Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the thirteenth chapter of The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our Patreon

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story Tuesdays wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

Welcome to Bite At A Time Books, where we read you your favorite classics one Byte at a Time.

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

If you enjoy our show, be sure to follow us so you get all the new episodes.

If you want to see exclusive behind the scenes of our show, join our Patreon.

We would also love for you to drop us a rating on your favorite podcast platform and share our show with your friends.

You can catch us on all the social medias at Bite At A Time Books.

We are now part of the Bite At A Time Books Productions Network.

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite At the Time Books Behind the Story.

Wherever you listen to podcasts today, we will be continuing the Time Machine by HG Wells 13 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 at my confidence.

Here was the same beautiful scene, the 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 WINA, and that suddenly gave me a keen stab of pain.

And like blots upon the landscape rose the cupulas above the waist to the underworld.

I understood now, with all the beauty of the overworld people covered very pleasant was their 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 their end was the same.

I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellect had been.

It 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 to this at last.

Once life and property must have reached 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 had been no unemployed problem, no social question left unsolved, and a great quiet had followed.

It is the law of nature.

We overlook that intellectual versatility is the compensation for change, danger and trouble.

An animal perfectly in 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 no need of change.

Only those animals partake of intelligence that have 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 lacked one thing even for mechanical perfection.

Absolute permanency.

Apparently, as time went on, the feeding of an underworld, 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 outside habit had probably retained perforce rather more initiative, if less of every other human character than the Upper.

And when other meat failed them, they turned to what old habit had hitherto forbidden.

So I say I saw it in my last view of the world of 802 701.

It may be as wrong an explanation as mortal wit could invent.

It is how the thing shaped itself to me.

And as that I give it to you.

After the fatigues, excitements and terrors of the past days, and in spite of my grief, this seat and the tranquil view and the warm sunlight were very pleasant.

I was very tired 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 awoke a little before sunsetting.

I now felt safe against being caught napping by the more locks and stretching myself, I came on down the Hill towards the White Sphinx.

I had my crowbar in one hand and the other hand played with the matches in my pocket.

And now came the most unexpected thing.

As I approached the pedestal of the Sphinx, I found the bronze valves were open.

They had slid down into grooves.

At that I stopped short.

Before them hesitating to enter.

Within was a small apartment, and on a raised 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, almost sorry not to use it.

A sudden thought came into my head as I stooped towards the portal.

For once, at least, I grasped the metal 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 carefully oiled and cleaned.

I have suspected since that the Morlocks had even partially taken it to pieces while trying in their dim way, to 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 to happen, the bronze panel suddenly slid up and struck the frame with a clang.

I was in the dark, trapped so the Morlocks thought at that I chuckled gleefully I could already hear their murmuring laughter as they came towards me very calmly I tried to strike the 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 light only on the box you may imagine how all my calm vanished the little brutes were close upon me one touched me I made a sleeping blow in the dark at them with their levers and began to scramble into the saddle of the machine then came one hand upon me and then another then I had simply to fight against their persistent fingers for my levers and at the same time feel for the studs over which these fitted one indeed they almost got away from me as it slipped from my hand I had to b*** in the dark with my head I could hear the Morlock 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 hand slipped from me the darkness presently fell from my eyes I found myself in the same Gray light and tumult I have already described thank you for joining Byte Edit Time Books today while we read a Byte of one of your favorite classics.

If you enjoy our show, be sure to follow us so you get all the new episodes.

If you want to see exclusive behind the scenes of our show, join our Patreon.

We would also love for you to drop us a rating on your favorite podcast platform and share our show with your friends.

You can catch us on all the social medias at Bite At The Time Books.

Also, be sure to check us on our website, www.bteimebooks.com.

We are now part of the Bite At A Time Books Productions Network.

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite At A Time Books Behind the Story Tuesdays wherever you listen to podcasts again.