In the first morning hours, he rose from his comfortable bed in his Denizen apartment and looked out of his window at the awakening activities on Golden Lane—at the street-cleaners, bin men, and the other dingy workers flitting hurriedly by through the sallow winter light. Oh, to be one of them—any of them—to take his chance in any of their skins! They were the toilers—the men whose lot was pitied—the victims wept over and ranted about by altruists and economists; and how gladly he would have taken up the load of any one of them, if only he might have shaken off his own! But, no—the iron circle of consciousness held them too: each one was chained to his own hideous ego. Why wish to be any one man rather than another? The only absolute good was not to be.
Tag: City Road
From the abutment where my apartment windows had once been, I watched the fatal dawn. The sun was hugely greater than it had been. Its lower edge seemed almost to touch the far horizon. As I watched I imagined it drew closer. The green radiance that lit the frozen Denizen grew steadily brighter. I saw that the sun was changing shape and shrinking. Gradually, as the world moved on, it seemed the sun had vanished. The Denizen moved into black shadow and all was night. Night, black, starless, and intolerable.