Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [188]
Beyond the northern lobby the corridor was crossed by a wrought-iron screen ten feet high. A gate in the middle was guarded by a policeman who saluted as Munro led them through. The corridor grew busier. Black and silver chamberlains led past small groups of people, some of them negro and oriental. From windows overhead came the applause of distant assemblies, faint orchestras and fanfares, the rumble and hum of machinery. Brisk, well-dressed men and women came and went through doorways on either side, and Lanark’s rucksacks made him feel unnatural among so many people carrying briefcases and portfolios. If Rima had offered to carry hers he would have felt he had an ally, but she moved along the corridor like a swan down a stream. Even Munro seemed a servant clearing the way for her, and Lanark felt he would be unkind not to trudge alongside like a porter. After twenty minutes they came to another high octagonal hall where corridors met. The blue dome here was patterned with stars and a lamp in the height cast a white beam down on a granite monument in the centre of the floor, a rough block carved with giant figures and with water trickling from it into ornamental pools. Girls and boys lounged smoking and chatting on steps surrounding this, and on the smooth tiled floor older people ate and drank at tables among orange-trees in tubs. Soft laughter and music sounded from windows overhead and blended with the conversation, clinking cutlery, splashing fountains and whistling of canaries from cages in the little trees.
Munro halted and said, “What do you think of it?”
Lanark no longer trusted Munro. He said, “It’s better than the staff club,” but the leisurely air of the place made his heart swell and eyes water. He thought, ‘Everyone should be allowed to enjoy this. In sunlight it would be perfect.’
Munro said, “Since we’re beside the exit we may as well rest while I give you advice on your journey.”
He stuck his staff into the soil of a tub, sat at a table and beckoned a waiter. Rima and Lanark sat down too. Munro said, “I suppose you won’t refuse a light refreshment?”
Rima said, “I’d love it.”
Lanark looked round for the exit. Munro said, “Lanark appears to be angry with me.”
Rima laughed. “No wonder! I liked hearing him argue with you and Monboddo and that secretary. I thought ‘Good! I’m being defended by a strong man!’ But you were too clever for him, weren’t you?”
“He won’t lose by it.”
As Munro ordered from the waiter Lanark had the feeling of being watched. At nearby tables sat a mother, her twelve-year-old son and an old couple playing chess. None of these seemed specially attentive, so he gazed up at the rows of windows above the doors where waiters ran in and out. They were curtained with white gauze and seemed empty, but overhead, not far below the dome, a balcony projected and a group of men and women in evening dress were leaning over the parapet. The distance was too great to distinguish faces but a stout man in the centre dominated the party with wide gestures of the hands and arms, and appeared to point in Lanark’s direction. Something like a pair of binoculars was produced and clapped to the face of a woman at the stout man’s side. Feeling exasperated Lanark seized a newspaper on a nearby chair, opened it and started reading, presenting the back of his head to the watchers above. The paper was called The Western Lobby and was soberly printed in neat columns without spreading headlines or large photographs. Lanark read:
ALABAMA JOINS THE COUNCIL
By accepting the creature’s help in constructing the continent’s largest neuron energy bank, New Alabama becomes the fifth black state to be fully represented on the council. Inevitably this will strengthen the hand of Multan of Zimbabwe, leader of the council’s black bloc. Asked last night if this would not lead to increased friction in