Fahrenheit 451

Ray Bradbury


Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Predgovor

Fahrenheit 451 

Part 2 


    PART TWO:     DRUGI DIO
    THE SIEVE AND THE SAND     SITO I PIJESAK
    They read the long afternoon through, while the cold November rain fell from the sky upon the quiet house. They sat in the hall because the parlour was so empty and grey-looking without its walls lit with orange and yellow confetti and sky-rockets and women in gold-mesh dresses and men in black velvet pulling one-hundred-pound rabbits from silver hats. The parlour was dead and Mildred kept peering in at it with a blank expression as Montag paced the floor and came back and squatted down and read a page as many as ten times, aloud.     Čitali su čitavo dugo poslijepodne, dok je ledena novembarska kiša padala s neba na utihlu kuću. Sjedili Čitali su čitavo dugo poslijepodne, dok je ledenasu u predsoblju jer je salon bio tako prazan i siv kad njegovi zidovi nisu bili osvijetljeni narančastim i žutim konfetima, svemirskim brodovima i ženama u zlatnomrežastim haljinama te muškarcima u crnom baršunu koji su izvlačili divovske kuniće iz srebrnih šešira. Salon je zamro, a Mildred je stalno bezizražajno zirkala prema njemu dok je Montag koračao po sobi, vraćao se, čučao i čitao poneku stranicu i desetak puta, i to naglas.
    "'We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over, so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over.'"     - "Ne možemo točno razaznati trenutak u kojem nastaje prijateljstvo. Kao što i kad posudu punimo kap po kap te na kraju postoji samo jedna kap kod koje dolazi do prelijevanja, tako i u slijedu ljubaznosti na kraju postoji ona pri kojoj se srce prelije."
    Montag sat listening to the rain.     Montag je sjeo osluškujući kišu.
    "Is that what it was in the girl next door? I've tried so hard to figure."     - Je li se to zbilo i s onom djevojkom iz susjedstva? Toliko sam se mučio da u to proniknem.
    "She's dead. Let's talk about someone alive, for goodness' sake." Montag did not look back at his wife as he went trembling along the hall to the kitchen, where he stood a long. time watching the rain hit the windows before he came back down the hall in the grey light, waiting for the tremble to subside.     - Mrtva je. Govorimo, zaboga, o nekom živom! Montag se nije osvrnuo na svoju ženu dok je dršćući odlazio predsobljem u kuhinju, gdje je dugo stajao promatrajući kako kiša udara o okna, a onda se sivim predsobljem vratio, čekajući da drhtanje prestane.
    He opened another book.     Otvorio je drugu knjigu.
    "'That favourite subject, Myself."'     - "Ta omiljena tema: ja".
    He squinted at the wall. "'The favourite subject, Myself."'     Zirnuo je prema zidu: - "Omiljena tema: ja".
    "I understand that one," said Mildred.     - To razumijem - rekla je Mildred.
    "But Clarisse's favourite subject wasn't herself. It was everyone else, and me. She was the first person in a good many years I've really liked. She was the first person I can remember who looked straight at me as if I counted." He lifted the two books. "These men have been dead a long time, but I know their words point, one way or another, to Clarisse."     - Ali Clarissina omiljena tema nije bila ona sama. Bili su to svi ostali, i ja. Bila je prva osoba u mnogo godina koja mi se zaista svidjela. Bila je prva osoba koju pamtim da je gledala u mene kao da nešto vrijedim. - Podigao je dvije knjige. - Ovi su ljudi odavno mrtvi, ali znam da njihove riječi upućuju, ovako ili onako, na Clarissu.
    Outside the front door, in the rain, a faint scratching.     Vani, pred ulaznim vratima, na kiši, slabašno grebanje.
    Montag froze. He saw Mildred thrust herself back to the wall and gasp.     Montag se sledio. Vidio je kako se Mildred baca natrag uza zid i sopće.
    "I shut it off."     - Zatvorio sam ih.
    "Someone―the door―why doesn't the door-voice tell us--" Under the door-sill, a slow, probing sniff, an exhalation of electric steam.     - Netko - na vratima - zašto nam glas s vrata ne javi -Ispod praga polagano, ispitujuće njuškanje, izdisaj električne snage.
    Mildred laughed. "It's only a dog, that's what! You want me to shoo him away?"     Mildred se nasmijala. - Pa to je samo neki pas, eto što je! Hoćeš li da ga otjeram?
    "Stay where you are!"     - Ostani gdje jesi!
    Silence. The cold rain falling. And the smell of blue electricity blowing under the locked door.     Muk. Hladna kiša pada. I vonj plavičasta elektriciteta koji puše ispod zaključanih vrata.
    "Let's get back to work," said Montag quietly. Mildred kicked at a book. "Books aren't people. You read and I look around, but there isn't anybody!"     Mildred je nogom udarila knjigu. - Knjige nisu ljudi. Čitaš, obazirem se, ali nema nikoga.
    He stared at the parlour that was dead and grey as the waters of an ocean that might teem with life if they switched on the electronic sun.     Piljio je u salon koji je bio mrtav i siv poput oceanske vode koja bi mogla provrvjeti životom ukoliko uključe električno sunce.
    "Now," said Mildred, "my 'family' is people. They tell me things; I laugh, they laugh! And the colours!"     - E pa - rekla je Mildred - moji "rođaci" jesu ljudi. Govore mi štošta; smijem se, smiju se. Pa one boje!
    "Yes, I know."     - Da, znam.
    "And besides, if Captain Beatty knew about those books―" She thought about it. Her face grew amazed and then horrified. "He might come and burn the house and the 'family.' That's awful! Think of our investment. Why should I read? What for?"     - A, osim toga, da kapetan Beatty dozna za ove knjige -Zamislila se. Lice joj je sinulo zapanjenošću pa stravom. - Mogao bi doći pa spaliti kuću i "obitelj". Užasno! Razmisli o našoj investiciji! Zašto da čitam? Zbog čega?
    "What for! Why!" said Montag. "I saw the damnedest snake in the world the other night. It was dead but it was alive. It could see but it couldn't see. You want to see that snake. It's at Emergency Hospital where they filed a report on all the junk the snake got out of you! Would you like to go and check their file? Maybe you'd look under Guy Montag or maybe under Fear or War. Would you like to go to that house that burnt last night? And rake ashes for the bones of the woman who set fire to her own house! What about Clarisse McClellan, where do we look for her? The morgue! Listen!"     - Zbog čega? Zašto? - rekao je Montag. - Jedne sam večeri vidio najđavolskiju zmiju na svijetu. Bila je mrtva ali i živa. Vidjela je i nije vidjela. Želiš li vidjeti tu zmiju? Nalazi se u hitnoj pomoći, gdje su napisali izvješće o svem smeću što ga je zmija izvukla iz tebe. Bi li željela poći i pogledati njihovu kartoteku? Možda bi pogledala pod Guy Montag ili možda pod Strah ili Rat. Bi li željela poći do one kuće koja je sinoć izgorjela? Pa po pepelu tražiti kosti žene koja je sama potpalila svoj dom? Što je s Clarisse McClellan? Gdje da je tražimo? U mrtvačnici? Slušaj!
    The bombers crossed the sky and crossed the sky over the house, gasping, murmuring, whistling like an immense, invisible fan, circling in emptiness.     Bombarderi su preletjeli nebom, preletjeli su nebom iznad kuće, sopćući, mumljajući, fijućući poput nekog golemog, nevidljivog ventilatora koji kruži prazninom.
    "Jesus God," said Montag. "Every hour so many damn things in the sky! How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it? We've started and won two atomic wars since 1960. Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumours; the world is starving, but we're well-fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the rumours about hate, too, once in a long while, over the years. Do you know why? I don't, that's sure! Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes! I don't hear those idiot bastards in your parlour talking about it. God, Millie, don't you see? An hour a day, two hours, with these books, and maybe ..."     - Isuse, Bože! - rekao je Montag. - Svakog sata sva sila tih prokletih naprava na nebu. Odakle, do vraga, ti silni bombarderi uzlijeću svake sekunde u našem životu? Zašto o tome nitko ne želi porazgovarati? Započeli smo i dobili dva atomska rata od 1960. Jesmo li zbog tolike zabave kod kuće zaboravili svijet? Da li zbog našeg silnog bogatstva, a silnog siromaštva preostalog svijeta, uopće ne marimo što je njima tako kako jest? Čuo sam glasine: svijet umire od gladi, no mi se dobro hranimo. Je li istina da se svijet satire radeći, a mi se igramo? Je li to razlog zašto nas toliko mrze? Čuju se i glasine o mržnji s vremena na vrijeme, tijekom godina. Znaš li ti zašto? Ja ne znam. Možda nas knjige mogu malo izvući iz špilje. Možda bi nas one mogle spriječiti da činimo iste blesave, proklete pogreške. Ne čujem da oni idiotski gadovi u tvom salonu razgovaraju o tome. Bože, Millie, zar ne shvaćaš? Jedan sat dnevno, dva sata, s ovim knjigama i možda...
    The telephone rang. Mildred snatched the phone.     Zazvonio je telefon. Mildred ga je zgrabila.
    "Ann!" She laughed. "Yes, the White Clown's on tonight!" Montag walked to the kitchen and threw the book down. "Montag," he said, "you're really stupid. Where do we go from here? Do we turn the books in, forget it?" He opened the book to read over Mildred's laughter.     - Ann! - Nasmijala se. - Da, večeras je Bijeli klaun! Montag je otišao u kuhinju i bacio knjigu. - Montag - rekao je - ti si zaista glup. Kamo ćemo odavde? Hoćemo li vratiti knjige unutra i zaboraviti ih? - Rasklopio je knjigu da čitanjem uguši Mildredin smijeh.

    Poor Millie, he thought. Poor Montag, it's mud to you, too. But where do you get help, where do you find a teacher this late?     Jadna Millie, pomislio je. Jadni Montag, i ti si zaglibio. Ali gdje naći pomoć, gdje u ovaj kasni sat naći učitelja?
    Hold on. He shut his eyes. Yes, of course. Again he found himself thinking of the green park a year ago. The thought had been with him many times recently, but now he remembered how it was that day in the city park when he had seen that old man in the black suit hide something, quickly in his coat.     Čekaj! Zažmirio je. Pa naravno. Ponovno se našao u mislima u onom zelenom perivoju od prije godinu dana. Ta mu se misao odnedavno često nametala, no sada se prisjetio što se to zbilo kad je onoga dana u gradskom perivoju vidio onoga starca u crnom odijelu kako nešto hitro skriva pod kaput.
    ... The old man leapt up as if to run. And Montag said, "Wait!"     Stari je poskočio kao da će bježati. A Montag je rekao: -Čekajte!
    "I haven't done anything!" cried the old man trembling.     - Nisam učinio ništa loše! - povikao je starac dršćući.
    "No one said you did."     - Nitko to nije niti rekao.
    They had sat in the green soft light without saying a word for a moment, and then Montag talked about the weather, and then the old man responded with a pale voice. It was a strange quiet meeting. The old man admitted to being a retired English professor who had been thrown out upon the world forty years ago when the last liberal arts college shut for lack of students and patronage. His name was Faber, and when he finally lost his fear of Montag, he talked in a cadenced voice, looking at the sky and the trees and the green park, and when an hour had passed he said something to Montag and Montag sensed it was a rhymeless poem. Then the old man grew even more courageous and said something else and that was a poem, too. Faber held his hand over his left coat-pocket and spoke these words gently, and Montag knew if he reached out, he might pull a book of poetry from the man's coat. But he did not reach out. His. hands stayed on his knees, numbed and useless. "I don't talk things, sir," said Faber. "I talk the meaning of things. I sit here and know I'm alive."     Sjedili su u blagom zelenkasnom svjetlu, na trenutak ne govoreći ni riječi, da bi zatim Montag govorio o vremenu, a starac mu odgovarao muklim glasom. Bio je to neobično miran susret. Starac je priznao da je umirovljeni profesor engleskog kojega su izopćili prije četrdeset godina, kad su zbog pomanjkanja studenata i pokrovitelja zatvoreni i posljednji humanistički fakulteti. Zvao se Faber, a kad ga je konačno napustio strah od Montaga, progovorio je ravnomjernim glasom, gledajući u nebo, drveće i zeleni perivoj; nakon jednog sata rekao je Montagu nešto za što je ovaj naslutio da je to neka pjesma bez sroka. Zatim se starac još više odvažio i kazao još nešto, opet pjesmu. Faber je držao ruku na lijevom džepu kaputa i izgovarao ove riječi blago, a Montag je znao da bi, posegne li, iz čovjekova kaputa mogao izvući knjigu pjesama. Ali nije posegnuo. Ruke su mu ostale na koljenima, ukočene i nekorisne. - Ne govorim o stvarima, gospodine - rekao je Faber. - Govorim o značenju stvari. Sjedim ovdje i znam da sam živ.
    That was all there was to it, really. An hour of monologue, a poem, a comment, and then without even acknowledging the fact that Montag was a fireman, Faber with a certain trembling, wrote his address on a slip of paper. "For your file," he said, "in case you decide to be angry with me."     I to je zapravo bilo sve. Sat monologa, pjesma, komentar, a onda, uopće ne priznajući činjenicu da je Montag vatrogasac, Faber je, pomalo dršćući, na komadić papira napisao svoju adresu. - Za vašu prijavu - kazao je - za slučaj da se odlučite naljutiti na mene.
    "I'm not angry," Montag said, surprised. Mildred shrieked with laughter in the hall.     - Ne ljutim se - rekao je Montag iznenađeno. Mildred je u predsoblju vrištala od smijeha.
    Montag went to his bedroom closet and flipped through his file-wallet to the heading: FUTURE INVESTIGATIONS (?). Faber's name was there. He hadn't turned it in and he hadn't erased it.     Montag je otišao u spremnicu svoje spavaće sobe te svoju kartoteku prelistao do naslova: BUDUĆA ISTRAŽIVANJA. Ondje je bilo Faberovo ime. Nije ga proslijedio, a ni izbrisao.
    He dialled the call on a secondary phone. The phone on the far end of the line called Faber's name a dozen times before the professor answered in a faint voice. Montag identified himself and was met with a lengthy silence. "Yes, Mr. Montag?"     Telefonirao je s drugog telefona. Telefon je s druge strane linije prozvao Faberovo ime desetak puta prije no što se profesor odazvao slabašnim glasom. Montag se predstavio, na što je uslijedila duga šutnja. - Izvolite, gospodine Montag?
    "Professor Faber, I have a rather odd question to ask. How many copies of the Bible are left in this country?"     - Profesore Faber, htio bih vam postaviti prilično čudno pitanje. Koliko je primjeraka Biblije još preostalo u državi?
    "I don't know what you're talking about!"     - Ne znam o čemu govorite!
    "I want to know if there are any copies left at all."     - Želim znati ima li ih još uopće.
    "This is some sort of a trap! I can't talk to just anyone on the phone!"     - Ovo je nekakva klopka. Ne mogu telefonski razgovarati baš sa svakim.
    "How many copies of Shakespeare and Plato?"     - Koliko primjeraka Shakespearea i Platona?
    "None! You know as well as I do. None!" Faber hung up.     - Ni jedan. Znate to isto kao i ja. Ni jedan. Faber je prekinuo vezu.
    Montag put down the phone. None. A thing he knew of course from the firehouse listings. But somehow he had wanted to hear it from Faber himself.     Montag je spustio slušalicu. Ni jedan. Naravno, znao je on to iz popisa u vatrogasnom domu. No nekako mu je bilo stalo da to čuje od Fabera osobno.
    In the hall Mildred's face was suffused with excitement. "Well, the ladies are coming over!"     U predvorju se Mildredino lice zajapurilo od uzbuđenja. - Pa, dolaze nam gospode!
    Montag showed her a book. "This is the Old and New Testament, and-"     Montag joj je pokazao neku knjigu. - Ovo je Stari i Novi zavjet, a -
    "Don't start that again!"     - Ne počinji ponovno!
    "It might be the last copy in this part of the world."     - Ovo bi mogao biti posljednji primjerak u ovom dijelu svijeta.
    "You've got to hand it back tonight, don't you know? Captain Beatty knows you've got it, doesn't he?"     - Moraš ga vratiti još večeras, je li tako? Kapetan Beatty zna da ga imaš, zar ne?
    "I don't think he knows which book I stole. But how do I choose a substitute? Do I turn in Mr. Jefferson? Mr. Thoreau? Which is least valuable? If I pick a substitute and Beatty does know which book I stole, he'll guess we've an entire library here!"     - Ne vjerujem da zna koju sam knjigu ukrao. Ali kako da odaberem zamjenu? Da predam gospodina Jeffersona? Ili gospodina Thoreaua? Koji najmanje vrijedi? Odaberem li zamjenu, a Beatty ipak zna koju sam knjigu ukrao, pogodit će da ovdje imamo čitavu knjižnicu!
    Mildred's mouth twitched. "See what you're doing? You'll ruin us! Who's more important, me or that Bible?" She was beginning to shriek now, sitting there like a wax doll melting in its own heat.     Mildredine su se usnice stegnule. - Vidiš li što radiš? Upropastit ćeš nas! Tko je važniji: ja ili ta Biblija? - Sjedeći poput voštane lutke koja se topi od vlastite vrućine, počela je kričati.
    He could hear Beatty's voice. "Sit down, Montag. Watch. Delicately, like the petals of a flower. Light the first page, light the second page. Each becomes a black butterfly. Beautiful, eh? Light the third page from the second and so on, chainsmoking, chapter by chapter, all the silly things the words mean, all the false promises, all the second-hand notions and time-worn philosophies." There sat Beatty, perspiring gently, the floor littered with swarms of black moths that had died in a single storm. Mildred stopped screaming as quickly as she started. Montag was not listening. "There's only one thing to do," he said. "Some time before tonight when I give the book to Beatty, I've got to have a duplicate made."     Mogao je čuti Beattyjev glas. "Sjedni, Montag. Gledaj. Nježno, poput latica cvijeta. Zapališ prvu stranicu, zapališ drugu. Svaka postane crni leptir. Prekrasno, ne? Zapališ treću drugom stranicom, i tako redom, lančano, poglavlje za poglavljem, sve te bljezgarije od riječi, sva lažna obećanja, sve te zastarjele spoznaje i filozofije. - Eno Beattyja gdje sjedi, pomalo se znojeći, a pod je zasut rojevima crnih leptira izginulih u jednoj jedinoj oluji. Mildred je prestala vrištati jednako brzo kao što je i počela. Montag je nije slušao. - Može se učiniti samo jedno -kazao je. - Prije ponoći, kad budem predavao knjigu Beattyju, moram izraditi duplikat.
    "You'll be here for the White Clown tonight, and the ladies coming over?" cried Mildred.     - Bit ćeš večeras ovdje na Bijelom klaunu i kad dodu gospode? - viknula je Mildred.
    Montag stopped at the door, with his back turned. "Millie?"     Montag je zastao na vratima te je preko ramena upitao: - Millie?
    A silence "What?"     Tišina. - Što je?
    "Millie? Does the White Clown love you?" No answer.     - Millie? Da li te Bijeli klaun ljubi? Nikakva odgovora.
    "Millie, does―" He licked his lips. "Does your 'family' love you, love you very much, love you with all their heart and soul, Millie?"     - Millie, voli li - Obliznuo je usnice. - Voli li te tvoja "obitelj", voli li te jako, voli li te svim srcem i dušom, Millie?

    He felt her blinking slowly at the back of his neck.     Osjetio je iza leda kako ona polako žmirka.
    "Why'd you ask a silly question like that?"     - Čemu ti ovako blesavo pitanje?
    He felt he wanted to cry, but nothing would happen to his eyes or his mouth.     Najradije bi bio zaplakao, no ni oči ni usta ne bi reagirali.
    "If you see that dog outside," said Mildred, "give him a kick for me."     - Ako vani ugledaš onog psa - rekla je Mildred - mazni ga nogom u moje ime.
    He hesitated, listening at the door. He opened it and stepped out. The rain had stopped and the sun was setting in the clear sky. The street and the lawn and the porch were empty. He let his breath go in a great sigh. He slammed the door.     Oklijevao je osluškujući vrata. Otvorio ih je i izašao. Kiša je bila prestala i na vedru se nebu pomaljalo sunce. Ulica, travnjak i veranda bili su pusti. Duboko je udahnuo. Zalupio je vratima.
    He was on the subway.     Bio je u podzemnoj željeznici.
    I'm numb, he thought. When did the numbness really begin in my face? In my body? The night I kicked the pill-bottle in the dark, like kicking a buried mine.     Obamro sam, pomislio je. Kad se ta obamrlost zapravo pojavila na mojem licu? U mojem tijelu? One noći kad sam u mraku udario nogom onu bočicu kao da udaram o ukopanu minu.
    The numbness will go away, he thought. It'll take time, but I'll do it, or Faber will do it for me. Someone somewhere will give me back the old face and the old hands the way they were. Even the smile, he thought, the old burnt-in smile, that's gone. I'm lost without it.     Obamrlost će proći, pomislio je. Potrajat će, ali ću se izvući, ili će me Faber izvući. Netko će mi negdje vratiti moje staro lice i stare ruke, onakve kakve su bile prije. Pa i osmijeh, pomislio je, stari utisnuti osmijeh, i on je nestao. Bez njega sam izgubljen.
    The subway fled past him, cream-tile, jet-black, cream-tile, jet-black, numerals and darkness, more darkness and the total adding itself.     Podzemni je hodnik projurio mimo njega: blijedožućkasta keramika, crnina, brojke i tama, daljnja tama i sam ukupan zbroj.
    Once as a child he had sat upon a yellow dune by the sea in the middle of the blue and hot summer day, trying to fill a sieve with sand, because some cruel cousin had said, "Fill this sieve and you'll get a dime!" And the faster he poured, the faster it sifted through with a hot whispering. His hands were tired, the sand was boiling, the sieve was empty. Seated there in the midst of July, without a sound, he felt the tears move down his cheeks.     Jednom je, još kao dijete, sjedio na žutom pješčanom sprudu uz more o podnevu vedrog i vrućeg ljetnog dana te se trsio da sito napuni pijeskom; jedan mu je, naime, okrutni bratić bio rekao: - Napuni ovo sito pijeskom i dat ću ti novčić! - Što je brže sipao, to je pijesak brže istjecao, užareno šišteći. Ruke su mu se umorile, pijesak je bio vruć, sito prazno. Sjedeći ondje sredinom srpnja, u posvemašnjoj tišini, osjetio je kako mu suze teku niz obraze.
    Now as the vacuum-underground rushed him through the dead cellars of town, jolting him, he remembered the terrible logic of that sieve, and he looked down and saw that he was carrying the Bible open. There were people in the suction train but he held the book in his hands and the silly thought came to him, if you read fast and read all, maybe some of the sand will stay in the sieve. But he read and the words fell through, and he thought, in a few hours, there will be Beatty, and here will be me handing this over, so no phrase must escape me, each line must be memorized. I will myself to do it.     Sada, dok ga je vakumska podzemna željeznica hitro pronosila kroz mrtve podrume grada, drmusajući ga, sjetio se užasne logike onoga sita, pa je spustio pogled i spazio da nosi otvorenu Bibliju. U usisnom je vlaku bilo ljudi, ali on je knjigu držao u rukama; sijevnula mu je glupava pomisao: čitaš li brzo i čitaš li sve, možda nešto pijeska ostane na situ. No on je čitao, a riječi su propadale, pa je pomislio: za nekoliko sati suočit ću se s Beattyjem, moram mu predati knjigu, stoga mi ne smije promaknuti ni jedna rečenica, svaki redak moram zapamtiti. Sam ću to, osobno, obaviti.
    He clenched the book in his fists.     Stisnuo je knjigu šakama.
    Trumpets blared.     Trube su za treštale.
    "Denham's Dentrifice."     - Denhamova pasta za zube.
    Shut up, thought Montag. Consider the lilies of the field.     Zavežite, pomislio je Montag. Sjetite se ljiljana poljskih.
    "Denham's Dentifrice." They toil not―     Denhamova pasta za zube. Ne trude se i ne predu -
    "Denham's―"     - Denhamova -
    Consider the lilies of the field, shut up, shut up.     Sjetite se ljiljana poljskih, zavežite, zavežite!
    "Dentifrice!"     - Pasta za zube!
    He tore the book open and flicked the pages and felt them as if he were blind, he picked at the shape of the individual letters, not blinking.     Rastvorio je knjigu i potresao stranice, opipavajući ih kao da je slijep, ispisujući netremice oblike svakog pojedinog slova.
    "Denham's. Spelled: D-E-N―" They toil not, neither do they...     - Denhamova. Slovkajte: D-E-N ... Ne trude se i ne predu...
    A fierce whisper of hot sand through empty sieve.     Srdit šapat vrućeg pijeska kroz prazno sito.
    "Denham's does it!"     - Denham uspijeva!
    Consider the lilies, the lilies, the lilies...     Sjetite se ljiljana, ljiljana, ljiljana...
    "Denham's dental detergent."     - Denhamov zubni deterdžent.
    "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" It was a plea, a cry so terrible that Montag found himself on his feet, the shocked inhabitants of the loud car staring, moving back from this man with the insane, gorged face, the gibbering, dry mouth, the flapping book in his fist. The people who had been sitting a moment before, tapping their feet to the rhythm of Denham's Dentifrice, Denham's Dandy Dental Detergent, Denham's Dentifrice Dentifrice Dentifrice, one two, one two three, one two, one two three. The people whose mouths had been faintly twitching the words Dentifrice Dentifrice Dentifrice. The train radio vomited upon Montag, in retaliation, a great ton-load of music made of tin, copper, silver, chromium, and brass. The people were pounded into submission; they did not run, there was no place to run; the great air-train fell down its shaft in the earth.     - Zavežite, zavežite, zavežite! - Bilo je to preklinjanje, krik toliko grozan da se Montag našao na nogama, dok su preneraženi putnici glasnoga vozila zurili i uzmicali pred čovjekom izbezumljena, odvratna lica, koji je suhih usana blebetao nešto nerazumljivo i mlatarao knjigom. Bili su to ljudi koji su samo čf>« ranije tapkali nogama u ritmu Denhamove zubne paste, Denhamova finog zubnog deterdženta, Denhamove zubne paste, zubne paste, zubne paste, jedan, dva, jedan, dva, tri, jedan, dva tri. Ljudi čija su usta slabašno izgovarala riječi zubna pasta, zubna pasta, zubna pasta. Za osvetu, željeznički je radio izbljuvao na Montaga silnu količinu glazbe sačinjenu od kositra, bakra, srebra, kroma i mjedi. Ljudi su stjerani u pokornost; nisu bježali, nije se imalo kamo; veliki zračni vlak survao se u svoj podzemni rov.
    "Lilies of the field."     - Ljiljana poljskih!
    "Denham's."     - Denham.
    "Lilies, I said!"     - Ljiljana, rekao sam!
    The people stared.     Ljudi su buljili.

    "Call the guard."     - Pozovite stražu.
    "The man's off―"     - Čovjek je po-
    "Knoll View!"     - Knoll View!
    The train hissed to its stop.     Vlak se psičući zaustavio.
    "Knoll View!" A cry.     - Knoll View! - Krik.
    "Denham's." A whisper.     - Denham. - Šapat.
    Montag's mouth barely moved. "Lilies..."     Montagova usta jedva da su se pomaknula. - Ljiljana...
    The train door whistled open. Montag stood. The door gasped, started shut. Only then did he leap past the other passengers, screaming in his mind, plunge through the slicing door only in time. He ran on the white tiles up through the tunnels, ignoring the escalators, because he wanted to feel his feet-move, arms swing, lungs clench, unclench, feel his throat go raw with air. A voice drifted after him, "Denham's Denham's Denham's," the train hissed like a snake. The train vanished in its hole.     Vrata vlaka sa zviždukom su se otvorila. Montag se digao. Vrata su zinula, počela se zatvarati. Tek je tada sunuo pokraj ostalih putnika, vrišteći u sebi, proguravši se kroz prorez vrata u posljednji trenutak. Po bijelim je keramičarskim pločicama jurnuo kroz tunele, ne mareći za pokretne stepenice; želio je osjetiti da mu se noge kreću, ruke vitlaju, pluća stežu i šire, želio je da ga grlo boli od zraka. Za njim se razlijegao glas: - Denham, Denham, Denham. - Vlak je psiknuo poput zmije. Potom je nestao u svojoj rupi.
    "Who is it?"     - Tko je?
    "Montag out here."     - Montag.
    "What do you want?"     - Što želite?
    "Let me in."     - Pustite me unutra.
    "I haven't done anything l"     - Nisam ništa učinio!
    "I'm alone, dammit!"     - Sam sam, do vraga!
    "You swear it?"     - Prisežete?
    "I swear!"     - Prisežem!
    The front door opened slowly. Faber peered out, looking very old in the light and very fragile and very much afraid. The old man looked as if he had not been out of the house in years. He and the white plaster walls inside were much the same. There was white in the flesh of his mouth and his cheeks and his hair was white and his eyes had faded, with white in the vague blueness there. Then his eyes touched on the book under Montag's arm and he did not look so old any more and not quite as fragile. Slowly his fear went.     Ulazna su se vrata polako otvorila. Faber je virnuo van; pri ovoj se rasvjeti činio vrlo starim, vrlo krhkim i jako uplašenim. Starac je izgledao tako kao da godinama nije izlazio iz kuće. On i bijela žbuka nutarnjih zidova bili su gotovo isti. Bjeline je bilo u mesu njegovih usana, u njegovim obrazima, kosa mu je bila bijela, a oči izblijedjele, s bjelinom u mutnoj modrini. Zatim su njegove oči dodirnule knjigu ispod Montagove mišice, i čovjek više nije bio star niti onako loman. Polako ga je napustio strah.
    "I'm sorry. One has to be careful."     - Oprostite! Valja biti oprezan.
    He looked at the book under Montag's arm and could not stop. "So it's true."     Pogledao je knjige pod Montagovom mišicom; nije se mogao svladati. - Dakle, istina je.
    Montag stepped inside. The door shut.     Montag je koraknuo unutra. Vrata su se zatvorila.
    "Sit down." Faber backed up, as if he feared the book might vanish if he took his eyes from it. Behind him, the door to a bedroom stood open, and in that room a litter of machinery and steel tools was strewn upon a desk-top. Montag had only a glimpse, before Faber, seeing Montag's attention diverted, turned quickly and shut the bedroom door and stood holding the knob with a trembling hand. His gaze returned unsteadily to Montag, who was now seated with the book in his lap. "The book―where did you―?"     - Sjednite. - Faber se povukao unatraške, kao da se plaši da bi knjiga mogla nestati ako skine pogled s nje. Za njim su ostala otvorena vrata spavaće sobe, a u njoj na stolu porazbacane naprave i čelični alati. Montag je uspio zirnuti samo načas, prije no što će se Faber, vidjevši da je Montag odvratio pozornost, žurno okrenuti i zatvoriti vrata spavaće sobe te ostati onako stojeći i drhtavom rukom držeći kvaku. Okolišajući, ponovno je pogledao Montaga, koji je sada već sjedio s knjigom u krilu. - Knjiga - gdje ste je - ?
    "I stole it."     - Ukrao sam je.
    Faber, for the first time, raised his eyes and looked directly into Montag's face. "You're brave."     Faber je prvi put podigao pogled i zagledao se Montagu ravno u lice. - Hrabri ste.
    "No," said Montag. "My wife's dying. A friend of mine's already dead. Someone who may have been a friend was burnt less than twenty-four hours ago. You're the only one I knew might help me. To see. To see ..."     - Nisam - kazao je Montag. - Žena mi umire. Jedan moj prijatelj već je mrtav. Osoba koja mi je mogla biti prijateljem spaljena je prije manje od dvadeset četiri sata. Vi ste jedini koga znam a tko bi mi mogao pomoći. Da vidim. Da vidim...
    Faber's hands itched on his knees. "May I?"     Fabera su zasvrbjele ruke koje su počivale na koljenima. - Smijem li?
    "Sorry." Montag gave him the book.     - Oprostite. - Montag mu je predao knjigu.
    "It's been a long time. I'm not a religious man. But it's been a long time." Faber turned the pages, stopping here and there to read. "It's as good as I remember. Lord, how they've changed it- in our 'parlours' these days. Christ is one of the 'family' now. I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshipper absolutely needs." Faber sniffed the book. "Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy.     - Davno je to bilo. Nisam religiozan. Ali bilo je to davno. Faber je okretao stranice, zastajkujući tu i tamo da nešto pročita. - Baš je ovako dobro kako se i sjećam. Bože, kako li su je danas promijenili u našim "salonima"! Krist je sada tek jedan od "rođaka". Često se pitam prepoznaje li Bog svojega vlastitog sina kad smo ga ovako odjenuli, ili možda svukli? On je sada pravi slatki prutić, sav posut šećerom ili saharinom kad ne izgovara zamaskirane preporuke za određene proizvode, apsolutno potrebne svakom vjerniku. - Faber je onjušio knjigu. - Znate li da ove knjige mirišu na muškat ili na neku drugu mirodiju iz neke strane zemlje? Kao dječak, rado sam ih onjuškivao.
    Lord, there were a lot of lovely books once, before we let them go." Faber turned the pages. "Mr. Montag, you are looking at a coward. I saw the way things were going, a long time back. I said nothing. I'm one of the innocents who could have spoken up and out when no one would listen to the 'guilty,' but I did not speak and thus became guilty myself. And when finally they set the structure to burn the books, using the, firemen, I grunted a few times and subsided, for there were no others grunting or yelling with me, by then. Now, it's too late." Faber closed the Bible. "Well―suppose you tell me why you came here?"     Bože, što li je nekoć, prije nego što smo ih zanemarili, bilo lijepih knjiga! - Faber je okretao stranice. - Gospodine Montag, pred vama je kukavica. Vidio sam odavno kamo stvari idu. Ništa nisam rekao. Ja sam jedan od nevinih koji su se mogli dići i progovoriti kad nitko nije htio slušati o "krivnji", ali nisam govorio, pa sam stoga i sam kriv. I kad su konačno uspostavili ustroj koji će uz pomoć vatrogasaca paliti knjige, promrmljao sam nešto nekoliko puta i povukao se, jer nitko drugi nije negodovao niti vikao sa mnom. Sada je prekasno. - Faber je zaklopio Bibliju. - Pa...a da mi reknete zašto ste došli k meni?
    "Nobody listens any more. I can't talk to the walls because they're yelling at me. I can't talk to my wife; she listens to the walls. I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense. And I want you to teach me to understand what I read." Faber examined Montag's thin, blue-jowled face. "How did you get shaken up? What knocked the torch out of your hands?" "I don't know. We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing. I looked around. The only thing I positively knew was gone was the books I'd burned in ten or twelve years. So I thought books might help."     - Nitko više ne sluša. Ne mogu razgovarati sa zidovima jer se oni deru na mene. Ne mogu razgovarati sa svojom ženom; ona sluša zidove. Jednostavno želim nekoga tko će poslušati što mu kanim reći. Osvrnuo sam se oko sebe. Jedino za što posve sigurno znam da je nestalo, to su knjige koje sam palio zadnjih deset, dvanaest godina. Zato sam i pomislio da bi mi one mogle pomoći.
    "You're a hopeless romantic," said Faber. "It would be funny if it were not serious. It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the 'parlour families' today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us. Of course you couldn't know this, of course you still can't understand what I mean when I say all this. You are intuitively right, that's what counts. Three things are missing.     - Beznadno ste romantični - kazao je Faber. - Bilo bi šaljivo da nije tragično. Ne nedostaju vama knjige, nedostaju vam neke stvari koje su nekoć bile u knjigama. Te iste stvari mogle bi danas biti u "salonskim obiteljima". Ista sićušna pojedinost i svijest mogle bi se projicirati preko radija i televizije, ali tome nije tako. Ne, ne, knjige uopće nisu ono za čim tragate. Uzimajte stvari gdje ih možete naći, u starim gramofonskim pločama, starim filmovima i u starim prijateljima; tražite u prirodi i u sebi samom. Knjige su bile samo jedan tip spremnice u koju smo pohranjivali mnoge stvari za koje smo se bojali da ćemo ih zaboraviti. U njima uopće nema neke čarobnosti. Čarobnost je samo u onome o čemu one govore, u tome kako nam one komadiće svemira šiju u odijelo. Jasno je da vi ovo niste mogli znati, jasno je da još ne možete razumjeti što time želim reći. Intuitivno imate pravo, to je najvažnije. Tri stvari, međutim, manjkaju.

    "Number one: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.     - Broj jedan: znate li zbog čega su knjige poput ove važne? Zato što su kvalitetne. A što znači riječ "kvaliteta"? Za me ona označuje tkivo. Ova knjiga ima pore. Ima obilježja. Ovu knjigu možete staviti pod mikroskop. Pod lećom ćete otkriti život koji vri u beskrajnom obilju. Što više pora, što više istinito zapisanih ; pojedinosti života koje možete strpati po četvornom centimetru : papira, to ste "književniji". U svakom slučaju, to je moja definicija. Kazivanje pojedinosti. Svježih pojedinosti. Dobri pisci često dodiruju život. Mediokriteti rade površno. Loši ga pak siluju i prepuštaju muhama.
    "So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality. Do you know the legend of Hercules and Antaeus, the giant wrestler, whose strength was incredible so long as he stood firmly on the earth. But when he was held, rootless, in mid-air, by Hercules, he perished easily. If there isn't something in that legend for us today, in this city, in our time, then I am completely insane. Well, there we have the first thing I said we needed. Quality, texture of information."     - Vidite li sad, dakle, zašto su knjige omražene i zašto ih se boje? One pokazuju pore na licu života. Lagodni ljudi samo ; svjetlaju mjesečeva lica, lica bez pora, bez dlaka, bez izražaja. Živimo u vremenu kad cvijeće nastoji živjeti od cvijeća, umjesto da raste od dobre kiše i zemlje crnice. Čak i vatrometi, uza svu I svoju ljepotu, proizlaze iz kemije zemlje. A opet, mi nekako I mislimo da možemo rasti hraneći se cvijećem i vatrometima, ne zaokružujući ciklus do stvarnosti. Znate li onu legendu o Herkulu i Anteju, divovskom hrvaču, čija je snaga bila nevjerojatna sve dok je čvrsto stajao na zemlji. Ali kad je ostao u zraku, iskorijenjen, Herkul ga je lako smlavio. Ako ova legenda i ne kazuje ništa nama, danas, u ovom gradu, u ovo doba, onda sam ja posve lud. Eto, to nam je ona prva stvar za koju sam rekao da nam je potrebna. Kvaliteta, tkivo informacije.
    "And the second?"     - A druga?
    "Leisure."     - Dokolica.
    "Oh, but we've plenty of off-hours."     - Oh, pa imamo mnogo slobodnih sati.
    "Off-hours, yes. But time to think? If you're not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can't think of anything else but the danger, then you're playing some game or sitting in some room where you can't argue with the fourwall televisor. Why? The televisor is 'real.' It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be, right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn't time to protest, 'What nonsense!'"     - Slobodnih sati, da. Ali vremena za razmišljanje? Ako ne vozite sto milja na sat, tempom pri kojem ne možete misliti ni na što drugo doli na opasnost, onda igrate nekakvu igru ili sjedite u nekoj sobi u kojoj ne možete diskutirati s ćetverozidnim televizorom. Zašto? Televizor je "stvaran". Neposredan je, ima dimenziju. Kaže vam što da mislite i to vam trubi. On mora imati pravo. On izgleda kao da ima pravo. Toliko vas žurno nagoni da upijete njegove zaključke da vaš um nema vremena prosvjedovati: "Koje li budalaštine!"
    "Only the 'family' is 'people.'"     - Samo "obitelj" čine "ljudi".
    "I beg your pardon?"     - Molim, oprostite?
    "My wife says books aren't 'real.'"     - Moja žena veli da knjige nisu "stvarne".
    "Thank God for that. You can shut them, say, 'Hold on a moment.' You play God to it. But who has ever torn himself from the claw that encloses you when you drop a seed in a TV parlour? It grows you any shape it wishes! It is an environment as real as the world. It becomes and is the truth. Books can be beaten down with reason. But with all my knowledge and scepticism, I have never been able to argue with a one-hundred-piece symphony orchestra, full colour, three dimensions, and I being in and part of those incredible parlours. As you see, my parlour is nothing but four plaster walls. And here " He held out two small rubber plugs. "For my ears when I ride the subway-jets."     - Hvala Bogu na tome. Možete ih zatvoriti i reći:"Pričekaj časak". Vi za njih izigravate Boga. No tko se ikad iščupao iz pandža koje vas obujmljuju kad pustite korijenje u TV salonu? To vas preraste i oblikuje vam želje. To je okoliš jednako stvaran kao i svijet. On postaje i jest istina. Knjige se mogu s razlogom oboriti. No uza sve svoje znanje i skepsu, nikad se nisam bio kadar nadmetati sa stočlanim simfonijskim orkestrom, u prirodnim bojama, u tri dimenzije, dok sam ja uključen i tek dio onih nevjerojatnih salona. Kao što vidite, u mojem salonu nema ničega osim četiri najobičnija zida. A ovo ovdje - ispružio je dva gumena čepića - ovo je za moje uši dok se vozim mlaznim metroom.
    "Denham's Dentifrice; they toil not, neither do they spin," said Montag, eyes shut. "Where do we go from here? Would books help us?"     - Denhamova zubna pasta; ne trude se i ne predu - rekao je Montag sklopljenih očiju. - Kamo mi to idemo odavde? Bi li nam knjige pomogle?
    "Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said, quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the inter-action of the first two. And I hardly think a very old man and a fireman turned sour could do much this late in the game ..."     - Samo ako bismo mogli dobiti i treću potrebnu stvar. Broj jedan je, kao što sam rekao, kvaliteta informacije. Broj dva: dokolica da je probavimo. A broj tri: pravo da se provedu akcije koje se temelje na onome što smo naučili iz uzajamnog djelovanja onoga netom spomenutog. A teško mi je i pomisliti da bi jedan starac i jedan ogorčeni vatrogasac mogli mnogo učiniti u ovako kasnoj fazi igre...
    "I can get books."     - Mogu nabaviti knjige.
    "You're running a risk."     - Izlažete se pogibelji.
    "That's the good part of dying; when you've nothing to lose, you run any risk you want."     - To je dobra strana umiranja: kad nemate što izgubiti, izlažete se svakoj pogibelji kojoj želite.
    "There, you've said an interesting thing," laughed Faber, "without having read it!"     - Eto, sada ste izrekli nešto zanimljivo - nasmijao se Faber - a da to niste pročitali!
    "Are things like that in books? But it came off the top of my mind!"     - Jesu li u knjigama takve stvari? No ovo mi je samo od sebe palo na pamet.
    "All the better. You didn't fancy it up for me or anyone, even yourself."     - To bolje. Niste to smislili za mene, ni za bilo koga drugoga, pa ni za sebe.
    Montag leaned forward. "This afternoon I thought that if it turned out that books were worth while, we might get a press and print some extra copies―"     Montag se nagnuo naprijed. - Ovoga sam popodneva pomislio da bismo, ako se pokaže da su knjige nešto doista vrijedno, mogli nabaviti tiskarski stroj i otisnuti još nekoliko primjeraka...
    "We?"     - Mi?
    "You and I"     - Vi i ja.
    "Oh, no!" Faber sat up.     - Oh, ne. - Faber se uspravio.
    "But let me tell you my plan―"     - Ali dopustite da izložim svoj plan.
    "If you insist on telling me, I must ask you to leave."     - Budete li ustrajali na tome da mi ga priopćite, morat ću vas zamoliti da odete.
    "But aren't you interested?"     - Ali zar vas ne zanima?
    "Not if you start talking the sort of talk that might get me burnt for my trouble. The only way I could possibly listen to you would be if somehow the fireman structure itself could be burnt. Now if you suggest that we print extra books and arrange to have them hidden in firemen's houses all over the country, so that seeds of suspicion would be sown among these arsonists, bravo, I'd say!"     - Ne, ako povedete takav razgovor zbog kojeg bi me mogli spaliti. Mogao bih vas možda saslušati samo pod uvjetom ako bi se sama vatrogasna struktura na neki način mogla spaliti. Dakle, ako biste sugerirali da tiskamo knjige i nekako ih uspijemo posakrivati po domovima vatrogasaca diljem zemlje, kako bi se sjeme sumnje posijalo medu palikućama, onda bravo!
    "Plant the books, turn in an alarm, and see the firemen's houses burn, is that what you mean?"     - Podmetati knjige, uključiti alarm i gledati kako domovi vatrogasaca gore - to ste htjeli reći?
    Faber raised his brows and looked at Montag as if he were seeing a new man. "I was joking."     Faber je nabrao čelo i pogledao Montaga kao da vidi nekog novog čovjeka. - Šalio sam se.
    "If you thought it would be a plan worth trying, I'd have to take your word it would help."     - Ako ste pomislili da bi taj plan vrijedilo pokušati, moram vaše riječi shvatiti kao jamstvo.
    "You can't guarantee things like that! After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore."     - Takve se stvari ne mogu jamčiti. Na konci konca, i onda kad smo doista posjedovali sve knjige koje smo trebali, i onda smo neumorno tragali za najvišom stijenom s koje bismo skočili. No nama doista treba vježba. Nama doista treba znanje. I možda bismo za tisuću godina mogli odabrati niže stijene s kojih bismo mogli skočiti. Knjige postoje zato da nas podsjete koliki smo magarci i glupani. One su Cezarova pretorijanska straža, koja - dok se parada odvija po ulicama - šapće: "Cezare, sjeti se da si smrtan." Većina nas ne može juriti uokolo i razgovarati sa svim i svakim, ne može poznavati sve gradove svijeta, nemamo mi vremena, novca, ni tolike prijatelje. Stvari koje tražite, Montag, nalaze se u svijetu, ali jedini način da prosječan momak vidi 99 posto toga jest kroz knjigu. Ne tražite jamstva. I ne očekujte da ćete biti spašeni kroz bilo koju pojedinu stvar, osobu, stroj ili knjižnicu. Pridonesite sami spasenju, pa ako se utopite, umrite barem znajući da ste bili okrenuti prema obali.

    Faber got up and began to pace the room. "Well?" asked Montag.     Faber se podigao i počeo koracati po sobi. -I? - upitao je Montag.
    "You're absolutely serious?"     - Mislite li doista ozbiljno?
    "Absolutely."     - Doista.
    "It's an insidious plan, if I do say so myself." Faber glanced nervously at his bedroom door. "To see the firehouses burn across the land, destroyed as hotbeds of treason. The salamander devours his tail! Ho, God!"     - Plan je podmukao, da se tako izrazim. - Faber je nervozno pogledao prema vratima svoje spavaće sobe. - Vidjeti vatrogasne domove kako gore diljem zemlje, uništene kao žarišta izdaje. Daždevnjak proždire svoj rep! Oh, Bože!
    "I've a list of firemen's residences everywhere. With some sort of underground―"     - Imam popis vatrogasnih domova u svim krajevima. Uz neku vrstu ilegale -
    "Can't trust people, that's the dirty part. You and I and who else will set the fires?"     - Ne mogu se pouzdati u ljude, to je ono gadno. Vi i ja i tko će još podmetati požare?
    "Aren't there professors like yourself, former writers, historians, linguists ...?"     - Nema li još profesora poput vas, bivših pisaca, povjesničara, jezikoslovaca...?
    "Dead or ancient."     - Mrtvi su ili prestari.
    "The older the better; they'll go unnoticed. You know dozens, admit it!"     - Što stariji to bolji. Proći će neopaženo. Znate ih na desetke, priznajte!
    "Oh, there are many actors alone who haven't acted Pirandello or Shaw or Shakespeare for years because their plays are too aware of the world. We could use their anger. And we could use the honest rage of those historians who haven't written a line for forty years. True, we might form classes in thinking and reading."     - O, mnogo je i samih glumaca koji godinama nisu glumili Pirandella, Shawa ili Shakespearea zato što su njihove drame previše životne. Mogli bismo iskoristiti njihovu srdžbu. A mogli bismo se poslužiti i poštenim gnjevom onih povjesničara koji četrdeset godina nisu napisali ni jednog retka. Stvarno, mogli bismo stvoriti razrede razmišljanja i čitanja.
    "Yes!"     - Da!
    "But that would just nibble the edges. The whole culture's shot through. The skeleton needs melting and re-shaping. Good God, it isn't as simple as just picking up a book you laid down half a century ago. Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary. The public itself stopped reading of its own accord. You firemen provide a circus now and then at which buildings are set off and crowds gather for the pretty blaze, but it's a small sideshow indeed, and hardly necessary to keep things in line. So few want to be rebels any more. And out of those few, most, like myself, scare easily. Can you dance faster than the White Clown, shout louder than 'Mr. Gimmick' and the parlour 'families'? If you can, you'll win your way, Montag. In any event, you're a fool. People are having fun."     - No to bi bilo samo griskanje okrajaka. Čitava je kultura prostrijeljena. Kostur valja pretopiti i preoblikovati. Bože dragi, nije to tek tako - jednostavno podići knjigu koju si odložio prije pola stoljeća. Upamtite, vatrogasci su rijetko kada nužni. Puk je prestao čitati sam, od svoje vlastite volje. Vi vatrogasci sada tek tu i tamo napravite cirkus u kojem planu zgrade, a svjetina se okuplja poradi lijepog plamena, no to je tek zapravo mala, usputna predstava i teško da je uopće potrebna da bi se stvari držale pod nadzorom. Tako je malo onih koji još žele biti buntovnici. A i od te nekolicine, većinu ih je, kao i mene, lako uplašiti. Možete vi plesati brže od Bijelog klauna, vikati glasnije od "Gospodina Gimmicka" i salonskih "obitelji". Ako možete, pobijedit ćete, Montag. U svakom slučaju, ispadnete budala. Puk se zabavlja.
    "Committing suicide! Murdering!"     - Čini samoubojstvo! Ubija se!
    A bomber flight had been moving east all the time they talked, and only now did the two men stop and listen, feeling the great jet sound tremble inside themselves.     Eskadrila bombardera cijelo je vrijeme njihova razgovora letjela prema istoku, a njih su dvojica tek sada zastala i osluhnula, osjećajući kako snažan zvuk mlažnjaka drhti u njima.
    "Patience, Montag. Let the war turn off the 'families.' Our civilization is flinging itself to pieces. Stand back from the centrifuge."     - Strpljenja, Montag. Pustimo da rat ukloni "rodbinu". Naša će se civilizacija sama raspasti. Odmaknite se od centrifuge.
    "There has to be someone ready when it blows up."     - Mora netko biti spreman kad se rasprsne.
    "What? Men quoting Milton? Saying, I remember Sophocles? Reminding the survivors that man has his good side, too? They will only gather up their stones to hurl at each other. Montag, go home. Go to bed. Why waste your final hours racing about your cage denying you're a squirrel?"     - Što? Ljudi će citirati Miltona? Govoriti "Sjećam se Sofokla"? Podsjećati preživjele da čovjek ima i dobru stranu? Samo će skupljati kamenje da gađaju jedan drugoga. Montag, pođite kući. Idite u krevet. Čemu da tratite svoje posljednje sate jureći po kavezu niječući da ste vjeverica?
    "Then you don't care any more?"     - Znači li to da vam više nije stalo?
    "I care so much I'm sick."     - Stalo mi je toliko da sam se razbolio.
    "And you won't help me?"     - A nećete mi pomoći?
    "Good night, good night."     - Laku noć, laku noć.
    Montag's hands picked up the Bible. He saw what his hands had done and he looked surprised.     Montagove su ruke podigle Bibliju. Spazio je što su njegove ruke učinile pa je pogledao iznenađeno.
    "Would you like to own this?"     - Biste li željeli ovo posjedovati?
    Faber said, "I'd give my right arm."     Faber je kazao: - Desnu bih ruku dao za to.
    Montag stood there and waited for the next thing to happen. His hands, by themselves, like two men working together, began to rip the pages from the book. The hands tore the flyleaf and then the first and then the second page.     Montag je stajao i čekao što će se desiti. Njegove ruke, same od sebe, kao dva radnika što zajedno rade, počele su trgati stranice iz knjige. Ruke su izderale prvi čisti list na početku knjige, pa onda prvu, pa drugu stranicu.
    "Idiot, what're you doing!" Faber sprang up, as if he had been struck. He fell, against Montag. Montag warded him off and let his hands continue. Six more pages fell to the floor. He picked them up and wadded the paper under Faber's gaze.     - Idiote, što to radite! - Faber je skočio kao da ga je tko ubo. Bacio se na Montaga. Ovaj ga je odgurnuo, dopustivši svojim rukama da nastave svoj posao. Još je šest stranica palo na pod. Montag ih je podigao i pred Faberovim očima zgužvao papir.
    "Don't, oh, don't!" said the old man.     - Nemojte, oh, nemojte! - rekao je starac.
    "Who can stop me? I'm a fireman. I can burn you!"     - Tko će me spriječiti? Ja sam vatrogasac. Mogu vas spaliti!
    The old man stood looking at him. "You wouldn't."     Starac je stajao piljeći u njega. - Ne biste to učinili.
    "I could!"     - Mogao bih!

    "The book. Don't tear it any more." Faber sank into a chair, his face very white, his mouth trembling. "Don't make me feel any more tired. What do you want?"     - Knjiga. Nemojte je više trgati. - Faber je utonuo u naslonjač. Lice mu je bilo vrlo blijedo, usta uzdrhtala. - Nemojte me više zamarati. Što želite?
    "I need you to teach me."     - Trebam vas da me poučavate.
    "All right, all right."     - U redu, u redu.
    Montag put the book down. He began to unwad the crumpled paper and flatten it out as the old man watched tiredly. Faber shook his head as if he were waking up.     Montag je spustio knjigu. Počeo je razmatati zgužvani papir i izravnavati ga, a starac ga je umorno promatrao. Faber je potresao glavom kao da se budi.
    "Montag, have you some money?"     - Montag, imate li novaca?
    "Some. Four, five hundred dollars. Why?" "Bring it. I know a man who printed our college paper half a century ago. That was the year I came to class at the start of the new semester and found only one student to sign up for Drama from Aeschylus to O'Neill. You see? How like a beautiful statue of ice it was, melting in the sun. I remember the newspapers dying like huge moths. No one wanted them back. No one missed them. And the Government, seeing how advantageous it was to have people reading only about passionate lips and the fist in the stomach, circled the situation with your fire-eaters. So, Montag, there's this unemployed printer. We might start a few books, and wait on the war to break the pattern and give us the push we need. A few bombs and the 'families' in the walls of all the houses, like harlequin rats, will shut up! In silence, our stage-whisper might carry."     - Nešto imam. Poznajem čovjeka koji je prije pola stoljeća štampao naš fakultetski list. Bilo je to one godine kad sam na početku semestra došao na nastavu te ustanovio da je samo jedan student upisao predmet Drama od Eshila do OiNeilla. Vidite li? Poput lijepog kipa od leda koji se topi na suncu. Sjećam se kako su novine umirale poput golemih leptira. Nitko nije želio da se vrate. Nikomu nisu nedostajale. A vlada, videći koliko je probitačno da puk čita samo o strastvenim usnama i šaci u trbuh, sve je skupa zaokružila vašim gutačima vatre. Eto, Montag, postoji jedan nezaposleni tiskar. Mogli bismo započeti s nekoliko knjiga te pričekati da rat naruši strukturu i dade nam potreban zamah. Nekoliko bombi i zašutjet će "obitelji" na zidovima po svim kućama. U nastaloj tišini mogao bi se širiti naš glasni šapat.
    They both stood looking at the book on the table.     Stajali su i gledali knjigu na stolu.
    "I've tried to remember," said Montag. "But, hell, it's gone when I turn my head. God, how I want something to say to the Captain. He's read enough so he has all the answers, or seems to have. His voice is like butter. I'm afraid he'll talk me back the way I was. Only a week ago, pumping a kerosene hose, I thought: God, what fun!"     - Nastojao sam pamtiti - rekao je Montag - no, do vraga, nestalo bi čim sam okrenuo glavu. Bože, kako bih želio da imam što reći kapetanu! On je dovoljno pročitao pa ima, ili se pak čini da ima, sve odgovore. Glas mu je poput maslaca. Bojim se da će me nagovoriti da opet budem ono što sam bio. Prije samo tjedan dana, pumpajući petrolejski šmrk, mislio sam:"Bože, koje li zabave!"
    The old man nodded. "Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents."     Starac je kimnuo. - Oni koji ne grade moraju paliti. To je mudrost stara kao povijest i maloljetnička delinkvencija.
    "So that's what I am."     - Eto, takav sam bio.
    "There's some of it in all of us."     - Ponešto od toga leži u svima nama.
    Montag moved towards the front door. "Can you help me in any way tonight, with the Fire Captain? I need an umbrella to keep off the rain. I'm so damned afraid I'll drown if he gets me again."     Montag je pošao prema vratima stana. - Možete li mi ikako pomoći još večeras kod vatrogasnog kapetana? Trebam kišobran da se zaštitim od kiše. Toliko se vraški plašim da ću se utopiti ako me ponovno dohvati.
    The old man said nothing, but glanced once more nervously, at his bedroom. Montag caught the glance. "Well?"     Starac nije rekao ništa, ali je još jednom, nervoznije, pogledao prema spavaćoj sobi. Montag je uhvatio taj pogled. - Dakle?
    The old man took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. He took another, eyes closed, his mouth tight, and at last exhaled. "Montag ..."     Stari je duboko udahnuo, zadržao dah, pa ga ispustio. Opet je udahnuo, sklopljenih očiju, usta čvrsto stisnutih, pa napokon izdahnuo. - Montag...
    The old man turned at last and said, "Come along. I would actually have let you walk right out of my house. I am a cowardly old fool."     Starac se napokon okrenuo i rekao: - Dođite. Trebao bih vas zapravo pustiti da odete iz moga doma. Ja sam zaista stara blesava budala.
    Faber opened the bedroom door and led Montag into a small chamber where stood a table upon which a number of metal tools lay among a welter of microscopic wire-hairs, tiny coils, bobbins, and crystals.     Otvorio je vrata spavaće sobe i uveo Montaga u komoricu u kojoj se na stolu nalazila sva sila metalnog alata usred zbrke mikroskopski tankih žičica, sićušnih uzvojnica, špula i kristala.
    "What's this?" asked Montag.     - Što je ovo? - upitao je Montag.
    "Proof of my terrible cowardice. I've lived alone so many years, throwing images on walls with my imagination. Fiddling with electronics, radio-transmission, has been my hobby. My cowardice is of such a passion, complementing the revolutionary spirit that lives in its shadow, I was forced to design this."     - Dokaz moga užasnoga kukavičluka. Godinama sam živio kao samotnjak, slikajući maštom likove po zidu. Igruckao sam se s elektronikom, radioodašiljanjem. To mi je bio hobi. Moj je kukavičluk tolika strast da sam, uz revolucionarni duh što živi u njegovoj sjeni, morao kreirati ovo.
    He picked up a small green-metal object no larger than a .22 bullet.     Podigao je mali predmet od zelena metala, ne veći od kugle kalibra 22.
    "I paid for all this―how? Playing the stock-market, of course, the last refuge in the world for the dangerous intellectual out of a job. Well, I played the market and built all this and I've waited. I've waited, trembling, half a lifetime for someone to speak to me. I dared speak to no one. That day in the park when we sat together, I knew that some day you might drop by, with fire or friendship, it was hard to guess. I've had this little item ready for months. But I almost let you go, I'm that afraid!"     - Platio sam sve ovo. Kako? Igrajući na burzi, naravno, posljednjem utočištu preostalom intelektualcima koji su ostali bez posla. Dakle, igrao sam na burzi, izradio sve ovo i čekao. Pola sam života iščekivao nekoga tko će mi se obratiti. Sam se ni s kim nisam usudio govoriti. Onoga dana kad smo sjedili u onom perivoju znao sam da biste jednoga dana mogli navratiti, s ognjem ili s prijateljstvom, teško je bilo nazreti. Ovaj mali predmet pripremio sam, ima tome više mjeseci. No gotovo sam vas pustio da odete, toliko se bojim!
    "It looks like a Seashell radio."     - Izgleda kao radioškoljka.
    "And something more! It listens! If you put it in your ear, Montag, I can sit comfortably home, warming my frightened bones, and hear and analyse the firemen's world, find its weaknesses, without danger. I'm the Queen Bee, safe in the hive. You will be the drone, the travelling ear. Eventually, I could put out ears into all parts of the city, with various men, listening and evaluating. If the drones die, I'm still safe at home, tending my fright with a maximum of comfort and a minimum of chance. See how safe I play it, how contemptible I am?"     -I više! Ovaj predmet sluša! Stavite li ga u uho, Montag, mogu udobno sjediti kod kuće, grijući svoje uplašene kosti, te istodobno slušati i analizirati svijet vatrogasaca, pronalaziti mu slabosti, i sve to bez ikakve opasnosti. Ja sam matica u sigurnosti košnice. Vi ćete biti pčela, putujuće uho. Na kraju bih mogao pometati uši u sve dijelove grada, kod drugih ljudi, pa slušati i procjenjivati. Pomru li pčele, bit ću i dalje na sigurnom kod kuće, noseći se sa svojim strahom s maksimalnom udobnošću i minimalnim izlaganjem. Vidite li koliko sam oprezan, koliko sam vrijedan prijezira!
    Montag placed the green bullet in his ear. The old man inserted a similar object in his own ear and moved his lips.     Montag je u uho stavio zeleno tane. I starac je isti takav predmet stavio u svoje uho te pomaknuo usnice.
    "Montag!"     - Montag!
    The voice was in Montag's head.     Glas je bio u Montagovoj glavi.
    "I hear you!"     - Čujem vas!
    The old man laughed. "You're coming over fine, too!" Faber whispered, but the voice in Montag's head was clear. "Go to the firehouse when it's time. I'll be with you. Let's listen to this Captain Beatty together. He could be one of us. God knows. I'll give you things to say. We'll give him a good show. Do you hate me for this electronic cowardice of mine? Here I am sending you out into the night, while I stay behind the lines with my damned ears listening for you to get your head chopped off."     Starac se nasmijao. -I ja vas dobro čujem! - Faber je šaptao, ali glas u Montagovoj glavi bio je jasan. - Otiđite u vatrogasni dom kad bude vrijeme. Bit ću s vama. Poslušajmo obojica tog kapetana Beattyja. Mogao bi nam se pridružiti. Bog će ga znati. Ja ću vam reći što ćete kazati. Priredit ćemo mu lijepu predstavu. Mrzite li me zbog ovog mog elektroničkog kukavičluka? Ja vas, evo, šaljem u noć, dok sam ostajem u pozadini sa svojim prokletim ušima kojima za vas slušam dok vama rube glavu.
    "We all do what we do," said Montag. He put the Bible in the old man's hands. "Here. I'll chance turning in a substitute. Tomorrow―"     - Svi mi činimo ono što nam je činiti - kazao je Montag. Predao je Bibliju u starčeve ruke. - Evo. Riskirat ću da predam nešto drugo. Sutra -
    "I'll see the unemployed printer, yes; that much I can do."     - Da, potražit ću nezaposlenog tiskara. Toliko mogu učiniti.
    "Good night, Professor."     - Laku noć, profesore.

    "Not good night. I'll be with you the rest of the night, a vinegar gnat tickling your ear when you need me. But good night and good luck, anyway."     - Ne laku noć. Bit ću s vama ostatak noći kao vinska mušica koja će vam golicati uho kad me za trebate. No svejedno, laku noć i puno sreće.
    The door opened and shut. Montag was in the dark street again, looking at the world.     Vrata su se otvorila i zatvorila. Montag je opet s mračne ulice promatrao svijet.
    You could feel the war getting ready in the sky that night. The way the clouds moved aside and came back, and the way the stars looked, a million of them swimming between the clouds, like the enemy discs, and the feeling that the sky might fall upon the city and turn it to chalk dust, and the moon go up in red fire; that was how the night felt.     Da se sprema rat, te se noći moglo osjetiti po nebu: po načinu na koji se oblaci gibaju i vraćaju, po izgledu zvijezde -milijun ih je plivao medu oblacima poput neprijateljskih tanjura - te po osjećaju da bi se nebo moglo stropoštati na grad i pretvoriti ga u krednu prašinu, kao i po tome što se mjesec pojavio vatreno crven; tako je ta noć izgledala.
    Montag walked from the subway with the money in his pocket (he had visited the bank which was open all night and every night with robot tellers in attendance) and as he walked he was listening to the Seashell radio in one ear ... "We have mobilized a million men. Quick victory is ours if the war comes..." Music flooded over the voice quickly and it was gone.     Montag je odšetao iz podzemne željeznice s novcem u džepu (bio je posjetio banku koja je s robotskom poslugom radila čitavu noć) te, hodajući, slušao radioškoljku u jednom uhu. -Mobilizirali smo milijun ljudi. Dođe li do rata, brzo ćemo ostvariti pobjedu... - Glazba je zapljusnula glas, koji se zatim izgubi.
    "Ten million men mobilized," Faber's voice whispered in his other ear. "But say one million. It's happier."     - Mobilizirano je deset milijuna ljudi - u drugom mu je uhu šapnuo Faberov glas. - No recimo jedan milijun. Ljepše je.
    "Faber?"     - Faber?
    "Yes?"     - Da?
    "I'm not thinking. I'm just doing like I'm told, like always. You said get the money and I got it. I didn't really think of it myself. When do I start working things out on my own?"     - Ja ne razmišljam. Kao i uvijek, postupam onako kako mi je rečeno. Rekli ste mi da izvadim novac i izvadio sam ga. O tome zapravo sam nisam niti razmišljao. Kad ću početi djelovati sam od svoje glave?
    "You've started already, by saying what you just said. You'll have to take me on faith."     - Već ste započeli rekavši ovo što ste upravo rekli. Morat ćete se pouzdati u mene.
    "I took the others on faith!"     - Pouzdao sam se i u one druge.
    "Yes, and look where we're headed. You'll have to travel blind for a while. Here's my arm to hold on to."     - Da, i pogledajte dokle smo stigli. Neko ćete vrijeme morati putovati naslijepo. Tu vam je i moja ruka da se oslonite.
    "I don't want to change sides and just be told what to do. There's no reason to change if I do that."     - Ne želim mijenjati strane i biti u situaciji da mi se samo govori što mi je činiti. Bude li tome tako, nema nikakva razloga za promjenu.
    "You're wise already!"     - Vi ste već mudri!
    Montag felt his feet moving him on the sidewalk. toward his house. "Keep talking."     Montag je osjetio kako ga noge nose prema kući. -Nastavite pričati.
    "Would you like me to read? I'll read so you can remember. I go to bed only five hours a night. Nothing to do. So if you like; I'll read you to sleep nights. They say you retain knowledge even when you're sleeping, if someone whispers it in your ear."     - Biste li htjeli da vam čitam? Čitat ću vam tako da možete pamtiti. Noću u krevetu provedem samo pet sati. Nemam što raditi. Stoga, ako želite, čitat ću vam da prospavate noć. Vele da se znanje stječe čak i kad spavate, samo ako vam netko šapće u uho.
    "Yes."     -Da.
    "Here." Far away across town in the night, the faintest whisper of a turned page. "The Book of Job."     - Evo. - Daleko, s druge strane noćnoga grada, slabašan sušanj okrenute stranice. - Knjiga o Jobu.
    The moon rose in the sky as Montag walked, his lips moving just a trifle.     Mjesec se digao na nebu dok je Montag hodao, a usnice mu se neznatno pomicale.
    He was eating a light supper at nine in the evening when the front door cried out in the hall and Mildred ran from the parlour like a native fleeing an eruption of Vesuvius. Mrs. Phelps and Mrs. Bowles came through the front door and vanished into the volcano's mouth with martinis in their hands: Montag stopped eating. They were like a monstrous crystal chandelier tinkling in a thousand chimes, he saw their Cheshire Cat smiles burning through the walls of the house, and now they were screaming at each other above the din. Montag found himself at the parlour door with his food still in his mouth.     U devet je sati upravo jeo laganu večeru kad su se u predsoblju oglasila ulazna vrata, na što je Mildred istrčala iz salona poput domoroca koji bježi pred erupcijom Vezuva. Kroz vrata su prošle gospoda Phelps i gospoda Bowles, da bi s martinijima u rukama nestale u grotlu vulkana. Montag je prestao jesti. Bile su poput čudovišna svijećnjaka što zvecka tisućama zvončića, vidio je kako kroz zidove kuća plamsaju njihovi osmijesi. Mačka iz Cheshirea, a sada su pak kroz svekoliku gungulu vrištale jedna na drugu. - Montag se našao na vratima salona, usta punih hrane.
    "Doesn't everyone look nice!"     - Nisu li svi prekrasni!
    "Nice."     - Prekrasni.
    "You look fine, Millie!"     - Divno izgledaš, Millie!
    "Fine."     - Divno.
    "Everyone looks swell."     - Svi su sjajni!
    "Swell!     - Sjajni.
    Montag stood watching them.     Montag je stajao i promatrao ih.
    "Patience," whispered Faber.     - Strpljenja - šapnuo je Faber.
    "I shouldn't be here," whispered Montag, almost to himself. "I should be on my way back to you with the money!"     - Ne bih trebao biti ovdje - prošaptao je Montag gotovo za sebe. - Trebao bih biti na putu prema vama, s novcem!
    "Tomorrow's time enough. Careful!"     - Ima sutra vremena. Budite oprezni!
    "Isn't this show wonderful?" cried Mildred. "Wonderful!"     - Nije li ovaj show bajan? - uskliknula je Mildred. - Bajan!

    On one wall a woman smiled and drank orange juice simultaneously. How does she do both at once, thought Montag, insanely. In the other walls an X-ray of the same woman revealed the contracting journey of the refreshing beverage on its way to her delightful stomach! Abruptly the room took off on a rocket flight into the clouds, it plunged into a lime-green sea where blue fish ate red and yellow fish. A minute later, Three White Cartoon Clowns chopped off each other's limbs to the accompaniment of immense incoming tides of laughter. Two minutes more and the room whipped out of town to the jet cars wildly circling an arena, bashing and backing up and bashing each other again. Montag saw a number of bodies fly in the air.     Na jednom se zidu neka žena osmjehnula i istodobno gucnula narančin sok. Kako oboje radi istodobno, pomislio je Montag, luđački. Na drugim su zidovima rentgenske snimke iste žene otkrivale grčevito putovanje osvježavajućeg pića prema njezinom ljupkom želucu. Odjednom je soba uzletjela poput rakete u oblake, pa se sunovratila u more zeleno poput limete, gdje su plave ribe jele crvene i žute. Trenutak kasnije tri bijela crtana klauna odsjekla su jedan drugom udove, popraćeni gromoglasnom plimom smijeha. Već dvije minute nakon toga soba je šibnula iz grada do mlaznih automobila koji su divlje kružili arenom, treskajući se i zalijećući se, a onda bi se ponovno sudarali i nalijetali jedan na drugoga. Montag je vidio kako brojna tjelesa lete zrakom.
    "Millie, did you see that?"     - Millie, jesi li vidjela ovo?
    "I saw it, I saw it!"     - Vidjela sam, vidjela!
    Montag reached inside the parlour wall and pulled the main switch. The images drained away, as if the water had been let out from a gigantic crystal bowl of hysterical fish.     Montag je posegnuo prema zidu salona i izvukao glavni prekidač. Slike su iščezle kao da si iz nekog divovskog kristalnog akvarija s histeričnim ribama ispustio vodu.
    The three women turned slowly and looked with unconcealed irritation and then dislike at Montag.     Tri su se žene polako okrenule te s neskrivenom razdraženošću i zlovoljom pogledale Montaga.
    "When do you suppose the war will start?" he said. "I notice your husbands aren't here tonight?"     - Što mislite, kad će početi rat? - upitao je. - Primjećujem da ovdje večeras nema vaših muževa.
    "Oh, they come and go, come and go," said Mrs. Phelps. "In again out again Finnegan, the Army called Pete yesterday. He'll be back next week. The Army said so. Quick war. Forty-eight hours they said, and everyone home. That's what the Army said. Quick war. Pete was called yesterday and they said he'd be, back next week. Quick ..."     - Oh, oni dolaze i odlaze - rekla je gospođa Phelps. - Malo unutra, pa van. Vojska je Petea pozvala sinoć. Vratit će se sljedećeg tjedna. To je rekla vojska. Brz rat. Četrdeset i osam sati, rekli su, i svi će kući. Tako je vojska rekla. Brz rat. Peter je jučer nazvao i rekao da će se vratiti sljedećeg tjedna. Brz ...
    The three women fidgeted and looked nervously at the empty mud-coloured walls.     Tri su se žene uzvrpoljile, nervozno pogledavajući u prazne zidove boje blata.
    "I'm not worried," said Mrs. Phelps. "I'll let Pete do all the worrying." She giggled. "I'll let old Pete do all the worrying. Not me. I'm not worried."     - Nisam zabrinuta - kazala je gospođa Phelps. - Neka se Pete brine. - Zahihotala je. - Neka se stari Pete brine. Ja neću. Ja nisam zabrinuta.
    "Yes," said Millie. "Let old Pete do the worrying."     - Da - kazala je Millie. - Neka se stari Pete brine.
    "It's always someone else's husband dies, they say."     - Uvijek umiru neki tuđi muževi, tako se kaže.
    "I've heard that, too. I've never known any dead man killed in a war. Killed jumping off buildings, yes, like Gloria's husband last week, but from wars? No."     - I ja sam to čula. Nikad nisam poznavala osobu koja je poginula u ratu. Osobu koja je skočila s nebodera, to da, kao Glorijin muž prošlog tjedna, da, ali u ratu? Ne.
    "Not from wars," said Mrs. Phelps. "Anyway, Pete and I always said, no tears, nothing like that. It's our third marriage each and we're independent. Be independent, we always said. He said, if I get killed off, you just go right ahead and don't cry, but get married again, and don't think of me."     - Ne u ratu - rekla je gospoda Phelps. - No, svejedno, Pete i ja smo uvijek govorili: nikakvih suza, ništa takvo. I njemu i meni ovo je treći brak i neovisni smo. Budi neovisan, to nam je krilatica. Rekao je: ubiju li me, idi dalje i ne plači, nego se opet udaj i ne misli na mene.
    "That reminds me," said Mildred. "Did you see that Clara Dove five-minute romance last night in your wall? Well, it was all about this woman who―"     - Sad si me upravo podsjetila - kazala je Mildred. - Jeste li sinoć na zidu vidjele onu petominutnu romancu Clare Dove? E pa, sve samo o toj ženi koja -
    Montag said nothing but stood looking at the women's faces as he had once looked at the faces of saints in a strange church he had entered when he was a child. The faces of those enamelled creatures meant nothing to him, though he talked to them and stood in that church for a long time, trying to be of that religion, trying to know what that religion was, trying to get enough of the raw incense and special dust of the place into his lungs and thus into his blood to feel touched and concerned by the meaning of the colourful men and women with the porcelain eyes and the blood-ruby lips. But there was nothing, nothing; it was a stroll through another store, and his currency strange and unusable there, and his passion cold, even when he touched the wood and plaster and clay.     Montag nije rekao ništa nego je samo stajao i gledao u lica tih žena kao što je jednom gledao u lica svataca u nekoj stranoj crkvi u koju je bio ušao kao dijete. Lica tih glaziranih stvorenja nisu mu značila baš ništa, premda ih je oslovljavao i dugo stajao u toj crkvi, trudeći se da ude u tu religiju, pokušavajući doznati kakva je to religija, nastojeći da mu dovoljno žestokog tamjana i osobite prašine toga mjesta ude u pluća, pa odatle i u krv, kako bi se osjetio dirnutim i sudionikom značenja slikovitih muškaraca i žena porculanskih očiju i usnica crvenih poput krvi. No nije bilo ničega, baš ničega; bilo je to samo lutanje još jednim dućanom u kojem je njegov novac tud i nekoristan, a njegova strast hladna, čak i onda kad je dodirivao drvo, žbuku i glinu.
    So it was now, in his own parlour, with these women twisting in their chairs under his gaze, lighting cigarettes, blowing smoke, touching their sun-fired hair and examining their blazing fingernails as if they had caught fire from his look. Their faces grew haunted with silence. They leaned forward at the sound of Montag's swallowing his final bite of food.     Tako mu je sada bilo u vlastitu salonu s ovim ženama koje se pod njegovim pogledom migolje na stolcima, pale cigarete, otpuhuju dim, dodiruju svoju od sunca spaljenu kosu i razgledavaju svoje plamene nokte, koji kao da su se od njegova pogleda zapalili. Njihovim je licima obvladala tišina. Montag je progutao posljednji zalogaj, a žene su se na to nagnule prema naprijed.
    They listened to his feverish breathing. The three empty walls of the room were like the pale brows of sleeping giants now, empty of dreams. Montag felt that if you touched these three staring brows you would feel a fine salt sweat on your finger-tips. The perspiration gathered with the silence and the sub-audible trembling around and about and in the women who were burning with tension. Any moment they might hiss a long sputtering hiss and explode.     Slušale su njegovo uzbuđeno disanje. Tri prazna zida sobe bila su sada poput blijedih čela zaspalih divova lišenih snova. Montag je osjetio da bi, dodirne li ova tri ukočena čela, na jagodicama prstiju oćutio slabašan slani znoj. Znojenje se povećavalo s tišinom i nečujnim drhtanjem, kojega je bilo posvuda, pa i u žena koje su izgarale od napetosti. U svakom su trenutku mogle psiknuti dugim, žestokim siktanjem te prasnuti.
    Montag moved his lips.     Montag je pomaknuo usne.
    "Let's talk."     - Porazgovarajmo.
    The women jerked and stared.     Žene su se trgnule i blenule.
    "How're your children, Mrs. Phelps?" he asked.     - Kako vaša djeca, gospođo Phelps? - upitao je.
    "You know I haven't any! No one in his right mind, the Good Lord knows; would have children!" said Mrs. Phelps, not quite sure why she was angry with this man.     - Znate da ih nemam. Sam Bog zna da nitko tko ima tri čiste neće imati djece! - kazala je gospoda Phelps, ne znajući ni sama zašto se ljuti na ovoga čovjeka.
    "I wouldn't say that," said Mrs. Bowles. "I've had two children by Caesarian section. No use going through all that agony for a baby. The world must reproduce, you know, the race must go on. Besides, they sometimes look just like you, and that's nice. Two Caesarians tamed the trick, yes, sir. Oh, my doctor said, Caesarians aren't necessary; you've got the, hips for it, everything's normal, but I insisted."     - Ne bih tako rekla - kazala je gospoda Bowles. - Dvoje sam djece dobila carskim rezom. Nema smisla toliko se patiti, a sve zbog nekakvog djetešca. Svijet se mora reproducirati, rasa produžavati. Osim toga, djeca vam ponekad nalikuju, a to je zgodno. Dva carska reza sredila su stvar, o, da. Oh, moj je liječnik kazao da ti zahvati nisu potrebni. Imate valjane kukove, sve je normalno, ali ja sam bila ustrajna.
    "Caesarians or not, children are ruinous; you're out of your mind," said Mrs. Phelps.     - Carski rez na stranu, no djeca su pogubna; izbezume te - rekla je gospoda Phelps.
    "I plunk the children in school nine days out of ten. I put up with them when they come home three days a month; it's not bad at all. You heave them into the 'parlour' and turn the switch. It's like washing clothes; stuff laundry in and slam the lid." Mrs. Bowles tittered. "They'd just as soon kick as kiss me. Thank God, I can kick back!"     - Uvalim djecu u školu; tamo su devet od deset dana. Bavim se njima kad dođu kući ona tri dana mjesečno. Nije to nimalo gadno. Posadiš ih u salon i okreneš prekidač. Kao kad pereš rublje; utrpaš ih i zalupiš vratašca. - Gospoda Bowles je zahihotala. - Mogu me maznuti jednako kao što me mogu i poljubiti. Bogu hvala što im mogu uzvratiti udarac.
    The women showed their tongues, laughing.     Žene su se zacenile od smijeha.
    Mildred sat a moment and then, seeing that Montag was still in the doorway, clapped her hands. "Let's talk politics, to please Guy!"     Mildred se na trenutak smirila, pa, videći da je Montag još na vratima, pljesnula rukama. - Hajdemo malo o politici. Da ugodimo Guyu!
    "Sounds fine," said Mrs. Bowles. "I voted last election, same as everyone, and I laid it on the line for President Noble. I think he's one of the nicest-looking men who ever became president."     - Nemam ništa protiv - rekla je gospođa Bowles. - Na prošlim sam izborima, kao i svi ostali, glasovala za predsjednika Noblea. Mislim da je on jedan od najnaočitijih predsjednika dosad.
    "Oh, but the man they ran against him!"     - Oh, a kakav li mu je bio protukandidat!
    "He wasn't much, was he? Kind of small and homely and he didn't shave too close or comb his hair very well."     - Jad i bijeda, zar ne? Malen i nekako neugledan. Nije se ni dobro obrijao, a bogme ni lijepo počešljao.

    "What possessed the 'Outs' to run him? You just don't go running a little short man like that against a tall man. Besides―he mumbled. Half the time I couldn't hear a word he said. And the words I did hear I didn't understand!"     - Što je spopalo oporbu da ga istakne? Pa ne podržava se tako malešna čovjeka nasuprot visokom. Osim toga, pa on mumlja. Nisam čula pola od onoga što je izgovorio. A i ono što jest rekao nisam shvatila.
    "Fat, too, and didn't dress to hide it. No wonder the landslide was for Winston Noble. Even their names helped. Compare Winston Noble to Hubert Hoag for ten seconds and you can almost figure the results."     - Uz to, debeo je, a ne prikriva to odjećom. Nikakvo čudo što je većinu dobio Winston Noble. I imena su bila bitna. Usporedite samo Winston Noble s Hubert Hoag, i za deset ćete sekundi moći predvidjeti ishod.
    "Damn it!" cried Montag. "What do you know about Hoag and Noble?"     - Do vraga! - uzviknuo je Montag. - Što vi uopće znate o Hoagu i Nobleu?
    "Why, they were right in that parlour wall, not six months ago. One was always picking his nose; it drove me wild."     - Pa, bili su tu, u salonskom zidu, nema tome ni šest mjeseci. Jedan je stalno čeprkao po nosu; sasvim me je izludio.
    "Well, Mr. Montag," said Mrs. Phelps, "do you want us to vote for a man like that?"     - Dobro, gospodine Montag - rekla je gospoda Phelps -želite li da glasujemo za takva čovjeka?
    Mildred beamed. "You just run away from the door, Guy, and don't make us nervous."     Mildred se nasmiješila. - Skini nam se s vrata, Guy, i nemoj nas uzrujavati.
    But Montag was gone and back in a moment with a book in his hand.     No Montag je nestao i za trenutak se vratio s knjigom u ruci.
    "Guy!"     - Guy!
    "Damn it all, damn it all, damn it!"     - K vragu sve, k vragu sve, sve!
    "What've you got there; isn't that a book? I thought that all special training these days was done by film." Mrs. Phelps blinked. "You reading up on fireman theory?"     - Što vi to imate? Nije li to knjiga? Mislila sam da se svekoliko specijalno školovanje obavlja uz pomoć filma. -Gospoda Phelps je žmirnula. - Proučavate li teoriju vatrogastva?
    "Theory, hell," said Montag. "It's poetry."     - Vraga teoriju - rekao je Montag. - Ovo je poezija.
    "Montag." A whisper.     - Montag. - Šapat.
    "Leave me alone!" Montag felt himself turning in a great circling roar and buzz and hum.     - Ostavite me na miru! - Montag se osjetio kao u nekom silnom huku, zuju i žamoru.
    "Montag, hold on, don't..."     - Montag, stanite, nemojte...
    "Did you hear them, did you hear these monsters talking about monsters? Oh God, the way they jabber about people and their own children and themselves and the way they talk about their husbands and the way they talk about war, dammit, I stand here and I can't believe it!"     - Jeste li ih čuli? Jeste li čuli ova čudovišta kako pričaju o čudovištima? Oh, Bože, to kako one naklapaju o ljudima, o svojoj vlastitoj djeci i o sebi, kako pričaju o svojim muževima i o ratu, prokletstvo! Stojim ovdje i ne mogu vjerovati.
    "I didn't say a single word about any war, I'll have you know," said Mrs. Phelps.     - Ni jedne riječi nisam rekla ni o kakvom ratu, molim lijepo - kazala je gospoda Phelps.
    "As for poetry, I hate it," said Mrs. Bowles.     - A što se tiče poezije, mrzim je - kazala je gospoda Bowles.
    "Have you ever read any?"     - Jeste li ikad pročitali neku pjesmu?
    "Montag," Faber's voice scraped away at him. "You'll ruin everything. Shut up, you fool!"     - Montag - ogrebao ga je Faberov glas. - Sve ćete upropastiti! Umuknite, budalo!
    All three women were on their feet.     Sve su se tri žene našle na nogama.
    "Sit down!"     - Sjednite!
    They sat.     Sjele su.
    "I'm going home," quavered Mrs. Bowles.     - Ja ću kući - drhtavim je glasom rekla gospoda Bowles.
    "Montag, Montag, please, in the name of God, what are you up to?" pleaded Faber.     - Montag, Montag, molim vas, za ime Božje, što ste nakanili? - preklinjao je Faber.
    "Why don't you just read us one of those poems from your little book," Mrs. Phelps nodded. "I think that'd he very interesting."     - Kako bi bilo da nam pročitate jednu od tih pjesama iz vaše knjižice - kimnula je gospoda Phelps. - Mislim da bi to bilo vrlo zanimljivo.
    "That's not right," wailed Mrs. Bowles. "We can't do that!"     - To nije u redu - zakukala je gospoda Bowles. - Ne možemo to učiniti.
    "Well, look at Mr. Montag, he wants to, I know he does. And if we listen nice, Mr. Montag will be happy and then maybe we can go on and do something else." She glanced nervously at the long emptiness of the walls enclosing them.     - Pa, pogledajte gospodina Montaga. On to želi, znam da želi. Ako lijepo poslušamo, gospodin Montag bit će sretan, pa ćemo onda možda moći nastaviti s nečim drugim. - Nervozno je pogledala dugu prazninu zidova koji su ih okruživali.
    "Montag, go through with this and I'll cut off, I'll leave." The beetle jabbed his ear. "What good is this, what'll you prove?"     - Montag, budete li s ovim išli do kraja, prekinut ću vezu, ostaviti vas. - Kukac ga je ubo za uho. - Čemu ovo? Što ćete ovim dokazati?
    "Scare hell out of them, that's what, scare the living daylights out!" Mildred looked at the empty air. "Now Guy, just who are you talking to?"     - Na smrt ću ih preplašiti, eto to, na smrt ću ih prepasti! Mildred je pogledala u prazan zrak. - Slušaj, Guy, reci mi, komu ti to govoriš?
    A silver needle pierced his brain. "Montag, listen, only one way out, play it as a joke, cover up, pretend you aren't mad at all. Then―walk to your wall-incinerator, and throw the book in!"     Srebrna igla probila mu je mozak. - Montag, slušajte. Samo je jedan izlaz, izigravajte da ste se šalili, prikrijte se, pretvarajte se da se uopće ne ljutite. A onda - otiđite do zidne spalionice i ubacite knjigu u nju!

    Mildred had already anticipated this in a quavery voice. "Ladies, once a year, every fireman's allowed to bring one book home, from the old days, to show his family how silly it all was, how nervous that sort of thing can make you, how crazy. Guy's surprise tonight is to read you one sample to show how mixed-up things were, so none of us will ever have to bother our little old heads about that junk again, isn't that right, darling?"     Mildred ga je preduhitrila drhtavim glasom. - Moje dame, jednom godišnje svaki vatrogasac ima pravo donijeti kući jednu knjigu iz davnine da pokaže svojoj obitelji kolike su to budalaštine, koliko vas takve stvari mogu uzrujati, izludjeti. Guy vas večeras želi iznenaditi i pročitati vam jedan uzorak da vam pokaže koliko su zbrčkane te stvari, da ni jedna od nas više time nikad ne mora razbijati svoju staru glavicu. Je li tako, dragi?
    He crushed the book in his fists. "Say 'yes.'"     Gužvao je knjigu u rukama. - Recite "da".
    His mouth moved like Faber's.     Usta su mu se pomaknula poput Faberovih.
    "Yes."     - Da.
    Mildred snatched the book with a laugh. "Here! Read this one. No, I take it back. Here's that real funny one you read out loud today. Ladies, you won't understand a word. It goes umpty-tumpty-ump. Go ahead, Guy, that page, dear."     Mildred je, smijući se, istrgnula knjigu. - Evo! Pročitajte ovu. Ne, povlačim riječ. Evo one doista šašave koju si danas pročitao naglas. Moje dame, nećete razumjeti ni riječi. Ide hampti-dampti-hamp. Hajde, Guy, daj onu stranicu, dragi.
    He looked at the opened page.     Pogledao je otvorenu stranicu.
    A fly stirred its wings softly in his ear. "Read."     Muha je blago pomaknula krilca u njegovu uhu. - Čitajte.
    "What's the title, dear?"     - Kako se zove, dragi?
    "Dover Beach." His mouth was numb.     - Doversko žalo. - Usta su mu bila obamrla.
    "Now read in a nice clear voice and go slow."     - A sad je pročitaj jasno i glasno, i to polako.
    The room was blazing hot, he was all fire, he was all coldness; they sat in the middle of an empty desert with three chairs and him standing, swaying, and him waiting for Mrs. Phelps to stop straightening her dress hem and Mrs. Bowles to take her fingers away from her hair. Then he began to read in a low, stumbling voice that grew firmer as he progressed from line to line, and his voice went out across the desert, into the whiteness, and around the three sitting women there in the great hot emptiness:     Soba je bila užarena, bio je sav u vatri, bio je sav u studeni; sjedili su usred prazne pustinje na trima stolcima, a on je stajao, ljuljao se i čekao da gospoda Phelps prestane poravnavati porub svoje haljine, da gospoda Bowles izvuče prste iz svoje kose. A onda je počeo čitati tihim, zamuckujućim glasom, koji je sa svakim retkom postajao sve čvršći, leteći preko pustinje, u bjelinu, pa oko triju žena koje su sjedile u velikoj užarenoj praznini.
    "'The Sea of Faith     More je Vjere također
    Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore     Nekoć bilo u punoj snazi i obalom zemlje
    Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.     Pružalo se poput nabora svijetla opasača.
    But now I only hear     No sad mu čujem samo
    Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,     Sjetan, dug huk uzmaka,
    Retreating, to the breath     Povlačenja u dah
    Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world."'     Noćnoga vjetra, duž prostranih rubova pustih I golih oblutaka svijeta.
    The chairs creaked under the three women.     Stolci su pod trima ženama škripnuli.
    Montag finished it out:     Montag je dovršio:
    "'Ah, love, let us be true     Ah, ljubavi, budimo iskreni
    To one another! for the world, which seems     Jedno drugom! Jer u svijetu koji
    To lie before us like a land of dreams,     Pred nama leži ko neka zemlja snova,
    So various, so beautiful, so new,     Toliko raznolika, lijepa, nova,
    Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,     Nema zapravo ni radosti, ni ljubavi, ni svjetla
    Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;     Ni sigurnosti, ni mira, ni pomoći u boli;
    And we are here as on a darkling plain     A mi kao da smo na ravnici koja se mrači
    Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,     Šibanoj smušenim uzbunama na boj i bijeg,
    Where ignorant armies clash by night.'"     Gdje vojske se neznalica sukobljuju noću.
    Mrs. Phelps was crying.     Gospođa Phelps je plakala.

    The others in the middle of the desert watched her crying grow very loud as her face squeezed itself out of shape. They sat, not touching her, bewildered by her display. She sobbed uncontrollably. Montag himself was stunned and shaken.     Ostali iz središta pustinje promatrali su kako njezino plakanje postaje sve glasnije, kako se, usporedno se tim, njezino lice izobličuje. Sjedili su, ne dodirujući je, zbunjeni njezinim istupom. Jecala je neobuzdano. I Montag je bio osupnut i potresen.
    "Sh, sh," said Mildred. "You're all right, Clara, now, Clara, snap out of it! Clara, what's wrong?"     - Š, š, š - rekla je Mildred. - Sve je u redu, Clara. Hajde, Clara, prestani! Clara, što nije u redu?
    "I―I,", sobbed Mrs. Phelps, "don't know, don't know, I just don't know, oh oh ..."     - Ja, ja - šmrcala je gospođa Phelps - ne znam, ne znam, jednostavno ne znam, uh, uh...
    Mrs. Bowles stood up and glared at Montag. "You see? I knew it, that's what I wanted to prove! I knew it would happen! I've always said, poetry and tears, poetry and suicide and crying and awful feelings, poetry and sickness; all that mush! Now I've had it proved to me. You're nasty, Mr. Montag, you're nasty!"     Gospođa Bowles se uspravila i bijesno zapiljila u Montaga. - Vidite? Znala sam ja, to sam željela dokazati. Znala sam da će se ovo desiti. Uvijek sam govorila: poezija i suze, poezija i samoubojstvo, i plakanje i užasni osjećaji, poezija i mučnina - sve su to besmislice! Sada mi se to i dokazalo. Gadni ste vi, gospodine Montag, gadni!
    Faber said, "Now..."     Faber je rekao: - Sada...
    Montag felt himself turn and walk to the wall-slot and drop the book in through the brass notch to the waiting flames.     Montag je osjetio da se okreće i odlazi do proreza u zidu, da kroz mjedenu cijev baca knjigu u plamen.
    "Silly words, silly words, silly awful hurting words," said Mrs. Bowles. "Why do people want to hurt people? Not enough hurt in the world, you've got to tease people with stuff like that!"     - Glupe riječi, glupe riječi, glupe, užasne, uvredljive riječi - kazala je gospoda Bowles. - Zašto ljudi žele vrijeđati druge ljude? Nije dovoljno boli u svijetu, nego valja ljude dražiti ovakvim stvarima!
    "Clara, now, Clara," begged Mildred, pulling her arm. "Come on, let's be cheery, you turn the 'family' on, now. Go ahead. Let's laugh and be happy, now, stop crying, we'll have a party!"     - Clara, hajde Clara - molila je Mildred povlačeći je za ruku. - Hajde, razvedrimo se, a ti sad uključi "obitelj". Hajde! Smijmo se i veselimo, daj, prestani plakati, zaboravit ćemo!
    "No," said Mrs. Bowles. "I'm trotting right straight home. You want to visit my house and 'family,' well and good. But I won't come in this fireman's crazy house again in my lifetime!"     - Ne - rekla je gospoda Bowles. - Smjesta hrlim kući. Ako želite posjetiti moj dom i "obitelj", dobro došli. Ali ja nikad više neću ući u ludu kuću ovoga vatrogasca!
    "Go home." Montag fixed his eyes upon her, quietly. "Go home and think of your first husband divorced and your second husband killed in a jet and your third husband blowing his brains out, go home and think of the dozen abortions you've had, go home and think of that and your damn Caesarian sections, too, and your children who hate your guts! Go home and think how it all happened and what did you ever do to stop it? Go home, go home!" he yelled. "Before I knock you down and kick you out of the door!"     - Idite kući - Montag se mirno upiljio u nju. - Idite kući i razmišljajte o svojem prvom mužu koji se razveo, o svome drugom mužu koji je poginuo u mlažnjaku, i o svojem trec'em mužu koji si je prostrijelio mozak. Idite kud i razmišljajte o onih desetak pobačaja što ste ih imali! Idite kući i razmišljajte o tome, kao i o svojim prokletim carskim rezovima, o svojoj djeci koja vas mrze iz dna duše. Idite kući i razmišljajte o tome kako je do svega toga došlo i što ste ikad napravili da to spriječite. Idite kući, idite kući - kriknuo je - prije nego što vas zviznem i nogom izbacim kroz vrata!
    Doors slammed and the house was empty. Montag stood alone in the winter weather, with the parlour walls the colour of dirty snow.     Vrata su tresnula i kuća se ispraznila. Montag je sam stajao na zimi, a zidovi salona bili su boje prljava snijega.
    In the bathroom, water ran. He heard Mildred shake the sleeping tablets into her hand.     U kupaonici je tekla voda. Čuo je kako Mildred istresa u ruku pilule za spavanje.
    "Fool, Montag, fool, fool, oh God you silly fool ..."     - Montag, budalo jedna, budalo, oh Bože, ti blesava budalo...
    "Shut up!" He pulled the green bullet from his ear and jammed it into his pocket. It sizzled faintly. "... fool ... fool ..."     - Zaveži! - Izvukao je iz uha zeleno tane i gurnuo ga u džep. Slabašno je pištalo. - ...budalo, budalo...
    He searched the house and found the books where Mildred had stacked them behind the refrigerator. Some were missing and he knew that she had started on her own slow process of dispersing the dynamite in her house, stick by stick. But he was not angry now, only exhausted and bewildered with himself. He carried the books into the backyard and hid them in the bushes near the alley fence. For tonight only, he thought, in case she decides to do any more burning.     Pretražio je kuću i pronašao knjige koje je Mildred naslagala iza hladnjaka. Neke su manjkale; znao je da je bila otpočela vlastiti postupak uklanjanja dinamita iz svoje kuće, šipku po šipku. No nije sada bio srdit već samo iscrpljen i zbunjen samim sobom. Odnio je knjige u stražnje dvorište i posakrivao ih po grmlju blizu ograde prema uličici. Samo za noćas, pomislio je, za slučaj da se Mildred odluči za daljnja paljenja.
    He went back through the house. "Mildred?" He called at the door of the darkened bedroom. There was no sound.     Ponovno je prošao kroz kuću. - Mildred? - Zazvao je na vratima mračne spavaće sobe. Nije bilo nikakva zvuka.
    Outside, crossing the lawn, on his way to work, he tried not to see how completely dark and deserted Clarisse McClellan's house was...     Vani, prelazeći travnjak, pri odlasku na posao, pokušao je ne vidjeti u kolikom je posvemašnjem mraku i koliko je pusta kuća Clarisse McClellan...
    On the way downtown he was so completely alone with his terrible error that he felt the necessity for the strange warmness and goodness that came from a familiar and gentle voice speaking in the night. Already, in a few short hours, it seemed that he had known Faber a lifetime. Now he knew that he was two people, that he was above all Montag, who knew nothing, who did not even know himself a fool, but only suspected it. And he knew that he was also the old man who talked to him and talked to him as the train was sucked from one end of the night city to the other on one long sickening gasp of motion. In the days to follow, and in the nights when there was no moon and in the nights when there was a very bright moon shining on the earth, the old man would go on with this talking and this talking, drop by drop, stone by stone, flake by flake.     Putem u središte grada ćutio se toliko silno osamljenim i obremenjenim užasnom pogreškom, da je osjetio potrebu za čudnom toplinom i dobrotom koje dolaze iz bliskog i dragog glasa što govori u noć. Tek nekoliko kratkih sati, a već mu se činilo da Fabera pozna čitav život. Sada je znao da se sam sastoji od dvojice ljudi, da je, prije svega, Montag koji ne zna ništa, koji uopće ne zna sebe kao budalu, nego to tek sluti. Znao je i da je onaj starac koji mu priča i priča dok vlak hita s kraja na kraj noćnoga grada u dugom, odvratnom dahtaju gibanja. U danima što će uslijediti i u noćima bez mjesečine, kao i u onima za kojih će vrlo svijetao mjesec obasjavati zemlju, starac će nastavljati svoje pričanje, kap po kap, kamenčić po kamenčić, pahuljicu po pahuljicu.
    His mind would well over at last and he would not be Montag any more, this the old man told him, assured him, promised him. He would be Montag-plus-Faber, fire plus water, and then, one day, after everything had mixed and simmered and worked away in silence, there would be neither fire nor water, but wine. Out of two separate and opposite things, a third. And one day he would look back upon the fool and know the fool. Even now he could feel the start of the long journey, the leave-taking, the going away from the self he had been.     Njegov će se um na kraju preliti, pa on više neće biti Montag, to mu je starac rekao, uvjerio ga, obećao mu. Bit će Montag plus Faber, vatra plus voda, da onda, jednoga dana, nakon što se sve smiješa i skuha i razradi u tišini, ne bude više ni vatre, ni vode, nego samo vino. Iz dviju zasebnih i suprotnih tvari treća. I tako će se jednoga dana osvrnuti na budalu i znati da je budala. Već je sada mogao osjetiti početak dugog puta, oproštaj, odlazak od onoga sebe kakav je nekoć bio.
    It was good listening to the beetle hum, the sleepy mosquito buzz and delicate filigree murmur of the old man's voice at first scolding him and then consoling him in the late hour of night as he emerged from the steaming subway toward the firehouse world.     Ugodno je bilo slušati bruj kukca, pospani zuj komarca i fin filigranski mrmor starčeva glasa, koji ga je prvo grdio, a onda tješio u ovaj kasni noćni sat kad je iz zagušljivog metroa pošao prema svijetu vatrogasnog doma.
    "Pity, Montag, pity. Don't haggle and nag them; you were so recently one of them yourself. They are so confident that they will run on for ever. But they won't run on. They don't know that this is all one huge big blazing meteor that makes a pretty fire in space, but that some day it'll have to hit. They see only the blaze, the pretty fire, as you saw it.     - Šteta, Montag, šteta. Nemojte se s njima svađati niti zanovijetati; pa donedavno ste i sami bili jedan od njih. Strahovito su sigurni da će vladati dovijeka. Ali neće. Ne znaju oni da je sve ovo jedan golemi, ogromni plamteći meteor koji stvara lijep oganj u svemiru, ali koji će jednoga dana morati tresnuti. Vide samo plamen, lijep oganj, kao što ste i vi vidjeli.
    "Montag, old men who stay at home, afraid, tending their peanut-brittle bones, have no right to criticize. Yet you almost killed things at the start. Watch it! I'm with you, remember that. I understand how it happened. I must admit that your blind raging invigorated me. God, how young I felt! But now―I want you to feel old, I want a little of my cowardice to be distilled in you tonight. The next few hours, when you see Captain Beatty, tiptoe round him, let me hear him for you, let me feel the situation out. Survival is our ticket. Forget the poor, silly women..."     - Montag, starci koji ostaju kod kuće, koji se boje i liječe svoje poput kikirikija krhke kosti nemaju pravo kritizirati. Ipak, umalo ste sve uništili na samom početku. Pazite! S vama sam, upamtite. Shvaćam kako se to zbilo. Moram priznati da me vaše mrakobjesje okrijepilo. Bože, koliko sam se osjetio mladim! No sada - želim da se osjetite starim, želim noćas u vas uliti nešto svoga kukavičluka. U sljedećih nekoliko sati, kad se nađete s kapetanom Beattyjem, oprezno ga obilazite, pustite mene da ga čujem za vas, pustite meni da onjušim kakva je situacija. Opstanak, to je naša karta. Zaboravite jadne, glupe žene...
    "I made them unhappier than they have been in years, I think," said Montag. "It shocked me to see Mrs. Phelps cry. Maybe they're right, maybe it's best not to face things, to run, have fun. I don't know. I feel guilty―"     - Mislim da sam ih učinio nesretnijima no što su bile godinama - rekao je Montag. - Zaprepastio sam se vidjevši gospodu Phelps kako plače. Možda imaju pravo: možda je bolje ne suočavati se s problemima, bježati, zabavljati se. Ne znam. Osjećam se krivim...
    "No, you mustn't! If there were no war, if there was peace in the world, I'd say fine, have fun! But, Montag, you mustn't go back to being just a fireman. All isn't well with the world."     - Ne smijete se tako osjećati. Da nema rata, da je mir u svijetu, rekao bih: fino, zabavljajte se! Ali, Montag, ne smijete se vratiti da ostanete puki vatrogasac. Sa svijetom nije sve u redu!
    Montag perspired.     Montag se oznojio.
    "Montag, you listening?"     - Montag, slušate li?
    "My feet," said Montag. "I can't move them. I feel so damn silly. My feet won't move!"     - Moje noge - rekao je Montag. - Ne mogu ih pomicati. Osjećam se strašno blesavo. Noge mi se ne miču.
    "Listen. Easy now," said the old man gently. "I know, I know. You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by. Man, when I was young I shoved my ignorance in people's faces. They beat me with sticks. By the time I was forty my blunt instrument had been honed to a fine cutting point for me. If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn. Now, pick up your feet, into the firehouse with you! We're twins, we're not alone any more, we're not separated out in different parlours, with no contact between. If you need help when Beatty pries at you, I'll be sitting right here in your eardrum making notes!"     - Poslušajte. Samo polako - rekao je blago stari gospodin. - Znam, znam. Bojite se pogrešaka. Ne bojte se. Iz pogrešaka se može izbiti korist. Čovječe, kad sam bio mlad, ljudima sam u lice gurao svoje neznanje. Tukli su me štapovima. U četrdesetoj moj se tupi instrument izbrusio u vrlo dobru oštricu. Sakrijete li svoje neznanje, nitko vas neće udariti, pa nikad ništa nećete naučiti. A sada, na noge i u vatrogasni dom! Blizanci smo, više nismo sami. Nismo razdvojeni u različitim salonima, bez ikakva međusobnog dodira. Zatreba li vam pomoć dok vas Beatty bude uhodio, sjedit ću baš ovdje na vašem bubnjiću i savjetovati vas!
    Montag felt his right foot, then his left foot, move.     Montag je opipao desnu nogu, pa lijevu, i krenuo.
    "Old man," he said, "stay with me."     - Starče - rekao je - ostanite sa mnom.

    The Mechanical Hound was gone. Its kennel was empty and the firehouse stood all about in plaster silence and the orange Salamander slept with its kerosene in its belly and the fire-throwers crossed upon its flanks and Montag came in through the silence and touched the brass pole and slid up in the dark air, looking back at the deserted kennel, his heart beating, pausing, beating. Faber was a grey moth asleep in his ear, for the moment.     Mehanički je Pas nestao. Kućica mu je bila prazna. Vatrogasni je dom bio potpuno tih. Narančasti daždevnjak spavao je s petrolejem u trbuhu i bacačima plamena o bokovima. Montag je ušao kroz tišinu i dotaknuo mjedenu motku te se uzdigao kroz mračan zrak, osvrćući se na pustu psećju kućicu, dok mu je srce udaralo pa zastajkivalo i ponovno udaralo. Faber je trenutačno bio siv noćni leptir usnuo u njegovu uhu.
    Beatty stood near the drop-hole waiting, but with his back turned as if he were not waiting.     Beatty je stajao blizu propadališta i čekao, ali je bio okrenut leđima tako kao da ne čeka.
    "Well," he said to the men playing cards, "here comes a very strange beast which in all tongues is called a fool."     - Evo - rekao je ljudima koji su se kartali - dolazi nam vrlo neobična zvijerka koju na svim jezicima zovu benom.
    He put his hand to one side, palm up, for a gift. Montag put the book in it. Without even glancing at the title, Beatty tossed the book into the trash-basket and lit a cigarette. "'Who are a little wise, the best fools be.' Welcome back, Montag. I hope you'll be staying, with us, now that your fever is done and your sickness over. Sit in for a hand of poker?"     Stavio je ruku na bok, dlanom prema gore, iščekujući poklon. Montag mu je predao knjigu. Ni ne pogledavši naslov, Beatty ju je bacio u koš te pripalio cigaretu. - "Koji su malo pametni, najveće su budale". Dobro došao natrag, Montag. Nadam se da ćeš ostati s nama sad kad te prošla groznica i minula bolest. Jesi li za partiju pokera?
    They sat and the cards were dealt. In Beatty's sight, Montag felt the guilt of his hands. His fingers were like ferrets that had done some evil and now never rested, always stirred and picked and hid in pockets, moving from under Beatty's alcohol-flame stare. If Beatty so much as breathed on them, Montag felt that his hands might wither, turn over on their sides, and never be shocked to life again; they would be buried the rest of his life in his coat-sleeves, forgotten. For these were the hands that had acted on their own, no part of him, here was where the conscience first manifested itself to snatch books, dart off with Job and Ruth and Willie Shakespeare, and now, in the firehouse, these hands seemed gloved with blood.     Sjeli su i karte su podijeljene. U Beattyjevoj blizini Montag je osjetio krivicu svojih ruku. Prsti su mu bili poput zvjerčica koje su počinile neko zlo pa sad nikad ne miruju, uvijek se gibaju, bježe i skrivaju se u džepove, izmičući se Beattyjevu alkoholno plamenom zurenju. Da je Beatty samo dahnuo na njih, Montagove bi ruke - Montag je to osjećao - uvenule, preokrenule se na stranu i nikad ih više ne bi mogao oživjeti; ostatak njegova života bile bi pokopane u rukavima ogrtača, zaboravljene. Jer to su bile one ruke koje su djelovale same za sebe, ne kao dio njega, kroz njih se prvi put očitovala savjest da zgrabi knjige, odjuri s Jobom i Rutom i Williejem Shakespeareom, te stoga sada, u vatrogasnoj postaji, ove ruke kao da su poprskane krvlju.
    Twice in half an hour, Montag had to rise from the game and go to the latrine to wash his hands. When he came back he hid his hands under the table.     Dvaput u pola sata Montag se morao dići od stola i otići na zahod da opere ruke. Kad se vratio, sakrio je ruke pod stol.
    Beatty laughed. "Let's have your hands in sight, Montag. Not that we don't trust you, understand, but―"     Beatty se nasmijao. - Daj da ti vidimo ruke, Montag. Nije da ti ne vjerujemo, shvaćaš, ali -
    They all laughed.     Svi su se nasmijali.
    "Well," said Beatty, "the crisis is past and all is well, the sheep returns to the fold. We're all sheep who have strayed at times. Truth is truth, to the end of reckoning, we've cried. They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts, we've shouted to ourselves. 'Sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge,' Sir Philip Sidney said. But on the other hand: 'Words are like leaves and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.' Alexander Pope. What do you think of that?"     - Dobro - rekao je Beatty - kriza je prošla i sve je dobro, ovca se vratila u tor. Svi smo mi ovce koje ponekad odlutaju. Što je istina, istina je, na kraju smo plakali. Nikad nisu osamljeni oni koje prate plemenite misli, vikali smo sami sebi. "Slatka hrana slatko objelodanjena znanja", rekao je Sir Philip Sidney. No ima i ova: "Riječi su poput listova, i ondje gdje ih je najviše, rijetko se pod njima nade mnogo plodova razuma." Alexander Pope. Što ti na to veliš?
    "I don't know."     - Ne znam.
    "Careful," whispered Faber, living in another world, far away.     - Oprezno - šapnuo je Faber iz jednog drugog, dalekog svijeta.
    "Or this? 'A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring; There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again.' Pope. Same Essay. Where does that put you?"     - Ili pak ovo:"Malo je znanje opasno. Pij iz duboka ili ne kušaj iz Pierijina vrela; Ondje gutljaj iz plićaka smuti um, a veliki nas gutljaji ponovno trijezne." Pope. Isti esej. Kamo te to vodi?
    Montag bit his lip.     Montag se ugrizao za usnicu.
    "I'll tell you," said Beatty, smiling at his cards. "That made you for a little while a drunkard. Read a few lines and off you go over the cliff. Bang, you're ready to blow up the world, chop off heads, knock down women and children, destroy authority. I know, I've been through it all."     - Ja ću ti reći - kazao je Beatty smiješeći se svojim kartama. - Od onoga si nakratko postao pijanac. Pročitaš nekoliko redaka, i ode ti lijepo niz liticu. Bum, spreman si razumjeti svijet, rubiti glave, rušiti žene i djecu, razarati vlast. Poznam ja to, sve sam to prošao.
    "I'm all right," said Montag, nervously.     - Sa mnom je sve u redu - rekao je Montag živčano.
    "Stop blushing. I'm not needling, really I'm not. Do you know, I had a dream an hour ago. I lay down for a cat-nap and in this dream you and I, Montag, got into a furious debate on books. You towered with rage, yelled quotes at me. I calmly parried every thrust. Power, I said, And you, quoting Dr. Johnson, said 'Knowledge is more than equivalent to force!' And I said, 'Well, Dr. Johnson also said, dear boy, that "He is no wise man that will quit a certainty for an uncertainty.'" Stick with the fireman, Montag. All else is dreary chaos!"     - Prestani se crvenjeti. Ne bockam te, zaista te ne bockam. Znaš što, prije jedan sat sanjao sam san. Prilegao sam da dremnem malo, kad u tom snu ti i ja, Montag, vodimo žestoku raspru o knjigama. Užasno bijesan obasipaš me citatima. Mirno odbijam svaki napad. Sila, velim. A ti, citirajući doktora Johnsona, kažeš:"Znanje je vrednije od snage!" Ja ću na to: "Pa, doktor Johnson je, dragi dečko, rekao i to da nije mudar onaj koji ostavlja sigurnost radi nesigurnosti." Držite se vatrogasaca, Montag. Sve je ostalo turoban metež!
    "Don't listen," whispered Faber. "He's trying to confuse. He's slippery. Watch out!"     - Ne slušajte! - šapnuo je Faber. - Pokušava vas zbuniti. Dvoličan je. Pazite!
    Beatty chuckled. "And you said, quoting, 'Truth will come to light, murder will not be hid long!' And I cried in good humour, 'Oh God, he speaks only of his horse!' And 'The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.' And you yelled, 'This age thinks better of a gilded fool, than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school!' And I whispered gently, 'The dignity of truth is lost with much protesting.' And you screamed, 'Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer!' And I said, patting your hand, 'What, do I give you trench mouth?' And you shrieked, 'Knowledge is power!' and 'A dwarf on a giant's shoulders of the furthest of the two!' and I summed my side up with rare serenity in, 'The folly of mistaking a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself as an oracle, is inborn in us, Mr. Valery once said.'"     Beatty se smijuljio. - A ti mi odgovaraš citatom:"Istina će izbiti na vidjelo, umorstvo neće dugo ostati skriveno." A ja na to viknem dobro raspoložen: "Oh, Bože, pa on govori samo o svom konju!" i Đavao može citirati Pismo za svoje potrebe." Na to ti vrisneš:"Ovo doba misli bolje o zlatnoj budali nego o otrcanu svecu u školi mudrosti." Ja blago š​a​p​n​e​m​:​"​D​o​s​t​o​j​a​n​s​t​v​o​ istine gubi se silnim prosvjedima." Ti pak vrisneš:"Leševi krvare u ubojičinoj blizini!" Tapšući te po ruci, reknem:"Što, da ne kršim tvoja prava?" Vrisneš:"Znanje je moć!" pa "Patuljak na gorostasovim ramenima vidi najdalje." Ja pak svoj stav rezimiram iznimno vedro:"Ludost da metaforu shvaćamo kao dokaz, bujice riječi kao vrelo temeljnih istina,a sama sebe kao nepogrešiv autoritet urođena nam je, kako jednom reče gospodin ValEry."
    Montag's head whirled sickeningly. He felt beaten unmercifully on brow, eyes, nose, lips, chin, on shoulders, on upflailing arms. He wanted to yell, "No! shut up, you're confusing things, stop it!" Beatty's graceful fingers thrust out to seize his wrist. "God, what a pulse! I've got you going, have I, Montag. Jesus God, your pulse sounds like the day after the war. Everything but sirens and bells! Shall I talk some more? I like your look of panic. Swahili, Indian, English Lit., I speak them all. A kind of excellent dumb discourse, Willie!"     U Montagovoj se glavi gadno kovitlalo. Osjećao se kao da ga netko nemilosrdno mlati po čelu, očima, nosu, usnicama, bradi, po ramenima, po uzdignutim rukama. Bilo mu je da krikne:- Ne! Prestani! Sve si ispremiješao. Prestani! - Beattyjevi lijepi prsti ispružili su se da mu obuhvate ručni zglob. - Bože, kojeg li pulsa! Pogoršao sam ti stanje, Montag, zar ne? Isuse Bože, bilo ti tuče kao dan nakon rata. Samo što se ne čuju sirene i zvona! Da još pričam? Sviđa mi se tvoja uspaničenost. Svahili, indijski, engleski, sve ja to govorim. Jedan oblik izvrsne, lude propovijedi, Willie!
    "Montag, hold on!" The moth brushed Montag's ear. "He's muddying the waters!"     - Montag, držite se! - Usta su dodirnula Montagovo uho. - On muti vodu.
    "Oh, you were scared silly," said Beatty, "for I was doing a terrible thing in using the very books you clung to, to rebut you on every hand, on every point! What traitors books can be! You think they're backing you up, and they turn on you. Others can use them, too, and there you are, lost in the middle of the moor, in a great welter of nouns and verbs and adjectives. And at the very end of my dream, along I came with the Salamander and said, Going my way? And you got in and we drove back to the firehouse in beatific silence, all -dwindled away to peace." Beatty let Montag's wrist go, let the hand slump limply on the table. "All's well that is well in the end."     - Oh, glupo si se uplašio - rekao je Beatty - jer sam radio nešto grozno: služio sam se istim knjigama kojih si se ti držao da te odbijem u svakom napadu, svakoj točki. Kakve izdajice mogu biti knjige! Pomisliš da te podržavaju, a one se okrenu protiv tebe. I drugi se njima mogu koristiti, i eto ti na, izgubljen si u divljini, usred velikog kaosa imenica, glagola, pridjeva. I pri samom kraju moga sna, nailazim ja s daždevnjakom i pitam:"Ideš li mojim putem?" Ti udeš pa se vozimo natrag u vatrogasni dom u blaženoj tišini, a sve skupa nestaje u miru. -Beatty je ispustio Montagov zglob, pustio da ruka mlohavo padne na stol. - Sve je dobro što se dobro svrši.
    Silence. Montag sat like a carved white stone. The echo of the final hammer on his skull died slowly away into the black cavern where Faber waited for the echoes to subside. And then when the startled dust had settled down about Montag's mind, Faber began, softly, "All right, he's had his say. You must take it in. I'll say my say, too, in the next few hours. And you'll take it in. And you'll try to judge them and make your decision as to which way to jump, or fall. But I want it to be your decision, not mine, and not the Captain's. But remember that the Captain belongs to the most dangerous enemy of truth and freedom, the solid unmoving cattle of the majority. Oh, God, the terrible tyranny of the majority. We all have our harps to play. And it's up to you now to know with which ear you'll listen."     Muk. Montag je sjedio kao isklesan iz bijela kamena. Jeka zadnjeg čekića u lubanju polako je zamrla u crnoj špilji gdje je Faber čekao da se odjeci stišaju. A onda, kad se neželjena prašina slegla oko Montagova mozga, Faber je započeo nježno: - U redu, rekao je svoje. Morate uzeti na znanje. U sljedećih nekoliko sati i ja ću vam reći svoje. Vi ćete i to prihvatiti. Pa ćete onda pokušati prosuditi i donijeti odluku na koju ćete stranu skočiti ili pasti. A ja želim da to bude vaša odluka, ne moja niti kapetanova. Ali, upamtite da kapetan pripada najopasnijem neprijatelju istine i slobode, čvrstom, nepokretnom stadu većine. Oh, Bože, grozne li tiranije većine! Svi imamo harfe na kojima sviramo. A do vas je sada da spoznate kojim ćete uhom slušati.
    Montag opened his mouth to answer Faber and was saved this error in the presence of others when the station bell rang. The alarm-voice in the ceiling chanted. There was a tacking-tacking sound as the alarm-report telephone typed out the address across the room. Captain Beatty, his poker cards in one pink hand, walked with exaggerated slowness to the phone and ripped out the address when the report was finished. He glanced perfunctorily at it, and shoved it in his pocket. He came back and sat down. The others looked at him.     Montag je otvorio usta da odgovori Faberu, no od ove ga je pogreške - u prisutnosti ostalih - spasila zvonjava vatrogasnog zvona. Zabrujao je stropni glas za uzbunjivanje. Čulo se kuckanje dojavnog telefona koji je na drugoj strani prostorije ispisivao adresu. Kapetan Beatty je, s kartama u ruci, s prenaglašenom sporošću otišao do telefona i, kad je izvješće završilo, otrgnuo listić s adresom. Nemarno ga je pogledao i strpao u džep. Vratio se i sjeo. Ostali su ga gledali.
    "It can wait exactly forty seconds while I take all the money away from you," said Beatty, happily.     - Ovo može pričekati točno četrdeset sekundi dok vam ne pokupim sav novac - rekao je Beatty veselo.
    Montag put his cards down.     Montag je spustio karte.
    "Tired, Montag? Going out of this game?" "Yes."     - Jesi li umoran, Montag? Izlaziš iz ove igre? -Da.
    "Hold on. Well, come to think of it, we can finish this hand later. Just leave your cards face down and hustle the equipment. On the double now." And Beatty rose up again. "Montag, you don't look well? I'd hate to think you were coming down with another fever ..."     - Drži se. Pa, ako bolje promislim, možemo ovu rundu završiti i kasnije. Ostavite samo svoje karte licem prema stolu i pokupite opremu. Trkom sada! - Beatty se opet podigao. -Montag, ne izgledaš mi baš dobro. Mrsko bi mi bilo i pomisliti da te opet spopada groznica.
    "I'll be all right."     - Bit će sve u redu.
    "You'll be fine. This is a special case. Come on, jump for it!" They leaped into the air and clutched the brass pole as if it were the last vantage point above a tidal wave passing below, and then the brass pole, to their dismay slid them down into darkness, into the blast and cough and suction of the gaseous dragon roaring to life!     - Bit će ti dobro. Ovo je specijalan slučaj. Hajde, skači! Dipnuli su u zrak i ščepali mjedenu motku kao da je zadnja povišena točka povrh plimnog vala koji prolazi ispod njih, a onda ih je ta mjedena motka, na njihovu žalost, spustila u tamu, u tutnjavu, kašalj i usisavanje plinskog zmaja koji je s rikom oživljavao.
    "Hey!"     - Hej!

    They rounded a corner in thunder and siren, with concussion of tyres, with scream of rubber, with a shift of kerosene bulk in the glittery brass tank, like the food in the stomach of a giant; with Montag's fingers jolting off the silver rail, swinging into cold space, with the wind tearing his hair back from his head, with the wind whistling in his teeth, and him all the while thinking of the women, the chaff women in his parlour tonight, with the kernels blown out from under them by a neon wind, and his silly damned reading of a book to them. How like trying to put out fires with water-pistols, how senseless and insane. One rage turned in for another. One anger displacing another. When would he stop being entirely mad and be quiet, be very quiet indeed?     Zaokrenuli su za ugao uz tutanj sirene, uz škripu kotača, s vriskom gume i uz bibanje petroleja u blještavu mjedenom spremniku, poput hrane u želucu kakva diva. Montagovi su se prsti tresli na srebrnoj prečki, njihali se hladnim prostorom, dok mu je vjetar nosio kosu s glave, dok mu je vjetar zviždao kroz zube, a on sve vrijeme mislio o ženama, onim ženama noćas u njegovu salonu kojima su neonski vjetar i njegovo glupo čitanje knjige izmaknuli tlo pod nogama. Kao da pokušavaš ugasiti vatru pištoljima na vodu, kojeg li bezumlja i ludosti! Jedna je srdžba ustuknula pred drugom, jedan gnjev smijenio drugi. Kad li će već prestati ta njegova silna ljutnja, kad li će se smiriti, zaista smiriti?
    "Here we go!"     - A sad ovamo!
    Montag looked up. Beatty never drove, but he was driving tonight, slamming the Salamander around corners, leaning forward high on the driver's throne, his massive black slicker flapping out behind so that he seemed a great black bat flying above the engine, over the brass numbers, taking the full wind.     Montag je pogledao. Beatty nikad nije vozio, no večeras jest, zaokrećući oštro iza uglova, visoko na vozačkom sjedalu. Njegov veliki crni nepromočivi ogrtač lepršao je za njim tako da se činilo kao da veliki crni šišmiš leti iznad stroja, iznad mjedenih brojki, niz jak vjetar. - Pa ovamo, da sačuvamo sreću svijeta, Montag!
    "Here we go to keep the world happy, Montag!" Beatty's pink, phosphorescent cheeks glimmered in the high darkness, and he was smiling furiously.     Beattyjevi ružičasti, fosforescentni obrazi svjetlucali su u mrklom mraku. Bijesno se smiješio.
    "Here we are!"     - Evo nas!
    The Salamander boomed to a halt, throwing men off in slips and clumsy hops. Montag stood fixing his raw eyes to the cold bright rail under his clenched fingers.     Daždevnjak se bučno zaustavio, izbacujući ljude iz ravnoteže. Montag je stao te bolne oči upro u hladnu, blještavu prečku za koju se čvrsto držao.
    I can't do it, he thought. How can I go at this new assignment, how can I go on burning things? I can't go in this place.     Ne mogu to učiniti, pomislio je. Kako se primiti ove nove zadaće, kako nastaviti paliti stvari? Ne mogu ući u ovu zgradu.
    Beatty, smelling of the wind through which he had rushed, was at Montag's elbow. "All right, Montag?"     Beatty, koji je mirisao po vjetru kroz koji je jurio, našao se pokraj Montagova lakta. - Sve u redu, Montag?
    The men ran like cripples in their clumsy boots, as quietly as spiders.     Ljudi su u svojim nezgrapnim čizmama trčali poput bogalja, spokojno poput paukova.
    At last Montag raised his eyes and turned. Beatty was watching his face.     Konačno je Montag podigao pogled i okrenuo se. Beatty mu je promatrao lice.
    "Something the matter, Montag?"     - Nešto nije u redu, Montag?
    "Why," said Montag slowly, "we've stopped in front of my house."     - Pa - rekao je Montag polako - zaustavili smo se pred mojom kućom.


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