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139 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1965
Grim and ghastly, the great building towered above the railway embankment, above the untidy fields and the sordid corrugated-iron shacks which stood scattered among rubbish and debris and which housed the local down-and-outs. It looked like a prison, hospital and fortress combined. It was built on a square base, about eighty yards long and half as wide. The interior was a huge blank courtyard.
It was oblong, roughly club-shaped and without any apparent limbs, and it was standing propped up in a corner; its flesh – if it could be so-called – was blackish and purple, soft yet firm, and throbbing, like that of certain tumors; at its top there was a sort of shapeless protuberance with two holes which might have been eyes, or mouths, or neither.
The piazza was deserted, the abandoned cars seemed asleep and blacker than ever. And the drivers? Were they invisibly asleep on the back seats? Or had they too fled to join the revolt? The streetlights glowed as usual, everything was asleep, people strained their ears to catch the approach of a distant rumble, the sound of riots or shooting or the rattle of gun carriages.