Well, their posterity was here--and there was only
turmoil. Where was the promised land? It had been promised by the
soldiers of all the wars; it had been promised to this generation
by the pioneers; but here was the very posterity to whom it had been
promised, toiling and risking and sacrificing in turn--for what?
The harsh roar of the city came in through the open window,
continuously beating upon Bibbs's ear until he began to distinguish
a pulsation in it--a broken and irregular cadence. It seemed to him
that it was like a titanic voice, discordant, hoarse, rustily
metallic--the voice of the god, Bigness. And the voice summoned
Bibbs as it summoned all its servants.
"Come and work!" it seemed to yell. "Come and work for Me, all men!
By your youth and your hope I summon you! By your age and your
despair I summon you to work for Me yet a little, with what strength
you have. By your love of home I summon you! By your love of woman
I summon you! By your hope of children I summon you!
"You shall be blind slaves of Mine, blind to everything but Me,
your Master and Driver! For your reward you shall gaze only upon
my ugliness. You shall give your toil and your lives, you shall
go mad for love and worship of my ugliness! You shall perish
still worshipping Me, and your children shall perish knowing no
other god!"
And then, as Bibbs closed the window down tight, he heard his
father's voice booming in the next room; he could not distinguish
the words but the tone was exultant--and there came the THUMP!
THUMP! of the maimed hand.
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