mirror and his compassion for his image was reflected back into himself but it did not comfort him. When he leaned forward between the hinged mirror-leaves he caught the reflection of his reflection and the reflection of that, and of that, and he saw himself multiplied and diminished between the mirrors, himself aghast in the exact centre of a line that stretched to the edges of a flat earth. He closed his eyes and got up and fell over the dressing-stool. He went back to the bedroom.
Still undecided he picked up his bomb and looked around and then hobbled downstairs with it, leading with his good foot. In the drawing-room the General was crouching over Marie with his camera to his eye. Marie’s legs were bare and Moon realised that the General had disarranged her clothing. The room ignited for a flashlit instant and the General straightened up and saw Moon and nodded cheerily at him.Moon limped over to the cupboard in the corner and picked up one of the bottles by the neck and limped back to the General who watched him with the same eager curiosity, and Moon hit him on the head with the bottle and kept on until the bottle broke. The bottle burst as violently as plate glass shattering in a train window but it didn’t help. On his way out of the room he tripped over the Risen Christ who lay as though killed in action, one hand outstretched still holding his glass.
Moon went into the kitchen and turned the light off and on again. He lit all the burners on the stove and turned on all the taps. The hot-water geyser went
whoopf
and shook and settled down to its soft roar of gas-jets. The sound and force of it clutched Moon’s nerves as always but it didn’t explode, as always. When he had gone round the house switching on every light, tap and electric and gas fire, he returned to the drawing-room and switched on the radio and the record-player.
He could hear water rushing around the house and the geyser roaring on the edge of eruption, and the music swelled and fought under the lights. He felt all the power stations throb, strain against their rivets and begin to glow and beat like hearts, compressing matter into energy that escaped at once, pumping through the body of the world which was an infinite permutation of bodies trapped in an octagon of mirrors. He tried to think himself loose from all the rest but the barriers knocked each other over; the key to the equation between himself and the world was now beyond reason, comfort beyond ritual. He had no answers any more, only a bomb which correctly placed might blow a hole for him to fall through.
Moon stood still in the bright vibrating box of the house, too tense to weep, and after some while the combined pressure of all his old multiplying fears reached the very centre of his mind and began to expand outwards, and filled it and stillexpanded without relief until he couldn’t hold it any more and he pressed the little plunger into the bomb and heard the snap of the safety seal inside. The bomb began to tick very quietly.
When Moon looked around he saw his notebook curling parchmented on the electric fire with one page hanging down against the filament, and he caught the first lick of light that jumped the gap and fed itself into a flame. The notebook burned away into a black replica of itself, reduced to its brittle essence.
THREE
Chronicler of the Time
I
JANUARY 29 TH. AWOKE late as is my custom, and since my wife Jane had been up betimes, breakfasted alone on a cup of coffee and two slices of toast prepared by the new girl, Marie. There was no office correspondence today. It is seldom that I receive a letter nowadays, and seldom that I write one. This is a pity for Jane has little with which to occupy herself and I have thought more than once how pleasant it would be if she were to help me with the secretarial chores of my business. She herself is the frequent recipient of letters, although she appears to write very few, preferring to rely on
Still undecided he picked up his bomb and looked around and then hobbled downstairs with it, leading with his good foot. In the drawing-room the General was crouching over Marie with his camera to his eye. Marie’s legs were bare and Moon realised that the General had disarranged her clothing. The room ignited for a flashlit instant and the General straightened up and saw Moon and nodded cheerily at him.Moon limped over to the cupboard in the corner and picked up one of the bottles by the neck and limped back to the General who watched him with the same eager curiosity, and Moon hit him on the head with the bottle and kept on until the bottle broke. The bottle burst as violently as plate glass shattering in a train window but it didn’t help. On his way out of the room he tripped over the Risen Christ who lay as though killed in action, one hand outstretched still holding his glass.
Moon went into the kitchen and turned the light off and on again. He lit all the burners on the stove and turned on all the taps. The hot-water geyser went
whoopf
and shook and settled down to its soft roar of gas-jets. The sound and force of it clutched Moon’s nerves as always but it didn’t explode, as always. When he had gone round the house switching on every light, tap and electric and gas fire, he returned to the drawing-room and switched on the radio and the record-player.
He could hear water rushing around the house and the geyser roaring on the edge of eruption, and the music swelled and fought under the lights. He felt all the power stations throb, strain against their rivets and begin to glow and beat like hearts, compressing matter into energy that escaped at once, pumping through the body of the world which was an infinite permutation of bodies trapped in an octagon of mirrors. He tried to think himself loose from all the rest but the barriers knocked each other over; the key to the equation between himself and the world was now beyond reason, comfort beyond ritual. He had no answers any more, only a bomb which correctly placed might blow a hole for him to fall through.
Moon stood still in the bright vibrating box of the house, too tense to weep, and after some while the combined pressure of all his old multiplying fears reached the very centre of his mind and began to expand outwards, and filled it and stillexpanded without relief until he couldn’t hold it any more and he pressed the little plunger into the bomb and heard the snap of the safety seal inside. The bomb began to tick very quietly.
When Moon looked around he saw his notebook curling parchmented on the electric fire with one page hanging down against the filament, and he caught the first lick of light that jumped the gap and fed itself into a flame. The notebook burned away into a black replica of itself, reduced to its brittle essence.
THREE
Chronicler of the Time
I
JANUARY 29 TH. AWOKE late as is my custom, and since my wife Jane had been up betimes, breakfasted alone on a cup of coffee and two slices of toast prepared by the new girl, Marie. There was no office correspondence today. It is seldom that I receive a letter nowadays, and seldom that I write one. This is a pity for Jane has little with which to occupy herself and I have thought more than once how pleasant it would be if she were to help me with the secretarial chores of my business. She herself is the frequent recipient of letters, although she appears to write very few, preferring to rely on
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