What if we could tamper with time?
That’s the question uppermost in the mind of Dominic
Sandbrook (aka Sandy), in the fourth and final instalment of his BBC
documentary series, Tomorrow’s Worlds:
the Unearthly History of Science Fiction.
The programme was a predictable but nonetheless enjoyable romp
through some of SF’s more familiar time travel tales.
Sandy
begins, of course, with the HG Wells classic, The Time Machine. Ignoring
the novel’s origin in the short story, TheChronic Argonauts, written in 1888, Sandy suggests that time travel begins
in 1895 with Wells’ novel. Curiously, he
characterises The Time Machine as an
attempt to explore the discovery of spiritualism, and the frontiers
beyond. I found this one of the
strangest assertions in all of Sandy’s four programmes.
On
the contrary, The Time Machine has
two major themes: evolution and social class.
The book is an ingenious voyage of discovery through the invention of a
machine, which symbolises the power of science and reason. The Time Traveller sets out to navigate and
dominate time. His discovery? Time is lord of all. The significance of the story’s title becomes
clear. Man is trapped by the mechanism
of time, and bound by a history that leads to his inevitable extinction.
It’s
not surprising that Wells had these twin obsessions of evolution and class.
Firstly,
Wells had emerged from an English lower middle class, that had previously
spawned only one other key author - Charles Dickens. Wells’ mother had been in service, his father
a gardener. Though they were hopeful of
elevating their status on becoming shopkeepers, the shop failed, year after
year. Wells’ own employment began as a draper's
apprentice. It ended rather abruptly
when he was told he was not refined enough to be a draper. Such rejection at the sharp end of a class-conscious
Victorian England became the motivation for Wells’ critique of the world. Secondly, Wells’ scientific watershed had
come on meeting Darwin’s Bulldog at the Normal School of Science, later the
Royal College of Science, whilst studying evolutionary biology under the great
TH Huxley.
With
Huxley as his inspiration, Wells began as an author, living in the dark,
lanterned, black macadam streets of Victorian London, engine-room of the
British Empire. The first of Wells’
seminal novels, The Time Machine,
plotted a dark future for Man. The book
was a sceptical view of the devilish enginery of progress and imperialism. It was an instant triumph.
In
Wells’ book, the Traveller’s headlong fall into the future begins at home. The entire voyage through the evolved worlds
of man shows little spatial shift. The
terror of each age unravels in the vicinity of the Traveller’s laboratory. “It is
not what man has been, but what he will
be, that should interest us”, Wells had written in his essay, The Man of the Year Million. In The
Time Machine we have Wells’ answer - a vision calculated to “run counter to the placid assumption … that
Evolution was a pro-human force making things better and better for mankind”.
Time’s arrow thrusts the story forward to the year 802701AD. The Traveller meets the Eloi, a race
of effete, androgynous and child-like humans living an apparently pastoral
life. Man’s conquest of nature, it
seems, has led to decadence. On
discovering the subterranean machine world of the albino, ape-like Morlocks, a
new theory emerges. Over time, the gulf
between the classes has produced separate species
So,
rather than Sandy’s assertion that the novel was about spiritualism (a notion
he contradicts later in the same programme), Wells foresaw a bifocal
future. One image in the lens, “upper-world man had drifted towards his
feeble prettiness”, focuses on what man may become when natural selection
is eradicated, as with the Eloi. The
lens of the Morlock future, “the
under-world [of] mere mechanical
industry” arises when industrialisation serves as a chronic condition for
natural selection. Wells’ warning is all
the more powerful for making the reader feel responsible. It is the inequity of contemporary class
society that leads to such monstrous futures.
And the condition is still, of course, relevant today.
Perhaps Sandy’s greatest omission in this programme was the
science fictional obsession with alternate histories. They were hardly mentioned. He did, however, comment on the use of time
travel as a vehicle for sharp social criticism.
Perhaps this is why Sandy left out alternate histories, as even a
cursory examination of this sub-genre finds a very conservative tradition
indeed.
Invariably, the alternate history and counter-factual
stories tend to portray a dystopian world so much worse than ours that, as with
Orwell’s flawed masterpiece NineteenEighty-Four, the unrelieved portrayal of misery tends to reinforce
passivity, rather than undermine it.
They leave the reader resigned to believing, like Voltaire, that we live
in the best of all possible worlds. And
we don’t.
No comments:
Post a Comment