Межзвёздный скиталец
Chapter 3
Noinmatecansurviveyearsofitwithouthavinghadburstforhimhisfondestillusionsandfairestmetaphysicalbubbles.Truthlives,wearetaught;murderwillout.Well,thisisademonstrationthatmurderdoesnotalwayscomeout.TheCaptainoftheYard,thelateWardenAtherton,thePrisonBoardofDirectorstoaman—allbelieve,rightnow,intheexistenceofthatdynamitethatneverexistedsaveintheslippery-gearedandalltoo-acceleratedbrainofthedegenerateforgerandpoet,CecilWinwood.AndCecilWinwoodstilllives,whileI,ofallmenconcerned,theutterest,absolutist,innocentest,gotothescaffoldinafewshortweeks.
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AndnowImusttellhowenteredthefortylifersuponmydungeonstillness.Iwasasleepwhentheouterdoortothecorridorofdungeonsclangedopenandarousedme.“Somepoordevil,”wasmythought;andmynextthoughtwasthathewassurelygettinghis,asIlistenedtothescufflingoffeet,thedullimpactofblowsonflesh,thesuddencriesofpain,thefilthofcurses,andthesoundsofdraggingbodies.For,yousee,everymanwasman-handledallthelengthoftheway.
Dungeon-doorafterdungeon-doorclangedopen,andbodyafterbodywasthrustin,flungin,ordraggedin.Andcontinuallymoregroupsofguardsarrivedwithmorebeatenconvictswhostillwerebeingbeaten,andmoredungeon-doorswereopenedtoreceivethebleedingframesofmenwhowereguiltyofyearningafterfreedom.
