Read Online Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) by Travelers In Time - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Travelers In Time
Ads: Link
there was no outlet. No doubt
the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw
was the outcome of the last surgings of the now purposeless energy of mankind
before it settled down into perfect harmony with the conditions under which it
lived —the flourish of that triumph which began the last great peace. This has
ever been the fate of energy in security; it takes to art and to eroticism, and
then come languor and decay.
"Even this artistic impetus would at
last die away—had almost died in the Time I saw. To adorn themselves with
flowers, to dance, to sing in the sunlight; so much was left of the artistic
spirit, and no more. Even that would fade in the end into a contented inactivity.
We are kept keen on the grindstone of pain and necessity, and, it seemed to me,
that here was that hateful grindstone broken at last!
"As
I stood there in the gathering dark I thought that in this simple explanation I
had mastered the problem of the world—mastered the whole secret of these
delicious people. Possibly the checks they had devised for the increase of
population had succeeded too well, and their numbers had rather diminished than
kept stationary. That would account for the abandoned ruins. Very simple was my
explanation, and plausible enough—as most wrong theories are!
5
"As I stood there musing over this too
perfect triumph of man, the full moon, yellow and gibbous, came up out of an
overflow of silver light in the northeast. The bright little figures ceased to
move about below, a noiseless owl flitted by, and I shivered with the chill of
the night. I determined to descend and find where I could sleep.
"I
looked for the building I knew. Then my eye travelled along to the figure of
the White Sphinx upon the pedestal of bronze, growing distinct as the light of
the rising moon grew brighter. I could see the silver birch against it. There
was the tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, and there was
the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queer doubt chilled my
complacency. 'No,' said I stoutly to myself, 'that was not the lawn.'
"But
it was the lawn. For the white leprous face of the sphinx was towards it. Can
you imagine what I felt as this conviction came home to me? But you cannot. The
Time Machine was gone!
"At
once, like a lash across the face, came the possibility of losing my own age,
of being left helpless in this strange new world. The bare thought of it was an
actual physical sensation. I could feel it grip me at the throat and stop my
breathing. In another moment I was in a passion of fear and running with great
leaping strides down the slope. Once I fell headlong and cut my face; I lost no
time in stanching the blood, but jumped up and ran on, with a warm trickle down my cheek and chin. All the time I ran I was saying to myself, "They have moved it a little, pushed it under the bushes out of the way.' Nevertheless, I ran with all my might. All the time, with the certainty that sometimes comes with excessive dread, I knew that such assurance was folly, knew instinctively that the machine was removed out of my reach. My breath came with pain. I suppose I covered the whole distance from the hill crest to the little lawn, two miles, perhaps, in ten minutes. And I am not a young man. I cursed aloud, as I ran, at my confident folly in leaving the machine, wasting good breath thereby. I cried aloud, and none answered. Not a creature seemed to be stirring in that moonlit world.
"When I reached the lawn my worst fears were realised. Not a trace of the thing was to be seen. I felt faint and cold when I faced the empty space among the black tangle of bushes. I ran round it furiously, as if the thing might be hidden in a corner, and then stopped abruptly, with my hands clutching my hair. Above me towered the sphinx, upon the bronze pedestal, white, shining, leprous, in the light of the rising moon. It seemed to smile in mockery of my dismay.
"I might have consoled myself by imagining the little
the exquisite beauty of the buildings I saw
was the outcome of the last surgings of the now purposeless energy of mankind
before it settled down into perfect harmony with the conditions under which it
lived —the flourish of that triumph which began the last great peace. This has
ever been the fate of energy in security; it takes to art and to eroticism, and
then come languor and decay.
"Even this artistic impetus would at
last die away—had almost died in the Time I saw. To adorn themselves with
flowers, to dance, to sing in the sunlight; so much was left of the artistic
spirit, and no more. Even that would fade in the end into a contented inactivity.
We are kept keen on the grindstone of pain and necessity, and, it seemed to me,
that here was that hateful grindstone broken at last!
"As
I stood there in the gathering dark I thought that in this simple explanation I
had mastered the problem of the world—mastered the whole secret of these
delicious people. Possibly the checks they had devised for the increase of
population had succeeded too well, and their numbers had rather diminished than
kept stationary. That would account for the abandoned ruins. Very simple was my
explanation, and plausible enough—as most wrong theories are!
5
"As I stood there musing over this too
perfect triumph of man, the full moon, yellow and gibbous, came up out of an
overflow of silver light in the northeast. The bright little figures ceased to
move about below, a noiseless owl flitted by, and I shivered with the chill of
the night. I determined to descend and find where I could sleep.
"I
looked for the building I knew. Then my eye travelled along to the figure of
the White Sphinx upon the pedestal of bronze, growing distinct as the light of
the rising moon grew brighter. I could see the silver birch against it. There
was the tangle of rhododendron bushes, black in the pale light, and there was
the little lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queer doubt chilled my
complacency. 'No,' said I stoutly to myself, 'that was not the lawn.'
"But
it was the lawn. For the white leprous face of the sphinx was towards it. Can
you imagine what I felt as this conviction came home to me? But you cannot. The
Time Machine was gone!
"At
once, like a lash across the face, came the possibility of losing my own age,
of being left helpless in this strange new world. The bare thought of it was an
actual physical sensation. I could feel it grip me at the throat and stop my
breathing. In another moment I was in a passion of fear and running with great
leaping strides down the slope. Once I fell headlong and cut my face; I lost no
time in stanching the blood, but jumped up and ran on, with a warm trickle down my cheek and chin. All the time I ran I was saying to myself, "They have moved it a little, pushed it under the bushes out of the way.' Nevertheless, I ran with all my might. All the time, with the certainty that sometimes comes with excessive dread, I knew that such assurance was folly, knew instinctively that the machine was removed out of my reach. My breath came with pain. I suppose I covered the whole distance from the hill crest to the little lawn, two miles, perhaps, in ten minutes. And I am not a young man. I cursed aloud, as I ran, at my confident folly in leaving the machine, wasting good breath thereby. I cried aloud, and none answered. Not a creature seemed to be stirring in that moonlit world.
"When I reached the lawn my worst fears were realised. Not a trace of the thing was to be seen. I felt faint and cold when I faced the empty space among the black tangle of bushes. I ran round it furiously, as if the thing might be hidden in a corner, and then stopped abruptly, with my hands clutching my hair. Above me towered the sphinx, upon the bronze pedestal, white, shining, leprous, in the light of the rising moon. It seemed to smile in mockery of my dismay.
"I might have consoled myself by imagining the little
Similar Books
