О дивный новый мир

           Balkedforthesecondtime,thepassionofhisgriefhadfoundanotheroutlet,wastransformedintoapassionofagonizedrage.

           "ButI’mJohn!"heshouted."I’mJohn!"Andinhisfuriousmiseryheactuallycaughtherbytheshoulderandshookher.

           Linda’seyesflutteredopen;shesawhim,knewhim–"John!"–butsituatedtherealface,therealandviolenthands,inanimaginaryworld–amongtheinwardandprivateequivalentsofpatchouliandtheSuper-Wurlitzer,amongthetransfiguredmemoriesandthestrangelytransposedsensationsthatconstitutedtheuniverseofherdream.SheknewhimforJohn,herson,butfanciedhimanintruderintothatparadisalMalpaiswhereshehadbeenspendinghersoma-holidaywithPopé.HewasangrybecauseshelikedPopé,hewasshakingherbecausePopéwasthereinthebed–asthoughthereweresomethingwrong,asthoughallcivilizedpeopledidn’tdothesame."Everyonebelongstoevery..."Hervoicesuddenlydiedintoanalmostinaudiblebreathlesscroaking.Hermouthfellopen:shemadeadesperateefforttofillherlungswithair.Butitwasasthoughshehadforgottenhowtobreathe.Shetriedtocryout–butnosoundcame;onlytheterrorofherstaringeyesrevealedwhatshewassuffering.Herhandswenttoherthroat,thenclawedattheair–theairshecouldnolongerbreathe,theairthat,forher,hadceasedtoexist.

           TheSavagewasonhisfeet,bentoverher."Whatisit,Linda?Whatisit?"Hisvoicewasimploring;itwasasthoughhewerebeggingtobereassured.