I Do Not Believe
Tractors
A Little Human Splinter
Do you believe that you will die？ Oh， yes， "Man is mortal； I am a man； consequently..." No， not that； I know that； you know it. But I ask： Has it ever happened that you actually believed it？ Believed definitely， believed not with your reason but with your body， that you actually felt that someday those fingers which now hold this page will become yellow， icy？...
No， of course you cannot believe this. That is why you haven"t jumped from the tenth floor to the pavement before now； that is why you eat， turn over these pages， shave， smile， write.
This very thing， yes， exactly this is alive in me today. I know that that small black hand on the clock will slide down here toward midnight， then it will again start to ascend， and it will cross some last border and the improbable tomorrow will have arrived. I know it， but somehow I do not believe it—or perhaps I think that twenty-four hours are twenty-four years. So I am still able to act， to hurry， to answer questions， to climb the rope ladder to the Integral. I am still able to feel how the Integral shakes the surface of the water and I still understand that I must grasp the railing， and I am still able to feel the cold glass in my hand. I see the transparent， living cranes， bending their long necks， carefully feeding the Integral with the terrible explosive food which the motors need I still see below on the river the blue veins and knots of water swollen by the wind....Yet all this seems very distant from me， foreign， flat， like a draft on a sheet of paper. And it seems to me strange， when the fiat draft-like face of the Second Builder suddenly asks：
"Well， then. How much fuel for the motors shall we load on？ If we count on three， or say three and a half hours ..."
I see before me， over a draft， my hand with the counter and the logarithmic dial at the figure 15.
"Fifteen tons. But you"d better take...yes， better take a thousand."
I said that because I know that tomorrow ...I noticed that my hands and the dial began to tremble.
"A thousand！ What do you need such a lot for？ That would last a week！ No， more than a week！"
"Well， nobody knows ..."
I do know....
The wind whistled， the air seemed to be stuffed to the limit with something invisible. I had difficulty in breathing， difficulty in walking， and with difficulty， slowly but without stopping for a second， the hand of the Accumulating Tower was crawling， at the end of the avenue. The peak of the Tower reached into the very clouds—dull， blue， groaning in a subdued way， sucking electricity from the clouds. The tubes of the Musical Tower resounded.
As always—four abreast. But the rows did not seem as firm as usual； they were swinging， bending more and more， perhaps because of the wind. There！ They seemed to stumble upon something at the corner； they drew back and stopped， congealed， a close mass， a clot， breathing rapidly； at once all of them stretched their necks like geese.
"Look！ No， look， look—there， quick！"
"They？ Are those they？"
"Ah， never！ Never！ I"d rather put my head straight into the Machine...."
"Silence！ Are you crazy？"
On the corner， the doors of the auditorium were ajar， and a wide column of about fifty people—the word "people" is not the fight one. These were heavy-wheeled automatons seemingly bound in iron and moved by an invisible mechanism. Not people， but a sort of human-like tractor. Over their heads， floating in the air—a white banner with a golden sun embroidered on it， and the rays of the sun： "We are the first！ We have already been operated upon！ Follow us， all of you！"
Slowly， unhesitatingly they moved through the crowd， and it was clear that if they had had in their way a wall， a tree， a house， they would have moved on just as unhesitatingly through the wall， the tree， the house. In the middle of the avenue they fused and stretched out into a chain， arm in arm， their faces turned toward us. And we， a human clot， tense， the hair pricking our heads， we waited. Our necks were stretched out goose fashion. Clouds. The wind whistled. Suddenly the wings of the chain from fight and left bent quickly around us， and faster， faster， like a heavy engine descending a hill， they closed the ring and pulled us toward the yawning doors and inside....
Somebody"s piercing cry： "They are driving us in！ Run！"
Everybody ran.Close to the wall there was still an open， living gate of human beings. Everybody dashed through it， heads forward. Their heads became sharp wedges， and with their ribs， shoulders， hips...Like a stream of water compressed in a fire hose they spurted out in the form of a fan， and all around me stamping feet， raised arms， unifs....The double curved S- with his transparent wing ears appeared for a moment close before my eyes； he disappeared as suddenly； I was alone among arms and legs appearing for a second and disappearing. I was running....
I dashed to the entrance of a house to stop to catch my breath， my back close to the door—and suddenly， like a splinter borne by the wind， a human being was thrown toward me.
"All the while I ...I have been following you. I do not want... do you see？ I do not want...I am ready to...