Michael Malone - Weebly

Richard Rage was saying that he loved it here. That
the spires defied the sky and drew him up to their
height, inspired him with their clean, strong thrust at
possibility. Manhattan raised his head and quickened his
heart. Mammon and Moloch doing their mighty things
out of steel and glass and power. The mind of man
electrifying a megalopolis, splintering with lightning bolts
a mound of rock. "Let there be light!" said no more than
mammal man. And there was light! Here at the source
of power, Rage plugged into a trillion electric sockets,
he was sparked with all their energies. Here he saw
himself transmitted and projected into twenty Richards,
saw them simultaneously on twenty television screens in
one store window. He was magnifiable on millions of
radios. He was sped through subterranean mazes of a
fantastic game, led from one flash and spark to another
like a pinball. He was elevated and escalated. He was
instantaneous. He was high.
He was jazzed by a billion car horns, cop whistles,
shrill spiels, cameras clicking, transistors, subway
screech, whoosh of wind, clatter of pushcarts, fiddles
begging, ferry bleating fog, sirens singing fire, church