METROPOLIS thing of the black ghostliness of deep-sea divers. Their eyes stood open as though they never closed them. Near the little machine· in the centre of the rOom stood a man, wearing the uniform of all the workmen of Metropolis: from throat to ankle, the dark. blue linen, bare feet in the hard shoes; hair tightly pressed down by the black cap. The hunted stream of wandering air washed around his form, making the folds of the canvas flutter. The man held his hand on the lever and his gaze was fixed on the clock, the hands of which vibrated like magnetic needles. Freder groped his way across to the man. He stared at him. He could not see his face. How old was the man? A thousand years? Or not yet twenty? He was talking to himself with babbling lips. What was the man muttering about? And had this man, too, the face of Joh Fredersen's son?' "'Look at mel" said FredeI' bending forward. But the man's gaze did not leave the clock. His hand, nlso, was unceasingly, feverishly, clutching the lever. His lips babbled and babbled, excitedly. FredeI' listened. He caught the words. Shreds of words, tattered by the current of air. «PaterMnoster.... that means, Our Fatherl ... Our Father, which are in heavenl We are in hell. Our Fatherl , .. What is
- thy name? Art thou called Pat~r-noster, Our Father? Or
Joh Fredersen? Or machine? ... Be hallowed by us, machine. ,Pater-noster! . . . Thy kingdom come. . . . Thy kingdom come, machine. . . . Thy will be done on earth as it is in .heaven. . .. What is thy will of us, machine, Pater-noster? Art thou the same in heaven as thou art on earth? ... Our Father, which art in heaven, when thou callest us into heaven, shall we keep the machines in thy world-the great wheels which break the limbs of thy creatures-the great merry-go-round called the earth? . . . Thy will be done, Pater-nosterl . . . Give us this day our daily bread. . . . erind, machine, grind flour for our bread. The bread is baked from the flour of our bones . . . And forgive us our trespasses. . . . what trespasses, Pater-noster? The trespass of having a brain and a heart, that thou hast not, machine? And lead us not into temptation. . . . Lead us not into
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