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In the Days of the Comet Prologue · The H. G. Wells Library

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  Speaker 1: This is the prolog titled The Man who Wrote in
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  Speaker 1: the Tower, section zero zero of in the Days of
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  Speaker 1: the Comet. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings
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  Speaker 1: are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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  Speaker 1: please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Steve mc daniel.
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  Speaker 1: In the Days of the Comet by H. G. Wells
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  Speaker 1: prolog The Man who Wrote in the Tower section zero zero.
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  Speaker 1: I saw a gray haired man, a figure of hale age,
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  Speaker 1: sitting in a desk and writing. He seemed to be
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  Speaker 1: in a room in a tower, very high, so that
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  Speaker 1: through the tall window on his left one perceived only
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  Speaker 1: distances a remote horizon of sea, a headland, and that
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  Speaker 1: vague haze and glitter in the sunset that many miles
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  Speaker 1: away marks a city. All the appointments of this room
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  Speaker 1: were orderly and beautiful, and in some subtle quality in
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  Speaker 1: this small difference, in that new to me and strange
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  Speaker 1: they were in no fashion I could name, And the
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  Speaker 1: simple costume the man wore suggested neither period nor country.
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  Speaker 1: It might, I thought, be the happy future, or utopia,
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  Speaker 1: or the land of simple dreams, an errand mote of memory.
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  Speaker 1: Henry James's phrase and story of the great good Place
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  Speaker 1: twinkled across my mind and passed and left no light.
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  Speaker 1: The man I saw wrote with a thing like a
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  Speaker 1: fountain pen, a modern touch that prohibited any historical retrospection.
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  Speaker 1: And as he finished each sheet, writing in an easy,
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  Speaker 1: flowing hand, he added it to a growing pile upon
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  Speaker 1: a graceful little table under the window. His last dun
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  Speaker 1: sheets lay loose, partly covering others that were clipped together
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  Speaker 1: into fascicles. Clearly he was unaware of my presence, and
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  Speaker 1: I stood waiting until his pen should come to a pause.
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  Speaker 1: Old as he certainly was, he wrote with a steady hand.
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  Speaker 1: I discovered that a concave speculum hung slantingly high over
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  Speaker 1: his head. A movement in this caught my attention sharply,
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  Speaker 1: and I looked up to see distorted and made fantastic,
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  Speaker 1: but bright and beautifully colored. The magnified reflected evasive rendering
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  Speaker 1: of a palace, of a terrace, and of the vista
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  Speaker 1: of a great roadway with many people, people exaggerated, impossible
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  Speaker 1: looking because of the curvature of the mirror going to
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  Speaker 1: and fro. I turned my head quickly that I might
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  Speaker 1: see more clearly through the window behind me, but it
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  Speaker 1: was too high for me to survey this nearer scene directly.
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  Speaker 1: And after a momentary pause, I came back to that
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  Speaker 1: distorting mirror again, But now the writer was leaning back
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  Speaker 1: in his chair. He put down his pen and sighed
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  Speaker 1: the half resentful sigh. Ah, you work, you, how you
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  Speaker 1: gratify and tire me of a man who has been
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  Speaker 1: writing to his satisfaction. What is this place? I asked?
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  Speaker 1: And who are you? He looked around with a quick
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  Speaker 1: movement of surprise. What is this place? I repeated, and
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  Speaker 1: where am I? He regarded me steadfastly for a moment
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  Speaker 1: under his wrinkled brows, and then his expression softened to
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  Speaker 1: a smile. He pointed to a chair beside the table.
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  Speaker 1: I am writing, he said, about this, about the change.
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  Speaker 1: I sat down. It was a very comfortable chair and
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  Speaker 1: well placed under the light. If you would like to read,
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  Speaker 1: he said, I indicated the manuscript. This explains, I asked,
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  Speaker 1: That explains, he answered. He drew a fresh sheet of
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  Speaker 1: paper toward him as he looked at me. I glanced
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  Speaker 1: from him about his apartment and back to the little table.
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  Speaker 1: A fascicle marked very distinctly. One caught my attention, and
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  Speaker 1: I took it up. I smiled in his friendly eyes.
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  Speaker 1: Very well, said I, suddenly at my ease, and he
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  Speaker 1: nodded and went on writing, And in a mood between
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  Speaker 1: confidence and curiosity, I began to read. This is the
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  Speaker 1: story that happy, active looking old man in that pleasant
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  Speaker 1: place had written. End of Prolog The man who wrote
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  Speaker 1: in the Tower, Section zero zero. Recording by Steve mc
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  Speaker 1: daniel Steve mc daniel v O dot com