Wells, a bachelor now, as then, never found it in his heart to marry anyone. Sometimes I think it is our friendship that has ruined that part of him, for I sense within him a kind of satisfaction that we have such a close bond even after all the years of marriage with my beloved Jennifer. And I would never exclude him from my love and heart for anything, for even if a man might not love another man in the physical so dearly, he can still love him as dearly in the heart, mind and spirit, and so it was with Wells and I. And so it shall ever be, no matter which incarnation we experience across the necklace of time.

But you are probably wondering what happened after the first battle with the Invaders that took place. So forward, or rather backward into what proved to be a very long and painful climb to freedom for many and descent into madness or death for many others.

I  and Wells had many things to ponder after that fateful encounter with the Invaders. Most of it was philosophical at first. The first question being how were we to unite the remaining survivors of the conflict, to find them and then to heal their suffering souls.

That turned out to be far easier than I would have thought. For news of the victory spread like wildfire and even as I had spread notes across France with my wonderful machine where to find me, news spread further and wider through a network that was so hidden and deep that not even the devious Invaders could corrupt or pervert them.

So on that day that the first survivors found us, I amazed Wells even further. We stood on the porch introducing ourselves to the bedraggled remainders of humanity. Men, young and old, women, children. People of Europe and later the Americas as well.

Wells couldn’t understand how so many people could fit into his, though not tiny, still not adequate to the multitudes streaming inside his home. I took him aside when time allowed to explain that I had developed a way of shielding his home from the Invaders’ probes, as well as a unique conduit to our sanctuary. The work was a combination of ideas spawned by Madame Curie and Sir Nicholas Tesla, with a helpful nudge by myself and a buddy I had met at the Lourve, Al Einstein.

Al was leading the resistance in Germany, as Tesla was in Czechoslovakia and Madame Curie in Rusia.

I led him to the back of the home where the people were gong, led by several assistants I had stationed in strategic positions throughout the home. As Wells and I neared the kitchen, Hans, a rather large and intimidating Swiss stepped into view and gestured towards the Kitchen Pantry. I smiled. “Hans, this is my best friend Wells, and this is his house, so whatever is good for me is also good for him.”

Hans smiled, revealing one very large gold tooth that sparkled brightly. “Gut to see you Mister Wells, Jules speaks highly of you. I hope some day to be half as good a writer and visionary as yourself.”

“What is your full name?” Wells asked, shaking hands. “Olaf Hans Stapledon.” He replied, smiling even wider.