Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 2, 1922 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

486 makes us either laugh or grow angry. I take it for granted that you’d rather amuse me than irritate me.” ‘“ Hardly,” said Kain, “ for if I angered you I should be sure that I had made an impression, but a thing that amuses you is a chapter which you close forever with your laughter.” “Perhaps you’re right. end in itself.” He brooded upon the suggestion for a time. “The art of living,” he said at length. “ After all, it zs an art. What do you chief- ly aim toward?” “ Variety,” said Kain, “ and illusions.” ‘“Tllusions? I hardly can conceive of a sharp-minded fellow like yourself systemat- ically hunting for illusions. But if you want ‘em, go into business, my friend. You will find plenty of them there, I imagine. Yes, to my thinking, the world is filled with il- Jusions.” “T can’t agree with you,” said Kain. “ Tllusions? No-—it is a world of machin- ery and fact. Surely the greatest tragedy that can come to a man is the knowledge that to-morrow will be like to-day. Think of it! If you and I knew that the next ten years would be no better than the last ten, we would blow out our brains. Rea- sonably we know that the next ten will be like the last ten. Still, there is the dream of something new, some turn of the road, some undiscovered country.” “This is a new rendering of the fable of Pandora,” remarked Mr. X. “Yes: the Greeks generally hit off in a beautiful way what we express in the ugliest and most labored manner. They knew there was nothing after death; they concentrated on the art of living, and mas- tered it more nearly than any race before or since; but all their art serves to merely palliate the truth that happiness is only hope—illusion. ss ‘We are continually on the run, Mr. X, fleeing from yesterday, dodging to-day, and chasing to-morrow. That’s why I make a profession of hunting for illusions. I snatch at happiness like a thief and run away be- fore truth finds me out. I see the apple and admire it on the tree, but I refuse to Laughter’s an ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. taste it because I know it will turn to ashes, and I don’t want to be choked with soot.” ‘A philosophy of weakness and escape,” remarked Mr. X. “ But you are young, my friend, and before long you'll accept the world as it is and admit that it is slowly progressing on the upward road.” “ Progressingr” exclaimed Kain, with such emotion that all he had said before seemed idle chatter. ‘‘ Why, sir, how have we progressed since Pericles or Elizabeth? Once man could find an escape from reality through the arts, but now there are no arts. Our nearest approach to the cre- ation of an illusion is some machine for annihilating time and space, something which takes us up in the air or plunges us down in the sea. Yes, it is always the body that science is concerned with. It feeds the body bet- ter, clothes it better, takes it here and there swiftly and easily, but what has our sci- entific world done for the mind? Do we think better? Do we build deeper philoso- phies, paint better pictures, write more beautiful poetry? Have we made a single important contribution to the truly inde- structible element in civilization—the world of beauty? Can we even worship God with an undivided mind? Nonsense, sir! We have a thousand new ways of filling the belly, but for the mind we have substituted a machine. Progression? Well, Mr. X, you may have your progression and I shall continue to hunt for illusions.” ‘* Dodging the truth?” asked Mr. X with some asperity. ‘‘ Meeting men in the night and running away from them?” “Exactly. The uncompleted picture is the one which holds the imagination. 1 finish it for myself later on. The uncom- pleted acquaintance is the man who be- comes a part of you.” ‘“ But never a friend,” said Mr. X. ‘““ How many friends have you made in your life—true friends—men to whom you can open the mner doors of your mind?” There was a moment of silence. “One,” said Mr. X sadly at length. “And perhaps even that man has a price?” “God knows,” said ‘Snottt” the tall man: COL IGbookSneom