Had it not been for a discovery which I had made a few days before, the Ventilating Revolution would not have been possible. During my investigation of the air system, I had come across a certain little wheel, rusty with age and disuse, which I had turned with surprising results. Upon being jerked slightly to the right, this wheel set into operation an electric current which released a steel partition in the central ventilating tube, blocking the channel somewhat as the human breathing apparatus would be blocked by a pebble in the windpipe. It was quite by accident that I had made the discovery, and at first I had merely amused myself by choking the ventilation for periods of a few seconds each—not long enough for the effects to be noticed.
But gradually, as I toyed with the wheel, a startling realization came to me. Its rusted condition showed that it had not been used recently; indeed, it may have been neglected for decades or even for centuries. Was it not likely that the chalk-faces, because of their inability to see clearly close at hand, had overlooked its existence? Was it not conceivable that their ancestors, whose eyes had been less subject to that paralysis of the muscles of accommodation which came of a prolonged underground life, had been better able to see things close at hand, and had made use of this little wheel, whose very existence and purpose were now unknown and forgotten?
So I asked myself; and later experience was to give me an affirmative answer.
The wheel, located in an unfrequented side-gallery a few hundred yards from my office, now became the crux of a daring scheme. Suppose that I were to stage a private strike? Suppose that, on my own account, I should turn off the air-supply? Suppose that I were to deliver an ultimatum to the rulers, demanding some supreme prize for myself—yes, even demanding that I be made First Class, and be given an important post in the Government! More than that! Why should I not myself take control? Why not displace Thuno Flâtum? Certainly, I could not be less fitted to rule!
To such dizzy heights did ambition lead me! As I have already said, I dismissed the idea at first as impractical—preposterous! Yet gradually, despite myself, I was captivated. Did I not have all resources at my disposal? Would not the people be helpless once their air had been shut off? Would they not grow as panicky as during the recent strike and gladly grant anything I asked?—and would I not be helped by the reputation which those anti-strike organs, the Blare and the Screamer, had unwittingly built up for me?
Besides, was not my present position ideal for success? Two thousand ventilating employees, being subject to my orders, would follow wherever I led; for such was their state of thoughtlessness that they would act first and inquire afterwards, if at all, and would not know whether they were shutting off the air-supply or turning it on.
Despite all these advantages, however, there were scruples and doubts that preyed upon my mind. Well I knew the results if my one-man strike should fail; I would be seized as a traitor to the Ventilation Company and sentenced to the violet ray! And even if the strike were to succeed—would it be worth the cost? For my own part, I could provide against the air-stoppage by supplying my office through a small pipe specially connected with the main ventilating artery; but the millions of common people would have no such protection, and, if the strike were long protracted, many of them might be stifled. On what grounds could I justify such loss of life?
The answer, however, was ready at hand. Could I attain my objective and supplant Thuno Flâtum as Dictator, I would take steps to end the war with Zu—in fact, to outlaw war forever—and the millions of lives thus saved would far outbalance the paltry few destroyed by the lack of ventilation. "The gain justifies the means!" I told myself, quoting an old adage of the chalk-faces; and, fortified by this high moral axiom, I decided to take the plunge.
The following day all Wu was thrown into a furor. Another ventilation strike had been declared, stated the Blare and the Screamer in a series of "Super-extra-extras." The air-supply had been cut off entirely—and no one knew who the strikers were or what they demanded. It was suspected that spies from Zu were behind the plot.