451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
Hewentouttolookatthecityandthecloudshadclearedawaycompletely,andhelitacigaretteandcamebacktobenddownandlookattheHound. Itwaslikeagreatbeecomehomefromsomefieldwherethehoneyisfullofpoisonwildness,ofinsanityandnightmare, itsbodycrammedwiththatover-richnectarandnowitwassleepingtheeviloutofitself.
"Hello,"whisperedMontag,fascinatedasalwayswiththedeadbeast,thelivingbeast.
Atnightwhenthingsgotdull,whichwaseverynight, themensliddownthebrasspoles,andsetthetickingcombinationsoftheolfactorysystemoftheHoundandletlooseratsinthefirehousearea-way,andsometimeschickens,andsometimescatsthatwouldhavetobedrownedanyway,andtherewouldbebettingtoseewhichtheHoundwouldseizefirst.Theanimalswereturnedloose. Threesecondslaterthegamewasdone, therat,cat,orchickencaughthalfacrossthearea-way,grippedingentlingpawswhileafour-inchhollowsteelneedleplungeddownfromtheproboscisoftheHoundtoinjectmassivejoltsofmorphineorprocaine. Thepawnwasthentossedintheincinerator.Anewgamebegan.
Montagstayedupstairsmostnightswhenthiswenton. Therehadbeenatimetwoyearsagowhenhehadbetwiththebestofthem,andlostaweek’ssalary andfacedMildred’sinsaneanger,whichshoweditselfinveinsandblotches. Butnowatnighthelayinhisbunk,faceturnedtothewall,listeningtowhoopsoflaughterbelowandthepiano-stringscurryofratfeet, theviolinsqueakingofmice,andthegreatshadowing,motionedsilenceoftheHoundleapingoutlikeamothintherawlight, finding,holdingitsvictim,insertingtheneedleandgoingbacktoitskenneltodieasifaswitchhadbeenturned.
