shoved it open. It smashed into the guide and sent him sprawling. Then H.G. vaulted out of the machine and hurdled the rope barrier. The people got out of his way, some laughing with surprise. He raced out of the room and soon was lost in a maze of hallways and corridors. He heard whistles blowing behind him as security guards gave chase.
He had never been so terrified in his entire life.
Â
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He came to a fire door marked âEmergency Exitâ and pushed through it. An automatic fire alarm went off which further added to the confusion of the guards, for now they had to evacuate the building.
H.G. hurried down a short flight of stairs and found himself moving past a series of basement rooms full of old display cases, broken pedestals and antique junk no longer deemed worthy of the hallowed
rooms upstairs. He saw lights from the bend in the corridor, but heard no voices. He continued past the junction in the corridor and eventually saw an exit.
He went outside, then up a flight of stairs to a concrete walk. He moved away from the museum and tried to appear casual even though he heard an uproar as the guards were evacuating people out the front doors. The path led him into some trees, and once the museum was out of sight, he was relieved.
He noticed that the weather was similar to the atmospheric conditions which plagued London. The sky was overcast and a light fog was blowing through the trees, although the temperature was slightly higher and the humidity less than Londonâs. But the air smelled funnyâit lacked the distinctive flavor of burning coal.
He went down a curve of rustic steps, through a gateway and discovered that he was in a Japanese garden. He felt more relaxed and paused to admire the beauty of the flowers and the exquisite colors of the large carp in the ponds. He touched a bonsai tree, smiled and was somewhat reassured. Up Park (the estate where his mother lived and worked) had a garden like this one, only much smaller and not as elaborate. It lacked the arched bridges and the curious little shrines. Nevertheless, he recalled that he used to read there and write an amateur newspaper which was distributed among the domestics under his motherâs charge. He wiped away a wistful, emotional tear. Those were the gentle, idle days when he was recovering from the traumas of abortive apprenticeships. And those days were no more.
Suddenly he squared his shoulders and turned his back on the bonsai tree. The garden was beautifulâno more and no less. He should accept that as a sign that 1979 was both an old world and a new one; a world that combined the good things of the past with the better things of the future/present which he hadnât seen yet. He did admit to himself, however, that it was nice to know that the
world still abounded with flowers and trees and grass and other pastoral forms of life. He resumed walking, following a path which led around the main pond and presumably out of the garden.
A high-pitched distant whine came from behind him. He turned. The noise grew louder and rolled past him like thunder. He grimaced, put his hands over his ears and dropped to his knees. Then he looked up and to his astonishment saw a giant, metallic machine with large, sleek wings, cone-shaped engines, porthole windows and blue and white markings. It was descending through the sky, defying gravity. Good God, what was this? Hadnât Icarus fallen into the Aegean Sea?
H.G. stood and half ran through the gardens following the huge airship until it dropped out of sight and its sound became a dull roar. He bubbled with laughter; he raised and shook his fist triumphantly. Man had been trying to fly since the days of the Greek empire. After thousands of years, man had succeeded. The immense flying machine was proof of what H.G. had been espousing all along: science and technology definitely meant ease, comfort and progress.
He felt something nibbling at his feet and looked down. He was
He had never been so terrified in his entire life.
Â
Â
He came to a fire door marked âEmergency Exitâ and pushed through it. An automatic fire alarm went off which further added to the confusion of the guards, for now they had to evacuate the building.
H.G. hurried down a short flight of stairs and found himself moving past a series of basement rooms full of old display cases, broken pedestals and antique junk no longer deemed worthy of the hallowed
rooms upstairs. He saw lights from the bend in the corridor, but heard no voices. He continued past the junction in the corridor and eventually saw an exit.
He went outside, then up a flight of stairs to a concrete walk. He moved away from the museum and tried to appear casual even though he heard an uproar as the guards were evacuating people out the front doors. The path led him into some trees, and once the museum was out of sight, he was relieved.
He noticed that the weather was similar to the atmospheric conditions which plagued London. The sky was overcast and a light fog was blowing through the trees, although the temperature was slightly higher and the humidity less than Londonâs. But the air smelled funnyâit lacked the distinctive flavor of burning coal.
He went down a curve of rustic steps, through a gateway and discovered that he was in a Japanese garden. He felt more relaxed and paused to admire the beauty of the flowers and the exquisite colors of the large carp in the ponds. He touched a bonsai tree, smiled and was somewhat reassured. Up Park (the estate where his mother lived and worked) had a garden like this one, only much smaller and not as elaborate. It lacked the arched bridges and the curious little shrines. Nevertheless, he recalled that he used to read there and write an amateur newspaper which was distributed among the domestics under his motherâs charge. He wiped away a wistful, emotional tear. Those were the gentle, idle days when he was recovering from the traumas of abortive apprenticeships. And those days were no more.
Suddenly he squared his shoulders and turned his back on the bonsai tree. The garden was beautifulâno more and no less. He should accept that as a sign that 1979 was both an old world and a new one; a world that combined the good things of the past with the better things of the future/present which he hadnât seen yet. He did admit to himself, however, that it was nice to know that the
world still abounded with flowers and trees and grass and other pastoral forms of life. He resumed walking, following a path which led around the main pond and presumably out of the garden.
A high-pitched distant whine came from behind him. He turned. The noise grew louder and rolled past him like thunder. He grimaced, put his hands over his ears and dropped to his knees. Then he looked up and to his astonishment saw a giant, metallic machine with large, sleek wings, cone-shaped engines, porthole windows and blue and white markings. It was descending through the sky, defying gravity. Good God, what was this? Hadnât Icarus fallen into the Aegean Sea?
H.G. stood and half ran through the gardens following the huge airship until it dropped out of sight and its sound became a dull roar. He bubbled with laughter; he raised and shook his fist triumphantly. Man had been trying to fly since the days of the Greek empire. After thousands of years, man had succeeded. The immense flying machine was proof of what H.G. had been espousing all along: science and technology definitely meant ease, comfort and progress.
He felt something nibbling at his feet and looked down. He was
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