Chapter 2The Machine

The thing the Time Traveller was holding was a shiny metal frame, about the size of a small clock, and super delicate. There was ivory in it, and some clear, glassy stuff. And now I gotta be really clear, because what happened next - unless he’s telling the truth - is totally bonkers.

He grabbed one of the little octagonal tables scattered around the room and put it in front of the fireplace, with two legs on the hearthrug. He put the mechanism on the table, then pulled up a chair and sat down.

The only other thing on the table was a small lamp with a shade, casting bright light on the model. There were also maybe a dozen candles going - two in brass holders on the mantel and a few in sconces - so the room was really bright.

I sat in a low armchair near the fire, pulling it forward to be almost between the Time Traveller and the fireplace. Filby was behind him, looking over his shoulder. The Medical Man and the Provincial Mayor were watching him from the right, the Psychologist from the left.

The Very Young Man was standing behind the Psychologist. We were all on high alert. It’s crazy to think any kind of trick, no matter how clever, could have been pulled off under these conditions. The Time Traveller looked at us, then at the mechanism. "Well?" said the Psychologist.

"This little thing," said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his hands together above the machine, "is just a model. It’s my plan for a machine to travel through time."

You’ll notice it looks kinda weird, and that there’s a strange shimmering effect about this bar, like it’s somehow unreal. He pointed to the part with his finger. Also, here’s one little white lever, and here’s another. The Medical Man got up from his chair and peered at it.

"It’s beautifully made," he said. "It took two years to build," retorted the Time Traveller.

Then, when we all mimicked the Medical Man’s action, he said, "Now I want you to really understand that this lever, when pushed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveler."

"Pretty soon I’m gonna push the lever, and off the machine will go. It’s gonna vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Take a good look at the thing. Look at the table too, and make sure there’s no trickery. I don’t want to waste this model and then get called a fake."

There was a minute of silence. The Psychologist seemed about to say something to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller put his finger toward the lever. "No," he said suddenly. "Lend me your hand."

And turning to the Psychologist, he took that individual’s hand and told him to put out his forefinger. So it was the Psychologist himself who sent the model Time Machine on its never-ending journey. We all saw the lever turn. I’m absolutely certain there was no trickery.

There was a gust of wind, and the lamp flame flickered. One of the candles on the mantel blew out, and the little machine suddenly spun around, became blurry, was seen as a ghost for a second - a swirl of faintly shimmering brass and ivory; and it was gone - vanished!

Except for the lamp, the table was bare. Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was screwed. The Psychologist snapped out of it, and suddenly looked under the table. At that, the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. "Well?" he said, with a knowing look at the Psychologist.

Then, getting up, he went to the tobacco jar on the mantel, and with his back to us began to fill his pipe. We stared at each other. "Look," said the Medical Man, "are you serious about this? Do you really believe that that machine travelled through time?"

"Sure," said the Time Traveller, bending down to light a match by the fireplace. Then he turned, lighting his pipe, to look at the Psychologist’s face. (The Psychologist, to show he wasn't losing it, grabbed a cigar and tried to light it without cutting it.)

"What’s more, I’m building a huge machine in there" - he gestured towards the lab - "and when it’s done, I’m planning a trip of my own. "You’re saying that machine has travelled into the future?" asked Filby. "Into the future or the past - I’m not totally sure which yet."

After a pause, the Psychologist had an idea. "It must have gone into the past if it went anywhere," he said. "Why?" asked the Time Traveller.

"Because I’m guessing it hasnn't moved through space, and if it travelled into the future, it would still be here, since it would have travelled through all this time."

"But," I said, "If it went into the past, we would have seen it when we first came into this room; and last Thursday when we were here; and the Thursday before that; and so on! "That’s a valid point," remarked the Provincial Mayor, acting neutral, as he turned towards the Time Traveller.

"Not really," said the Time Traveller, then to the Psychologist: "You’re thinking. You can explain that. It’s like something just below your awareness, a diluted effect. "Of course," said the Psychologist, reassuring us. "That’s a simple psychological thing. I should have thought of it."

It’s obvious, and it really helps with the paradox. We can’t see it, and we can’t appreciate this machine, any more than we can the spokes of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air.

"If it’s travelling through time fifty or a hundred times faster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the impression it makes will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would be if it wasn’t travelling through time. That’s plain enough."

He ran his hand through the space where the machine had been. "See?" he said, laughing. We sat and stared at the empty table for a minute or so. Then the Time Traveller asked us what we thought of it all.

"It sounds believable enough tonight," said the Medical Man; "but let’s see what tomorrow brings. Let’s wait for morning to clear things up." "Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?" asked the Time Traveller.

And with that, grabbing the lamp, he led the way down the long, drafty hallway to his laboratory.

I remember clearly the flickering light, his strange, wide head silhouetted against it, the shadows dancing, how we all followed him, puzzled but skeptical, and how there in the laboratory we saw a bigger version of the little mechanism we had seen disappear before our eyes.

Parts were made of nickel, parts of ivory, and some had definitely been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. The thing was mostly complete, but the twisted crystalline bars lay unfinished on the bench next to some drawings, and I picked one up for a closer look. Quartz, it seemed.

"Look," said the Medical Man, "are you serious? Or is this a trick - like that ghost you showed us last Christmas? "On that machine," said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp up high, "I’m going to explore time. Is that clear? I’m more serious than I’ve ever been in my life."

None of us knew how to react. I caught Filby’s eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he winked at me seriously.