music, for instance. You must take your chance, boy. The
choice has been all yours." I didn't understand all these slovos,
but now I said:
"You needn't take it any further, sir." I'd changed my tune a
malenky bit in my cunning way. "You've proved to me that all
this dratsing and ultra-violence and killing is wrong wrong
and terribly wrong. I've learned my lesson, sirs. I see now
what I've never seen before. I'm cured, praise God." And I
raised my glazzies in a like holy way to the ceiling. But both
these doctors shook their gullivers like sadly and Dr. Brodsky
said:
"You're not cured yet. There's still a lot to be done. Only
when your body reacts promptly and violently to violence, as
to a snake, without further help from us, without medication,
only then - " I said:
"But, sir, sirs, I see that it's wrong. It's wrong because it's
against like society, it's wrong because every veck on earth
has the right to live and be happy without being beaten and
tolchocked and knifed. I've learned a lot, oh really I have."
But Dr. Brodsky had a loud long smeck at that, showing all his
white zoobies, and said:
"The heresy of an age of reason," or some such slovos. "I
see what is right and approve, but I do what is wrong. No, no,
my boy, you must leave it all to us. But be cheerful about it. It
will soon be all over. In less than a fortnight now you'll be a
free man." Then he patted me on the pletcho.
Less than a fortnight, O my brothers and friends, it was like
an age. It was like from the beginning of the world to the end
of it. To finish the fourteen years without remission in the
Staja would have been nothing to it. Every day it was the
same. When the devotchka with the hypodermic came round,
though, four days after this govoreeting with Dr. Brodsky and
Dr. Branom, I said: "Oh, no you won't," and tolchocked her on
the rooker, and the syringe went tinkle clatter on to the
floor. That was like to viddy what they would do. What they
did was to get four or five real bolshy white-coated bastards
of under-vecks to hold me down on the bed, tolchocking me
with grinny litsos close to mine, and then this nurse ptitsa
said: "You wicked naughty little devil, you," while she jabbed
my rooker with another syringe and squirted this stuff in real
brutal and nasty. And then I was wheeled off exhausted to this
like hell sinny as before.
Every day, my brothers, these films were like the same, all
kicking and tolchocking and red red krovvy dripping off of
litsos and plotts and spattering all over the camera lenses. It
was usually grinning and smecking malchicks in the heighth of
nadsat fashion, or else teeheeheeing Jap torturers or brutal
Nazi kickers and shooters. And each day the feeling of want-
ing to die with the sickness and gulliver pains and aches in the
zoobies and horrible horrible thirst grew really worse. Until
one morning I tried to defeat the bastards by crash crash
crashing my gulliver against the wall so that I should tolchock
myself unconscious, but all that happened was I felt sick with
viddying that this kind of violence was like the violence in the
films, so I was just exhausted and was given the injection and
was wheeled off like before.
And then there came a morning when I woke up and had my
breakfast of eggs and toast and jam and very hot milky chai,
and then I thought: "It can't be much longer now. Now must
be very near the end of the time. I have suffered to the
heighths and cannot suffer any more." And I waited and
waited, brothers, for this nurse ptitsa to bring in the syringe,
but she did not come. And then the white-coated under-veck
came and said:
"Today, old friend, we are letting you walk."
"Walk?" I said. "Where?"
"To the usual place," he said. "Yes, yes, look not so aston-
ished. You are to walk to the films, me with you of course.
You are no longer to be carried in a wheelchair."
"But," I said, "how about my horrible morning injection?"
For I was really surprised at this, brothers, they being so keen
on pushing this Ludovico veshch into me, as they said. "Don't
I get that horrible sicky stuff rammed into my poor suffering
rooker any more?"
"All over," like smecked this veck. "For ever and ever amen.
You're on your own now, boy. Walking and all to the
chamber of horrors. But you're still to be strapped down and
made to see. Come on then, my little tiger." And I had to put
my over-gown and toofles on and walk down the corridor to
the like sinny mesto.
Now this time, O my brothers, I was not only very sick but
very puzzled. There it was again, all the old ultra-violence and
vecks with their gullivers smashed and torn krovvy-dripping
ptitsas creeching for mercy, the like private and individual
fillying and nastiness. Then there were the prison-camps and
the Jews and the grey like foreign streets full of tanks and
uniforms and vecks going down in withering rifle-fire, this
being the public side of it. And this time I could blame nothing
for me feeling sick and thirsty and full of aches except what I
was forced to viddy, my glazzies still being clipped open and
my nogas and plott fixed to the chair but this set of wires and
other veshches no longer coming out of my plott and gulli-
ver. So what could it be but the films I was viddying that were
doing this to me? Except, of course, brothers, that this Lu-
dovico stuff was like a vaccination and there it was cruising
about in my krovvy, so that I would be sick always for ever
and ever amen whenever I viddied any of this ultra-violence.
So now I squared my rot and went boo hoo hoo, and the
tears like blotted out what I was forced to viddy in like all
blessed runny silvery dewdrops. But these white-coat
bratchnies were skorry with their tashtooks to wipe the tears
away, saying: "There there, wazzums all weepy-weepy den."
And there it was again all clear before my glazzies, these
Germans prodding like beseeching and weeping Jews - vecks
and cheenas and malchicks and devotchkas - into mestos
where they would all snuff it of poison gas. Boo hoo hoo I
had to go again, and along they came to wipe the tears off,
very skorry, so I should not miss one solitary veshch of what
they were showing. It was a terrible and horrible day, O my
brothers and only friends.
I was lying on the bed all alone that nochy after my dinner
of fat thick mutton stew and fruit-pie and ice-cream, and I
thought to myself: "Hell hell hell, there might be a chance for
me if I get out now." I had no weapon, though. I was allowed
no britva here, and I had been shaved every other day by a fat
bald-headed veck who came to my bed before breakfast, two
white-coated bratchnies standing by to viddy I was a good
non-violent malchick. The nails on my rookers had been scis-
sored and filed real short so I could not scratch. But I was still
skorry on the attack, though they had weakened me down,
brothers, to a like shadow of what I had been in the old free
days. So now I got off the bed and went to the locked door
and began to fist it real horrorshow and hard, creeching at the
same time: "Oh, help help. I'm sick, I'm dying. Doctor doctor
doctor, quick. Please. Oh, I'll die, I shall. Help." My gorlo was
real dry and sore before anyone came. Then I heard nogas
coming down the corridor and a like grumbling goloss, and
then I recognized the goloss of the white-coated veck who
brought me pishcha and like escorted me to my daily doom.
He like grumbled:
"What is it? What goes on? What's your little nasty game in
there?"
"Oh, I'm dying," I like moaned. "Oh, I have a ghastly pain in
my side. Appendicitis, it is. Ooooooh."
"Appendy shitehouse," grumbled this veck, and then to my
joy, brothers, I could slooshy the like clank of keys. "If you're
trying it little friend, my friends and me will beat and kick you
all through the night." Then he opened up and brought in like
the sweet air of the promise of my freedom. Now I was like
behind the door when he pushed it open, and I could viddy
him in the corridor light looking round for me puzzled. Then
I raised my two fisties to tolchock him on the neck nasty, and
then, I swear, as I viddied him in advance lying moan-
ing or out out out and felt the like joy rise in my guts, it was
then that this sickness rose in me as it might be a wave and I
felt a horrible fear as if I was really going to die. I like tottered
over to the bed going urgh urgh urgh, and the veck, who was
not in his white coat but an over-gown, viddied clear enough
what I had in mind for he said:
"Well, everything's a lesson, isn't it? Learning all the time,
as you could say. Come on, little friend, get up from that bed
and hit me. I want you to, yes, really. A real good crack across
the jaw. Oh, I'm dying for it, really I am." But all I could do,
brothers, was to just lay there sobbing boo hoo hoo. "Scum,"
like sneered this veck now. "Filth." And he pulled me up by like
the scruff of my pyjama-top, me being very weak and limp,
and he raised and swung his right rooker so that I got a fair
old tolchock clean on the litso. "That," he said, "is for getting
me out of my bed, you young dirt." And he wiped his rookers
against each other swish swish and went out. Crunch crunch
went the key in the lock.
And what, brothers, I had to escape into sleep from then
was the horrible and wrong feeling that it was better to get
the hit than give it. If that veck had stayed I might even have
like presented the other cheek.
7
I could not believe, brothers, what I was told. It seemed that I
had been in that vonny mesto for near ever and would be
there for near ever more. But it had always been a fortnight
and now they said the fortnight was near up. They said:
"Tomorrow, little friend, out out out." And they made with
the old thumb, like pointing to freedom. And then the white-
coated veck who had tolchocked me and who had still
brought me my trays of pishcha and like escorted me to my
everyday torture said: "But you still have one real big day in
front of you. It's to be your passing-out day," and he had a
leery smeck at that.
I expected this morning that I would be ittying as usual to
the sinny mesto in my pyjamas and toofles and over-gown.
But no. This morning I was given my shirt and underveshches
and my platties of the night and my horrorshow kick-boots,
all lovely and washed or ironed and polished. And I was even
given my cut-throat britva that I had used in those old happy
days for fillying and dratsing. So I gave with the puzzled frown
at this as I got dressed, but the white-coated under-veck just
like grinned and would govoreet nothing, O my brothers.
I was led quite kindly to the same old mesto, but there were
changes there. Curtains had been drawn in front of the sinny
screen and the frosted glass under the projection holes was
no longer there, it having perhaps been pushed up or folded
to the sides like blinds or shutters. And where there had been
just the noise of coughing kashl kashl kashl and like shadows
of the lewdies was now a real audience, and in this audience
there were litsos I knew. There was the Staja Governor and
the holy man, the charlie or charles as he was called, and the
Chief Chasso and this very important and well-dressed chello-
veck who was the Minister of the Interior or Inferior. All the
rest I did not know. Dr. Brodsky and Dr. Branom were there,
though not now white-coated, instead they were dressed as
doctors would dress who were big enough to want to dress in
the heighth of fashion. Dr. Branom just stood, but Dr. Brodsky
stood and govoreeted in a like learned manner to all the
lewdies assembled. When he viddied me coming in he said:
"Aha. At this stage, gentlemen, we introduce the subject him-
self. He is, as you will percieve, fit and well nourished. He
comes straight from a night's sleep and a good breakfast,
undrugged, unhypnotized. Tomorrow we send him with
confidence out into the world again, as decent a lad as you
would meet on a May morning, inclined to the kindly word
and the helpful act. What a change is here, gentlemen, from
the wretched hoodlum the State committed to unprofitable
punishment some two years ago, unchanged after two years.
Unchanged, do I say? Not quite. Prison taught him the false
smile, the rubbed hands of hypocrisy, the fawning greased
obsequious leer. Other vices it taught him, as well as
confirming him in those he had long practised before. But
gentlemen, enough of words. Actions speak louder than.
Action now. Observe, all."
I was a bit dazed by all this govoreeting and I was trying to
grasp in my mind that like all this was about me. Then all the
lights went out and then there came on two like spotlights
shining from the projection-squares, and one of them was full
on Your Humble and Suffering Narrator. And into the other
spotlight there walked a bolshy big chelloveck I had never
viddied before. He had a lardy like litso and a moustache and
like strips of hair pasted over his near-bald gulliver. He was
about thirty or forty or fifty, some old age like that, starry.
He ittied up to me and the spotlight ittied with him, and soon
the two spotlights had made like one big pool. He said to me,
very sneery: "Hello, heap of dirt. Pooh, you don't wash much,
judging from the horrible smell." Then, as if he was like danc-
ing, he stamped on my nogas, left, right, then he gave me a
finger-nail flick on the nose that hurt like bezoomny and
