americanshortstories

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ 181 The Veldt sickens me. We’ve been contemplating our mechanical, electronic navels for too long. My God, how we need a breath of honest air!” And he marched about the house turning off the voice clocks, the stoves, the heaters, the shoe shiners, the shoe lacers, the body scrubbers and swab- bers and massagers, and every other machine he could put his hand to. The house was full of dead bodies, it seemed. It felt like a mechanical cemetery. So silent. None of the humming hidden energy of machines wait- ing to function at the tap of a button. “Don’t let them do it!” wailed Peter at the ceiling, as if he was talking to the house, the nursery. “Don’t let Father kill everything.” He turned to his father. “Oh, I hate you!” “Insults won’t get you anywhere.” “I wish you were dead!” “We were, for a long while. Now we’re going to really start living. Instead of being handled and massaged, we’re going to live .” Wendy was still crying and Peter joined her again. “Just a moment, just one moment, just another moment of nursery,” they wailed. “Oh, George,” said the wife, “it can’t hurt.” “All right—all right, if they’ll only just shut up. One minute, mind you, and then off forever.” “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” sang the children, smiling with wet faces. “And then we’re going on a vacation. David McClean is coming back in half an hour to help us move out and get to the airport. I’m going to dress. You turn the nursery on for a minute, Lydia, just a minute, mind you.” And the three of them went babbling off while he let himself be vacu- umed upstairs through the air flue and set about dressing himself. A minute later Lydia appeared. “I’ll be glad when we get away,” she sighed. “Did you leave them in the nursery?” “I wanted to dress too. Oh, that horrid Africa. What can they see in it?” “Well, in five minutes we’ll be on our way to Iowa. Lord, how did we ever get in this house? What prompted us to buy a nightmare?” “Pride, money, foolishness.” “I think we’d better get downstairs before those kids get engrossed with those damned beasts again.” Just then they heard the children calling, “Daddy, Mommy, come quick—quick!”