The legendary Professor Challenger hits the headlines once again. In a letter to The Times, he asserts that a change in the earth's cosmic surroundings is resulting in the poisoning of the planet. He claims that seemingly unconnected worldwide disasters prove that the earth has swum into a poison belt of ether - and towards inevitable destruction. Ed Malone, the dynamic young journalist, is then invited to visit the Professor with the strange request to 'bring oxygen'. The four members of The Lost World expedition reunited, they settle down to a hearty lunch, with the Professor determined to enjoy his final few hours. Is this all a strange ruse of the Professor's or is total annihilation really only hours away?
It is imperative that now at once, while these stupendous events are still clear in my mind, I should set them down with that exactness of detail which time may blur. But even as I do so, I am overwhelmed by the wonder of the fact that it should be our little group of the "Lost World"—Professor Challenger, Professor Summerlee, Lord John Roxton, and myself—who have passed through this amazing experience.
When, some years ago, I chronicled in the Daily Gazette our epoch–making journey in South America, I little thought that it should ever fall to my lot to tell an even stranger personal experience, one which is unique in all human annals and must stand out in the records of history as a great peak among the humble foothills which surround it. The event itself will always be marvellous, but the circumstances that we four were together at the time of this extraordinary episode came about in a most natural and, indeed, inevitable fashion. I will explain the events which led up to it as shortly and as clearly as I can, though I am well aware that the fuller the detail upon such a subject the more welcome it will be to the reader, for the public curiosity has been and still is insatiable.
It was upon Friday, the twenty–seventh of August—a date forever memorable in the history of the world—that I went down to the office of my paper and asked for three days' leave of absence from Mr. McArdle, who still presided over our news department. The good old Scotchman shook his head, scratched his dwindling fringe of ruddy fluff, and finally put his reluctance into words.