to calculate the curve of a street membrane of a new type. (These membranes are handsomely decorated and are placed on all the avenues, registering all street conversations for the Bureau of Guardians.) I remembered a rosy concave, trembling membrane,—a strange being consisting of one organ only, an ear. I was at that moment such a membrane.
Now the “click” of the snap-button at her collar, at her breast, and ... lower. The glassy silk rustled over her shoulders and knees, over the floor. I heard—and this was clearer than actual seeing—I heard how one foot stepped out of the grayish-blue heap of silk, then the other.... Soon I’d hear the creak of the bed and ...
The tensely stretched membrane trembled and registered the silence,—no, the sharp hammer-like blows of the heart against the iron bars and endless pauses between beats. And I heard, saw, how she, behind me hesitated for a second, thinking. The door of the closet.... It slammed; again silk ... silk....
“Well, all right.”
I turned around. She was dressed in a saffron-yellow dress of an ancient style. This was a thousand times worse than if she had not been dressed at all. Two sharp points, through the thin tissue glowing with rosiness, two burning embers piercing through ashes; two tender, round knees....
She was sitting in a low armchair. In front of her on a small square table, I noticed a bottle filled with something poisonously green and two small glasses on thin legs. In the corner of her mouth she had a very thin paper tube; she was ejecting smoke formed by the burning of that ancient smoking substance whose name I do not now remember.
The membrane was still vibrating. Within the sledge-hammer was pounding the red-hot iron bars of my chest. I heard distinctly every blow of the hammer, and ... what if she too heard it?
But she continued to produce smoke very calmly; calmly she looked at me; and nonchalantly she flicked ashes on the pink check!
With as much self-control as possible I asked, “If you still feel that way, why did you have me assigned to you? And why did you make me come here?”
As if she had not heard at all, she poured some of the green liquid from the bottle into a small glass and sipped it.
“Wonderful liqueur! Want some?”
Then I understood; alcohol! Like lightning there came to memory what I saw yesterday: the stony hand of the Well-Doer, the unbearable blade of the electric ray; there on the Cube, the head thrown backward, the stretched-out body! I shivered.
“Please listen,” I said, “You know, do you not, that any one who poisons himself with nicotine, more particularly with alcohol, is severely treated by the United State?”
Dark brows raised high to the temples, the sharp mocking triangle.
“‘It is more reasonable to annihilate a few than to allow many to poison themselves.... And degeneration,’ ... etc.... This is true to the point of indecency.”
“Indecency?”
“Yes. To let out into the street such a group of bald-headed naked little truths. Only imagine please. Imagine, say, that persistent admirer of mine, S-, well, you know him. Then imagine: if he should discard the deception of clothes and appear in public in his true form ... oh!” She laughed. But I clearly saw her lower, sorrowful triangle; two deep grooves from the nose to the mouth. And for some reason these grooves made me think: that double-curved being, half-hunched, with wing-like ears,—he embraced her? her, such ... Oh!
Naturally, I try now merely to express my abnormal feelings of that moment. Now, as I write, I understand perfectly that all this is as it should be; that he, S-4711, like any other honest Number has a perfect right to the joys of life and that it would be unjust.... But I think the point is quite clear.
I-330 laughed a long, strange laugh. Then she cast a look at me, into me.
“The most curious thing is that I am not in the least afraid of you. You are such a dear, I am sure of it! You would never think of going to the Bureau and reporting that I drink liqueurs and smoke. You will be sick or busy, or I don’t know what.... Furthermore, I am sure you will drink this charming poison with me.”
What an impertinent, mocking tone! I felt definitely that in a moment I should hate her. (Why in a moment? In fact I hated her all the time.)
I-330 turned over the little glass of green poison straight into her mouth. Then she stood up, and all rosy through the translucent saffron-yellow tissue, she made a few steps and stopped behind my chair.... Suddenly her arms were about my neck ... her lips grew into mine, no, even somewhere much deeper, much more terribly.... I swear all this was very unexpected for me. That is why perhaps ... for I could not (at this moment I see clearly) I could not myself have the desire to....
Unbearably sweet lips. (I suppose it was the taste of the liqueur.) It was as though burning poison were being poured into me, and more and more....
I tore away from the earth and began revolving as an independent planet,—down—down—following an uncalculable curve....
What happened next I am able to describe only in an approximate way, only by way of more or less corresponding analogies.
It never occurred to me before but it is true: we who live on the earth, we are always walking over a seething red sea of fire which is hidden in the womb of the earth. We never think of it. But imagine the ground under our feet suddenly transformed into a thin glass shell; suddenly we should behold...!
I became glass-like and saw within myself. There were two selves in me. One, the former D-503, Number D-503; and the other.... Before, that other used only to show his hairy paws from time to time, but now the whole other self left his shell. That shell was breaking, and in a moment....
Grasping with all my strength the last straw (the arms of the chair), I asked loudly (so as to hear my first self), “Where, where did you get this poison?”
“Oh, this? A physician, one of my....”
“‘One of my! one of my’ what?” And my other self jumped up suddenly and yelled: “I won’t allow it! I want no one but me.... I shall kill any one who.... Because I.... You.” ... I saw my other self grasp her rudely with his hairy paws, tear the silk, and put his teeth in her flesh!... I remember exactly, his teeth!...
I do not remember how, but I-330 slipped away and I saw her straightened, her head raised high, her eyes overlain by that cursed impenetrable curtain. She stood leaning with her back against the closet door and listening to me.
I remember I was on the floor; I embraced her limbs, kissed her knees and cried supplicatingly, “At once, right away, right away.”
Sharp teeth.... The sharp mocking triangle of the brows.... She bent over and in silence unbuttoned my badge.
“Yes, yes, dear—dear.”
I began hastily to remove my unif. But I-330, silent as before, lifted my badge to my eyes, showing me the clock upon it. It was twenty-two-twenty-five.
I became cold. I knew what it meant to be out in the street after twenty-two-thirty. My insanity disappeared at once. I was again I. I saw clearly one thing: I hated her, hated her, hated— ... Without saying good-bye, without looking back, I ran out of the room. Hurriedly trying to fasten the badge back in its place, I ran down the stairs (I was afraid lest some one notice me in the elevator), and jumped out into a deserted street.
Everything was in its place; life so simple, ordinary, orderly. Glittering glass houses, pale glass sky, a greenish, motionless night. But under that cool glass something wild, something red and hairy, was silently seething. I was gasping for breath but I continued to run, so as not to be late.
Suddenly I felt that my badge which I had hurriedly pinned on, was detaching itself; it came off and fell to the sidewalk. I bent over to pick it up and in the momentary silence I heard somebody’s steps. I turned. Someone small and hunched was disappearing around the corner. At least so it seemed. I started to run as fast as I could. The wind whistled in