"THE ENEMIES OF HAPPINESS ARE AWAKE! HOLD TO YOUR HAPPINESS WITH BOTH HANDS. TOMORROW ALL WORK WILL STOP AND ALL THE NUMBERS ARE TO COME TO BE OPERATED UPON. THOSE WHO FAIL TO COME WILL BE SUBMITTED TO THE MACHINE OF THE WELL-DOER." Tomorrow! How can there be, how can there be any tomorrow? Following my daily habit, I stretched out my arm (instrument!) to the bookshelf to put today's paper with the rest in a cover ornamented with gold. While doing this: "What for? What does it matter? Never again shall I.... In this cover, never...." And out of my hands, down to the floor it fell. I stood looking all around, over all my room; hastily I was taking away, feverishly putting into some unseen valise everything I regretted leaving here: my desk, my books, my chair. Upon that chair sat I-330 that day; I was below on the floor.... My bed.... Then for a minute or two I stood and waited for some miracle to happen; perhaps the telephone would ring, perhaps she would say that.... But no, no miracle.... I am leaving, going into the unknown. These are my last lines. Farewell you, my unknown beloved ones, with whom I have lived through so many pages, before whom I have bared my diseased soul, my whole self to the last broken little screw, to the last cracked spring.... I am going.... RECORD THIRTY-FOUR The Forgiven Ones A Sunny Night A Radio-Walkyrie 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.... 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. "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...."