451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
Thejetsweregone.Hefelthislipsmove,brushingthemouthpieceofthephone. "Emergencyhospital." Aterriblewhisper.
Hefeltthatthestarshadbeenpulverizedbythesoundoftheblackjetsandthatinthemorningtheearthwouldbethoughtashestoodshiveringinthedark,andlethislipsgoonmovingandmoving.
Theyhadthismachine.Theyhadtwomachines,really. Oneofthemsliddownintoyourstomachlikeablackcobradownanechoingwelllookingforalltheoldwaterandtheoldtimegatheredthere. Itdrankupthegreenmatterthatflowedtothetopinaslowboil.Diditdrinkofthedarkness? Diditsuckoutallthepoisonsaccumulatedwiththeyears? Itfedinsilencewithanoccasionalsoundofinnersuffocationandblindsearching. IthadanEye. Theimpersonaloperatorofthemachinecould,bywearingaspecialopticalhelmet,gazeintothesoulofthepersonwhomhewaspumpingout.WhatdidtheEyesee? Hedidnotsay. HesawbutdidnotseewhattheEyesaw. Theentireoperationwasnotunlikethediggingofatrenchinone’syard. Thewomanonthebedwasnomorethanahardstratumofmarbletheyhadreached. Goon,anyway,shovetheboredown,slushuptheemptiness,ifsuchathingcouldbebroughtoutinthethrobofthesuctionsnake. Theoperatorstoodsmokingacigarette. Theothermachinewasworkingtoo. Theothermachinewasoperatedbyanequallyimpersonalfellowinnon-stainablereddish-brownoveralls. Thismachinepumpedallofthebloodfromthebodyandreplaceditwithfreshbloodandserum.
"Gottoclean’emoutbothways,"saidtheoperator,standingoverthesilentwoman. "Nousegettingthestomachifyoudon’tcleantheblood. Leavethatstuffinthebloodandthebloodhitsthebrainlikeamallet,bang,acoupleofthousandtimesandthebrainjustgivesup,justquits."
