<h2><SPAN name="chap02"></SPAN>II.<br/> The Machine</h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>The Time Traveller looked at us, and then at the mechanism.
“Well?” said the Psychologist.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into the thing.
“It’s beautifully made,” he said.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was damned.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“You mean to say that that machine has travelled into the
future?” said Filby.</p>
<p>“Into the future or the past—I don’t, for certain,
know which.”</p>
<p>After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. “It must
have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere,” he said.</p>
<p>“Why?” said the Time Traveller.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“Serious objections,” remarked the Provincial Mayor, with an
air of impartiality, turning towards the Time Traveller.</p>
<p>“Not a bit,” said the Time Traveller, and, to the
Psychologist: “You think. <i>You</i> can explain that. It’s
presentation below the threshold, you know, diluted
presentation.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“It sounds plausible enough tonight,” said the Medical Man;
“but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the
morning.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“Look here,” said the Medical Man, “are you perfectly
serious? Or is this a trick—like that ghost you showed us last
Christmas?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>None of us quite knew how to take it.</p>
<p>I caught Filby’s eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he
winked at me solemnly.</p>
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