Childhood's End Read Online Free PDF
Author: Arthur C. Clarke
groups. The Western press, on the whole, approved of Kar~llen's plan to 'make all men citizens of the world. The Eastern countries, on the other hand, were undergoing violent but largely synthetic spasms of national pride. Some of them had been independent for little more than a generation, and felt that they bad been cheated out of their gains. Criticism of the Overlords was widespread and energetic: after an initial period of extreme caution, the Press had quickly found that it could be as rude to Karellen as it liked and nothing would happen.
Now it was excelling itself.
24
Most of these attacks, though very vocal, were not representative of the great mass of the people. Along the frontiers that would soon be gone forever the guards had been doubled
-but the soldiers eyed each other with a still inarticulate friendliness. The politicians and the generals might storm and rave, but the silently waiting millions felt that, none too soon, a long and bloody chapter of history was coming to an end.
And now Stormgren had gone, no-one knew where. The tumult suddenly subsided as the world realized that it had lost the only man through whom the Overlords, for their own strange reasons, would speak to Earth. A paralysis seemed to descend upon the press and radio commentators: but in the silence could be heard the voice of the Freedom League, anxiously protesting its innocence.
It was utterly dark when Stormgren awoke. For a moment he was too sleepy to realize how strange that was. Then, as full consciousness dawned, he sat up with a start and felt for the switch beside his bed.
In the darkness his hand encountered a bare stone wall, cold to the touch. He froze instantly, mind and body paralysed by the impact of the unexpected. Then, scarcely believing his senses, he kneeled on the bed and began to explore with his finger-tips that shockingly unfamiliar wall.
He had been doing this only for a moment when there was a sudden click and a section of the darkness slid aside. He caught a glimpse of a man silhouetted against a dimly lit background: then the door closed again and the darkness returned. It happened so swiftly that he had no chance to see anything of the room in which he was lying.
An instant later, he was dazzled by the light of a powerful electric torch. The beam ffickered across his face, held him steadily for a moment, then dipped to illuminate the whole bed
-which was, he now saw, nothing more than a mattress supported on rough planks.
Out of the darkness a soft voice spoke to him in excellent English, but with an accent which Stormgren could not at first identif~~.
"Au, Mr. Secretary-I'm glad to see you're awake. I hope you feel quite all right."
There was something about the last sentence that caught
25
Stormgren's attention, so that the angry questions he had been about to ask died upon his lips. He stared back into the darkness, then replied calmly: "How long have I been UflCOfl scious?"
The other chuckled.
"Several days. We were promised there'd be no after-effects. I'm glad to see it's true."
Partly to gain time, partly to test his own reactions, Stormgren swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was sqil wearing his night-clothes, but they were badly crumpled and seemed to have gathered considerable dirt. As he moved he felt a slight dizziness-not enough to be unpleasant but sufficient to convince him that he had indeed been drugged.
He turned towards the light.
"Where am I?" he said sharply. "Does Wainwright know about this?"
"Now, don't get excited," replied the shadowy figure. "We won't talk about that sort of thing yet. I guess you're pretty hungry. Get dressed and come along to dinner."
The oval of light slipped across the room and for the first time Stormgren had an idea of its dimensions. It was scarcely a room at all, for the walls seemed bare rock, roughly smoothed into shape. He realized that he was underground, possibly at a great depth. And if he had been unconscious for
Now it was excelling itself.
24
Most of these attacks, though very vocal, were not representative of the great mass of the people. Along the frontiers that would soon be gone forever the guards had been doubled
-but the soldiers eyed each other with a still inarticulate friendliness. The politicians and the generals might storm and rave, but the silently waiting millions felt that, none too soon, a long and bloody chapter of history was coming to an end.
And now Stormgren had gone, no-one knew where. The tumult suddenly subsided as the world realized that it had lost the only man through whom the Overlords, for their own strange reasons, would speak to Earth. A paralysis seemed to descend upon the press and radio commentators: but in the silence could be heard the voice of the Freedom League, anxiously protesting its innocence.
It was utterly dark when Stormgren awoke. For a moment he was too sleepy to realize how strange that was. Then, as full consciousness dawned, he sat up with a start and felt for the switch beside his bed.
In the darkness his hand encountered a bare stone wall, cold to the touch. He froze instantly, mind and body paralysed by the impact of the unexpected. Then, scarcely believing his senses, he kneeled on the bed and began to explore with his finger-tips that shockingly unfamiliar wall.
He had been doing this only for a moment when there was a sudden click and a section of the darkness slid aside. He caught a glimpse of a man silhouetted against a dimly lit background: then the door closed again and the darkness returned. It happened so swiftly that he had no chance to see anything of the room in which he was lying.
An instant later, he was dazzled by the light of a powerful electric torch. The beam ffickered across his face, held him steadily for a moment, then dipped to illuminate the whole bed
-which was, he now saw, nothing more than a mattress supported on rough planks.
Out of the darkness a soft voice spoke to him in excellent English, but with an accent which Stormgren could not at first identif~~.
"Au, Mr. Secretary-I'm glad to see you're awake. I hope you feel quite all right."
There was something about the last sentence that caught
25
Stormgren's attention, so that the angry questions he had been about to ask died upon his lips. He stared back into the darkness, then replied calmly: "How long have I been UflCOfl scious?"
The other chuckled.
"Several days. We were promised there'd be no after-effects. I'm glad to see it's true."
Partly to gain time, partly to test his own reactions, Stormgren swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was sqil wearing his night-clothes, but they were badly crumpled and seemed to have gathered considerable dirt. As he moved he felt a slight dizziness-not enough to be unpleasant but sufficient to convince him that he had indeed been drugged.
He turned towards the light.
"Where am I?" he said sharply. "Does Wainwright know about this?"
"Now, don't get excited," replied the shadowy figure. "We won't talk about that sort of thing yet. I guess you're pretty hungry. Get dressed and come along to dinner."
The oval of light slipped across the room and for the first time Stormgren had an idea of its dimensions. It was scarcely a room at all, for the walls seemed bare rock, roughly smoothed into shape. He realized that he was underground, possibly at a great depth. And if he had been unconscious for
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