Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (6 page)

December
5, 1946
Brooklyn,
N
.Y.

Through
the Clock

Reprinted by permission of Mrs.
g.
P. Wells.

The
Time Machine

By
H.
G. WELLS

T
he
time traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of
him)
was
expounding
a
recondite
matter
to
us.
His
grey
eyes
shone and
twinkled,
and
his
usually
pale
face
was
flushed
and
animated.
The fire
burned
brightly,
and
the
soft
radiance
of
the
incandescent
lights in
the
lilies
of
silver
caught
the
bubbles
that
flashed
and
passed
in
our glasses.
Our
chairs,
being
his
patents,
embraced
and
caressed
us
rather than
submitted
to
be
sat
upon,
and
there
was
that
luxurious
after-dinner
atmosphere
when
thought
runs
gracefully
free
of
the
trammels of
precision.
And
he
put
it
to
us
in
this
way—marking
the
points
with a
lean
forefinger—as
we
sat
and
lazily
admired
his
earnestness
over
this new
paradox
(as
we
thought
it)
and
his
fecundity.

"You
must
follow
me
carefully.
I
shall
have
to
controvert
one
or two
ideas
that
are
almost
universally
accepted.
The
geometry,
for instance,
they
taught
you
at
school
is
founded
on
a
misconception."

"Is
not
that
rather
a
large
thing
to
expect
us
to
begin
upon?"
said Filby,
an
argumentative
person
with
red
hair.

"I
do
not
mean
to
ask
you
to
accept
anything
without
reasonable ground
for
it.
You
will
soon
admit
as
much
as
I
need
from
you.
You know
of
course
that
a
mathematical
line,
a
line
of
thickness
nil,
has no
real
existence.
They
taught
you
that?
Neither
has
a
mathematical plane.
These
things
are
mere
abstractions."

"That
is
all
right,"
said
the
Psychologist.

"Nor,
having
only
length,
breadth,
and
thickness,
can
a
cube
have a
real
existence."

"There
I
object,"
said
Filby.
"Of
course
a
solid
body
may
exist.
All
real
things
----
"

"So
most
people
think.
But
wait
a
moment.
Can
an
instantaneous cube
exist?" "Don't
follow
you,"
said
Filby.

"Can
a
cube
that
does
not
last
for
any
time
at
all
have
a
real existence?"

Filby
became
pensive.
"Clearly,"
the
Time
Traveller
proceeded, "any
real
body
must
have
extension
in
four
directions:
it
must
have Length,
Breadth,
Thickness,
and—Duration.
But
through
a
natural infirmity
of
the
flesh,
which
I
will
explain
to
you
in
a
moment,
we incline
to
overlook
this
fact.
There
are
really
four
dimensions,
three which
we
call
the
three
planes
of
Space,
and
a
fourth,
Time.
There
is, however,
a
tendency
to
draw
an
unreal
distinction
between
the
former three
dimensions
and
the
latter,
because
it
happens
that
our
consciousness
moves
intermittently
in
one
direction
along
the
latter
from
the beginning
to
the
end
of
our
lives."

"That,"
said
a
very
young
man,
making
spasmodic
efforts
to
relight his
cigar
over
the
lamp;
"that
.
.
.
very
clear
indeed."