A boy appeared. He was running, a shadow under his lower lip. The
lower lip turned out like the cuff of a rolled-up sleeve. His face
was distorted; he wept loudly; he was running away from somebody.
Stamping of feet was heard behind him....
The boy reminded me: "U- must be in school. I must hurry!" I ran
to the nearest opening of the Underground Railway. At the entrance
someone passed me and said, "Not running. No trains today ...
there!" I descended. A sort of general delirium was reigning. The
glitter of cut-crystal suns; the platform packed closely with heads.
An empty, torpid train.
In the silence--a voice. I could not see her but I knew, I knew that
intense, living, flexible, whip-like, flogging voice! I felt there
that sharp triangle of brows drawn to the temples....
"Let me! Let me reach her! I must!..."
Someone's tentacles caught my arm, my shoulders. I was nailed. In
the silence I heard:
"No. Go up to them. There they will cure you; there they will
overfeed you with that leavened happiness. Satiated, you will
slumber peacefully, organized, keeping time and snoring sweetly. Is
it possible that you do not yet hear that great symphony of snoring?
Foolish people! Don't you realize that they want to liberate you
from these gnawing, worm-like, torturing question marks? And you
remain standing here and listening to me? Quick! Up! To the Great
Operation! What is your concern, if I remain here alone? What does
it matter to you if I want to struggle, hopelessly struggle? So much
the better! What does it matter to you that I do not want others
to desire for me? I want to desire for myself. If I desire the
impossible...."
Another voice, slow, heavy:
"Ah, the impossible! Which means to run after your stupid fancies;
those fancies would whirl from under your very noses like a tail.
No, we shall catch that tail, and then...."
"And then--swallow it and fall snoring; a new tail will become
necessary. They say the ancients had a certain animal which they
called 'Ass.' In order to make it go forward they would attach a
carrot to a bow held in front of its nose, so that it could not
reach it.... If it had caught and swallowed it...."
The tentacles suddenly let me go; I threw myself towards the place
she was speaking from; but at that very moment everything was
brought to confusion. Shouts from behind: "They are coming here!
Coming here!" The lights twinkled and went out,--someone cut the
cable,--and everything was like a lava of cries, groaning, heads,
fingers....
I do not know how long we were rolled about that way in the
underground tube. I only remember that steps were felt, dusk
appeared, becoming brighter and brighter, and again we were in the
street, dispersing fan-wise in different directions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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