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"Oh, that's only the sort of nauseated feeling you get with flu." "I'm only fit to be thrown underground, and made an end of. I can't stand myself " He had a ghastly, grey look of self-repulsion. "It's the germ that makes you feel like that," said Lilly. "It poisons the system for a time. But you'll work it off." At evening he was no better, the fever was still high.
The next morning, when he came in, he found the patient lying as ever, in a sort of heap in the bed. Nurse had had to lift him up and hold him up again. And now Aaron lay in a sort of semi-stupor of fear, frustrated anger, misery and self-repulsion: a sort of interlocked depression. The doctor frowned when he came. He talked with the nurse, and wrote another prescription.
Perhaps an ounce of explosive had been introduced into a rocket tube and fired. The smoke particles, naturally ionized, added their self-repulsion to the expansiveness of the explosive's gases. A cauliflowerlike shape of filmy whiteness appeared and grew larger and thinner. Hoddan drove toward the spot with very light touches of rocket power.
"It's done me harm," cried Aaron fretfully. "Send me to the hospital, or you'll repent it. Get rid of me in time." "Nay," said Lilly. "You get better. Damn it, you're only one among a million." Again over Aaron's face went the ghastly grimace of self-repulsion. "My soul's gone rotten," he said. "No," said Lilly. "Only toxin in the blood."
Our "understanding," our science and idealism have produced in people the same strange frenzy of self-repulsion as if they saw their own skulls each time they looked in the mirror. A man is a thing of scientific cause-and-effect and biological process, draped in an ideal, is he? No wonder he sees the skeleton grinning through the flesh.
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