Amazing Stories, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 41: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

136 perous idle of esoteric perversions of the popular reu- gion: glosses and interpretations that reduced the broad teachings of the carpenter of Nazareth to the exquisite narrowness of their lives. And, in spite of their inclina- tion towards the ancient fashion of living, neither Eliza- beth nor Denton had been sufficiently original to escape the suggestion of their surroundings. In matters of common behavior they had followed the ways of their class, and so, when they fell at last to be Labor Serfs, it seemed to them almost as though they were falling among offensive inferior animals; they felt as a nine- teenth-century duke and duchess might have felt who were forced to take rooms in the Jago. Their natural impulse was to maintain a “distance.” But Denton’s first idea of a dignified isolation from his new surroundings was soon rudely dispelled. He had imagined that his fall to the position of a Labor Serf was the end of his lesson, that when their little daughter had died, he had plumbed the deeps of life; but indeed these things were only the beginning. Life demands something more from us than acquiescence. And now in a roomful of machine minders he was to learn a wider lesson, to make the acquaintance of an- other factor in life, a factor as elemental as the loss of things dear to us, more elemental even than toil. His quiet discouragement of conversation was an immediate cause of offense—was interpreted, rightly enough I fear, as disdain. His ignorance of the vulgar dialect, a thing upon which he had hitherto prided himself, suddenly took upon itself a new aspect. He failed to perceive at once that his reception of the coarse and stupid but genially intended remarks that greeted his appearance must have stung the makers of these advances like blows in their faces. ‘Don’t under- plend, ” he said rather coldly, and at hazard, “No, thank you.” The man who had addressed him stared, scowled, and turned away. A second, who also failed at Denton’s unaccustomed ear, took the trouble to repeat his remark, and Denton discovered he was being offered the use of an oil can. . He expressed polite thanks, and this second man em- barked upon a penetrating conversation. Denton, he remarked, had been a swell, and he wanted to know how he had come to wear the blue. He clearly expected an interesting record of vice and extravagance. Had Denton ever been at a Pleasure City? Denton was speedily to discover how the existence of these won- derful places of delight permeated and defiled the thought and honor of these unwilling, hopeless workers of the underworld. His aristocratic temperament resented these ques- tions. He answered “No” curtly, The man persisted with a still more personal question, and this time it was Denton who turned away. “Gorblimey !” said his interlocutor, much astonished. “He’s a swell.” It presently forced itself upon Denton’s mind that this remarkable conversation was being repeated in indignant tones to more sympathetic hearers, and that it gave rise to astonishment and ironical laughter. They looked at Denton with manifestly enhanced in- terest. A curious perception of isolation dawned upon “AMAZING STORIES him. He tried to think of his press and its unfamiliar peculiarities... . ae machines kept everybody pretty busy during the first spell, and then came a recess. It was only an interval for refreshment, too brief for any one to go out to a Labor Company dining-room. Den- ton followed his fellow-workers into a short gallery, in which were a number of bins of refuse from the presses. Each man produced a packet of food. Denton had no packet. The manager, a careless young man who held his position by influence, had omitted *to warn Denton that it was necessary to apply for this provi- sion. He stood apart, feeling hungry. The others drew together in a group and talked in undertones, glancing at him ever and again. He became uneasy. His appearance of disregard cost him’ an increasing effort. He tried to think of the levers of his new press, : Presently one, a man much shorter but much broader and stouter than Denton, came forward to him. Denton turned to him as unconcernedly as pos- sible. “Here!” said the delegate— as Denton judged him to be—extending a cube of bread in a not too clean hand. He eae a swart, broad-nosed face, and his mouth hung down towards one corner. Denton felt “doubtful for the instant whether this was meant for civility or insult. His impulse was to decline. “No, thanks,” he said; and, at the man’s change of expression, “I’m not hungry.” There came a laugh from the group behind. “Told you so,” said the man who had offered Denton the loan of an oil can. “He’s top side, he is. , You ain't good enough for ’im.,” The swart face grew a shade darker. “Here,” said its owner, still extending the bread, and speaking in a lower tone; “you got to eat this. See?” Denton looked into the threatening face before him, and odd little currents of energy seemed to be run- ning through his limbs and body. “Y don’t want it,” he said, trying a pleasant smile that twitched and failed. The thickset man advanced his face, and the bread became a physical threat in his hand. Denton’s mind rushed together to the one problem of his antagonist’s eyes. “Eat it,” said the swart man. There came a pause, and then they both moved - quickly. The cube of bread described a complicated path, a curve that would have ended in Denton’s face; and then his fist hit the wrist of the hand that gripped it, and it flew upward, and out of the conflict—its part played. : He stepped back quickly, fists clenched and arms tense. The hot, dark countenance receded, became an alert hostility, watching its chance. Denton for one instant felt confident, and strangely buoyant and— serene. His heart beat quickly. He felt his body alive, and glowing to the tips. “Scrap, boys!” shouted some one, and then the dark figure had leapt forward, ducked back and sideways, Cconnicloooks.conn