For the white leprous face of the sphinx was towards it. Can you imagine what I felt as this conviction came home to me? But you cannot. The Time Machine was gone!

“But it was the lawn. The sphinx’s white, leprous face was turned toward the lawn. Can you imagine how I felt as I became certain of this? No, you cannot. The Time Machine was gone!

“At once, like a lash across the face, came the possibility of losing my own age, of being left helpless in this strange new world. The bare thought of it was an actual physical sensation. I could feel it grip me at the throat and stop my breathing. In another moment I was in a passion of fear and running with great leaping strides down the slope. Once I fell headlong and cut my face; I lost no time in stanching the blood, but jumped up and ran on, with a warm trickle down my cheek and chin. All the time I ran I was saying to myself: ‘They have moved it a little, pushed it under the bushes out of the way.’ Nevertheless, I ran with all my might. All the time, with the certainty that sometimes comes with excessive dread, I knew that such assurance was folly, knew instinctively that the machine was removed out of my reach. My breath came with pain. I suppose I covered the whole distance from the hill crest to the little lawn, two miles perhaps, in ten minutes. And I am not a young man. I cursed aloud, as I ran, at my confident folly in leaving the machine, wasting good breath thereby. I cried aloud, and none answered. Not a creature seemed to be stirring in that moonlit world.

“Suddenly, like a slap across the face, I realized I might lose my own time forever. I might be left helpless in this strange new world. The mere thought caused a physical sensation. I could feel the fear grip my throat and stop my breathing. A moment later, I was wild with fear, running down the slope in great, leaping strides. Once I fell headfirst and cut my face. I did not stop to stem the bleeding, but jumped up and ran on. Warm blood trickled down my cheek and chin. All the time I ran, I kept telling myself: ‘They have moved the machine a little, pushed it under the bushes out of the way.’ Nevertheless, I ran as hard as I could. All the while, I felt the certainty that sometimes comes with extreme fear. I knew those reassurances were foolish. I knew instinctively that the machine had been moved beyond my reach. Every breath hurt. I suppose I covered the whole distance from the hilltop to the little lawn in ten minutes, perhaps two miles. And I am not a young man. As I ran, I cursed aloud at my foolish confidence in leaving the machine, wasting precious breath. I shouted, and no one answered. Not a creature seemed to be moving in that moonlit world.”

“When I reached the lawn my worst fears were realised. Not a trace of the thing was to be seen. I felt faint and cold when I faced the empty space among the black tangle of bushes. I ran round it furiously, as if the thing might be hidden in a corner, and then stopped abruptly, with my hands clutching my hair. Above me towered the sphinx, upon the bronze pedestal, white, shining, leprous, in the light of the rising moon. It seemed to smile in mockery of my dismay.

“When I reached the lawn, my worst fears came true. There was no sign of the thing. I felt faint and cold as I faced the empty space among the dark tangle of bushes. I ran frantically around the space, as if the thing might be hidden in a corner. Then I stopped suddenly, clutching my hair. Above me, the sphinx towered on its bronze pedestal, white, shining, and diseased-looking in the rising moonlight. The sphinx seemed to smile, mocking my distress.

“I might have consoled myself by imagining the little people had put the mechanism in some shelter for me, had I not felt assured of their physical and intellectual inadequacy. That is what dismayed me: the sense of some hitherto unsuspected power, through whose intervention my invention had vanished. Yet, for one thing I felt assured: unless some other age had produced its exact duplicate, the machine could not have moved in time. The attachment of the levers—I will show you the method later—prevented anyone from tampering with it in that way when they were removed. It had moved, and was hid, only in space. But then, where could it be?

“I might have comforted myself by imagining the little people had put the machine somewhere sheltered for me. But I was certain they lacked the physical strength and intelligence. What frightened me was the sense of some power I had never suspected, whose intervention had made my invention disappear. Yet I was sure of one thing: unless another age had produced an exact copy, the machine could not have traveled through time. The way the levers were attached prevented anyone from using the machine that way once the levers were removed. I will show you how later. The machine had only been moved through space and hidden. But then, where could it be?

“I think I must have had a kind of frenzy. I remember running violently in and out among the moonlit bushes all round the sphinx, and startling some white animal that, in the dim light, I took for a small deer. I remember, too, late that night, beating the bushes with my clenched fist until my knuckles were gashed and bleeding from the broken twigs. Then, sobbing and raving in my anguish of mind, I went down to the great building of stone. The big hall was dark, silent, and deserted. I slipped on the uneven floor, and fell over one of the malachite tables, almost breaking my shin. I lit a match and went on past the dusty curtains, of which I have told you.

“I think I must have been in a kind of frenzy. I remember running wildly in and out of the moonlit bushes all around the sphinx. I startled a white animal that, in the dim light, I mistook for a small deer. I also remember beating the bushes with my clenched fist late that night. The broken twigs cut my knuckles and left them bleeding. Then, sobbing and raving in anguish, I went down to the great stone building. The big hall was dark, silent, and deserted. I slipped on the uneven floor and fell over one of the malachite tables, almost breaking my shin. I lit a match and went on past the dusty curtains I have already told you about.

“There I found a second great hall covered with cushions, upon which, perhaps, a score or so of the little people were sleeping. I have no doubt they found my second appearance strange enough, coming suddenly out of the quiet darkness with inarticulate noises and the splutter and flare of a match. For they had forgotten about matches. ‘Where is my Time Machine?’ I began, bawling like an angry child, laying hands upon them and shaking them up together. It must have been very queer to them. Some laughed, most of them looked sorely frightened. When I saw them standing round me, it came into my head that I was doing as foolish a thing as it was possible for me to do under the circumstances, in trying to revive the sensation of fear. For, reasoning from their daylight behaviour, I thought that fear must be forgotten.

“There I found a second great hall covered with cushions. Perhaps twenty or so of the little people were sleeping on them. I have no doubt they found my second appearance strange enough. I came suddenly out of the quiet darkness, making wordless noises, with a match sputtering and flaring. For they had forgotten about matches. ‘Where is my Time Machine?’ I began, shouting like an angry child, grabbing them and shaking them awake. My behavior must have seemed very strange to them. Some laughed, but most looked terribly frightened. When I saw them standing around me, I realized I was acting as foolishly as possible under the circumstances. I was trying to bring back their sense of fear. For, judging by their behavior in daylight, I thought they must have forgotten fear.”

“Abruptly, I dashed down the match, and knocking one of the people over in my course, went blundering across the big dining-hall again, out under the moonlight. I heard cries of terror and their little feet running and stumbling this way and that. I do not remember all I did as the moon crept up the sky. I suppose it was the unexpected nature of my loss that maddened me. I felt hopelessly cut off from my own kind—a strange animal in an unknown world. I must have raved to and fro, screaming and crying upon God and Fate. I have a memory of horrible fatigue, as the long night of despair wore away; of looking in this impossible place and that; of groping among moonlit ruins and touching strange creatures in the black shadows; at last, of lying on the ground near the sphinx and weeping with absolute wretchedness, even anger at the folly of leaving the machine having leaked away with my strength. I had nothing left but misery. Then I slept, and when I woke again it was full day, and a couple of sparrows were hopping round me on the turf within reach of my arm.

“Suddenly, I threw down the match and knocked one of the people over as I rushed past. I stumbled across the big dining hall again and out into the moonlight. I heard cries of terror and their little feet running and stumbling in every direction. I do not remember everything I did as the moon rose in the sky. I suppose losing the machine so unexpectedly drove me mad. I felt hopelessly cut off from my own kind, like a strange animal in an unknown world. I must have rushed back and forth in a frenzy, screaming and crying out to God and Fate. I remember terrible exhaustion as the long night of despair dragged on. I remember searching in one impossible place after another. I felt my way among moonlit ruins and touched strange creatures in the deep shadows. Finally, I remember lying on the ground near the sphinx, weeping in utter misery. Even my anger at having foolishly left the machine had drained away with my strength. I had nothing left but misery. Then I slept. When I woke again, it was broad daylight. A couple of sparrows were hopping around me on the grass, within reach of my arm.”

“I sat up in the freshness of the morning, trying to remember how I had got there, and why I had such a profound sense of desertion and despair. Then things came clear in my mind. With the plain, reasonable daylight, I could look my circumstances fairly in the face. I saw the wild folly of my frenzy overnight, and I could reason with myself. ‘Suppose the worst?’ I said. ‘Suppose the machine altogether lost—perhaps destroyed? It behoves me to be calm and patient, to learn the way of the people, to get a clear idea of the method of my loss, and the means of getting materials and tools; so that in the end, perhaps, I may make another.’ That would be my only hope, a poor hope, perhaps, but better than despair. And, after all, it was a beautiful and curious world.

“I sat up in the fresh morning air, trying to remember how I had got there. I also wondered why I felt so deeply abandoned and hopeless. Then everything became clear in my mind. In the clear, reassuring daylight, I could face my situation honestly. I saw how wildly foolish my panic had been the night before, and I could reason with myself. ‘Suppose the worst?’ I said. ‘Suppose the machine is lost for good, perhaps destroyed? I must stay calm and patient, learn the ways of these people, and understand exactly how I lost the machine. I must also find out how to get materials and tools, so that perhaps I may eventually build another.’ Building another machine would be my only hope. A poor hope, perhaps, but better than despair. And, after all, it was a beautiful and strange world.”

“But probably the machine had only been taken away. Still, I must be calm and patient, find its hiding-place, and recover it by force or cunning. And with that I scrambled to my feet and looked about me, wondering where I could bathe. I felt weary, stiff, and travel-soiled. The freshness of the morning made me desire an equal freshness. I had exhausted my emotion. Indeed, as I went about my business, I found myself wondering at my intense excitement overnight. I made a careful examination of the ground about the little lawn. I wasted some time in futile questionings, conveyed, as well as I was able, to such of the little people as came by. They all failed to understand my gestures; some were simply stolid, some thought it was a jest and laughed at me. I had the hardest task in the world to keep my hands off their pretty laughing faces. It was a foolish impulse, but the devil begotten of fear and blind anger was ill curbed and still eager to take advantage of my perplexity. The turf gave better counsel. I found a groove ripped in it, about midway between the pedestal of the sphinx and the marks of my feet where, on arrival, I had struggled with the overturned machine. There were other signs of removal about, with queer narrow footprints like those I could imagine made by a sloth. This directed my closer attention to the pedestal. It was, as I think I have said, of bronze. It was not a mere block, but highly decorated with deep framed panels on either side. I went and rapped at these. The pedestal was hollow. Examining the panels with care I found them discontinuous with the frames. There were no handles or keyholes, but possibly the panels, if they were doors, as I supposed, opened from within. One thing was clear enough to my mind. It took no very great mental effort to infer that my Time Machine was inside that pedestal. But how it got there was a different problem.

“But probably the machine had only been moved. Still, I had to stay calm and patient, find its hiding place, and recover it by force or cunning. With that thought, I scrambled to my feet and looked around, wondering where I could bathe. I felt tired, stiff, and dirty from my travels. The fresh morning made me want to feel equally fresh. I had worn out my emotions. Indeed, as I went about my task, I found myself wondering why I had been so agitated the night before. I carefully examined the ground around the little lawn. I wasted some time questioning the little people who passed by, making myself understood as well as I could. None of them understood my gestures. Some simply showed no reaction. Some thought it was a joke and laughed at me. I struggled desperately to keep my hands off their pretty, laughing faces. It was a foolish impulse. But the devil born of fear and blind anger was barely under control, still eager to exploit my confusion. The grass offered better guidance. I found a groove torn into it, about halfway between the sphinx’s pedestal and my footprints. I had left those footprints when I struggled with the overturned machine on arriving. There were other signs nearby that the machine had been moved. Among them were strange, narrow footprints like those I imagined a sloth might leave. These signs drew my attention more closely to the pedestal. As I think I have already said, the pedestal was made of bronze. It was not just a plain block. It was richly decorated, with deeply recessed, framed panels on either side. I went over and knocked on the panels. The pedestal was hollow. Examining the panels carefully, I found that they were separate from their frames. There were no handles or keyholes. But perhaps the panels opened from inside, if they were doors, as I supposed. One thing seemed clear enough to me. It took little thought to conclude that my Time Machine was inside that pedestal. But how the machine had got there was another question.

“I saw the heads of two orange-clad people coming through the bushes and under some blossom-covered apple-trees towards me. I turned smiling to them, and beckoned them to me. They came, and then, pointing to the bronze pedestal, I tried to intimate my wish to open it. But at my first gesture towards this they behaved very oddly. I don’t know how to convey their expression to you. Suppose you were to use a grossly improper gesture to a delicate-minded woman—it is how she would look. They went off as if they had received the last possible insult. I tried a sweet-looking little chap in white next, with exactly the same result. Somehow, his manner made me feel ashamed of myself. But, as you know, I wanted the Time Machine, and I tried him once more. As he turned off, like the others, my temper got the better of me. In three strides I was after him, had him by the loose part of his robe round the neck, and began dragging him towards the sphinx. Then I saw the horror and repugnance of his face, and all of a sudden I let him go.

“I saw the heads of two people dressed in orange coming towards me through the bushes. They passed under some apple trees covered in blossoms. I turned to them with a smile and beckoned them over. They came, and I pointed to the bronze pedestal, trying to show that I wanted to open it. But at my first gesture towards the pedestal, they behaved very oddly. I don’t know how to describe their expressions to you. Suppose you made a deeply indecent gesture to a woman with delicate sensibilities. That is how they looked. They walked away as if I had given them the worst possible insult. Next, I tried a sweet-looking little fellow in white, with exactly the same result. Somehow, his manner made me feel ashamed of myself. But, as you know, I wanted the Time Machine, and I tried asking him once more. As he turned away, like the others, I lost my temper. In three strides I caught up with him and grabbed the loose fabric of his robe around his neck. I began dragging him towards the sphinx. Then I saw the horror and disgust on his face, and suddenly I let him go.

“But I was not beaten yet. I banged with my fist at the bronze panels. I thought I heard something stir inside—to be explicit, I thought I heard a sound like a chuckle—but I must have been mistaken. Then I got a big pebble from the river, and came and hammered till I had flattened a coil in the decorations, and the verdigris came off in powdery flakes. The delicate little people must have heard me hammering in gusty outbreaks a mile away on either hand, but nothing came of it. I saw a crowd of them upon the slopes, looking furtively at me. At last, hot and tired, I sat down to watch the place. But I was too restless to watch long; I am too Occidental for a long vigil. I could work at a problem for years, but to wait inactive for twenty-four hours—that is another matter.

“But I was not beaten yet. I pounded the bronze panels with my fist. I thought I heard something stir inside. To be precise, I thought I heard something like a chuckle, but I must have been mistaken. Then I fetched a large pebble from the river and came back to hammer on the panels. I hammered until I had flattened a coil in the decoration, and the green coating flaked off as powder. The delicate little people must have heard my bursts of hammering a mile away in either direction. But nothing came of it. I saw a crowd of them on the slopes, stealing glances at me. At last, hot and tired, I sat down to watch the place. But I was too restless to watch for long. I am too much of a Westerner to keep watch for hours. I could work on a problem for years. But waiting twenty-four hours without doing anything is another matter.”

“I got up after a time, and began walking aimlessly through the bushes towards the hill again. ‘Patience,’ said I to myself. ‘If you want your machine again you must leave that sphinx alone. If they mean to take your machine away, it’s little good your wrecking their bronze panels, and if they don’t, you will get it back as soon as you can ask for it. To sit among all those unknown things before a puzzle like that is hopeless. That way lies monomania. Face this world. Learn its ways, watch it, be careful of too hasty guesses at its meaning. In the end you will find clues to it all.’ Then suddenly the humour of the situation came into my mind: the thought of the years I had spent in study and toil to get into the future age, and now my passion of anxiety to get out of it. I had made myself the most complicated and the most hopeless trap that ever a man devised. Although it was at my own expense, I could not help myself. I laughed aloud.

“After a while, I got up and began wandering aimlessly through the bushes towards the hill again. ‘Be patient,’ I told myself. ‘If you want your machine back, you must leave that sphinx alone. If they mean to take your machine away, smashing their bronze panels won’t do much good. And if they don’t, you’ll get your machine back as soon as you can ask for it. Sitting among all these unknown things, faced with a puzzle like this, is hopeless. You’ll become obsessed. Face this world. Learn how it works, watch it, and be careful not to jump to conclusions about what it all means. In the end, you’ll find clues to it all.’ Then suddenly I saw the humor in my situation. I thought of the years I had spent studying and working to reach the future. Now I was desperately anxious to escape from it. I had built myself the most complicated and hopeless trap anyone had ever devised. Although the joke was at my own expense, I couldn’t help myself. I laughed aloud.

“Going through the big palace, it seemed to me that the little people avoided me. It may have been my fancy, or it may have had something to do with my hammering at the gates of bronze. Yet I felt tolerably sure of the avoidance. I was careful, however, to show no concern and to abstain from any pursuit of them, and in the course of a day or two things got back to the old footing. I made what progress I could in the language, and in addition I pushed my explorations here and there. Either I missed some subtle point or their language was excessively simple—almost exclusively composed of concrete substantives and verbs. There seemed to be few, if any, abstract terms, or little use of figurative language. Their sentences were usually simple and of two words, and I failed to convey or understand any but the simplest propositions. I determined to put the thought of my Time Machine and the mystery of the bronze doors under the sphinx, as much as possible in a corner of memory, until my growing knowledge would lead me back to them in a natural way. Yet a certain feeling, you may understand, tethered me in a circle of a few miles round the point of my arrival.

“As I walked through the great palace, the little people seemed to avoid me. I may have imagined it, or perhaps my hammering on the bronze gates had something to do with their behavior. Still, I felt fairly sure they were avoiding me. I was careful, however, not to show any concern or follow them. Within a day or two, things returned to normal. I learned as much of their language as I could, and I also explored here and there. Either I missed something subtle, or their language was extremely simple. It consisted almost entirely of nouns for concrete things and verbs. There seemed to be few abstract terms, if any, and little use of figurative language. Their sentences were usually simple and only two words long. I could neither express nor understand anything but the simplest ideas. I decided to set aside thoughts of my Time Machine and the mystery of the bronze doors under the sphinx. I would keep them out of my mind as much as possible until my growing knowledge naturally brought me back to them. Yet, as you may understand, a certain feeling kept me within a few miles of the place where I had arrived.”