October 1, 2025 • 8 mins
Step into the thrilling world of a Victorian scientist who believes he has unlocked the secrets of time travel. As he journeys to the distant future, he discovers humanity has diverged into two very different races the Eloi, delicate and carefree beings living above ground, and the Morlocks, sinister underground dwellers who once served the Eloi but now prey on their innocence. Will he uncover the truth behind this strange new world? Join us for a captivating exploration of evolution and survival. - Summary by Cliff Stone
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of The Time Machine by H. G. Wells.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by
Cliffstone of Sydney, Australia, Chapter sixteen. After the story I know,
he said, after a pause, that all this will be
(00:21):
absolutely incredible to you, But to me, the one incredible
thing is that I am here tonight, in this old,
familiar room, looking into your friendly faces and telling you
these strange adventures. He looked at the medical man. No,
I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as
a lie or a prophecy, say, I dreamed it in
(00:42):
the workshop. Consider I have been speculating upon the destinies
of our race until I have hatched this fiction. Treat
my assertion of its truth as a mere stroke of
art to enhance its interest, and taking it as a story.
What do you think of it? He took up his
pipe and began, in his old accustomed manner, to tap
(01:03):
it nervously upon the bars of the grate. There was
a momentary stillness. Then chairs began to creak, and shoes
to scrape upon the carpet. I took my eyes off
the time traveler's face and looked round at his audience.
They were in the dark, and little spots of color
swam before them. The medical man seemed absorbed in the
(01:25):
contemplation of our host. The editor was looking hard at
the end of his cigar the sixth. The journalist fumbled
for his watch. The others, as far as I remember,
were motionless. The editor stood up with a sigh. What
a petty it is. You're not a writer of stories,
he said, putting his hand on the time Traveler's shoulder.
(01:49):
You don't believe it, well, I thought not. The time
traveler turned to us. Where are the matches, he said?
He lit one and spoke over his pipe, puffing to
tell you the truth. I hardly believe it myself. And
yet his eye fell with a mute inquiry upon the
(02:11):
withered white flowers upon the little table. Then he turned
over the hand holding his pipe, and I saw he
was looking at some half healed scars on his knuckles.
The medical man rose, came to the lamp and examined
the flowers. The genaesium's odd, he said. The psychologist leant
forward to see, holding out his hand for a specimen.
(02:34):
I'm hanged if it isn't a quarter to one, said
the journalist. How shall we get home? Plenty of cabs
at the station, said the psychologist. It's a curious thing,
said the medical man. But I certainly don't know the
natural order of these flowers? May I have them? The
time traveler hesitated. Then suddenly, certainly not, where did you
(02:57):
really get them? Said the medical man. The time traveler
put his hand to his head. He spoke like one
who was trying to keep hold of an idea that
eluded him. They were put into my pocket by Wiener
when I traveled into time. He stared round the room.
I'm damned if it isn't all going. This room and
(03:18):
you and the atmosphere of every day is too much
for my memory. Did I ever make a time machine
or a model of a time machine? Or is it
all only a dream? They say life is a dream,
a precious, poor dream at times. But I can't stand
another that won't fit. It's madness. And where did the
dream come from? I must look at that machine, if
(03:39):
there is one. He caught up the lamp swiftly and
carried it, flaring red, through the door into the corridor.
We followed him. There. In the flickering light of the
lamp was the machine sure enough, squat ugly and askew,
a thing of brass, ebony, ivory and translucent, glimmering quartz,
solid to the top. Much for I put out my
(04:01):
hand and felt the rail of it, and with brown
spots and smears upon the ivory, and bits of grass
and moss upon the lower parts, and one rail bent
or rye. The time traveler put the lamp down on
the bench and ran his hand along the damaged rail.
It's all right now, he said. The story I told
you was true. I'm sorry to have brought you out
(04:24):
here in the cold. He took up the lamp, and
in an absolute silence, we returned to the smoking room.
He came into the hall with us and helped the
editor on with his coat. The medical man looked into
his face and, with a certain hesitation, told him he
was suffering from overwork, at which he laughed hugely. I
(04:44):
remember him standing in the open doorway, bawling good night.
I shared a cab with the editor. He thought to
tale a gaudy lie. For my own part, I was
unable to come to a conclusion. The story was so
fantast asticking incredible, the tellings so credible, and sober. I
lay awake most of the night thinking about it. I
(05:07):
determined to go next day and see the time traveler again.
I was told he was in the laboratory, and, being
on easy terms in the house, I went up to him.
The laboratory, however, was empty. I stared for a minute
at the time machine and put out my hand and
touched the lever. At that the squat substantial looking mass
(05:27):
swayed like a bough shaken by the wind. Its instability
startled me extremely, and I had a queer reminiscence of
the childish days when I used to be forbidden to meddle.
I came back through the corridor. The time traveler met
me in the smoking room. He was coming from the house.
He had a small camera under one arm and a
(05:48):
knapsack under the other. He laughed when he saw me
and gave me an elbow to shake. I'm frightfully busy,
said he with that thing in there? But is it
not some hoax? I said, do you really travel through time? Really?
And truly I do? And he looked frankly into my eyes.
He hesitated his eye wandered about the room. I only
(06:11):
want half an hour, he said, I know why you came,
and it's awfully good of you. There's some magazines here.
If you'll stop to lunch, i'll prove you this time
traveling up to the hilt, specimens and all, if you'll
forgive my leaving you now. I consented, hardly comprehending then
the full import of his words, and he nodded and
went on down the corridor. I heard the door of
(06:34):
the laboratory slam, seated myself in a chair and took
up a daily paper. What was he going to do
before lunch time? Then suddenly I was reminded by an
advertisement that I had promised to meet Richardson, the publisher,
at two. I looked at my watch and saw that
I could barely save that engagement. I got up and
(06:54):
went down the passage to tell the time traveler. As
I took hold of the handle of the door, I
heard an exclamation oddly truncated at the end, and a
click and a thud. A gust of air whirled round
me as I opened the door, and from within came
the sound of broken glass falling on the floor. The
time traveler was not there. I seemed to see a
(07:17):
ghostly indistinct figure sitting in a whirling mass of black
and brass for a moment, a figure so transparent that
the bench behind, with its sheets of drawings was absolutely distinct.
But this phantasm vanished as I rubbed my eyes. The
time machine had gone, save for a subsiding stir of dust.
(07:38):
The further end of the laboratory was empty. A pane
of the skylight had apparently just been blown in. I
felt an unreasonable amazement. I knew that something strange had happened,
and for the moment could not distinguish what the strange
thing might be. As I stood staring, the door into
the garden opened, and the man surfing it appeared. We
(08:01):
looked at each other. Then ideas began to come. Has
mister gone out that way? Said I, No, sir, no
one has come out this way. I was expecting to
find him here. At that, I understood. At the risk
of disappointing Richardson, I stayed on, waiting for the time traveler,
(08:22):
waiting for the second perhaps still Stranger's story and the
specimens and photographs he would bring with him. But I
am beginning now to fear that I must wait a lifetime.
The time traveler vanished three years ago, and as everybody
knows now, he has never returned. End of chapter sixteen.
Chapter sixteen of The Time Machine by H. G. Wells.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by
Cliffstone of Sydney, Australia, Chapter sixteen. After the story I know,
he said, after a pause, that all this will be
(00:21):
absolutely incredible to you, But to me, the one incredible
thing is that I am here tonight, in this old,
familiar room, looking into your friendly faces and telling you
these strange adventures. He looked at the medical man. No,
I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as
a lie or a prophecy, say, I dreamed it in
(00:42):
the workshop. Consider I have been speculating upon the destinies
of our race until I have hatched this fiction. Treat
my assertion of its truth as a mere stroke of
art to enhance its interest, and taking it as a story.
What do you think of it? He took up his
pipe and began, in his old accustomed manner, to tap
(01:03):
it nervously upon the bars of the grate. There was
a momentary stillness. Then chairs began to creak, and shoes
to scrape upon the carpet. I took my eyes off
the time traveler's face and looked round at his audience.
They were in the dark, and little spots of color
swam before them. The medical man seemed absorbed in the
(01:25):
contemplation of our host. The editor was looking hard at
the end of his cigar the sixth. The journalist fumbled
for his watch. The others, as far as I remember,
were motionless. The editor stood up with a sigh. What
a petty it is. You're not a writer of stories,
he said, putting his hand on the time Traveler's shoulder.
(01:49):
You don't believe it, well, I thought not. The time
traveler turned to us. Where are the matches, he said?
He lit one and spoke over his pipe, puffing to
tell you the truth. I hardly believe it myself. And
yet his eye fell with a mute inquiry upon the
(02:11):
withered white flowers upon the little table. Then he turned
over the hand holding his pipe, and I saw he
was looking at some half healed scars on his knuckles.
The medical man rose, came to the lamp and examined
the flowers. The genaesium's odd, he said. The psychologist leant
forward to see, holding out his hand for a specimen.
(02:34):
I'm hanged if it isn't a quarter to one, said
the journalist. How shall we get home? Plenty of cabs
at the station, said the psychologist. It's a curious thing,
said the medical man. But I certainly don't know the
natural order of these flowers? May I have them? The
time traveler hesitated. Then suddenly, certainly not, where did you
(02:57):
really get them? Said the medical man. The time traveler
put his hand to his head. He spoke like one
who was trying to keep hold of an idea that
eluded him. They were put into my pocket by Wiener
when I traveled into time. He stared round the room.
I'm damned if it isn't all going. This room and
(03:18):
you and the atmosphere of every day is too much
for my memory. Did I ever make a time machine
or a model of a time machine? Or is it
all only a dream? They say life is a dream,
a precious, poor dream at times. But I can't stand
another that won't fit. It's madness. And where did the
dream come from? I must look at that machine, if
(03:39):
there is one. He caught up the lamp swiftly and
carried it, flaring red, through the door into the corridor.
We followed him. There. In the flickering light of the
lamp was the machine sure enough, squat ugly and askew,
a thing of brass, ebony, ivory and translucent, glimmering quartz,
solid to the top. Much for I put out my
(04:01):
hand and felt the rail of it, and with brown
spots and smears upon the ivory, and bits of grass
and moss upon the lower parts, and one rail bent
or rye. The time traveler put the lamp down on
the bench and ran his hand along the damaged rail.
It's all right now, he said. The story I told
you was true. I'm sorry to have brought you out
(04:24):
here in the cold. He took up the lamp, and
in an absolute silence, we returned to the smoking room.
He came into the hall with us and helped the
editor on with his coat. The medical man looked into
his face and, with a certain hesitation, told him he
was suffering from overwork, at which he laughed hugely. I
(04:44):
remember him standing in the open doorway, bawling good night.
I shared a cab with the editor. He thought to
tale a gaudy lie. For my own part, I was
unable to come to a conclusion. The story was so
fantast asticking incredible, the tellings so credible, and sober. I
lay awake most of the night thinking about it. I
(05:07):
determined to go next day and see the time traveler again.
I was told he was in the laboratory, and, being
on easy terms in the house, I went up to him.
The laboratory, however, was empty. I stared for a minute
at the time machine and put out my hand and
touched the lever. At that the squat substantial looking mass
(05:27):
swayed like a bough shaken by the wind. Its instability
startled me extremely, and I had a queer reminiscence of
the childish days when I used to be forbidden to meddle.
I came back through the corridor. The time traveler met
me in the smoking room. He was coming from the house.
He had a small camera under one arm and a
(05:48):
knapsack under the other. He laughed when he saw me
and gave me an elbow to shake. I'm frightfully busy,
said he with that thing in there? But is it
not some hoax? I said, do you really travel through time? Really?
And truly I do? And he looked frankly into my eyes.
He hesitated his eye wandered about the room. I only
(06:11):
want half an hour, he said, I know why you came,
and it's awfully good of you. There's some magazines here.
If you'll stop to lunch, i'll prove you this time
traveling up to the hilt, specimens and all, if you'll
forgive my leaving you now. I consented, hardly comprehending then
the full import of his words, and he nodded and
went on down the corridor. I heard the door of
(06:34):
the laboratory slam, seated myself in a chair and took
up a daily paper. What was he going to do
before lunch time? Then suddenly I was reminded by an
advertisement that I had promised to meet Richardson, the publisher,
at two. I looked at my watch and saw that
I could barely save that engagement. I got up and
(06:54):
went down the passage to tell the time traveler. As
I took hold of the handle of the door, I
heard an exclamation oddly truncated at the end, and a
click and a thud. A gust of air whirled round
me as I opened the door, and from within came
the sound of broken glass falling on the floor. The
time traveler was not there. I seemed to see a
(07:17):
ghostly indistinct figure sitting in a whirling mass of black
and brass for a moment, a figure so transparent that
the bench behind, with its sheets of drawings was absolutely distinct.
But this phantasm vanished as I rubbed my eyes. The
time machine had gone, save for a subsiding stir of dust.
(07:38):
The further end of the laboratory was empty. A pane
of the skylight had apparently just been blown in. I
felt an unreasonable amazement. I knew that something strange had happened,
and for the moment could not distinguish what the strange
thing might be. As I stood staring, the door into
the garden opened, and the man surfing it appeared. We
(08:01):
looked at each other. Then ideas began to come. Has
mister gone out that way? Said I, No, sir, no
one has come out this way. I was expecting to
find him here. At that, I understood. At the risk
of disappointing Richardson, I stayed on, waiting for the time traveler,
(08:22):
waiting for the second perhaps still Stranger's story and the
specimens and photographs he would bring with him. But I
am beginning now to fear that I must wait a lifetime.
The time traveler vanished three years ago, and as everybody
knows now, he has never returned. End of chapter sixteen.
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