Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (8 page)

"But,"
said
the
Medical
Man,
staring
hard
at
a
coal
in
the
fire,
"if Time
is
really
only
a
fourth
dimension
of
Space,
why
is
it,
and
why has
it
always
been,
regarded
as
something
different?
And
why
cannot we
move
in
Time
as
we
move
about
in
the
other
dimensions
of Space?"

The
Time
Traveller
smiled.
"Are
you
so
sure
we
can
move
freely in
Space?
Right
and
left
we
can
go,
backward
and
forward
freely enough,
and
men
always
have
done
so.
I
admit
we
move
freely
in
two dimensions.
But
how
about
up
and
down?
Gravitation
limits
us there."

"Not
exactly,"
said
the
Medical
Man.
"There
are
balloons." "But
before
the
balloons,
save
for
spasmodic
jumping
and
the
in-

equalities
of the surface, man had no freedom of vertical movement." "Still they
could move a little up and down," said the Medical Man. "Easier, far
easier down than up."

"And
you cannot move at all in Time, you cannot get away from the present
moment."

"My
dear sir, that is just where you are wrong. That is just where the whole world
has gone wrong. We are always getting away from the present moment. Our mental
existences, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the
Time-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave. Just as we
should travel down if we began our existence fifty miles above the earth's
surface."

"But
the great difficulty is this," interrupted the Psychologist. "You can
move about in all directions of Space, but you cannot move about in Time."

"That
is the germ of my great discovery. But you are wrong to say that we cannot move
about in Time. For instance, if I am recalling an incident very vividly I go
back to the instant of its occurrence: I become absent-minded, as you say. I
jump back for a moment. Of course we have no means of staying back for any
length of Time, any more than a savage or an animal has of staying six feet
above the ground. But a civilised man is better off than the savage in this
respect. He can go up against gravitation in a balloon, and why should he not
hope that ultimately he may be able to stop or accelerate his drift along the
Time-Dimension, or even turn about and travel the other way?"

"Oh,
this"
began Filby, "is all
-------------
"

"Why not?" said
the Time Traveller.

"It's against
reason," said Filby.

"What reason?"
said the Time Traveller.

"You
can show black is white by argument," said Filby, "but you will never
convince me."

"Possibly not," said the Time
Traveller. "But now you begin to
see the object of my investigations into the geometry of Four
Dimensions. Long ago I had a vague inkling of a machine
-------------
"

"To travel through
Time!" exclaimed the Very Young Man.

"That
shall travel indifferently in any direction of Space and Time, as the driver
determines."

Filby contented himself
with laughter.

"But I have
experimental verification," said the Time Traveller.

"It
would be remarkably convenient for the historian," the Psychologist
suggested. "One might travel back and verify the accepted account of the
Battle of Hastings, for instance!"

"Don't
you think you would attract attention?" said the Medical Man. "Our ancestors
had no great tolerance for anachronisms."

"One
might get one's Greek from the very lips of Homer and Plato," the Very
Young Man thought.

"In
which case they would certainly plough you for the Little-go. The German
scholars have improved Greek so much."

"Then
there is the future," said the Very Young Man. "Just think! One might
invest all one's money, leave it to accumulate at interest, and hurry on
ahead!"

"To
discover a society," said I, "erected on a strictly communistic
basis."

"Of all the wild extravagant
theories!" began the Psychologist.

"Yes, so it seemed to me, and so I never talked of it until
---------------------
"

"Experimental
verification!" cried I. "You are going to verify that?"

"The experiment!"
cried Filby, who was getting brain-weary.

"Let's
see your experiment anyhow," said the Psychologist, "though it's all
humbug, you know."

The
Time Traveller smiled round at us. Then, still smiling faintly, and with his
hands deep in his trousers pockets, he walked slowly out of the room, and we
heard his slippers shuffling down the long passage to his laboratory.

The Psychologist looked at
us. "I wonder what he's got?"

"Some
sleight-of-hand trick or other," said the Medical Man, and Filby tried to
tell us about a conjurer he had seen at Burslem; but before he had finished his
preface the Time Traveller came back, and Filby's anecdote collapsed.

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
hearth rug. 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
full
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
armchair
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.

The
Time
Traveller
looked
at
us,
and
then
at
the
mechanism. "Well?"
said
the
Psychologist.