時間遊客（這樣稱呼他是為了方便起見）正在給我們講解一個深奧難懂的問題。他灰色的眼睛一眨一眨的，炯炯有神，往常蒼白的面孔此刻紅光煥發。壁爐裏爐火熊熊，白熾燈在銀製百合花燈盤裏射出柔和的光亮，照在我們玻璃杯裏跳動的氣泡上。我們坐的椅子，衹有他纔有，它們與其說是供我們坐的，不如說是在擁抱我們，撫慰我們。晚飯後的氣氛舒適愜意，人們的思緒在這時候往往會不求精確，從容地馳騁奔流。他就這樣一邊用纖細的食指劃着要點，一邊在嚮我們講述這個深奧的問題，我們都懶洋洋地坐着，欽佩他在這個新謬論上（我們是這樣認為的）表現出的認真態度和豐富的創造力。
“你們一定要仔細聽我講。我要反駁一兩個幾乎是公認的觀點。比如，你們在學校裏學的幾何就是建立在錯誤的概念上的。”
“要我們從這裏聽起，範圍不免大了點吧？”菲爾比說。他頭上長着紅頭髮，喜歡與人爭辯。
“我不是要你們接受什麽無稽之談。你們很快會承認我需要你們承認的內容的。你們自然知道，數學上所謂的一條綫，一條寬度為零的綫其實並不存在。這個你們在學校是學過的吧？數學上所說的平面也是沒有的，這些純粹是抽象的東西。”
“不錯。”心理學家說。
“僅有長、寬、高的立方體實際上也不可能存在。”
“我反對這種提法，”菲爾比說，“固體當然可以存在。一切實在的東西……”
“多數人是這樣認為的。可你聽我說，一個瞬時的立方體能存在嗎？”
“不懂你的意思。”菲爾比說。
“一個根本沒有持續時間的立方體能夠真正存在嗎？”
菲爾比陷入了沉思。“很清楚”，時間遊客繼續道，“任何一個實在的物體都必須嚮四個方向伸展：它必須有長度、寬度、高度和時間持續度。但由於人類天生的缺陷，這點我待會兒再解釋，我們往往忽視這個事實。實際上有四維，其中三維我們稱作空間的三個平面，第四維就是時間。然而，人們現在總喜歡在前三者和後者之間劃上一條實際並不存在的區分綫，因為我們的意識從生命的開始到結束正是沿着時間的同一方向斷斷續續朝前運動的。”
“這，”一個年輕人說着，哆哆嗦嗦地在燈火上重新點燃了他的雪茄煙。“這……一點確實很清楚。”
“是啊，許多人都忽視了這一點，真是不可思議。”時間遊客繼續說道，他的興致更濃了。“實際上這就是第四維的內涵，雖然有些人談論第四維時並不知道他們指的就是這個意思。這其實衹是看待時間的另一種方式。時間和空間三維的任何一維之間都沒有什麽不同，區別衹是我們的意識是沿着時間嚮前運動的。可有些笨蛋把這個觀點的意思搞顛倒了。你們聽過他們有關第四維的高見嗎？”
“我沒聽過。”地方長官說。
“是這樣的。根據我們數學家的看法，空間有三維，人們可以分別稱其為長度、寬度、和高度，而且始終可以通過成直角的三個平面把它們表示出來。但是，有些喜歡刨根問底的人總要問為什麽偏偏是三維，為什麽沒有另一維來同其他三維形成直角呢？他們甚至試圖建立四維幾何。西蒙·紐科姆教授大約一個月前還在嚮紐約數學協會解釋這個問題呢。你們都知道，我們可以在衹有兩維的平面上表現一個三維的立體圖。同樣，他們認為能夠通過三維模型來表現四維的東西，衹要他們能夠掌握透視技法。明白了吧？”
“我想是的，”地方長官輕聲說道。他緊鎖眉頭思考起來，雙唇一動一動，好像在重複什麽神秘的話。“是的，我想這下明白了。”他過了一會兒說，臉上陡然間露出了喜色。
“嗯，我可以告訴你們，我從事這四維幾何的研究已有些時候了。我得出的有些結論很稀奇。比如這是一個人8歲時的一張肖像，這是15歲的，這是17歲的，還有一張是23歲的，等等。這些顯然都是一個人的生活片段，是用3維表現出來的4維生命，這是固定的不可改變的東西。”
時間遊客停等了片刻，以便大傢能夠充分理解他的話。接着他說，“思想嚴謹的人十分清楚，時間衹是空間的一種。這是一張常見的科學示意圖，記錄天氣變化的。我手指着的這條綫表明氣壓的變化。昨天白晝氣壓這麽高，夜裏又降下去了，今天早上又上升了，慢慢地一直升到這裏。氣壓表裏的水銀絶對不是在公認的空間三維的意義上勾劃出這條綫的？可它又確確實實勾劃出了這樣一條綫。因此，我們必須斷定，這條綫是沿着時間維的。”
“可是，”醫生說話時雙眼緊盯着爐火裏的一塊煤。“如果時間真的衹是空間的第四維，它為什麽現在而且歷來都被認為是別的東西呢？我們為什麽不能在時間裏自由活動，就像我們在空間的其他三維裏那樣活動？”
時間遊客笑了。“你肯定我們能在空間中自由活動嗎？我們左右能動，前後也可任意活動，人們歷來就是這樣活動的。我承認我們在兩維中能夠自由活動。可上下能動嗎？地球引力把我們在地面上。”
“不完全是，”醫生說，“用氣球行。”
“但是在氣球發明之前，除了間歇式的跳躍和路面高低不平外，人是不能任意垂直運動的。”
“不管怎麽說，他們還是能夠上下運動的。”醫生說。
“嚮下要比嚮上容易，容易得多。”
“而在時間裏根本不能動，你無法離開現在這一時刻。”“我親愛的先生，你錯就錯在這裏，這也正是全世界的錯誤所在。我們始終是在脫離現在，我們的精神存在就是非物質的，並且是無維的，它沿着時間維勻速嚮前，從搖籃走嚮墳墓。這就像我們的生命，如果從離地50英裏的高空開始，我們就必定嚮下降落。”
“可主要的問題是，”心理學家插話說，“你能夠朝空間的任何一個方向運動，而你在時間裏無法走來走去。”
“這個想法就是我偉大發現的契機。但是，你說我們在時間裏不能運動是錯的。比如，如果我在形象地回憶一樁事，我便回到了它的發生時刻。就像你們說的，我變得心不在焉了。我一下子跳了回去，當然我們的雙腳無法退回去呆上一段時間，就像一個野蠻人或一頭動物無法呆在離地6英尺的空間。但是，文明人在這一點上要比野蠻人強，他可以乘氣球排除地球引力嚮上升。既然這樣，他為什麽就不能指望自己最終能沿着時間維停止運動或加速運動，甚至逆嚮運動呢？”
“哦，這，”菲爾比開口道，“是完全……”
“為什麽不行？”時間遊客問。
“這不合情理。”菲爾比說。
“什麽情理？”時間遊客問。
“你可以把黑的說成白的，”菲爾比說，“可你永遠說服不了我。”
“也許不能，”時間遊客說，“但你現在開始明白我鑽研四維幾何的目的了。很久以前，我就粗粗構想過一種機器
“去穿越時間！”那個年輕人大叫起來。
“它將隨心所欲地在空間和時間裏運動，完全由駕駛員控製。”
菲爾比笑得前仰後合。
“可我有實驗證明。”時間遊客說。
“這對歷史學家實在是太方便了，”心理學家提示說，“譬如，他可以回到過去，去核實人們公認的關於黑斯廷斯戰役的記載！”
“難道你不覺得有點過於引人註目了嗎？”醫生說，“我們的祖先可不太能容忍年代出差錯。”
“人們可以直接從荷馬和柏拉圖的嘴裏學習希臘語了。”這是那個年輕人的想法。
“那樣的話，他們一定會給你的考試打不及格。德國學者已經在希臘語上做了許多改進。”
“還有未來呢，”年輕人又說，“想想吧！人們可以把他們所有的錢投資下去，讓它在那裏生息賺錢，接着再朝前趕。”
“去發現一個社會，”我說，“一個建立在嚴格的主義基礎上的社會。”
“盡是些不着邊際的奇談怪論！”心理學家說。
“是的，我原先也是這樣想的，所以從不談論此事，直到……”
“直到實驗證明！”我大聲說道，“你能證明它嗎？”
“用實驗來證明！”菲爾比喊道。他已開始感到頭昏腦脹了。
“反正要讓我們看看你的實驗，”心理學家說，“雖然這全是鬍說八道，這你清楚。”
時間遊客朝我們大傢笑笑。接着，他仍然面帶微笑，雙手深插在褲袋裏，慢吞吞地走出了房間。我們聽見他跟拉着拖鞋，沿着長長的過道嚮實驗室走去。
心理學家望着我們。“我不知道他想搞什麽名堂？”
“還不是想耍耍花招。”醫生說。菲爾比正準備給我們講他在伯斯勒姆看到的一個巫師，可還沒來得及講完開頭，時間遊客就回來了。菲爾比想講的那被軼事衹得告吹。
時間遊客手裏拿着一個閃閃發亮的金屬架子。架子和一隻小鐘差不多大，做工十分考究，裏面鑲有象牙和一種透明的東西。現在我必須把看到的一切都交代清楚，因為接下去的事情——除非他的解釋被接受——絶對是無法理喻的。他把扔在房間裏的一張八角形桌子搬到壁爐前，桌子有兩條腿就擱在爐前地毯上。他把那個機械裝置擺在桌上，拖過一張椅子坐了下來。桌上僅有的另一件東西是一盞罩着燈罩的小臺燈，明亮的燈光照在這個模型上。周圍還點着十幾支蠟燭，兩支插在壁爐架上的銅燭臺上，另幾支插在壁上的燭臺上，所以說房間裏燈火通明。我在最靠近爐火的一把椅子上坐下來，隨即又嚮前挪了挪，幾乎把自己擺到了時間遊客和壁爐的中間。菲爾比坐在時間遊客背後，兩眼朝他肩膀前面張望着。醫生和地方長官在右側註視着，心理學家坐在左側，年輕人站在心理學家的後面，我們個個都全神貫註。在我看來，任何構思巧妙手段高明的花招要在這種情況下瞞天過海都是不大可能的。
時間遊客看看我們，又看看機械裝置。“好了吧？”心理學家說。
“這個小東西”，時間遊客說，他用胳膊肘撐住桌子，兩手按到儀器上，“衹是一個模型。我的計劃是讓機器穿越時間。你們會註意到這東西看上去是歪斜的。這根桿的表面閃閃發光，樣子很古怪，似乎有點像是假的。”他說完舉手指了指，“另外，這是一根白色的小杠桿，這邊還有一根。”
醫生從椅子裏站了起來，眼睛緊盯着機器。“做得真漂亮。”他說。
“花了兩年的時間纔做出來的。”時間遊客匯報說。當我們都跟着醫生站起來時，他又說，“現在我要你們知道，這根杠桿一按下去，就把這架機器送進了未來。另一根杠桿操作逆嚮運動。這鞍子充當一個時間遊客的座位。我馬上就按這根杠桿，機器會飛離出去。它將慢慢消失，走進未來的時間，最後無影無蹤。請你們好好看看這玩意兒，再檢查一下桌子，確保這中間沒有任何花招。我可不想浪費了模型還被人駡是江湖騙子。”
大概有一分鐘時間過去了，沒人作聲。心理學家似乎正想對我說什麽，可他又改變了主意。接着時間遊客舉起手指伸嚮杠桿。“不，”他突然說，“讓我藉用你的手。”他轉嚮心理學家，握住他的手，叫他把食指伸出來。因此，是心理學家親手把時間機器送入漫無止境的旅程的。我們都目睹了那根杠桿的轉動，我百分之百肯定這裏面沒有耍花招。就在這時，一陣風吹來，燈火撲撲跳動起來，壁爐架上的一支蠟燭吹滅了。那臺小機器打着轉轉，越飛越遠，頃刻間在視野裏成了個幻影，像一個閃着微光的黃銅和象牙轉出來的旋渦。它走了——消失了！桌子上除了那盞孤燈已一無所有。
大傢沉默了片刻。接着菲爾比說他真是該死。
心理學家從恍炮中恢復過來，突然朝桌子底下看去。時間遊客樂得哈哈大笑。“怎麽說？”他學起了心理學家的說話腔調。隨後他起身走到壁爐架上的煙葉罐前，背着我們開始往煙斗裏塞煙絲。
我們面面相覷，無話可說。“我說，”醫生說，“你這是當真的？你真的相信那架機器走到時間裏去了嗎？”
“當然。”時間遊客說。他彎腰在壁爐火上點燃了一支紙捻，然後他轉過身來，邊點煙斗邊望着心理學家的臉。（心理學家為了故作鎮靜，自己拿起一支雪茄，連煙屁股都沒掐掉就點了起來。）“此外，我那裏還有一臺大機器即將完工。”——他指了指實驗室——“安裝完畢後，我打算自己去旅遊一趟。”
“你是說那架機器已走進來來？”菲爾比問。
“走進了未來還是過去，我不敢肯定。”
隔了一會兒，心理學家來了靈感。“如果說去了什麽地方，那它一定是走進了過去。”他說。
“為什麽？”時間遊客問。
“因為我相信它沒有在空間裏移動。如果它已進入未來，那它現在肯定還在這裏，因為它必定要穿過現在才能走進未來。”
“可是，”我說，“如果它已走進過去，我們剛進房間時就該看見它。上星期四我們在這裏，還有上上個星期四，依此類推！”
“有力的反駁。”地方長官評論道。他轉嚮時間遊客，擺出一副公平論事的樣子。
“毫無道理，”時間遊客說着轉嚮心理學家，“你想想，這個你能解釋。這是反應點下的表象，是衝淡的表象，這你知道。”
“當然。”心理學家說。他還再次嚮我們保證說，“這是心理學上的一個簡單問題。我應該想到這個道理，它夠明顯的，並且有助於說明這種貌似矛盾的現象。我們無法看見這架機器，也欣賞不到它，這就像我們無法看到旋轉的輪輻和在空中飛過的子彈。如果機器在時間中旅行的速度比我們快50倍或者100倍，如果它走一分鐘我們纔走一秒鐘，它的速度産生的印象當然就衹是它木做時間旅行時的五十分之一或百分之一。這是顯而易見的。”他用手在原來擺機器的地方摸了摸。“明白了吧？”他笑着問道。
我們坐在那裏，兩眼盯着空蕩蕩的桌子看了一會兒。這時，時間遊客問我們如何看待這一切。
“這一切今天晚上聽起來很有道理，”醫生說，“不過要等到明天再下結論，等明早大傢神智清醒時再說。”
“你們想看看真正的時間機器嗎？”時間遊客問。說完他手裏拿着燈，領我們沿着通風的長廊朝他的實驗室走去。我清楚地記得那閃爍的燈火，他那大腦袋的側影，舞動的人影，記得我們如何一個個跟着他，心裏迷惑不解可又不願輕信，如何在實驗室目睹了就在我們眼前消失的那架小機器的大號翻版。大機器的有些部件是鎳製的，有些是象牙做的，還有些是用水晶石挫成或鋸成的。機器已大體完成，但是水晶麯棒還擺在凳上的幾張圖紙旁，沒有完工。我拿起一根麯棒仔細看了看，發現好像是用石英做的。
“我說，”醫生問道，“你這是完全認真的？還是騙騙人的——就像去年聖誕節你給我們看的那個鬼？”
“坐這架機器，”時間遊客高舉着燈說道，“我想去探索時間。清楚了吧？我這輩子還從未這樣認真過。”
我們誰也不知道該如何去理解他的這句話。
我的視綫越過醫生的肩膀和菲爾比投來的目光相遇了，他表情嚴肅地朝我使了個眼色。
`You must follow me carefully. I shall have to controvert one or two ideas that are almost universally accepted. The geometry, for instance, they taught you at school is founded on a misconception.'
`Is not that rather a large thing to expect us to begin upon?' said Filby, an argumentative person with red hair.
`I do not mean to ask you to accept anything without reasonable ground for it. You will soon admit as much as I need from you. You know of course that a mathematical line, a line of thickness NIL, has no real existence. They taught you that? Neither has a mathematical plane. These things are mere abstractions.'
`That is all right,' said the Psychologist.
`Nor, having only length, breadth, and thickness, can a cube have a real existence.'
`There I object,' said Filby. `Of course a solid body may exist. All real things--'
`So most people think. But wait a moment. Can an INSTANTANEOUS cube exist?'
`Don't follow you,' said Filby.
`Can a cube that does not last for any time at all, have a real existence?'
Filby became pensive. `Clearly,' the Time Traveller proceeded, `any real body must have extension in FOUR directions: it must have Length, Breadth, Thickness, and--Duration. But through a natural infirmity of the flesh, which I will explain to you in a moment, we incline to overlook this fact. There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and a fourth, Time. There is, however, a tendency to draw an unreal distinction between the former three dimensions and the latter, because it happens that our consciousness moves intermittently in one direction along the latter from the beginning to the end of our lives.'
`That,' said a very young man, making spasmodic efforts to relight his cigar over the lamp; `that . . . very clear indeed.'
`Now, it is very remarkable that this is so extensively overlooked,' continued the Time Traveller, with a slight accession of cheerfulness. `Really this is what is meant by the Fourth Dimension, though some people who talk about the Fourth Dimension do not know they mean it. It is only another way of looking at Time. THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TIME AND ANY OF THE THREE DIMENSIONS OF SPACE EXCEPT THAT OUR CONSCIOUSNESS MOVES ALONG IT. But some foolish people have got hold of the wrong side of that idea. You have all heard what they have to say about this Fourth Dimension?'
`_I_ have not,' said the Provincial Mayor.
`It is simply this. That Space, as our mathematicians have it, is spoken of as having three dimensions, which one may call Length, Breadth, and Thickness, and is always definable by reference to three planes, each at right angles to the others. But some philosophical people have been asking why THREE dimensions particularly--why not another direction at right angles to the other three?--and have even tried to construct a Four-Dimension geometry. Professor Simon Newcomb was expounding this to the New York Mathematical Society only a month or so ago. You know how on a flat surface, which has only two dimensions, we can represent a figure of a three-dimensional solid, and similarly they think that by models of thee dimensions they could represent one of four--if they could master the perspective of the thing. See?'
`I think so,' murmured the Provincial Mayor; and, knitting his brows, he lapsed into an introspective state, his lips moving as one who repeats mystic words. `Yes, I think I see it now,' he said after some time, brightening in a quite transitory manner.
`Well, I do not mind telling you I have been at work upon this geometry of Four Dimensions for some time. Some of my results are curious. For instance, here is a portrait of a man at eight years old, another at fifteen, another at seventeen, another at twenty-three, and so on. All these are evidently sections, as it were, Three-Dimensional representations of his Four-Dimensioned being, which is a fixed and unalterable thing.
`Scientific people,' proceeded the Time Traveller, after the pause required for the proper assimilation of this, `know very well that Time is only a kind of Space. Here is a popular scientific diagram, a weather record. This line I trace with my finger shows the movement of the barometer. Yesterday it was so high, yesterday night it fell, then this morning it rose again, and so gently upward to here. Surely the mercury did not trace this line in any of the dimensions of Space generally recognized? But certainly it traced such a line, and that line, therefore, we must conclude was along the Time-Dimension.'
`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 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 inequalities 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 civilized 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 hearthrug. 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 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 arm-chair 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.
`This little affair,' said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows upon the table and pressing his hands together above the apparatus, `is only a model. It is my plan for a machine to travel through time. You will notice that it looks singularly askew, and that there is an odd twinkling appearance about this bar, as though it was in some way unreal.' He pointed to the part with his finger. `Also, here is one little white lever, and here is another.'
The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into the thing. `It's beautifully made,' he said.
`It took two years to make,' retorted the Time Traveller. Then, when we had all imitated the action of the Medical Man, he said: `Now I want you clearly to understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveller. Presently I am going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. It will vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the thing. Look at the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no trickery. I don't want to waste this model, and then be told I'm a quack.'
There was a minute's pause perhaps. The Psychologist seemed about to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller put forth his finger towards the lever. `No,' he said suddenly. `Lend me your hand.' And turning to the Psychologist, he took that individual's hand in his own and told him to put out his forefinger. So that it was the Psychologist himself who sent forth the model Time Machine on its interminable voyage. We all saw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as a ghost for a second perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glittering brass and ivory; and it was gone--vanished! Save for the lamp the table was bare.
Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was damned.
The Psychologist recovered from his stupor, and suddenly looked under the table. At that the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. `Well?' he said, with a reminiscence of 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 here,' said the Medical Man, `are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe that that machine has travelled into time?'
`Certainly,' said the Time Traveller, stooping to light a spill at the fire. Then he turned, lighting his pipe, to look at the Psychologist's face. (The Psychologist, to show that he was not unhinged, helped himself to a cigar and tried to light it uncut.) `What is more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there'--he indicated the laboratory--`and when that is put together I mean to have a journey on my own account.'
`You mean to say that that machine has travelled into the future?' said Filby.
`Into the future or the past--I don't, for certain, know which.'
After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. `It must have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere,' he said.
`Why?' said the Time Traveller.
`Because I presume that it has not moved in space, and if it travelled into the future it would still be here all this time, since it must have travelled through this time.'
`But,' I said, `If it travelled into the past it would have been visible when we came first into this room; and last Thursday when we were here; and the Thursday before that; and so forth!'
`Serious objections,' remarked the Provincial Mayor, with an air of impartiality, turning towards the Time Traveller.
`Not a bit,' said the Time Traveller, and, to the Psychologist: `You think. You can explain that. It's presentation below the threshold, you know, diluted presentation.'
`Of course,' said the Psychologist, and reassured us. `That's a simple point of psychology. I should have thought of it. It's plain enough, and helps the paradox delightfully. We cannot see it, nor can we appreciate this machine, any more than we can the spoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air. If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred times faster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the impression it creates will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would make if it were not travelling in time. That's plain enough.' He passed his hand through the space in which the machine had been. `You see?' he said, laughing.
We sat and stared at the vacant table for a minute or so. Then the Time Traveller asked us what we thought of it all.
`It sounds plausible enough to-night,' said the Medical Man; 'but wait until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.'
`Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?' asked the Time Traveller. And therewith, taking the lamp in his hand, he led the way down the long, draughty corridor to his laboratory. I remember vividly the flickering light, his queer, broad head in silhouette, the dance of the shadows, how we all followed him, puzzled but incredulous, and how there in the laboratory we beheld a larger edition of the little mechanism which we had seen vanish from before our eyes. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twisted crystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheets of drawings, and I took one up for a better look at it. Quartz it seemed to be.
`Look here,' said the Medical Man, `are you perfectly serious? Or is this a trick--like that ghost you showed us last Christmas?'
`Upon that machine,' said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, `I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my life.'
None of us quite knew how to take it.
I caught Filby's eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he winked at me solemnly.
“你們一定要仔細聽我講。我要反駁一兩個幾乎是公認的觀點。比如，你們在學校裏學的幾何就是建立在錯誤的概念上的。”
“要我們從這裏聽起，範圍不免大了點吧？”菲爾比說。他頭上長着紅頭髮，喜歡與人爭辯。
“我不是要你們接受什麽無稽之談。你們很快會承認我需要你們承認的內容的。你們自然知道，數學上所謂的一條綫，一條寬度為零的綫其實並不存在。這個你們在學校是學過的吧？數學上所說的平面也是沒有的，這些純粹是抽象的東西。”
“不錯。”心理學家說。
“僅有長、寬、高的立方體實際上也不可能存在。”
“我反對這種提法，”菲爾比說，“固體當然可以存在。一切實在的東西……”
“多數人是這樣認為的。可你聽我說，一個瞬時的立方體能存在嗎？”
“不懂你的意思。”菲爾比說。
“一個根本沒有持續時間的立方體能夠真正存在嗎？”
菲爾比陷入了沉思。“很清楚”，時間遊客繼續道，“任何一個實在的物體都必須嚮四個方向伸展：它必須有長度、寬度、高度和時間持續度。但由於人類天生的缺陷，這點我待會兒再解釋，我們往往忽視這個事實。實際上有四維，其中三維我們稱作空間的三個平面，第四維就是時間。然而，人們現在總喜歡在前三者和後者之間劃上一條實際並不存在的區分綫，因為我們的意識從生命的開始到結束正是沿着時間的同一方向斷斷續續朝前運動的。”
“這，”一個年輕人說着，哆哆嗦嗦地在燈火上重新點燃了他的雪茄煙。“這……一點確實很清楚。”
“是啊，許多人都忽視了這一點，真是不可思議。”時間遊客繼續說道，他的興致更濃了。“實際上這就是第四維的內涵，雖然有些人談論第四維時並不知道他們指的就是這個意思。這其實衹是看待時間的另一種方式。時間和空間三維的任何一維之間都沒有什麽不同，區別衹是我們的意識是沿着時間嚮前運動的。可有些笨蛋把這個觀點的意思搞顛倒了。你們聽過他們有關第四維的高見嗎？”
“我沒聽過。”地方長官說。
“是這樣的。根據我們數學家的看法，空間有三維，人們可以分別稱其為長度、寬度、和高度，而且始終可以通過成直角的三個平面把它們表示出來。但是，有些喜歡刨根問底的人總要問為什麽偏偏是三維，為什麽沒有另一維來同其他三維形成直角呢？他們甚至試圖建立四維幾何。西蒙·紐科姆教授大約一個月前還在嚮紐約數學協會解釋這個問題呢。你們都知道，我們可以在衹有兩維的平面上表現一個三維的立體圖。同樣，他們認為能夠通過三維模型來表現四維的東西，衹要他們能夠掌握透視技法。明白了吧？”
“我想是的，”地方長官輕聲說道。他緊鎖眉頭思考起來，雙唇一動一動，好像在重複什麽神秘的話。“是的，我想這下明白了。”他過了一會兒說，臉上陡然間露出了喜色。
“嗯，我可以告訴你們，我從事這四維幾何的研究已有些時候了。我得出的有些結論很稀奇。比如這是一個人8歲時的一張肖像，這是15歲的，這是17歲的，還有一張是23歲的，等等。這些顯然都是一個人的生活片段，是用3維表現出來的4維生命，這是固定的不可改變的東西。”
時間遊客停等了片刻，以便大傢能夠充分理解他的話。接着他說，“思想嚴謹的人十分清楚，時間衹是空間的一種。這是一張常見的科學示意圖，記錄天氣變化的。我手指着的這條綫表明氣壓的變化。昨天白晝氣壓這麽高，夜裏又降下去了，今天早上又上升了，慢慢地一直升到這裏。氣壓表裏的水銀絶對不是在公認的空間三維的意義上勾劃出這條綫的？可它又確確實實勾劃出了這樣一條綫。因此，我們必須斷定，這條綫是沿着時間維的。”
“可是，”醫生說話時雙眼緊盯着爐火裏的一塊煤。“如果時間真的衹是空間的第四維，它為什麽現在而且歷來都被認為是別的東西呢？我們為什麽不能在時間裏自由活動，就像我們在空間的其他三維裏那樣活動？”
時間遊客笑了。“你肯定我們能在空間中自由活動嗎？我們左右能動，前後也可任意活動，人們歷來就是這樣活動的。我承認我們在兩維中能夠自由活動。可上下能動嗎？地球引力把我們在地面上。”
“不完全是，”醫生說，“用氣球行。”
“但是在氣球發明之前，除了間歇式的跳躍和路面高低不平外，人是不能任意垂直運動的。”
“不管怎麽說，他們還是能夠上下運動的。”醫生說。
“嚮下要比嚮上容易，容易得多。”
“而在時間裏根本不能動，你無法離開現在這一時刻。”“我親愛的先生，你錯就錯在這裏，這也正是全世界的錯誤所在。我們始終是在脫離現在，我們的精神存在就是非物質的，並且是無維的，它沿着時間維勻速嚮前，從搖籃走嚮墳墓。這就像我們的生命，如果從離地50英裏的高空開始，我們就必定嚮下降落。”
“可主要的問題是，”心理學家插話說，“你能夠朝空間的任何一個方向運動，而你在時間裏無法走來走去。”
“這個想法就是我偉大發現的契機。但是，你說我們在時間裏不能運動是錯的。比如，如果我在形象地回憶一樁事，我便回到了它的發生時刻。就像你們說的，我變得心不在焉了。我一下子跳了回去，當然我們的雙腳無法退回去呆上一段時間，就像一個野蠻人或一頭動物無法呆在離地6英尺的空間。但是，文明人在這一點上要比野蠻人強，他可以乘氣球排除地球引力嚮上升。既然這樣，他為什麽就不能指望自己最終能沿着時間維停止運動或加速運動，甚至逆嚮運動呢？”
“哦，這，”菲爾比開口道，“是完全……”
“為什麽不行？”時間遊客問。
“這不合情理。”菲爾比說。
“什麽情理？”時間遊客問。
“你可以把黑的說成白的，”菲爾比說，“可你永遠說服不了我。”
“也許不能，”時間遊客說，“但你現在開始明白我鑽研四維幾何的目的了。很久以前，我就粗粗構想過一種機器
“去穿越時間！”那個年輕人大叫起來。
“它將隨心所欲地在空間和時間裏運動，完全由駕駛員控製。”
菲爾比笑得前仰後合。
“可我有實驗證明。”時間遊客說。
“這對歷史學家實在是太方便了，”心理學家提示說，“譬如，他可以回到過去，去核實人們公認的關於黑斯廷斯戰役的記載！”
“難道你不覺得有點過於引人註目了嗎？”醫生說，“我們的祖先可不太能容忍年代出差錯。”
“人們可以直接從荷馬和柏拉圖的嘴裏學習希臘語了。”這是那個年輕人的想法。
“那樣的話，他們一定會給你的考試打不及格。德國學者已經在希臘語上做了許多改進。”
“還有未來呢，”年輕人又說，“想想吧！人們可以把他們所有的錢投資下去，讓它在那裏生息賺錢，接着再朝前趕。”
“去發現一個社會，”我說，“一個建立在嚴格的主義基礎上的社會。”
“盡是些不着邊際的奇談怪論！”心理學家說。
“是的，我原先也是這樣想的，所以從不談論此事，直到……”
“直到實驗證明！”我大聲說道，“你能證明它嗎？”
“用實驗來證明！”菲爾比喊道。他已開始感到頭昏腦脹了。
“反正要讓我們看看你的實驗，”心理學家說，“雖然這全是鬍說八道，這你清楚。”
時間遊客朝我們大傢笑笑。接着，他仍然面帶微笑，雙手深插在褲袋裏，慢吞吞地走出了房間。我們聽見他跟拉着拖鞋，沿着長長的過道嚮實驗室走去。
心理學家望着我們。“我不知道他想搞什麽名堂？”
“還不是想耍耍花招。”醫生說。菲爾比正準備給我們講他在伯斯勒姆看到的一個巫師，可還沒來得及講完開頭，時間遊客就回來了。菲爾比想講的那被軼事衹得告吹。
時間遊客手裏拿着一個閃閃發亮的金屬架子。架子和一隻小鐘差不多大，做工十分考究，裏面鑲有象牙和一種透明的東西。現在我必須把看到的一切都交代清楚，因為接下去的事情——除非他的解釋被接受——絶對是無法理喻的。他把扔在房間裏的一張八角形桌子搬到壁爐前，桌子有兩條腿就擱在爐前地毯上。他把那個機械裝置擺在桌上，拖過一張椅子坐了下來。桌上僅有的另一件東西是一盞罩着燈罩的小臺燈，明亮的燈光照在這個模型上。周圍還點着十幾支蠟燭，兩支插在壁爐架上的銅燭臺上，另幾支插在壁上的燭臺上，所以說房間裏燈火通明。我在最靠近爐火的一把椅子上坐下來，隨即又嚮前挪了挪，幾乎把自己擺到了時間遊客和壁爐的中間。菲爾比坐在時間遊客背後，兩眼朝他肩膀前面張望着。醫生和地方長官在右側註視着，心理學家坐在左側，年輕人站在心理學家的後面，我們個個都全神貫註。在我看來，任何構思巧妙手段高明的花招要在這種情況下瞞天過海都是不大可能的。
時間遊客看看我們，又看看機械裝置。“好了吧？”心理學家說。
“這個小東西”，時間遊客說，他用胳膊肘撐住桌子，兩手按到儀器上，“衹是一個模型。我的計劃是讓機器穿越時間。你們會註意到這東西看上去是歪斜的。這根桿的表面閃閃發光，樣子很古怪，似乎有點像是假的。”他說完舉手指了指，“另外，這是一根白色的小杠桿，這邊還有一根。”
醫生從椅子裏站了起來，眼睛緊盯着機器。“做得真漂亮。”他說。
“花了兩年的時間纔做出來的。”時間遊客匯報說。當我們都跟着醫生站起來時，他又說，“現在我要你們知道，這根杠桿一按下去，就把這架機器送進了未來。另一根杠桿操作逆嚮運動。這鞍子充當一個時間遊客的座位。我馬上就按這根杠桿，機器會飛離出去。它將慢慢消失，走進未來的時間，最後無影無蹤。請你們好好看看這玩意兒，再檢查一下桌子，確保這中間沒有任何花招。我可不想浪費了模型還被人駡是江湖騙子。”
大概有一分鐘時間過去了，沒人作聲。心理學家似乎正想對我說什麽，可他又改變了主意。接着時間遊客舉起手指伸嚮杠桿。“不，”他突然說，“讓我藉用你的手。”他轉嚮心理學家，握住他的手，叫他把食指伸出來。因此，是心理學家親手把時間機器送入漫無止境的旅程的。我們都目睹了那根杠桿的轉動，我百分之百肯定這裏面沒有耍花招。就在這時，一陣風吹來，燈火撲撲跳動起來，壁爐架上的一支蠟燭吹滅了。那臺小機器打着轉轉，越飛越遠，頃刻間在視野裏成了個幻影，像一個閃着微光的黃銅和象牙轉出來的旋渦。它走了——消失了！桌子上除了那盞孤燈已一無所有。
大傢沉默了片刻。接着菲爾比說他真是該死。
心理學家從恍炮中恢復過來，突然朝桌子底下看去。時間遊客樂得哈哈大笑。“怎麽說？”他學起了心理學家的說話腔調。隨後他起身走到壁爐架上的煙葉罐前，背着我們開始往煙斗裏塞煙絲。
我們面面相覷，無話可說。“我說，”醫生說，“你這是當真的？你真的相信那架機器走到時間裏去了嗎？”
“當然。”時間遊客說。他彎腰在壁爐火上點燃了一支紙捻，然後他轉過身來，邊點煙斗邊望着心理學家的臉。（心理學家為了故作鎮靜，自己拿起一支雪茄，連煙屁股都沒掐掉就點了起來。）“此外，我那裏還有一臺大機器即將完工。”——他指了指實驗室——“安裝完畢後，我打算自己去旅遊一趟。”
“你是說那架機器已走進來來？”菲爾比問。
“走進了未來還是過去，我不敢肯定。”
隔了一會兒，心理學家來了靈感。“如果說去了什麽地方，那它一定是走進了過去。”他說。
“為什麽？”時間遊客問。
“因為我相信它沒有在空間裏移動。如果它已進入未來，那它現在肯定還在這裏，因為它必定要穿過現在才能走進未來。”
“可是，”我說，“如果它已走進過去，我們剛進房間時就該看見它。上星期四我們在這裏，還有上上個星期四，依此類推！”
“有力的反駁。”地方長官評論道。他轉嚮時間遊客，擺出一副公平論事的樣子。
“毫無道理，”時間遊客說着轉嚮心理學家，“你想想，這個你能解釋。這是反應點下的表象，是衝淡的表象，這你知道。”
“當然。”心理學家說。他還再次嚮我們保證說，“這是心理學上的一個簡單問題。我應該想到這個道理，它夠明顯的，並且有助於說明這種貌似矛盾的現象。我們無法看見這架機器，也欣賞不到它，這就像我們無法看到旋轉的輪輻和在空中飛過的子彈。如果機器在時間中旅行的速度比我們快50倍或者100倍，如果它走一分鐘我們纔走一秒鐘，它的速度産生的印象當然就衹是它木做時間旅行時的五十分之一或百分之一。這是顯而易見的。”他用手在原來擺機器的地方摸了摸。“明白了吧？”他笑着問道。
我們坐在那裏，兩眼盯着空蕩蕩的桌子看了一會兒。這時，時間遊客問我們如何看待這一切。
“這一切今天晚上聽起來很有道理，”醫生說，“不過要等到明天再下結論，等明早大傢神智清醒時再說。”
“你們想看看真正的時間機器嗎？”時間遊客問。說完他手裏拿着燈，領我們沿着通風的長廊朝他的實驗室走去。我清楚地記得那閃爍的燈火，他那大腦袋的側影，舞動的人影，記得我們如何一個個跟着他，心裏迷惑不解可又不願輕信，如何在實驗室目睹了就在我們眼前消失的那架小機器的大號翻版。大機器的有些部件是鎳製的，有些是象牙做的，還有些是用水晶石挫成或鋸成的。機器已大體完成，但是水晶麯棒還擺在凳上的幾張圖紙旁，沒有完工。我拿起一根麯棒仔細看了看，發現好像是用石英做的。
“我說，”醫生問道，“你這是完全認真的？還是騙騙人的——就像去年聖誕節你給我們看的那個鬼？”
“坐這架機器，”時間遊客高舉着燈說道，“我想去探索時間。清楚了吧？我這輩子還從未這樣認真過。”
我們誰也不知道該如何去理解他的這句話。
我的視綫越過醫生的肩膀和菲爾比投來的目光相遇了，他表情嚴肅地朝我使了個眼色。
`You must follow me carefully. I shall have to controvert one or two ideas that are almost universally accepted. The geometry, for instance, they taught you at school is founded on a misconception.'
`Is not that rather a large thing to expect us to begin upon?' said Filby, an argumentative person with red hair.
`I do not mean to ask you to accept anything without reasonable ground for it. You will soon admit as much as I need from you. You know of course that a mathematical line, a line of thickness NIL, has no real existence. They taught you that? Neither has a mathematical plane. These things are mere abstractions.'
`That is all right,' said the Psychologist.
`Nor, having only length, breadth, and thickness, can a cube have a real existence.'
`There I object,' said Filby. `Of course a solid body may exist. All real things--'
`So most people think. But wait a moment. Can an INSTANTANEOUS cube exist?'
`Don't follow you,' said Filby.
`Can a cube that does not last for any time at all, have a real existence?'
Filby became pensive. `Clearly,' the Time Traveller proceeded, `any real body must have extension in FOUR directions: it must have Length, Breadth, Thickness, and--Duration. But through a natural infirmity of the flesh, which I will explain to you in a moment, we incline to overlook this fact. There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and a fourth, Time. There is, however, a tendency to draw an unreal distinction between the former three dimensions and the latter, because it happens that our consciousness moves intermittently in one direction along the latter from the beginning to the end of our lives.'
`That,' said a very young man, making spasmodic efforts to relight his cigar over the lamp; `that . . . very clear indeed.'
`Now, it is very remarkable that this is so extensively overlooked,' continued the Time Traveller, with a slight accession of cheerfulness. `Really this is what is meant by the Fourth Dimension, though some people who talk about the Fourth Dimension do not know they mean it. It is only another way of looking at Time. THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TIME AND ANY OF THE THREE DIMENSIONS OF SPACE EXCEPT THAT OUR CONSCIOUSNESS MOVES ALONG IT. But some foolish people have got hold of the wrong side of that idea. You have all heard what they have to say about this Fourth Dimension?'
`_I_ have not,' said the Provincial Mayor.
`It is simply this. That Space, as our mathematicians have it, is spoken of as having three dimensions, which one may call Length, Breadth, and Thickness, and is always definable by reference to three planes, each at right angles to the others. But some philosophical people have been asking why THREE dimensions particularly--why not another direction at right angles to the other three?--and have even tried to construct a Four-Dimension geometry. Professor Simon Newcomb was expounding this to the New York Mathematical Society only a month or so ago. You know how on a flat surface, which has only two dimensions, we can represent a figure of a three-dimensional solid, and similarly they think that by models of thee dimensions they could represent one of four--if they could master the perspective of the thing. See?'
`I think so,' murmured the Provincial Mayor; and, knitting his brows, he lapsed into an introspective state, his lips moving as one who repeats mystic words. `Yes, I think I see it now,' he said after some time, brightening in a quite transitory manner.
`Well, I do not mind telling you I have been at work upon this geometry of Four Dimensions for some time. Some of my results are curious. For instance, here is a portrait of a man at eight years old, another at fifteen, another at seventeen, another at twenty-three, and so on. All these are evidently sections, as it were, Three-Dimensional representations of his Four-Dimensioned being, which is a fixed and unalterable thing.
`Scientific people,' proceeded the Time Traveller, after the pause required for the proper assimilation of this, `know very well that Time is only a kind of Space. Here is a popular scientific diagram, a weather record. This line I trace with my finger shows the movement of the barometer. Yesterday it was so high, yesterday night it fell, then this morning it rose again, and so gently upward to here. Surely the mercury did not trace this line in any of the dimensions of Space generally recognized? But certainly it traced such a line, and that line, therefore, we must conclude was along the Time-Dimension.'
`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 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 inequalities 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 civilized 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 hearthrug. 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 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 arm-chair 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.
`This little affair,' said the Time Traveller, resting his elbows upon the table and pressing his hands together above the apparatus, `is only a model. It is my plan for a machine to travel through time. You will notice that it looks singularly askew, and that there is an odd twinkling appearance about this bar, as though it was in some way unreal.' He pointed to the part with his finger. `Also, here is one little white lever, and here is another.'
The Medical Man got up out of his chair and peered into the thing. `It's beautifully made,' he said.
`It took two years to make,' retorted the Time Traveller. Then, when we had all imitated the action of the Medical Man, he said: `Now I want you clearly to understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion. This saddle represents the seat of a time traveller. Presently I am going to press the lever, and off the machine will go. It will vanish, pass into future Time, and disappear. Have a good look at the thing. Look at the table too, and satisfy yourselves there is no trickery. I don't want to waste this model, and then be told I'm a quack.'
There was a minute's pause perhaps. The Psychologist seemed about to speak to me, but changed his mind. Then the Time Traveller put forth his finger towards the lever. `No,' he said suddenly. `Lend me your hand.' And turning to the Psychologist, he took that individual's hand in his own and told him to put out his forefinger. So that it was the Psychologist himself who sent forth the model Time Machine on its interminable voyage. We all saw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as a ghost for a second perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glittering brass and ivory; and it was gone--vanished! Save for the lamp the table was bare.
Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Filby said he was damned.
The Psychologist recovered from his stupor, and suddenly looked under the table. At that the Time Traveller laughed cheerfully. `Well?' he said, with a reminiscence of 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 here,' said the Medical Man, `are you in earnest about this? Do you seriously believe that that machine has travelled into time?'
`Certainly,' said the Time Traveller, stooping to light a spill at the fire. Then he turned, lighting his pipe, to look at the Psychologist's face. (The Psychologist, to show that he was not unhinged, helped himself to a cigar and tried to light it uncut.) `What is more, I have a big machine nearly finished in there'--he indicated the laboratory--`and when that is put together I mean to have a journey on my own account.'
`You mean to say that that machine has travelled into the future?' said Filby.
`Into the future or the past--I don't, for certain, know which.'
After an interval the Psychologist had an inspiration. `It must have gone into the past if it has gone anywhere,' he said.
`Why?' said the Time Traveller.
`Because I presume that it has not moved in space, and if it travelled into the future it would still be here all this time, since it must have travelled through this time.'
`But,' I said, `If it travelled into the past it would have been visible when we came first into this room; and last Thursday when we were here; and the Thursday before that; and so forth!'
`Serious objections,' remarked the Provincial Mayor, with an air of impartiality, turning towards the Time Traveller.
`Not a bit,' said the Time Traveller, and, to the Psychologist: `You think. You can explain that. It's presentation below the threshold, you know, diluted presentation.'
`Of course,' said the Psychologist, and reassured us. `That's a simple point of psychology. I should have thought of it. It's plain enough, and helps the paradox delightfully. We cannot see it, nor can we appreciate this machine, any more than we can the spoke of a wheel spinning, or a bullet flying through the air. If it is travelling through time fifty times or a hundred times faster than we are, if it gets through a minute while we get through a second, the impression it creates will of course be only one-fiftieth or one-hundredth of what it would make if it were not travelling in time. That's plain enough.' He passed his hand through the space in which the machine had been. `You see?' he said, laughing.
We sat and stared at the vacant table for a minute or so. Then the Time Traveller asked us what we thought of it all.
`It sounds plausible enough to-night,' said the Medical Man; 'but wait until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.'
`Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?' asked the Time Traveller. And therewith, taking the lamp in his hand, he led the way down the long, draughty corridor to his laboratory. I remember vividly the flickering light, his queer, broad head in silhouette, the dance of the shadows, how we all followed him, puzzled but incredulous, and how there in the laboratory we beheld a larger edition of the little mechanism which we had seen vanish from before our eyes. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twisted crystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheets of drawings, and I took one up for a better look at it. Quartz it seemed to be.
`Look here,' said the Medical Man, `are you perfectly serious? Or is this a trick--like that ghost you showed us last Christmas?'
`Upon that machine,' said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, `I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my life.'
None of us quite knew how to take it.
I caught Filby's eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he winked at me solemnly.
我想我們當時誰也不太相信時間機器。事實上，時間遊客是個聰明得讓人不敢相信的人。你從未感到看透過他，你總是懷疑他坦率的背後還有所保留，還另有用心。要是讓菲爾比展示這臺機器並用時間遊客的話來進行解釋，我們就不會這樣疑慮重重，因為我們一定會看穿他的動機，連殺豬的都能理解菲爾比。但是，時間遊客不僅僅是有幾分異想天開，而且我們都不相信他。可以讓一個不如他聰明的人名聲大振的事情到他手裏就成了騙人的把戲。事情做得太容易實在是個錯誤。那些不和他開玩笑的嚴肅認真的人從未感到摸，透過他的行為。他們反正也知道，雖然他們擅長判斷，可輕易相信他就如同用蛋殼般易碎的瓷器去裝飾托兒所。所以，我想我們在那個星期四到下一個星期四的這段時間裏，誰也沒有多談時間旅行的事，不過我們大多數人的腦子裏無疑還惦記着它雖然可疑卻有潛在可能性。這就是其表面上可能而事實上不切實際，也就是造成年代顛倒和天下大亂的可能性。我自己則一心想着機器裏面的鬼花招。我記得星期五在林尼安遇上醫生後同他討論過這個問題。他說他在蒂賓根見過類似的事情，並且特別強調了蠟燭被吹滅的現象。但花招是如何耍的，他沒法解釋。
接下來的星期四我又去了裏士滿——我相信我是時間遊客的常客之——由於到得晚，我發現四五個人已聚集在他的會客室裏。醫生站在壁爐前，一手拿着一張紙，一手握着一塊手錶。我朝四周看看，想尋找時間遊客。“現在已經7點半了”，醫生說，“我看我們最好先吃飯吧？”
“怎麽不見……”我問着說出了我們主人的名字。
“你剛來？真是怪事，他一定是耽擱了。他留了張便條，叫我7點鐘還不見他回來就先帶大傢吃飯。他說他回來後再跟大夥解釋。”
“有飯不吃似乎有點可惜。”一位著名日報的編輯說。醫生隨後搖了搖鈴。
除了醫生和我，心理學家是唯一出席上次晚餐會的人。其他幾個人分別是上面提到的那位編輯布蘭剋，一位記者，還有一位是個留着山羊鬍子、內嚮怕羞的男子，這人我不認識。據我觀察，他整個晚上沒開口說一句話。用餐時，大傢都在猜測時間遊客缺席的原因，我半開玩笑地提到了時間旅行。編輯要我們解釋一下，心理學家主動要求對我們那天目睹的“巧妙的怪事和把戲”做一番如實的描述。他正講到一半，通走廊的門慢慢地、悄然無聲地打開了。我是朝門坐的，第一個看到了眼前的情境。“你好！”我說，“終於回來啦！”我驚嘆一聲。這時門開得更大了，時間遊客站在我們面前。
“天哪！老兄，怎麽回事？”醫生大聲問道。他是第二個看見他的，全桌的人都轉身朝門口望去。
他顯得狼狽不堪，外套又灰又髒，袖管上沾滿了青兮兮的污跡，頭髮亂七八糟，好像變得更加灰白了——如果不是因為頭髮上的灰塵和污垢，那就是頭髮真的比以前更白了。他臉色如土，下巴上留着一條還沒有完全愈合的棕色口子。他神情惟懷，面容枯稿，好像吃盡了苦頭。他站在門口，猶豫了片刻，仿佛被燈光刺花了眼。隨後，他一瘸一拐地走進了房間，像是我見過的那些腿酸腳痛的徒步旅行者。我們靜靜地望着他，等待他開口說話。
他一聲不吭，費勁地來到桌前，朝酒瓶做了個手勢。編輯斟滿一杯香擯，推到他面前。他一飲而盡，這下好像來了點精神，因為他朝桌旁的人望了一眼，臉上又掠過了一絲應有的微笑。“你到底上哪兒去了，老兄？”醫生問。時間遊客好像沒聽見。“我不來打擾你們，”他說，聲音有點顫抖，“我沒事。”他說到這裏又停了下來，伸出杯子又要了點酒，又是一口喝了個精光。“不錯。”他說。雙眼越來越有神，面頰上也泛出了淡淡的紅暈。他用遲鈍的贊許的目光朝我們臉上掃了一眼，接着在溫暖舒適的房間裏兜了一圈。隨後他又開口說話了，好像還是不知道該說什麽。“我去洗個澡，換換衣服，然再下來嚮你們解釋……給我留點羊肉，我都要饞死了。”
他朝編輯看了一眼。編輯是位稀客，他希望編輯一切如意。編輯提了個問題。“馬上就告訴你，”時間遊客答道，“我這模樣——太可笑了！不過隔一會兒就好了。”
他放下酒杯，朝摟道門走去。我再次註意到了他走路一瘸一拐的樣子和軟綿綿的腳步。我從座位上站立起來，在他出門的時候着清了他的雙腳。他的腳上衹套了一雙血跡斑斑的破襪子，連鞋都沒穿。這時門在他身後關上了，我真想跟他出去幫幫他，可一想到他討厭別人為他的事情大驚小怪又打消了念頭。我一時心亂如麻，不知所措。這時，我聽見編輯說“著名科學家的驚人之舉，”他（出於習慣）又在考慮他的文章標題了。我的註意力又被拉回到了氣氛熱烈的餐桌上。
“這是玩什麽遊戲？”記者說，“他一直在扮演業餘乞丐嗎？我真不明白。”我和心理學家目光相遇，我從他臉上看出來，我倆的理解是相同的。我想起了時間遊客一瘸一拐爬樓的痛苦模樣，以為其他人一個也沒註意到他的腳不好。
第一個從驚訝中恢復過來的是醫生。他搖搖鈴——時間遊客不喜歡讓僕人站在餐桌旁——示意上熱菜。這時編輯咕咕着拿起了刀叉，那個沉默寡言的人也跟着拿起了刀叉。晚飯繼續進行。桌上的談話有段時間竟變成了叫喊，還不時冒出幾聲驚嘆。這時編輯再也按捺不住他的好奇心了：“我們的朋友是有旁門左道來彌補他不高的收入呢？還是在學尼布甲尼撒二世呢？”他問道。“我肯定這和時間機器有關。”我接過心理學家敘述的我們上次聚會的話題答道。新來的客人顯然不相信；編輯提出了反對意見：“這時間旅行究竟是什麽？一個人總不會在奇談怪論裏滾得滿身是泥吧？”說着他想起了什麽，於是就諷刺挖苦起來，“難道未來人連撣衣刷都沒有？”記者也是死不相信，他站到了編輯的一邊，對整個事情橫加嘲弄。他倆都是新式的新聞工作者——那種生性快樂又缺乏禮貌的年輕人。“我們的《後天》報特約記者報道說，”記者正說着——其實是喊着——時間遊客回來了。他穿着普通的夜禮服，除了面客依舊顯得慌懷，剛纔讓我們大吃一驚的樣子已無影無蹤。
“我說，”編輯興高采烈地說，“這些傢夥說你剛纔到下星期旅行去了！跟我們講講小羅斯伯裏的事，好嗎？你覺得他的命運如何？”
時間遊客一聲不吭地來到留給他的座位旁，和以往一樣安詳地笑了。“我的羊肉呢？”他說，“刀叉上又能叉上肉真是享受啊！”
“故事！”編輯喊道。
“去他媽的故事吧！”時間遊客說。“我想吃點東西。我不填飽肚皮是什麽也不會講的。謝謝，把????遞一遞。”
“就講一句話，”我說，“你去時間旅行了嗎？”
“是的。”時間遊客嘴裏塞滿了東西，他邊點頭邊回答。
“我願出每行字一先令的價，買下記錄稿。”編輯說。時間遊客把玻璃杯推嚮那位沉默者，並用指甲敲敲杯子。兩眼一直望着時間遊客的沉默者嚇了一跳，趕忙為他斟滿酒杯。隨後吃飯的氣氛是令人不快的。就我而言，問題不時地冒到嘴邊，我敢說其他人一定也有同感。新聞記者講起了海迪·波特的軼事趣聞，想緩和一下緊張的氣氛。時間遊客一門心思衹顧吃飯，胃口大得像個流浪漢。醫生點燃香煙，眯眼望着時間遊客。沉默者似乎比平時更笨口拙舌，他不停地悶聲喝着香模酒，藉以掩飾內心的緊張不安。時間遊客終於推開盤子，朝我們望了一眼。“我想我應該道歉”，他說，“剛纔我實在是餓極了。我的經歷太驚人了。”他伸手取了一古雪茄煙，切去煙屁股。“還是去吸煙室吧，故事太長了，總不能在這油兮兮的盤子前講吧。”他順手搖了搖鈴，領大傢走進隔壁房間。
“你對戴希、喬士和布蘭剋講過時間旅行機器的事嗎？”他一邊問我一邊靠上安樂椅，點出了這三位新客人的名字。
“可這種事情純屬鬍扯。”編輯說。
“今晚我無法辯論。我願意把經過告訴你們，但我不相辯論。如果你們想聽，”他繼續說道，“我就把我的遭遇全告訴你們，但不能打斷我的話。我很想把這個故事講出來，大多數內容聽起來像是謊話，可事情就是這樣！這是真的——絶對是真話。我4點鐘還在實驗室，隨後……我度過了8天時間……這是誰也不曾有過的日子啊！我現在真是精疲力竭，可我不把事情告訴你們是不會睡覺去的，講完了再睡。但不許插話！都同意嗎？”
“同意。”編輯說。我們其他人也跟着說了聲“同意”。於是，時間遊客開始講述我下面記錄的這個故事。他先是靠在椅子上，講話像個勞累過度的人，後來械講越起勁。記錄時，我特別感到筆墨的欠缺，尤其是我自身能力的不足，無法把這故事淋漓盡致地表達出來。我想，你們會聚精會神地去讀的，但是你們無法親眼目睹講述者在小燈照射下的那張蒼白而又嚴肅的臉，也無法聽到他的講話聲調。你們也無法知道他的表情是如何隨着故事的發展而變化的。我們這些聽衆大多坐在燈影裏，因為吸煙室裏沒有點蠟燭，燈光衹照到了記者的臉和那位沉默者的小腿。起初，我們還不時地相互望望，過了一會兒，就再也無暇顧及別人，衹是兩眼盯着時間遊客的臉。
The next Thursday I went again to Richmond--I suppose I was one of the Time Traveller's most constant guests--and, arriving late, found four or five men already assembled in his drawing-room. The Medical Man was standing before the fire with a sheet of paper in one hand and his watch in the other. I looked round for the Time Traveller, and--`It's half-past seven now,' said the Medical Man. `I suppose we'd better have dinner?'
`Where's----?' said I, naming our host.
`You've just come? It's rather odd. He's unavoidably detained. He asks me in this note to lead off with dinner at seven if he's not back. Says he'll explain when he comes.'
`It seems a pity to let the dinner spoil,' said the Editor of a well-known daily paper; and thereupon the Doctor rang the bell.
The Psychologist was the only person besides the Doctor and myself who had attended the previous dinner. The other men were Blank, the Editor aforementioned, a certain journalist, and another--a quiet, shy man with a beard--whom I didn't know, and who, as far as my observation went, never opened his mouth all the evening. There was some speculation at the dinner-table about the Time Traveller's absence, and I suggested time travelling, in a half-jocular spirit. The Editor wanted that explained to him, and the Psychologist volunteered a wooden account of the `ingenious paradox and trick' we had witnessed that day week. He was in the midst of his exposition when the door from the corridor opened slowly and without noise. I was facing the door, and saw it first. `Hallo!' I said. `At last!' And the door opened wider, and the Time Traveller stood before us. I gave a cry of surprise. `Good heavens! man, what's the matter?' cried the Medical Man, who saw him next. And the whole tableful turned towards the door.
He was in an amazing plight. His coat was dusty and dirty, and smeared with green down the sleeves; his hair disordered, and as it seemed to me greyer--either with dust and dirt or because its colour had actually faded. His face was ghastly pale; his chin had a brown cut on it--a cut half healed; his expression was haggard and drawn, as by intense suffering. For a moment he hesitated in the doorway, as if he had been dazzled by the light. Then he came into the room. He walked with just such a limp as I have seen in footsore tramps. We stared at him in silence, expecting him to speak.
He said not a word, but came painfully to the table, and made a motion towards the wine. The Editor filled a glass of champagne, and pushed it towards him. He drained it, and it seemed to do him good: for he looked round the table, and the ghost of his old smile flickered across his face. `What on earth have you been up to, man?' said the Doctor. The Time Traveller did not seem to hear. `Don't let me disturb you,' he said, with a certain faltering articulation. `I'm all right.' He stopped, held out his glass for more, and took it off at a draught. `That's good,' he said. His eyes grew brighter, and a faint colour came into his cheeks. His glance flickered over our faces with a certain dull approval, and then went round the warm and comfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were feeling his way among his words. `I'm going to wash and dress, and then I'll come down and explain things. . . Save me some of that mutton. I'm starving for a bit of meat.'
He looked across at the Editor, who was a rare visitor, and hoped he was all right. The Editor began a question. `Tell you presently,' said the Time Traveller. `I'm--funny! Be all right in a minute.'
He put down his glass, and walked towards the staircase door. Again I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of his footfall, and standing up in my place, I saw his feet as he went out. He had nothing on them but a pair of tattered blood-stained socks. Then the door closed upon him. I had half a mind to follow, till I remembered how he detested any fuss about himself. For a minute, perhaps, my mind was wool-gathering. Then, 'Remarkable Behaviour of an Eminent Scientist,' I heard the Editor say, thinking (after his wont) in headlines. And this brought my attention back to the bright dinner-table.
`What's the game?' said the Journalist. `Has he been doing the Amateur Cadger? I don't follow.' I met the eye of the Psychologist, and read my own interpretation in his face. I thought of the Time Traveller limping painfully upstairs. I don't think any one else had noticed his lameness.
The first to recover completely from this surprise was the Medical Man, who rang the bell--the Time Traveller hated to have servants waiting at dinner--for a hot plate. At that the Editor turned to his knife and fork with a grunt, and the Silent Man followed suit. The dinner was resumed. Conversation was exclamatory for a little while, with gaps of wonderment; and then the Editor got fervent in his curiosity. `Does our friend eke out his modest income with a crossing? or has he his Nebuchadnezzar phases?' he inquired. `I feel assured it's this business of the Time Machine,' I said, and took up the Psychologist's account of our previous meeting. The new guests were frankly incredulous. The Editor raised objections. `What WAS this time travelling? A man couldn't cover himself with dust by rolling in a paradox, could he?' And then, as the idea came home to him, he resorted to caricature. Hadn't they any clothes-brushes in the Future? The Journalist too, would not believe at any price, and joined the Editor in the easy work of heaping ridicule on the whole thing. They were both the new kind of journalist--very joyous, irreverent young men. `Our Special Correspondent in the Day after To-morrow reports,' the Journalist was saying--or rather shouting--when the Time Traveller came back. He was dressed in ordinary evening clothes, and nothing save his haggard look remained of the change that had startled me.
`I say,' said the Editor hilariously, `these chaps here say you have been travelling into the middle of next week! Tell us all about little Rosebery, will you? What will you take for the lot?'
The Time Traveller came to the place reserved for him without a word. He smiled quietly, in his old way. `Where's my mutton?' he said. `What a treat it is to stick a fork into meat again!'
`Story!' cried the Editor.
`Story be damned!' said the Time Traveller. `I want something to eat. I won't say a word until I get some peptone into my arteries. Thanks. And the salt.'
`One word,' said I. `Have you been time travelling?'
`Yes,' said the Time Traveller, with his mouth full, nodding his head.
`I'd give a shilling a line for a verbatim note,' said the Editor. The Time Traveller pushed his glass towards the Silent Man and rang it with his fingernail; at which the Silent Man, who had been staring at his face, started convulsively, and poured him wine. The rest of the dinner was uncomfortable. For my own part, sudden questions kept on rising to my lips, and I dare say it was the same with the others. The Journalist tried to relieve the tension by telling anecdotes of Hettie Potter. The Time Traveller devoted his attention to his dinner, and displayed the appetite of a tramp. The Medical Man smoked a cigarette, and watched the Time Traveller through his eyelashes. The Silent Man seemed even more clumsy than usual, and drank champagne with regularity and determination out of sheer nervousness. At last the Time Traveller pushed his plate away, and looked round us. `I suppose I must apologize,' he said. `I was simply starving. I've had a most amazing time.' He reached out his hand for a cigar, and cut the end. `But come into the smoking-room. It's too long a story to tell over greasy plates.' And ringing the bell in passing, he led the way into the adjoining room.
`You have told Blank, and Dash, and Chose about the machine?' he said to me, leaning back in his easy-chair and naming the three new guests.
`But the thing's a mere paradox,' said the Editor.
`I can't argue to-night. I don't mind telling you the story, but I can't argue. I will,' he went on, `tell you the story of what has happened to me, if you like, but you must refrain from interruptions. I want to tell it. Badly. Most of it will sound like lying. So be it! It's true--every word of it, all the same. I was in my laboratory at four o'clock, and since then . . . I've lived eight days . . . such days as no human being ever lived before! I'm nearly worn out, but I shan't sleep till I've told this thing over to you. Then I shall go to bed. But no interruptions! Is it agreed?'
`Agreed,' said the Editor, and the rest of us echoed `Agreed.' And with that the Time Traveller began his story as I have set it forth. He sat back in his chair at first, and spoke like a weary man. Afterwards he got more animated. In writing it down I feel with only too much keenness the inadequacy of pen and ink --and, above all, my own inadequacy--to express its quality. You read, I will suppose, attentively enough; but you cannot see the speaker's white, sincere face in the bright circle of the little lamp, nor hear the intonation of his voice. You cannot know how his expression followed the turns of his story! Most of us hearers were in shadow, for the candles in the smoking-room had not been lighted, and only the face of the Journalist and the legs of the Silent Man from the knees downward were illuminated. At first we glanced now and again at each other. After a time we ceased to do that, and looked only at the Time Traveller's face.
接下來的星期四我又去了裏士滿——我相信我是時間遊客的常客之——由於到得晚，我發現四五個人已聚集在他的會客室裏。醫生站在壁爐前，一手拿着一張紙，一手握着一塊手錶。我朝四周看看，想尋找時間遊客。“現在已經7點半了”，醫生說，“我看我們最好先吃飯吧？”
“怎麽不見……”我問着說出了我們主人的名字。
“你剛來？真是怪事，他一定是耽擱了。他留了張便條，叫我7點鐘還不見他回來就先帶大傢吃飯。他說他回來後再跟大夥解釋。”
“有飯不吃似乎有點可惜。”一位著名日報的編輯說。醫生隨後搖了搖鈴。
除了醫生和我，心理學家是唯一出席上次晚餐會的人。其他幾個人分別是上面提到的那位編輯布蘭剋，一位記者，還有一位是個留着山羊鬍子、內嚮怕羞的男子，這人我不認識。據我觀察，他整個晚上沒開口說一句話。用餐時，大傢都在猜測時間遊客缺席的原因，我半開玩笑地提到了時間旅行。編輯要我們解釋一下，心理學家主動要求對我們那天目睹的“巧妙的怪事和把戲”做一番如實的描述。他正講到一半，通走廊的門慢慢地、悄然無聲地打開了。我是朝門坐的，第一個看到了眼前的情境。“你好！”我說，“終於回來啦！”我驚嘆一聲。這時門開得更大了，時間遊客站在我們面前。
“天哪！老兄，怎麽回事？”醫生大聲問道。他是第二個看見他的，全桌的人都轉身朝門口望去。
他顯得狼狽不堪，外套又灰又髒，袖管上沾滿了青兮兮的污跡，頭髮亂七八糟，好像變得更加灰白了——如果不是因為頭髮上的灰塵和污垢，那就是頭髮真的比以前更白了。他臉色如土，下巴上留着一條還沒有完全愈合的棕色口子。他神情惟懷，面容枯稿，好像吃盡了苦頭。他站在門口，猶豫了片刻，仿佛被燈光刺花了眼。隨後，他一瘸一拐地走進了房間，像是我見過的那些腿酸腳痛的徒步旅行者。我們靜靜地望着他，等待他開口說話。
他一聲不吭，費勁地來到桌前，朝酒瓶做了個手勢。編輯斟滿一杯香擯，推到他面前。他一飲而盡，這下好像來了點精神，因為他朝桌旁的人望了一眼，臉上又掠過了一絲應有的微笑。“你到底上哪兒去了，老兄？”醫生問。時間遊客好像沒聽見。“我不來打擾你們，”他說，聲音有點顫抖，“我沒事。”他說到這裏又停了下來，伸出杯子又要了點酒，又是一口喝了個精光。“不錯。”他說。雙眼越來越有神，面頰上也泛出了淡淡的紅暈。他用遲鈍的贊許的目光朝我們臉上掃了一眼，接着在溫暖舒適的房間裏兜了一圈。隨後他又開口說話了，好像還是不知道該說什麽。“我去洗個澡，換換衣服，然再下來嚮你們解釋……給我留點羊肉，我都要饞死了。”
他朝編輯看了一眼。編輯是位稀客，他希望編輯一切如意。編輯提了個問題。“馬上就告訴你，”時間遊客答道，“我這模樣——太可笑了！不過隔一會兒就好了。”
他放下酒杯，朝摟道門走去。我再次註意到了他走路一瘸一拐的樣子和軟綿綿的腳步。我從座位上站立起來，在他出門的時候着清了他的雙腳。他的腳上衹套了一雙血跡斑斑的破襪子，連鞋都沒穿。這時門在他身後關上了，我真想跟他出去幫幫他，可一想到他討厭別人為他的事情大驚小怪又打消了念頭。我一時心亂如麻，不知所措。這時，我聽見編輯說“著名科學家的驚人之舉，”他（出於習慣）又在考慮他的文章標題了。我的註意力又被拉回到了氣氛熱烈的餐桌上。
“這是玩什麽遊戲？”記者說，“他一直在扮演業餘乞丐嗎？我真不明白。”我和心理學家目光相遇，我從他臉上看出來，我倆的理解是相同的。我想起了時間遊客一瘸一拐爬樓的痛苦模樣，以為其他人一個也沒註意到他的腳不好。
第一個從驚訝中恢復過來的是醫生。他搖搖鈴——時間遊客不喜歡讓僕人站在餐桌旁——示意上熱菜。這時編輯咕咕着拿起了刀叉，那個沉默寡言的人也跟着拿起了刀叉。晚飯繼續進行。桌上的談話有段時間竟變成了叫喊，還不時冒出幾聲驚嘆。這時編輯再也按捺不住他的好奇心了：“我們的朋友是有旁門左道來彌補他不高的收入呢？還是在學尼布甲尼撒二世呢？”他問道。“我肯定這和時間機器有關。”我接過心理學家敘述的我們上次聚會的話題答道。新來的客人顯然不相信；編輯提出了反對意見：“這時間旅行究竟是什麽？一個人總不會在奇談怪論裏滾得滿身是泥吧？”說着他想起了什麽，於是就諷刺挖苦起來，“難道未來人連撣衣刷都沒有？”記者也是死不相信，他站到了編輯的一邊，對整個事情橫加嘲弄。他倆都是新式的新聞工作者——那種生性快樂又缺乏禮貌的年輕人。“我們的《後天》報特約記者報道說，”記者正說着——其實是喊着——時間遊客回來了。他穿着普通的夜禮服，除了面客依舊顯得慌懷，剛纔讓我們大吃一驚的樣子已無影無蹤。
“我說，”編輯興高采烈地說，“這些傢夥說你剛纔到下星期旅行去了！跟我們講講小羅斯伯裏的事，好嗎？你覺得他的命運如何？”
時間遊客一聲不吭地來到留給他的座位旁，和以往一樣安詳地笑了。“我的羊肉呢？”他說，“刀叉上又能叉上肉真是享受啊！”
“故事！”編輯喊道。
“去他媽的故事吧！”時間遊客說。“我想吃點東西。我不填飽肚皮是什麽也不會講的。謝謝，把????遞一遞。”
“就講一句話，”我說，“你去時間旅行了嗎？”
“是的。”時間遊客嘴裏塞滿了東西，他邊點頭邊回答。
“我願出每行字一先令的價，買下記錄稿。”編輯說。時間遊客把玻璃杯推嚮那位沉默者，並用指甲敲敲杯子。兩眼一直望着時間遊客的沉默者嚇了一跳，趕忙為他斟滿酒杯。隨後吃飯的氣氛是令人不快的。就我而言，問題不時地冒到嘴邊，我敢說其他人一定也有同感。新聞記者講起了海迪·波特的軼事趣聞，想緩和一下緊張的氣氛。時間遊客一門心思衹顧吃飯，胃口大得像個流浪漢。醫生點燃香煙，眯眼望着時間遊客。沉默者似乎比平時更笨口拙舌，他不停地悶聲喝着香模酒，藉以掩飾內心的緊張不安。時間遊客終於推開盤子，朝我們望了一眼。“我想我應該道歉”，他說，“剛纔我實在是餓極了。我的經歷太驚人了。”他伸手取了一古雪茄煙，切去煙屁股。“還是去吸煙室吧，故事太長了，總不能在這油兮兮的盤子前講吧。”他順手搖了搖鈴，領大傢走進隔壁房間。
“你對戴希、喬士和布蘭剋講過時間旅行機器的事嗎？”他一邊問我一邊靠上安樂椅，點出了這三位新客人的名字。
“可這種事情純屬鬍扯。”編輯說。
“今晚我無法辯論。我願意把經過告訴你們，但我不相辯論。如果你們想聽，”他繼續說道，“我就把我的遭遇全告訴你們，但不能打斷我的話。我很想把這個故事講出來，大多數內容聽起來像是謊話，可事情就是這樣！這是真的——絶對是真話。我4點鐘還在實驗室，隨後……我度過了8天時間……這是誰也不曾有過的日子啊！我現在真是精疲力竭，可我不把事情告訴你們是不會睡覺去的，講完了再睡。但不許插話！都同意嗎？”
“同意。”編輯說。我們其他人也跟着說了聲“同意”。於是，時間遊客開始講述我下面記錄的這個故事。他先是靠在椅子上，講話像個勞累過度的人，後來械講越起勁。記錄時，我特別感到筆墨的欠缺，尤其是我自身能力的不足，無法把這故事淋漓盡致地表達出來。我想，你們會聚精會神地去讀的，但是你們無法親眼目睹講述者在小燈照射下的那張蒼白而又嚴肅的臉，也無法聽到他的講話聲調。你們也無法知道他的表情是如何隨着故事的發展而變化的。我們這些聽衆大多坐在燈影裏，因為吸煙室裏沒有點蠟燭，燈光衹照到了記者的臉和那位沉默者的小腿。起初，我們還不時地相互望望，過了一會兒，就再也無暇顧及別人，衹是兩眼盯着時間遊客的臉。
The next Thursday I went again to Richmond--I suppose I was one of the Time Traveller's most constant guests--and, arriving late, found four or five men already assembled in his drawing-room. The Medical Man was standing before the fire with a sheet of paper in one hand and his watch in the other. I looked round for the Time Traveller, and--`It's half-past seven now,' said the Medical Man. `I suppose we'd better have dinner?'
`Where's----?' said I, naming our host.
`You've just come? It's rather odd. He's unavoidably detained. He asks me in this note to lead off with dinner at seven if he's not back. Says he'll explain when he comes.'
`It seems a pity to let the dinner spoil,' said the Editor of a well-known daily paper; and thereupon the Doctor rang the bell.
The Psychologist was the only person besides the Doctor and myself who had attended the previous dinner. The other men were Blank, the Editor aforementioned, a certain journalist, and another--a quiet, shy man with a beard--whom I didn't know, and who, as far as my observation went, never opened his mouth all the evening. There was some speculation at the dinner-table about the Time Traveller's absence, and I suggested time travelling, in a half-jocular spirit. The Editor wanted that explained to him, and the Psychologist volunteered a wooden account of the `ingenious paradox and trick' we had witnessed that day week. He was in the midst of his exposition when the door from the corridor opened slowly and without noise. I was facing the door, and saw it first. `Hallo!' I said. `At last!' And the door opened wider, and the Time Traveller stood before us. I gave a cry of surprise. `Good heavens! man, what's the matter?' cried the Medical Man, who saw him next. And the whole tableful turned towards the door.
He was in an amazing plight. His coat was dusty and dirty, and smeared with green down the sleeves; his hair disordered, and as it seemed to me greyer--either with dust and dirt or because its colour had actually faded. His face was ghastly pale; his chin had a brown cut on it--a cut half healed; his expression was haggard and drawn, as by intense suffering. For a moment he hesitated in the doorway, as if he had been dazzled by the light. Then he came into the room. He walked with just such a limp as I have seen in footsore tramps. We stared at him in silence, expecting him to speak.
He said not a word, but came painfully to the table, and made a motion towards the wine. The Editor filled a glass of champagne, and pushed it towards him. He drained it, and it seemed to do him good: for he looked round the table, and the ghost of his old smile flickered across his face. `What on earth have you been up to, man?' said the Doctor. The Time Traveller did not seem to hear. `Don't let me disturb you,' he said, with a certain faltering articulation. `I'm all right.' He stopped, held out his glass for more, and took it off at a draught. `That's good,' he said. His eyes grew brighter, and a faint colour came into his cheeks. His glance flickered over our faces with a certain dull approval, and then went round the warm and comfortable room. Then he spoke again, still as it were feeling his way among his words. `I'm going to wash and dress, and then I'll come down and explain things. . . Save me some of that mutton. I'm starving for a bit of meat.'
He looked across at the Editor, who was a rare visitor, and hoped he was all right. The Editor began a question. `Tell you presently,' said the Time Traveller. `I'm--funny! Be all right in a minute.'
He put down his glass, and walked towards the staircase door. Again I remarked his lameness and the soft padding sound of his footfall, and standing up in my place, I saw his feet as he went out. He had nothing on them but a pair of tattered blood-stained socks. Then the door closed upon him. I had half a mind to follow, till I remembered how he detested any fuss about himself. For a minute, perhaps, my mind was wool-gathering. Then, 'Remarkable Behaviour of an Eminent Scientist,' I heard the Editor say, thinking (after his wont) in headlines. And this brought my attention back to the bright dinner-table.
`What's the game?' said the Journalist. `Has he been doing the Amateur Cadger? I don't follow.' I met the eye of the Psychologist, and read my own interpretation in his face. I thought of the Time Traveller limping painfully upstairs. I don't think any one else had noticed his lameness.
The first to recover completely from this surprise was the Medical Man, who rang the bell--the Time Traveller hated to have servants waiting at dinner--for a hot plate. At that the Editor turned to his knife and fork with a grunt, and the Silent Man followed suit. The dinner was resumed. Conversation was exclamatory for a little while, with gaps of wonderment; and then the Editor got fervent in his curiosity. `Does our friend eke out his modest income with a crossing? or has he his Nebuchadnezzar phases?' he inquired. `I feel assured it's this business of the Time Machine,' I said, and took up the Psychologist's account of our previous meeting. The new guests were frankly incredulous. The Editor raised objections. `What WAS this time travelling? A man couldn't cover himself with dust by rolling in a paradox, could he?' And then, as the idea came home to him, he resorted to caricature. Hadn't they any clothes-brushes in the Future? The Journalist too, would not believe at any price, and joined the Editor in the easy work of heaping ridicule on the whole thing. They were both the new kind of journalist--very joyous, irreverent young men. `Our Special Correspondent in the Day after To-morrow reports,' the Journalist was saying--or rather shouting--when the Time Traveller came back. He was dressed in ordinary evening clothes, and nothing save his haggard look remained of the change that had startled me.
`I say,' said the Editor hilariously, `these chaps here say you have been travelling into the middle of next week! Tell us all about little Rosebery, will you? What will you take for the lot?'
The Time Traveller came to the place reserved for him without a word. He smiled quietly, in his old way. `Where's my mutton?' he said. `What a treat it is to stick a fork into meat again!'
`Story!' cried the Editor.
`Story be damned!' said the Time Traveller. `I want something to eat. I won't say a word until I get some peptone into my arteries. Thanks. And the salt.'
`One word,' said I. `Have you been time travelling?'
`Yes,' said the Time Traveller, with his mouth full, nodding his head.
`I'd give a shilling a line for a verbatim note,' said the Editor. The Time Traveller pushed his glass towards the Silent Man and rang it with his fingernail; at which the Silent Man, who had been staring at his face, started convulsively, and poured him wine. The rest of the dinner was uncomfortable. For my own part, sudden questions kept on rising to my lips, and I dare say it was the same with the others. The Journalist tried to relieve the tension by telling anecdotes of Hettie Potter. The Time Traveller devoted his attention to his dinner, and displayed the appetite of a tramp. The Medical Man smoked a cigarette, and watched the Time Traveller through his eyelashes. The Silent Man seemed even more clumsy than usual, and drank champagne with regularity and determination out of sheer nervousness. At last the Time Traveller pushed his plate away, and looked round us. `I suppose I must apologize,' he said. `I was simply starving. I've had a most amazing time.' He reached out his hand for a cigar, and cut the end. `But come into the smoking-room. It's too long a story to tell over greasy plates.' And ringing the bell in passing, he led the way into the adjoining room.
`You have told Blank, and Dash, and Chose about the machine?' he said to me, leaning back in his easy-chair and naming the three new guests.
`But the thing's a mere paradox,' said the Editor.
`I can't argue to-night. I don't mind telling you the story, but I can't argue. I will,' he went on, `tell you the story of what has happened to me, if you like, but you must refrain from interruptions. I want to tell it. Badly. Most of it will sound like lying. So be it! It's true--every word of it, all the same. I was in my laboratory at four o'clock, and since then . . . I've lived eight days . . . such days as no human being ever lived before! I'm nearly worn out, but I shan't sleep till I've told this thing over to you. Then I shall go to bed. But no interruptions! Is it agreed?'
`Agreed,' said the Editor, and the rest of us echoed `Agreed.' And with that the Time Traveller began his story as I have set it forth. He sat back in his chair at first, and spoke like a weary man. Afterwards he got more animated. In writing it down I feel with only too much keenness the inadequacy of pen and ink --and, above all, my own inadequacy--to express its quality. You read, I will suppose, attentively enough; but you cannot see the speaker's white, sincere face in the bright circle of the little lamp, nor hear the intonation of his voice. You cannot know how his expression followed the turns of his story! Most of us hearers were in shadow, for the candles in the smoking-room had not been lighted, and only the face of the Journalist and the legs of the Silent Man from the knees downward were illuminated. At first we glanced now and again at each other. After a time we ceased to do that, and looked only at the Time Traveller's face.