Mr. Parham was astounded1 by his own fatalism. He who had conceived he held the mastery of the world in his shapely hand was now an almost apathetic2 spectator of his own frustration3. He saw Gerson battering4 at the trap with a feeling — it was almost akin5 to gratified malice6.
Gerson, he realized, had always been the disagreeable aspect of his mastery; always Gerson had spoilt things; always he had touched the stages of the fine romance of this adventure with an unanticipated cruelty and horror. Mr. Parham was traditional and ready to be traditional, but Gerson he saw now was ancestral and archaic7. Mr. Parham realized now as he watched those simian8 fists hammering with furious gestures on the thick metal and pausing for the answering blows of the men outside, that he had come at last to detest9 Gerson almost as much as he detested10 Sir Bussy. He knew that this violence was futile11, and he despised it as much as he hated it.
He put out his arm and touched Gerson.
Gerson sprang round, manifestly in a state of intense irritation12 and his mask did not completely stifle13 his interrogative snarl14.
“That door may have fallen automatically,” said Mr. Parham. “For all we know yet — everyone here may be dead.”
Gerson thought and then nodded and made a gesture for Mr. Parham to precede him.
“And indeed,” said Mr. Parham to himself, “for all I know they may be dead.”
In another moment he knew better. The little passage opened out into what seemed to be a large circular space and at the further side of this they saw two figures, unmasked and regarding them. Gas L was as if it had never been. They were men clad in the white overalls16 dear to chemists and surgeons. They made signs as if for Mr. Parham and Gerson to move softly. They pointed17 to something hidden as yet from the newcomers. Their forms were a little distorted and their gestures a little exaggerated by some intervening transparent18 substance.
So they had had an anti-gas for Gas L.
Mr. Parham advanced, and Gerson came close behind.
They emerged upon a circular gallery.
The place made Mr. Parham think of the inside of the reservoir of a coal-gas works. Such a place would surely look like this place if it had electric lights inside it. It was large — it might have been a hundred yards in diameter — and shaped like a drum. The little gallery on which they stood ran round it, and in the central pit and occupying most of it was a huge glass bulb, a vast retort, in which a greenish-white liquid was boiling and bubbling. The shining curvature of the glass rose before them, reflecting them faintly with a certain distortion. It shortened and broadened them. It robbed Mr. Parham of all his natural dignity and made Gerson look incredibly squat19 and filthy20 and evil. The liquid in the retort was not seething21 equally; it was traversed and torn here and there by spurts22 and eddies23 of commotion24; here it was mysteriously still and smooth, here with a wild rush came a drive of bursting bubbles. They stormed across the surface and raised eruptive mounds25 of ebullient26 liquid. And over the whole whirled and danced wisps of filmy vapour. But this held Mr. Parham’s attention only for a moment. He realized that he was in the presence of Camelford and Sir Bussy, and he forgot everything else in that confrontation27.
Both these men were dressed in the same white overalls as the assistants across on the other side of the rotunda28. But they had the air of having expected Mr. Parham and his companion. They seemed to have been coming to meet them.
With a gesture of irritation Mr. Parham wrenched29 off his mask and Gerson followed suit.
“The Lord Paramount30 of Britain,” said Camelford and bowed with manifest irony31.
“Looks uncommonly32 like my old friend Parham,” said Sir Bussy.
“This other gentleman, if I’m not mistaken,” said Camelford, “is that master strategist, General Gerson.”
“It’s a loyal Englishman, Mr. Camelford,” said the General, “who has done his best to save a great empire.”
“You lost a good lot of it to begin with,” said Camelford.
“Because we were shot at from behind.”
“How’s your war going now?”
“The war’s gone to pieces. Mutiny. Disorder33. London is in revolt and crying for peace. American peace propaganda has done us in- with treason at the back of us. It’s the story of the poor old Kaiser over again. Beaten on the home front. No fair soldiering. If we could have made enough of Gas L— if we could have got all we had reasonably thought we should get . . . God! There was nothing wrong in my plans. Except that you’ve made a corner in Gas L. While we fought the enemy, you, you dirty sneaks34, cornered our munitions35. And now you’ve got us, and may Hell take you for it!”
Camelford turned to Sir Bussy. “He speaks with heat, but I think we may admit his facts are sound. You’ve always had the buying-up instinct.” He smiled blandly36 at Gerson. “We’ve got the stuff, as you say. We don’t pretend we haven’t. Sir Bussy has been amazing. But it isn’t for sale. We thought it a pity to waste it on Gas L, and so we are making use of it in another way. Our way.”
A faint memory of the Lord Paramount reappeared in Mr. Parham. He made the old familiar gesture with his hand. “I want that material,” he said. “I demand it.”
Sir Bussy’s nether37 lip dropped. “What for?” he asked.
“To save the Empire. To save the world from chaos38.”
“There ain’t going to be no chaos,” misquoted Sir Bussy.
“What are you going to do? Where do you think you are driving? Are you going to sit here and barter39 your stolen goods to the highest bidder40?”
“Cornered, perhaps, but not stolen,” Sir Bussy corrected.
“Well?”
“We’re going to take control,” said Sir Bussy.
“YOU! A handful of financial and technical scoundrels!”
“WE’RE not going to take control,” said Camelford, “if Sir Bussy will forgive me. Something else HAS taken control. And there are more men coming into this business of creation than you or Gerson dream.”
Mr. Parham looked about him, at the smooth circular walls about them, at the monstrous41 glass retort, at the distant figures of the silent attendants in white. Their number had now increased to six, and they all stood watching noiselessly. It was extraordinarily42 still and large and clean and — queer. It was not like war. It was not like government. It was not like industrialism. It was profoundly unhistorical. It was the new thing coming. And at his side stood Gerson. He, on the contrary, was like all the heroes of all the faint hopes that have ever succeeded. That never very attractive little figure in its uniform of soiled khaki suffered enormously by the contrast, looked brutish, looked earthy. Crawling through the darkness over rough ground usually given over to rabbits and an occasional goat had not improved his never very meticulous43 appearance, and his native physical vigour44, the natural strength of his dark hair, made it very evident that he had had no time for a shave for a couple of days.
Mr. Parham, who had always had a reasonable care for his own costume, experienced a wave of profound disloyalty to his sturdy colleague. This latter looked a pig of a creature, he looked as toughly combative46 with anything and everything as a netted boar. He was more than half an animal. Yet surely for all his savagery47 he had the inflexible48 loyalty45 of a great hero, he had a heart of ruthless, inexorable gold. Surely?
Mr. Parham’s thoughts came back to the last sentence Camelford had uttered and to this strange place into which he and Gerson had blundered. “Something else had taken control?” Not Gerson but something else? What was the issue that had brought them to this confrontation? Gerson hot and dirty, versus49 this Something Else? Which was not this group nor that group. Not the nation nor the Empire. Not America nor Europe. Which was a sort of emanation from the released and freely acting50 intelligence of mankind.
A trace of the Master Spirit was still in Mr. Parham’s manner, but behind the mask of his resolute51 bearing he felt his mind had fallen open and lay unprotected against new strange heretical assailants.
“What is your aim here?” he asked. “What do you imagine you are doing? My ideas are still the common ideas of humanity. They are the forces of history. They are the driving power that has brought civilization to its present pass. Tradition. Discipline. Obedience52. What are your ideas? Why have you raised this land out of the sea and made this place?”
“We never raised this land out of the sea,” said Camelford. “We never made this place. And we learn our aim as we get to it.”
“Then who the devil —?” said Gerson.
“This place came. No single man planned it. No single man foresaw it. It appeared. As all the great inventions have appeared. Not out of individuals but out of the mind of man. This land with its hidden stores of strange minerals lay under the sea, ready for anyone who fulfilled the conditions fixed53 for raising it. And these works and the gas we are making, those also depended on the fulfilling of conditions. We individual men of science and men of enterprise do no more than observe the one supreme54 condition — which is that the human intelligence should have fair play. Now that these things have realized themselves, we look for the next thing we have to do.”
“Ugh,” said Gerson.
“The old face of human life is passing away. In that obedient fashion to which our science has trained us we observe the coming of the new. The age of war and conquest is over. War is done with, but with war a thousand other once vital things are done with also. The years of restraint are at an end. The patriots55 and warriors56 and masters, the flags and the nations, have to be rounded up now and put away forever. Powers and empires are over. The loyalties57 that served them must die. They matter no more. They become a monstrous danger. What was it Sir Bussy said? ‘The ideas of an old buck58 rabbit in the reign59 of Queen Elizabeth.’ Shut the book of national conflicts and conquests now and hand it over to the psychologists. We are the workers of a new dawn. Men of no nation. Men without traditions. Men who look forward and not back. Men who have realized the will and the intelligence that we obey and possess in common. Our race has to organize the whole world now, a field for this creative energy that flows through and uses and guides us.”
“But you are brewing60 a gas here!” said Mr. Parham. “It is a gas — a dangerous gas. What is it?”
“It takes some brewing. If a crack in that retort let in the air — well, somewhere else this thing would have to begin over again. Here it would be finished. This stuff you see here is only a stage in a long string of processes. Before our product is ready to use there have to be corrosive61 and destructive phases. It is unavoidable that there should be these phases of corrosion62 and destruction. What is adventure if it has no danger? But when we have done, the gas we shall have here will not be a poison gas at all. Instead we shall have a vapour to enter into blood and nerve and brain and clean the mind of man as it has never been cleaned before. It will allow his brain, so clogged63 and stifled64 still by old rubbish, so poisoned and cramped65 and crippled, to free itself from all that holds it back now from apprehending66 and willing to the utmost limits of its possibility. And that points to a new world quite different from the world to which your mind is adapted. A world beyond your dreaming. You don’t begin to imagine yet a tithe67 of the things a liberated68 human brain can do. All your poor old values will be mislaid and forgotten. Your kingdoms and empires, your morals and rights, all you find so lovely and splendid, the heroism69 and sacrifices of battlefields, your dreams of lordship, every romantic thing, the devotion of servants, the subjugation70 of women, and the deception71 of children — all the complex rigmaroles of your old world will be washed out of men’s thoughts. We are brewing a new morality here and a new temerity72. Instead of distrusting each other, killing73 each other, competing with and enslaving and consuming one another, we go on to a world of equals, working together under the guidance of realized fact, for ends too high for your imagination. . . .”
“But this is the voice of Satan himself,” interrupted Mr. Parham. “This is the Sin of Pride defying Heaven. This is Babel come again.”
“No,” said Camelford, and it seemed to Mr. Parham that he began to grow larger and tower over his hearers. “It is the way of escape from our narrow selves. Forward to the new. Cling to this traditionalism of yours a little longer, cling still to what YOU call history, with all these new powers and possibilities we are pressing into your hands — and there can be only one end — Catastrophe74.”
The word Catastrophe reverberated75 in Mr. Parham’s mind. Then his attention was caught and riveted76 on Gerson’s attitude. The General’s one serviceable eye, dilated77 and intent, was fixed on Camelford, his lips were pressed together, his bulldog face was set in an expression of stern indignation. A deep Indian red had invaded his complexion78. He was rigid79 except that his right arm was moving very slowly. His hand gripped the butt80 of his revolver and was tightening81 upon it and drawing it out.
A strange conflict prevailed in Mr. Parham’s mind. He found this talk of Camelford’s antagonistic82 and hateful but he did not want to interrupt it, he wanted to hear the man out; above all, he did not want to have the talk interrupted by Gerson in Gerson’s fashion.
And besides, what was Gerson doing here? He had not been asked to this party. But was it a party? This was not a dinner party. It was a séance. But no! What was it? Where were we? Cayme?
Within the now frightfully confused soul of Mr. Parham intellectuality grappled with reaction. Not yet, at any rate, must things come to this. He made a weak movement of his hand as if in restraint of Gerson’s intention.
Instantly Gerson had whipped out his weapon. “Stand off,” he said in an aside to Parham, and then to Camelford, “Hands up!”
Camelford did not seem to realize his danger. “Put that old thing up,” he said. “Give it to me. You’ll break something.”
He came, hand out, towards Gerson.
“Keep back!” said Gerson. “I’ll show you if this sort of thing is over. It’s only beginning. I’m the real Lord Paramount. Force and straight shooting. Do you think I care a damn for your gas or you? Catastrophe! A fig15 for your old catastrophe! Which is always coming and never comes. . . . Hands up, I tell you. Put up your hands, you damned fool! STOP!”
He fired. Then very swiftly the blue steel barrel under Mr. Parham’s nose sought Sir Bussy.
Vainly. Gerson’s shot hit the metal door that closed upon that elusive83 being. Mr. Parham felt an instant pang84 of exasperation85 with both these uncontrollable spirits. He still wanted Camelford to go on. His mind flashed back to Camelford. But Camelford was staggering with his hand on his throat.
Then it was catastrophe, as Camelford had said.
A crash and a splintering of glass. Camelford had fallen through the great glass retort, carrying down a transparent shattering triangle, had splashed into the liquid and now lay far below, moving convulsively on the curve of the nether glass. For a moment the air about them was full of ascendant streamers of vapour made visible as they changed to green and mingled86 with the air. They eddied87 and whirled. They spun88 faster and faster.
Gerson had turned his weapon upon Parham. “You too! YOU to talk of war! With the wits of a prig and the guts89 of a parasite90! Get out of my world!”
The vituperating mouth hung open arrested. No shot came.
But now everything was moving very swiftly. One last flash of frantic91 perception closed the story. The rotunda yawned open as though some mighty92 hand had wrenched it in two, and through the separating halves of the roof appeared the warm glow of sunrise. A universe of sound pressed upon and burst the drums of Mr. Parham’s ears. An immense explosion which seemed to have been going on for some moments caught him and lifted him backward and upward at an incredible speed, and Gerson, suddenly flat and bloody93, flashed by, seemed to be drawn94 out longer and longer until he was only a thread of scarlet95 and khaki, and so vanished slanting96 up the sky, with his revolver spinning preposterously97 after him. . . .
收听单词发音 |
1
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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simian
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| adj.似猿猴的；n.类人猿，猴 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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ebullient
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| adj.兴高采烈的，奔放的 | |
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confrontation
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| n.对抗，对峙，冲突 | |
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rotunda
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| n.圆形建筑物；圆厅 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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sneaks
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| abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋（网球鞋）v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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munitions
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| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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bidder
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| n.(拍卖时的)出价人，报价人，投标人 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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50
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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51
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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52
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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53
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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54
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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loyalties
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| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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58
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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corrosion
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| n.腐蚀，侵蚀；渐渐毁坏，渐衰 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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apprehending
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的现在分词 )； 理解 | |
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tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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subjugation
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| n.镇压，平息，征服 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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73
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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85
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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preposterously
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| adv.反常地；荒谬地；荒谬可笑地；不合理地 | |
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