The Wild Man with a Barometer
Epilepsy
If
Until today everything in life seemed to me clear （that is why， I think， I always had a sort of partiality toward the word "clear"）， but today...I don"t understand. First， I really was assigned to auditorium 112， as she said， although the probability was 500 to 10，000，000 or 1：20，000. （Five hundred is the number of auditoriums and there are 10，000，000 Numbers.） And second...But let me relate things in proper order.
The auditorium： an enormous half-globe of glass with the sun piercing through. The circular rows of noble， globelike， closely shaven heads. With joy in my heart I looked around. I believe I was looking in the hope of seeing the rose-colored scythe， the dear lips of O- somewhere among the blue waves of the unifs. Then I saw extraordinarily white， sharp teeth like the...But no！ Tonight at twenty—one o"clock O— was to come to me； therefore my desire to see her was quite natural. The bell. We stood up， sang the Hymn of the United State， and our clever phono-lecturer appeared on the platform with a sparkling golden loud-speaker.
"Respected Numbers， not so long ago our archaeologists dug up a book written in the twentieth century. In this book the ironical author tells about a Wild Man and a barometer. The Wild Man noticed that every time the barometer"s hand stopped on the word "rain，" it actually rained. And as the Wild Man craved rain， he let out as much mercury as was necessary to put it at the level of the word "rain" （on the screen a Wild Man with feathers， letting out the mercury. Laughter）.
"You are laughing at him， but don"t you think the "European" of that age deserves more to be laughed at？ He， like the Wild Man， wanted rain—rain with a little "r，" an algebraic rain； but he remained standing before the barometer like a wet hen. The Wild Man at least had more courage and energy and logic， although primitive logic. The Wild Man showed the ability to establish a connection between cause and effect： by letting out the mercury he made the first step on the path which.... "
Here （I repeat， I am not concealing anything， I am setting down everything） I suddenly became impermeable to the quickening currents coming from the loud-speaker. I suddenly felt I had come here in vain （why in vain and how could I not have come here， since I was assigned to come here？）. Everything seemed to me empty like a shell. I succeeded with difficulty in turning my attention in again when the phono-lecturer came to the main theme of the evening—to our music as a mathematical composition （mathematics is the cause， music the effect）. The phono-lecturer began the description of the recently invented musicometer.
"...By merely rotating this handle anyone is enabled to produce about three sonatas per hour. What difficulties our predecessors had in making music！ They were able to compose only by bringing themselves to attacks of inspiration， an extinct form of epilepsy. Here you have an amusing illustration of their achievements： the music of Scriabin， twentieth century. This black box"—a curtain parted on the platform， and we saw an ancient instrument—"this box they called the "Royal Grand." They attached to this idea of regality， which also goes to prove how their music... "
And I don"t remember anything further. Very possibly because...I"ll tell you frankly， because she， I—330， came to the "Royal" box. Probably I was simply startled by her unexpected appearance on the platform.