IN THE SILENT ROOMS
Presently Graham his of his apartments. Curiosity him moving in of his fatigue. The room, he perceived, was high, and its shaped, with an in the centre, opening into a in which a wheel of to be rotating, the air up the shaft. The note of its easy motion was the only clear in that place. As these up one after the other, Graham of the sky. He was to see a star.
This his attention to the that the of these rooms was to a of very set about the cornices. There were no windows. And he to that along all the and passages he had with Howard he had no at all. Had there been windows? There were on the indeed, but were they for light? Or was the whole city day and night for evermore, so that there was no night there?
And another thing upon him. There was no in either room. Was the season summer, and were these apartments, or was the whole city or cooled? He in these questions, the of the walls, the bed, the by which the of service was abolished. And over was a of ornament, a of and colour, that he very to the eye. There were very chairs, a light table on bottles of and glasses, and two plates a clear like jelly. Then he noticed there were no books, no newspapers, no materials. "The world has indeed," he said.
He one entire of the room was set with of with green on white that with the of the room, and in the centre of this a little about a square and having a white to the room. A chair this. He had a idea that these might be books, or a modern for books, but at it did not so.
The on the puzzled him. At it like Russian. Then he noticed a of English about of the words.
"Thi Man Kin" itself on him as "The Man who would be King."
"Phonetic spelling," he said. He reading a with that title, then he the vividly, one of the best in the world. But this thing him was not a book as he it. He puzzled out the titles of two cylinders. "The Heart of Darkness" he had of "The Madonna of the Future"—no if they were stories, they were by post-Victorian authors.
He puzzled over this for some time and replaced it. Then he to the square and that. He opened a of and one of the within, and on the upper a little like the of an electric bell. He pressed this and a and ceased. He aware of voices and music, and noticed a play of colour on the face. He what this might be, and to it.
On the surface was now a little picture, very coloured, and in this picture were that moved. Not only did they move, but they were in clear small voices. It was like viewed through an and through a long tube. His was at once by the situation, which presented a man up and and angry to a but woman. Both were in the that so to Graham. "I have worked," said the man, "but what have you been doing?"
"Ah!" said Graham. He else, and sat in the chair. Within five minutes he himself, named, "when the Sleeper wakes," used as a proverb for postponement, and passed himself by, a thing and incredible. But in a little while he those two people like friends.
At last the came to an end, and the square of the was blank again.
It was a world into which he had been permitted to see, unscrupulous, seeking, energetic, subtle, a world too of economic struggle; there were he did not understand, that of ideals, of enlightenment. The that so in his of the city appeared again and again as the of the common people. He had no the was contemporary, and its was undeniable. And the end had been a that him. He sat at the blankness.
He started and his eyes. He had been so in the latter-day for a novel, that he to the little green and white room with more than a touch of the of his awakening.
He up, and he was in his own wonderland. The of the passed, and the in the place of streets, the Council, the phases of his hour, came back. These people had spoken of the Council with of a of power. And they had spoken of the Sleeper; it had not him at the time that he was the Sleeper. He had to what they had said….
He walked into the and up through the quick of the fan. As the round, a like the noise of came in eddies. All else was silence. Though the day still his apartments, he the little of sky was now blue—black almost, with a of little stars….
He his of the rooms. He no way of opening the door, no other means of calling for attendance. His of wonder was in abeyance; but he was curious, for information. He wanted to know how he to these new things. He to himself to wait until someone came to him. Presently he and for information, for distraction, for fresh sensations.
He to the in the other room, and had soon puzzled out the method of the by others. As he did so, it came into his mind that it must be these little had the language so that it was still clear and after two hundred years. The he a fantasia. At it was beautiful, and then it was sensuous. He presently what appeared to him to be an of the of Tannhauser. The music was unfamiliar. But the was realistic, and with a unfamiliarity. Tannhauser did not go to a Venusberg, but to a Pleasure City. What was a Pleasure City? A dream, surely, the of a fantastic, writer.
He interested, curious. The with a of sentimentality. Suddenly he did not like it. He liked it less as it proceeded.
He had a of feeling. These were no pictures, no idealisations, but realities. He wanted no more of the twenty-second century Venusberg. He the part played by the model in nineteenth century art, and gave way to an indignation. He rose, angry and at himself for this thing in solitude. He the apparatus, and with some for a means of stopping its action. Something snapped. A and his arm and the thing was still. When he next day to replace these Tannhauser by another pair, he the broken….
He out a path to the room and to and fro, with impressions. The he had from the and the he had seen, conflicted, him. It to him the most thing of all that in his thirty years of life he had to shape a picture of these times. "We were making the future," he said, "and any of us to think what we were making. And here it is!"
"What have they got to, what has been done? How do I come into the of it all?" The of and house he was prepared for, the of people. But in the city ways! And the of a class of rich men!
He of Bellamy, the hero of Socialistic Utopia had so this experience. But here was no Utopia, no Socialistic state. He had already to that the of luxury, waste and on the one hand and on the other, still prevailed. He of the of life to that correlation. And not only were the of the city and the in the gigantic, but the voices he had in the ways, the of Howard, the very spoke of discontent. What country was he in? Still England it seemed, and yet "un-English." His mind at the of the world, and saw only an veil.
He about his apartment, as a animal might do. He was very tired, with that that not admit of rest. He for long under the to catch some echo of the he must be in the city.
He to talk to himself. "Two hundred and three years!" he said to himself over and over again, laughing stupidly. "Then I am two hundred and thirty-three years old! The inhabitant. Surely they haven't the of our time and gone to the of the oldest. My are indisputable. Mumble, mumble. I the Bulgarian as though it was yesterday. 'Tis a great age! Ha ha!" He was at to himself laughing, and then laughed again and louder. Then he that he was foolishly. "Steady," he said. "Steady!"
His more regular. "This new world," he said. "I don't it. Why? … But it is all why!"
"I they can and do all of things. Let me try and just how it began."
He was at to how the memories of his thirty years had become. He fragments, for the most part moments, of no great that he had observed. His the most at first, he books and lessons in mensuration. Then he the more of his life, memories of the wife long since dead, her magic now gone corruption, of his and friends and betrayers, of the of this issue and that, and then of his last years of misery, of resolves, and at last of his studies. In a little while he he had it all again; perhaps, like metal long aside, but in no way or injured, of re-polishing. And the of it was a misery. Was it re-polishing? By a he had been out of a life that had intolerable….
He to his present condition. He with the in vain. It an tangle. He saw the sky through the pink with dawn. An old came out of the dark of his memory. "I must sleep," he said. It appeared as a from this and from the pain and of his limbs. He to the little bed, and was presently asleep….
He was to very familiar with these he left them, for he for three days. During that time no one, Howard, entered the rooms. The of his with and in some way the of his survival. He had to it only to be away into this solitude. Howard came with and fluids, and light and foods, to Graham. He always closed the door as he entered. On of detail he was obliging, but the of Graham on the great that were being so closely the sound-proof that him, he would not elucidate. He evaded, as as possible, every question on the position of in the world.
And in those three days Graham's and wide. All that he had seen, all this to prevent him seeing, together in his mind. Almost every possible of his position he debated—even as it chanced, the right interpretation. Things that presently to him, came to him at last credible, by of this seclusion. When at length the moment of his arrived, it him prepared….
Howard's to Graham's of his own importance; the door its opening and to admit with him a of happening. His more and searching. Howard through and difficulties. The was unforeseen, he repeated; it to have in with the of a social convulsion. "To it I must tell you the history of a and a of years," Howard.
"The thing is this," said Graham. "You are of something I shall do. In some way I am arbitrator—I might be arbitrator."
"It is not that. But you have—I may tell you this much—the of your property puts great possibilities of in your hands. And in other you have influence, with your eighteenth century notions."
"Nineteenth century," Graham.
"With your old world notions, anyhow, as you are of every of our State."
"Am I a fool?"
"Certainly not."
"Do I to be the of man who would act rashly?"
"You were to act at all. No one on your awakening. No one you would awake. The Council had you with conditions. As a of fact, we that you were dead—a of decay. And—but it is too complex. We not suddenly—-while you are still awake."
"It won't do," said Graham. "Suppose it is as you say—why am I not being night and day with and and all the of the time to fit me for my responsibilities? Am I any now than two days ago, if it is two days, when I awoke?"
Howard his lip.
"I am to feel—every hour I more clearly—a of of which you are the face. Is this Council, or committee, or they are, cooking the of my estate? Is that it?"
"That note of suspicion—" said Howard.
"Ugh!" said Graham. "Now, mark my words, it will be for those who have put me here. It will be ill. I am alive. Make no of it, I am alive. Every day my is and my mind and more vigorous. No more quiescence. I am a man come to life. And I want to live—"
"Live!"
Howard's with an idea. He came Graham and spoke in an easy tone.
"The Council you here for your good. You are restless.
Naturally—an man! You it here. But we are anxious
that you may desire—every desire—every of …
There may be something. Is there any of company?"
He paused meaningly.
"Yes," said Graham thoughtfully. "There is."
"Ah! Now! We have you neglectfully."
"The in of yours."
"That," said Howard, "I am afraid—But—"
Graham the room. Howard near the door him. The of Howard's was only to Graham. Company? Suppose he were to accept the proposal, some of company? Would there be any possibilities of from the of this additional person some of the that had out so at his moment? He again, and the took colour. He on Howard abruptly.
"What do you by company?"
Howard his and his shoulders. "Human beings," he said, with a on his face. "Our social ideas," he said, "have a liberality, perhaps, in with your times. If a man to such a as this—by society, for instance. We think it no scandal. We have our minds of formulae. There is in our city a class, a necessary class, no longer despised—discreet—"
Graham stopped dead.
"It would pass the time," said Howard. "It is a thing I should have of before, but, as a of fact, so much is happening—"
He the world.
Graham hesitated. For a moment the of a possible woman his mind with an attraction. Then he into anger.
"No!" he shouted.
He up and the room. "Everything you say, you do, me—of some great issue in which I am concerned. I do not want to pass the time, as you call it. Yes, I know. Desire and are life in a sense—and Death! Extinction! In my life I slept I had out that question. I will not again. There is a city, a multitude—. And meanwhile I am here like a in a bag."
His high. He for a moment and to his fists. He gave way to an anger fit, he curses. His had the quality of physical threats.
"I do not know who your party may be. I am in the dark, and you keep me in the dark. But I know this, that I am here for no good purpose. For no good purpose. I you, I you of the consequences. Once I come at my power—"
He that to thus might be a to himself. He stopped. Howard him with a expression.
"I take it this is a message to the Council," said Howard.
Graham had a to upon the man, or him. It must have upon his face; at any Howard's movement was quick. In a second the noiseless door had closed again, and the man from the nineteenth century was alone.
For a moment he rigid, with hands raised. Then he them down. "What a I have been!" he said, and gave way to his anger again, about the room and curses…. For a long time he himself in a of frenzy, at his position, at his own folly, at the who had him. He did this he did not want to look at his position. He to his anger—because he was of fear.
Presently he himself with himself. This was unaccountable, but no the legal forms—new legal forms—of the time permitted it. It must, of course, be legal. These people were two hundred years on in the of than the Victorian generation. It was not likely they would be less—humane. Yet they had their minds of formulae! Was a as well as chastity?
His set to work to that might be done to him. The of his to of these suggestions, though for the most part valid, were unavailing. "Why should anything be done to me?"
"If the comes to the worst," he himself saying at last, "I can give up what they want. But what do they want? And why don't they ask me for it of me up?"
He returned to his with the Council's possible intentions. He to the of Howard's behaviour, glances, hesitations. Then, for a time, his mind about the idea of from these rooms; but he into this vast, world? He would be off than a Saxon into nineteenth century London. And besides, how anyone from these rooms?
"How can it anyone if should to me?"
He of the tumult, the great social trouble of which he was so the axis. A text, enough, and yet insistent, came up out of the of his memory. This also a Council had said:
"It is for us that one man should die for the people."
