Bova, Ben - Thx 1138

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THX 1138
by Ben Bova
Based on the Screenplay by George Lucas and Walter Murch
a.b.e-book v3.0 / Notes at EOF
Back Cover:
THE PERFECTLY CONTROLLED SOCIETY
Its citizens are conceived in test tubes, nourished in vats, educated intravenously, watched
by monitors, made docile by drugs.
The Adam of this 25th century Eden is THX 1138; the Eve is his beautiful roommate
LUH 3417. Having yielded to the temptation not to take her state-prescribed drugs, she lures
THX into committing the same crime. How could anyone know? she argues.
But the electronic monitor is all-seeing; instead of archangels with flaming swords there
are police robots with cattle prods -- and if there are any gates to this Eden, no one knows where.
. .
PAPERBACK LIBRARY EDITION
First Printing: April, 1971
Copyright © 1971 by Warner Bros. Inc.
All rights reserved
Paperback Library is a division of Coronet Communications, Inc.
Its trademark, consisting of the words "Paperback Library"
accompanied by an open book, is registered in the United States
Patent Office.
Coronet Communications, Inc.,
315 Park Avenue South, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Chapter 1
"I need something stronger."
The observer frowned at his viewscreen picture. It was badly distorted. He could hardly
make out the man's face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing. . . nothing really. I just feel. . . I need something stronger."
There were fifty viewscreens on the observer's panel; all of them clamoring for attention.
His head throbbed painfully. He said to this one:
"If you have a problem, don't hesitate to ask for assistance. Call 348-853." And get off my
back. . .
"Yes. . . Thank you, I'll be all right. I'll be all right," said THX 1138.
He stood in front of the medicine cabinet and somehow knew that the observer was no
longer paying attention to him. He took two pills from the nearest bottle and returned the bottle to
the cabinet.
Popping the two pills into his mouth, THX 1138 made his way back to the hologram
room. He curled up in the deep soft relaxer chair. He was dressed as always in loose-fitting white
pajamas. His head, like everyone's, was shaved. He curled into a fetal position, thumb in mouth,
eyes glazed, and watched.
Watched the three policemen beating the old man. Listened to the soft whistle of the long
chrome nightsticks that ended in the solid thunk! of flesh being pounded, blood vessels bursting,
skin ripping, bones shattering. The old man was still alive; he gave a sighing grunt with each
impact.
THX 1138 watched the policemen beat the old man, and felt the soothing glow of the pills
taking effect. Somewhere he heard a female voice saying:
"For more rapid results use your new D code on your Mercicontrol card. Thank you."
He nodded and kept watching. The room was dimly lit in a sullen red glow that came
from the walls. But the holopicture was bright and sharp. THX could see that the policemen were
chrome, like their clubs. Robots. But the old man was real. He moaned. He bled.
The door to the holoroom opened. THX ignored it
"THX?"
"No. . . later. . ."
"But. . ."
He pulled tighter together, knees under chin.
She stood at the door and stared at him for a long empty moment With every thud of the
nightsticks she winced. Slowly, she closed the door.
Her name -- in the style of the underground society -- was LUH 3417. She was twenty
years old, slim and very lovely except for a barely noticeable small red "S" branded on her left
cheek. Her shaved head gave her face a child-like, innocent appearance.
She stood in the little hallway outside the holoroom, under the flat glareless light of the
overhead panels, wearing the standard white pajamas that everyone wore. It was a good
apartment, three functional immaculate white rooms. And the holoroom. Down on the lowest
level of the city, closest to the warmth of the Earth's core, safe and protected.
Protected from what? LUH wondered.
With a worried frown she walked the four steps from the holoroom's door to the sanitary.
It was a gleaming chrome cubbyhole, with showerstall, depilatory mask, sink and medicine
cabinet.
She stood in front of the cabinet, staring into its mirror. She didn't notice her expressive
eyes, or the curve of her cheek. Only the "S." It was quite small now. Baby-sized. Will they give
me another one when I turn twenty-one?
She opened the medicine cabinet, then hesitated.
"What's wrong?" asked a male observer's voice.
Impulsively, she took the bottle of pills that THX had used a few minutes earlier. "Never
mind," she said to the unseen observer. "I'll. . . I'll replace these later." She slammed, the cabinet
door shut.
She shook out a fistful of pills, put them to her lips, and held her hand frozen there for a
frightening instant. Then she reached down and tossed the pills into the toilet. She shook the
whole bottle's contents into the toilet and flushed all the pills down.
Ajter all, she thought to herself, how can they know? How can they find out? The
medicines don't work as well on natural-borns anyway.
For a moment she felt elated, almost happy, with a delicious twinge of guilt (the pills are
for your own good, child). Then she left the sanitary and walked past the holoroom door again.
She could still hear the thudding. But now there was a soft moaning sound, a crooning. Not from
the old man in the holopicture. She knew that sound. It was THX.
Her elation vanished. She knew what he was doing.
Slowly, silently, reluctantly, LUH cracked open the door of the holoroom just wide
enough to see THX. He was breathing hard, moaning softly, eyes fixed on the picture, body
jerking spasmodically. LUH looked up at the picture. They were beating a naked girl now. She
was silently begging them, but they kept on beating her. One of the chrome policemen hauled her
up by the wrists to a kneeling position and the others kicked her abdomen, her ribs. All in slow-
motion. Her breasts bounced with each blow. A chrome fist smashed into her face, spewing
blood.
THX was masturbating. A smooth white plastic receptacle set into the chair caught his
flow and ducted it off. Keep the apartment spotless. Save the sperm for the state.
LUH shut the door, her hands shaking. Why did it bother her so? Her own holopicture
stimuli were so different. . . why did she want --
She realized she was crying. If anyone saw that! With an effort that made her shudder, she
pulled herself under control. LUH went into the kitchen. She had to do something, busy herself.
She touched the menu stud on the wall, and holopictures of acceptable meals flicked by in
eyeblink succession where the cooker screen was. She touched the button again when she saw
THX's favorite meal. It was all synthetics, of course, but the protein was done up to look like real
meat. The wall button flashed blue, acknowledging her order.
Nodding to herself, LUH waited for the sound of the pre-packaged meal to arrive in the
cooker. When it came, she stepped to the cooker and opened the door, bending over slightly, to
look inside and make certain it was what she had ordered.
It wasn't. She must have been too slow with the selector button; or maybe the system was
just fouled up again. Too late now, there was no way to return the food. It had to be consumed.
She let the cooker door snap shut and pressed the middle of three buttons alongside it. The
button glowed red. The meal would be ready in five minutes.
LUH turned back toward the holoroom. For a moment she hesitated, then took a deep
breath and started for THX.
He was sitting up now. A smooth-voiced newscaster was sitting across the room where
the beatings had been going on.
". . . in the constant striving for perfection in the AIA PB 848's that have been built this
year.
"Five felons have been caught fleeing Rehabilitation Center DD 2. All five had been
undergoing treatment for drug offenses. Two of the felons were the products of the sexact, the
other three. . ."
"What?" LUH asked involuntarily.
The holopicture flashed blindingly for an instant, then the newscaster repeated:
"Two of the felons were products of the sexact, the other three are from Reproclinic 19.
The quintet escaped from Compound 545 and were destroyed upon recapture. Reports indicate. .
."
She touched THX's shoulder. "I started dinner for you."
"I'm not hungry," he said.
The newscaster's voice automatically dropped to subliminal level when they spoke. He sat
there, smiling amiably, mouthing the day's events.
"Well, it's fixed. Come on out and eat it."
"I don't want to."
Impatiently, LUH said, "It's just going to go to waste if you don't eat it. Come on. . ."
He turned and looked up at her. "What's the matter with you?"
"Can't you come out of this room and spend some time with me?"
"I see you every day."
She started to reply, then suddenly turned and left the room. THX sat in the relaxer chair,
half-turned to watch her as the door slid shut behind her. With a puzzled frown he got up and
followed her out into the hall.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing. Come on, I'll get your dinner from the cooker."
"Okay. Let's eat in the holoroom. The news will be finished soon and the comedy shows
start next."
So she sat in the relaxer chair beside him, watching the flesh-colored mannequins
cavorting to taped laughter. He looked rather puzzled when she insisted on sitting in the same
chair with him, close enough so that their bodies actually touched.
She's a strange girl, he thought. He kept trying to concentrate on the holoshow, but his
eyes drifted to her as she sat beside him, staring straight ahead at the holopicture but obviously
not looking at it, eating slowly, her thoughts. . . where? What was she thinking?
"LUH. . ."
She turned to face him. "Yes?"
Shaking his head, "Nothing." He went back to watching the mannequins.
Control sat in his sculptured foamchair, a thin humorless smile on his lips.
The far wall of his spacious office was a holoscreen. At the moment, it seemed as if there
was no wall there at all, and the office appeared to look out on half a dozen horseshoe-shaped
observer desks, each ringed with fifty monitoring screens and manned by an observer in skullcap
and earphones.
"Well?" he asked one of the observers, through the intercom set into the surface of his
synthetic wood desk. "What's your analysis?"
The holopicture zoomed in on one observer. Each of his fifty screens had the same picture
of THX and LUH sitting together; the observer saw them the way a mantis must see its prey.
"She's trying to seduce him, obviously," said the observer.
"Obviously," Control agreed. "But is she aware of what she's doing or is she acting
instinctively? That's the important question."
Without turning his head from the screens, the observer answered, "Her pulse rate, neutral
activity, EEG, body temperature -- they all indicate that she's excited, but still at the subliminal
level. She doesn't really know what's going on inside her own glands."
Control chuckled. "But her body knows. Look at the way she's rubbing against him.
Disgusting."
"Yes, but she's not consciously trying to commit the crime. She's only responding to her
own heredity."
Control muttered something to himself.
"He's starting to feel it," the observer noted. "All his indicators are. . . well, rising." He
grinned, knowing that Control couldn't see his face.
"I don't doubt it," said Control.
"I should warn him," the observer said.
"No."
"At least suggest that he take the proper sedation."
"No!" Control snapped.
"But. . . I don't understand. If we allow her to continue like this, then he'll commit the
crime with her."
"Of course."
"But it won't really be his fault," the observer said.
"No? Whose fault will it be?"
The observer had heard that tone of voice from Control before. It was the last warning
sound before an irrevocable trap was sprung.
"I mean to say, sir," the observer backtracked, "that. . . well, not every man could
maintain his principles under. . . eh, that kind of treatment."
Control answered icily, "Either he maintains his principles or he falls. If he falls, it's his
own will, his own volition that caused it."
The observer shook his head.
"You fail to understand," Control said, "that LUH 3417, as a natural-born, a product of the
sexact, is an atavism, a dangerous anomaly, a living time bomb ticking away in our society.
Sooner or later her genetic heritage will make itself felt and she will seduce some otherwise
decent citizen into committing the same crime that spawned her."
"We could arrest her now," the observer said timidly. "On drug abuse. I saw her flush a
whole bottle of pills down the toilet."
"No, I want to catch her in the sexact. The guiding principle of our society is not
vengeance, but self-protection. Criminals commit crimes. You can't stop them from doing it, you
can only delay the inevitable moment when they try to damage society and themseves. No matter
what we do, LUH 3417 is intent on destroying herself. We merely have to wait until she takes the
ultimate step, and then let society act in the legally prescribed manner."
"But -- the man. . ."
"If he has criminal instincts, then he will destroy himself, too. There's no way for us to
prevent it. Our society will be healthier, stronger, safer, more stable with such criminals out of
the way."
The observer decided not to answer. Control, as always, was right. No sense arguing.
Control watched THX and LUH on the observer's multiple screens for a few minutes
longer, then pointed a lean finger at the special receptor atop his desk. The holopicture of the
observer's warren disappeared with a silent flash, to be replaced by the solid wall of the office
and its stylized portrait of the legendary First Control, with the mysterious clockwork numbers
spiraling backward around his puffy, stern face.
Chapter 2
Frowning with concentration, beads of sweat on his face, THX manipulated the waldoes
carefully.
This is the touchiest part of it. If the radioactives. . .
He was standing in front of the leaded window of Assembly Bay 17, hands gloved by the
metal manipulators, which felt clammy and slippery to him now. On either side of him, dozens of
other men worked straining at identical stations, each identically uniformed in white with close-
fitting cap and earphones. He held still for a moment, and inside the lead-shielded assembly bay,
his remote mechanical counterpart hands -- the waldoes -- stopped in mid-motion. They were
holding a tiny capsule of radioactives that would activate the chrome robot lying inert beneath the
skeletal metal arms of the waldoes.
"What's the trouble?"
"Assembly Bay 17, are you all right?"
"Answer, 1138."
"I'm okay," THX said.
A million voices were buzzing in his earphones, orders, queries, conversations from all
over the assembly center. His head throbbed.
"Please keep your trailing edge circuits from touching the floor. Do not present solid
circuits for validation."
"If you have been issued circuit cards with the new D code function, make sure that the
pin array is compatible with earlier models."
"Recycle the step sequencer, 2434. Repeat, recycle step sequencer."
"Multiphase analysis, please."
"You're in the green, station 6. Go ahead."
Another three hours, THX thought. Three more hours and I'll be home. And then he
added, with LUH. He saw her face, felt the whisper of her breath on his cheek.
Assembly 17, what's the holdup?"
"Sorry," he muttered. Keep your mind on your work!
"Grid control, this is assembly central. Bay 17 initiating thermal transfer. Yellow alert."
"Read you, central. Yellow alert, thermal transfer. Blast and radiation procedures. Go
ahead, bay 17."
In another part of the vast underground center, LUH sat at an observer's desk, eyes
flickering over the fifty screens, fingers touching out an elaborate sonata of electronic responses
to people's needs and fears.
But somehow she felt that the screens were watching her.
The observation room was dim and shadowy, lit mostly by the bluish-glowing screens.
Hundreds of observers sat at their stations, with supervisors pacing between them. LUH sat and
listened to the great mindless buzz of millions of voices crackling eternally in her earphones.
"I'm going away on holiday. Should I continue to take pinural or should I switch to
something else?"
"Congratulations on your access to holiday. Holiday centers are equipped to maintain an
agreeable sedation rate within certain limits. You do not need to take any special precautions."
"This is city probe scanner. We've run across some illegal sexual activity. It should be on
your DTO screen right now. Transfer to Control, mode seven." "Thank you for assistance in
crime prevention. Appropriate credits will be transferred to your account."
"JDC. . . pickup on three. . . VPT. . . please report to Intrinsic Interloop Station 5. . .
sampling error. . ."
One of her central screens showed a tired-looking old man standing in a complaint booth
in one of the commercial plazas. Shoppers hurried back and forth behind him. The picture was
blurry; LUH tried to get it clear but couldn't.
"What's wrong?" she asked into her lip mike.
The old man held up something that looked like a shopping bag.
"I just bought these new kind yesterday. . ." he rummaged through the shopping bag and
pulled out a yellow plastic consumption hexagon. "And they don't fit in my consumall, and the
store doesn't have any of the old ones." LUH tapped out a standard response code on her key-
board. A taped voice, very feminine, warm, soothing, said:
"For more enjoyment and greater efficiency, consumption is being standardized. We are
sorry if you have experienced any temporary inconvenience. Place your identification badge in
the reader and we will have units transferred to your account as soon as possible."
Slightly dazed-looking, the man obediently undipped the badge from his lapel and slipped
it into the reader. He waited patiently until the machine buzzed at him, then took the badge back.
"Thank you. And may we recommend an extra dosage of sedation? Etracene, enervol and
pinural are compatible within group 3A." The old man nodded dumbly and shuffled off, to be
swept up by the crowd streaming by. LUH cut the picture and turned her attention to a pair of
children who, giggling, were peeking in at the edge of the screen and then ducking out of sight, to
hide behind a plastisteel bench in the middle of their school plaza. LUH smiled as she pressed a
series of keys on her panel. A kind but stern baritone voice said:
"This monitor is to be used for emergencies or special requests only. All routine
information can be easily obtained through the bulletin panels installed at every intersection."
One little boy got up from behind the bench, stuck his tongue out at the screen, and then
ran off laughing. LUH watched him until he disappeared around the corner of a building.
Then another scene, in a screen far up in the left corner of her set, caught her eye. She
transferred the picture to the four main screens directly in front of her.
"What's wrong?"
A man was screaming hysterically as he stood in a sanitary. There was no sound coming
from him, though. Frantically, LUH worked the switched on her panel.
". . . me. . . help me. . ." the man was shrieking.
"What's wrong?"
The man thrust both hands into the medicine cabinet, knocking bottles everywhere. As
they clattered to the floor, he dropped to his knees and started pouring out handfulls of pills and
swallowing them madly.
LUH punched a single red button. A taped voice began saying:
"Take four red capsules, in ten minutes take two more. Help is on the way. Do not be
afraid. . . Take four red capsules. . ."
She called Mercicontrol. "Okay, got it," said a brash young man's voice in her earphones.
"You can let go now, we'll take care of him."
With a weary sigh, she acknowledged and let the screaming, pill-gobbling man's image
return to its upper left screen. The central screens showed four different robot assembly bays
now. THX sat at one of them. LUH stared at him. There was no sound from the screens, only the
constant cacophony of voices in her earphones.
But she ignored them now. She watched THX as he worked, all concentration, all sinew
and hard, steady nerves, manipulating the metal hands as they did their delicate work of breathing
radioactive life into a new chrome robot. Like bringing a baby to life, she thought.
"Concourse 5. . . cross three monitor."
"Concourse 5. . . 3417-LUH. . . LUH."
"Are you there? Relate. Relate."
Suddenly realizing that they were talking to her, LUH snapped her attention to the
frowning man whose image was now filling her right bottom main screen.
"LUH 3417," she said. "Go ahead."
"This is a control check," the man said. "Bracket all request limitations. One: Have you
received your ratio of enervol? Check 643 grams?"
"Yes," she lied.
"Did you receive an etracene ration during your last work unit?"
She nodded.
"You're due for a medical check. All remote monitor findings are within low-normal
range. A mina plus three was detected but it's not considered dangerous. Thank you."
The screen flashed and then showed a commercial shopping plaza once again.
The cacophony in her earphones became impersonal again, leaving LUH to worry about
how long she could go without taking a medical check. How long would it be before they found
out she was guilty of drug evasion?
The voice of her supervisor, SEN 5241, cut in: "Scan inspectors are on their way. Be on
the lookout, check back."
"Yessir," she said.
But THX was still on her top left main screen, still working steadily, intently.
LUH never saw the explosion in the assembly bay on the screen next to THX's image.
She never noticed the bay blow out in a shower of sparks and sudden choking billows of white
smoke, men running, danger lights flashing balefully.
"Monitor concourse 5, cross three. . . 3417. . . emergency. . . emergency!"
She snapped out of her trance, eyes widening at the sight of the accident. Her hands
worked the keyboard automatically and all four of her main screens showed the scene. LUH
began frantically punching response keys.
A deep, calm, male voice said: "You are a true believer. Blessings of the State, Blessings
of the masses. Thou art a subject of. . ."
Startled, she hit another sequence of keys. The screens showed men crawling through the
smoke, others lying sprawled inert, broken. Flames licked evily through the area. Still no sound.
Then:
"Eject. . . eject. . . evacuate all personnel. . ."
"There's thirty-eight men trapped in there. . ."
"Seal all blast hatches! Mark!"
"Stay calm. Correct procedure is essential. Do not fail to remove auxiliary command
circuits before evacuation. Vacuum detail. . ."
"Turn that damned tape off and get those men clear before the whole area goes up!"
"Mercicontrol! Emergency. . ."
LUH patched the pictures and sound directly to Mercicontrol. Involuntarily, she looked
up at the screen where THX's image had been transferred. It was a small screen, up at the top
row, but she could see him still working. In her earphones she heard what he was hearing:
"There has been an accident in Blue sector, 1-14. Do not abandon your post. Repeat, do
not abandon your post. There is absolutely no danger of radiation leakage. Repeat ..."
LUH tapped another key and the radiation levels in THX's assembly bay area appeared on
her main data screen: already four points above normal and rising.
"The accident in Blue sector destroyed another 63 personnel, giving them a total of 242
lost to our 195. Keep up the good work and prevent accidents."
"Are you all right?"
LUH turned and saw SEN 5241-middle aged, face starting to go into jowls and bags
under the eyes.
"You should be at your post," she whispered. SEN's observation console was next to hers.
"You looked upset. . . not yourself." He reached into a pajama pocket and pulled out a
tiny plastic envelope that held two yellow pills.
"Here. Try these, they'll help." He smiled at her.
"Thanks."
He stood there, watching her. LUH slowly tore the plastic open, shook the pills into her
hand, and put them to her mouth.
"There. You'll feel better in no time. I use them all the time. Special issue. You can't get
them in the regular stores and dispensers." He smiled again, toothily, and LUH shuddered.
"Uh, thank you."
"Think nothing of it. My pleasure to help you."
SEN blinked his watery eyes and then turned and went back to his own console. As he sat
down he put on his earphones and began scanning the screens. LUH glanced down at the yellow
pills still in her palm. Quickly she let them fall to the floor.
THX shuffled down the busy roaring pedestrian corridor, letting the crowd's mindless
momentum carry him along.
"So he just jumped off the tram platform. Just like that," someone was shouting into the
ear of his companion, a few bodies up ahead of THX. "Just like that. Ffftt. Destroyed."
"You mean you haven't tried ekterol?" a woman beside him was saying to her friend. "It
comes in blue capsules and it's just heaven."
And from the eternal overhead speakers, the announcements. Always the announcements:
"Please keep your causeways clean."
"Performance perfect is perfect performance."
"The level 6421 intermural stadium will have open day on series 621T."
"Central Plaza stay to right. Con 6 move to left."
THX battled his way through the surging crowd and stepped onto a slideway. Here at
least he could stand still and let the conveyor do the work. But still, from overhead:
"Please hold handrail and stand on the right; if you wish to pass, pass on the left. . . Please
hold handrail. . ."
Up ahead he saw a vertitube that would carry him down to his apartment level. He edged
to the side of the slideway and gingerly stepped off. A chrome police robot standing alongside the
slideway curbing stepped politely aside to let him pass.
There was a prayer booth near the tube entrance. THX looked around, almost guiltily,
then quickly stepped in and shut the plastic door. It didn't fit tightly enough to turn on the light,
he had to tug on it. Finally the light went on, illuminating OMM's kindly face. A warm, taped
voice said gently:
"My time is yours. Go ahead."
THX tried to remember the proper prayer. It had been so many years since. . .
"Very well, proceed," said OMM's voice.
"Well, . . . this morning I almost slipped on a radioactive transfer. It's never happened
before. I wasn't concentrating enough. Things haven't been. . ."
"Yes," said the voice, expectantly.
"Everything's piling up on me," THX went on. "I don't understand what's happening to
me. The medicines don't seem to be keeping me adjusted anymore. . ."
"Yes," said the voice, knowingly.
"And my roommate's been acting very strange. I can't explain it. . . I don't know, maybe
it's me. I haven't been feeling very well lately. I feel jumpy all the time, as if something's going to
happen. . . something. . ."
"Yes," said the voice, patiently.
"I can't understand it. The sedatives. . . I'm taking etracene but it doesn't seem strong
enough anymore. I have a hard time concentrating. Please forgive me, I can't. . ."
"You are a true believer. Blessings of the State. Blessings of the masses. Thou art a
subject of the divine. Created in the image of man, by the masses, for the masses. Let us be
thankful we have an occupation to fill. Work hard; increase production; prevent accidents; and be
happy."
THX slumped back on the bench of the booth. Be happy.
He was nearly home, almost at the door of the apartment. The crowds of the upper levels
were thinned down now, quieter, slower. A man could stroll calmly here, or try to unwind after
the noise and tension of the upper working and shopping levels.
The timebox was at the corner of the two main corridors. THX crossed over to it, took the
badge from his lapel, and tried to insert it in the proper slot. It didn't fit. They've changed the
mechanism again, he thought wearily. Nothing works the way it's supposed to. They keep
changing things, but still nothing works right.
He struggled with the badge for a few moments, and finally it slipped into the slot. The
mechanism rang dimly once. THX nodded. His working time was entered into the computer
satisfactorily.
Turning as he clipped his badge back on, he saw LUH standing silently, holding a punch
card in her hand.
"What is it?" he asked her.
She shook her head without replying. Her .face looked troubled, and somehow this
bothered him.
Glancing at the card in her hand, he asked, "What did you get?"
"I have to see SEN. I've just been given a shift change."
"When?"
"Now. . . Just now. SEN wants me to come to his quarters to talk about it."
THX felt his brows knitting into a scowl. "SEN can't change your shift. Shift changes
have to come through the scheduling office."
She said nothing.
"Why does he want to see you?"
"I don't know."
"Don't go," THX said.
She looked up at him. "I have to. . . he's a G-34."
"You don't have to," he said, feeling more and more annoyed. "I don't trust him, and I
don't want you to go."
But she only smiled. "No, don't make trouble. It's nothing."
"I ought to file a report against him. He can't change your shift and order you around."
"No, please. You'll only make trouble for yourself. I'll go see what he wants. . . I'll be
back soon. It won't take long."
And she turned and left him standing there, tired and confused.
Chapter 3
THX sat alone in the holoroom, flipping channels at nearly eyeblink speed. A naked black
mannequin dancing erotically, a newscaster rattling off the day's events, a shapeless matron
摘要：

THX1138byBenBovaBasedontheScreenplaybyGeorgeLucasandWalterMurcha.b.e-bookv3.0/NotesatEOFBackCover:THEPERFECTLYCONTROLLEDSOCIETYItscitizensareconceivedintesttubes,nourishedinvats,educatedin ravenously,watchedbymonitors,madedocilebydrugs.TheAdamofthis25thcenturyEdenisTHX1138;theEveishisbeautifulroomm...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：80 页 大小：341.95KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-14

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