The multitude divided. A broad stream poured itself, frothing, down into the tunnel of the underground railway.
The trains were standing ready on all the tracks. Searchlights wedged themselves into the darkness which crouched in the shafts, above the rails.
The multitude yelled. Here was a plaything for giants! Were they not as strong as three thousand giants? They dragged the drivers from the drivers’ places. They released the trains and let them run—one after the other—forward—forwards!
The rails rumbled. The thundering carriage snakes, glitteringly lighted, hurled along by their emptiness, dashed into the brownish darkness. Two, three, four of the drivers fought like men possessed. But the mob sucked them up. “Will you shut your mouths, you dogs—? We are the masters! We want to play! We want to play like giants!”
They howled the song—the song of their deadly hatred:
“We’ve passed sentence upon the machines!
We have condemned the machines to death!”
They counted the seconds:
“Fifty-nine—sixty—sixty-one—sixty-two——now—!——”
Somewhere in the depths of the tunnel, a crash, as if the globe were splitting....