A clockwork orange by Anthony Burgess

Author:Anthony Burgess [Burgess, Anthony]
Format: epub
Tags: Criticism, Classics, Burgess; Anthony - Prose & Criticism, Science Fiction, General & Literary Fiction, 20th Century English Novel And Short Story, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Modern fiction, Literary, Science Fiction - General, General, Literature: Texts, Fiction, Literature - Classics
ISBN: 9780393312836
Publisher: New York : Norton, c1986.
Published: 2010-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

A Clockwork Orange

4

Where I was wheeled to, brothers, was like no sinny I had ever viddied before. True enough, one wall was all covered with silver screen, and direct opposite was a wall with square holes in for the projector to project through, and there were stereo speakers stuck all over the mesto. But against the right-hand one of the other walls was a bank of all like little meters, and in the middle of the floor facing the screen was like a dentist’s chair with all lengths of wire running from it, and I had to like crawl from the wheelchair to this, being given some help by another like male nurse veck in a white coat. Then I noticed that underneath the projection holes was like all frosted glass and I thought I viddied shadows of like people moving behind it and I thought I slooshied somebody cough kashl kashl kashl. But then all I could like notice was how weak I seemed to be, and I put that down to changing over from prison pishcha to this new rich pishcha and the vitamins injected into me. “Right,” said the wheelchair-wheeling veck, “now I’ll leave you. The show will commence as soon as Dr. Brodsky arrives. Hope you enjoy it.” To be truthful, brothers, I did not really feel that I wanted to viddy any film-show this afternoon. I was just not in the mood. I would have liked much better to have a nice quiet spatchka on the bed, nice and quiet and all on my oddy knocky. I felt very limp.

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 a 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 bezoomny 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.

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