《THE TIME MACHINE (Completed)》Chapter 10
Advertisement
'About eight or nine in the morning I came to the same seat of yellow metal from which I had viewed the world upon the evening of my arrival. I thought of my hasty conclusions upon that evening and could not refrain from laughing bitterly at my confidence. Here was the same beautiful scene, the same abundant foliage, the same splendid palaces and magnificent ruins, the same silver river running between its fertile banks. The gay robes of the beautiful people moved hither and thither among the trees. Some were bathing in exactly the place where I had saved Weena, and that suddenly gave me a keen stab of pain. And like blots upon the landscape rose the cupolas above the ways to the Under-world. I understood now what all the beauty of the Over-world people covered. Very pleasant was their day, as pleasant as the day of the cattle in the field. Like the cattle, they knew of no enemies and provided against no needs. And their end was the same.
'I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellect had been. It had committed suicide. It had set itself steadfastly towards comfort and ease, a balanced society with security and permanency as its watchword, it had attained its hopes--to come to this at last. Once, life and property must have reached almost absolute safety. The rich had been assured of his wealth and comfort, the toiler assured of his life and work. No doubt in that perfect world there had been no unemployed problem, no social question left unsolved. And a great quiet had followed.
'It is a law of nature we overlook, that intellectual versatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble. An animal perfectly in harmony with its environment is a perfect mechanism. Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is no change and no need of change. Only those animals partake of intelligence that have to meet a huge variety of needs and dangers.
Advertisement
'So, as I see it, the Upper-world man had drifted towards his feeble prettiness, and the Under-world to mere mechanical industry. But that perfect state had lacked one thing even for mechanical perfection--absolute permanency. Apparently as time went on, the feeding of the Under-world, however it was effected, had become disjointed. Mother Necessity, who had been staved off for a few thousand years, came back again, and she began below. The Under-world being in contact with machinery, which, however perfect, still needs some little thought outside habit, had probably retained perforce rather more initiative, if less of every other human character, than the Upper. And when other meat failed them, they turned to what old habit had hitherto forbidden. So I say I saw it in my last view of the world of Eight Hundred and Two Thousand Seven Hundred and One. It may be as wrong an explanation as mortal wit could invent. It is how the thing shaped itself to me, and as that I give it to you.
'After the fatigues, excitements, and terrors of the past days, and in spite of my grief, this seat and the tranquil view and the warm sunlight were very pleasant. I was very tired and sleepy, and soon my theorizing passed into dozing. Catching myself at that, I took my own hint, and spreading myself out upon the turf I had a long and refreshing sleep.
'I awoke a little before sunsetting. I now felt safe against being caught napping by the Morlocks, and, stretching myself, I came on down the hill towards the White Sphinx. I had my crowbar in one hand, and the other hand played with the matches in my pocket.
'And now came a most unexpected thing. As I approached the pedestal of the sphinx I found the bronze valves were open. They had slid down into grooves.
Advertisement
'At that I stopped short before them, hesitating to enter.
'Within was a small apartment, and on a raised place in the corner of this was the Time Machine. I had the small levers in my pocket. So here, after all my elaborate preparations for the siege of the White Sphinx, was a meek surrender. I threw my iron bar away, almost sorry not to use it.
'A sudden thought came into my head as I stooped towards the portal. For once, at least, I grasped the mental operations of the Morlocks. Suppressing a strong inclination to laugh, I stepped through the bronze frame and up to the Time Machine. I was surprised to find it had been carefully oiled and cleaned. I have suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially taken it to pieces while trying in their dim way to grasp its purpose.
'Now as I stood and examined it, finding a pleasure in the mere touch of the contrivance, the thing I had expected happened. The bronze panels suddenly slid up and struck the frame with a clang. I was in the dark--trapped. So the Morlocks thought. At that I chuckled gleefully.
'I could already hear their murmuring laughter as they came towards me. Very calmly I tried to strike the match. I had only to fix on the levers and depart then like a ghost. But I had overlooked one little thing. The matches were of that abominable kind that light only on the box.
'You may imagine how all my calm vanished. The little brutes were close upon me. One touched me. I made a sweeping blow in the dark at them with the levers, and began to scramble into the saddle of the machine. Then came one hand upon me and then another. Then I had simply to fight against their persistent fingers for my levers, and at the same time feel for the studs over which these fitted. One, indeed, they almost got away from me. As it slipped from my hand, I had to butt in the dark with my head--I could hear the Morlock's skull ring--to recover it. It was a nearer thing than the fight in the forest, I think, this last scramble.
'But at last the lever was fitted and pulled over. The clinging hands slipped from me. The darkness presently fell from my eyes. I found myself in the same grey light and tumult I have already described.
Advertisement
- In Serial698 Chapters
Trash of the Count’s Family
When I opened my eyes, I was inside a novel.
8 1340 - In Serial54 Chapters
Age of Charon
Rebirth was not something that he had thought possible. Perhaps, he had had some vague hopes of reincarnation cycles as the more desirable option to afterlife. But being reborn in what he believed to be a fictional universe had only seemed as the premise of stories.Waking up to a void of nothing, no light, no body, no feeling, and then being thrown into the midst of what had once seemed a mere fantasy— it was too much.As an A.I., how much could he change? Could he save Tony? Could he save the world without his sacrifice? Or should he not do anything? What if his existence was the butterfly that would destroy the timeline, and with it, the universe?Was this even a choice? Was he to play the villain? So the timeline could remain intact?Could he even do that?"You doing ok, kid?" Tony asked him."I'm fine, Tony, really."No, no, he couldn't. ~~~Disclaimer: The MCU universe and its characters do not belong to me. I only enjoy playing in this world once in a while.
8 194 - In Serial20 Chapters
Godmaker's Gem
Do objects have a soul? A memory? A being? Are they just a bunch of inanimate objects or do they have an ego? Those a pen, a chair, a grain of sand, have a personality? And if they don’t, what would haőppen if they do get one. Not possessed by another being, but have a being that came from nothing. And when they die where do they go? Can something without a soul be even considered alive? Ps: cover only temporary, looking for a better one. Open to suggestions.
8 205 - In Serial20 Chapters
Mister Night | ✓
❝ The boredom that comes with quarantine, leads a guy to ring up a stranger in the middle of the night, hoping to find someone to talk to. Someone to laugh with. Someone to annoy. Someone that'll make it hurt less. ❞ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄"What happened yesterday?" "𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂.""I'm certain, I heard something fall-" "𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵, 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁...""No way, it sounded louder than a shirt-" "𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘀." ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄HIGHEST RANKINGS-#1, IN QUARANTINE #2, IN MESSAGES#2, IN PHONECALL Copyright © cherry, 2020
8 215 - In Serial98 Chapters
Ancient God (Ancient Love Poetry)
[COMPLETED]When the ordinary human encounters difficulties and separation in his life, he can nevertheless resort to praying to the Gods and to Buddha - but what if one is a deity?She lost the memories she had of the three hundred years before the Disaster of Chaos occurred, causing her to forget the love which she had buried deep in her heart.But she will never forget how he quietly stayed by her side for sixty thousand years; she will never forget the thousands of years he spent in the Northern Sea, frozen in time; she will never forget how he stood upright on the Green Dragon Stage, enduring the pain of having his bones crushed and body burnt; she will never forget how he chose to shatter his spirit into a million pieces and turned into ash, just so she could live.Today, in the desolation of the Nine Provinces and the loneliness of the Three Realms, a solitary figure remains standing on the Gan Kun Stage.In this lifetime, she is able to stand upright in front of all the Immortals and Gods; she is able to stand upright in front of the innumerable people and spirits living in the Nine Provinces and Eight Wilderness; she is able to stand upright in front of her deceased Father God Qing Tian; but in front of him, she is unable to stand upright and declare that she is free of regrets.She owes him more than one hundred and thirty thousand years; she is indebted to him for more than three lifetimes.This time, she would be the one waiting for him to return. Even if millions of years pass, she would never, ever leave.Original Text: 上古Author: Xing Ling (星零)Chapters: 96
8 264 - In Serial18 Chapters
Adrian
Shortstory
8 179

