IX. The Morlocks

von H. G. Wells

It might seem strange, but it took me two days to finally follow up on the new clue in what I knew was the right way. I felt an odd aversion to those pale bodies. They were the same sickly color as the preserved specimens you see in a zoological museum, and they were chillingly cold to the touch. I realized my discomfort was probably influenced by the Eloi, whose disgust for the Morlocks I was beginning to understand.

That night, I struggled to sleep. I think my health was slightly off. I was weighed down by confusion and doubt. A few times, I was gripped by an intense fear that I couldn’t quite explain. I remember sneaking quietly into the grand hall where the Eloi slept in the moonlight—Weena was among them that night—and I found comfort in their presence. It struck me then that in just a few days, the moon would pass its last quarter, and the nights would grow darker. I feared that the unsettling creatures from below, these pale Lemurs, this new vermin that had taken the place of the old, would become more active. For those two days, I felt a restless urge, as if I were avoiding a duty I couldn’t escape. I was convinced that I could only recover the Time Machine by bravely delving into these underground mysteries. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to face it. If only I had someone with me, it would have been different. But I felt so utterly alone, and the thought of climbing down into the darkness of the well terrified me. I don’t know if you can understand, but I never felt quite safe with my back exposed.

It was this restlessness, this sense of insecurity, that pushed me further and further in my explorations. Heading southwest toward the rising land now known as Combe Wood, I spotted a vast green structure in the distance, toward what used to be Banstead in the nineteenth century. It was unlike anything I had seen before—larger than any palace or ruin I knew, with an Oriental flair. Its façade glimmered with a pale green hue, reminiscent of a certain type of Chinese porcelain. This difference suggested a different purpose, and I felt compelled to investigate. However, the day was getting late, and after a long, exhausting trek, I decided to postpone the adventure until the next day. I returned to the warm embrace of little Weena.

But the next morning, I realized that my curiosity about the Palace of Green Porcelain was just a way to avoid facing the experience I dreaded. I resolved to make the descent without wasting any more time and set out early toward the well near the granite and aluminum ruins.

Little Weena ran alongside me, dancing as we approached the well. But when she saw me lean over the edge and look down, she seemed suddenly unsettled. “Goodbye, little Weena,” I said, kissing her. I set her down and began to search for the climbing hooks along the parapet. I admit I was a bit hasty; I feared my courage might falter. At first, she watched me in disbelief, then let out a heart-wrenching cry and rushed to pull at me with her tiny hands. I think her resistance actually gave me the push I needed to continue. I shook her off, perhaps a bit too roughly, and in a moment, I was at the mouth of the well. I caught a glimpse of her anguished face above and smiled to reassure her before I had to focus on the precarious hooks I was clinging to.

I had to climb down a shaft that was about two hundred yards deep. The descent was made possible by metallic bars jutting out from the sides of the well, but they were designed for someone much smaller and lighter than me. I quickly became cramped and exhausted. And it wasn’t just fatigue! One of the bars suddenly bent under my weight, nearly sending me tumbling into the darkness below. For a moment, I hung by one hand, and after that, I didn’t dare to rest again. My arms and back soon ached painfully, but I pressed on, scrambling down as quickly as I could. Looking up, I saw the small blue circle of light above, where a star was visible, and little Weena’s head appeared as a dark silhouette. The thudding sound of machinery below grew louder and more oppressive. Everything around me was pitch black, and when I glanced up again, Weena had vanished.

I was in a state of sheer discomfort. I considered going back up the shaft and leaving the Underworld behind, but even as I thought about it, I kept descending. Finally, I felt a wave of relief wash over me when I spotted a slender opening in the wall, just to my right. I swung myself in and discovered it was the entrance to a narrow horizontal tunnel where I could lie down and rest. It was a welcome reprieve. My arms were sore, my back ached, and I was trembling from the fear of falling. The unending darkness had also taken a toll on my eyes. The air was filled with the rhythmic thrum of machinery pumping air down the shaft.

I’m not sure how long I lay there. I was jolted awake by a gentle touch on my face. Startled, I grabbed my matches and quickly struck one. In the flickering light, I saw three small, white figures similar to the one I had encountered above ground. They quickly retreated from the glow. Living in what seemed like impenetrable darkness, their eyes were unnaturally large and sensitive, much like those of deep-sea fish, reflecting the light in an eerie way. I was certain they could see me in the pitch black, and they didn’t seem afraid of me, just of the light. But as soon as I lit a match to get a better look, they vanished into the shadows, their eyes glaring at me from dark crevices and tunnels.

I tried to call out to them, but their language seemed completely different from that of the people above ground. I was left to navigate this strange world on my own, and the thought of fleeing instead of exploring lingered in my mind. But I told myself, “You’re in this now,” and began feeling my way along the tunnel, noticing the noise of machinery growing louder. Soon, the walls opened up, and I found myself in a large, open space. Striking another match, I realized I had entered a vast arched cavern that stretched into darkness beyond the reach of my light. The view I had was limited, just a fleeting glimpse before the match burned down.

My memory of the scene is hazy. Massive shapes resembling machines loomed in the dimness, casting grotesque shadows where spectral Morlocks hid from the light. The air was stifling, and there was a faint, unsettling smell of fresh blood. Down the center of the cavern, I spotted a small table made of white metal, set with what looked like a meal. So, the Morlocks were carnivorous! Even then, I wondered what kind of large animal could have survived to provide the red meat I saw. Everything was indistinct—the heavy odor, the large, meaningless shapes, the grotesque figures lurking in the shadows, waiting for the darkness to envelop me again. Just then, the match burned down, stinging my fingers before it fell, a tiny red dot swallowed by the blackness.

I’ve thought about how ill-prepared I was for this experience. When I first set out with the Time Machine, I naively assumed that the people of the future would be far more advanced than we were in every way. I had come without weapons, without medicine, without anything to smoke—how I missed tobacco!—and even without enough matches. If only I had thought to bring a camera! I could have captured that glimpse of the Underworld in an instant and examined it later. But there I stood, armed only with the natural tools I had—my hands, feet, and teeth—and just four safety matches left to me.

I hesitated to push my way through the dark machinery surrounding me. It was only when I caught my last glimpse of light that I realized my supply of matches was running low. It hadn’t crossed my mind to save them, and I had wasted nearly half the box just to impress the Overworlders, who were fascinated by fire. Now, I was down to four matches.

As I stood there in the darkness, a hand brushed against mine, and I felt lank fingers exploring my face, accompanied by a strange, unpleasant smell. I could almost hear the breathing of a crowd of those terrifying little beings around me. I felt the box of matches being gently taken from my hand, while other hands tugged at my clothing. The sensation of these unseen creatures examining me was indescribably unsettling. In that moment, the realization of my ignorance about their ways hit me hard in the dark.

I shouted at them as loudly as I could. They recoiled, but I could sense them creeping closer again. They grabbed at me more boldly now, whispering strange sounds to one another. I shivered violently and shouted again—this time, it was a discordant cry. They didn’t seem as frightened this time; instead, they made a peculiar laughing noise as they approached me once more. I’ll admit, I was terrified. I decided to strike another match, hoping to escape under its light.

I did just that, and using a scrap of paper from my pocket to extend the flicker, I made my way back to the narrow tunnel. But as soon as I entered, the light was extinguished, and in the darkness, I could hear the Morlocks rustling around me, like wind through leaves, and pattering like rain as they hurried after me.

Suddenly, I was grabbed by several hands, unmistakably trying to pull me back. I struck another match and waved it in their dazzled faces. You can hardly imagine how disturbingly inhuman they looked—those pale, chinless faces and huge, lidless, pinkish-grey eyes staring back at me in confusion. But I didn’t linger; I retreated again, and when my second match burned out, I struck my third. It was almost gone when I reached the opening of the shaft. I lay down at the edge, feeling dizzy from the throb of the great pump below.

As I reached for the climbing hooks, I felt hands grasping my feet from behind, yanking me backward. I lit my last match, but it went out almost immediately. However, I had my hand on the climbing bars now. Kicking wildly, I freed myself from the Morlocks’ grip and scrambled up the shaft, while they stared up at me, blinking in confusion. One little creature followed me for a while, nearly snagging my boot as a trophy.

That climb felt endless. The last twenty or thirty feet brought a wave of nausea that made it hard to keep my grip. I struggled against the faintness that threatened to pull me down. Several times, my head swam, and I felt the sensation of falling. But somehow, I managed to pull myself over the edge of the well and staggered out into the blinding sunlight. I collapsed onto the ground. Even the soil smelled sweet and clean.

Then I remember Weena kissing my hands and ears, and the voices of others among the Eloi. After that, everything went dark, and I was unconscious.