Record Thirty-Four

Oh, if only I actually had broken myself to pieces! If only I actually had found myself with her in some place beyond the Wall, among beasts showing their yellow tusks; if only I actually had never returned here! It would be a thousand, a million times easier! But now—what? Now to go and choke that—! But would it help? No, no, no! Take yourself in hand, D-503! Set into yourself the firm logical hub; at least for a short while weigh heavily with all your might on the lever, and like the ancient slave, turn the millstones of syllogisms until you have written down and understood everything that happened....

Oh, if only I really had broken myself to pieces! If only I really had found myself with her somewhere beyond the Wall, among beasts with yellow tusks! If only I really had never come back here! It would be a thousand, a million times easier! But now, what? Go and choke that...! But would it help? No, no, no! Get a grip, D-503! Put a firm logical hub inside yourself. For a little while, at least, bear down on the lever with all your strength. Like an ancient slave, turn the millstones of syllogisms until you have written down and understood everything that happened....

When I boarded the Integral, everybody was already there and everybody occupied his place; all the cells of the gigantic hive were filled. Through the glass of the decks,—tiny, ant-like people below, at the telegraph, dynamo, transformers, altimeters, ventilators, indicators, motor, pumps, tubes.... In the saloon people sitting over tables and instruments, probably those commissioned by the Scientific Bureau. Near them the Second Builder and his two aides. All three had their heads down between their shoulders like turtles, their faces gray, autumnal, rayless.

When I boarded the Integral, everyone was already there, and everyone was in their place. All the cells of the giant hive were filled. Through the glass decks, I could see tiny, ant-like people below, at the telegraph, dynamo, transformers, altimeters, ventilators, indicators, motor, pumps, tubes.... In the saloon, people sat at tables and instruments, probably those commissioned by the Scientific Bureau. Near them were the Second Builder and his two aides. All three had their heads tucked between their shoulders like turtles. Their faces were gray, autumnal, and without a ray of light.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well, somewhat uncanny,” replied one of them smiling a gray rayless smile, “Perhaps we shall have to land in some unknown place. And, generally speaking, nobody knows....”

“Well, it’s somewhat unsettling,” one of them replied with a gray, joyless smile. “Perhaps we’ll have to land somewhere unknown. And, generally speaking, nobody knows....”

I hardly could bear to look at them, when in an hour or so I was to throw them out with my own hands, to cast them out from the cozy figures of our Tables of Hours, forever to tear them away from the mother’s breast of the United State. They reminded me of the tragic figures of “The Three Forgiven Ones”—a story known to all of our school-children. It tells about three Numbers, who by way of experiment were exempted for a whole month from any work.³ “Go wherever you will, do what you will,” they were told. The unhappy three wandered the whole time about the place of their usual work and gazed within with hungry eyes. They would stop on the plazas and for hours busy themselves repeating the motions which they were used to making during certain hours of the day; it became a bodily necessity for them to do so. They would saw and plane the air; with unseen sledge-hammers they would bang upon unseen stakes. Finally, on the tenth day they could bear it no longer; they took one another by the hand, entered the river, and to the accompaniment of the March they waded deeper and deeper until the water forever ended their sufferings.

I could hardly bear to look at them. In an hour or so, I would throw them out with my own hands. I would cast them out of the comforting figures of our Tables of Hours, tearing them forever from the mother’s breast of the United State. They reminded me of the tragic figures in “The Three Forgiven Ones,” a story known to all our schoolchildren. It tells of three Numbers who, as an experiment, were excused from all work for a whole month.³ “Go wherever you want, do whatever you want,” they were told. The unhappy three spent the whole time wandering around their usual workplace, gazing inside with hungry eyes. They would stop in the plazas and spend hours repeating the motions they were used to making at certain hours of the day. Making those motions had become a bodily necessity for them. They would saw and plane the air and pound unseen stakes with unseen sledgehammers. Finally, on the tenth day, they could bear it no longer. They took one another by the hand and entered the river. To the sound of the March, they waded deeper and deeper until the water ended their suffering forever.

I repeat, it was hard for me to look at them, and I was anxious to leave them.

Again, it was hard for me to look at them, and I was anxious to leave them.

“I just want to take a glance into the engine-room, and then off!” I said.

“I just want to take a quick look in the engine room, and then leave!” I said.

They were asking me questions: What voltage should be used for the initial spark, how much ballast water was needed in the tank aft. As if a phonograph were somewhere within me, I was giving quick and precise answers but I, my inner self, was busy with its own thoughts.

They asked me questions: What voltage should be used for the initial spark? How much ballast water was needed in the rear tank? I gave quick, precise answers, as if a phonograph were playing somewhere inside me. But I, my inner self, was busy with its own thoughts.

In the narrow passage gray unifs were passing, gray faces and for a second, one face with its hair low over the forehead, eyes gazing from deep beneath it—it was that same man. I understood: they had come and there was no escape from it for me; only minutes remained, a few dozens of minutes.... An infinitesimal, molecular quiver of my whole body. This did not cease to the very end,—it was as if an enormous motor were placed under the very foundation of my body which was so light that the walls, partitions, cables, beams, lights—everything was quivering....

Gray unifs and gray faces passed through the narrow passage. For a second, I saw one face with hair hanging low over the forehead and eyes staring from deep beneath it. It was that same man. I understood: they had come, and there was no escape for me. Only minutes remained, a few dozen minutes.... My whole body trembled with a tiny, molecular quiver. The trembling did not stop until the very end. It was as if an enormous motor had been placed beneath the foundation of my body. My body was so light that the walls, partitions, cables, beams, lights, everything was quivering....

I did not yet know whether she was there. But I had no time.... They were calling me: quick! To the commander’s bridge; time to go ... where?

I still didn’t know whether she was there. But I had no time.... They were calling me: hurry! To the commander’s bridge. Time to go ... where?

Gray, rayless faces. Below in the water—tense blue veins. Heavy, cast-iron patches of sky. It was so difficult to lift my cast-iron hand and take up the receiver of the commander’s telephone!... “Up! Forty-five degrees!”

Gray faces without a glimmer of light. Below, in the water, taut blue veins. Heavy patches of cast-iron sky. It was so hard to lift my cast-iron hand and pick up the receiver of the commander’s telephone!... “Up! Forty-five degrees!”

A heavy explosion—a jerk—a rabid greenish-white mountain of water aft—the deck beneath my feet began to move, soft as rubber; and everything below, the whole life, forever.... For a second, falling deeper and deeper into a sort of funnel, becoming more and more compressed—the icy-blue relief-map of the City, the round bubbles of cupolas, the lonely leaden finger of the Accumulating Tower.... Then instantaneously a cotton curtain of cloud.... We pierced it, and there was the sun and the blue sky! Seconds, minutes, miles—the blue was hardening, fast filling with darkness; like drops of cold silver sweat appeared the stars....

A heavy explosion. A jerk. A raging greenish-white mountain of water behind us. The deck beneath my feet began to move, soft as rubber. And everything below, all of life, forever.... For a second, the icy-blue relief map of the City seemed to fall deeper and deeper into a funnel, growing more and more compressed. The round bubbles of the domes, the lonely leaden finger of the Accumulating Tower.... Then, suddenly, a cotton curtain of cloud.... We pierced it, and there were the sun and the blue sky! Seconds, minutes, miles. The blue was hardening, quickly filling with darkness. Stars appeared like drops of cold silver sweat....

A sad, unbearably bright, black, starry, sunny night.... As if one had become deaf, one still saw that the pipes were roaring, but one only saw, dead silence all about. The sun was mute. It was natural, of course. One might have expected it; we were beyond the terrestrial atmosphere. The transition was so quick, so sudden that everyone became timid and silent. Yet I ... I thought I felt even easier under that fantastic, mute sun. I had bounded over the inevitable border, having left my body somewhere there below, and I was soaring bodiless to a new world, where everything was to be different, upside down.

A sad, unbearably bright, black night filled with stars and sunlight.... It was as if we had gone deaf. We could still see the pipes roaring, but there was dead silence all around. The sun was silent. That was natural, of course. We might have expected it. We were beyond Earth’s atmosphere. The transition was so quick, so sudden, that everyone grew timid and silent. Yet I ... I thought I felt even more at ease under that fantastic, silent sun. I had leaped across the inevitable border, leaving my body somewhere below. I was soaring without a body toward a new world, where everything would be different, upside down.

“Keep the same course!” I shouted into the engine-room, or perhaps it was not I but a phonograph in me, and the same machine with a mechanical, hinge-like movement handed the commander’s trumpet to the Second Builder. All permeated by that most delicate, molecular quiver known only to me, I ran down the companionway, to seek....

“Keep the same course!” I shouted into the engine room. Or perhaps it was not me, but a phonograph inside me. The same machine handed the commander’s speaking trumpet to the Second Builder with a mechanical, hinge-like movement. Trembling all over with that most delicate, molecular quiver known only to me, I ran down the stairs to find....

The door of the saloon.... An hour later it was to latch and lock itself.... At the door stood an unfamiliar Number. He was small, with a face like a hundred or a thousand others which are usually lost in a crowd, but his arms were exceptionally long,—they reached down to the knees as though by mistake they had been taken from another set of human organs and fastened to his shoulders.

The saloon door.... In an hour, it would latch and lock itself.... An unfamiliar Number stood at the door. He was small, with a face like hundreds or thousands of others that usually get lost in a crowd. But his arms were exceptionally long. They reached down to his knees, as if they had been taken from another set of human organs and fastened to his shoulders by mistake.

The long arm stretched out and barred the way.

The long arm reached out and blocked the way.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Where do you want to go?”

It was clear that he was not aware I knew everything. All right! Perhaps it was necessary that it should be so. From above him, in a deliberately significant tone I said:

Clearly, he didn’t know that I knew everything. All right! Perhaps that was necessary. From above him, I spoke in a deliberately meaningful tone:

“I am the Builder of the Integral and I am directing the test flight. Do you understand?”

“I am the Builder of the Integral, and I am in charge of the test flight. Do you understand?”

The arm drew away.

The arm pulled away.

The saloon. Heads covered with bristles, gray iron bristles, and yellow heads, and bald, ripe heads were bent over the instruments and maps. Swiftly, with a glance, I gathered them in with my eyes, off I ran, back along the long passage, then through the hatch into the engine-room. There it was hot from the red tubes, overheated by the explosions; a constant roar,—the levers were dancing their desperate drunken dance, quivering ceaselessly with a barely noticeable quiver; the arrows on the dials.... There! At last! Near the tachometer, a notebook in his hand, was that man with the low forehead.

The saloon. Heads covered with bristles, gray as iron, yellow heads, and bald, ripe heads bent over instruments and maps. I took them in with a quick glance and ran back down the long passage. Then I went through the hatch into the engine room. The red tubes, overheated by the explosions, filled the room with heat. A constant roar filled the air. The levers danced their desperate, drunken dance, trembling constantly with a barely visible quiver. The needles on the dials.... There! At last! Near the tachometer stood that man with the low forehead, a notebook in his hand.

“Listen,” I shouted straight into his ear (because of the roar), “Is she here? Where is she?”

“Listen,” I shouted directly into his ear because of the roar. “Is she here? Where is she?”

“She? There at the radio.”

“She? Over there at the radio.”

I dashed over there. There were three of them, all with receiving helmets on. And she seemed a head taller than usual, wingy, sparkling, flying like an ancient walkyrie, and those bluish sparks from the radio seemed to emanate from her,—from her also that ethereal, lightning-like odor of ozone.

I rushed over. There were three of them, all wearing receiving helmets. She seemed a head taller than usual, winged and sparkling, flying like an ancient valkyrie. The bluish sparks from the radio seemed to come from her, as did the airy, lightning-like smell of ozone.

“Someone—well, you for instance,” I said to her, panting from having run, “I must send a message down to earth, to the docks. Come, I shall dictate it to you.”

“Someone, well, you for instance,” I said to her, out of breath from running. “I need to send a message down to earth, to the docks. Come, I’ll dictate it to you.”

Close to the apparatus there was a small box-like cabin. We sat at the table side by side. I found her hand and pressed it hard.

Near the apparatus was a small, box-shaped cabin. We sat side by side at the table. I found her hand and squeezed it hard.

“Well, what is going to happen?”

“Well, what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. Do you realize how wonderful it is? To fly without knowing where ... no matter where? It will soon be twelve o’clock and nobody knows what.... And when night.... Where shall you and I be tonight? Perhaps somewhere on the grass, on dry leaves....”

“I don’t know. Do you realize how wonderful it is? To fly without knowing where ... anywhere at all? It will soon be twelve o’clock, and nobody knows what.... And when night comes.... Where will you and I be tonight? Perhaps somewhere on the grass, on dry leaves....”

Blue sparks emanated from her and the odor of lightning, and the vibration became more and more frequent within me.

Blue sparks and the smell of lightning came from her, and the vibration inside me grew more and more frequent.

“Write down,” I said loudly, panting (from having run), “Time: eleven-twenty; speed 5800....”

“Write this down,” I said loudly, panting from running. “Time: eleven-twenty; speed 5800....”

“Last night she came to me with your note. I know ... I know everything; don’t talk.... But the child is yours. I sent her over; she is already beyond the Wall. She will live....”

“Last night she came to me with your note. I know ... I know everything. Don’t speak.... But the child is yours. I sent her over. She is already beyond the Wall. She will live....”

I was back on the commander’s bridge, back in the delirious night with its black, starry sky and its dazzling sun. The hands of the clock on the table were slowly moving from minute to minute. Everything was permeated by a thin, hardly perceptible quivering (only I noticed it). For some reason a thought passed through my head: it would be better if all this took place not here but somewhere below, nearer to earth.

I was back on the commander’s bridge, back in the delirious night with its black, starry sky and dazzling sun. The clock hands on the table moved slowly from one minute to the next. Everything was trembling so faintly that I could hardly feel it. Only I noticed it. For some reason, I thought it would be better if all this happened somewhere below, closer to earth.

“Stop!” I commanded.

“Stop!” I ordered.

We kept moving by inertia, but more and more slowly. Now the Integral was caught for a second by an imperceptible little hair—for a second it hung motionless, then the little hair broke and the Integral like a stone dashed downward with increasing speed. That way in silence, minutes, tens of minutes passed. My pulse was audible; the hand of the clock before my eyes came closer and closer to twelve. It was clear to me I was a stone; I-330 the earth; and the stone was under irresistible compulsion to fall downward, to strike the earth and break into small particles. What if...? Already the hard blue smoke of the clouds appeared below.... What if...? But the phonograph within me with a hinge-like motion and precision took the telephone and commanded: “Low speed!” The stone ceased falling. Only the four lower tubes were growling, two ahead and two aft, only enough to hold the Integral motionless, and the Integral, only slightly trembling, stopped in the air as if anchored, about one kilometer from the earth.

We kept moving by inertia, but more and more slowly. Now, for a second, the Integral was caught by an almost invisible little hair. It hung motionless for a second. Then the little hair broke, and the Integral plunged downward like a stone, falling faster and faster. Minutes passed this way in silence, then tens of minutes. I could hear my pulse. The hand of the clock before my eyes crept closer and closer to twelve. It was clear to me that I was a stone, and I-330 was the earth. The stone was driven by an irresistible force to fall, strike the earth, and break into small pieces. What if...? The hard blue smoke of the clouds was already visible below.... What if...? But the phonograph inside me took the telephone with the mechanical precision of a hinge and commanded: “Low speed!” The stone stopped falling. Only the four lower tubes were growling, two in front and two at the rear. They ran just enough to hold the Integral motionless. Trembling only slightly, the Integral hung in the air as if anchored, about one kilometer from the earth.

Everybody came out on deck, (it was shortly before twelve, before the sounding of the dinner-gong) and leaned over the glass railing; hastily, in huge gulps, they swallowed the unknown world which lay below, beyond the Green Wall. Amber, blue, green, the autumnal woods, prairies, a lake. At the edge of a little blue saucer, some lone yellow debris, a threatening, dried-out yellow finger,—it must have been the tower of an ancient “church” saved by a miracle....

Everyone came out on deck shortly before twelve, before the dinner gong sounded. They leaned over the glass railing, hastily swallowing the unknown world below, beyond the Green Wall, in huge gulps. Amber, blue, green: autumn woods, prairies, a lake. At the edge of the little blue saucer stood a lone piece of yellow debris, a threatening, dried-out yellow finger. It must have been the tower of an ancient “church,” miraculously saved....

“Look, there! Look! There to the right!”

“Look, there! Look! Over there, to the right!”

There (over the green desert) a brown blot was rapidly moving. I held a telescope in my hands and automatically I brought it to my eyes: the grass reaching their chests, a herd of brown horses was galloping, and on their back—they, black, white, and dark....

There (over the green desert), a brown blot was moving rapidly. I had a telescope in my hands and automatically raised it to my eyes. A herd of brown horses was galloping through grass that reached their chests. On their backs were they, black, white, and dark....

Behind me:

Behind me:

“I assure you, I saw a face!”

“I’m telling you, I saw a face!”

“Go away! Tell it to someone else!”

“Go away! Tell it to someone else!”

“Well, look for yourself! Here is the telescope.”

“Well, look for yourself! Here’s the telescope.”

They had already disappeared. Endless green desert, and in that desert, dominating it completely and dominating me, and everybody—the piercing vibrations of the gong; dinner time, one minute to twelve.

They had already disappeared. An endless green desert stretched out before me. The piercing vibrations of the gong dominated the desert, me, and everyone else. It was dinner time, one minute to twelve.

For a second the little world around me became incoherent, dispersed. Someone’s brass badge fell to the floor. It mattered little. Soon it was under my heel. A voice: “And I tell you, it was a face!” A black square, the open door of the main saloon. White teeth pressed together, smiling.... And at that moment, when the clock began slowly, holding its breath between beats, to strike, and when the front rows began to move towards the dining saloon, the rectangle of the door was suddenly crossed by the two familiar, unnaturally long arms:

For a second, the little world around me fell apart. Someone’s brass badge fell to the floor. It hardly mattered. Soon it was under my heel. A voice said: “And I tell you, it was a face!” A black square, the open door to the main saloon. White teeth pressed together in a smile.... Then the clock began to strike slowly, holding its breath between beats. The front rows began to move toward the dining saloon. At that moment, the two familiar, unnaturally long arms suddenly appeared across the doorway:

“STOP!”

“STOP!”

Someone’s fingers sank piercing into my palm. It was I-330. She was beside me.

Someone’s fingers dug painfully into my palm. It was I-330. She was beside me.

“Who is it, do you know him?”

“Who is he? Do you know him?”

“Is he not ... is he not?...”

“Isn't he... isn't he?...”

He was already lifted upon somebody’s shoulders. Above a hundred other faces, his face like hundreds, like thousands of other faces yet unique among the rest....

Someone had already lifted him onto their shoulders. His face rose above a hundred others. It was like hundreds, like thousands of other faces, yet unique among them....

“In the name of the Guardians! You, to whom I talk, they hear me, every one of them hears me,—I talk to you: we know! We don’t know your numbers yet but we know everything else. The Integral shall not be yours! The test flight will be carried out to the end and you yourselves, you will not dare to make another move! You with your own hands will help to go on with the test and afterward ... well, I have finished!”

“In the name of the Guardians! You, the ones I’m speaking to, they hear me. Every one of them hears me. I’m speaking to you: we know! We don’t know your numbers yet, but we know everything else. The Integral will not be yours! The test flight will be completed, and you will not dare make another move! You will help carry on the test with your own hands, and afterward ... well, I’m finished!”

Silence. The glass plates under my feet seemed soft, cotton-like. My feet too,—soft, cotton-like. Beside me—she with a dead-white smile, angry blue sparks. Through her teeth to me:

Silence. The glass plates beneath my feet seemed soft, like cotton. My feet felt soft and cotton-like too. Beside me, she had a dead-white smile and angry blue sparks. She spoke to me through clenched teeth:

“Ah! It is your work! You did your ‘duty’! Well....” She tore her hand from mine; the walkyrie helmet with indignant wings was soon to be seen some distance in front of me. I was alone, torpid, silent. Like everyone else I followed into the dining saloon.

“Ah! This is your work! You did your ‘duty’! Well....” She pulled her hand away from mine. Soon her walkyrie helmet, with its indignant wings, was some distance ahead of me. I was alone, numb and silent. Like everyone else, I followed her into the dining hall.

But it was not I, not I! I told nobody, save these white, mute pages.... I cried this to her within me, inaudibly, desperately, loudly. She was across the table, directly opposite me and not once did she even touch me with her gaze. Beside her, someone’s ripe, yellow, bald head. I heard (it was I-330’s voice):

But it wasn’t me, not me! I told no one except these silent white pages.... I cried this out to her inside my head, silently, desperately, loudly. She sat across the table, directly opposite me. Not once did she even glance at me. Beside her was someone’s ripe, yellow, bald head. I heard I-330’s voice:

“‘Nobility’ of character! But my dear professor, even a superficial etymological analysis of the word shows that it is a superstition, a remnant of the ancient feudal epoch. We....”

“‘Nobility’ of character! But my dear professor, even a quick look at the word’s origin shows that it is a superstition, a leftover from the ancient feudal era. We....”

I felt I was growing pale,—and that they would soon notice it. But the phonograph within me performed the prescribed fifty chewing movements for every bite. I locked myself into myself as though into an opaque house; I threw up a heap of rocks before my door and lowered the window-blinds....

I felt myself turning pale, and I knew they would soon notice. But the phonograph inside me made me chew each bite the required fifty times. I locked myself inside myself, as if I were in a house with opaque walls. I piled rocks in front of my door and lowered the blinds....

Afterward, again the telephone of the commander was in my hands and again we made the flight with icy, supreme anxiety through the clouds into the icy, starry, sunny night. Minutes, hours passed.... Apparently all that time the logical motor within me was working feverishly at full speed. For suddenly somewhere at a distant point of the dark blue space I saw my desk, and the gill-like cheeks of U- over it and the forgotten pages of my records! It became clear to me; nobody but she ... everything was clear to me!

Afterward, the commander's telephone was in my hands again. Once again, we flew through the clouds with a cold, overwhelming anxiety, into the icy, starry, sunny night. Minutes, hours passed.... Apparently, my logical motor had been working feverishly at full speed all that time. Suddenly, I saw my desk somewhere far away in the dark blue space. U-'s gill-like cheeks hovered over it, and there were the forgotten pages of my records! It became clear to me. No one but she ... everything was clear to me!

If only I could reach the radio-room soon ... wing-like helmets, the odor of blue lightnings ... I remember telling her something in a low voice and I remember how she looked through me and how her voice seemed to come from a distance:

If only I could get to the radio room soon ... wing-like helmets, the smell of blue lightning ... I remember speaking softly to her. I remember how she looked through me and how her voice seemed to come from far away:

“I am busy. I am receiving a message from below. You may dictate yours to her.”

“I’m busy. I’m receiving a message from below. You can dictate your message to her.”

The small, box-like little cabin.... I thought for a second and then dictated in a firm voice:

The small, box-shaped cabin.... I thought for a moment, then dictated in a firm voice:

“Time 14:40. Going down. Motors stopped. The end of all.”

“Time: 14:40. Going down. Motors stopped. The end of everything.”

The commander’s bridge. The machine-heart of the Integral stopped; we were falling; my heart could not catch up and would remain behind and rise higher and higher into my throat.... Clouds.... And then a distant green spot—everything green, more and more distinct, running like a storm towards us. “Soon the end.”

The commander’s bridge. The machine-heart of the Integral stopped. We were falling. My heart couldn’t keep up. It seemed to lag behind, rising higher and higher into my throat.... Clouds.... Then a distant green spot. Everything was green, growing clearer and rushing toward us like a storm. “The end is near.”

The porcelain-like white distorted face of the Second Builder! It was he who struck me with all his strength; I hurt my head on something; and through the approaching darkness while falling I heard:

The Second Builder's face was white and distorted, like porcelain! He was the one who hit me with all his strength. I hit my head on something. As I fell and darkness closed in, I heard:

“Full speed—aft!”

“Full speed in reverse!”

A brusque jolt upward....

A sudden jolt upward....