Gladiator by Philip Wylie (top reads txt) đ
- Author: Philip Wylie
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An easy exhilaration filled his veins. His pace increased. âI wonder,â he thought, âhow fast I can run, how far I can jump.â He quickened his stride. In a moment he found that the turns in the trail were too frequent for him to see his course. He ran ahead, realizing that he was moving at an abnormal pace. Then he turned, gathered himself, and jumped carefully. He was astonished when he vaulted above the green covering of the trail. He came down heavily. He stood in his tracks, tingling.
âNobody can do that, not even an acrobat,â he whispered.
Again he tried, jumping straight up. He rose fully forty feet in the air.
âGood Jesus!â he exulted. In those lonely, incredible moments Hugo found himself. There in the forest, beyond the eye of man, he learned that he was superhuman. It was a rapturous discovery. He knew at that hour that his strength was not a curse. He had inklings of his invulnerability.
He ran. He shot up the steep trail like an express train, at a rate that would have been measured in miles to the hour rather than yards to the minute. Tireless blood poured through his veins. Green streaked at his sides. In a short time he came to the end of the trail. He plunged on, careless of obstacles that would have stopped an ordinary mortal. From trunk to trunk he leaped a burned stretch. He flung himself from a high rock. He sped like a shadow across a pine-carpeted knoll. He gained the bare rocks of the first mountain, and in the open, where the horror of no eye would tether his strength, he moved in flying bounds to its summit.
Hugo stood there, panting. Below him was the world. A little world. He laughed. His dreams had been broken open. His depression was relieved. But he would never let them knowâhe, Hugo, the giant. Except, perhaps, his father. He lifted his armsâto thank God, to jeer at the world. Hugo was happy.
He went home wondering. He was very hungryâhungrier than he had ever beenâand his parents watched him eat with hidden glances. Samson had eaten thus, as if his stomach were bottomless and his food digested instantly to make room for more. And, as he ate, Hugo tried to open a conversation that would lead to a confession to his father. But it seemed impossible.
Hugo liked his father. He saw how his mother dominated the little professor, how she seemed to have crushed and bewildered him until his mind was unfocused from its present. He could not love his mother because of that. He did not reason that her religion had made her blind and selfish, but he felt her blindness and the many cloaks that protected her and her interests. He held her in respect and he obeyed her. But often and wistfully he had tried to talk to his father, to make friends with him, to make himself felt as a person.
Abednego Dannerâs mind was buried in the work he had done. His son was a foreign person for whom he felt a perplexed sympathy. It is significant that he had never talked to Hugo about Hugoâs prowess. The ten-year-old boy had not wished to discuss it. Now, however, realizing its extent, he felt he must go to his father. After dinner he said: âDad, letâs you and me take a walk.â
Mrs. Dannerâs protective impulses functioned automatically. âNot to-night. I wonât have it.â
âBut, motherââ
Danner guessed the reason for that walk. He said to his wife with rare firmness: âIf the boy wants to walk with me, weâre going.â
After supper they went out. Mrs. Danner felt that she had been shut out of her own sonâs world. And she realized that he was growing up.
Danner and his son strolled along the leafy street. They talked about his work in school. His father seemed to Hugo more human than he had ever been. He even ventured the first step toward other conversation. âWell, son, what is it?â
Hugo caught his breath. âWellâI kind of thought I ought to tell you. You seeâthis afternoonâwellâyou know Iâve always been a sort of strong kidââ
Danner trembled. âI knowââ
âAnd you havenât said much about it to me. Except to be gentleââ
âThatâs so. You must remember it.â
âWellâI donât have to be gentle with myself, do I? When Iâm aloneâlike in the woods, that is?â
The older one pondered. âYou meanâyou like toâahâlet yourself outâwhen youâre alone?â
âThatâs what I mean.â The usual constraint between them had receded. Hugo was grateful for his fatherâs help. âYou see, dad, IâwellâI went walkinâ toâdayâand IâI kind of tried myself out.â
Danner answered in breathless eagerness: âAnd?â
âWellâIâm not just a strong kid, dad. I donât know whatâs the matter with me. It seems Iâm not like other kids at all. I guess itâs been gettinâ worse all these years since I was a baby.â
âWorse?â
âI meanâI been gettinâ stronger. Anâ now it seems like Iâm aboutâwellâI donât like to boastâbut it seems like Iâm about the strongest man in the world. When I try it, it seems like there isnât any stopping me. I can go onâfar as I like. Runnin. Jumpinâ.â His confession had commenced in detail. Hugo warmed to it. âI can do things, dad. It kind of scares me. I can jump higherân a house. I can run fasterân a train. I can pull up big trees anâ push âem over.â
âI see.â Bannerâs spine tingled. He worshiped his son then. âSuppose you show me.â
Hugo looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. The evening was still duskily lighted by afterglow. âLook out then. Iâm gonna jump.â
Mr. Danner saw his son crouch. But he jumped so quickly that he vanished. Four seconds elapsed. He landed where he had stood. âSee, dad?â
âDo it again.â
On the second trial the professorâs eyes followed the soaring form. And he realized the magnitude of the thing he had wrought.
âDid you see me?â
Danner nodded. âI saw you, son.â
âKind of funny, isnât it?â
âLetâs talk some more.â There was a pause. âDo you realize, son, that no one else on earth can do what you just did?â
âYeah. I guess not.â
Danner hesitated. âItâs a glorious thing. And dangerous.â
âYeah.â
The professor tried to simplify the biology of his discovery. He perceived that it was going to involve him in the mysteries of sex. He knew that to unfold them to a child was considered immoral. But Danner was far, far beyond his epoch. He put his hand on Hugoâs shoulder. And Hugo set off the process.
âDad, how come Iâmâlike this?â
âIâll tell you. Itâs a long story and a lot for a boy your age to know. First, what do you know aboutâwellâabout how you were born?â
Hugo reddened. âIâI guess I know quite a bit. The kids in school are always talkinâ about it. And Iâve read some. Weâre born likeâwellâlike kittens were born last year.â
âThatâs right.â Danner knitted his brow. He began to explain the details of conception as it occurs in manâthe biology of ova and spermatozoa, the differences between the anatomy of the sexes, and the reasons for those differences. He drew, first, a botanical analogy. Hugo listened intently. âI knew most of that. Iâve seenâgirls.â
âWhat?â
âSome of themâafter schoolâlet you.â
Danner was surprised, and at the same time he was amused. He had forgotten the details of his young investigation. They are blotted out of the minds of most adultsâto the great advantage of dignity. He did not show his amusement or his surprise.
âGirls like that,â he answered, âarenât very nice. They havenât much modesty. Itâs rather indecent, because sex is a personal thing and something you ought to keep for the one youâre very fond of. Youâll understand that better when youâre older. But what I was going to tell you is this. When you were little more than a mass of plasm inside your mother, I put a medicine in her blood that I had discovered. I did it with a hypodermic needle. That medicine changed you. It altered the structure of your bones and muscles and nerves and your blood. It made you into a different tissue from the weak fiber of ordinary people. Thenâwhen you were bornâyou were strong. Did you ever watch an ant carry many times its weight? Or see a grasshopper jump fifty times its length? The insects have better muscles and nerves than we have. And I improved your body till it was relatively that strong. Can you understand that?â
âSure. Iâm like a man made out of iron instead of meat.â
âThatâs it, Hugo. And, as you grow up, youâve got to remember that. Youâre not an ordinary human being. When people find that out, theyâllâtheyâllââ
âTheyâll hate me?â
âBecause they fear you. So you see, youâve got to be good and kind and considerateâto justify all that strength. Some day youâll find a use for itâa big, noble useâand then you can make it work and be proud of it. Until that day, you have to be humble like all the rest of us. You mustnât show off or do cheap tricks. Then youâd just be a clown. Wait your time, son, and youâll be glad of it. Andâanother thingâtrain your temper. You must never lose it. You can see what would happen if you did? Understand?â
âI guess I do. Itâs hard workâdoinâ all that.â
âThe stronger, the greater, you are, the harder life is for you. And youâre the strongest of them all, Hugo.â
The heart of the ten-year-old boy burned and vibrated. âAnd what about God?â he asked.
Danner looked into the darkened sky. âI donât know much about Him,â he sighed.
Hugo was eighteen before he gave any other indication of his strength save in that fantastic and Gargantuan play which he permitted himself. Even his play was intruded upon by the small-minded and curious world before he had found the completeness of its pleasure. Then Hugo fell into his coma.
Hugo went back to the deep forest to think things over and to become acquainted with his powers. At first, under full pressure of his sinews, he was clumsy and inaccurate. He learned deftness by trial and error. One day he found a huge pit in the tangled wilderness. It had been an open mine long years before. Sitting on its brink, staring into its pool of verdure, dreaming, he conceived a manner of entertainment suitable for his powers.
He jumped over its craggy edge and walked to its center. There he selected a high place, and with his hands he cleared away the growth that covered it. Next he laid the foundations of a fort, over which he was to watch the fastness for imaginary enemies. The foundations were made of boulders. Some he carried and some he rolled from the floor of the man-made canyon. By the end of the afternoon he had laid out a square wall of rock some three feet in height. On the next day he added to it until the four walls reached as high as he could stretch. He left space for one door and he made a single window. He roofed the walls with the trunks of trees and he erected a turret over the door.
For days the creation was his delight. After school he sped to itâUntil dark he strained and struggled with bare rocks. When it was finished, it was an edifice that would have withstood artillery fire creditably.
Then he played in it. He pretended that Indians were stalking him. An imaginary head would appear at the rim of the pit. Hugo would see it through a chink. Swish! Crash! A
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