Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (31 page)

Read Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) Online

Authors: Travelers In Time

"The
great
triumph
of
Humanity
I
had
dreamed
of
took
a
different shape
in
my
mind.
It
had
been
no
such
triumph
of
moral
education and
general
co-operation
as
I
had
imagined.
Instead,
I
saw
a
real aristocracy,
armed
with
a
perfected
science
and
working
to
a
logical conclusion
the
industrial
system
of
to-day.
Its
triumph
had
not
been
simply a triumph over Nature, but a triumph over Nature and the
Id
low-man. This, I must warn you, was my theory at the time. I had no
convenient cicerone in the pattern of the Utopian books. My explanation may be
absolutely wrong. I still think it is the most plausible
one.
But even on this supposition the balanced civilisation that was a
I
last attained must have long since passed its zenith, and was now
fur
fallen into decay. The too-perfect security of the Upper-worlders had
led them to a slow movement of degeneration, to a general dwindling in size,
strength, and intelligence. That I could see clearly enough already. What had
happened to the Undergrounders I did not yet suspect; but from what I had seen
of the Morlocks—that, by the bye, was the name by which these creatures were
called—I could imagine that the modification of the human type was even far
more profound than among the 'Eloi,' the beautiful race that I already knew.

"Then
came troublesome doubts. Why had the Morlocks taken my Time Machine? For I felt
sure it was they who had taken it. Why, loo, if the Eloi were masters, could
they not restore the machine to me? And why were they so terribly afraid of the
dark?
I
proceeded,
as
I have said, to question Weena about this Under-world, but here again I
was disappointed. At first she would not understand my questions, and presently
she refused to answer them. She shivered
as
though the topic was unendurable. And when I pressed her, perhaps
a
little harshly, she burst into tears. They were the only tears, except
my own, I ever saw in that Golden Age. When I saw them I ceased abruptly to
trouble about the Morlocks, and was only concerned in banishing these signs of
the human inheritance from Weena's eyes. And very soon she was smiling and
clapping her hands, while I solemnly burned a match.

 

 

6

 

"It may seem odd to you, but it was two
days before I could follow up the new-found clue in what was manifestly the
proper way. I felt a peculiar shrinking from those pallid bodies. They were
just the half-bleached colour of the worms and things one sees preserved in
spirit in a zoological museum. And they were filthily cold to
the
touch.
Probably
my
shrinking
was
largely
due
to
the
sympathetic influence
of
the
Eloi,
whose
disgust
of
the
Morlocks
I
now
began
to appreciate.

"The
next
night
I
did
not
sleep
well.
Probably
my
health
was
a little
disordered.
I
was
oppressed
with
perplexity
and
doubt.
Once or
twice
I
had
a
feeling
of
intense
fear
for
which
I
could
perceive no
definite
reason.
I
remember
creeping
noiselessly
into
the
great
hall where
the
little
people
were
sleeping
in
the
moonlight—that
night Weena
was
among
them—and
feeling
reassured
by
their
presence.
It occurred
to
me
even
then
that
in
the
course
of
a
few
days
the
moon must
pass
through
its
last
quarter,
and
the
nights
grow
dark,
when
the appearances
of
these
unpleasant
creatures
from
below,
these
whitened Lemurs,
this
new
vermin
that
had
replaced
the
old,
might
be
more abundant.
And
on
both
these
days
I
had
the
restless
feeling
of
one who
shirks
an
inevitable
duty.
I
felt
assured
that
the
Time
Machine was
only
to
be
recovered
by
boldly
penetrating
these
underground mysteries.
Yet
I
could
not
face
the
mystery.
If
only
I
had
had
a companion
it
would
have
been
different.
But
I
was
so
horribly
alone, and
even
to
clamber
down
into
the
darkness
of
the
well
appalled
me. I
don't
know
if
you
will
understand
my
feeling,
but
I
never
felt
quite safe
at
my
back.

"It
was
this
restlessness,
this
insecurity,
perhaps,
that
drove
me further
and
further
afield
in
my
exploring
expeditions.
Going
to
the south-westward
towards
the
rising
country
that
is
now
called
Combe Wood,
I
observed
far
off,
in
the
direction
of
nineteenth-century
Banstead,
a
vast
green
structure,
different
in
character
from
any
I had
hitherto
seen.
It
was
larger
that
the
largest
of
the
palaces
or ruins
I
knew,
and
the
fagade
had
an
Oriental
look:
the
face
of
it having
the
lustre,
as
well
as
the
pale-green
tint,
a
kind
of
bluish-green, of
a
certain
type
of
Chinese
porcelain.
This
difference
in
aspect
suggested
a
difference
in
use,
and
I
was
minded
to
push
on
and
explore. But
the
day
was
growing
late,
and
I
had
come
upon
the
sight
of
the place
after
a
long
and
tiring
circuit;
so
I
resolved
to
hold
over
the adventure
for
the
following
day,
and
I
returned
to
the
welcome and
the
caresses
of
little
Weena.
But
next
morning
I
perceived clearly
enough
that
my
curiosity
regarding
the
Palace
of
Green Porcelain
was
a
piece
of
self-deception,
to
enable
me
to
shirk,
by another
day,
an
experience
I
dreaded.
I
resolved
I
would
make
the descent
without
further
waste
of
time,
and
started
out
in
the
early morning
towards
a
well
near
the
ruins
of
granite
and
aluminium.

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