Chapter 17

           Art,science–youseemtohavepaidafairlyhighpriceforyourhappiness,"saidtheSavage,whentheywerealone."Anythingelse?"

           "Well,religion,ofcourse,"repliedtheController."ThereusedtobesomethingcalledGod–beforetheNineYears’War.ButIwasforgetting;youknowallaboutGod,Isuppose."

           "Well..."TheSavagehesitated.Hewouldhavelikedtosaysomethingaboutsolitude,aboutnight,aboutthemesalyingpaleunderthemoon,abouttheprecipice,theplungeintoshadowydarkness,aboutdeath.Hewouldhavelikedtospeak;buttherewerenowords.NoteveninShakespeare.

           TheController,meanwhile,hadcrossedtotheothersideoftheroomandwasunlockingalargesafesetintothewallbetweenthebookshelves.Theheavydoorswungopen.Rummaginginthedarknesswithin,"It’sasubject,"hesaid,"thathasalwayshadagreatinterestforme."Hepulledoutathickblackvolume."You’veneverreadthis,forexample."

           TheSavagetookit."TheHolyBible,containingtheOldandNewTestaments,"hereadaloudfromthetitle-page.

           "Northis."Itwasasmallbookandhadlostitscover.

           "TheImitationofChrist."

           "Northis."Hehandedoutanothervolume.

           "TheVarietiesofReligiousExperience.ByWilliamJames."

           "AndI’vegotplentymore,"MustaphaMondcontinued,resuminghisseat."Awholecollectionofpornographicoldbooks.GodinthesafeandFordontheshelves."