jeezny. The Discharge Officer had given me a long list the day
before of jobs I could try for, and he had telephoned to
different vecks about me, but I had no intention, my brothers,
of going off to rabbit right away. A malenky bit of a rest first,
yes, and a quiet think on the bed to the sound of lovely
music.
And so the autobus to Center, and then the autobus to
Kingsley Avenue, the flats of Flatblock 18A being just near.
You will believe me, my brothers, when I say that my heart
was going clopclopclop with the like excitement. All was very
quiet, it still being early winter morning, and when I ittied into
the vestibule of the flatblock there was no veck about, only
the nagoy vecks and cheenas of the Dignity of Labour. What
surprised me, brothers, was the way that had been cleaned up,
there being no longer any dirty ballooning slovos from the
rots of the Dignified Labourers, not any dirty parts of the
body added to their naked plotts by dirty-minded pencilling
malchicks. And what also surprised me was that the lift was
working. It came purring down when I pressed the electric
knopka, and when I got in I was surprised again to viddy all
was clean inside the like cage.
So up I went to the tenth floor, and there I saw 10-8 as it
had been before, and my rooker trembled and shook as I
took out of my carman the little klootch I had for opening
up. But I very firmly fitted the klootch in the lock and turned,
then opened up then went in, and there I met three pairs of
surprised and almost frightened glazzies looking at me, and it
was pee and em having their breakfast, but it was also another
veck that I had never viddied in my jeezny before, a bolshy
thick veck in his shirt and braces, quite at home, brothers,
slurping away at the milky chai and munchmunching at his
eggiweg and toast. And it was this stranger veck who spoke
first, saying:
"Who are you, friend? Where did you get hold of a key?
Out, before I push your face in. Get out there and knock.
Explain your business, quick."
My dad and mum sat like petrified, and I could viddy they
had not yet read the gazetta, then I remembered that the ga-
zetta did not arrive till papapa had gone off to his work. But
then mum said: "Oh, you've broken out. You've escaped.
Whatever shall we do? We shall have the police here, oh oh
oh. Oh, you bad and wicked boy, disgracing us all like this."
And, believe it or kiss my sharries, she started to go boo hoo.
So I started to try and explain, they could ring up the Staja if
they wanted, and all the time this stranger veck sat there like
frowning and looking as if he could push my litso in with his
hairy bolshy beefy fist. So I said:
"How about you answering a few, brother? What are you
doing here and for how long? I didn't like the tone of what
you said just then. Watch it. Come on, speak up." He was a
working-man type veck, very ugly, about thirty or forty, and
he sat now with his rot open at me, not govoreeting one
single slovo. Then my dad said:
"This is all a bit bewildering, son. You should have let us
know you were coming. We thought it would be at least
another five or six years before they let you out. Not," he
said, and he said it very like gloomy, "that we're not very
pleased to see you again and a free man, too."
"Who is this?" I said. "Why can't he speak up? What's going
on in here?"
"This is Joe," said my mum. "He lives here now. The lodger,
that's what he is. Oh, dear dear dear," she went.
"You," said this Joe. "I've heard all about you, boy. I know
what you've done, breaking the hearts of your poor grieving
parents. So you're back, eh? Back to make life a misery for
them once more, is that it? Over my dead corpse you will,
because they've let me be more like a son to them than like a
lodger." I could nearly have smecked loud at that if the old
razdraz within me hadn't started to wake up the feeling of
wanting to sick, because this veck looked about the same age
as my pee and em, and there he was like trying to put a son's
protecting rooker round my crying mum, O my brothers.
"So," I said, and I near felt like collapsing in all tears myself.
"So that's it, then. Well, I give you five large minootas to clear
all your horrible cally veshches out of my room." And I made
for this room, this veck being a malenky bit too slow to stop
me. When I opened the door my heart cracked to the carpet,
because I viddied it was no longer like my room at all,
brothers. All my flags had gone off the walls and this veck had
put up pictures of boxers, also like a team sitting smug with
folded rookers and silver like shield in front. And then I vid-
died what else was missing. My stereo and my disc-cupboard
were no longer there, nor was my locked treasure-chest that
contained bottles and drugs and two shining clean syringes.
"There's been some filthy vonny work going on here," I
creeched. "What have you done with my own personal
veshches, you horrible bastard?" This was to this Joe, but it was
my dad that answered, saying:
"That was all took away, son, by the police. This new regu-
lation, see, about compensation for the victims."
I found it very hard not to be very ill, but my gulliver was
aching shocking and my rot was so dry that I had to take a
skorry swig from the milk-bottle on the table, so that this Joe
said: "Filthy piggish manners." I said:
"But she died. That one died."
"It was the cats, son," said my dad like sorrowful, "that were
left with nobody to look after them till the will was read, so
they had to have somebody in to feed them. So the police
sold your things, clothes and all, to help with the looking
after of them. That's the law, son. But you were never much
of a one for following the law."
I had to sit down then, and this Joe said: "Ask permission
before you sit, you mannerless young swine," so I cracked
back skorry with a "Shut your dirty big fat hole, you," feeling
sick. Then I tried to be all reasonable and smiling for my
health's sake like, so I said: "Well, that's my room, there's no
denying that. This is my home also. What suggestions have
you, my pee and em, to make?" But they just looked very
glum, my mum shaking a bit, her litso all lines and wet with
like tears, and then my dad said:
"All this needs thinking about, son. We can't very well just
kick Joe out, not just like that, can we? I mean, Joe's here
doing a job, a contract it is, two years, and we made like an
arrangement, didn't we, Joe? I mean son, thinking you were
going to stay in prison a long time and that room going beg-
ging." He was a bit ashamed, you could viddy that from his
litso. So I just smiled and like nodded, saying:
"I viddy all. You got used to a bit of peace and you got
used to a bit of extra pretty polly. That's the way it goes.
And your son has just been nothing but a terrible nuisance."
And then, my brothers, believe me or kiss my sharries, I
started to like cry, feeling very like sorry for myself. So my
dad said:
"Well, you see, son, Joe's paid next month's rent already. I
mean, whatever we do in the future we can't say to Joe to get
out, can we, Joe?" This Joe said:
"It's you two I've got to think of, who've been like a father
and mother to me. Would it be right or fair to go off and
leave you to the tender mercies of this young monster who
has been like no real son at all? He's weeping now, but that's
his craft and artfulness. Let him go off and find a room some-
where. Let him learn the error of his ways and that a bad boy
like he's been doesn't deserve such a good mum and dad as
what he's had."
"All right," I said, standing up in all like tears still. "I know
how things are now. Nobody wants or loves me. I've suffered
and suffered and suffered and everybody wants me to go on
suffering. I know."
"You've made others suffer," said this Joe. "It's only right
you should suffer proper. I've been told everything that
you've done, sitting here at night round the family table, and
pretty shocking it was to listen to. Made me real sick a lot of
it did."
"I wish," I said, "I was back in the prison. Dear old Staja as it
was. I'm ittying off now," I said. "You won't ever viddy me no
more. I'll make my own way, thank you very much. Let it lie
heavy on your consciences." My dad said:
"Don't take it like that, son," and my mum just went boo
hoo hoo, her litso all screwed up real ugly, and this Joe put
his rooker round her again, patting her and going there there
there like bezoomny. And so I just sort of staggered to the
door and went out, leaving them to their horrible guilt, O my
brothers.
2
Ittying down the street in a like aimless sort of a way
brothers, in these night platties which lewdies like stared at as
I went by, cold too, it being a bastard cold winter day, all I felt
I wanted was to be away from all this and not have to
think any more about any sort of veshch at all. So I got the
autobus to Center, then walked back to Taylor Place, and
there was the disc-bootick 'MELODIA' - I had used to favour
with my inestimable custom, O my brothers, and it looked
much the same sort of mesto as it always had, and walking in I
expected to viddy old Andy there, that bald and very very thin
helpful little veck from whom I had kupetted discs in the old
days. But there was no Andy there now, brothers, only a
scream and a creech of nadsat (teenage, that is) malchicks and
ptitsas slooshying some new horrible popsong and dancing
to it as well, and the veck behind the counter not much more
than a nadsat himself, clicking his rooker-bones and smecking
like bezoomny. So I went up and waited till he like deigned to
notice me, then I said:
"I'd like to hear a disc of the Mozart Number Forty." I don't
know why that should have come into my gulliver, but it did.
The counter-veck said:
"Forty what, friend?"
I said: "Symphony. Symphony Number Forty in G Minor."
"Ooooh," went one of the dancing nadsats, a malchick with
his hair all over his glazzies, "seemfunnah. Don't it seem
funny? He wants a seemfunnah."
I could feel myself growing all razdraz within, but I had to
watch that, so I like smiled at the veck who had taken over
Andy's place and at all the dancing and creeching nadsats. This
counter-veck said: "You go into that listen-booth over there,
friend, and I'll pipe something through."
So I went over to the malenky box where you could sloo-
shy the discs you wanted to buy, and then this veck put a disc
on for me, but it wasn't the Mozart Forty, it was the Mozart
'Prague' - he seemingly having just picked up any Mozart he
could find on the shelf - and that should have started making
me real razdraz and I had to watch that for fear of the pain
and sickness, but what I'd forgotten was something I
shouldn't have forgotten and now made me want to snuff it.
It was that these doctor bratchnies had so fixed things that
any music that was like for the emotions would make me sick
just like viddying or wanting to do violence. It was because all
those violence films had music with them. And I remembered
especially that horrible Nazi film with the Beethoven Fifth,
last movement. And now here was lovely Mozart made hor-
rible. I dashed out of the shop with these nadsats smecking
after me and the counter-veck creeching: "Eh eh eh!" But I
took no notice and went staggering almost like blind across
the road and round the corner to the Korova Milkbar. I knew
what I wanted.
The mesto was near empty, it being still morning. It looked
strange too, having been painted with all red mooing cows,
and behind the counter was no veck I knew. But when I said:
"Milk plus, large," the veck with a like lean litso very newly
shaved knew what I wanted. I took the large moloko plus to
one of the little cubies that were all around this mesto, there
being like curtains to shut them off from the main mesto, and
there I sat down in the plushy chair and sipped and sipped.
When I'd finished the whole lot I began to feel that things
were happening. I had my glazzies like fixed on a malenky bit
of silver paper from a cancer packet that was on the floor, the
sweeping-up of this mesto not being all that horrorshow,
brothers. This scrap of silver began to grow and grow and
grow and it was so like bright and fiery that I had to squint my
glazzies at it. It got so big that it became not only this whole
cubie I was lolling in but like the whole Korova, the whole
street, the whole city. Then it was the whole world, then it
was the whole everything, brothers, and it was like a sea
washing over every veshch that had ever been made or
thought of even. I could sort of slooshy myself making
special sort of shooms and govoreeting slovos like 'Dear
dead idlewilds, rot not in variform guises' and all that cal.
Then I could like feel the vision beating up in all this silver,
and then there were colours like nobody had ever viddied
before, and then I could viddy like a group of statues a long
long long way off that was like being pushed nearer and
nearer and nearer, all lit up by very bright light from below
and above alike, O my brothers. This group of statues was of
God or Bog and all His Holy Angels and Saints, all very bright
like bronze, with beards and bolshy great wings that waved
