Red lay the morning above the stone ocean of the city. The red morning saw, amidst the stone ocean of the city, rolling along, a broad, an endless stream. The stream was twelve files deep. They walked in even step. Men, men, men, all in the same uniform; from throat to ankle in the dark blue linen, bare feet in the same hard shoes, hair tightly pressed down by the same black caps. And they all had the same faces. Wild faces, with eyes like fire-brands. And they all sang the same song—song without melody, but an oath—a storm vow: “We’ve passed sentence upon the machines! We have condemned the machines to death. The machines must die, to hell with them! Death!—Death!—Death to the machines—!” The girl danced along before the streaming, bawling multitude. She led the multitude on. She led the tramping multitude forward against the heart of the Machine-city of Metropolis. She said: “Come...! Come...! Come...! I will lead you...! I will dance the dance of Death before you.... I will dance the dance of the murderers before you...!” “Destroy—destroy—destroy—!” yelled the crowd. They acted without plan, and yet following a law. Destruction was the name of the law; they obeyed it. The multitude divided. A broad stream poured itself, frothing, down into the tunnel of the underground railway. The trains were standing ready on all the tracks. Searchlights wedged themselves into the darkness which crouched in the shafts, above the rails. The multitude yelled. Here was a plaything for giants! Were they not as strong as three thousand giants? They dragged the drivers from the drivers’ places. They released the trains and let them run—one after the other—forward—forwards! The rails rumbled. The thundering carriage snakes, glitteringly lighted, hurled along by their emptiness, dashed into the brownish darkness. Two, three, four of the drivers fought like men possessed. But the mob sucked them up. “Will you shut your mouths, you dogs—? We are the masters! We want to play! We want to play like giants!” They howled the song—the song of their deadly hatred: “We’ve passed sentence upon the machines! We have condemned the machines to death!” They counted the seconds: “Fifty-nine—sixty—sixty-one—sixty-two——now—!——” Somewhere in the depths of the tunnel, a crash, as if the globe were splitting.... “Once—and once again....” The mob howled: “The machines must die—to hell with them! Death!—Death!—Death to the machines!” Then—! What happened then?—Then!!—From one of the tunnels there broke forth a train, like a steed of fire, with sparkling lights, driverless, at a tearing speed—galloping death. From whence did this hell-horse come?—Where were the giants, who were thus giving answer to the giants’ game of the mob? The train vanished, amid shrieks—and, some seconds later, came the tearing crash from the depths of the pit. And the second train was crashing onwards, sent off by unknown hands.