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hewaslyingonsomethingthatfeltlikeacampbed,exceptthatitwashigheroffthegroundandthathewasfixeddowninsomewaysothathecouldnotmove。***lightthatseemedstrongerthanusualwasfallingonhisface。o’brienwasstandingathisside,lookingdownathimintently。attheothersideofhimstoodamaninawhitecoat,holdingahypodermicsyringe。
evenafterhiseyeswereopenhetookinhissurroundingsonlygradually。hehadtheimpressionofswimmingupintothisroomfromsomequitedifferentworld,asortofunderwaterworldfarbeneathit。howlonghehadbeendowntherehedidnotknow。sincethemomentwhentheyarrestedhimhehadnotseendarknessordaylight。besides,hismemorieswerenotcontinuous。therehadbeentimeswhenconsciousness,eventhesortofconsciousnessthatonehasinsleep,hadstoppeddeadandstartedagainafterablankinterval。butwhethertheintervalswereofdaysorweeksoronlyseconds,therewasnowayofknowing。
withthatfirstblowontheelbowthenightmarehadstarted。laterhewastorealizethatallthatthenhappenedwasmerelyapreliminary,aroutineinterrogationtowhichnearlyallprisonersweresubjected。therewasalongrangeofcrimes—espionage,sabotage,andthelike—towhicheveryonehadtoconfessasamatterofcourse。theconfessionwasaformality,thoughthetorturewasreal。howmanytimeshehadbeenbeaten,howlongthebeatingshadcontinued,hecouldnotremember。alwaystherewerefiveorsixmeninblackuniformsathimsimultaneously。sometimesitwasfists,sometimesitwastruncheons,sometimesitwassteelrods,sometimesitwasboots。thereweretimeswhenherolledaboutthefloor,asshamelessasananimal,writhinghisbodythiswayandthatinanendless,hopelessefforttododgethekicks,andsimplyinvitingmoreandyetmorekicks,inhisribs,inhisbelly,onhiselbows,onhisshins,inhisgroin,inhistesticles,ontheboneatthebaseofhisspine。thereweretimeswhenitwentonandonuntilthecruel,wicked,unforgivablethingseemedtohimnotthattheguardscontinuedtobeathimbutthathecouldnotforcehimselfintolosingconsciousness。thereweretimeswhenhisnervesoforsookhimthathebeganshoutingformercyevenbeforethebeatingbegan,whenthemeresightofafistdrawnbackforablowwasenoughtomakehimpourforthaconfessionofrealandimaginarycrimes。therewereothertimeswhenhestartedoutwiththeresolveofconfessingnothing,wheneverywordhadtobeforcedoutofhimbetweengaspsofpain,andthereweretimeswhenhefeeblytriedtocompromise,whenhesaidtohimself:“iwillconfess,butnotyet。imustholdouttillthepainbecomesunbearable。threemorekicks,twomorekicks,andtheniwilltellthemwhattheywant。”sometimeshewasbeatentillhecouldhardlystand,thenflunglikeasackofpotatoesontothestonefloorofacell,lefttorecuperateforafewhours,andthentakenoutandbeatenagain。therewerealsolongerperiodsofrecovery。herememberedthemdimly,becausetheywerespentchieflyinsleeporstupor。herememberedacellwithaplankbed,asortofshelfstickingoutfromthewall,andatinwash-basin,andmealsofhotsoupandbreadandsometimescoffee。herememberedasurlybarberarrivingtoscrapehischinandcrophishair,andbusinesslike,unsympatheticmeninwhitecoatsfeelinghispulse,tappinghisreflexes,turninguphiseyelids,runningharshfingersoverhiminsearchforbrokenbones,andshootingneedlesintohisarmtomakehimsleep。