О дивный новый мир

           TheeffectofDarwinBonaparte’sfilmwasimmediateandenormous.OntheafternoonwhichfollowedtheeveningofitsreleaseJohn’srusticsolitudewassuddenlybrokenbythearrivaloverheadofagreatswarmofhelicopters.

           Hewasdigginginhisgarden–digging,too,inhisownmind,laboriouslyturningupthesubstanceofhisthought.Death–andhedroveinhisspadeonce,andagain,andyetagain.Andallouryesterdayshavelightedfoolsthewaytodustydeath.Aconvincingthunderrumbledthroughthewords.Heliftedanotherspadefulofearth.WhyhadLindadied?Whyhadshebeenallowedtobecomegraduallylessthanhumanandatlast...Heshuddered.Agoodkissingcarrion.Heplantedhisfootonhisspadeandstampeditfiercelyintothetoughground.Asfliestowantonboysarewetothegods;theykillusfortheirsport.Thunderagain;wordsthatproclaimedthemselvestrue–truersomehowthantruthitself.AndyetthatsameGloucesterhadcalledthemever-gentlegods.Besides,thybestofrestissleepandthatthouoftprovok’st;yetgrosslyfear’stthydeathwhichisnomore.Nomorethansleep.Sleep.Perchancetodream.Hisspadestruckagainstastone;hestoopedtopickitup.Forinthatsleepofdeath,whatdreams?...

           Ahummingoverheadhadbecomearoar;andsuddenlyhewasinshadow,therewassomethingbetweenthesunandhim.