Chapter 38

           "Comeon,let’sgodowntothelocal." 

           SospokeBrissenden,faintfromahemorrhageofhalfanhourbeforethesecondhemorrhageinthreedays. Theperennialwhiskeyglasswasinhishands,andhedraineditwithshakingfingers. 

           "WhatdoIwantwithsocialism?"Martindemanded. 

           "Outsidersareallowedfive-minutespeeches,"thesickmanurged. "Getupandspout. Tellthemwhyyoudon’twantsocialism. Tellthemwhatyouthinkaboutthemandtheirghettoethics. SlamNietzscheintothemandgetwallopedforyourpains. Makeascrapofit. Itwilldothemgood. Discussioniswhattheywant,andwhatyouwant,too. Yousee,I’dliketoseeyouasocialistbeforeI’mgone. Itwillgiveyouasanctionforyourexistence. Itistheonethingthatwillsaveyouinthetimeofdisappointmentthatiscomingtoyou." 

           "Inevercanpuzzleoutwhyyou,ofallmen,areasocialist,"Martinpondered. "Youdetestthecrowdso. Surelythereisnothinginthecanailletorecommendittoyouraestheticsoul." Hepointedanaccusingfingeratthewhiskeyglasswhichtheotherwasrefilling. "Socialismdoesn’tseemtosaveyou." 

           "I’mverysick,"wastheanswer. "Withyouitisdifferent. Youhavehealthandmuchtolivefor,andyoumustbehandcuffedtolifesomehow. Asforme,youwonderwhyIamasocialist. I’lltellyou. ItisbecauseSocialismisinevitable; becausethepresentrottenandirrationalsystemcannotendure; becausethedayispastforyourmanonhorseback. Theslaveswon’tstandforit. 

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