In the interval, all Atlantis was in a state verging upon madness. The commotion created by the original discovery of the crack was insignificant beside the terror that now dominated every inhabitant. To say that the country seemed stricken with paralysis would be to understate the conditions; rather, it was driven to a dumb distraction, like some great beast that feels its foot in a trap. Only one thought was in anyone’s mind, only one topic on anyone’s lips; the people drifted hither and thither like phantoms, rushing back and forth between the cities and the spurting leak in the wall, sometimes engaged furtively in whispered discussions, on other occasions muttering half-audible prayers or withdrawing into themselves like men brought face to face with Fate. Some would hover near the offices of the High Chief Adviser, awaiting hopeful news that did not come; some would haunt the river banks, watching the swelling torrents go murmuring and whirling past; some would huddle together in small family groups, as though mortally afraid to lose sight of their dear ones; some would merely go pacing around like rats in a cage, scarcely heeding where they went, their white faces and harried eyes expressive of a dread they dared not mention. But none--none who were not driven by the most stringent orders--were heeding their daily duties. For the first time in history, the cities were inadequately supplied with food; the official producers and distributors shared the general inertia, and the people had to clamor at the doors of the great municipal warehouses for their meager rations; and actual starvation seemed certain unless the workers could be urged back to the fields. But more appalling to my mind--vastly more appalling, since it seemed like the overthrow of the very order of nature--was the laxity with regard to the golden orbs that ruled the Atlantean day. Owing no doubt to the negligence of the official in charge, the clockwork that controlled these artificial suns ran down on what should have been the third night, and the luminaries continued in full blaze after the usual hour of darkness. But few seemed even to notice the change, and most continued frenziedly watching the waters or awaiting encouraging reports; while those that could, snatched a few hours of troubled sleep during the continuous daylight, and many still kept their useless vigils with drawn faces and weary eyes.