 You were rushing forward through time, far into the future, trying desperately to flee the clutching fingers of a band of night creatures, a dream-like horror from which there seems no escape. Escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to the year 100,000 and 80, and to a world where beauty and terror live side by side, as H.G. Wells described it in his immortal story, the time machine. You must be mad, Dudley, a time machine. Yes, my friend, a time machine. This thing? This very thing. Well, this contraption-ness, whatever it is, made of quartz and brass and ivory with its levers and dials and its seat in the middle. This is the result of three years' hard work? I promise you, fellow, that on this machine a man can go wherever he likes in time. By working these levers, a man can choose his century, his year, his very day. Oh, that's impossible. It's out of the question. Then one of the journeys I've already taken on this little contraption. Well, I'm afraid you're having a bad dream. You mean I've developed into a liar? Very well. You shall have proof, my friend. Oh, just climb on, Fallon. Sit in a seat with me. I'll take you for a little spin. You mean right now? Right now. Well, just in case it should work, aren't there any preparations we should make? No, Fallon. You won't need any luggage on this trip, not even a toothbrush. You'll be back in less than a minute. All right. I'm on. Now what? Hold tight because it sways a good deal. I'd hate to lose you. I can't be frightened, Dudley. Then you're braver than I am. Tell me, what time is it? It's just, um, 12 noon. Before we start, I want to adjust this control a bit. Is everything ship-shaped? Oh, yes. Tell me, did you notice anything just then? Only a noise, a humming noise, nothing else. And what time is it? You just asked me, old man. That's funny. What? My watch says 11 o'clock. I could have sworn it was noon a moment ago. Must be something wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with the watch. It's only that I touched the lever, attested. And we've gone forward a full day. 23 hours at any rate. Dudley, have you finished scoffing, Fowler? Yes, I believe I have. Then hold tight. This will be the real article. I'm ready, Dudley. Good man. Well, say goodbye, Fowler. Say goodbye to 1948. We went off to the shattering jar, with machines swaying under us. The walls of Dr. Dudley's laboratory suddenly fell away and night was speeding after day like the flapping of a black wing. I saw the sun hopping across the sky, leaping swiftly across it every second and every second, marking a day. I saw the moon spinning through her quarters like a ball, from new to full, all in the twinkling of an eye. Trees grew and blossomed like puffs of smoke and then passed away. And all the while, we were going faster. And our pace was a year a second, so that second by second, the white snow flashed across the world and was followed by the bright, brief spring. And still we went on into the future. How do you feel, Fowler? Sort of weak and very dizzy. Don't let go. Don't fall off. Where are we? How far have we come? We're in 100,000 and 15 and 16 and 17. That's enough. Stop it, Dudley. I can't stand anymore. Stop it. Fowler, are you all right? I believe so. Oh, broken bones. What happened? I'm not sure. I must have stopped too suddenly. Where are we, Dudley? Look around for yourself. On a wide lawn, in a beautiful, vast garden. I meant geographically. Just where we were when we started. We're standing exactly on a spot where my laboratory stood 100,000 years ago. And the year? 100,000 and 80. It seemed absolutely incredible. A dream but a pleasant one. For the garden in which we found ourselves was beautiful and summery and inviting. At some distance we could see a large, imposing building, always quiet and peaceful, almost too much so. And a sense of strangeness, of incredible strangeness sent a shiver up my spine. 100,000 and 80. Dudley. Dudley. Have you thought what we might find here? What manner of man? What danger? I don't see any men at all. Well, perhaps they don't exist at all anymore. If they do, what are they like? What are they developed? There's been a long interval between us more than 100,000 years. We won't know until we see them. Better maybe too late. Suppose the race has lost its manliness and has become a savage animal. Do you want to go back? Yes, Dudley. I'm frightened. Let's go back. Dudley, from over there in the bushes. It's a solid human. Come on. But Dudley, we don't have any weapons. Come on. It's a child. Look, it seems to be a very small girl. There's been a beast here of some kind. It struggled with her. Look at the marks on her arms. Uh, uh, see here, my dear. You'll be all right now. You won't be harmed. Of course, she wouldn't understand English. I don't think it's that. She's motioning us to go with her. I don't believe they have any language at all, Dudley. What about the animal? Did you see her? No, not a glimpse. It was too fast for us. Perhaps it would better go back, Dudley. The girl seems to be all right now. Leave her like this. Without seeing her people and the way they live, you want to go back so soon? Yeah, I've had enough. Well, they haven't, old man. Because they're here. All around us. They had crept up unsoundless feet to surround us, the little people of this era. And the girl we'd saved was not a child, but a full-grown woman. For they all stood four feet high, dressed in simple tunics, beautiful creatures, but terribly frail with a plump, soft kind of frailty. The mouths were small, and the little chins ran to a point, and they made no sound. They were like eerie figures in a dream, and all we could hear was the heavy rustling of their clothes as they surged happily around us, their faces wreathed in smiles. They're not savage at all. They're very loving and gentle little people. Yes, but there's something terribly wrong with them. What do you mean? They seem to have the minds of five-year-olds. This one over here's been trying to talk to me with gestures. Look at him. He seems to be asking me if I've come from the sun or a thunderstorm. How'd you expect him to be? Far ahead of us, of course. Incredibly ahead of us in knowledge and in science. And look at them. Children. They seem happy in this huge garden of theirs. Something. I've changed my mind, Dudley. Maybe we shall enjoy spending a few days with our little friends. The little people let us home into their valley. They lived in colossal buildings, sleeping all together in one huge hall, eating in another, playing and fiddling together in the sunshine, and Dudley and I lived with them for days, not a contentment. One afternoon we walked together along the banks of the Great River. There's no apparent difference among the sexes. They all wear the same clothes, have the same soft, hairless skin, same feminine roundness of limbs. Yeah. I wonder if it's because they're vegetarians. They're vegetarians because they have to be. You haven't run across any horses or dogs, a cattle of any kind, have you? No, now that you mention it. Good reason. They're all extinct by now, just as the dinosaur is with us. Dudley, there's something very strange here. Something hidden away and silent. You may be right. Anyway, I've taken the precaution of removing the controls from the machine. I don't much fancy the idea of someone riding away with it into another century and leaving us here for the rest of our lives. Dudley, do you recognize this bit of ground? Why? Yes, this is where we landed. I thought so. I wasn't sure. Why do you ask? Can't you see? Look around. It's empty. What's happened to the machine? They've taken it away. They've stolen it. Where, Dudley? Where? Look. See the tracks where they've dragged it? Over here. Come along. Right here. By this monument, the end of the trail. Those are brass doors in the base, and they're locked. The machine, it must be in there inside. We must get it. Break down the door. Tell her how, how can we? Here, we'll use the levers. It's no good, Dudley. They're solid. We'll never break through. Never. Never do you mean stay here for all our lives? Do you mean never go home again? They must open the machine, the time machine. The time machine was gone. The brass doors of the monument held. Our retreat was cut off, a thin line by which we could make our way back home, back to our own time and our own people. But there seemed nothing we could do. We had no way of communicating with the little people, of asking what they had done with the machine and why and how to get it back. They merely stood around and watched our vain efforts. There was nothing hostile in their attitude. They were more like simple, wondering children. Only one, the young woman, Weena, whose life we had saved on our first day, had become really friendly. She went with us wherever we walked and brought us presents of garlands of flowers, slept near us at night in the hall, and we in turn had taught her a few words of English. Now we redoubled our efforts, like men racing against a clock so that we might speak to her and discover the secret of our immense loss. No, not these, Dudley. No. How could you be so sure that your people didn't steal the machine art? Are there any thieves among them or are they all perfect? That's a lot, Dudley. You awaken them. Besides, she doesn't understand. But the thief must be sleeping somewhere in this hall. Weena, they take machine. No, Dudley. No. Who then? Who? We are friends. Yes, yes, friends. We need, must have, machine. Yes, Dudley. Yes. Who took machine? Are there other people, not yours? Others. What about those doors, Weena? Doors open. No. Oh, no. Weena, machine in there must open. No. No, not open. All right, my dear. Go to sleep. Get some rest. Yes, Dudley. Sleep. You too, Fallon. Try anyway. I've tried. It's no good. What's to become of us, Fallon? Are we caught here in this century? Shall we spend our lives with the little people and their secret? Try to sleep, Dudley. We'll go back to the monument tomorrow. We'll find a way of breaking in. Dudley. Yes? Did you just... There it is again. What? Something on my face, cold and filthy, near the touch. On my face and in my hair, cold as death. Dudley! You're right, my boy. There's something in here with us. I smell of the grave. What was it? I don't know. But look at them. The little people are all awake. It's as though they've been stampeded. Let's get out of here. I want some fresh air. We went quickly through the hall and outside, away from the frantic rustling of the little people and into silence. The moon was full just overhead and it was close to dawn. There was a faint sound speeding close behind us and we turned our nerves ragged and our muscles tensed. But it was only Weena coming swiftly to join us. Weena, come closer, my girl. Dudley? Tell us, what do your people fear? What makes them afraid? Afraid, darkness. Then there is something. What do you mean, darkness? Dark things, dark places, night. Why? Why? I... I don't know. Why should they be afraid of the night, Dudley? Perhaps it's not the night alone. Dark places. That's our cue. Perhaps it's something underground. By now it was light, another day. We had wandered into a lovely wooded place about a mile from the community. Suddenly Weena screamed that we stopped short. A pair of glaring eyes was fixed upon us as we stood there petrified the thing. A little ape-like figure rushed across our path and disappeared in a clearing about 30 yards away. What was it? I couldn't see it too well. It seemed to be dull white with white hair in its head and down its back. Looked like a small ape. That's because it was running on all fours over its arms held very low. Weena, Weena, what's the matter? Molochs. They are molochs. Who are the molochs? What are they? Weena, tell me. No. No, go away. Let's go over there and see where it disappeared. In the clearing, we found a round well-like opening. I leaned over and looked down a deep shaft, and as I did so, I saw a small white creature retreating down a ladder in the well. Something like a human spider. Its large, bright eyes watching me as it went swiftly down, and then it disappeared in the shaft. Paola, did you see it? Like a napkin. Yeah, yeah, like a man. So there are two species of men in this world. Hey, fella. Yes. The little people above the ground and this obscene thing that's bleached monster below. Two races of men in this country. That white look. It's common to animals that live in the dark like huge rats, like worms that are cold to the touch. I know because they've touched me. You can feel air being sucked down into the shaft. Yes. The earth must be tunneled enormously here under our feet, and these monsters live in the tunnels. I think we know now who stole our time machine. Yes. I'm sure of it. Then? Then we'll go down and have a look. No, no, don't go. Why not, Wiener? Warlocks, you never come back. We've got to have our machine, my dear. You wait for us here. But we went down. Our heels ringing on the small metallic bars that were meant for creatures so much smaller than we down, we climbed down, down. Ever in darkness, down it seemed into the center of the earth, into the core of the world. Not once longer. We won't know till we reach bottom. It could only stop and rest. It can't be much further. I'm so terribly tired. Hang on a little bit. Do you hear that? Like a machinery. We're almost there. I'll thank heaven for that. All right, Fowler. I'm at the bottom. Come along, just a few more steps. Give me your hand, Fowler. Good. We're here. In the land of the Warlocks. Do you have a match? Yeah. It seems to be a large, vaulted cavern at the end of the passage. What do you suppose they'll do if they catch us? I have no idea, so we'd better take care to get caught. Another match. That throbbing noise. It's probably the ventilating system popping air down. There must be thousands upon thousands of these Warlocks living under the earth. We haven't seen any yet, except for our friend who came down ahead of us. Why do you suppose they wanted our time machine? I think they wanted us, Dudley. Not the machine. And we've come to them. We must. It's our only chance. Fowler, if that noise does come from air pumps, why is it so stuffy here? So oppressive. Dudley, that smell. Light another match. Dudley, look. Straight ahead on the white metal table. It's set for a meal. Yes, with a big chunk of bloody meat. We know that cattle are extinct. What do they feed on these Warlocks? Don't you know? I guess I do. Another match. All right, Dudley. Dudley, I haven't got any more. We've used our last match. All right, we'll have to go back there then. We know the secret now anyway. The Warlocks living here underground are the masters of this age. And our friends up above, fatted cattle, fed by the Warlocks, clothed and supplied and housed until the day when they're cut out from the herd and brought underground as food. This is the future you're looking at. This is what we, man of the 20th century, shall come to... Dudley, what is it? I felt hands, cold hands. One of these leavers, using as a weapon, lash out against the wall. Fowler, here beside me! Dudley, what do we do? Do! Fight them! Kill! Use your lever-man like this! Dudley, they're all around us. This way, Fowler! This way! Back this way! Back in that evil darkness, fighting every step as we went, back to those projecting bars, kicking and clawing ourselves, and their pallid, grasping hands, and climbing up again toward daylight and freedom away from their stench and the eagerness of their icy hands. And they didn't follow, for daylight was their enemy and their great fear. And we lived among the lush gardens of the gentle little people like prisoners, like men without reprieve, like men who are dead, or they still walk the earth, or the time machine was locked away behind great brass doors, and we knew we could never force them open. Then, one day, Weena told us of an old building, an ancient staggering structure that had survived through many ages and was filled with many curious objects. A museum! That's what it must be, a museum, Fowler. Perhaps from some earlier time. I'm in no mood to go looking at a museum. But don't you see? Specimens are hermetically sealed in museums. Perhaps there are things, weapons, machinery, something we could use. Oh, sure, if we could find some dynamite or gunpowder or something. We could blast those doors, we could get in. Where is this place, Weena? This old building that no one ever goes near. I take you, Fowler, if not far. A chance, old man, a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. All day we've wandered through the great ruined halls. The building had been deserted and in disuse for perhaps a century. A child like men of that time had long since ceased to care about anything but their own personal comforts. It was late afternoon and growing dark when we came upon the chemical section. We'd found nothing useful to us until then. And now... now came the worst disappointment of all. And it's dust, all of it. It's been dust for centuries. Another dead end. It's hopeless. We were out of our heads to hope that they'd retain their form for a hundred thousand years. We'd better go if nothing here. Wait just a moment. There's something in this case. You can break it with your lever. Stand back a little. Hallelujah. A box of matches hermetically sealed. That's perfect. Not even damned. And what shall we do with them? Burn down those brass doors? Better keep them anyway. At least we can smoke again. And you can't tell. On the floor. See them? Small narrow footprints leading away into the darkness at the end of the gallery. We'd better go. Pick wean up and carry them. We'll have to run for it. Don't be frightened, my dear. It'll be all right. Go on, run! We came out of the gloom of that place into the deeper gloom of dust. Suddenly we saw we were trapped all around us with a moorlox. There were a thousand surrounding us and coming closer, a long, even line of deathly white, their eyes blinking in the half light and the tiny mouths alive with appetite. The matches, Dudley. Light of fire, here. The forest is dry. Good. We'll have an inferno here in a minute and our little friends don't like light or heat. The fire leaped high to the heavens and the countryside was ablaze. The moorlox turned in fear, blinded by the glare. Some of them burned in the middle of the raging flames and the rest faded away like a fog. Dudley had left a narrow passageway for our retreat and we fled down a long corridor of leaping flames and blistering heat. We fled to safety. We fled back for the community of the little people. And as we ran, we passed the huge monument with its great bronze doors that were locked tight on our time machine. And suddenly, in the glare of the distant fires, we saw something that stopped us short. They're open. Fowler, the doors are open. No. It's a trap. They're ready for us inside. Ready or not, we're going in. Dudley, it's suicide. It'll take me about one minute to screw the levers in again. Then I touch them and we're away. All right. I'll try to give you your one minute. Good boy. No, no, go, not leave me. You, my dear, you hold tight around by neck. You're coming home with us. All right, let's go. Look! The machine, they haven't harmed it. I don't see them yet. Come on, quickly! Give me that other lever. The doors, Dudley, they're closed. Get in the seat. I'll be ready in a minute. I waited for the hum that would signal our departure and there in the darkness, the Morlocks were finally upon us. Cold, persistent fingers swarmed over my body, tugging at me, sucking me away from the machine, but I held tight to Wieners. A man holds fast to life and trying to kick them away with my feet. Hurry, Dudley! Hurry! They can't seem to get these levers. Quick or we're done. Just another turn and it's... Laugh out. We're away. We're gone. No, we made it. You all right? I'm all right. Good. And Wiener? Wiener isn't with us. What happened? They tore from my hands the last minute they got her. I tried to save her, I couldn't. I know, old man. I still got a piece of her tunic here in my fist. A little piece of her tunic, Dudley. But nothing else. And so we came home again. Back into the very minute from which we had left. Back into 12 noon, May 9th, 1940. We were in Dudley's laboratory again, motionless, sitting on the ridiculous contraption which he called a time machine. Was it all a dream? A mad and feverish dream. Did any of it happen? Could any of it happen? No, of course not. I was stupid. But then, what's this? What are this jagged piece of thick green silk I hold in my hand? What does that mean? Escape, produced and directed by Norman McDonnell, tonight brought you The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. Adapted for radio by Irving Ravitch, with Eric Rolf as Fowler, Jeff Corey as Dudley, and Kay Brinker as Wiener. The musical score was conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Next week, you are wandering in a vast white solitude, torn by the icy blast of arctic wind, your strength ebbing and frozen death creeping up on you, and behind you a man with a gun from whom there is no escape. Next week, we escape with another great story of high adventure by one of the world's best-known authors. Good night, then, until this same time. Next week, when once again we offer you escape. This is CBS, where 99 million people gather every week for Columbia Broadcasting System.