We
tear the covering....
Quickly boring into me: "What are you here for?"
I seized him.
"Quickly! Please! Quickly! ... into your office.... I must tell
everything ... right away.... I am glad that you.... It may be
terrible that it should be you to whom.... But it is well, it is
well...."
He too, knew _her_; this made it even more tormenting for me. But
perhaps he too, would tremble when he should hear.... And we would
both be killing.... And I would not be alone at that, my supreme
second....
The door closed with a slam. I remember a piece of paper was
caught beneath the door and it rustled on the floor when the
door closed. And then a strange airless silence covered us as if
a glass bell were put over us. If only he had uttered a single,
most insignificant word, no matter what, I should have told him
everything at once. But he was silent. So keyed up that I heard a
noise in my ears, I said without looking at him:
"I think I always hated her from the very beginning.... I
struggled.... Or, no, no, don't believe me; I could have but I did
not want to save myself; I wanted to perish; this was dearer to
me than anything else ... and even now, even this minute, when I
know already everything.... Do you know that I was summoned to the
Well-Doer?"
"Yes, I do."
"But what he told me! Please realize that it was equivalent to ...
it was as if some one should remove the floor from under you this
minute, and you and all here on the desk, the papers, the ink ...
the ink would splash out and cover everything with blots...."
"What else? What further? Hurry up, others are waiting!"
Then stumbling, muttering, I told him everything that is recorded
in these pages.... About my real self, and about my hairy self, and
about my hands ... yes ... exactly that was the beginning. And
how I would not do my duty then, and how I lied to myself, and how
she obtained false certificates for me, and how I grew worse and
worse, every day, and about the long corridors underground, and
there beyond the Wall....
All this I threw out in formless pieces and lumps. I would stutter
and fail to find words. The lips double-curved in a smile would
prompt me with the word I needed and I would nod gratefully: "Yes,
yes!".... Suddenly, what was it? He was talking for me and I only
listened and nodded: "Yes, yes," and then, "Yes, exactly so, ...
yes, yes...."
I felt cold around my mouth as though it were wet with ether, and I
asked with difficulty:
"But how is it.... You could not learn anywhere...."
He smiled a smile growing more and more curved; then:
"But I see that you do want to conceal from me something. For
example, you enumerated everything you saw beyond the Wall but you
failed to mention one thing. You deny it? But don't you remember
that once, just in passing, just for a second you saw me there? Yes,
yes _me_!"
Silence.
Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, it became shamelessly clear to
me: he--he too--. And all myself, my torment, all that I brought
here, crushed by the burden, plucking up my last strength as if
performing a great feat, all appeared to me only funny,--like the
ancient anecdote about Abraham and Isaac; Abraham all in a cold
sweat, with the knife already raised over his son, over himself--and
suddenly a voice from above: "Never mind.... I was only joking."
Without taking my eyes from the smile which grew more and more
curved, I put my hands on the edge of the desk and slowly, very
slowly pushed myself with my chair away from him. Then instantly
gathering myself into my own hands, I dashed madly out, past loud
voices, past steps and mouths....
I do not remember how I got into one of the public rest-rooms at a
station of the Underground Railway. Above, everything was perishing;
the greatest civilization, the most rational in human history was
crumbling,--but here, by some irony everything remained as before,
beautiful. The walls shone; water murmured cosily and like the
water,--the unseen, transparent music.... Only think of it! All this
is doomed; all this will be covered with grass, some day; only myths
will remain....
I moaned aloud. At the same instant I felt someone gently patting
my knee. It was from the left; it was my neighbor who occupied a
seat on my left,--an enormous forehead, a bald parabola, yellow
unintelligible lines of wrinkles on his forehead, those lines about
me.
"I understand you. I understand completely," he said. "Yet you must
calm yourself. You must. It will return. It will inevitably return.
It is only important that everybody should learn of my discovery.
You are the first to whom I talk about it. I have calculated that
there is no _infinity_! No!"
I looked at him wildly.
"Yes, yes, I tell you so. There is no infinity. If the universe is
infinite, then the average density of matter must equal zero, but
as it is not zero, we know, consequently the universe is finite; it
is spherical in form and the square of its radius--R2--is equal
to the average density multiplied by.... The only thing left is to
calculate the numerical coefficient and then.... Do you realize
what it means? It means that everything is final, everything is
simple.... But you, my honored sir, you disturb me, you prevent my
finishing my calculations by your yelling!"
I do not know which shattered me more, his discovery, or his
positiveness at that apocalyptic hour. I only then noticed that he
had a notebook in his hands and a logarithmic dial. I understood
then that even if everything was perishing it was my duty (before
you, my unknown and beloved) to leave these records in a finished
form.
I asked him to give me some paper, and here in the rest-room to the
accompaniment of the quiet music, transparent like water, I wrote
down these last lines.
I was about to put down a period as the ancients would put a cross
over the caves into which they used to throw their dead, when all of
a sudden my pencil trembled and fell from between my fingers....
"Listen!" (I pulled my neighbor). "Yes, listen, I say. There where
your finite universe ends, what is there? What?"
He had no time to answer. From above, down the steps, stamping....
RECORD FORTY
Facts
The Bell
I Am Certain
Daylight. It is clear. The barometer--760 mm. It is possible that I,
D-503, really wrote these--pages? Is it possible that I ever felt,
or imagined I felt all this?
The handwriting is mine. And what follows is all in my handwriting.
Fortunately only the handwriting. No more delirium, no absurd
metaphors, no feelings,--only facts. For I am healthy, perfectly,
absolutely healthy.... I am smiling; I cannot help smiling; a
splinter has been taken out of my head and I feel so light, so
empty! To be more exact, not empty, but there is nothing foreign,
nothing that prevents me from smiling. (Smiling is the normal state
for a normal human being).
The facts are as follows: That evening my neighbor who discovered
the finiteness of the universe, and I, and all others who did not
have a certificate showing that we had been operated on, all of us
were taken to the nearest auditorium. (For some reason the number
of the auditorium, 112, seemed familiar to me). There they tied
us to the tables and performed the great operation. Next day, I,
D-503, appeared before the Well-Doer and told him everything known
to me about the enemies of happiness. Why before it seemed hard for
me to go, I cannot understand. The only explanation seems to be my
illness,--my soul.
The same evening, sitting at the same table with Him, with the
Well-Doer, I saw for the first time in my life the famous Gas
Chamber. They brought in that woman. She was to testify in my
presence. That woman remained stubbornly silent and smiling. I
noticed that she had sharp and very white teeth which were very
pretty.
Then she was brought under the Bell. Her face became very white
and as her eyes were large and dark,--all was very pretty. When
they began pumping the air from under the Bell she threw her head
back and half closed her eyes; her lips were pressed together. This
reminded me of something. She looked at me, holding the arms of the
chair firmly. She continued to look until her eyes closed. Then she
was taken out and brought to by means of electrodes and again put
under the Bell. The procedure was repeated three times, yet she did
not utter a word.
The others who were brought in with that woman, proved to be more
honest; many of them began to speak after the first trial. Tomorrow
they will all ascend the steps to the Machine of the Well-Doer.
No postponement is possible for there still is chaos, groaning,
cadavers, beasts in the western section, and to our regret there
are still quantities of Numbers who betrayed Reason.
But on the transverse avenue Forty, we succeeded in establishing a
temporary Wall of high voltage waves. And I hope we win. More than
that; I am certain we shall win. For Reason must win.
THE END
Transcriber's note:
Many hyphenation inconsistencies have been regularized. Punctuation
misprints and misplaced quote marks have been silently corrected.
Minor spelling corrections and original page boundaries have been
recorded in html comments.