by H G Wells

"What if I die under it ? " The thought recurred again and again, as I walked home from Haddon's purely personal question spared the deep anxieties of married man, and there were few intimate friends but would find my death troublesome chiefly on account duty of regret surprised indeed, and perhaps little humiliated, as I turned the matter over, how few could possibly exceed the conventional requirement Things came before me stripped of glamour, in clear dry light, during that walk from Haddon's house over Primrose Hill There were the friends youth: I perceived now affection was tradition, which we foregathered rather laboriously to maintain There were the rivals and helpers later career: I suppose I cold-blooded or undemonstrative--one perhaps implies the other It that even the capacity for friendship is question of physique There time in my own life when I had grieved bitterly enough loss of friend; but as I walked home that afternoon the emotional side imagination was dormant pity myself, nor feel sorry friends, nor conceive as grieving

interested deadness emotional nature-- concomitant stagnating physiology; and my thoughts wandered off along the line it suggested Once before, in my hot youth, I had suffered sudden loss of blood, and within an ace of death I remembered now that my affections as my passions had drained out of me, leaving scarce anything but tranquil resignation, dreg of self-pity It weeks old ambitions and tendernesses and all the complex moral interplay of man had reasserted themselves It occurred real meaning numbness gradual slipping away pleasure-pain guidance animal man proven, I take it, as thoroughly as anything proven world, higher emotions, the moral feelings, even the subtle unselfishness of love, are evolved elemental desires and fears simple animal: the harness man's mental freedom goes And it that as death overshadows us, as our possibility of acting diminishes, this complex growth of balanced impulse, propensity and aversion, whose interplay inspires our acts, goes with it Leaving what ?

suddenly brought back to reality by an imminent collision butcher-boy's tray that crossing the bridge over the Regent's Park Canal, which runs parallel Zoological Gardens The boy in blue looking over his shoulder at black barge advancing slowly, towed by gaunt white horse Gardens nurse was leading three happy little children over the bridge The trees were bright green; the spring hopefulness was still unstained dusts of summer; the sky water was bright and clear, but broken by long waves, by quivering bands of black, barge drove through The breeze was stirring; but it stir me spring breeze used

dulness of feeling in itself an anticipation ? curious that reason and follow out network of suggestion as clearly as ever: so, , it seemed calmness rather than dulness that was coming upon me Was there any ground relief presentiment of death ? Did man near to death begin instinctively to withdraw himself meshes of matter and sense, even cold hand was laid upon his ? strangely isolated--isolated without regret-- life and existence about me The children playing sun and gathering strength and experience business of life, the park-keeper gossiping with nursemaid, the nursing mother, the young couple intent upon passed me, the trees wayside spreading new pleading leaves sunlight, the stir in their branches--I part of it all, but I had nearly done with it now

Some way down the Broad Walk I perceived that tired, my feet were heavy hot that afternoon, and I turned aside and sat down on green chairs that line the way In minute I had dozed into dream, tide thoughts washed up vision resurrection still sitting chair, but myself actually dead, withered, tattered, dried, one eye ( ) pecked out by birds "Awake ! " cried voice; and incontinently the dust path mould under the grass became insurgent I had never before thought of Regent's Park as cemetery, but now, trees, stretching as far as eye , I beheld flat plain of writhing graves and heeling tombstones There seemed some trouble: the rising dead appeared to stifle struggled upward, they bled in their struggles, the red flesh was torn away white bones "Awake ! " cried voice; but I determined rise to such horrors "Awake ! " not let me alone "Wake up ! " said an angry voice cockney angel ! The man who sells the tickets was shaking me, demanding my penny

I paid my penny, pocketed my ticket, yawned, stretched my legs, and, feeling now rather less torpid, got up and walked on towards Langham Place I speedily lost myself again in shifting maze of thoughts about death Going across Marylebone Road into that crescent end of Langham Place, I had the narrowest escape shaft of cab, and went on my way with palpitating heart and bruised shoulder It struck me curious meditations on my death morrow had led to my death that day

But weary you with more experiences that day next more and more certainly that die under the operation; at times inclined to pose to myself The doctors were coming at eleven, and get up It seemed scarce worth while to trouble about washing and dressing, and though my newspapers letters that came first post, find them very interesting friendly note from Addison, my old school-friend, calling my attention to two discrepancies and printer's error in my new book, with one from Langridge venting some vexation over Minton The rest were business communications I breakfasted in bed The glow of pain at my side seemed more massive pain, and yet, understand, find it very painful I awake and hot and thirsty night, but morning bed felt comfortable night-time I had lain thinking of things that were past; morning I dozed over the question of immortality Haddon came, punctual minute, with neat black bag; and Mowbray soon followed Their arrival stirred me up little I began more personal interest proceedings Haddon moved the little octagonal table close bedside, and, broad back , began taking things out bag I heard the light click of steel upon steel My imagination, , was not altogether stagnant " hurt me much ? " in an off-hand tone

"Not bit," Haddon answered over his shoulder " chloroform you Your heart's as sound as bell " And as he spoke, I had whiff pungent sweetness anaesthetic

They stretched me out, with convenient exposure side, and, almost before I realised happening, the chloroform was being administered It stings the nostrils, and suffocating sensation at first die-- end of consciousness And suddenly that not prepared for death: I had vague sense of duty overlooked-- not what it I done ? think of nothing more , nothing desirable left in life; and yet I had the strangest disinclination to death physical sensation was painfully oppressive the doctors know they were going to kill me Possibly I struggled Then I fell motionless, and great silence, monstrous silence, and an impenetrable blackness came upon me