Record Twenty-One

Yesterday was her day and again she did not come. Again there came her incoherent note, explaining nothing. But I am tranquil, perfectly tranquil. If I do act as I am told to in the note, if I do go to the controller on duty, produce the pink check and then, having lowered the curtains if I do sit alone in my room, I do all this of course not because I have no power to act contrary to her desire. It seems funny? Decidedly not! It is quite simple: separated from all curative, plaster-like smiles I am enabled quietly to write these very lines. This first. And second: I am afraid to lose in her, in I-330, perhaps the only clue I shall ever have to the understanding of all the unknowns, like the story of the cupboard, or my temporary death, for instance. To understand, to discover these unknowns as the author of these records, I feel it simply my duty. Moreover, the unknown is naturally the enemy of man. And Homo Sapiens only then becomes Man in the complete sense of the word, when his punctuation includes no question marks, only exclamation points, commas and periods.

Yesterday was her day, and once again she did not come. Once again, her incoherent note arrived, explaining nothing. But I am calm, perfectly calm. If I do as the note tells me, it is certainly not because I cannot act against her wishes. If I go to the controller on duty, show the pink check, lower the curtains, and sit alone in my room, that is not why I do it. Does that sound funny? Certainly not! It is quite simple. First, away from all those healing, plaster-like smiles, I can quietly write these very lines. Second, I am afraid that losing I-330 might mean losing the only clue I will ever have to understanding all the unknowns. Take the story of the cupboard, or my temporary death, for instance. As the author of these records, I feel it is simply my duty to understand and uncover these unknowns. Besides, the unknown is naturally the enemy of man. And Homo Sapiens only becomes Man in the full sense of the word when his punctuation includes no question marks, only exclamation points, commas, and periods.

Thus, guided by what seems to me simply my duty as an author, I took an aero today at sixteen o’clock and went to the Ancient House. A strong wind was blowing against me. The aero advanced with difficulty through the thicket of air, its transparent branches whistling and whipping. The city below seemed a heap of blue blocks of ice. Suddenly—a cloud, a swift, oblique shadow. The ice became leaden; it swelled. As in springtime when you happen to stand at the shore and wait; in one more minute everything will move and pull and crack! But the minute passes and the ice remains motionless; you feel as though you yourself are swelling, your heart beats more restlessly, more frequently.... But why do I write about all this? And whence all these strange sensations? For is there such an iceberg as could ever break the most lucid, solid crystal of our life?

So, guided by what seems to me simply my duty as an author, I took an aero to the Ancient House today at sixteen o’clock. A strong wind was blowing against me. The aero pushed through the thicket of air with difficulty, its transparent branches whistling and whipping. Below, the city looked like a heap of blue ice blocks. Suddenly, a cloud passed, casting a swift, slanting shadow. The ice turned the color of lead and swelled. It was like standing on the shore in spring, waiting. In one more minute, everything will move and pull and crack! But the minute passes, and the ice stays still. You feel as though you yourself are swelling. Your heart beats more restlessly, more quickly.... But why am I writing about all this? And where do all these strange feelings come from? Is there any iceberg that could ever break the clear, solid crystal of our life?

At the entrance of the Ancient House I found no one. I went around it and found the old janitress near the Green Wall. She held her hand above her eyes, looking upward. Beyond the Wall, sharp black triangles of some birds; they would rush, cawing, in onslaught on the invisible fence of electric waves, and as they felt the electricity against their breasts, they would recoil and soar once more beyond the Wall.

I found no one at the entrance to the Ancient House. I walked around it and found the old caretaker near the Green Wall. She held her hand above her eyes and looked up. Beyond the Wall, some birds looked like sharp black triangles. They swooped toward the invisible fence of electric waves, cawing as they attacked. When they felt the electricity against their breasts, they recoiled and soared again beyond the Wall.

I noticed oblique, swift shadows on the dark, wrinkled face, a quick glance at me.

I noticed quick, slanting shadows on the dark, wrinkled face, and a quick glance at me.

“Nobody here, nobody, nobody! No! And no use coming here....”

“Nobody’s here, nobody, nobody! No! And there’s no point in coming here....”

In what respect is it “no use” and what a strange idea, to consider me somebody’s shadow. Perhaps all of you are only my shadows. Did I not populate these pages which only recently were white quadrangular deserts, with you? Without me would they whom I shall guide over the narrow paths of my lines, could they ever see you?

In what way is it “no use”? And what a strange idea, to think of me as someone’s shadow. Perhaps all of you are only my shadows. Didn’t I fill these pages with you, pages that were blank rectangular deserts only recently? Without me, could those I guide along the narrow paths of my lines ever see you?

Of course I did not say all this to the old woman. From experience I know that the most torturing thing is to inoculate someone with a doubt as to the fact that he or she is a three-dimensional reality and not some other reality. I remarked only, quite drily, that her business was to open the gate, and she let me into the courtyard.

Of course, I did not say all this to the old woman. I know from experience that nothing is more torturous than planting a doubt in someone’s mind about their own reality. Are they a three-dimensional reality, or some other kind of reality? I merely said, quite dryly, that her job was to open the gate, and she let me into the courtyard.

It was empty. Quiet. The wind remained beyond the walls, distant as on that day, when shoulder to shoulder, two like one, we came out from beneath, from the corridors,—if it ever really happened. I walked under stone arches, my steps resounded against the damp vaults and fell behind me, sounding as though someone were continually following me. The yellow walls with patches of red brick were watching me through their square spectacles, windows,—watching me open the squeaky doors of a barn, look into corners, nooks and hidden places.... A gate in the fence and a lonely spot. The monument of the Two Hundred Years’ War. From the ground naked, stone ribs were sticking out. The yellow jaws of the wall. An ancient oven with a chimney like a ship petrified forever among red-brick waves.

It was empty. Quiet. The wind stayed beyond the walls, distant as it had been that day. Shoulder to shoulder, two as one, we had emerged from the corridors below. If that ever really happened. I walked under stone arches. My footsteps echoed against the damp vaults and trailed behind me, as though someone were always following me. The yellow walls, patched with red brick, watched me through their square spectacles, the windows. They watched me open the barn’s squeaky doors and search its corners, nooks, and hiding places.... A gate in the fence and a lonely spot. The monument to the Two Hundred Years’ War. Bare stone ribs stuck out of the ground. The yellow jaws of the wall. An ancient oven with a chimney, like a ship turned to stone forever among red-brick waves.

It seemed to me that I had seen those yellow teeth once before. I saw them still dimly in my mind, as at the bottom of a barrel, through water. And I began to search. I fell into caves occasionally; I stumbled over stones; rusty jaws caught my unif a few times; salt drops of sweat ran from my forehead into my eyes.

It seemed I had seen those yellow teeth before. I could still see them dimly in my mind, as if through water at the bottom of a barrel. So I began to search. Sometimes I fell into caves. I stumbled over stones. Rusty jaws caught my unif a few times. Salty drops of sweat ran from my forehead into my eyes.

Nowhere! I could find that exit from below, from the corridors, nowhere! There was none. Well, perhaps it was better that it happened so. Probably that all was only one of my absurd “dreams.”

Nowhere! I couldn’t find the exit from below, from the corridors, anywhere! There was none. Well, perhaps it was better that way. Probably all of it was just one of my absurd “dreams.”

Tired out, covered with cobweb and dust, I opened the gate to return to the main yard, when suddenly ... a rustle behind me, splashing steps, and there before me were the pink wing-like ears and the double-curved smile of S-. Half closing his eyes, he bored his little drills into me and asked:

Exhausted and covered in cobwebs and dust, I opened the gate to return to the main yard. Suddenly, I heard a rustle behind me and splashing footsteps. There before me were S-'s pink, wing-like ears and double-curved smile. Half closing his eyes, he bored his little drills into me and asked:

“Taking a walk?”

“Taking a walk?”

I was silent. My arms were heavy.

I was silent. My arms were heavy.

“Well, do you feel better now?”

“Well, do you feel better now?”

“Yes, thank you. I think I am getting normal again.”

“Yes, thank you. I think I’m getting back to normal.”

He let me go. He lifted his eyes, looked upward, and I noticed his Adam’s apple for the first time; it resembles a broken spring, sticking out from beneath the upholstery of a divan.

He let me go. He raised his eyes and looked up. For the first time, I noticed his Adam’s apple. It looked like a broken spring sticking out from under a sofa’s upholstery.

Above us, not very high (about 50 meters) aeros were buzzing. By their low, slow flight and by the observation tubes which hung down, I recognized them. They were the aeros of the Guardians. But there were not two or three, as usual, there were about ten or twelve (I regret to have to confine myself to an approximate figure).

Above us, aeros buzzed not very high up (about 50 meters). I recognized them by their low, slow flight and the observation tubes hanging down from them. They were the Guardians’ aeros. But instead of the usual two or three, there were about ten or twelve. (I regret that I can only give an approximate number.)

“Why are there so many today?” I dared to ask S-.

“Why are there so many today?” I dared to ask S-.

“Why? Hm.... A real physician begins to treat a patient when he is still well but on the way to becoming sick tomorrow, day-after-tomorrow or within a week. Prophylaxis! Yes!”

“Why? Hmm... A real doctor starts treating a patient while they are still well, but about to get sick tomorrow, the day after, or within a week. Prevention! Yes!”

He nodded and went splashing over the stones of the yard. Then he turned his head and said over his shoulder, “Be careful!”

He nodded and splashed across the stones in the yard. Then he turned his head and called over his shoulder, “Be careful!”

Again I was alone. Silence. Emptiness. Far beyond the Green Wall the birds and the wind. What did he mean? My aero ran very fast with the wind. Light and heavy shadows from the clouds. Below blue cupolas, cubes of glass-ice were becoming leaden and swelling....

I was alone again. Silence. Emptiness. Far beyond the Green Wall, birds and wind. What did he mean? My aero sped along with the wind. Light and dark shadows from the clouds. Below the blue domes, cubes of glass-ice were turning gray and swelling....

The Same Evening

The Same Evening

I took up my pen just now in order to write upon these pages a few thoughts which, it seems to me, will prove useful for you, my readers. These thoughts are concerned with the great Day of Unanimity which is now not far away. But as I sat down, I discovered that I cannot write at present; instead I sit and listen to the wind beating the glass with its dark wings; all the while I am busy looking about and I am waiting, expecting.... What? I do not know. So I was very glad when I saw the brownish-pink gills enter my room, heartily glad I may say. She sat down and innocently smoothed a fold of her unif that fell between her knees, and very soon she pasted upon me, all over me, a host of smiles,—a bit of a smile on each crack of my face and this gave me pleasant sensations, as if I were tightly bound like an infant of the ancients in a swaddling-cloth.

I just picked up my pen to write down a few thoughts that I believe will be useful to you, my readers. They concern the great Day of Unanimity, which is not far away. But when I sat down, I discovered that I cannot write right now. Instead, I sit and listen to the wind beating against the glass with its dark wings. All the while, I keep looking around and waiting, expecting.... What? I do not know. So I was very glad when I saw the brownish-pink gills enter my room. I can say I was genuinely glad. She sat down and innocently smoothed a fold of her unif between her knees. Soon she covered me with smiles, a little smile on every crack in my face. This felt pleasant, as if I were tightly wrapped like an infant of the ancients in a swaddling cloth.

“Imagine! Today, when I entered the classroom” (she works in the Child-Educational Refinery), “I suddenly noticed a caricature upon the blackboard. Indeed! I assure you! They had pictured me in the form of a fish! Perhaps I really—”

“Imagine! Today, when I walked into the classroom” (she works in the Child-Educational Refinery), “I suddenly saw a caricature on the blackboard. Really! I assure you! They had drawn me as a fish! Perhaps I really...”

“No, no! Why do you say that?” I hastily exclaimed. When one was near her, it was clear indeed that she had nothing resembling gills. No. When I referred to gills in these pages I was certainly irreverent.

“No, no! Why do you say that?” I exclaimed quickly. Up close, it was perfectly clear that she had nothing resembling gills. No. When I mentioned gills in these pages, I was certainly being irreverent.

“Oh, after all it does not matter. But the act as such, think of it! Of course I called the Guardians at once. I love children very much and I think that the most difficult and the most exalted love is—cruelty. You understand me, of course.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter after all. But think of the act itself! Of course, I called the Guardians right away. I love children very much. And I think the hardest and highest form of love is cruelty. You understand me, of course.”

“Certainly!” Her sentence so closely resembled my thoughts! I could not refrain from reading to her a passage from my Record No. 20, beginning “Quietly, metallically, distinctly, do the thoughts” ... etc. I felt her brownish-pink cheeks twitching and coming closer and closer to me. Suddenly I felt in my hands her firm, dry, even slightly prickling fingers.

“Certainly!” Her words were so close to my own thoughts! I couldn’t resist reading her a passage from my Record No. 20. It began, “Quietly, metallically, distinctly, do the thoughts” ... etc. I felt her brownish-pink cheeks twitching and coming closer and closer to me. Suddenly, I felt her firm, dry fingers in my hands. They were even slightly prickly.

“Give, give this to me please. I shall have it phonographed and make the children learn it by heart. Not only your Venerians need all this, but we ourselves right now, tomorrow, day-after-tomorrow.”

“Give it to me, please. I’ll have it recorded and make the children memorize it. Your Venerians aren’t the only ones who need all this. We need it ourselves, right now, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.”

She glanced around and said in a very low voice:

She glanced around and said in a very low voice:

“Have you heard, they say that on the Day of Unanimity—”

“Have you heard? They say that on the Day of Unanimity...”

I sprang to my feet.

I jumped to my feet.

“What? What do they say? What—on the Day of Unanimity?”

“What? What do they say? What, on the Day of Unanimity?”

The coziness of my room, its very walls, seemed to have vanished. I felt myself thrown outside, where the tremendous, shaggy wind was tossing about and where the slanting clouds of dusk were descending lower and lower....

The comfort of my room, even its walls, seemed to have vanished. I felt as if I had been thrown outside. There, the huge, shaggy wind tossed about, and the slanting clouds of dusk sank lower and lower....

U- boldly and firmly grasped me by the shoulders. I even noticed how her fingers, responding to my emotion, trembled slightly.

U- boldly gripped my shoulders. I even noticed her fingers trembling slightly in response to my emotion.

“Sit down, dear, and don’t be upset. They say many things; must we believe them all? Moreover, if only you need me, I shall be near you on that day. I shall leave the school-children with someone else and I shall stay with you, for you, dear, you too are a child and you need....”

“Sit down, dear, and don’t be upset. People say many things. Must we believe them all? Besides, if you need me, I’ll be near you that day. I’ll leave the schoolchildren with someone else and stay with you. You’re a child too, dear, and you need....”

“No, no!” (I raised my hands in protest). “Not for anything! You really think then that I am a child and that I cannot do without a.... Oh, no! Not for anything in the world.” (I must confess I had other plans for that day!)

“No, no!” (I raised my hands in protest). “No way! Do you really think I’m a child who can’t do without a.... Oh, no! Not for anything in the world.” (I have to admit, I had other plans for that day!)

She smiled. The wording of that smile apparently was: “Oh, what a stubborn, what a stubborn boy!” She sat down, eyelids lowered. Her hands modestly busied themselves with fixing the fold of the unif which fell again between her knees, and suddenly, about something entirely different, she said:

She smiled. Her smile seemed to say, “Oh, what a stubborn, stubborn boy!” She sat down, lowering her eyes. Her hands modestly adjusted the fold of her unif, which had fallen between her knees again. Then, suddenly, she spoke about something entirely different:

“I think I must decide ... for your sake.... But I implore you, do not hurry me. I must think it over.”

“I think I have to decide ... for your sake.... But please, don’t rush me. I need to think it over.”

I did not hurry her, although I realized that I ought to have been delighted, as there is no greater honor than to crown someone’s evening years.

I didn't hurry her, though I knew I should have been delighted. There is no greater honor than to crown someone's later years.

... All night strange wings were about. I walked and protected my head with my hands from those wings. And a chair, not like ours, but an ancient chair, came in with a horse-like gait: first the right fore- and left hind-leg, then the left fore- and right hind-leg. It rushed to my bed and crawled into it, and I liked that wooden chair, although it made me uncomfortable and caused me some pain.

... All night, strange wings were around me. I walked with my hands over my head to protect myself from them. Then a chair came in, walking like a horse. It was an old chair, unlike ours. It moved its right front leg and left back leg first, then its left front leg and right back leg. The chair rushed to my bed and crawled into it. I liked the wooden chair, although it made me uncomfortable and caused me some pain.

It is very strange; is it really impossible to find any cure for this dream-sickness, or to make it rational, perhaps even useful?

It’s very strange. Is it really impossible to cure this dream-sickness, or make it rational, perhaps even useful?