A visitor to London discovers H.G. Wells’s time machine and is accidently stranded. |
So, I found myself alone in Regents Park. Like most Americans, names like Regents Park bring vague recollections I can’t really define. I knew, of course, it was a part of London. I knew I had heard the name many times in my lifetime; but was it a name remembered from re-runs of an old Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes film or news. One thing I was sure of concerning Regents Park: it was the home of H. G. Wells. The reason I was so sure was that I was staring at a plaque on the side of a building that proclaimed it to be the writer’s home. I figured “What the heck! When will I ever find myself in this position again.” I went to the door and knocked and it was soon answered by a middle aged woman with a very friendly smile. “Yes. Sir. May I help you.” I decided to be straightforward with her and simply explained that I was an American in London for my first, and probably last, time and would it be possible to see the interior of Mr. Wells’ home? She beamed broadly and opened the door wide. “By all means. Please do come in and make yourself to home.” I removed my foolish New York Yankees cap and entered the domain of the greatest science fiction writer of all time. “I have a few chores I must be about tending to, but please explore to your heart’s content until I return.” With that gracious offer, she scurried up a set of stairs, leaving me in the entranceway. Just think of it. I had been given free run of the home of H. G. Wells! I quickly made a circuit of the drawing room, dining room and private office area and wandered into the kitchen, I imagined Mr. Wells giving directions to his cook concerning his dinner. He might have any sort of guests coming to dinner and would want everything perfect for their evening’s repast. It was then I noticed the small doorway on the left side of the room, and decided to explore some more. There was a stairway that led down into the cellar of the house. In Mr. Wells’ day, perishable foodstuffs would be kept there, away from the heat of the day. Near the foot of the stairs, I found a table that held a clock (which no longer ran), an assortment of writing instruments and what appeared to be a set of blueprints, undoubtedly one of his experiments. There was also some unused rolls of paper lying on the table. Farther into the room was a large object of some sort, covered by a tarpaulin type material. “I really shouldn’t disturb it,” I thought, but who was I kidding? I pulled the material off what appeared to be an old fashioned carriage of some sort. Examining the carriage, I found a dial built into the front of the thing. Wells, or somebody, had marked different dates on the wood around the dial. I almost laughed aloud. H. G. Wells’ famous time travel machine. What a kick! Just for the memory, I sat in the thing and leaned back. How many people could say they had actually sat in H. G. Wells’ time machine! I mused that it was too bad the thing didn’t really work. Imagine the terrible tragedies that might have been avoided if someone had known they were about to happen. As I started to rise and leave the carriage, I glanced at the dial once again. Why not? Just for the fun of it. “Let’s see. This is 2007. Why don’t I set it for 2009 and see what the world will be like in two years. Maybe pick up some stock tips and winners at race tracks.” I giggled at my fantasy, but I guess there is still a little bit of a kid in me. I felt a wave of nausea hit me. It was not a very long attack and relatively mild, but it convinced me I should get back to my hotel and maybe take a nap. I crawled out of the carriage and climbed the stairs. When I opened the door into the kitchen, a younger woman was standing at the sink. She turned toward me when she heard the door open. “Who are you and what do you want here?” she demanded. “I’m just an American in London for a visit and the other lady said it would be okay to look around. Sorry if I startled you.“ “What other lady?” I described her as best I could from the short time we had been together. “Oh, her. Well. She no longer runs things around here. You should have done your looking while she was still employed here.” “I thought she still worked here.” “No, she retired last year. Now get out before I call the bobbies.” Confused, I mumbled “Yes, ma’am.” and hurried through the house and out the front door. “Boy, what a crank.” Still thinking the hotel would be my best destination, I retraced my steps to a bus stop and waited for the bus I had ridden earlier. When it arrived, I seated myself and tried to enjoy the ride to my temporary home. London seemed to be the busiest place I had been in a long time. Cars, buses and trucks were going in every direction and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians. But, there was an odd stench…or taste…or something I couldn’t identify. Maybe it was the result of the attack I had suffered in the carriage. Whatever it was, it was the most disgusting thing I had ever encountered. When I walked into the hotel lobby, the manager rushed from behind the counter to meet me. “Mr. Johns! I am so glad to see you. I have been wondering if you were a survivor! Frankly, I had about given up hope of ever knowing.” “A survivor? Of what?” “How long has it been since you heard any news about America?” “I don’t know, not too long. Why?” “You know they were attacked with nuclear devices? Just ten days after all the disappearances.” “What? Attacked?“ “Apparently smugglers managed to get forty small nuclear weapons into the major cities of the United States and detonate them.” “But what disappearances are you talking about?” “Millions of people all over the world just vanished.” “When did this happen?” “Two or three weeks ago.” “You got some bad information. I was in the U.S. until day before yesterday and there was no attack. And I never heard of anyone vanishing.” “But there was. The telly had the videos of it!” “There’s something wrong somewhere. Pal. At any rate, I’d like to go up to my room and rest.” “I believe the same room you had the last time you stayed with us is available. Would that suit your needs?” Thoroughly disoriented, I murmured something like “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He handed me the key and I went back to my room. It was empty! No clothing, no suitcases, no toiletries, nothing! Almost immediately, there was a knock on the door and the manager walked in, carrying my suitcases. “I put these in safekeeping when you disappeared. I’m so pleased you’re back with us. Now maybe we can have that game of darts we talked of.” With that, he hurried out of the room, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. A newspaper was lying atop the suitcases. One of the things I liked about this hotel was that they furnish a London Times daily. I glanced at the front page without picking it up. Nothing much interested me there and I was about to turn away, when I noted the date. “This has to be a gag.” I thought. A newspaper dated two years from now? A cold chill suddenly made its way the full length of my spinal cord. If they weren’t putting me on, what had just occurred was impossible! It just couldn’t be real! It was pure madness! The next morning I arose early and went downstairs and outside. The stench was still there. I recognized it now…..unbridled…..malignant….evil! I took a taxi to the office of the London Times, where I examined the front pages of the newspaper for the past two years, So many things had happened. The destruction of the United States was documented. But the other item was the one that totally captivated my attention. Just ten days prior to the destruction of America, millions of people had suddenly vanished, leaving no word as to where they were going. Some sources were calling it a scientific evolution; others called it a dark plot. With a queasy stomach, I realized what had really occurred. The catching away of the church had occurred and I had missed it! I knew I had to get back to Wells’ house and the carriage, machine, whatever it was. As ridiculous as it seemed, apparently it had worked. Now, I had to try to get it to work again. I had to warn my friends and loved ones. Even as I had the thought, I recognized the futility of such a warning. Who would believe my story. I wouldn’t if it hadn’t happened to me. No, the story would have to remain untold. I would have to concentrate on warning folks based on biblical information. I knew that I would be labeled a “religious fanatic”, but that was okay. In a sense, that was exactly what I intended to become. Was there a way I could help move the unwieldy federal bureaucracy in time to stop the infiltration of the enemies of democracy? Not that I could see. I decided to take it one step at a time. The first step was to get back home two years ago. Without even returning to the hotel for my belongings, I took a taxi straight to the Wells house. I knocked on the door and was met by the same unfriendly young woman I had seen earlier. “What do you want?’ “When I was here earlier, I left something in the cellar and I desperately need to retrieve it. It won’t take but a moment and it is very urgent.” “Well, be quick about it.” “Believe me, I will.” With no further comment I strode rapidly to the kitchen, through the door and down the stairs. The carriage was not there! “What happened to the carriage?” “It’s really none of your business, now is it?” “The things I need are in the carriage, so yes, it is my business,” I lied. “Well, you won’t believe me……..but, I was cleaning the thing and…Well, I reached in and turned the little knob there in the front and the bloody thing just disappeared.” “Do you remember which direction you turned it?” “Let’s see. Yes, I turned it to the right.” “Do you know how far you turned it?” “Just a little bit. I don’t know. Maybe a centimeter or two.” Frustrated, I sat down and dropped my head. After composing myself, I told her. “Thank you very much for your courtesy. If it should reappear, would you please notify me? I’ll leave you my number. And, if you don’t mind, I may drop by from time to time to check with you. Believe me, I’ll make it worth your while.” So, I find myself standing in Regents Park, beside a plaque identifying the home of the late H. G. Wells. I’ve come by every week for the past three months and still the carriage has not returned. Someday it will, when time finally catches up to it. I just hope it is in my lifetime, so that I can accomplish my mission. I keep thinking “Oh, my dear loved ones, don’t wait for me. Become a ‘religious fanatic’ yourself while there is still time!” |