Essential Science Fiction Novels - Volume 4. Griffith George Chetwynd
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afterward my blood and the whole world began to circulate a thousand times faster; the earth seemed to be flying, light as down. And within me everything was simple, light and clear. Only then I noticed on the rock the familiar, enormous letters: M E P H I, and for some reason the inscription seemed to me necessary. It seemed to be a simple thread binding everything together. A rather rough picture hewn in the rock; this too, seemed comprehensible; it represented a youth with wings and with a transparent body, and in the place ordinarily occupied by the heart,—a blinding, red, blazing coal. Again, I understood that coal, or no, I felt it as I felt without hearing every word of I-330 (she continued to speak from above, from the rock), and I felt that all of them breathed one breath and that they were all ready to fly somewhere like the birds over the Wall.
From behind, from the confusion of breathing bodies,—a loud voice:
“But this is folly!”
It seems to me it was I, yes, I am certain it was I, who then jumped on the rock; from there I saw the sun, heads, a green sea on a blue background, and I cried:
“Yes, yes, precisely. All must become insane; we must become insane as soon as possible! We must; I know it.”
I-330 was at my side. Her smile—two dark lines from the angles of her mouth directed upward.... And within me a blazing coal. It was momentary, light, a little painful, beautiful.... And later,—only stray fragments that remained sticking in me....
... Very low and slowly a bird was moving. I saw it was living, like me. It was turning its head now to the right and then to the left like a human being, and its round black eyes screwed themselves into me....
... Then: a human back glistening with fur the color of ancient ivory;—a mosquito crawling on that back, a mosquito with tiny transparent wings. The back twitched to chase the mosquito away; it twitched again....
... And yet another thing: a shadow from the leaves, a woven, net-like shadow. Some lay in that shadow, chewing something, something similar to the legendary food of the ancients, a long yellow fruit and a piece of something dark. They put some of it in my hand, and it seemed droll to me for I did not know whether I might eat it or not....
... And again: a crowd, heads, legs, arms, mouths, faces appearing for a second and disappearing like bursting bubbles. For a second appeared (or perhaps it was only an hallucination?) the transparent, flying wing-ears....
With all my might I pressed the hand of I-330. She turned to me.
“What is the matter?”
“He is here! I thought, I—”
“Who?”
“S-, a second ago, in the crowd.”
The ends of the thin coal-black, brows moved to the temples—a smile like a sharp triangle. I could not see clearly why she smiled. How could she smile?
“But you understand, I-330, don’t you, you understand what it means if he, or one of them is here?”
“You are funny! How could it ever enter the heads of those within the Wall that we are here? Remember; take yourself. Did you ever think it was possible? They are busy hunting us there,—let them! You are delirious!”
Her smile was light and cheerful and I too, was smiling; the earth was drunken, cheerful, light, floating....
Record Twenty Eight
Both of Them
Entropy and Energy
The Opaque Part of the Body
If your world is similar to the world of the ancients, then you may easily imagine that one day you suddenly come upon a sixth or a seventh continent, upon some Atlantis, and you find there unheard of cities, labyrinths, people flying through the air without the aid of wings or aeros, stones lifted into the air by the power of a gaze,—in brief, imagine that you see things that cannot come to your mind even if you suffer from dream-sickness. That is how I feel now. For you must understand that no one has ever gone beyond the Green Wall since the Two Hundred Years’ War, as I already have told you.
I know that it is my duty to you, my unknown friends, to give more details about that unsuspected strange world which opened to me yesterday. But for the time being I am unable to return to that subject. Everything is so novel, so novel it is like a rainstorm, and I am not big enough to collect it all. I spread out the folds of my unif, my palms,—and yet pailfuls splash past me and only drops can reach these pages....
At first I heard behind me, behind the door, a loud voice. I recognized her voice, the voice of I-330, tense, metallic—and another one, almost inflexible, like a wooden ruler, the voice of U-. Then the door came open with a crack and both of them shot into the room. Shot is the right word.
I-330 put her hand on the back of my armchair and smiled over her shoulder but only with her teeth, at U-. I should not care to stand before such a smile.
“Listen,” she said to me, “this woman seems to have made it her business to guard you from me like a little child. Is it with your permission?”
“But he is a child. Yes! That is why he does not notice that you ... that it is only in order.... That all this is only a foul game! Yes! And it is my duty....”
For a second (in the mirror) the broken, trembling line of brows. I leaped, controlling with difficulty the other self within me, the one with the hairy fists; with difficulty, pushing every word through my teeth, I cried straight into her face, into her very gills:
“Get out of here at once! Out! At once!”
The gills swelled at first into brick-red lumps, then fell and became gray. She opened her mouth to say something but without a word she slammed it shut and went out.
I threw myself towards I-330.
“Never, never will I forgive myself! She dared! You ... but you don’t think, do you, that you, that she.... This is all because she wants to register on me but I....”
“Fortunately she will not have time for that now. Besides, even a thousand like her.... I don’t care.... I know you will not believe that thousand but only me. For after all that happened yesterday, I am all yours, all, to the very end, as you wanted it. I am in your hands; you can now at any moment....”
“What, ‘at any moment?’” (But at once I understood what. My blood rushed to my ears and cheeks.) “Don’t speak about that, you must never speak about that! The other I, my former self ... but now....”
“How do I know? Man is like a novel: up to the last page one does not know what the end will be. It would not be worth reading otherwise.”
She was stroking my head. I could not see her face but I could tell by her voice that she was looking somewhere very far into the distance; she hooked herself to that cloud which was floating silently, slowly, no one knows where to.
Suddenly she pushed me away with her hand, firmly but tenderly.
“Listen. I came to tell you that perhaps we are now ... our last days.... You know, don’t you, that all Auditoriums are to be closed after tonight?”
“Closed?”
“Yes. I passed by and saw that in all Auditoriums preparations are going on: tables; medics all in white....”
“But what does it all mean?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows as yet. That is the worst of it. I only feel the current is on, the spark is jumping, and if not today, then tomorrow.... Yet perhaps they will not have time....”
For a long while I have ceased to understand who are they and who we. I do not understand what I want; do I want them to have or not to have enough time? One thing is clear to me: I-330 is now on the very edge, on the very edge, and in one second more....
“But