Война миров
The Man On Putney Hill
They’remakingtheirthings—makingallthethingstheycouldn’tbringwiththem,gettingthingsreadyfortherestoftheirpeople. Verylikelythat’swhythecylindershavestoppedforabit,forfearofhittingthosewhoarehere. Andinsteadofourrushingaboutblind,onthehowl,orgettingdynamiteonthechanceofbustingthemup,we’vegottofixourselvesupaccordingtothenewstateofaffairs. That’showIfigureitout. Itisn’tquiteaccordingtowhatamanwantsforhisspecies,butit’saboutwhatthefactspointto. Andthat’stheprincipleIactedupon. Cities,nations,civilisation,progress—it’sallover. Thatgame’sup. We’rebeat."
"Butifthatisso,whatistheretolivefor?"
Theartillerymanlookedatmeforamoment.
"Therewon’tbeanymoreblessedconcertsforamillionyearsorso; therewon’tbeanyRoyalAcademyofArts,andnonicelittlefeedsatrestaurants. Ifit’samusementyou’reafter,Ireckonthegameisup. Ifyou’vegotanydrawing-roommannersoradisliketoeatingpeaswithaknifeordroppingaitches,you’dbetterchuck’emaway. Theyain’tnofurtheruse."
"Youmean——"
"Imeanthatmenlikemearegoingonliving—forthesakeofthebreed. Itellyou,I’mgrimsetonliving. AndifI’mnotmistaken,you’llshowwhatinsidesyou’vegot,too,beforelong. Wearen’tgoingtobeexterminated. AndIdon’tmeantobecaughteither,andtamedandfattenedandbredlikeathunderingox. Ugh!Fancythosebrowncreepers!"
"Youdon’tmeantosay——"
