Anthony Burgess - A Clockwork Orange [fragments]

"What happened now was that one white-coated veck strapped my gulliver to a like head-rest,
    singing to himself all the time some vonny cally pop-song. 'What's this for I said?'. And this veck
    replied, interrupting his like song an instant, that it was to keep my gulliver still and make me look
    at the screen. 'But', I said, 'I want to look at the screen. I've been brought here to viddy films and
    viddy films I shall.' And then the other white-coat veck (there were three altogether, one of them a
    devotchka who was like sitting at the bank of meters and twiddling with knobs) had a bit of smeck
    at that. He said:
    'You never know. Oh, you never know. Trust us, friend. It's better this way.' And then I found they were
    strapping my rookers to the chair-arms and my nogas were like stuck to a foot-rest. It seemed a bit
    bezoomy to me but I let them get on with what they wanted to get on with. If I was to be a free young
    malchick again in a fortnight's time I would put up with much in the meantime, O my brothers. One
    veshch I did not like, though, was when they put like clips on the skin of my forehead, so that my top
    glazz-lids were pulled up and up and up and I could not shut my glazzies no matter how I tried. [...]
    Then there was the shoom of a door opening and you could tell some very important chelloveck
    was coming in by the way the white-coated under-vecks went all stiff. And then I viddied this
    Dr. Brodsky. He was a malenky veck, very fat, with all curly hair curling all over his gulliver, and on
    his spuddy nose he had very thick ochkies. I could just viddy that he had a real horrorshow suit on,
    absolutely the heighth of fashion, and he had a like very delicate and subtle von of operating-theatres
    coming from him. With him was Dr. Branom, all smiling like as though to give me confidence.
    'Everything ready?' said Dr. Brodsky in a very breathy goloss. Then I could slooshy voices saying
     Right right right from like a distance, then nearer to, then there was a quiet like humming shoom as
     though things had been switched on. And then the lights went out and there was Your Humble Narrator
     and Friend sitting alone in the dark, all on his frightened oddy knocky, not able to move nor shut his
     glazzies nor anything. And then, O my brothers, the film-show started off with some very gromky
     atmosphere music coming from the speakers, very fierce and full of discord. And then on the screen
     the picture came on, but there was no title and no credits. What came on was a street, as it might
     have been any street in any town, and it was a real dark nochy and the lamps were lit. It was a very
     good like professional piece of sinny, and there were none of these flickers and blobs you get, say,
     when you viddy one of these dirty films in somebody's house in a back street. All the time the music
     bumped out, very like sinister. And then you could viddy an old man coming down the street, very starry,
     and then there leaped out on this starry veck two malchicks dressed in the heighth of fashion, as it was
     at this time (still thin trousers but no like cravat any more, more of a real tie), and then they started to filly
     with him. You could slooshy his screams and moans, very realistic, and you could even get the like heavy
     breathing and panting of the two tolchocking malchicks. They made a real pudding out of this starry veck,
     going crack crack crack at him with the fisty rookers, tearing his platties off and then finishing up by
     booting his nagoy plott (this lay all kroovy-red in the grahzny mud of the gutter) and then running off very
     skorry. Then there was the close-up gulliver of this beaten-up starry veck, and the krovvy flowed beautiful
     red. It's funny how the colours of the like real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.
     Now all the time I was watching this I was beginning to get very aware of a like not feeling all that well, and
     this I put down to the under-nourishment and my stomach not quite ready for the rich pishcha and vitamins
     I was getting there. But I tried to forget this, concentrating on the next film which came on at once, my
     brothers, without any break at all. This time the film jumped right away on a young devotchka who was being
     given the old in-out by first one malchick then another then another then another, she creeching away very
     gromky though the speakers and like very pathetic and tragic music going on at the same time. This was real,
     very real, though if you thought about it properly you couldn't imagine lewdies actually agreeing to having all this
     done to them in a film, and if these films were made by the Good or the State you couldn't imagine them being
     allowed to take these films without interfering with what was going on. So it must have been very clever what
     they call cutting or editing or some such veshch. For it was very real. And when it came to the sixth or seventh
     malchick leering and smecking and then going into it and the devotchka creeching on the sound-track like
     bezoomny, then I began to feel sick. I had like pains all over and felt I could sick up and at the same time
     not sick up, and I began to feel like in distress, O my brothers, being fixed rigid too on this chair. When this
     bit of film was over I could slooshy the goloss of this Dr. Brodsky from over by the switchboard saying:
     'Reaction about twelve point five? Promising, promising.'
       Then we shot straight into another lomtick of film, and this time it was of just a human litso, a very like pale
     human face held still and having different nasty veshches done to it. I was sweating a malenky bit with the
     pain in my guts and a horrible thirst and my gulliver going throb throb throb, and it seemed to me that if I
     could not viddy this bit of film I would perhaps be not so sick. But I could not shut my glazzies, and even if I
     tried to move my glaz-balls about I still could not get like out of the line of fire of this picture. So I had to go on
     viddying what was being done and hearing the most ghastly creechings coming from this litso. I knew it could
     not really be real, but that made no difference. I was heaving away but could not sick, viddying first a britva
     cut out an eye, then slice down the cheek, then go rip rip rip all over, while red krovvy shot on to the camera lens.
     Then all the teeth were like wrenched out with a pair of pliers, and the creeching and the blood were terrific.
     Then I slooshied this very pleased goloss of Dr. Brodsky going: 'Excellent, excellent, excellent.'
        The next lomtick of film was of an old woman who kept a shop being kicked about amid very gromky laughter
     by a lot of malchicks, and these malchicks broke up the shop and then set fire to it. You could viddy this poor
     starry ptitsa trying to crawl out of the flames, screaming and creeching, but having had her leg broke by these
     malchicks kicking her she could not move. So then all the flames went roaring round her, and you could viddy
     her agonized litso like appealing through the flames and then disappearing in the flames, and then you could
     slooshy the most gromky and agonized and agonizing screams that ever came from a human goloss. So this
     time I knew I had to sick up, so I creeched: 'I want to be sick. Please let me be sick. Please bring something
     for me to be sick into.' But this Dr. Brodsky called back :
     'Imagination only. You've nothing to worry about. Next film coming up.' That was perhaps meant to be a joke,
      for I heard a like smeck coming from the dark. And then I was forced to viddy a most nasty film about
      Japanese torture. It was the 1938-45 War, and there were soldiers being fixed to trees with nails and having
      fires lit under them and having their yarbles cut off, and you even viddied a gulliver being sliced off a soldier
      with a sword, and then with his head rolling about and the rot and glazzies looking alive still, the plott of this
      soldier actually ran about, krovvying like a fountain out of the neck, and then it dropped, and all the time there
      was very very loud laughter from the Japanese. The pains I felt now in my belly and the headache and the thirst
      were terrible, and they all seemed to be coming out of the screen. So I creeched:
      'Stop the film! Please, please stop it! I can't stand anymore.' And then the goloss of this Dr. Brodsky said:
      'Stop it? Stop it, did you say? Why, we've hardly started.' And he and the others smecked quite loud."

     "You felt ill this afternoon,' he said, 'because you're getting better. When we're healthy we respond to the
       presence of the hateful with fear and nausea. You're becoming healthy, that's all. You'll be healthier still this
       time tomorrow."

      "I was led quite kindly to the same old mesto, but there were changes there. Curtains had been drawn in front
       of the sinny screen and the frosted glass under the projection holes was no longer there, it having perhaps
       been pushed up or folded to the sides like blinds or shutters. And where there had been just the noise of
       coughing kashl kashl and like shadows of the lewdies was now a real audience, and in this audience there
       were litsos I knew. There was the Staja Governor and the holy man, the charlie or charles as he was called,
       and the Chief Chasso and this very important and well-dressed chello-veck who was the Minister of the
       Interior or Inferior. All the rest I did not know. Dr. Brodsky and Dr. Branom were there, though not now
       white-coated, instead they were dressed as doctors would dress who were big enough to want to dress in
       the heighth of fashion. Dr. Branom just stood, but Dr. Brodsky stood and and govoreeted in a like learned
       manner to all the lewdies assembled. When he viddied me coming in he said:'Aha. At this stage, gentlemen
       we introduce the subject himself. He is, as you will perceive, fit and well nourished. He comes straight from
       a night's sleep and a good breakfast, undrugged, unhypnotized. Tomorrow we send him with confidence out
       into the world again, as decent a lad as you would meet on a May morning, inclined to the kindly word and the
       helpful act. What a change is here, gentlemen, from the wretched hoodlum the State commited to unprofitable
       punishment some two years ago, unchanged after two years. Unchanged, do I say? Not quite. Prison taught him
       the false smile, the rubbed hands of hypocrisy, the fawning greased obsequious leer. Other vices it taught him,
       as well as confirming him in those he had long practised before. But, gentlemen, enough of words. Actions
       speak louder than. Action now. Observe, all." [...]

       "Then all the lights went out and then there came on two like spotlights shining from the projection-squares, and
       one of them was full on Your Humble and Suffering Narrator. And into the other spotlight there walked a bolshy
       big chelloveck I had never viddied before. He had a lardy like litso and a moustache and like strips of hair pasted
       over his near-bald gulliver. He was about thirty or forty or fifty, some old age like that, starry. He ittied up to me and
       the spotlight ittied with him, and soon the two spotlights had made like one big pool. He said to me, very sneery:
       'Hello, heap of dirt. Pooh, you don't wash much, judging from the horrible smell.' Then, as if he was like dancing,
        he stamped on my nogas, left, right, then he gave me a finger-nail flick on the nose that hurt like bezoomny and
        brought the old tears to my glazzies then he twisted at my left ooko like it was a radio dial. I could slooshy titters
        and a couple of real horrorshow hawhawhaws coming from the like audience. My nose and nogas and ear-hole
        stung and pained like bezoomny, so I said:
        'What do you do that to me for? I've never done wrong to you, brother.'
         'Oh,' this veck said, 'I do this' - flickedflicked nose again - 'and that' - twisted smarting ear-hole - 'and the other' -
        stamped nasty on right noga - 'because I don't care for your horrible type. And if you want to do anything about it,
        start, start, please do.' Now I knew that I'd have to be real skorry and get my cut-throat britva out before this horrible
        killing sickness whooshed up and turned the like joy of battle into feeling I was going to snuff it. [...] I said, real
        desperate, trying to be nice to this insulting and hurtful veck to stop the pains and sickness coming up:
        'Please let me do something for you, please.' And I felt in my carmans but could find only my cut-throat britva, so I
        took this out and handed it to him and said:'Please take this, please. A little present. Please have it.' But he said:
        'Keep your stinking bribes to yourself. You can't get round me that way.' And he banged at my rooker and my
        cut-throat britva fell on the floor. So I said:
        'Please, I must do something. Shall I clean your boots? Look, I'll get down and lick them.' And, my brothers, believe
        it or kiss my sharries, I got down on my knees and pushed my red yahzick out a mile and half to lick his grahzny
        vonny boots. But all this veck did was to kick me not too hard on the rot. So then it seemed to me that it would not
        bring on the sickness and pain if I just gripped his ankles with my rookers tight round them and brought this grashzny
        bratchny down to the floor. So I did this and he got a real bolshy surprise, coming down crack amid loud laughter
        from the vonny audience. But viddying him on the floor I could feel the whole horrible feeling coming over me, so I
        gave him my rooker to lift him up skorry and up he came. Then just as he was going to give me a real nasty and
        earnest tolchock on the litso Dr. Brodsky said:
        'All right, that will do very well.' Then this horrible veck sort of bowed and danced off like an actor while the lights
        came up on me blinking and with my rot square for howling. Dr. Brodsky said to the audience: 'Our subject is,
        you see, impelled towards the good by, parodoxically, being impelled towards evil. The intention to act violently
        is accompanied by strong feelings of physical distress. To counter these the subject has to switch to a diametrically
        opposed attitude. Any questions?"

        "There was a lot of govoreeting and arguing then and I just stood there, brothers, like completely ignored by all
        these ignorant bratchnies, so I creeched out:
        'Me, me, me. How about me? Where do I come into all this? Am I like just some animal or dog?' [...] 'Am I just
         to be like a clockwork orange?"

        "But there were two or three shelves of books there too, and there was, as I thought there must be, a copy
         of "A Clockwork Orange", and on the back of the book, like on the spine, was the author's eemya -
         F. Alexander. Good Bog, I thought, he is another Alex."

        "Yes, I've rung up various people who will be interested in your case. You can be a very potent weapon,
         you see, in ensuring that this present evil and wicked Government is not returned in the forthcoming
         election. The Government's big boast, you see, is the way it has dealt with crime these last few months.'
         He looked at me very close again over his steaming egg, and I wondered again if he was viddying what
         part I had so far played in his jeezny. But he said: 'Recruiting brutal young roughs for the police. Proposing
         debiliating and will-sapping techniques of conditioning.' [...] 'We've seen it all before,' he said, 'in other
         countries. The thin end of the wedge. Before we know where we are we shall have the full apparatus of
         totalitarianism. [...] The people, the common people must know, must see."


         "He gripped the edge of the table and said, gritting his zoobies, which were very cally and all stained
          with cancer-smoke: 'Some of us have to fight. There are great traditions of liberty to defend. I am no
          partisan man. Where I see the infamy I seek to erase it. Party names mean nothing. The tradition of
          liberty means all. The common people will let it go, oh yes. They will sell liberty for a quieter life.
          That is why they must be prodded, prodded - "

         "How long is it I've been in here?'
          'A week or so', she said.
          'And what have they been doing to me?'
          'Well', she said, 'you were all broken up and bruised and had sustained severe concussion and had lost
           a lot of blood. They've had to put all that right, haven't they?
          'But', I said, 'has anyone been doing anything with my gulliver? What I mean is, have they been playing
           around with inside like my brain?'
          'Whatever they've done', she said, 'it's all for the best.'
           But a couple of days later a couple of like doctor vecks came in, both youngish vecks with these very
           sladky smiles, and they had like a picture book with them. One of them said: 'We want you to have a look
           at these and to tell us what you think about them. All right?' [...]
           On the first page there was like a photograph of a bird-nest full of eggs.
           'Yes?' one of these doctor vecks said.
            'A bird-nest,' I said, 'full of like eggs. Very very nice.'
            'And what would you like to do about it?' the other one said.
            'Oh,' I said, 'smash them. Pick up the lot and like throw them against a wall or a cliff or something and
            then viddy them all smash up real horrorshow.'
            'Good good', they both said, and then the page was turned. It was like a picture of one of these bolshy
            great birds called peacocks with all its tail spread out in all colours in a very boastful way.
            'Yes?' said one of these vecks.
            'I would like', I said, 'to pull out like all those feathers in its tail and slooshy it creech blue murder. For
            being so like boastful.'
            'Good', they both said, 'good good good.' [...]
            'You seem to be cured.'
            'Cured? I said. 'Me tied down to this bed like this and you say cured? Kiss my sharries is what I say.'
            'Wait', the other said. It won't be long now.'
             So I waited and, O my brothers, I got a lot better, munching away at eggiwegs and lomticks of toast
             and peeting bolshy great mugs of milky chai, and then one day they said I was going to have a very
             very very special visit."