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Chapter III
I told some of you last Thursday of the principles of the Time Machine, and
showed you the actual thing itself, incomplete in the workshop. There it is now,
a little travel-worn, truly; and one of the ivory bars is cracked, and a brass rail
bent; but the rest of it's sound enough. I expected to finish it on Friday, but on
Friday, when the putting together was nearly done, I found that one of the nickel bars was exactly one inch too short, and this I had to get remade; so that the
thing was not complete until this morning. It was at ten o'clock to-day that the
first of all Time Machines began its career. I gave it a last tap, tried all the screws
again, put one more drop of oil on the quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle. I
suppose a suicide who holds a pistol to his skull feels much the same wonder at
what will come next as I felt then. I took the starting lever in one hand and the stopping one in the other, pressed the first, and almost immediately the second. I
seemed to reel; I felt a nightmare sensation of falling; and, looking round, I saw
the laboratory exactly as before. Had anything happened? For a moment I
suspected that my intellect had tricked me. Then I noted the clock. A moment
before, as it seemed, it had stood at a minute or so past ten; now it was nearly
half-past three! I drew a breath, set my teeth, gripped the starting lever with both hands, and
went off with a thud. The laboratory got hazy and went dark. Mrs. Watchett
came in and walked, apparently without seeing me, towards the garden door. I
suppose it took her a minute or so to traverse the place, but to me she seemed to
shoot across the room like a rocket. I pressed the lever over to its extreme
position. The night came like the turning out of a lamp, and in another moment came to-morrow. The laboratory grew faint and hazy, then fainter and ever
fainter. To-morrow night came black, then day again, night again, day again,
faster and faster still. An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange, dumb
confusedness descended on my mind. I am afraid I cannot convey the
peculiar sensations of time travelling.
They are excessively unpleasant.
There is a feeling exactly like that
one has upon a switchback - of a
helpless headlong motion! I felt the same horrible anticipation, too, of an
imminent smash. As I put on pace,
night followed day like the flapping
of a black wing. The dim suggestion
of the laboratory seemed presently
to fall away from me, and I saw the sun hopping swiftly across the sky,
leaping it every minute, and every minute marking a day. I supposed the
laboratory had been destroyed and I had come into the open air. I had a dim
impression of scaffolding, but I was already going too fast to be conscious of any
moving things. The slowest snail that ever crawled dashed by too fast for me.
The twinkling succession of darkness and light was excessively painful to the eye. Then, in the intermittent darknesses, I saw the moon spinning swiftly
through her quarters from new to full, and had a faint glimpse of the circling
stars. Presently, as I went on, still gaining velocity, the palpitation of night and
day merged into one continuous greyness; the sky took on a wonderful
deepness of blue, a splendid luminous color like that of early twilight; the jerking
sun became a streak of fire, a brilliant arch, in space; the moon a fainter fluctuating band; and I could see nothing of the stars, save now and then a
brighter circle flickering in the blue.