September 6, 2025 • 8 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
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
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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
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/just-reads--6173738/support.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Time Traveler by h. Ye Wells, chapter sixteen. After
the story I Know, he said, after a pause, that
all this will be absolutely incredible to you, But to me,
the one incredible thing is that I'm here tonight, in
this old, familiar room, looking directly into your faces and
telling you these strange adventures. He looked at the medical man. No,
(00:22):
I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as
a lie or prophecy. So I dreamed it in the workshop.
Consider I've been speculating upon the destinies of our race
and life, hatched this fiction. Treat my assertion of it
as truth, as a mere stroke of art to enhance
its interest, and taking it as a story, What do
(00:43):
you think of it? You took up his pipe and began,
in his old accustomed manner, to tap it nervously upon
the bars of the grate. There was a momentary stillness,
and chairs began to creak, and shoose began to scrape
upon the carpet. I took my eyes off the Time
Traveler's face and looked around at his audience. They were
(01:04):
in the dark, and little spots of color swam before them.
The medical man seemed absorbed in the 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 can remember, were motionless. The editor
(01:25):
stood up with a sigh. What a pity it is.
You're not a writer's stories, he said, putting his hand
on the time Traveler's shoulder. You don't believe it, well,
I thought not. The time traveler turned to us. Where
are the matches, he said, and lit one and spoke
over his pipe, puffing, I tell you the truth. I
(01:47):
hardly believed it myself, and yet his eye fell with
a mute inquiry upon the withered white flowers upon the table.
Then he turned over the hand holding his pipe, and
I saw he was looking at some half heeled scars
on his knuckle. The medical man rose and came to
the lamp and examined the flowers. This guy's seen hims old,
(02:08):
he said. The psychologist leant forward to see, holding out
his hand for the specimen. I'm hanged if it isn't
a quarter to while, said the journalist. How shall we
get home? Plenty of cabs in the station, said the psychologist.
Securious thing, said the medical man. But I certainly don't
know the natural order of these flowers may have them.
(02:28):
The time traveler hesitated. Then suddenly, certainly, not where do
you really get them? Said the medical man. The time
traveler put his hand to his head, and he spoke
like one who was trying to keep hold of an
idea that eluded him. They were put into my pocket
by we know when I traveled into time. He stared
(02:50):
around the room. I'm damned if it is not all
going this room and new in the atmosphere of every
day is too much for my memory. Did I ever
make a time machine or model of a time machine?
Or is it all only a dream? They say life
is a dream, a precious poor dream. At times I
can't stand another that won't fit. It's madness. Where did
(03:13):
this dream come from? Let's look at the machine, if
there is one. He caught up the lamp swiftly and
carried it, flaring red, through the door into the corridor.
We followed him, and there then the flickering light of
the lamp was the machine, sure enough, squat ugly and
a skew thing of brass, ebony and ivory, and translucent,
(03:33):
glimmering quartz solid to the touch. But I put my
hand out and felt the rail of it, and with
brown spots and smears upon the ivory, and bits of
grass and moss upon the lower part, and one rail
bent her eye. 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
(03:54):
you is true. I'm sorry to abort you out here
in the cold. He took up his 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 remember
(04:17):
him standing in the open doorway, balling good night. I
shared a cab with the editor. He thought the tailor
gaudy laie. For my own part, I was unable to
come to a conclusion. The story was so fantastic and
incredible at telling, so credible and sober. I lay awake
most of the night thinking about it. I determined to
(04:40):
go the 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 quite empty. I slipped her a
minute and the time machine and put my hand out
and touched the lever. At that the squat substantial looking
mass swayed like a bow shaken in the wind. Its
(05:03):
instability startled me extremely, and I had the queer reminiscence
of the childish days when I used to be forbidden
to meddle. I came back into 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 knapsack under the other. He laughed when
he saw me, and he gave me an elbow to shake.
(05:23):
I'm frightfully busy, said he with that thing in there,
But was it not some hoax? I said, do you
really travel through time? Really? And truly I do? And
he looked frankly into my eyes, and he hesitated. His
eyes wandered about the room. I only want half an hour,
(05:45):
he said, I know why you came, and it's aortly
good of you. There's some magazines here. If you stop
to lunch, I'll prove to you this time traveling up
to the hilt, specimens and all, if you'll forgive my
leaving you now. I consented, hardly comprehending the full import
of his words, and he nodded and went on down
the corridor. I heard the door of the laboratory slam,
(06:08):
and seated myself in a chair and took up a
daily paper. What was he going to do before lunchtime?
Then suddenly I was reminded by an advertisement. I had
promised to meet Richardson, the publisher at two. I looked
at my watch and saw that I could barely make
that engagement. I got up and went down to the
passage to tell the time traveler. As I took hold
(06:29):
of the door, I heard an exclamation oddly truncated at
the end, and a click and a thud. A gust
of air whirled around 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 ghostly and distinct figure sitting in
a whirling mass of black and brass for a moment,
(06:51):
a figure so transparent that the bench behind it with
the sheets of drawings was absolutely distinct, But this phantasm
van As I dropped my eyes, the time machine had gone.
Save for a subsiding stir of dust, the further end
of the laboratory was empty. A pane of the skylight
(07:12):
had apparently just been blown in. I felt unreasonable amazement.
I knew that something strange had happened, and for the
moment could not distinguish what the strange thing might be.
So I stood staring at the door into the garden opened,
and the man servant appeared. We looked at each other,
(07:35):
and ideas began to come. As he had gone out
that way, said I, No, no, so no one's come
out this way. I was expecting to find him here.
At that I understood, and the risk of disappointing Richardson,
I stayed on, waiting for the time Traveler, waiting for
his second perhaps still Stranger's story and the specimens and
(07:59):
the photographs he will bring with him. Where I'm beginning
to fear now I must wait a lifetime. The time
Traveler vanished three years ago, and as everybody knows, he
has never returned.
The Time Traveler by h. Ye Wells, chapter sixteen. After
the story I Know, he said, after a pause, that
all this will be absolutely incredible to you, But to me,
the one incredible thing is that I'm here tonight, in
this old, familiar room, looking directly into your faces and
telling you these strange adventures. He looked at the medical man. No,
(00:22):
I cannot expect you to believe it. Take it as
a lie or prophecy. So I dreamed it in the workshop.
Consider I've been speculating upon the destinies of our race
and life, hatched this fiction. Treat my assertion of it
as truth, as a mere stroke of art to enhance
its interest, and taking it as a story, What do
(00:43):
you think of it? You took up his pipe and began,
in his old accustomed manner, to tap it nervously upon
the bars of the grate. There was a momentary stillness,
and chairs began to creak, and shoose began to scrape
upon the carpet. I took my eyes off the Time
Traveler's face and looked around at his audience. They were
(01:04):
in the dark, and little spots of color swam before them.
The medical man seemed absorbed in the 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 can remember, were motionless. The editor
(01:25):
stood up with a sigh. What a pity it is.
You're not a writer's stories, he said, putting his hand
on the time Traveler's shoulder. You don't believe it, well,
I thought not. The time traveler turned to us. Where
are the matches, he said, and lit one and spoke
over his pipe, puffing, I tell you the truth. I
(01:47):
hardly believed it myself, and yet his eye fell with
a mute inquiry upon the withered white flowers upon the table.
Then he turned over the hand holding his pipe, and
I saw he was looking at some half heeled scars
on his knuckle. The medical man rose and came to
the lamp and examined the flowers. This guy's seen hims old,
(02:08):
he said. The psychologist leant forward to see, holding out
his hand for the specimen. I'm hanged if it isn't
a quarter to while, said the journalist. How shall we
get home? Plenty of cabs in the station, said the psychologist.
Securious thing, said the medical man. But I certainly don't
know the natural order of these flowers may have them.
(02:28):
The time traveler hesitated. Then suddenly, certainly, not where do
you really get them? Said the medical man. The time
traveler put his hand to his head, and he spoke
like one who was trying to keep hold of an
idea that eluded him. They were put into my pocket
by we know when I traveled into time. He stared
(02:50):
around the room. I'm damned if it is not all
going this room and new in the atmosphere of every
day is too much for my memory. Did I ever
make a time machine or model of a time machine?
Or is it all only a dream? They say life
is a dream, a precious poor dream. At times I
can't stand another that won't fit. It's madness. Where did
(03:13):
this dream come from? Let's look at the machine, if
there is one. He caught up the lamp swiftly and
carried it, flaring red, through the door into the corridor.
We followed him, and there then the flickering light of
the lamp was the machine, sure enough, squat ugly and
a skew thing of brass, ebony and ivory, and translucent,
(03:33):
glimmering quartz solid to the touch. But I put my
hand out and felt the rail of it, and with
brown spots and smears upon the ivory, and bits of
grass and moss upon the lower part, and one rail
bent her eye. 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
(03:54):
you is true. I'm sorry to abort you out here
in the cold. He took up his 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 remember
(04:17):
him standing in the open doorway, balling good night. I
shared a cab with the editor. He thought the tailor
gaudy laie. For my own part, I was unable to
come to a conclusion. The story was so fantastic and
incredible at telling, so credible and sober. I lay awake
most of the night thinking about it. I determined to
(04:40):
go the 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 quite empty. I slipped her a
minute and the time machine and put my hand out
and touched the lever. At that the squat substantial looking
mass swayed like a bow shaken in the wind. Its
(05:03):
instability startled me extremely, and I had the queer reminiscence
of the childish days when I used to be forbidden
to meddle. I came back into 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 knapsack under the other. He laughed when
he saw me, and he gave me an elbow to shake.
(05:23):
I'm frightfully busy, said he with that thing in there,
But was it not some hoax? I said, do you
really travel through time? Really? And truly I do? And
he looked frankly into my eyes, and he hesitated. His
eyes wandered about the room. I only want half an hour,
(05:45):
he said, I know why you came, and it's aortly
good of you. There's some magazines here. If you stop
to lunch, I'll prove to you this time traveling up
to the hilt, specimens and all, if you'll forgive my
leaving you now. I consented, hardly comprehending the full import
of his words, and he nodded and went on down
the corridor. I heard the door of the laboratory slam,
(06:08):
and seated myself in a chair and took up a
daily paper. What was he going to do before lunchtime?
Then suddenly I was reminded by an advertisement. I had
promised to meet Richardson, the publisher at two. I looked
at my watch and saw that I could barely make
that engagement. I got up and went down to the
passage to tell the time traveler. As I took hold
(06:29):
of the door, I heard an exclamation oddly truncated at
the end, and a click and a thud. A gust
of air whirled around 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 ghostly and distinct figure sitting in
a whirling mass of black and brass for a moment,
(06:51):
a figure so transparent that the bench behind it with
the sheets of drawings was absolutely distinct, But this phantasm
van As I dropped my eyes, the time machine had gone.
Save for a subsiding stir of dust, the further end
of the laboratory was empty. A pane of the skylight
(07:12):
had apparently just been blown in. I felt unreasonable amazement.
I knew that something strange had happened, and for the
moment could not distinguish what the strange thing might be.
So I stood staring at the door into the garden opened,
and the man servant appeared. We looked at each other,
(07:35):
and ideas began to come. As he had gone out
that way, said I, No, no, so no one's come
out this way. I was expecting to find him here.
At that I understood, and the risk of disappointing Richardson,
I stayed on, waiting for the time Traveler, waiting for
his second perhaps still Stranger's story and the specimens and
(07:59):
the photographs he will bring with him. Where I'm beginning
to fear now I must wait a lifetime. The time
Traveler vanished three years ago, and as everybody knows, he
has never returned.
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