Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [48]
“What is that?”
“A suction delver. The creature’s lending some to the expansion project.”
They were speaking in whispers. Lanark said, “Where do you get power to drive things like that?”
“From the current, of course.”
“What drives the current?”
“Please don’t be technical. Come to my room. You’ll like it, I decorated it myself.”
As she led him over the floor he tried not to picture what would happen if the immense machine fell. No corridors led out of this hall. The lift doors had smaller doors between them, and she whispered to one of these, “I’m home,” and it opened inward.
The room was a cube and walls, ceiling and floor were sheets of pure mirror. A low double bed in the centre was covered with velvet cushions, a spot lamp on one wall cast a beam of light on it, and that was all the furniture. Lanark stood stupefied; he seemed to be standing among a hundred gleaming glass boxes, each holding a bed, girl and himself. Looking down he saw his feet resting on the soles of a dangling self looking up. He stepped to the bed making figures advance on each side of him toward a row approaching in front. He knelt on the quilt and tried to see only the girl, who lay against a bank of pillows, watching. She said shyly, “Do you like it?”
He shook his head.
“Then you think I’m hard and brazen?”
He thought of the silver dragon and felt a gush of affection for this girl who had nothing to protect her but abrupt manners and a few defiant expressions. He said, “I know you aren’t.
Tell me your name.”
“Let’s not be personal until afterward.”
He undressed quickly. Sympathy for the girl, and the many movements his actions caused all round, made his lust less greedy. He gently opened her overalls and drew them down to her hips. She whispered, “How should I look?”
“Smile as if you were seeing me after waiting a long time.” She smiled so sweetly that he leaned forward to kiss her shoulders. With her thumbs she pulled his eyes open, saying, “You must look at me, I go blank when I’m not watched.”
A radio sounded: plin-plong, plin-plong, plin-plong, plin-plong! She murmured, “Ignore it.”
“Let me turn it off.”
“You can’t, you can only turn it on.”
The musical braying continued until he stretched and grabbed the radio from his coat pocket. He turned the switch and Ozenfant said cheerfully, “Forgive if I interrupt but I thought you would like to hear that your patient is about to go salamander.” “What?”
“There is nothing to be done, of course, but hurry along if you wish to enjoy the spectacle. Bring your friend.”
Lanark dropped the radio and sat biting his thumb, then stood up and started automatically dressing. The girl stared from the bed. She moaned, “You’re leaving me to watch that?”
“Watch what?” He glanced at her hauntedly and added “I’m sorry” and pulled the shirt over his head. He hurriedly finished dressing, muttering at intervals, “I’m really sorry.” He grabbed the radio from the bed and looked about for the door, but the gleaming glass was perfectly smooth. He said, “Dr. Lanark wants to leave.”
Nothing happened so he shouted it. She said, “This is my home.”
“Please let me out.”
She stared at him stonily. He knelt on the bed, gripped her shoulders and said pleadingly, “You see a friend is—is—is going to burn up; you must let me go.”
She hit him hard on the side of the face. He shook his head impatiently and