Level 7

Начало книги

Some time has passed—thirty-seven days, to be precise—since I decided to write this diary and started to do so. It seems longer: these thirty-seven days have stretched out like eternity. My previous life passes before my mind as a recollected dream, a remote image, the life of another man. In a way, I got adjusted to my new life pretty quickly, though I am still far from feeling happy.

It is now, when my diary is already quite substantial, that it occurs to me that it should have some sort of introduction.

Introduction for whom? I ask myself. What chance is there that the diary will ever see daylight? I mean that literally. For my unknown and uncertain reader sometime in the future, this diary is being written in dungeons.

These dungeons are so deep underground that there is not the slightest chance of any ray of natural light penetrating into them. Not that we need daylight, of course. Our light down here is as strong as is desirable. It is scientifically adjusted to suit human needs. In some ways it is more perfect than sunlight: we get no gloomy days down here, and we never need sun-glasses. I’m told the temperature too is scientifically regulated—to 68 degrees, I believe. This must be the only place in the world where nobody ever talks about the weather. There isn’t any.

Читать дальше →