The Map of Chaos Read Online Free PDF

scientist might be compromised, Charles had taken the precaution of publishing them under the pseudonym of Lewis Carroll. He had written most of them whilst sitting on the banks of the river Thames, in the honey-colored spring light, for the professor was in the habit of boating on the river, gently cleaving its waters with his oars. More than once, when Wells was still his pupil, he had enjoyed the privilege of accompanying him.
    â€œCome and sit next to me,” Charles had said to him one afternoon on the riverbank, “and try to imagine a perfectly useless object.”
    â€œA perfectly useless object,” Wells had repeated, sitting down with his back against the tree. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how. Besides, what would be the use?”
    â€œOh, it’s more useful than you think.” Charles grinned and, seeing that his pupil was still puzzled, added, “I have something here that might help you.”
    He produced from his jacket pocket an ornate porcelain pillbox. He opened the lid by pressing a spring, the same as a pocket watch, revealing a tiny mound of golden powder. Wells raised his eyebrows.
    â€œIs it . . . fairy dust?”
    To Wells’s astonishment, Charles nodded. It would never have entered Wells’s head that his professor might take such a substance. It had been banned by the Church for more than a decade, because they thought it stimulated the brain in a negative way, inciting people to imagine unproductive things.
    â€œTake some, and then try doing what I said,” Charles exhorted, taking a pinch himself and raising it to his nostril. Then he offered the box to Wells, who hesitated.
    â€œOh, go on, George, be a devil. Why do you suppose humans have noses, to smell the lilies of the field?”
    At last Wells took a pinch of the fairy dust and snuffed it into his nose as his professor smiled at him approvingly. Once the ritual had been consummated, Charles put the pillbox away, leaned back against the tree, and slowly closed his eyes.
    â€œNow let your mind drift, George,” Charles ordered in an excited whisper. “Find out how far you are able to go.”
    Amused, Wells grinned and leaned back as well, closing his eyes. For a few moments, he tried to do what Charles had said and imagine a perfectly useless object, but he couldn’t stop his mind from reflecting about whether it was possible to diagnose a person’s illness by analyzing his breath, as was done with blood or urine. It was something he had been speculating about for days. Vaguely disappointed, he thought of remarking to his professor that the fairy dust hadn’t worked on him, but he decided to sit still with his eyes closed and wait for Charles to stir. He didn’t want to interrupt him in case the professor was making his mind fly the way children flew kites. Wells concentrated on enjoying the delicious cool breeze riffling the water, amusing himself by trying to discover a break in the constant buzz of insects in his ears, and presently he started to feel drowsy. In his sluggish state, he noticed his mind begin to reel, and his thoughts rolled around in his head as they slowly began to lose all logic. He was momentarily seized with panic as he realized that each idea he formed instantly floated away, like a ship adrift, but he managed to calm down, telling himself that nothing bad was happening to his brain, that his altered state was an effect of the fairy dust, and he abandoned himself to it with a sense of curiosity rather than fear. A flood of nonsensical images, as impossible as they were suggestive, began filling his head, swirling and intermingling to create outlandish configurations. He saw Martian airships flying toward Earth, invisible men, and strange creatures, half pig, half hyena. And he felt a stab of excitement. This was like riding a wild horse bareback. Mesmerized, he let the feeling intensify to see if he might not be able to ride a