Captain Beatty glanced at his watch. It was now late enough to for him to do what he came for. Guy Montag should be in bed at this point, lying silent in the room next to his praying mantis of a wife, his thoughts turning uneasy as he contemplated his most recent encounter with Clarisse Mclellan. Roughly half the time, Beatty felt sympathy and a common dilemma for Montag; the other half was the more appropriate mind of the fireman captain he was.
The first Beatty hesitated in the shed; reluctant to take the action that was designed to be so detrimental to Montag's already confused state of mind. His hand reached and touched the handle, then moved back. However, before he could consider the subject further, the second Beatty surged upward and forward and twisted the handle, swiftly entering the quiet darkness outside.
* * *
Twenty minutes, Beatty left the Mechanical Hound, primed and ready to subtly harass Montag. He didn't regret it, because the most righteous version of himself now held the reins.
* * *
A few weeks later.
He took a mild pleasure in watching Montag's growing discomfiture among the other firemen. Soon, he envisioned the lecture he would give the alienated fireman. It would be strangely fun to watch the plethora of expressions that would flit over his face and the confused, guiltiness that would sneak over Mildred's person. God, that woman was annoying. She was enough to make you demand a return to non-censorship.
He waited to see what would unfold.
Back in the firehouse, Beatty put his feet up on the table and regarded the wall. The small room had the look of a rustic study, with comfortable armchairs, polished wood, and nubby rugs.
However, there was blank wall where a bookshelf might have and the fireplace was empty. An old style clock with a smoothly rounded top ticked on the mantelpiece and that was where his gaze rested. For fun, he tried to make his eyes blink every third tick while his fingers rotated an empty shot glass.
The picture created by this would have been disturbing to two schools of people for two reasons set on the opposite ends of the spectrum of what was considered normal. The vast majority of the society Beatty lived in would feel the acute lack of a parlor wall, complete with the flickering drone of familiar sounds and lights. Some however, far removed from this current culture and time would merely have found it lacking some leather-bound volumes to complete the picture of a complete sitting-room.
The first Beatty hesitated in the shed; reluctant to take the action that was designed to be so detrimental to Montag's already confused state of mind. His hand reached and touched the handle, then moved back. However, before he could consider the subject further, the second Beatty surged upward and forward and twisted the handle, swiftly entering the quiet darkness outside.
* * *
Twenty minutes, Beatty left the Mechanical Hound, primed and ready to subtly harass Montag. He didn't regret it, because the most righteous version of himself now held the reins.
* * *
A few weeks later.
He took a mild pleasure in watching Montag's growing discomfiture among the other firemen. Soon, he envisioned the lecture he would give the alienated fireman. It would be strangely fun to watch the plethora of expressions that would flit over his face and the confused, guiltiness that would sneak over Mildred's person. God, that woman was annoying. She was enough to make you demand a return to non-censorship.
He waited to see what would unfold.
Back in the firehouse, Beatty put his feet up on the table and regarded the wall. The small room had the look of a rustic study, with comfortable armchairs, polished wood, and nubby rugs.
However, there was blank wall where a bookshelf might have and the fireplace was empty. An old style clock with a smoothly rounded top ticked on the mantelpiece and that was where his gaze rested. For fun, he tried to make his eyes blink every third tick while his fingers rotated an empty shot glass.
The picture created by this would have been disturbing to two schools of people for two reasons set on the opposite ends of the spectrum of what was considered normal. The vast majority of the society Beatty lived in would feel the acute lack of a parlor wall, complete with the flickering drone of familiar sounds and lights. Some however, far removed from this current culture and time would merely have found it lacking some leather-bound volumes to complete the picture of a complete sitting-room.