“What did you say?” The voice was curiously mild yet it increased rather than diminished the tension. We had reached the crisis, without a plan.
“You have removed the fear of death for which future generations will thank you, as I do. But you have gone too far ... all of you.” I looked about me at the pale faces; a faint wisp of new moon curled in the pale sky above. “Life is to be lived until the flesh no longer supports the life within. The meaning of life, Cave, is more life, not death. The enemy of life is death, an enemy not to be feared but no less hostile for all that, no less dangerous, no less wrong when the living choose it instead of life, either for themselves or for others. You’ve been able to dispel our fear of the common adversary; that was your great work in the world ... now you want to go further, to make love to this enemy we no longer fear, to mate with death ... and it is here that you, all of you, become the enemies of life.”
“Stop it!” Iris’s voice was high and clear. I did not look at her. All that I could do now was to force the climax.
“But sooner or later every act of human folly creates its own opposition. This will too, more soon than late, for if one can make any generality about human beings it is that they want not to die. You cannot stampede them into death for long. They are enthusiastic now. They may not be soon ... unless of course there is some supreme example before them, one which you, Cave, can alone supply. You will have to die by your own hand to show the virtue and the truth of all that you have said.”
I had gone as far as I could. I glanced at Iris while I spoke; she had grown white and old-looking and, while I watched her, I realized whom it was she resembled, the obscure nagging memory which had disturbed me all through dinner: she was like my mother, a woman long dead, one whose gentle blurred features had been strikingly similar to that frightened face which now stared at me as though I were a murderer.
Paul was the one who answered me. “You’re out of your mind, Gene,” he said, when my meaning had at least penetrated to them all. “It doesn’t follow in the least that Cave must die because others want to. The main work is still ahead of him. This country is only a corner of the world. There’s some of Europe and most of Asia and Africa still ahead of us. How can you even suggest he quit now and die?”
“The work will be done whether he lives or not, as you certainly know. He’s given it the first impetus. The rest is up to the others, to the ambitious, the inspired ... we’ve met enough of them these last few years: they’re quite capable of finishing the work without us.”
“But it’s nothing without Cave.”
I shrugged. I was suddenly relieved as the restraint of three furious years went in a rush. “I am as devoted to Cave as anyone,” I said (and I was, I think, honest). “I don’t want him to die but all of you in your madness have made it impossible for him to live. He’s gone now to the limit, to the last boundary: he is the son of death and each of you supports him. I don’t, for it was only my wish to make life better, not death desirable. I never really believed it would come to this: that you, Cave, would speak out for death, against life.” I raised my eyes to his. To my astonishment he had lowered his lids as though to hide from me, to shut me out. His head was shaking oddly from left to right and his lips were pressed tight together.
I struck again, without mercy. “But don’t stop now. You’ve got your wish. By all means, build palaces if you like for those who choose to die in your name. But remember that you will be their victim, too. The victim of their passionate trust. They will force you to lead the way and you must be death’s lover, Cave.”