Chapter 10 chapter Ten
Traveling is like a dream, and more and more like a dream.Hilary felt as if she had traveled her whole life with these five strangely cobbled together traveling companions.They leave the well-paved road and walk into the void of space.In a sense, their journey cannot be called flight.She imagined that they were all free beings, that is to say, free to go where they wanted.As far as she knew, they hadn't committed a crime, and the police didn't want them.However, now they spend a lot of effort to conceal their footprints.Sometimes she just couldn't figure out what the hell was going on, because they weren't fugitives, as if they were turning themselves into something else.
In her case, that was indeed the case.Hilary Craven, who left England, is now Olive Betterton.Perhaps her strange sense of unreality had something to do with it.Every day, she can blurt out those jingle-like political slogans more and more effortlessly.She felt herself becoming earnest and earnest, and she thought she had been influenced by her traveling companions.
She knew she was a little afraid of them now.She had never been particularly close to a gifted person before.Genius is here now, and there is something about genius beyond the ordinary that puts such a strain on the minds and feelings of the average man.All five were different, but each had that strange fiery zeal, and that enterprise which made a formidable impression.She doesn't understand, maybe it's the quality of wisdom, maybe it's the quality of worldview.However, she believes that each of them is a passionate idealist.For Dr. Barron, life is the desire to enter the laboratory again, and the inexhaustible money and materials are available for him to do experimental work.What is work for?She suspected he had ever asked herself that question.He had once talked to her about the power he could unleash to destroy a vast continent in a tiny vial.She told him:
"But would you do it, would you really do it?"
He looked at her with some surprise, and replied, "Yes, yes. Of course I will, if the need arises."
He said these words as if to be perfunctory.Then he said: "It would be amazing to see the exact process, the exact progress." He swallowed deeply, and said, "You know, There are too many things to discover, and too many things to discover."
Hillary seemed to understand immediately.In this instant.She stood in his place, engrossed in that all-consuming thirst for knowledge, and it didn't matter that this knowledge wiped out the lives of billions of people.Anyway, this is an opinion, and in a sense, not necessarily shameful.Her dislike for Needham was even greater.The young woman was simply defiant, which infuriated her even more.She liked Peters, but Peters's suddenly fanatical eyes often disgusted and frightened her.Once she said to him:
"You're not trying to create a new world. Your pleasure is in destroying the old world."
"You're wrong, Olive. What are you talking about?"
"No, I'm not wrong. You hate everything in your bones, I feel it all over your body. Hate, want to destroy everything."
She found Eriksson the most puzzling of all.Eriksson, she felt, was a dreamer, not so practical as the Frenchman; far from the passion to destroy everything that the American had, he was characterized by the Nordic Fanatical idealism.
"We must conquer," he said. "We must conquer the world. Then we can rule."
"Us?" she asked.
He nodded, his face was different from usual, but also very gentle, his eyes showed an artificial expression.
"Yeah," he said, "we're the few that work. We have brains, and that's what counts."
Hilary thought to herself, where are we going?What is waiting for us?These people are crazy, but each one is crazy differently.They seem to have their own goals, each with their own fantasies.Yes, fantasy is an appropriate word.He put aside these people and thought about Mrs. Baker again.With Mrs. Baker, there is no fanaticism, no hatred, no dream, no arrogance, and no longing.Hillary could hardly find anything worthy of her attention in Mrs. Baker.Hilary sees Mrs. Baker as a woman with neither emotion nor conscience, a powerful tool in the hands of a great force whose truth is unknown.
The third day passed.They came to a small town and got off in front of a small indigenous hotel.Hilary found that they had to change into European clothes again here.That night she slept in a small, furnished, whitewashed room that resembled a prison cell.At dawn, Mrs. Baker woke her up.
"We're leaving soon," Mrs. Baker said. "The plane is waiting for us."
"airplane?"
"Yes, my dear. Thank God we're back to modern travel."
After driving for about an hour, they came to what looked like an abandoned military airfield.The driver is French.They flew for hours, over thousands of mountains and rivers.Looking down from the plane, Hilary thought, the world looks exactly the same everywhere from the sky.Mountains, canyons, roads, houses.Unless you're a discerning flying expert, everything looks alike.All you can tell is that some places are more populated and some places are less populated.So flying over clouds, half the time you can't see anything.
Just after noon, they began to circle and lower their altitude.They are still mountainous, but descend to a flat plain.It was a clearly marked airport with a white building next to it.They landed safely.
Mrs. Baker led them to the mansion.Beside the building are two limousines with drivers standing by.Apparently it was some kind of private airport, as there was no formal welcome.
"The journey is over," said Mrs. Baker cheerfully. "Let's all go over and get dressed. Then we'll drive away."
"The end of the trip?" Hilary stared at her intently. "But we haven't...we haven't crossed the sea at all."
"Have you thought about crossing the sea?" Mrs. Baker seemed delighted.But Hillary was very puzzled and said:
"Well, yes. Yes. I thought about it. I thought..." She broke off.
Mrs Baker nodded.
"Hey, lots and lots of people think that too. People talk a lot of bullshit about the Iron Curtain. But, as far as I'm concerned, the Iron Curtain could be anywhere, and people don't even think about it."
Two Arab servants greet them.After washing up, they sat down to coffee and sandwiches and biscuits.
Then Mrs. Baker looked at her watch.
"Well, good-bye, fellows!" she said, "and this is where I part from you."
"Are you going back to Morocco?" Hilary asked in surprise.
"That won't work," said Mrs. Baker. "People think I burned to death in the plane crash! I'm going on a different journey this time."
"Someone will recognize you, though," Hilary said. "I mean people who have seen you in a hotel in Casablanca or Fez."
"Oh," said Mrs. Baker, "then they've got the wrong person. I've changed my passport now, and it's true that one of my sisters—a Mrs. Calvin Baker—was killed in a plane crash. And I and My sister looks alike." She added: "To someone who happens to meet in a hotel, this American woman who travels and that American woman look alike."
Well, Hilary thought, that was the case.The external, unimportant features of Mrs. Baker were still striking.Clean, neat, well-combed blue hair, very monotonous and chattering voice.But those internal features were so subtly disguised that she found that she couldn't see them at all.What Mrs. Baker presented to the world and to her traveling companions was only a façade, but behind it was an inscrutable mystery, as if she deliberately concealed those unique and easily recognizable personalities.
Hilary was a little impulsive and had to speak.She and Mrs. Baker were not standing with the others.
"Nobody knows," Hilary said. "What the hell do you do?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Yes, why should I? It occurred to me, however, that I ought to know. It seemed so strange to me that I knew nothing about you after we had traveled together in such intimacy for several days. I mean, I don't know anything about you, what you feel and what you think, what you like and what you don't like, what matters to you and what doesn't matter to you, I don't know at all."
"My dear, you are very curious," said Mrs. Baker. "If you take my advice, please don't 'break the casserole'."
"I don't even know where in America you come from."
"That's all right. I have severed all relations with my own country, and I have reason never to go back. If I could take revenge, I would be too happy."
Within a second or two of saying this, a kind of malice was evident in her expression and tone of voice.Afterwards, her tone soon eased into that of a cheerful traveler.
"Well, good-bye, Mrs. Betterton, and may you and your husband be reunited and all the best."
Hillary said helplessly:
"I don't even know where in the world I am now."
"Oh, that's easy. There's no need to keep it secret from you now. You're in a faraway place. Almost there..."
Mrs. Baker started and began to say good-bye to the others.She stepped across the tarmac, waving happily to everyone.The plane was refueled and the pilot was waiting for her.A chill hit Hilary all over.She felt that this was her last connection with the outside world.Peters, standing near her, recognized her reaction.
"I think," he said softly, "that we're going somewhere we never return."
Dr. Barron also said softly:
"Ma'am, do you still have the courage? Or do you want to catch up with your American friend immediately, climb into her plane, and go back to the world you left with her?"
"If I want to do this, can I go?" Hilary asked.
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
"It's hard for anyone to tell."
"Let me call her, okay?" Andy Peters asked.
"No, of course, don't call her!" Hilary hurriedly stopped him.
Needham said contemptuously, "This is not a place for timid women."
"She's not a coward," Dr. Baron murmured. "Like any other bright woman, she just keeps asking herself questions." German woman.However, she was not moved by his tone of voice.She looked down on the French and was confident of her own worth.Eriksson said aloud nervously:
"When a man is at last about to reach the free world, does he want to turn back?"
Hillary said: "However, if going back is not possible, or if there is no choice to go back, then it is not freedom!"
A servant came up to them and said:
"Please, let's drive."
They went through the door opposite the building, where there were two Cadillacs with drivers in uniform.Hillary mentioned that she liked to sit in the front row with the driver, saying that the shaking of the big car easily made her motion sick.This reason is easily accepted.While driving, Hilary talked casually with the driver from time to time.What's the weather like, the car is nice, etc.She speaks French fluently and the driver was willing to answer.His manner is natural and serious.
"How long will it take us on the road?" she asked after a while.
"Going to the hospital from the airport? Ma'am, it takes about two hours by car."
This answer surprised Hilary a little, and a little sullenly.She had noticed Needham changing in the lounge, though she hadn't given it much thought at the time.Needham is now wearing a hospital nurse uniform.This is consistent with the driver's answer.
"Tell me something about the hospital," she said to the driver.
He answered her enthusiastically.
"Ah, ma'am, it's very beautiful. The equipment is the latest in the world. Many doctors came to visit and praised it before they left. It's great to do such a good thing for mankind in that place."
"Indeed," Hillary said, "indeed, indeed, greatness."
"Those poor people," said the driver, "used to be sent to a desolate island to die a miserable death. But now, Dr. Coligny's new treatment cured most of them. Even those who were dying, saved alive."
"The hospital seemed to be built in a desolate place," Hillary said.
"Oh, ma'am, under the circumstances it has to be desolate. What can the authorities insist on building the hospital in a desolate place? But here the air is fresh, very fresh. Look, ma'am, you can see We're where we're going." He pointed.
Their car approached the outermost col of the range.On a flat piece of land against the hillside, there is a long white building, shining brightly.
"What a marvel to build such a building in this place!" said the driver. "The money must be unimaginable. Ma'am, thanks to the rich philanthropists in this world. They are not like the government, which always saves money in doing things." The better. The money spent here runs like water. It is said that our benefactor was one of the richest men in the world. Indeed, he created here a marvelous achievement in order to alleviate human suffering. "
He drove the car on the winding road, and finally stopped in front of a large iron sill.
"You must get off here, madam," said the driver. "I am not allowed to drive through this iron gate. The garage is a kilometer from here."
The travelers got off the bus.There is a big bell on the door.However, before they had time to pull, the door slowly opened.A man in a white coat, dark and smiling, bowed to them and invited them in.They went through the gate; on one side, separated by a taller wire fence, there was a large courtyard, and people were seen walking to and fro.As the men turned to stare at the newcomers, Hilary called out in a voice of terror:
"Why, they are lepers!" she cried, "lepers!"
She was trembling all over.
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