August 16, 2025 • 6 mins
The Time Machine is an 1895 dystopian post-apocalyptic science fiction novella by H. G. Wells about a Victorian scientist known as the Time Traveller who travels to the year 802,701. The work is generally credited with the popularization of the concept of time travel by using a vehicle or device to travel purposely and selectively forward or backward through time. The term "time machine", coined by Wells, is now almost universally used to refer to such a vehicle or device.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Time Machine by H. Y Wells, Chapter thirteen, The
Trap of the White Sphinx. About eight or nine in
the morning I came to the same seat of yellow
metal from which I had viewed the world upon the
evening of my arrival. I thought of my hasty conclusions
upon that evening, and could not refrain from laughing bitterly
in my confidence. Here was the same beautiful scene, the
(00:23):
same abundant foliage, the same splendid palaces and magnificent ruins,
the same silver river running between its fertile banks. The
gay robes of the beautiful people moved hither and thither
among the trees. Some were bathing in exactly the place
where I had saved Weena, and that suddenly gave me
(00:44):
a kelean stab of pain. And like the blots and
the landscape rosicupolas above the way of the underworld, I
understood now what the beauty of the overworld people covered.
Very pleasant. Was the day as pleasant as the day
of the cattle in the field. Like the cattle, they
knew of no enemies, and provided against no needs, and
(01:06):
their end was the same. I grieved to think how
brief the dream of human intellect had been as had
committed suicide. It had set itself steadfastly towards comfort and ease,
a balanced society with security and permanency as its watchword.
It had attained its hopes to come at last to
(01:30):
this Once life and prosperity must have reached an almost
absolute safety. The rich had been assured of his wealth
and comfort, the toilet assured of his life and work.
No doubt. In that perfect world there been no unemployed problem,
no social question left unanswered. A great quiet had followed.
(01:56):
It's the law of nature that we overlook that intellectual
versatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble. An
animal in perfect harmony with its environment is a perfect mechanism.
Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless.
There is no intelligence where there is no change and
(02:16):
no need of change. Only those animals partake of intelligence
that have the need to meet a huge variety of
needs and dangers. So, as I see it, the upper
world man had drifted towards his feeble prettiness, and the
underworld to mere mechanical industry. But that perfect state had
(02:37):
lacked one thing even from mechanical perfection, absolute permanency. Apparently,
as time wents on, the feeding of the underworld, know
however it was affected, had become disjointed. Mother Necessity, who
had been staved off for a few thousand years, came
back again, and she began below the underworld, being in
contact with machinery, which, however perfect, still needs some little thought.
(03:01):
Outside Habit had probably retained perforce rather more initiative, if
less of every other human character than the upper And
when the meat failed them, they turned to that which
old habit had hitherto forbidden. So I say I saw
in my last view of the world of eight hundred
(03:22):
and two thousand, seven hundred and one. It may be
as wrong as an explanation as a mortal wit could invent.
This is how the thing shaped itself to me, and
that's how I give it to you. After the fatigues, excitements,
and terrors of the past few days, and in spite
of my grief, this seat and the tranquil view of
the warm sunlight were very pleasant. I was very tired
(03:44):
and sleepy, and soon my theorizing passed into dozing. Catching
myself at that, I took my own hint and spreading
myself out upon the turf. I had a long and
refreshing sleep. I woke a little before sunsetting. I now oh,
I felt safe against being caught napping by the Morlocks,
and stretching myself. I came down the hill towards the
(04:06):
White Sphinx. I had my crowbar in one hand, and
on the other hand played with the matches in my pocket.
And now came a most unexpected thing. As I approached
the pedestal of the Sphinx, I found the bronze valves
or open. They had slid down into grooves at the
I stopped short before them, hesitating to enter. Within was
(04:30):
a small apartment, and raised on place. In the corner
of this was the time machine. I had the small
levers in my pocket, so here, after all my elaborate
preparations for the siege of the White Sphinx, was a
meek surrender. I threw my iron bar away. I was
almost soddy not to use it. Some thought came into
(04:53):
my head as I stooped towards the portal. For once
at least I grasped the mental operations of the morlocks.
Suppressing a strong inclination to laugh, I stepped through the
bronze frame and up to the time machine. I was
surprised to find it had been cleaned and carefully oiled.
I suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially taken
it to pieces whilst trying in their dim way to
(05:16):
grasp its purpose. Now, as I stood and examined it,
finding a pleasure in the mere touch of the contrivance,
the thing I had expected happened. The bronze panels suddenly
slid up from the floor and struck the frame with
a clang. I was in the dark. I was trapped,
(05:36):
or so the morlocks taught that. I chuckled gleefully. I
could already hear their murmuring laughter as they came towards me.
Very calmly, I tried to strike a match. I had
only to fix on the levers and depart then like
a ghost. But I had overlooked one little thing. The
matches were of that abominable kind that only light on
(05:57):
the box. You may mentione how or my calm vanished.
The little brutes were close upon me. One touched me.
I made a sweeping blow in the dark at them
with the levers, and began to scramble into the saddle.
Little machine then came one hand upon me, and then another.
I simply had to fight against their persistent fingers from
my levers, and at the same time feel for the
studs over which these fitted. One Indeed, they almost got
(06:21):
away from me. As it slipped from my hand. I
had to butt in the dark with my head. I
could hear the morlock's skull ring to recover it. It
was a nearer thing than the fight in the forest,
I think, this last scramble. But at last the lever
was fixed and pulled over. The clinging hands slipped from me.
The darkness presently fell from my eyes. I found myself
(06:41):
in the same gray light and tumult that I have
already described
The Time Machine by H. Y Wells, Chapter thirteen, The
Trap of the White Sphinx. About eight or nine in
the morning I came to the same seat of yellow
metal from which I had viewed the world upon the
evening of my arrival. I thought of my hasty conclusions
upon that evening, and could not refrain from laughing bitterly
in my confidence. Here was the same beautiful scene, the
(00:23):
same abundant foliage, the same splendid palaces and magnificent ruins,
the same silver river running between its fertile banks. The
gay robes of the beautiful people moved hither and thither
among the trees. Some were bathing in exactly the place
where I had saved Weena, and that suddenly gave me
(00:44):
a kelean stab of pain. And like the blots and
the landscape rosicupolas above the way of the underworld, I
understood now what the beauty of the overworld people covered.
Very pleasant. Was the day as pleasant as the day
of the cattle in the field. Like the cattle, they
knew of no enemies, and provided against no needs, and
(01:06):
their end was the same. I grieved to think how
brief the dream of human intellect had been as had
committed suicide. It had set itself steadfastly towards comfort and ease,
a balanced society with security and permanency as its watchword.
It had attained its hopes to come at last to
(01:30):
this Once life and prosperity must have reached an almost
absolute safety. The rich had been assured of his wealth
and comfort, the toilet assured of his life and work.
No doubt. In that perfect world there been no unemployed problem,
no social question left unanswered. A great quiet had followed.
(01:56):
It's the law of nature that we overlook that intellectual
versatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble. An
animal in perfect harmony with its environment is a perfect mechanism.
Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless.
There is no intelligence where there is no change and
(02:16):
no need of change. Only those animals partake of intelligence
that have the need to meet a huge variety of
needs and dangers. So, as I see it, the upper
world man had drifted towards his feeble prettiness, and the
underworld to mere mechanical industry. But that perfect state had
(02:37):
lacked one thing even from mechanical perfection, absolute permanency. Apparently,
as time wents on, the feeding of the underworld, know
however it was affected, had become disjointed. Mother Necessity, who
had been staved off for a few thousand years, came
back again, and she began below the underworld, being in
contact with machinery, which, however perfect, still needs some little thought.
(03:01):
Outside Habit had probably retained perforce rather more initiative, if
less of every other human character than the upper And
when the meat failed them, they turned to that which
old habit had hitherto forbidden. So I say I saw
in my last view of the world of eight hundred
(03:22):
and two thousand, seven hundred and one. It may be
as wrong as an explanation as a mortal wit could invent.
This is how the thing shaped itself to me, and
that's how I give it to you. After the fatigues, excitements,
and terrors of the past few days, and in spite
of my grief, this seat and the tranquil view of
the warm sunlight were very pleasant. I was very tired
(03:44):
and sleepy, and soon my theorizing passed into dozing. Catching
myself at that, I took my own hint and spreading
myself out upon the turf. I had a long and
refreshing sleep. I woke a little before sunsetting. I now oh,
I felt safe against being caught napping by the Morlocks,
and stretching myself. I came down the hill towards the
(04:06):
White Sphinx. I had my crowbar in one hand, and
on the other hand played with the matches in my pocket.
And now came a most unexpected thing. As I approached
the pedestal of the Sphinx, I found the bronze valves
or open. They had slid down into grooves at the
I stopped short before them, hesitating to enter. Within was
(04:30):
a small apartment, and raised on place. In the corner
of this was the time machine. I had the small
levers in my pocket, so here, after all my elaborate
preparations for the siege of the White Sphinx, was a
meek surrender. I threw my iron bar away. I was
almost soddy not to use it. Some thought came into
(04:53):
my head as I stooped towards the portal. For once
at least I grasped the mental operations of the morlocks.
Suppressing a strong inclination to laugh, I stepped through the
bronze frame and up to the time machine. I was
surprised to find it had been cleaned and carefully oiled.
I suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially taken
it to pieces whilst trying in their dim way to
(05:16):
grasp its purpose. Now, as I stood and examined it,
finding a pleasure in the mere touch of the contrivance,
the thing I had expected happened. The bronze panels suddenly
slid up from the floor and struck the frame with
a clang. I was in the dark. I was trapped,
(05:36):
or so the morlocks taught that. I chuckled gleefully. I
could already hear their murmuring laughter as they came towards me.
Very calmly, I tried to strike a match. I had
only to fix on the levers and depart then like
a ghost. But I had overlooked one little thing. The
matches were of that abominable kind that only light on
(05:57):
the box. You may mentione how or my calm vanished.
The little brutes were close upon me. One touched me.
I made a sweeping blow in the dark at them
with the levers, and began to scramble into the saddle.
Little machine then came one hand upon me, and then another.
I simply had to fight against their persistent fingers from
my levers, and at the same time feel for the
studs over which these fitted. One Indeed, they almost got
(06:21):
away from me. As it slipped from my hand. I
had to butt in the dark with my head. I
could hear the morlock's skull ring to recover it. It
was a nearer thing than the fight in the forest,
I think, this last scramble. But at last the lever
was fixed and pulled over. The clinging hands slipped from me.
The darkness presently fell from my eyes. I found myself
(06:41):
in the same gray light and tumult that I have
already described
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