The Space Machine

i

We lay still, side by side, for a long time. Although Amelia had selected those plants she judged to be the driest of sap, we discovered that they were seeping beneath us. In addition, the slightest movement allowed the air to drift in from outside. I dozed for a while, but I cannot speak for Amelia.

Then, awakened by the insidious cold which was attacking my feet and legs, I felt Amelia stiffen beside me.

She said: “Edward, are we to die out here?”

“I think not,” I said at once, for during the day the possibility had often occurred to me, and I had been trying to think of some reassurance to offer her. “We cannot have much further to travel.”

“But we are going to starve!”

“We still have the chocolate,” I said, “and as you yourself have observed, the sap of these weeds is nutritious.”

This at least was true; my body hungered for solid food, but since taking the sap I had felt somewhat stronger.

“I fear we will die of exposure. I cannot live in this cold much longer.”

I knew she was trembling, and as she spoke I heard her teeth chattering. Our bivouac was not all we had hoped.

“Please allow me,” I said, and without waiting for her dissent I moved towards her and slid my arm beneath her head and shoulders. The rebuff of the night before was still a painful memory, so I was pleased when she came willingly, resting her head on my shoulder and placing an arm across my chest. I raised my knees a few inches so that she could slide her legs beneath mine. In doing this we dislodged some of our covering foliage, and it took several more seconds to redistribute them.

We lay still again, trying to recapture that comparative warmth we had had until we moved. Several more minutes passed in silence, and our closer contact began to bear fruit in that I felt a little warmer.

“Are you asleep, Edward?” Her voice was very soft.

“No,” I said.

“I’m still cold. Do you think we should quickly cut some more leaves?”

“I think we should stay still. Warmth will come.”

“Hold me tighter.”

What followed that apparently simple remark I could never have imagined, even in my most improper fancies. Spontaneously, I brought my other hand across and hugged her to me; in the same moment Amelia too placed her arms fully about me, and we discovered we were embracing each other with an intimacy that made me throw aside caution.

Her face was pressed directly against the side of mine, and I felt it moving sensuously to and fro. I responded in kind, fully aware that the love and passion I had been suppressing were growing in me at an uncontrollable rate. In the back of my mind I sensed a sudden despair, knowing that later I would regret this abandonment, but I thrust it aside for my emotions were clamouring for expression. Her neck was by my mouth, and without any attempt at subterfuge I pressed my lips to it and kissed her firmly and with great feeling. Her response was to hold me yet tighter, and uncaring of how we dislodged our shelter we rolled passionately from one side to another.

Then at last I pulled myself away, and Amelia turned her face and pressed her lips against mine. I was now lying almost completely atop her, and my weight was on her. We broke apart eventually, and I held my face half an inch from hers.

I simply said, with all the sincerity of absolute truth: “I love you, Amelia.”

She made no answer other than to press my face to hers once more, and we kissed as if we had never stopped. She was everything that could ever exist for me, and for that period at least the extraordinary nature of our immediate surroundings ceased to matter. I wanted simply that we should continue kissing forever. Indeed, by the very nature of her response, I assumed that Amelia was in accord. Her hand was behind my head, her fingers spread through my hair, and she was pressing me to her as we kissed.

Then she suddenly snatched her hand away, wrenched her face from mine, and she cried out aloud.

The tension drained away, and my body slumped. I fell forward across her, my face once more buried in the hollow of her shoulder. We lay immobile for many minutes, my breathing irregular and painful, my breath hot in the confined space. Amelia was crying, and I felt her tears trickle down her cheek and against the side of my face.

ii

I moved only once more, to ease a cramp in my left arm, and then I lay still again, most of my weight on Amelia.

For a long time my mind was blank; all desire to justify my actions to myself had drained as quickly as the physical passion. Drained also were the self-recriminations. I lay still, aware only of a slight bruising around my mouth, the residual flavour of Amelia’s kiss and the strands of her hair which brushed my forehead.

She sobbed quietly for a few minutes more, but then became quiet. A few minutes later her breathing became regular, and I judged she had fallen asleep. Soon, I too could feel the fatigue of the day clouding my mind, and in due course I fell asleep.

I do not know how long I slept, but some time later I realized I was awake, yet still in the same position on top of Amelia. Our earlier problem of warmth was banished, for my whole body glowed with heat. I had slept in spite of the awkward angle in which I was lying, and now my back was badly cramped. I wanted to move, to rest from this position, and in addition I could feel the stiff collar of my shirt cutting into my neck and at the front the brass stud was biting into my throat, but I did not want to rouse Amelia. I decided to lie still, and hope to fall asleep again.

I found that my spirits were high, and this in spite of all that had happened. Considered objectively our chances of survival seemed slim; Amelia had also realized this. Unless we were to reach civilization within the next twenty-four hours it was likely we would perish out here on this plateau.

However, I could not forget that glimpse I had had of Amelia’s future destiny.

I knew that if Amelia were to be living in Richmond in the year 1903 she would be killed in the conflagration about the house. I had not been rational at the time, but my irresponsible tampering with the Time Machine had been an instinctive response to this. That accident had precipitated our current predicament, but I was in no way sorry.

Wherever on Earth we were, and in whatever year, I had decided what we were to do. From now I would make it my business to see that Amelia would never return to England until that day had passed!

I had already declared my love for her, and she had seemed to respond; it would be no greater step to avow my love as being eternal, and propose marriage. Whether she would accept I could not say, but I was determined to be resolute and patient. As my wife, she would be subject to my will. Of course, she was clearly of gentle birth, and my own origins were more humble, but I argued to myself that this had not so far been allowed to affect our behaviour to one another; she was an emancipationist, and if our love were true it would not be marred by—

“Are you awake, Edward?”

Her voice was close by my ear.

“Yes. Did I wake you?”

“No … I’ve been awake for some time. I heard your breathing change.”

“Is it daylight yet?” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

“I think I should move,” I said. “My weight must be crushing you.”

Her arms, which were still around my back, tightened momentarily.

“Please stay as you are,” she said.

“I do not wish to seem to be taking advantage of you.”

“It is I who is taking the advantage. You are an excellent substitute for blankets.”

I lifted myself slightly away from her, so that my face was directly above hers. Around us, the leaves rustled in the darkness.

I said: “Amelia, I have something to say to you. I am passionately in love with you.”

Once again her arms tightened their hold, pulling me down so that my face was alongside hers.

“Dear Edward,” she said, hugging me affectionately.

“Do you have nothing else to say?”

“Only… only that I’m sorry for what happened.”

“Do you not love me too?”

“I’m not sure, Edward.”

“Will you marry me?”

I felt her head move: it was shaking from side to side, but beyond this she made no answer.

“Amelia?”

She maintained her silence, and I waited anxiously. She was now quite immobile, her arms resting across my back but exerting no pressure of any kind.

I said: “I cannot conceive of life without you, Amelia. I have known you for such a short time, and yet it is as if I have been with you all my life.”

“That is how I feel,” she said, but her voice was almost inaudible, and her tone was lifeless.

“Then please marry me. When we reach civilization we will find a British Consul or a missionary church, and we may marry at once.”

“We should not talk of these things.”

I said, for my spirits were low: “Are you refusing me?”

“Please, Edward…”

“Are you already engaged to another?”

“No, and I am not refusing you. I say we must not talk of this because of the uncertainty of our prospects. We do not even know in which country we are. And until then…”

Her voice tailed away, sounding as uncertain as her argument.

“But tomorrow,” I went on, “we will find where we are, and will you then present another excuse? I’m asking only one thing: do you love me as much as I love you?”

“I don’t know, Edward.”

“I love you dearly. Can you say that to me?” Unexpectedly; her head turned and for a moment her lips pressed gently against my cheek. Then she said: “I am unusually fond of you, Edward dear.”

I had to be content with that. I raised my head, and brought my lips down to hers. They touched for a second, but then she turned her head away.

“We were foolish before,” she said. “Let us not make the same mistake. We have been forced to pass a night together, and neither of us should take advantage of the other.”

“If that is how you see it.”

“My dear, we must not assume that we will not be discovered. For all we know, this might be someone’s private estate.”

“You have not suggested that before.”

“No, but we may not be as alone as we think.”

“I doubt if anyone will investigate a mound of leaves!” I said.

She laughed then, and hugged me. “We must sleep. We may have another long walk ahead of us.”

“Are you still comfortable in this position?”

“Yes. And you?”

I said: “My collar is hurting me. Would you consider it improper if I were to remove my tie?”

“You are always so formal! Let me do it for you … it must be choking you.”

I raised myself away from her, and with deft fingers she loosened the knot and released both front and back studs. When this was done I lowered myself, and felt her arms closing about my back. I pressed the side of my face to hers, kissed her once on the lobe of her ear, and then we lay still, waiting for sleep to return.

iii

We were awakened not by the rising sun, as our covering leaves effectively filtered the light to an almost imperceptible maroon glow, but by the creaking and groaning of the near-by weed-bank. Amelia and I lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes before rising, as if sensing that the warmth and intimacy of the overnight tryst should be savoured. Then at last we kicked and pushed the scarlet leaves aside, and emerged into the brilliant daylight and hard radiant heat. We stretched elaborately, each of us stiff from the enforced stillness of the night.

Our morning toilet was brief, our breakfast briefer. We wiped our faces with Amelia’s flannel, and combed our hair. We each took two squares of chocolate, and followed them with a draught of sap. Then we collected our few belongings, and prepared to continue on our way. I noticed that Amelia still carried her corset between the handles of her bag.

“Shall we not leave that behind?” I said, thinking how pleasant it would be if she were never to wear it again.

“And these?” she said, producing my collar and tie from the hand-bag. “Shall we leave these behind too?”

“Of course not,” I said. “I must wear them when we find civilization.”

“Then we are agreed.”

“The difference is,” I said, “that I do not need a servant. Nor have I ever had one.”

“If your intentions for me are sincere, Edward, you must prepare yourself for the prospect of hiring staff.”

Amelia’s tone was as non-committal as ever, but the unmistakable reference to my proposal had the effect of quickening my heart. I took the bag from her, and held her hand in mine. She glanced at me once, and I thought I saw a trace of a smile, but then we were walking and we each kept our gaze directed ahead. The weed-bank was in the full throes of its seeming animation, and we stayed at a wary distance from it.

Knowing that most of our walking must be done before midday, we maintained a good pace, walking and resting at regular periods. As before, we found that the altitude made breathing difficult, and so we talked very little while we were walking.

During one of our rests, though, I brought up a subject which had been occupying me.

“In which year do you suppose we are?” I said.

“I have no idea. It depends on the degree to which you tampered with the controls.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I altered the monthly pre-setting dial, and it was then during the summer months of 1902. But I did not move the lever before I broke the nickel rod, and so I am wondering whether the automatic return was not interrupted, and we are now in 1893.”

Amelia considered this for several moments, but then said:

“I think not. The crucial act was the breaking of that rod. It would have interrupted the automatic return, and extended the original journey. At the end of that, the automatic return would come into operation again, as we found when we lost the Machine. On the other hand, your changing of the monthly dial might have had an effect. By how much did you alter it?”

I thought about this with great concentration. “I turned it several months forward.”

“I still cannot say for certain. It seems to me that we are in one of three possible times. Either we returned to 1893, as you suggest, and are dislocated by several thousand miles, or the accident has left us in 1902, at the date showing on the dials when the rod was broken… or we have travelled forward those few months, and are now at, say, the end of 1902 or the beginning of 1903. In any event, one matter is certain: we have been propelled a considerable distance from Richmond.”

None of these postulations was welcome, for any one of them meant that the disastrous day in June 1903 still lay ahead. I did not wish to dwell on the consequences of this, so I raised another topic that had been troubling me.

“If we were now to return to England,” I said, “is it likely that we could meet ourselves?”

Amelia did not answer my question directly. She said:

“What do you mean, if we were to return to England? Surely we will arrange that as soon as possible?”

“Yes, of course,” I said, hastily, regretting that I had phrased my question in that way. “So it is not a rhetorical question: are we soon to meet ourselves?”

Amelia frowned.

“I don’t think it is possible,” she said at length. “We have travelled in Time just as positively as we have travelled in Space, and if my own belief is correct, we have left the world of 1893 as far behind as we seem to have left Richmond. There is at this moment neither Amelia Fitzgibbon nor Edward Turnbull in England.”

“Then what,” I said, having anticipated this answer, “will Sir William have made of our disappearance?”

Amelia smiled unexpectedly. “I’m sure I do not know. Nor am I sure that he will even notice my absence until several days have passed. He is a man of great preoccupations. When he realizes I have gone, I suppose he will contact the police and I will be listed as a Missing Person. That much at least he will see as his responsibility.”

“But you talk of this with such coldness. Surely Sir William will be most concerned at your disappearance?”

“I am merely speaking the facts as I see them. I know that he was preparing his Time Machine for a journey of exploration, and had we not pre-empted him he would have been the first man to travel into futurity. When he returns to his laboratory he will find the Machine apparently untouched—for it would have returned directly from here—and he will continue with his plans without regard for the household.”

I said: “Do you think that if Sir William were to suspect the cause of your disappearance he might use the Machine to try to find us?”

Amelia shook her head at once. “You assume two things. First, that he would realize that we had tampered with the Machine, and second, that even if so he would know where to search for us. The first is almost impossible to suspect, for to all appearances the Machine will appear untouched, and the second is unthinkable, as the Machine has no record of its journeys when the automatic return has been in operation.”

“So we must make our own way back.”

At this Amelia came a little closer and grasped my hand. “Yes, my dear,” she said.

iv

The sun was past its zenith, and already the weed-bank was throwing a shadow, and we walked stoically on. Then, just as I was feeling we should stop for another rest, I caught Amelia’s elbow and pointed forward.

“Look, Amelia!” I shouted. “There… on the horizon!”

Directly in front of us was the most welcome sight either of us could have imagined. Something metallic and polished was ahead of us, for the sun’s rays were being reflected off into our eyes. The steadiness of the dazzle was such that we knew it could not be coming from a natural feature, such as a sea or a lake. It was man-made, and our first sight of civilization.

We started towards it, but in a moment the glare vanished.

“What has happened?” Amelia said. “Did we imagine it?”

“Whatever it was, it has moved,” I said. “But it was no illusion.”

We walked as quickly as we could, but we were still suffering the effects of altitude and were forced to maintain our usual steady pace.

Within two or three minutes we saw the reflected light again, and knew we had not been mistaken. At last sense prevailed and we took a short rest, eating the remainder of our chocolate and drinking as much of the sap as we could stomach. Thus fortified, we continued towards the intermittent light, knowing that at last our long walk was nearly over.

After another hour we were close enough to see the source of the reflection, although by then the sun had moved further across the sky and it had been some time since we had seen the dazzle. There was a metal tower built in the desert, and it was the roof of this that had been catching the sunshine. In this rarefied atmosphere distances were deceptive, and although we had been able to see the tower for some time, it wasn’t until we were almost on it that we were able to estimate its size. By then we were close enough to see that it was not alone, and that some distance beyond it were several more.

The overall height of the nearest tower was about sixty feet. In appearance, the nearest analogy I can draw is that of a huge, elongated pin, for the tower consisted of a thin central pillar, surmounted by a circular enclosed platform. This description is itself misleading, for there was not one central pillar, but three. These were built very closely together, though, and ran parallel to each other up to the platform they supported, so it was only as we walked beneath the tower that Amelia and I noticed this. These three pillars were firmly buried in the soil but staring up at them I noticed that the platform was capable of being raised or lowered, for the pillars were jointed in several places and made of telescopic tubes.

The platform at the top was perhaps ten feet in diameter, and about seven feet high. On one side there was what seemed to be a large oval window, but this was made of dark glass and it was impossible to see beyond it from where we stood. Beneath the platform was a mechanical mounting, rather like gimbals, and it was this that enabled the platform to rotate slowly to and fro, thus causing the sun’s reflection to flash at us earlier. The platform was moving from side to side now, but apart from this there was no sign of anyone about.

“Hallo up there!” I called, then after a few seconds repeated the call. Either they could not hear me, or my voice was weaker than I had realized, but there was no reply from the occupants.

While I had been examining the tower, Amelia had moved past me and was staring towards the weed-bank. We had walked diagonally away from the vegetation to visit the tower, but now I saw that the bank here was even further away than I would have expected, and much lower. What was more, working at the base of it were many people.

Amelia turned towards me, and I could see the joy in her expression.

“Edward, we’re safe!” she cried, and came towards me and we embraced warmly.

Safety indeed it was, for this was clear evidence of the habitation we had been seeking for so long. I was all for going over to the people at once, but Amelia delayed.

“We must make ourselves presentable,” she said, and fumbled inside her bag. She passed me my collar and tie, and while I put these on she sat down and fussed with her face. After this she tried to dab off some of the worst weed-stains from her clothes, using her face-flannel, and then combed her hair. I was in dire need of a shave, but there was nothing that could be done about that.

Apart from our general untidiness, there was another matter that was troubling us both. Our long hours exposed to the hot sunshine had left their mark, in the fact that we were both suffering from sunburn. Amelia’s face had gone a bright pink—and she told me mine was no better—and although she had applied some cold-cream from a pot in her bag, she said she was suffering considerably.

When we were ready, she said: “I will take your arm. We do not know who these people are, so it would be wise not to give the wrong impression. If we behave with confidence, we will be treated correctly.”

“And what about that?” I said, indicating her corset, all too evident between the handles of her bag. “Now is the time to discard it. If we wish to appear as if we have been enjoying an afternoon stroll, that will make it clear we have not.”

Amelia frowned, evidently undecided. At last she picked it and placed it on the soil, so that it leaned against one of the pillars of the tower.

“I’ll leave it here for the moment,” she said. “I can soon find it again when we have spoken to the people.”

She came back to me, took my arm and together we walked sedately towards the nearest of the people. Once again the clear air had deceived our eyes, and we soon saw that the weeds were farther away than we had imagined. I glanced back just once, and saw that the platform at the top of the tower was still rotating to and fro.

Walking towards the people—none of whom had yet noticed us—I saw something that rather alarmed me. As I wasn’t sure I said something about it to Amelia, but as we came closer there was no mistaking it: most of the people—and there were both men and women—were almost completely unclothed.

I stopped at once, and turned away.

“I had better go forward alone,” I said. “Please wait here.”

Amelia, who had turned with me, for I had grasped her arm, stared over her shoulder at the people.

“I am not as coy as you,” she said. “From what are you trying to protect me?”

“They are not decent,” I said, very embarrassed. “I will speak to them on my own.”

“For Heaven’s sake, Edward!” Amelia cried in exasperation. “We are about to starve to death, and you smother me with modesty!”

She let go of my arm, and strode off alone. I followed immediately, my face burning with my embarrassment. Amelia headed directly for the nearest group: about two dozen men and women who were hacking at the scarlet weeds with long bladed knives.

“You!” she cried, venting her anger with me on the nearest man. “Do you speak English?”

The man turned sharply and faced her. For an instant he looked at her in surprise—and in that moment I saw that he was very tall, that his skin was burned a reddish colour, and that he was wearing nothing more than a stained loincloth—and then prostrated himself before her. In the same instant, the other people around him dropped their knives and threw themselves face down on the ground.

Amelia glanced at me, and I saw that the imperious manner had gone as quickly as it had been assumed. She looked frightened, and I went and stood by her side.

“What’s the matter?” she said to me in a whisper. “What have I done?”

I said: “You probably scared the wits out of them.”

“Excuse me,” Amelia said to, the people, in a much gentler voice. “Does any one of you speak English? We are very hungry, and need shelter for the night.”

There was no response.

“Try another language,” I said.

“Excusez-moi, parlez-vous français?” Amelia said. There was still no response, so she added: “¿Habla usted Español?” She tried German, and then Italian. “It’s no good,” she said to me in the end. “They don’t understand.” I went over to the man whom Amelia had first addressed, and squatted down beside him. He raised his face and looked at me, and his eyes seemed haunted with terror.

“Stand up,” I said, accompanying the words with suitable hand-gestures. “Come on, old chap… on your feet.”

I put out a hand to assist him, and he stared back at me. After a moment he climbed slowly to his feet and stood before me, his head hanging.

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” I said, putting as much sympathy into my words as possible, but they had no effect on him. “What are you doing here?”

With this I looked at the weed-bank in a significant way. His response was immediate: he turned to the others, shouted something incomprehensible at them, then reached down and snatched up his knife.

At this I took a step back, thinking that we were about to be attacked, but I could not have been more wrong. The other people clambered up quickly, took their knives and continued with the work we had interrupted, hacking and slashing at the vegetation like men possessed.

Amelia said quietly: “Edward, these are just peasants. They have mistaken us for overseers.”

“Then we must find out who their real supervisors are!”

We stood and watched the peasants for a minute or so longer.

The men were cutting the larger stems, and chopping them into more manageable lengths of about twelve feet The women worked behind them, stripping the main stems of branches; and separating fruit or seed-pods as they found them. The stems were then thrown to one side, the leaves or fruit to another. With every slash of the knife quantities of sap issued forth, and trickled from the plants already cut. The area of soil directly in front of the weed-bank was flooded with the spilled sap, and the peasants were working in mud up to twelve inches deep.

Amelia and I walked on, carefully maintaining a distance from the peasants and walking on soil that was dry. Here we saw that the spilled sap was not wasted; as it oozed down from where the peasants were working it eventually trickled into a wooden trough that had been placed in the soil, and flowed along in a relatively liquid state, accumulating all the way.

“Did you recognize the language?” I said.

“They spoke too quickly. A guttural tongue. Perhaps it was Russian.”

“But not Tibetan,” I said, and Amelia frowned at me.

“I based that guess on the nature of the terrain, and our evident altitude,” she said. “I think it is pointless continuing to speculate about our location until we find someone in authority.”

As we moved along the weed-bank we came across more and more of the peasants, all of whom seemed to be working without supervison. Their conditions of work were atrocious, as in the more crowded areas the spilled sap created large swamps, and some of the poor wretches were standing in muddy liquid above their waists. As Amelia observed, and I could not help but agree, there was much room for reform here.

We walked for about half a mile until we reached a point where the wooden trough came to a confluence with three others, which flowed from different parts of the weed-bank. Here the sap was ducted into a large pool, from which it was pumped by several women using a crude, hand-operated device into a subsidiary system of irrigation channels. From where we were standing we could see that these flowed alongside and through a large area of cultivated land. On the far side of this stood two more of the metal towers.

Further along we saw that the peasants were cutting the weed on the slant, so that as we had been walking parallel to their workings we eventually found what it was that lay beyond the bank of weeds. It was a water-course, some three hundred yards wide. Its natural width was only exposed by the cropping of weeds, for when we looked to the north, in the direction from which we had walked, we saw that the weeds so choked the waterway that in places it was entirely blocked. The total width of the weed-bank was nearly a mile, and as the opposite side of the waterway was similarly overgrown, and with another crowd of peasants cutting back the weed; we realized that if they intended to clear the entire length of the waterway by hacking manually through the weeds then the peasants were confronted with a task that would take them many generations to accomplish.

Amelia and I walked beside the water, soon leaving the peasants behind. The ground was uneven and pitted, presumably because of the roots of the weeds which had once grown here, and the water was dark-coloured and undisturbed by ripples. Whether it was a river or a canal was difficult to say; the water was flowing, but so slowly that the movement was barely perceptible, and the banks were irregular. This seemed to indicate that it was a natural watercourse, but its very straightness belied this assumption.

We passed another metal tower, which had been built at the edge of the water, and although we were now some way from where the peasants were cutting back the weed there was still much activity about us. We saw carts carrying the cut weed being manhandled along, and several times we came across groups of peasants walking towards the weed-bank. In the fields to our left were many more people tilling the crops.

Both Amelia and I were tempted to go across to the fields and beg for something to eat—for surely food must be there in abundance—but our first experience with the peasants had made us wary. We reasoned that some kind of community, even be it just a village, could not be far away. Indeed, ahead of us we had already seen two large buildings, and we were walking faster, sensing that there lay our salvation.

v

We entered the nearer of the two buildings, and immediately discovered that it was a kind of warehouse, for most of its contents were huge bales of the cut weed, neatly sorted into types. Amelia and I walked through the ground area of the building, still seeking someone to whom we could talk, but the only people there were more of the peasants. As all their fellows had done, these men and women ignored us, bending over their tasks.

We left this building by the way we had entered: a huge metal door, which was presently held open by an arrangement of pulleys and chains. Outside, we headed for the second building, which was about fifty yards from the first. Between the two stood another of the metal towers.

We were passing beneath this tower when Amelia took my hand in hers, and said: “Edward, listen.”

There was a distant sound, one attenuated by the thin air, and for a moment we could not locate its source. Then Amelia stepped away from me, towards where there was a long metal rail, raised about three feet from the ground. As we walked towards it, the sound could be identified as a queer grating and whining sound, and looking down the rail towards the south we saw that coming along it was a kind of conveyance.

Amelia said: “Edward, could that be a railway train?”

“On just one rail?” I said. “And without a locomotive?”

However, as the conveyance slowed down it became clear that a railway train was exactly what it was. There were nine coaches in all, and without much noise it came to a halt with its front end just beyond where we had been standing. We stared in amazement at this sight, for it looked to all appearances as if the carriages of a normal train had broken away from their engine. But it was not this alone that startled us. The carriages seemed to be unpainted, and were left in their unfinished metal; rust showed in several places. Furthermore, the carriages themselves were not built in the way one would expect, but were tubular. Of the nine carriages, only two—the front and the rear—bore any conceivable resemblance to the sort of trains on which Amelia and I regularly travelled in England. That is to say that these had doors and a few windows, and as the train halted we saw several passengers descending. The seven central carriages, though, were like totally enclosed metal tubes, and without any apparent door or window.

I noticed that a man was stepping down from the front of the train, and seeing that there were windows placed in the very front of the carriage I guessed that it was from there he drove the train. I pointed this out to Amelia, and we watched him with great interest.

That he was not of the peasant stock was evident, for his whole manner was assured and confident, and he was neatly dressed in a plain grey outfit. This comprised an unadorned tunic or shirt, and a pair of trousers. In this he seemed no differently dressed from the passengers, who were clustering around the seven central carriages. All these people were similar in appearance to the peasants, for they were of the reddish skin coloration, and very tall. The driver went to the second carriage and turned a large metal handle on its side. As he did this, we saw that on each of the seven enclosed carriages large doors were moving slowly upwards, like metal blinds. The men who had left the train clustered expectantly around these doors.

Within a few seconds, there was a scene of considerable confusion.

We saw that the seven enclosed carriages had been packed to capacity with men and women of peasant stock, and as the doors were wound open these stumbled or clambered on the ground, spilling out all around the train.

The men in charge moved amongst the peasants, brandishing what had seemed to us on first sight to be short canes or sticks, but which now appeared to have a vicious and peremptory function. Some kind of electrical accumulator was evidently within the sticks, for as the men used them to herd the peasants into ranks, any unfortunate soul who was so much as brushed by the stick received a nasty electrical shock, accompanied by a brilliant flash of green light and a loud hissing sound. The hapless recipients of these shocks invariably fell to the ground, clutching the part of the anatomy that had been afflicted, only to be dragged to their feet again by their fellows.

Needless to say, the wielders of these devilish instruments had little difficulty in bringing order to the crowd.

“We must bring a stop to this at once!” Amelia said. “They are treating them no better than slaves!”

I think she was all for marching forward and confronting the men in charge, but I laid my hand on her arm to restrain her.

“We must see what is happening,” I said. “Wait a while… this is not the moment to interfere.”

The confusion persisted for a few minutes more, while the peasants were force-marched towards the building we had not yet visited. Then I noticed that the doors of the enclosed carriages were being wound down into place again, and that the man who had driven the train was moving towards the far end.

I said: “Quickly, Amelia, let us board this train. It is about to leave.”

“But this is the end of the line.”

“Precisely. Don’t you see? It is now going to go in the opposite direction.”

We hesitated no more, but walked quickly across to the train and climbed into the passenger compartment that had been at the front. None of the men with the electrical whips paid the least bit of attention to us, and no sooner were we inside than the train moved slowly forward.

I had expected the motion to be unbalanced—for with only one rail I could not see that it would be otherwise—but once moving the train had a remarkably smooth passage. There was not even the noise of wheels, but simply a gentle whirring noise from beneath the carriage. What we were most appreciative of in those first few seconds, though, was the fact that the carriage was heated. It had been growing cold outside, for it was not long to sunset.

The seating arrangements inside were not too dissimilar from what we were accustomed to at home, although there were no compartments and no corridor. The inside of the carriage was open, so that it was possible to move about from one part to another, and the seats themselves were metal and uncushioned. Amelia and I took seats by one of the windows, looking out across the waterway. We were alone in the carriage.

During the entire journey, which took about half an hour, the scenery beyond the windows did not much change. The railway followed the bank of the waterway for most of the distance, and we saw that in places the banks had been reinforced with brick cladding, thus tending to confirm my early suspicion that the waterway was in fact a large canal. We saw a few small boats plying along it, and in several places there were bridges across it. Every few hundred yards the train would pass another of the metal towers.

The train stopped just once before reaching its destination. On our side of the train it looked as if we had halted at a place no larger than where we had boarded, but through the windows on the other side of the carriage we could see a huge industrial area, with great chimneys issuing copious clouds of smoke, and furnaces setting up an orange glow in the dark sky. The moon was already out, and the thick smoke drifted over its face.

While we were waiting for the train to re-start, and several peasants were being herded aboard, Amelia opened the door briefly and looked up the line, in the direction in which we were heading.

“Look, Edward,” she said. “We are coming to a city.”

I leaned outside too, and saw in the light of the setting sun that a mile or two further on there were many large buildings, clustered together untidily. Like Amelia, I was relieved at this sight, for the all-apparent barbarities of life in the countryside had repelled me. Life in any city, however foreign, is by its nature familiar to other city-dwellers, and there we knew we would find the responsible authorities we were seeking. What ever this country, and however repressive their local laws, we as travellers would receive favoured treatment, and as soon as Amelia and I had come to agreement (which was itself a matter I had still to resolve) we would be bound, by sea or rail, for England. Instinctively, I patted my breast pocket to make sure my wallet was still there. If we were to return immediately to England what little money we had with us—we had established earlier in the day that we had two pounds fifteen shillings and sixpence between us—would have to be used, as a surety of our good faith with the Consul.

Such reassuring thoughts were in my mind as the train moved steadily towards the city. The sun had now set, and the night was upon us.

“See, Edward, the evening star is bright.”

Amelia pointed to it, huge and blue-white, a few degrees above the place of the sun’s setting. Next to it, looking small, and in quarter-phase, was the moon.

I stared at the evening star, remembering Sir William’s words about the planets which made up our solar system. There was one such, lonely and beautiful, impossibly distant and unattainable.

Then Amelia gasped, and I felt my heart tighten in the same moment.

“Edward,” she said. “There are two moons visible!”

The mysteries of this place could no longer be ignored. Amelia and I stared at each other in horror, understanding at long last what had become of us. I thought of the riotous growth of scarlet weed, the thinness of the atmosphere, the freezing cold, the unfiltered heat of the sun, the lightness in our tread, the deep-blue sky, the red-bodied people, the very alienness of all that surrounded us. Now, seeing the two moons, and seeing the evening star, there was a final mystery, one which placed an intolerable burden on our ability to support our dearest belief, that we were still on our home world. Sir William’s Machine had taken us to futurity, but it had also borne us unwittingly through the dimension of Space. A Time Machine it might be, but also a Space Machine, for now both Amelia and I accepted the frightful knowledge that in some incredible way we had been brought to another world, one where our own planet was the herald of night. I stared down at the canal, seeing the brilliant point of light that was Earth reflecting from the water, and knew only desperation and a terrible fear. For we had been transported through Space to Mars, the planet of war.