The Great Steam Time Machine

by Brian Herbert and Bruce Taylor

Dedications

To Percival Lowell: So wrong but—so right.

And to Nikola Tesla: Had things been more in your favor, you may well have shown us how to fold space, or construct a death ray.

 

Carrying a black satchel over his shoulder, a lean, harried-looking man pushed through the imposing doors of the Great Exhibition Hall, shaking snow off his coat as he walked. Once inside, Percival Lowell paused, then walked slowly onto the thick blue carpeting of the building’s foyer.

He ran fingers through his sparse, graying hair and looked about, as if he could not quite figure out why or how he was there. Just moments ago, hadn’t he been at his observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona? He’d heard a noise, and gone to investigate—what had happened next? As he tried to remember, he gazed about his present circumstances: to the bookcases lining the walls and the overstuffed deep red chairs with thick, padded arms, grouped in fours and fives around large mahogany coffee tables.

Chairs that were robust, he thought, as if they could cradle and hold me forever while I sit in long discussions about Mars, astronomy, and the marvels of the age. While he didn’t know exactly where in the world he was—for some reason it didn’t matter and didn’t seem particularly odd, either.

Somehow, he mused, it feels as if I’m in a lucid dream or a magical reality where no matter how odd it is, everything seems natural and not strange at all.

Straight ahead, closed doors with leaded glass panels led to a great display hall, curiously dark. But slowly, light gained strength, just enough to reveal the hulking shapes of great electrical and mechanical wonders and a huge steam engine, as if the best examples of such technology had been collected in one place and put on display.

Lowell looked up, amazed that above the doors, lettering had either escaped his attention or—he shook his head—suddenly appeared? Great polished brass letters brightly proclaimed:

The Great Hall of the Coming Amazing

Steam, Electrical and Mechanical Age

Still feeling a bit disoriented, he sat on one of the chairs, and sank into its softness. On the nearest table a newspaper was dated December 21, l895. Lowell smoothed his mustache for several moments, a nervous habit. He looked to the paper again; the date was the same but—the year had vanished.

On the coffee table, he suddenly noticed a steaming cup of tea in a white, porcelain cup with a delicate vine of blue flowers imprinted on it. The cup looked as if it had just come into being, appearing out of thin air. How did—? Lowell shook his head, closed his eyes. Earl Gray, he thought, one of my favorites. He took a sip. Perfect. Even the right amount of sweetness. He savored it and felt himself relaxing. Draining the cup and putting it down, he only vaguely noticed that a large teapot had also appeared.

He opened his satchel and pulled out loose papers in a folder, which he opened. He looked over the notes he was making on his next book, a follow up to Mars, his first published work.

What to call it? he pondered. Nothing came to him, but it would concern Mars as well. The planet had become an obsession for him, and from his high desert perch at 7,000 feet elevation, he had been peering into the dark night sky, staring at the planet whenever it became visible, trying to make sense of the topographical features he had been seeing.

But now, a slender boy came in, unbuttoning his coat and shaking snow out of his fair hair. He went up to Percival and after a long moment, said quite boldly, “Hi. Are you Percival Lowell, the astronomer?”

Lowell, a bit startled, smiled. “Why, why—yes, I am. And who might I have the pleasure of talking to, young man?”

The boy grinned “Hugo. Hugo Gernsback. I’ve heard about your excellent work, and I came all the way from Luxembourg to meet you. What are you working on now?”

“A future book about the red planet,” Lowell said. “I just published a book on the subject, Mars, but there’s a lot more to say. Would you like to see a copy? I have one in my satchel.” He looked inside the bag. “And maybe a few more.”

Hugo’s eyes grew wide. Then he nodded vigorously and said, “Gosh, sure—”

Lowell let him examine a copy of the several that he happened to have with him—more copies than should have been able to fit into the shoulder satchel. He watched the boy as he carefully turned the pages with an expression of reverence, as if it was something holy.

“I really like well-written books,” Hugo said. “And this is certainly that. You have a great way of getting your ideas across.”

Lowell leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “Did you know Mars has life?”

Hugo, looking stunned, shook his head.

“I am convinced that there are canals on Mars.”

“Canals? Full of water?”

“They are going dry.” He held up a finger. “Mars is an ancient world, a dying world. In spite of the canals carrying water from the poles to the cities, there is less and less water—”

“Wow,” Hugo said. “Yet there’s life there? Cities?”

“Indeed.” He lifted the folder of papers. “Just notes right now, and I’m continuing to study the planet by telescope.” But there is a great deal of data to collect before I can prove this. I am years away from another book, Mars as the Abode of Life, being ready for publication. But, yes, Mars has life.” He looked at the notes for the book and read out loud, “‘The drying-up of the planet is certain to proceed until its surface can support no life at all. Slowly but surely time will snuff it all out. When the last ember is thus extinguished, the planet will become a dead world tumbling through space, its evolution of life forms forever ended.’ My book will have something to do with the canals, and the fact that Mars is losing its ability to harbor life.”

“Wow,” said Hugo, “wouldn’t it be terrific to go back in time to see what it was like? And meet the Martians? Maybe there were oceans! I have a signed copy of a new scientific fiction book called The Time Machine, by Mr. H.G. Wells. He is such a good writer that the story just jumps to life! What if time travel were possible?”

Lowell sipped his tea and chuckled. “A time machine. Marvelous idea, but—”

“—but,” said a gentleman who had appeared and stood nearby, “It has a few problems.”

“Nikola!” Lowell exclaimed. Then, putting the papers on the table, he stood and looked at the famous, impeccably dressed inventor, the dark hair parted down the middle, the head down, the fierce eyes peering up. “Nikola Tesla—how have you been?” He glanced over at the boy, and said, “This is my new friend, Hugo Gernsback, from Luxembourg.”

Tesla shook the young man’s hand, asked, “What brings you to this Great Hall?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “Just a moment ago I was running an errand for my mother and it was summer and I started thinking about a picture I saw of a great stream engine. Then I remembered reading about Mr. Lowell, and all of a sudden I found myself walking though those doors—” His voice trailed off as if the strangeness of him being there was suddenly dawning on him. Then, as if it was actually of little consequence, he grinned and said, “Guess I really like all this new mechanical stuff, and it drew me here like a magnet.”

Tesla laughed gently. “Such a bright boy. Yes, the machines in this hall are the coming thing, such an age we have before us! So much to look forward to—”

“Maybe even time travel?” said Hugo, holding his copy of Wells’ book that suddenly appeared in his hands.

Tesla sat in one of the chairs at the same table; a maid appeared and brought him tea, setting it in front of him. “Oh, how I wish,” he said, “how I wish. But in spite of Mr. Wells’ wonderful story, it does have a very big problem—and that is—he doesn’t really describe the power source, how the whole thing might work. He should have contacted me about it, and asked for technical advice. The lack of any precise detail detracts from the story’s credibility.” Pouring tea into his cup, he continued, “So does the plot point of his time traveler just happening to find functional safety matches in a sealed museum case some 800,000 years in the future.” Nikola shook his head. “Dear, oh dear. But for a young man to publish such a well-received tome at age twenty-nine and gain such a fine reputation so quickly, I dare say that is quite an achievement. And it certainly awakens the public consciousness about time and the destiny of humankind.”

Lowell took a sip of tea. Then, thoughtfully, “Yes, but back to the original question about power for the time vehicle, one would suppose that would be a problem but to my knowledge, no one has questioned Mr. Wells too closely about it. But now that you bring it up—there is another, even more pressing problem, and I assume you know what that might be—”

Tesla looked over at young Hugo Gernsback. “Take a chair, young man and listen to great minds debate.” He smiled impishly as Hugo settled into a soft chair.

“Yes,” said Lowell, taking the papers of his book from the table and placing them on his lap, “I suppose the whole concept of time travel itself begs the question—setting aside any question about the power source.”

At this point, someone else came over: a tall young man in his mid-teens, dark haired and with a mustache, wearing a tweed coat and dark trousers. Studying everyone for a moment, he finally said, “I couldn’t help but overhear this conversation, and I am most intrigued by it. Might I join in? My name is Albert Einstein, and I recently published a paper, ‘The Investigation of the State of Aether in Magnetic Fields.’ I’ve been getting a lot of praise for it.” He smiled. “One scholar even thinks I might win the Nobel Prize someday.”

Noting a sense of authority about this young man, Lowell put his papers back on the table and rose to his feet, as did Tesla.

“Herr Einstein,” said Tesla, grabbing Einstein’s hand and shaking it; his expression was that of absolute delight.

Percival Lowell studied the young man. Most of all he noticed the eyes, incredibly intelligent, brown eyes.

“You are Nikola Tesla, I believe?” Einstein said to the other man. Then, looking at Lowell he said, “And you?”

“Percival Lowell.” he said, extending his hand. “And our young companion is Hugo Gernsback of Luxembourg.”

“We are from all over the world,” Einstein said. “How interesting that we are all here.”

Lowell looked to Hugo, then to Einstein, and said, “I suspect, given your paper, that you have some interesting ideas about the nature of the universe.”

“Bah,” laughed Einstein, “you give me too much credit. I just play with numbers in my head. Let’s see where I am five years from now instead of just being sixteen!” He laughed again.

A maid in a black and white uniform appeared from nowhere and pushed another chair close to the table for Einstein, and in a few minutes she brought tea for him and crumpets for everyone. And placed before Hugo a white mug of rich hot chocolate.

Hugo smiled, looking down at the steaming chocolate. “I was just thinking about how good a cup of hot chocolate would be.” He looked up. “Thank—”

The maid was gone.

“Anyway,” said Einstein, nibbling on one of the crumpets, “I believe I overheard you gentlemen talking about Mr. Wells’ new novel? I agree that there are problems with what he says—”

“Yes,” said Percival Lowell, “mainly with the concept of time travel, along with—”

But Einstein shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the problem—”

Nikola Tesla leaned forward and nodded. “It’s the power that’s the problem.”

“—not the concept of time travel itself—” continued Albert.

Young Hugo looked up, almost spilling his hot chocolate. “Time travel is a possibility?”

“If time travel is really possible,” said Tesla, “if you have enough power, who knows what might happen?” He smiled, dipping a tea bag in and out of the pot. “I’ve been thinking—” He looked toward the display hall. “Don’t you suppose it’s time for us to take a look into that great hall of wonders?” He rose to his feet.

“Why yes,” said Lowell, “why don’t we do that?”

Albert Einstein grinned and rose to stand beside Nikola. “Of course.”

Lowell grabbed his pile of papers, and holding the stack vertical, tapped the bottom end on the table—and when the papers were neat, he placed them in the folder and back in the satchel. Then he opened a copy of Mars, and flipping open the cover, he wrote a note: “To my friend, Hugo Gernsback—you shall go far and the world will remember you.” Then, signing it, he handed it to an astonished and delighted Hugo.

The group followed Tesla and Einstein to the Great Hall of the Coming Amazing Steam, Electrical and Mechanical Age. As they approached, the massive doors swung open and the lights abruptly became brighter, revealing a vast interior space with brass and gleaming modern marvels looming large and filling the immense room.

At the threshold of the cavernous hall, they all stopped. “Like this place was expecting us,” noted Lowell.

Tesla nodded. A knowing look. “Actually, it was.”

Lowell noticed with some consternation a smile on Tesla’s face as they walked deeper into the immense hall and stood before a locomotive-sized steam machine gleaming in brass bright elegance, dwarfing the people. Not far away loomed an apparatus of two high vertical cylinders, tapering toward the top, at least twenty-five feet high and the same distance apart, topped by mirrored balls. Around the base of the cylinders, items electrical: coils of copper wiring on giant spools, translucent blue glass insulators at the ends of metal poles, a vast array of new electrical equipment. Other hulking machines lurked beyond, silent, strange, and to Lowell, vaguely foreboding.

Tesla stopped, and gestured toward the behemoth of the steam machine. “With the stupendous power of this great engine, nothing, nothing is impossible.” Showing great confidence in his expression, he breathed in, then slowly let out his breath. “And with the adjustments I made while waiting for all of you to appear—I tell you, nothing—nothing—is impossible.”

Albert Einstein laughed gently. “Even time travel, you’re obviously suggesting.”

“Yes, even time travel.”

Hugo’s mouth dropped open.

Lowell felt both shock and amazement. Then, with a sense of wariness, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said to Tesla, “would you please clarify what you meant when you said you were waiting for us?”

“A slip of the tongue. I suppose I meant ‘while I was waiting for us to enter into this gallery.’ I’m dreadfully sorry about the confusion. Shall we continue?”

This is just too strange, thought Lowell, but—he noticed Einstein looking at Tesla with a mixture of doubt, skepticism and yes—possibility.

“Behold,” said Tesla, “for you are about to witness a demonstration of power beyond your imagination.”

As if on cue, the great steam machine roared to life. A huge piston began to move laterally, great wheels began to turn and then began a pounding and thudding of something Lowell could not identify. That sound along with a quickening chuff-chuff-chuff and sshhhshhshhh of the steam engine itself, quickly climbed to an almost deafening roar while pulleys and wheels became blurs of oval and circular movement.

Hugo covered his ears.

Lowell found himself feeling unsteady on his feet as the hall shook, thudded and shuddered. Tesla motioned for everyone to follow him into a tiny room off to one side. Behind the great inventor, they packed into a place with a control panel that was crowded with dials, lights, toggle switches. On the back wall, more dials, levers, and gauges. With the door closed it was quieter, but nothing could stop the indescribable vibrations and thud-thud-thudding of machinery.

Tesla pointed to the apparatus of copper coils and two mirrored spheres on the tapered cylinders not far away from the steam engine. “Invented this a few years back,”—he spoke loudly—“around l890. I call it the Tesla coil. Harmless if you’re careful, deadly if you’re not.”

He turned a dial on the console in front of him, and motioned for the others to turn to watch the effect. Lowell heard the sound increasing, a weird, high pitched, buzzing whine, followed by sparks and arcs of electricity—wild, white and dendrite-like bursts of light that shot high in the air of the display hall, firing out from the spheres in staccato, frenetic flashes.

“So much power!” Einstein said, “but it doesn’t mean the universe is going to change.” He paused. “Or that this machine can transport people through time. It’s just a display of electrical and steam power, and no more than that.”

“My dear Einstein,” said Tesla, “you do agree that time travel might be possible, don’t you?”

“Possibly, but not with machines like this.”

“You’re only looking at the engine,” said Tesla, smiling, his head tilted slightly to the left, which to Lowell looked as if he was carefully calculating his further response. “If Mr. Wells had his time machine here, this power would send his machine on its way. This is exactly the sort of tremendous, universe-altering power he would need.”

Einstein waved his hand. “But where’s the time machine? And how would you measure the passage of time to figure out if you were in the future or the past, and the date? And how would such a vehicle actually move through time?”

Lowell nodded “I must agree. Time travel is very much the realm of fiction and likely to stay there. I am sure, Mr. Tesla, with your amazing display of power, it most certainly would be enough to propel such a machine at incredible speeds, but,” he laughed, “you must first have the proper machine, I fear.”

Undaunted, Nikola stood his ground. “But who’s to say that someone—someone like me—might not invent such a device to travel down the infinite corridors of time?” Looking at Einstein, he added, “And time travel may not even be through a ‘device’—it may be accomplished by another means that still needs power of this great magnitude.”

A sudden intrusion of noise had everyone in the small room turning to the opened door. Two more gentleman crowded inside. A short young man with a round face, wearing round glasses, followed by an older man who also wore glasses and sported a well-trimmed beard.

The young man looked at Tesla and said, “I’m not sure how we heard you talking in here with that cacophony out there, but hear you we did. And you could very well be correct in your conjecture that a time machine is not even necessary. After all, as far as I can tell, my colleague and I traveled here without any machinery. Incidentally, I am Carl Gustav Jung and this is my esteemed colleague, Sigmund Freud.”

Lowell had heard of Freud; the man was becoming quite renowned. But this other fellow was an unknown. Even so, he had a presence about him, and he was speaking while Freud stood quietly beside him. Lowell introduced the rest of the company in the small room; all shook hands.

Finally, Tesla said to the new guests, “Welcome, gentlemen. I assume you are in this great building for the same reason we are which is—” He stopped and looked to the massive steam engine “—to ponder our new age and the implications of technology, especially the possibility of immense—dare I say—unlimited power.”

“I hope to a good end,” Freud said. “But is all this power for the good of man, to make his life easier—or will it lead to his demise?”

“Such tremendous power,” said Jung, “but without full consciousness or integration of the selves it could be extremely dangerous.”

Hugo looked confused, obviously not comprehending. “I thought we were talking about Mr. Wells’ book, The Time Machine and how it needed power of this kind to truly make it work—”

Einstein cleared his throat. “A time machine is not yet a reality—and it might not be for quite some time. If ever.”

Freud smiled knowingly. “Actually, we are all quite familiar with time travel, for we are walking time machines, with our memories and dreams. Memories and dreams that can be so real they become reality.”

Nikola lowered his head, with the effect of peering up at Freud. “In that sense you are right, for I know of this. My own power to visualize is so intense that at times I cannot tell the difference between what I visualize in my head and the ‘reality’ around me as if reality almost becomes,” he paused, “if you will, a magical blending of the real world and my imagination. But in time travel we want to move in an external, not internal, reality—into the past or the future.”

“Do you really want to attempt that?” asked Carl Jung. “No matter the dangers?”

“Yes,” said Tesla, Gernsback and Einstein in unison.

“Of course we want to make the attempt!” said Lowell. “If we could visit the future earth and learn what it is like, we’d be able to make changes now to help mankind advance more quickly—or to prevent some future catastrophe.”

“Perhaps,” said Carl Jung, “but I urge great caution. I am working on an idea and it’s in its nascence, but I wonder if there may be a sense of shared awareness in humankind, a collective unconscious, and, if so, I can’t help but wonder if the universe has this as well—a linkage that is more vast than anyone can imagine.”

Lowell noticed that Freud was looking askance at Jung.

“I find this interesting,” Lowell said, “because it reminds me of things I heard whilst traveling in the Orient.”

Einstein opened the door to the display hall, increasing the noise level. With the exception of Tesla, they went out and stared up and about at the great, throbbing and roaring machine. This time, Hugo did not plug his ears; instead, he seemed hypnotized, particularly by the immensity and power of the huge engine.

“All this energy.” Carl Jung shouted, “What if our collective human psyche and the psyche of an even more powerful universal force—a vast energy that is both creative and destructive—could somehow combine with the power we see demonstrated before us?”

There was an audible gasp and Einstein looked utterly stricken. “Mien Gott! If all those energies could combine, they would totally alter space as we know it—the power would be so overwhelming that anything could be—might be—possible.”

Lowell saw Tesla leaning his head out of the door to obviously hear the conversation.

“Yes, yes, anything—” Tesla blurted out.

Then Lowell saw him reach back inside, putting his hand on a dial and slowly turning up the power. Throughout the display hall, there was an obvious increase in the energy output of the great steam machine and the electrical display of the linked Tesla coils, though the noise level actually smoothed out and diminished. A sweet and sharp smell of ozone permeated the air.

On one side Lowell noticed Jung studying him intently.

“Forgive me,” said Jung, “if I seem overly blunt, but a question that may have merit in regard to all of this—may I ask if you are happy—really happy, with how your theories about intelligent life on Mars are being received by the scientific community?”

The question blindsided Lowell. He felt a sharp stab of pain as if a secret wound had been exposed quite suddenly. “Well, their support hasn’t been too forthcoming, but any day I hope—”

Jung smiled and said, “Bear with me, my friend. Just for the sake of argument, is it remotely possible that your theory of the rise and fall of civilization on Mars is actually your unconscious belief in this, tapping into a universal life force that has its own sentience, its own awareness?”

The electricity arced furiously in the display hall, bathing the large space in brilliant blasts of light as the great steam engine thundered with power. Again, Lowell saw Tesla leaning against the console, turning the dial to its maximum, pushing the great steam engine to its limit.

“If this is the case,” continued Jung, “and there is a psyche of life on Mars that is dying, thence the spirit of the planet is dying as well, and if it could combine with the technological energies we see here—couldn’t it be possible we might witness something extraordinary, as seemingly random events and energies come together in a way that would be a meaningful coincidence?”

Suddenly Lowell saw a most curious thing: the steam time machine froze in its action as the wheels and pulleys became a static blur of abruptly stilled action. All was suddenly quiet, and the smell of ozone grew much stronger.

Shaken and stunned, Lowell saw the images before them—the hall and the huge steam engine—all ripple horizontally, as one might see waves travel down a long pane of glass during an earthquake. But these were slow, heavy waves traveling back and forth.

Lowell moved aside to allow Tesla, who had left the console, to join them, then all stood with frozen arcs and bolts of electricity sparking over their heads. As moments passed, the horizontal rippling effect increased, and before them, the entire display hall took on an even more strange quality, as if looking at a two-dimensional photograph.

Then the great machine, and the immense hall itself, began to fade with each passing wave, while gradually another scene came into focus. And to Lowell’s complete and utter amazement, he found himself and his companions on a hill, gazing out across a vast, alien landscape. The air was cold and windless, and before them the drying canals of a dying Mars stretched long and far through a barren landscape to a sullen, reddish horizon. The air smelled of minerals, and breathing was difficult, the atmosphere coarse, as if laden with fine particles of dust.

Lowell sat down on the cold soil of Mars, and in the dulling light of day, he saw a trickle of water in the nearest canal, and higher marks indicating where water must have been in the past. “What am I to make of this?” he whispered. “What am I to make of this? Am I right about Mars? Am I wrong? I do not understand—”

“Are you right about Mars? Perhaps,” said Carl Jung, sitting beside him. “For us to come here in the first place must mean we were right about our theory that we are indeed dealing with a life force of Mars, one of innumerable life forces in the universe. Within that context, our small assemblage of people has shared a collective vision from a cosmic connection.”

“Space!” exclaimed Albert Einstein. “We must have traveled through space! I’m not certain exactly how, but—”

“The pain of Martian life dying must be sending out psychic signals,” Carl Jung said, “a whole planet in pain broadcasting across space, combining with Percival’s subconscious fear that he will die without recognition, and his intense desire to really see the Mars of which he has written and hence redeem himself—all these forces, as well as our own energies, must have somehow become engaged in the tremendous physical power and kinetic energies of the great steam engine and the Tesla coils in the display hall. These factors must have combined in a remarkable synchronistic confluence of events and energies to transport us to Mars.”

For a time, they just gazed out on the strange landscape in the fading light, each alone with their thoughts in the deepening darkness.

Presently, Lowell heard the voice of Einstein. “But have we traveled in time? Certainly not so long ago there was abundant life here on Mars, but is this the way Mars is now? Or have we gone into the future, to the final moments, the last gasps of the planet and its inhabitants?”

“Couldn’t this be the past, or even the present?” Gernsback asked.

“I really don’t know,” said Einstein, “but I think we have gone into the future.”

“I agree,” Jung said. “I do think we have in fact traveled to a future Mars that is the logical evolution of the way Mars is today. I know this in the most instinctual portion of my being; I feel it strongly, from my connection to all of the energy that transported us across space—and time.” He paused. “But scientifically, there is no way to prove this.”

“So I’ll never be vindicated to the public,” Lowell said, his voice trailing off in great sadness and despair.

“That matters far less than what we have experienced together,” Jung said, “for our importance as human beings lies in our collective strength, our shared dreams, our energies, not in anything we desire as individuals, not in the narcissistic desire of any man’s ego for recognition.”

“My young friend Carl does not understand the human ego as well as I do,” Freud said, “that the individual desire for personal advancement—the ego’s need for achievement—is the heartbeat of humankind, the driving force of the race.” Freud put a hand on Lowell’s shoulder. “Do not despair, Percival, my friend, for somehow I suspect you will be vindicated. There was life here on Mars once, abundant life, and one day you will be found right after all.”

“If we emerge from this fantastic place,” Jung said “and I sincerely hope we do, there will be no tangible evidence of what occurred. We will only have our shared memory of events, and know that we have touched one another in an alternate realm, and that we have collectively touched the remnants of a compelling memory, of a great civilization now gone, of a planet’s life force ebbing, ebbing away—” His eyes brightened. “But one can’t help wonder what Mars was like—really like, when it was in its young and vibrant youth—”

And for just a moment, for whatever reason, Percival Lowell and his companions saw the image of a planet with abundant water, and for an instant, just for an instant, something silver, bright and beautiful broke the surface of a sea and flew through the air under the sun and blue, thinning sky before disappearing beneath the shining, flashing waters of Mars’ Great Northern Ocean.