Коллекционер
Chapter 2
It’sdespairthatanyonecanevencontemplatetheideaofdroppingabombororderingthatitshouldbedropped.It’sdespairthatsofewofuscare.It’sdespairthatthere’ssomuchbrutalityandcallousnessintheworld.It’sdespairthatperfectlynormalyoungmencanbemadeviciousandevilbecausethey’vewonalotofmoney.Andthendowhatyou’vedonetome.
C.Ithoughtyou’dgetontothat.
M.Well,you’repartofit.Everythingfreeanddecentinlifeisbeinglockedawayinfilthylittlecellarsbybeastlypeoplewhodon’tcare.
C.Iknowyourlot.Youthinkthewholebloomingworld’sallarrangedsoaseverythingoughttobeyourway.
M.Don’tbesowet.
C.Iwasaprivateinthearmy.Youcan’ttellme.Mylotjustdowhatthey’retold(hewasreallyquiteworkedup—forhim)andbetterlookoutiftheydon’t.
M.Youhaven’tcaughtupwithyourself.You’rerichnow.You’vegotnothingtobehurtabout.
C.Moneydoesn’tmakeallthatdifference.
M.Nobodycanorderyouaboutanymore.
C.Youdon’tunderstandmeatall.
M.Oh,yesIdo.Iknowyou’renotateddy.Butdeepdownyoufeellikeone.Youhatebeinganunderdog,youhatenotbeingabletoexpressyourselfproperly.Theygoandsmashthings,yousitandsulk.Yousay,Iwon’thelptheworld.Iwon’tdothesmallestgoodthingforhumanity.I’lljustthinkofmyselfandhumanitycangoandstewforallIcare.(It’slikecontinuallyslappingsomeoneacrosstheface—almostawince.)
