Flight
It was what was known to the chalk-faces as the "mid-sleep." The lights
of the public galleries had been dimmed to a slumberous dullness; the
lamps of the houses had been extinguished, the ventilating currents
were turned low; and only an occasional belated wayfarer or military
guard, darting through the deserted thoroughfares an his little
"scootscoot," gave proof that life still went on in the land of Wu.
At this silent hour, when the house doors stared in black, almost
invisible lines along the empty passageways, a figure might have been
seen stealthily emerging from one of the doorways and slinking off down
a narrow side-corridor. Had one followed in his footsteps, one would
have observed how he wound and twisted through a multitude of lanes,
sometimes pausing as if uncertain of his course, sometimes huddling
in fright in some dismal alley while a "scootscoot" glided past, but
gradually making his way upward amid the intricacy of the Underworld.
That fleeing figure, as the reader will have guessed, was none other
than myself. Only half a dozen hours had passed since Professor
Tan Trum had made the shattering revelation about Loa; and I was
now resigned to taking whatever risks lay in the outside world. My
preparations, it is true, had been less complete than would have been
desirable; but I had, at least, found time to ransack the Professor's
pantry and to secrete a pound or two of concentrated food in my
clothing, in addition to a flask of water; and thus equipped, I had
determined to venture abroad. As for my direction--I must confess that
I was none too certain of it, but I had found an old map in the kitchen
closet, and had studied it as well as my haste permitted, in the hope
that it would show me the way through the upper corridors to the
Overworld and safety.
Let it not be supposed that I had not weighed the dangers. I knew that
I might be seized by the police, that I might be punished as a vagrant
or a spy, or that, even if recognized when caught, I would be charged
with breaking my Oath of Fidelity, and would be subject to the death
penalty. But what were such perils beside the certainty that, if I
remained in Tan Trum's home, I should have to marry his daughter?
So I stole away hopefully, in the dead of the "mid-sleep," resolved
to escape or perish in the attempt. How far I was from foreseeing
the outcome! For several hours I advanced with the caution of a cat,
and almost with the silence of a cat, since I had removed my heavy
native sandals, in order to walk the more noiselessly. But I was not
certain what to do after the "sleep" was over. Suddenly I was aware
of an ear-ripping sound, like the blast of a siren; the lights in the
galleries flashed into brilliance and I realized that a new "wake" had
begun, and that it would henceforth be impossible to conceal myself.
I was now in a section of the Underworld I had never before
visited. The narrowness and dinginess of the galleries; the dusty,
dirt-encrusted walls and floors; the foulness of the air, which was not
clear and filtered as in other regions; the nauseating odors, as of
overcrowded humanity; the naked glare of the lights, unprotected by the
yellow-green screens common everywhere else--these and a hundred other
signs showed that I was in an inferior district.
This fact became even more evident when, after a time, swarms of people
began to pour through little round holes in the ground into all the
passageways. Never before had I seen such desolate-looking chalk-faces!
The clothes of the great majority were in rags; the original fabric was
overlaid with a thousand strips and patches, and, in many cases, bits
of the naked skin showed through; some of the men were without shoes,
and some without coats, and a few were without even the skirts that
were the emblem of masculinity. As for the women--they were equally
tattered, their skirts and trousers often resembling crazy-quilts; but
they had the advantage of being less fat and wrinkled than their more
fortunate sisters, and I thought many of them quite attractive. Most
of them carried babes in their arms, or else a crowd of urchins tagged
at their coat-tails; and the children, too, were clad in threadbare
scraps, some of them being almost naked--which fact did not seem to
bother them at all, for they rollicked and shouted quite as happily as
children the world over. Their elders, however, were drawn and sad of
appearance, and a majority had those pinched and ravaged faces which
come of privation.
Was this a district of criminals and outcasts? But no! A prominent sign
informed me otherwise. "Residential section--Third Class," I read. Now
I understood why the Third Class was called the Hungry Class.
* * * * *
As a majority of the men I passed bore picks, spades, and shovels,
I realized that they were laborers on their way to work. These,
fortunately, took no note of me, but slouched onward with downcast eyes
that seemed to see nothing besides the path on which they walked. Some
of the women, however, did stare at me a little curiously, giving me
the uneasy sense that I might be reported; while now and then some man
or woman, of especially squalid and ragged appearance, would stop me
with a piteous, "Stranger, haven't you a mite of silver to spare?...
I haven't had a scrap to eat since wake before last." Or, again,
"Stranger, haven't you something for the children? The taxes took all
our money, and there's nothing left to feed the babies with." Or else
some small boy or girl would accost me, opening his hand with a piteous
expression, "Stranger, we're hungry!" And the drawn and hollowed faces
would show that they spoke truly!
With these poor wretches I shared the concentrated food I had taken
from the Professor's house--and it was pathetic to see with what
eagerness they snatched at the food capsules, and how ravenously they
devoured them.
"What is the matter?" I asked one of the beggars, as I doled out my
last capsule. "Do none of you needy folk work?"
"Do none of us work?" The man stared at me with manifest surprise.
"Say, you must be one of those Second Class swells, to ask such a
question!"
I assured him that, on the contrary, I was Third Class, but from
another part of the country; and at this he looked a little mollified,
and went on to explain.
"Well, I don't know how it is where you come from, but here we all
work. We have to, on account of the unemployment law. Even the
children--those not in the army--are compelled to work from seven years
of age. But, of course, we don't get any wages till the First Class
Citizens take out their dividends, which are guaranteed by law at
fifty per cent a year; and what is left is usually just about enough
to pay the First Class landlords. If we have anything over for food or
clothing, we consider ourselves lucky."
Feeling indignant against the whole First Class, I proceeded on my
way; and, hastening up a long, dark corridor, I sought to escape from
this miserable Third Class district. Finally, after several hours, I
found myself in a more pleasant and airier realm, but not wholly to my
liking. The caverns were much roomier, but the atmosphere was vaguely
disagreeable with the odor of smoke. "Where am I?" I wondered, as I
approached an open space, where acres of huge cardboard boxes were
piled to a height of fifty feet, surrounded by tall barbed wire fences.
But, on consulting my map, I was unable to solve the enigma; it was
impossible to say whether I was in the "Storage Grottoes," "The Surplus
Food Chambers," or the "Military Warehouses," all of which looked alike
on the chart. The one thing certain was that I was lost.
Nevertheless, I felt it best not to worry; and, pressing on my way
around the mountains of boxes, I soon discovered the source of the
smoke. A few hundred yards ahead of me, the door of an enormous furnace
opened, revealing gigantic flickering flames, whose heat disturbed me,
even at this distance.
Undoubtedly, had I been a cautious man, I would now have retreated. But
I was possessed by the demon of curiosity, particularly as I saw two
men working in front of the furnace, stripped to the waist and grimy
with soot and perspiration, while with rapid movements they reached
for the cardboard boxes, throwing them one after another through the
furnace mouth.
At first I thought they were madmen; but soon decided that the boxes
contained waste matter or fuel, with which to keep the fires burning;
and with this belief in mind, I hastened eagerly forward. Never have I
forgotten the surprise I received!
As I drew near, the men paused to rest from their exertions, while
mopping their steamy brows, and panting heavily.
"Well, partner," I heard one of them declare after closing the furnace
door, "that makes eleven gross so far this wake!"
"Nearer twelve, if you're asking me!" stated the other. "Say, have we
got to those food capsules yet?"
"Not yet! We're still working on the clothes! There's a couple of
hundred tons more to burn. After that, I don't know how many thousand
tons of food!"
* * * * *
Bewildered, I returned to my original supposition that the men were
mad. Yet it seemed to me that they looked normal enough.
"Beg pardon, friends," I asked, stepping to within a few feet of them,
"I don't like to intrude, but I'm a stranger around these parts. Wonder
if you'd mind telling what's in those boxes?"
I was now so close to the men that they could not see me clearly.
"You _must_ be a stranger, if you don't know what's in them!"
ejaculated one of the laborers. "I thought everyone knew!"
"Just what we've been saying!" added the other. "Food and clothing, of
course!"
"Not good food and clothing?"
The two workers stared at me oddly. "Why not?" demanded the first
of the pair. "The very best! We're getting rid of the country's
overproduction!"
"Say, haven't you ever been to school?" challenged the second.
"Don't you know that overproduction is bad for business? It causes
depressions, low dividends, and low wages! So when we've made more of a
product than anyone can buy, the only thing to do is to burn it! 'Burn
your way to prosperity'--that's an old motto! The more we burn, the
more prosperity!"
"Why, that's elementary!" added the first worker. "It's taught to every
child in kindergarten! By destroying things, you will raise prices,
which is the chief object of civilization; since the more we have
to pay for things, the more prosperous we will be. Everybody knows
that! It's the First Law of Thoughtlessness, taught by all leading
economists."
Personally, I have never claimed to know anything of economics, which
has always struck me as a subject too deep for my comprehension; still,
I could not see why so much good food and clothing need be destroyed
when so many Third Class citizens hadn't enough to eat or wear. And so
I humbly asked why the surplus, instead of being burned, could not be
distributed among the poor.
But I had little expected the effect of my inquiry. Even before the
words were out of my mouth, I could see the faces of my hearers growing
wry with horror.
"Say, brother," exclaimed the more pugnacious-looking of the pair, "you
must be one of those anarchists we've been hearing about! How can we
give the food and clothing to the poor? They haven't anything to pay
for it, have they?"
"Raise their wages!" I suggested.
But my words went unheeded. "By my father's pink eyes!--we haven't time
to waste on any red revolutionist!" snarled the man. "Radicals like
you want to ruin the country! Now get out of here, with your crazy
new-fashioned ideas, or I'll report you to the militia! Get out quick!"
This final argument being a clinching one, particularly since backed up
with two heavy pairs of fists, I conceded the point, and started away
hastily. As I turned down a side-gallery and caught my last glimpse
of the men, the furnace door stood open again, and they were pitching
great boxes into the flames with furious energy, as if eager to make up
for lost time!