VII A Sudden Shock chapter 7 paragraph 15 among 15 paragraphs
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“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.
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VIII Explanation
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“So far as I could see, all the world displayed the same exuberant
richness as the Thames valley. From every hill I climbed I saw the same
abundance of splendid buildings, endlessly varied in material and style,
the same clustering thickets of evergreens, the same blossom-laden trees
and tree ferns. Here and there water shone like silver, and beyond, the
land rose into blue undulating hills, and so faded into the serenity of the
sky. A peculiar feature, which presently attracted my attention, was the
presence of certain circular wells, several, as it seemed to me, of a very
great depth. One lay by the path up the hill which I had followed during
my first walk. Like the others, it was rimmed with bronze, curiously
wrought, and protected by a little cupola from the rain. Sitting by the
side of these wells, and peering down into the shafted darkness, I could
see no gleam of water, nor could I start any reflection with a lighted
match. But in all of them I heard a certain sound: a
thud—thud—thud, like the beating of some big engine; and I
discovered, from the flaring of my matches, that a steady current of air
set down the shafts. Further, I threw a scrap of paper into the throat of
one, and, instead of fluttering slowly down, it was at once sucked swiftly
out of sight.
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“After a time, too, I came to connect these wells with tall towers
standing here and there upon the slopes; for above them there was often
just such a flicker in the air as one sees on a hot day above a
sun-scorched beach. Putting things together, I reached a strong suggestion
of an extensive system of subterranean ventilation, whose true import it
was difficult to imagine. I was at first inclined to associate it with the
sanitary apparatus of these people. It was an obvious conclusion, but it
was absolutely wrong.
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“And here I must admit that I learnt very little of drains and
bells and modes of conveyance, and the like conveniences, during my time in
this real future. In some of these visions of Utopias and coming times
which I have read, there is a vast amount of detail about building, and
social arrangements, and so forth. But while such details are easy enough
to obtain when the whole world is contained in one’s imagination,
they are altogether inaccessible to a real traveller amid such realities as
I found here. Conceive the tale of London which a negro, fresh from Central
Africa, would take back to his tribe! What would he know of railway
companies, of social movements, of telephone and telegraph wires, of the
Parcels Delivery Company, and postal orders and the like? Yet we, at least,
should be willing enough to explain these things to him! And even of what
he knew, how much could he make his untravelled friend either apprehend or
believe? Then, think how narrow the gap between a negro and a white man of
our own times, and how wide the interval between myself and these of the
Golden Age! I was sensible of much which was unseen, and which contributed
to my comfort; but save for a general impression of automatic organisation,
I fear I can convey very little of the difference to your mind.
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“In the matter of sepulture, for instance, I could see no signs of
crematoria nor anything suggestive of tombs. But it occurred to me that,
possibly, there might be cemeteries (or crematoria) somewhere beyond the
range of my explorings. This, again, was a question I deliberately put to
myself, and my curiosity was at first entirely defeated upon the point. The
thing puzzled me, and I was led to make a further remark, which puzzled me
still more: that aged and infirm among this people there were none.
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“I must confess that my satisfaction with my first theories of an
automatic civilisation and a decadent humanity did not long endure. Yet I
could think of no other. Let me put my difficulties. The several big
palaces I had explored were mere living places, great dining-halls and
sleeping apartments. I could find no machinery, no appliances of any kind.
Yet these people were clothed in pleasant fabrics that must at times need
renewal, and their sandals, though undecorated, were fairly complex
specimens of metalwork. Somehow such things must be made. And the little
people displayed no vestige of a creative tendency. There were no shops, no
workshops, no sign of importations among them. They spent all their time in
playing gently, in bathing in the river, in making love in a half-playful
fashion, in eating fruit and sleeping. I could not see how things were kept
going.
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“Then, again, about the Time Machine: something, I knew not what,
had taken it into the hollow pedestal of the White Sphinx. Why? For
the life of me I could not imagine. Those waterless wells, too, those
flickering pillars. I felt I lacked a clue. I felt—how shall I put
it? Suppose you found an inscription, with sentences here and there in
excellent plain English, and interpolated therewith, others made up of
words, of letters even, absolutely unknown to you? Well, on the third day
of my visit, that was how the world of Eight Hundred and Two Thousand Seven
Hundred and One presented itself to me!
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“That day, too, I made a friend—of a sort. It happened that,
as I was watching some of the little people bathing in a shallow, one of
them was seized with cramp and began drifting downstream. The main current
ran rather swiftly, but not too strongly for even a moderate swimmer. It
will give you an idea, therefore, of the strange deficiency in these
creatures, when I tell you that none made the slightest attempt to rescue
the weakly crying little thing which was drowning before their eyes. When I
realised this, I hurriedly slipped off my clothes, and, wading in at a
point lower down, I caught the poor mite and drew her safe to land. A
little rubbing of the limbs soon brought her round, and I had the
satisfaction of seeing she was all right before I left her. I had got to
such a low estimate of her kind that I did not expect any gratitude from
her. In that, however, I was wrong.
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“This happened in the morning. In the afternoon I met my little
woman, as I believe it was, as I was returning towards my centre from an
exploration, and she received me with cries of delight and presented me
with a big garland of flowers—evidently made for me and me alone. The
thing took my imagination. Very possibly I had been feeling desolate. At
any rate I did my best to display my appreciation of the gift. We were soon
seated together in a little stone arbour, engaged in conversation, chiefly
of smiles. The creature’s friendliness affected me exactly as a
child’s might have done. We passed each other flowers, and she kissed
my hands. I did the same to hers. Then I tried talk, and found that her
name was Weena, which, though I don’t know what it meant, somehow
seemed appropriate enough. That was the beginning of a queer friendship
which lasted a week, and ended—as I will tell you!
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“She was exactly like a child. She wanted to be with me always.
She tried to follow me everywhere, and on my next journey out and about it
went to my heart to tire her down, and leave her at last, exhausted and
calling after me rather plaintively. But the problems of the world had to
be mastered. I had not, I said to myself, come into the future to carry on
a miniature flirtation. Yet her distress when I left her was very great,
her expostulations at the parting were sometimes frantic, and I think,
altogether, I had as much trouble as comfort from her devotion.
Nevertheless she was, somehow, a very great comfort. I thought it was mere
childish affection that made her cling to me. Until it was too late, I did
not clearly know what I had inflicted upon her when I left her. Nor until
it was too late did I clearly understand what she was to me. For, by merely
seeming fond of me, and showing in her weak, futile way that she cared for
me, the little doll of a creature presently gave my return to the
neighbourhood of the White Sphinx almost the feeling of coming home; and I
would watch for her tiny figure of white and gold so soon as I came over
the hill.
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“It was from her, too, that I learnt that fear had not yet left
the world. She was fearless enough in the daylight, and she had the oddest
confidence in me; for once, in a foolish moment, I made threatening
grimaces at her, and she simply laughed at them. But she dreaded the dark,
dreaded shadows, dreaded black things. Darkness to her was the one thing
dreadful. It was a singularly passionate emotion, and it set me thinking
and observing. I discovered then, among other things, that these little
people gathered into the great houses after dark, and slept in droves. To
enter upon them without a light was to put them into a tumult of
apprehension. I never found one out of doors, or one sleeping alone within
doors, after dark. Yet I was still such a blockhead that I missed the
lesson of that fear, and in spite of Weena’s distress, I insisted upon
sleeping away from these slumbering multitudes.
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“It troubled her greatly, but in the end her odd affection for me
triumphed, and for five of the nights of our acquaintance, including the
last night of all, she slept with her head pillowed on my arm. But my story
slips away from me as I speak of her. It must have been the night before
her rescue that I was awakened about dawn. I had been restless, dreaming
most disagreeably that I was drowned, and that sea anemones were feeling
over my face with their soft palps. I woke with a start, and with an odd
fancy that some greyish animal had just rushed out of the chamber. I tried
to get to sleep again, but I felt restless and uncomfortable. It was that
dim grey hour when things are just creeping out of darkness, when
everything is colourless and clear cut, and yet unreal. I got up, and went
down into the great hall, and so out upon the flagstones in front of the
palace. I thought I would make a virtue of necessity, and see the
sunrise.
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“The moon was setting, and the dying moonlight and the first
pallor of dawn were mingled in a ghastly half-light. The bushes were inky
black, the ground a sombre grey, the sky colourless and cheerless. And up
the hill I thought I could see ghosts. Three several times, as I scanned
the slope, I saw white figures. Twice I fancied I saw a solitary white,
ape-like creature running rather quickly up the hill, and once near the
ruins I saw a leash of them carrying some dark body. They moved hastily. I
did not see what became of them. It seemed that they vanished among the
bushes. The dawn was still indistinct, you must understand. I was feeling
that chill, uncertain, early-morning feeling you may have known. I doubted
my eyes.
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“As the eastern sky grew brighter, and the light of the day came on
and its vivid colouring returned upon the world once more, I scanned the
view keenly. But I saw no vestige of my white figures. They were mere
creatures of the half-light. ‘They must have been ghosts,’ I
said; ‘I wonder whence they dated.’ For a queer notion of Grant
Allen’s came into my head, and amused me. If each generation die and
leave ghosts, he argued, the world at last will get overcrowded with them.
On that theory they would have grown innumerable some Eight Hundred
Thousand Years hence, and it was no great wonder to see four at once. But
the jest was unsatisfying, and I was thinking of these figures all the
morning, until Weena’s rescue drove them out of my head. I associated
them in some indefinite way with the white animal I had startled in my
first passionate search for the Time Machine. But Weena was a pleasant
substitute. Yet all the same, they were soon destined to take far deadlier
possession of my mind.
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“I think I have said how much hotter than our own was the weather
of this Golden Age. I cannot account for it. It may be that the sun was
hotter, or the earth nearer the sun. It is usual to assume that the sun
will go on cooling steadily in the future. But people, unfamiliar with such
speculations as those of the younger Darwin, forget that the planets must
ultimately fall back one by one into the parent body. As these catastrophes
occur, the sun will blaze with renewed energy; and it may be that some
inner planet had suffered this fate. Whatever the reason, the fact remains
that the sun was very much hotter than we know it.
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“Well, one very hot morning—my fourth, I think—as I
was seeking shelter from the heat and glare in a colossal ruin near the
great house where I slept and fed, there happened this strange thing.
Clambering among these heaps of masonry, I found a narrow gallery, whose
end and side windows were blocked by fallen masses of stone. By contrast
with the brilliancy outside, it seemed at first impenetrably dark to me. I
entered it groping, for the change from light to blackness made spots of
colour swim before me. Suddenly I halted spellbound. A pair of eyes,
luminous by reflection against the daylight without, was watching me out of
the darkness.
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“The old instinctive dread of wild beasts came upon me. I clenched
my hands and steadfastly looked into the glaring eyeballs. I was afraid to
turn. Then the thought of the absolute security in which humanity appeared
to be living came to my mind. And then I remembered that strange terror of
the dark. Overcoming my fear to some extent, I advanced a step and spoke. I
will admit that my voice was harsh and ill-controlled. I put out my hand
and touched something soft. At once the eyes darted sideways, and something
white ran past me. I turned with my heart in my mouth, and saw a queer
little ape-like figure, its head held down in a peculiar manner, running
across the sunlit space behind me. It blundered against a block of granite,
staggered aside, and in a moment was hidden in a black shadow beneath
another pile of ruined masonry.
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“My impression of it is, of course, imperfect; but I know it was a
dull white, and had strange large greyish-red eyes; also that there was
flaxen hair on its head and down its back. But, as I say, it went too fast
for me to see distinctly. I cannot even say whether it ran on all fours, or
only with its forearms held very low. After an instant’s pause I
followed it into the second heap of ruins. I could not find it at first;
but, after a time in the profound obscurity, I came upon one of those round
well-like openings of which I have told you, half closed by a fallen
pillar. A sudden thought came to me. Could this Thing have vanished down
the shaft? I lit a match, and, looking down, I saw a small, white, moving
creature, with large bright eyes which regarded me steadfastly as it
retreated. It made me shudder. It was so like a human spider! It was
clambering down the wall, and now I saw for the first time a number of
metal foot and hand rests forming a kind of ladder down the shaft. Then the
light burned my fingers and fell out of my hand, going out as it dropped,
and when I had lit another the little monster had disappeared.
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“I do not know how long I sat peering down that well. It was not
for some time that I could succeed in persuading myself that the thing I
had seen was human. But, gradually, the truth dawned on me: that Man had
not remained one species, but had differentiated into two distinct animals:
that my graceful children of the Upper World were not the sole descendants
of our generation, but that this bleached, obscene, nocturnal Thing, which
had flashed before me, was also heir to all the ages.
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“I thought of the flickering pillars and of my theory of an
underground ventilation. I began to suspect their true import. And what, I
wondered, was this Lemur doing in my scheme of a perfectly balanced
organisation? How was it related to the indolent serenity of the beautiful
Overworlders? And what was hidden down there, at the foot of that shaft?
I sat upon the edge of the well telling myself that, at any rate, there was
nothing to fear, and that there I must descend for the solution of my
difficulties. And withal I was absolutely afraid to go! As I hesitated, two
of the beautiful upperworld people came running in their amorous sport
across the daylight in the shadow. The male pursued the female, flinging
flowers at her as he ran.
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“They seemed distressed to find me, my arm against the overturned
pillar, peering down the well. Apparently it was considered bad form to
remark these apertures; for when I pointed to this one, and tried to frame
a question about it in their tongue, they were still more visibly
distressed and turned away. But they were interested by my matches, and I
struck some to amuse them. I tried them again about the well, and again I
failed. So presently I left them, meaning to go back to Weena, and see what
I could get from her. But my mind was already in revolution; my guesses and
impressions were slipping and sliding to a new adjustment. I had now a clue
to the import of these wells, to the ventilating towers, to the mystery of
the ghosts; to say nothing of a hint at the meaning of the bronze gates and
the fate of the Time Machine! And very vaguely there came a suggestion
towards the solution of the economic problem that had puzzled me.
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