Yes, yes; the Builder of the Integral.... Yes, yes.... At once there came back to me the angry face of U- with twitching, brick-red gills, on that morning when both of them....
I remember now, clearly, how I raised my eyes and laughed. A Socrates-like, bald-headed man was sitting before me; and small drops of sweat dotted the bald surface of his cranium.
How simple, how magnificently trivial everything
was! How simple! Almost to the point of being ridiculous. Laughter was choking me and bursting forth in puffs; I covered my mouth with my hand and rushed wildly out....
Steps. Wind. Damp, leaping fragments of lights and faces.... And while running
: “No! Only to see her! To see her once more!”
Here again, an empty white page. All I remember is feet; not people, just feet; hundreds of feet, confusedly stamping feet, falling from somewhere on the pavement; a heavy rain of feet.... And some cheerful, daring voice, and a shout that was probably for me: “Hey, hey! Come here! Come along with us!”
Afterward—a deserted square heavily overloaded with tense wind. In the middle of the square a dim, heavy threatening mass—the Machine of the Well-Doer; and a seemingly unexpected image arose within me in response to the sight of the Machine: a snow-white pillow and on the pillow a head thrown back, and half-closed eyes and a sharp, sweet line of teeth.... All this seemed so absurdly, so terribly connected with the Machine. I know how this connection has come about but I do not yet want to see it nor to say it aloud—I don’t want to! I do not!
I closed my eyes, sat down on the steps which lead upwards to the Machine. I must have been running for my face was wet. From somewhere very far away cries were coming. But nobody
heard them; nobody heard me crying: “Save me from it—save me!”