inside bumped into the envelope, he believed there was no outside, and he was glad that he could survey the entire world. Every thing is correct here they said delightedly, and there was no denying it. But if an alien shadow fell across their world, they quickly altered the numbers until it was all correct again. What an effort it cost them.
It was not until the very end that I discussed women with my friend. Actually, it began at dinner, and it could no longer be avoided after that. We should have started earlier; perhaps certain things might then have been avoided. In this respect, we were both dishonest. I do not know what prevented him from speaking about that topic and acting as if women did not matter. I, for my part, held my tongue, because I would have been embarrassed if he had categorized them under numbers and concepts or even as the object of a physical need. On the other hand, I was not so certain of my opinion as to risk arguing the point.
But not once, even at the end, did I ever mention my mother to him. He would have instantly replied: "That woman does not exist. She is merely the figment of a milksop's imagination!" And I must confess that I tried to believe him.
My mother never came to my room. I do not believe that she even stood outside the door, holding the knob in order then to turn around because I did not allow her to enter. I simply refused to admit it to myself. In this respect, I resembled my friend. I acted as if my mother did not exist.
And therefore, of course, no childhood existed for me. I heard others talk about their childhoods, and I wondered if something like that had not existed for me too. I tried to go back, but never got any further than that wooden arbor which I have spoken about; and by then, I was already a rather fully developed adolescent. My name was already lurking for me in the bushes. But — curious whether I could make as cheerful a fuss about it as others — if I tried to open the door beyond which I suspected the presence of childhood, it was as if people were sitting on the other side, having supper. A female voice whispered: "Quick, put everything away." Someone choked down the final morsel. An astonished male voice asked: "What is wrong?" And the female voice hissed back: "Someone is coming." And then, apparently speaking to me: "Ah, how nice of you to come. Unfortunately we have just finished supper. Perhaps there is a cup of tea left in the pot."
I found this unpleasant; that was why I refused to probe any further. After all, it was possible that they had neglected to give birth to me, and the people found it unpleasant being reminded of this omission. So far, I had gotten along quite well without a childhood, and should it prove necessary, I might be able to make up for it.
It was only that afternoon that everything changed. It was almost too late.
But first, I wish to report a conversation that I had recently had with my friend. I was reminded of it after dinner. Someone had just come up with an invention that people were afraid of. I have forgotten what it was; even back then, I did not take it as seriously as the others did. Like all inventions that people came up with, this one too was suitable for both preserving life and destroying it. One day, when my friend entered my room, he could speak of nothing else. My father too was present.
"You will see," my friend cried, "we will be able to wipe out everything with one stroke." As if he were proud of it. And he actually was proud of the power that he thought he held in his hands. Perhaps he had something to do with it, for he had such precise knowledge about it. His habitual coolness abandoned him, and he went so far as to say: "The earth will blaze up. The inhabitants of other worlds will say: Look, a new star!" And he beamed at me in triumph.
"No," I replied, "that will not be possible."
"Why should it not be possible? Just because you do not wish it?"
"Because no creature can kill itself," I
It was not until the very end that I discussed women with my friend. Actually, it began at dinner, and it could no longer be avoided after that. We should have started earlier; perhaps certain things might then have been avoided. In this respect, we were both dishonest. I do not know what prevented him from speaking about that topic and acting as if women did not matter. I, for my part, held my tongue, because I would have been embarrassed if he had categorized them under numbers and concepts or even as the object of a physical need. On the other hand, I was not so certain of my opinion as to risk arguing the point.
But not once, even at the end, did I ever mention my mother to him. He would have instantly replied: "That woman does not exist. She is merely the figment of a milksop's imagination!" And I must confess that I tried to believe him.
My mother never came to my room. I do not believe that she even stood outside the door, holding the knob in order then to turn around because I did not allow her to enter. I simply refused to admit it to myself. In this respect, I resembled my friend. I acted as if my mother did not exist.
And therefore, of course, no childhood existed for me. I heard others talk about their childhoods, and I wondered if something like that had not existed for me too. I tried to go back, but never got any further than that wooden arbor which I have spoken about; and by then, I was already a rather fully developed adolescent. My name was already lurking for me in the bushes. But — curious whether I could make as cheerful a fuss about it as others — if I tried to open the door beyond which I suspected the presence of childhood, it was as if people were sitting on the other side, having supper. A female voice whispered: "Quick, put everything away." Someone choked down the final morsel. An astonished male voice asked: "What is wrong?" And the female voice hissed back: "Someone is coming." And then, apparently speaking to me: "Ah, how nice of you to come. Unfortunately we have just finished supper. Perhaps there is a cup of tea left in the pot."
I found this unpleasant; that was why I refused to probe any further. After all, it was possible that they had neglected to give birth to me, and the people found it unpleasant being reminded of this omission. So far, I had gotten along quite well without a childhood, and should it prove necessary, I might be able to make up for it.
It was only that afternoon that everything changed. It was almost too late.
But first, I wish to report a conversation that I had recently had with my friend. I was reminded of it after dinner. Someone had just come up with an invention that people were afraid of. I have forgotten what it was; even back then, I did not take it as seriously as the others did. Like all inventions that people came up with, this one too was suitable for both preserving life and destroying it. One day, when my friend entered my room, he could speak of nothing else. My father too was present.
"You will see," my friend cried, "we will be able to wipe out everything with one stroke." As if he were proud of it. And he actually was proud of the power that he thought he held in his hands. Perhaps he had something to do with it, for he had such precise knowledge about it. His habitual coolness abandoned him, and he went so far as to say: "The earth will blaze up. The inhabitants of other worlds will say: Look, a new star!" And he beamed at me in triumph.
"No," I replied, "that will not be possible."
"Why should it not be possible? Just because you do not wish it?"
"Because no creature can kill itself," I
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