Chapter 1
“I need something stronger.”
The observer frowned at his viewscreen picture. It was badly distorted. He could hardly make out the man’s face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. . . nothing really. I just feel. . . I need something stronger.”
There were fifty viewscreens on the observer’s panel; all of them clamoring for attention. His head throbbed painfully. He said to this one:
“If you have a problem, don’t hesitate to ask for assistance. Call 348-853.” And get off my back. . .
“Yes. . . Thank you, I’ll be all right. I’ll be all right,” said THX 1138.
He stood in front of the medicine cabinet and somehow knew that the observer was no longer paying attention to him. He took two pills from the nearest bottle and returned the bottle to the cabinet.
Popping the two pills into his mouth, THX 1138 made his way back to the hologram room. He curled up in the deep soft relaxer chair. He was dressed as always in loose-fitting white pajamas. His head, like everyone’s, was shaved. He curled into a fetal position, thumb in mouth, eyes glazed, and watched.
Watched the three policemen beating the old man. Listened to the soft whistle of the long chrome nightsticks that ended in the solid thunk! of flesh being pounded, blood vessels bursting, skin ripping, bones shattering. The old man was still alive; he gave a sighing grunt with each impact.
THX 1138 watched the policemen beat the old man, and felt the soothing glow of the pills taking effect. Somewhere he heard a female voice saying: